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IN MY YOUTH 
 
IN MY YOUTH 
 
 From the Posthumous Papers of 
 ROBERT DUDLEY 
 
 cn 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright 1914 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 
 F 
 
 O -J O 
 
 •Bis 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNV/ORTH &. CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
 SEP 30 1914 
 
 ©CI.A380624 
 
TO MY 
 
 DEAR PRESUMPTIVE DESCENDANTS 
 
 OF THE FOURTH DEGREE 
 
 LEONIDAS AND LEONA 
 
 ' THESE RECORDS 
 
 OF THE SIMPLE LIFE IN 
 
 THE MIDDLE AGES OF 
 
 THE MIDDLE WEST 
 
 ARE ADDRESSED AND BEQUEATHED 
 
EDITOR'S NOTE 
 
 When Robert Dudley began to write the chapters com- 
 posing this unique autobiography he had no thought of 
 their ultimate publication. His object was rather to pro- 
 duce something to be preserved to the edification and 
 entertainment of his remote posterity, and for that reason 
 he addressed his work to Leonidas and Leona, his im- 
 aginary descendants in the fourth degree. But to a man 
 who dies childless there is not much hope of posterity; and 
 it has seemed to the friends of Mr. Dudley that to withhold 
 these sketches until the advent of impossible great-great- 
 grandchildren would be to deprive the world of as many 
 rare chapters of literary worth and historic interest. They 
 are, therefore, now offered to the public with the con- 
 fident hope that as contributions to the early history of life 
 and manners in "the Middle Ages of the Middle West," 
 they will have an enduring value. 
 
 It will be observed that the author has taken his readers 
 unreservedly into his confidence and has concealed none 
 of his own frailties nor the peculiar and humble environ- 
 ments of his youth. Although his narrative is sometimes 
 illuminated with the colors of his exuberant fancy, he has 
 related no incident that was not a matter of actual oc- 
 currence. Wherever a revelation of identity might cause 
 embarrassment to sensitive souls, the names of persons and 
 places have been thoughtfully disguised. In the case, 
 however, of historical personages or of men in public life no 
 such caution has appeared to be necessary. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I The Center of the World 1 
 
 II Possessed! 12 
 
 III "This Is My Library" 25 
 
 IV Evenings at Home 36 
 
 V Borrowing Fire . » 43 
 
 VI In the Big Woods 59 
 
 VII At Cousin Sally's 65 
 
 VIII Going to Meetin' 86 
 
 IX The Angel of the Facin' Bench 96 
 
 - X Ikey Bright 112 
 
 XI The Big-House 128 
 
 XII A Memorable Occasion 134 
 
 XIII The Friend from England 142 
 
 XIV Something from the Saddle-Bags 156 
 
 XV The Departure of the Caravan 160 
 
 XVI Fever'n'agur 178 
 
 XVII What They Brought from the 'Hio .... 187 
 
 XVIII News from the County Seat 210 
 
 XIX "The Slavers" 227 
 
 XX The Great Moral Exhibition 240 
 
 XXI A Friend Indeed 264 
 
 XXII My Day in Paradise 277 
 
 XXIII Old Aunt Sary 297 
 
 XXIV "Going to School?" ....*... 320 
 XXV "Shades of the Prison House" 341 
 
 XXVI My First Merry Christmas 360 
 
 XXVII The Awakening 379 
 
 XXVIII Nopplis 389 
 
 XXIX Charity and Patience 411 
 
 XXX Lochinvar 429 
 
 XXXI The Raisin' and the Quiltin' 438 
 
 XXXII The Ruse 453 
 
 XXXIII The Long Way About It 461 
 
 XXXIV Fragments o .... 482 
 
IN MY YOUTH 
 
IN MY YOUTH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE CENTER OF THE WORLD 
 
 THE picture which I would paint on your mental 
 canvases, my dear Leonidas, my dear Leona, is that 
 of a backwoods settlement in the Middle West at the 
 time when such settlements were by no means rarities. 
 It lies deeply sequestered in the forest, ragged, raw, and 
 of uncertain extent. Its prevailing rudeness and un- 
 couthness may at first repel you, but its air of newness 
 and simplicity will surely deserve your admiration. 
 Here you may see the beginnings of things. The roads, 
 the fences, the houses, the clearings, the farms are all 
 just emerging from the embryo state; they are the prom- 
 ises of what are to come in later days. And the people — 
 how old-fashioned they are, and how unspoiled by the 
 ways of the world ! The simple life exists here in its 
 primitive purity, the rawness of innocence prevails. 
 
 Now imagine in the midst of that settlement a squatty, 
 little log cabin standing quite alone near the edge of a 
 clearing. It is one among many of its kind, and is in 
 perfect harmony with the mingled newness and old- 
 fashionedness of its environment. It is such a habita- 
 tion as can not be found to-day in the whole length and 
 breadth of Hoosierdom ; but, in that backwoods period to 
 
 I 
 
2 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 which I am introducing you, it is the type of hundreds 
 and thousands of homely dwellings. The logs which 
 compose its walls are unhewn, some having the bark 
 still clinging to them, and the spaces between are chinked 
 with clay and moss. The roof is low and covered with 
 broad split clapboards which are held in place by long 
 and heavy poles. The chimney is of the stick-and-clay 
 variety, cavernous at the bottom and tapering narrow 
 at the top, and rivaling the proverbial mud fence in its 
 unapproachable ugliness. At the end of the cabin, op- 
 posite the chimney, there is a lean-to shed, made of 
 poles and puncheons, and called the '' weavin'-room " be- 
 cause it contains the loom and other appliances for mak- 
 ing home-made cloth. Beyond this shed rises the skeleton 
 of a new frame house which, when completed, will be the 
 wonder and admiration of the entire New Settlement. 
 
 There is but one doorway in the cabin. The door 
 itself is broad and strong, and it is hung on wooden 
 hinges and fastened with a wooden latch. To lift the 
 latch, you must pull a string that is passed through a 
 gimlet hole in the board above it. At night, or when 
 there is no admittance for intruders, the latch-string 
 is drawn inside and the cabin becomes a castle. But, see 
 now ! The latch-string is hanging out — a signal that all 
 comers are welcome. Let us pull it, lift the latch and 
 walk in. 
 
 The smooth floor of basswood puncheons, scoured to 
 a snowy whiteness, invites our admiration and admon- 
 ishes us to linger on the threshold and wipe our muddy 
 soles. We enter. On this side of the room are a few 
 splint-bottomed chairs ranged with precision against the 
 wall, a three-legged " candlestand " and an ancient bu- 
 reau. On the opposite side are the spinning-wheels, a 
 
THE CENTER OF THE WORLD 3 
 
 square table, and a corner cupboard wherein are con- 
 tained rows of tin cups and shining pewter plates and 
 an array of " chany cups and sassers " and blue-figured 
 dishes reserved for use " when company comes." 
 
 The rear end of the commodious room is curtained 
 off into three sleeping apartments, each exactly large 
 enough to contain a single spacious bed with a trundle- 
 bed for children and emergencies beneath it. And see, 
 now, the huge fireplace at the opposite end. It is a poem 
 of comfort in winter, and a magazine of homely cheer in 
 all seasons. Dinner is in preparation. The fire is blaz- 
 ing on the hearth. Steaming pots and skillets, on beds 
 of glowing coals, send out savory odors to whet the jaded 
 appetite. Potatoes are roasting in the ashes, a fowl is 
 broiling in the " reflector," roas'n'-ears are boiling in 
 the big dinner pot. A feast shall be ours if we will but 
 accept the housewife's kindly invitation to "take a 
 cheer and wait a bit." 
 
 The ceiling over our heads is low ; it is made of rough 
 clapboards laid upon a series of smoke begrimed poles 
 which serve the purpose of joists. From these " j'ists " 
 many things are suspended: hunks of jerked beef and 
 links of home-made " sassage," bunches of dried catnip 
 and fragrant camomile and pennyroyal, strings of quar- 
 tered apples drying for winter use, ears of choice seed 
 corn. And if you look for it, you may see the square 
 hole in the ceiling through which access is had to the 
 boys' sleeping-room above — a dark low loft, the abode 
 of mud-wasps and spiders and creatures of the night. 
 
 And now, having these pictures well outlined and im- 
 pressed upon your imagination, direct your eyes once 
 more to the open door of the cabin. A boy is standing 
 there — a little pale-faced fellow with tow hair, and with 
 
4 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 eyes indicative of the shrinking shyness of his heart. 
 He is clothed scantily in a coarse shirt of home-woven 
 linen and long ''britches" (trousers) of brown jeans; 
 other apparel he has none. The *' britches," which are 
 much too large for him, are held in place by a pair of 
 " galluses " (suspenders) made of narrow strips of blue- 
 colored tow-cloth. The lad's feet are bare, betraying a 
 familiarity with the soil and showing the marks of many 
 conflicts with briers and sharp-edged stones. His large 
 frowsy head is also bare. 
 
 Observe him as he stands in the door, looking out 
 and listening to the varied sounds that come from the 
 fields, the clearings and the dense wild woods. Birds 
 are singing, frogs are croaking, bees are humming, the 
 fresh new leaves of the cottonwood trees are rustling 
 to every movement of the morning air. The voices of 
 nature are calling, and the lad's face beams joyously as 
 though he were enraptured with the melody and the 
 mystery that surround him. 
 
 Looking straight ahead of him, he has a somewhat 
 obstructed view of what he believes to be a very large 
 portion of the known world — the hundred-acre farm 
 which his father has literally hewn out of the wilderness. 
 In the foreground are the garden and orchard, a dozen 
 cherry trees loaded with white blossoms, a straggling 
 " laylock " bush, and a crooked rail fence overgrown with 
 briers and tangled vines. Here also, at a bow-shot's 
 distance from the cabin, runs the *' spring branch," a 
 little stream that never goes dry; and spanning it, amid 
 a lush growth of calamus and cattails, is the " spring- 
 house," a frail structure in which numerous crocks of 
 milk and cream are standing to be cooled in running 
 water. Beyond are two large corn-fields, dotted with 
 
THE CENTER OF THE WORLD 5 
 
 charred stumps and separated by a narrow lane which 
 leads down to a tract of wet alluvial land known as " the 
 bottom." There, an irregular line of white-trunked 
 sycamores marks the meanderings of " the crick " — a 
 stream so broad that the boy has never been able to jump 
 quite across it, and so deep that in places it is impossible 
 to wade without getting wet above the knees. 
 
 On the farther side of the '' erick," and extending to 
 the southernmost border of the farm, lies '* the new dead- 
 enin','' where hundreds of leafless trees stand in mute 
 agony, lifting their gaunt arms toward heaven as though 
 dumbly protesting against the cruelty of the man who 
 has girdled their trunks and doomed them to a lingering 
 death. And finally, beyond this landscape of fields, 
 pasture-land, bottom and deadening, rises the forest 
 primeval, " the big woods," a region of mystery, stretch- 
 ing away and away to the very rim of the sky, the edge 
 of the world. 
 
 As the boy gazes upon this scene, so familiar and 
 yet always wonderful to him, his heart grows big with 
 pride. For do not all these orchards and fields and 
 *' deadenin's " belong to his father? Is there anywhere 
 in the world another farm such as this ? Is there in the 
 New Settlement or elsewhere another lad so blessed as 
 he with every comfort and, more than all, with a parent 
 so strong, so wise, so well-to-do as his father ? 
 
 Elated and well contented with his outlook on life, 
 he leaps from the door-step and runs round to the other 
 side of the cabin in order to view the northern half of 
 the universe. There the scene is quite different and the 
 landscape more extended. The rim of hazy blue where 
 the sky, like an inverted dinner pot, rests upon the earth, 
 is more plainly visible. The forest survives only in 
 
6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 patches and strips of timberland between the fenced 
 fields of friendly neighbors. The roofs of two or three 
 dwellings may be seen, indistinct in the distance ; and an 
 orchard of apple trees, snowy white with bloom, crowns 
 the summit of a little hill not far away. 
 
 Scarcely more than a stone's throw from where the 
 boy is standing, there is a high rail fence which marks 
 the northern boundary of his father's domain; and here 
 is the big gate through which visitors enter and depart, 
 and where egress is had to the unknown regions of the 
 circumambient world. The gate opens outward into a 
 broad lane, green with burdock and soon to be flowery 
 with dog-fennel. At the end of the lane, not more than 
 half a mile distant, the great highway known as " the 
 big road " invites acquaintance with foreign lands. 
 
 The big road is here but little more than a wagon 
 track, winding this way and that between stumps and 
 stones, chuck-holes and decaying logs. But if you should 
 follow it toward the right, it will lead you in due time to 
 the Dry Forks, where you will see a meeting-house, a 
 schoolhouse and a blacksmith shop. If you should take 
 the opposite direction, you will by and by, so people say, 
 come to a mighty river and the half -mythical city of 
 Nopplis, and then to Pogue's Run and the jumping-off 
 place. 
 
 The boy is familiar with the road to the Dry Forks, 
 for he has traveled to the " meetin'-house " there twice 
 every week since he can remember. But of the other 
 end of the great highway he has no knowledge save that 
 which he has gained through hearsay. The country 
 through which it passes is a region of mystery and 
 dreams, where worldly and wicked people dwell and the 
 sun shines but dimly. 
 
THE CENTER OF THE WORLD 7 
 
 Suddenly a strange impulse comes into the lad's mind, 
 and he climbs to the top of the gate-post to study the 
 problem that is perplexing him. He looks around. The 
 view has improved, but not much. He reasons that he 
 is not more than eight feet from the ground ; what would 
 happen if he could be a hundred? What vistas of crea- 
 tion might he not behold from so grand an elevation! 
 
 Quite near at hand there stands a giant oak which 
 the settler's ax has reverently spared because of its size 
 and beauty. The trunk is studded almost to the ground 
 with branches small and large, and as the boy looks that 
 way, the leaves of the great tree begin quivering and 
 dancing, and a sweet voice seems to murmur, *' Come 
 and climb me ! Come and climb me ! " 
 
 He leaps down from his perch on the gate-post, and 
 the next moment is swinging himself up into the oak, 
 clinging with hands and feet as best he can, and steadily 
 ascending toward the sky. He thinks of himself as a 
 squirrel — a big clumsy squirrel — and the thought 
 causes him to forget the fear which otherwise might have 
 unnerved him and set him trembling. Up, up, up he goes, 
 panting, courageous, aglow with eagerness. At length, 
 at a height of more than a hundred and twenty feet, he 
 pauses. There are now no more lateral branches large 
 enough to support him. He can go no farther. His 
 heart thumps hard, and he clings with both arms clasped 
 around the slender trunk which is here no larger than 
 his leg. 
 
 Soon his courage revives and he begins to gaze around 
 him. From his lofty perch he can look down on the 
 trees in the deadenings and the forest. He has an un- 
 obstructed view of the entire horizon, the rim of the sky 
 encircling the world. How vast and strange ! Looking 
 
8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 toward his right, he sees clearing after clearing and 
 farm after fami ; and, seeming almost directly below him, 
 he recognizes the meeting-house and the blacksmith shop 
 at the Dry Forks — but, oh ! how small they have become, 
 and how near they seem! 
 
 He turns and looks in the other direction. Nothing 
 but woods, woods, woods as far as the world extends! 
 But in one place he sees a great smoke ascending. It 
 is near the edge, where the sky is very low, and he 
 wonders whether this may not be Nopplis, of which he 
 has often heard — or whether it may not be that vague 
 region of vanity and wickedness where George Fox used 
 to preach to a godless people, or perhaps the wilderness 
 wherein the Israelites wandered with Moses. He 
 raises his eyes and sees how evenly, like the interior of a 
 monstrous bake-oven, the sky curves upward and inward 
 from the horizon until it reaches the highest point, which 
 is exactly above the dear, glorious log cabin which he 
 calls his home. 
 
 His whole being throbs with exultation as his mind 
 grasps at the mighty truth. " Yes, yes ! " he whispers 
 to himself ; " the world is round, and we live at the very 
 center of it. I wonder if father thought of that when 
 he picked out this place for our home." 
 
 But hark ! What gentle voice is that, calling him from 
 below? *' Come down, my boy I Come down, come 
 down I " 
 
 Ah! he has been forbidden, often and often, to climb 
 this tree — to climb any tree. His mother will see him 
 — and then what will happen ? He hears the voice 
 again : " Come down ! Slide along my great body. 
 Don't be afraid." It is the old oak itself that is speak- 
 ing, as the wind passes through its branches and its 
 
THE CENTER OF THE WORLD 9 
 
 thousands of young leaves are set to rustling and quiver- 
 ing. 
 
 With imminent peril to neck and limbs, the boy slides 
 rapidly down, swinging himself from branch to branch 
 like an experienced athlete, and finally leaping lightly 
 to the ground. No one has seen him — no one but the 
 kind, sweet, mighty oak, and oaks never tell secrets. 
 
 He runs to the house. He bursts in upon his mother, 
 busy with her baking and stewing, and cries out, " O 
 mother, guess what I know ! Guess what I know ! " 
 
 '' It is not best for little boys to know too much," says 
 the mother, much accustomed to such speeches. 
 
 " But, mother, listen ! " persists the child. " The 
 world is round — as round as that plate in thy hand. 
 I know it is so, mother; and our house is right in the 
 center of it ! " 
 
 And now, my dear presumptive descendants, it is time 
 that I should whisper in your ears a momentous secret. 
 The simple backwoods lad whom I have tried to portray 
 to your imaginations was myself — myself, Robert Dud- 
 ley, — in one of the various forms that have been mine. 
 It was sixty years ago — yes, more than sixty, more! — 
 that I thus climbed the giant oak, gained my first outlook 
 upon the world and awoke suddenly to the consciousness 
 of existence. Since then I have passed through many 
 transformations, I have experienced many changes, but 
 in all things essential, I remain the same individual that 
 I was on that day of sudden waking. 
 
 Did you speak, my dear Leona ? Did you say, " Im- 
 possible " ? And Leonidas, do you smile at what you are 
 pleased to call an old man's foolish conceits? 
 
 See this sheet of paper so white, so spotless, so free 
 
lo IN MY YOUTH 
 
 from the slightest defect — a pure creation fresh from 
 its maker's hands! It is the young lad; it is myself, a 
 mere infant, inexperienced, innocent, just starting on the 
 journey. But wait a minute — only a minute. Hero is 
 the identical sheet of paper: it is covered with scrawls 
 and blots ; it is discolored, creased and wrinkled ; it has 
 had rough usage. And yet the same combination of ele- 
 ments is here; it is the young lad after seventy years 
 of contact with wind and weather ; it is myself. I have 
 described the appearance of the lad at the beginning of 
 his career; if you would see him when nearing its end, 
 look at me now. 
 
 I count it my peculiar good fortune that I first saw 
 the light of day in that humble log cabin which I have 
 endeavored to picture to you. It was not the sort of 
 dwelling which most people would, nowadays, choose 
 for a birthplace. Indeed, I myself would probably not 
 have chosen it, had my prenatal preferences been con- 
 sulted; and there have been times when I have bitterly 
 complained of Providence because of the humbleness of 
 my beginnings. But it is not the palatial home, the 
 gilded cradle, or the silver spoon that makes the happy 
 life or the successful career. The child of the log hut, 
 naked, and toyless, and strange to luxuries, is nearer to 
 Heaven (and often in a double sense) than is the pam- 
 pered offspring of wealth with no wish ungratified, no 
 comfort unprovided. 
 
 Providence — at least, let us say it is Providence — 
 has wisely decreed that no one can choose the place of 
 his horning. If it were otherwise, royalty would be con- 
 gested, and the common people would be too few to 
 serve and support the myriads of princely paupers that 
 would rush into existence: the case of the Countess of 
 
THE CENTER OF THE WORLD ii 
 
 Heneberg would be duplicated in every palace of Eu- 
 rope ! * 
 
 And here let us have an end of moralizing. 
 
 *" Among the chief remarkables of Holland are two brazen 
 dishes in the village of Losdun, in which were baptized (anno 
 1276) by Don William, suffragan bishop of Treves, 365 chil- 
 dren, all born at one birth, of the Countess of Heneberg, daugh- 
 ter of Florent IV, Earl of Holland; the body of one of which 
 children (although the whole matter of fact is called in ques- 
 tion) being now preserved in the Museum Regium at Copen- 
 hagen." — Senar's Modern Geography (London, 1702). 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 POSSESSED ! 
 
 OF all my earliest and pleasantest memories, by far 
 the greatest number are in some way connected with 
 books and reading. Often have I heard my mother say 
 that I was born, not with a silver spoon under my tongue, 
 but with a book in my hand. Book love, that peculiar 
 passion which has shaped and controlled my life, was 
 strangely manifested even in my cradle. I cried for 
 books as other babies cried for the nursing bottle or the 
 sugar teat; and a copy of Emerson's Primer or George 
 Fox's Journal, if laid within reach of my fingers, seldom 
 failed to soothe my feelings and hush my infantile wail- 
 ings. The very feel of the paper, its smoothness, its 
 thinness, the cabalistic marks which it bore, had a mag- 
 ical influence no less potent than mysterious. 
 
 To the good people among whom fate had decreed my 
 birth, this strange predilection seemed little short of 
 miraculous — it was the source of much curiosity and 
 speculation in which contempt was sometimes more 
 strongly manifested than admiration. To my poor 
 mother, the thought that her only son was " queer " 
 brought seasons of infinite disquietude and silent grief. 
 Ancient aunts and busy-minded neighbors were not slow 
 to suggest various prenatal causes of so strange, so un- 
 natural a twist in the mind of a child. Some wondered, 
 and some pitied, while others were moved to the making 
 
 12 
 
POSSESSED! 13 
 
 of remarks which were neither compHmentary to myself 
 nor kind to my parents. 
 
 As I grew older, my queerness became accepted as a 
 thing which could not be cured and therefore must be 
 endured; and our home folks, instead of continuing to 
 grieve about it, gradually became proud of the fact that 
 the household included at least one person of bookish 
 habits. They humored my taste for reading, and sternly 
 apologized for it while they were inwardly unable to 
 understand it. Nevertheless, the friendly women of the 
 Settlement never quite ceased to gossip and wonder, and 
 sometimes they felt called on to show their interest by 
 condoling with mother concerning her unfortunate son. 
 I remember overhearing a conversation that occurred 
 between two of our neighbors long after I had grown 
 to the years of understanding and could fully appreciate 
 their intended kindness. Seeing me sprawled upon the 
 floor with the inevitable book before me, they began their 
 palaver, as indifferent to my presence as though I had 
 neither ears nor intelligence. 
 
 " Laws a me! " cried the elder of the two, an ancient 
 maiden whom we knew familiarly as Mahaly Bray. 
 " If there ain't that booky boy that we've heerd so much 
 about. Now, it don't seem possible that sich a leetle 
 feller as him can read, does it?" 
 
 "Well, it surely ain't nateral," answered her compan- 
 ion, friend Liddy Ann Dobson, the sturdy mother of 
 six overgrown sons. " It ain't nateral, and I reckon it 
 ain't right, nother. Why, there's my Eli, he's goin' on 
 sixteen, and he's jest now beginnin' to read in the Bible, 
 and the rest of my boys, they seem to jest naterally hate 
 the very sight of books — and they're bright boys, too. 
 Thee may rest sure, Mahaly, that a screw's loose some- 
 
14 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 where, when thee sees such a leetle feller as that there 
 Bobby Dudley a-porin' over his letters and a-learnin' 
 things he oughtn't to." 
 
 " Well, it's too bad, I do declare," rejoined Mahaly 
 Bray. " How did it happen, anyhow ? Has thee any 
 notion about it, Debby ? " 
 
 Then mother, with a quaver in her voice, began kindly 
 to explain : " He always had a great likin' for books. 
 I think he must have got it from his father, and it was 
 born in him ; for Stephen is a good deal that way too, 
 only not so bad." 
 
 " Laws a me ! " cried maiden Mahaly. " Could the 
 leetle feller read as soon as he was bornded ? " 
 
 '* Not exactly," answered mother ; *' but he could read 
 pretty well before he was done cuttin' his teeth. For 
 a long while he was a great bother to all of us ; for, 
 whenever he seen a new word he would p'int to it and say, 
 'What's this? what's this? what's this?' And when he 
 was told, he never forgot. But we don't know exactly 
 how he learnt to read ; it just sort of come nateral to him, 
 like learnin' to eat comes to the rest of us." 
 
 " My sakes alive ! " said Mahaly. " I'd be af card to 
 have a child like that. I'd be always a-lookin' for some- 
 thin' to happen." 
 
 " And it will happen, too," added her friend. " Sich 
 wayward children don't never live very long. They 
 ain't made for this world." And a great sigh escaped 
 from her capacious bosom. 
 
 But it was Friend Margot Duberry who caused mother 
 the greatest disquietude. Margot had been quite fre- 
 quently moved to " speak in meetin'," and she was there- 
 fore looked up to as an oracle and a mother in Israel. 
 She came to our house one afternoon and announced 
 
POSSESSED! 15 
 
 that she had been drawn, in the spirit of meekness and 
 love, to have a season of quiet waiting with father and 
 mother and myself. She failed to notice our dear old 
 Aunt Rachel who was sitting in the chimney corner and 
 seemingly oblivious to her presence — oblivious to every- 
 thing save the soothing joy that she was inhaling through 
 the long stem of her clay pipe. Father was promptly 
 called in from the field, and the " season " began. It 
 lasted for about an hour, during which time we four 
 sat beside the clean-swept hearth, as silent as the door- 
 jamb and as motionless as the gate-post, waiting for the 
 spirit to make itself manifest. Then Margot, shaking 
 hands with us all, declared that she " felt free," but that 
 a concern still weighed upon her mind to have a private 
 " opportunity " with mother. 
 
 Father accordingly withdrew, and Aunt Rachel began 
 nodding over her pipe. I shrank into the farthest corner 
 of the room, curious to see the outcome of the oppor- 
 tunity, and Margot, riveting her steel-gray eyes on me, 
 delivered her message. 
 
 " My dear friend," she began, holding mother's hand 
 in her own and speaking very softly as if every word was 
 oiled — " my dear friend, my heart goes out to thee in 
 pity. But I have long been burdened with a concern 
 for thee and thy offspring and am charged with a mes- 
 sage which I must deliver. For if I deliver it not, the 
 woe is already pronounced against me." Here her voice 
 rose from mezzo to soprano, and then ascended the scale 
 by leaps and bounds until it resembled the screeching of 
 an unlubrlcated wagon wheel. " Rumors upon rumors 
 are afloat," she continued, " yea, many and diverse ru- 
 mors. It is said that this offspring of thine, tender of 
 age though he be, is given to the study of many books, 
 
i6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and it is written that much study is a weariness to the 
 flesh. To read the Good Book is well, but to read any 
 other is to fall into the snares of Satan, that Old Feller 
 who goeth about like a roaring lion. And as I look upon 
 thy offspring and take note of the baneful things in his 
 hands, I am moved to cry out, Lo, he is already the prey 
 of the Evil One, he is possessed, he is possessed ! The 
 Old Feller has entrapped him; he is possessed. So I 
 exhort thee, Deborah Dudley, to pray without ceasing; 
 for this kind goeth out only by prayer and fasting. And 
 I exhort thy erring offspring to repent, repent, while the 
 offers of mercy hold out. Yea, repent, repent ! " 
 
 She might have continued her senseless ranting in- 
 definitely, but at this point old Aunt Rachel rose sud- 
 denly from her cozy armchair and came to the rescue. 
 Knocking the ashes from her pipe, while her eyes flashed 
 the indignation of her heart, she spoke sharply and with 
 undisguised wrath. 
 
 '' Margot Duberry, thee is younger than I am, and thee 
 thinks thee is a saint from Heaven, but I tell thee thee's 
 mistaken. I ain't good enough to speak in meetin', but 
 I know that the Old Feller hain't got no possession of 
 our Robby, and he never will have. Just because Robby 
 likes to read, and thy big boy is so dumb that he don't 
 know A from Izzard, thee has come here with all thy 
 drivel about rumors and the Old Feller and repentin' 
 and the like, as if somebody had been doin' somethin' 
 wicked. I tell thee, Margot Duberry, the Old Feller 
 has got thee; and he's got thee so tight that even prayer 
 and fastin' won't make him let loose ! Thee is the one 
 to repent." 
 
 And having thus spoken her mind and effectually 
 closed the mouth of a saintly nuisance, the good woman 
 
POSSESSED! 17 
 
 returned to her favorite corner. She took up her knit- 
 ting, which had been laid aside for her afternoon nap; 
 she refilled her pipe, dropping a red-hot coal upon the 
 fragrant tobacco; and then in a delectable cloud of 
 smoke, she relapsed into the silence that was far dearer 
 to her than speech. 
 
 I had never been taught to say, " I thank thee " ; but 
 a strange indefinable feeling welled up within me, tears 
 filled my eyes, and going softly across the room, I stood 
 beside my aunt and laid my hand gently in hers. I 
 knew no other way to express my gratitude. 
 
 Nevertheless, that foolish " message " of foolish Mar- 
 got Duberry made a deeper impression, a sadder wound, 
 than even she could have imagined. I was at that time 
 not more than six years of age, but so strangely did her 
 remarks take hold of me, that for six times six years 
 the word '' possessed " had to me a sinister meaning. 
 Whenever it was spoken in my presence it called up 
 visions of Margot Duberry crying, " Repent, repent ! " 
 and of the enemy of souls holding a helpless white- 
 haired lad in his clutches and urging him to do a most 
 wicked deed. Sometimes, on dark windy nights, I could 
 plainly hear the Old Feller tramping about on the roof of 
 the cabin, rattling the clapboards and scraping his 
 cloven feet against the chimney. When driving the 
 cows home in the evening twilight I was always on the 
 alert, lest this same evil one should leap suddenly out 
 from behind some thorn bush and claim me for his own. 
 And very often, even after I had outgrown the belief 
 in devils and hobgoblins, my dreams at night were varied 
 by visions of the Old Feller chasing me, catching me, 
 sitting upon me and dragging me bodily to the verge 
 of a smoking pit, while Margot Duberry fluttered above 
 
i8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 us on the wings of a bat, shouting, " That's right ! He's 
 possessed. He's thine ! Scorch him ! " 
 
 Nor did my mother's perplexities end here. To her 
 increased dismay, I early began to manifest other pe- 
 culiar twists which were as unaccountable as the book- 
 madness and even more to be deplored. Being the only 
 child in the house, and neighbors being remote, the ordi- 
 nary joys of companionship were almost wholly unknown 
 to me. I therefore loved solitude, and was never so 
 happy as when I was alone. An abnormal shyness, 
 partly hereditary, but largely due to environment, began 
 its restraining influence upon my life. I trembled in the 
 presence of strangers. I shunned all intimacy with per- 
 sons outside of our little home circle. Friends said 
 that I was bashful, backward, timid; and they rubbed 
 salt into my wounds by lightly apologizing for my weak- 
 ness. Through lack of similar experiences, they were 
 incapable of comprehending that subtle ailment which 
 clouded my boyhood and was destined to beshrew my 
 later existence. Nevertheless, there came moments of 
 supreme courage when I rose superior to this besetting 
 frailty; and there was never a day when my heart did 
 not hunger for comradeship and the delights of friendly 
 intercourse. 
 
 In this dilemma I found consolation not only in books 
 but in a sort of mystic friendship with the wild creatures 
 of the fields and woods. With the latter I grew to be 
 on terms of peculiar intimacy, for in our common shy- 
 ness there was ground for mutual sympathy. I had the 
 habit, when alone, of talking to these little brothers, and 
 I fancied that they often replied to me in language which 
 I, but no one else, could understand. This habit, of 
 course, soon became known to the rest of our household, 
 
POSSESSED! 19 
 
 and while some ridiculed, others pitied me as a dunce and 
 grieved because of this additional evidence that I was 
 *' not right " — perhaps really possessed. 
 
 Despite both jeers and fears, however, there was an- 
 other source of comfort which I prized more highly than 
 the friendship of singing birds or timid small beasts. 
 This was the occasional companionship of one who was 
 all my own, and whose existence no one else suspected. 
 When I was in my loneliest, shyest moods, anxious to 
 escape notice and yet eager for sympathy, an invisible 
 playmate would come suddenly into my presence, bound- 
 ing joyously from some secret place, putting his arm 
 around me, whispering in my ear, romping with me in 
 the sunlight. And what glorious times we had together ! 
 Sometimes, on summer days, we would lie side by side on 
 the grass watching the procession of white clouds float- 
 ing so silently in the infinite depths above us. Some- 
 times, in rougher weather, we would sit together on our 
 hearth before the great wood fire, his hand in mine, his 
 cheek against my own, while we watched the curling 
 flames and rare moving pictures of magic in the glowing 
 coals. And oftentimes, when duty or pleasure led me 
 into dark places in the woods where the slightest un- 
 usual sound would send the shivers coursing along my 
 spine, this invisible friend would make his presence 
 known by giving courage to my heart and strength to my 
 trembling knees. 
 
 There were occasions, also, when my loneliness was 
 relieved by the dreaming of dreams. Then all familiar 
 things took on new aspects, and visions of indescribable 
 beauty unfolded themselves before my eyes. These 
 were frequently so vivid, so thrilling, that I was forced 
 unconsciously to give expression to my feelings, at times 
 
20 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 shouting joyously, at times bursting into tears. Upon 
 such occasions the hindering things of time and sense 
 were for the moment forgotten, and 
 
 " The earth and every common sight, 
 
 To me did seem 
 Appareled in celestial light, 
 
 The glory and the freshness of a dream." 
 
 Gladly would I have described my ecstatic experiences, 
 shared my joys with others of our household; but at the 
 slightest mention of them I was ridiculed as a dunce or 
 reproved as a liar. Thus my mouth was closed, and I 
 turned to my invisible playmate for sympathy; for he 
 alone could understand. 
 
 One day when I was unusually happy, I began to de- 
 scribe something I had seen, and was checked with the 
 usual reproof. 
 
 " Robert, thee mustn't tell fibs," was mother's sharp 
 caution. " It's wicked, very wicked, and thee'U have to 
 be punished for it." 
 
 And Cousin Mandy Jane, who stood in place of sister 
 to me, hastened to give emphasis to the remark. " Yes," 
 she added, " the Old Feller will git thee, sure. I reckon 
 he is watchin' round for thee now. He's peepin' in 
 through some crack and listenin' to everything thee 
 says." 
 
 Then father, in his stern dignified way, rebuked us 
 every one. " I don't think that we understand Robert 
 very well," he said. " To my mind, his story is quite 
 as likely as Mandy Jane's; but I wish to advise him to 
 be careful of his words, and to speak neither foolishly 
 nor falsely, lest the habit becomes fixed and he falls into 
 disgrace." 
 
POSSESSED! 21 
 
 I looked up into his strong sun-browned face, and 
 inwardly promised that I would follow his guidance in 
 everything. I resolved that I would keep all my pre- 
 cious experiences to myself ; and, as far as I was able, I 
 would speak the plain unvarnished truth at all times. 
 
 Nevertheless, to my parents' grief and my own fre- 
 quent discomfiture, I failed to live up to the latter part of 
 this resolution, and I became known, even among the 
 neighbors, as an inveterate " fibber." I fell into the 
 habit of exaggeration, not because I wished to tell false- 
 hoods, but because the plain truth seemed so plain in- 
 deed that I wished to garnish it with some sort of 
 decoration. For example, if I saw three wild geese si- 
 lently winging their way northward, my imagination 
 straightway pictured a hundred waterfowl following 
 their leader in mid-air and crying, " Honk ! honk ! 
 honk ! " in unison with the flapping of their wings. If 
 Cousin Mandy Jane reported the finding of a single 
 johnny- jump-up by the roadside, it was easy for me to 
 describe the discovery of a hundred wild roses in the 
 meadows. My imagination was forever turning prose 
 into verse, making mountains of mole-hills, and tinting 
 every cloud with rainbow hues. It was in vain that my 
 fibs and hyperboles were exposed and condemned; in 
 vain that I was solemnly warned of the Old Feller's per- 
 sistent efforts to capture bad boys ; in vain that my legs 
 were vigorously tickled with the hickory switch which 
 mother kept always in readiness — the habit of exaggera- 
 tion grew upon me, and I could no more overcome it than 
 the proverbial Ethiopian can change his skin. 
 
 At length, however, there came to our house, for a 
 day, a beautiful old man. His face glowed with good- 
 ness and good nature, his voice was as rhythmical and 
 
22 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 sweet as the song of a wood bird, and his long snow- 
 white hair was significant of the purity that dwelt in his 
 heart. My parents called him William, everybody called 
 him William, and to this day I am uncertain what other 
 name he bore. I understood that he had come from his 
 home in some distant land to bring a message of love and 
 truth to Friends in Injanner, and specially to those who 
 were dwelling in that most central and most favored 
 portion of the earth, the New Settlement. My parents, 
 having unlimited confidence in his wisdom, told him 
 much concerning their griefs and hopes, their disappoint- 
 ments and their trials. He was supposed to speak as the 
 spirit gave him utterance, and therefore his advice was 
 thought to be infallible, and his words were regarded as 
 the words of an oracle. 
 
 " William," said mother, " what does thee think we 
 had better do with our son, Robert ? We are very much 
 concerned about him." 
 
 And then she began telling him of all the twists in 
 my mental composition, of my book-madness, of my 
 queer goings-on when alone, and of my inveterate shy- 
 ness. Friend William listened patiently, smiled benignly, 
 patted his knee gently with his open palm, but said noth- 
 ing. After some hesitation, as though fearing to ap- 
 proach the subject, mother went on to describe my wicked 
 habit of telling little lies and of seeing things double — 
 yes, much more than double; and she ended by ex- 
 pressing her fears that perhaps the Old Feller had indeed 
 marked me for his own. 
 
 The saintly man remained silent for several minutes, 
 his hands folded, his eyes half closed, as if communing 
 with the Inner Light which I had been told was the 
 possession of every sincere soul. At length, without 
 
POSSESSED! 23 
 
 answering mother's questions, he beckoned to me. I 
 came out of the corner where I had been shrinking, and 
 with an awesome feehng in my heart, went across the 
 room and stood by his side. He laid his big warm 
 palm upon my submissive head, and spoke to me very 
 gravely : 
 
 " Robert, I hear that thee loves books and reading. 
 Is this so?" 
 
 I nodded my head, for I was too full to speak. 
 
 He went on : "I hear that thee has sometimes spoken 
 of seeing things which other people have never seen, and 
 that thee is given to meditation and sometimes talks to 
 thyself when alone. Are these things so ? " 
 
 I nodded and felt a little braver. 
 
 " I hear that thee sometimes says four when a stricter 
 adherence to bare facts would require thee to say one. 
 In other words, it is said of thee that thee enlarges the 
 truth. Does thee acknowledge this ? " 
 
 Again I nodded, and began to feel as a penitent at the 
 confessional ; and Friend William continued : 
 
 " The love of reading is a great gift, for books will 
 not only add to thy knowledge but will make thee ac- 
 quainted with good and noble thoughts. Hold fast to 
 them, Robert. And as to seeing wonders where others 
 see only commonplace things, I lay all that to thy gift of 
 imagination, which may be a blessing or a curse accord- 
 ing to thy way of using it. Let me say to thee therefore : 
 Be guided by the Light that is in thee. Love thy mother, 
 love the truth, cultivate thy gifts, and all will be well with 
 thee." 
 
 Then, turning to mother, he said, " Deborah, thee 
 asked my advice and I will give it to thee. Don't worry 
 about the boy. Let him see visions and dream dreams 
 
24 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and love books ; and if he sometimes enlarges the truth, 
 thee may also pass that over as a gift of the imagination. 
 If I remember rightly, I was a good deal the same way 
 when I was his age. And as for Satan, or the Old Fel- 
 ler as thee calls him — well, I don't believe he has any 
 claims worth speaking of on any of us." 
 
 He lifted his hand from my head, and at the same mo- 
 ment a great load was lifted from my mother's heart. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 IF there was one thing of which my father was justly 
 and openly proud, that was his hbrary. There was 
 nothing hke it in the New Settlement, and I fondly be- 
 lieved that there were few collections of books in the 
 whole world that could rival it in variety and complete- 
 ness. Some of our neighbors possessed an almanac or 
 two, and in every Friend's house there was a family 
 Bible, to say nothing of an occasional tract on slavery. 
 In homes where there were children, one might find a 
 few dilapidated school-books, hidden away in old hair 
 trunks or among the cobwebs and dust of the cabin loft. 
 But nowhere was there such a collection of printed works 
 as that which gave honor and distinction to the cabin 
 wherein I was born. 
 
 Our bookcase, as we called it, consisted of two shelves, 
 made by laying short boards upon some wooden pegs 
 that had been driven into the wall, midway between the 
 fireplace and the corner cupboard. It was so high that 
 in order to reach the lowest books I was obliged to stand 
 upon a chair. The shelves were placed one directly 
 above the other, and they were scarcely half as long as 
 the five-foot shelf recently made popular and glorified 
 by an ex-president of our oldest university. 
 
 The books were arranged with some care, the larger 
 volumes on the upper shelf, the lesser on the lower. The 
 collection made such an unusual appearance, that the 
 
 25 
 
26 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 neighbors who sometimes visited us seemed awed when 
 they came near it, as though uncertain how to behave in 
 the presence of so much preserved wisdom. 
 
 *' This is my library," father would say, standing up 
 very straight and tall, and running his fingers lovingly 
 across the backs of the books. And our visitors would 
 stand with open mouths, gazing and wondering — some 
 admiring, but more condemning and all questioning the 
 propriety of a thing which seemed so like a worldly di- 
 version. 
 
 Now, what were the contents of that wonderful li- 
 brary? 
 
 In the upper shelf were six portly quarto volumes, 
 in sheep binding, very appropriately entitled Friends' 
 Library, and comprising a series of memoirs and jour- 
 nals of eminent members of Our Society from the date 
 of its organization down to the first years of the nine- 
 teenth century. Flanking these volumes on the right was 
 a very old copy of the Bible, in leather covers, thumb- 
 worn and greasy. It had belonged to my great-grand- 
 father, eminent in the ministry, and it was so sacred that 
 the mere touching of it sent an electric thrill of goodness 
 to the heart. It was never taken from the shelf or opened, 
 save now and then by good Aunt Rachel for the con- 
 cealment between its leaves of a faded precious love- 
 letter, preserved, I verily believed, since the days of the 
 flood. There was room on this shelf for only one other 
 book, and that was a thin gray-backed volume, written 
 by William Penn and entitled, No Cross, No Crozvn. 
 It was the dullest, dryest, most unsatisfactory book in 
 the librar}% for I could get no sense out of it, no matter 
 how persistently I wrestled with its big words and com- 
 plicated phrases. 
 
" THIS IS MY LIBRARY " 27 
 
 On this upper shelf there was but little to tempt the 
 voracity of so young a bookworm as myself. Never- 
 theless, I more than once attacked one or another of 
 those musty volumes, and with a determination worthy 
 of success pored long over their pages. I took no little 
 pleasure in turning the leaves of the Friends' Library, 
 picking out the easy passages, and studying the chap- 
 ter headings and the tables of contents ; and I soon came 
 to know the books so well that if any particular biog- 
 raphy were mentioned I could immediately tell where to 
 find it. 
 
 It was the lower shelf, however, which contained the 
 treasures best suited to the enrichment of youthful minds. 
 Here was John Woolman's Journal, that record of a 
 gentle life, which Charles Lamb advises everybody to 
 get by heart. What a picture John Woolman made 
 upon my imagination as I thought of him clad in his 
 undyed garments of exceeding plainness and refusing 
 to ride in carriages because they were painted! I got 
 none of his writings by heart, but the story of his re- 
 morse for killing a mother robin I read and reread many 
 times with never-failing sympathy and admiration. 
 
 The next volume was a well-thumbed copy of George 
 Fox's Journal — why were there so many journals? 
 With dogged perseverance, I read every word of this 
 book from its title-page to the end; but it was a reading 
 of words only, for I failed to understand the meaning 
 of the stiff unadorned sentences, and the greater part 
 of the book was as unintelligible as Greek or Arabic. 
 Nevertheless, there lingers in my memory a vivid pic- 
 ture of that doughty old champion of non-resistance, 
 wearing leather breeches, preaching from the tops of 
 haystacks, and refusing to doff his hat even to kings. I 
 
28 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 admired the heroism of the man who shrank from no 
 danger and boldly spoke what was in his mind, regard- 
 less of scourgings and imprisonments and the revilings 
 of the ungodly; but somehow I hated his egotism and 
 thought of him as a crusty, opinionated and unlovable 
 man whom I hoped I should never meet in this world 
 or in the world to come. My notions of time and place 
 were confused and indefinite, and I thought of George 
 Fox and William Penn and Oliver Cromwell as still 
 being much alive and only waiting for a convenient op- 
 portunity to visit the New Settlement. I had no realiza- 
 tion of the fact that two hundred years and a broad 
 ocean lay between me and those valiant heroes of an- 
 other civilization. 
 
 Next in order upon the lower shelf were three or 
 four school-books to which I had not yet attained. My 
 father, in the process of educating himself, had mastered 
 these books with a great sense of pleasure and profit, 
 and he assured me that they would be very handy when 
 I became old enough to be sent to school. Among these, 
 I remember Pike's Arithmetic, a stiff little volume from 
 which with father's help I early learned the tables of 
 multiplication and dry measure. Its nearest neighbor 
 was Lindley Murray's English Reader', a book of classi- 
 cal selections with which I frequently wrestled, some- 
 times to my edification, but often to my serious 
 discouragement. 
 
 Reposing conveniently near these was a thin cloth- 
 bound volume familiarly known to us as The Discipline, 
 wherein were printed the principles of faith and the 
 guiding rules of Our Society, together with the forms to 
 be observed on all occasions of worship, of business, of 
 
" THIS IS MY LIBRARY " 29 
 
 marriage and of death. It was an ugly book, repugnant 
 to my sight, and I seldom disturbed its solemn repose. 
 
 Then there was that old blue-backed spelling-book 
 with the name of Noah Webster on the title-page — a 
 dog's-eared, dilapilated, ill-smelling Httle work which 
 was the common property of our two " big boys " and 
 marked the limit of their literary attainments. Its gen- 
 eral contents consisted of meaningless rows of words, 
 words, words, and task lessons in which I could discover 
 neither rhythm nor rhyme nor common sense; and for 
 these I conceived an intense dislike, which even to this 
 day is revived at the mere mention of a spelling-book. 
 But there were occasional lines of reading at the bottom 
 of the page — short proverbs, pithy sayings, bits of in- 
 formation — which I frequently perused with interest. 
 And toward the end I found a collection of four or five 
 fables which afforded enjoyment for many an idle hour. 
 The story of the " Milkmaid and Her Pail " was so 
 nearly in the line of my own experiences that I com- 
 mitted it to memory and recited it one day to Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, greatly to her amusement and disgust. 
 
 Fit companion for the spelling-book was a belabored 
 little volume, with broken leather backs, entitled Walk- 
 ers Dictionary. Its use was not well understood, and 
 therefore it was but seldom referred to ; yet the memory 
 of its first important service to me still lingers in my 
 mind. It happened one day after we had all been to 
 meetin' and had heard there an eloquent discourse from 
 a traveling Friend upon the wonders of the invisible 
 world. Our womenfolk were busy putting the dinner 
 on the table, the big boys, David and Jonathan, were 
 loitering impatiently by the hearth, and father was look- 
 
30 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ing at his library. Very naturally everybody was think- 
 ing about the strange minister and his unusual sermon. 
 
 " Well, he can preach right smart, anyhow," remarked 
 Cousin Mandy Jane, as she laid the dishes in their places. 
 " I could jist set and listen to him all day, he speaks his 
 words so plain and so purty." 
 
 " But did thee understand all of his purty words ? " 
 queried Aunt Rachel, adjusting her cap strings. 
 *' Sometimes thee can be pleased with the sound of 
 things without knowin' much about their sense." 
 
 " Well, it seems to me his words was nearly all Scrip- 
 ter," answered Mandy Jane ; " leastwise he spoke 'em so 
 plain that a body couldn't help but understand. But, 
 come to think of it, there was one word that I never 
 heerd before. He kept sayin' it over and over, over and 
 over, and it sounded so uncommon that I thought I'd ax 
 what it meant. He must have spoke it twenty times, and 
 he spoke it in a mighty purty way, too." 
 
 *' Does thee remember what partickler word it was ? " 
 inquired mother, as she stooped over to remove the smok- 
 ing-hot corn dodgers from the covered skillet in which 
 they had been baking. 
 
 " Well, no," answered Cousin Mandy Jane ; " but it 
 was a mighty queer-soundin' word and it had somethin* 
 to do with the world. I do wish I could recklect it. I 
 think it begun with in, or un, or some sich thing." 
 
 " Maybe it was * invisible,' " said David, whose mem- 
 ory of words was sometimes superior to his power of 
 using them. 
 
 " Laws' sakes, yes ! That's the very word. It's 
 queer, ain't it?" And Cousin Mandy Jane ran to bring 
 a pitcher of milk. 
 
"THIS IS MY LIBRARY" 31 
 
 " It's a good-soundin' word," placidly remarked Aunt 
 Rachel. '' I noticed how beautiful he rolled it off his 
 tongue — ' in-vis-i-bul-1-1 wor-r-rld ! ' It was better nor 
 a pipe of tobacker to hear him roll them words along like 
 rollin' punkins over the barn floor." 
 
 " But what does it mean ? I'd like to know," said 
 mother. 
 
 " I think it means somethin' that's clean gone out of 
 sight," answered Aunt Rachel. " What does thee think, 
 Stephen ? " 
 
 Father, being thus appealed to, made reply in his usual 
 quiet way : " Suppose we look and see what the dic- 
 tionary says." 
 
 He took the leather-covered volume down from its 
 place and turned the leaves with much deliberation. 
 Finding a word in the dictionary was no common proc- 
 ess with him, and he progressed slowly. At length, how- 
 ever, he announced the result : " Here it is. ' I-n, in — 
 v-i-s, viz, inviz — i, invizi — b-l-e, bul, invisible, 
 something that can not be seen.' The minister spoke of 
 an invisible world meaning a world that we can not see." 
 
 " Well, I don't keer what the meanin' of it is," said 
 Aunt Rachel, *' it's a mighty purty-soundin' word, least- 
 wise as the preacher spoke it." 
 
 And we all sat down to dinner. 
 
 In truth, the minister had given to the word a peculiar 
 musical inflection which it is impossible to indicate on 
 paper. There was a singsong melody connected with it 
 that had pleased my imagination mightily — it was the 
 nearest approach to real singing that I had ever heard. 
 As I sat at the table I repeated it softly to myself with 
 varying intonations and inflections. Immediately it was 
 
32 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 echoed back to my mental tympanum in tones exactly 
 like those of the minister. My unseen playmate was 
 certainly near; I felt his soft breath upon my cheek. 
 
 '' I can not see thee," I said. 
 
 " No, for I am invisible,'' he answered. 
 
 " Well, that's a good name for thee," I returned. " I 
 think I will always call thee Invisible — yes, I will name 
 thee Inviz, Inviz." 
 
 '* I shall like that name," he whispered. And we were 
 both happy. 
 
 But, to the library again. 
 
 At the extreme right-hand end of the lower shelf, you 
 might have seen my treasure of treasures — the three 
 precious little volumes that were all my own. They were 
 Emerson's Primer, McGuffey's First Reader, and the 
 '' Child's Instructor, by a teacher of Philadelphia." In 
 presenting these books to me, father had said, " Robert, 
 these are thine. They are the beginning of thy own li- 
 brary. Take good care of them, and as thee grows older, 
 perhaps thee may have others given to thee." 
 
 Oh, the delightful memories that are awakened by the 
 mention of those books ! In Emerson's Primer were my 
 first lessons in reading — little stories of the most ab- 
 sorbing interest, of which the following is a sample : 
 
 "Is he in? He is in. 
 
 " Do we go up ? We do go up. 
 
 " Go in. Do go in. 
 
 " We go in. We go up, 
 
 "Up we go. We do so." 
 
 This was a great romance, a charming fairy tale re- 
 lated in words of two letters, and leading up to a delight- 
 
" THIS IS MY LIBRARY " 33 
 
 fill climax. And when the action proceeded to words 
 of three letters, how thrilling was the result! 
 
 " You are wet. 
 
 " Can you get dry? 
 
 " See him run. 
 
 "The sly fox met him." 
 
 The yellow covers of the Primer were faded and torn, 
 the leaves were thumb-worn, every page was grimy and 
 soiled from much handling, but to me it was a garden of 
 perpetual delight through which I was never weary of 
 strolling. 
 
 McGuffey's First Reader was not inferior to it in in- 
 terest, and it was a grade higher in language and thought. 
 In it I reveled over the stories of " The Poor Old Man " 
 and " The Broken Window." Good moral tales these 
 were, my dear Leonidas, and they were calculated to 
 help in the building of good moral men — which can not 
 be said of the slush and rot that are too often found in 
 the so-called " method " readers of to-day. And there 
 were a few delightful poems, too — poems of the kind 
 that children understand and enjoy. Chief among these 
 was that little masterpiece which never grows old : 
 
 " Twinkle, twinkle, little star, 
 How I wonder what you are, 
 Up above the world so high, 
 Like a diamond in the sky." 
 
 And scarcely inferior to it was another poetical gem 
 which I memorized and spoke as my first ** piece " at 
 school. 
 
 " I like to see a little dog 
 
 And pat him on his head; 
 
34 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 So prettily he wags his tail 
 Whenever he is fed." 
 
 The brightest and best, however, of my trio of literary 
 treasures was the little volume entitled The Child's In- 
 structor. This was a veritable storehouse of knowledge, 
 a collection of all sorts of good things, an array of 
 thought gems adapted to the understanding of children 
 of every age. What could be more musical to the ear 
 or more suggestive to the imagination than this little 
 lesson? 
 
 " Ab eb ib ob ub ; ac ec ic oc uc. 
 "Ad ed id od ud; af ef if of uf. 
 " Ag eg ig og ug ; ak ek ik ok uk. 
 " Ba be bi bo bu ; ca ce ci co cu. 
 " Da de di do du ; f a f e fi f o fu. 
 "Ha he hi ho hu; ja je ji jo ju." 
 
 There was a peculiar fascination in such exercises as 
 this, and I think they were fully as sensible and useful 
 as much of the present-day babble under the head of 
 phonograms and blends, families and stock words. 
 When weary of real study or of wrestling with George 
 Fox and his followers, I often took great pleasure in 
 humming these over and over to my invisible playmate, 
 varying the order of the syllables and forming new ones 
 as he would from time to time suggest. 
 
 Many things in this odd little volume fixed themselves 
 indelibly upon my memory, and they, no doubt, have had 
 a subtle influence upon my thoughts and actions at times 
 when I least suspected it. Among such was the follow- 
 ing couplet on the first page, which pleased me so much 
 that I adopted it as my motto, wrote it down and never 
 forgot it: 
 
" THIS IS MY LIBRARY " 35 
 
 " Let this be your plan, 
 Learn all that you can." 
 
 Here also were occasional touches of humor tempered 
 with a droll philosophy which at times set me to thinking 
 and furnished me with food for speculation. One pass- 
 age, which I remember, appealed to my imagination 
 with such force that I learned it by heart, and afterward 
 went out into the pasture and declaimed it to the sheep : 
 
 " History informs us that Tom Thumb grew up to be a 
 greater man than his mother ; but before we attempt to prove 
 this, we must inquire what makes a great man. Is it a big 
 head? No. Is it a strong arm? No. Is it a fat body? No. 
 Is it a long leg? No. — But I will tell you what it is. It is a 
 wise head and a good heart." 
 
 The sheep were probably not much edified by this 
 brief discourse; but there was one barefooted boy who 
 went to his bed that night fully resolved that he would 
 some day become a greater man than Tom Thumb. He 
 thought of his three, thin little volumes on the lower shelf, 
 and pictured to himself the great library which he hoped ^ 
 to possess by the time he had grown to manhood. And 
 Inviz whispered to him that perhaps, if he were very 
 good, he might acquire a collection of books equal if not 
 superior to that of his father. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 EVENINGS AT HOME 
 
 DIRECTLY beneath our bookcase there stood a little 
 candlestand with three carved legs and a round top 
 of wild cherry wood. Small as it was, it was the finest 
 piece of furniture in the house, and upon it reposed the 
 book that was best known and oftenest read, the Bible. 
 I do not remember the time when my acquaintance with 
 this volume began, but I have been told that it was often 
 my companion in the cradle. Even before I could read 
 I had acquired some notions about the Creation and the 
 Flood, for these were the subjects which mother liked; 
 and not '' feeling free " to sing even to her child, she 
 often found relief in crooning to herself and me certain 
 favorite psalms and the first chapter of Genesis. 
 
 It was the rule and custom of our family to listen to a 
 " Scripter readin' " every night, just before retiring to 
 rest. When the labors of the day and evening were 
 completed, we would assemble in a semicircle around 
 the great clay hearth, each in his favorite place. Aunt 
 Rachel sat as usual in her chimney corner, her pipe in 
 her mouth, her knitting in her lap, her wrinkled face 
 enwreathed by the frills of her snow-white cap. Al- 
 though only an aunt of my mother's, she had been given 
 a permanent home with us, and she seemed to me as 
 necessary to the completeness of the family as did either 
 of my parents. She was old, very old, and I sometimes 
 
 36 
 
EVENINGS AT HOME 37 
 
 looked at her with awe, wondering if the angel of death 
 had not somehow passed by and forgotten her. 
 
 Next to her on the hearth sat her granddaughter, an 
 angular awkward maiden of uncertain age whom every- 
 body called Cousin Mandy Jane. She had been adopted 
 into our household at about the same time with myself, 
 but in a different way, and had proved to be my mother's 
 most efficient helper, being esteemed the best butter- 
 maker, the best spinner, the best all-round housekeeper 
 in the New Settlement. She had not much beauty, but 
 she had a willing hand and a kind heart, and these go a 
 great deal farther than a well-chiseled nose or a good- 
 featured face. 
 
 A little back from the hearth, on a short bench against 
 the wall, sat the two *' big boys," David and Jonathan. 
 They were twins, several years my seniors — burly 
 husky fellows, the orphaned sons of a distant relative, 
 whom father had undertaken to raise as his own. They 
 had been in our family a shorter time than I, and yet I 
 had always thought of them as my elder brothers. They 
 were farmers and pioneers by nature ; they liked to talk 
 of horses and cattle and crops, but in book-learning they 
 had never gone further than the rudiments. While they 
 were father's willing helpers in the fields and clearings, 
 they were his despair in matters pertaining to mental 
 culture. The down on their lips and cheeks was fast 
 taking on color and stiffness, and soon they would be 
 big boys no longer, except in their artless simplicity. 
 
 Directly fronting the center of the fireplace was the 
 easy rocking chair which my mother occupied — a seat 
 of honor, as it were, where she might overlook not 
 only the rest of the family but the usual objects of her 
 industry, the pots and pans, the spinning-wheels and 
 
38 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the corner cupboard. Near her feet, so near that I 
 might lay my head upon her lap when I was tired, was 
 the three-legged stool which served me as a seat. It 
 was low and narrow, but large enough for Inviz to come 
 quite often and sit beside me ; and he sat so quietly that 
 no one but myself knew of his presence. 
 
 Lastly, in the place of dignity near the extreme right- 
 hand corner of the hearth, sat father, thoughtful, solemn, 
 with a heavy sense of life's duties and responsibilities 
 resting upon him. When all were assembled in order 
 and in becoming silence, he would say in the commanding 
 tones of a patriarch : 
 
 " David, thee may fetch me the Book." 
 
 And David would rise from the bench, and going 
 proudly round to the other side of the room, would pick 
 up the little candlestand, with the Bible, a pair of snuffers 
 and a lighted candle upon it, and carrying it across the 
 hearth, would deposit it in the right position between the 
 patriarchal knees. Then he would resume his place, and 
 silence would again fall on the household. 
 
 Father would snuff the candle, put on his spectacles 
 and open the book — I suspect with a little inarticulate 
 prayer as he did so. Very deliberately he would turn 
 the leaves until he came to a chapter or a passage which 
 harmonized best with his feelings, or which in his judg- 
 ment was best adapted to our instruction and edification. 
 Sometimes he would read a penitential psalm, sometimes 
 a narrative passage from Genesis or Ruth or Esther, and 
 sometimes a selection from the Proverbs which seemed 
 to strike home at certain of our own shortcomings and 
 backslidings. He was better pleased, however, when 
 reading a chapter from one of the old prophets pro- 
 
EVENINGS AT HOME 39 
 
 claiming vengeance upon a wicked and idolatrous people ; 
 and he was at his very best when he opened the book at 
 one of the gospels and read there of the doings and say- 
 ings of Him " who taught as never man taught." 
 
 My dear Leonidas, my dear Leona, it was worth being 
 born in a log cabin to be privileged to sit upon that little 
 three-legged stool and listen to those wonderful readings. 
 Very rich and full was father's voice, and at times ex- 
 ceedingly melodious. He began softly, in tones some- 
 what deliberate and slow ; then soon he seemed to forget 
 everything else and to throw his whole soul into the semi- 
 musical rendition of the text before him. To me it was 
 much like going to the opera will be to you, Leona, but I 
 suspect that the impressions were somewhat different. 
 I had never heard any one really sing, I had never seen 
 a musical instrument; and if it had been suggested to 
 father that there was aught of music in his readings he 
 would have been overwhelmed with shame and a sense 
 of wTong-doing. The hosts of Heaven might sing around 
 the Throne, the psalmist might play upon the psaltery and 
 the harp, but such diversions were not for Friends and 
 common folks In the New Settlement; in these degen- 
 erate times the tendency of all music was to worldliness, 
 and worldliness only. 
 
 When at length the reading was finished, father closed 
 the Book, snuffed the candle again and pushed the candle- 
 stand a few inches away. A brief moment of silence 
 followed, and then each member of the family began to 
 prepare for retiring. Aunt Rachel covered the fire, 
 father wound the clock, mother filled the teakettle, the 
 boys brought in an armload of kindlings, Cousin Mandy 
 Jane set the chairs In their places, and I — well, I pulled 
 
40 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 my little trundle-bed out from behind the green curtains 
 in the corner, crept into it, with Inviz beside me, and 
 was soon oblivious to all the world. 
 
 My dear Leonidas, does this remind you of anything? 
 Perhaps not; but there was once a Scottish poet, much 
 loved and admired, who wrote a description of a similar 
 scene in his own home almost a century earlier — a de- 
 scription which puts my own efforts to shame. I trust 
 that you will find that poem and read it, and that you will 
 especially give thought to a particular stanza which I com- 
 mitted to memory at an age when you will scarcely have 
 heard of the name of Robert Burns : 
 
 " From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad: 
 
 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
 An honest man's the noblest work of God." 
 
 One day, when I was a very small boy, father said to 
 me, ** Robert, how many pages are in the Bible ? " 
 
 I looked at the figures on the last page, and answered, 
 " Eight hundred and twenty." 
 
 " Well," said he, '' if thee will begin at the first chapter 
 and read three pages every day, thee can read it through 
 in less than a year. Do this, and I promise to give thee 
 a new book for thy library." 
 
 I was overjoyed. To win so valuable a prize by per- 
 forming a task that appeared to be in itself so pleasant 
 — who could have desired anything better ? I began at 
 once with " In the beginning," and persevered, day after 
 day, until I had read every chapter, every word, to 
 the " Amen " at the end of the Apocalypse. There was, 
 of course, a great deal that I could not comprehend — 
 in fact, the major portion of it consisted of words and 
 
EVENINGS AT HOME 41 
 
 phrases that conveyed no distinct meaning to my mind; 
 but I knew that there were pages and pages in that book 
 which father himself could not comprehend, just as I 
 now know that there are chapters and chapters which 
 have so little relation to our present-day needs that they 
 are scarcely worth reading. I found many passages, 
 however, which seemed full of meaning even to my child- 
 ish mind, and there were some narratives that were so 
 full of the spirit of adventure that I read and reread them 
 with ever increasing relish. 
 
 I found, also, episodes and stories which, if printed 
 separately in modern English, would now be banned from 
 good society and from the United States mails — very 
 improper reading for young boys and pretty maidens, 
 people would say ; but I stumbled through all these things 
 with the utmost innocence, reverently believing that they 
 were entirely good and proper " because they were in 
 the Bible." In fact, in those early years, the Bible was 
 a fetish which I worshiped blindly and without reason, 
 just as a good many older people do to this day. I 
 believed that whatever was contained between the lids 
 of our family volume was absolutely and undeniably 
 true. If some one had written on the margin of one of 
 the pages that " White is black," or that *' Robert Dudley 
 is a hundred years old to-day," I should have regarded 
 it a sin to deny those statements ; for I believed that it 
 was utterly impossible to write or print an untruth any- 
 where inside of that holy volume. 
 
 You smile at my simplicity; but let me say to you 
 that there are millions of grown-up people living to-day 
 who pin their hopes of salvation on beliefs equally as 
 childish and opposed to reason and good sense. The 
 race has so long been fed upon articles of faith, that 
 
42 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 credulity has become an instinct; and it often happens 
 that those doctrines which are most directly opposed 
 to the evidence of the senses secure the adherence of the 
 largest number of converts. 
 
 It was a great accomplishment — that reading of the 
 entire Book from beginning to end — and I should have 
 faltered more than once had it not been for the promised 
 reward. But at length it was finished, the " Amen " pro- 
 nounced, and the Book returned to its place on the candle- 
 stand. 
 
 ** Robert," said father, '' thee has been very faithful, 
 and thee has persevered wonderfully for a boy of thy 
 age. If thee feels inclined to read the Book a second 
 time, I shall not discourage thee." 
 
 Then from the small box under the bed, wherein he 
 kept his treasures, he drew forth a brand-new book, a 
 beautiful little volume bound in green paper boards with 
 gilt lettering on its back. 
 
 '' Here is thy reward, Robert," he said. '' I bought it 
 for thee when I was in Nopplis last week." 
 
 He put it in my hands, and I opened it. It was a 
 Boys Book of Animals, containing many interesting pic- 
 tures and chock-full of wonderful stories. I had never 
 seen anything like it. My cup of joy was full to over- 
 flowing. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BORROWING FIRE 
 
 ONE afternoon in haying time, a dreadful thing hap- 
 pened at our house. The fire went out. 
 
 It had been our custom to depend upon Aunt Rachel 
 for the conservation of that useful article of household 
 economy. She it was who covered the fire at night. 
 She it was who always saw that there were glowing em- 
 bers somewhere in the ashes, ready to be fanned quickly 
 into flames. To her an occasional red-hot coal to drop 
 into her pipe was a necessity scarcely second to the 
 satisfying weed itself. So long, therefore, as she was 
 sitting daily in her favorite corner we knew that the fire 
 was being properly cared for. But now she had gone 
 to Wayne on a summer's visit among relatives, and the 
 guardianship of the hearth had devolved upon Cousin 
 Mandy Jane. 
 
 '' Be sure that thee don't let the fire go out," was 
 Aunt Rachel's parting injunction. 
 
 But Cousin Mandy Jane did let it go out. 
 
 It happened, as I have said, one day in haying time. 
 Mother was busy in the weavin'-room, finishing a piece 
 of linsey-woolsey upon which she had been engaged, at 
 odd times, now many weeks. All the rest of us were 
 in the meadow, raking and pitching the newly-mown 
 hay, and getting it ready for the stacking that must be 
 done on the morrow. At the dinner table all the talk 
 had been about the heaviness of the grass, the difficulty of 
 
 43 
 
44 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 cutting it and the admirable manner in which it had 
 been cured without a drop of rain falling on it. Then 
 the boys began to tell of Cousin Mandy Jane's great 
 skill in pitching and raking. 
 
 *' I tell thee what," said David, waxing warm in his 
 praises, " she can do 'most half as much as a man when 
 it comes to puttin' up windrows. And that's purty good 
 for a gal." 
 
 " Well, it's my 'pinion," said Jonathan, " that if she 
 didn't have to be clogged with that there long dress of 
 her'n, a-floppin' about her knees, she could e'en-a-most 
 git ahead of thee — and thee thinks thee can do all of 
 a man's work, don't thee?" 
 
 " Thee'd better keep thy 'pinions to thyself," responded 
 David half angrily. " Mandy Jane can do right smart 
 when she tries, but I can put up two windrows to her 
 one, every time." 
 
 " I'd like to see thee do it," said Jonathan. 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane smiled in that queer little, thin- 
 lipped way of hers which always indicated that her 
 mind was made up. And when the boys had finished 
 their meal and left the house, she whispered to me: 
 " Jist thee watch. I'll show that there lazy David what 
 a gal can raally do when she buckles herself to it. 
 Thee'll see a right smart lot of fun, I reckon." 
 
 She hurriedly washed the dishes, tidied the room, put 
 on her blue sunbonnet, and rake in hand followed the 
 boys down to the meadow. In her great haste and pre- 
 occupation of mind, the fire, which was burning low on 
 the hearth, was forgotten. 
 
 *' Now, David, I guess thee'll have to hump thyself," 
 said father, his face glowing with anticipation. 
 
 And truly it was a " humping " time that followed. 
 
BORROWING FIRE 45 
 
 While father mowed around the stumps and I followed 
 him, to spread the newly-cut grass, the big boys com- 
 peted with Cousin Mandy Jane in the making of wind- 
 rows of the cured hay. The pitchforks and rakes moved 
 with astonishing celerity, the windrows grew rapidly, and 
 ere the sun had sunk to the level of the western tree-tops, 
 the whole meadow was striped with long piles of hay 
 extending from the northern fence to the southern. But 
 never once had either David or Jonathan been able to 
 " git ahead " of Cousin Mandy Jane ; her windrow was 
 not only always the biggest, but it was invariably the 
 first one finished. 
 
 At length the race was ended, for there was no more 
 hay to be raked, and all sat down in the shade of some 
 willows to rest. 
 
 " I reckon thee thinks thee's quite some," muttered 
 David, as he wiped his steaming face upon his shirt- 
 sleeve ; " but thee ain't nothin' but a gal, anyway." 
 
 '' Well, I'd rather be a gal every day in the year than 
 a big hunk of a clodhopper like thee," retorted Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, fanning herself with her sunbonnet. 
 
 "And where's thy two windrows to her'n one?" 
 queried Jonathan who had greatly enjoyed the sport. 
 
 '' Thee needn't to say nothin'," answered David, wax- 
 ing angry. " While thee was a-lickin' to it with all thy 
 might, I wasn't more'n half tryin'." 
 
 " Well't seems to me thee was strainin' right smart, 
 not to be a-tryin'," said Mandy Jane. " 1 s'pose thee was 
 afeard to let thyself out for fear thee'd bust somethin'." 
 
 Nobody knows what further words of homely com- 
 pliment and suggestion might have been uttered had 
 not father quietly put an end to the discussion. 
 
 " I am afraid, boys, that we may have rain before 
 
46 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 morning," he said. '' So, after you've rested a little 
 while, we three will set to work and pile up these wind- 
 rows into haycocks that will turn the water. It's always 
 best to be on the safe side, when it comes to saving hay ; 
 and it still lacks two good hours to sundown." 
 
 " And what shall I do ? " queried Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " I think thee had better go home, now, and get the 
 supper ready, and do the milking. And Robert, he can 
 go along with thee, to help with the cows and carry in 
 the wood. For it will be quite late when we finish 
 here." 
 
 And so, to my inward joy, we two wended our way 
 homeward. 
 
 ''Didn't I make them two boys hump it?" queried 
 she ; but I was too busy thinking of other things to ven- 
 ture any reply. 
 
 We reached the head of the lane and entered the 
 yard, passing under the cherry trees which were now 
 laden with crimson fruit. We heard something — 
 thump ! thump ! thump ! It was the old loom, pounding 
 away as usual in the weavin'-room. Mother was busy 
 at her task. She had not left the weaver's bench a mo- 
 ment during the whole of that summer afternoon. The 
 sound seemed suddenly to remind Cousin Mandy Jane 
 of something in the cabin. She ran quickly to the door, 
 looked in and then uttered a screech which brought 
 mother out of the weavin'-room in a high state of alarm. 
 
 '' What in the world is the matter ? " she cried. *' Does 
 thee want to skeer me to death ? " 
 
 " Lands' sake ! " answered Cousin Mandy Jane. " I 
 jist believe the fire's gone out. I was in sich a hurry 
 when I went to the medder that I clean forgot to kivver 
 it." 
 
BORROWING FIRE 47 
 
 " Look in the ashes," said mother rather soothingly ; 
 " maybe thee'll find a Httle Hve coal or two that hain't 
 gone with the rest, and thee can fan it to a blaze." 
 
 Mandy Jane took the fire shovel and tossed the 
 ashes this way, that way, every way, but no glowing 
 cinder could she find. The hearth itself was cold. 
 
 " There ain't a drap of fire in the whole fireplace," she 
 cried. " Every spark and splither of it's clean gone 
 out." 
 
 " Well, I must say that thee was rather careless not 
 to tend to it before goin' to the medder," said mother in 
 tones of mild reproof. Then she took the shovel in her 
 own hands and made diligent search among the ashes, 
 but all to no purpose. 
 
 " Maybe thee might find a little fire in one of the old 
 log heaps down in the deadenin'," she suggested. 
 
 *' Oh, no ! " answered Mandy Jane. *' The boys hain't 
 had n» fire in the deadenin' not since the big rains put 
 'em out jist after corn-plantin'." 
 
 '' Well, then, thee'll jist have to wait till father comes, 
 and he'll kindle a new fire with his steel and tinder; and 
 that will make supper purty late," said mother. 
 
 " Yes ; and the boys, they'll have it back at me, too ; " 
 and Cousin Mandy Jane began to cry. '' I beat 'em at 
 the rakin' ; but they'll crow when they hear about the 
 fire. And David, he'll be throwin' up to me about bein' 
 a gal, wussun ever." 
 
 '' Oh, w^ell, I w^ouldn't mind that,'* said mother sooth- 
 ingly. " It's a purty good thing to be a gal sometimes ; 
 specially when it ain't convenient to be a boy." 
 
 " I wish we had some of them things they use down in 
 the 'Hio Country to make a fire," sobbed Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. " They are little wooden splinters with a drap of 
 
48 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 brimstun on one end; and when the brimstun is rubbed 
 hard acrosst a stone or somethin', it blazes right up and 
 makes a fire. Mahaly Bray, she was telHn' me of 'em; 
 and I wish I could remember what the folks down there 
 calls 'em — some kind of a Lucy thing or other." 
 
 " They call 'em Lucifer matches," said mother. " Sich 
 things is good enough for quality folks, but they're too 
 expensive for pore people to use. Now, I've jist thought 
 of a plan that I think will set things right, and the boys 
 needn't never know a word about the fire goin' out. 
 The sun's two hours high, and there'll be plenty of time ; 
 and thee can have supper ready when the men-folks 
 come up from the medder." 
 
 '' But how can I cook the supper without any fire ? " 
 asked Mandy Jane. 
 
 '' Thee cain't," said mother ; " but we'll get some fire. 
 There's Robert at the door. He can run over to Enoch's 
 and borrow some. It won't take him more'n an hour, 
 and then thee'll have plenty of time. Thee can get 
 everything ready while he's gone — slice the meat and 
 put it in the skillet, scrape the taters, skim the milk, mix 
 the dough for the dodgers, and set the table. And if I 
 was thee, I would have the wood and the kindlin's all 
 ready jist to drap the live coals in among 'em. Then 
 thee can go right ahead and do the cookin' before the 
 men-folks know anything about it." 
 
 " It's a good plan, if Robert will only go for the 
 fire," said Cousin Mandy Jane, much pleased; and she 
 looked at me with an expression like that of a candidate 
 on the day before election. 
 
 '* Oh, he'll go," said mother, with a smile which I 
 thoroughly understood. " Here, Robert, take this little 
 iron kittle and run over to Enoch^s as fast as thee can, 
 
BORROWING FIRE 49 
 
 and ask 'em to lend us a little fire, and we'll pay it back 
 when their'n goes out. Come, now, hurry ! " 
 
 If she had asked me to walk into a nest of bumble- 
 bees, I would have been much better pleased. Enoch 
 Fox was our nearest neighbor; but he was a very old 
 and very hard man of whom I had always felt great 
 fear. Moreover, there were six grown-up young women 
 at his house, and a scapegrace son, called Little Enick, 
 the mere thought of whom was wont to make my heart 
 sink within me. Nevertheless I dared not refuse to 
 obey my mother; I had not even the courage to tell her 
 of the feelings of undefined dread which almost over- 
 powered me. I took the little iron kettle in my hand, 
 turned quickly away to hide the tears that were starting 
 in my eyes and ran out of the yard. 
 
 " That's a good boy," mother called after me. " Now 
 don't let the grass grow under thy feet." 
 
 The distance to Enoch Fox's house was not much 
 more than half a mile ; but the way thither was through 
 the densest of dense woods, and the only road was a 
 narrow winding foot-path so seldom traveled that in 
 places one had to look closely in order to follow it. In 
 no courageous mood, I ran across our sheep pasture, 
 climbed the dividing fence and the next minute was 
 threading my way along the tortuous path. As soon as 
 I was well hidden from sight among the trees and 
 underbrush, I slackened my speed, and Inviz came out 
 of the bushes and walked by my side. 
 
 " I wouldn't hurry, if I was thee," he said. 
 
 "No, I don't think I shall," I replied. ''There's 
 plenty of time, and Cousin Mandy Jane can wait for her 
 fire." 
 
 " It was all her fault, anyhow," said Inviz. " If she 
 
50 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 had covered the coals with ashes before going to the 
 meadow, this wouldn't have happened." 
 
 Presently we heard a squirrel chirping among the trees 
 at some distance from the path, and we made a long de- 
 tour in order to see him. We satisfied ourselves that he 
 was a fox squirrel and not a gray squirrel, and then with 
 some difficulty regained our bearings and returned to the 
 path. Everything was so pleasant, there in the woods ; 
 the air was cool and fresh, and there were robins and 
 jay birds and woodpeckers in great numbers among the 
 trees. We stopped often to examine some unusual ob- 
 ject or to listen to some strange sound; and I was never 
 once afraid, for Inviz had his arm around me, and I 
 could feel his sweet breath on my cheek. 
 
 " Everything is very, very beautiful," he said. And 
 for the moment I forgot all about my errand and the 
 dreadful Enoch, and gave myself up to the intensest 
 enjoyment of the scene and the occasion. 
 
 " See those pretty things over there, close by the 
 papaw bushes," I said. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I think they are moccasin flowers," answered 
 Inviz; and we raced thither to see and admire the 
 somewhat rare and beautiful although gaudy flowers of 
 the wild. I was about to pick one of them from its 
 stalk, it was so enticing, but Inviz held my arm. 
 
 " Let it alone," he said. " It is happy here, where 
 God has put it, and if thee breaks its stalk it will grow 
 sick and die." 
 
 So I contented myself with looking at the flowers, and 
 counting them, and noting the variations in color and 
 form — and by and by I reluctantly bade them all fare- 
 well and strolled slowly onward toward Old Enoch's. 
 
 And now the path skirted the edge of a small button- 
 
BORROWING FIRE 51 
 
 wood swamp, where frogs were croaking, and strange 
 shadows were moving among the tangled bushes, and 
 everything seemed to speak of loneHness and terror. 
 There was a splashing in the dark water near an old 
 rotten log, and the shivers ran down my back as I 
 thought what a good place this was for the Old Feller 
 to lie in wait for bad boys. 
 
 " It was only some turtles sliding off the log," said 
 Inviz ; and I distinctly saw one of them floundering 
 along through the black ooze. 
 
 '* Yes, but I'm afraid," I said. " Let's hurry." 
 
 *' I shouldn't like to be here after night," said Inviz. 
 And then we ran as fast as we could away from the 
 dreadful place. 
 
 The woods became rapidly thinner, and then a small 
 clearing appeared, and a high rail fence, and beyond 
 it Old Enoch's orchard. I was quite out of breath with 
 running, and as I climbed over the fence I noticed with 
 dismay that the sun was almost down. There must be 
 no more loitering for me; I must boldly beard the lion 
 in his den and then hasten home. 
 
 The orchard was not a large one, and on the farther 
 side of it, at the end of a lane, stood the house, a long, 
 low log cabin with two doors. Everything was very 
 quiet, and but for the smoke that was curling from the 
 chimney I would have thought that nobody was at home. 
 I crossed the lane and crouched trembling beside the 
 gate. I heard the rattle of pots and tin pans inside 
 the house, and soon saw some one walking about the 
 hearth. 
 
 "It's Becky Fox," said Inviz. "It's Old Enoch's 
 wife, and she's getting the supper ready. She's all 
 alone." 
 
52 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Good ! good ! " I answered. *' How lucky ! I'm not 
 afraid of her." 
 
 I straightened myself up, tightened my grasp on the 
 bail of the little kettle, and reached up to lift the latch 
 of the gate — and then, oh, horrors ! I heard a rushing 
 of feet and a strange clattering, and the next moment 
 saw Old Enoch coming up the lane behind me with a 
 pitchfork and two rakes on his shoulder. He was walk- 
 ing very fast, as was his habit ; and behind him in goose- 
 march line followed the six young women, some carrying 
 scythes, some rakes, and the last one an earthen jug. 
 As he came striding toward me, I shrank into the 
 shadow of the gate-post, and wished — oh, how I wished 
 — that I could be like Inviz, unseen, unrecognized, my 
 presence unsuspected. 
 
 But there was no escaping the sharp eyes of Enoch 
 Fox. In spite of all my shrinking, which must have been 
 considerable, he saw me and quickened his steps. I 
 stood speechless, helpless, feeling that my doom had 
 come. He threw the rakes over the fence, and with 
 the pitchfork in his left hand, came forward to greet 
 me with his right. 
 
 " Howdy, Robert ! howdy ! " he said, extending his 
 great rough palm. 
 
 I tried to make some sort of reply, but my tongue 
 stood still. The old man's words were gentle, he looked 
 at me kindly, he surely meant me no harm. 
 
 " How's thee and thy folks ? " he asked. 
 
 My tongue was loosened. " Oh, we're purty well," I 
 said. " How's thee and thine ? " This was the formula 
 which I had heard thousands of times from others, and 
 which I believed to be the correct thing on such oc- 
 casions as this. 
 
BORROWING FIRE 53 
 
 " I'm toirble," answered Enoch in a peculiar, long- 
 drawn-out, saintly tone; "and all the rest is toU'ble." 
 
 He lifted the latch and opened the gate, saying, " Come 
 into the house a spell." 
 
 He led the way to the cabin door, and I followed him, 
 somewhat reassured, but wondering what would happen 
 next. 
 
 Just as I put my foot upon the door-step there was a 
 sudden rushing behind me and a fearful barking and 
 snarling that sent my heart clear up into my throat. I 
 leaped forward wath a scream and landed on my hands 
 and knees in the middle of the room. There was a 
 great sound of laughter just outside the door, and more 
 snarling and savage barking ; and a kind motherly woman 
 who I knew was Becky Fox, lifted me gently to my 
 feet and bade me not be afraid. I looked and saw 
 Little Enick standing by the door and holding a huge 
 yellow dog by the collar. He was laughing uproariously, 
 and encouraging the dog by saying, " Sick 'im. Bull ! sick 
 'im, Bull! Ketch the little Tow-head." 
 
 " Don't thee be afeard," said Old Enoch, quietly light- 
 ing his pipe. *' Old Bull, he w^on't hurt nobody ; and 
 Little Enick, he's jist in for havin' some fun. Take a 
 cheer, and set down." 
 
 I seated myself on a stool as far from the dog as 
 possible, holding the precious little kettle between my 
 knees. Notwithstanding Old Enoch's words of assur- 
 ance, I expected to be devoured at any moment, and I 
 mentally wondered how many mouthfuls I would make. 
 
 " How's thee, Towhead ! " shouted Little Enick from 
 the door. *' How does it feel to git skeered ? " 
 
 Then the kind mother intei*posed and closed the door, 
 leaving the rude fellow and his dog on the outside. 
 
54 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " I hope thee won't mind Little Enick," she said. 
 " He's jist so full of mischief that he don't never think 
 of nothing else, and he likes to see folks git skeered." 
 
 Then, for politeness' sake, I ventured upon a false- 
 hood. '' Oh, I ain't skeered at all," I said. 
 
 The flames were leaping high in the big fireplace, and 
 the hearth was glowing with heaps of red-hot coals. The 
 table was set. Becky Fox was frying fat pork for sup- 
 per ; and with a sinking heart I thought of our own de- 
 ferred evening meal at home. But I sat silent in my 
 place, and was afraid to mention my errand, 
 
 *' So they call thee Towhead, do they ? " said Old 
 Enoch, puffing clouds of smoke from his pipe. 
 
 " Yes, some of 'em do," I answered. 
 
 " I hear 'em say that thee can read right smart," he 
 remarked. "Is that so?" 
 
 I nodded my head in the affirmative, and Becky smiled 
 assuringly. 
 
 " Well, it seems to me thee is a leetle bit young to be 
 fussin' with books, as I hear 'em say thee does," Old 
 Enoch continued, now half hidden in smoke. " I don't 
 much believe in larnin', noway. The Bible says that it's 
 a weariness to the flesh, and I'm one that always goes 
 'cordin' to the Bible. Don't thee think that's right? " 
 
 Not knowing what else to do, I nodded again. 
 
 *'Now, thy father," said he, " he's all the time talkin' 
 about schools and larnin', and all them things, but me 
 and him don't agree. He says that everybody ought to 
 be eddicated, but I say that all the larnin' anybody 
 needs is to know how to read in the Bible ; and all other 
 books, 'cept maybe the spellin'-book, is a trap that's been 
 set by the Old Feller. Don't thee think I'm right?" 
 
 What could I do but nod my head for the third time ? 
 
BORROWING FIRE 55 
 
 And the old man continued : " Now, there's my Lit- 
 tle Enick. He's an uncommonly bright boy, and he's 
 goin' on sixteen the first of next Tenth month — well, he 
 hain't got through his spellin'-book yit. But he's pow- 
 erful brisk and smart — don't thee think so?" 
 
 At that moment there was a scraping noise at the door, 
 and so sure was I that this brisk and smart young man 
 was about to enter with Old Bull at his heels that I 
 sprang quickly to my feet. In my alarm, the little iron 
 kettle slipped from my grasp and rolled rattling upon 
 the hearth. 
 
 " Look there, Becky," cried Old Enoch, as though 
 seeing the kettle for the first time. " The leetle feller 
 has fetched a bucket with him. Maybe his folks is out 
 of meal, or m'lasses, or sumpin or 'nother. Thee'd bet- 
 ter see." 
 
 Then, with a mighty effort, I summoned all my cour- 
 age and said : " Mother wanted to know if thee would 
 lend us a little fire, and we'll pay it back when thine 
 goes out." 
 
 ''Oh, your fire's went out, has it?" said Becky very 
 kindly. " Well, that comes of Aunt Rachel bein' away, 
 I'm sure. And did thee fetch that little kittle for me to 
 put the coals in? " 
 
 I nodded my head, and she took the vessel from my 
 hands. First, she put a thin layer of cold ashes in the 
 bottom of it, and on this she sprinkled some hot ashes. 
 Then she selected some large glowing coals which she 
 placed on top of the ashes ; and on these she laid three 
 dry hickory chips, " to keep 'em from burnin' out," as 
 she said. Finally, she covered the whole with cold 
 ashes, firmly packing them down. 
 
 '' There ! " she said, as she handed the filled kettle to 
 
56 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 me. *' Be keerful and don't spill the ashes, and them 
 coals will keep alive for a week." 
 
 I took the bail in my left hand, and offering my right 
 to the good woman, said, " Well, I guess I must go 
 now. Farewell ! " 
 
 She smiled, and kindly answered, " Farewell, Robert. 
 I hope thee'U git home safe." 
 
 Then I walked to the other side of the hearth where 
 the old man was smoking. " Farewell, Enoch," I said, 
 trembling. 
 
 '' Farewell, leetle Towhead," he returned, shaking my 
 hand. " But thee must stay and eat supper with us — 
 mush and milk and fried side-meat." Then, turning to 
 his wife, he said, '' Becky, put on an extry spoon for 
 Robert. He can dip in the same bowl with M'rier and 
 M'lindy." 
 
 I stood irresolute, trying to mutter an excuse; and 
 then suddenly a new source of alarm appeared. The 
 door opened, and the six young women of the household 
 came in, some with armloads of wood, some with bundles 
 (of wool for carding, and the last with a heavy bag of 
 unshelled corn. I knew them all by name. The first 
 four were M'rier, M'lindy, Betsy and Beulah — tall, 
 strongly-built, raw-boned, with dull patient faces like 
 the faces of oxen. The fifth was a niece, Ruth Hazel, 
 whom Old Enoch had undertaken to bring up in con- 
 sideration of the work she could do. She was a slender 
 fair-haired maiden, as much out of place amid her sur- 
 roundings as a solitary white lily lifting its head in a 
 rank patch of jimson weeds. And then, following a 
 little after the others, came Esther Lamb, the grand- 
 daughter of Becky Fox, a robust, cardiacal young woman, 
 with snappy brown eyes and a countenance like that of 
 
BORROWING FIRE 57 
 
 the moon. Everybody said that she was our Jonathan's 
 favorite, and when I saw her and heard her speak, I 
 greatly admired his wisdom. 
 
 The older girls sadly deposited their burdens — the 
 wood in the chimney corner, the wool on the floor beside 
 the two big spinning-wheels. They gazed at me curi- 
 ously, and said not a word. But buxom Esther, having 
 thrown her bag of corn under the table, came toward 
 me with outstretched hand and welcoming voice. 
 
 ''Howdy, Robert," she said. ''How's thee?" 
 
 " I'm pretty well," I answered in quavers. " How's 
 thee and thine? " 
 
 I fancied that somebody was giggling, and I wondered 
 what I had said that was amiss. 
 
 " Come, gals ! " commanded Old Enoch, in the tones 
 of a master; and immediately the giggling ceased and 
 they began to take their places around the long bare 
 table. " Come, Robert," he said, pushing me with his 
 hand. " Set down, set down ! Thee may set between 
 M'rier and M'lindy and dip into their bowl." 
 
 I trembled and hesitated. There was nothing on the 
 table save a big wooden trencher filled with hot mush, 
 five large bowls of milk, and ten iron tablespoons — one 
 of these last for each member of the family, and one for 
 me. With a desperate effort, I stammered, " I don't be- 
 lieve I want any supper to-night." 
 
 " Come, and set down ! " commanded Old Enoch. 
 
 And then that blessed woman interposed again to save 
 me. " I think, Enick, that we had better let him go 
 home," she said. " They can't get supper at Stephen's 
 till he comes with the fire, and thee knows it's gittin' 
 late." 
 
 " Well, then, I s'pose thee must go, Robert," he said 
 
58 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 in softening tones. '* I will tell thee farewell," and he 
 shook my hand a second time. " Tell thy father that 
 if his sheep ever gits over into my clearin' ag'in, I'll set 
 Old Bull on 'em. Farewell ! " 
 
 Like a bird set free, I made my way quickly toward 
 the door ; but, suddenly remembering that good manners 
 should never be neglected, I paused to shake hands with 
 Becky and again bid her farewell. *' We'll pay thee back 
 when thy fire goes out," I said. 
 
 Then up spoke Esther pleadingly, " Mother, don't 
 thee think I'd better go as far as the dividin' line with 
 him? It'll be gittin' dark in the woods, and the path 
 ain't very plain." 
 
 But before the good mother could reply. Old Enoch 
 blurted out, " Hush thy slather, and tend to thy supper. 
 Thee needn't think thee can play another trick on me. 
 If that Jonathan's a-waitin' for thee at the dividin' line, 
 he'll have to wait a right smart spell, I'm thinkin', afore 
 he gits a sight of thee to-night." 
 
 I stood in the doorway and looked out. The sun was 
 down. The way was clear. With a bound, I was out 
 and running to the gate. I lifted the latch very softly, 
 lest it should click and by the sound betray me to my 
 enemies. I dodged quickly through into the lane, but 
 not too quickly, slamming the gate behind me. At the 
 same moment, out rushed Old Bull, barking, snarling, 
 snapping as though he would devour me ; and out rushed 
 Little Enick, from his hiding-place in the bushes, laugh- 
 ing, clapping his hands, and shouting to the dog. " Sick 
 'im, Bull ! Sick 'im ! Eat 'im up ! Sick 'im ! " 
 
 With a fleetness born of great fear, I fled down the 
 lane, casting not a single glance behind me. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN THE BIG WOODS 
 
 MY terror was indescribable. As I leaped forward 
 along the uneven roadway, I fancied that the sav- 
 age beast was close behind me, his open mouth frothing, 
 his sharp fangs just ready to bury themselves in my 
 back. In my agony I would have shrieked, but my 
 tongue seemed paralyzed; I could not utter a sound. 
 But all this time I clung instinctively and desperately 
 to the little kettle which contained the precious fire, re- 
 solved that, come what might, I would never surrender 
 that for which all these perils had been encountered. 
 
 I ran on, following the wagon tracks, until I came to 
 an open gap in the fence. I went through the gap 
 and found myself in Old Enoch's hay-field. Everything 
 was very quiet there, and I mustered courage to look 
 behind me. No dog or other living thing was in sight. 
 I was all alone, and safe. Now I must hasten homeward 
 by the nearest way. 
 
 It required but a few moments for me to recover my 
 bearings. Then crossing the hay-field, I soon came to 
 the little clearing and the high dividing fence which I 
 had climbed a short time before. I was not quite sure 
 where to find the path, however, and so, getting over 
 into the wild woods, I began to look around for it. 
 
 Then, to my great joy, Inviz came out from among 
 the bushes and put his arm around me. 
 
 59 
 
6o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " O Inviz, I'm so glad thee has come," I said. " I 
 have had an awful time of it." 
 
 " Yes, I know it," he replied. " Little Enick was 
 very wicked to put thee in such a fright. But it's all 
 over now, and thee is quite safe." 
 
 "That's true," I said, "but I wish I could find the 
 right path. Then we could run straight home through 
 the woods and get there before it's dark." 
 
 "I think the path is right at the foot of this hill," 
 said Inviz. " Let's go down there and see." 
 
 So, hand in hand, we ran down the wooded slope 
 until we came to a little cleared place at the bottom, 
 where there was a brook; and there, surely enough, was 
 a path, but whether it was the right one or some other, 
 we both doubted. 
 
 " We might try it, and see where it goes to," said 
 Inviz. 
 
 Darkness was falling very rapidly in the woods, and 
 presently as we came to a place where the trees stood 
 quite close together, I had to feel my way with feet 
 and hands. More than once my heart began to throb, 
 and I could feel the shivers beginning to pulsate in the 
 small of my back; and then Inviz would put his warm 
 cheek against my own, and pat my shoulder gently, and 
 say, " Courage ! Courage ! We'll soon be out of this." 
 
 But it seemed as though we should never get through 
 that fearful place. Twice I lost the path and found 
 it again only by carefully moving to the right and then 
 to left and feeling every inch of the ground with my 
 bare feet. At length, however, a broad opening ap- 
 peared among the trees, and above it the moon was 
 shining. 
 
 " I think that is our clearing," said Inviz. 
 
IN THE BIG WOODS 6i 
 
 " But it looks strange/' I answered. 
 
 Full of hope, we pushed straight forward, neglectful 
 of the path, and quite sure that we were through the 
 woods and almost home. Then suddenly I heard in 
 front of us a sound which I had not previously noticed. 
 
 "What's that? What's that?" 
 
 " It's frogs, Robert ! " answered Inviz. " It's frogs, 
 and this ain't our clearing at all, but it's the big swamp." 
 
 At the same moment I saw the reflection of the moon 
 upon the surface of the dark water, and I knew that I 
 was only a few steps from the edge of the horrible pool. 
 I started back with an involuntary cry, and as I did so, 
 there was a sudden rustling in the bushes near by which 
 made my hair stand on end. It was probably some harm- 
 less night animal disturbed in its haunts and frightened 
 by so unusual a presence; but my imagination at once 
 pictured a far more dreadful being. 
 
 " It's the Old Feller, and he's after me ! " I cried to 
 Inviz; but my little playmate had deserted me, and I 
 was alone. 
 
 Then, with all the strength that remained in my body, 
 I ran back into the dense woods, away from the black 
 water and the miry shores of the swamp and the fearful 
 lair of the Evil One. I tripped over a log, and as I 
 fell, the little kettle with its precious contents was hurled 
 from my grasp and went bowling along between the 
 trees. The next moment the red coals were scattered 
 upon the bare ground and I heard them sizzling in the 
 dampness. 
 
 With the desperation that gives courage, I was up 
 again, alternately running and creeping, falling and ris- 
 ing, feeling my way through thickets of underbrush, and 
 pausing occasionally in fear as some slight unusual 
 
62 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 sound was heard in the gloom. Several times I fancied 
 that I saw the Old Feller dodging among the shadows 
 and ready to catch hold of me at any moment. Twice 
 I distinctly heard him, at no great distance, calling my 
 name. His voice sounded much like David's — coarse 
 and husky — and I felt sure that the old deceiver was 
 trying to get me into his power by making me believe 
 that it really was David. Once I saw a light moving 
 among the trees, and the certainty that this was carried 
 by some uncanny being made me hasten in the opposite 
 direction as fast as possible. It never occurred to me 
 that father and the big boys might be in these very 
 woods, searching for me with a lantern and occasionally 
 calling my name. 
 
 How long I wandered aimlessly and In fear through 
 the great forest, I can not tell — it seemed to me ages 
 and ages. The moon, shining through the tree-tops, 
 shed just enough light to enable me to distinguish near-by 
 objects, while it gave to everything a weird and ghostly 
 appearance which added greatly to my terror. Often 
 I stumbled over logs and brushwood, I became en- 
 tangled in briers, I ran tmwittingly into dark places, from 
 which I escaped with difficulty. Gradually, however, 
 my fears seemed to wear themselves out, and little by 
 little I became indifferent to danger. The woods seemed 
 full of dreadful creatures; they ran before me, they 
 followed after me, they grinned at me from behind 
 trees and bushes, they reached down from the over- 
 hanging branches as though trying to catch me by the 
 hair. Although I was not a whit more courageous than 
 before, yet my sense of fear was so benumbed that I 
 shrank from none of those things. My only thought was 
 that I must keep going, going, going. 
 
IN THE BIG WOODS 63 
 
 At length, to my surprise, I came suddenly into a road 
 — a good broad road running straight through the 
 woods. The moon shone so brightly that I could plainly 
 see the tracks of wagon wheels and the hoof-prints of 
 horses; and how very soothing and grateful was the 
 warm soft earth to my tired and wounded feet! And 
 then the thought came pressing upon me that I must fol- 
 low this road, that I must keep going, going, and that I 
 must never give up until I had left the great woods 
 behind me. 
 
 As I turned to the right, following the wagon tracks, 
 I heard my name called — oh, so softly ! — and the next 
 moment my invisible playmate was at my side. What 
 a sense of comfort and companionship came over me, as 
 I again felt his hand in mine, his arm around me, his 
 warm breath upon my cheek! 
 
 " Oh, Inviz, it was so dark and so scary in the woods ! " 
 
 " Yes, Robert, but we are safe now. This road is 
 the big road that goes right past our farm, and all we 
 have to do is to keep going ahead." 
 
 " I am so glad thee is with me, Inviz." 
 
 " Yes, and I mean to stay with thee. So be brave, 
 be brave." 
 
 With a stout heart, but with feet that were very, very 
 tender, I pressed forward. After a long time the woods 
 became less dense, the moon shone brighter, it was easier 
 to follow the windings of the wagon tracks. Then we 
 came to an old deadening, and beyond it to a fine large 
 farm with fields of hay and corn on both sides of the 
 road. 
 
 " Cheer up ! We shall soon be home," said Inviz. 
 
 And then, right before me in the road, I saw the 
 shadowy form of a huge beast, standing motionless but 
 
64 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 no doubt waiting to seize me as I approached it. At the 
 same moment I heard a rushing of heavy feet behind 
 me, as of great animals suddenly roused from their 
 lurking places. 
 
 " Run ! run ! " shouted Inviz ; and his words awakened 
 new terror in my heart. I turned instinctively about 
 and made for the near-by fence, which I climbed without 
 once glancing behind me; then, leaping over into the 
 field, I fell sprawling into a great heap of new-mown 
 hay. At the same moment the tinkle of a cow bell told 
 me what sort of beasts those were that had given me 
 this last alarm. 
 
 " It's only three or four harmless old cows," laughed 
 Inviz. " No use to be afraid ! " 
 
 Oh, what a comfortable feeling it was, to lie there 
 half buried in the soft sweet-smelling hay ! I made no 
 effort to rise, and presently Inviz came and cuddled 
 down beside me. 
 
 *' I like this," I said, nestling deeper into the hay. 
 
 *' So do I," he answered. " It is so nice and safe 
 here, and the cows are such good company ! " 
 
 And then I forgot everything. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 AT COUSIN sally's 
 
 IT must have been the cow bell that woke me. I 
 rubbed my eyes, sat up, and in a dazed bewildered 
 way, looked around. It was broad daylight — yes, the 
 sun was at least an hour high. Some robins were sing- 
 ing in the trees by the roadside ; a quail was whistling 
 his bob-white from the topmost rail of the fence ; and, 
 at no great distance, hens were cackling, roosters crow- 
 ing, ducks quacking. The air was filled with the merry 
 sounds of the morning. 
 
 There was something familiar in the appearance of 
 the landscape ; it seemed as if I had been on that very 
 spot at some previous time ; and yet there was a strange- 
 ness about everything which perplexed me not a little. 
 At the farther end of the field there was a branch and 
 a little '' spring-house," and just beyond these there was 
 an orchard which I felt sure I had seen before. Then, 
 at the end of the orchard, I discerned a house — yes, 
 two log cabins, a large one and a small one standing 
 end to end — a so-called double house of a kind that 
 was not uncommon in the New Settlement. The smoke 
 was curling up from the chimney of the little cabin, and 
 I guessed that the people inside were getting breakfast. 
 It seemed to me that I had always known those people, 
 and yet I could not remember their names. 
 
 ''What does it matter ? " said Inviz, gently pulling me 
 
 65 
 
^ IN MY YOUTH 
 
 back into our cozy nest of hay. " Let us rest here a 
 little longer." 
 
 Very faint and weak, I cuddled down again and was 
 just closing my eyes for another nap when the cow bell 
 began to rattle more loudly than before, and I heard a 
 shrill but not unmusical voice calling out in commanding 
 tones : 
 
 *' Hi there, Bossy! Git up, Billy. It's milkin' time. 
 Hi ! hi ! hi ! " 
 
 I was sure that I knew that voice, for there was not 
 another like it in the whole world. So I raised myself 
 up again, and looking over the low fence, I saw its 
 owner — a red-cheeked, round-faced young woman with 
 a little pink sunbonnet on her head and a long stick in 
 her hand. She was barefooted, as young women gen- 
 erally were in that distant age, and her short linsey- 
 woolsey dress was not cut according to any modern 
 fashion. But I recognized her immediately as one of 
 the neatest, busiest, kindest, happiest creatures that God 
 had ever made. 
 
 " O Cousin Sally ! Cousin Sally ! " I called, waving 
 my arms but utterly unable to rise from my resting- 
 place. 
 
 The maiden looked around, perplexed, alarmed, unable 
 to locate the voice she had heard ; and then I called again : 
 " Here I am, Cousin Sally — here in the hay." 
 
 She saw me and for one moment stood still in dumb 
 surprise, her hands uplifted, her mouth open, her eyes 
 wildly gazing. The next moment she had scaled the 
 fence and was bending over me. 
 
 " Goodness, gracious me ! Is it thee, Robbie ? How 
 in the world did thee git here?" 
 
 I had barely strength enough to stammer something 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S ^J 
 
 about going to Old Enoch's and getting lost in the woods 
 and lying down here to rest. 
 
 "Goodness, gracious me!" she repeated. "So thee 
 got lost in the big woods, did thee? And how lucky 
 thee was to git out again ! " 
 
 And then, although she must have kept on talking, I 
 heard not another word, but was dimly conscious that 
 she was taking me gently in her arms, that she was 
 lifting me up, that she was carrying me and running as 
 fast as she could to the double log house at the end 
 of the orchard. How safe, how happy I felt, with her 
 strong chubby arms around me, and my head pillowed 
 softly against her ample bosom! 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! " I heard her cry, as she finally 
 reached the door of the smaller cabin. " See who's here ! 
 See what I found in the medder! See who's come to 
 visit us, so early in the morning!" 
 
 Ah ! I knew now whose house this was ; for, from 
 her dishwashing by the hearth, came the dearest, the best 
 of all my numerous aunts — good old Aunt Nancy 
 Evans, blessed be her memory! 
 
 " Oh, is it Robert ? " she cried. " Is it our little Rob- 
 ert? How did it happen, Sally? How did it happen?" 
 
 And she took me from her daughter's arms, and car- 
 ried me inside, and sat down in her big rocking chair, 
 holding me lovingly in her lap. I heard them talking in 
 half-whispers while Cousin Sally bustled around in the 
 most wonderful way that could be imagined. She 
 brought warm water and clean towels, and washed my 
 dust-covered face and bathed my bleeding arms and legs 
 and my bruised and wounded feet. 
 
 " And just see how his shirt's teared clean off of him," 
 she remarked. 
 
68 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " He shall have another one," said Aunt Nancy. 
 " Thee look in the bottom bureau drawer, Sally. Thee 
 knows what's there. Thy little brother William was 
 jist about Robert's age when he was took away from us, 
 and that was more than thirty years ago. Ah, me ! 
 What a big man he would have been if he had lived till 
 now ! " 
 
 " Yes, mother," answered Cousin Sally. " Little Wil- 
 liam's clothes is all in the bottom drawer where thee's 
 kept 'em — all ironed smooth, and lapped up, and sprink- 
 led with camfire, as thee knows. Thee's been very keer- 
 ful of 'em these thirty years, mother." 
 
 " Indeed I have," returned her mother, " and now the 
 time has come for 'em to do some good. Little William 
 never wore 'em but once, and they're as nice and clean 
 and sweet as if they was new only yisterday. Thee go 
 and git 'em, Sally, and we'll put the little shirt and the 
 little britches on Robbie, and after a while he may have 
 the little robin on, too." 
 
 And so, in a short time, I was divested of my own 
 wrecked and ruined wardrobe and was clad in the beau- 
 tiful, soft, brand-new shirt and breeches of Little William 
 Evans who had been in his grave so many, many years. 
 Then Cousin Sally carried me into the " big-house," a 
 nice, cool, airy place, and laid me on a beautiful trundle- 
 bed which had also been Little William's. 
 
 " Now, thee take a good little snooze," she said sooth- 
 ingly ; " and when thee wakes up, thee may have some- 
 thing good to eat." 
 
 Oh, the joy of lying there between the whitest of 
 white sheets and listening to the " tick, tock" of the old 
 wall clock and knowing that two good women were close 
 at hand, doing all in their power to make me comfortable 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 69 
 
 and happy! I lay there very quietly, not suffering any 
 pain and still not feeling strong enough to sit up; and 
 soon Inviz, that rogue who always deserted me at the 
 critical moment, came silently from nowhere and cuddled 
 down beside me. 
 
 " I wonder what they will do at home without any 
 fire," he said. 
 
 *' Father will strike a fire with his flint and tinder," I 
 answered. " Yes, he must have struck a fire last night 
 — else how could they get any supper ? " 
 
 '' Oh, but they'll give thee a good trouncin' when thee 
 gets home," said Inviz. " They'll all be mad 'cause 
 thee's made so much trouble for everybody. And they'll 
 scold 'cause thee didn't bring the fire." 
 
 '' Well, Aunt Nancy and Cousin Sally, they will never 
 scold me, I know ; " and thus comforting myself, I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 It was past noon when I awoke. Some one was mov- 
 ing softly near the trundle-bed, and when I opened my 
 eyes, I saw the ruddy face of Cousin Sally bending over 
 me like the full moon. 
 
 " Well, I guess thee's had a good nap," she said. 
 "Thee needn't git up. I'll jist prop some pillers under 
 thee, and then thee may have a little somethin' to eat." 
 
 She ran into the " little-house," which was the kitchen, 
 and soon returned with the most savory dish that she 
 knew how to prepare — the leg and breast of a fried 
 spring chicken, with creamed gravy and a bit of buttered 
 toast. What a breakfast that was ! The very thought 
 of it makes my mouth water to this very day. And 
 Aunt Nancy, with her knitting in her hand, came in to 
 see me eat it and to remark how well I looked, all dressed 
 up in Little William's shirt and breeches. I was so hun- 
 
70 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 gry that I could have eaten two chickens and twice as 
 much toast ; but Cousin Sally said I must save myself for 
 dinner, and when I had drunk a glass of new milk she 
 persuaded me to lie down and take another nap. 
 
 The nap proved to be a short one, however, for soon 
 I was aroused by hearing a chorus of voices outside the 
 door. Cousin Sally was talking very fast, as was her 
 custom when she had something to say; and several 
 other persons seemed to be asking questions and making 
 brief remarks and ejaculating various sorts of wonder 
 phrases in the most excited manner. I sat up in the bed 
 and listened. I heard a husky voice that sounded like 
 David's, then a treble like Jonathan's, and then I dis- 
 tinctly recognized the shrill twang of Cousin Mandy 
 Jane's falsetto as she uttered her favorite " Sakes alive ! " 
 There was a slight pause in the general hubbub, and a 
 kind voice said, " Let's keep very quiet and let him sleep 
 as long as he will." 
 
 " Mother ! " I screamed ; and with one bound I was out 
 of bed and running to the door. And there, in the yard, 
 I saw our whole family, while just outside the gate stood 
 the big farm wagon with the plow horses hitched to it. 
 
 *' Mother! " I cried again, as I leaped down the steps; 
 and the next moment I was surrounded by the entire 
 company. 
 
 Everybody was smiling in a most unaccountable way, 
 and even David seemed glad to see me. Mother patted 
 me gently on the head and looked very tenderly into 
 my eyes. You think, of course, that she kissed me; 
 but she didn't. Kissing was not a habit in our family ; 
 it was considered a foolish and worldly performance, an 
 act which, if not positively wicked, was exceedingly un- 
 becoming and improper at all times. Never in my life 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 71 
 
 was it mine to experience the bliss of having my mother's 
 Hps pressed to my own. 
 
 But the gentle pat on the head was as good as a kiss ; 
 and my joy was complete when she drew me close to her 
 and said, " O Robert, how glad I am to see thee alive 
 again ! " 
 
 Then father reached down his great hand and took 
 hold of mine — very softly, for it was scarred and swol- 
 len — and in strange tremulous tones he said, " Thee 
 seems to have had a narrow escape, Robert. Let us be 
 thankful to Him that preserved and guided thee through 
 the perils of the night." 
 
 " Yes," said David gruffly, but eager to touch the hem 
 of my garment, " thee's put the rest of us to a right smart 
 sight of trouble, Towhead. The next time thee gits lost 
 in the woods, thee needn't 'spect me to go out a-huntin' 
 for thee." 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane had hard work to restrain herself, 
 and I verily believe that if no one had been looking, she 
 would have kissed me. She threw her arms around me, 
 much to my shame, and squeezed me most unmercifully. 
 " Sakes alive, Bobbie," she exclaimed, " how I did worry 
 about thee ! I've wished a thousand thousand times that 
 I'd gone after that pesky fire myself." 
 
 " Tell us all about it, Robert," said Jonathan, throwing 
 himself down on the grass beside me. 
 
 And then in answer to numerous questions I told them 
 the whole story of my first fright and my wild wander- 
 ing through the forest. But I said nothing about the 
 fearful creatures that had kept me in a continuous state 
 of alarm, nor of the Old Feller lying in wait for me in 
 dreadful places, nor yet indeed of the cheerful compan- 
 ionship of Inviz, without which I should indeed have 
 
72 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 been hopelessly lost. I knew that they could not under- 
 stand, so why excite then' ridicule? 
 
 We sat together on the long bench beside the big- 
 house door, mother on one side of me and Cousin Mandy 
 Jane on the other; and my heart grew big with pride 
 when it occurred to me that I — the youngest and small- 
 est of the household — was the cause of all this talk and 
 all these doings. There had been an adventure, and I, 
 Robert Dudley, was the hero. I had had a hard time of 
 it, but now I was having my reward. 
 
 Father reckoned that I must have traveled at least 
 ten miles in the big forest and along the lonely road be- 
 fore reaching Aunt Nancy's hay-field. And he told how 
 they had gone early into the woods with lanterns and 
 torches; how they had alarmed the neighbors, and how 
 even the two Enochs had joined them and sought un- 
 weariedly through all the dark hours of the night. Just 
 how they had finally learned of my whereabouts, I did 
 not hear, but Cousin Sally told me afterward that it was 
 she herself who carried them the news. As soon as she 
 had seen me cozily ensconced in Little William's trundle- 
 bed, she had mounted the gray colt, barebacked, and rid- 
 den post-haste by the nearest pathways to our place, five 
 miles distant. Then, having delivered her message, she 
 had flown home again like the wind, arriving in time to 
 prepare the marvelous breakfast. 
 
 Oh, what a glorious thing it is to be a hero and have 
 everybody talking about you! Thus my vanity was be- 
 ing fed at an early age. 
 
 Cousin Sally's dinner was late that day, but its quality 
 made ample amends for its lack of timicliness. The 
 table was spread in the little-house. The cloth was of 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 73 
 
 home-made linen, snowy white. The dishes were of 
 choice '' chany ware," intermingled with pieces of yellow 
 pottery, shining pewter plates, and necessary articles of 
 tin. And the viands — O my dear Leonidas, my dear 
 Leona, if you live to be as old as the megatherium you 
 will never see anything that can be compared with the 
 array of fried chicken and creamed gravy, of snow- 
 white biscuits right out of the big baking skillet, of pies 
 and cakes, of preserves and jams, of hot roasting-ears, 
 of sassafras tea, of pitchers of new milk, of patties of 
 yellow butter. The table fairly groaned under the 
 weight of all these good things, and the mouths of the 
 guests watered in anticipation. 
 
 Being the hero of the day, I was given the place of 
 honor at the right hand of the rosy-faced hostess. I sat 
 in a special high-chair that had been made for Little Wil- 
 liam so many long years before; I ate from Little Wil- 
 liam's pewter plate which was polished to a silvery 
 brightness and had the letters of the alphabet stamped in 
 relief all round its edge; and I drank from Little Wil- 
 liam's chany mug which had a picture of the foolish milk- 
 maid on one side, and the words '' Be a good boy " on the 
 other. 
 
 When all were seated, Cousin Sally and her mother 
 began to put things in motion. 
 
 " Now, all of you, jist help yourselves," said Aunt 
 Nancy. " Pore folks like us can't offer you much, but 
 you're welcome to what you see." 
 
 '' Uncle Stephen, try some of the punkin pie," said 
 Cousin Sally ; " and here's some apple pie, and some cus- 
 tard. Take a piece of each kind." 
 
 " Help thyself to the plum jelly," said Aunt Nancy. 
 
74 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " It's good with fried chicken — most as good as the 
 cranberries we used to git in the 'Hio Country. Have 
 some blackberry jam, too." 
 
 And then the requests to help one's self to this and 
 that and the other multiplied and were continued until 
 every plate was heaped to its utmost capacity. Oh, but 
 that was a dinner to be remembered through the longest 
 lifetime! And yet it was only a sample of what Cousin 
 Sally was in the habit of setting before her visitors. 
 
 The guests ate and ate till they could eat no longer, 
 and still they were pressed by their solicitous host- 
 ess. 
 
 " Thee ain't eatin' anything, David. I'm afraid thee 
 don't like pore folks's cookin'. Have another leg of 
 fried chicken. Hand thy mug for another helpin' of 
 milk. Try a little more of the grape jam, Mandy Jane. 
 Come, have a little more of the stewed punkin! Why, 
 if thee don't eat more, thee'll faint before thee has a 
 chance to git another meal." 
 
 At length the famous dinner was over. The guests 
 arose. Father and the boys went out to get the horses 
 ready for the return trip home. The womenfolks, in 
 gossipy mood, set themselves to clearing the table and 
 washing the dishes — and where four such renowned ex- 
 perts were engaged, this labor was performed with 
 miraculous swiftness. Within less than an hour the 
 interior of the little-house had resumed its usual aspect 
 of cleanliness and quiet. The pots and skillets were 
 again in their places, the chany cups and saucers and 
 plates were upon their favored shelf in the corner cup- 
 board, the great table had mysteriously disappeared, the 
 chairs were arranged in a stiff orderly row against the 
 wall, the broad hearth had been swept and garnished. 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 75 
 
 " The sun is getting low," cried father from the open 
 gate ; " we must be going at once, or else the night will 
 overtake us." 
 
 There was a short consultation with Cousin Sally, sup- 
 plemented by a few urgent words from Aunt Nancy, and 
 then it was announced that mother and I would not go 
 home with the rest — that we would have a little visit 
 with our relatives until the end of the week. 
 
 " Robert is purty puny with all the traipsin' he done 
 through the woods," said Cousin Sally. " It will do him 
 a right smart lot of good to stay here and rest three or 
 four days." 
 
 Father gave his assent — somewhat reluctantly, I 
 thought; and the wagon went rattling down the road, 
 carrying only Cousin Mandy Jane and the men- folks 
 back to the dear old home at the center of the world. 
 Mother and Aunt Nancy, with their yarn and their knit- 
 ting, sat down on the long bench by the door, to enjoy the 
 balmy evening air and recall sweet memories of former 
 days in their old girlhood home in Carliny ; and Cousin 
 Sally, with a shining milk pail on her arm, cried cheerily 
 to me, " Come, Robert, don't thee want to go down the 
 lane with me to see the new calf ? " 
 
 My feet were still sore, my back was stiff, my hands 
 were swollen from the bruises and scratches they had 
 received, and my head was heavy. I had no interest in 
 new calves, and I felt much more like going to bed than 
 walking down the dusty lane. But how could any one 
 refuse so hearty an invitation? 
 
 '' Come, Robbie, it ain't fur," she said ; and so, some- 
 what merrily, somewhat wearily, we went together to the 
 milking place ; and while she sat on a stool and filled the 
 pail with foaming milk from old Bossie's udder, she en- 
 
^6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 tertained me with varied remarks on many interesting 
 themes. 
 
 " And only think, Bobbie," she said, " this is Fourth- 
 day evening and thee is to stay with me till Seventh-day 
 evening — three whole days! Oh, won't we have fun? " 
 
 But instead of three whole days, it proved to be three 
 whole weeks. For, all through that night, mother heard 
 me talking aloud to Inviz ; and the next morning I had a 
 raging fever, and when Cousin Sally came to look at me 
 I fancied that it was Old Enoch grinning from the chim- 
 ney corner, and then that it was the Old Feller going to 
 carry me away to the bad place. After that, for I can 
 not tell how many days, I had no consciousness of any- 
 thing. Mother sat by me constantly ; and father came 
 every day with saddened face and shook his head de- 
 spairingly ; and the doctor came and felt my pulse and 
 gave me bitter medicine ; and David came and peeped in 
 at the door and then went away, muttering '' Poor Tow- 
 head " ; and Cousin Sally and her mother went about the 
 house on tiptoe, talking in whispers ; and I, although my 
 body lay helpless and suffering in Little William's trundle- 
 bed, v/as far away in a strange land where I neither 
 heard nor saw any of them. 
 
 At length, however, the crisis was passed, the fever 
 left me, and I woke up — my mind alert and clear, al- 
 though I had hardly strength enough to raise my hand. 
 Then came days and days of convalescence — every 
 morning a little better, every evening a little stronger. 
 It was a great event when I could sit up in Little Wil- 
 liam's chair and look out of the door. It was a momen- 
 tous event when I grew strong enough to walk, with 
 mother's help, from the big-house to the little-house. 
 And after that, things moved along rapidly. 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 71 
 
 Sometimes, on fine days, I walked with Cousin Sally 
 as far as the spring-house. Sometimes we went a little 
 farther, to a shallow pool where there were blue flags 
 and cattails and yellow water-lilies. But we found our 
 greatest pleasure under the apple trees and on the bench 
 by the big-house door. There, while she carded wool, or 
 shelled peas, or sewed upon some new garment, Cousin 
 Sally would entertain me with her always vivacious chat- 
 ter ; and sometimes we read stories from the Bible — she 
 listening and I reading — or we amused ourselves with 
 conning over the bright squibs in the Farmer s Almanac. 
 
 " There's another book in the loft somewhere," she 
 said one day. " It's full of funny pieces about animals 
 and boys and kings and all sorts of things. Thee'd be 
 tickled to death to read some of 'em, I know." 
 
 " I wish thee'd find it for me," I said eagerly. " What's 
 the name of it? " 
 
 '' I don't exactly know its name," she answered, " but 
 it's some kind of reader. I'll go right now, and see if I 
 can lay hold of it." 
 
 So she dropped her sewing upon the bench and climbed 
 the ladder into the loft of the big-house. It was very 
 dark up there, and I could hear her moving carefully 
 about, lifting boards and boxes, and turning things over 
 in quite a general way. By and by, she came down — a 
 ludicrous object covered with dust and cobwebs, her dress 
 torn, her hair in tangled masses down her back. 
 
 " I reckon I got it, anyhow," she said triumphantly ; 
 and she showed me a chubby little volume so thickly 
 coated with grime that neither its title nor the color of 
 its binding could be distinguished. " Don't tetch it. 
 Jist wait a minute." 
 
 She ran into the little-house where I soon heard her 
 
78 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 brushing and rubbing, and talking excitedly to herself, 
 or to another Inviz of her own acquaintance. Presently 
 she returned, very much improved in appearance, and 
 put the book in my hands. She had brushed it quite 
 clean, and its bright blue cover, but slightly discolored 
 with age, gave it an attractive appearance. I read the 
 title : '' The Little Reader or The Child's First Book, by 
 J. Olney, A.M." 
 
 I opened it and began to read. As I turned page after 
 page my pleasure grew. Here were stories of a kind I 
 had never seen before, delightful little pieces, some very 
 amusing, some instructive and all very easy for a lad who 
 had already wrestled with George Fox's Journal. Cousin 
 Sally listened with rapt attention and now and then she 
 exclaimed with emphasis: 
 
 *' Goodness, gracious me ! I never knowed any book 
 was as funny as that ! " 
 
 Somewhere near the middle of the book I came to a 
 poem which amused us both so much that I read it over 
 and over with increasing relish until we knew it by heart. 
 It was entitled, if I remember rightly, The Great Black 
 Crow; and for days afterward, whenever we saw one 
 of those sable birds, we found intense delight in calling 
 to him and repeating in concert this verse : 
 
 " The crow, the crow, the great black crow ! 
 
 He never gets drunk on rain or snow — 
 
 He never gets drunk, but he never says, No ! 
 
 If you ask him to tipple ever so, — 
 
 So, so, you great black crow. 
 
 It's an honor to drink like a great black crow ! " 
 
 " I wish I could borrow this book when I go home," 
 I said. 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 79 
 
 " Borry it ! " exclaimed Cousin Sally." No, I reckon 
 thee cain't, for I won't lend it to nobody. But I'll give 
 it to thee for thy very own, to keep and to hold till thee 
 is grown ! " 
 
 And thus the fifth volume was added to my little li- 
 brary. 
 
 At length I progressed so well and grew so strong 
 that mother said it was foolish for us to stay longer at 
 Aunt Nancy's. And so, when father came over in the 
 big wagon, it was decided that we should return home 
 with him; the long rough journey would not harm me, 
 they said, and mother was anxious to be at her weaving 
 and her housekeeping again. There was a great hurry- 
 ing and bustling, especially on the part of Cousin Sally ; 
 and many tears of downright sorrow were shed. But 
 in the midst of the grieving I felt a secret joy that I 
 should soon be home again among my books and my lit- 
 tle friends of the fields and woods. 
 
 And now, my dear Leonidas, my dear Leona, if you 
 have any doubts of the truth of this narrative, open the 
 bottom drawer of my bureau and look in the pasteboard 
 box which you will find in the left-hand corner. There 
 you will see, all wrapped in tissue-paper, a funny little 
 vest of figured calico, worn threadbare in places, and yel- 
 j low with age. That was once Little William's vest, and 
 it belonged to the suit in which I was arrayed on that 
 eventful day. 
 
 " Thee may have Little William's clothes for thy own," 
 I said dear Aunt Nancy. " It's no use for me to keep 'em, 
 I for he won't need 'em any more, and they'll be so nice for 
 I thee. Thee must take good care of 'em, and save 'em 
 4o wear to meetin' — and they'll last thee a long, long 
 time." 
 
8o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 It was, indeed, a wonderful suit, and I swelled with 
 vanity as I contemplated myself, transformed, as many 
 others have been through theirs, by my clothing; and 
 when Cousin Sally whispered in my ear, " Thee looks 
 tur'ble fine," I was ready to burst with self-importance. 
 The breeches were of blue " flannen," home-made and 
 home-dyed, and they were cut large and long; the robin, 
 or short jacket, was of the same material with a row of 
 horn buttons down the front ; the shirt was of linen, made 
 from flax grown by Little William's father and spun and 
 woven by his mother; and the little figured vest of pre- 
 cious calico was the climax, the ne plus ultra, the crown 
 of excellence which gave dignity and completeness to 
 the whole. 
 
 '' I declare ! thee looks just like Little William did, the 
 first and only time that he ever wore 'em," said Aunt 
 Nancy ; and mother tremblingly expressed the same opin- 
 ion. 
 
 And then came the time for farewells. 
 
 " Farewell, Robert ! Thee must come soon and see 
 they pore kin again," said the aunt. 
 
 And Cousin Sally put her fat arms around me with 
 such fervency that I blushed for shame. " Farewell, 
 Robbie ! I'll be over to see thee at quart'ly meetin' 
 time." 
 
 Then I climbed into the wagon and cuddled down in 
 the bed of soft straw that had been prepared for me. 
 Father and mother took their places on the driver's seat ; 
 there were more farewells and more tears and more in- 
 vitations to come and see our pore kin ; and then the com- 
 manding word was given, and we were off. Looking 
 back, I could see a fat arm and a chubby red hand wav- 
 ing a pink sunbonnet, in much the same frantic manner 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 8i 
 
 that genteeler hands, nowadays, flaunt their costly lace 
 handkerchiefs in the breeze at the outgoing of every At- 
 lantic steamer. And far down the road, I fancied I 
 heard the echoing cry : " Farewell, Robert ! Be a good 
 boy. . . . Farewell, Robert . . . Robert — bert— bert ! " 
 
 My invisible playmate had not been with me once since 
 my illness ; but now as we were driving through the 
 woods, he leaped suddenly into the wagon and lay down 
 on the straw beside me. 
 
 " I'm glad thee is going home," he said ; " for now we 
 shall have great fun in the fields and clearings, just as 
 we did before the fire vv^ent out." 
 
 " But it was very nice at Aunt Nancy's," I answered. 
 '' I mean that it would have been nice if I had not been 
 sick. And aunt and cousin were both so good ! " 
 
 '•' Just think of the books — how long thee has been 
 away from them," said Inviz. " They'll be glad to see 
 thee." 
 
 '' Yes, and I have another one to put with them. He 
 is a funny fellow, and I think that even George Fox will 
 laugh at him ; " and I put my hand in my pocket to make 
 sure that the Little Reader was still there. 
 
 And thus, lying side by side in the comforting straw, 
 we talked and made plans for the future and consoled 
 each other until I fell asleep. And when I awoke we 
 were at home. 
 
 No sentiment was wasted because of my happy return. 
 There was a tacit rule in our household that no one 
 should ever make a show of his emotions ; and so, when 
 I resumed my place and occupation it was as though I 
 had been absent only an hour or two. There were no 
 words of greeting, no expressions of pleasure, no glad 
 welcomes at the door. And yet, before the end of the 
 
82 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 evening, each member of the family had contrived in 
 some way to manifest the kindly love that had been 
 stirred by my adventures and long absence. 
 
 As I was standing on a chair and putting my new book 
 on the shelf with the older ones, Cousin Mandy Jane 
 came shyly to my side and dropped a hot doughnut into 
 my pocket. 
 
 " It's thine, Robbie," she said. " I cooked it a-purpose 
 for thee. Don't let anybody see thee eat it." 
 
 And presently Jonathan, coming to the door, beckoned 
 me to follow him to the small outbuilding which we 
 called " the shop," and in which father worked often at 
 night, making chairs and tables and the like. I went, 
 wondering what he wished to show me. 
 
 He closed the door behind us and then from a shelf 
 above the work bench he took something that looked like 
 a small wooden cross, except that all the four parts were 
 of the same length. 
 
 '* Towhead, does thee see this ? " he said. " It's a 
 windmill. I whittled it out with my knife, and father 
 showed me how to put it together. Jist look how it runs 
 when I blow on it." Then he puffed against it with all 
 the breath he could summon, and it actually began to turn 
 on its axis. 
 
 " And thee ought to see how it whizzes round in the 
 wind when thee holds it right," he continued. " To-mor- 
 row thee can see." 
 
 I looked at it admiringly. It was not more than five 
 inches in diameter, and it was clumsily made ; but I had 
 never seen anything like it, and it pleased me greatly. 
 
 " What is thee goin' to do with it, Jonathan ? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, it's thine," he said. " I made it for thee. Put 
 it in thy pocket, and to-morrow thee can play with it." 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 83 
 
 When, at length, the evening's work was finished, we 
 all gathered around the hearth, as usual, to listen to the 
 chapter. Mother lighted a new candle and set it upon 
 the candlestand ; Cousin Mandy Jane looked at me with 
 an odd wink, as though she would caution me about that 
 doughnut; and there was a grin on David's fuzzy face 
 which I was puzzled to understand. 
 
 Then, all being seated, father in his gentlest tones 
 said : '' Robert, thee is big enough now to take David's 
 place. Thee may fetch me the Book." 
 
 Oh, what an honor I felt that to be! In the short 
 space of a minute, my stature was visibly increased. I 
 rose, trembling with excitement, tripped lightly across 
 the floor, and placed the candlestand, with its candle and 
 the precious volume, in its usual position between father's 
 knees. Then, abashed but triumphant, I sat down at 
 mother's feet. 
 
 Father opened the Book, and I noticed that his hand 
 trembled a little as he turned the leaves. When he 
 found the desired chapter, he cleared his throat, paused, 
 and then began to read in that wonderful way of which 
 I have told you. And he read — not of an angry and 
 vengeful Jehovah, nor of intriguing priests or wailing 
 prophets, nor yet of Egypt or Babylon — but of a cer- 
 tain man who had a hundred sheep, one of which went 
 astray ; and behold, after he had sought far and wide and 
 found the lost one, there was great rejoicing over it — 
 yes, much more rejoicing than over the ninety and nine 
 which went not astray. 
 
 He closed the Book, there was an interval of silence, 
 and I returned the candlestand to its place. 
 
 " Say, Towhead," spoke up David somewhat harshly, 
 " it's been a right smart spell since thee done any work. 
 
84 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Come out, now, and help me git the kindlin's for 
 mornin'." 
 
 I was so happy that I was ready to help at anything. 
 So, after he had lighted the old tin lantern I followed 
 him to the wood-pile. The kindlings had already been 
 prepared, and needed only to be carried in; but David 
 did not stop there. 
 
 " Come down to the cowshed, and I'll show thee some- 
 thin' that will make thee jump out of thy skin," he said. 
 
 "V/hat is it, David?" 
 
 " Oh, I'll show thee." 
 
 He went inside the cowshed, and after a little fumbling 
 around, brought out a wooden box, some ten inches 
 square, with a netting of wire across one end. 
 
 " Jist thee look in there, Towhead," he said. 
 
 I thought of rats, and imagined that David was try- 
 ing to play a trick on me. Moreover, the light from 
 the lantern was so dim that when I tried to look through 
 the netting, nothing was visible. 
 
 " I'll show thee," said David. And opening the other 
 end of the box, he reached in and brought out two beau- 
 tiful, half-grown squirrels. They were quite tame, and 
 at once leaped upon his shoulder and sat there, waiting 
 for the tidbits which they knew he would give them. 
 
 "O David! David!" I cried. 
 
 " Squeerels, Towhead, squeerels ! " he said in delighted 
 tones. " I ketched 'em the next day after thee got lost. 
 And they're thine, Towhead. I've give 'em to thee." 
 
 " For my very own, David ? " 
 
 " Yes ; for thy very own. This one, his name's Esau, 
 'cause he's hairy an' red, like the feller in the Bible. 
 An' this grayer one, his name's Jacob, 'cause he's sharp 
 an' graspin', an' always gittin' more'n his shear." 
 
AT COUSIN SALLY'S 85 
 
 " Who named them, David? " 
 
 " Well, I guess father did. He kinder give me some 
 hints, but he said I mustn't tell nobody." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad, David ! " and I put my hand in 
 his great rough palm. 
 
 " Well, I reckon thee ain't the onliest one," he said. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 GOING TO MEETIN' 
 
 AGAIN it was the spring-time of the year — the time 
 for plowing and planting, and for going barefoot 
 every day in the week. On a bright First-day morning 
 I sat under one of our cherry trees, listening and looking, 
 and enjoying to the full the beauty and the glory of the 
 day. Esau and Jacob, now grown to the full stature of 
 squirrelhood, were whisking and leaping among the 
 white-blossomed branches overhead. On an apple tree 
 near by, a robin was singing ; under our eaves some swal- 
 lows were twittering; from the meadow came the sound 
 of croaking frogs ; the humming of insects was heard on 
 every hand. The air was full of sweet sounds ; and I 
 was in one of my visionary moods. 
 
 Suddenly my invisible playmate came out of the no- 
 where and put his arms very softly around my neck. 
 
 " Isn't it nice to be alive on such a day as this ? " he 
 said. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " Let's have a good romp here 
 under the trees." 
 
 And at once we began rolling and scuffling in the grass, 
 running races from one tree to another, and turning 
 somersaults on the soft ground. 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane, looking out from the cabin door, 
 exclaimed, " For the land's sake ! That boy acts like he 
 was gone clean cracked." 
 
 86 
 
GOING TO MEETIN' 87 
 
 But she didn't see the other boy, nor would she have 
 beheved that he was with me, even had I told her. It 
 was beyond her power to imagine the intense enjoyment 
 that was ours. 
 
 At length, puffing and blowing with excitement, we 
 threw ourselves down in the shade to rest. I had been 
 reading of angels, and as I looked up through the white 
 cherry blooms at the measureless silent sky so far above, 
 the old story of Jacob's ladder came suddenly into my 
 mind. The thought was probably induced by seeing the 
 grayer of the two squirrels run fearlessly to the top of 
 the topmost branch, as though he would leap straightway 
 into Heaven ; and forthwith I began to see visions. Sud- 
 denly, each tiny blossom above me became an angel robed 
 in white, and the twigs and branches of the tree were 
 transformed into myriads of delicate ladders, each lead- 
 ing up into the celestial kingdom. I shouted aloud, from 
 pure enjoyment of the scene, and was proceeding to con- 
 jure up some other picture of the imagination when a 
 shrill voice brought me to the dull earth again and wak- 
 ened me rudely from my dreams : 
 
 '' Robert, thee come and git ready for meetin' ! Be 
 quick ! " It was Cousin Mandy Jane, calling from the 
 door-step. 
 
 I lay quite still and made no answer ; and Inviz put his 
 cheek against my own. 
 
 " Don't thee hate it ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Yes, I wish we didn't have to go to meetin'," I an- 
 swered. " I don't see any use in it." 
 
 " But all good people do go to meetin'," said Inviz. 
 *' They go because the Bible says they must." 
 
 *' Well, I never read it in the Bible," I said dreamily 
 but aloud. " I think it's lots nicer to go into the woods 
 
88 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and see the birds and the flowers than it is to go and sit 
 in that stuffy old meetin'-house." 
 
 " Robert ! Robert ! " It was not the voice of Inviz 
 but that of Cousin Mandy Jane, who was now standing 
 over me. " Robert, I'm ashamed to hear thee talk so. 
 Why, thee won't never go to the good place, if thee don't 
 go to meetin'. Come, it's most time to start, and thee 
 hain't begun to dress." 
 
 I rose unwillingly and followed her slowly into the 
 house. It was one of the unwritten laws of our family 
 that everybody should go to meetin' twice a week — on 
 First-day morning and on Fifth-day morning — and 
 from this rule there must be no deviation or excuse, ex- 
 cept in cases of illness or absolute necessity. Thus, ever 
 since I was three weeks old I had been going to meetin', 
 going to meetin', without much idea of the reasons for 
 doing so. Every man, woman, or child that I knew was 
 a meetin' goer ; and I had a dim idea, amounting to con- 
 viction, that all good people since the days of Adam had 
 been accustomed to the same practise. 
 
 How would people ever get to Heaven if they didn't 
 go to meetin' and learn to be good? So regularly, so 
 faithfully did our family assemble themselves with other 
 Friends at Dry Forks, that I had come to regard this act 
 as a very natural and necessary thing — as natural and 
 necessary as the rotation of the seasons or the alterna- 
 tion of day and night. Nevertheless, on this particular 
 First-day morning, rebellion was in my heart; I hated 
 the very thought of meetin', and I wished that God had 
 appointed some other way by which we might learn how 
 to be good and fit ourselves for the hereafter. 
 
 But mother met me at the door and in her pleasant 
 
GOING TO MEETIN' 89 
 
 persuasive manner said : " Come, Robert, make haste. 
 Thee may wear Little William's suit to-day." 
 
 " O mother, may I? " And instantly the whole aspect 
 of things was changed. 
 
 Now, the fact is that only twice since they were pre- 
 sented to me had I been permitted to array myself in the 
 precious clothes that had formerly belonged to Little 
 William — once I had worn them to " quart'ly meetin' " 
 and once to Aunt Nancy's on a brief visit with mother. 
 
 " They're too nice for thee to wear jist any time and 
 every time," said mother ; and Aunt Rachel and Cousin 
 Mandy Jane concurred in the opinion. " We'll lap 'em 
 up nice and clean, and keep 'em in the bureau drawer; 
 and Aunt Nancy, when she comes, she can see that 
 they're jist as nice as when she had 'em and took so 
 much care of 'em for Little William's sake." 
 
 And so there they had lain, admired but useless, 
 through all the long months of fall and winter. Now, 
 however, a new leaf was to be turned, and I was to be 
 permitted to wear the precious suit to a common First- 
 day meetin'. ]\Iy joy can not be described. With 
 alacrity, I set about getting ready, and while doing so I 
 repented of all the rebellious feelings, that had so recently 
 entered my heart. I was willing to go to meetin' not only 
 twice a week, but seven times, if it should be required of 
 me; and I admired God's wisdom in making this the 
 means through which we could outwit the Old Feller, 
 learn how to go to the good place and incidentally show 
 our fine clothes. 
 
 Oh, my dear Leona ! Do you remember that last new 
 Easter hat, and how thankful you felt that there was a 
 church wherein you could display its feathered magni- 
 
90 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 tude to an admiring throng of worshipers ? Your vanity 
 and mine were of the same sort, arising from the same 
 primitive instincts. Through such we trace our kinship 
 to savage ancestors who proudly decked themselves with 
 plumes and scalps to do hideous reverence to their gods. 
 
 At the end of half an hour I emerged from the cabin 
 door as sleek and self-satisfied as a butterfly just trans- 
 formed from its chrysalis state. The blue breeches and 
 blue robin seemed less roomy than before, doubtless be- 
 cause I had grown appreciably bigger. The vest of fig- 
 ured calico was a perfect fit, and its flowers of blue and 
 pink were marvels of beauty. The collarless shirt of 
 home-made linen was all that could be desired. My hair 
 was well oiled with goose grease, and plastered smoothly 
 over my brows — not parted, for that would have indi- 
 cated a foolish vanity. My face and hands and feet — 
 thanks to Cousin Mandy Jane — had been scoured and 
 scrubbed until they fairly glowed with cleanliness. 
 
 " Well, thee looks like a prince," whispered Inviz, 
 tapping me on the cheek. 
 
 But mother, who must have overheard him, was quick 
 to rebuke my folly : " Robert, thee mustn't feel proud. 
 It ain't the clothes that makes the man." 
 
 And then I drew on my last article of apparel, a 
 brown toboggan cap of indescribable shape which old 
 Aunt Rachel had knitted for me while she was visiting in 
 Wayne. 
 
 Promptly, as the shadow of the door-jamb reached 
 the ten o'clock mark on the cabin floor, Jonathan drove 
 the farm wagon round to the " uppin' block " just inside 
 the big gate. Then David came with an armload of clean 
 wheat straw which he threw into the wagon-box to serve 
 as a seat for the womenfolks and me. As I walked out 
 
GOING TO MEETIN' 91 
 
 toward the gate, the young men nudged each other, looked 
 at me and smiled — but whether in approbation or de- 
 rision I could not tell. 
 
 " Well, Towhead," said David, " thee looks like thee 
 might cut a right smart shine at meetin' to-day." 
 
 " I reckon all the little gals will be a-cryin' for thee 
 when they see how slick thee looks," said Jonathan. 
 
 My anger was for the moment superior to my vanity, 
 and before 1 had time to curb it, David was dodging a 
 piece of kindling wood that flew suddenly at his head. 
 And at that moment father came out of the house, his 
 solemn face somewhat softened by a struggling smile. 
 
 " What's the matter, boys ? " he asked. 
 
 No one answered. The big boys betook themselves to 
 the barn, while I leaned up against the gate-post and 
 waited. 
 
 Father was dressed in his '' go-to-meetin' " suit of 
 drab homespun — a soft but coarse cloth made from the 
 wool of his own sheep and woven with his own hands 
 in his own loom. The cut of his coat was scrupulously 
 plain — no collar, no cuffs, no needless buttons. His 
 shoes also were of his own making, heavy, serviceable, 
 not polished, but lavishly treated with tallow. On his 
 head he wore a very large gray beaver hat, which had 
 been his wedding hat, years and years before. His 
 whole appearance was that of a dignified, sober-minded, 
 self-possessed man — a strong man who would be a 
 leader of other men, no matter where his lot might be 
 cast. As I looked at him, I forgot my own imagined 
 importance, and lost myself in admiration; and Inviz 
 whispered to me from around the gate-post, " Ain't it 
 fine to have such a father as that? But it was very 
 wicked to throw that stick of kindling." 
 
92 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 A moment later, David and Jonathan came riding up 
 from the barnyard, each astride of his own frisky young 
 filly. Their faces were very sober, as was becoming to 
 young men on a First-day morning, and they scarcely 
 deigned to notice me as they passed through the gate. 
 
 " We're goin' around the long way," said David to 
 father, " but we'll git to the meetin'-house before thee 
 does." 
 
 Good boys they were — always ready to go to meetin', 
 always glad to perform what they believed was a solemn 
 duty ; but they felt themselves too big and manly to ride 
 in the wagon with the rest of the family. I watched 
 them as they cantered briskly down the lane and out into 
 the main road, their white shirt-sleeves flapping funnily 
 in the wind, and their burly awkward forms rising and 
 falling with the motion of their steeds. Just as they dis- 
 appeared in the first strip of greenwoods, father stooped 
 suddenly, picked me up in his strong arms and threw 
 me bodily into the wagon upon the heap of straw. 
 
 I was speechless, amazed, frightened. I knew not 
 whether I should laugh or cry, and hence did neither. 
 Had father treated me thus because he was in a jolly 
 good humor, or had he not done so to reprove me for 
 my fault? I was perplexed; and then I fancied that 
 there was a twinkle in his eye, and something like a 
 smile about the corners of his mouth, and I felt easier. 
 I settled myself on the straw with my feet over the tail- 
 board of the wagon, and wondered what would happen 
 next: 
 
 " I think he was playing," said Inviz, nestling down 
 beside me ; " but wasn't thee a bad boy to throw that 
 stick of kindling? " 
 
 Had I felt sure that father meant to play with me, I 
 
GOING TO MEETIN' 93 
 
 would have been the happiest boy in the world. But 
 I had grave doubts. Never in my life had I known him 
 to play with any one; and, besides, he was too old, too 
 wise, too great a man to indulge in frivolities of any 
 sort. No; he had seen me give way to a fit of temper, 
 and this was his way of punishing me for it. 
 
 " Thee deserves more than that," said Inviz ; " for 
 thee was very wicked." 
 
 Father climbed into the wagon and took his place 
 on the driver's seat. He looked at me, for a moment, 
 not unpleasantly, and then, without saying a word, 
 turned toward the horses and took the long lines in his 
 hands. He sat up, straight and stiff and thoughtful, 
 and silently waited for the womenfolks to appear. 
 
 And soon they came — mother and Cousin Mandy 
 Jane, and old Aunt Rachel with her tobacco satchel 
 in her hand. They closed the door behind them, and 
 latched it to keep out the chickens. They came de- 
 murely out to the gate, and ascending the " uppin' 
 block " to its topmost level, they stepped, one after the 
 other, into the wagon and were soon settled comfortably 
 down on the heap of straw. The faces of mother and 
 aunt were pretty well hidden within their stiff plain 
 bonnets of dove-colored silk, and yet I could see that 
 they bore a tranquil expression of resignation and faith 
 which spoke of holiness and the Inward Light. Their 
 looks, their actions, their words, all reflected the day and 
 the occasion. Cousin Mandy Jane was resplendent in 
 a pasteboard pink sunbonnet and new linsey-woolsey 
 gown ; and as she sat down beside me, her shining coun- 
 tenance betokened the pleasure which she anticipated 
 from this brief respite from household cares. 
 
 And now, at last, we were off, on our way to meetin' ! 
 
94 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 The day, as I have said, was a glorious one — a day in 
 which to see visions and dream dreams. Father sat 
 erect and silent, guiding our ancient horses in the way 
 they should go, while in his large mind he pondered 
 upon subjects of a nature both vast and perplexing. 
 The women gave themselves up to the solemn joy of 
 the hour, talking but little, and seeing nothing but the 
 rough road and the jogging horses and now and then a 
 plowed field or a new deadening in the woods. As for 
 myself, I sat high up on the straw in the rear of the 
 wagon, my bare feet dangling out behind, while with 
 eyes and ears alert, I took notice of every new sight or 
 unusual sound. 
 
 Thus we rode onward between various clearings and 
 through strips of greenwoods, now jolting over cause- 
 ways and projecting roots and stones, now splashing 
 through miry bogs and mud-holes, anon dashing down 
 a breakneck hill to cross a sluggish stream at the bot- 
 tom, and then creeping laboriously up a rough and 
 winding ascent tO' a smoother and more traveled highway 
 on the hilltop whence we could see the Dry Forks 
 meetin'-house at no great distance. 
 
 To me although my joy was tempered by frequent 
 qualms of conscience and a dreadful sinking of spirits, 
 the journey was a triumphal one. My imagination con- 
 jured up a thousand wonderful happenings, as enjoyable 
 and profitable as though they had actually occurred. I 
 fancied that the birds stopped singing, and the little 
 wood beasts paused in their play, to look at the small 
 white-haired lad so beautifully arrayed in vest of rain- 
 bow colors and in robin and breeches of blue. 
 
 At one place, a squirrel peeped round the trunk of a 
 walnut tree and called to his mate across the road : 
 
GOING TO MEETIN' 95 
 
 " See that little fellow on the straw ? He is going to 
 meetin' to learn how to be good." 
 
 And his mate replied, " Surely, he needs to learn. It 
 was very wicked in him to throw that stick." 
 
 Then an old crow that was perched on the topmost 
 dead branch of a near-by oak, looked down and nodded 
 knowingly as we passed beneath him. I thought of the 
 verses which I had laughed over and repeated with 
 Cousin Sally — 
 
 " The crow, the great black crow," 
 
 and suddenly I fancied that the wise sleek bird was 
 talking to me. 
 
 " Caw ! caw ! " he hoarsely croaked. " Howdy, Rob- 
 ert, howdy-do f If thee'll love me, I'll love thee, too. 
 Caw ! caw ! It's nice to be a good little boy, ain't it ? " 
 
 And Inviz, who had been sitting by me all the time, 
 pinched my arm and responded, " Yes, it's nice to be 
 good, but it's mighty wicked to throw sticks of kindling 
 at folks." 
 
 Thus, in a state of mind alternating between exultation 
 and self-condemnation, I rode onward to the house of 
 worship. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 
 
 THE meetin'-house at Dry Forks was a lorig, low, 
 frame structure in the midst of a grove of sugar- 
 maple trees. My father, Stephen Dudley, had been its 
 chief architect, master builder and promoter, and there 
 was no other house in the New Settlement — or in the 
 whole world, for that matter — that stood more firmly 
 upon its corner-stones or had a finer roof of shaved 
 shingles above it. It was of that type of ecclesiastical 
 architecture which prevailed extensively in the Friendly 
 settlements of the West during the Middle Ages. The 
 plainness of its exterior was indicative of the extreme 
 plainness in person and soul of the worshipers for whose 
 benefit it had been erected. On the side fronting the 
 road there were two small windows and two broad doors ; 
 on each end there were one broad window and one small 
 door; and in the whole arrangement and construction of 
 the building there had been an eye for use, but certainly 
 not for beauty. 
 
 The interior was divided into two rooms of exactly 
 the same size, between which there was a movable parti- 
 tion (called "the shetters ") that was always throv/n 
 wide open on First-days. The room on the right-hand 
 side of the shetters was for the men and boys ; that on 
 the left was for the women and girls and babies. At the 
 farther end of each room, three or four tiers of seats were 
 raised, one above the other, as in a theater. These were 
 
 96 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 97 
 
 called the " gallery benches," and were occupied by the 
 " fathers in Israel," the ministers and elders of the 
 meetin', who sat there overlooking the rest of the con- 
 gregation. It was from this gallery also that the min- 
 isters — when moved by the promptings of the spirit — 
 delivered their messages to the meetin' or addressed 
 their supplications to the Throne. 
 
 The first, or lowerm.ost, of the gallery seats was called 
 the " facin' bench," probably because those who sat upon 
 it were brought face to face with the occupants of the 
 first bench for the unofficial members. It v/as upon this 
 bench that marriage couples always sat during the 
 tedious but simple ceremony which bound them in the 
 bonds of wedlock. Here also sat the three overseers, 
 the petit officers who looked after the morals and general 
 behavior of the members whether young or old. The 
 facin' bench, in short, was the business bench — 
 whether it was on the men's side or the women's side — 
 and for that reason it was usually the most interesting 
 seat in the house. The boys and girls, the young men 
 and young women, occupied, as a rule, the long benches 
 that were nearest to the front entrances and at some dis- 
 tance from the gallery, while the newly married and the 
 sedate middle-aged men and women sat on the benches 
 nearer the middle of the room. Even when the shet- 
 ters were thrown open, the two sexes were still sepa- 
 rated by a strong wooden railing ; and it would have been 
 an act of the greatest impropriety for a man to set foot 
 in the woman's apartment or a womian to wander by ac- 
 cident or design into the precincts reserved for her 
 stronger partner in life. The rooms, although bare and 
 comfortless, seemed sacred to plainness and silence, and 
 the unpainted walls and long stiff-backed benches spoke 
 
98 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 audibly of self-denial and a holy disdain for things of 
 the world, worldly. 
 
 Upon arriving at the meetin'-house, father drove the 
 wagon to a favorite spot in the sugar-tree grove that had 
 long been reserved for his exclusive use. With becom- 
 ing dignity he leaped to the ground, and then, without 
 looking round, proceeded to tie the horses to the swing- 
 ing branch of a tree. The womenfolks rose from their 
 seats on the straw and climbed out over the wheels as 
 best they could. Once safely on the ground, they 
 straightened their bonnets, brushed the straws from their 
 clothing, and made ready to enter the house of worship. 
 
 " Come, Robert ! " said father stiffly but not unkindly ; 
 and I leaped over the tail-board of the wagon and sub- 
 missively stood beside him. *' Robert," he continued, " I 
 think thee is now quite big enough to take care of thyself 
 in meetin', as other boys do. So thee may sit on one of 
 the middle benches, not far from David and Jonathan; 
 and I shall expect thee to conduct thyself properly and 
 not fall asleep or make a noise." 
 
 I did not know what to say; but I grew half an inch 
 taller in a moment. During the first two years of my 
 life, I had sat with mother in the women's gallery ; and 
 during the remainder of my brief span, I had clung tim- 
 idly to father's coat tail, shrinking unnoticed beside him, 
 and feeling myself a mere atom among the ministers and 
 elders on the top bench of the gallery. Now, I was at 
 last to take care of myself — oh, what an honor! I had 
 been long hoping and looking forward to this time. To 
 sit by one's self in meetin' ! why, it was a mark of ap- 
 proaching big-boyhood, a recognition of merit, a promo- 
 tion to a higher grade. I was so proud of it that I forgot 
 all about Little William's clothes. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 99 
 
 Everything being in readiness, we entered the meeting- 
 house — father at the men's door, mother and Aunt 
 Rachel at the women's door, Cousin Mandy Jane at the 
 left-hand front door, and I at the right-hand front door. 
 Noiselessly and with trembling limbs, I glided down the 
 narrow aisle between the rows of long benches. I feared 
 to raise my eyes, for I felt that everybody was looking at 
 me. I fancied that even the ministers and elders were 
 passing judgment upon me, and that all the boys and girls 
 were admiring my figured vest. At about the middle of 
 the room there was a vacant seat, and I climbed hastily 
 into it. I knew that David and Jonathan were a little 
 way in front of me, and I fancied that they were nudging 
 each other and smiling; but it was a long time before I 
 had the courage to look at anybody or anything. 
 
 How still the big room was ! Why, I could almost 
 hear my heart thump underneath that wonderful little 
 vest. I knew that there were more than fifty persons 
 seated around me, and yet the silence was so profound 
 that I could easily imagine myself alone. Then, at 
 length, Inviz came down the aisle and climbed up beside 
 me. 
 
 " It's nice to be a good boy and sit very still in meetin', 
 ain't it? " he said. 
 
 *' Yes, I want to be good, and still I would rather be 
 at home," I confessed. 
 
 *' Well, it was very wicked for thee to throw that stick 
 of kindling — " 
 
 Oh, that my invisible playmate, my dearest friend, 
 should thus become my accusing angel ! 
 
 Presently I distinguished a slight noise, like that of a 
 gnawing mouse, somewhere on the other side of the aisle. 
 I looked timidly in that direction, and saw that it was 
 
100 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 made by Little Enick, who was cutting his initials in the 
 back of the bench before him. He was not looking at me, 
 and the thought gave me courage. I raised my head and 
 glanced toward the men's gallery. There sat my father, 
 and Old Joel Sparker the minister, and Levi T. Jay and 
 all the other pillars of Our Society, just as I had seen them 
 sitting scores and scores of times before. Their hats 
 were on their heads, their hands were folded on their 
 knees, their eyes were directed downward or fixed on 
 vacancy, their minds were occupied with heavenly things. 
 My eyes fell a little, and I saw the three overseers on the 
 facin' bench — saintly, self-conceited, bigoted creatures, 
 who in other times and at other places would have been 
 holy inquisitors or perhaps only second-rate modern de- 
 tectives. And, then, just above these men of importance, 
 I saw Old Enoch Fox, his piercing yellow eyes directed 
 full upon me as though they would look me through and 
 through. The shivers ran down my back, and had the 
 Old Feller himself suddenly appeared in the midst of the 
 meetin', I could not have been more disconcerted. I 
 shuffled half-way round in my seat and directed my at- 
 tention to the near-by floor and my ten bare toes. 
 
 " It was very wicked to throw that stick of kindling," 
 said Inviz ; " and now let us try to think of good things, 
 so that we may grow to be good also and be prepared to 
 go to the good place." 
 
 But try as I might, I could not center my mind on 
 any particular subject. I thought of Little William's 
 clothes, and wondered why they had not attracted more 
 attention from the young people around me. I thought 
 of my own growing self-importance, and wondered that 
 no one else had discovered my peculiar greatness. I 
 thought of my books, which I had read through and 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH loi 
 
 through until I could repeat whole pages from memory ; 
 and I wished — oh, how I wished! — that some good 
 angel would now bring me a new one with pictures in it. 
 I would have prayed for it, but I was not used to praying. 
 
 At length, the silence continuing and my courage re- 
 viving, I raised my eyes again and looked over into the 
 women's end of the meetin'. Yes, there was mother, sit- 
 ting on the top bench of the gallery, in the place that was 
 best suited to one so good, so long-suffering and so kind. 
 Her eyes were downcast, her face seemed care-worn and 
 sad, and I wondered if she were really seeing visions 
 and communing with the invisible angels. Next to her — 
 yes, too close by half — sat Margot Duberry, that saintly 
 woman who had once given me over to the Old Feller 
 and thereby won my lasting antipathy. Coarse-featured, 
 ignorant, claiming to be inspired from on high, the sight 
 of her filled me with a feeling of disgust — but now she 
 was looking at me, and I turned my eyes to another part 
 of the room. 
 
 Far over, near the women's door, alone, sat good old 
 Aunt Rachel, her sharp gray eyes funnily encircled by the 
 big brass rims of her spectacles, and her thin lips seeming 
 thinner than ever, being now deprived of the familiar pipe 
 stem. No doubt she was thinking of good and holy 
 things, just as every person ought to do in meetin' — 
 
 '' Yes," whispered Inviz suddenly, " that's what every 
 person ought to do, and so why don't thee do it? Why 
 don't thee turn thy thoughts inward instead of allowing 
 them to wander all about the meetin'-house? " 
 
 '' Thee's right, Inviz," I answered ; and I closed my 
 eyes, and for a full minute tried with all my might to get 
 some glimpse, however faint it might be, of the Inner 
 Light that lighteneth every man. 
 
102 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Out-of-doors, everything was beautiful and cheering — 
 the earth, the sky, the woods and farms, all were filled 
 with life and joy. In the meetin'-house everything was 
 dull and coarse and uncomfortable. I fancied that if I 
 were free and alone in the open air, with the voices of 
 nature singing in my ears, I should certainly be much 
 nearer to the good place than was possible within these 
 bare ugly walls. The spirit of rebellion was again rising 
 hot within me, and my invisible playmate sympathized 
 with me and stirred up evil thoughts in my mind. 
 
 " Don't thee hate this dry silent meetin' ? " he asked. 
 
 "It's awful, awful tiresome," I answered; "and yet I 
 like this silence better than the noise of some people try- 
 ing to preach." 
 
 " Well, the hour is nearly gone," said Inviz, " and I 
 guess nobody will try it to-day. But it was very wicked 
 of thee to throw that stick of kindling wood." 
 
 Suddenly I was roused from my rambling thoughts by 
 hearing a rustling of garments in the women's gallery 
 closely followed by a shuffling of feet in all parts of the 
 house. I looked up. Yes, there was Margot Duberry 
 on her knees, her eyes tightly closed, her hands clasped 
 and raised toward Heaven. I knew at once that she had 
 been moved to offer supplication. The men and women 
 and young people had all risen to their feet, as was their 
 custom, and were turning their faces away from the 
 place where the supplicatress was kneeling. 
 
 I slipped quickly down from my high seat, and rever- 
 ently followed the example of my elders. Why was it 
 that we must always stand when some one prayed? 
 Why must we refrain from even looking toward the per- 
 son who was addressing the Throne of Grace? My in- 
 fantile mind had long ago solved these perplexing ques- 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 103 
 
 tions. We stood up in order to show our reverence to 
 the great Unseen Power who was being invoked ; and we 
 turned our faces away lest, seeing the angel who had 
 come down to receive the petition, we might be commit- 
 ting an unpardonable sin. 
 
 With bowed head and humble heart, I stood and list- 
 ened while Margot Duberry, in singsong falsetto tones, 
 offered much information and advice to the Almighty. 
 All my dislike of the woman was for the moment for- 
 gotten. Then, as she proceeded, I began to wonder why 
 it was a sin to look at the angel. Did Margot herself see 
 him? Or was she simply conscious of his pres- 
 ence, just as I was often conscious of the presence 
 of Inviz? In the Bible I had read many stories of angels 
 making themselves visible, and many persons had looked 
 into their faces without suffering any disastrous results. 
 Why, therefore, might not these heavenly messengers 
 show themselves also to us of the Dry Forks meetin' in 
 the New Settlement? I wondered if I might turn my 
 head just a little — just enough to see the tip of one white 
 wing as it hovered over the women's gallery. Would I 
 be stricken with blindness? 
 
 " I think thee might risk it," whispered Inviz. " It 
 won't be very wicked." 
 
 It was a fearful moment. I felt that I was being 
 tempted to commit a sin, and yet the desire to see an 
 angel was overpowering. But just as I had made up 
 my mind to take a sly peep, no matter what the conse- 
 quences, the voice of the supplicatress suddenly dropped, 
 and she uttered the concluding formula, assuring the Al- 
 mighty that if He would only grant what we asked, He 
 would be rewarded by receiving " the glory, the honor, 
 and the praise forever, amen." The prayer was ended, 
 
104 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 there was another shuffling of feet, another rustling of 
 homespun garments and all the meetin' sat down again. 
 The angel had flown to Heaven with the message. I had 
 been too late by half a second, and the delay had prob- 
 ably saved my soul ! 
 
 I climbed up and readjusted myself on the comfortless 
 bench. I looked at father; he was wrapped in deepest 
 meditation. I looked at mother; she seemed not in the 
 least affected, although the angel must have been very 
 close to her. Then something at the foot of the women's 
 gallery attracted my notice, and as I turned my eyes I 
 was so astounded that I almost fell from my seat. 
 
 There, on the women's facin' bench, in plain sight of 
 everybody, sat the angel ! 
 
 At any rate, if it was not an angel it was something 
 very much like one. The face was that of a little girl, 
 only a thousand times prettier and sweeter than anybody 
 could tell or even so much as think about. And around 
 that face there was a framework of brownish golden curls 
 that reminded me of the sunlight when it streams through 
 the smoke-filled air of an Indian summer day. Above 
 these curls, resting lightly on the angelic head, was some- 
 thing in the shape of a hat — a white straw hat of 
 wonderful workmanship and most delicate texture. It 
 was partly covered with ribbons, gaily colored; and on 
 one side of it were two great feathers, larger by half than 
 the biggest turkey feather I had ever seen. 
 
 I gazed and wondered. In all my short and circum- 
 scribed life, I had never known a girl or woman to wear 
 a hat. It seemed impossible. Every girl in my little 
 world wore a calico sunbonnet, made very plain, and 
 sometimes pink, sometimes blue, or sometimes brown, as 
 her mother might choose. Did angels wear hats? Cer- 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 105 
 
 tainly no person but an angel could possess a head-dress 
 so perfectly magnificent as that which was now claiming 
 my admiration. 
 
 I was fascinated, entranced, enraptured. My gaze 
 dwelt upon the shoulders, the arms, the hands of the mys- 
 terious creature. How white were those hands, how 
 delicate, how small ! And surely the sunlight was beam- 
 ing from one of the fingers. 
 
 I looked at her dress. It was a marvel of beauty, sur- 
 passing the finest linsey-woolsey that had ever been 
 woven on mother's loom. It was of many rare colors, 
 and I fancied that I could hear it rustle like the silken 
 strings on mother's First-day bonnet. But, ah me! the 
 goods must have been very, very costly ; for the dress was 
 cut scandalously short. All the girls in the New Set- 
 tlement, little or big, wore dresses which came to their 
 ankles ; and I blushed when I observed that this angel's 
 dress reached only a little way below her knees. 
 
 This was not so bad, however, as it might have been ; 
 for the creature wore the whitest and stiffest pantalettes 
 that you ever saw, and she had on shoes and stockings — 
 yes, real shoes and stockings, although the weather was 
 so warm. The shoes were laced high up, and they shone 
 as if newly greased ; and the stockings were of a beauti- 
 ful color, harmonizing with the angel's dress. 
 
 And then my gaze wandered back to that heavenly face, 
 and I thought that I should never see enough of it. 
 
 Although my mind was inclined to accept everything, 
 believe everything, yet my better judgment told me that 
 this wonderful creature was really not an angel, but a 
 child, a little girl from some remote part of the world — ■ 
 perhaps from ungodly Nopplis or the distant 'Hio Coun- 
 try — where people dressed dififerently from the plain 
 
io6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 folks in our settlement. Perhaps she was a princess, the 
 daughter of a king ; or maybe she was the child of some 
 very worldly person who had been miraculously directed 
 to our meetin', to the salvation of her soul. I had read 
 of such things. 
 
 Timidly, but persistently, I gazed at her angel-like 
 features, and then reluctantly turned my eyes away only 
 to glance at her again and again and again, to make sure 
 that she had not flown away. I forgot the hardness of 
 the bench upon which I was sitting, I forgot Little Wil- 
 liam's gorgeous clothes, I forgot everything save that 
 beatific vision and the wonder and delight that filled my 
 boyish heart. 
 
 How long I sat there, entranced, motionless, I can not 
 tell ; but it seemed only a few minutes until I was brought 
 to my senses by a general movement of the boys and 
 young men in my immediate vicinity. I looked up. 
 Father, in his seat at the head of the meetin', was shak- 
 ing hands with Levi T. Jay, who sat next to him on the 
 top bench of the men's gallery. Others of the ministers 
 and elders were also shaking hands. It was thus that 
 *' the meetin' was broke" — that is, the hour of silent 
 waiting was brought to an end and the congregation was 
 dismissed. 
 
 The men and women rose silently and with one ac- 
 cord, and began to pass out through their respective 
 doors of exit, greeting one another with nods and hand- 
 shakes on the way. The boys clattered noisily along the 
 aisle to the front door, grinning at me as they passed — 
 some in a friendly manner, some derisively. Certain of 
 the older people also gazed curiously in my direction, at- 
 tracted no doubt by the clothes which I wore. Then 
 Jonathan, seeing me linger, held out his hand as he 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 107 
 
 passed, and whispered, " Come, Towhead, the meetin's 
 broke ! It's time to go home." 
 
 As I cHmbed off the seat, I cast a last lingering glance 
 toward the women's facin' bench. Ah ! I was right, and 
 the angel was only a little girl, after all. All the young 
 women and several of the older ones were gazing at some 
 object that was just passing out through the western 
 door. It was my angel, and she was being led by an 
 elderly woman Friend whom I had seen many times be- 
 fore. The next moment she had disappeared, and the 
 world seemed suddenly empty. With downcast eyes, lest 
 some one should speak to me, I glided out of the house 
 and through the throng of men and boys, and hastened 
 to the place where our wagon was standing. 
 
 I climbed up and sat in my place on the straw, anxiously 
 waiting for father and the womenfolks. They were 
 a long time coming, for they must needs linger about 
 the doors to exchange friendly greetings with all their 
 acquaintances. This after-meetin' hour was the time of 
 times for pleasant social intercourse, and there were few 
 who did not avail themselves of the opportunities which 
 it offered. 
 
 The middle-aged men talked about their corn-planting 
 and the miserable state of the weather, the price of pigs 
 and of seed potatoes, and the general wickedness and 
 shiftlessness of their neighbors. The elders had 
 weightier matters upon their minds. They talked of the 
 slavery troubles, of the means whereby to maintain a 
 *' monthly-meetin' school," and of the dangerous tenden- 
 cies of the times ; and they specially deplored the in- 
 creasing influx into the Settlement of worldly people and 
 persons not in unity with Our Society. 
 
 The women, likewise, had many interesting things to 
 
io8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 discuss in their own brief and simple way. With many 
 warm greetings and handshakings, they gathered in small 
 groups and gave themselves up to gossip of a sort that 
 would now seem very strange to their great-great-grand- 
 daughters. They talked about their spinning and weav- 
 ing and sewing, their success in raising chickens and in 
 making butter and soft soap, and the prospects for a 
 sickly summer and a fat graveyard. They admired 
 severally and individually the many babies that were pres- 
 ent, and discussed the various ailments to which child- 
 hood is so unfortunately prone. They exchanged recipes 
 for cough sirup, extolled the efficacy of goose grease in 
 cases of croup, and slyly whispered in one another's ears 
 the latest savory bit of neighborhood scandal. Such was 
 the dessert which followed the substantial meal of an 
 hour's silent waiting in meetin' — and everybody enjoyed 
 it. 
 
 The young men, among whom were our David and 
 Jonathan, assembled in a small group on the shady side of 
 a log heap, and discussed the last general coon hunt and 
 the probable depth of the water in the old swimmin' hole. 
 Most of the smaller boys hung close to their fathers' coat 
 tails, looking sheepishly at one another and saying not a 
 word. A few of the bolder ones, however — gawky, 
 shoeless, unmannerly fellows of my own age — came to- 
 gether under one of the trees, where they chewed slippery 
 elm, and swapped knives, and talked about their sisters' 
 fellers. 
 
 And these sisters, where were they? They were cir- 
 culating among the older women, joining in the gossip, 
 and modestly repeating the latest rumors of marriage and 
 giving in marriage. (My dear Leona, 'twas ever thus 
 since the days of Eve; 'twill continue thus till the last 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH 109 
 
 trumpet shall announce the futility of maidenly hopes, the 
 end of earth's desires.) 
 
 The little girls, of whom there were several, stood in 
 close proximity to their respective mothers, silently ad- 
 miring one another, and ready at the slightest provocation 
 to hang their heads in bashfulness and fear. How I 
 hated the sight of them with their long coarse gowns, 
 their ugly little sunbonnets, their fat red hands, and their 
 bare and brier-scratched feet ! 
 
 But just as Inviz and I were whispering our feel- 
 ings of disgust, lo ! my Angel of the Facin' Bench flitted 
 for one brief moment within the sphere of my vision. 
 She was seated in a brightly-colored wagon with her 
 elderly companion and a strange man whom I had not 
 seen before; and so svvdftly was the wagon being driven 
 away from the place, that I had scarcely time to notice 
 its occupants ere it had disappeared among the trees at 
 the forks of the road. 
 
 I thought of Elijah's " chariot of Israel and the horse- 
 man thereof," and I fancied that my angel was riding 
 back to Heaven in a cloud of glory. But while I was in 
 the midst of my dreaming, our w^omenfolks arrived and 
 climbed into the wagon beside me ; and father also com- 
 ing quite soon, the ride homeward was begun. 
 
 That evening as I was helping Cousin Mandy Jane 
 with the milking, I felt that I could not live another hour 
 without unburdening my mind and taking some one into 
 my confidence. So I boldly broached the matter, and 
 said: 
 
 " Cousin Mandy Jane, did thee ever see an angel ? " 
 
 " Shucks, no ! what a silly question 1 " she answered. 
 " Thee knows that nobody don't see angels, nowadays. 
 'Twas only in the Bible that they showed theirselves." 
 
no IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Well, I don't care," I said ; " but I seen an angel 
 to-day — a real live angel. I seen it at meetin' ! " 
 
 " Sakes alive, Robert ! Thee's up to thy fibbin' ag'in. 
 I'll tell mother, and she'll give thee another trouncin'." 
 
 " I'm tellin' the truth, Cousin Mandy Jane. I seen an 
 angel just as plain as I'm seeing thee now ; and I wasn't 
 in a dream, either." 
 
 *' Robert, I tell thee what, thee cain't stuff me with sich 
 truck as that. But if thee raally thinks that way, tell me 
 what the angel looked like." 
 
 I fancied that she was beginning to understand, and I 
 answered bravely but briefly : 
 
 " Well, she was kind of smallish ; and there was some- 
 thing on her head that looked like a hat ; and she wore a 
 streaked and striped dress ; and she had shoes and stock- 
 ings on her feet; and her hair was so long that it hung 
 clean down her back, all fluffy like." 
 
 " Where was she when thee seen her ? " asked Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, milking very fast. 
 
 " On the women's f acin' bench 1 " 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane laughed till the tears stood in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "And so thee thought that was a angel, did thee?" 
 she cried. " Oh, what a ninny thee is ! Why, that was 
 Esther Wilson's little granddaughter. An angel? — 
 Sakes alive, no ! " 
 
 " What's her name ? Does thee know ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's a queer-soundin' name that I never heerd 
 afore. 'Tain't no Scripter name. Sounds like the garden 
 that Adam was in — Eden ; but it ain't 'zactly that." 
 
 I hazarded a guess : " Edith ? " 
 
 "Yes, that's it. Edith— Edith Meredith. Ain't that 
 a funny name ? " 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE FACIN' BENCH in 
 
 " 'Tis kind of funny," I answered. " Edith Mer-edith ! 
 It ought to be Edith Merry Edith. I wonder where 
 she came from ? " 
 
 " Well, now, they do say that her father is rich, and 
 that they've jist come from some big town, way off, and 
 he's goin' to start a store over to Dashville. Oh, every- 
 body was talkin' about it at meetin'." 
 
 " I wonder if she belongs to meetin'," I said ; a great 
 fear taking hold of my heart. 
 
 " Well, I don't reckon so," answered Mandy Jane. 
 "She wouldn't belong to our meetin' very long with all 
 them there feathers and furbelows and silks and satins 
 stuck on to her. It's my 'pinion that her father's a 
 mighty worldly man and her mother ain't much better." 
 
 I kept on with my milking, and the subject was 
 dropped. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 IKEY BRIGHT 
 
 ONE morning after driving the cows to the pasture, 
 I took a long leisurely ramble through the old 
 deadenin' on the eastern border of our place. That great 
 waste of dying trees, rotting logs and tangled underbrush 
 was the home and abiding-place of many of my little 
 friends, and I fancied that they greeted me, each in its 
 own small, hearty, natural way. Some crows that were 
 playing tag in the tree-tops were the first to see me, and 
 they expressed their pleasure by a vociferous cawing 
 which I answered by repeating the rhyme: 
 
 " The crow, the crow, the great black crow, 
 He never gets drunk on rain or snow ! " 
 
 A quail, whose mate must have had a nest close by, 
 sat eying me from the top rail of the fence and occa- 
 sionally whistling his shrill '^ Bob-white." Some chip- 
 munks, sitting upright near the entrance to their home 
 in a hollow log, chattered merrily, and were not at all 
 afraid. A rabbit leaped suddenly out of a brush heap 
 where he had been hiding, and was about to flee to some 
 safer covert, but seeing it was no enemy that had fright- 
 ened him, he squatted on his haunches and waited for me 
 to pass. 
 
 Thus, my ramble was by no means a solitary one. I 
 strolled slowly along, meeting friends at every turn; and 
 
 112 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 113 
 
 lingering here and there to Hsten to the song of some 
 famihar bird or to admire the beauty of some freshly 
 blown wild flower. The sun was hot, the air was sultry, 
 and I was in a meditative mood. At length, in a shady 
 place near the boundary fence, I sat down on a log and 
 gave myself up to dreams. 
 
 I must have actually fallen asleep, for I was suddenly 
 startled by hearing a voice. 
 
 '' Hello, there, Towhead ! " 
 
 The voice came from above, and the speaker was on 
 the fence. I looked up and sawj astride of the topmost 
 rail, a boy some five years my senior, whom I had heard 
 called Ikey Bright. His mother, " the Widder Bright," 
 had but lately come into the New Settlement. She had 
 bought the farm adjoining our own, and with her four 
 grown-up sons was carrying on business in a way that 
 was surprising to the older settlers. Everybody would 
 have thought well of her had it not been for the appalling 
 fact that she belonged to the Anti-Slavery Friends and 
 was, therefore, " not in unity with Our Society." 
 
 '' Hello, there, Towhead ! " was repeated from the 
 fence, kindly but very pompously. 
 
 I was tempted to respond in like phrase, but dared not 
 utter the newly coined word of greeting which would 
 have been a very bad word without the at the end of it. 
 (Indeed, Joel Sparker had said that it w^as a swear word, 
 pure and simple, and a cunning invention of the Old Feller 
 to entice boys into profanity.) Therefore, the only re- 
 ply that I could make was a half-hearted, *' Howdy-do ! 
 How's thee and thine?" 
 
 " What's thy right name, little friend? " inquired Ikey 
 in condescending tones. 
 
 " Robert Dudley/* 
 
114 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " I'll call thee Bobby. How many acres of land is in 
 that farm of your'n?" 
 
 I straightened myself up and answered, *' One hun- 
 dred ; and half of it is cleared." I thought surely the big 
 boy would recognize and respect the wealth and impor- 
 tance implied by the ownership of so large a tract of field 
 and woodland. But I was mistaken. 
 
 '* Oh, pshaw ! " he answered in a tone that made me 
 shrink into perceptibly smaller dimensions. " That ain't 
 nothin'. We've got two hundred and forty in our'n. 
 How many cows do you milk? " 
 
 '* Five ; and when the heifer comes in there'll be six." 
 
 *' Phe-ew ! That's a right smart lot, ain't it ? But 
 when our heifer comes in we'll have twelve. How many 
 rooms is in your house ? " 
 
 I felt sure that I had him at disadvantage this time, and 
 I answered proudly, " Well, we have one room and the 
 loft and the weavin'-room now, and when the new house 
 is done we'll have three more. That'll make six." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " said Ikey. " We have seven rooms in 
 our house, all under the same roof. But that ain't 
 nothin' to what we had in Sin Snatty. There we had 
 eight rooms and a pantry." 
 
 "What's a pantry?" 
 
 " It's a little room where they hang the pans and 
 things. Come here, Towhead, and I'll show thee some- 
 thing." 
 
 I slipped off my log and went over to the fence where 
 he was sitting. He took from his pocket seven brand- 
 new marbles, all striped in beautiful colors, and held them 
 out to my admiring gaze. 
 
 " I'll bet thee hain't got any marbles like these," he 
 said. 
 
 \\ 
 
IKEY BRIGHT I15 
 
 I made no answer, but counted them silently, one by- 
 one. 
 
 '' My uncle Levi sent 'em to me," said Ikey. " He 
 lives in Sin Snatty. He's a great man, he is. He's rich 
 and sends me lots of things." 
 
 I looked eagerly at the marbles as they lay in his hand, 
 and timidly turned some of them over with the tip of my 
 forefinger. I had heard David and Jonathan talk about 
 the game of ** marvels," and once I had seen two small 
 brown things of the same shape as these, which they 
 called *' commies " ; but I had never before felt the 
 happiness of actually touching a plaything of this 
 kind. 
 
 " I never had one in all my life," I muttered, gulping 
 down a big lump in my throat. 
 
 " Well, well, that is bad," said Ikey, slipping the pretty 
 things back into his pocket. " But I s'pose thee has a 
 nice ball to play with ? " 
 
 " I had one once," I answered. " Cousin Mandy Jane 
 made it all out of red stockin' yarn. But I lost it in the 
 brier patch, and she wouldn't spare the yarn for an- 
 other." 
 
 " Well, I have a fine big one, all covered with strong 
 leather. Uncle Levi, he sent it to me at Christmas. 
 What did thee get at Christmas ? " 
 
 " I didn't get anything." 
 
 " Not any playthings or toys ? Why, what do you 
 folks do at Christmas ? " 
 
 " We don't do anything particular," I answered. 
 " When we get up in the morning, we all say ' Christmas 
 gift ! ' and maybe mother gives us some hot cookies to eat. 
 Once she gave me a pair of warm mittens." 
 
 " Well, well ! " said Ikey, tapping his foot against one 
 
ii6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 of the lower rails. '' If thee hain't got any marbles or 
 balls, what kind of playthings does thee have ? " 
 
 " Oh, I only have one," I said. " It's a little windmill 
 that Jonathan made for me. When I hold it up toward 
 the wind it goes whizzin' around." 
 
 " A windmill ! " cried Ikey. " I wish I could see it. 
 Run over to the house and fetch it, won't thee ? " 
 
 " N-no, I — don't think I can," I stammered. 
 '* Mother wouldn't let me fetch it." 
 
 " Who does thee play with when thee's at home ? " 
 asked my inquisitor. 
 
 I was on the point of telling him about Inviz, but 
 knowing that he could not understand, I answered, " I 
 used to play with Esau and Jacob ; but now they've grown 
 up and gone to live in the woods, and I don't have much 
 of anybody to play with any more." 
 
 "Esau and Jacob! Who are they?" he asked; and 
 then I had to give him a full history of my pets and tell 
 him all about their cunning tricks and why I would never 
 consent to keep them in a cage. 
 
 Ikey was much interested, and plied me with question 
 after question. Finally he said, " I tell thee what, Bobby ! 
 Thee run home and ask thy mother to let thee go over to 
 my house and play with me for an hour. Tell her that 
 I'm going to give thee a marble. I'll wait here for thee 
 till thee comes back." 
 
 The temptation was strong. I thought what a treas- 
 ure that marble would be, and how much enjoyment I 
 should derive from its possession. Then I thought of the 
 great trial of having to meet Ikey's mother and perhaps 
 his sisters and brothers, and my shyness conquered. 
 " Thee may keep the marble," I said. " I don't like to 
 ask my mother, for I know she won't let me go." 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 117 
 
 Then I climbed back over the log and resolutely turned 
 my footsteps homeward. 
 
 Ikey began to whistle. He watched me until I had 
 gone perhaps a hundred yards, and then he called out 
 sharply : 
 
 '' Say, Towhead ! Wait a minute." 
 
 I paused. " What does thee want ? " 
 
 '' I've got a pretty book with pictures in it, at home. 
 Wouldn't thee like to see it ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered eagerly. 
 
 *' Well, if thy mother will let thee go home with me 
 for an hour, I'll show it to thee. It's a book that Uncle 
 Levi sent to me from Sin Snatty." 
 
 The bait was irresistible. I yielded to the tempter 
 without even a show of resistance. 
 
 *' Will thee w^ait here till I ask her? " 
 
 " Certainly. Run along, and w>en thee comes back, 
 fetch that little windmill with thee. I want to see it." 
 
 Ten minutes later I had laid the case before mother and 
 had got her somewhat hesitating consent to go home with 
 Ikey and look at his picture-book. But on no account 
 was I to stay at the Widder's longer than the specified 
 hour, and if Ikey, in the meanwhile, should say or do any- 
 thing improper, I must return immediately. 
 
 It was a new and most delightful experience; for I 
 had never before known what it was to have a real boy 
 playmate, and all my former little ventures abroad had 
 been hampered by the presence of other members of our 
 family. 
 
 Ikey was a jovial companion, boastful and self-im- 
 portant, very patronizing to little me, and determined to 
 make my visit a pleasant occasion for both of us. He 
 took me to the barn and showed me the horses, the pigs 
 
:ii8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and the calves, each one of which, he declared, had cost 
 his mother an enormous sum because it had not its equal 
 anywhere in the world. Then he led me into the house 
 and, to my great dismay, into the very presence of his 
 mother and sisters. 
 
 " This is little Bobby Dudley," he said in a lordly man- 
 ner. '' He has come to make friends with us." 
 
 They greeted me very cordially and tried to make me 
 feel comfortable and unafraid; but I shrank bashfully 
 away from them and was unable to speak a word. Big 
 lumps swelled up in my throat, my eyes grew watery, I 
 "wished that I was safe home beside the old hearth that I 
 knew so well. 
 
 " I think, girls," said the Widder, perceiving my great 
 shyness, " I think that we might as well go into the 
 kitchen and leave these boys together. They'll feel bet- 
 ter without our company than with it." And, there- 
 upon, they retired quietly through the back way, thus 
 kindly relieving my timid heart of a tremendous weight. 
 
 Then, to restore my courage, Ikey redoubled his efforts 
 to amuse me. 
 
 With pompous pride, as a well-meaning host, he showed 
 me the two small bedrooms and the spacious living-room 
 which also contained two beds, not forgetting to com- 
 ment upon the enormous price and unusual quality of 
 each article of furniture. 
 
 " Father makes all of our things," I said. " I wonder 
 how thy mother can buy so many chairs and candle- 
 stands." 
 
 '* Oh, Uncle Levi, he helps her," answered Ikey. " I 
 tell thee he's awful rich. He runs the underground rail- 
 road." 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 119 
 
 " Underground railroad ! What's that ? " 
 
 " Well, it's something that ain't a railroad and it ain't 
 under the ground; but it's a way they have of helpin' 
 the poor slaves to run away from their cruel masters. 
 Queer they'd call it that, ain't it? " 
 
 " It's a pretty good thing if it helps the slaves," I said ; 
 for I had lately been hearing at home a good deal of talk 
 about slavery and a fugitive slave law which father most 
 hotly condemned. 
 
 " Do your folks use slave labor? " inquired Ikey. 
 
 " Slave labor? What's that? " I asked. 
 
 '* Why, things that's made by slaves, such as sugar and 
 molasses and cotton things and coffee and such stuff," 
 said Ikey. " We don't use it. The first question mother 
 asks when she goes to buy anything is whether it's slave 
 labor or free labor. If it's slave labor, then she won't 
 have it." 
 
 " Well," said I, " we make most of our things ourselves, 
 and so I guess they're free labor. We don't have to ask 
 about it." 
 
 " Docs thy father read the Era? It's anti-slavery." 
 
 " The Era ! What kind of thing is it ? " 
 
 " It's a paper — a newspaper that's made in Washing- 
 ton. Uncle Levi, he sends it to us from Sin Snatty. I'll 
 show thee one." 
 
 " I don't know," said I hesitatingly. *' I've heard 
 father say that he has doubts about newspapers ; but I'd 
 like to see one." 
 
 Without further comment, Ikey opened the drawer of 
 an old bureau and brought out three or four broad 
 printed sheets — the first newspapers I had ever seen. 
 He spread one of them out on the floor before us. I read 
 
120 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the name that was printed in big letters at the top of the 
 first page, The National Era, and my eyes glanced at the 
 headings of some of the leading articles. 
 
 It was all very strange and mysterious — this sheet of 
 four huge pages, the head-lines, the various sizes of type, 
 the date of issue, the advertisements. A column on the 
 first page seemed especially wonderful, so wonderful that 
 I felt a thrill of excitement as I read its heading : 
 
 " Latest Intelligence by Magnetic Telegraph." 
 
 Father had told us something about the magnetic tele- 
 graph. He had seen one when he was at Nopplis some 
 time before — a long wire stretched from a number of 
 poles and reaching from one town to another. Men in 
 whom he had entire confidence had informed him that a 
 letter could be carried on this wire at the rate of more 
 than a hundred miles a minute, which was certainly as 
 wonderful as any miracle. He had been told by the same 
 truthful persons that news of any kind could be trans^ 
 mitted from Sin Snatty to Nopplis like a flash of light- 
 ning, and that in this way newspapers obtained intelli- 
 gence from all parts of the world. And here, in this 
 wonderful sheet that lay before me, was intelligence that 
 had been so obtained — " intelligence by magnetic tele- 
 graph ! " Well, I would have something to tell mother 
 when I got home, wouldn't I? 
 
 Ikey did not permit me to linger long over the mar- 
 velous newspaper. " Mother thinks lots of these Eras," 
 he said ; " and she don't allow everybody to handle 'em ; " 
 and he carefully refolded each copy and returned it to its 
 place in the bureau drawer. 
 
 " But thee hain't showed me that book," I said, feeling 
 that my hour's leave of absence was nearly exhausted. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Ikey. " I 'most forgot about it ; " and 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 121 
 
 opening another drawer in the same bureau, he brought 
 forth a thin square volume which he handed to me with 
 the air of a prince. '' Here it is, Bobby. Does thee think 
 thee can read in it ? " 
 
 I opened the book with eagerness, and glanced at the 
 title-page. "Parley's Geography" ! Well, here was 
 something wonderful. I turned the leaves, and saw that 
 there were pictures at frequent intervals, and strange col- 
 ored diagrams, which I afterward learned were called 
 maps. I saw at once that here was a treasure of great 
 value, and, forgetting myself, I whispered, " Oh, how I 
 wish it was mine ! " 
 
 " What will thee give me for it ? " asked Ikey. 
 
 " I hain't got anything to give," I answered. *' I 
 would give thee a good deal if I had it." 
 
 " What's that in thy pocket? " he asked, pointing to a 
 bulging portion of my ample tow breeches. 
 
 "Oh!" I answered, "that's the little windmill that 
 Jonathan gave me ; " and I drew it forth. " Thee told me 
 to fetch it, but I forgot to show it to thee." 
 
 Ikey took the crude little mechanism to the door and 
 held it out against the wind. It turned slowly; but I 
 assured him that if the wind were stronger it would 
 fairly whiz. He seemed delighted, and in his lordly way 
 said, " I tell thee what, Robert. This thing ain't worth 
 much, but I'll give thee the geography book for it." 
 
 What a bargain ! In less time than I can write about 
 it the exchange was made, and I immediately began to 
 feel that it was time to go home. 
 
 " I guess I've been here an hour," I said ; and tucking 
 the book under my arm, I started to the door. 
 
 " Don't go yet," said Ikey. " Thee hain't seen our 
 kitchen." 
 
122 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Yes, it's time to go and I don't care about the 
 kitchen. Farewell ! " 
 
 But Ikey refused to let me go. He took me by the 
 shoulders and forcibly guided me to the kitchen door. 
 " Mother is in there, and she wants to tell thee farewell," 
 he said. 
 
 I glanced fearfully in, and saw the Widder sitting 
 near the door and shelling peas. My timid eyes took 
 rapid notice of a table and a corner cupboard and a 
 spinning-wheel, and of strings of dried apples hanging 
 from the ceiling. Then I glanced at the clean-swept 
 hearth, and the blazing fire, and the dinner pot upon the 
 coals. These things were not very different from what 
 I saw every day at home — ^but what was that dark 
 shadow in the chimney corner? 
 
 I took a step forward, and horror chilled my veins — 
 for right there, in a big armchair beside the hearth, sat 
 the Old Feller himself! Black as night he was — or in- 
 digo-blue, it seemed to me. His big white eyes gleamed 
 and glared in the imperfect light, and his great teeth 
 grinned horribly between his monstrous lips as though he 
 were ready to devour the first bad boy that came within 
 his reach. 
 
 Without stopping to take a second glance at the fear- 
 ful apparition, I uttered a yell of dismay and fled from 
 the house. With the geography book firmly grasped in 
 my right hand, I ran by the shortest cut across the 
 garden, climbed quickly over the fence into the lane and 
 hurried homeward. Soon I heard footsteps behind me as 
 though I were pursued, and with the energy of despair I 
 put all my strength into my legs. On and on I ran, but 
 the Old Feller was evidently gaining on me. I could hear 
 him panting, I could almost feel his hot breath upon the 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 123 
 
 back of my neck, I expected every moment that his long 
 fingers would grasp my hair. Then, at length, he called 
 out: 
 
 '* Say, Bobby, hold up! What's thee afraid of ? '' 
 
 Ah! it was only Ikey; and with a great sigh of relief 
 I paused for him to come up. 
 
 ''What in the world's the matter with thee?" he 
 asked half angrily. " Nobody is goin' to hurt thee. 
 What's thee scared at ? " 
 
 " Who was that — that blue man — in the rockin' 
 chair — by the fire ? " I asked, between breaths. 
 
 " Blue man ! blue man ! " shouted Ikey, and he fell into 
 convulsions of laughter. '' He ain't blue ; he's black ! 
 He's a black man that we're helpin' through on the under- 
 ground. But thee mustn't tell anybody. He's a fugi- 
 tive slave." 
 
 "A slave!" I exclaimed. ''Is that the way they 
 look?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered Ikey. " Didn't thee ever see a 
 colored man before ? " 
 
 " Not a real one. I've read about people of color, and 
 I've seen pictures of some; but I never thought they 
 looked like that," I said as we walked on together. 
 
 " Some of 'em don't look quite so ugly," said Ikey ; 
 " and some are 'most white. There's lots of 'em in Sin 
 Snatty. Uncle Levi, he has some of 'em round the house 
 'most all the time. When a slave runs away from his 
 master in Kentucky, Uncle Levi, he puts him on the un- 
 derground and hustles him off to freedom and Canada so 
 fast that his owner never gets sight of him again." 
 
 " That's good," I said. " 1 hope he'll hustle all of 'em 
 to freedom and Canada. Father says that slavery is a 
 bad thing for the country." 
 
124 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " That's a fact," said Ikey very positively. " Thee 
 just ought to hear Uncle Levi tell what he knows about 
 it." 
 
 Thus talking, we came in a few minutes to the foot of 
 the lane, and as we approached the boundary fence Ikey 
 declared that he must return home. 
 
 '' Farewell, Bobby ! " he said very patronizingly. He 
 shook my hand, and turning upon his heel, swiftly re- 
 traced his steps. 
 
 With a proud heart and triumphant feet, I climbed the 
 fence and ran across the clearing. How lucky it was that 
 Ikey had not changed his mind and asked me to " swap 
 back " ! I still held the precious geography with a firm 
 grasp, almost dreading to look at it lest something should 
 happen. As I was hugging it to my bosom and thinking 
 what a fine bargain I had made, my invisible playmate 
 came like a puff of wind behind me and almost tripped me 
 off my feet. 
 
 " Does thee call it a fine bargain when thee gets some- 
 thing for nothing ? " he asked. 
 
 " I didn't get something for nothing," I answered. " I 
 gave Ikey the windmill, and he gave me the book." 
 
 " Thee knows very well that the book is worth ten 
 times as much as the windmill," said my accuser. " Is it 
 right to take anything without giving full value for it ? " 
 " Well, it was Ikey's fault, not mine. He offered to 
 trade that way," I argued ; '' and he never gave me the 
 marble that he promised." 
 
 But Inviz would give me no peace. " Ikey was cer- 
 tainly very kind," he said, " and perhaps he meant to give 
 thee the book. Don't thee think thee might manage to do 
 him a favor some time, so as to pay him the debt thee 
 owes him?" 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 125 
 
 " I'll think alDOUt it," I answered impatiently. 
 
 " Thee'd better do so," said Inviz, rather harshly 1 
 thought; and slapping me on the cheek, he was off and 
 away. 
 
 I ran into the house to show my treasure to mother. 
 She looked at it with admiration; but when I told her 
 how I had swapped the windmill for it, she shook her 
 head doubtingly and said that Ikey surely did not expect 
 me to keep the book. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " said Cousin Mandy Jane. *' If it was 
 me, I'd a good deal rather have the windmill ; and I s'pose 
 Ikey thinks the same way." 
 
 Oh ! what a red-letter day I had had, and how many 
 new things I had seen and heard ! I had seen a real 
 black man, a slave, who was on his way to freedom ; I 
 had seen a newspaper that had come all the way from Sin 
 Snatty, and maybe much farther ; I had been inside of a 
 house that was bigger and roomier that our own ; and, 
 best of all, I had secured another book — a wonderful 
 book — to add to my little library. 
 
 At the very first opportunity I began to read the geog- 
 raphy from the beginning ; and soon it became plain that 
 all my previous notions of the world upon which we lived 
 were erroneous. I learned what the maps meant, and 
 took great pleasure in noting the location of various 
 countries, oceans and rivers, especially those whose names 
 I had encountered in my reading. But there was one 
 omission which I could not understand: the New 
 Settlement, which I supposed was the most important 
 portion of the earth's surface, was not so much as men- 
 tioned. Nopplis and Sin Snatty (called respectively In- 
 dianapolis and Cincinnati) were each represented on one 
 of the maps by a fly speck; and I looked in vain for 
 
126 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Dry Forks, Dashville, Wayne and other places with 
 whose names I was most familiar. That each country 
 or state was pictured in a particular color, was an inter- 
 esting feature which I was slow to understand. A small 
 oblong, green space was marked Indiana, while adjoining 
 it on the right was a yellow region, somewhat larger, 
 labeled Ohio. Why was this ? 
 
 " The trees and grass in Injanner are green," I re- 
 marked to Cousin Mandy Jane. " I wonder if they are 
 all yaller in the 'Hio Country." 
 
 " Shucks, no ! " was her disdainful answer. " Why, I 
 used to live in the 'Hio, and everything's the same color 
 there as here." 
 
 And then father, having overheard our conversation, 
 very carefully explained to me the uses of color in maps 
 and other diagrams. 
 
 The pictures in the Parley Book, as we came to call it, 
 were never-failing sources of delight, and I spent hour 
 after hour in studying them and weaving fanciful stories 
 about them. Here were such perennial favorites in illus- 
 tration as the " Landing of Columbus," an Eskimo house, 
 a Chinaman in native costume, and a view of St. Peter's 
 at Rome. But the picture that was engraved most indeli- 
 bly upon my mind was a half-page cut entitled " A Scene 
 in Russia." I remember it yet with a distinctness un- 
 dimmed by the lapse of more than threescore years. 
 The time is winter, the place is in the midst of a dreary 
 forest, the actors are a bear and a man. The bear stands 
 calmly erect, its forepaws resting firmly upon the 
 shoulders of its adversary. The man faces the bear with 
 becoming solemnity, his right hand is holding a knife, the 
 long blade of which is sheathed in the fierce beast's heart. 
 The blood is gushing forth in a stream as large as the 
 
IKEY BRIGHT 127 
 
 man's body, and man and bear are gazing vacantly at the 
 snow-laden trees around them. It was this picture that 
 gave me my first impressions of Russia ; and to this day it 
 always presents itself at the merest mention of the Rus- 
 sian Bear. 
 
A 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE BIG-HOUSE 
 
 T length the harvest was gathered. The barn was 
 filled with hay and oats, and in the high-fenced lot 
 behind it there were three or four huge stacks of wheat 
 waiting for the time of thrashing. The corn had been 
 '* laid by " — that is, it had received its last plowing — 
 and the pumpkins were growing yellow in the field. 
 There were peaches in the orchard, and a great surplus of 
 early apples. On excry hand there was plenty of every- 
 thing — even plenty of work for every member of the 
 family. 
 
 '' Now we must finish the new house,'' said father ; 
 *' the frame has been standing unenclosed so long that I 
 am ashamed. If all of us do what we can, we may get 
 everything finished before the next quarterly meeting; 
 and what a satisfaction it will be to be able to entertain 
 friends in a suitable manner." 
 
 All hands, therefore, were put to the work. From 
 daylight till dark, six days in the week, we could hear 
 nothing but the sound of hammers and saws and planes 
 and augers. Father was a skillful carpenter. He had 
 built more houses and bams than any other man in the 
 New Settlement, if not in the whole world. The big 
 boys, David and Jonathan, were willing and strong, and 
 quick to do whatever task was set for them. And I, 
 small as I was, had mv own part to perform, running 
 
 128 
 
THE BIG-HOUSE 129 
 
 errands, carrying shingles and nails and bricks, and help- 
 ing my seniors in a thousand ways. 
 
 There was little time for reading in those busy days; 
 but I kept my Parley Book on the unused end of father's 
 work bench, and whenever I could catch a moment's leis- 
 ure, I turned to its pages for solace and delight. Some- 
 times I would ask father the meaning of an unusual word 
 or expression, and sometimes he would pause in the midst 
 of his work, and explain whole passages that were per- 
 plexing to me. And thus, my dear Leonidas, in one 
 month's time, I learned more geography than you, with 
 all your "opportunity" and modern methods, will have 
 learned in two years of schooling. 
 
 It was another red-letter day when the finishing touches 
 were put upon the " big-house," as we thereafter called 
 it, and it was pronounced ready for occupancy. You 
 may smile at the idea of calling it a big house, for it was 
 only twenty feet long and not quite so broad ; but to me 
 it seemed a very spacious dwelling, as commodious as a 
 meetin'-house and as elegant as a king's palace. 
 
 Two-thirds of the floor space was given up to the " set- 
 tin'-room," and the remainder was divided equally into 
 two very small bedrooms. At one end of the settin'- 
 room there was a diminutive fireplace, and a chimney 
 built of home-burned bricks, neatly laid and painted red ; 
 for father in addition to his other pursuits, was a brick- 
 maker, a mason and a painter. On each side of the 
 house there was a door with a window close by, and at 
 the farther end there were two tiny windows, one for 
 each of the bedrooms. The entire arrangement was so 
 perfect that none of us could imagine any way to improve 
 upon it. 
 
 And now the work of furnishing the big-house was 
 
I30 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 begun with great zest and delight on the part of all. Six 
 brand new '' Windsor " chairs which father had made in 
 the winter months, were brought from their place of 
 storage in the shop and ranged in a stiff prim row along 
 the back wall of the settin'-room. A big rocking chair 
 was set facing them on the opposite side to keep them in 
 order when they were left to themselves. A three-legged 
 candlestand, which Jonathan claimed as his own handi- 
 work, was set beside the south window ; and a little look- 
 ing-glass, with a red frame and the picture of a tiny- 
 white house at the top, was hung on the opposite wall. 
 A Seth Thomas clock with wooden wheels (which mother 
 had for years kept safely stored in the big " chist " in the 
 loft, waiting for a suitable place and occasion like the 
 present) was brought out and burnished and set to going; 
 and then, to our great admiration, it was put exactly in the 
 middle of the mantelpiece above the little fireplace. A 
 last year's almanac also was laid on the mantel-shelf, and 
 a many-colored hussif (housewife), full of thread and 
 needles and buttons, was hung by the ichimney corner. 
 This completed the furnishing of the settin'-room. 
 
 The two bedrooms were fitted out each exactly alike, 
 each with a bed and a chair ; and it was here that the ar- 
 tistic skill of Cousin Mandy Jane and Cousin Sally were 
 exhibited to the full. For the latter, as an expert in all 
 matters of household economy, had been invited to come 
 over and help '' fix up." The bedsteads were very high 
 with elaborately turned posts, the tops of which touched 
 the ceiling. Father took great interest in seeing them set 
 up, for he, with Jonathan, had spent many a long winter 
 evening in shaping and framing them. Instead of bed 
 springs there was a net work of ropes upon which the 
 bed was " made up." And the making-up was in the fol- 
 
THE BIG-HOUSE 131 
 
 lowing order ; first, the straw " tick," a sort of mattress 
 filled with clean wheat straw ; second, the " feather tick," 
 a huge bag stuffed with feathers from our own ducks and 
 geese; third, a pair of snow-white linen sheets, made of 
 flax grown in our own field, spun, woven, bleached and 
 hemmed by our own womenfolk ; fourth, another feather 
 tick (called the " kivver tick "), not so heavy as the first, 
 and wonderfully soft and soothing. Over this last was 
 spread a white blanket, made of wool from our own 
 lambs; and then, capping the whole, there was a patch- 
 work quilt composed of hundreds of bits and samples of 
 calico and gingham and linsey-woolsey — the gatherings 
 of years from every imaginable and available source. 
 
 When the bed was completely " made up," it was so 
 high that Cousin Sally had to stand on her tiptoes to 
 reach to the top of it. Finally, two huge feather 
 *' pillers " were laid at the head, on top of this mountain 
 of repose ; and a valance of " figured " pink calico was 
 stretched from post to post between the straw tick and 
 the floor. 
 
 " Now jist come and look at it," said Cousin Sally. 
 ** It's jist fine enough for a queen to lay on." 
 
 The whole family assembled to admire this triumph 
 in the bed-making art, and every voice was loud in its 
 praises. 
 
 " Now," said father in tones of deepest satisfaction, 
 " we are in a condition to accommodate traveling Friends 
 decently and becomingly." 
 
 '* It would be nice if we only had a little lookin'-glass 
 to hang in each bedroom," suggested Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 *' Then the women could see how to fix their hair when 
 they git up in the mornin*." 
 
 " No such thing is necessary," remarked father. *Tf 
 
132 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 they want to see themselves they can go out and use the 
 glass that hangs in the settin'-room. We won't pander to 
 anybody's vanity." 
 
 " Fve heerd tell," said Cousin Sally, "that in some of 
 the fine houses in Wayne, they put a tin of water and a 
 wash-pan in each bedroom, so that the women can wash 
 their faces and hands when they git up. I think that's 
 purty nice." 
 
 " It's nice enough for quality folks," said mother, "but 
 common folks don't need any sich conveniences. The 
 Friends that lodge with us can go out to the kitchen 
 bucket or down to the spring branch to wash theirselves. 
 It won't hurt 'em to do like we do." 
 
 " That's right, mother," said David. "If they're too 
 good to do like common folks, let 'em go without washin', 
 I say." 
 
 The beds were patted and smoothed, and patted and 
 smoothed; the chairs were rearranged against the wall; 
 the floor was swept and garnished ; the walls were dusted ; 
 and the hearth was mopped and polished. Then Cousin 
 Sally brought in two cracked "chany" cups, each contain- 
 ing a posy of marigolds and sweet-williams. 
 
 "I'll set one of these on the winder-sill in each bed- 
 room," she said. " They'll kinder match the quilts and 
 make things cheerful and sweet-smellin'." 
 
 Finally, Cousin Mandy Jane brought in an armload of 
 green sprigs of " sparrow grass " which she arranged 
 with great skill and taste in the little brick fireplace. 
 
 " Well, now ! " she said, standing back and admiring 
 her work. " I jist think it's as purty as a picter and 
 right smart more useful." 
 
 " Yes," added Cousin Sally, " it cain't be beat nowhere 
 in the New Settlement." 
 
THE BIG-HOUSE 133 
 
 Every excuse was made for prolonging the work of 
 furnishing and decorating; but at length it was pro- 
 nounced completed — the skill of womankind could do 
 no more. Then all of us went out, and although the 
 doors and windows were left open to admit the sun- 
 shine and the soft breezes, it was distinctly understood 
 that, except in cases of real necessity, none of us should 
 again venture to set foot within the hallowed precincts. 
 The big-house was altogether too fine for every-day use ; 
 it was to remain sacredly unoccupied until the advent of 
 honored company, or of Friends from abroad, should 
 make its reopening desirable and proper. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 A MEMORABLE OCCASION 
 
 FOR a whole week, yes, for two sunny weeks in early 
 autumn, the entire feminine portion of our house- 
 hold was busy making preparations for the approaching 
 *' quart'ly meetin','' which was to be held for three days 
 in the Dry Forks meetin'-house. Scarcely anything else 
 was talked about, and the air seemed full of prognostica- 
 tions of the coming event. For, our big-house being 
 completed, we were prepared to accommodate a goodly 
 number of visiting Friends ; and the people of the Settle- 
 ment were expecting a great inpouring of strangers and 
 of traveling ministers from foreign parts. Indeed, it 
 had been officially announced that, besides the usual con- 
 tingents from Wayne and White Lick, we were to be 
 favored with the presence of distinguished visitors from 
 Carliny and even from far-away, fabulous England. 
 At the time of which I am writing, these quarterly 
 gatherings were the four great festivals of the year. Not 
 only the members of Our Society, but all the worldly peo- 
 ple in the New Settlement looked forward to their re- 
 currence with the keenest interest. Although of a strictly 
 religious character, they brought with them a species of 
 holiday recreation which everybody relished. The 
 quart'ly meetin' served the same purposes as some of our 
 more modern assemblies for combined improvement and 
 enjoyment; it antedated the county fair and the baseball 
 game, neither of which had yet been dreamed of ; and it 
 
 134 
 
A MEMORABLE OCCASION 135 
 
 attracted curiosity-seekers and pleasure-goers from the 
 four corners of the earth. 
 
 My father's well-known hospitality, no less than the 
 fact of his being a leader in the New Settlement, always 
 insured for us a goodly number of distinguished and un- 
 distinguished guests. And in anticipation of this influx 
 of Friends and strangers, making necessary the feeding 
 and lodging of many people without money and without 
 price, we began our preparation early and on a scale of 
 considerable magnitude. 
 
 Three days before the opening of the meeting, the 
 bustle at our house had reached fever heat. Early in the 
 morning, Aunt Nancy and Cousin Sally arrived — it be- 
 ing their custom to come over on all such occasions to 
 lend their help in providing for, and taking care of, the 
 guests. Blithe, buxom Cousin Sally, with her red cheeks 
 and bouncing figure, sized up the situation at once, put 
 on her pink apron, rolled up her sleeves, and attacked 
 everything in the shape of work that came within the 
 range of her vision. But her mother, grown old and 
 feeble, found her field of usefulness in the chimney cor- 
 ner opposite our Aunt Rachel; and it was a rare good 
 picture to see the two ancient dames, each with her 
 long-stemmed pipe, sitting hour after hour in their cozy 
 places and smoking and knitting and gossiping to their 
 old hearts' content, while everybody else was so busy and 
 so worried with many cares. 
 
 David and Jonathan now became butchers and pur- 
 veyors. They slew the fatted calf and the milk-fed pig, 
 and beheaded half a score of long-legged chickens. They 
 skinned the calf and cut it up into charming roasts and 
 chops and cutlets. They scalded the pig, and then fall- 
 ing upon it with long-bladed knives, converted it into 
 
136 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 spare-ribs and hams and pigs' feet and headcheese and 
 links of sausage. The slain chickens, as being too small 
 for grown-up young men to bother with, were turned 
 over to the tender mercies of Cousin Sally, who was par- 
 ticularly expert in preparing fowls of whatever kind for 
 the dinner table. 
 
 " Thee may come and help me, Robert," she said, as 
 with a pail of boiling water in one hand, she gathered up 
 the ten limp, lifeless little bodies and threw them in a heap 
 by the wood-pile. 
 
 At first, I was inclined to excuse myself on the ground 
 of having other duties to perform ; but then, reflecting 
 that Cousin Sally was always the best of company, I sat 
 down beside her and held the pail while she dipped the 
 chickens into the scalding fluid and deftly deprived them 
 of their feathers. And all the while, there was a honey- 
 flow of words from her mouth which held me entranced 
 and charmed me in a way that I can never describe. 
 
 It was not the matter, but the manner, of her conversa- 
 tion that made it so exquisite — for, like you, my dear 
 Leona, she seldom said anything that was worth treasur- 
 ing away in one's memory. And then, to see those nim- 
 ble fingers as they quickly reduced each feathery fowl to 
 a state of shameless nakedness — to see ten headless 
 chickens neatly dressed in twice ten minutes — it was a 
 pleasure like that of witnessing some rare feet of magic, 
 some trick of legerdemain. 
 
 When at length the task was finished and the nude, 
 clammy, pitiable little bodies were laid side by side in a 
 row at our feet, I ventured humbly to contribute my 
 share to the morning's entertainment. 
 
 " Cousin Sally," I said, '' does thee know that them 
 chickens ain't dressed ? " 
 
A MEMORABLE OCCASION 137 
 
 *' Ain't dressed ? " she answered with some indignation. 
 " What's thee talkin' about ? Of course they're dressed, 
 and dressed good, too." 
 
 ** But I say they ain't dressed, and I can prove it," I re- 
 torted. " What'll thee bet on it ? " 
 
 " I won't bet nothin'. It's wicked to bet, 'cause the Bi- 
 ble says so. But I tell thee what I will do. If thee can 
 prove that them chickens ain't dressed, I'll give thee three 
 hot doughnuts out of the skillet ; and if thee cain't prove 
 it, thee must carry in all the wood for the cookin', to-day 
 and to-morrow." 
 
 "That's fair — I'll do it," I said eagerly. *' Thee'd 
 better get the doughnuts ready." 
 
 " But thee hain't proved it, and thee cain't," she 
 whined. 
 
 " I'll prove it right now. Listen ! When thee is 
 stripped of all thy clothes, does thee say thee is dressed? " 
 
 '' Oh, shame on thee, Robert ! How does thee dare to 
 talk that way ? " And her red cheeks blushed to the 
 deepest crimson. 
 
 '' But really, Cousin Sally, would thee be dressed? " 
 
 '' Well, no, I reckon I couldn't be," and she turned to 
 look the other way and hide the quivering smile that was 
 broadening her ample mouth. 
 
 " Then why does thee say them chickens is dressed 
 when they hain't got a stitch of clothes on, nor even so 
 much as a feather ? Does thee give it up ? " 
 
 Cousin Sally made no reply, but quickly gathering up 
 all the fowls — five slender legs in each hand — she ran 
 trippingly into the house. 
 
 With feelings akin to those of a presidential candidate 
 who has stampeded a convention, or of a young rooster 
 who has crowed louder than his rival, I climbed up on 
 
138 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 top of the gate-post, and sat there to watch for the com- 
 ing of our earHest guests. In a little while I heard soft 
 footsteps near me, and looking down, I was not at all sur- 
 prised to see Cousin Sally. She tittered nervously as she 
 handed me a neat little package done up in a plantain leaf. 
 
 " Here they are, Smarty," she said. " Eat 'em while 
 they're hot; and then thee may go with me to the truck 
 patch to git a nice yaller punkin for the punkin pies." 
 
 Thus the pleasurable excitement of preparation went 
 on, with scarcely an interruption, until the eve of the day 
 for the assembling of the quart'ly meetin' ; and then, after 
 due investigation, mother proudly announced that noth- 
 ing remained undone — the work had been so carefully 
 planned and executed that everything was in readiness 
 for the entertainment of as many Friends as might pre- 
 sent themselves. 
 
 And surely they waited for no urgent invitation. Im- 
 mediately after the close of the first session of the meet- 
 ing they began to arrive — indeed a few were on hand 
 before. They came on foot, on horseback, in wagons, — 
 singly, by twos, by families — and every one, no matter 
 what his name or condition, was heartily welcomed and 
 provided for. A long table, extemporized from some 
 freshly-hewn puncheons, had been erected under the 
 cherry trees, and a smaller one was spread in the settin'- 
 room of the big-house. To the former were invited the 
 rag-tag and bobtail, the humbler guests, the boys and 
 girls and other individuals who were of no special con- 
 sequence. The latter was the table of honor, the board 
 around which the ministers and elders and the visitors 
 from abroad assembled to partake of the feast. 
 
 And, oh ! what a feast it was ! No modern Thanksgiv- 
 
A MEMORABLE OCCASION 139 
 
 ing dinner could compete with it in the variety and quan- 
 tity of the viands that were freely offered to as many as 
 came; and the poor people under the cherry trees were 
 fed as liberally and with the same kind of food as the 
 well-to-do quality folks in the big-house. 
 
 It was expected that the young women who came would 
 kindly assist in waiting on the table and washing the 
 dishes, and that the married women would attend to the 
 making-up of the beds and the general care of the house. 
 But further than this, the entertainment was as free as 
 the air and as generous as old Mother Earth herself. My 
 parents would have scorned the suggestion of compensa- 
 tion for their hospitality. " Be not forgetful to entertain 
 strangers" was their motto; and they were conscious of 
 more than one occasion when they believed they had en- 
 tertained angels unawares. 
 
 Among the earlier arrivals were two or three ministers 
 and distinguished persons from distant parts. As these 
 drove up to our gate, father was there to welcome them, 
 each with the same hearty handshake and the same 
 kindly-spoken words. 
 
 " How's thee, Senith Hunt ? I'm right glad to see thee. 
 Walk in," he said to a stately woman Friend in a drab silk 
 dress and black silk bonnet. She was a minister of re- 
 nown who had come all the way from Carliny to preach 
 love and duty to the erring ones in the New Settlement. 
 
 " How's thee, Barnabas ? I'm right glad to see thee. 
 Walk in ! " The person addressed was a middle-aged 
 man with a square face, and a small tuft of whiskers in 
 front of each ear. He held his head up with a conscious 
 air of superiority and was very precise and methodical in 
 all his movements. I understood that he was the master 
 
140 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 of a " boardin' school in Wayne," and my heart swelled 
 with pride at the thought of being in the presence of such 
 a fountain of knowledge and storehouse of wisdom. 
 
 And then there came, slouching along on foot, a poor 
 old reprobate from the remoter backwoods, ragged, un- 
 kempt — an offshoot of the white trash of the South, as 
 worthless here as in his native hills. As he shambled 
 through the gate, doubtful of his right to appear among 
 respectable people, father, with outstretched hand, ad- 
 vanced to meet him. " How's thee, Joshua ? I'm right 
 glad to see thee. Walk in ! " 
 
 Everybody knew that his words came straight from 
 his heart. He welcomed even the dogs that came to eat 
 the crumbs which fell from the table. 
 
 As I remember, it was late in the evening when the last 
 and most honored of our guests — the Friend from Eng- 
 land — made his tardy appearance. The name of this 
 man had been on our tongues for many days, and we were 
 all agog to see what manner of person he could be who 
 had traveled so vast a distance to bring a message of 
 peace and love to our favored community. 
 
 Father was standing at the gate, benign, dignified, self- 
 possessed, as good a man as any Englishman that ever 
 lived. He met the stranger as he alighted from his horse. 
 ** How's thee, Benjamin Seafoam? I'm right glad to 
 see thee. Walk in ! Thee is too late to eat dinner with 
 the rest of us ; but come, and set down at the table, and 
 thee shall be served." 
 
 Before he had been with us ten minutes, our hearts 
 went out completely to the well-dressed, pleasant-spoken 
 stranger from over the sea. There was something 
 charming in his every action, his every word. His man- 
 ners were wonderfully different from those of our own 
 
A MEMORABLE OCCASION 141 
 
 people, and yet they were not offensive, as they would 
 have been if exploited by a person less natural and sin- 
 cere. Nevertheless, to their own shame, there were some 
 among the young men present who were disposed to rid- 
 icule him. 
 
 *' Ain't he a queer old codger? " said David, after carry- 
 ing the stranger's saddle-bags into the cabin. " Don't he 
 comb his hair slick? I wonder where he gits the bear's 
 grease to smear on it? " 
 
 " But did thee notice them fine clothes — all made 
 outen broadcloth ? " whispered Jonathan. " They must 
 ha' cost a right smart sight of money." 
 
 " Did thee notice his boots, how shiny they are? " quer- 
 ied one of the younger guests. 
 
 " Anyway, he's mighty good-lookin', and I like him," 
 said Cousin Sally, holding her breath. " He's jist as 
 good as a picter to look at." 
 
 '' Well, I declare, if he don't beat the juice ! " exclaimed 
 Cousin Mandy Jane as she ran into the cabin for a sec- 
 ond cup of coffee for the stranger. " He's the most po- 
 litest man I ever seen, and yit he does it all so pleasant 
 like. I jist cain't wait till to-morrow, I want to hear him 
 preach so bad." 
 
 " I've an idee he's an uncommon smart person," said 
 Aunt Nancy from her corner of the chimney. 
 
 And Aunt Rachel, sitting opposite, nodded her head 
 in acquiescence, and remarked, " That's nateral, for he 
 was horned in England." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 
 
 ALL this while, the Friend from England, unconscious 
 of the interest he had aroused, was sitting at the ta- 
 ble in the big-house, partaking of the cold chicken and 
 corn bread and pumpkin pie and multitudinous sweetmeats 
 that were set before him. He had ridden far that day, 
 and his appetite was excellent. He ate in an astonish- 
 ingly deliberate manner while at the same time convers- 
 ing most charmingly with father and Senith Hunt and 
 Barnabas the schoolmaster. And I, anxious to hear the 
 words of the wonderful man, made myself as small as 
 possible, and by slow degrees crept up to a point of van- 
 tage just inside the door. I listened entranced, and won- 
 dered how it was possible that the world could hold two 
 men so wise and good as my father and this Benjamin 
 from over the sea. 
 
 The repast was in due time ended, but not so the con- 
 versation. The girls, entering the room on tiptoe, deftly 
 removed the dinner things from the table, but our hon- 
 ored visiting Friends remained seated in their places ; and 
 between them and father, the feast of reason and the flow 
 of soul continued uninterruptedly until long past our ac- 
 customed bedtime. 
 
 The humbler guests stood silently around the room, or 
 sat on the door-steps, or hung about the windows — the 
 masculine portion keeping religiously aloof from the fem- 
 
 142 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND J43 
 
 inine. Sometimes they listened languidly to the conver- 
 sation, and sometimes they indulged in irreverent whis- 
 pered remarks concerning things which they should have 
 regarded as sacred and above reproach. The younger 
 women snickered as one of their number called attention 
 to the love lock that hung so cunningly over Friend Ben- 
 jamin's ear; and the query went round whether he was a 
 bachelor or whether he had left a wife in England. Then 
 the younger men nudged one another shyly and di- 
 rected attention to the woman Friend from Carliny, who 
 had the strange habit of constantly moving her jaws as 
 though chewing her food a second time like a cow. And 
 the men in the outer circle, out-of-doors, began to yawn 
 and wonder where so many people were going to sleep. 
 Not one in the entire company seemed able to understand, 
 much less appreciate, any portion of the animated discus- 
 sion that was going on within their hearing. 
 
 At length, however, as though wakened from a dream, 
 father rose suddenly, looked at the clock on the mantel- 
 piece, and lighted a fresh candle. 
 
 " If Friends feel inclined to retire to their rest," he 
 said, speaking very loudly, " we are now prepared to 
 show them to their places." 
 
 This was the signal for a general dispersal of the com- 
 pany. The humbler people quickly vacated the settin'- 
 room and retired into the moonlit yard to await further 
 instructions, while the ministers and elders and Barnabas 
 the schoolmaster rose and signified their willingness to 
 seek their respective couches. Then father, candle in 
 hand, opened the door of one of the tiny bedrooms, and 
 said, " If Benjamin and Barnabas have a mind to do so, 
 they may occupy the bed in this room." And mother 
 likewise opening the other little room, made a similar an- 
 
144 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 nouncement : " Senith Hunt and Huldy Estey and Becky 
 Hobbs, if you think you can sleep three in a bed, you may 
 take this room." Thus were the guests of honor dis- 
 posed of in summary fashion. 
 
 As Friend Benjamin entered his chamber and cast a 
 glance at the wonderful bed of two feather ticks and a 
 straw mattress towering upward to a level with his head, 
 I fancied that I saw a look of amusement — perhaps it 
 was consternation — pass over his face ; but with a kind 
 word to father, which sounded strangely like *' Good 
 night," he closed the door gently behind him ; and I felt 
 queerly, as though the sun had suddenly set and the land- 
 scape was no longer visible. 
 
 Your grandmother, my dear Leona, would have been 
 sorely puzzled, had she in her lifetime been required to 
 find sleeping places for forty people in two small houses 
 like ours. But your grandmother's grandmother, who 
 was my mother, was accustomed to such emergencies, and 
 it required only a few minutes for every one of our guests 
 to be assigned to his appropriate place of repose. Some 
 of the young women and girls were sent up the ladder 
 into the cabin loft, which David and Jonathan had va- 
 cated for their use. The married women, with their ba- 
 bies, were told to make themselves comfortable in Cousin 
 Mandy Jane's curtained corner and in my trundle-bed. 
 As for our own two girls, they contented themselves very 
 jollily on a pile of shavings in the weavin'-room. 
 
 The men-folks, whether old or young, were sent to the 
 barn to bunk on the hay, or In the mangers, or anywhere 
 they chose — ■ and I, being a man in the making, was 
 proud and at the same time very much abashed to be one 
 of the masculine company. As I lay in a snug secluded 
 corner of the hayloft, with sweet-smelling new hay be- 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 145 
 
 neath and around me, I could look through the cracks in 
 the roof and see the stars twinkling joyously in the invisi- 
 ble sky; and I, too, felt a joyous sensation as though I 
 were living in an atmosphere of perfect peace. Then my 
 dear, long neglected Inviz, whom I had almost forgotten, 
 came very softly and cuddled down beside me, just as he 
 had done once before when I was in extremest trouble. 
 He put his cheek against my own and whispered : 
 *' Don't thee wish thee had been raised in England ? " 
 ** I don't know," I answered. " I am afraid that even 
 if I should be raised there twice I could never be such a 
 man as Benjamin Seafoam." 
 
 And then, with Inviz lying lightly on my arm, I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 It is not my purpose, dear Leonidas, dear Leona, to 
 weary you with any further account of that memorable 
 quart'ly meetin', for I fancy that you have already had 
 as much of that sort of thing as your decadent natures 
 can absorb and appreciate. It is sufficient to say that 
 those who ought to know described it afterward as " a 
 season of great refreshing wherein the walls of Zion were 
 marvelously strengthened." At the end of the third day's 
 session, all our guests, excepting only the Friend from 
 England, bade us farewell and departed. Benjamin Sea- 
 foam still tarried with us. His itinerary was such that 
 he was not obliged to hurry on to his next appointment, 
 and so at father's urgent invitation he consented to pro- 
 tract his stay with us for at least five days. 
 
 And those five days ! they were like a revelation to us. 
 Our eyes were opened and we saw things of which we had 
 not previously dreamed. For Friend Benjamin was a 
 missionary of a very uncommon type. He preached no 
 
146 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 dogmas. You might believe in Jesus, or in Buddha, or in 
 Mohammed — it mattered not if only your life was pure 
 and lovely and all your actions guided by that Inner Light 
 which glows brightly or dimly in the heart of every think- 
 ing being. All his labors, therefore, were for the en- 
 lightenment of the ignorant, and for the upbuilding of 
 character, of culture and of good manners ; and his 
 teachings related not to a future life and unfathomable 
 mysteries and old-world traditions, but to the duties, the 
 amenities and the possibilities of the life that now is. 
 
 The greater part of that which he said in his pleasant 
 but convincing way was entirely beyond my comprehen- 
 sion — for I was only a child. But later on, when the 
 fruits of his teachings began to appear, I understood more 
 and more, and my memory, which was seldom at fault, 
 recalled many a word and many a wholesome truth. 
 
 " Stephen Dudley," he said, " I wonder that a broad- 
 minded man like thee should know so little about what is 
 going on in the great world. Why don't thee subscribe 
 for a newspaper, and keep in touch vnth the march of hu- 
 manity ? " 
 
 *' Newspapers, so far as I can learn, have an evil influ- 
 ence," said father. " They tell of wars and murders and 
 thefts and all sorts of debasing things and conditions 
 from which we should keep our minds free. When I and 
 other Friends came here to found this New Settlement, 
 we came with the fixed determination to keep ourselves 
 and our homes unspotted from the world. How then 
 can I consent to bring into my house a vile newspaper to 
 contaminate and poison the minds of those who read it ? " 
 
 I did not hear the answer nor any portion of the long 
 conversation that followed it; but the result was, as I 
 shall explain in a future chapter, that father, ere many 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 147 
 
 months, became a regular subscriber to The National Era, 
 and an ardent admirer of good newspapers in general. 
 
 At another time the Friend from England remarked: 
 " Doesn't it seem rather a selfish thing for a person or 
 company of persons to try to withdraw from the rest of 
 the world and live apart from their fellow men? 
 Wouldn't it be better to mingle with others and try to 
 lift them up to higher and nobler planes of living and 
 thinking? Wouldn't it be better, instead of trying to 
 keep out of the way of evil, to rise up valiantly and fight 
 it with the weapons of truth? What does thee think, 
 Stephen? " 
 
 " It was our hope when we came here," said father, 
 rather dodging the question — " it was our hope when we 
 came here that we might bring up our children in sur- 
 roundings far removed from the besetting sins and 
 temptations of the world." 
 
 And then there was another long and earnest discus- 
 sion in which father was again worsted. Thus one cita- 
 del of narrowness after another was attacked with weap- 
 ons of gentle argument, and utterly overthrown. One- 
 sided opinions and life-long errors of judgment and be- 
 lief were one by one subjected to the light of reason. 
 And all this was done so quietly and in a manner so mat- 
 ter-of-fact and convincing, that there was no room for 
 suspicion, nor indeed for serious opposition. Thus, 
 through the five days' influence of a wise and true man, 
 father gained a broader outlook upon life and the world 
 than all his twoscore and ten years of rigid adherence to 
 dogma had been able to give him. 
 
 As for our womenfolks, they were influenced in quite 
 a different way ; for their sphere was the household, and 
 although the Friend from England neither advised nor 
 
148 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 argued nor showed any desire to change their ways of 
 doing, yet his slightest acts set them to thinking and 
 wondering. 
 
 " Ain't it funny how he always spreads a clean hand- 
 kerchief in his lap when he's eatin' at the table ? " re- 
 marked Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " I axed him why he done it," said Cousin Sally, " and 
 he told me that in England they always put one by each 
 plate — a napkin, he said they call it. They use it to 
 wipe their lips on afore they drink from a cup." 
 
 '' Well, I declare ! " exclaimed Aunt Rachel. '' It's 
 quite somethin' to be borned in England." 
 
 " And another funny thing," said Cousin Mandy Jane, 
 " I notice that, no matter how hot the room is, he never 
 comes to the table in his shirt-sleeves." 
 
 " Oh, well, I think it's kinder nice for him to sorter 
 dress up that way," said Cousin Sally. " But did thee 
 notice that he never pours his coffee into the sasser to 
 drink it? He waits till it cools and then sips it from the 
 cup. He says that everybody does that way in England." 
 
 " Well, it's a good thing that everybody ain't borned 
 in England," muttered Aunt Nancy ; " for if they was, 
 there wouldn't be no use for sassers." 
 
 " The funniest thing of all," said Cousin Mandy Jane, 
 *' is the way he eats pie. He never cuts it with his knife, 
 nor holds it in his fingers, but uses his fork to cut it and 
 stick it into his mouth." 
 
 " I've noticed that, too," said Cousin Sally. " One day 
 I thought maybe he didn't see his knife, and so I says, 
 * Here's thy knife to eat thy pie with. The fork's sorter 
 dull,' I says. And he looked at me and says, ' I thank 
 thee, Sally; I prefer to use the fork.' After that, we got 
 to talkin' about knives and forks, and I told him that I 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 149 
 
 noticed he never took the victuals on his knife. ' Oh, 
 no ! ' he says, kinder funny like. ' In our country the 
 young ladies would faint if they seen a person put a knife 
 to his mouth.' " 
 
 " Laws a me ! " ejaculated Aunt Rachel from the midst 
 of a cloud of smoke. " Well, I'm glad we hain't got none 
 of them young ladies here in the New Settlement. We 
 can git along without 'em. But after all, it's kinder nice 
 to be horned in England." 
 
 Then mother, who had thus far been a silent listener, 
 ventured to offer her kindly comments : " What gits me 
 more than anything else, is his compliments. If he 
 passes betwixt m^e and the fire, he says, ' Please excuse 
 me.' If I hand him the bread and he don't want any, he 
 don't just answer with a plain * No,' but he says, * I thank 
 thee.' Now, how is anybody goin' to know what he 
 means by all them unnecessary compliments?" 
 
 " Well, I've always heerd it said that compliments was 
 like an empty bag," remarked Aunt Nancy. " There 
 ain't never anything in 'em. For my part, I b'lieve in the 
 plain yes-and-no language." 
 
 "Yes," muttered old Aunt Rachel. " Compliments is 
 good for them that's horned in England ; but as for me, 
 give me the plain yea, yea and nay, nay." 
 
 "That's right. Aunt Rachel, for it's in the Bible," 
 piously ejaculated Cousin Sally. " It's my 'pinion that 
 all them Englishers are cram-jam full of queer ideas. 
 Why! don't thee know? Benjamin Seafoam, he hain't 
 slept on a feather tick nary night since he's been here. 
 Every morning when I go in to make up the bed, what 
 does thee s'pose? There's the two feather ticks packed 
 up in the comer, and nothin' on the bedstid but the straw 
 tick with the sheets pulled over it." 
 
150 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " And he shaves hisself every day," cried Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, anxious to have the last word in this de- 
 lectable conversation. " Then he has a kind of shiny 
 stuff that he puts on his boots instid of taller; and he 
 always takes off his hat when he comes in the house ; and 
 he never eats pie for breakfast; and when he wants an- 
 other hot cake he don't jist reach over and git it, but he 
 says, * Mandy Jane, I'll thank thee for another one of 
 those fine biscuits.' " 
 
 ** Oh, well, he's queer — he's queer," softly murmured 
 old Aunt Rachel. 
 
 " Yes, he was borned in England," kindly responded 
 Aunt Nancy. 
 
 And thus, seated around the great cabin hearth, they 
 went on, wondering, finding fault, admiring, pitying — 
 carding wool, spinning flax, knitting, baking corn dodg- 
 ers. All were busy. 
 
 You may smile, my dear Leona ; but do you, yourself, 
 talk more sensibly, act more wisely? The times, the 
 manners, all change; dynasties flourish and decay, em- 
 pires rise and perish, kings play their brief games and 
 turn to dust — but the tongues of women wag on in the 
 same way forever. 
 
 As for myself, it was my settled policy to keep at a dis- 
 tance from our honored visitor lest he speak to me and 
 I be overcome with bash fulness. I especially feared that, 
 being a preacher, he might ask me about the state of my 
 soul, and in that case I could have no alternative but to 
 tell a sneaking lie. So, I hung around the door, or con- 
 cealed myself in a corner, or peeped through a crack in 
 the wall — always burning to see and to hear, and yet so 
 shy that I was always in fear of being seen. The 
 rjreat man kindly pretended not to notice me, for he un- 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 151 
 
 derstood my shyness and respected it. Sometimes, when 
 he detected me in a stratagem to escape him, he would 
 nod his head and smile pleasantly, allowing me to go my 
 way. Sometimes he would utterly ignore my presence 
 as though I were no better than a dog ; and this, while it 
 relieved my timid soul, wounded my pride most dread- 
 fully. 
 
 One morning, however — it was the next to the last 
 day of his stay — he fairly captured me. I was sitting 
 under a cherry tree reading a lesson in my Parley Book, 
 and very much absorbed in the brief account therein given 
 of the heathenish Chinese and the great wall that was 
 built around their country. I felt quite secure from any 
 untoward interruption, for I supposed that Benjamin 
 Seafoam was in the deadenin', helping David and Jona- 
 than with the log heaps; but just as I was in the midst 
 of a most interesting passage, a shadow fell on my book. 
 I looked up. The Friend from England was standing 
 over me; he was so close that escape was impossible. I 
 trembled and shut the volume, bidding farewell to hope. 
 
 " Well, Robert," said the pleasant voice, " I'm told that 
 thee is a lover of books and that thee has started quite a 
 little library. What book is thee reading now ? " 
 
 My tongue, for the moment, was paralyzed, and I could 
 not speak ; but my sense of propriety made me show him 
 the title-page of the geography. And then I shrank into 
 myself and thought that I would give the world and all 
 if mother would only call me to do some wearisome task 
 — to carry water, to split wood, yes even to do the churn- 
 ing. But my hour of doom had arrived. 
 
 I never could understand how it came about, but within 
 ten minutes we two were sitting side by side, our heads 
 close together and our hearts beating as one, while we 
 
152 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 looked at that wonderful geography. Benjamin turned 
 the leaves and made running comments on the various 
 illustrations, and I volunteered many brief remarks on 
 things which had appealed most strongly to my fancy. 
 When we came to the map of England, we paused quite 
 a while, and Benjamin with the point of a pin showed me 
 the exact spot where his home was located. It seemed 
 to me a very small place to hold so great a man, and I 
 told him so. He laughed merrily, and then began to tell 
 me about other things. 
 
 He told me of the vastness of the city of London, but 
 I, having never seen so much as a village, could not com- 
 prehend his simplest description. He told me of Queen 
 Victoria, whom everybody loved, and of her little son, 
 who was exactly my own age and who would probably 
 at some future day be the king of England. 
 
 " We all hope that he will grow up to be a wise and 
 good man, in every way worthy to wear the crown," said 
 Benjamin. 
 
 Then we turned back and looked at the picture of 
 Queen Elizabeth, and laughed at the strange immense 
 collar that stood up from her shoulders and encircled her 
 neck. And Benjamin told me briefly of some of the fa- 
 mous men of Elizabeth's reign — of Drake and Raleigh 
 the heroes of the sea, of Bacon the philosopher, of Spen- 
 ser the poets' poet, and of William Shakespeare who 
 wrote playing pieces wonderful in language and con- 
 ception, but in their purpose rather beneath what would 
 be expected from a gentleman and a scholar. He told 
 me also of my great namesake, that other Robert Dudley, 
 the Earl of Leicester, a lordly villain who had aspired 
 to become the queen's husband. 
 
 " I trust that when thee becomes a man," said Friend 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 153 
 
 Benjamin, '' thee will add honor to the name which the 
 unworthy earl so shamelessly dishonored." 
 
 At length, having come to the end of the volume, he 
 suggested that I show him the rest of my library; and 
 with happy feet I ran and brought out all my treasures, 
 not forgetting even the humble Emerson's Primer. 
 
 Oh, what a red-letter morning that was! The horn 
 for dinner sounded while yet we were in the midst of our 
 intellectual feast; and my mother's call to run down to 
 the spring and fetch up a pail of clear cool water was 
 by no means so welcome as it might have been had it 
 occurred a few hours earlier. 
 
 That afternoon my new-found friend and I took a 
 long stroll through the deadenings and the greenwoods. 
 I pointed out the trees upon which Esau and Jacob had 
 built their summer homes, and on one of these trees we 
 espied the two ungrateful ex-pets themselves, now 
 grown quite wild and disdainful of their former master. 
 Then, walking on, I showed him the spot where a quail 
 had but lately hatched seventeen little ones, and the 
 deserted nest of some robins in an old thorn tree, and 
 the burrow of a ground squirrel which always came out, 
 chipping, to greet me as I passed. Then, to my intense 
 delight and Benjamin's also, we saw a humming-bird 
 flitting in and out among some blossoming shrubs, and 
 we paused for some minutes watching its strange er- 
 ratic movements from flower to flower. It was the first 
 one of these tiny creatures that our Friend from Eng- 
 land had ever seen, and he appeared to be more over- 
 joyed than if he had stumbled upon a bag of gold. 
 
 As we strolled homeward, he told me of some Eng- 
 lish birds that are unknown in our country — of the 
 cuckoo and her cunning habit of avoiding the anxieties 
 
154 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and trials of motherhood ; of the true robin redbreast | 
 that stays in his favorite haunts all winter, shivering and 
 starving and yet hoping; and of the skylark and its mar- 
 velous song flight to the blue gate of Heaven. 
 
 Talk about fairy tales, my dear Leonidas ! I am quite 
 sure that you will never hear any that are half so en- 
 trancing as were the true stories of birds and beasts that 
 my new-found playmate related to me on that memo- 
 rable afternoon. Then, as we passed through a grove 
 of giant trees, he told me of the beautiful belief among 
 certain peoples, ages and ages ago, that every tree and 
 bush and shrub was inhabited by a gentle spirit, a wood 
 nymph or dryad, who was invisible to mortal eyes. 
 
 I listened enraptured, and then forgetting my cus- 
 tomary caution, I cried out, " Oh, yes ! I've seen them 
 often in these very woods. They're all around us now." 
 
 Friend Benjamin smiled gently and then by degrees 
 changed the subject. Perhaps, like our home- folks, he 
 thought I was telling a foolish fib; but as I looked up- 
 ward I could see on every ash and oak and elm a fairy- 
 like creature swinging back and forth in the evening 
 breeze and looking benignly down upon us. The vision 
 was as real to me as the presence of the trees or of my 
 companion himself ; yet I kept silent, fearing to be still 
 further misunderstood. 
 
 It was very late when we reached the house, and 
 mother was losing her temper because the supper was 
 getting cold. Friend Benjamin apologized for our tardi- 
 ness, washed his hands and face at the spring, put on his 
 coat, and took his accustomed place at the table. There 
 was no supper for me, and I hurried out to the barnyard 
 where Cousin Mandy Jane was milking. She was fuss- 
 
THE FRIEND FROM ENGLAND 155 
 
 ing and fuming because I had not arrived earlier to 
 help her. 
 
 " I tell thee what, Towhead ! " she said, " that Friend 
 from England ain't worth shucks. Jist to think of a 
 grown-up male man like him a-traipsin' through the 
 woods a whole afternoon with a little shaver like thee ! 
 Why, he ain't right in his noggin' ! Now, thee hump 
 it, and git the fodder for the cows while I finish the 
 milkin'." 
 
 I made no reply, for I was content. I had found a 
 kindred spirit ; I had for the time being forgotten my 
 baleful shyness ; I had had a happy day. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SOMETHING FROM THE SADDLE-BAGS 
 
 THE next morning we were all in a bustle of excite- 
 ment, for our Friend from England was about 
 to take his departure. Two brother ministers had rid- 
 den over from the White Lick Settlement and, together 
 with Barnabas the schoolmaster, would accompany him 
 on his journey. It was his intention to visit the settle- 
 ments on the Wabash and to carry a message of love 
 and fellowship to the Friends in Vermillion (wherever 
 that might be). His horse was brought, saddled and 
 bridled, from the stable — a borrowed horse which was 
 to be returned next month in care of Barnabas and the 
 White Lick ministers. 
 
 The great man himself was so busy that he had 
 scarcely time to notice the barefooted awkward urchin 
 who had been his companion of the day before. But, 
 at length, after the other men had gone out and were 
 waiting at the gate, he called softly to me and said: 
 
 '' Robert Dudley, I think I have something in my sad- 
 dle-bags for thee. Come and get it." 
 
 I followed him into the settin'-room of the big-house. 
 He opened one end of the leather bags that had already 
 been packed for the journey, and drew forth a thin, 
 paper-covered, large-paged book, which he put into my 
 hands. 
 
 " I think thee will enjoy this," he said ; " and thee 
 may add it to thy library. It is the latest work of om 
 
 156 
 
SOMETHING FROM THE SADDLE-BAGS 157 
 
 of our most charming writers, and thee will learn much 
 from it concerning the history of our country. And 
 now, farewell, Robert. I shall not likely see thee again, 
 but I have great hopes that I may live to hear much 
 about thee. Make good use of thy gifts, and above 
 all, be sure to keep the light burning. Farewell, and 
 may the Lord bless thee ! " 
 
 He shook my hand heartily, lovingly, picked up his 
 saddle-bags and hurried out. On his way past the cabin 
 door, where the rest of the family were waiting to bid 
 him farewell, he met father, and I overheard him say: 
 
 '' Give the little lad a chance, Stephen. Don't quench 
 the light." 
 
 Then there were handshakings and kind words and 
 earnest farewells all round; and the three ministers and 
 the schoolmaster mounted their steeds and rode away 
 on their long journey of love. And we watched them 
 until they disappeared among the trees. 
 
 ''That there Benjamin Seafoam, he's jist bully!" ex- 
 claimed David, slapping his thigh to give vent to his 
 emotions. " Why, he ain't a bit like a preacher ; he's 
 more like one of us big boys." 
 
 " That's so," said Jonathan. " He never said a word 
 to us about religion; but somehow it always made me 
 feel better jist to see him. He ain't always a-preachin* 
 to a feller, like Old Joel Sparker." 
 
 " It's my 'pinion," remarked Cousin Mandy Jane, " that 
 Benjamin Seafoam has got more sense in his little finger 
 than that there Old Joel Sparker ever had in his hull 
 dried-up body." 
 
 " Well, 'tain't everybody that can be borned in Eng- 
 land," sighed good old Aunt Rachel, as she tottered 
 back to her easy chair. 
 
158 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 As soon as I could safely do so, I sought the seclusion 
 of the back yard to examine my new book. Sitting in 
 my favorite place under the biggest cherry tree, I opened 
 the volume and read the title-page : " A Child's History 
 of England, by Charles Dickens." As I afterward 
 learned, it was probably only an advance copy of the 
 first of the three volumes, or parts, in which that mas- 
 terpiece of its kind was originally issued. It is doubt- 
 ful if at that time the remaining two parts had been 
 printed ; but this made little difference to me, since the 
 book seemed complete in itself. 
 
 I turned to the first page and began the delightful 
 task of reading it through. Imagine, if you can, the 
 pleasures that were mine during the remainder of that 
 day ! I threw myself flat on the grass, my elbows upon 
 the ground, my head resting upon my hands, the won- 
 derful book before me. And soon all other things of 
 time and sense were forgotten in the absorbing story of 
 England's origin. The impressions that were then made 
 upon my imagination have not yet been effaced although 
 the mental accumulations of threescore years have been 
 superimposed upon them. To this day, at the mere men- 
 tion of the book, familiar visions present themselves of 
 the white-cliffed island with the stormy sea roaring round 
 it and the bleak winds blowing over its forests ; of good 
 King Alfred, the bravest, the humblest, the noblest of all 
 the monarchs that have ruled over the English people; 
 of the Conqueror, master of two realms and wielder of 
 the world's destiny, deserted by his own children and 
 denied a grave wherein to hide his loathsome remains ; of 
 the lion-hearted Richard, minstrel, poet, beast, who, if he 
 had not been born a prince, might have been a worthy 
 leader of honest men ; and of John, the vilest of all those 
 
SOMETHING FROM THE SADDLE-BAGS 159 
 
 useless creatures, signing the Magna Charta, and then 
 cursing and swearing, gnawing his finger-nails, and 
 drinking hard cider till he died like a fool. 
 
 And there the book ended. 
 
 But why need I dwell upon these early literary im- 
 pressions, O my Leonidas, my Leona? They have little 
 in common with any experiences that you can ever have. 
 At ten years of age you will have passed through the 
 primary grades of a great modern school, receiving your 
 instruction from a teacher trained in all the mysteries of 
 scientific pedagogy. Your reading will have consisted 
 mainly of nursery tales, of barbarous folk stories and 
 of various classical productions mutilated and adapted so 
 as not to overburden your infant understandings. You 
 can have no sympathy with my random excursions into 
 the field of literature — unguided, unaided, groping as it 
 were in the darkness. And wlien you have reached (as 
 I have) the last stage of slippered caducity, what sort of 
 reminiscences will remain to you of childish Hterary joys? 
 Your bookish memories will not hark back to white- 
 cliffed islands and real live kings and world-shaping 
 events, but they will recall certain dim impressions con- 
 cerning the house that Jack built and the pig that wouldn't 
 go over the stile, with other " literary legacies " equally 
 improving and civilizing. 
 
 Forgive me this digression. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 
 
 *'QAY, Towhead, how would thee like to go to the 
 
 >3 'Hio next week? " It was David that was speak- 
 ing, and his lips were screwed up in a way which meant 
 that he was vastly pleased about something. 
 
 I was busy reading the story of Richard the Lion- 
 hearted for the fourth time, and being half angry that 
 he should bother me with such a question, I answered 
 gruffly, " Who's goin' to the 'Hio? " 
 
 " I am," he answered ; " but thee hain't. Father said 
 that I might go." 
 
 This aroused my curiosity, and closing the book, I 
 proceeded to get more of the information which I knew 
 David was burning to give. 
 
 " Father and all the rest has made it up to go to 
 Larnceburg ag'in," he said, " and I'm goin' along to help 
 with the wagon. They say that wheat's ten cents a 
 bushel higher down there than 'tis at Nopplis, and we 
 can git salt a whole lot cheaper. So they're all goin' to^ 
 try it ag'in, and I'm goin' along." 
 
 "When, David?" 
 
 " We're goin' to start a week from to-morrer, at sunup. 
 Don't thee wish thee was goin', too?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I know I can't. So what's the use of talk- 
 ing about it ? " 
 
 Now, of all the regions of myth and mystery which 
 
 i6o 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN i6i 
 
 I had heard of, but never read about, there was none 
 that stirred my imagination more strongly than that of 
 the 'Hio. 1 thought of it as a dim distant country, lying 
 close under the southern horizon and productive of many 
 things, useful and beautiful, that were neither made nor 
 grown in our New Settlement. The people who lived in 
 that favored region were always ready to trade. They 
 had many things to sell — in fact, everything that you 
 could think about — and they were always accommo- 
 datingly ready to buy any commodity that might be of- 
 fered to them. There was a great river there which gave 
 name to the whole country ; and boats sailed on it to a 
 far-away mysterious place called Orleans, where they 
 sold slaves and made molasses. All my life, I had heard 
 a great deal of talk about Larnceburg and the 'Hio and 
 Sin Snatty, which was not much farther away ; but in 
 spite of the knowledge I had gained from my reading — 
 especially in the Parley Book — all my notions of loca- 
 tion and distance were indistinct, confused, misleading. 
 I had never seen a stream larger than our " crick," or a 
 village larger than Dry Forks with its three buildings ; 
 and so, how could my imagination conceive of mighty 
 rivers and busy cities? 
 
 Until the completion of the first railroad to Nopplis, 
 three or four years previous, there were no markets for 
 produce nearer to us than the Ohio River. For more 
 than ten years after the founding of our New Settlement, 
 it had been the custom of our people to make an annual 
 journey, for purposes of trade, to Larnceburg, at that 
 time the rival of Sin Snatty, and the most convenient of 
 the river ports. They usually went in a single company 
 of ten to twenty men and boys, with as many as a dozen 
 wagons of all sizes and descriptions ; and the time chosen 
 
i62 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 for this pilgrimage was in the fall, after the harvest had 
 been gathered, and while the roads were passable. 
 
 During the first few years there had not been much 
 for any one of the settlers to haul to Larnceburg — no 
 wheat, no corn, nor other grain — but perhaps the hide 
 of a dead cow, a few pounds of maple-sugar, a little 
 ginseng, and some skins of coons or muskrats. Never- 
 theless, as the clearings increased and the fields were 
 made larger, a time of plenty arrived. Each year that 
 passed saw more grain and more wool produced, and 
 finally a single farmer was sometimes known to take to 
 the market as much as ten bushels of wheat and the 
 fleeces of half a dozen sheep, besides the usual number 
 of other things. Such farmers were on the highroad to 
 wealth. 
 
 Great expectations had been aroused by the building 
 of the first railroad in the Injanner Country — that from 
 Madison to Nopplis, as we always persisted in calling the 
 state capital. It was a death-blow to Larnceburg and a 
 disappointment to Sin Snatty, but it held out golden 
 promises to the two terminal cities. Madison at once 
 became a business mart of the first importance; and 
 father expressed his opinion that Nopplis would very 
 soon develop into a great center of trade, thus bringing 
 the markets of the world to our very doors. What a 
 change that would mean for our Settlement ! For the 
 state capital was so near to it that one might go thither 
 and return in two days — only think of it ! — whereas 
 the journey to Larnceburg and back had never been ac- 
 complished in less than seven. 
 
 But, alas! the hopes engendered by the railroad were 
 not yet realized. True, it was always possible to sell 
 farm produce in Nopplis, but not for anything approach- 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 163 
 
 ing the prices that were paid on the 'Hio. And when 
 it came to buying such necessary things as salt and pins 
 and dove-colored ribbons, the cost was proportionately 
 higher. The dealers claimed that the expense of freight- 
 age between Nopplis and the 'Hio was so great that all 
 this was unavoidable; but their explanation was of no 
 value to the settlers. After trying the " markets at our 
 very doors " for a year or two, father declared that the 
 railroad was a cheat, and that we were no better off than 
 before. Finally, the neighbors had put their heads to- 
 gether and resolved to try one more pilgrimage to their 
 old accustomed market on the 'Hio. 
 
 " Yes," said David, slapping his thigh, " we're goin' 
 to the 'Hio with everything we've got to trade ; and 
 maybe when them there Nopplis fellers finds out that 
 they're losin' business, they'll knock under a bit. 
 Father says that me and Jonathan may have half of all 
 the money he gits for the wool ; and so if thee'll be a good 
 boy, maybe Til buy thee a nice marvel or two." 
 
 I knew that there was something behind all this kind- 
 ness and condescension on his part ; and so I answered, 
 *' Yes, I'll be a good boy. What is it thee wants me to 
 do?" 
 
 " Why, it's jist this way," said he: " Father says that 
 there's too much for Jonathan to tend to, all by hisself, 
 and him threatened with the fever'n'agur every other 
 day. So he says that I ought to stay home and help 
 him and not think of goin' to the 'Hio. But I says, 
 * There's Robert, he's gittin' quite big, and maybe he'll 
 help Jonathan and take care of my filly while Fm gone ! ' 
 And father, he says, ' Well, if Robert is willin' to take 
 thy place and do thy work, then thee may go along 
 and help take care of the wagon.' So now, Towhead, 
 
i64 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 what does thee say? Will thee lick in and help Jona- 
 than if I'll bring thee a couple of striped marvels? " 
 
 It required but a minute for us to reach an agreement, 
 and then David proudly announced to father that I had 
 agreed to take his place during his absence on the trip 
 to the 'Hio. And so the matter was settled. 
 
 Very early on the morning that had been set for the 
 departure, I was roused from sleep by hearing an un- 
 usual bustle and commotion in the cabin. I tumbled out 
 of my trundle-bed and dressed myself — which was 
 quickly done, since I had only to slip into my tow-cloth 
 breeches and pull the galluses up over my shoulders. 
 There was a bright blaze in the fireplace, and Cousin 
 Mandy Jane was very busy putting the breakfast things 
 on the table. Mother was filling a wooden pail with cold 
 victuals — bread, pickled meat, fried chicken, dried ap- 
 ple pie and the like. 
 
 " They'll be hungry more'n once while they're on the 
 road," I heard her remark. 
 
 I opened the door and went out. Save for a feeble 
 light low down on the eastern horizon, it was still quite 
 dark. The air was pungent with the odor of smoke, and 
 the heavy dew that lay on the grass was like ice-water 
 to my feet. I hastened to the spring to scrub my face 
 and dampen my hair, as I was always required to do 
 before breakfast. In the orchard a whippoorwill was 
 calling, and among the sycamores in the " bottom " a 
 great horned owl was hooting. Looking over toward 
 the deadenin', I saw the fires glowing in a score of log- 
 heaps, and I knew that Jonathan must have been there, 
 even before this early hour, doing his customary morn- 
 ing's task of " righting them up." Then I heard father 
 and David moving about the barn, and by the light of 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 165 
 
 the little old tin lantern which one of them carried, I 
 could see that they had already hitched the horses to 
 the wagon and that everything was in readiness for the 
 start. 
 
 " Breakfast's ready ! " shouted the shrill voice of 
 Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 And soon we were all seated around the table, par- 
 taking of the ample supply of hot corn dodgers, fried 
 pork and pumpkin pie, with foaming new milk for the 
 younger people and roasted-wheat coffee for the older. 
 It was a breakfast fit for a king, as David expressed 
 it, and far too good for most kings, as I fervently be- 
 lieved. It still lacked a full half-hour till daybreak, and 
 since every preparation for the journey had been com- 
 pleted, there was no need for haste. So father and the 
 boys sat leisurely and long at the table, and their talk was 
 naturally of markets and roads and railroads. 
 
 " Well, I wish I was goin' along with you, and I'll tell 
 you why," said Jonathan, who had just come in from 
 the deadenin'. " I'd like to see that there tarnal railroad. 
 Of course you'll be a-crossin' it somewhere down to- 
 ward the 'Hio, won't you ? " 
 
 " I reckon hardly," responded David in rather pom- 
 pous tones. ** We ain't likely to see it nowhere ; and so 
 thee ain't missin' much. A railroad ain't no sight no- 
 how. I seen it when I was down to Nopplis, and I 
 wouldn't give a pin to see it again. It hain't nothin' but 
 two rows of long beams with two narrer strips of flat 
 iron nailed along the top of 'em." 
 
 " I don't keer so much about seein' jist the railroad," 
 explained Jonathan ; *' but I'm mighty cur'ous to see them 
 there cars, as they call 'em, a-runnin' along on them there 
 strips of iron." 
 
i66 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Oh, I seen a dozen cars when I was at Nopplis," said 
 David; " and any one of 'em was as big as twenty of our 
 wagons. But the eenjine, that's what thee ought to see! 
 Thee ought to see it, a-puffin' and roarin' along, and 
 pulHn' four or five of them there big cars ahind it. It's a 
 sight, I tell thee." 
 
 " I've heerd say that some of 'em can run mighty fast," 
 said Jonathan. 
 
 " Yes, some of 'em run as fast as a horse can gallop," 
 said David. " Them's the kind they call passenger cars. 
 People rides in 'em." 
 
 "Laws' sakes ! but they must jolt turble," ejaculated 
 Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " It's a very rapid way of traveling," said father. 
 " When Barnabas C. Hobbs was here, he told me it is 
 now a common thing for a train of cars to run all the 
 way from Nopplis to Madison in a day. Only think of 
 it ! — eighty miles between sunup and sundown ! Five 
 years ago, people didn't believe it possible. It's my 
 opinion that William Wallace would have been our 
 governor to-day if he hadn't tried to make folks believe 
 such things." 
 
 " How was that, father? " inquired Jonathan. 
 
 " Well, at the last election for governor, William 
 thought he would be one of the candidates. People 
 liked him very much and he was doing right well till 
 he made two or three speeches that spoiled all his 
 chances. In them speeches he declared that the rail- 
 road would be the making of Nopplis and of the whole 
 country. He said that there were young men then in 
 the hearing of his voice who would live to see the time 
 when they could eat their breakfast in Nopplis and 
 their supper the same day on the 'Hio. A good many 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 167 
 
 people hooted at the idea, and they said that if William 
 had no more sense than to tell 'em such stuff as that, 
 he wasn't fit to be governor; and so they turned him 
 down. The fact is that there are so many wonders, 
 nowadays, we never know what to expect next. But 
 the Madison railroad has now been built for some years, 
 and it don't seem to be doing much good. I don't un- 
 derstand why those Nopplis men should want more 
 railroads built to their place." 
 
 "Are they wantin' to do that?" asked Jonathan. 
 
 " Some of 'em are very anxious about it," answered 
 father. " When I was down there last spring, I had a 
 talk with Calvin Fletcher, and he told me that plans are 
 now on foot to build railroads in every direction — east 
 to Wayne, north to Lay Fate, and west to Terry Hut — 
 and he declared his belief that Nopplis will soon be- 
 come the greatest railroad center in the world." 
 
 ''And what good would that do?" asked Jonathan. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," was the answer. " Some say 
 it would bring the markets right to our doors ; but it 
 ain't likely. We've heard that kind of talk 'most too 
 often." 
 
 " I do believe it's gittin' daylight," said Cousin Mandy 
 Jane, peeping out at the window. " If you set there at 
 the table much longer, you surely won't git to the Four 
 Corners at sunup." 
 
 '' Yes, boys, come ! " said father. " It's getting light 
 in the east. We'll start now, as soon as possible." 
 
 Then came the bustle of departure. I ran out to the 
 wagon and climbed up over the tail-board to see the va- 
 rious marketable things that had been put into it. The 
 wagon itself was not unlike the farm wagons still in use 
 throughout the West and perhaps everywhere — of me- 
 
i68 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 dium size, firmly built and strong. Above the wagon- 
 bed, and attached to its sides, were a series of semicircular 
 wagon bows upon which was stretched a heavy rain-proof 
 " wagon sheet," covering and enclosing the whole like 
 the top of a coach. It was very comfortable inside, un- 
 derneath this cover. There I counted five large bags of 
 wheat ; and beside them, on some clean straw, were two 
 huge bundles of wool, and a bag of white beans. Be- 
 sides these, there were two bundles of coonskins and 
 another of muskrat hides, which Jonathan was sending 
 with the hope of getting a good price for them. 
 
 Under the driver's seat there was a large green willow 
 basket packed with the mercantile ventures of the rest 
 of the household: a roll of blue jeans, some eggs, and 
 six small cheeses from mother; a jar of pickles, and 
 some glasses of jelly from Cousin Mandy Jane; five 
 pairs of warm stockings from Aunt Rachel; and lastly, 
 a bundle of ginseng roots which I myself had gathered 
 in the woods. 
 
 As I was making a mental inventory of this valuable 
 cargo, David came out, all ready for the journey. He 
 looked very dapper and neat, attired in his new jeans 
 trousers and striped vest, with the collar of his home- 
 spun shirt standing up stiff on both sides of his chin. 
 He threw his coat and boots into the wagon, declaring 
 that he didn't want to be bothered with such truck on the 
 road, but that maybe when he got to the 'Hio he would 
 feel like fixin' up a bit. 
 
 " Git out of the way, thee tarnal little Towhead ! " he 
 cried. " Thee needn't think that anything in that 
 there wagon belongs to thee — 'cause it don't." 
 
 There was a funny twinkle in his eye, and I knew that 
 he was not only happy but that his feelings toward me 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 169 
 
 were very tender and kind and he was ashamed to let any 
 one know it. 
 
 "Thee won't forget the marbles, will thee?" I ven- 
 tured to say. 
 
 "Who said anything about marvels?" he growled. 
 ** If thee ain't good while we're gone, thee'll git a 
 cowhidin' — that's what thee'll git, and I won't f orgit to 
 give it to thee." 
 
 While he was scolding me and untying the horses, 
 father appeared at the door. The eyes of the whole 
 family were directed toward him. Although he was, 
 about to start upon a journey of great importance, and 
 would be absent for at least a week, perhaps much longer, 
 yet he spoke no farewells to any one — bade no one 
 good-by.* It was not the custom in our household to 
 waste time and breath in needless formalities of this 
 sort. He was dressed in his best suit of clothes ; his big 
 beaver hat was on his head; his boots had just received 
 a fresh dressing of tallow ; he stood erect and tall, and 
 moved with a dignity befitting a king. He walked 
 briskly out to the barnyard, and climbed into the waiting 
 wagon. 
 
 " All the 'Hio folks will know that he's somebody, 
 jist from the looks of him," whispered Cousin Mandy 
 Jane, unable to conceal her admiration ; and my own 
 pride swelled high as I observed his dignified bearing, 
 his strong handsome face and his general air of true 
 manliness. 
 
 He seated himself in the driver's place, with David 
 by his side. He took the long lines in his hands, and 
 then, as if being suddenly reminded of something, he 
 turned and spoke to me. 
 
 " Robert, thee must be a good boy while Tm gone," 
 
170 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 That was his way of saying good-by. " What does thee 
 want me to buy with thy ginseng?" 
 
 He gave me no time to reply but chirruped to the 
 horses. 
 
 *' Git ep ! " shouted David. 
 
 And they were off. 
 
 Just as they turned into the lane, however, father 
 looked back and called to me : " Robert, if thee has a 
 mind to walk over to the Four Corners to see all the 
 wagons get started, I have no objection, provided Mandy 
 Jane will come along with thee." 
 
 Oh, what happiness was mine! Of course, Cousin 
 Mandy Jane would come along ; and so, side by side — 
 she with her blue sunbonnet hiding her face, and I with- 
 out hat, coat or shoes — we trudged joyously behind the 
 slowly moving wagon; and Aurora with her yellow 
 tresses rose in the east, heralding the approach of the god 
 of day. I felt as if I had been suddenly boosted into 
 the seventh heaven, so perfect was the hour, so satisfied 
 were all my desires. 
 
 " Don't go to hangin' on ahind ! " shouted David, 
 swinging his whip around over the wheels. " You'll stall 
 the horses, right off, in this rough road." 
 
 But the road was not bad. The ground was dry and 
 firm, and the wagon wheels bowled along easily in the 
 well-packed ruts. The poor beasts might have trotted 
 briskly all the way to the Four Corners if their driver 
 had so willed it. But, no ! their strength must be held 
 in reserve for the miles and miles of hard travel to be 
 performed before reaching the 'Hio ; and so they were 
 encouraged to jog along at their favorite slow-poke walk. 
 
 Presently, where the road made a sharp turn to the 
 south, and the wheels began to ascend a long but gentle 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 171 
 
 slope, David vaulted suddenly out of the wagon and 
 stood waiting by the roadside until Cousin Mandy Jane 
 and I came up. 
 
 '' I kinder thought I'd walk a spell," he explained. 
 " Tain't much fun to set scrunched up in the wagon 
 'mongst all them bags and things, and I guess I'll git 
 enough of it afore we git to the 'Hio." 
 
 And so we three trudged onward together. 
 
 By and by, David said to me, " Towhead, does thee 
 know how fur it is from our house to the Four Cor- 
 ners?" 
 
 " Two miles," I answered. 
 
 " And does thee know how fur it is back, from the 
 Four Comers to our house ? " 
 
 " Why, two miles, of course." 
 
 "Well, that's a purty long walk fur a little codger 
 like thee;" and he tried to speak gruffly. " Thee'll be 
 right smart tired when thee gits home. So, come along, 
 and let me boost thee over the tail-board into the 
 wagon. Thee mustn't let father see thee." 
 
 With one hand he gripped me by the collar, and with 
 the other he seized the ample seat of my breeches — and 
 next moment I was sprawling inside the wagon, among 
 the wool and the coonskins and the bags of wheat. 
 
 "Don't tell father!" he shouted. 
 
 Father looked back at me and smiled. Then he bade 
 me come and sit beside him. " Robert, thee may drive 
 the team a little while, if thee would like," he said ; and 
 he placed the lines in my hands. 
 
 " Oh, father ! may I ? " I cried, my heart overflowing 
 with gratitude. 
 
 " Yes, all the way to the Four Corners, if thee so de- 
 sires." 
 
172 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 If I had been in the seventh heaven before, I was 
 now surely ascending into the empyrean. I wished very 
 much to shout aloud, but the presence of father re- 
 strained me. 
 
 It seemed but a very little while until we hove in 
 sight of the Four Corners, the appointed place of ren- 
 dezvous for all the settlers who were that day starting 
 on the pilgrimage to the 'Hio; and just as we rounded 
 the summit of a little hill overlooking the spot, the sun 
 rose above the eastern horizon, red as blood in the 
 smoky sky. 
 
 *' I verily believe that we are the last ones on the 
 ground," said father, anxiously peering forward as our 
 wagon rattled down the hill. And then we saw, drawn 
 up in line by the side of the road, nine white-topped 
 wagons very much like our own; and a little nearer to 
 us, at the junction of the two highways which formed 
 the " four corners," a dozen men were standing as 
 though eagerly awaiting our arrival. 
 
 " Well, there's Old Enick and Joel Sparker," said 
 David, hurrying up alongside of us. " I think, maybe, 
 we might have managed to git along without ary one of 
 them/' 
 
 Who can describe my pride as I urged our old plow 
 horses to an unwilling trot and guided them steadily to 
 the spot where our neighbors were standing? And then 
 there were greetings all around, and kind inquiries, and 
 awkward homely jests which for the moment made me 
 forget both my vanity and my shyness. 
 
 " How's thee Levi T ? How's thee to-day ? " said 
 father, addressing a middle-aged Friend whom I knew 
 — for it was he who always sat next to us in meetin'. 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 173 
 
 And then Old Enoch, with that indescribable smile 
 of his, came forward and offered his hand. 
 
 " Howdy, Robert ! Is thee well to-day ? " 
 
 I looked and saw his dingy gray wagon close by, on 
 my left, with Old Bull chained to the hind axle and 
 Little Enick sitting on the tail-board and making faces 
 at me. 
 
 " Oh, I'm pretty well. How's thee and thine? " I an- 
 swered mechanically. 
 
 And then Old Joel Sparker came solemnly forward 
 and offered the customary greetings. He was thin and 
 small, both physically and mentally, with a hatchet face, 
 a hooked nose and small eyes which always reminded 
 me of auger-holes. He was dressed in a brown jeans 
 suit of the plainest imaginable cut, and on his head he 
 w^ore a broad-brimmed hat of the genuine George Fox 
 pattern. 
 
 After speaking to father he looked at me rather dis- 
 dainfully, sniffed the air through his nostrils two or 
 three times, and then inquired, " Is this thy little son, 
 Stephen? And does thee propose to take him with thee 
 to the 'Hio ? " 
 
 '' Yes, this is Robert," said father, " but he will not 
 go to the 'Hio this time. I allowed him to come to the 
 Four Corners to see the wagons start — that's all." 
 
 Then David spoke up, rashly, foolishly : " Yes, little 
 Tow head's goin' to take my place at home while I'm 
 away. He's goin' to take keer of my filly, and I've 
 promised to fetch him a couple of striped marvels." 
 
 " Marvels ! marvels ! " cried Friend Sparker, lifting 
 his hands in holy horror. " Does thee propose to cor- 
 rupt the mind and soul of that young boy by putting mar- 
 
174 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 vels into his hands ? And, Stephen Dudley, I'm surprised 
 that thee will permit such a thing — and thee a leader and 
 a light in Our Society ! " 
 
 '' Is thee sure, Joel, that it's wrong for boys to play 
 a quiet game with marbles ? " asked father. 
 
 '' Wrong ! wrong ! " answered the preacher. " Why, 
 it's against the Scripters ! It's forbidden in holy writ. 
 Open thy Bible, Stephen. Turn to first John, three- 
 thirteen, and read it for thyself : ' Marvel not, breth- 
 ren! ' What is plainer than that? " 
 
 " But there is a difference between ' marvel ' and 
 ' marble,' " said father, scarcely repressing a smile. 
 And Levi T. Jay, who was always quick to appreciate 
 the ludicrous, laughed outright. 
 
 *' Joel, if thee would read thy dictionary along with 
 thy Bible," said he, '' thee might be somewhat better in- 
 formed." 
 
 This reply, together with the laughter, exasperated the 
 saintly minister, and he addressed himself sharply to his 
 critic. " Does thee dare to stand there and laugh at the 
 word of God? " he asked. " If this was thy last day on 
 earth, would thee indulge in so much hilarity? Does 
 thee think thee will laugh when thee stands before the 
 bar of judgment?" 
 
 " I've not thought anything about that," answered 
 Levi T. ; " but the Bible says, ' Fill thy mouth with 
 laughing and thy lips with rejoicing ' ; and I think it's a 
 purty good thing to laugh once in a while." 
 
 " Th' ain't no such thing in the Bible," interposed Old 
 Enoch. " Thee cain't name the chapter and verse. The 
 Bible, it's set square ag'inst all sich worldly diversions." 
 
 " That's so," said the saint ; " and George Fox, he was 
 set square ag'inst it, too. He never laughed but oncet, 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 175 
 
 and then he was sorry for it." Then, turning to the 
 rest of the company, he called out in shrill grating tones : 
 " Friends, we are about to start on a long and dangerous 
 journey, and it behooves us to have our lamps trimmed 
 and burning. For who knows when the great and 
 terrible day shall come ? Verily, it is written, * the ele- 
 ments shall melt with fervent heat ' ; and if you will but 
 lift your eyes, you may behold, even now, the smoke of 
 the Lord ascending from the earth." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Levi T., " that's nothing but the smoke 
 of the deadenin' ascending from the log heaps." 
 
 At this there was another hearty laugh, and the good 
 man, burning with ill-concealed anger, returned to his 
 own wagon. 
 
 " Too much levity ! too much levity ! " muttered Old 
 Enoch. 
 
 '' But not too much Levi T.," remarked father in his 
 quiet decisive way. 
 
 In the meanwhile, I had leaped out of our wagon and 
 rejoined Cousin IMandy Jane who was standing by the 
 roadside. David, after testing the wagon wheels and 
 looking at the harness, had climbed back to his place on 
 the driver's seat, and was idly flicking with his whip 
 the tops of some mullein stalks that stood near by. Some 
 of the other men were readjusting their wagon covers, 
 giving their horses water from the near-by branch and 
 putting things to rights generally, before resuming the 
 long and arduous journey. 
 
 " Friends," cried Joel Sparker, turning his team half- 
 way round in the road, " if it is your mind to go for- 
 ward on this journey in a laughing and reckless spirit, 
 I will not be one of you. I will wash my hands of the 
 whole business and will return to my own home," 
 
•176 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Oh, come ! come ! " said Levi T. in the tones of a 
 commander. '' Let's have no more foolishness, but ac- 
 quit ourselves like men. Drive forward to the front, 
 Stephen Dudley. We always expect thee to lead. Be 
 ready to fall into your places, every one of you ! " 
 
 A gentle touch of the whip from David's judicious 
 hands, and our sturdy old horses were again on the 
 move. As the wagon rolled on, past the place where I 
 was standing, father leaned over the dashboard and re- 
 peated the injunction, '' Be a good boy while I'm gone, 
 Robert ! " 
 
 '' Yes, Towhead ! " said David. " Take good keer of 
 the filly, and I'll fetch them there marvels to thee, sure." 
 
 One by one, the wagons fell into line, each taking the 
 place assigned to it by Levi T., who appeared to be the 
 captain of the company. Then, as he brought his own 
 team into the road and closed up the rear, he shouted, 
 " Forward, every one ! " And the long procession be- 
 gan its slow but steady progress toward the distant mys- 
 terious 'Hio. What a source of pride it was to see our 
 own brave wagon in the lead, setting the pace as it were 
 for all the rest! 
 
 The first half-mile of the road was over a level *' cross- 
 way " built through the middle of a treeless swamp or 
 wet prairie. From the vantage-ground where I was 
 standing with Cousin Mandy Jane, we could see from 
 one end of the straight rough way to the other; and we 
 silently watched the line of white-topped wagons until 
 the last one had climbed the hill at the farther side of 
 the swamp and was lost to sight among the trees. 
 
 " It looked like that picture of a caravan in the Par- 
 ley Book," I said ; " but there are wagons in this cara- 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN 17/ 
 
 van, and not any camels. Did thee ever see a camel, 
 Cousin Mandy Jane ? " 
 
 '' Not as I know of," she answered, turning to go 
 home. 
 
 *' Well, they're like big horses with humps on their 
 backs. They are called the ships of the desert," I said, 
 greedy to display my superior knowledge. 
 
 "What's a desert?" 
 
 " Oh, it's a big sandy place like that around the old 
 swimmin' hole in the crick ; but it's a hundred times 
 bigger." 
 
 " Shucks ! What do I keer for that ? Come on ! It's 
 time to go home." 
 
 And so we began our weary return along the lonely 
 road which we had lately traversed in much better spir- 
 its. Something seemed suddenly to have dropped out 
 of our lives, leaving an emptiness which I could neither 
 describe nor understand. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE caravan had scarcely got well started on its 
 journey when our Jonathan was taken abed with 
 a long-threatened '' spell of fever'n'agur." A pallet was 
 spread for him on the floor of the settin'-room in the 
 big-house, that being a more suitable place for a sick 
 person than the dark cabin loft where the boys usually 
 slept. When Cousin Mandy Jane and I returned from 
 our walk to the Four Corners, we found him there with 
 the " agur fit " already upon him. 
 
 It was pitiful to see him wrestling in a most helpless 
 way with the grim, invisible, miasmatic fiend that had 
 come up out of the swamps and bottoms to torment 
 him. His face was wonderfully pale and pinched ; his 
 eyes were dull and lifeless, with dark semicircular lines 
 underneath; his finger-nails were blue; his lips were 
 compressed and drawn tightly together over his closed 
 mouth. Then came the chill. His lower jaw relaxed 
 and his teeth chattered like the rattling of pebbles in a 
 " chany " cup. His body shook with a vehemence 
 which, according to his own statement, fairly made the 
 roof shingles of the big-house " stand up on end." For 
 nearly an hour he groaned and tossed, helpless with the 
 agur fit upon him, aching in every joint, shivering from 
 head to foot. 
 
 A short respite followed, and then the fever came — 
 
 178 
 
FEVER'N'AGUR 179 
 
 a raging burning fever that took away his senses and 
 caused his mind to wander and his white-coated tongue 
 to babble fooHshly. In his delirium he kept calling, 
 calling, not for mother nor for Cousin Mandy Jane, 
 but — would you believe it? — for Old Enoch's grand- 
 daughter, buxom handsome Esther Lamb. 
 
 It was amusing to hear him, and Cousin Mandy Jane 
 actually te-heed right in his presence, notwithstanding 
 his woeful condition. But mother, soon coming in with 
 a cold-water bandage for his aching head, reproved her 
 with a look that sent her out of the room. 
 
 "Is that thee, Esther, dear?" muttered the poor fel- 
 low, not recognizing his best friend. " I knowed thee 
 would come." 
 
 " It's me, J'onathan," said mother, gently smoothing 
 his hair and tying the cold-water bandage about his 
 temples. 
 
 '* Yes, I know it's thee, Esther," he answered, staring 
 into her face. '' Thee's a Lamb ; thee ain't no Fox. 
 Thee don't take after Old Enick a bit. I have my doubts 
 if thee's related to him at all." 
 
 He took mother's hand in his big burning palm and 
 held it very tightly. " Jist thee wait till I sell them 
 there steers," he said. 
 
 " And then what will thee do ? " queried mother. 
 
 ** WTiy, I'll buy that forty-acre piece down by the 
 Corners, and build a little house on it for thee and 
 me," and then he wandered off into incoherency. 
 
 Presently, as he tossed about, the cold-water bandage 
 became loosened and I went cautiously to the bedside 
 to replace it. He glared at me wildly, and I sprang 
 back in fear as he shouted, " Git out of here, thee Old 
 Enick, thee! I'll have Esther in spite of thee. She 
 
i8o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ain't no Fox. Git out I say! If thee wasn't so tarnal 
 old, I'd give thee the best Hckin' thee ever had ! " 
 
 He made as if he would spring out of bed to strike 
 me; but mother motioned to me and I retired from the 
 room, greatly awed by reason of the young man's mad- 
 ness. 
 
 " What did he say to thee ? " asked Cousin Mandy 
 Jane, an unfeeling smile still lurking about her mouth. 
 
 '' He thought I was Old Enick," I answered. 
 
 ''Well, wasn't that funny?" and she te-heed again 
 in a very foolish manner. " Him and Old Enick don't 
 git along together very well sence they had that fallin' 
 out." 
 
 ''What did they fall out about?" I asked. 
 
 " Well, I'll tell thee," she answered eagerly — ■ she 
 was always eager to tell secrets — " I'll tell thee. Jon- 
 athan, he put on his meetin' clothes two weeks ago 
 last First-day evenin' and went over to see Esther. 
 He's been doin' that, on and off, for a year, as thee 
 knows. But this time he meant business. He went 
 right into the house, and he axed Old Enick to let him 
 have Esther ; " and here she te-heed again, and looked 
 around to see if mother or Aunt Rachel was in hearing 
 distance. Then she added in a half whisper. " And 
 what does thee reckon Old Enick done ? " 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " Why, he kicked Jonathan — leastwise, he pushed 
 him. He pushed him right out of the house. Only 
 think of it! And he told him, if he ever come there 
 ag'in he'd set Old Bull on him. Ain't that a nice way 
 for a elder in the meetin' to do ? " 
 
 " Who told thee about it, Mandy Jane? " 
 
 " Why, Jonathan of course ; and he said I mustn't 
 
FEVER'N'AGUR i8i 
 
 never, never whisper a word of it to a livin' soul — 
 and I won't." 
 
 " I don't see why the Old Feller don't come and carry 
 that Old Enick to the bad place," I said, remembering 
 my own experiences with the aged reprobate. " That's 
 where he ought to be." 
 
 " Oh, he's too mean for the Old Feller to have any- 
 thing to do with him," answered Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 " He's jist too mean even to go to the bad place. And 
 it's my 'pinion that it was his doin's that made our 
 Jonathan have this spell of fevern'agur." 
 
 Toward the middle of the afternoon mother came 
 in with a pleased expression on her face and reported 
 that the fever had subsided, and that the patient was 
 sleeping soundly and " sweatin' like a plow horse." 
 
 " He'll be purty well again to-morrow," she remarked ; 
 '' but the fever'n'agur will come on him again the next 
 day, I'm afraid. He'll have to keep quiet and take his 
 medicine reg'lar all the rest of the week." 
 
 " And Robert, there, he'll have to be the man of the 
 farm," croaked Aunt Rachel from her seat in the chim- 
 ney corner. 
 
 " Lands' sake ! only think of it," cried Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. " There's father and David gone to the 'Hio, 
 and here's our Jonathan down with the fever'n'agur, 
 and there hain't nary other male man about the place 
 'cept little Robert. But I reckon that him and me can 
 keep things a-goin' along about as well as anybody. Don't 
 thee think so, Robert ? " 
 
 There was a touch of the rankest flattery in all this, 
 but in my innocence I did not perceive it. The fact 
 that I was the only able-bodied " male man " on the 
 farm tickled my vanity more than you might suppose, 
 
1 82 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and I immediately began to imagine myself a lord of crea- 
 tion. Circumstances had made me — yes, little me — the 
 temporary head of the family. Grave responsibilities 
 seemed resting upon my shoulders, and I resolved to 
 perform my duty cheerfully and courageously to the 
 extent of my ability. 
 
 The next morning Jonathan rose early and seemed 
 but little the vi^orse for his combat with the fever'n'agur 
 fiend. But he v^as silent and morose and went about 
 his daily duties in a half-hearted, acidulous manner that 
 made all the rest of us very uncomfortable. Soon after 
 breakfast he ensconced himself in mother's old rocking 
 chair, opposite x\unt Rachel's chimney corner, and de- 
 clared that he felt *' right smart tired " and thought he 
 would rest a while " before goin' out to the clearin'." 
 And there he sat hour after hour, yawning, dozing, 
 groaning, drinking great drafts of bitter herb tea, 
 and keeping himself in a flood of perspiration beside 
 the smoldering summer fire. 
 
 " Cousin Mandy J'ane," he muttered whiningly, " I 
 reckon thee and Robert will have to tend to things 
 for a right smart while till I git over this spell of 
 fever'n'agur. It's tuck hold of me tarnal hard, and 
 I reckon I'll most likely have another shake of it to- 
 morrow." 
 
 We had already begun '* to tend to things," and there- 
 fore his remarks were entirely superfluous. Together 
 we had spent the larger part of the forenoon in the 
 new clearing, " rightin' " the numerous log heaps and 
 rekindling the fires that had burned out since Jonathan's 
 early morning visit to them the day before. With long 
 handspikes of green ironwood, we rolled the half -con- 
 sumed logs closer together ; we piled the smaller charred 
 
FEVER'N'AGUR 183 
 
 *' chunks " upon them, and stirred the red-hot embers 
 until the flames leaped up and clouds of blue-black 
 smoke ascended toward the sky. In all this labor, 
 Cousin Mandy Jane proved herself to be a very present 
 help in time of trouble, but I took care that she should 
 never forget that I was the man of the farm and she 
 nothing but an insignificant female too old to be a 
 girl and too young to be a woman. This *' rightin' " 
 of the log heaps, however interesting it might appear to 
 a looker-on, was a man's task which neither of us had 
 ever attempted before. It required both skill and 
 strength ; but we undertook it with a will, and although 
 a hand was blistered and an ankle strained and a petti- 
 coat scorched in its performance, we finally left the 
 clearing with hearts beating like those of conquerors at 
 the close of a hard-fought battle. 
 
 This, however, was only one of the score of daily 
 tasks which we performed, singly or together, with an 
 unvarying regularity, during the whole period of my 
 short reign as the only man of the farm. From the 
 earliest peep of dawn to the last glimmer of the gloam- 
 ing I was as busy as the proverbial bee. I drove the 
 cows to and from their distant pasture. I helped with 
 the milking and the churning and the cheese-making. 
 I groomed the young horses in the stable and gave them 
 their daily exercise in the stubble-field behind the barn. 
 I chopped the wood and prepared the kindlings for the 
 " cookin' fire." I weeded the garden and gathered corn 
 for the fattening hogs in the lane — and I gave a great 
 deal of very necessary advice to mother and Cousin 
 Mandy J^ne which they utterly failed to appreciate or 
 observe. 
 
 Often when I was in the midst of the storm and 
 
i84 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 stress of varying and exacting duties, it seemed to me 
 that our Jonathan — especially on his well days — 
 might have offered to lend a hand. But he availed him- 
 self of the sick man's privilege to its utmost limits, and 
 during the entire period of father's absence he was about 
 as useful in our household as the average drone in an 
 overstocked beehive. Whether this was entirely the 
 result of his illness or whether it was partly due to an 
 intense hankering for a few days' rest, no one knew 
 better than himself. On his well days, which alternated 
 regularly with his chill days, he spent the greater part 
 of his time in the chimney corner, drinking his tea and 
 easing himself by groaning and grunting. But the 
 strangest thing was this : At about two o'clock each 
 afternoon, he rose from his chair, put on his heaviest 
 coat, and went out for a walk, from which he did not 
 return until sundown. One day, as he was starting out, 
 I had the hardihood to call after him : 
 
 " Where's thee goin', Jonathan ? " 
 
 He turned upon me with anger flashing from his 
 " agury " eyes. " 'Tain't none o' thy tarnal business, 
 thee little Towhead, thee," was his indignant reply. 
 And with head inclined as though in deep meditation, 
 he strode away and was soon lost to view in the woods 
 behind the orchard. 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane had heard him, and such was her 
 amusement that she te-heed quite audibly. 
 
 " Thee'd better look out, Robert," she said. '' 'Tain't 
 very safe to meddle with a feller that's got the 
 fever'n'agur — I tell thee that, right now." 
 
 " I only asked him where he was going," I said. 
 
 " Well, I can tell thee where he's goin'. He's goin' 
 
FEVER'N'AGUR 185 
 
 over to see that there gal of his'n — takm' a mean ad- 
 vantage of Old Enick while he's away to the 'Hio. But 
 I don't know as I blame him. Esther, she ain't no 
 common sort of gal — she's a Lamb, she ain't no Fox ! " 
 Then she te-heed again, and resumed her churning. 
 
 On his chill days, however, Jonathan had the sincere 
 sympathy of us all. The agur fit came upon him regu- 
 larly a little before noon, and it was not until near 
 sundown that his fever subsided and his pitiful delirium 
 was succeeded by a peaceful sleep. Nevertheless — 
 thanks to the herb tea and the sweating process, and 
 perhaps also to his complete abandonment of every form 
 of labor — each fit was less violent than its predecessor, 
 and at the end of a week Jonathan had ceased to wander 
 in his mind and therefore did not get out of his head. 
 This I secretly regretted, for after I had learned that 
 his temporary madness foreboded no serious disaster, 
 I had come to enjoy his rapturous appeals to an imagi- 
 nary Esther, and I had possessed myself, as I supposed, 
 of at least one important secret. 
 
 Soon, also, I grew thoroughly tired of being the man 
 of the farm. I found that it was an honor which 
 entailed no end of laborious duties ; and before the 
 week had passed, I was secretly writhing under the 
 intolerable burdens which had been shifted to my shoul- 
 ders. There were so many things to be done that I had 
 no time for recreation or for reading. My books re- 
 posed undisturbed upon their shelf, and my invisible 
 playmate was almost forgotten. My legs ached, my 
 back was stiff, my head was tired. Could it be that the 
 fever'n'agur fiend was lying in wait for me also? And 
 my chiefest wish was that father and our David 
 
i86 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 would hasten their return from the 'Hio, so that 
 I might resign my commission and return to private 
 life. 
 
 And my wish was duly and rather unexpectedly 
 granted; for on the afternoon of the eighth day, as I 
 was toiling at the wood-pile, I saw a covered wagon 
 coming slowly up the lane from the highroad. The 
 horses seemed very tired, the wagon was bespattered 
 with mud, the driver looked grisly enough with unkempt 
 hair and unshaven face, and the elderly man who was 
 walking behind was only partially visible — yet I rec- 
 ognized them at the very first glance. With a shout, 
 " They've come ! they've come ! " I dropped my ax and 
 hurried out to the gate to open it. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM THE 'hIO 
 
 I HELD the gate wide open, and David, without cast- 
 ing a glance at me or recognizing my existence, 
 drove the tired team into the barnyard. But father, 
 coming close behind, took my hand in his, and with a 
 smile that went straight to my heart, said, " Well, Rob- 
 ert, has thee been a good boy while I was away ? " 
 
 I made no answer, for I knew that none was expected ; 
 and side by side, we walked around to the cabin door. 
 
 Mother was on the hearth, heaping some hot coals on 
 the oven wherein a corn pone was baking, and she knew 
 father's step as he entered. Trying hard to suppress 
 any unseemly show of emotion, she looked up and 
 quietly remarked, *' Well, Stephen, we didn't expect thee 
 home till to-morrow." But Cousin Mandy Jane, rush- 
 ing in, breathless, with a pail of water from the spring, 
 was less able to restrain herself. 
 
 '* Sakes alive ! " she cried, panting and making as if 
 she would shamelessly throw her arms right round 
 father's stalwart form, " Gracious' sake ! Has thee been 
 all the way to Larnceburg and back so quick as this ? '* 
 
 Father answered her with becoming dignity and re- 
 serve : " It is quite natural for all of you to be sur- 
 prised, for we told you not to look for us till to-morrow. 
 But circumstances alter cases." 
 
 *' I hope thee didn't have no bad luck," said Aunt 
 Rachel, knocking the ashes from her pipe. 
 
 187 
 
i88 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 *' Luck had nothing to do with it," replied father ; '' but 
 circumstances made it necessary for us to hurry home a 
 day or two sooner than the rest of the men ; and so here 
 we are. That's all." 
 
 " Well, I'd like to know ! " said mother, her curiosity 
 getting the better of her sense of propriety. " Thee cer- 
 tainly hain't been gettin' into trouble with any of them 
 circumstances ? " 
 
 Father made no reply, but began to brush the dust 
 from his big beaver hat, thus plainly indicating that no 
 further information need be expected until he chose to 
 give it. 
 
 Curious to see what they had brought from the 'Hio, 
 no less than to learn why they had come home so hur- 
 riedly, I ran out to the barn where I found both David 
 and Jonathan busy putting away the horses. The wagon 
 was standing just outside the barn door, and I peeped 
 over the tail-board to see what was in it. To my great 
 satisfaction I saw there a huge sugar kettle reposing up- 
 side down on a large pile of straw which seemed recently 
 to have been much disarranged. The kettle was so big 
 that it filled all the space between the straw and the 
 wagon cover, completely shutting out the view toward 
 the front. In fact, from my view-point on the tail-board, 
 there seemed to be but little room in the vehicle for any- 
 thing else. 
 
 As I was looking, and wondering whether I might not 
 go round and peep under the driver's seat, I was suddenly 
 startled by hearing David's gruff voice crying out, *' Git 
 away from there, thee Towhead, thee! If thee wants to 
 see the marvels I fetched thee, climb up in the mow and 
 throw down some hay for the horses." 
 
 He had not forgotten his promise of the marbles. 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 189 
 
 then ! So, although I didn't rehsh the manner of his 
 speaking, I jumped down and ran into the barn to do his 
 bidding; but, as I was entering the door, he called after 
 me again more gruffly than before, " Don't thee look 
 in the grainery when thee goes past it ! " 
 
 What did he mean by that? 
 
 Filled with a new curiosity, I made no reply, but went 
 somewhat sulkily across the barn floor to the ladder 
 which led up into the haymow. As I passed by the little 
 room or bin which we called the " grainery," how could I 
 help turning my eyes in that direction? To my great 
 surprise, I saw the door of the bin softly turning 
 upon its hinges and closing, as though moved by some un- 
 seen hand. A shiver of cold fright ran through me, I 
 bounded quickly past it, and in another moment was 
 safely up the ladder and in the haymow. Trembling 
 with excitement, I threw some hay down to the horses, 
 as I had been bidden, and then bethought me of return- 
 ing to the wagon. But there was that granary door and 
 the mysterious thing, whatever it was, that had caused 
 it to move on its hinges. Could I dare to pass near it 
 again? And yet there was no other way by which I 
 could escape from the barn. 
 
 For several minutes I tarried at the top of the ladder 
 trying to screw my courage up to the sticking point. 
 Then, with a great lump in my throat, and the shivers 
 running up my back, I boldly scampered down and out 
 of the barn as though the Old Feller was really after 
 me; and not one glance did I dare to cast toward the 
 mysterious granary door. 
 
 Once again in the open air, my courage revived, and I 
 resolved not to say a word to any one about my ad- 
 venture. The boys had already removed the canvas 
 
190 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 cover and the wagon bows, and were now lifting out the 
 ponderous sugar kettle. 
 
 " It's a mighty roomy pot," remarked Jonathan. 
 
 " Yes," answered David. '* It's the biggest one ever 
 seen in the 'Hio Country. I reckon it won't hold nary 
 pint less'n three barrel." 
 
 " It's just what we'll need at sugar makin' time to bile 
 the sap in," said Jonathan ; " and mother, she'll like it 
 when it comes to makin' soap." 
 
 As they were setting it down on the ground I looked 
 at the place it had occupied in the wagon and saw to my 
 surprise that it had not been resting on the hay, as ap- 
 pearances indicated, but upon two cross pieces of wood 
 which extended between the sides of the wagon bed ; and 
 in the straw immediately beneath it, there was a cavity, 
 shaped like a hen's nest, which was fully large enough to 
 accommodate the body of a man. 
 
 " I wonder what was in that hole," I said innocently, 
 half speaking to myself ; but David heard me. 
 
 " Thee jist mind thy own business, thee little Tow- 
 head, thee! " he cried out with warmth. " If thee knows 
 when thee's well off, thee won't be a-stickin' thy nose 
 where it don't belong." 
 
 Fearing to anger him and thus postpone the gift of 
 marbles, I held my peace and stood silently by while the 
 unloading of the wagon was continued. A barrel of salt 
 was lifted out and rolled across the yard to be stored in 
 the weavin'-room. Then from under the driver's seat, 
 Jonathan abstracted a variety of useful articles — an ox 
 chain, a heavy ax, an iron wedge and a plowshare. Last 
 of all, he lifted out the big green willow basket full of 
 packages of all shapes and sizes, each wrapped with 
 brown paper and tied with home-twisted twine. 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 191 
 
 " Let's tote this thing to the house jist as it is," said 
 David. '' Then father, he can undo the bundles hke he 
 always does and tell us whose is whose." 
 
 '' All right ! " answered Jonathan : " but I'd e'enamost 
 like to undo two or three of 'em myself." 
 
 And so, each taking hold of a side, they carried the 
 heavy basket into the cabin ; and I, my curiosity whetted 
 to the edge, followed them silently and saw it deposited 
 in the corner by the cupboard. I wondered whether 
 among all those packages there was not something for 
 me, and my mind dwelt particularly upon the ginseng 
 roots that I had sent to the 'Hio and the fabulous re- 
 turns that I had taught myself to expect from them. 
 
 The table was spread for the evening meal. From 
 the steaming pots and kettles in front of the fireplace 
 savory odors rose that tickled the palate and roused the 
 dormant appetite. 
 
 '* Is supper ready?" queried David. "I'm e'enamost 
 hungry enough to eat the tater pot, lid and all." 
 
 " Thee'll have to chaw thy thumb a little bit," said bust- 
 ling Mandy Jane. " The sweet taters ain't quite biled 
 enough yit ; but 'twon't be long." 
 
 Father, having exchanged his meetin' clothes for the 
 more serviceable garb of every-day wear, was sitting 
 under the bookcase and engaged in earnest talk with 
 mother. I wondered what it was about, and dismissing 
 all further thought of the packages and of supper, I edged 
 my way very quietly toward that part of the room and 
 stood listening. 
 
 '' It happened this way," I heard him say. " We had 
 sold the wheat and the wool and were driving along the 
 street toward the store, when I heard somebody call me 
 by name. I looked around, and who does thee think it 
 
192 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 was if it wasn't Levi Coffin? He told me that he had 
 just come down from Sin Snatty, and that there was a 
 black man hiding in one of the stores near by who needed 
 help. He told me that the man was a runaway from Ken- 
 tucky and that his master had terribly whipped and 
 abused him. ' We must send him on to Canada as quick 
 as we can/ Levi said. ' If his master finds him and takes 
 him back, I've no doubt but what he'll flog him to death ! ' 
 I told Levi that I hoped he would be able to get the slave 
 into some safe place before his master crossed the river. 
 And then he said that to do this he must have my help 
 and have it right away. Wouldn't I take him in our 
 wagon and start north with him that very night? 
 Wouldn't I see that he got as far as to Hezekiah Jones's 
 in the Wild Cat Settlement, just as quick as he could be 
 carried? I told him that we were not aiming to start 
 back for at least a couple of days, and I wanted to buy 
 a number of things to take home with me ; and besides, I 
 told him that there was a good deal of risk and danger 
 when it comes to helping a slave to escape from his 
 master." 
 
 '' And I should think that that would have convinced 
 him," said mother. 
 
 " Yes, but it didn't," said father. "He only insisted 
 all the more, and he wouldn't listen to any excuses. 
 * Thee'll be doing the Lord a service,' he said ; and he 
 pressed me harder and harder, and quoted Scripture to 
 me. And at last he said that he would go around to the 
 stores with me, right away, and help me buy the things 
 that I needed to take home. What should I have done ? " 
 
 '' Thee should have done as thy conscience told thee to 
 do," answered mother decisively. 
 
 " And that is what I did do," said father. '' I could 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 193 
 
 not feel free to turn a deaf ear to Levi's entreaties ; nor 
 could I bear the thought of allowing the poor black man 
 to be seized and dragged back into slavery. So we hur- 
 ried with all the speed that we could and were ready to 
 start home before daylight the next morning." 
 
 " And what did Joel Sparker and Enoch and the rest 
 of 'em say about it? " 
 
 *' We came off quietly without telling them anything at 
 all. For it is safest not to have too much help when it 
 comes to keeping a secret. We didn't tell any of them 
 but Levi T. ; and he promised that he would make ex- 
 cuses for us when the right time came." 
 
 ''And what about that there black man?" inquired 
 Cousin Mandy Jane, busily fishing the steaming potatoes 
 from the pot. 
 
 " Oh, we had him along with us. We hid him in the 
 straw under the big sugar kettle and hardly let him stir 
 till we were safe out of the 'Hio Country ; and every time 
 we met anybody on the road we made the poor fellow 
 dodge back into his hole. He's a pitiable, suffering 
 creature, with gashes all over him where the whip cut 
 him and the dogs tore him." 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " cried Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " But what did thee do with him ? " inquired mother. 
 " Where is he now ? " 
 
 Father turned sharply to David, " Did thee do as I 
 directed thee? " 
 
 " Yes, father, I put the tarnal critter in the grainery, 
 and I told him not to peek his nose out of it till after 
 dark." 
 
 '' And we made him a bed of oats straw," added Jona- 
 than. " He's about the miserablest-lookin' gob of a two- 
 legged human that I ever set my eyes on." 
 
194 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Pore fellow ! " said mother ; *' and he must be hungry, 
 too." 
 
 " Why not fetch him up to the house and let him set 
 down to supper with the rest of us?" suggested Cousin 
 Mandy J^ne. 
 
 " I don't think he would feel free to mingle with white 
 people in that way," said father. '' There might also be 
 some danger to him in doing so ; for the slave hunters 
 may be closer to us than we are aware." 
 
 *' It will be better to carry him something," said 
 mother ; '' and we'll do that right now. He shall have 
 his supper before the rest of us taste a bite." 
 
 She had already begun to fill a large wooden platter 
 with food from the various sources at hand ; boiled bacon 
 and beans, sweet potatoes, stewed pumpkin, hot corn 
 dodgers, and sweet roas'n'-ears ; and to these she added 
 a generous slice of white wheaten bread covered thick 
 with fresh apple butter of her own making, 
 
 " That's more'n I've eat in a week," said Jonathan, 
 and his pinched pale features confirmed the truth of his 
 words. 
 
 ''But that there tarnal black feller, he'll lick it all up at 
 one settin' and then grunt for more," said David, who 
 had already some knowledge of the gustatory powers of 
 the fugitive. 
 
 " Supper's ready ! " announced Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " We must not sit down until we've given the black 
 man his share," said father. " Our own food will taste 
 the better if we know that his wants have been satis- 
 fied." Then, taking the well-filled platter in his hands, 
 he turned to me and said softly, " Come, Robert, thee 
 may fetch that pitcher of milk with thee, for him to 
 drink." 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 195 
 
 And so, with the food and the pitcher of milk, we sal- 
 lied forth to the barn to feed our humble guest; and 
 close behind us came mother and Mandy Jane and half 
 reluctant Jonathan. But Aunt Rachel composedly re- 
 mained in the chimney corner, manifesting no curiosity. 
 " I've seen a many of them fellers down South," she 
 muttered, " and they don't have no attractions." And 
 David, unable to control his appetite longer, sat himself 
 dov/n alone at the table and began to devour whatever 
 food was nearest at hand. 
 
 Father pushed open the door of the granary and called 
 out, " Samuel, is thee there? Here is a bite of something 
 for thee to eat. Don't be afraid, for thee's among 
 friends." 
 
 There was a rustling lumbering sound within, and 
 presently the fugitive, covered with cobwebs, emerged 
 from the darkness. If the black man whom I had seen 
 at Widder Bright's was ugly, this one was truly hideous. 
 He was a small man, hunchbacked, misshapen, cowering 
 like a much mistreated dog. The Old Feller himself 
 could not have presented a more forbidding appearance; 
 and yet the sight of him was pitiful, a great scar on his 
 forehead, his left arm hanging useless, his clothes in 
 tatters. Sympathy for his misfortunes immediately 
 overcame the fear which his beastly appearance had en- 
 gendered. We could not withhold from him the generous 
 pity that would have been accorded to any brute in a 
 similar state of helplessness and distress. 
 
 Mother went quickly and boldly forward and, in that 
 gentle tone of which she was so accomplished a mistress, 
 said, " How's thee, Samuel? I'm right glad to see thee." 
 
 The fellow looked dumbly at her and made no motion 
 to touch the hand which she proffered. Then ducking 
 
196 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 his head — but whether for poUteness or for the lack of 
 it, I know not — he grunted, " Ugh ! " and turned toward 
 the rest of our company. 
 
 '' We have brought thy supper to thee," said father. 
 
 Samuel grunted again, and snatching the platter from 
 father's hands, he began immediately to devour the tempt- 
 ing food. " Good ! good ! " he grunted, and then paid 
 no further heed to our presence. With strange conflict- 
 ing emotions, I went timidly forward and set the pitcher 
 of milk within his reach. I had expected to see a hero, 
 and had found a brute. 
 
 '' We hope thee will enjoy it," said mother. 
 
 " Ugh ! ugh ! " he answered ; and, his great mouth dis- 
 tended with food, he shuffled back into the dark privacy 
 of his lodging-place. 
 
 " We won't disturb him any longer," said father ; and 
 with feelings of mingled disappointment, resentm.ent and 
 pity, we returned silently to the house and our waiting 
 supper table. 
 
 " My sakes alive ! " said Cousin Mandy Jane in a half 
 whisper; " ain't he an ugly critter? " 
 
 " God made him," answered mother piously. 
 
 And David, having gorged himself during our absence, 
 looked up from his empty plate and wickedly added, 
 " And it's my 'pinion He done a mighty pore job of it." 
 
 The remark was so unusual, and withal so irreverent 
 and unnecessary, that it temporarily dispelled our en- 
 joyment and threw me into a state of apprehension that 
 disturbed me not a little. I felt that if the lightning 
 should suddenly destroy our dwelling, or a flood over- 
 whelm the entire Settlement, we should only be experi- 
 encing the just vengeance of an angry Jehovah. 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 197 
 
 " David, I am sorry that thee should be so frivolous as 
 to speak in that manner," was father's mild reproof. 
 
 And the supper was eaten in silence. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the table was cleared, the dishes 
 were washed, and all the family assembled by the hearth, 
 our spirits revived and we were ourselves again. Night 
 had fallen; but out-of-doors the moon was beaming, and 
 indoors the fire blazed brightly, being judiciously fed 
 with pieces of oily hickory bark that had been stored up 
 for such occasions. The green willow basket was 
 dragged out into the middle of the floor, and all of us, 
 save David — impulsive David — stood round it, expect- 
 ant, curious, anxious to witness the unpacking. 
 
 Father, trying very hard to be patriarchal and digni- 
 fied, and illy concealing the pride and joy that would 
 well up from his heart, sat down beside the basket and 
 unwrapped the various packages, one by one. Of course, 
 most of the articles were for the womenfolks ; a pair of 
 store shoes and a roll of pink calico to be made into a 
 First-day meetin' dress for Cousin Mandy Jane; a yard 
 of gingham for Aunt Rachel ; some narrow dove-colored 
 ribbons for mother's new bonnet (which she was making 
 at odd spells) ; a paper of needles and three spools of 
 thread ; a brass thimble ; a tin coffee-pot to replace our 
 old one that was clean rusted through at the bottom. 
 After these, came a variety of articles for table consump- 
 tion and general household use. Among them were two 
 pounds of real coffee in the grain; a bag of rice; little 
 packages of allspice and black pepper for seasonings — 
 and a small quantity of saleratus, all bought with the eggs 
 and cheeses that mother had sent to the market. As 
 each package was given out, it was duly inspected by all 
 
198 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the family, its price was noted, and comments were made 
 in anticipation of the pleasure that it would give us ; and 
 then it was put away in its place — be that the cupboard, 
 the table drawer, the hair trunk under Aunt Rachel's 
 bed, or the mantel-shelf in the big-house. My vanity 
 found encouragement in contemplating the vast amount 
 of money that must have been required to purchase such 
 things. 
 
 '* Father, is thee sure that these are all free-labor 
 goods ? " asked mother while yet the basket was by no 
 means empty. 
 
 " Well, I bought nothing until I had made careful in- 
 quiries," he answered cautiously. " But there are some 
 things that are raised only in the South and are there- 
 fore produced by slave labor. While we are called upon 
 to bear a testimony against the use of slave-labor goods, 
 I don't think that we should deny ourselves of such neces- 
 sary articles as rice and coffee just because colored men 
 have labored to make them grow." 
 
 " Specially not the rice," interjected Aunt Rachel. 
 " It's so nice, when company comes, to have a dishful of 
 it, all softened with butter and cream ! " 
 
 " That's so," said mother. " Rice is comf ortin' to the 
 well and healin' to the sick; and I feel free in my mind 
 to use it without askin' who made it. But I have some 
 doubts about the coffee." 
 
 '* Yes," muttered Aunt Rachel, " I could never take a 
 drap of it without thinkin' of the pore slaves that toiled 
 so hard to raise it." 
 
 " Well, if thee has scruples against it, it's best for thee 
 not to drink it," said father. 
 
 " I guess we can git along pretty well with spicewood 
 tea and a little sassafras," said mother; and turning to 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 199 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane she bade her put the package of cof- 
 fee '' clean out of sight at the back of the top shelf. If 
 we don't see it, we won't be tempted to want it." 
 
 " Thee may be right, Deborah," said father in a tone 
 of regret, " but thee knows that we ain't so strict in this 
 matter as our anti-slavery friends are." 
 
 " Anti friends or no anti friends," retorted mother 
 somewhat bruskly, *' it's our bounden duty to bear a 
 testimony ag'inst slavery." 
 
 Father made no reply, but turned again to the willow 
 basket and the few packages that still remained un- 
 opened. 
 
 " Flere, Aunt Rachel, here's thy goods," and he handed 
 her a long twist of green smoking tobacco, a new clay 
 pipe, a set of knitting needles and a spool of thread. " I 
 think the tobacco is slave labor, for it was grown in Ken- 
 tucky ; but if thee feels free to use it, I have nothing to 
 say." 
 
 "If it's good tobacker I don't keer what labor it is," 
 she replied, taking the weed eagerly from his hands and 
 beginning to fill the new pipe. '' But I thought maybe 
 there might be something a-comin' to me." 
 
 " There is," said father. " I sold thy stockings for five 
 levies in cash. The tobacco cost two levies ; the pipe cost 
 a fip, and the thread and needles a levy. How much 
 change is coming to thee? " 
 
 I knew that Aunt Rachel was not quick at figures, nor 
 indeed very accurate, and so I prompted her by whisper- 
 ing, " Eighteen cents and three-quarters." 
 
 " That's right," said father, overhearing us ; " and here 
 it is," and he handed her three much-battered silver fips, 
 each valued at six and a quarter cents. 
 
 " I'd like to know when my turn's goin' to come," re- 
 
200 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 marked Jonathan, whiningly because of the fever'n'agur, 
 and unable to control his impatience. 
 
 '' Thee may have thy turn right now," answered father. 
 " Thy share of the wool amounted to a dollar and a half ; 
 and here it is. And since thee was so good as to stay at 
 home and take care of things, I have brought thee a 
 present of a Barlow knife which I know thee sometimes 
 needs." 
 
 Jonathan's face beamed with intense satisfaction as the 
 money was laid in his open palm. " That's so much 
 more toward the forty-acre piece," he whispered to 
 Cousin Mandy Jane. *' And the knife will come in handy 
 in more ways than one." 
 
 " And I have something else for thee," said father. " I 
 happened to meet a doctor in Larnceburg — his name was 
 Doctor Bunsen — and he was asking very particularly 
 about this Settlement, for he has some mind to come and 
 locate in these parts. He asked if there was much sick- 
 ness up this way, and I told him that about the only 
 trouble we ever had was with the fever'n'agur. ' Oh,' he 
 said, ' that's what we call the Wabash shakes.' And he 
 asked if any of our family was troubled with it. I told 
 him that we had all been down with it more or less, and 
 that I supposed likely thee was shaking with it at that 
 moment. * Well,' he said, ' I have some powders here 
 that v/ill cure the worst case of Wabash shakes in no 
 time. Take 'em home and give the boy one of 'em every 
 two hours till he's took six, and I'll warrant the 
 fever'n'agur won't touch him again for the next six 
 months ! ' So here they are, Jonathan. Go and take one 
 of them right now and then, in a couple of hours, swal- 
 low another one." 
 
 He opened a very small paper box and in it were 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 201 
 
 twenty-four tiny bits of folded paper each containing 
 about as much of the heahng powder as might He on the 
 blade of a penknife. We looked at it curiously. It was 
 white and glistening, reminding us of the drifted snow 
 when the weather is at its coldest. 
 
 '' The doctor cahed it quinine," said father. " It is to 
 be taken in half a cup of cold water." 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane ran for the water, and when she 
 had brought it shook the contents of one of the packages 
 into it. " Here, Jonathan, swaller it down," she com- 
 manded. 
 
 The unsuspecting young man obeyed, and then began a 
 series of gyrations and contortions and expectorations 
 which can not be described and which moved even father 
 to irrespressible laughter. 
 
 " You needn't laugh, goU darn it ! " cried Jonathan, 
 angry and half -choking. " I'd rather have the fever'n'- 
 agur every day than swoller that tarnation stuff." 
 
 Father hastened to relieve the tension by turning again 
 to the willow basket. There w^ere now not more than 
 half a dozen parcels remaining unopened, and surely 
 one must be m.ine. My impatience had risen almost to 
 the boiling point — and yet I knew that father would not 
 be hurried, and that whatever he did would surely be the 
 best for everybody. And so with a trembling heart and 
 firmly closed mouth, I waited and said nothing. 
 
 Father, understanding my disquietude, made a tantaliz- 
 ing motion toward a small parcel that was m.ost certainly 
 mine, and then pulled out a ball-like package that was 
 beneath it. 
 
 " I have a surprise for every one of you," he said. 
 '' All the other things were necessities, but this that I 
 am going to give you is a luxury. It ain't often that we 
 
202 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 indulge in luxuries ; but this was not very costly, and I 
 venture to say it will not do us any harm." 
 
 There was a twinkle in his eye — a twinkle of enjoy- 
 ment which I had never seen but once or twice before in 
 all my life. He held the paper-wrapped parcel in his 
 hand and added : " Now the one that can guess what this 
 is may unwrap it." 
 
 " I guess it's a bottle of bear's grease," said Jonathan, 
 forgetting his late discomfiture. 
 
 " It looks like it might be a big ingern, or maybe a ball 
 of cotton yarn," hazarded Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " Thee just now said it was a luxury," said mother. 
 ** So I guess that's what it is." 
 
 '' Thee's right, Deborah ; and thee may undo it," an- 
 swered father, trying hard to repress a smile. 
 
 Mother skillfully removed the paper wrappings and re- 
 vealed to our astonished gaze a big ripe orange, the first 
 that I had ever seen. What a wonderful specimen of 
 fruit it was ! It was passed from hand to hand in order 
 that each might examine it, smell of it and remark upon 
 its beauty. 
 
 " When I was a growin' gal we used to see 'em down 
 in Carliny," said mother. 
 
 '' Yes, and they worn't no rarity, nother," added Aunt 
 Rachel. 
 
 Finally father removed the peeling from the fruit and 
 carefully divided it into six equal portions, giving one 
 portion to each of us. 
 
 "Where's thy sheer, father?" asked Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. 
 
 " Oh, my share is the paying for it," he answered. 
 
 " Thee must have half of mine," said mother ; and she 
 actually thrust it into his mouth — a bold unheard-of 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 203 
 
 act, savoring of unbecoming levity and unwomanly be- 
 havior. But father seemed to enjoy it all. 
 
 I ate my portion, having some difficulty in saving all 
 the juice. How delicious it was, and how different from 
 anything else that I had ever tasted ! Ah ! if I live to the 
 age of Noah's grandfather, I shall never see such another 
 orange. I looked up and saw Aunt Rachel beckoning to 
 me from the chimney corner. She was puffing valiantly 
 through her new pipe, and the wreaths of smoke that en- 
 circled her gray head were like haloes of glory and clouds 
 of incense. I went to her softly on tiptoe. 
 
 " Shet thy peepers and open thy teethers," she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 I obeyed, and she thrust her portion of the wonderful 
 fruit into my already pampered mouth. 
 
 " O Aunt Rachel ! " I protested, half choking. 
 
 " Eat it, Robbie ! " she gurgled. " I don't want it ; 
 it spiles the taste of my tobacker." 
 
 What could I do? 
 
 And now the next parcel was taken from the basket — 
 a small parcel, cubical in shape and wrapped in blue 
 paper. 
 
 *' Here are some more luxuries, but of a different sort," 
 said father. " They ain't to eat and they ain't to wear, 
 but they'll be mighty handy to have around once in a 
 while." 
 
 He removed the wrappings and displayed to our won- 
 dering gaze two bunches of very small pine sticks fast- 
 ened together at one end and yellow with sulphur at the 
 other. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! Lucifer matches ! " cried Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. " Now we won't have to borry fire every time 
 our'n goes out.'* 
 
204 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Mother was visibly pleased although she tried hard to 
 appear otherwise. " Stephen," she said, '' I'm afraid 
 thee's inclined to be extravagant. We certainly could 
 have got along without such expensive things." 
 
 '' Well, they didn't cost much," answered father. *' I 
 paid a fip for the two bunches, and there's a hundred 
 matches in each bunch. With proper economy, and us- 
 ing them only when the fire goes out, they ought to last 
 for years." 
 
 Then he gave a single match to each of us, just so we 
 might try it and see how it acted. 
 
 " It's Robert's turn first," said mother. 
 
 With great caution and many quakings of the heart, I 
 knelt on the hearth and repeatedly scratched my match 
 on the flat stone. At last, to the admiration of all and 
 the momentary alarm of myself, it suddenly burst into a 
 yellowish flame, emitting a fizzling sound, a spirt of 
 grayish smoke and a stifling odor. 
 
 " There ! Didn't I tell thee ? " cried Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. '' No more borryin' of fire ! " 
 
 Then, one by one, the others tried the pleasing experi- 
 ment with varying success. When it came Jonathan's 
 turn he stood up by the chimney and tried to scratch the 
 match on the keystone of the fireplace. He struck so 
 hard that the match was broken in two in the middle and 
 the sulphured end fell, unignited, into the ashes. 
 
 " The tarnal thing wasn't no good, nohow," he growled 
 angrily; for the fever'n'agur, together with the quinine, 
 had rufiled his good nature wonderfully. 
 
 " I'm afraid thee's no good hand at matches," said 
 Aunt Rachel. " Thee must be keerful when thee goes 
 to make a match with Esther." 
 
 '' And now," said father, returning to the basket, " we 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 205 
 
 will see what is in this last package. If I'm not mis- 
 taken it is something for Robert." 
 
 He held up the package so that all might see. Yes, it 
 was what I had been hoping for ; it was a book ! I knew 
 that from the shape of it, although it was still wrapped 
 in two or three folds of brown paper. 
 
 " Thy ginseng roots sold well, Robert," he continued. 
 " The first man I offered 'em to said he would give four 
 bits for the bunch, and being in a hurry I went no farther 
 but made a bargain at once. Then I went into a store 
 where they sold books, and bought this one for the same 
 money. Thee may unwrap it and see what it looks like." 
 
 With unmannerly haste I took the little parcel from his 
 hands, untied the cord around it and removed the cover- 
 ings. A pretty little book bound in blue boards looked 
 up and smiled at me. I opened it at the title-page and 
 read the name of it aloud: The Surprising Adventures 
 of Robinson Crusoe; and then my eyes jumped quickly 
 to the frontispiece, which proved to be the only picture 
 in the volume. And what a wonderful picture it was — 
 a picture of a strangely dressed man walking upon a 
 sandy seashore and holding over his head the queerest- 
 looking" umbrella imao-inable. The sea was calm, the 
 wavelets were rippling on the beach, an air of mystery 
 and loneliness pervaded the entire scene. The man was 
 looking at some strange marks in the sand, and the ex- 
 pression of his face was that of surprise and alarm. 
 
 My curiosity was aroused to fever heat. I was 
 anxious to begin the reading of a book that promised to 
 prove so very interesting and so full of novelty. But 
 mother quietly took it from my hands. 
 
 " Stephen," she asked, '* is thee right sure that this is a 
 good book for Robert to read ? " 
 
2o6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered father. *' I made sure of that 
 before I bought it. The storekeeper told me that it is the 
 best book in the world for boys. But I didn't take his 
 word for it. I read several pages, and found Robinson's 
 account of his adventures very instructive and truthful." 
 
 " What makes thee think it's truthful ? " 
 
 " Why, the man tells what he himself saw and did ; 
 and he tells it in such a plain straightforward way that 
 thee can't help but believe it." 
 
 " What was the man's name? " 
 
 '' Robinson." 
 
 " Robinson what? " 
 
 " Robinson Crusoe." 
 
 " That's an uncommon name. There's a plenty of 
 Robinsons in Wayne, and I knowed two or three families 
 of that name in old Carliny. But I never heard of any- 
 body of the name of Crusoe." 
 
 " Was Robinson a Friend ? " asked Aunt Rachel. 
 
 "No, I think not," answered father; "for I noticed 
 that he never used the plain language, even at times when 
 he must have feared that his end was at hand. But 
 there have been many worldly men who have written 
 books of great worth, and I feel sure that Robinson 
 Crusoe has done just that thing." 
 
 " Well," remarked mother resignedly, " if thee believes 
 that this is really a good and safe book, I am glad thee 
 bought it ; for thee knows Robert's queer way. But I do 
 hope he will never get to readin' silly story books that 
 have no truth nor sense in 'em. It would be a waste of 
 time, besides fillin' his head with foolishness." 
 
 " Thee is right," said father. " And, after all, what is 
 a story book or a novel but the vain imaginings of some 
 untruthful person ? " 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 207 
 
 The conversation was ended, and mother handed the 
 precious volume back to me with the admonition that I 
 must not spend so much time in reading it that my other 
 duties would be neglected. 
 
 I hastened to throw some fresh bits of hickory bark on 
 the smoldering fire, and the flames soon springing up, the 
 light was so bright as to enable me to read the small 
 print in the volume quite easily. I threw myself down 
 on the floor beside the hearth and immediately became 
 absorbed in Robinson's account of his wayward boyhood 
 and his first experiences as a sailor. And as I read, dear 
 Inviz came up stealthily and put his arms around my 
 neck and looked over my shoulder and became as deeply 
 absorbed in the story as I myself. 
 
 '* Don't thee wish thee could be a sailor? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. '' I should like to sail on the 
 great sea and visit the strange lands on the other side of 
 the world." 
 
 " Well, just wait till thee is grown, and then maybe 
 thee can run away and do as Robinson did," whispered 
 the tempter. 
 
 Suddenly I was aroused from my reverie by a com- 
 mand from father : '' Robert, thee's read enough for to- 
 night. Put thy Robinson Crusoe away in the bookcase, 
 and fetch me the Book of books. Does thee hear? " 
 
 Startled by his stern way of speaking, I hastened to 
 obey, and as I did so I observed that the family had as- 
 sembled and were already seated in their respective 
 places to listen to the reading of the chapter. And 
 there, too, sitting between David and Jonathan, was the 
 fugitive Samuel ! He had come, at father's urgent invi- 
 tation, to join us in this last and most impressive duty 
 of the day. He seemed scarcely the same being that I 
 
2o8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 had seen a few hours before, crouching like a beast of 
 prey, munching and crunching his food, and grunting out 
 his satisfaction hke a senseless brute. He had washed 
 himself at the spring, brushed the cobwebs and dust from 
 his ragged clothing, and put on a cheerier appearance 
 every way. And my heart went out to him in pity. 
 
 " He ain't nigh as ugly as he was when we seen him in 
 the barn," whispered Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 '' And he's very nice behavin', too, for one of his 
 color," remarked her grandmother. 
 
 I remember that father was a long time in finding the 
 place in the Book that night; and the only portion of the 
 reading that attracted my attention was this meaningful 
 declaration : " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
 the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 
 
 At the close of the reading, the black man withdrew 
 with an awkward bow, and shuffled down the pathway to- 
 ward his lodging-place in the barn. As he was opening 
 the barnyard gate, father called to him : " Samuel, I 
 hope thee will rest well. Thee must keep quite close all 
 day to-morrow, and in the evening we will see that thee 
 is carried farther on thy way." 
 
 " All right, sah," was the response. *^ Good night, 
 sah ! I's 'bleeged." 
 
 And he disappeared in the shadows. 
 
 It would have been a great comfort had I been per- 
 mitted to resume the reading of my new book and the 
 fascinating story that I had scarcely begun. But all the 
 rules and traditions of our household forbade it ; the 
 " chapter " had been read, the day's labors and recrea- 
 tions were finished, and nothing more was allowable, save 
 to cover the fire, wind the clock and retire to rest. 
 
 With lagging feet, therefore, I went back into the 
 
WHAT THEY BROUGHT FROM 'HIO 209 
 
 shadows, drew my trundle-bed out to its place, and be- 
 gan to disrobe for the night. As I leapt into bed, I was 
 surprised to find several little round, hard objects lying in 
 my way between the straw tick and the covering blanket. 
 I was about to cry out to mother when I heard a sup- 
 pressed whisper in the darkness above me which sent a 
 thrill of satisfaction through my tingling veins. I knew 
 by the sound that it was David lying flat on the floor of 
 the loft with his mouth at a familiar knot-hole. 
 
 "Did thee find the marvels, Towhead? Count 'em. 
 I fetched thee nine instid of two. 'Nuff to play pard- 
 ners ! " 
 
 Nine brand-new marbles! Oh, happiness! I hud- 
 dled them all together in a little heap under my two 
 hands, and as I was counting them over and over with 
 my fingers, Inviz crept softly into the bed beside me and 
 shared my joy. 
 
 " Well, thee has some real boughten playthings, now," 
 he whispered. " Thee is a lucky boy." 
 
 And I dropped to sleep. 
 
CHAPTER XMII 
 
 NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 
 
 THE next evening just as the full moon was rising 
 above the tree-tops, our farm wagon with the two 
 young horses attached was driven quietly out through the 
 front gateway. On the driver's seat was David with his 
 coat and boots on, for the air was frosty : and by his 
 side sat 'Lihu Bright, the Widder's eldest son, a man 
 well skilled in the operation of the *' underground." 
 There were a number of large pumpkins in the wagon, 
 and in the midst of them, peeping out from a loose heap 
 of straw, was a round, woolly, black head, which I recog- 
 nized as that of the fugitive. 
 
 \\'e stood by the gate to see them off. 
 
 '* Well, Elihu," said father, " we are trusting this whole 
 business to thee. Thee has been over the road and thee 
 knows the way, and thee understands what to do in case 
 there is any trouble." 
 
 " I don't think there's much danger of getting into 
 trouble," answered 'Lihu. *' We shall drive around 
 through the \Mld Cat Settlement instead of by way of 
 Dashville, although it is three or four miles farther. 
 We'll cross the river at the North Ford, and then foiler 
 the state road straight to Hezekiah Jones's. There ain't 
 many houses along that way, and I doubt if we shall meet 
 a single person. I've driv over that road many and many 
 a time, and I know every foot of it even in the night." 
 
 210 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 211 
 
 " And when does thee suppose you will get to Heze- 
 kiah's ? " 
 
 " Some time about midnight, I hope. Then we'll leave 
 the passenger in Hezekiah's charge; and after we've let 
 the horses rest a spell, we'll drive down to Dashville and 
 then back home. You may look for us about this time 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I see thee understands thyself, and I hope you will 
 get along all right," said father. Then reaching his hand 
 over toward the little woolly head in the midst of the 
 pumpkins, he added, " Farewell, Samuel. It is my fer- 
 vent wish that thee may get to the end of thy journey in 
 safety." 
 
 A long black arm emerged from the straw and the 
 semi-darkness, and there was a friendly shaking of 
 hands. 
 
 ** Goo'-by, massah ! I's 'bleeged." 
 
 '' Git ep ! " cried David, slapping the horses with the 
 lines. 
 
 And they were away. 
 
 " Farewell, Samuel ! " It was the voice of Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, calling from the door-step ; but the annex 
 to the underground, together with its passengers, had al- 
 ready disappeared in the murky shadows of the lane. 
 
 We stood and listened until long after they had turned 
 into the big road and were speeding straight toward Dry 
 Forks and the lonely country beyond. Occasionally we 
 could hear the crunching of the wheels in some gravelly 
 portion of the highway, or the clatter of the horses' hoofs 
 as they cantered down some smooth incline, or the slam- 
 bang of the wagon as it jolted over rocks and projecting 
 roots and into treacherous chuck-holes. Little by little, 
 these sounds became fainter and less frequent, and fi- 
 
212 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 nally, listen as intently as we might, no sounds came to 
 our ears save the chirping of belated katydids and the 
 melancholy hootings of a pair of owls down in the new 
 clearing. 
 
 *' I reckon we had better go in out of the night air," 
 said father. 
 
 And this I was glad to do ; for the fire was blazing 
 brightly, and my new book was waiting for me on the 
 bookshelf, and Inviz was impatient to come and sit by my 
 side while I read the charming story of Robinson. 
 
 The next day the weather had changed. Gray clouds 
 obscured the sky, and a chilling mist hung in the air, fill- 
 ing the trees with moisture and the whole world with 
 melancholy. All our thoughts were with David and 
 'Lihu and the fugitive black man ; and all our conversa- 
 tion consisted of speculations concerning their where- 
 abouts and their safety and the probability of slave- 
 hunters having captured them and carried them away to 
 distant ungodly Kentucky. 
 
 Toward evening the mist changed into a drizzling rain, 
 and our anxiety and downheartedness were correspond- 
 ingly increased. But these feelings were of short dura- 
 tion ; for when all of us were again assembled in our 
 great living-room, and the fire was leaping up the chim- 
 ney, and the supper things were cleared away, and each 
 of us was busy after his own fashion, cheerfulness grad- 
 ually returned and we almost forgot the two heroes who 
 must now be somewhere out in the cold and rain. 
 
 Father drew his shoemaker's bench from its place 
 under Aunt Rachel's bed, and setting it near the center 
 of the room began the task of putting new half-soles on 
 Cousin Mandy Jane's every-day shoes, of which, the 
 weather now growing colder, she would soon be in need. 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 213 
 
 In order that he might see distinctly, a candle was 
 lighted and placed on the candlestand quite near his el- 
 bow. Mother, with her sewing, sat down on the farther 
 side of the candlestand, while I with my book in hand, 
 doubled myself up on the floor near her feet. 
 
 " The candle is lots better for Robert to read by than 
 the firelight," remarked Cousin Mandy Jane, busily wip- 
 ing the dishes. '' It's safer like, and ain't so tryin' on 
 the eyes." 
 
 " It's better for sewin', too," said mother. 
 
 '' It ain't no better for knittin'," muttered Aunt Rachel. 
 *' I can knit jist as well in one light as in t'other." 
 
 Father had fitted a last in one of the shoes and had 
 cut the half -soles to the proper size. He turned quietly 
 to me and said, " I think, Robert, that we would all enjoy 
 hearing thee read some of Robinson Crusoe's surprising 
 adventures." 
 
 I had already perused more than half of the volume, 
 but I was so proud of the honor of reading aloud to the 
 rest of the family that I now turned back to the begin- 
 ning in order that every one might have a true under- 
 standing of the narrative. All were busy at work, and 
 yet I knew that I would have at least three attentive 
 listeners — father, mother and Mandy Jane. As for 
 Aunt Rachel, what cared she for hearing about Robin- 
 son's adventures so long as she could have recourse to 
 her new pipe, her knitting and happy memories of old 
 Carliny ? And, as for Jonathan, he was a hater of books 
 and never a good listener ; and as he sat on the farther 
 side of the hearth, shelling com for the mill, he had no 
 room in his mind for any thoughts save dreams of pretty 
 Esther Lamb and the forty-acre piece down by the 
 Corners. 
 
214 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 I cleared my throat several times and then began : '' I 
 was born in the year 1632 in the City of York." Scarcely 
 had I pronounced this first sentence, when father started 
 in with his pegging. A rare concert followed. Whether 
 father timed his tapping with my somewhat rapid de- 
 livery of words, or whether I unconsciously tuned my 
 voice to harmonize with the regular thump-thumping of 
 his hammer, I can not say ; but certainly we had a most 
 joyous time of it. 
 
 " Thump ! rap-tap ! Thump ! rap-tap ! " sounded the lit- 
 tle round-headed shoemaker's hammer, alternately pound- 
 ing the awl into the leather and then driving home the 
 little pegs ; and the syllables fell from my lips with almost 
 equal regularity and precision. Paragraph after para- 
 graph was read, and leaf after leaf was turned; and at 
 length the " half-solin' " was nearing completion. Once 
 I paused to snuff the candle, and Cousin Mandy Jane 
 availed herself of the opportunity to remark : " Sakes 
 alive! It's as good as a quiltin'. It's a sight more in- 
 terestin' than George Fox's Journal.'' 
 
 And mother was of the same mind save with reference 
 to a single point. " It would have been right smart bet- 
 ter," she said, '' if Robinson had used the plain language 
 instead of the language of the world's people." 
 
 I was now just in the midst of the account of the great 
 storm, " when the wind still blowing very hard, the ship 
 struck upon a sand, and in a moment the sea broke over 
 her." I can never forget that passage. The situation 
 was so perilous, the suspense was so great, that as I pro- 
 nounced the words the shoe hammer in father's uplifted 
 hand paused before descending, the " rap-tap-tap " was 
 omitted for the full space of three seconds, and every one 
 of my hearers waited breathless to hear what happened 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 215 
 
 next. With a quaver in my voice I proceeded, and the 
 tension was relaxed. (O my dear Leonidas, my dear 
 Leona! You know not the delights of poverty. Sur- 
 feited with *' advantages " and overgorged with '' bless- 
 ings," you are incapable of such joys as were mine on 
 that well-remembered evening. A book to you is only a 
 book — an inanimate thing ; to the poor only is it " the 
 precious life blood of a master spirit.") 
 
 The last shoe peg was driven home. The new half- 
 soles were neatly trimmed and smoothed. Father was 
 preparing the lampblack with which to blacken their raw 
 edges ; and my reading had progressed to the culmination 
 of the next great crisis when " a mountain-like wave took 
 us with such fury that it overset the boat at once, giving 
 us not time hardly to say, O God! for we were swallowed 
 up in a moment." 
 
 And there I stopped ; for we heard the sound of wheels 
 and the creaking of the barnyard gate and David's rasp- 
 ing voice calling to his brother to " come out here and 
 take keer of these 'y^r tarnal critters." Instantly a 
 change came over the spirit of our dreams. Jonathan, 
 waking with a start from his pleasant meditations, rushed 
 out to obey the summons; mother rose to stir the fire; 
 and Cousin Mandy Jane began hurriedly to assemble 
 some half-cold victuals for the returned hero's supper. 
 I ran to the window, and looking toward the bam, could 
 dimly see in the tempered darkness the outline of the old 
 wagon with the light of our little tin lantern flickering 
 faintly at the foot of the dashboard. Father, with some 
 little compromise of dignity, quickly put the finishing 
 touches to the new half-soles, and rising, pushed the shoe- 
 bench back to its place beneath the bed. He was turn- 
 ing toward the door when David suddenly entered, 
 
2i6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 chilled, wet, and disgruntled with his long ride through 
 the drizzling rain. He stumbled toward the fireplace, re- 
 moving his water-soaked coat and hat and stamping his 
 big boots upon the hearthstones. 
 
 " Where's Elihu ? " asked father, somewhat anxiously. 
 
 " He went on home by the short cut/' answered David 
 crustily. " If thee only knowed how tarnal chilly I am, 
 thee wouldn't be so much concerned about 'Lihu." 
 
 He stood in close proximity to the fire, turning first 
 one side toward the generous heat, and then the other ; 
 and all the while he continued to give vent to a series 
 of bearish grunts and growls and lamentations as inco- 
 herent as they were unnecessary. 
 
 " Say, Robert, thee little Towhead, thee ! " he blurted ; 
 " go and fetch me the bootjack." 
 
 I obeyed silently and sulkily, for I didn't like his rude 
 way of talking. 
 
 *' Thee's as slow as m'lasses in cold weather," he 
 growled, as he snatched the useful jack from my hands 
 and proceeded, with its assistance, to pull off his boots. 
 It was a hard job accompanied with much straining and 
 complaining ; and when it was finally accomplished he sat 
 down by the hearth and stretched his steaming bare feet 
 toward the cheery fire. 
 
 We bore with him gently, well knowing that as soon as 
 he was made comfortable, his good spirits would begin 
 to return and he would be anxious to tell us all about his 
 adventures in the service of freedom. So we asked no 
 questions, but patiently looked on and bided our time. 
 And, in order that he might enjoy his supper in the full 
 warmth of the fire, mother motioned to me to set the 
 candlestand close beside him on the hearth. 
 
 " That's right, Towhead," he said in tones conciliatory 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 217 
 
 and much mollified ; " and if somebody'd only hustle 
 with them there victuals I'd be glad all round. I'm so 
 tamal hungry I do b'lieve I could swaller a yoke of 
 steers without half chawin' 'em." 
 
 And the victuals were not long delayed ; Cousin Mandy 
 Jane, with astonishing alacrity, loaded the candlestand 
 with a variety of homely eatables in quantities sufficient 
 to satisfy the appetite of the hungriest man. Nor did 
 David delay his onslaught upon them, but began with 
 ruthless zeal to devour whatever came first to his hand — 
 a squash pie, a glass of preserves, roas'n'-ears, pickles, 
 corn dodgers, and vast suppHes of fat pork and string 
 beans — until the wonder was that one capacious 
 stomach could contain so much. Then, pausing 
 between mouthfuls of boiled cabbage and currant jam, 
 he called out, " Cousin Mandy Jane, if thee'll only fetch 
 me three or four cups of that there coffee, sizzlin' hot, I 
 reckon it'll drive some of these tarnal shivers out of my 
 marrer bones." 
 
 " Th'ain't no coffee," said Cousin Mandy Jane. *' It's 
 all slave labor and we daresn't use it." 
 
 " What does thee think I keer for the labor of it? " he 
 answered. *' When a feller's plumb gone flabbergasted 
 by ridin' all day in the cold, it ain't no time to be per- 
 tickler about sich things as slave labor and free labor." 
 
 " But the coffee hain't been browned yet," mother ex- 
 plained in her peacefulest, purring tones. " It would 
 have to be roasted and ground and b'iled, and that would 
 take a longer time than thee wants to wait. 'Twould 
 take anyhow a half-hour." 
 
 '' Well, then, give me somethin' else that's hot. I don't 
 keer what it is, jist so it'll wrastle with the tarnal 
 shivers that's in my marrer bones." 
 
2i8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " How will some pennyrile tea do ? " asked mother. 
 
 '' It'll do all right if thee'U make it hot enough and 
 strong enough," he answered. '' I don't keer if it's 
 strong enough to bear up an iron wedge eendwise ; it'll be 
 all the more soothin' and warmin'." 
 
 And so, under the wholesome influence of the fire, the 
 food and the stimulating drink, the effects of the damp- 
 ness and night air were overcome and there was a glow 
 in David's cheeks that told of returned comfort and good 
 nature. He glanced around at our inquiring faces, and 
 fidgeted uneasily in his chair ; and still no one ventured to 
 ask a question. The fire was now making him altogether 
 too warm, drops of sweat were oozing from his forehead, 
 the chills had finally been driven ingloriously from his 
 marrer bones, the hero was ready to talk; and still we 
 waited in silence. 
 
 " I reckon nobody don't keer to hear nothin' about our 
 trip to Uncle Hezekiah's," he finally muttered, sliding 
 his chair backward till he was well away from the now 
 oppressive heat. 
 
 The psychological moment had arrived for which we 
 had been waiting ; and father therefore gently responded, 
 " I s'pose thee and 'Lihu got through safe, or else thee 
 wouldn't be here now." 
 
 '' Safe ! Well, I should reckon ! We didn't lose the 
 road nary time, and we didn't meet nary a livin' soul 
 'twixt here and the Wild Cat Settlement. I tell thee, 
 'Lihu Bright knowed the way, else we'd never got along 
 them tarnal roads by moonlight. And what does thee 
 think? That good-for-nothin' black feller that was put- 
 tin' us to all that trouble, he jist laid among the pun- 
 kins and slept like a darnick till we driv up to Uncle 
 Hezekiah's door ; and then we had to 'most shake the giz- 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 219 
 
 zard out of him 'fore he'd stir himself and git up and 
 go into the house." 
 
 His tongue being thus once started, the hero continued 
 to rattle out his somewhat rambling narrative, interject- 
 ing his speech with many repetitions and homely meta- 
 phors, and giving none of us room to say a word or ask 
 a question. In the end we gathered that the expedition 
 had been eminently successful. After a rapid drive of 
 five hours the fugitive had been safely landed at Heze- 
 kiah Jones's just as the clock was striking midnight. 
 Uncle Hezekiah, having been mysteriously apprised of 
 their coming, was prepared to receive them. The fugi- 
 tive was hidden in the loft to remain there until the way 
 was clear to convey him to the next station. The weary 
 horses were stabled and fed ; and Elihu and David re- 
 tired to rest in Uncle Hezekiah's best room, where they 
 slept the sleep of the righteous in Aunt Jane's best 
 feather-bed. Then at seven in the morning they break- 
 fasted, presented the pumpkins to Uncle Hezekiah and 
 prepared for the return trip by way of Dashville, the 
 county seat. 
 
 " We driv down along the river," continued David, 
 " and I reckon it was about ten o'clock when we 'riv' in 
 the town. And thee jist ought to see!" And here he 
 slapped his thigh. " Thee wouldn't know the place. 
 Why, I counted ten new houses, strung along both sides 
 of the road, and there's as many more jist beginnin' to go 
 up. It made me think of Larnceburg — sich a tarnal 
 noise of hammerin' and sawin', and sich crowds of peo- 
 ple walkin' along the paths by the side of the road. . . . 
 And then, what does thee think? The Methodisters, 
 they've jist put up a bran-new meetin'-house, with a 
 steeple on to it. And right down ag'inst the court-house 
 
220 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the county's built a new jail with iron bars 'crosst the 
 winders. Me an' 'Lihu, we went down to see it, and I 
 tell thee It made me think of Larnceburg." 
 
 He paused for breath, and father quietly remarked, " I 
 suppose that people are flocking to Dashville on account 
 of the railroad that's about to connect it with Nopplis. 
 Calvin Fletcher told me last spring that they had already 
 begun work on it." 
 
 " Begun ! " exclaimed David. " I should reckon 'tis 
 begun; it's most finished. And what does thee think? 
 I met old Isaac Wilson over there. Thee knows old 
 Isaac Wilson? " 
 
 " Certainly, we used to be playmates, when we were 
 boys. What's he doing in Dashville ? " 
 
 " He's keepin' a store ; and he took me into it, and 
 showed me all the things he's got to sell. He says that 
 it's his 'pinion that Dashville will soon be the biggest 
 town in Injanner. He says that that railroad is bound 
 to make the place grow and he wouldn't be s'prised if it 
 got clean ahead of Nopplis inside of the next five years. 
 Oh, I tell thee, things is a-hummin' over there ! " 
 
 " Well, I'm truly glad to hear about Isaac Wilson," 
 said father. " I hope he will do well with his store." 
 
 " If thee could jist see what he's got in it! " exclaimed 
 David. " Why ! th' ain't nothin' he hain't got ; and he 
 gives trade for all the butter 'n' aigs the folks'll fetch in. 
 He said that when the railroad gits started to runnin', 
 he's goin' to buy wheat and wool and everything jist like 
 they do at Larnceburg. He said for me to tell thee that 
 we won't have to go to the 'Hio no more, nor even to 
 Nopplis, 'cause we can do jist as well at the county 
 seat." 
 
 " That is surely bringing the markets to our very 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 221 
 
 door," said father. " I never expected that such a thing 
 would happen in my Hfetime." 
 
 '' Thee's right ! " and David slapped his thigh most 
 vigorously. " And Isaac said that he reckons the rail- 
 road will begin runnin' cars to Dashville afore spring. 
 And, what does thee think? While the horses was 
 restin' and eatin' by the court-house fence, 'Lihu and me 
 went down toward the river to look at where they're dig- 
 gin' for the road. Well, thee never seen so big a ditch 
 in thy life; it's more'n twice as wide as our crick at the 
 swimmin' hole, and it's deep enough to swaller a house ; 
 but there ain't no water in it. It's jist a cut, as they call 
 it, right through the bluffs, so as to make the road kinder 
 level like. We watched the men that was diggin' it a 
 while and then we went round by the post-office; and I 
 reckon it must have been nigh on to two o'clock when 
 we hitched up and started home — and we hadn't come 
 a mile afore this tarnal drizzlin' rain begun." 
 
 "Did thee git any mail at the post-office?" inquired 
 Cousin Mandy Jlane. 
 
 '' Nary a thing 'ceptin' two Erays for the Widder's 
 folks and a letter for Joel Sparker that we mustn't forgit 
 to take to meetin' for him to-morrow. But what does 
 thee think? Isaac Wilson, he told us that the president 
 was goin' to set up a new post-office right over here at 
 the Dry Forks. It's to be in Seth Dawson's smith shop, 
 and Seth he's been 'pinted postmaster." 
 
 " Well, I'm not so much surprised as gratified to hear 
 that," said father. " We've been working two or three 
 years to get a post-office established somewhere in the 
 Settlement. But, certainly, things are moving rapidly 
 nowadays." 
 
 "Thee's right! And thee'd 'a' thought so if theeM 
 
222 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 seen how rapidly the post-boy moves. We met him jist 
 as we were drivin' out of town. He was on a sorrel 
 pony and had the mail-bag strapped tight on to the saddle 
 under him; and he was ridin', lickity cut, toward the 
 post-office and was goin' so fast that he didn't nod his 
 head nor holler ' Howdy ' as he passed us. They do say 
 that he rides all the way from Nopplis to Terry Hut 
 every week, a-carryin' letters and things to the different 
 places. i\nd his mail-bag was stuffed so full with let- 
 ters 'n' things that he couldn't hardly set on it." 
 
 *' I suppose we'll see him quite often down this way 
 w^hen the post-office gets started at the Forks," remarked 
 father. " But has thee got Joel Sparker's letter with 
 thee?" 
 
 *' Yes, father ! It's in my coat pocket, and that ain't 
 all, nother ! " he answered, speaking excitedly as though 
 he had been suddenly reminded of something. He lum- 
 bered across the room and picked up his water-soaked 
 coat which mother had hung on a chair to dry, and 
 from its capacious pockets brought forth the letter, wet, 
 discolored and badly crumpled. 
 
 " Here's the tarnal thing," he said contemptuously. 
 " There was five cents postage on it, and don't thee give 
 it to old Joel till he pays it, nother. And here's some- 
 thin' else I brung ; " and he partially unfolded a printed 
 sheet which appeared to have pictures printed on it. 
 " What does thee reckon it is, Towhead ? " 
 
 The smile which broadened his grisly visage was truly 
 wonderful to see, and our curiosity was excited to the 
 highest pitch. " Open it, so we can see what's on to it, 
 David," said Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " Aw ! thee shet up ! " growled the big fellow. " I 
 reckon if anybody gits to see it, it's Towhead. It was 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 223 
 
 give to me in Dashville by a man with slicked-up boots 
 on his feet and a white collar round his neck. He axed 
 me if we had any children to our house; and I said, 
 * One leetle tow-headed shaver ; ' and he said, ' Kin he 
 read ? ' I laughed right out, and said, * Well, he don't 
 do nothin' else, so fur as I ever knowed.' Then the 
 man, he laughed, and stuck this paper in my hand, and 
 says he, ' Take this home and tell the leetle tow-headed 
 shaver to read it out loud to the rest of you.' So I guess 
 Towhead will be the one to git the first squint at it." 
 
 Then, with a look of mingled triumph and condescen- 
 sion, he slowly unfolded the mysterious sheet and spread 
 it out right before my eyes. It was larger by half than 
 a sheet of the National Era, and was printed on only one 
 side. Some of the head-lines, which were in very large 
 type, were red while others were blue; and all around 
 the border there was a row of pictures too wonderful 
 to be described. The illustrations of birds and beasts in 
 my " Animal Book," or in Parley's Geography were 
 plain and insignificant when compared with them. Here 
 were vivid representations of lions and tigers, of ele- 
 phants and zebras, of monkeys and galloping horses, and 
 of indescribable two-legged creatures in the act of jump- 
 ing through a series of barrel hoops. 
 
 I read the bold head-line at the top: 
 
 " Van Hamburg's Great Moral Exhibition " 
 
 — and underneath it the exhortation, 
 
 ''Be sure to come and bring the children" 
 
 I continued reading, and with some difficulty made out 
 the statement that this gigantic aggregation of zoolog- 
 ical and ornithological wonders was now on its way to 
 
224 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the Wabash Country and would, at an early date, be on 
 exhibition at the town of Dashville — ■"* for one day 
 only." 
 
 " Read it out loud, Towhead," commanded David, his 
 countenance beaming with pride at the thought that he 
 had been the carrier and custodian of so wonderful a 
 document. 
 
 " Yes, read it so the rest of us can hear all about it," 
 cried Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 How proud I felt as I complied with this request! I 
 began at the first line and read tremblingly, while the 
 whole family stood near, listening intently, looking at the 
 pictures and inwardly wondering. There were many 
 big words that I had never seen before, and of whose 
 meaning I had not the slightest idea, but we gathered 
 the information that this was the finest menagerie of 
 wnld beasts ever seen in Indiana, and that besides its 
 many other features it was truly the most astounding 
 moral exhibition ever presented for the instruction and 
 edification of the human race. 
 
 Finally, after pausing many times to explain some 
 difficult passage, I reached in triumph the bottom line 
 where the prices of admission were given and the injunc- 
 tion was repeated to '' be sure to come and bring the lit- 
 tle ones." 
 
 " Jist think!" ejaculated Cousin Mandy Jane; ''only 
 twenty-five cents to git in and see all them wonderful and 
 preposterous animiles ! And children half price ! " 
 
 "Yes, jist think of it! And all them things is goin' 
 to be at Dashville for folks to look at, next Fourth-day ! " 
 exclaimed David, slapping his thigh most viciously. 
 
 " Yes," said Jonathan, examining the pictures, 
 " they've got a elephant, and a tiger, and a lion, and a 
 
NEWS FROM THE COUNTY SEAT 225 
 
 snake, and a fox, and four queer-lookin' monkeys, and 
 every other kind of animile thee can think of." 
 
 " And they've got a moral, too ! " cried Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. *' ' The greatest moral show on earth/ the paper 
 says. I'd jist like to see that there moral — I'd like to 
 see what kind of a animile it's like ! " 
 
 Thereupon father smiled and gently corrected her ig- 
 norance. " The dictionary," he said, in closing, " defines 
 moral to mean upright, honest. So I take it for granted 
 that a moral show is one that shows people certain things 
 that are upright and improving." 
 
 " I'd like mighty well to see all them animiles," re- 
 marked Jonathan ; " but I'll be dog-goned if I wouldn't 
 look at the money a right smart while afore I'd pay it 
 out to go to any sich a show. Two levies ain't much, but 
 every little helps ; and what good would it do to look at 
 them there tarnal beastesses, anyhow ? " 
 
 " The paper says it's a moral show," I ventured to ob- 
 serve ; " and so, maybe it will do a good deal of good. 
 And then it says, ' Children half price. Come, and don't 
 forget to bring the little ones.' I wish I could go." 
 
 Then Aunt Rachel roused herself and spoke from her 
 corner : " When I was a gal down to Carliny, I used to 
 go to sich shows. They was mighty divertin' ; but I 
 never seen nobody git religion by goin' to 'em. There 
 was one man that had three bears in a little tent, and I 
 paid a penny to see 'em ; but I'd never do it ag'in." 
 
 " Well, I wish I could go to this show," I repeated, 
 feeling quite desperate. 
 
 " Yes, it'd do thee some good, I'm a-thinkin'," said 
 Aunt Rachel ; " and if father will let thee go, I'll give 
 thee a levy to git in with." 
 
 " Oh, if I only could go ! " I cried. 
 
226 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 *' Indeed, Robert, I should like for thee to see the 
 animals, and I must confess that I have some desire to 
 see them myself," said father. " But I am not quite 
 clear in my mind whether it would be right for us to 
 attend this show. If it is only a worldly diversion, in- 
 tended to amuse the frivolous, we ought to bear a testi- 
 mony against it ; but if it is really instructive and improv- 
 ing to the mind, we ought to encourage it." 
 
 " Well, it is instructive, for this paper says so," and 
 I pointed to the very words, all painted in bold red let- 
 ters. " And it says the show is upright and honest, too ! 
 * Undoubtedly the most entertaining and most instructive 
 moral exhibition now in existence.' " 
 
 " Them's mighty convincin' words," muttered Aunt 
 Rachel. 
 
 *' And that's a mighty purty paper with the picters of 
 animiles all round the edges," said Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 " Wouldn't it look nice tacked up over the mantel in the 
 big-house where all the folks that come visitin' can see 
 it?" 
 
 " Thee's right ! " exclaimed David. '' It'd set things 
 off right smart. I'll git a couple of shingle nails and 
 stick it up there this very night, if father says I may." 
 
 *' Wait till to-morrow," said father ; and then turning 
 to me, he added, " Robert, thee may fetch me the Book." 
 
 I obeyed ; and he read how Noah gathered all creation 
 into his three-hundred-foot ark, " every beast after his 
 kind and every bird of every sort — two and two of all 
 flesh." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " THE SLAVERS " 
 
 ABOUT the middle of the following afternoon an 
 incident occurred which put our whole household 
 into a fever of the most unusual excitement and threw 
 me into a state of fright which might have turned my 
 hair gray had it not been already tow-colored. Every 
 member of the family was busy at work — a not un- 
 common circumstance, as you have already learned. 
 Father and the boys were in the lower deadening, chop- 
 ping down some old trees and splitting rails for the 
 new partition fence. Although they were so far from 
 the house, we could plainly hear the ringing of their 
 axes and, at intervals, the thudding crash which an- 
 nounced the downfall of some former monarch of the 
 forest. The womenfolks were at their usual avoca- 
 tions — mother was hackling flax; Cousin Mandy Jane 
 was at the spring-house taking the milk crocks from the 
 running water and getting ready for the day's churning; 
 and Aunt Rachel was in the woods pasture gathering 
 fresh pennyroyal and camomile to be hung up for the 
 winter's drying. And I — ■ I was in the potato patch 
 near the big front gate, digging up an occasional potato, 
 peeping often into a book that lay half concealed among 
 the weeds, and wishing that I was in a desert island 
 where I might work as little as I pleased and be mon- 
 arch of all I surveyed. 
 
 227 
 
228 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Inviz was with me, and his comments upon labor, and 
 especially the labor of digging potatoes, added not a little 
 to my discontentment. 
 
 " Robinson Crusoe didn't have to dig taters," he said. 
 " He worked when he felt like it, and when he didn't 
 feel like it he took a walk or played with his pets or read 
 a chapter from the Bible." 
 
 " Thee's right ! " I responded. " And he didn't have to 
 go to meetin' to learn how to be good, neither." 
 
 Then I knelt down among the weeds and read another 
 page from the precious book; and the labor of digging 
 potatoes seemed harder than ever. 
 
 "Never mind," said Inviz. " When thee gets bigger 
 thee can run away to sea and be a sailor, and not have to 
 pick up taters for other people to eat." 
 
 Suddenly a loud rough voice roused me from my day- 
 dreaming and gave me such a start that I felt as if I had 
 really jumped out of my breeches. 
 
 " Hello, Bub ! Say, there ! " 
 
 I looked up quickly and my heart gave another tre- 
 mendous leap at the sight of three fierce-looking men 
 who had ridden unperceived up the lane and were now 
 sitting on their horses just outside of the gate. 
 
 " The slave hunters ! " whispered Inviz. " They've 
 come to take father and David to jail." 
 
 My feet seemed rooted to the ground. My tongue 
 was useless. My lips grew suddenly hot and feverish. 
 I could do nothing but stand and gaze. The men were 
 unlike any others I had ever seen. They were tall and 
 swarthy, and they wore beards on their upper lips — a 
 thing unheard of in the New Settlement and unknown 
 save in certain pictures of pirates and other outlandish 
 men. They wore broad-brimmed straw hats and high- 
 
" THE SLAVERS " 229 
 
 topped boots, the largest I had ever seen. Their saddles 
 were of a strange pattern, and around the horn of each 
 was coiled the lash of a long and slender hog whip. 
 
 ^' Hello, Bub!" repeated their leader. ''Does Mr. 
 Dudley live here ? " 
 
 I knew that I ought to answer him, but a great 
 trembling came over me and a lump rose up in my throat, 
 and I could not utter a sound. Oh, that I had the wings 
 of a bird ; I would fly away from these monsters of men ! 
 Then, to my intense relief, I saw mother coming down 
 the path from the house, anxiety enthroned in her face 
 and courageous resignation giving strength to her heart. 
 Every one of the horsemen pulled off his hat, very un- 
 necessarily and awkwardly, and their leader said: 
 
 " Good afternoon, ma'am ! Is this where Mr. Dudley 
 lives? " 
 
 " Mister Dudley? " answered mother with distinct em- 
 phasis upon the title. " No, there ain't any Mister Dud- 
 ley lives here, nor nowhere else that I know of." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said the man. " That is very strange ; for 
 we've been told by several persons that this is Stephen 
 Dudley's farm." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " exclaimed mother. '' If thee means 
 Stephen Dudley, then I must tell thee that this is where 
 he lives. But his name is jist plain Stephen, without 
 any Mister stuck on to it." 
 
 ''Well, then, madam," said the man, "is Stephen 
 Dudley at home ? " 
 
 " I must tell thee the truth," she answered tremblingly, 
 " but I wish I might tell thee otherwise. Yes, Stephen 
 is at home. Thee'll find him and the two boys in tlie 
 lower deadenin' over there, jist across the crick. If 
 thee'll listen thee can hear their axes now, where they 
 
230 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 are choppin' down some rail timber. Maybe thee'll like 
 for me to blow the horn and call 'em to the house? " 
 
 " That is hardly necessary," said the man. " But isn't 
 there some way by which we can ride to the place 
 where they are working? We are very anxious to see 
 Stephen about some business matters." 
 
 " I don't think Stephen has any business matters, and 
 I know the boys hain't. But if you men must see 
 Stephen, I don't want to put anything in your way; and 
 you can ride down to the deadenin' a good deal quicker'n 
 you can walk." 
 
 Then, turning to me, she said, " Robert, does thee 
 hear? Open the big gate so that the men can ride into 
 the barn lot. Then run across the barn lot and lay down 
 the bars, so they can ride into the stubble-field ; and don't 
 forgit to put the bars up again when they git through." 
 
 With much unwillingness and many fearful appre- 
 hensions, I went, submissively but slowly, to do her bid- 
 ding. In our house, obedience was the first command- 
 ment, and disobedience was not often known. But, after 
 I had opened the gate and laid down the bars, Inviz 
 came alongside of me and whispered in my ears: 
 ** Wouldn't it have been better to disobey mother rather 
 than betray father into the hands of these wicked men? " 
 
 And I answered, " I think so." 
 
 As the men rode into the barn lot, mother said, " After 
 you git through the bars, foller the plain wagon tracks 
 across the field and through the woods; cross the crick 
 at the ford above the foot log, not below it. Then keep 
 straight on to the deadenin'. You cain't help but find it." 
 
 The three men thanked her and lifted their hats again 
 as if they wanted to show her the nice linings inside. 
 Then, passing through the bars, they cantered briskly 
 
'' THE SLAVERS " 231 
 
 across the field and were soon lost to view among the 
 trees and underwoods in the bottom. I watched them 
 as long as they remained visible, and prayed earnestly 
 that a tree might fall and crush them, or that fire might 
 come out of Heaven and destroy them. 
 
 As I went back toward the house, the instinct of cour- 
 age and self-preservation, which I had inherited from a 
 remote and savage ancestry, grew up within me. Friend 
 though I was by accident of birth, noncombatant though 
 I was by reason of having nothing to combat, neverthe- 
 less I felt strongly inclined to take our old squirrel gun 
 from its pegs on the cabin wall, load it with buckshot 
 and sally forth to the defense of my poor persecuted 
 father and the innocent boys. With each step my cour- 
 age gained in size and momentum, and by the time I had 
 crossed the barn lot I felt myself fully able to attack and 
 overcome all three of those villainous emissaries of the 
 slave power — nay, if only opportunity should offer, I 
 would go forth single-handed to destroy the whole sys- 
 tem of human servitude. 
 
 Mother was waiting for me at the gate. 
 
 " What made thee tell 'em that father was at home ? '* 
 I asked explosively and with a feeling of great superi- 
 ority over womenfolks in general. 
 
 Between tears and a stolid determination to repress 
 them, she answered me : " Does thee want me to tell a 
 wicked story? Hain't I always told thee to speak the 
 truth, no matter what may come of it? I've lived nigh 
 on to fifty years, and I've never seen anything gained 
 by tellin' a lie. Them men wanted to know if father 
 was at home, and it was my duty to tell 'em." 
 
 " But they'll take father off to jail with 'em for help- 
 ing that good-for-nothing black Samuel," I retorted; 
 
232 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 '' and maybe they'll whip him with them long lashes, and 
 tie him up to a tree, and — and — kill him ! " 
 
 " Robert, thy father is a good man, and I know he 
 would never try to save hisself by tellin' a lie. He is a 
 great man, and I reckon he will always do what is right, 
 come what may." 
 
 She spoke with an earnestness that awed me into 
 silence and made me hang my head in shame. My 
 heroism had dwindled down to a point, and I was about 
 bursting into tears when Cousin Mandy Jane came up, 
 breathless with the excitement of running all the way 
 from the spring-house. 
 
 " Who was them there fellers that rid down to the 
 bottom jist now?" she inquired. 
 
 " They're slavers from Kentuck," I answered quickly, 
 assuming to know what I did not. '' I guess they're 
 lookin' for that black Samuel ; and maybe they'll take 
 father and David to jail." 
 
 " Sakes alive! I hope not," she ejaculated fervently. 
 " I jist got a glimpse of their backs as they went trottin' 
 across the clearin', t'other side of the crick. What kind 
 of lookin' fellers were they ? " 
 
 " Oh, thee ought to have seen 'em," said mother. 
 " They ain't the least bit pleasant-lookin', and they was 
 mighty queer in their actions. But I hope they mean 
 well." 
 
 " And they wore beards on their upper lips," I added ; 
 " and they carried long slave whips kwiled up on their 
 saddles. I shouldn't wonder if they would whip father 
 and David for bringing that Samuel up from the 'Hio." 
 
 " But how do you know that they're slavers ? " asked 
 Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " They looked wicked enough to be anything," said I. 
 
" THE SLAVERS " 233 
 
 And thus we three stood under the biggest of the 
 cherry trees and, with our eyes turned toward the lower 
 deadenin', speculated upon what might be the result of 
 this afternoon's business between the three mysterious 
 strangers and our three helpless, unoffending men- folks. 
 And as we talked and speculated, we listened. No sound 
 of ringing ax or of falling tree came to our ears. There 
 was an ominous silence like that which is fabled to pre- 
 cede the bursting of a storm. Could it be possible that 
 the slave hunters had carried our folks off to jail by 
 way of the back road, denying them the privilege of one 
 last look at the dear old cabin and all that it contained? 
 Or, what if they had murdered them, there in the lonely 
 woods, and then ridden away to Kentucky to boast of 
 their bloody deed ! The longer we speculated, the more 
 dreadful were our imaginings, the more dismal our fore- 
 bodings. How lucky that Aunt Rachel had gone off in 
 the opposite direction to gather her pennyrile and camo- 
 mile ! She at least was spared from sharing our anxiety. 
 
 At length, after long watching and vain listening, 
 mother retired into the weavin'-room, to wipe her eyes 
 and make believe that she was putting in the " chain for 
 the nev/ piece of flannen'' she was planning to weave. 
 With trembling steps and a sinking heart, I strolled cau- 
 tiously down, by the nearest way, to the " bottom," in- 
 tending, when my courage would let me, to cross boldly 
 over into the lower deadenin' and learn the dreadful 
 truth. But before I had gone half the distance all my 
 courage vanished, and turning in my tracks, I skulked, 
 like a coward, back to the safe shelter of the house and 
 the protecting presence of the womenfolks. 
 
 I found Aunt Rachel on the door-step busily assorting 
 her new stock of " yerbs " ; and I knew from her quiet 
 
234 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 manner that nobody had yet told her about our strange 
 visitors. Cousin Mandy Jane was preparing supper, 
 bravely concealing her emotions and reserving her 
 strength and her ejaculations until the time when the 
 worst should become known. She mixed the dough 
 for the usual number of corn dodgers; and having pat- 
 ted each dodger into shape with her big lusty fingers, 
 she laid them all in the baking skillet, put on the lid and 
 covered the whole with a thick layer of glowing coals. 
 Then she ran to the spring-house and brought up the 
 usual supply of milk and butter. She set the dishes on 
 the table, just as though nothing had happened. 
 
 '' I feel plumb sure that we won't never see father 
 and the boys ag'in," she whispered to me ; " but I ain't 
 goin' to let on till I have to." 
 
 Nevertheless, as she silently busied herself about the 
 cooking things, her hands trembled and her eyes filled 
 with tears and her apron was lifted to her face. We 
 stood side by side as, with a long wooden fork, she 
 tested the doneness of the " b'iled taters " in the dinner 
 pot; and with her lips close to my ear confessed the 
 fault tliat was bearing most heavily upon her guilty con- 
 science. 
 
 '' I've jist give up all hope," she said. " I wouldn't 
 'a' minded it half as much if I hadn't talked so ugly to 
 the boys sometimes, specially David. I've made up my 
 mind if it does happen that they ever do come back, 
 I'll do right smart better by 'em than I've ever done 
 afore." 
 
 And 4:hen she burst into such a fit of weeping that 
 Aunt Rachel heard her, and leaving her basket of 
 " yerbs " on the door-step, came hobbling into the cabin, 
 to inquire what was the matter. 
 
" THE SLAVERS " 235 
 
 " Oh, th' ain't nothin' the matter," the girl answered 
 peevishly. " I'm jist a havin' one of my spells of tan- 
 trums and I burnt my finger — that's all." 
 
 The afternoon was fast merging into evening. The 
 sun had dipped below the tops of the trees in the west 
 pasture. It was supper time, and still there was no sign 
 of the men-folks. It was unusual for them to stay in 
 the deadening till this late hour, and I began to fear that 
 our worst forebodings would soon be realized. 
 
 But Cousin Mandy Jane maintained an attitude of 
 courage which set a pattern for both mother and myself. 
 She took down from its peg the long tin horn that was 
 used to call the men-folks home from the fields, and 
 carefully wiped the mouthpiece. 
 
 " I know that somethin' has tuk place jist as we 
 thought maybe it would," she said ; " but no matter 
 what's happened, I'm bound not to give up till I'm jist 
 downright 'bleeged to." 
 
 She went out to the wood-pile, where she usually stood 
 when blowing the horn for supper. She raised the 
 tapering tube to her lips; she inflated her lungs for a 
 good strong blast; she puckered her mouth preparatory 
 to the supreme effort, and then — instead of blowing, 
 she suddenly let the old horn slip from her grasp and 
 cried out, '' Goodness, gracious, me! If that ain't them, 
 now ! " 
 
 There, indeed, were the men-folks, right before our 
 eyes! Jonathan was coming straight to the house from 
 the calf pasture and father and David were making a 
 detour to the spring-house, as was their custom, to per- 
 form their evening ablutions in the clear running stream. 
 They had approached from a direction exactly opposite 
 the lower deadenin', and our first thought was that they 
 
236 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 had eluded the '' slavers " by dodging around through the 
 corn-field and the big woods. But all seemed to be in a 
 fine good humor and not in the least afraid of slavers 
 or anything else. 
 
 " Don't thee mind about tootin' for us, Mandy ! " 
 shouted David, his great mouth expanding into a fear- 
 some grin. And Jonathan, his thin face beaming with 
 joy wrinkles, added, " Yes, Mandy Jane, save thy wind 
 till the cows come home." 
 
 What mystery was this that caused our men-folks to 
 be so uncommonly elated, even hilarious and overflow- 
 ing with animation? Even at the distance which sep- 
 arated the spring-house from our point of observation, 
 we could discern a strange telltale twinkle in father's 
 eyes which betrayed a feeling of satisfaction too over- 
 powering to be concealed. Surely, something wonderful 
 had happened. 
 
 While father and David were scrubbing their faces in 
 the spring-house, Jonathan came through the orchard 
 gate and joined us at the wood-pile. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! What in the world ? " cried Mandy 
 Jane, trying vainly to control her quaking voice. 
 
 The joy wrinkles in Jonathan's face deepened into 
 the broadest of smiles, but he made no reply. 
 
 '' We was afraid them slavers had done somethin' 
 awful to you," she quavered. 
 
 " What slavers ? " said Jonathan contemptuously. 
 " We hain't seen no slavers." 
 
 " Didn't you see them there queer-lookin' fellers that 
 rid down to the lower deadenin' to find you ? " she asked. 
 
 " They had beards on their upper lips and long hog 
 whips on their saddle horns," I explained, quite 
 gratuitously. 
 
"THE SLAVERS" 237 
 
 "Oh! them fellers?" said Jonathan. "Them warn't 
 no slavers. They was hog buyers from way clown on 
 the 'Hio." Then he sat down on the wood-pile and in- 
 dulged in a good laugh — not a loud, unbecoming, thigh- 
 slapping laugh, such as David would have delivered, but 
 a genteel, satisfied, chuckling laugh that made you long 
 to share his good fortune and his joy. 
 
 " Well, I never ! " ejaculated Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 " And what kind of business was it that they wanted 
 v/ith father?" 
 
 " Why, they're buyin' up all the hogs and cows they 
 can git hold of; and they're goin' to drive a big drove 
 of cattle to Nopplis next week; and then they'll put 'em 
 on the cars there and send 'em down to the 'Hio on the 
 railroad." 
 
 " And where have they gone to now ? " 
 
 " Oh ! they rid on out by the back way ; but I tell thee 
 we had right smart of business, a-traipsin' all over the 
 pasturs and a-lookin' at the live critters ! " 
 
 " Sakes alive! " 
 
 "Yes, and what does thee think? They bought 
 father's dry cow and David's two ye'rlin's and the red 
 bull ; and they paid half the money, cash down." 
 
 " Well, I declare ! " 
 
 " Yes, and that ain't all. They bought all the fat- 
 tenin' hogs — sixteen head of father's and ten head of 
 David's and eight head of mine; and they're goin' to 
 let us feed 'em till the ground frizzes up so they can 
 drive 'em to Nopplis and butcher 'em standin'." 
 
 " I guess that'll bring thee a right smart lot of money, 
 won't it ? " 
 
 " Thee guesses right, Mandy Jane. But what does 
 thee think? I sold 'em my yoke of steers, and they're 
 
238 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 goin' to pay me thirty dollars, cash down, when they 
 come to git 'em next week." 
 
 " Laws a me, Jonathan ! What will thee do with so 
 much money ? " 
 
 " Thee knows," he answered, twisting the corners of 
 his mouth and trying to wink one eye. " Hain't I told 
 thee that when I sold them there steers I was goin' to 
 buy that forty-acre piece over by the Corners ? " 
 
 " It will take more than thirty dollars to do that," I 
 ventured to remark. 
 
 " And hain't I got it ? " the young man exclaimed 
 somewhat savagely. " I've been a-savin' up for a right 
 smart spell ; and father he's goin' to lend me enough 
 to make up the difference — and then, and then — " 
 
 " And then I reckon thee and Esther will be a-givin' 
 in at meetin'," suggested Cousin Mandy Jane in a voice 
 that was soothing and sweet. 
 
 " Thee's right!" and Jonathan jerked savagely at his 
 galluses and looked both sheepish and triumphant. 
 
 " S'posin' Old Enick won't let thee have her. What'll 
 thee do then?" 
 
 " I'll have her anyhow. 'Tain't none of Old Enick's 
 business. She's of age. She's a Lamb, she ain't no 
 Fox." 
 
 " But he'll git up in meetin' and say thee cain't have 
 her." 
 
 " Well, jist let him git up. Who keers for what Old 
 Enick says? If he won't let us git spliced in meetin', 
 we'll take the short cut and git spliced out of meetin'." 
 
 " Oh, Jonathan ! Would thee do sich a wicked thing 
 as that?" 
 
 ** Well, I might if I was driv to it ; but don't thee tell 
 nobody ; " and he rose to go into the cabin. 
 
" THE SLAVERS " 239 
 
 Father and David were coming up the path from the 
 spring-house, and mother, her eyes swollen and red, was 
 issuing with undignified haste from the weavin'-room. 
 
 '' Well ! I guess the supper's been waitin' for you 
 men-folks a right smart spell," she remarked by way of 
 greeting. It was not in her nature to betray the feelings 
 of her heart. 
 
 But father was somewhat less guarded. " Mother," 
 he said, " the markets have surely and truly come to our 
 very doors." 
 
 And as we sat at the table, he told her of the good 
 fortune that had come to us that afternoon through the 
 medium of the supposed " slavers." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 
 
 FATHER could not conceal his interest in the Great 
 Moral Exhibition that was soon to appear for the 
 first and only time in the growing city of Dashville. He 
 did not say much about it, but his actions betrayed most 
 unmistakably the thoughts that were uppermost in his 
 heart. He liked to linger over the small poster sheet 
 which David had brought home, to admire the rov/ of 
 animal pictures around the border, and to reread the 
 flamboyant description of the various attractions which 
 gave to this exhibition its unique and never-to-be-ex- 
 celled character as an educator of youth. The '' purty 
 paper," instead of being tacked up in the big-house as at 
 first suggested, was nailed upon the wall of the cabin, 
 directly under my library shelf, and in that convenient 
 location it was the subject of daily study and admiration 
 on the part of every member of the family. 
 
 " I think that Robert would be greatly benefited by 
 seeing those wonderful animals," said father ; " but very 
 likely the show is to some extent a place of idle diversion, 
 and I don't feel quite free to take him there." 
 
 " What does the Bible say about such things ? " asked 
 mother. 
 
 " I can not recall any passage that refers to animal 
 shows," he answered ; " but thee will remember that 
 animals are often mentioned. There was the great fish 
 
 240 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 241 
 
 that swallowed Jonah, and the bears that devoured the 
 bad children when they laughed at the prophet's bald 
 head, and the jackass that talked to Balaam. All these 
 teach good moral lessons, but so far as my memory 
 serves me, nothing is said about menageries or great 
 moral exhibitions." 
 
 Then, to satisfy his mind and dispel his doubts, he re- 
 examined the Bible from beginning to end to make sure 
 whether there were any denunciations against animal 
 shows or against the people who attended them; but he 
 found not one. Next, he looked in the '' Discipline " of 
 which he had always been an earnest student; he turned 
 over the leaves of George Fox's Journal and of Penn's 
 No Cross no Crown and of John Woolman's writings. 
 In all these he found many testimonies against vain 
 amusements and worldly diversions, but not a word in 
 depreciation of moral exhibitions or in opposition to the 
 wholesome instruction of young people by means of well 
 conducted menageries of wild animals. The result of his 
 investigations was the removal of a great weight from 
 his mind. 
 
 At the supper table on Third-day evening, after a pro- 
 longed study of the poster sheet, he said to me suddenly : 
 
 " Well, Robert, how would thee like to go to the Great 
 Moral Exhibition to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Oh, father ! May I go ? " I cried, scarcely daring 
 to imagine that such a treat could be possible. 
 
 " Yes, I feel free to say that thee has my consent ; and 
 I will take thee to Dashville in the wagon and will see 
 that no harm comes to thee." 
 
 " But, Stephen," said mother, with a note of warning 
 in her voice, '' is thee right sure that thy mind is clear 
 to do this thing?" 
 
242 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ** Yes, it is very clear," he answered. '' I have been 
 wrestling with this matter ever since David brought us 
 that paper, and I am free to say that it is all right. 
 Does thee remember what Benjamin Seafoam said when 
 he was here ? He said, * Give that boy every opportunity 
 for improvement that comes in his way. He will profit 
 by it to his own well-being and the glory of God.' Now, 
 I've studied this question, pro and con, as the lawyers 
 say, and I have reached the conclusion that it is right 
 for me to take Robert to see those wild animals." 
 
 " Well, I don't know anything about them pros and 
 cons," returned mother; "but thee knows what skinners 
 them lawyers is, and thee'd better not take their word 
 for it." 
 
 '' I am not taking anybody's word," said father. " I 
 am obeying the Inner Light, and I feel that my mind 
 is clear. Robert must go to this instructive exhibition, 
 and if any of the rest of the family wish to go, I shan't 
 object to taking them also." 
 
 " Well, Stephen, what thee says about things is 'most 
 always right," said mother resignedly ; *' but animal 
 shows and menageries ain't for sich folks as me. Mandy 
 Jane and the boys may go; but my mind is clear to 
 stay at home and tend to things." 
 
 " Same way with me ! " croaked Aunt Rachel, amid 
 the shadows. '' I'd rother set by the warm fire with 
 some good tobacker than see all the bears and monkeys 
 that ever was." 
 
 " That's right ! " said Jonathan, his mouth full of hot 
 mush. " I'd rother save my money than spend it to see 
 any amount of tarnal animiles. What good would it 
 do? I'm goin' to finish sowin' that patch of wheat to- 
 morrow, show or no show." 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 243 
 
 But David slapped his thigh and declared that he 
 " didn't keer if it rained pitchforks he was bound to 
 go along with father and help take keer of Towhead 
 while he looks at them there animiles. And," he added, 
 " we'll drive the two young fillies to the wagon and let 
 the folks at Dashville see what sort of horses grows over 
 here in the New Settlement." 
 
 As for Cousin Mandy Jane, she of course was de- 
 lighted with the prospect of a day's release from the 
 endless routine of housekeeping and other domestic 
 duties. '' I hain't been furder than the Four Corners 
 in goodness knows when," she said ; " and I think it'll do 
 me as much good as Robert to see all them things at the 
 moral show." 
 
 And so the preliminaries being settled, the rest of the 
 evening was devoted by the entire family to the making 
 of preparations for the eventful journey on the morrow. 
 
 Until very late in the night I lay awake in my trundle- 
 bed, and with Inviz close beside me, enjoyed in antici- 
 pation the wonderful experiences which, I felt sure, were 
 to be realized on the morrow. And Inviz whispered 
 beautiful tales in my ear, and told me that I would see 
 much more of the world than was visible from the 
 top of our oak tree; I would see a mighty river and a 
 busy city, things hitherto known to me only through 
 books ; and I would also see strange people — perhaps 
 some very wicked people who had never been to 
 meetin' ; and more than all, I would see a great many 
 real live animals, and the sight of them would somehow 
 make me much wiser and more moral. O my dear 
 Leonidas, my dear Leona, if you should chance during 
 the period of your frivolous lives to make a dozen trips 
 to Europe or Cathay, your pre-enjoyment of them all 
 
244 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 will never be equal to that which was mine on that ever 
 memorable night that heralded my first broader outlook 
 upon the world! 
 
 We started quite early in the morning. The air was 
 sharp and bracing, although not cold; and the wagon, 
 with the pair of frisky young horses attached and David 
 at the lines, went rattling along the road at a speed that 
 put all our meetin'-going records to shame. Father sat 
 on the driver's board with David, erect and silent, but 
 less dignified and more human than he usually appeared 
 when journeying abroad. Cousin Mandy Jane, with the 
 long strings of her blue sunbonnet fluttering in the wind, 
 was seated on the straw at the bottom of the wagon bed, 
 mute for very happiness, and lost in silent contemplation 
 of the pink figures on her new calico dress so lately 
 brought from the 'Hio. As for myself, I chose to squat 
 on the bag of horse feed at the rear of the wagon, where 
 I could be alone and enjoy without interruption the 
 sights and sounds along the road. 
 
 I was dressed, not in Little William's clothes — for 
 I had outgrown them — but in a new suit which mother, 
 with great labor and half -concealed pride, had just com- 
 pleted for me. My legs were encased in a pair of brown 
 jeans breeches which reached to my ankles. My shirt, 
 which was my special pride, was of scarlet '' flannen," 
 and was cut large to give me plenty of room to grow. 
 And instead of a coat I wore a short blue robin of fine 
 linsey-woolsey, the collar of which, although exceeding 
 plain, was stiff, and very uncomfortable as it rubbed 
 against my ears. My great shock of towy hair was sur- 
 mounted by that same old nondescript cap which Aunt 
 Rachel had knitted from lamb's wool and dyed brown in 
 the juice of black walnuts. Of course, my feet were 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 245 
 
 bare — for what boy was ever known to wear shoes be- 
 fore the first snowfall came! — but they had been 
 scrubbed to perfect cleanness and were nothing to be 
 ashamed of. 
 
 The ride as far as the Four Corners was devoid of 
 interest, for every part of the road was familiar to me. 
 But when at length the long causeway through the marsh 
 was safely crossed, and we had surmounted the hill be- 
 yond it, we entered into a region which to me was a 
 veritable ter?'a incognita. 
 
 The rest of the journey was therefore a voyage of 
 discovery. The road led us by straight and narrow 
 ways through a remnant of the big woods, where the 
 ax of the settler had as yet scarcely been heard. We 
 passed a few small cabins, squatted conveniently near the 
 roadside and surrounded by half-clad children, weed- 
 choked garden patches and lonely deadenin's. Farther 
 on, the country became more civilized, and long before 
 we reached Dashville my eyes were gladdened by the 
 sight of broad fields and green meadows and yellowing 
 orchards much like those in our own New Settlement. 
 Everywhere there were evidences of the great autumn 
 rains that had recently fallen throughout that section of. 
 the country. The numerous mudholes were full of 
 water; in the woods, the low places were naught but 
 shallow pools ; the brooks — but no, there were no brooks 
 in those days — the branches, I should have said, were 
 full to the brink and running over. 
 
 " I reckon we won't ford the river to-day," remarked 
 father. 
 
 " I kinder think not," said David. '' It's my 'pinion 
 we'll find her a-b'ilin' like blazes." 
 
 Soon after leaving the big woods behind us, we came 
 
2^6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 into a broader and better road which showed signs of 
 much travel, and David remarked that it was the main 
 highway between Dashville and the wild prairie country 
 of Terry Hut. Here we soon became aware that other 
 people besides ourselves were that day seeking to im- 
 prove their minds and cultivate their moral perceptions. 
 One wagon after another, filled with gaily-dressed and 
 evidently very worldly people, overtook and passed us. 
 Plain farmers with their wives and children, some on 
 horseback and some on foot, were plodding along in the 
 same direction, all headed toward the place where the 
 Great Moral Exhibition was about to hold forth. 
 
 Presently we overtook a very tired and mud-bedrag- 
 gled Friend whom I recognized as one of the overseers 
 of our meetin'. His name was Abner Jones, and he 
 was noted for his zeal in looking after such of the mem- 
 bers as were prone to fall into ungodly ways. He stood 
 by the roadside and looked up at us so shamefacedly 
 that I am sure father was inwardly shaking with laughter 
 although outwardly he appeared as solemn as a meetin'- 
 house on First-day mornin'. 
 
 *' How's thee, Abner?" he said pleasantly to the way- 
 farer. 
 
 " Howdy, Stephen," was the response. 
 
 "If thee's going to town, thee might as well get in and 
 ride with us," said father. 
 
 " Well, I s'pose it's just as cheap ridin' as walkin'," 
 returned Abner ; and without another w^ord he climbed 
 into the wagon, shook hands with us all, and sat down on 
 the straw beside Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " I see thee's like the rest of us," said father ; " thee's 
 on thy way to the Great Moral Exhibition." 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 247 
 
 " What ! " answered Abner indignantly. " If thee 
 means the big show that I've heerd somethin' about, 
 thee's mightily mistaken. I want thee to understand that 
 I'm not so worldly-minded as to be a-traipsin' all the way 
 to Dashville jist to see that abomination of desolation." 
 
 '* Well, but, Abner," returned father, " thee knows that 
 a man is judged by the company he keeps; and thee 
 seems to be going in the same direction with the rest of 
 us." 
 
 " Yes, I'm goin' to Dashville," said the good man ; " but 
 I'm not after seein' no worldly diversions. Thee knows 
 that the county court is goin' to set there to-morrow, 
 and I thought I'd walk over there to-day to see if I 
 couldn't git put on the jury. Fifty cents a day ain't 
 no bad wages in wet weather like this when I cain't be 
 a-plowin'." 
 
 '* Then I understand that thee has no desire to see the 
 wild animals ? " said father. 
 
 " Desire ! Why, that's the very furdest from my 
 thoughts. I'd scorn to look at them animiles even if they 
 went right before my eyes. This show business is all 
 a delusion and a snare, and them that indulges in goin' 
 to see it is openly violatin' the discipline of Our Society." 
 
 " Well, my mind is clear," answered father com- 
 posedly; and squaring himself around on the driver's 
 seat, he plainly intimated that the discussion was ended. 
 
 For some time we rode onward in silence, each one 
 of us wrapped in his own contemplations. The road was 
 very muddy and our progress was slow. Friend Abner 
 fidgeted uneasily in his seat on the straw ; but aside from 
 an occasional brief remark to Cousin Mandy Jane, he 
 held his tongue. He would have been delighted to en- 
 
248 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 gage in some doctrinal controversy, but he knew that 
 father was in no humor to hsten to him and that the 
 better part of valor at the present time was silence. 
 
 And thus we proceeded for a mile, for two miles and 
 perhaps more, without a single incident occurring tO' 
 break the monotony of the tedious journey. But there 
 was something on Abner's mind ; he was possessed of 
 an interesting bit of news, and the farther we proceeded 
 the more anxious he became to impart it to us and thus 
 exhibit his superior knowledge. Finally, human nature 
 could be repressed no longer. Pointing to some peculiar 
 indentations in the roadway, he suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 " Stephen, does thee see them there holes in the mud? 
 Thee cain't guess what they air." 
 
 " So far as I can judge," answered father, " they ap- 
 pear to be holes in the mud." 
 
 " They look like the tracks of some big animile," said 
 Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " Thee's right, Mandy," remarked Abner. '' That's 
 what they air. Them biggest ones is elephant tracks and 
 them queer-lookin' ones is camel tracks. They do say 
 that two cages of wild animiles and a elephant and a 
 camel went along this road last evenin', a-goin' to Dash- 
 ville — and them's the tracks of 'em." 
 
 " Gee whiz, alive ! " shouted David. '' Does thee say 
 them's elephant tracks? Why, they look like holes that 
 some feller's made by jammin' a bee-gum into the mud 
 eendwise. Thee'd never believe that any animile could 
 make sich tracks as them." 
 
 '' Well, Abner, I'm astonished," said father. *' I'm not 
 astonished at those tracks, but I'm astonished that thee 
 is so worldly-minded as to look at such things. Surely, 
 if thy eyes are so holy as to scorn the sight of a few 
 
 < 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 249 
 
 harmless beasts, it is not at all safe for thee to look at 
 their tracks." 
 
 The tension was relaxed, and even Abner smiled at 
 the good-natured sally. All of us began to look eagerly 
 for more of the wonderful tracks, and each one ventured 
 to make remarks upon their varied shapes and the great 
 strides which the strange beasts had made while march- 
 ing along the muddy highway. And thus in gayer mood 
 We proceeded on our journey. 
 
 It was about noon when we reached the brink of the 
 great stream which I had never known by any other 
 name than " the river." The approach to it was over a 
 long causeway, or corduroy road, which wound through 
 a labyrinth of bayous all full to the brim with muddy 
 water. The river itself was on a rampage, in places 
 overflowing the banks and flooding the bottom lands on 
 both sides of the stream. It looked to me much like 
 our crick at home, only it was ten times wider and 
 nobody knew how deep. 
 
 With much chuckling and whooping to the fillies, 
 
 David drove our wagon up on a broad dry portion of the 
 
 river bank, and stopped. With wondering eyes I looked 
 
 across the vast lake-like stream, and a feeling of awe 
 
 crept into my heart as I thought of its tremendous depth. 
 
 j Its width was not more than a hundred yards — a good 
 
 I strong stone's-throw for David — yet to my unpractised 
 
 vision the expanse seemed ocean-like. On the farther 
 
 side there was a range of bluffs rising at least ten feet 
 
 I above the water's level — a tremendous height — and 
 
 I some distance beyond, on still loftier ground, I could see 
 
 a collection of houses which I rightly conjectured was 
 
 f the metropolis of Dashville. 
 
 And now my eyes were attracted by a strange object 
 
250 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 floating upon the surface of the water and evidently 
 moving toward the opposite shore. A moment's obser- 
 vation convinced me that it was a boat — but how dif- 
 ferent from the boats I had read about or seen in pic- 
 tures ! It was a flat-bottomed craft and looked not 
 unlike the big thrashing floor in our barn, except that 
 it was larger and was surrounded by a strong wooden 
 railing and chains to keep people from falling over- 
 board. I looked in vain for masts, or sails, or oars — • 
 there was none ; but I observed that, to the up-stream 
 side of the floating platform, a pair of strong ropes 
 were attached, and these were fastened by means of 
 pulleys to a much larger rope which extended entirely 
 across the river, each end being firmly lashed to the 
 trunk of a giant tree. Two men with long slender 
 poles, which they thrust to the bottom of the stream, 
 were pushing the boat slowly along, while in it stood 
 a dozen men, women, and children, three or four dogs, 
 as many saddle-horses, and a large wagon with a team 
 of horses attached. It was quite clear to me that the ob- 
 ject of the ropes was to prevent the sluggish current from 
 carrying the vessel down-stream, while at the same time 
 they guided the boat straight across from one landing- 
 place to the other. 
 
 " It's the ferryboat," said Cousin Mandy Jane, anxious 
 to give me some useful information. " Folks has to 
 cross on it, when the river's up like it is now, 'cause 
 the water's too deep to be forded. When the river's 
 down, folks can drive right over through the riffle 'cause 
 then the water don't come above the wagon hubs." 
 
 *' And must we cross on the ferryboat?" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," she answered ; " but thee needn't be 
 skeered. I've crossed on it twice, and it's jist as safe 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 251 
 
 as settin' here in the wagon. There ain't a speck of 
 danger;' 
 
 I watched the great ugly craft as it was slowly poled 
 to the opposite shore. With much plodding care, as 
 though the fate of empires depended on it, the captain 
 and crew (there being one of each) succeeded in moor- 
 ing it securely to the little landing-place at the foot of the 
 '* bluffs " ; the guard chains were let down, and the load 
 of passengers and freight was disgorged. Then after a 
 long and most unreasonable delay, the mooring ropes 
 were thrown off and the empty boat was poled back to 
 the landing where we were waiting. 
 
 Of what occurred during the next half-hour I have 
 but a confused recollection, for the excitement of the 
 occasion almost unnerved me. I realized the fact that 
 David had driven our wagon upon the ferryboat, that 
 a great crowd of people had followed it on foot, that 
 there was much talking and shouting and shoving, that 
 the captain and crew were pushing their poles down in 
 the water and making the awkward vessel glide strangely 
 out into the stream while the waves rolled threateningly 
 around us. But everything was so new to me, so fear- 
 ful, so confusing, that I had no distinct conception of 
 what was being done. I crouched on the straw near 
 Cousin Mandy Jane, and with the energy of despair, 
 clutched the corner of her apron and waited for the dire 
 confusion to subside. The scraping of the poles, the 
 babel of voices, the roaring of the waves increased; and 
 my courage so utterly forsook me that I dared not raise 
 my head above the level of the dashboard or turn my 
 eyes toward the furious depths over which we were 
 floating. I thought then of poor Robinson Crusoe and 
 his dreadful plight when his boat was swallowed up by 
 
252 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the waves, and like him I was ready to cry out, " O 
 God ! " Never, never again would I plan to be a sailor 
 and run away to sea. 
 
 By and by, to my inexpressible relief, I heard the 
 cheerful grating of the ferryboat against the landing- 
 place on the farther shore ; I heard the captain shouting ; 
 there was a trampling of many feet ; and then our wagon 
 began to move forward, and in another moment the 
 wheels were crunching the pebbles in the solid road at 
 the foot of the great bluffs. I raised myself up and 
 peeped over the edge of the wagon bed. The mighty 
 river was being left behind us ; the young fillies were 
 trotting briskly along the highway ; we had already 
 entered the outskirts of the metropolis of Dashville. 
 
 Yes, this was Dashville — our county seat, the growing 
 city that was soon to outstrip Nopplis in population and 
 even put to shame those boastful centers of trade on the 
 'Hio, Larnceburg and Madison ! My great first fright 
 having left me, I now boldly stood up behind father and 
 looked eagerly around in order that no sight or sound 
 might escape me. But alas ! the newness, the multi- 
 plicity of strange things, brought still further bewilder- 
 ment. It was like hearing a dozen different but most 
 exquisite melodies all at the same time ; you are charmed 
 by their variety and beauty, but in the end you have 
 no distinct recollection of any one of them — you re- 
 tain simply the consciousness that the whole performance 
 was very, very wonderful. 
 
 I remember that for some little distance we drove 
 between two rows of most beautiful houses, some of 
 which were painted as white as snow; and there were 
 great crowds of men and women and children rushing 
 this way and that, as if they did not know what they 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 253 
 
 were about; and at the place where we finally left the 
 horses and wagon, good Abner Jones bade us a hearty 
 farewell and departed to look after his job as juryman. 
 And now there was such a multiplicity of strange sounds 
 and rude people, and so much jostling and crowding, 
 that I would gladly have given up my dearest possessions 
 if only I could have been suddenly transported back to 
 our peaceful, quiet cabin home. I clung to father's coat 
 tail, lest I should be lost in the dreadful crowd; and I 
 scarcely dared raise my eyes lest some evil-minded per- 
 son should see me and do me harm. 
 
 The tent of the Great Moral Exhibition was standing 
 in a field at the farther end of the town, and thither 
 we directed our steps. A flag of red and white stripes, 
 with a cluster of stars on a blue ground in one corner, 
 was floating from a pole at the center of the tent. It 
 was the first flag that I had ever seen ; but I knew what 
 it was and what it represented, having read about it in 
 my geography, and my heart swelled with patriotism and 
 pride as I saw it floating in the wind. The crowd in the 
 show grounds was even greater than that in the street, 
 and there were a thousand things to excite my wonder 
 and fill my mind with bewilderment. The many strange 
 sounds, the shouting of the lemonade man, the hoarse 
 cries of the barker at the door of the fat woman's tent, 
 the occasional roar of an invisible lion, the neighing of 
 horses — all these, being mingled in one messy jumble, 
 completely deprived me of every feeling of enjoyment. 
 
 We stopped at a covered wagon, near the entrance to 
 the big tent, in order, as I supposed, to admire a man 
 who was holding a number of bank bills between his 
 fingers and talking very loud about the numerous at- 
 tractions to be seen inside. On the rough table beside 
 
254 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 him there were two stacks of beautifully printed cards, 
 some red and some blue. Presently father stepped up to 
 him and asked: 
 
 " What is the price of tickets to thy show ? " 
 
 " Thirty-one and a quarter cents — children half 
 price," was the lordly answer. 
 
 " I thought thee advertised the price to be only twenty- 
 five cents," said father, in a tone that was both firm, and 
 dignified. 
 
 " A twenty-five cent ticket admits you only to see the 
 animals," answered the man ; " but if you pay the extra 
 fip you will be permitted to remain and see the circus 
 which begins at two o'clock." 
 
 " I care nothing for thy circus," said father ; '' but we 
 should like to see thy animals and be profited by the 
 Great Moral Exhibition which thee has so freely ad- 
 vertised. So I will take three twenty-five-cent tickets 
 for me and David and Mandy Jane, and one half-price 
 ticket for the little boy; — that will be eighty-seven-and 
 a-half cents ; " and he began to count out the money. 
 
 " But you had better stay for the circus," said the man, 
 looking at me very kindly as if he saw the buddings of 
 genius sprouting from my eyebrows. " The circus is 
 the principal part of our Great Moral Exhibition; and 
 I see that you have a little boy with you. What is his 
 name? " 
 
 " Robert Dudley," answered father. 
 
 " Well, now, it would be a pity to deprive Robert 
 Dudley of the pleasure and wholesome moral instruction 
 afforded by our world-famous, chaste, magnanimous and 
 soul-stirring circus performance which is free to all for 
 the very modest sum of one fip. Let me advise you, 
 for that boy's sake if for nothing else, stay and see the 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 255 
 
 circus. The tickets for your whole party will cost you 
 only a dollar and ten cents." 
 
 "Well," said father in a strangely hesitating tone, 
 '' my mind is not quite clear. Yet, since thee recom- 
 mends it so highly, here is the price." 
 
 The man took the money and gave him the tickets. 
 I was utterly ignorant of the uses of such things, and 
 I hoped that father, having no particular admiration for 
 the pretty cards, would give them to me to lay on my 
 library shelf with my other literary treasures. But alas! 
 I was doomed to disappointment; for as we passed 
 through the narrow entrance into the tent, a villainous- 
 looking fellow with a long black beard, reached out his 
 hand and took every one of the costly bits of paper. 
 I expected that father would kindly remonstrate; but 
 no ! he did not appear to be at all disturbed, but walked 
 onward, as dignified and self-possessed as though he 
 
 I were entering the meetin'-house at Dry Forks. Ah! if 
 
 i the bearded villain had only known what sort of man it 
 
 was he had robbed, he would have returned the tickets 
 
 promptly and vowed to live an honest life forever after ! 
 
 And now, the noise and confusion seemed to be re- 
 
 i doubled, and had not Cousin Mandy Jane taken my trem- 
 bling hand in hers, I verily believe I should have collapsed 
 into unconsciousness. For what were those indescribable 
 
 ; sounds that were issuing continuously from a sort of 
 platform at the farther side of the tent? It seemed to 
 me that all the beasts and birds in that '' magnanimous " 
 and instructive moral show were groaning, growling, 
 yelling, screeching, in one united chorus ; and to add 
 volume to the discordant uproar, some strong-lunged 
 person seemed to be blowing a dinner horn while another 
 with a club was beating lustily upon an empty salt barrel. 
 
256 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Shivers of something that was not exactly fear ran down 
 my backbone, my knees grew weak, and my lips quivered 
 almost to the point of blubbering. Then, suddenly, the 
 remembrance came to me of the long line of noble 
 ancestors that had lived in former days and borne the 
 name of Dudley — and not a single coward among them ; 
 and the thought added courage to my heart and dispelled 
 every lingering fear. 
 
 The sounds grew louder and shriller as we advanced, 
 and I was more and more puzzled to make out their 
 origin and cause. Could it be that all the beasts of the 
 show were huddled together in that one spot beside the 
 platform, and that their yowling and screeching were a 
 part of the regular program of the great show ? Strange 
 to say, but few of the people in the tent seemed to notice 
 the sounds at all, and none was the least bit frightened. 
 
 Presently the crowd around us separated, and we had 
 a very distinct view of the platform whence the sounds 
 most certainly issued. There were no wild beasts near 
 it or upon it; but it was occupied by a dozen red-faced 
 men with caps on their heads and big brass buttons on 
 their coats. Some of these men were blowing into 
 funnily-shaped horns, and some were playing on what 
 David said were fiddles, and a boy, with a hammer in 
 each hand, was beating upon the two ends of a short 
 barrel as though his life depended upon it. So, here 
 was the cause of all those strange sounds ! It was 
 certainly nothing to be afraid of. 
 
 " That's the brass band ! " whispered Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. 
 
 "Where?" I asked. "What?" 
 
 " Why, them there men, with the horns and other 
 things. They're makin' music." 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 25; 
 
 " Is that great noise music?" 
 
 " Certainly ! Ain't it purty ? " 
 
 Then suddenly my conscience smote me. Music, in- 
 deed ! What business had we to be listening to it? Had 
 I not been taught from infancy that music, and espe- 
 cially instrumental music, was an idle diversion, a profit- 
 less amusement and therefore a thing religiously to be 
 avoided ? And this was music ! I was familiar with the 
 music of nature, the singing of the birds, the whistling 
 of the winds, the indescribable melodies that were rife 
 in the fields and woods throughout every summer day — 
 but this was the first man-made music I had ever heard. 
 Was I doing right to listen to it ? I looked up at father. 
 Deep solemnity was in his face, and he appeared puzzled 
 and ill at ease. I knew he was not clear in his mind. 
 
 ** We will go over to the cages and look at the wild 
 beasts," he said. 
 
 As I remember, there were not more than a dozen 
 cages, all told ; and having once arrived in their vicinity, I 
 gave myself up wholly to the observation of the strange 
 creatures that were confined in them. The tooting and 
 banging of the brass band were forgotten, the surging 
 and confusion of the crowds ceased to give me concern. 
 With David on one side of me, and Cousin Mandy Jane 
 on the other, while father took the lead, I successfully 
 made the rounds of the most resplendent menagerie on 
 earth. We looked at the half-dozen ridiculous monkeys, 
 the two grizzly bears, the young lion (which I now think 
 was only a huge dog), the horned horse, the wonderful 
 ostrich, the porcupine, the zebra; and at each cage we 
 lingered long, making such comments as came into our 
 minds, and comparing the real animal with its picture 
 in my animal book at home. 
 
258 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 "Jist look at that there big animile with his tail a 
 stickin' out atween his eyes," David remarked. 
 
 '' Oh, that is the elephant," I said, quickly recognizing 
 the mighty beast ; '' and that long thing is not his tail, 
 but his trunk." 
 
 " Laws' sakes ! " cried Cousin Mandy Jane. " Ain't 
 he a whopper though? I wonder what he carries in 
 that there trunk of his'n." 
 
 And thus each beast received its due amount of 
 admiration and wonder. 
 
 The hour passed rapidly. We had made two full 
 rounds of the cages, not neglecting to pay due honor 
 to the one lone camel and the pair of Shetland ponies 
 which seemed to me worth more than all the rest of the 
 menagerie. We had viewed with becoming awe the 
 bushy-haired lady who had kindly come all the way 
 from Circassia, that breeding place of beauty, to ex- 
 hibit herself to the wondering eyes of Hoosier back- 
 woodsers. We were about to start on our third round, 
 when the blare of the brass band and the stentorian 
 voice of the master showman announced that the circus 
 performance was about to begin. 
 
 We stood still in a convenient place of vantage, and 
 watched closely in order that we might not miss any of 
 the great moral lessons that were about to be presented. 
 A pair of clowns who excited our sincerest pity because 
 of their evident lack of intelligence, were the first to ap- 
 pear in the sawdust ring. Their jokes were no doubt 
 original and extremely funny, savoring of the ancient 
 wit with which Noah's sons amused themselves during 
 their voyage over the mountains; but, so far as our 
 little party was concerned, all their efiforts fell upon 
 barren ground, provoking not a smile. Then, amid a 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 259 
 
 renewed blaring from the brass band, a wonderful and 
 indescribable creature came floating out into the center 
 of the arena. Its gauzy wings, attenuated waist and 
 semi-transparent skirt reminded me of nothing so much 
 as a huge butterfly ; but it was not a butterfly, for it had 
 only two legs and its head bore some remote resemblance 
 to that of a human being. It pirouetted for a moment 
 around the center pole of the big tent, and then, stand- 
 ing tiptoe on one foot, raised the other leg to an angle 
 of twenty degrees above the horizon, and — . I saw no 
 more, for father at that juncture suddenly seized my arm, 
 and turning toward the door, said commandingly to 
 David and Cousin Mandy Jane : 
 
 *' Come ! It's time for us to go home ! " 
 
 With long strides and dignified mien he led the way 
 through the crowd of gaping spectators, scarcely glancing 
 to the right or the left, but firmly holding my hand as 
 though he feared I would look backward and thus meet 
 the fate of Lot's wife. We had advanced almost to the 
 open door and were beginning to smell the air of the 
 blessed fields, when suddenly we came squarely upon 
 Abner Jones, standing with his mouth open and gazing 
 enraptured at the performance in the ring. Father could 
 not pass him in silence ; with his free hand he suddenly 
 twitched the saintly man's coat tail, at the same time 
 calling sharply, '' Abner ! " 
 
 Abner was so startled that he fell over against the 
 canvas wall of the tent and recovered his feet with dif- 
 ficulty. 
 
 " Abner, I'm surprised to see thee here," said father 
 very deliberately. 
 
 '' Oh, I — I — I ain't here to — to — to — to look at 
 them there animiles," he stuttered. *' I j-jist come in to 
 
26o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 look for Judge Davis and try to g-g-g-git him to put me 
 on that jury. Has thee seen him?" 
 
 "No," answered father in his severest tones : " but 
 I've seen a hypocrite ; " and he proceeded calmly on his 
 way, while we three followed him, not daring to glance 
 behind, not venturing to utter a word. 
 
 We walked straightway across the fields and soon came 
 to the public hitching-posts where we had left the wagon 
 and the team of fillies ; and while father and David were 
 putting things in readiness for the homeward journey, 
 Cousin Mandy Jane and I climbed silently over the tail- 
 board of the wagon and sat down on the straw. There 
 was a strange expression in father's face — an expres- 
 sion which sometimes came to him in his kindliest and 
 most thoughtful moods, and I fancied that he was in- 
 wardly striving to overcome all the ugly feelings which 
 the events of the afternoon had aroused. As he climbed 
 up to his place on the driver's board he looked back at 
 me very tenderly and said: 
 
 " Well, Robert, which of all the animals did thee like 
 best?" 
 
 " The ponies," I answered. " I would rather have 
 them than anything else in the world." 
 
 " And thee, Mandy Jane ? " 
 
 " I kinder think I liked the elephant best," she 
 answered ; *' he was so big and solemn like, and so 
 queer all over." 
 
 "And thee, David?" 
 
 ''Well, if I had the choosin', I think I'd take that 
 there tarnal moral, every time. It's my 'pinion that it's 
 the beatin'est animile in the whole maginerie. Git ep ! " 
 
 The last two words were addressed to the fillies; and 
 they, being chilled by standing blanketless in the frosty 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 261 
 
 October air and moreover impatient to return to their 
 far-distant stalls, sprang forward quickly and were away. 
 It was as much as David could do, w^ith his strong arms, 
 to restrain them and keep them in the roadway. Down 
 the main street toward the river the wagon went bump- 
 ing and clattering at so unusual a rate that all the folks 
 in the houses ran to their doors and looked out expect- 
 ing to see a real runaway. 
 
 *' I think I wouldn't drive quite so fast," said father. 
 " There is a law against making a horse trot along the 
 streets of a town, and moreover it's dangerous." 
 
 David, throwing his w^hole weight upon the lines and 
 exerting all his strength, succeeded in bringing the restive 
 creatures down to a walk, just as the sheriff of the 
 county (as we afterward learned) was trying to con- 
 ceal himself in the court-house in order to evade his 
 duty, as a magistrate, to arrest us for violating the law. 
 
 And now for the space of perhaps two minutes all 
 went well. 
 
 " I guess we'll git home about ten o'clock,'' said David. 
 
 ** Or a little earlier," said father. 
 
 We were rounding the turn at the end of the street 
 where the road began to slope downward to the ferry 
 landing; and there, in the very narrowest place, we 
 suddenly encountered a big log-wagon drawn by two 
 yoke of sturdy oxen. At the same moment, the wind 
 set some dead leaves to blowing across the street, and 
 this caused the frisky fillies to spring forward and shy 
 toward the left side of the road. The whole thing oc- 
 curred so suddenly and so unexpectedly that David lost 
 control of his team. There was a sharp crash against 
 the rear of the log-wagon ; our own vehicle was thrown 
 over upon its side and one wheel went bowling along 
 
2(^2 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 by itself until it was halted in the midst of a friendly 
 thorn bush. As for the occupants of our wagon, we 
 were all pitched headlong into the mud ; but David, cling- 
 ing with heroic energy to the lines, turned the " critters " 
 sharply round against a strong rail fence, and then 
 brought them to an immediate standstill. 
 
 ''Anybody hurt?" asked father, as he sprang up and 
 ran to the fillies' heads. 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane and I were on our feet in a 
 moment and looking each other over. We were covered 
 with mud, but in nowise injured, not even scratched by 
 the sudden tumble. The only damage done by the ac- 
 cident was the breaking of the hind axle of the wagon 
 close to the hub of the left-hand wheel. Was not that 
 enough? Here we were, five hours' journey from home, 
 and our only means of travel rendered useless. What 
 was to be done? 
 
 The ox-driver kindly came to our assistance and re- 
 covered the broken wheel. " It's no use talkin'," he 
 said ; " that there wagon won't travel nary a mile till a 
 new axletree is put into it ; and th' ain't no wagon maker 
 anywhere nigh to Dashville, s'fur as I know." 
 
 " But we've got to go home to-night," wailed Cousin 
 Mandy Jane. *' We've jist got to." 
 
 '* I don't see how it's goin' to be did," muttered David. 
 
 " Listen to me," said father, not at all frustrated or 
 alarmed. ** I have a plan that will set all things right. 
 David, thee and Mandy Jane will have to get on the 
 fillies and ride home bareback ; and that will be no hard- 
 ship to any one. I and Robert will stay with the wagon, 
 and to-morrow I will make a new axletree for it and 
 put it in traveling order. On the day after to-morrow, 
 either thee or Jonathan must fetch the fillies over for us 
 
THE GREAT MORAL EXHIBITION 263 
 
 again, and we will ride home in the mended wagon. 
 Under the circumstances, I don't see that any better plan 
 can be devised than that." 
 
 " Thee's right, father ! " said David. *' Mandy Jane, 
 thee may ride my filly, 'cause it's the gentlest, and I'll 
 git a-straddle of Jonathan's tarnal critter." 
 
 It required but a short time to transform the fillies 
 from driving horses to saddle horses minus the saddles ; 
 and David and Cousin Mandy Jane were soon mounted 
 on the spirited little steeds and ready for their long ride 
 homeward. 
 
 '' But where will thee sleep, father, and what will thee 
 do with little Robert?" asked Cousin Mandy Jane, hes- 
 itating to leave us. 
 
 " Thee may put thy mind to rest on that score," 
 answered father. " I'll find a shelter somewhere for 
 the wagon; and then Robert and me will sleep in it on 
 the straw. And I have no doubt that we can buy some- 
 thing to eat at the store, and a cup of milk at almost 
 any of the houses. So thee may tell mother that we 
 are well provided for, and that we'll be at home on 
 Sixth-day afternoon without fail." 
 
 ** I'll tell her as thee says," she returned ; " but we'll 
 be mighty uneasy till we see you again." 
 
 " No need of that," said father. And the next minute 
 the fillies and their riders disappeared around the turn of 
 the road and we two were left alone, strangers in a 
 strange land and night coming on. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A FRIEND INDEED 
 
 STRANGERS, did I say? Let me correct that state- 
 ment. Father was not a stranger in Dashville, 
 otherwise he would not have hazarded the plan of send- 
 ing the fillies home while he and I remained with the 
 disabled wagon. He was intimately acquainted with all 
 the older inhabitants of the county seat and was on 
 friendly terms with the two lawyers and the doctor and 
 all the county officers. There was not the slightest 
 danger, therefore, that when once our plight became 
 known we should be permitted to spend the night in the 
 way which he had proposed. But he was proud, and so 
 independent of spirit that, rather than ask his dearest 
 friend for shelter and lodging, he would willingly have 
 slept in the open field with naught but the stars above 
 him. 
 
 " I think there is a blacksmith's shop just at the edge 
 of the town. We will see what we can do there," he 
 said. 
 
 Weary and footsore, I followed him along the pathway 
 that skirted the muddy highroad. We met a number of 
 farm wagons full of plain country people who were 
 on their way homeward, and we rightly concluded that 
 the circus had " let out," and that the Great Moral Ex- 
 hibition was adjourned until " early candle-light " in 
 the evening. In the direction of the big tent we could 
 hear a drum beating and the occasional tooting of a 
 
 264 
 
A FRIEND INDEED 265 
 
 horn, admonishing the people not to disperse until they 
 had paid another fip to see that wonder of wonders, the 
 Fat Woman of Kankakee. I listened to these sounds 
 with a feeling of disgust and weariness, and as I looked 
 at the fast declining sun I would have given all my 
 marbles could I have been safe at home on the warm 
 hearth with Robinson Crusoe in my hand and dear Inviz 
 cuddling down beside me. 
 
 The blacksmith was a newcomer in Dashville, but he 
 had heard of father — as who in the world had not? — 
 and was very eager to befriend him. He made no pre- 
 tense of being a worker in wood, but to his skill in all 
 sorts of iron craft there was no limit, and in the noble 
 art of horseshoeing he held the championship of all the 
 Wabash Country. His big, round, smutty face melted 
 with pity when he learned of our woeful accident, and 
 soon a satisfactory arrangement was made with refer- 
 ence to the disabled wagon. The smith would furnish 
 a piece of timber suitable for a new axletree, he would 
 permit father to use his tools while shaping it into the 
 desired form, and he would put on the necessary irons 
 and attach the new part to the wagon — all for the 
 modest sum of twenty-five cents. 
 
 '* I wouldn't do it for nobody else," he said in his bluff 
 hearty way; *' but, seein' that it's you, I'm only too glad 
 to obleege you ; and I hope that you'll remember that 
 I'm runnin' for constable at the next 'lection." 
 
 At this father could hardly hold his temper in check. 
 
 " What does thee take me for? If thee thinks I'll vote 
 for a man because he works for me at half-price, thee's 
 mightily mistaken." He spoke up sharply and with be- 
 coming indignation, and yet he betrayed no feeling of 
 anger, 
 
266 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 The man was profuse in his apologies. He was not 
 thinking of the vote ; he was thinking of the pleasure he 
 would derive from serving a man so universally esteemed 
 as Stephen Dudley ; he was sorry, indeed, if he had been 
 misunderstood. 
 
 '' Let us lay all that aside," said father, " and consider 
 this a purely business transaction. What thee offers to 
 do for me is worth fully half a dollar. If I were situ- 
 ated as thee is, I would do it for that price, no more, no 
 less. Now, if thee is willing to take fifty cents, and 
 consider that I may vote against thee at the election, we 
 will call it a bargain." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, certainly, Mr. Dudley," stammered the 
 smith, '' and we'll go now and fetch the wagon right up 
 to the shop." 
 
 And so, with much hard labor on account of one wheel 
 being useless, the wagon with its disabled axletree was 
 dragged up to the shop and safely deposited on the broad 
 earthen floor-space in front of the forge. " It will be 
 handy there," said the smith, *' and when you come to 
 your work in the morning, you will find all my tools right 
 here before you where you may help yourself." 
 
 " But how would it be," said father, " if I and this 
 little fellow should choose to sleep here in the wagon 
 all night?" 
 
 " I hain't no objections, at all," was the answer ; " but 
 I hope you will find a much better place than that. I 
 would take you to my house, but we hain't got only one 
 bed, and my wife she's right smart ailin' and not able to 
 wait on company." 
 
 " Thee is very kind," said father, " but we shall fare 
 quite well on the straw. And now we will take a little 
 
A FRIEND INDEED 267 
 
 walk down to the store and get us a bite of something 
 to eat." 
 
 By this time the sun had gone down and darkness was 
 at hand. There were but few persons on the street ; for 
 the country people had returned to their homes and most 
 of the townfolks were in attendance upon the evening 
 session of the show. As we walked slowly along in the 
 middle of the road, I observed with curious attention the 
 houses on each side of the way. The light was so dim 
 that I could discern but little more than their outlines, 
 and yet I could see that they were of various sizes and 
 shapes and that the smallest among them seemed larger 
 than our big-house at home. In a few of the dwellings, 
 the people had already lighted their candles, and these 
 shining through the windows helped to give me a some- 
 what distinct idea of their roominess and general ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Presently we passed a large square building with two 
 rows of windows in front — one row above the other. 
 Its massiveness impressed me greatly, and I was struck 
 with its resemblance to the pictures of certain palaces, 
 that adorned the pages of my Parley Book. I im- 
 mediately fancied myself in London, in Rome, in St. 
 Petersburg, and I paused for a few moments to gaze 
 and wonder ! There were candles lighted inside, and I 
 could see that there were shutters in front of some of 
 the windows — yes, shutters which appeared to be com- 
 posed of slender iron bars just far enough apart to 
 permit the feeble rays of the candles to struggle through 
 between them. A strange creepy feeling came over me, 
 for I remembered all that I had ever read concerning 
 fortresses and prisons and common jails, and I fancied 
 
268 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 that this was one of those terrible buildings. I ran, 
 panting, to overtake father who was now some distance 
 in advance. 
 
 '' Father," I cried, " didn't David say there was a jail 
 here in Dashville ? " 
 
 '' Yes," he answered, deeply absorbed in thought. 
 " He did say something about it." 
 
 " Well, does thee know that the jail house is right 
 back there where all them bars are across the windows ? " 
 
 He made no reply; for just then a young man with 
 a cane in his hand and a very sleek hat on his head came 
 tripping across the street to accost him. 
 
 '' Why, Stephen Dudley, is this thee ? And is this thy 
 little son ? Well, I'm pleased to see thee both ! And 
 how is all of thee in the New Settlement?" 
 
 *' I'm glad to say that we are all tolerable," said father 
 dryly. *' How's thee and thine?" 
 
 '* Quite well, I thank thee," answered the stranger, 
 and he shook hands warmly with both of us. " I sup- 
 pose thee have both been taking in the great show to- 
 day? Am I right?" 
 
 ** I can't say as to that ; but in truth, the great show 
 has taken us in," returned father. " However, expe- 
 rience is the best teacher." 
 
 " Thee art right, Stephen. But I'm so glad to see thee. 
 Of course thee'll be in town to-morrow? Come up to 
 my office in the morning and we'll have a good long talk 
 about things that are of interest to both of us. I always 
 like to see my friends and specially such worthy friends 
 as thee art. But I must hurry along now ; my wife, she 
 started ahead and is waiting for me down by the court- 
 house." 
 
 Then he again shook hands with us in a manner so 
 
A FRIEND INDEED 269 
 
 cordial that I began to think him the best friend we 
 should ever have in this world or the world to come. 
 " Farewell, Stephen ! Farewell, my little man ! " 
 
 He turned and started briskly on his way; but at the 
 distance of a dozen yards he paused and looked back. 
 Then he returned and shook hands with father for the 
 third time. " Stephen," he said, in words that were 
 double-greased, " Stephen, thee wilt remember that I'm 
 a candidate for county clerk on the Whig ticket. I hope 
 thee wilt use thy influence — " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! don't thee be uneasy," interrupted father. 
 *' ril use my influence when the time comes. Farewell ! " 
 
 We walked onward while our friend again darted off 
 toward the court-house and was soon lost to sight in the 
 darkening twilight. 
 
 "Father, who was that good man?" I asked. 
 
 " His name is Thomas Marcellus Cottingham," was 
 the answer. " He is a politician, and he thinks he will 
 win the votes of Friends by trying to use the plain 
 language and slobbering all over our clothes. He's 
 mightily mistaken." 
 
 '* But thee said thee would vote for him." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I said I would use my influence, meaning 
 I would use it against him. When I meet a man who 
 looks upon me as an idiot, I think it no harm for me to 
 look upon him as a fool." 
 
 It was quite dark when we reached the store. We 
 went in quietly. The interior was lighted by four tal- 
 low candles, two on the front counter and two at the 
 rear, while the rays from a tin lantern glimmered feebly 
 above a small desk near the center of the room. This, 
 to my mind, was a very lavish display of light, for at 
 home we had always considered one candle sufficient to 
 
270 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 illuminate the largest room. I had never before been 
 inside of any sort of store, and as I looked around at 
 the varied assortment of merchandise my mind was filled 
 with astonishment. Here was every kind of goods that 
 you could think of, including some articles of whose 
 names and uses I had no knowledge. Here were ** store 
 goods " of all colors and qualities, ginghams and calicoes 
 and " flannens " ; boots and shoes ; log chains and iron 
 wedges ; coffee and salt ; hats and caps and ribbons ; 
 candy and store tea; rakes, hoes and grindstones. I 
 was amazed to observe so many useful and necessary 
 things all collected together in one room. 
 
 The storekeeper was busy waiting upon a customer 
 at the farther counter, and we waited near the door 
 until he should be at leisure. In a few minutes, however, 
 the customer took his departure and father went for- 
 ward and quietly asked for a half-pound of crackers and 
 a fip's worth of cheese. Scarcely had he uttered the 
 words when a portly white-haired man who had all this 
 time been seated at the desk, suddenly rose and rushed 
 forward with outstretched hand, exclaiming: 
 
 " Why ! Stephen Dudley, how pleased I am to see you ! 
 How do you do? I would know that voice of yours 
 among a thousand, but in the dim light of these candles, 
 I failed to recognize your face. How are you, anyhow? 
 I tell you I am surprised to see you." 
 
 " Well, well, Isaac Wilson ! " returned father, his face 
 beaming with delight. " I'm glad to meet thee. I heard 
 that thee had started a store in Dashville; but I saw 
 another name over the door and so concluded that thy 
 place must be in some other part of the town." 
 
 " Oh, no, this is the only store," answered Isaac. 
 "The name is that of my son-in-law, who is really the 
 
A FRIEND INDEED 271 
 
 owner of the place, for he has a controUing interest in 
 it." Then, turning to the man behind the counter, he 
 said, " Henry, let me introduce my old friend, Stephen 
 Dudley, whom I knew as a boy in the old North state. 
 Stephen, this is my son-in-law, Henry Meredith, late 
 from Philadelphia and at present the leading merchant 
 in Dashville." And with this the dear old gentleman 
 burst into a clear ringing laugh that was a thousand 
 times more musical than the blare of the brass band 
 which I heard at that same moment harshly echoing 
 across the fields. 
 
 " I am very glad, indeed, to meet you, Mr. Dudley," 
 said the storekeeper, reaching over the counter to shake 
 hands. " I have heard your name mentioned very 
 often.'' 
 
 I liked his voice, it was so kind and clear; but I re- 
 sented his calling father a " mister." 
 
 '' Now, tell me, Stephen," said the elder of the two 
 merchants, " why do you come in here to buy a fip's worth 
 of cheese and a half-pound of crackers?" 
 
 Father very briefly and modestly related the story of 
 the mishap that had befallen us, and explained that we 
 had taken lodgings in the blacksmith's shop and ex- 
 pected to board ourselves there until Sixth-day morning 
 " without being beholden to anybody." 
 
 " Well, now," said jolly Isaac Wilson, '' you'll not 
 lodge in any blacksmith's shop while I am in the same 
 town with you; and as for cheese and crackers, we 
 don't sell 'em by the fip's worth to such as you. You'll 
 go home with me this minute, and you'll be our guests 
 as long as you stay in Dashville. We all live together 
 — Henry's family and mine — and you're welcome to 
 the best we have. Come ! don't say a word." 
 
'272 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 And with that the dear old white-haired gentleman 
 picked up the lighted tin lantern and seized hold of 
 father's arm. " Come ! " he repeated. " I won't listen 
 to any excuses. Cheese and crackers, indeed ! " Then 
 seeing me shrinking timidly in the shadows, he took my 
 arm also. " Come, my brave laddie," he said. " I guess 
 you're pretty well tuckered out, but you'll feel better 
 after a while. A warm supper and a soft bed — and you 
 won't know yourself to-morrow ! " 
 
 He led us out of the door and down the street in the 
 direction from whence we had so lately come; and he 
 kept up such a stream of talk and laughter that father 
 could scarcely find the space in which to wedge a single 
 small word. But the two men seemed very happy in 
 each other's company, and I was so deeply interested in 
 listening that I wholly forgot my weary limbs and my 
 empty stomach. 
 
 And who was this Isaac Wilson? I had heard his 
 name often, but had never seen him before. David had 
 spoken of meeting him during his recent visit to Dash- 
 ville, and I remembered that others had mentioned him 
 in a half-hearted way as a backslider and a worldly man 
 who had lost his birthright in Our Society. But father 
 had never pronounced his name without paying some sort 
 of tribute to his sterling character; and I had gathered 
 in various ways the idea that Stephen Dudley and Isaac 
 Wilson had been the best of chums in their boyhood days, 
 long ago in the mystical country of old Carliny. 
 
 But how was this? My heart fluttered and I had a 
 queer sensation of doubt as our guide turned suddenly 
 and led us up the narrow walk to the strong-built house 
 with the barred windows. Was he really taking us into 
 the jail? Well, we were having an adventure, and I re- 
 
A FRIEND INDEED 273 
 
 solved that, come what would, I would make the best of 
 it and be very brave. 
 
 Isaac Wilson was in a jolly mood. He had just 
 finished the telling of a merry story which seemed very 
 amusing to both him and father, and laughing loudly he 
 opened the front door of the supposed jail and pushed 
 us in. I observed that there was a lock on the door, 
 and this increased my suspicions — for of what earthly 
 use could a lock be on a door where honest people lived? 
 But father did not appear to notice anything unusual, 
 and therefore I soon forgot my fears. 
 
 The room into which we were ushered was very large ; 
 and by the light of the single candle that was burning 
 on a square candlestand in the corner, I could see that 
 it contained many wonderful things. Strangest of all, 
 the floor was covered with what I at first thought was a 
 beautiful cloth in which were woven pretty flowers and 
 vines of many shapes and colors. It was impossible to 
 go anywhere in the room without stepping upon it, and 
 it felt wonderfully soft and soothing to my poor chilled 
 feet. When I sat down upon the fine cushioned chair 
 which Isaac Wilson ofifered me, I lifted my toes very high 
 lest they might soil the delicate flowers or otherwise in- 
 jure the beautiful fabric. 
 
 " Now, just wait a few moments and we'll see if we 
 can't oflfer you a substitute for that fip's worth of cheese," 
 said our host. 
 
 He left us, sitting very awkwardly in our places, and 
 went out into another room. I could hear him giving 
 directions to some one, and presently the rattling of 
 dishes intimated quite plainly that some one was setting 
 a table. We waited in silence for what seemed a very 
 long time. Father appeared to be absorbed in the con- 
 
274 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 templation of a picture on the wall, and I was afraid to 
 move the least bit lest I should break something or soil 
 the carpet or commit some other unpardonable folly. 
 Finally, the door at the back of the room was opened, re- 
 vealing another apartment scarcely less beautiful than 
 the first. In the center of it was a table on which was 
 an abundance of food, smoking hot, and an array of 
 chany dishes that would have set the heart of Cousin 
 Sally wild with admiration. 
 
 " Now, my good friends," announced our host, " please 
 walk into the dining-room and have a bit of supper. 
 The ladies, I am sorry to say, have already eaten and 
 gone to the circus, but the cook has saved something for 
 us — perhaps as much as three hungry fellows will care 
 for, with a little left over for the storekeeper." 
 
 Ah ! what a supper that was ! Never since the memor- 
 able dinner at Aunt Nancy's after I had been lost in 
 the woods, had I sat down to a more bountiful meal. 
 True, there were not so many kinds of preserves, and 
 there was neither fried chicken nor pie. Neither did the 
 little red-haired woman with the white apron — whom I 
 rightly guessed to be the cook — press the good victuals 
 upon me as Cousin Sally would have done. Neverthe- 
 less, the meal was one which I enjoyed and shall never 
 forget. I ate until I grew sleepy, and the fork dropped 
 from my nerveless hand. 
 
 " My poor little laddie, you are tired," said Isaac 
 Wilson ; *' you are worn out by the unusual excitement of 
 this great day in your life. Come with me, and I will 
 show you to your bed — - for I guess you need that worse 
 than anything else." 
 
 He took a candle from the table and motioned to me 
 to follow him. He led me first into a very long and 
 
A FRIEND INDEED 275 
 
 narrow room which seemed to have no other use than to 
 contain a long ladder — no, not a ladder, but a series of 
 steps, " stairs " I soon learned to call them — which ran 
 right up to the loft above. These stairs — the first I 
 had ever seen — were wonderful. Each step was so 
 broad that I could stand erect with both my bare feet 
 upon it; and had I been so minded, I could have run to 
 the very top without reaching out my hands to hold to 
 anything. 
 
 And the loft — how different it was from our cabin 
 loft at home! First, we passed into another long and 
 very narrow room, with several doors on each side of it. 
 Through one of these doors I was finally shown into a 
 small beautiful chamber in which there was a bed. 
 
 " Now, my brave laddie," said Isaac Wilson, " do you 
 see this bed? I want you to undress and get into it as 
 quickly as you can; and don't you dare to get out of it 
 till the sun shines on you in the morning. You needn't 
 blow the candle out, for your father will come up in a 
 little while and sleep with you." 
 
 He set the candle down on a little bureau which had 
 a looking-glass above it, he looked into a pitcher of 
 water that was on a square stand in the corner, and he 
 drew a light curtain down across the window, probably 
 to make the room look cozier. 
 
 " Good night, laddie," he said, going out and closing 
 the door behind him. 
 
 " Yes, it's a pretty good night," I muttered timidly ; 
 but he did not hear me. 
 
 I looked at the bed. How white and restful it looked. 
 It was not so tall as the beds that Cousin Mandy Jane 
 made up at home — but I felt that it was much better 
 adapted to the needs of a sleepy person like me. I un- 
 
276 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 dressed quickly, as was my habit; and then my eyes be- 
 held my mud-bespattered feet and legs. Ah ! how could 
 I ever look Isaac Wilson in the face again if I laid such 
 untidy, unwashed members as these between the white, 
 white sheets that were beckoning to me? I would a 
 thousand times rather sleep on the bare floor than do 
 such a thing. 
 
 The problem was soon solved. The pitcher of water 
 was brought into requisition; and there was a towel 
 hanging up beside it, which was no doubt provided for 
 just such an emergency. Then Inviz, my dear old un- 
 seen playmate, suddenly popped into the room and 
 whispered : 
 
 " That's right, Robert. Isaac Wilson put that pitcher 
 of water there on purpose for thee to wash thy feet in 
 it." 
 
 Soon, with a clear conscience and clean legs, I leaped 
 into bed and drew the immaculate bedcovers over me. 
 And Inviz, creeping softly in beside me, laid his cheek 
 against my own as was his old-time custom ; and another 
 memorable day was ended. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 MY DAY IN PARADISE 
 
 IT was very late in the morning when I awoke. The 
 sun was shining into the room between the green 
 slats of the " Venetian shutters/' which I had mistaken 
 for iron bars. I rubbed my eyes and lay still for some 
 time, being not a little puzzled to remember where I was 
 and how I had gotten into this strange mysterious place. 
 Little by little, however, I succeeded in calling to memory 
 the adventures of the preceding day and evening; and I 
 realized that I was now the guest of the great good man, 
 Isaac Wilson, and therefore must be very circumspect 
 and well-behaved. 
 
 I looked for father, but he was not in the room. 
 There were unmistakable signs, however, that some large 
 person had been reposing on the bed beside me, and I 
 was sure that it was none but he. No doubt he had 
 risen early, according to his invariable custom, and was 
 now waiting for me in the room below. I slipped out of 
 bed, and hastily donned my few little articles of clothing. 
 Then I completed my toilet by running my fingers 
 through my hair, resolving that I would wash my face 
 and hands as soon as I could discover the whereabouts 
 of some well or spring-house where such ablutions were 
 permitted. 
 
 There was a soft knock at the half-open door, and 
 the red-haired woman with the white apron peeped in 
 
 277 
 
278 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and said that whenever '' the little laddie, was ready he 
 might go down into the dining-room." She informed 
 me that father had breakfasted more than an hour ago, 
 and had gone out to the blacksmith's shop, leaving word 
 that I was to remain in the house until his return at noon. 
 Would the brave laddie go down with her now, or wait 
 a little while longer? 
 
 I hesitated, abashed and hardly knowing what to say. 
 But reflecting that probably I should never be able to find 
 my way down alone, I finally muttered feebly that I would 
 go with her at once. She led me down the wonderful 
 stairs and into the room where we had eaten our sup- 
 pers the night before. Another woman was there now 
 — a tall and stately woman, very prettily dressed and 
 very kind and well-mannered as I was soon to know. 
 She greeted me with a smile, and said, " Good morning, 
 Robert Dudley ! " 
 
 I looked at her and trembled visibly, for I had never 
 been in such a presence before, and my natural shyness 
 overpowered me and made me appear very ridiculous. I 
 contrived, however, to slide into the chair which she of- 
 fered me by the table, and to dispose of my naked feet 
 where their extreme size would not be so noticeable. 
 Then the good woman poured out for me a cupful of 
 delicious coffee; and my conscience smote me because I 
 had not the courage to ask whether it was slave labor or 
 free labor. She gave me a hot biscuit with butter, and 
 placed before me a most beautiful chany plate, on 
 which was a bit of fried ham and an egg cooked exactly 
 as I liked it best. If she had been Cousin Sally in dis- 
 guise, she could not have served me better. And all 
 the time, she kept talking to me and asking me sly little 
 questions and laughing softly at my answers, until I 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 279 
 
 wholly forgot the strangeness of things, and my shyness 
 fled away, and I felt as though I were really at home 
 and talking to mother. 
 
 At length, after I had eaten more than was good for 
 me, my hostess led me into another and smaller room 
 which I had not seen before, and where the carpet was 
 so soft and beautiful that I was afraid to touch it even 
 when walking on my bare tiptoes. 
 
 *' I have heard that you are a great lover of books," 
 she said ; " and so I am going to leave you here for a 
 while to enjoy yourself. Don't be afraid, but take down 
 any book that you choose; and look at the pictures, or 
 read, just as pleases you best." 
 
 Then she went out, softly closing the door and leaving 
 me in that beautiful place alone. I looked around. The 
 chairs were so handsome and the cushions were so soft 
 that I feared to sit down on even the poorest of them. 
 I felt ill at ease, as though I had gotten into a place for 
 which I was not fitted. But there were the books of 
 which the woman had spoken — two long shelves full of 
 them, and as many as a dozen others on the table. I 
 had never seen so many volumes in a single collection, 
 and I fancied that every one of them was looking at me 
 in a very friendly, inviting way, and dumbly asking me 
 to court its acquaintance. 
 
 I sidled noiselessly up to the table, being very care- 
 ful of the carpet, and then, half-standing, half-reclining, 
 I opened the first book that came to my hand. It was 
 a strange kind of book. It was neither a journal nor a 
 history, nor a geography, nor yet anything like a reader ; 
 for it seemed to be composed entirely of conversations 
 between two or more persons. I had read several little 
 dialogues in the Child's Instructor and others of my 
 
28o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 books at home, and so I soon grasped the idea of various 
 players speaking their parts and performing the acts as- 
 cribed to them in the explanatory lines that were inter- 
 larded with the text. After I had read four or five 
 pages, I turned back to the beginning and read them a 
 second time, more carefully and with a much better 
 tuiderstanding. I seemed then to have the hang of the 
 whole situation, and I immediately became absorbed in 
 the entrancing story of Antonio, Shylock, Portia, the 
 caskets, and the pound of flesh. A new world was 
 opened to my bookish vision, and I read and reread one 
 scene after another, fancying myself in Venice, on the 
 Rialto, in the duke's palace — an actual spectator of all 
 the acts in that most absorbing drama. 
 
 How long I remained there, my elbows on the table, 
 my hands supporting my head, my mind oblivious to 
 every thing save that wonderful book, I am unable to 
 say — but it must have been for the greater part of the 
 morning. My early training in the hardest kind of read- 
 ing — George Fox's rhapsodies and William Penn's dry- 
 as-dust essays, for example — had made it easy for me 
 to master at sight all sorts of words and phrases ; there- 
 fore, after I had once gotten a start, my progress was 
 rapid. I was in the middle of the familiar and ever 
 famous trial scene and was reading Portia's inspired ad- 
 dress to Shylock — ''The quality of mercy is not 
 strained " — when a slight sound, as though some one 
 were softly opening the door and entering the room, 
 frightened me out of the duke's palace and brought me 
 momentarily back to a sense of my surroundings. I 
 listened, not daring to look around. My eyes were 
 riveted upon the printed page, but my ears as well as 
 my thoughts were directed backward to the supposed 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 281 
 
 cause of the disturbance. No further sound however 
 was heard, and I easily persuaded myself that perhaps 
 my kind hostess had merely peeped in, very slyly, to see 
 what I was doing. So I again leaned over the table, 
 with my eyes a Httle closer to the book, and was soon 
 back in Venice again. 
 
 Some minutes passed, and I had reached the beginning 
 of the last act: 
 
 '' The moon shines bright. On such a night as this," 
 — and just then I distinctly heard a rustling sound in the 
 room; and immediately afterward a very little voice, if 
 voice it might be called, gave utterance to an unmis- 
 takable but almost inaudible '' Ahem ! " I raised my 
 head quickly, and as quickly closed the book. 
 
 my Leonidas, my Leona, have patience with me! 
 Had the gates of pearl been suddenly opened, inviting 
 my poor bare feet to enter and traverse the gold-paved 
 streets of the New Jerusalem, I could not have been 
 more astonished, terrified, enraptured. For there by the 
 window, sitting in one of those too-good-to-be-used 
 chairs, was the creature of my dreams, the Angel of the 
 Facin' Bench! She was gazing out into the street, and 
 was seemingly oblivious of my presence. 
 
 1 recognized her at once; for the world could hold no 
 other person with countenance so angelic, with brownish 
 golden curls so entrancingly lovely. And then the rec- 
 ollection flashed upon me that this was the home, not 
 only of Isaac Wilson, but also of Henry Meredith his 
 son-in-law, who, as Cousin Mandy Jane had once told 
 me, was the father of my angel. How wonderful that a 
 mere accident on the road should have thus brought me 
 into her very home! 
 
 My ecstasy, however, was but momentary, and all 
 
282 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 these thoughts concerning her identity were as the light- 
 ning's flash. My shyness overwhelmed me, and I 
 dropped my eyes toward the closed book, not daring to 
 venture a second glance lest it should meet her own and 
 I should be undone. My heart thumped loudly, and I 
 wished, oh! I wished — no, I didn't wish — -that I was 
 safe at home with mother. 
 
 Moments of dreadful suspense followed, and then 
 there was another sly little " Ahem ! " — a little louder 
 than before. Without moving my head, I glanced side- 
 wise through the corners of my eyes. Yes, she was still 
 in the same place, and if you will believe it, she was 
 really looking toward me with those wonderfully expres- 
 sive brown eyes. Oh, how uncomfortable I was ! And 
 then I began to feel very foolish, remembering what 
 mother had taught me about being mannerly in the pres- 
 ence of strangers. Was it mannerly to sit there and say 
 nothing? I couldn't think so. Being the only gentle- 
 man present, it was plainly my duty to speak first and 
 thus open the way for some friendly conversation. But 
 what ought I to say? I pondered and hesitated, re- 
 solved and faltered, feeling quite sure that her eyes 
 were upon me and that she was impatiently waiting for 
 me to make an advance. Finally, mustering all my 
 fluctuating courage, I suddenly raised my head, turned 
 my eyes full toward the ineffable creature, and with 
 the energy of desperation muttered: 
 
 " Howdy ! " 
 
 " Good morning, sir ! " was the pretty answer. 
 
 Then there was another long silence, during which I 
 was trying to make up a second proper speech. At 
 length, after several efforts, I contrived to stam- 
 mer; 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 283 
 
 " Yes, I think it is a pretty good morning. How's 
 thee and thine? " 
 
 The angel actually giggled, and the hot blushes over- 
 spread my face as I realized that I had made some sort 
 of awkward blunder. 
 
 " I'm very well, I thank you," she answered between 
 the giggles. 
 
 Then there was another long and most excruciating 
 silence. I felt that I could never, never say another 
 word in her presence, for if I attempted it I should be 
 sure to make a mess of it and be laughed at, and lose 
 her favor forever. Anything that I might try to do 
 would only widen the gulf between us and make me more 
 miserable. So I resolutely gazed at the bookshelves 
 and wished that something might happen to ease my em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 Finally, the angel herself relieved the painful tension. 
 
 *' My name is Edith Meredith," she said. " What is 
 yours? " 
 
 " Robert Dudley," I answered, trembling. I would 
 have given the world to possess the coolness and courage 
 which she displayed, and still another world to have had 
 her good manners. 
 
 " Mother told me to come in and see if you were en- 
 joying yourself," she said, turning her face and looking 
 squarely into my eyes. " Do you like books ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, still exceedingly sheepish. 
 
 " I like them, too," she said. " I suppose you have a 
 fine library at home." 
 
 She spoke so pleasantly that I began to feel more at 
 ease, and my courage slowly revived. " Yes, I have a 
 dozen books of my own, and father has a very large 
 library," I said, 
 
284 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 The maiden slipped down from the great chair she was 
 in, and tripping across the room, came and stood on the 
 opposite side of the table. 
 
 ** I see you have been reading Shakespeare," she said, 
 pointing to the book that was lying under m.y hand. 
 " Father says that I am not old enough to understand 
 such books yet." 
 
 " No, no," I stammered. " This ain't Shakespeare ; 
 it's The Merchant of Venice. I've never read any of the 
 Shakespeare books, and I don't think I want to." 
 
 She smiled, and kindly refrained from setting me right 
 lest she should seem to be vaunting her superior knowl- 
 edge ; but she asked : 
 
 " Why don't you want to read them ? " 
 
 ** Well, I've heard that some of them are not true ; 
 and a man named Benjamin Seafoam once told me that 
 they are nothing but plays for the idle diversion of 
 worldly people." 
 
 This remark was greeted with another little giggle ; but 
 my courage had now so far revived that I was not 
 seriously cast down by it. 
 
 ** Well, I hope you liked The Merchant of Venice," she 
 said. *' How much of it did you read ? " 
 
 " Nearly all of it," I answered, *' and I like it almost 
 as well as Robinson Crusoe. Did thee ever read Robin- 
 son Crusoe?" 
 
 " I began to read it once ; but I didn't care much for 
 it. It's a boy's story 3^ou know. The Merchant of 
 Venice is different. I've never read it, but I've seen it 
 played." 
 
 ** Played ! " I exclaimed, failing to understand her 
 meaning. 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 285 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " Last winter, just before we 
 came from Philadelphia, father took me to the theater 
 to see it played ; and we liked it so much that he bought 
 the book for me, so that I may read it when I grow 
 older." 
 
 If, at that moment, the Old Feller himself had stepped 
 into the room, my righteous indignation would not have 
 boiled more hotly. ''Theater!" I cried sharply. 
 '* Does thee mean to say that thee went to such a place 
 as that?" 
 
 *' Yes, I went with father. Why shouldn't I?" She 
 spoke so calmly that I cooled off very rapidly and my 
 self-assurance well-nigh deserted me. And so I an- 
 swered very mildly: 
 
 "If thy father took thee, I reckon it's all right; but 
 I wish thee hadn't gone. Our Society don't believe in 
 theaters and places of idle diversion. Mother says that 
 the Old Feller is after people that go to them." 
 
 " Did you ever see a theater? " she asked. 
 
 " No ; and I hope I never shall," I said fervently. 
 " They're very bad places ; and I think thee ought to keep 
 away from 'em." 
 
 There was another funny giggle in which I fancied I 
 detected a tone of scorn, as though she really meant, 
 " Mind your own business." Then there was a long, 
 long silence while Edith turned her back toward me to 
 adjust the books on the shelves, and I stood still, like 
 a dunce, and toyed idly with the leaves of The Merchant 
 of Venice. The little maid was evidently annoyed by 
 my goody-goody, half-baked ideas; and I was so over- 
 come with shame that I wished I might kick myself very 
 hard for making so many foolish remarks — remarks 
 
286 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 which could only bring deserved ridicule upon my head. 
 Oh, that I might hide my face, escape to some desert 
 island, obliterate myself! 
 
 It seemed ages until the spell of awkwardness and si- 
 lence was again broken. At length the little maid, as 
 though seeking an excuse to turn our thoughts into other 
 channels, took down a great heavy volume and laid it on 
 the table before my eyes. It was gorgeously bound in 
 blue and gold, and my first thought was of the fabulous 
 price that must have been paid for so rare a book. 
 
 *' Wouldn't you like to look at some beautiful pic- 
 tures ? " she asked very sweetly. 
 
 ** Um-huh ! " I grunted in the Hoosier dialect, scarcely 
 raising my eyes. To this day I am overwhelmed with 
 shame whenever I recall my unmannerliness, my un- 
 mitigated greenness at that particular moment. 
 
 But Edith didn't seem to notice it. 
 
 " Well, this book is chock-full of them," she said, 
 " and if you don't mind, we'll look at them till dinner's 
 ready." 
 
 I hesitated, feeling that I was sure to make a fool of 
 myself, no matter what I might do or say. 
 
 '* Sit down in that chair," said the maiden, " and I will 
 turn the leaves." 
 
 I obeyed her, being very uncomfortable with the 
 thought that my poor clothing might do damage to the 
 elegant cushion which was certainly never designed to 
 be pressed by a common person like myself. Then, to 
 my increased trepidation, Edith came and stood beside 
 me and opened the great book. It was, if I remember 
 rightly, a volume of the London Art Journal, very rich 
 in copperplate impressions and fine woodcuts, with now 
 and then an elegant engraving on steel. We do not 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE ^7 
 
 make such pictures nowadays, Leonidas. The Sunday 
 " funny paper '' is the art journal that appeals most 
 strongly to the masses and to the young people of our 
 advanced civilization. Ours is an age of caricatures and 
 " movies " and machine-made pictures. I hope that 
 yours will be different. 
 
 And so she stood beside me and turned the leaves, 
 while both of us looked, read the titles, and made com- 
 ments not so much upon the quality of each picture as 
 upon the subject which it illustrated. In an amazingly 
 short time I was myself again, at home in the contempla- 
 tion of bookish things, and entirely at my ease in the 
 presence of a superior being. Before ten minutes had 
 elapsed, I began to think of merry Edith Meredith as 
 a playmate and companion whom I had known ages 
 and ages ago — as a friend tried and true who had now 
 come back to me after a long, long absence. 
 
 With our heads not very far apart, wx leaned over 
 the big volume and lost ourselves in admiration of its 
 rare pictorial treasures. It was as if Inviz were beside 
 me, only it was a thousand times better; for here was a 
 companion whom I could see, a flesh-and-blood playmate 
 whose goings and comings were, like my own, regulated 
 by natural law. Occasionally, when she became very 
 deeply interested in explaining something to me, a 
 golden-brown curl would dangle over and tickle my 
 cheek, and a thrill of joy, unexplainable, indescribable, 
 would course through my being. These sensations were 
 not because she was a girl and I a boy — as you might 
 think, dear Leona — for, concerning all thoughts or 
 knowledge of the distinctions of sex, we were both as in- 
 nocent as are the angels in Heaven. It was that sort of 
 ecstasy which comes to you, perhaps once in a lifetime 
 
288 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 — perhaps less often — upon meeting and recognizing and 
 touching a kindred spirit, a soul divine whose destiny 
 is mysteriously linked with your own. 
 
 The pictures, as you will understand, were of a varied 
 character. There were landscapes, imaginary scenes, 
 historical representations, copies of famous works of 
 art, portraits, and decorative pieces. Concerning the 
 most of these, Edith had a much broader knowledege 
 than I; for her father, whose tastes were artistic, had 
 told her much about them. But the most of our com- 
 ments and criticisms were, as you might expect, crude 
 and childish. I remember that toward the middle of the 
 volume we came upon a group of pictures which recalled 
 our earlier unhappy discussion of matters theatrical. 
 Here was a view of Stratford-on-Avon, the home of 
 Shakespeare ; and it was followed by portraits of the im- 
 mortal dramatist, done by different hands and represent- 
 ing him perhaps at different periods of life. Last of all 
 was the picture of a famous bust of Shakespeare which 
 had lately been set up in Westminster Abbey, or some- 
 where else. 
 
 " Ha ! " I cried out. ** This is the last picture of him, 
 and they have punched out his eyes. I suppose the 
 good people did that to punish him for writing untrue 
 stories and wicked plays for the theaters. The bad peo- 
 ple used to do the same way to the martyrs because the 
 martyrs — " 
 
 " I don't think anybody ever put his eyes out," she 
 interrupted. " This is the picture of a bust, and a bust 
 is made of stone, and how could eyes be properly made 
 in stone ? " 
 
 Such talk was very puerile — as you will certainly 
 agree — but you must not expect the conversation of two 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 289 
 
 children to be either scholarly or philosophical, especially 
 when one is a greenhorn of the deepest dye who has seen 
 absolutely nothing of the world. 
 
 We turned presently to the portrait of a beautiful girl 
 — ■ I think it was a copy of one of Joshua Reynolds's 
 famous paintings — and I gazed at it enraptured. 
 
 '* Oh, it looks just like thee!" I cried, glancing first 
 at the picture and then at the living face so near to my 
 own. " It looks like thee!" 
 
 " Thee ! thee! " she exclaimed with emphasis, and there 
 was bitter sarcasm in her tones. *' Why do you always 
 say thee? Why don't you talk like other people, and 
 say you?'' 
 
 '' Don't thy grandmother say thee? '' I asked. 
 
 " Yes ; but she is a Friend and wears a plain bonnet 
 and a cap with a frill — and it sounds all right to hear 
 her say it. But you are only a boy." 
 
 '' Yes, but I'm a Friend, too," I answered. " I've al- 
 ways said thee when talking to one person — that's the 
 way I was taught — and all our folks and nearly all the 
 people in the New Settlement talk the same way. It's 
 what we call the plain language." 
 
 *' Well," said Edith very decidedly, " I prefer the un- 
 plain language, myself." 
 
 " That's because thee was brought up that way," I an- 
 swered. " I like the plain language because it sounds 
 kinder. It's all right to say you to a horse or a cow, 
 but when I'm talking to mother or Cousin Mandy Jane 
 or thee, it seems a lot more genteel to say thee." 
 
 " Well, I don't like it. It sounds queer for a boy." 
 
 " Maybe it does sound that way to thee, for thee ain't 
 used to it. And so if thee would rather have me speak 
 the unplain language to thee, I'll try to learn how." 
 
290 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Oh, do ! " she cried earnestly. '' It will be so nice 
 to hear you talk like other people." 
 
 " Then I'll begin right away," I said. " See that 
 picture, Edith. It looks just like — you, you, you!" 
 
 At this, my first yielding to the sin of worldly ways 
 of speaking, we both laughed ; and I resolved in my heart 
 that if the Old Feller wanted to scorch me in his fire 
 for so small a transgression as that, he was welcome to 
 do it. I would then, there and forever afterward when 
 talking to Edith Meredith, use the unplain language, 
 simply because she liked it. 
 
 " Oh, here is a picture of Adam and Eve in the 
 Garden ! " she said, turning a leaf. 
 
 *'Did they look like that?" I queried. ''Well, all I 
 can say is that I wish I was Adam and that thee — no, 
 you, you — was — Eve ! " 
 
 And then there was another laugh. 
 
 " We can make believe that we are in the Garden, 
 anyway," she said. 
 
 '* Thee's right — ■ no, I mean you are right," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 We still lacked a hundred pages of being through the 
 volume when we were interrupted by the sudden en- 
 trance of Edith's mother, my tall stately hostess, who 
 bade us come out at once to dinner. She told me that 
 father had sent word to her not to expect him till even- 
 ing; for he had already completed the new axletree and 
 with the blacksmith's aid, had put the wagon into good 
 shape ; and having been invited to dine with Judge Davis, 
 he would spend the afternoon with friends at the court- 
 house. 
 
 "And what did he say for me to do?" I asked, 
 wondering. 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 291 
 
 " You must remain right here with me," she answered. 
 
 After dinner we finished our examination of the pic- 
 ture book, and then Edith's mother proposed that the 
 Httle maiden should go down to the store to carry a mes- 
 sage to her father. " And perhaps Robert would Hke to 
 go with you and see the town," she added. 
 
 At first thought, this suggestion was very pleasing — 
 yes, I should indeed like to go. Then I began to reflect 
 that never in all my life had I walked out with a girl 
 
 — except Cousin Sally and Cousin Mandy Jane, and they 
 were young women old enough to be my mothers. And 
 here, I was to be the escort of a very stylish maiden no 
 bigger than myself, but a thousand times wiser! How 
 should I behave ? And what would people say ? 
 
 " Would you like to go, Robert ? " she asked very 
 kindly. 
 
 " Well — I — yes, I — I — will go with thee — with 
 you, I mean — if you don't mind," I stammered ; but in 
 truth, I felt like praying for the ground to open and 
 swallow me up. 
 
 And now for the first time in my life I was conscious 
 of my odd appearance and my awkward manners, and 
 was well-nigh overcome with shame. As we went out 
 into the street, I looked at my course, ill-fitting garments, 
 so strangely contrasting with her elegant attire; and at 
 my great, sprawling bare feet, while hers were daintily 
 encased in store shoes and long black stockings to match 
 
 — and I fancied that all Dashville, yes, all the world was 
 gazing and smiling derisively. But merry Edith didn't 
 observe these things at all ; she didn't even notice my 
 great shock of towy hair or my nondescript knitted cap 
 which looked certainly very poor and ridiculous by the 
 side of her indescribable little head-gear with the big 
 
292 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 feathers overtopping it. And as we walked side by side 
 along the street, she talked so prettily and told so many 
 interesting little stories that I soon forgot all about my- 
 self, I forgot even that I was walking with a girl, and 
 thought only of what she was saying. The few people 
 whom we met did not seem at all amused at my ap- 
 pearance; they spoke to us kindly and passed on, as if 
 they were accustomed to seeing shock heads and bare 
 feet and awkward country boys every day of their lives. 
 And this, indeed, was true. 
 
 Presently Edith directed my attention to a pretty little 
 white building which stood at some distance from the 
 main street. Its roof was surmounted by a slender spire 
 that pointed heavenward, and as I had seen pictures of 
 similar edifices I was at no loss to guess that it was a 
 house of worship. 
 
 " That's the Methodist church," said Edith. 
 
 '' Our folks would call it a meetin'-house," I answered. 
 " It's prettier than the one at Dry Forks." 
 
 " Yes, it is, indeed," said Edith. *' I remember your 
 old meeting-house and your funny meeting. I was there 
 with Grandmother Wilson one day last summer." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I saw thee — I mean you," I returned ; 
 ''and you can't guess what I thought thee — you — 
 was." 
 
 "What did you think?" 
 
 " I thought you were an angel right out of the good 
 place ; and I — I — I — still think it." 
 
 " O Robert, how foolish ! " was the woman-like re- 
 sponse; and then she changed the subject by saying: 
 " There is a beautiful bell in the steeple, and when they 
 ring it for the people to come to church it sounds like 
 real music." 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 293 
 
 " Well, we don't have any such things in our meetin'- 
 house," I answered. *' Our folks don't approve of bells 
 or music or steeples. George Fox preached against 
 steeple-houses, as he called them; and he said that they 
 were the Old Feller's delight. I hope thee — I mean 
 yon — ain't a Methodist." 
 
 " Why do you hope so? " and there was a little ripple 
 of laughter. 
 
 ''Because — 'because," I answered in some confusion 
 — '' because I should like for thee — " 
 
 "You! you!'' 
 
 " Yes, because I should like for you to belong to our 
 meetin'." 
 
 " And what good would that do ? " 
 
 " Well, I — I think that if — that if you were in our 
 meetin' instead of the Methodist church, as they call it 
 — you — you would stand a better chance of going to the 
 good place." 
 
 She laughed again. '* If I belonged to your meetin', 
 as you call it, I would have to speak the plain language, 
 wouldn't I ? " she asked. 
 
 '* Yes, I am afraid thee — you would," I answered, 
 much downcast. 
 
 '* Well, then let's both of us be Methodisters — for 
 they get converted and go to the good place without 
 making half so much worry about it as your folks do." 
 
 But why prolong this chapter by relating more of 
 these infantile remarks and experiences? Let us sup- 
 pose that this, my day in Paradise, has ended amid clouds 
 of sunset glory; that Sixth-day morning, with fog and 
 drizzle and David and the fillies, has arrived; and that 
 the time for taking our homeward departure is at hand. 
 
 In accordance with the custom of our people, I went 
 
294 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 to each member of the family, beginning with Isaac 
 Wilson as the eldest, and holding out my hand, said/ 
 " Farewell ! " And each one, in return, bade me a kind 
 " Good-by ! " adding thereto some pertinent remark as to 
 the great pleasure I had given them during my somewhat 
 extended visit. Finally, I came to the little maiden, stand- 
 ing beside her mother and holding her mother's hand. 
 A great trembling came over me, the blood rushed into 
 my cheeks, and an unaccountable mist floated before my 
 eyes as I stammered, " Farewell, Edith ! " 
 
 And she, shrinking coyly behind her mother's embrac- 
 ing arm, failed to see my proffered hand, but with eyes 
 downcast answered sweetly, *' Good-by, Mr. Robert ! " 
 In confusion, I turned to follow father from the room, 
 stumbling ingloriously over the rug by the door and no 
 doubt appearing very ridiculous as I made my exit. But 
 I had gone scarcely six paces from the door-step when 
 I heard her voice calling: 
 
 '' Mr. Robert ! " 
 
 I paused and in a very unmannerly manner answered 
 curtly, ''What?" 
 
 She ran down the steps and placed a little package 
 in my hand. 
 
 " Take this," she said. " Mother says you may have 
 it to add to your library. I know you will like it." 
 
 I glanced at it. It was a book; it was The Merchant 
 of Venice, which I had been reading with such indescrib- 
 able pleasure. My heart filled with gratitude. I gave 
 vent to my feelings in an expression that I had never 
 been taught to use, had never dared to use before: 
 " Thank thee — thank you, Edith." 
 
 " Good-by, Mr. Robert ! " a second time — and she 
 was back in the house and out of sight. 
 
MY DAY IN PARADISE 295 
 
 It was past noon when we arrived at home. What 
 had happened to the old place since I had last seen it? 
 How poor and crude was everything! The homely log 
 cabin, formerly so dear, had lost its charms. Even the 
 big-house, with its fine home-made Windsor chairs and 
 its lofty white beds, seemed very inferior and unattrac- 
 tive. For the first time in life, discontentment and sad 
 unrest found lodgment in my heart. Never, never again 
 was I to experience the joy, the pride, " the glory and 
 the dream " of living ver)% very near to the center of 
 the world. The age of innocence was drawing to an 
 end, the '' shades of the prison house were beginning to 
 close upon the growing lad." 
 
 Very kind were the greetings that I received when I 
 opened the cabin door and made my way silently to the 
 old, familiar^ cheer-giving hearth. Mother did not say 
 that she was glad to see me; but she made me sit down 
 in the warmest corner by the side of good Aunt Rachel, 
 and gave me a cup of delicious pennyroyal tea to break 
 up the bad cold that would otherwise be sure to result 
 from my long ride in the chilly drizzle. Cousin Mandy 
 Jane brought me a hot doughnut, still sizzling in its 
 grease, and informed me while I ate it that she had fried 
 it specially for me, and nobody else. And Aunt Rachel, 
 after fumbling very unnecessarily in her work-bag, 
 brought forth a wonderful pair of soft warm mittens 
 and laid them on my knee with the information that she 
 had knitted them to keep my hands warm when the time 
 came for me to go to school. 
 
 These attentions and gifts somewhat mollified my 
 churlish feelings. The blood, warming up in my veins, 
 sent a cheerful glow to my heart, and I began to feel 
 that, after all, the ugly, smoke-begrimed old cabin was 
 
296 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 not so bad a place as it might have been. Nevertheless, I 
 remained for some time in a sulky mood, seldom speak- 
 ing except to answer a question, morose, moody, and dis- 
 contented. 
 
 ** I don't think it done Robert any good to go to that 
 there moral show," remarked Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 *' Well, I had my doubts of it all the time," said mother. 
 
 And thereupon she prepared another cupful of tea and 
 made mc bathe my feet and legs in hot water seasoned 
 with mustard. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 OLD AUNT SARY 
 
 THERE has never been a time when I was abso- 
 lutely sure whether David was born before Jona- 
 than, or Jonathan before David; but for the practical 
 purposes of history or autobiography this is not at all 
 essential. So, with reference to the incidents to be re- 
 lated in the present chapter; I am not quite certain 
 whether they happened before or after some of the events 
 which I have already narrated; but for the purposes of 
 these memoirs, it makes no difference. I was never good 
 at remembering dates, and for that reason I have re- 
 frained in this narrative, from so much as even thinking 
 about them. 
 
 One spring day, after the corn planting had been 
 finished, we were surprised by the arrival of an unex- 
 pected, although not unwelcome visitor. Her advent 
 at our house was so sudden, so entirely unheralded, that 
 for a brief time the household arrangements were some- 
 what thrown into confusion. I remember this the more 
 distinctly because our guest insisted that she could sleep 
 nowhere except in my trundle-bed, and therefore I was 
 obliged to take my chances with David and Jonathan 
 among the cobwebs and the mice in the cabin loft. I 
 rather enjoyed the change, however, for it seemed like 
 a promotion from the state of childhood — a step up- 
 ward toward the state of manhood ; but oh ! how I 
 
 297 
 
298 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 missed the sweet comfort of mother's nightly visits to 
 tuck the bedclothes snugly round me ! 
 
 The memor}^ of my introduction to our uninvited guest 
 still lingers as one of the pleasant way-marks in life's 
 morning journey. It was late in the afternoon and I 
 had just brought the cows up from the bottom pasture. 
 Having driven them into the barn lot for the milking, 
 I was sauntering toward the house when some unusual 
 appearances about the cabin door caused me to halt and 
 reconnoiter. Through the window I could see mother 
 and Cousin Mandy Jane bustling around among the 
 dishes and the cooking things in a way that was not 
 common on plain working-days. 
 
 " Something's going on," whispered Inviz, who had 
 been hanging on my arm for the last hour or two. 
 
 " Yes ! I wonder what it is." 
 
 " Let's wait and see." 
 
 So we crouched down behind the laylock bushes and 
 watched for developments. 
 
 Presently Cousin Mandy Jane came lightly tripping 
 from the doorway. Her hair was plastered smoothly 
 over her forehead, and she wore the stiffly-starched 
 calico apron which she always kept in prim order for use 
 when company was expected. 
 
 " Somebody's going to come," I said. 
 
 " Somebody has already come," whispered Inviz. " I 
 saw her through the window." 
 
 I observed that Cousin Mandy Jane was carrying the 
 best milk pitcher and also the biggest butter plate in her 
 hands, and I knew that she was going down to the spring- 
 house to fill them in preparation for supper. So I 
 darted out of my hiding-place and ran ahead of her. 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 299 
 
 She overtook me, as I intended, at the spring-house door ; 
 and before I could speak she said, very confidentially 
 but excitedly: 
 
 '' Robert, thee cain't guess who's come." 
 
 " I don't want to guess," I answered. '' Who is it? " 
 
 " Why, it's Aunt Sary Evans, and she's jist come from 
 Carliny in a wagon along with some movers that's goin' 
 to settle over by the Wabash. They was a whole month 
 on the road. The movers is some kin to Joel Sparker's 
 folks, and they've driv over to his house to rest a few 
 days." 
 
 '' I didn't know we had any Aunt Sary Evans," I 
 said. 
 
 '' Yes, but we have, though. Hain't thee oftentimes 
 heerd mother tell about Aunt Sary, way back at New 
 Garden? " 
 
 " I didn't know her name was Evans," I answered. 
 " I thought it was the same that mother's used to be." 
 
 " Thee's right, Robbie," she agreed, " but Evans is her 
 middle name, and so she wants everybody to call her 
 Aunt Sary Evans — and she don't keer whether they 
 put t'other one to it or not. Her great great great great 
 grandfather was a Evans, and she'll tell thee all about 
 him." 
 
 '' What is she going to do at our house? " I asked. 
 
 " Not much of anything, 'cept to smoke. And ain't it 
 funny ? — she says she's goin' to live with us a spell ; 
 and we never knowed anything about it till she popped 
 right in on us." 
 
 ** What does she look like?" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, thee'll see when thee comes in," she answered, 
 with a funny twinkle in her eye. " But I'll tell thee, she 
 
300 
 
 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ain't thy raal aunt nor mine, nother; she's thy mother's 
 great-aunt and my grandmother's own aunt. Ain't that 
 funny?" 
 
 " Well, I s pose I'll have to call her my aunt, anyhow, 
 seeing that I have so few of 'em," I returned, hardly 
 knowing whether to be pleased or displeased. 
 
 " Yes, thee must call her Aunt Sary Evans and be 
 mighty good to her," said Cousin Mandy Jane. " And 
 if I was thee I would wash my face in the branch and 
 slick up my hair, and then go in and tell her howdy." 
 
 Ten minutes later, with a feeling of great trepidation, 
 I crept softly up to the cabin door and peeped in. Then, 
 my curiosity conquering my timidity, I slipped quietly 
 inside. 
 
 Our guest was sitting in the place of honor in the 
 chimney corner, while poor Aunt Rachel, in patient resig- 
 nation, had retired to the opposite corner among the pots 
 and pans. Shyly, and forgetful of good manners, I 
 stood and gazed at her. She looked so exceedingly 
 small in mother's big armchair that I wondered how 
 she could ever have become the great-aunt of anybody. 
 Her diminutive head was surmounted by a white mus- 
 lin cap with frills that encircled her face and gave the 
 impression of a halo. A brown gingham kerchief was 
 neatly pinned over her shoulders and bosom. An apron 
 of figured calico, and a plain linsey-woolsey dress, some 
 inches too short, completed her costume. 
 
 In my brief life, I had seen many old people — in 
 fact, almost every person that I knew seemed very old; 
 but never had I beheld such an impersonation of age as 
 that which was now before me. Aunt Rachel was aged, 
 but this Aunt Sary was truly a relic of antiquity. My 
 first glance at her persuaded me that she must have been 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 301 
 
 living at least a thousand years; but when she looked 
 up, and I saw her sharp gray eyes, still bright with 
 youth and vigor, I modified my opinion and began to 
 doubt whether she were not, after all, some young 
 woman dressed up in an old woman's body. 
 
 Very quietly I endeavored to glide across the room to 
 a safe haven behind the table without attracting any- 
 body's attention. But, no! those bright eyes allowed 
 nothing to escape them. The slender withered figure 
 in the big armchair turned slightly toward me, and a 
 cracked but not unpleasant voice said: 
 
 ** Come here, little boy, and shake hands with thy pore 
 old aunty." 
 
 With great reluctance I shambled forward and al- 
 lowed the thin, shaky little fingers of the ancient dame 
 to grasp my limp and nerveless hand. 
 
 "Is this Debby's little boy?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, it's our Robert," answered Aunt Rachel. And 
 then, to my confusion, she added, " He is the baby of the 
 house — mighty bashful and shy, but a great hand for 
 books." 
 
 " That was just the way with my little boy." Then 
 looking straight into my eyes, our visitor added, " And 
 thee puts me in mind of him. Thee has the same eyes 
 and the same chin; but he warn't never as puny-lookin' 
 as thee seems to me." She held my hand for a moment, 
 and then released it suddenly as though to indicate that 
 the interview was ended. 
 
 I turned sheepishly away, glad that the ordeal was 
 past, and retired to my favorite seat beneath the book- 
 shelves. Aunt Sary sank back into her chair and had 
 recourse to her pipe, which had entirely burned out and 
 was cold and empty. 
 
302 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Thee knowed my little boy, didn't thee ? " she asked, 
 addressing any one that might hear her. 
 
 '' Does thee mean Morris ? " asked mother. 
 
 '' Yes, Morris. That's what most people call him ; 
 but I call him my Little Morry. They do say as how he 
 is a great man now ; but he's my Morry — he's my little 
 boy jist the same. Now there was my great grandfather, 
 Evan Evans, his wife was Elizabeth Ann Thomas, and 
 their datter Elizabeth married Thomas Clayton — " 
 
 " Yes, I know," said mother, kindly interrupting her ; 
 " but come now and set up to the table and eat a bite of 
 supper. We hain't got much variety for company, but 
 it's what our folks eat every day." 
 
 If I had before wondered at the smallness and the 
 withered appearance of our relative, my astonishment 
 grew as she rose and made her way to the table. She 
 was as crooked as the figure 5, and to support herself 
 she carried a hickory staff that was taller by a span than 
 she herself. Her short dress revealed the fact that she 
 wore no stockings, and on her feet she had only low-cut 
 moccasins of untanned sheepskin. Nevertheless, her 
 clothing was very neat and clean, and there was a brisk- 
 ness and snappiness in her movements which not even 
 Cousin Mandy Jane could surpass. But oh, how frail 
 she looked ! I thought of an autumn leaf, shriveled and 
 dry and at the mercy of the slightest breath of air, cling- 
 ing pitifully to its native branch after all its fellows had 
 deserted it. 
 
 Thus, this quaintest and queerest of all my female 
 relatives came, uninvited but welcome, to make her home 
 indefinitely with us. 
 
 '' I've come to live with you a spell," she said. 
 " Maybe I'll live with you till I die, and maybe I won't." 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 303 
 
 She seldom left her chair in the chimney corner; and, 
 as with our other aunt, her pipe was her constant solace 
 during her waking hours. She was not talkative, and 
 unless her favorite topic was suggested or broached, 
 she would frequently sit silent all day long, not uttering 
 a word except when spoken to. 
 
 But once let her get started on genealogy, and she 
 would entertain you as long as you cared to listen. She 
 would narrate the history and describe the blood rela- 
 tionship of all the Evans family since the world began; 
 and, in particular, she would never fail to tell you about 
 her great grandfather, Evan Evans, who had left his 
 native Wales for conscience' sake and had emigrated 
 with a numerous progeny to the new colony of Carolina ; 
 and if you were a good listener, she would sometimes 
 entertain you with many personal reminiscences. She 
 remembered the Revolutionary War, and she had seen 
 both General Greene and Lord Cornwallis ! and her won- 
 derful gray eyes snapped and sparkled and her little face 
 became strangely animated whenever any allusion was 
 made to the battle of Guilford Court House. For, being 
 at that time a young snip of a girl, living with her mother 
 at New Guilford, she had distinctly heard the guns at the 
 beginning of that memorable fight, and later in the day 
 she had had the fortune to give a cup of water and a 
 bite of food to a fleeing patriot soldier. 
 
 All these interesting stories she related not consecu- 
 tively, but by piecemeal; for no matter what she might 
 be talking about, she could never pursue the subject far, 
 but would break suddenly off and begin with her geneal- 
 ogy: " My great grandfather, Evan Evans, his wife was 
 Elizabeth Ann Thomas, and their datter Elizabeth mar- 
 ried Thomas Clayton" — and in this strain she would 
 
304 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 wander until her eyes closed, her pipe fell from her 
 mouth and sleep would overcome her. 
 
 She had been with us perhaps three months when, one 
 morning, I noticed a great improvement in her appear- 
 ance. She had exchanged her muslin cap for one of fine 
 lace, with narrow pink ribbons intertwined among the 
 frills and tied in a bow knot at the throat ; a snow-white 
 kerchief of the softest material was pinned over her 
 bosom; and most wonderful of all, she had put on a 
 handsome blue petticoat with silk stockings to match, and 
 the prettiest little shiny-leather shoes I had ever seen. 
 How her little face glowed in spite of the wrinkles! 
 And how those wonderful eyes sparkled with the fire 
 of undying youth! 
 
 " What's the matter with Aunt Sary ? " I asked Cousin 
 Mandy Jane. " She must think this is First-day morn- 
 ing." 
 
 ''Why, don't thee know?" she answered. "She's 
 lookin' for Uncle Marse. He's comin' to-day to see 
 her." 
 
 "Uncle Marse! Who's Uncle Marse?" 
 
 " Why, hain't thee been told about Uncle Marse ? 
 He's Aunt Sary's little boy — anyhow, that's what she 
 calls him. But I reckon he ain't very little, nor he ain't 
 much of a boy, nother, by this time. He's forty or fifty 
 years old, I guess, and folks do say he's the greatest 
 doctor anywhere in the whole Wabash Country. It 
 beats all, how Aunt Sary goes on about him — and him 
 no kin to her nother." 
 
 I lost no time in going down to the branch to wash my 
 face and slick my hair in anticipation of Uncle Morris's 
 visit. It was not until some time after noon, however, 
 that he arrived, riding up the lane astride a splendid 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 305 
 
 horse, with his pill bags on the saddle-bow before him. 
 I was securely hidden behind the laylock bushes, but I 
 had a good view of him as father met him and conducted 
 him into the house. What a splendid-looking man he 
 was — so strong and well-built and handsome! And 
 what elegant clothes he wore — all of black store cloth 
 that must have cost a heap of money ! 
 
 " Well, this is Doctor Morris, is it ? " I heard father 
 say. '' I am right glad to see thee, Morris. Walk in." 
 
 They disappeared into the cabin, and I sought the se- 
 clusion of the wood-pile, longing to make myself known 
 to the doctor, and yet shrinking into nothingness be- 
 cause of the unreasoning fear that was in my heart. 
 
 An hour elapsed, and then father and the doctor came 
 out and seated themselves, for some private conversation, 
 on the door-step of the big-house. I was about to retreat 
 from the wood-pile to a safer place of observation, when 
 Uncle Morris caught sight of me. 
 
 " Hello there, my little man ! " he exclaimed ; " come 
 here, and give an account of yourself." 
 
 He held out his hand with a gesture which seemed a 
 command, and I had no choice but to obey. With down- 
 cast eyes and hesitating feet I approached him, and he, 
 reaching out, took me by the arm and placed me gently 
 between his knees. Oh, how proud I felt, and yet how 
 very humble, thus to be brought face to face with so 
 great a man ! 
 
 " What is your name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Robert Dudley." 
 
 "Well, that's a good name. How old are you?" 
 
 I told him, naming the date of my next birthday. 
 
 " Indeed ! indeed ! You're just about the age of my 
 littlest boy, only his birthday comes quite a Httle earlier." 
 
3o6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 By this time I had begun to feel somewhat braver, 
 and thinking it my duty to contribute something to the 
 conversation, I stammered, " Has thee got a Httle boy at 
 home? " 
 
 " Three of 'em," answered the doctor. 
 
 "Three?" 
 
 " Yes, there's Elisha, he's a big fellow, 'most as tall 
 as his father; and he thinks he's a man already. Then 
 the one next to him is Thomas Elwood — ain't that 
 a name, though ? His mother would call him that — 
 after a very famous English Friend — and she hopes he'll 
 take after his namesake and turn out to be a fine 
 preacher when he grows up — but I'm afraid it's doubt- 
 ful. Then the littlest one, his name is John Woolman 
 — after the man that settled Pennsylvania, you know. 
 He is right smart chunkier than you are, and he's the 
 whitest boy you ever saw." 
 
 All this was very interesting to me, but for a little 
 while I could not think of anything to say in reply. The 
 doctor stroked my hair softly, and made some remark 
 about its towy appearance, which I failed clearly to un- 
 derstand ; and presently he released me gently, as though 
 intimating that his business with me was ended. Then, 
 with a last desperate effort, I contrived to stammer the 
 hope that he would let John Woolman come over and play 
 with me some day. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! He is coming quite soon," he answered. 
 " His mother is coming over to the next quarterly meet- 
 ing, and I think she will bring all the boys with her." 
 
 And so the interview was ended. Feeling very happy 
 and self-important, I went out to the potato patch where 
 David and Jonathan were working, and told them that I 
 had just had a long conversation with Uncle Morris 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 307 
 
 and that he had invited me to go to his house and play 
 with his five Httle boys. 
 
 Jonathan laughed and winked at David; and David 
 threw a gourdful of water at me, barely missing my 
 head. 
 
 " That's what I'll give thee for bein' sich a tarnal story 
 teller," he said. " Uncle Marse hain't got no five boys ; 
 an' even if he had, he wouldn't ax thee to go 'way over 
 to the Sweet Crick Settlement to play with 'em." 
 
 " Maybe not," I answered, crestfallen and hurt ; " but, 
 anyhow, he has three boys, and they think of coming to 
 quart'ly meetin' with their mother." 
 
 When I returned to the house I found the doctor in 
 the act of taking his departure. Aunt Sary was in tears, 
 and she held his arm with a grip that was hard for him 
 to escape. I heard him gently soothing her. 
 
 "1 will come and see thee often, mother," he said; 
 *' and as soon as we are well settled in our new home, 
 we will find a place for thee — " 
 
 " Thee's my only little boy ; thee's my only little boy," 
 murmured the old woman. '' Thee's always been good 
 to me, Morry, and thee must do whatever thee thinks is 
 best." 
 
 What a picture that was ! — the doctor in the prime of 
 manhood, active and strong, looking down with kindly 
 eyes at the bent and shriveled form of her whom he 
 called mother; and the old, old woman — her soul pent 
 up in a decaying prison house — clinging lovingly, be- 
 seechingly, to the arm of her '' only little boy." I saw 
 them thus but for a single moment ; then the strong man 
 turned, pulled his hat down over his brows and strode 
 hastily from the house. 
 
 At father's command, I ran ahead of him to open the 
 
3o8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 gate. As he was about to mount his horse, he paused 
 to tell me good-by. 
 
 " Do you love your Aunt Sary? " he asked. 
 
 '' I — I think I do," I stammered. 
 
 '' Well, the next time I come I will bring you a nice 
 present. What would you like to have ? " 
 
 I hung my head and looked foolish, not having the 
 courage to answer. 
 
 " Your father says that you are a great fellow for 
 books," he continued, " so if you are a good boy and will 
 be very kind to Aunt Sary, I'll bring you a brand-new 
 McGuffey's Third Reader, with green backs and the pic- 
 ture of an eagle on it — same as John Woolman reads in 
 at school." 
 
 The next moment he was on his horse and cantering 
 rapidly down the lane. 
 
 When I went back to the cabin, Aunt Sary was sit- 
 ting in her chair and smoking with all the energy that 
 was left in her frail little body. 
 
 " Robert, did thee see my Little Morry? " she asked, as 
 I passed into the field of her vision. 
 
 I nodded my head in the affirmative. 
 
 '' Come here, and I'll tell thee about him," she said. 
 
 I hesitated, curious to hear, and yet doubtful of the 
 propriety of listening. 
 
 '' Come here, Bobby," she repeated, " I'll tell thee all 
 about how I come to find my Little Morry." 
 
 I went and stood by her chair, and she began her story : 
 
 *' Maybe thee won't believe me, Bobby, but I was a 
 young girl once, a long time ago. Some folks said I 
 was good-lookin', too ; and I reckon I must 'a' been, for 
 I had a lot of beaux, off and on. But I was giddy and 
 foolish, as girls is apt to be, and I didn't keer much for 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 309 
 
 none of 'em ; and none of 'em keered enough for me to 
 want me to marry 'em. By'm by, father died and then 
 mother, she died too, and I was left to take keer of my- 
 self ; and I lived all alone in our little house that grand- 
 father built at New Guilford when he was a young man. 
 For there was my great grandfather, Evan Evans, his 
 wife was Elizabeth Ann Thomas, and their datter Eliza- 
 beth married Thomas Clayton, and — " 
 
 Ah, me ! She had wandered off into her genealogical 
 strain again — and not a word had she said about Little 
 Morry. I looked around, and seeing the coast clear, 
 slipped noiselessly from the room while she continued 
 mumbling the family history of all the Evanses and their 
 kin. 
 
 Half an hour later, I returned with some wood to re- 
 plenish the fire. She was in her right mind again, but 
 she had evidently been weeping bitterly; and her gaunt 
 little hand trembled violently as she motioned to me to 
 come to her chair again. 
 
 " I was tellin' thee how I come by Little Morry, wasn't 
 I? " she began. '' Don't thee want to hear the rest of it? 
 That was a mighty pretty little house that I lived in at 
 New Guilford — rosebushes and hollyhocks in the front 
 yard, and a right smart garden at the back where I 
 raised all sorts of green truck for my own eatin'. But 
 it was lonesome without nobody to talk to but the cat; 
 and I thought how comfortin' it would be if there was 
 only a little child a-toddlin' round and makin' a noise. 
 It was mighty foolish in me a-thinkin' that way, and me 
 not married nor no likelihood of it; but then I jist 
 couldn't help it. For my — " 
 
 And here she put her handkerchief to her eyes and 
 began to sob, and I was sure that she was going back 
 
3IO IN MY YOUTH 
 
 to her great grandfather, Evan Evans, again. But she 
 rallied bravely and soon resumed her story. 
 
 " One mornin' as I was layin' in bed and not wantin' 
 to git up, I heerd a queer noise at the door. It sounded 
 a good deal like a cat, and I didn't take much count of 
 it at first. But when it kept on, a-gittin' worse and 
 worse, I thought, * For the lands' sake 1 What's the 
 matter with that critter anyway?' And I got out of 
 bed and took the cat switch with me that I always kept 
 handy, and crept to the door, a-thinkin' I'd give old Tom 
 a s'prise. I opened the door suddenlike and sprung out 
 — and, sure enough, somebody was s'prised, but it 
 warn't the tomcat. For there was my great grandfather, 
 Evan Evans; his wife was Elizabeth Ann Thomas, and 
 their datter — " 
 
 Oh, how annoying that she should break down again 
 just at the most interesting point of her story! I waited 
 while she enumerated the various branches of the family 
 tree with all their affiliations and ramifications both in 
 Wales and in Carolina. Her head dropped lower and 
 lower until her pink cap strings were hidden beneath 
 her chin; and when she ceased speaking she was asleep. 
 There would be nothing more said about Little Morry 
 at this time. 
 
 The next morning I made it a point to be very atten- 
 tive to Aunt Sary. I found her spectacles, which she 
 was in the constant habit of mislaying ; I helped her light 
 her pipe; I brought her a cup of cold water fresh from 
 the spring. 
 
 " Thee's almost as handy as my Little Morry used to 
 be," she remarked finally. 
 
 " Tell me who it was that was surprised when thee 
 opened the door that morning," I said. 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 311 
 
 '* What morning? " 
 
 *' The morning when thee heard the tomcat a-yowling." 
 
 *' Oh, was I a-teUin' thee about that? Well, it was me 
 that was s'prised. I was so s'prised that I fell right 
 back ag'in' the door-jamb, and for a minute I couldn't 
 budge. For, what does thee think I seen? I seen a 
 basket right there on the step, and in the basket was a 
 teeny baby boy not more'n a month old, and he was a- 
 kickin' and a-squallin' as hard as ever he could. I took 
 him out of the basket, and I hugged him up to my 
 buzzum, and I carried him right into the house; and I 
 reckon there never was a gladder gal than I was then. 
 I kep' a-sayin' to myself, ' Now I've got a little one in 
 the house, to make a noise and keep me from gittin' 
 lonesome.' And that's the way I come to git my Little 
 Morry." 
 
 She paused, and began to fumble tremblingly with her 
 pipe, which being turned wrong-side-up in her mouth, 
 was empty and cold. I found a fresh hot coal for her to 
 drop into it, being all the time fearful lest her mind 
 would revert again to her great grandfather and his de- 
 scendants. Presently, when the fragrant smoke began 
 to issue in puffs from between her thin lips, she resumed 
 her story: 
 
 " Thee wouldn't believe how fast Little Morry growed, 
 and he was a mighty noisy feller, too. Nobody could git 
 lonesome in my little house when he was round. Thee 
 seen him yisterday, didn't thee? Ain't he a fine-lookin' 
 boy, though? Well, he was always jist that way. I was 
 glad when he wanted to go to school and study and be a 
 doctor. And then he tuck up with little Juliana, and 
 they was married, and after that. New Guilford wa'n't 
 big enough for him any more, and he was bound to come 
 
312 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 to the Wabash Country, 'cause, he said, his boys would 
 have a better chance. For there was my great grand- 
 father, Evan Evans, his wife was Elizabeth Ann Thomas, 
 and their datter Elizabeth married Thomas Clayton, 
 who was my grandfather — " 
 
 And so the story ended, and although she afterward 
 repeated portions of it, she never carried its recital fur- 
 ther. 
 
 The time for the quart'ly meetin' approached, and the 
 usual preparations for that event were nearing comple- 
 tion. Our expectation of a visit from Uncle Morris's 
 family had aroused many pleasurable anticipations, and 
 these were greatly increased when we received word one 
 morning that our prospective visitors were on the road 
 and would surely arrive before the close of the day. 
 Aunt Sary proceeded at once to array herself in her 
 finery, not forgetting to display a brand-new silk ker- 
 chief which her " only little boy " had presented to her 
 on the occasion of his late brief visit. 
 
 " I reckon my Little Morry will come along with his 
 folks," she murmured. " He shorely won't stay away 
 from his mammy if he can help it." 
 
 As the afternoon wore on, expectation was on tiptoe, 
 and there was scarcely a moment that some one was not 
 on the lookout. And at length. Cousin Mandy Jane's 
 shrill voice was heard announcing, " There they come, 
 now ! " 
 
 All eyes were directed toward the lane and the big 
 front gate. Even Aunt Sary toddled out into the yard, 
 and shading her eyes with her hand, stood gazing and 
 waiting. A three-seated spring wagon was briskly ap- 
 proaching the gate, and soon we could plainly see that 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 313 
 
 it contained five persons, and that one of these was a 
 woman. 
 
 " It's Juliany, I'm sure," said mother, " but I'm not 
 quite so certain that Morris is with them." 
 
 ''Ain't that him on the middle bench with Juliany?" 
 queried Aunt Sary. 
 
 " No, no," said Aunt Rachel, whose eyesight was re- 
 markably good. *' That ain't Uncle Morris. It's Juli- 
 any's brother Cyrus, that I used to know in Carliny. 
 Thee can see that he looks jist like her, spite of him 
 bein' a man, and her a woman." 
 
 The wagon was now much nearer the gate; all its 
 occupants were plainly visible. 
 
 " Ain't my Morry there? " repeated Aunt Sary, queru- 
 lously, anxiously. 
 
 "No," answered mother; "it's only Juliany and her 
 three boys and Uncle Cyrus. Morris didn't come." 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted the aged woman, striking the end 
 of her staff forcibly upon the ground. "If Morry ain't 
 there the rest of 'em can jist mozy back, for all I keer." 
 
 Having thus given emphatic expression to her disap- 
 pointment, she turned herself about and hobbled into the 
 cabin; and seeking the darker recesses of the room, she 
 hastily exchanged her holiday attire for the plain gear 
 of every day. " 'Tain't no use to dress up for sich as 
 them," she muttered to herself, but quite loudly enough 
 to be heard through the open door. 
 
 In the meanwhile, two of the boys had leaped from 
 the wagon and were holding the horses' heads, while 
 Uncle Cyrus assisted their mother to alight. Father was 
 at his usual place to welcome them. 
 
 " How's thee, Cyrus ? How's thee, Juliana ? I'm 
 right glad to see you both. Walk in." 
 
314 
 
 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 "And this is Uncle Morris's wife ! " cried Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, bounding forward and grasping her hand. 
 " Come right in and take ofif thy things." 
 
 And mother, more quietly but none the less sincerely, 
 greeted her old acquaintance (for they had grown up 
 together in Carliny) with a hearty handshake and, 
 *' How's thee, Julie ? Come right into the house." 
 
 As the good woman was going toward the door, she 
 caught sight of me, shrinking behind the laylocks, and 
 with a sunny smile she offered me her hand. How soft 
 and delicate it was, and how very pleasant was that 
 friendly face encircled by the rim of her pretty, dove- 
 colored, plain bonnet! Presently, when Uncle Cyrus 
 came along with father, I looked at his friendly face also 
 and was struck with its remarkable likeness to that of 
 his sister; and Inviz whispered: 
 
 " Maybe God used only one pattern for both faces 
 when He made them; leastwise, I think they must be 
 twins." 
 
 I was so unused to companions of my own age, and 
 besides, was by nature so cowardly in the absence of 
 danger, that I did not get acquainted with Uncle 
 Morris's boys very quickly. Elisha, the eldest, was a 
 strapping young fellow who thought himself a young 
 man, and was not far from right. He was somewhat 
 reserved and dignified, scornful of little boys, and yet 
 of too callow an age to be ranked with such overgrown 
 specimens as David and Jonathan. During his entire 
 visit at our house, he never spoke to me except in a 
 most perfunctory and condescending manner. 
 
 Thomas Elwood, a wide-awake young fellow of 
 perhaps fourteen years of age, was of a different build. 
 It required but a short time to discover that, of the three 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 315 
 
 brothers, he was much the strongest. He was fond of 
 lording it over them ; and even his mother paid a sort of 
 deference to his opinions and wishes, as though she re- 
 garded him as some sort of superior genius. It would 
 have required, however, a greater prophet than Benja- 
 min Seafoam to foretell that this strong-minded lad 
 would early win his way to a foremost place in the 
 councils of the nation, and that for more than a decade 
 he would wield a power scarcely inferior to that of the 
 Geckwar of Baroda himself. I remember with pleasure 
 that during our short acquaintance, Thomas Elwood was 
 patronizingly kind to me and on one occasion con- 
 descended to look at my library and talk about books. 
 But he occupied a pedestal so much higher than my own 
 that familiarity was out of the question. 
 
 It was to John Woolman that my heart warmed the 
 most — no doubt, because he was nearer my own age 
 and was inclined to be very friendly. As his father had 
 already told me, he was the whitest boy I ever saw. 
 His hair was not towy, like mine, but was as silvery as 
 that of a very old man. His skin was exceedingly fair 
 and delicate. His eyes were very light — in fact inclin- 
 ing to be pinkish — and incapable of seeing things at a 
 distance ; and to assist his vision, he wore a pair of spec- 
 tacles, the lenses of which were truly wonderful in thick- 
 ness. 
 
 Like myself, John Woolman was his mother's baby, 
 and this fact no doubt hastened our acquaintance and 
 helped to cement our friendship. He was no taller than 
 I, but much " chunkier," as his father had said, and far 
 less robust. He was short of breath, and weak of limb, 
 and the rambles which I led him through the woods and 
 deadenings invariably sent him to bed with the headache 
 
3i6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 as soon as we returned to the house. During the five 
 or six days which measured the extent of their visit, 
 John Woolman and I were constant companions, and no 
 doubt each of us learned from the other a good deal 
 about certain things of which we had before been bliss- 
 fully ignorant. 
 
 One day as we were rambling together through the 
 new deadenin', he suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 " Hold on a minute, Bob ! I'm going to make me a 
 see-gar." 
 
 "What's a see-gar?" I asked. 
 
 " Something good to smoke," he answered. 
 
 I stopped and watched him with eager interest. Di- 
 rectly in front of us a dead grapevine was hanging from 
 a girdled tree. It was a small vine, not larger than one's 
 thumb in diameter, but of indefinite length; and it had 
 been dead so long and exposed to sun and wind, that it 
 was very dry and the sap pores were empty and free 
 from obstruction. J. W. cut off a section of the vine 
 some eight inches in length, and going to a burning log 
 heap near by, set fire to one end of it. It burned slowly 
 without flame, and he began immediately to suck at the 
 other end, as I have since seen certain gentlemen suck 
 at cigars. 
 
 " Is that a see-gar? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes ; Thomas Elwood showed me how to make 'em." 
 
 "Is it good?" 
 
 " It's bully ! Make one, and try it for yourself. 
 Here's my knife; go and cut one." 
 
 I obeyed his direction, and soon we were both puffing 
 manfully away as though we really enjoyed it. In the 
 New Settlement smoking was a very common habit with 
 all classes of men and also with the older women; but 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 317 
 
 pipes were invariably used, and the refinement of suck- 
 ing a cigar liad not yet been added to the list of influ- 
 ences that were lifting us out of the middle ages. 
 Hence, these impromptu " see-gars " of wild grapevine 
 had to me all the charm of a newly discovered novelty. 
 I didn't like the taste of the thing, and the smoke getting 
 into my throat set me to coughing and made me feel 
 dizzy — but the experience was glorious ; I began to feel 
 like a man. 
 
 " We mustn't let mother see 'em," said J. W. as we 
 approached the house. " She says such things will get 
 us into bad habits ; and she don't allow us to smoke even 
 a straw." 
 
 So we threw the half-consumed pieces of grapevine 
 into a mudhole and made sure of their concealment by 
 casting a flat stone on top of them. 
 
 " Mother's mighty strict about such things, and she 
 licks me like blazes every time she catches me smoking 
 one of 'em," said John Woolman. 
 
 With three such boys to bring up and start on the 
 road to rectitude and fame, Friend Juliana had no 
 ordinary task to perform ; but she impressed me as being 
 a woman of rare sweetness of temper and of great good 
 judgment, and therefore eminently capable of doing what- 
 ever lay within the province of her duty. It was a 
 peculiar pleasure to see her sitting by the side of Aunt 
 Sary in the chimney corner and discussing sweet remin- 
 iscences of the old home in Carliny; and she seemed 
 never to grow tired of listening to the older woman's 
 frequent recital of the Evans genealogy. She was a 
 beautiful talker and, although not recognized as a lead- 
 ing minister, she was frequently moved to " speak in 
 meetin' " ; and her speaking, far from being of the Mar- 
 
3i8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 got Duberry kind, had the ring of genuineness and went 
 straight to the heart. 
 
 On the last day of their visit, Doctor Morris, to the 
 great joy of everybody and especially Aunt Sary, came 
 to accompany them home. My own chief interest in 
 seeing him was based upon the hope that he had brought 
 the book which he had promised — the Third Reader 
 with the green backs and the eagle on it. But although 
 I insinuated myself into his presence, and even tried to 
 give some very broad hints concerning it, he never al- 
 luded to the matter, nor did he appear to retain any in- 
 terest in me whatever. Perhaps all this was because he 
 had so many weightier affairs upon his mind. I could 
 only hang around and wonder at his changed attitude. 
 
 Early on Fifth-day morning, all our visitors departed 
 for their home in the Sweet Creek Settlement, and for 
 a while a real sense of loneliness was felt, I think, by 
 every member of our household. 
 
 '' My dear Morry ! My only little boy ! " moaned 
 Aunt Sary from the depths of her great chair. " I shall 
 never see . him again — never again, never again ; " and 
 from that day she seemed to grow weaker and crookeder, 
 and the light in her eyes began to fade. 
 
 Not very long afterward we heard sad news, heart- 
 rending news. Uncle Morris was drowned. There had 
 been heavy rains in the Wabash Country, and all the 
 streams were floods of rushing water. Uncle Morris 
 was riding at night, as we heard, attending to profes- 
 sional calls; and it was supposed that, in the semi-dark- 
 ness, he attempted to ford one of these streams, not 
 knowing how the rains had augmented its depth and the 
 force of its current. He was overwhelmed in the dread- 
 ful onrush. His horse succeeded in reaching the shore 
 
OLD AUNT SARY 319 
 
 and ran wildly home, but the body of the good physician 
 was carried far down the stream. 
 
 How this terrible news was broached to old Aunt Sary 
 — or whether, indeed, she was informed of it at all — I 
 never knew ; and my memory of those days of sorrow 
 is sadly confused and bedimmed. But it was scarcely 
 a fortnight later when a somber little procession of 
 wagons and horseback riders made its way — oh, so 
 slowly ! — down our lane and along the familiar big road 
 to the Dry Forks graveyard ; and in the foremost wagon 
 there was a long box of black walnut which father him- 
 self had joined together while his eyes were swimming 
 in tears. 
 
 The next morning, Aunt Rachel resumed her old ac- 
 customed seat in the left-hand corner of the chimney. 
 
CHAPTER XXIVi 
 
 " GOING TO SCHOOL? " 
 
 ONE morning, at the breakfast table, not long after 
 our return from the Great Moral Exhibition, 
 father abruptly said to me : 
 
 *' Robert, how would thee like to go to school this 
 winter ? " 
 
 I hesitated a moment, and then answered, half- 
 heartedly, '' I dunno." 
 
 '' Well," said he, " I saw Benjamin Barnacle yester- 
 day, and signed his article for half a scholar. So I ex- 
 pect thee to go for at least five weeks, and longer if 
 everything seems satisfactory." 
 
 Although this announcement was not unexpected, the 
 suddenness of it brought dismay to my shrinking soul. 
 I had long known that, sooner or later, the time would 
 come when, like all other proper boys, I must go to 
 school and " get an education " ; but now I was 
 astounded at the nearness of that time, so inevitable and 
 so dreadful. I dared not say a word by way of escap- 
 ing my doom; I could only hang my head and cherish 
 the feelings of dismay that were crowding into my heart. 
 
 True, I had escaped the bondage of school much 
 longer than it will be possible for you to do, my dear 
 Leonidas, my dear Leona. I had grown to the stature 
 of a puny half-grown lad, and had never yet been any- 
 body's scholar. Every winter since I could remember 
 
 320 
 
"GOING TO SCHOOL?" 321 
 
 •^ and, I had no doubt, every winter since Noah's flood — 
 somebody had kept school for a few brief weeks in the 
 old schoolhouse at Dry Forks. But mother had hereto- 
 fore steadily objected to my attending it, saying that I 
 was too little and peaked to walk so far in wintry 
 weather, just for the little good it would do me. Cousin 
 Mandy Jane, in sympathy for my crowning weakness, 
 had declared that I was " such a f raidy-cat and so skeery- 
 like," it would be right down cruel to send me where I 
 would surely be "bully-ragged around" by the rough 
 boys of the Settlement. And father had reluctantly ex- 
 cused me by saying that I was getting more knowledge 
 from the reading of books at home than the best teacher 
 in all the Wabash Country could impart to me through 
 the usual processes at school ; and, moreover, he himself 
 had undertaken to be my mentor in ciphering and spell- 
 ing, two branches that could not be learned by mere 
 reading. 
 
 And so the winters had come and gone, and the pleas- 
 ures of being a schoolboy had never yet been mine. 
 
 "Who is Benjamin Barnacle?" asked mother. 
 
 " He is a young Friend from Duck Creek," answered 
 father. " He showed me his certificate that he brought 
 from the place where he taught last winter, and it spoke 
 very highly of his character. I judge that he is a fine 
 scholar and a good teacher, and Robert will do well 
 with him." 
 
 " How many scholars has he got on his article ? " 
 queried Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 " He had nine and three-quarters when he came to 
 me," was the answer ; " and I set down a half for Rob- 
 ert, which made it ten and a quarter. He told me that 
 he felt sure of getting signers for at least eighteen before 
 
322 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the end of the week. He agrees, in his article, to teach 
 spelling, reading, writing and jography, and also cipher- 
 ing through the Rule of Three. For twenty-five cents 
 extra, he will teach grammar to any of the young women 
 that may wish to learn it.'' 
 
 *' How much will he charge for Robert ? " asked 
 mother, always looking ahead and counting the cost. 
 
 " He charges a dollar per scholar," was the answer ; 
 " and since I signed for half a scholar I shall have to pay 
 him fifty cents whether Robert goes to his school or not 
 — but of course he will go." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I think it will do him good to go," said 
 mother ; *' for he is right smart stronger than he was 
 last year, and the roads is better. He's gettin' to be a 
 big chunk of a boy now, and he ought to be learnin' the 
 ways of school." 
 
 And then Cousin Mandy Jane, perceiving how my 
 spirits were downcast by the prospect of it, turned to me 
 kindly, and said, " Thee'll have a mighty lot of fun, too, 
 Robby. I went to school one winter myself, when I was 
 a leetle thing in Carliny, and I liked it the best kind ; and 
 thee'll like it too, when thee gits begun at it." 
 
 " Yes," added father, " Robert will be much improved 
 by going to school and getting acquainted with other 
 children ; and I hope it will be the means of curing him 
 of his timid ways." 
 
 And so, without asking my opinion or consent, the 
 matter was settled and a new era in my life was about to 
 have its beginning. 
 
 All too soon the eventful day arrived, the day when 
 the " monthly meetin' school " at Dry Forks, under the 
 mastership of Benjamin Barnacle, was to " take up," or, 
 in other words, was to begin its sessions. In the mean- 
 
"GOING TO SCHOOL?" 323 
 
 while, by the exercise of all the will power I could mus- 
 ter, I had become in a measure reconciled to my fate. 
 With Inviz as my prompter, I argued that unless I was 
 manly and went to school as was desired, it would be 
 impossible for me to get an education or grow up to be 
 useful in the world. ' Therefore, wdiy shouldn't I be very 
 brave and make the very best of things as they came to 
 hand? Accordingly, I had prodded my courage daily 
 until I had got it to the sticking point and was ready, if 
 need be, to face the Old Feller himself, rather than 
 shirk my duties as a growing boy. And when the time 
 arrived I rose cheerily at break of day and got myself 
 ready for the three-mile journey to Dry Forks and mar- 
 tyrdom. 
 
 The weather was too cold for bare feet and thin 
 robins, and I accordingly put on my new shoes, which 
 squeaked delightfully, and invested the upper part of 
 my body in a jeans " wawmus " that was wonderfully 
 warm and comforting. Then, breakfast having been 
 hastily eaten, I started out with my little dinner bucket 
 in one hand and the three or four books that I thought 
 most needful under my arm. 
 
 " Don't thee be a fraidy-cat, now," was Cousin Alandy 
 Jane's parting caution. 
 
 " Try to be a good boy and learn all thee can," said 
 mother, with a sympathetic — yes, anxious — look in her 
 eyes. 
 
 And father, stern and dignified, merely remarked, " I 
 expect to hear good reports of thee the next time I see 
 Benjamin." 
 
 I had so persistently fortified myself for this under- 
 taking that, as I sallied out into the lane, I had not the 
 slightest feeling of hesitation or dread. My mind was 
 
324 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 filled with courage and overflowing with vanity. I 
 stepped lightly and with the feelings of a conqueror, and 
 already I saw myself the head scholar at the school, 
 favored by the master, and envied by all the pupils. . 
 
 At the gate, Inviz came running to be my companion. 
 
 " Going to school ? " he queried, having all he could 
 do to keep up with me. 
 
 " I certainly am," I answered. " I'm not going to 
 be a stay-at-home baby any longer. I'm going to get 
 an education." 
 
 '' Well, you must remember your motto," said Inviz 
 (strange to say, he had fallen into the habit of using the 
 unplain language) — "You must remember your motto: 
 
 ' Let this be your plan, 
 Learn all that you can.' " 
 
 '' Yes, I remember it ; " and, fortified with renewed 
 courage, I stepped higher than ever before. 
 
 But at the foot of the lane, whom should I encounter 
 but David, who was repairing a break in the fence. He 
 looked at me curiously, and I thought disdainfully, and 
 then whistled softly to himself. 
 
 " Thee needn't hold thy head so tarnal high," he re- 
 marked. " Thee'll be a-laughin' on t'other side of thy 
 face afore thee gits back." 
 
 I made no answer, but went on ; and yet that unkind 
 speech went straight to the spot; my ardor was damp- 
 ened, my pride was cast down, and my enforced courage 
 began to ooze away through the tips of my fingers. 
 And now each forward step brought me nearer to my 
 doom. Instead of advancing vigorously as before, I 
 slouched along unwillingly, picturing in my mind all sorts 
 of dreadful things that would probably happen when I 
 
"GOING TO SCHOOL?" 325 
 
 should at length stand in the presence of the mighty 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 All too soon, the long and lonely road was traversed, 
 and the meetin'-hoiise, with the schoolhouse just beyond 
 it, was close at hand. Then, my courage all gone, I glided 
 into a friendly fence corner and stood there irresolute, 
 despondent, rebellious. How much better it would be 
 to die and have done with it than to face the terrors that 
 were before me! And then my mind reverted to Rob- 
 inson Crusoe. He didn't like to go to school ; he never 
 went to meetin' ; he cared nothing about being a scholar ; 
 and so he ran away to sea and had a glorious time of it 
 on a desert island. Why couldn't I do hkewise? But 
 the sea was far, far away, and I didn't know how I 
 could ever find it; and I thought of mother, how she 
 would miss me, and of father's stern face when he 
 should have learned of my folly; and I sat down on the 
 ground with my face against a fence rail, and began to 
 cry. 
 
 Suddenly, a cheery voice behind me cried out, *' Hello 
 there, Bobby! What's the matter? Feet cold?" 
 
 I looked up. It was big jolly Ikey Bright with a 
 book and a slate under his arm. 
 
 ''What makes you cry, Bobby? Going to school?" 
 he asked, as I rose and wiped my eyes. " Don't you 
 want to go ? " 
 
 It was a full minute before I could answer him; and 
 he in his pompous way picked up my dinner bucket and 
 patted me on the shoulder and said, " There ! there ! 
 Don't feel so bad about it, Bobby." 
 
 '' I've never been to school before," I stammered be- 
 tween the sobs that would come in spite of me. 
 
 " Oh ! Is that all ? " he answered in the cheeriest 
 
S26 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 manner you ever heard. " Well, then, you come right 
 along with me, and don't be afraid even of the master. 
 I'll take care of you." 
 
 He slipped my arm into his, and together w^e went 
 bravely onward, he talking all the time about the adven- 
 tures he had had at various schools in Sin Snatty, and 
 how he had always been able to make the schoolmaster 
 behave himself properly, and how his Uncle Levi had 
 once given him a prize for knowing more than any other 
 boy in his class. Oh, my Leonidas, what a wonderful 
 sense of comfort and safety came over me as I walked 
 along under the protecting care of this heroic friend ! 
 
 How very full of talk he was that morning ! " Do you 
 notice," he said, " that I don't use the plain language 
 any more? I think the unplain is a good deal more dig- 
 nified, don't you ? " 
 
 ** Yes," I answered ; " but wha.t does thy — what does 
 your mother think of it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I always say tJiee and thy when I'm around her 
 — 'cause she likes it, you know ; but I say you to every- 
 body else. Why don't you learn to talk that way, Rob- 
 ert?" And he patted me very kindly, all with the in- 
 tention of keeping my thoughts away from that dreaded 
 school. 
 
 " I did try it once," I said ; '' and now I think I will 
 ti-y it again." 
 
 As we approached the schoolhouse we saw two or 
 three boys and a little girl loitering outside the door as 
 though afraid to enter, and we rightly surmised that we 
 were among the first arrivals. 
 
 " Old Benny hain't opened the door yet," said Ikey. 
 " Let's wait out here till it's time for books to take up." 
 
 So we sat down on a log and waited. Presently other 
 
" GOING TO SCHOOL? " 327 
 
 children began to come, some by one road and some by 
 another. They came singly and by twos or threes, carry- 
 ing their few books and their dinner buckets, and ap- 
 pearing to be very happy because it was the first day of 
 school. They were of all ages from five to twenty, and 
 of all sizes from little Dotty Darlington, who seemed 
 no more than a baby, to big lubberly Tommy Bray, 
 whose upper lip was in sad need of a razor. The boys, 
 as a rule, seemed rude and unmannerly; but the girls 
 v/ere modest and well-behaved, and some of them ap- 
 peared really handsome as they peeped out from behind 
 their plain sunbonnets. They looked at me smilingly, 
 and some of them spoke to me by way of pleasant wel- 
 come : 
 
 " Howdy, Robert ; is thee comin' to school ? " or, 
 "Hello, Bob! What's thee a-doin' here?" 
 
 Then the girls went on and entered the schoolhouse, 
 the door having been opened ; but the boys loitered about 
 the playground, talking in subdued tones ; for the master 
 was new and they were uncertain what kind of behavior 
 he might be expecting of them. And all this time, Ikey 
 sat close beside me on the log and, as though to prevent 
 my courage from flagging, kept up a running com- 
 mentary on each successive arrival. 
 
 " There comes Mary Price. Look your best, Bobby, 
 for she has a great shine after you — everybody says she 
 has." 
 
 Now, I had seen Mary Price at meetin' every First- 
 day since my memory began, and I hated her. I hated 
 her because David and Jonathan and Cousin Mandy Jane 
 had repeatedly teased me about her; more than this, she 
 had a habit of gazing at me in meetin' and looking sweetly 
 at me on all occasions, and this had caused unnecessary 
 
S2S IN MY YOUTH 
 
 remarks. And now, to hear Ikey say that she had *' a 
 shine " for nie ! it filled me with shame and rekindled 
 the flames of hatred in my heart. 
 
 But Alary, all unconscious of my feelings, smiled very 
 pleasantly as she passed, and said, ** Howdy, Robert ! 
 I'm glad thee's goin' to come to school." If I had been 
 a pious lad I would have prayed for the earth to open 
 and swallow her up ; but being unused to making such 
 appeals, I contented myself with fervently wishing that 
 the Old Feller would get her and carry her away. Yet 
 Mary was a good-looking child, although plain ; and if 
 other people had held their tongues, I might have ac- 
 quired a great liking for her, and then — who knows 
 what would have happened? "Perhaps, Leonidas, you 
 would never have been my presumptive great great 
 grandson. 
 
 " There conies the master's sweetheart," whispered 
 Ikey, nudging me with his elbow. 
 
 I looked. Three grown-up young women were com- 
 ing up the hill and approaching the schoolhouse. They 
 seemed too old to be scholars coming to school, but 
 the books which they carried in their hands told me 
 otherwise. I knew them, every one; for they, also, 
 were regular attendants at meetin'. 
 
 ''Which is his sweetheart?" I whispered. 
 
 " The middle one — the one with the yeller hair — 
 Lena Bouncer. Everybody says that's what made him 
 come here to teach the school. Maybe he'll marry her 
 if he can." 
 
 The young women passed us without so much as glanc- 
 ing our way, and went directly into the schoolhouse. i 
 
 '' There comes Jake Dobson," said Ikey. " HelT 'i)e 
 wanting you to swap something, but don't you do it." 
 
" GOING TO SCHOOL? " 329 
 
 Yes, I knew Jake Dobson. He was one of the bad 
 boys that whittled the benches in the meetin'-house and 
 sometimes made a noise when everybody ought to be 
 very solemn and still. He was a slender lad, a little 
 taller than myself, with a freckled face, a big nose, and 
 eyes like a pig. He came swaggering up to us and 
 greeted me very kindly: 
 
 *' Hello, Towhead ! What's thee doin' here ? Comin' 
 to school ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered. There was something so patron- 
 izing in his manner that I felt drawn toward him in 
 spite of myself. 
 
 " That's good," he said. " Thee'll have lots of fun. 
 How many marbles has thee got?" 
 
 " Nine." 
 
 *' Let's see 'em. Maybe thee'd like to swap some of 
 *em for my big taw ! " 
 
 I was about to put my hand in my pocket when Ikey 
 nudged me hard, and saved me from further confusion 
 by telling a very pretty little lie: 
 
 " Bobby hain't got his marbles with him," he said. 
 *■ His mother won't let him fetch 'em to school." 
 
 " Huh ! " granted Jake. " Well, maybe he might lose 
 'em. But how would thee like to swap knives, onsight 
 and onseen, Bobby? Fve got a mighty good Barlow." 
 
 '' Be still ! " said Ikey in a whisper. *' There's Old 
 Benny now." 
 
 \ I looked up. The master was standing in the doorway. 
 He was a short, pudgy, middle-aged man, round-faced 
 and very bald. I felt a kind of awe at the sight of him, 
 not because I was afraid, but because he was the school- 
 master and therefore a very great man who was to be 
 regarded with reverence. He stood in the door with the 
 
330 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 conscious air of a monarch surveying his trembHng sub- 
 jects; then raising a heavy ruler that he held in his hand 
 he smote the door- jamb thrice, at the same time crying 
 out: 
 
 " Books ! books ! books ! " 
 
 " Come ! " said Ikey to me. " School has took up. 
 Let's go in ! " 
 
 All the boys, of whom there were probably a dozen, 
 crowded into the house and, after hanging their dinner 
 buckets on some pegs provided for that •purpose, took 
 their seats behind two or three long rough desks at the 
 right-hand side of the room. The girls were already 
 sitting demurely in their places on the opposite side. 
 The master stood behind a small table upon a little low 
 platform at the opposite end of the room. He rapped 
 upon the table and repeated the call: 
 
 " Books ! books ! books ! " 
 
 There was a great deal of noise and confusion as 
 each scholar sought to secure the place of his choice, 
 and among the boys there was not a little unnecessary 
 pushing and shoving; but Benjamin Barnacle was patient, 
 and presently order was evolved from chaos and the 
 turmoil began to subside. Then the master, with a tre- 
 mendous rap of his ferule, commanded : 
 
 "Silence!" 
 
 Immediately, the room was so still that I could easily 
 have imagined myself the only person in it. 
 
 '' Scholars," said Benjamin Barnacle, speaking very 
 loudly and with great deliberation, " you have come to 
 school to learn, and I shall expect you every one to 
 behave and obey the rules. You may all keep the seats 
 that you now have till I think it best to put you some- 
 
" GOING TO SCHOOL? " 331 
 
 where else. We will now read a chapter from the New 
 Testament." 
 
 The scholars sat very quietly while he read, for this 
 was the first day and every child enjoyed the novelty 
 of it. When he had finished the chapter, the master 
 sat down by his table and began to arrange his writing 
 materials. The hum of voices was resumed. Some of 
 the older scholars opened their books and made a pre- 
 tense of studying; some of the younger ones, who like 
 myself were at school for the first time, waited and 
 wondered in silence; still others, who were more ex- 
 perienced in the methods of getting an education, pro- 
 ceeded to amuse themselves in ways which I do not care 
 to describe. Every act in the little drama was very 
 interesting to me, and, sitting silent and expectant, I 
 began to think that school was, after all, the most de- 
 lightful place in the world. 
 
 The schoolroom was long and low, with a door at one 
 end and the vestiges of a great fireplace, long disused, 
 at the other. In the center was a huge box stove, in 
 which on cold days a great fire v/as kept roaring from 
 morning till night. On the girls' side of the room there 
 were two narrow windows, long horizontally; and on 
 the boys' side there were also two such windows and 
 between them a small wooden blackboard on which the 
 ciphering scholars " worked their sums." All this I ob- 
 served while Benjamin Barnacle was sharpening a goose- 
 quill pen behind his little table and getting himself ready 
 for the day's multifarious duties. Presently he sat down 
 and proceeded to call the children, one by one, to come 
 forward and report their names and the necessary in- 
 formation about their parents, their books, and the 
 
332 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 studies which they desired to pursue. Soon my turn 
 came. I rose and went forward, not so timidly as you 
 might suppose, for the presence and example of the other 
 children had buoyed up my courage most wonderfully. 
 
 "What is thy name?" 
 
 '' Robert Dudley." 
 
 " Thy father's name? " 
 
 " Stephen Dudley." 
 
 '' How much did thy father sign for thee ? " 
 
 *' Half a scholar." 
 
 " Can thee read ? " 
 
 '' Yes." (At this, I heard Ikey and some of the other 
 scholars snicker quite noisily.) 
 
 *' Let me see thy book." 
 
 I showed him the mutilated copy of the English Reader 
 which I had brought, at father's suggestion, as being 
 better suited for school recitation than any other of my 
 numerous volumes. The master examined it for a mo- 
 ment, and then said, *' I think this is too hard reading 
 for a boy of thy age. If there is a First Reader at thy 
 home thee had better fetch it to-morrow." 
 
 I told him that I had McGuffey's First Reader. 
 *' Very well," he answered. " Be sure to fetch it, for it 
 will be much better adapted to thy comprehension. And 
 of course thee has a spelling-book?" 
 
 '' No, I never had one of my own ; but there is one in 
 father's library." 
 
 " Well, thee needs to study that very diligently, and 
 so I shall expect thee to fetch it to-morrow. For spelling 
 is the foundation of all knowledge." 
 
 He was about to dismiss me when I showed him the 
 copy of Pike's Arithmetic that I had brought, also at 
 father's suggestion. 
 
" GOING TO SCHOOL? " 333 
 
 " I hardly think thee is capable of that," he said. 
 
 " But I've ciphered all the way through short division," 
 I protested, " and father says he wishes me to go on with 
 it." 
 
 " Very well, then. Thee may begin with the rule for 
 long division, and work the first five sums on the next 
 page. That is all." 
 
 ''I — I think I would like to study geography," I said, 
 feeling unusually brave, and not willing to be dismissed 
 without making my wishes known. 
 
 " Geography ! Why, that's a branch for advanced 
 scholars. I'm afraid thee's almost too small to under- 
 stand it." 
 
 " Well, I've got a book here that I've read through 
 four or five times, and I think I understand it ; " and 
 with that, I showed him my cherished Parley Book. 
 
 He took it in his hands, opened it and examined it 
 from beginning to end with much interest. Finally, re- 
 turning it to me, he said, " And so thee thinks thee wants 
 to study this work?" 
 
 " Yes," I replied ; " and father says that I may." 
 
 *' Well, then, if that is the case, thee may begin with 
 the first lesson, page five, and take to the bottom of the 
 next page for to-morrow. That is all; thee may take 
 thy seat." 
 
 But I still persisted. " Father says he would like for 
 me to study writing," I said, producing a sheet of fools- 
 cap and a brand new quill pen. 
 
 " Yes, that is a very useful study," returned the master. 
 " I will set thee a copy at the dinner intermission, and if 
 thee has some black ink thee may write a line when the 
 time comes, in the afternoon. Now thee may take thy 
 seat." 
 
334 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 This time I obeyed him, and as I walked across the 
 floor I felt conscious that I was the lion of the school; 
 for no other lad, not even Ikey Bright, could undertake 
 to pursue a course of study so varied and comprehensive. 
 Reading, writing, spelling, arithmetic and geography ! — • 
 surely, all these implied a vast store of knowledge be- 
 sides a mental capacity of unusual dimensions. I felt 
 that' all the eyes in the schoolroom were directed toward 
 me in admiration. 
 
 " He's the best scholar thee has," I overheard Lena 
 Bouncer whisper to the master as she came forward to 
 have her pen sharpened. 
 
 And Mary Price, from her humble seat by the water 
 bucket — • for there was no room for her at any desk — 
 looked proudly at me and smiled ! 
 
 At about the middle of the forenoon, the master, hav- 
 ing finished his preliminary examination of all the schol- 
 ars, rapped loudly upon his desk and announced : 
 
 " Time for recess ! " 
 
 Immediately the boys, as if moved by a single impulse, 
 sprang up and rushed out-of-doors, whooping and 
 screaming like so many savages turned suddenly loose. 
 The girls, being by nature less demonstrative, gathered 
 in groups around the water bucket or by the great stove ; 
 and two or three ventured to the door to watch the boys 
 at their play. As for myself, although I had been very 
 brave when facing the master, the thought of mingling 
 with so many boys — and incidentally being observed by 
 the girls — completely unnerved me, and I remained in 
 my seat, cowering behind the long desk. Even the 
 friendly beckonings of Ikey and of Jake Dobson failed 
 to lure me from my place of refuge. 
 
" GOING TO SCHOOL? " 335 
 
 " Don't thee want to go out and play with the other 
 boys?" queried Lena Bouncer, very patronizingly. 
 
 I hung my head very low over my open Parley Book. 
 
 Then the master spoke up : '' Yes, Robert Dudley, I 
 think it would do thee good to go out and take a little 
 exercise." 
 
 But I was resolved not to go; and so I shrank into as 
 small dimensions as were possible, and sulked — yes, 
 actually sulked — until Old Benny again rapped upon the 
 door-jamb and shouted, ''Books! books! books!" 
 
 After recess the real work of the school began. There 
 were as many grades and as many classes as there were 
 scholars — no fewer than twenty-five on that opening 
 day. The master, with his dreaded ferule in his hand 
 and a goose-quill pen stuck over each ear, sat by the side 
 of his small desk and from that elevated station ruled 
 and served his subjects. PThere was no program to be 
 followed, no order of exercises, no system. When a 
 scholar felt that he had studied his lesson well and was 
 prepared to recite, he would take his book in hand and 
 go forward to the master's desk. The master would 
 open the book and listen to the scholar read or spell or 
 answer whatever questions might be printed on the page 
 that had been studied. 
 
 If the scholar did well in this recitation, Benjamin 
 would say approvingly, *' That will do. Take the next 
 lesson." But if he stumbled in his reading, or mis- 
 spelled an easy word, or failed to answer the questions 
 before him — then, let him face his doom! 
 
 " Take that lesson again," the master would say 
 sharply ; and the admonition was usually accompanied 
 by a thump on the cheek, or a twitch of the ear, or in 
 extreme cases by a thoroughgoing, old-fashioned spank- 
 
336 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ing. A second failure would sometimes bring a hickory 
 switch into requisition, and the culprit would be sen- 
 tenced to stand in a corner until he had read or spelled 
 the lesson over and over again a stated number of times. 
 If a scholar delayed too long to report himself ready to 
 recite, he was reminded of it by seeing the master's 
 ferule flying across the room at no great distance from 
 his head. 
 
 The ABC scholars and others who were too young 
 to comprehend the meaning of study, were dealt with 
 in a different manner. They sat together on the low 
 backless benches assigned to them and tried very hard 
 to keep their eyes fixed upon the ragged primers or 
 spelling-books that had been provided for their torture. 
 In the intervals between other duties the master would 
 call one of them by name. The startled youngster would 
 grasp his primer, stumble across the room, climb upon 
 the platform and with fear and trembling stand by the 
 master's side. 
 
 '' Open thy book," the master commanded. 
 
 It was opened. 
 
 " Now what letter is this ? " 
 
 The child hesitated. 
 
 '' It's A," said the master, " A, A, A ! Look at it. 
 Now tell me what it is." 
 
 The child timidly answered, " A." 
 
 *' That's right. Remember it's A. Now what's this 
 next letter? " 
 
 Again the child hesitated. 
 
 " I tell thee it's B. Look at it. It's B, B, B ! Now 
 tell me what it is." 
 
 The child, a little encouraged, answered, " B." 
 
 " Yes, that's right. Now don't forget. This is A and 
 
"GOING TO SCHOOL?" 337 
 
 this is B. Now go to thy seat, and study these two 
 letters till thee knows them by heart." 
 
 Thus, the master on his pedestal was the busiest of 
 men. Recitation followed recitation, briefly and in rapid 
 succession. Not more than three scholars at a timiC 
 were permitted to approach the throne, and they must 
 take their turns in orderly succession. Although the 
 most usual business was " to say my lesson," there were 
 many excuses, some necessary and others unnecessary, 
 for keeping the master occupied. 
 
 " May I go out? " This was the favorite petition ; and 
 if it was granted, the pupil was required to leave his 
 book on a shelf by the door until his return, pending 
 which no one else need apply. 
 
 " Won't thee sharpen my pen ? " 
 
 " May I set by the stove and warm my feet ? " 
 
 " Mayn't I move my seat further away from Jake 
 Dobson ? He sticks pins in me ? " 
 
 *' May I go to the blackboard and do my sums? " 
 
 '' May me and Mary Price go after a bucket of 
 water? " 
 
 All these petitions and many more did Benjamin Bar- 
 nacle listen to on that opening day ; and to each he rend- 
 ered a judicious and well-considered reply. Moreover, 
 in addition to giving audience to these and also listening 
 to each scholar " say his lesson " individually, he found 
 time to give special instruction to a class of ten whom 
 he called upon to read, verse by verse, a chapter in the 
 New Testament. Besides all this, he maintained order 
 in the school and attended to more than one case of 
 infraction of discipline. Was he not a busy man, my 
 dear Leonidas? Compare him with your modern scien- 
 tific school-teacher (no longer master), busy with fads 
 
338 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and frills, and experimenting with the children's minds 
 in order to invent some new method and write a book 
 about it! 
 
 At length, the middle of the day arrived, as was at- 
 tested by a score of hungry stomachs. The shadow of 
 the door- jamb was beginning to obscure the noon mark 
 on the floor. The master, with due deliberation, drew 
 his big silver watch from his waistcoat pocket and com- 
 pared it with the sun. Then, with a crash of his ferule, 
 he cried: 
 
 " Silence ! Silence ! " 
 
 Instantly every scholar was as quiet as the proverbial 
 rodent in the meal chest. 
 
 *' The young women who wished to study English 
 grammar," announced the master, " will recite to me 
 during the noon intermission. Those of you who re- 
 main in the room at that time will be required to keep 
 very still while the recitation is going on. You may 
 now proceed to eat your dinners." 
 
 The boys and most of the girls were on their feet in 
 a moment. There was a mad rush for the dinner 
 buckets (the word " pail " was unknown in the New 
 Settlement) ; then the children assembled in various 
 groups about the room, according to family relationships 
 or personal preferences, and the eating began. It was 
 a quick lunch with most of us ; for we had grown very 
 tired of the narrow hard benches and the restraints of 
 the schoolroom, and were impatient to enjoy the noon 
 intermission in the free air of outdoors. At the end of 
 fifteen minutes the master again consulted his watch, and 
 then announced: 
 
 " Intermission ! " 
 
 Oh, the tumbling and rushing and crowding to escape 
 
" GOING TO SCHOOL? " 339 
 
 that prison house, and then the yelHng and jumping 
 and rolling that signalized the beginning of our brief 
 spell of liberty ! I had never before witnessed anything 
 of the kind, and I shrank timidly away from the turbu- 
 lent mob, and stood leaning against a friendly tree, a 
 silent and lonely looker-on. Not even the entreaties of 
 Ikey Bright or the soft blandishments of Jake Dobson 
 could induce me to join in any of the merry games that 
 were soon in progress. 
 
 At the end of half an hour, the master came again 
 to the schoolroom door, the ferule crashed three times 
 against the jamb, and the air again resounded with the 
 vociferous summons: 
 
 '' Books ! books ! books ! " 
 
 And so my first day at school passed, minute by 
 minute, and hour by hour, without any serious set-back 
 to my courage or my personal enjoyment. It was all 
 so new to me, so novel, so different from any former 
 experience, that I really liked it notwithstanding the oc- 
 casional slight shocks that I received. The master 
 treated me with condescension, the children were kind, 
 and the bookish atmosphere of the place was very agree- 
 able. I said my lessons in reading and spelling and 
 geography in a manner that w^on the approbation of the 
 master and the generous envy of the older scholars ; 
 and, ere long, my shyness began to be swallowed up in 
 vanity, and an unusual sense of my own self-importance 
 increased my courage. At last the sun was sinking in 
 the western horizon, and again we heard the stentorian 
 cry of the master: 
 
 " Silence ! Silence ! Put up your books," he said. 
 " Be here at eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Books 
 is now let out." 
 
340 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 If there had been a great rush at noon, there was now 
 a wild stampede. Within thirty seconds the schoolroom 
 was cleared of human beings except the master and the 
 three young women scholars; and in less than a minute 
 every child^-^had disappeared from the neighborhood as 
 if by magic.j 
 
 And I, with big self-important Ikey Bright as my 
 companion and protector, wended my way home in the 
 gloaming. 
 
 " How did thee like it, Robert ? " inquired Cousin 
 Mandy Jane. 
 
 " Pretty well," I answered, curtly. 
 
 Thus, my dear Leonidas, my dear Leona, another 
 milestone of existence is passed. How shall I number 
 it? How shall I designate it in my inventory of ex- 
 periences? The sheet of paper, once so pure and spot- 
 less, is fast becoming soiled, disfigured with blots and 
 marred with unseemly scrawls. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 " SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 
 
 GOING to school was to me in some respects like 
 reading a new book of surpassing interest — it was 
 a tale of which I never grew tired. Each day brought 
 some new experiences, opened up a new vista of life 
 however narrow, added a little to my scant stock of 
 learning, and alas ! led me, step by step, out of and away 
 from the garden of innocence. 
 
 My progress in book study was not retarded by any 
 so-called system of gradation. I was my own class, and 
 I shared it with none. I studied what I liked, I recited 
 as often as I was ready, and my advancement was in 
 proportion to my diligence. Within five weeks I had 
 completed the study of geography so far as it was laid 
 down in my Parley Book, and the master announced that 
 I was ready for an advanced work on that subject. I 
 had also ciphered to the Rule of Three, which was as 
 far as Benjamin Barnacle had agreed in his " article " 
 to pilot me. The great ocean of knowledge was spread 
 out before me, and I eagerly availed myself of every 
 opportunity to pick up a pebble or two along the shore. 
 
 It was hard for me to join with the other children 
 in the games and plays with which they amused them- 
 selves at the recesses and the noon intermissions. Hav- 
 ing always been so much alone, I shrank from intimacy 
 with those of my kind, and my inherent shyness caused 
 me to shun companionship. Besides all this, not being 
 
 341 
 
342 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 used to the rudeness which prevailed on the playground, 
 I felt that the better part of valor was to keep myself 
 aloof from it. And so, while the other boys and girls 
 were romping with all the energy of young savages, and 
 boiling over with the joy which they derived from it, 
 I — poor, foolish fellow — stood alone on the outskirts 
 of the playground and watched them, sometimes enjoy- 
 ing the sight of their pleasure, sometimes betraying my- 
 self because I was by nature so unlike them in tastes 
 and inclinations. 
 
 The games most favored by the boys were ball games, 
 the very names of which are now generally forgotten. 
 The best of all was called " town ball." It was played 
 by the larger boys, and was the exact prototype of your 
 baseball, lacking only those features which give it its 
 scientific precision. Then there was ''three old cat," 
 a very simple game with three batters and three catchers, 
 the catchers serving also as pitchers. But the most bar- 
 baric of all was " bull pen," a game which required but 
 little skill, save quickness, and appealed to the savagest 
 instincts of the players. The boys stand in a ring 
 around one of their number who has volunteered to be 
 the first " bull." A ball, large and very hard, is tossed 
 from one to another, the bull keeping constantly on the 
 alert. Presently, however, something occurs to throw 
 him off his guard, and the ball is hurled at him with all 
 the strength which his antagonist can muster. If he 
 escapes being hit, his antagonist takes his place as bull. 
 If the ball strikes him he must get hold of it as, soon 
 as possible and hit some other boy who forthwith takes 
 his place ; or, failing in this, he must continue in the ring 
 and take the chances of being hit again. And that is the 
 entire game, a relic no doubt of primitive barbarism. 
 
" SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 343 
 
 The girls also had their own innocent little games, 
 such as " ring around a rosy " and '* I spy " and " pizen " 
 and '' blindman's buff." These I shall not attempt to 
 describe, for doubtless they will have survived to your 
 day, my dear Leona, and you will know more about 
 them than I can tell you. 
 
 As the days went by, the boys and girls gradually 
 became less shy of one another, and soon games were 
 inaugurated in which both could engage with equal en- 
 joyment. These games, having none of the elements of 
 rudeness or danger that characterized the ball plays, 
 vv^ere much better adapted to my timid ways, and, little 
 by little, I was induced to take part in them. The one 
 known as " black man " was particularly interesting. It 
 was no doubt as ancient as civilization, and was simply 
 a drama without words wherein one of the children as- 
 sumed the part of the Old Feller and proceeded to harry 
 and capture the other players who must run from one 
 " base " to the next to escape him. Those whom he 
 caught became his allies and were obliged to assist him in 
 his nefarious warfare. Another game, somewhat similar, 
 was called " prison base." It also was a dramatization, 
 representing a state of warfare between savage tribes, 
 the capture of prisoners and their attempted rescue. 
 The game was ended when one tribe was totally de- 
 stroyed by the other. It was of course great fun for 
 the boys to make prisoners of the girls ; and no doubt 
 the girls enjoyed the chase and the capture — as they do 
 even to this day. 
 
 At the very time, however, when my pleasure might 
 have been the greatest — because I was gradually learn- 
 ing to be like other children — it was spoiled by the 
 folly of poor Mary Price. If I took the part of the 
 
344 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Old Feller in the game of " black man," she would Im- 
 mediately throw herself in my way and insist upon being 
 caught. If I ignored her, the other scholars would jeer 
 at me; if I made her my easy captive they would laugh 
 and hint at shameful things. It was the same way in 
 the game of '' base " — Mary Price was always either 
 my willing prisoner or my most zealous lieutenant. Her 
 eyes were on me always; I felt that we were both fast 
 becoming the laughing-stock of the school. 
 
 One cold day, when there v^^ere but few scholars in 
 attendance and the weather made it impossible to play 
 out-of-doors, we were all gathered around the stove 
 during recess, to keep warm. Some were talking, some 
 were quietly playing, and others — myself among them 
 — were improving the time by studying the next lesson 
 in spelling. Suddenly I was surprised and shocked be- 
 yond measure by feeling a pair of fat arms thrown 
 around my neck. Oh, the confusion, the awful em- 
 barrassment, the flood of sudden anger that overwhelmed 
 me ! I knew whose arm.s they were. I reached up 
 quickly v/ith both my hands and dug my sharp finger- 
 nails into them with a ferocity that would have done 
 credit to a catamount. There was a suppressed little 
 shriek, a sob, and the arms, dripping blood, were quickly 
 withdrawn. 
 
 I glanced sullenly and savagely around. O my dear 
 Leonidas, my dear Leona, would you believe that your 
 venerable ancestor was capable of such a thing? A mil- 
 lion years of regret can never obliterate from my mental 
 vision the look that was in poor Mary's eyes. It in- 
 dicated neither anger nor pain — it was the look, I 
 fancied, of a broken heart. Did I repent of my thought- 
 less act? Yea, verily, and in sackcloth and ashes. It 
 
'' SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 345 
 
 was the meanest act of my life, a beastly act, and the 
 memory of it rankles in my heart even now. But Mary 
 Price never again threw herself in my way, never again 
 smiled at me nor manifested any admiration for me. 
 She grew up and married early and became the mother 
 of many children and the grandmother of a host. It is 
 probable that in her matronly years she forgot her child- 
 ish flame and her cruel disappointment. 
 
 If the miserable affair had ended with the commission 
 of the deed, I too might have forgotten it, just as I 
 have forgotten many another momentary lapse into a 
 state of savagery. But there were witnesses of it, and 
 many days elapsed ere they suffered me to hear the last 
 word about it. I was quite sure that Benjamin Barnacle 
 saw the transaction, and I expected to receive from his 
 hands the trouncing which I so richly deserved. But 
 when I ventured to look shamefacedly toward his desk, 
 he was bending over and giving some private instruction 
 to his class in English grammar — a class that was now 
 composed of only one scholar, Lena Bouncer, the two 
 other young women having found the study too difficult 
 for their comprehension. I was at that moment in a 
 thoroughly fighting mood, all the evil passions within 
 me having been awakened, and had he undertaken to 
 " correct " me, there would have been a scene ; but, with 
 all his weaknesses, Benjamin Barnacle was a prudent 
 master. He knew when to be blind. 
 
 Not so with some of the older scholars. They had 
 little sympathy with foolish Mary, but they had less 
 sympathy with bearish me. The girls contented them- 
 selves with pointing their fingers at me and hissing, " For 
 shame ! for shame ! " And some of the boys, with whom 
 I had never been very friendly, were much less con- 
 
346 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 siderate of my feelings. They nicknamed me the Cat, 
 and whenever I appeared on the playground they greeted 
 me with a series of mewings and caterwaulings that made 
 my blood boil and stirred up my savage instincts until 
 if murder was not in my heart it was certainly close by. 
 At such times the friendly protecting arm and voice of 
 big, jovial Ikey Bright proved most welcome and most 
 effectual. 
 
 But one day Ikey was absent, and at the noon inter- 
 mission my tormentors began to make life particularly 
 disagreeable to me. There were only three or four of 
 them, all the other boys being neutral or my silent par- 
 tisans ; but these rude fellows gave their entire energies 
 to the task of annoying me. 
 
 " Meow ! meow ! meow ! " they cried in concert. 
 
 " Hiss, cat ! hiss, cat ! hiss-s-s-s ! " gibed their leader, 
 a rude boy of my own size, whose name was Timothy 
 Bray. 
 
 " Trim the tomcat's claws ! " shouted another. " Trim 
 his claws ! " And they all laughed. 
 
 O my Leonidas ! do you think I was not fighting 
 mad? AVell, if you had seen the sticks and stones that 
 were presently flying through the air, you would not have 
 the least doubt of it. But what did that avail ? Timothy 
 and his crowd were good dodgers, having had practice 
 in the bull-pen ring, and not a single missile reached its 
 mark ; and the more furious I became, the more ex- 
 asperating were my adversaries. 
 
 Then Jake Dobson, past master in all sorts of under- 
 hand tricks, cried out, '' If you fellers want to fight Bob 
 Dudley, why don't you come at him, one at a time? 
 You're afeard. You're cowards." 
 
 They paused with their jeering, and came nearer; and 
 
** SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 347 
 
 I, with my back against a tree, stood at bay and glared 
 at them. 
 
 " 'Tain't fair for four to pick on one," continued 
 Jake ; '' but you do it 'cause you're af eard of him." 
 
 Timothy began to chuckle, and when one of his fellows 
 ventured to cry out " Hiss, cat ! " I thrust at him fiercely 
 with my fist. 
 
 "Take keer! He's agoin' to scratch!" shouted the 
 biggest boy in the school. 
 
 By this time I was foaming with rage. All the fight- 
 ing instincts of the Dudleys — instincts that had lain pent 
 up and repressed through five generations of non-com- 
 batants for conscience' sake — were aroused and cours- 
 ing through my veins. 
 
 '' Has any of you got a chip ? " asked Jake Dobson. 
 
 " Here's one," said a small boy, stooping to pick it 
 up from the ground. 
 
 " Gimme it," commanded Jake. He took the chip in 
 his hand, turned it over, spat on one side of it, and then 
 laid it on my shoulder. 
 
 '' Now, Tim," he said, " I'll bet thee don't dare to 
 knock that chip off'n Bob's forequarter." 
 
 Timothy advanced sidewise toward me, and when 
 within a convenient distance, swept his hand around and 
 sent the chip flying to the ground. In a moment I was 
 upon him. I didn't know anything about fighting, being 
 a non-combatant by birth and having never seen a per- 
 formance of that sort; but all my energies were directed 
 to the one efifort to disable my enemy. For perhaps two 
 brief seconds the air around us was luminous with the 
 exhalations of wrath. I smote Timothy on the cheek ; 
 he tripped me up; we were rolling on the ground — 
 and then suddenly a silence as of the grave pervaded 
 
348 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the place of combat, and a hand that was not Thnothy's 
 grasped the collar of my wawmus, and lifted me to my 
 feet. At the same time, a voice that v/as neither loud 
 nor angry, but nevertheless terrible as an army with 
 banners, spoke up and said : 
 
 '' Come, boys ! We will go into the house a while and 
 try to cool ourselves off." 
 
 The master led us both into the schoolhouse and 
 directed us to take our accustomed seats and remain 
 there until he should see fit to have a season with us. 
 Then he closed the door with a decisive warning to the 
 other scholars not to approach the house until books was 
 called. 
 
 In a state of deep contrition I sat down and bowed 
 my head forward upon the desk. My heart was very 
 bitter, and the world seemed indeed a cheerless place 
 without one ray of comfort to illume its dreary wastes. 
 During the first few moments the schoolroom was so 
 still that I could hear the despondent breathings of my 
 fallen adversary a dozen feet away. Then I heard the 
 master's footsteps returning to his platform; and a 
 slight rustling, as of the leaves of a book, reminded me 
 that the class in English grammar was probably waiting 
 to say its lesson. I raised my head a little and looked. 
 Yes, there was the class, sitting by the master's desk; 
 and the master was in the act of leaning over to look 
 into Goold Brown's Institutes of English Grammar which 
 the class was holding in its hands. Then in my misery I 
 again dropped my head upon the desk and gave way to 
 desperate musings. 
 
 I was no longer angry. I had given Timothy a bloody 
 cheek and was ready to make up with him. But what 
 was the use? I was disgraced. Never again, so long 
 
'' SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 349 
 
 as life endured, would I find pleasure in books or play, 
 in school or home. My brief race had been run ; hence- 
 forth there was nothing in store for me but labor and 
 sorrow. 
 
 Then I heard a voice. It was that of the class in 
 English grammar, otherwise called Lena Bouncer; but 
 she was not saying her lesson. 
 
 '' I don't think the boys will give any more trouble," 
 I heard her say. '' Why not make 'em promise to be 
 good and then let 'em go out? They need the fresh 
 pure air." 
 
 " But they were fighting," I heard the master softly 
 reply. " They were bad, extremely bad, and they must 
 be punished." 
 
 *' They are both usually so good ! I'm sure they didn't 
 mean it," said the other voice. " Why not have a little 
 season with 'em right now, and then let *em go? I 
 cain't recite my lesson with their sad faces before me." 
 
 " Thee is a pretty good counselor," returned the 
 master ; " and I think I will follow thy advice." Then 
 raising his voice, he said in quite other tones, " Timothy ! 
 Robert ! Both of you come forward." 
 
 We rose sulkily, reluctantly; and Timothy, seeing the 
 long hickory on the wall, and in imagination feeling it 
 on his tender rear parts, began to whimper. 
 
 " Don't cry, boys," said tender-hearted Lena. " Come 
 up here and see what the master will say to you." 
 
 "Yes, come forward!" said Benjamin, not unkindly. 
 
 We shambled up to his desk, hanging our heads and 
 feeling very penitent. 
 
 '' Now, boys," said the master in a jolly mood, '' I'm 
 going to let you off easy this time; but if it happens 
 again, I'll give it to you double. Robert, look at Tim- 
 
350 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 othy. Timothy, look at Robert. Now, shake hands like 
 two good little Friends," 
 
 We obeyed him, and immediately felt better. 
 
 " Robert, does thee forgive Timothy ? " 
 
 I nodded my head. 
 
 " Timothy, does thee forgive Robert ? " 
 
 He assented in like manner. 
 
 '' Now, boys, do you both promise that you will never 
 again say an unkind word the one to the other, or do an 
 unkind act the one to the other ? " 
 
 We raised our heads and each bravely, but faintly, 
 answered " Yes ! " 
 
 Then Lena came with her handkerchief and would 
 have wiped our eyes had we not resented the indignity. 
 
 " The poor dears," she said, " I knowed that they 
 didn't mean to be naughty." 
 
 " Now, boys," said the master, " you may go out and 
 play, remembering your promise. But be sure not to 
 make any unnecessary noise, and don't linger around the 
 door ; for the class in English grammar is going to re- 
 cite." 
 
 Timothy, with an air of mingled humility, thankful- 
 ness and joy, strode quickly to the door, opened it and 
 was soon regaling the other boys with a dreadful tale 
 of the master's wrath. But I hesitated and hung back. 
 The prospect of another half-hour on the playground 
 that day was not in the least alluring. I felt sure that 
 my appearance there would be immediately greeted with 
 cat-calls from all the other boys, and that I would again 
 be goaded to anger, and perhaps be forced to engage 
 in another miserable fight. There was no longer an 
 ounce of courage in my body. Having already disgraced 
 
" SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 351 
 
 myself twice through being mastered by my hot temper, 
 I had no heart to risk another fall. So, instead of avail- 
 ing myself of the master's permission to go out and play, 
 I went stiffly back to my seat, opened the Parley Book 
 at the next lesson, bent over it with my elbows on the 
 desk and made a brave show of studying. 
 
 '* Robert! " It was the master's voice, but I pretended 
 not to hear. 
 
 '' Robert, ain't thee going out to play? " 
 
 I made a faint negative motion of the head, but with- 
 out raising my eyes. 
 
 " Robert, I want thee to go out and play." 
 
 The voice was sharper and more decisive ; but it served 
 only to increase my determination not to obey the 
 master's wishes. There was a sound of footsteps — Old 
 Benny was coming to enforce obedience — but I did not 
 look up. I was resolved that, if he chose, he might tear 
 my limbs from my body and throw me piecemeal out of 
 doors to be reviled by my tormentors, but never would I 
 voluntarily place myself in their power. The steps came 
 nearer, and again the master's hand sought the collar of 
 my wawmus. 
 
 What might have happened had there been no inter- 
 ference, it is useless to surmise. But at that decisive 
 moment, the class in English grammar with pleading 
 voice cried out : 
 
 " Oh, Benjamin, the little feller is afraid. Please let 
 him stay. He will be very still, and I'm sure he won't 
 interrupt us." 
 
 The master made no reply, and I heard him return to 
 his table. I looked up, but the high desk in front of 
 me hid both him and his class from view. I sat very 
 
352 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 still, listening to the shouts and the merry laughter of 
 the children on the playground. Boys and girls were 
 playing " black man " together, and I was forgotten. 
 1 Then I was aware that the class in English grammar 
 h^begun to recite, speaking low and softly as if desirous 
 not to disturb my meditations. I peeped around the 
 projecting corner of my desk and saw the master, this 
 time sitting beside the class and holding the grammar 
 book in his hand. The recitation proceeded. It con- 
 sisted of the repetition of something which the class had 
 memorized verbatim from Goold Brown's immortal 
 work. It was interesting and musical, and I listened. 
 
 Like a love-lorn whippoorwill on a midsummer's night, 
 the class never once stopped to take breath as it recited 
 the world-old paradigm : " First person, I love ; second 
 person, thou lovest ; third person, he loves — " 
 
 " The potential," interrupted the master. 
 
 The class proceeded : " First person, I may love ; 
 second person, thou mayst love — " 
 
 Master: '' Yes ! yes ! The emphatic form ? " 
 
 Class: " First person — first person — " 
 
 Master: " I do love." 
 
 Class: "Yes! Second person, thou dost love; 
 third—" 
 
 Master: '' Never mind the third person. Give the 
 progressive, interrogative. First person — " 
 
 Class: "Art thou loving?" 
 
 Master: " Next, the progressive, positive, first per- 
 son—" 
 
 Class: " I am loving; second person, thou art loving." 
 
 Master: "That's right; let's keep on. Future, in- 
 terrogative, second person — " 
 
 Class: " Wilt thou love? First person — " 
 
" SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 353 
 
 Master: " Yes, yes ! I will love ! I do love ! 
 Plural — Shall — ' 
 
 Class: " Shall we love! " "^^ 
 
 Master: *' Certainly. That's right. We do love I'll 
 
 And then, — O my dear Leonidas, my dear Leona, 
 tell it not in Gath, publish it not in Askelon — there was 
 a sound like that of a cork twisted quickly from the 
 neck of a peppermint bottle, after which the master rose 
 and took two or three steps forward to ascertain if I 
 were really asleep as I pretended to be. 
 
 " Poor little fellow ! " said the class in English gram- 
 mar. " He ain't used to fightin', and he's all worn out 
 with the excitement." 
 
 " How fast the minutes fly ! " exclaimed the master, 
 looking at his great watch. '' I declare, it's time to 
 take up books again." 
 
 And ferule in hand, he strode to the door, rapped 
 lustily in his usual manner, and repeated the old familiar 
 cry: 
 
 "Books! books! books!" 
 
 Contrary to my fears, the scholars seemed no longer 
 to remember my unseemly exhibitions of bad temper. 
 They looked at me kindly, spoke to me in the old 
 familiar manner, and refrained from any allusions to the 
 unfortunate incidents of the day. Even Timothy Bray 
 and his backers manifested their compunction by being 
 more friendly than at any former time; and not one 
 voice was raised to call me a " tomcat " or to hiss me 
 into a state of unreasoning fury. 
 
 Nevertheless, there was still one scholar who kept me 
 in a state of disquietude and was my bete noir every day 
 of my life. That scholar was Jake Dobson. He over- 
 whelmed me with attentions; he was profuse in his ex- 
 
354 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 pressions of admiration ; he was never tired of slobber- 
 ing over me. But all his services, all his praises, all his 
 flattery were, as I soon learned, mere preludes to induce 
 me to swap something of mine for something of his. 
 
 In his absence, I hated him, I resolved to shun him, I 
 made all sorts of plans to circumvent and out-trick him, 
 I hoped against hope that something dreadful might 
 happen to him. In his presence, I found him so humble, 
 so devoted to my interests, so persuasive in his manners, 
 that I was irresistibly drawn into whatsoever net he 
 chose to spread for me. And so, I was never done 
 swapping with him. It was in vain that Ikey Bright 
 warned me, in vain that I resolved and re-resolved to re- 
 sist his blandishments ; I was his helpless and not unwill- 
 ing victim. I swapped six of my beautiful striped marbles 
 for an old white taw with holes in it. The remaining 
 three marbles I swapped for a sling-shot, which I broke 
 and threw away the next day. I swapped the old white 
 taw back to Jake for three brass buttons with a fox's 
 head on them in relief. Then he offered to swap me a 
 peck of walnuts for the brass buttons, and after the 
 trade was consummated I discovered that every walnut 
 was rotten. Thus, at the end of the fourth week, I found 
 myself utterly bankrupt, all of my possessions, except 
 my books, having been transferred to Jake Dobson, 
 the millionaire in embryo. Even the horn buttons on 
 my wawmus and the brass buckles on my " galluses " 
 were sacrificed to the greed of this young Shylock. 
 
 One evening as Ikey Bright and I were wending our 
 way homeward in the gathering twilight we saw a small 
 animal dragging itself across the open road at a little 
 distance ahead of us. 
 
" SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE '^ 355 
 
 ** Be careful ! " said Ikey. " I think it is a polecat 
 and it's making believe hurt, so as to play a trick on us." 
 
 I ran forward, however, and soon discovered that it 
 was a larg-e squirrel which had been wounded in such 
 a way as to render his hind legs useless. He struggled 
 painfully forward through the dust and the roadside 
 weeds, evidently trying to reach a tree that was near by ; 
 but how did the poor creature hope to climb any tree 
 with only his two front paws to cling by? 
 
 " Don't touch him, he'll bite ! " shouted Ikey, seeing 
 that I was bent on picking him up. 
 
 But I was on familiar terms with the timid beasts 
 of the woods ; and feeling that they understood me, 
 I had little fear of any of them. The crippled fellow 
 struggled valiantly to escape, and then faced about and 
 feebly offered fight. I reached down to seize him, 
 but was not quick enough. He leaped suddenly upward 
 and fastened his four long incisors in the fleshy part of 
 my hand. The pain was intense; but I knew how to 
 disengage him, which I did without unnecessary rough- 
 ness. 
 
 " Why don't you choke him to death ? " cried Ikey, 
 seeing the blood dripping from my hand. 
 
 ** Oh, he didn't mean to hurt me," I answered. '' See 
 how gentle he is." And, indeed, he had ceased all re- 
 sistance and was cuddling softly in my arms as though 
 conscious he had met a friend. 
 
 " Look at him, Ikey," I said. " I do believe he is our 
 old Esau." 
 
 " He knows how to bite, anyhow," said Ikey. 
 
 We examined the little creature as he snuggled, pant- 
 ing and trembling, in the folds of my wawmus sleeve. 
 
356 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Yes, he was red and hairy Hke his Scriptural namesake ; 
 and there were the two brown streaks over his eyes, 
 and the white spot on the tip of his tail, and the little 
 notch in his ear that his brother Jacob had made when 
 they were both very little. 
 
 " It is Esau ! " I cried. " There's no mistake about 
 it. He's come home again to be with his friends." 
 
 '' But look at your hand, how it's bleeding," said Ikey. 
 " Here, let me wrap my handkerchief round it." 
 
 I submitted to his kind surgery, and then with Esau 
 in my bosom, hastened homeward. 
 
 It was almost a year since I had last seen my old 
 pets and playmates romping about in the freedom of the 
 big woods, and I was overjoyed to recover one of them 
 if only for a little while. Esau manifested no disposition 
 to escape. We made a warm nest for him in the loft, 
 close by the boys' bed, where he could sit and look out 
 if he chose through the crack between two clapboards. 
 Mother, after she had poulticed and bandaged my 
 wounded hand, tried to bind up his poor broken legs — • 
 broken by a shot from some cruel rifle — but he would 
 have none of it. He would be his own surgeon, as all 
 wild animals are; and if we would only give him rest 
 and quiet and plenty of food, he would heal himself. 
 So we fed him well, and every morning I carried him 
 out into the yard and to the cherry trees where he used 
 to gambol ; and he appeared to understand it all and to be 
 content. His wounds healed rapidly, and he was soon 
 able to make little excursions about the house all alone. 
 
 Then, one day, very thoughtlessly, I happened to 
 tell Jake Dobson about him. From that moment I had 
 no peace, but was constantly beset with propositions to 
 sv/ap Esau for some marbles, for a top, for a knife 
 
'' SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 357 
 
 without blades, for anything that Jake happened to pos- 
 sess. To all these propositions, however, I turned a 
 deaf ear, Esau remained safe in his snug warm quarters 
 in the loft, and I felt very proud that I was his pro- 
 tector. 
 
 Soon Jake came with a new proposition ; for he under- 
 stood my ruling passion, and in his small way he was 
 as skilled in temptation as Mephistopheles or Satan. 
 
 ''Say, Bob," he whispered in school one morning; 
 "I've got a new book at home. Aunt Mahaly, she fetched 
 it to me from Sin Snatty for my birthday present." 
 
 " What kind of book is it? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, it's a big book full of verses and pieces about 
 animals and trees and kings and good little boys, and such 
 things. And there's lots of picters in it. But I don't 
 keer for it. It's too hard readin' for me." 
 
 "What's the name of it?" 
 
 " The Book of Jims." 
 
 " What a funny name ! I wish I could see it." 
 
 " Well, I'll give thee a chance to see it and to own 
 it if thee wants to. I'll fetch it over to school to- 
 morrow, if thee would like to swap for it." 
 
 I suspected his plan and resolved to thwart it. But 
 the thought of a new book was overpowering. 
 
 " Fetch it anyhow," I said ; " but I hain't got anything 
 to swap for it." 
 
 " How about that there squeerel ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't swap Esau for anything in the world." 
 
 " All right, Bob ; thee needn't. But I'll tell thee what. 
 Thee would like to see the book and I would like to 
 see the squeerel. So, if thee'll fetch the little critter to 
 school to-morrow, I'll fetch the Book of Jims, and we'll 
 both be tickled." 
 
358 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " But it's against the rules, and Old Benny won't 
 allow it," I protested. 
 
 " Old Benny won't know nothin' about it," he 
 answered. "We'll fetch 'em and hide 'em out till re- 
 cess; and then we'll sneak off from the other boys, and 
 look at 'em. I dare thee to fetch the squeerel. Bob." 
 
 Was there ever a boy who would back down on a 
 dare? Besides, I was burning with the desire to see 
 what that Book of Jims was like. So, I said, " All 
 right, Jake ! I'll do it." 
 
 The next morning, therefore, I secretly enticed poor 
 Esau to come and sit on my shoulder in expectation of 
 a nut. Then I treacherously seized him and thrust him 
 into the little old box cage which David had made for 
 him and his brother when he captured them for me in 
 their infancy. He could scarcely turn himself around 
 in his cramped quarters, but I had grown so hardened 
 that I felt no pity for him; and when he put one little 
 paw out through the wires and turned his large dark 
 eyes up toward me, as though asking the reason for 
 my rough behavior, I was moved to no compunctions 
 but rather to feelings of anger toward the helpless 
 dumb creature. 
 
 I looked, guiltily, toward the cabin door. No one 
 had seen me. Like a cowardly thief, I quickly tucked 
 the cage under my arm, picked up my dinner bucket, and 
 started sneakingly to school. As I was opening the gate, 
 I heard mother calling me from the door of the weavin'- 
 room: 
 
 " What's thee going to school so early for? " 
 
 " I have to," I answered without turning round. 
 " Benjamin told me I must come early and do my sums 
 on the blackboard ! " 
 
 Oh, my dear Leonidas! that was not the kind of lie 
 
" SHADES OF THE PRISON HOUSE " 359 
 
 that good Friend William had in mind when he counseled 
 my mother not to worry if I sometimes enlarged the 
 truth. And was it a vivid imagination, or was it a 
 guilty conscience that enabled me to see the Old Feller, 
 that morning, grinning at me from behind every tree as 
 I strode doggedly along the lonely road? 
 
 That evening when I returned home, I did not go 
 directly into the house as was my custom, but sneaked 
 around to the weavin'-room. It was late, and so dark 
 that even the loom was invisible. I groped my way 
 across to the farther end of the little enclosure, and 
 there, after making sure that no person could see me, 
 I knelt and lifted a loose puncheon from the floor. Then 
 I unbuttoned my wawmus and from beneath its folds 
 drew a book — the Book of Jims — which I inserted 
 into the open space and effectually concealed by return- 
 ing the loose puncheon to its place. 
 
 When I entered the cabin a few moments later, the 
 family were at supper. 
 
 " Robert, does thee know what's become of Esau ? " 
 inquired Cousin Mandy Jane. " We hain't seen nothin' 
 of the pore critter all day long." 
 
 "How do I know where he is?" I whined, feeling 
 very sulky and cross. Then I thought of something that 
 I had read in an old book : " Am I my brother's 
 keeper?" And I felt like Cain. 
 
 Mother, being always quick to discern every species 
 of trouble, looked at me with sympathetic eyes. " I 
 guess Robert ain't very well to-night," she remarked. 
 " It's too hard for him to traipse all the way to the Dry 
 Forks and back every day; he ain't strong enough." 
 
 And just before the chapter reading began, she poul- 
 ticed my hand anew and obliged me to bathe my feet 
 in hot water and drink a cupful of hot pennyroyal tea. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 THAT night I tossed on my little trundle-bed and 
 could not sleep. Inviz came, but instead of being 
 the jolly companion and comforter that he had hitherto 
 been, he was my tormentor and accuser. He twitched 
 my ear until it tingled; he slapped me in the face and 
 said : 
 
 " Robert Dudley, you ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self!" (Strange that he had fallen into the habit of 
 using the unplain language!) 
 
 " Well, I am ashamed," I answered ; " but what can I 
 do?" 
 
 " Take your medicine and be glad that the Old Feller 
 hain't carried you off ; " and then he began to remind 
 me of some of the bad boys of the Bible. In vivid colors 
 he painted the fate of the forty-and-two wretched 
 urchins who were torn in pieces by she-bears for no 
 greater sin than making sport of a prophet's bald head. 
 And he called to memory the instructive story of little 
 King Jehoiachin, who, although but eight years old, was 
 so wicked in the sight of the Lord that he was permitted 
 to reign only three months and ten days. 
 
 " And you," said my unpitying accuser, " you are just 
 as bad as little King Jehoiachin — and you are older and 
 ought to know better." 
 
 " What did he do that was so bad? " I asked. 
 
 360 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 361 
 
 " I don't know exactly what — nobody knows ; but he 
 done evil. And then you know, Robert Dudley, that you 
 have said naughty things about Old Benny's bald head; 
 and you are no better than the forty-and-two boys that 
 got eat up ! " 
 
 " Oh, Inviz ! I'm mighty glad there ain't any she- 
 bears in the New Settlement ; " and with that, I pulled 
 the bedquilt over my head and tried to push him out of 
 bed. 
 
 I closed my eyes and finally dropped to sleep — to 
 sleep, but only to dream of poor Esau, maimed and 
 struggling to escape from the pitiless grasp of Jake Dob- 
 son. Then I thought that Benjamin Barnacle was stand- 
 ing over me, holding me by the ear, and flourishing his 
 terrible hickory above my head and threatening the direst 
 vengeance because I had spoken slightingly of his hair- 
 less noggin. And just as the hickory was about to de- 
 scend upon my bare back, I awoke with a suppressed 
 scream, only to see the shadows from the flickering blaze 
 on the hearth playing among the dried " yerbs " and 
 hunks of jerked beef that were suspended from the joists 
 above the bed. 
 
 And so the night passed, oh, so miserably ! and when 
 day at last dawned, I rose and dressed myself and sat 
 disconsolately in the chimney corner until breakfast time. 
 
 ** Bobby looks kinder peaked this morning," remarked 
 Aunt Rachel. 
 
 ''Oh, he's jist got a spell of the sulks," said Cousin 
 Mandy Jane. " He'll feel all right when he gits some- 
 thin' on his stummick." 
 
 But I could not eat anything. My head ached, the 
 hand which poor Esau had bitten throbbed terribly, my 
 back felt as though it were broken. Without touching 
 
362 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 a morsel, I returned to my place by the fire ; the shivers 
 were trickling down my spine, I was cold and felt a great 
 disinclination to move. 
 
 "Robert, what ails thee?" inquired mother with some 
 solicitude. " It's time thee was gittin' ready for meet- 
 in'." 
 
 And then it occurred to me for the first time that to- 
 day was meetin' day, and that there would be no school ; 
 but I sat still and paid no attention to mother's suggestive 
 remark. 
 
 Time passed and I was successively aware that father 
 was shaving in front of the bit of looking-glass by the 
 door, that the boys had driven the wagon around to the 
 uppin'-block, and that our womenfolks were putting on 
 their bonnets and shawls preparatory to the morning's 
 journey. 
 
 " Come, Robert, git thy shoes on. It's 'most time to 
 start," said Cousin Mandy Jane sharply. 
 
 Then mother came with pity in her eyes. She passed 
 her hand over my forehead, she held the tip of my nose 
 between her two middle fingers, she laid one of her 
 thumbs on my wrist. 
 
 " I'm afraid thee's got a chill," she said. " Thee 
 needn't go to meetin' to-day if thee don't feel like it. 
 Thee may set by the fire and keep the dinner pot a- 
 b'ilin'." 
 
 I was dimly conscious of her great kindness ; and I 
 felt an unwonted sense of relief at the thought that I 
 was, for once, excused from going to that hated meetin'. 
 By and by, it came into my mind that everybody had 
 gone away and that I was alone in the house, to do as I 
 pleased. I sprawled myself at full length on the floor 
 beside the hearth, and lay there, looking at the red coals 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 363 
 
 in the fireplace and at the steaming dinner pot suspended 
 from the crane above the forelog. How hot the room 
 seemed, and how grateful to my fevered cheeks was the 
 little current of cold air that came blowing in through 
 the crack at the bottom of the door! 
 
 My head felt very large and my hand seemed bursting 
 from its bandages; and as I looked up, I fancied that I 
 saw Esau creeping in through the gimlet hole w^here the 
 latch-string was hung. Yes, it was, indeed, poor Esau, 
 and he suddenly grew very large and sat up on his hind 
 legs and made ugly faces at me. I lay quite still, not 
 caring what happened ; and soon the room was chock-full 
 of Esaus, dancing on the floor and hanging from the 
 joists and climbing up the walls, and shaking their little 
 fists at me, and — 
 
 Well, the next thing that I knew, I was lying in 
 mother's bed and mother was bending over me, and some- 
 body was sitting very quietly near by. The fire was burn- 
 ing low and father was standing before it, his arms 
 folded on his breast, his head inclined forward as though 
 in deepest meditation. Cousin Mandy Jane and some- 
 body else were walking about the room in their bare feet, 
 putting things to rights, and talking in whispers. Then 
 I saw mother beckon suddenly to father; and he in a 
 queer excited manner, came softly and stood by the 
 bed and looked into my eyes. 
 
 " Robert," he said, speaking low and huskily, " does 
 thee know me? " 
 
 It was a strange question, wasn't it? I tried to an- 
 swer, but my tongue refused to frame a single word, and 
 I could only nod my head a very little and try to smile. 
 Father's face lighted up wonderfully, and I heard him 
 say something to mother about thanks and about a crisis 
 
364 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 being past — and then I dropped to sleep. They after- 
 ward told me that it had been four days since I had 
 lain down on the floor in front of the fire while all the 
 rest were at meetin' ; and during all that time I had been 
 unconscious of everything that was going on, raving oc- 
 casionally in wild delirium, and talking incoherently 
 about Esau and the Dobson boy and a book of some kind. 
 And this had continued so long that the family had 
 despaired of my ever finding my mind again, or indeed 
 of my living till another day. 
 
 When I woke again, I felt stronger; and turning my 
 face a very little I was rejoiced to see that the person 
 who was sitting beside the bed was none other than dear 
 Aunt Nancy — reputed to be the best nurse in all the 
 Wabash Country, As soon as she had heard of my ill- 
 ness she hastened to come and take care of me; and I 
 learned that for twice twenty-four hours she had scarcely 
 closed her eyes or left my bedside for a moment. 
 
 Yes, and that other person who was helping about the 
 house, who was she? I was not long in doubt, for from 
 among the pots and pans came Cousin Sally, with her 
 shining morning face, tiptoeing to the bedside just to get 
 a glimpse of my eyes, and assure herself that I was 
 " gittin' purty peart." She was clad in her newest pink 
 flannen gown, and with her crimson cheeks and ruddy 
 bare arms, she seemed to shed a kind of home-made sun- 
 shine on everything she approached. 
 
 Then, as I turned my head a little farther, I was con- 
 scious of the presence of another person. It was a soft- 
 handed, kind-faced, dark-haired man, not quite so old as 
 father; and he was holding my wrist and looking at his 
 watch while he smiled as though he had found a great 
 treasure. 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 365 
 
 Presently he let go of my wrist and returned the great 
 watch to his waistcoat pocket. " Everything is favor- 
 able," he said. " Good care and proper food will bring 
 him round nicely. Give him one of these powders every 
 two hours; but don't disturb him if he is asleep." 
 
 I wondered, vaguely, who this very pleasant man could 
 be; and it was not until several days had passed that 
 Aunt Nancy volunteered to inform me that he was Doc- 
 tor Bunsen who had lately come from the 'Hio Country 
 and was boarding at the blacksmith's until he could build 
 a house of his own at the Dry Forks. 
 
 Oh, how restful it was to lie there very quietly and 
 doze the time away, to have nothing to do but to take 
 my powders and eat soft toast and chicken soup, and to 
 feel that Aunt Nancy was always close by to attend to 
 my every want ! By the end of the week I had improved 
 so much that all restrictions about quietness were re- 
 moved, and every one who wished was permitted to sit 
 by my bedside and talk to me about such little things as 
 would interest but not worry me. David and Jonathan 
 alone seemed shy of me, and I seldom caught sight of 
 either. But I could hear them every day as they came 
 into the room, walking on tiptoe to the fireplace and in- 
 quiring in whispers if " Bobbie was as peart as ever." 
 Then, having received a satisfactory reply, they would 
 tiptoe out again, being careful not to let the door-latch 
 rattle or the hinges creak and disturb my rest. 
 
 Late one afternoon, it happened that everybody had 
 gone out except old Aunt Rachel who was dozing over 
 her pipe in the chimney corner. I was lying on the 
 bed, only half-awake, looking up at the smoky joists and 
 counting the bunches of dried pennyroyal and pepper- 
 mint, and half inclined to fret because my nurse had gone 
 
366 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 home that very day. All at once I heard the door-latch 
 click softly, and then the restrained footsteps of some one 
 coming toward the bed. My eyes were half-closed, and 
 I did not feel like opening them — it was so delicious to 
 lie with them so. The footsteps drew nearer, and I 
 heard a whisper: 
 
 " Towhead, is thee awake? Don't be skeered; it's jist 
 me." 
 
 I looked lazily upward; the burly form of David was 
 bending over me, his grisly face was close to mine. 
 
 '' I've fetched thee somethin', Towhead," he whispered. 
 " Hold out thy hands and shet thy peepers." 
 
 I obeyed with some eagerness, and the next moment a 
 furry little animal was placed between my hands. I 
 looked, and my heart gave a great throb. 
 
 "O David! Is it Esau?" 
 
 " Well, I reckon it is," he whispered. " Don't be 
 af eared; he won't bite." 
 
 " Where did thee get him, David ? " 
 
 " Wheer does thee s'pose? I bought him of that there 
 tarnal Dobson boy. I give four bits in silver for him." 
 
 "And did thee buy him for me, David?" 
 
 " Naw ! of course not. I hain't got so silly as that. 
 But when I heerd that that there Dobson boy had him, 
 I thought how nice it would be to see the tarnal critter 
 a-skimmin' round the loft ag'in, like he useter do. So 
 I made a dicker with that there Dobson feller, and brung 
 him home yisterday. He's my sqeerel, remember; but 
 thee may call him thine." 
 
 The poor, abused little creature cuddled down on the 
 pillow beside my neck and seemed contented and pleased ; 
 and I, too, was happy. 
 
 " Oh, David, I'm so glad ! " I murmured, a great sor- 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 367 
 
 row, the sorrow of remorse, being lifted from my heart. 
 " I'm so glad to see him again ! " 
 
 " Don't thee tell nobody that I brung him in here," 
 said David huskily ; and then he tiptoed back to the door 
 and was gone. 
 
 My illness was so strange and unusual that the 
 neighbors had been much interested from the beginning; 
 and, more through curiosity than sympathy, the friendly 
 women were prompt to call at our house and offer their 
 condolements to mother. 
 
 " It's all come to him on account of his readin' so 
 much," said Mahaly Bray. " I always said I'd be 
 afeared to have a child like him." 
 
 And Friend Mother Dobson responded, " Well, didn't 
 I say that he wasn't long for this world? 'Tain't nat- 
 teral for children to be always a-hankerin' after books; 
 and I knowed somethin' would happen." 
 
 " The Old Feller will have his own," said Margot Du- 
 berry with becoming brevity. 
 
 But there were kinder words from others, and mes- 
 sages of genuine sympathy. Benjamin Barnacle came 
 personally to express his sympathy, and he brought a 
 nosegay of " everlastin' " flowers " with love " from his 
 class in English grammar. And pretty Esther Lamb 
 sent me, *' by kindness of Jonathan," a narrow bit of blue 
 ribbon for a book-mark. 
 
 In a short time I grew well enough to sit up in 
 mother's chair and look out at the landscape, now all 
 white with snow; and after that there was no rising of 
 the sun that did not find me a little stronger. But my 
 legs utterly refused to support the weight of my body, 
 and for many weeks it was necessary to carry me back 
 and forth from the bed to the fireplace or the window. 
 
368 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 During the period of my greatest weakness I had been 
 content to let books alone ; but one day a great hungering 
 came upon me, and father said that it would certainly do 
 me no harm to read a little, provided it didn't make my 
 head ache. Accordingly, my chair was drawn up by the 
 fireplace, and Cousin Mandy Jane brought my whole 
 library and put it on the hearth at my feet. Oh, how 
 friendly all those little books appeared, lying there in an 
 orderly row and looking up into my face ! As I was gaz- 
 ing lovingly at them and proudly counting them, the 
 memory of something half forgotten came suddenly into 
 my mind. 
 
 '' Cousin Mandy Jane, I wish thee would do some- 
 thing," I said. 
 
 '' Well, I mought do something if thee will be real 
 good. What is it ? " she answered primly. 
 
 '' I wish thee would go round to the weavin'-room for 
 me." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Because I want thee to get something. Thee re- 
 members the loose puncheon where thee used to put the 
 papaws to ripen, don't thee?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 '' Well, I want thee to lift it up and get something 
 that's under it, and fetch it to me to look at." 
 
 She waited to ask no question, but went promptly 
 around to the weavin'-room to comply with my wish. 
 Presently she returned with the book in her hand. 
 
 " It's jist as I reckoned," she said, somewhat acridly. 
 " This is the book that that there Dobson boy swapped 
 to thee for pore Esau, ain't it?" 
 
 " Yes ! Sit down and look at it with me." 
 
 It was a larger volume than any other that I owned. 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 369 
 
 I opened it and read the title-page : '" The Book of Gems. 
 IVith One Hundred Engravings." 
 
 Well, there wasn't any " Jim " about it, after all — 
 that was certain, and I had told Jake Dobson so when 
 I first saw it. There was a beautiful picture fronting the 
 title-page — a steel engraving entitled Brother and 
 Sister — which I examined so closely that its outlines 
 were forever transferred to my mental canvas. Even to 
 this day, I can see with my eyes shut the slender, well 
 dressed, manly brother, amusing his sister by writing or 
 drawing something upon a small paper tablet. Ah, how 
 I wished that I could be such a little brother standing 
 in the garden beside a little sister so gentle, so modest, 
 so beautiful! And then the thought of Edith Meredith, 
 my Angel of the Facin' Bench, came strangely into 
 my mind. Oh, what a grand good sister she would 
 be! 
 
 Finally, I began to turn the leaves of the book, look- 
 ing at the " engravings " — which were only cheap wood- 
 cuts — and getting a general idea of its character. It 
 was simply a bound volume of a little magazine called 
 The Youth's Cabinet, one of the first periodicals of its 
 kind in this country. It was edited by Francis C. Wood- 
 worth, a writer of some repute at that time, but now al- 
 most forgotten. Its contents presented a wonderful mis- 
 cellany of prose and verse — history, anecdotes, moral 
 essays, riddles — wholesome food for juvenile minds. 
 (Look on the top shelf of my bookcase, Leonidas, and 
 you will find this Book of Gems, carefully preserved 
 through all the years that have intervened. But you 
 won't care for it.) Oh, the hours and hours that I spent, 
 poring over those delightful pages, trying to solve the 
 puzzles, memorizing the little poems ! One of these last 
 
370 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 is still popular in the school readers : It begins with the 
 lines : — 
 
 " The ground was all covered with snow one day. 
 And two little sisters were busy at play;" 
 
 and each stanza ends with the refrain, 
 
 " Chickadee-dee, chickadee-dee ! " 
 
 Early, one very wintry morning, there was a sharp 
 knocking at our door, and before any one could say 
 " Come in ! " the latch was lifted, and Doctor Bunsen 
 entered. His tall form was wrapped in a long fur coat, 
 and a coonskin cap was drawn tightly down over his ears. 
 He didn't wait for any invitation, but stamping the snow 
 from his big boots, he came right up to the fireplace 
 where we were sitting, and in the j oiliest mood you ever 
 saw, he shouted : 
 
 " Merry Christmas ! Merry Christmas to all ! Merry 
 Christmas to you. Master Robert ! " And he went round 
 the room, shaking hands, first with Aunt Rachel, and 
 then with Cousin Mandy Jane, and then with each of the 
 rest of us. And all the time, he kept talking so fast that 
 it was difficult for any one else to edge in a single word : 
 
 " Aunt Rachel, you're looking as spry as a chipping 
 sparrow. How was that quid of tobacco that I gave you 
 to try ? . . . Oh, no ! I haven't time to sit down — can't 
 stop a minute ! Lots of sick folks in the Settlement now 
 • — mostly f ever'n'agur. . . . How cheerful you look, Miss 
 Mandy Jane! and how young! . . . I just came in to see 
 how the lad is getting along, and to wish you all a merry 
 Christmas . . . Merry Christmas, Master Robert! 
 How nice it is to see you sitting up with that book in 
 your hand. Can't walk yet? Well, have patience; your 
 legs will get stronger after a bit. Don't study too hard. 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 371 
 
 . . . How are yo^i, Mrs. Dudley? Oh! pardon me — 
 How are you, Deborah ? That's good ! Don't sit at that 
 loom too much, but give yourself more fresh air. A 
 merry Christmas to you, Stephen. I hear some good 
 things about you over at Dashville. . . . Oh, nothing, 
 only they say they're going to send you to the legislature ; 
 and you can count on me helping 'em. . . . Merry 
 Christmas, David! How's that new yoke of steers? . . . 
 And Jonathan, how's that forty-acre piece doing, this 
 snowy weather? . . . Now, Robert, hold still while I feel 
 of your pulse. All right ! Keep on taking your powders, 
 and don't worry. I was over at Dashville yesterday, 
 and they were asking about you. And, by the way, I've 
 got something in my overcoat pocket that somebody sent 
 to you. . . . Here it is. And here's a little knife for 
 you ... a Christmas present from Doctor Bunsen. . . . 
 Good-by ! good-by ! Farewell ! Merry Christmas to you 
 all ! " 
 
 And before we could think twice, he was out of the 
 door, and out of the gate, and climbing into his little 
 jumper sled that was to carry him to many troubled 
 homes that day, bringing sunshine and cheer into many 
 weary hearts. 
 
 '* They say he's an infidel," I overheard father whisper 
 to mother ; " but somehow he always makes me feel 
 better after I've seen him." 
 
 I looked at the little knife that he had given me — 
 the first real knife that I had ever owned. Oh, the de- 
 light of it ! — " White handle, brass cheeks, and four 
 blades as sure as thee lives ! " I was the richest boy in all 
 the Wabash Country. Why, the queen's little son 
 couldn't possibly own a prettier knife! 
 
 " Mother, is to-day Christmas?" I asked. 
 
372 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Some folks call it that," she answered. " It is the 
 twenty-fifth day of the Twelfth-month, by our count." 
 
 '* I wonder what the doctor meant by saying, ' Merry 
 Christmas,' " I murmured. " I don't see that it's much 
 merrier than any other day — at least it wasn't till the 
 doctor came." 
 
 " It's just like every other day," said mother. " The 
 good Book tells us we mustn't esteem one day above an- 
 other." 
 
 Then father spoke up. *' I think we can make an ex- 
 ception of this Christmas. For we have been greatly 
 blessed, and we have reason to rejoice." 
 
 '' Yes," cried Cousin Mandy Jane, " let's see what a 
 merry Christmas is like! If I could only be as merry 
 as the doctor, I think I could work right smart better." 
 
 " Anyhow," said David, " I'm goin' to have all the 
 tarnal fun that I can skeer up, Christmas or no Christ- 
 mas ; " and with an unearthly whoop he leaped out of the 
 door and ran to the barn to feed his yoke of oxen. 
 
 " Let's see what the doctor give thee besides the knife," 
 said Cousin Mandy Jane, picking up the package that 
 I had allowed to fall on the floor; for in my pride at 
 possessing the knife I had almost forgotten the larger 
 present. 
 
 " He didn't give it ; he said that some folks at Dash- 
 ville sent it to me ; " and taking it in my hands I ex- 
 amined it very carefully before removing the strong 
 cord that was around it. 
 
 " Let me help thee, Robby," said good Aunt Rachel ; 
 and with her skillful assistance the outside wrappings 
 of heavy paper were soon removed. The first thing 
 that was revealed to sight was a large card with the 
 words Merry Christmas printed upon it. Under this 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS "373 
 
 there was a smaller card that smelled like roses in mid- 
 summer. 
 
 *' There's some writin' on that there little pasteboard, 
 Robert," said Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 Sure enough! I turned it over, and there was a line 
 — yes, two lines — of the prettiest writing you ever saw. 
 The ink was rather pale, having frozen perhaps — but, 
 by holding the card up to the bright light, I was able 
 to make out the words : " To Master Robert Dudley, 
 with sympathy for him in his illness. From E. M. and 
 her mother. Merry Christmas! " 
 
 Who was E. M.f Cousin Mandy Jane, being a good 
 guesser, solved the riddle at once. '' E stands for Edith, 
 and M stands for Meredith," she said. 
 
 " Yes," I answered ; " merry Edith Meredith ! And so 
 this must be a merry Christmas." 
 
 It required but a moment to remove the next wrapper 
 and lay bare the contents of the bundle. Books! and 
 such books ! 
 
 First, there was a small volume entitled The Shepherd- 
 Boy Philosopher, by Henry Mayhew. Next there was 
 a thin square volume, the title of which I have for- 
 gotten ; but it was full of information about the stellar 
 universe and contained half-a-dozen maps of the heavens 
 as they appear at various seasons of the year. Lastly, 
 there was a folded copy of a recent issue of the National 
 Era. Oh, the delight of being the possessor of such 
 treasures ! 
 
 I felt that I ought to thank E. M. and her mother 
 for these wonderful presents ; but how could I ? I could 
 only gaze and enjoy, and say to Inviz, " Ain't thee glad 
 that they were so thoughtful and kind? Some time I 
 will do as much for them." 
 
;374 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Then, as I was examining my treasures, mother came 
 and bent over me ; and I saw that her eyes were swim- 
 ming with tears. I knew that they were tears of joy, 
 not of sorrow; and she had hard work to keep them 
 back. 
 
 " I never in my life seen all our folks so teamin' glad," 
 remarked Cousin Mandy Jane. '' Seems as if they was 
 all ready jist to git up and tee-hee." 
 
 "That's because it's merry Christmas," I answered, 
 with all my presents spread out before me. 
 
 " Yes," said father very sweetly, " I think we may 
 all be merry; for only think how we have been blessed 
 in basket and in store! " 
 
 " And only think that we still have our Robert," added 
 mother. 
 
 Presently, we heard Jonathan, in the boys' sleeping 
 loft above us, fumbling in the wooden chest where his 
 First-day clothes and his treasures were stored. We sup- 
 posed that maybe he was dressing up, in order to go out 
 and meet Esther Lamb somewhere; but no one said 
 anything, lest the day's merry-making should be spoiled. 
 He came down, after some minutes, still wearing his 
 work-day clothes and with a telltale grin on his face 
 that plainly said he was " up to somethin'." One of his 
 coat pockets was swollen to five times it normal dimen- 
 sions, and he had also something in his hand that he was 
 trying to conceal. "Merry Christmas to all!" he 
 shouted as he rushed out of the door and strode down 
 to the barn lot where David was waiting for him. 
 
 " Has thee got it ? " we heard David ask. 
 
 " Yes, a hull pound of the tarnal stuff," was the an- 
 swer. 
 
 Then the two burly fellows, with axes on their 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 375 
 
 shoulders, strolled off together toward the new dead- 
 enin' ; and as they went trampmg through the snow-drifts 
 we could hear them shouting and laughing as no one had 
 ever heard them before. 
 
 '' Say, mother ! " called Cousin Mandy Jane from the 
 snow-covered wood-pile. " Don't thee think I might as 
 well kill the fat gobbler and roast him for dinner? 
 Thee knows he's young and tender, and he'll never git 
 any better than he is now. He's jist the kind to make 
 people feel merry. What does thee say?" 
 
 '' Well," answered mother, *' if thee's made up thy 
 mind to roast him, I guess thee'll have to roast him. 
 And we'll have some nice sweet taters with him and some 
 hot 'east biscuits." 
 
 " And sweet cider," added Aunt Rachel. 
 
 " I think I'll put on my good clothes and not work 
 any to-day,'* remarked father. '' I'll look at Robert's 
 new books." 
 
 " Do jist as thy conscience tells thee," assented mother. 
 " As for me, I'm goin' to keep busy." 
 
 What a glorious forenoon that was, with father to sit 
 by me while we both examined the treasures that had 
 come from E. M. and her mother. And the women- 
 folks, how busy they were! As they bustled about the 
 fireplace, preparing the Christmas dinner, mother so far 
 forgot herself as to purr a little song of joy — very, very 
 softly, you must know, and Cousin Mandy Jane relieved 
 her pent-up emotions by whistling — yes, actually whis- 
 tling — as she ran to the spring-house for a bucket of 
 water. 
 
 Dinner was late, but what of it? It takes time to 
 roast a fat gobbler and prepare all the concomitants of 
 a feast. At length, however, the fowl was lifted from 
 
376 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the big reflector, dripping with boiling-hot grease and 
 done to a turn. Cousin Mandy Jane blew the dinner 
 horn with uncommon vigor to summon the big boys from 
 the deadenin'. The table was spread — all of mother's 
 finest " chany " dishes were arranged upon it. The first 
 real Christmas dinner that our family had ever known 
 was ready to be eaten. 
 
 " There's the boys, now ! " cried mother ; and I looked 
 out of the window to see them. 
 
 They had climbed upon the fence by the barn-lot bars, 
 and were looking eagerly back toward the deadenin' from 
 which they had come. They appeared to be in no hurry 
 for their dinner. 
 
 " Boys ! boys ! * called Cousin Mandy Jane impatiently. 
 " Why don't you come ? The victuals is a gittin' all 
 cold, and the gravy will spile if — " 
 
 She didn't finish the sentence, for at that moment 
 there burst upon the air the most dreadful, deafening 
 sound that had ever been heard in the New Settlement. 
 It was like a tremendous clap of thunder, and yet un- 
 like it in its suddenness and intensity. It shook the 
 very earth and seemed to make the house rock on its 
 foundations; it made the door rattle and the window- 
 panes tinkle, and caused chunks of dry mortar to fall out 
 from the chinks between the logs. Cousin Mandy Jane 
 shrieked, and all of us wondered if the cabin wasn't go- 
 ing to tumble down on us. Our astonishment and fright, 
 however, were of but short duration ; for looking out 
 through the window, we saw David and Jonathan coming 
 up through the barn lot, their faces distended with the 
 broadest grins imaginable, and their whole demeanor 
 showing that they were wonderfully delighted with what 
 had taken place. 
 
MY FIRST MERRY CHRISTMAS 377 
 
 " I guess it ain't nothin' to be skeered at," remarked 
 Aunt Rachel, and she calmly refilled her pipe. 
 
 Presently the door opened, and the boys entered with 
 a hilariousness that not long ago would have been sharply 
 repressed. 
 
 " Did you hear that there leetle cracklin' sound a while 
 ago ? " asked David. ** That was for merry Christmas." 
 
 " What was it, anyhow ? " inquired Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. *' It sounded bigger'n a crack of thunder. I 
 never heerd sich a racket before in all my born days." 
 
 " It was that there tarnal old knotty red-oak log in 
 the clearin' — that we've been tryin' to split all summer," 
 said David. ** Everybody said we couldn't never split 
 it, and so we thought we'd make a Christmas job of it 
 and maybe it would help to make things kinder merry 
 like." 
 
 " How did you do it, David? " 
 
 " Why, we bored a two-inch auger hole clean down to 
 the middle of the tarnal thing, and then we put a hull 
 pound of powder into the hole and plugged it up. We 
 laid a long train of twisted tow from it and tetched the 
 end of the train with one of them there Lucy matches 
 thet we brung up from the 'Hio. As soon as it begun 
 to burn we cut and run like the Old Feller hisself — 
 but we needn't to 'a' done it, 'cause the train was so tarnal 
 slow that we got clean up to the barn lot afore she went 
 off." 
 
 " Didn't she make a racket though ? " cried Jonathan, 
 anxious to put in a word. 
 
 '* Racket ! " exclaimed David derisively. " Thee 
 don't call that a racket, I hope. It was a reg'lar bombila- 
 tion. And oh ! what a dust it raised ! We seen it from 
 the barn lot. It sent the chips and the bark a-flyin* 
 
378 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 e'enamost to the sky; and, what was the funniest, we 
 seen it afore we heerd it." 
 
 **' Come, boys ! the victuals will all spile if you don't 
 begin to wrastle with 'em," said Cousin Mandy Jane 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Oh, we'll do the wrastlin' all right," said David. 
 *' But hain't this been a mighty merry Christmas ? 
 Seems to me I'd like to have one every once in a while." 
 
 And thus, my Leonidas, my Leona, the memorable day 
 drew to its close — a Christmas day never to be forgot- 
 ten. We had celebrated it in our own way and enjoyed 
 it accordingly. Not one of us had ever heard of Santa 
 Claus, not one of us had ever seen a Christmas tree; 
 but we got along very well without either. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 OF all the presents received on that ever memorable 
 Christmas day, none was more highly esteemed 
 than the copy of the National Era which was included in 
 the small bundle of good literature from E. M. and her 
 mother. Father seemed a little shy of it at first ; he had 
 so long cherished the belief that newspapers were dan- 
 gerous things to be admitted into a well-ordered house- 
 hold that he hesitated before permitting me to read it. 
 He proceeded, therefore, to examine it himself in order 
 to see whether there was anything of a demoralizing 
 tendency in its columns. 
 
 His eyes fell first upon the column headed "Latest 
 Intelligence by Magnetic Telegraph/' and his attention 
 was at once riveted. Sitting beside me on that Christ- 
 mas afternoon, with the big printed sheet spread out 
 before him, he read each item of news aloud while I 
 looked on and listened with rapt attention. The date at 
 the head of the first column showed that the paper was 
 several weeks old, but that did not in the least distract 
 from its interest. 
 
 " It's wonderful," said father, as he finished the tele- 
 graphic column. " Why, here we may sit beside ouf 
 own fireplace, safe at home, and know all about what 
 is going on a thousand miles away! It was not so ia 
 my boyhood." 
 
 379 
 
38o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Then he examined other portions of the paper — read- 
 ing the market reports, the editorials, the comments on 
 slavery, the advertisements — and his face glowed with 
 interest and satisfaction. He glanced critically at some 
 of the more lengthy articles, to make sure that no 
 poisonous matter was lurking there under disguise, and 
 finally, refolding the sheet, he handed it to me. 
 
 " What does thee think of it, father? " queried mother. 
 *' Does thee think it is safe to let him read it ? " 
 
 " I find nothing in it that is not instructive and true," 
 he answered. " I have long thought that perhaps 
 Benjamin Seafoam was right when he said that it is 
 every man's duty to keep himself informed about what 
 is going on in the world. Thee may remember that he 
 urged me to become a subscriber to the National Era, 
 and I have been considering the matter quite seriously 
 for some time." 
 
 " And what is thee goin' to do about it ? " 
 
 " I must say that I am very much inclined to take his 
 advice. The Widder Bright showed me several num- 
 bers of the paper one day, and they were all as free 
 from fault as this one. And Levi Coffin, when I met 
 him at Larnceburg, assured me that one of the greatest 
 powers for good in this country is the National Era. 
 Barnabas Hobbs, when he was here, also advised me 
 to subscribe for it, because of the bold stand which it 
 takes against slavery." 
 
 " Well, Stephen, if thy mind is clear, thee is at lib- 
 erty to do as thee thinks best," said mother resignedly. 
 
 In the meanwhile, I had again unfolded the paper and 
 was looking at the headings of the various editorial items 
 and contributed articles. One of these contributions 
 seemed so different from anything else that I gave it 
 
THE AWAKENING 381 
 
 a careful examination. I read a few paragraphs. It 
 was an account of "life among the lowly" — a story 
 of slaves and slavery. The beginning of it must have 
 been printed in an earlier issue of the paper, for here 
 the reader was introduced into the midst of things and 
 the chapters were numbered as high as " Six " or 
 *' Seven." I soon got the hang of the narrative, how- 
 ever, and I read on until I reached the end of the instal- 
 ment. 
 
 " Here's something you'll all want to listen to," I said. 
 
 "What is it?" asked father. 
 
 " It's about a slave, named Tom, who read his Bible 
 and was sold to a wicked trader, and about some other 
 slaves that were running away to Canada. But the ac- 
 count stops before it gets to the end." 
 
 "What's the name of the piece, Robert?" asked 
 Cousin Mandy Jane, looking over my shoulder. 
 
 I answered by pointing to the story itself. " There it 
 is: Uncle Tom's Cabin, or Life Among the Lowly. 
 Uncle Tom was sold away from his cabin." 
 
 " I wonder if it's a true account," said mother, always 
 a little suspicious of the genuineness of things. " Mebbe 
 it's one of them there stories that people sometimes jist 
 make up out of their imaginations." 
 
 " It reads like a true account," I answered. " It 
 tells of things that happened not long ago in Kentucky. 
 If we only had the beginning and the end of it, I think I 
 would like it almost as well as Robinson Crusoe." 
 
 The next evening, when we were all sitting very close 
 together before the fire to keep warm — for the weather 
 was exceeding cold — father spoke up suddenly and 
 said: 
 
 " Robert, suppose thee reads that piece in the Era 
 
382 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 about Uncle Thomas's log cabin. I think we'd all like 
 to hear it." 
 
 I needed no further invitation, for the thought of thus 
 furnishing entertainment for the rest of the family ap- 
 pealed strongly to my vanity. With a little quiver of 
 pleasurable excitement in my voice I began. I read of 
 the slave woman's visit to Uncle Tom's cottage, of her 
 flight across the country with her child in her arms, of 
 her escape from the bloodhounds, and of her fearful 
 crossing of the 'Hio River on cakes of floating ice. As 
 I read, my hearers grew more and more attentive, 
 anxious, impatient to learn the fate of Eliza, eager to 
 know more about Uncle Tom — and then, just as the 
 tension was strongest, came the abrupt ending with the 
 words, *' To be continued." 
 
 " Well, I'll be dog-goned ! " exclaimed David. " Is 
 that the eend of it ? " 
 
 " That's all there is in this paper," I answered ; '' but it 
 says it's to be continued, and that means that the rest 
 of it will be in the next number." 
 
 " I'd like to know if that there Lizy acshully got 
 away," remarked Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
 *' So'd I," said Jonathan ; " and I'd like to know what 
 become of good old Uncle Thomas who had that there 
 cabin. I'll bet he licked that there master of his'n afore 
 he got through with him." 
 
 " No doubt all that will be told in the next number," 
 said father ; " and I confess that I have some curiosity 
 about it myself." 
 
 " Seems to me," remarked Aunt Rachel, " seems to me 
 that if we knowed how it all begun, we'd know more'n 
 we do. This hearin' the middle of a thing and leavin' 
 both eends off, unsight, unseen, is aggravatin'." 
 
THE AWAKENING 383 
 
 "That's what I think," said mother. "We don't 
 know who Lizy was, we don't know why she run off, 
 we don't know much of anything 'cept that she did run 
 off." 
 
 " And 'scaped 'cross the 'Hio," added Cousin Mandy 
 Jane. 
 
 "Well, father, what's thee goin' to do about it?" 
 queried mother. " Thee spoke something about sub- 
 scribin' ; but if thee don't feel free, maybe we can borry 
 the next number from the Widder Bright." 
 
 " I will take the matter under advisement," answered 
 father, in his old-time dignified manner. Then, having 
 taken the paper and refolded it very carefully, he pushed 
 his chair backward a little and put an end to the con- 
 versation by saying, " David, thee may fetch me the 
 Book." 
 
 The very next day father carried a dollar to the 
 Widder Bright, with the request that it be forwarded to 
 Levi Coffin and by him sent to the proper person, in pay- 
 ment for a new subscription to the National Era; and 
 moreover, he borrowed from her the precious earlier 
 numbers of that paper which contained the opening 
 chapters of the story. " We'll do as much for thee, 
 some time," he told her by way of thanks. 
 
 In the evening, when we were again assembled, there 
 was much more reading to be done and we solved the 
 mystery of "Who was Lizy?" and "What made her 
 run away ? " And when, a little later on, our own paper 
 began to arrive with some regularity through the new 
 Dry Forks post-office, we devoted one evening in each 
 week — -generally Seventh-day evening — to following 
 the varied fortunes of good old Uncle Tom and his 
 friends and masters. 
 
384 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 "I do wonder if all that really did happen," remarked 
 mother with some degree of frequency. 
 
 And father would invariably answer, " It could have 
 happened, and it probably did. In any case, the narra- 
 tive is founded on facts, and we are at liberty to believe 
 that it is true." 
 
 But our reading — that is, mine and father's — did 
 not stop with this wonderful serial story. We read 
 every article in each successive number of the Era; and 
 besides keeping ourselves well informed with reference 
 to current events, we gradually became deeply interested 
 in politics, especially on all points in which the subject 
 of slavery was touched upon. As for myself, it was not 
 long until I had developed into a partisan of the most 
 radical type, and I wished that I was a man so that I 
 could make myself heard in the councils of the nation. 
 It seemed to me that all the good people were ranged 
 together on one side of the political fence, and all the 
 villains on the other — and to this day, my dear 
 Leonidas, you will find a number of grown-up men who 
 cherish the same idea. 
 
 My lameness continuing throughout the winter, I was 
 unable to do anything but sit in the easy chair which 
 father had made specially for me, and read, read, read. 
 The floor beside me was usually littered with several of 
 my favorite volumes, and whenever I grew tired of 
 perusing one, it was easy enough to reach down and 
 select another. 
 
 The little story of The Shepherd-Boy Philosopher, 
 which E. M.'s mother had so thoughtfully sent me, was 
 the source of much inspiration; and if I were to make 
 a list of " the books that have helped me," I think that 
 I should include it among the very best. In the first 
 
THE AWAKENING 385 
 
 place, the book was written in a most attractive style — 
 a style worthy of its author, the originator and founder 
 of Punch, which to this day is the ne plus ultra of first- 
 class humorous journalism. In the second place, what 
 could be more uplifting than the story, the true story, of 
 how a little shepherd lad had educated himself — how, 
 in spite of poverty and hard knocks and the lack of 
 opportunities, he had made himself famous among the 
 astronomers and inventors of Great Britain? For a 
 time, therefore, Jamie Ferguson was my pattern saint, 
 the model of industry and perseverance whom I resolved 
 to emulate and imitate. I, too, would be an astronomer, 
 I would be an inventor, I would educate myself. 
 
 The book on " The Stellar Universe " (also from E. 
 M. and her mother) was a great help toward forwarding 
 my astronomical ambitions. It was a thin, stiff-backed 
 little volume, hard to read and still harder to understand ; 
 but the maps were excellent, and I soon learned how to 
 use them. On many clear winter nights, mother would 
 wheel my trundle-bed to a convenient place underneath 
 the window, whence I could have a good view of the 
 northern sky. Then, with the right map fresh in my 
 memory, I would lie there and imagine myself Jamie 
 Ferguson, watching sheep on the Scottish hills and 
 studying the starry heavens. Inviz, now grown quite 
 steady and thoughtful, would creep under the bedcovers 
 beside me ; and with both our heads on the same little pil- 
 low, we would watch the Great Bear circle around the 
 pole-star while other constellations marched in orderly 
 procession across our field of vision. 
 
 " Ain't it wonderful ? " my playmate would exclaim. 
 
 " Yes ; and to think that they are all so very large and 
 so far, far away! And when Jamie Ferguson lay on 
 
386 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the cold ground among his sheep, and looked up at them, 
 he saw them just as we see them now." 
 
 " Well, you ought to be thankful that you have so 
 many more opportunities than Jamie had. Only think 
 of it ! Instead of shivering on the bleak hills as he did, 
 with all those sheep to take care of, you have nothing to 
 do but to lie here in this warm trundle-bed while the 
 stars march past the window. Just see! There is 
 Ursa Major, and there is Ursa Minor, and there is 
 A returns — " 
 
 And so we kept it up until we both fell asleep. I 
 learned more of astronomy in that one winter, so long 
 ago, than I have ever learned since. 
 
 With the earliest approach of spring, the tide of prog- 
 ress in the New Settlement began to make itself ap- 
 parent as never before. Father said that it was all on 
 account of the opening of the railroad through Dash- 
 ville, thus bringing the markets to our doors; but there 
 were, no doubt, other reasons for the great awakening 
 that was at hand. New settlers were daily coming our 
 way. All the government lands had been sold, and now 
 the larger holdings were being divided and subdivided 
 into farms of eighty or often of forty acres. New 
 houses were being built, new clearings were opened, the 
 big woods were fast disappearing. With the establish- 
 ing of the post-office at Dry Forks, the little crossroads 
 had begun to develop into a village. Strangers who did 
 not speak the plain language were coming in and building 
 houses ; and the monopoly which Our Society had long 
 held on matters religious was in danger of serious in- 
 roads from the " Methodisters " and other worldly peo- 
 ple. 
 
 The spirit of progress, if I may call it so, was in the 
 
THE AWAKENING 387 
 
 air ; it seemed to be getting in the rear of all those sober, 
 staid, slow-moving people who had been resting so long 
 in the same notch — getting in their rear and pushing 
 them along, whether they wished to go or not. Scarcely 
 a day passed now that we did not see from one to a 
 score of white-covered movers' wagons plodding north- 
 ward or westward along the main highways. Some of 
 these would stop in our own neighborhood, some were 
 on their way to the more thinly settled sections of the 
 state, and many were bound for what was then the 
 distant West — the Illinois Country, the Missouri, and 
 the new state of Iowa on the very verge of the world. 
 These movers had come from many different localities 
 in the older states — from Ohio and Pennsylvania and 
 Virginia, but the most of those that tarried near us 
 were from classic old Carolina or from Tennessee. 
 
 Surely, things were waking up ; and father when he 
 observed it, was moved to the frequent repetition of 
 Bishop Berkeley's famous line: 
 
 " Westward the course of empire takes its way." 
 The state of Indiana, which for the life of a genera- 
 tion had rested almost dormant, was experiencing the 
 new birth. Hitherto she had been known chiefly as a 
 region of mighty forests, of dismal swamps, of mi- 
 asmatic streams — a country of backwoodsmen and 
 '* hushers " (hoosiers), of isolated settlements, of social 
 experiments and of native simplicity and rustic bar- 
 barity. Now she had arrived at the parting of the ways. 
 A new constitution was going into effect, a system of 
 free public schools had been provided for and would 
 soon be established, canal routes were being improved, 
 railroads were being built, people everywhere were be- 
 ginning to have some idea of the vastness of the natural 
 
II 
 
 388 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 resources that were waiting to be developed in this, until 
 now, backward commonwealth. The middle ages in the 
 Middle West were fast drawing to an end; the era of 
 modern progress was beginning. And the changes that 
 were taking place in the state at large were reflected or 
 reproduced in scores of communities or settlements, and 
 in thousands of humble homes. 
 
CHAPTER XXYIII 
 
 NOPPLIS 
 
 SCARCELY a day passed now without something 
 being done to push the horizon farther and far- 
 ther aw^ay from the spot which I still regarded as the 
 center of the w^orld. The habit which I had of omnivor- 
 ous reading, the diligent study of current news as set 
 forth weekly in the columns of the Era, the occasional 
 contact with movers passing through the Settlement, or 
 with newcomers who had lately made their homes in our 
 neighborhood — all these were educative influences that 
 were daily enlarging my vision and strengthening my 
 mental faculties. The universe was expanding, and the 
 tree of knowledge was fast overshadowing and smother- 
 ing the tender flower of innocence. 
 
 One evening father said to me quite abruptly : " Robert, 
 I am going to Nopplis to-morrow, to take some wheat 
 and do a little trading. How would thee like to go along 
 with me and see the big city ? " 
 
 ** Oh, father ! May I ? " This was spoken with an ex- 
 plosive earnestness, which however was inadequate to 
 express a tithe of the pleasure I felt. 
 
 " Yes, if thee thinks thee can stand the journey," he 
 answered. " But thee must be up with the birds, for we 
 shall have to start bright and early." 
 
 Stand the journey? Well, I could stand a good deal 
 more than that. The very thought of it made my heart 
 
 389 
 
390 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 thump and my fingers tingle ; and it seemed an age until 
 morning came, and the twittering of the swallows 
 heralded the first appearance of dawn. 
 
 It was a day long to be remembered — that day when 
 with the rising of the sun we set out for the world-fa- 
 mous capital of the only state worth living in. Father 
 was seated in the front part of the wagon, guiding the 
 horses and wearing upon his face that expression of 
 dignity and distinction which was so peculiarly becoming 
 to him. I sat a little way behind, on one of the ten 
 bags of wheat that we were taking to market, silent and 
 self-satisfied. My eyes were wide open, my ears were 
 pricked forward, every sense was alert, as of a dis- 
 coverer just entering into regions hitherto unknown and 
 unexplored. 
 
 We traveled slowly; for twelve hundred pounds of 
 wheat, to say nothing of two passengers and various 
 other articles of freight, made no small load for a pair 
 of old horses on roads where mudholes were a hundred 
 times more numerous than mile posts. But the slower 
 our progress, the better chance there was for observa- 
 tion; and a snail's pace was therefore fast enough for 
 me. 
 
 At about noon we arrived on the bank of the historic 
 White River, so famed in the poetry and song of the 
 Hoosier Country. Here, beneath the spreading branches 
 of a white sycamore tree, we ate our luncheon, not for- 
 getting to provide also for the patient beasts that had 
 brought us thither. Then we drove boldly into the 
 stream, which at this particular point was very wide 
 and very shallow. The water, which scarcely reached 
 the horses' knees even in the deepest places, rippled 
 gently over smooth pebbles of various sizes, the largest 
 
NOPPLIS 391 
 
 not larger than goose eggs; and looking down into the 
 crystal-clear stream, I could see great numbers of fishes, 
 disporting themselves — a sight which to me was most 
 novel and interesting. 
 
 Once across the river, we noticed that the houses along 
 the road were much closer together, and soon many un- 
 mistakable signs told us we were approaching the city. 
 Indeed, it seemed but a very little while until we were 
 right in the thick of it, there being houses on both sides 
 of us, some of them quite pretentious buildings of two 
 stories set far back among shade trees and well-culti- 
 vated truck patches. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, we drove into a very wide 
 road, where there were stores and other buildings — 
 small and large, but mostly small — standing quite close 
 together on both sides, just as in some of the cities that 
 were pictured in my Parley Book. 
 
 " This is Washington Street," said father. " It is a 
 part of the great National Road that is to run from 
 Baltimore in Maryland to St. Louis in Missouri. When 
 this road is finished it will be the longest and finest high- 
 way in all the world." 
 
 I looked at it with awe and admiration, for here, I 
 thought to myself, was something so long that one end 
 of it dipped into Chesapeake Bay and the other into the 
 Mississippi River. The street, which formed so hon- 
 orable a part of the great highway and bore the revered 
 name of the father of his country, was of indefinite 
 length, the houses continuing along it for perhaps half 
 a mile. The roadway itself had been ** graded " by dig- 
 ging a shallow ditch on each side and scraping the loose 
 earth up toward the middle. Our wagon wound its way 
 irregularly from one side to the other, while the numer- 
 
392 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ous mudholes and chuck-holes and ruts gave variety to 
 the scene and made overspeeding impossible. Pigs and 
 geese wandered at will along the street, and the number 
 of vehicles and horses that we met filled my mind with 
 astonishment. 
 
 Father knew exactly where to dispose of his cargo — 
 at a long low house, as I remember, on the banks of a 
 straight and narrow stream which I learned was the 
 famous Central Canal that had bankrupted the state. 
 And there, to my great wonder and satisfaction, I saw 
 three or four canal-boats of enormous size lying close 
 to the banks and apparently empty and deserted. 
 
 Having obtained a good price for his wheat and put the 
 money safely in his pocket, father's next care was to find 
 a lodging place for the night. We drove out upon Wash- 
 ington Street again, and soon, where the stores were 
 most numerous and the houses stood closest together, we 
 came opposite a large, ramshackle, rusty-looking frame 
 building at the front of which was suspended a huge 
 signboard bearing the words : 
 
 RAYS TAVERX 
 
 The signboard was old and in need of paint, and a 
 general air of decay and happy neglect rested upon the 
 entire place. A fat ruddy- faced man in his shirt- 
 sleeves was standing by the door, and father drew up 
 and accosted him. 
 
 "How's thee, James? Has thee plenty of room in 
 thy tavern for us to-night?" 
 
 The tavern-keeper, for so I understood him to be, 
 came leisurely out to the wagon and shook hands with 
 us both. 
 
NOPPLIS 393 
 
 " How many do you have with you, Stephen ? " 
 
 " Just myself and the boy and the two horses," an- 
 swered father. " We would like to get supper and 
 breakfast and lodging and a place for the team to stand 
 under shelter." 
 
 '' Well, we'll accommodate you," said the man. 
 ** Drive right in." 
 
 I Near the middle of the tavern building there was a 
 broad passageway for wagons, and through this we 
 1 drove into a kind of courtyard in the rear. This yard 
 was surrounded by a variety of stables and sheds, and 
 was cluttered up with old wagons and store boxes and 
 I manure heaps in great profusion ; and in the very center 
 was a big wooden pump and a watering trough for the 
 horses. The tavern-keeper came through the passage- 
 way after us, and very kindly assisted father in taking 
 the horses from the wagon and putting them in an open 
 [ stall at the rear of the yard. 
 
 The day was near its close, and I was very tired. 
 Everything was so strange and new to my experience 
 that I felt bewildered and oppressed with that sort of 
 unreasoning timidity that so often took hold of me. I 
 hung close to father's coat tail and trembled lest some 
 one should notice me and speak to me. Very naturally, 
 therefore, my recollection of what occurred during our 
 stay at the hostelry is somewhat confused and indis- 
 tinct, like that of a dream, 
 
 I remember, however, of sitting down to eat at a long 
 table where there were a number of bearded men talking 
 and laughing and rattling the dishes ; and, later on, I ob- 
 served these same men standing with others at a high 
 counter and drinking what I supposed to be sweet cider, 
 as though they actually thought it was good for them; 
 
394 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and two or three of the fellows were noisy and ill- 
 behaved and scarcely able to stand on their feet — a 
 fact that gave me great concern until father attempted 
 to direct my attention to something else. 
 
 "What's the matter with them?" I asked. 
 
 " They are drunk," said father, leading me from the 
 room. 
 
 '' I should think they would be ashamed of themselves," 
 I said. "Won't they be put in jail for it?" 
 
 I had read about drunkenness and the drink habit, 
 and I had heard a great deal of talk about temperance; 
 but this was the first time that I had ever seen an 
 intoxicated person, and I was frightened, disgusted, 
 angry. 
 
 Father led me out Into the open air. It was already 
 quite dark, and he directed my attention to the lights 
 by w^hich the great street of Washington was illuminated. 
 On the tops of wooden posts, at intervals of a " square " 
 or two, there were a number of lard-oil lamps — per- 
 haps a score or more — flickering feebly in the dark- 
 ness. Not one of them glowed with more brilliancy 
 than a good dip candle, but the sight of so many lights 
 in a long row^ on each side of the street was well worth 
 seeing. Few other cities, in those middle ages, were 
 better illuminated; for the era of kerosene had not yet 
 begun, and gas and electricity had scarcely been dreamed 
 of. 
 
 These public lamps, however, were not all that con- 
 tributed to the illumination of the great highway. In 
 the windows of nearly every store a candle was glim- 
 mering, and in some of the larger establishments four 
 or five such lights might be seen, attesting the great 
 
NOPPLIS 395 
 
 prosperity of the proprietors. Thus it was possible for 
 people to walk with safety up and down the street even 
 on the darkest nights. But pedestrians from the out- 
 lying districts, where there were no such lights, were 
 obliged to carry little lanterns, like our own at home, 
 consisting of a short tallow candle set in the center of 
 a hollow cylinder of perforated tin. Oh! it was a won- 
 derful experience to be in a city where people moved 
 about at night as well as in the daytime. 
 
 Upon returning into the tavern, father selected a can- 
 dle from a number that were ranged on the barroom 
 counter, lighted it, and the landlord's boy showed us to 
 our room. It was a large dingy apartment containing 
 three beds besides our own; and as I was disrobing, I 
 noticed that nearly every bed was already occupied. 
 There was a good deal of talking among our roommates 
 — some of it unfit for the ears of a growing boy — and 
 while father was firmly remonstrating with the rude 
 fellows, I fell asleep. 
 
 My slumbers, however, wxre neither profound nor of 
 long duration. I awoke with an itching sensation and 
 a feeling as though a thousand '' granddaddy long-legs " 
 were creeping over me. Father was also awake and I 
 could hear him in the darkness bravely combating his 
 numerous foes. But, judging from the various intona- 
 tions of music that issued from the other beds, it was 
 apparent that all the rest of the lodgers were sleeping 
 the sleep of the brave, indifferent to the onslaughts of 
 bloodthirsty legions. 
 
 '' Father, I think there's a million of 'em," I said. " I 
 can't sleep a wink," 
 
396 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Lie still and try to go to sleep, and then thee won't 
 notice them," he answered; but he was unable to follow 
 his own advice. 
 
 So with much discomfort, I contrived to pass the 
 night, dozing a little now and then, and in the between- 
 whiles valiantly contending with the voracious creatures 
 that gave no quarter nor sought any. At last, with the 
 first faint peeping of the dawn, both father and I leaped 
 up, and hastily clothing ourselves, sought relief in the 
 open air and at the public pump in the courtyard. 
 
 A little later in the morning, as we were about to 
 take our departure from the tavern, father remarked 
 to the landlord, " James, I have no serious objection to 
 lodging in the same room with half a dozen other guests, 
 provided they are well-behaved; but I seriously protest 
 against furnishing entertainment to the numerous little 
 beasts that thee harbors between thy bedcovers." 
 
 Leaving the horses and wagon in the tavern sheds, 
 we strolled down Washington Street to see the sights 
 and make some purchases. In front of most of the 
 buildings there were narrow sidewalks, some of planks, 
 some of flat stones, and some of loose gravel ; but father 
 was at first not right clear whether we ought to use these 
 public conveniences. 
 
 *' The city people have built them for their own pur- 
 poses," he said, " and perhaps we had better not trespass 
 upon them." And accordingly we went trudging along 
 in the middle of the road. 
 
 Presently, coming to a hardware store, we went inside, 
 and father laid out the greater part of his money for 
 a wonderful new cookstove, with utensils to match and 
 five joints of pipe. He had a long conversation with the 
 storekeeper during which the subject of sidewalks was 
 
NOPPLIS 397 
 
 mentioned ; and I noticed that, afterward, we took our 
 chances with the city people, and no longer strolled in 
 the roadway. 
 
 A little farther down the street my eye was attracted 
 by a sign bearing the talismanic words : 
 
 BOOK STORE 
 
 Father tried in vain to direct my attention to a pair of 
 goats that were browsing on the opposite side of the 
 street ; but what were these ragged animals in comparison 
 with a whole store full of books? 
 
 " Let's go in and look at them," I said pleadingly. 
 
 And at that very moment a pleasant-looking man came 
 to the door, and seeing father, greeted him with : — 
 
 " Good morning, Stephen Dudley ! " 
 
 " How's thee, Samuel Merrill ? " returned father ; and 
 they shook hands very cordially. " I couldn't get my 
 little boy past thy door. There's nothing he loves so 
 much as a book." 
 
 *' Well, come in a little while, and let him look at what 
 I have," said the storekeeper. " I have just received a 
 lot of new books that are very attractive." 
 
 We accepted his invitation, and thereupon followed 
 one of the happiest hours of my boyhood. Father sat 
 down beside the storekeeper's desk and the two had a 
 long talk about the crops and the markets and politics, 
 while I browsed to my heart's content among the book- 
 shelves. The time passed all too quickly, and finally, 
 when father insisted upon going, Mr. Merrill showed 
 him a chunky little volume that he himself had been 
 reading, and said : 
 
 *' Here is a book that will interest the boy. It's all 
 
398 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 about Indians and Daniel Boone and pioneer times in this 
 country." 
 
 I took it in my hand. It was entitled, ''Sketches of 
 Western Adventure, Containing an Account of the Most 
 Interesting Incidents Connected with the Settlement of 
 the West, by John A. McClung." It contained only two 
 pictures, but both of these were of a character to thrill 
 the heart of any live boy; and the table of contents 
 revealed a bill of fare that was tempting to the sober 
 literary appetite of even so unimpressionable a man as 
 Stephen Dudley. 
 
 " Oh, father, I wish thee would buy it ! " And the 
 storekeeper helped my cause by an insinuating smile and 
 a motion toward the counter where his wrapping paper 
 and twine reposed. 
 
 What man with his pocket full of money could resist 
 such pleading, such temptation ? When we left the store, 
 the book was under my arm. 
 
 " I think that the train is advertised to arrive from 
 Madison at about this time," said father. " We will go 
 down to the depot and see it come in." 
 
 The depot, if I remember rightly, stood not very 
 far from the site of the present magnificent Union Sta- 
 tion, but it was then quite on the outer edge of the town. 
 It was a little one-roomed building, with a high platform 
 all round it and a freight shed at one end. On the east 
 side were the railroad tracks ; and on the south flowed 
 the waters of the classic stream known in western his- 
 tory as Pogue's Run. At one end of the waiting-room 
 (I think it was called '' settin'-room " in those days) 
 there was a counter where tickets were sold to those 
 who wished to buy them. But the ticket system had not 
 at that time been perfected; and, simple though it may 
 
NOPPLIS 399 
 
 seem to you, my Leonidas, the mind of man had not yet 
 grasped completely the intricate process of '' punching 
 in the presence of the passenger." As a consequence, 
 most of the people who traveled (and there were not 
 very many) preferred to pay their fares on the train, 
 dimly hoping, no doubt, that the conductor would make 
 a mistake in their favor, and they would save money 
 thereby. Since none of the railroad officials wore uni- 
 forms or badges, it sometimes happened that certain zeal- 
 ous individuals went hastily through the cars and col- 
 lected the fares before the tardy conductor made his 
 appearance ; and in such cases the passengers were 
 obliged to pay double. Some of these facts we learned 
 from a talkative citizen of Nopplis, as we stood with 
 him on the platform waiting for the train. 
 
 The " depot man," having plenty of leisure time be- 
 tween the arrival of trains, notwithstanding the occa- 
 sional selling of a ticket or two, was permitted to carry 
 on a little business of his own behind the counter in the 
 waiting-room. There, on shelves and in other conve- 
 nient places, he displayed his merchandise consisting of 
 stick candy of various flavors, a few boxes of cigars, 
 twists of chewing tobacco, and a small variety of fruits. 
 
 The train being late, as was the invariable custom, 
 and time dragging heavily while we waited, I amused 
 myself by strolling alone about the depot while father 
 continued his conversation with the talkative citizen 
 above mentioned. I had in my pocket a little silver fip 
 which Aunt Rachel had bestowed upon me for my very 
 own, and now an intense desire to spend it began to 
 take hold of my mind. I sauntered frequently to the 
 counter in the waiting-room and gazed, with a longing 
 that was beyond my control, at the candies and fruits 
 
400 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 that were there offered for sale; and particularly was I 
 tempted by some very pretty things which I thought 
 were oranges. 
 
 Finally, by a supreme effort, I mustered sufficient cour- 
 age to lean over the counter and in confidential tones 
 inquire, '' What is the price of them awringes ? " 
 
 '* I hain't got no awringes," the man in charge an- 
 swered. ** Them's lemmings ; they're two for a fip." 
 
 " Oh ! " And I walked away. 
 
 Now, I had read about lemons, and I knew that they 
 grew in tropical regions just as oranges do, but this was 
 the first time that I had ever seen any of those ellipsoid 
 berries so necessary to the manufacture of lemonade. 
 I remembered the delicious orange which father had 
 brought to us from the 'Hio, and I fancied that a lemon 
 must be none the less sweet and palatable ; and the more 
 I thought about it the more seriously I was tempted. 
 I argued that with my money I could buy two lemons, 
 eat one of them without anybody knowing it, and gen- 
 erously carry the other one home to be divided among 
 the various members of our family. The idea grew, 
 and at length I went sheepishly back to the counter, and 
 laying the fip down upon it, I said to the man in charge, 
 
 " I will take two of thy — of your lemons." 
 
 He slipped the money into his box and handed me 
 the fruit. I put one of the lemons in my pocket, and, 
 with the other in my hand, went out on the back plat- 
 form to eat it. I found a secluded spot among some salt 
 barrels by the freight shed, and there I sat down to 
 enjoy my treat. Impatiently, I bit a great hunk out of 
 the lemon as though it were an apple. Oh, the sourness 
 of it! I would have spit it out at once, but I thought 
 that doubtless this was the way with lemons and it would 
 
NOPPLIS 401 
 
 grow sweeter in a moment, and so I retained it in my 
 mouth. Disappointment and anger soon began to well 
 up in my Heart. The man at the counter had cheated 
 me; I had heard of the wickedness and cunning of city 
 sharpers, and here was an example of it. The man 
 had taken my money and given me no equivalent for it. 
 I would tell him what I thought about it. I accordingly 
 ejected the sour thing from my mouth, and strode back 
 in high dudgeon to the counter where I had bought it. 
 
 " Them lemons are sour," I said with all the firmness 
 that I could command. " They ain't fit to eat." 
 
 ** Well, how did you 'spect 'em to be ? " the man re- 
 torted, laughing uproariously. '' Most lemmings is sour. 
 That's what they're made for." 
 
 My courage was exhausted. In great dejection I 
 turned away, and going outside threw the remaining 
 lemon with all my might into the sluggish, muddy waters 
 of Pogue's Run. And then — would you believe it? — 
 my dear playmate, Inviz, jumped out from behind the 
 salt barrels and laughingly shouted in my ear: 
 
 " A fool and his money are soon parted ! Ha ! ha ! " 
 The next moment I heard the whistle of the approach- 
 ing train, far away toward Franklin or Shelbyville. I 
 hurried around to the place where father was waiting, 
 and stood by his side in anxious expectation. It was 
 long before we could see the train, although we heard its 
 puffing and roaring quite distinctly; and when at last 
 it hove in sight we had plenty of time to gaze at the 
 locomotive with its huge smoke pipe, and wonder whether 
 it was coming toward us or merely standing still. At 
 last it actually arrived, creeping at a snail's pace, rattling 
 over the thin little bars of iron called rails, and making 
 as much noise as a hundred wagons. The train con- 
 
402 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 sisted of only the engine and tender, a baggage car, and 
 a single small coach — but it was a sight never to be 
 forgotten. At each end of the coach and also of the 
 baggage car, a brakeman was straining at the brake wheel 
 with all his might in order to bring the train to a stop 
 somewhere within a reasonable nearness to the depot. 
 There was a dreadful screeching of wheels, a jerking 
 and a bumping, a going forward and a backing — and 
 at last the deed was accomplished and the dozen passen- 
 gers strolled leisurely out upon the platform. 
 
 To me the whole operation was most wonderful; for 
 this was my first view of a railroad train or of a steam 
 locomotive. Yet I need not weary you, my Leonidas, 
 with a description of that primitive little engine or of 
 the cushionless, comfortless, jolting little cars which it 
 dragged behind it; for of those things you may learn 
 in the histories of that medieval period. 
 
 " It is almost noon," said father, as the excitement on 
 the depot platform began to subside. " We must make 
 haste and get started for home." 
 
 Thereupon, with as much despatch as possible, we 
 proceeded to get our team out from the tavern sheds, 
 put the cookstove and other purchases into the wagon, 
 and regretfully bid good-by to the stirring scenes on 
 Washington Street. 
 
 " We will go a little out of our way," said father, 
 " for I want to show thee one of the wonders of the 
 city." 
 
 So, starting out by way of a somewhat narrower road, 
 called Meridian Street, we came almost immediately to 
 a small circular plot of ground with a wide avenue 
 running round it and as many as six or eight other 
 highways branching off from it, just as the spokes of 
 
NOPPLIS 403 
 
 a wheel branch off from the hub. Here father pulled up 
 on the lines, and we stopped a short while to look, admire, 
 and inwardly contemplate. 
 
 " Does thee see all these streets coming to a point 
 right here ? " he said. " Well, this little round place is the 
 Governor's Circle, and the big square house thee sees 
 in the middle of it is where the governor of the state 
 lives. People say that it is at the exact center of the 
 state; but I have some doubts about that." 
 
 Well ! well ! This was the governor's house, was it ? 
 Here was the place where he sat, looking out along all 
 these straight, divergent highways, and keeping the peo- 
 ple of the state in subjection! 
 
 Now, Inviz and I had two altogether different ideas 
 concerning the personality of a governor. Inviz insisted 
 that he was a very wise, well-informed, schoolmasterly 
 gentleman who devoted all his time to the duties of his 
 office, enforcing the laws and providing for the general 
 welfare of the people. But my own idea was different 
 — it was based upon something I had read long before 
 in one of the volumes of the Friends' Library — per- 
 haps it was in the journal of George Fox, or that of 
 Thomas Shillito, or of John Woolman — I can not re- 
 member. It was merely a dream story; but it told of a 
 supposititious governor who had cloven feet and a forked 
 tail and nostrils that emitted fire and brimstone. I must 
 have been very young when I first read that impressive 
 story, but it took such fast hold upon my imagination 
 that, even to this day, when the word " governor " is 
 mentioned, I involuntarily think of the Old Feller. And 
 so, as we sat there, silently contemplating the Governor's 
 Circle, a strange picture was elaborated in my mind, the 
 picture of a fat spider with cloven feet sitting in the 
 
404 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 center of his web and looking composedly out upon the 
 little kingdom that was his own. It was all very foolish, 
 and I knew it was so, yet I could not help it. I have 
 passed the same spot hundreds of times since, and always 
 the same vision is recalled. 
 
 As we were about to proceed on our way, two well- 
 dressed gentlemen came out through the gateway before 
 the governor's house, and father, seeing them, nodded 
 his head in friendly recognition. The younger of the 
 two returned his salutation, and calling to father, said: 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Dudley ! How are all the good 
 people in the New Settlement?" 
 
 Father again drew up on the lines, and brought our 
 wagon to a standstill right by the street crossing. 
 
 *' How's thee, George? " he responded, reaching out his 
 hand. " I am right glad to see thee." 
 
 The gentleman shook hands with both of us very 
 cordially, and then turning to his companion, said : 
 
 " Governor, this is Stephen Dudley, the leading Free 
 Soiler m the New Settlement, over in the Wabash district. 
 Stephen, have you ever met Governor Wright ? " 
 
 '' How's thee, Joseph ? " said father. " I am right 
 glad to see thee." And there was a hearty handshake 
 and a further interchange of compliments and inquiries. 
 As the governor took my limp and yielding hand in his 
 own (for his democracy knew no distinctions of age) I 
 looked down, weakly and sheepishly, half expecting to 
 see the forked tail and the cloven feet. I confess this 
 to my shame, for the next moment Inviz whispered to 
 me, *' You ought to feel very much honored ; for you 
 have shaken hands with a wise and noble person, the 
 greatest man in Indiana." 
 
 Of course, not one of the three men present guessed 
 
NOPPLIS 405 
 
 what was passing in my mind, nor would they have 
 cared in the least. They continued their conversation 
 without any further notice of my presence. 
 
 "I do not agree with thy politics," said father to the 
 governor, " but when it comes to questions of temper- 
 ance and free schools and public improvements, I think 
 we shall not stand very far apart." 
 
 And thus, for perhaps ten minutes, they exchanged 
 polite remarks on a variety of subjects of general inter- 
 est ; then the two gentlemen walked on across the street, 
 and we resumed our humble journey. 
 
 We had gone but a short distance when I began more 
 fully to realize the magnitude of the honor that had been 
 mine — the honor of having touched the hand of the 
 ruler of our state. I drew a little closer to father and, 
 in a subdued tone of voice, asked : 
 
 " Was that really the governor ? " 
 
 " Yes, that was Governor Joseph A. Wright, and if 
 his politics were only right he would be a right good 
 man. He was the last governor under the old constitu- 
 tion, and now he is the first under the new." 
 
 I didn't know much about constitutions, and so I merely 
 remarked, *' He looks just like a common man, don't he? 
 I somehow thought a governor would look different." 
 
 Father smiled at my simplicity. 
 
 " Joseph A. Wright," said he, " was once a poor farmer 
 boy — as poor as thee is ; but by diligent study and hard 
 work he won his way to the highest place in the govern- 
 ment of the state. He knows what it is to be just a 
 common man." 
 
 " W^ho was the other fellow, father — the one thee 
 called George? " 
 
 ** His name is George W. Julian. He is our repre- 
 
4o6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 sentative in Congress and a very strong Free Soiler. 
 There is some talk of making him our next vice presi- 
 dent." 
 
 My heart swelled up big as I mused upon the events 
 of the morning. Surely I had seen wonders; surely I 
 had brushed up against no small amount of greatness. 
 Indeed, I began to feel as if I myself were almost famous. 
 And then I thought of the precious book that father 
 had bought for me in Merrill's bookstore, and leaving 
 off all further conversation, I began nervously to remove 
 its wrappings. Father noticed what I was doing, and 
 slipping off the driver's seat, he came and reclined on 
 the straw beside me. It was a very undignified pro- 
 cedure, of which under other circumstances he would 
 have been ashamed ; but what did it matter, here in this 
 strange roadway where none of his acquaintances would 
 see him? 
 
 " Suppose thee reads one of those western adventures 
 out loud," he suggested. 
 
 Nothing could have pleased me better. I opened the 
 volume and began with the first chapter, the thrilling 
 story of the adventures of James Smith. For at least 
 half an hour we were both so deeply absorbed in the 
 story — I reading, he listening — that we were only 
 dimly conscious that our well-trained team was keeping 
 in the right road and carrying us slowly homeward. 
 Then, my throat becoming somewhat tired, we exchanged 
 places, and father became the reader and I the listener — 
 and he read the always entrancing story of Daniel Boone 
 and the first settlement of Kentucky. 
 
 Thus the small remnant of the morning and the whole 
 of the warm summer afternoon were whiled away in the 
 pleasantest manner imaginable — we two reclining side 
 
NOPPLIS 407 
 
 by side upon the heap of straw, and each taking his turn 
 at reading from the book or guiding the dumb horses. 
 
 Oh, those first Indian stories ! The surprising adven- 
 tures of Robinson Crusoe seemed commonplace and 
 dull in comparison with them. How vividly the mem- 
 ory remains of Colonel Crawford's martyrdom, of 
 Simon Kenton's thrilling experiences, of Adam Poe's 
 life-and-death struggles in the savage wilderness! My 
 blood began to boil with the desire for adventure, and 
 I fancied myself with a gun on my shoulder and a scalp- 
 ing knife in my belt, going West to fight the Indians. 
 If father had known what thoughts were in my mind 
 he would have tossed the book into the first ditch. 
 
 What a truly delightful afternoon that was ! Every- 
 thing else was forgotten save the joyousness of existence 
 and the overpowering interest of the book. It was not un- 
 til the sun went down and the approach of darkness made 
 reading impossible, that we reluctantly closed the volume 
 and deferred its further enjoyment to another time. It 
 was very late and I was almost exhausted when we 
 reached the New Settlement and home, but oh, what a 
 red-letter day I had had! 
 
 The next day the fire in the old fireplace was allowed 
 to go out, and we set up the new cookstove in its place, 
 with the five joints of stovepipe extending up to the very 
 top of the chimney. 
 
 *' Ring out the old, ring in the new," whispered Tnviz 
 as the mighty change was efl^ected ; and thus was typified 
 the passing of the regime of the middle ages and the 
 dawning of another order, more modern, more civilized 
 if you will have it so, but whether more conducive to 
 happiness, who shall say? 
 
4o8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Mother's eyes filled with tears as the transformation 
 was going on. She was told that the cookstove was to 
 relieve her of a great deal of hard labor; there would 
 be no more backaches from much bending over skillets 
 and frying pans on the hearth ; no more lifting of heavy 
 kettles from the crane ; no more fussing over hot coals 
 or a superabundance of ashes. But the thing was not 
 of her own choosing, and she looked upon it with sus- 
 picion and grave doubts. 
 
 " I can never learn how to cook with all them new 
 contraptions," she sighed, and her lips quivered as she 
 spoke. " I'm afraid we won't have any more hoe cakes, 
 or corn pones, or peach cobblers ; and when it comes to 
 bakin' white bread, I know we'll never have anything 
 fit to eat." 
 
 And it happened much as she anticipated. From that 
 day forward, even to the present moment, all sorts of 
 food have tasted diiTerently, have lacked the flavor, the 
 zest, the old-fashioned perfection that characterized the 
 open-fire cookery on the great log-cabin hearth. 
 
 Cousin Mandy Jane, anxious to float along with the 
 current of progress, protested that the stove was '' right 
 smart handier " than the fireplace in every way ; and 
 father, gazing upon it with admiration, remarked that 
 he did not see how we had ever lived so long without 
 it. As for myself, I felt that we had made a great stride 
 in the direction of progress, and I was puffed up with 
 vanity when I thought of our unfortunate neighbors 
 who were too poor to buy a stove ; but, oh, how I missed 
 the bright blaze and the genial warmth of the open fire, 
 and how dull the evenings seemed with no light in the 
 room save that of the flickering candle ! And poor Aunt 
 Rachel ! She still sat in her chimney corner, but it was 
 
NOPPLIS 409 
 
 cold and dark and cheerless ; and when her pipe went out, 
 as it often did, how hard it was to relight it from the 
 newfangled stove! Every day the lines on the good 
 woman's face deepened, her stint of knitting grew smaller 
 and smaller, her hold upon life became feebler. 
 
 The serpent was in the garden at last. Contentment, 
 that one essential of happiness, was about to take its 
 departure. Without the cheer of the great hearth-fire, 
 the cabin seemed dark, comfortless, crowded, inadequate 
 to our needs. We were fast becoming ashamed of it. 
 Father was the first to voice the thoughts of perhaps 
 all the rest of the family, save one. 
 
 " We must have more room," he said. *' The cabin 
 is no longer large enough for a family of seven.'' 
 
 And so he immediately began to make plans for a 
 spacious new house of the modern kind — a two-story 
 house with four rooms above and three below and a cellar 
 underneath. 
 
 ** We will then tear down the cabin and utilize the pres- 
 ent big-house as a kitchen. And when Friends come to 
 visit us, w^e shall have no lack of room for their entertain- 
 ment." 
 
 Mother protested feebly. The increase of room would 
 entail an increase of labor; it would add various forms 
 of anxiety and worry hitherto unknown ; every new thing 
 obtained would create a want for something else. But 
 father's lately awakened ambition would listen to no 
 objections. He was anxious to have the largest and 
 finest house in the New Settlement. His rapidly in- 
 creasing acquaintance with men of note had filled his 
 mind with a desire to appear well-to-do in the commu- 
 nity. Moreover, the spirit of progress that was hovering 
 over the land, would not permit him longer to live the 
 
4IO IN MY YOUTH 
 
 simple life of contentment which had hitherto given him 
 so much joy and peace. 
 
 Hence, active work on the new house was soon begun, 
 and the doom of the old cabin was sealed. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 CHARITY AND PATIENCE 
 
 ONE afternoon, upon returning from the lower dead- 
 ening with a pair of young oxen which father had 
 given me, I overtook Cousin Mandy Jane in the act 
 of creeping through the barnyard bars. She had a basket 
 of freshly dug potatoes on her arm, and I noticed that 
 her hair was liberally greased and smoothly plastered 
 over her forehead, and that she wore her newest gingham 
 apron — sure signs of visitors. 
 
 " Well, who's come now ? " I inquired, holding the 
 nigh steer by his stumpy little horn. 
 
 ** Oh, Robert, thee cain't never guess," was the ex- 
 cited reply. *' Hurry and unyoke the steers, and then 
 I'll tell thee who they are and all about 'em." 
 
 I drove my little oxen into the barnyard, and in an- 
 other minute, had loosened the yoke from their patient 
 necks and turned them into the lane to graze the short 
 grass in the fence comers. 
 
 " Now tell me," I demanded, growing impatient. 
 
 '* Thee cain't never guess who it is," responded the 
 palpitating young woman, her eyes twinkling and her 
 front teeth showing broad between her thin lips. 
 
 " I don't want to guess," I answered tartly. " Thee 
 promised to tell me, and thee must." 
 
 " Well then, it's Charity and Patience, if thee must 
 know ; " and she ^ave way to one of those rare, in- 
 
 4U 
 
412 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 imitable tee-hees which she usually held in reserve for 
 occasions of great importance. 
 
 ^* Charity and Patience ! Who's Charity and Pa- 
 tience? " 
 
 *' Why, hain't thee heerd ? They're them two twin 
 school-teachers that Isaac Wilson brung with him all 
 the way from Filly Deify when he was down there last 
 month. They've come over to see if they cain't git a 
 chance to teach a school somewhere round here ; and 
 they're settin' in the house right now. Isaac Wilson, he 
 brung 'em over from Dashville in his spring wagon, 
 and then he driv away ag'in, goin' round toward Duck 
 Creek. But them there twins, I reckon they'll stay at 
 our house a right smart spell — leastwise till they find 
 out about them schools they want to git." 
 
 She rattled this speech off in breathless haste, glancing 
 uneasily around as though fearful of being overheard. 
 
 "What do they look like. Cousin Mandy Jane?" I 
 asked, apprehensive and in a mood that was nowise 
 friendly to the strangers who had thus intruded them- 
 selves into our household. 
 
 " Oh, thee'U see," and her tone was somewhat reas- 
 suring. " Thee might take ary one of 'em for t'other, 
 'cause they're jist as nigh alike as two beans in the shell. 
 Thee cain't never tell which to call Charity and which 
 to call Patience." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure I'll never want to call 'em at all," I 
 answered despondently. I was beginning to wonder how 
 I could manage to endure the ordeal of meeting with 
 strangers who, having come so vast a distance, must be 
 so very strange indeed. 
 '' If I was thee, Robert," advised Cousin Mandy Jane, 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 413 
 
 " I'd go and slick up a bit, and try to look nice and clean 
 afore thee shows thyself to sich quality folks." And 
 with that, she hastened down to the spring branch, to 
 wash her potatoes in the flowing stream. 
 
 Feeling that her counsel was altogether proper and 
 sensible, I followed her, keeping myself well concealed 
 behind the currant bushes and the fence, lest spying eyes 
 from the house might see me in my unpresentable state. 
 The slicking-up process consisted of a thorough washing 
 of face, hands, and feet in the pellucid waters of the 
 branch, and a careful dampening of my shock of towy 
 hair, which somehow would never stay smooth or re- 
 spectable. This being accomplished, I looked at the re- 
 flection of myself in nature's mirror, and felt ashamed. 
 And Inviz, who now seldom came except to upbraid me, 
 whispered over my shoulder : 
 
 " You're a pretty looking sight for quality folks to 
 look at — shirt collar without a button — only one gallus 
 to hold your britches up — both knees with patches on 
 them — and a big patch on your behind. Why, you look 
 just like a scarecrow in a corn-field, and — " 
 
 And just then, my dear Leonidas, a great terror seized 
 hold of me and my heart stood still; for I heard foot- 
 steps and low voices behind me, and felt sure that I 
 was in the dread presence of the twin teachers. Doubt- 
 less they had caught sight of me from the cabin door, 
 and had come down to the spring branch to surprise me. 
 Escape there was none, and so, with trembling limbs I 
 turned about and faced my doom. 
 
 The twins advanced trippingly, their faces beaming 
 with good nature, their hands extended to grasp my own. 
 They seemed not at all like my fancy had painted them. 
 
414 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Half my terror vanished instantly, and before a word 
 had been spoken I felt as though we were already on 
 fast and friendly terms with each other. 
 
 "And so this is Robert Dudley, isn't it?" said one. 
 
 ** Isn't it? " echoed the other. 
 
 " How does thee do ? " inquired the first. 
 
 "How does thee do?" repeated the second. 
 
 And to my renewed confusion, two pairs of hands 
 seized upon me at the same moment, and two faces were 
 bent so near to my own that I was filled with direst 
 terror lest their owners should be moved to kiss me. 
 
 " My name is Charity," said one. 
 
 " My name is Patience," said the other. 
 
 " We saw thee coming down the pathway, and we 
 thought we would follow thee and get acquainted," re- 
 marked Charity. 
 
 " Get acquainted," echoed Patience, and she squeezed 
 my fingers till they ached. 
 
 Then before I had time to recover myself or to think 
 once about being a scarecrow or any other inferior crea- 
 ture, the sisters began asking questions regarding dozens 
 of things which were very commonplace and foolish, but 
 which must have seemed to them truly interesting. 
 They asked about the tall cattails that grew so rank 
 near the other side of the branch and were then at their 
 best ; and they talked of the beauty of various other 
 plants that I had always regarded as ugly weeds; and 
 nothing would do but they must tuck up their dresses 
 and run a race with me to pick a bunch of blue flowers 
 which they had espied half-way across the orchard. 
 
 Returning to the spring-house, they must needs ask 
 me all about the milk in the crocks, and the cream that 
 we skimmed off the top of it, and how we churned butter, 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 415 
 
 and what we did with the buttermilk, and how the cheese 
 press was operated; and they did all this inquiring so 
 innocently and with such a show of ignorance that I 
 began to think they were not school-teachers at all, but 
 a pair of guileless creatures who knew nothing about 
 common things, and were themselves very much in need 
 of being taught. True, they looked intelligent ; and they 
 were dressed in store clothes and wore w^hite collars with 
 ribbon bows in front, and they talked very " proper," 
 and spoke of books as though they knew somewhat about 
 them. Moreover, they were not in the least stuck up, 
 but seemed just like common folks, very plain and very 
 well-behaved in all respects. What a pity that their 
 lives had hitherto been cast in the crowded pent-up city ! 
 
 After we had exhausted the spring-house and the 
 spring branch and everything else that was in sight, we 
 walked across the orchard, past the peach trees now 
 laden with ripening fruit, and past the old ash hopper 
 and the soap kettles — and there I had to pause for a 
 while and explain all the mysteries of making lye and 
 boiling soft soap ; and finally we came to a halt at the 
 barnyard bars, where the sisters were content to remain 
 a while to gaze at the world of animated nature just 
 beyond. 
 
 First, they admired the long rows of martins' nests 
 under the eaves of the barn'; and I had to explain the 
 difference between a martin and a swallow, and describe 
 the habits peculiar to each. Then they looked at the 
 ducks and geese that were waddling and cackling around 
 the barnyard ; and the ignorance which they displayed 
 concerning these most necessary fowls was truly astound- 
 ing. Next, the hens and the lordly rooster became the 
 subjects of comment and rapturous admiration, and the 
 
4i6 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 fattening pigs in their narrow enclosure evoked many 
 an exclamation of urban delight. Finally, one of the 
 twins caught sight of my pair of steers strolling in the 
 lane, and her curiosity immediately became manifest. 
 
 " See there. Charity ! " she exclaimed. " See those 
 beautiful cows just over there in that narrow street! " 
 
 ** Those beautiful cows ! " responded the sister. 
 
 " Yes, those beautiful cows ! Of all the wonderful 
 animals that were created for man's benefit and delight, 
 I think that the covv^ is the most lovely, the most useful, 
 and the most necessary." 
 
 " Most useful and most necessary," interrupted the 
 other. 
 
 " Now just look at those two meek-eyed creatures 
 nipping the luscious grass by the roadside. Think, sis- 
 ter, how that grass will be converted into wholesome, 
 nourishing, foaming milk — perhaps for our breakfast 
 to-morrow morning, or perhaps to be churned into butter 
 for our bread when we are hungry. Did thee ever see 
 anything so worthy of admiration ? " 
 
 " Worthy of admiration ? " 
 
 " Now, these two cows seem very small, and their 
 horns are short, thus indicating that they are quite 
 young." 
 
 " Quite young." 
 
 " But, Robert, am I not right in supposing that they 
 already give a goodly quantity of milk ? " 
 
 "A goodly quantity of milk?" echoed Charity; and 
 both looked at me as though expecting a reply. 
 
 I explained, as delicately as I could, that the two meek- 
 eyed creatures were not cows but young oxen, and that 
 I had been breaking them to draw loads and do light 
 work in the clearing. I informed them, moreover, that 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 417 
 
 milk was not usually obtained from young oxen but from 
 their mothers. 
 
 " Their mothers, sister Charity ! " 
 
 " Yes, the young oxen have mothers, sister Patience. 
 Only think of it." 
 
 '' Only think of it ! We've often read about oxen, 
 but these are the first we have ever seen. I suppose the 
 dear creatures know thy voice when thee speaks to 
 them?" 
 
 " Yes," I replied, and to demonstrate the fact, I cried 
 out, " Whoa haw, Dan ! Git ep ! " and instantly the 
 red steer left off his grazing and turned into the road. 
 
 " Well, isn't that wonderful ! " exclaimed both the 
 sisters at once. '' What was the name thee called her 
 by ? " 
 
 " I called him Dan ; but his full name is Daniel Web- 
 ster, 'cause we never know on which side of the fence 
 we'll find him." 
 
 The sisters laughed, but whether in derision or appro- 
 bation I was by no means sure. 
 
 ''What is the other one's name?" asked Patience. 
 
 " We call him Hen for short," I answered. " His full 
 name is Henry Clay, 'cause he don't ever want to be 
 president." 
 
 There was another ripple of laughter, and I turned 
 my face away, feeling certain that I had said something 
 very foolish and improper ; but there was some relief 
 in the thought that I had learned it all from father. 
 
 " What funny names thee has for thy pets ! " said 
 Charity. 
 
 " Yes, what funny names ! " echoed Patience. 
 
 And then, to my unbounded relief, Cousin Mandy Jane 
 came running to inform the twins that supper was on 
 
4i8 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the table and the victuals were impatiently waiting for 
 their attendance. " The biscuits will all git cold if you 
 don't hurry in and eat 'em," she urged. And so, the 
 two strangers tripping away at her behest, I was released 
 from further services as their guide. 
 
 I waited at the gate until they had disappeared in the 
 cabin, and then I sauntered down the lane, communing 
 sweetly with Inviz. 
 
 " Charity and Patience ! What funny names, and what 
 funny women! I like them, don't thee? They are so 
 common and so kind, and more than that they are so 
 ready to learn things." 
 
 " Yes," answered my playmate, " they are simply great. 
 They are as funny as Cousin Sally, and not a bit more 
 stuck up. But oh, how green they are, not to know a 
 duck from a goose, or a steer from a cow ! " 
 
 " Well, they will soon learn about such things," I said 
 apologetically. " City folks can't be expected to know 
 everything." 
 
 " No, nor school-teachers, neither." 
 
 " But only think of it, Inviz. These two women have 
 come all the way from the place where William Penn 
 treated the Indians, just to teach us Hoosiers our A B 
 C's and the multiplication table." 
 
 " Yes. We'll learn book things from them, and they'll 
 learn real things from us, and we will all be better off." 
 
 And thus there came into our lives another influence — 
 yes, two of them if you please — to help in broadening 
 our outlook upon the world and placing our feet firmly 
 upon the solid highway of progress. 
 
 Through father's growing influence in politics, no less 
 than through his diplomatic way of managing neighbor- 
 hood affairs, the twin teachers were not long in being 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 419 
 
 provided for. In accordance with the revised law of 
 the state, a school meeting was held in the new school- 
 house in '' Deestrict Number Five " for the purpose of 
 selecting a teacher for the ensuing school term, soon to 
 begin. 
 
 There were but two candidates for the position; 
 and of the sixteen votes cast, Benjamin Barnacle re- 
 ceived four, and Patience the remaining twelve. If " Old 
 Benny " had been chosen, he, as a lord of creation, would 
 have been paid the princely salary of five dollars a week ; 
 but Patience, being only a female, was rated at twenty- 
 five per cent, discount, and when her contract was finally 
 closed with the trustees, she was obliged to be content 
 with the promise of forty-five dollars for the full term 
 of twelve weeks. 
 
 " It's too much to pay to any woman," remarked Ab- 
 ner Jones, who had ten children and was taxed eighteen 
 cents for the support of public schools. ** A man teacher 
 for me, allers ! " 
 
 " But there are compensations,'^ said 'Lihu Bright, al- 
 ways inclined to philosophize. ** We have a total amount 
 of forty-five dollars, neither more nor less, to devote to 
 the education of the poor children in this deestrict. If 
 we hire a man at five dollars a week, these children can 
 have only nine weeks' schooling. If we hire a woman 
 at three-seventy-five, they will have twelve weeks. So 
 you see there is a direct advantage in employing a fe- 
 male." 
 
 At about the same time, through father's continued 
 good efforts, the other twan teacher. Charity, obtained 
 permission to teach the " Monthly Meetin' School," pro- 
 vided she could secure a sufficient number of signers to 
 her article, each signer agreeing to pay her one dollar 
 
420 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 '' per each scholar signed/' for a term of ten weeks' 
 instruction. 
 
 The article was beautifully written on a sheet of blue 
 foolscap, and the number of branches which she therein 
 agreed to teach was truly remarkable : — " spelling, read- 
 ing, writing, arithmetic through the Rule of Three, mod- 
 ern geography, English grammar to the rules of syntax, 
 history, and botany." 
 
 ''What sort of stuff is that there botany?" inquired 
 one of the Monthly Meetin' committee men. 
 
 Not one of his colleagues could tell. It was doubtless 
 some newfangled branch of learning, good enough for 
 the quality folks down in Philadelphia, but of no use 
 to the plain common people of our Settlement. Charity 
 was called upon to explain, and she did this so satis- 
 factorily that the committee at once approved of her 
 article and gave her authority to go ahead and secure 
 as many signers as she could. She accordingly pro- 
 ceeded to visit each and every family of Friends in the 
 Settlement, " just to get acquainted, thee knows," as she 
 smilingly informed them. 
 
 At the end of a week she returned to our house tri- 
 umphant, having obtained the signatures of nineteen 
 parents and the promise of thirty-seven and a half 
 scholars. 
 
 " Only think of it, sister," she exclaimed, " I will be 
 making three dollars and seventy-five cents a week — 
 just the same that thee will be making in thy school." 
 
 " Yes, only thinly of it," responded Patience. 
 
 And they were both content. 
 
 As I have elsewhere intimated, my Leonidas, the 
 public schools in our state had, up to this time, been but 
 slightly esteemed. The well-to-do people were suspicious 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 421 
 
 of them, believing that they were merely a kind of chari- 
 table institution designed to benefit only the children of 
 the needy. The poorer folk, scorning to be recipients of 
 alms, and having little use for book-learning, were in no- 
 wise anxious to patronize them. The churches regarded 
 them with disfavor, for the law forbade the teaching of 
 any religious creed. The very name of " hoosier " had 
 become synonymous with backwoods illiteracy, and there 
 were not a few, even in our Settlement, who looked upon 
 learning as a dangerous thing. While, therefore, private 
 institutions and " meetin' schools " flourished in a certain 
 limited sense, the " deestrict schools " went begging, with 
 wretched schoolhouses, inefficient teachers, and a scanty 
 attendance of pupils. But now, at length, as w^e were 
 beginning to emerge from the Middle Ages, a new era 
 in education was dawning: new school laws were coming 
 into force, and with a wise and energetic state superin- 
 tendent at the head of affairs, the cause of public instruc- 
 tion was beginning to receive an impetus from which it 
 has not yet recovered. 
 
 Since Deestrict School Number Five and the Dry Forks 
 Monthly Meetin' School were about equally distant from 
 our house, although in opposite directions, it was ar- 
 ranged that the twins should board with us, they paying 
 mother the sum of twenty-five cents a week besides mak- 
 ing their own bed and helping with the housework. 
 They were robust and fearless, and no matter what the 
 condition of the weather or the roads, they seemed thor- 
 oughly to enjoy the walk of three miles, morning and 
 evening, to and from their respective institutions of learn- 
 ing. 
 
 As I have just said, the public schools were looked upon 
 with suspicion; and for that reason, Charity's subscrip- 
 
422 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 tlon school was crowded with pupils at a dollar a scholar, 
 while her sister's deestrict school, which was free to all, 
 was very slimly attended. Father, although he was prac- 
 tically at the head of educational affairs in the Settlement, 
 shared in the general prejudice and openly encouraged it. 
 
 " I hope," he said, addressing a meeting of our neigh- 
 bors for the discussion of the general welfare — " I hope 
 that not one of you who can spare a dollar for the pur- 
 pose of educating his children will ever think of making 
 use of the free district school. That school is for the 
 benefit of our poorer neighbors who have not been blessed 
 in basket and store as you have been. You should pay 
 your taxes cheerfully and do all that you can to promote 
 and encourage such schools, for they are founded in char- 
 ity; but we should not deny to our own children the 
 benefits of the meeting school, where they may be safe- 
 guarded from evil influences and properly instructed in 
 religion and morals, which are the foundations of pros- 
 perity." 
 
 When, therefore, the time arrived for the schools to 
 open, it was tacitly understood that I should become 
 Charity's pupil but not a pupil of charity; and father's 
 name, with the promise of one scholar, headed the list of 
 signers to her article. 
 
 " Robert," said Patience, as we were about to start out 
 on the first morning, " does thee know what I wish more 
 than anything else ? " 
 
 " No. Thee will have to tell me.'* 
 
 " Well, then, I wish thee was twins, like me and 
 Charity." 
 
 "Why so?" I inquired, wondering how such a thing 
 might be. 
 
 " Because then there would be two of thee, and one 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 423 
 
 twin could be Charity's scholar and t'other one could be 
 mine. Does thee see? " 
 
 I laughed at her queer conceit, and as I did so, a vision 
 appeared of two tow-headed, barefooted boys, exactly 
 alike, going in opposite directions, each with his books 
 under his arm and his dinner pail in his hand. " Yes," 
 I answered, " that would be very nice, and I have a mind 
 that I would like it right smart." 
 
 *' But since thee ain't twins and can't never be twins," 
 said Patience, " I think maybe we might fix it up another 
 way." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Well, what if thee could go to Charity's school one 
 day and to mine the next ? Wouldn't that be fine ? " 
 
 '' I think it would, if father would let me." 
 
 " I'll ask him now," and she went immediately and laid 
 the matter before him. 
 
 He smiled, then frowned and hesitated, and finally in 
 his stiffest manner refused to consider her proposition. 
 
 '' I have due respect for thy skill as a teacher," he said, 
 ** but I can not say that I admire thy judgment as a 
 woman. Such a splitting up of interests as thee suggests 
 would lead only to confusion and the subversion of all 
 good discipline. It would spoil the boy. It must not 
 be." 
 
 And thus the matter was settled. For the space of ten 
 fleeting weeks I became Charity's willing scholar at 
 school, but Patience's devoted friend and comrade during 
 many an hour out of school. 
 
 Do you ask what branches I studied? 
 
 Being permitted to have my own way in the matter of 
 selection, I chose everything that was mentioned in 
 Charity's " article," not even omitting the botany. " I 
 
424 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 think I might as well get our money's worth," I remarked 
 to Cousin Mandy Jane, knowing that I would have her 
 judicious approval; and Patience, overhearing me, 
 sweetly smiled and rejoined, " That's right, Robert. Just 
 thee keep sister Charity busy." And so I did, but in more 
 ways than one. 
 
 With a tutor so wide-awake and efficient, I certainly 
 ought to have received a training that was worth a 
 hundred times the paltry dollar that father paid for my 
 tuition. The school, the discipline, the manner of instruc- 
 tion — how different was everything from that which had 
 characterized the administration of my former teacher, 
 Benjamin Barnacle! Each day was a day of progress, 
 and many were the refreshings that were mine during 
 those few brief weeks of instruction. But, for reasons 
 which I shall explain later on, I fell deplorably short of 
 the standard which I might have attained. 
 
 And then, there were my almost daily rambles in the 
 fields or woods with my out^door mentor. Patience. She 
 was to me a sort of visible Inviz, grown up and become 
 surprisingly human. Together we drove the cows home 
 from the pasture, and on Seventh-day mornings when 
 there was no school, we gathered hazelnuts in the thickets 
 or went botanizing in the deadenings. I found that 
 she knew next to nothing about the commonest things, 
 not being able to distinguish wheat from oats or a robin 
 from a quail, but she was delightfully appreciative and 
 always brimming with enthusiasm. Her tomboyish 
 ways — known only to our family — were a great trial to 
 mother, who declared that nature had made a mistake 
 in her horning ; but good Aunt Rachel came to the rescue 
 by affirming that, in such a case, nature only was to be 
 blamed; and so all was forgiven. 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 425 
 
 How I missed the dear, old, cavernous fireplace with 
 its cheer of flame, and the great warm hearth with its 
 glowing coals inspiring visions and awakening dreams of 
 the glory that was past ! Never again would I experience 
 the joy of lying prone in the ruddy light, my elbows 
 on the hearth, my head propped in my hands, a book be- 
 fore my eyes, and the soft breath of Inviz upon my cheek 
 as he peeped over my shoulder and shared my ecstasy. 
 The rayless cookstove with its lids and dampers was no 
 doubt a household convenience, and it was modern — but 
 it was as uninspiring as a barn door and as unsympa- 
 thetic as a roofless hut on a rainy day. 
 
 " The old fireplace was good company in itself," said 
 Inviz on one of his rare brief visits. " It was poetry 
 with many pictures interspersed, but this ugly black thing 
 with its cooking odors and its treacherous heat, is noth- 
 ing but dull dry prose as uninteresting as a spelling-book." 
 
 '' Yes," I agreed, " it is as dry as the writings of 
 George Fax or the book of Discipline. But it is all that 
 we have now, and I suppose that we must try to get 
 along with it and make believe that we like it." 
 
 " That will be your best plan," he answered, '' for you 
 are a growing boy and you will become used to it. But 
 as for me, I can not live in a place where there is no fire- 
 light and everything is so gloomy and matter-of-fact; 
 and, besides, you have become so big and so worldly- 
 wise that it is hard for me to get along with you any 
 more. So I am going away to find a cheerier place and 
 more congenial company elsewhere. Farewell." 
 
 A tight hug, a warm kiss, and he was gone. 
 
 " I will come to see you once in a while — once in a 
 long while," he said tremulously as he flitted away. 
 
 My cheeks were wet with tears — my tears and his 
 
426 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 intermingled — as I pulled open the sliding hearth of the 
 iron abomination and raked out two or three coals in 
 the vain endeavor to extract a little inspiration and 
 comfort therefrom. I set myself to the study of the 
 next day's lesson in history — a dry-as-dust account of 
 soldiers slain and cities bombarded — but it was a dreary 
 task, and at the end of half an hour I was conscious 
 chiefly of strained eyes and a feeling of overwhelming 
 loneliness. Presently I felt a hand upon my shoulder — 
 a hand heavier and more material than that of Inviz — 
 and the friendly voice of Patience aroused me from my 
 despondency. 
 
 " Promise me something, Robert," she said. 
 
 " Promise thee what? " I answered in a tone of irrita- 
 tion. 
 
 " Promise me that thee will never neglect thy lessons 
 in order to read it, and I will show thee a book that I 
 brought with me from Philadelphia." 
 
 " What is it? " I inquired, my interest languidly grow- 
 ing. 
 
 " It is a book. Does thee promise?" 
 
 " Yes ; I promise." 
 
 " Come, then," and she led the way to the curtained 
 corner where all her possessions were stored. She 
 opened the little old hair trunk which she had brought 
 from the East, and displayed to my view a largish brand- 
 new volume which immediately excited the reading 
 hunger within me to an overpowering degree. 
 
 '' I wish thee to read this book with great care," she 
 said ; ** and if thee will try to model thy life upon its 
 instructions, I am sure that thee will be much improved 
 by it." 
 
 I took it from her hands. It smelled as though it had 
 
CHARITY AND PATIENCE 427 
 
 just fallen from the press. I looked greedily at the title- 
 page: ''The Child at Home, by John S. C. Abbott.'' 
 What promises of companionship and instruction were 
 there ! 
 
 " I will make thee a present of that book if thee will 
 be perfect in all thy lessons every day until Christmas." 
 
 I held it tight in my hands and thought what a beauti- 
 ful addition it would make to my rapidly growing library. 
 
 *' O Patience, thee is so good. I will try my best 
 to do as thee says." 
 
 " Thee may begin to read it now, and we will settle 
 its ownership later on," she said. " I had a mind to give 
 it to Isaac Wilson's little granddaughter in Dashville. 
 Maybe thee's heard of her ; — her name is Edith — Edith 
 Meredith. — And if thee don't make good at Christmas 
 time, I promise thee it shall yet be hers." 
 
 I made no reply, but I felt the hot blood rushing to 
 my cheeks, and my hand trembled. How did Patience 
 know? Had she heard me talking in my dreams? I 
 fingered the leaves uneasily, and stammered something 
 that was unintelligible. 
 
 " I wish thee to read the book, anyway," continued 
 Patience, seeming not to notice my confusion ; *' and 
 thee may begin it right now." 
 
 She closed the lid of the trunk with a slam, and locked 
 it, and our interview was ended. I sat down by the 
 candlestand with Uncle Abbott's inspiring volume wide 
 open before me, and there I remained, reading without 
 intermission, until literally driven to bed. I call the 
 book an inspiring volume, and to me at that particular 
 stage in my life, it was truly uplifting and very helpful. 
 It was extremely didactic and fatherly, and much of it 
 was what children, nowadays, would call " goody-goody," 
 
428 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 turning up their noses, meanwhile. But, to the docile 
 and domestic children of threescore years ago, the maxims 
 and precepts and godly examples therein presented were 
 incentives to noble living and many worthy ambitions. 
 All hail to thee, Uncle John S. C. ! The world may 
 never know nor justly appreciate the good that was done 
 through the influence of thy preachy, old-fashioned, long- 
 forgotten Child at Home; nevertheless I know that 
 some of the good seeds which it scattered took root and 
 grew up and flourished to the betterment of many souls. 
 
 But, my dear Leonidas, let me whisper to you that 
 that book was never added to my library. From the 
 day that it was lent me until the day following Christ- 
 mas, the number of my failures at school was so great 
 that I was more than once in disgrace and threatened 
 with the hickory. 
 
 '' Robert is very low in his recitations to-day," re- 
 ported Charity. " He might do much better if he 
 would." 
 
 '* And I offered him a prize if he would be perfect," 
 said Patience. " I can't understand why he does so 
 poorly." 
 
 Nevertheless, after Christmas, when it became defi- 
 nitely known that on account of my failures the Child 
 at Home had been presented to the little lady in Dash- 
 ville, it was observed that my recitations and deportment 
 were greatly improved — indeed, were beyond reproach. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 LOCHINVAR 
 
 DO you remember that filly of our Jonathan's? 
 No? Well, I must have forgotten to tell you, 
 but, no matter. Jonathan had obtained her from one of 
 those Kentucky cattle dealers, having taken her in trade 
 for another and quite inferior animal. Indeed, he got 
 her at a great bargain because of what was supposed to 
 be a sprained knee that would probably disable her per- 
 manently from all useful service. Everybody laughed 
 at him and said that he had made a very, very bad bar- 
 gain ; but he kept his own counsel, and quietly remarked 
 that the time might come when people would laugh on 
 the other side of their faces. He knew a thing or two 
 about horses — more, in fact, than any one else except 
 father — and under his wise care not only was the 
 " sprain " entirely healed, but the young creature speedily 
 developed into the handsomest and most spirited bit of 
 horse-flesh ever seen in the New Settlement. Jonathan 
 loved her with an ardor which was scarcely second to his 
 admiration for buxom Esther Lamb ; and the attention 
 which he devoted to her called forth many remarks that 
 were not very complimentary to his intelligence. 
 
 " I have sympathy for thy wife, if thee ever gets her," 
 remarked father very solemnly ; " for I have a feeling 
 that thee'll be giving the greater portion of thy time to 
 that filly instead of to her." 
 
 429 
 
430 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 And Cousin Mandy Jane, in one of her pious moods, 
 mildly expostulated against his apparent idolatry: 
 *' Thee's jist a worshipin' that there critter of thine, 
 that's what thee's doin'. Thee might jist as well bow 
 down to a golden calf, like them there Israelites done in 
 the wilderness." 
 
 To which David sagely added : " The tarnal animile 
 ain't wo'th shucks, nohow. Why, there's Towhead's 
 two leetle yearlin' steers — they can beat her all to 
 flinders when it comes to haulin' or plowin'. That 
 there filly ain't good for nothin' but ridin', — and what's 
 the good of jist ridin'?" 
 
 It was little that Jonathan cared for all this palaver. 
 By nature he was a fine horseman, and when he mounted 
 the filly and went galloping down the lane at breakneck 
 speed, he was so transformed that you would not have 
 known him. He was no longer the lean, lank, awkward 
 fellow that he appeared when on foot ; but, conscious of 
 his skill and proud of his accomplishment, he was a 
 model of equestrian manliness and grace, a veritable 
 backwoods Apollo on horseback. 
 
 The first time that the twin teachers saw him astride 
 of his spirited and beautiful " critter " they were un- 
 able to find words with which to give expression to their 
 admiration. 
 
 "Does thee know what that puts me in mind of?" 
 finally asked Patience, as they watched him riding back 
 and forth within the narrow limits of the barn lot. 
 
 " What that puts thee in mind of ? No, sister. Tell 
 me," answered Charity eagerly. 
 
 " It puts me in mind of that beautiful ballad of Walter 
 Scott's that I used to recite at school. Thee remembers 
 it: 
 
LOCHINVAR 431 
 
 " Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, 
 Through all the wide Border his steed is the best." 
 
 " Oh, sister, thee's right ! " and Charity clapped her 
 hands with delight. " It's young Lochinvar, sure as thee 
 lives, and he's just getting ready to come out of the 
 West. Suppose thee recites the whole ballad while the 
 young man and his steed are right here before our 
 eyes." 
 
 Accordingly, as the rider approached, Patience began: 
 
 "Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West — " 
 
 " Listen, Jonathan," cried Charity. *' Sister is going 
 to recite something about thee." 
 
 And so, while the filly pirouetted through the gate 
 and pranced around the uppin'-block. Patience, in a most 
 wonderful manner, such as I have never heard surpassed, 
 repeated the whole of the immortal ballad, while the rest 
 of us stood with open mouths, listening and enjoying. 
 Scarcely had she finished when Jonathan, with conscious 
 pride, gave the word of command to his impatient steed. 
 She sprang forward, leaped the high bars — a feat we 
 had never seen performed before — and in another 
 minute was at the foot of the lane, was skimming like a 
 swallow along the dusty big road, and was quickly lost 
 to sight behind the grove of trees this side of the bend. 
 
 " Wonderful ! wonderful ! " cried both the twins. 
 
 Half an hour later, rider and horse returned, appar- 
 ently much sobered but none the worse for the exciting 
 race. The filly was carefully stabled and groomed, and 
 then Jonathan shambled awkwardly to the house and 
 sought out the twins. He stood with hands in pockets, 
 looking sheepishly at one, then at the other — for he 
 
432 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 was unable to tell which was which — and then addressed 
 them both in the singular : — 
 
 " Which one of thee was it that was speakin' that 
 there piece a bit ago ? " 
 
 " Perhaps it was I," answered Patience. " What 
 piece does thee mean ? " 
 
 '' Why, the one that thee was a-speakin'. It was 
 about some tarnal feller that was locked in the bars." 
 
 '' Locked in the bars ? " 
 
 " Yes ! That's what thee said ; and he rid away, with 
 his gal a-hangin' on ahind." 
 
 " Oh, thee means Lochinvar, don't thee ? " 
 
 " Well, it was somethin' that sounded that way. I 
 thought I'd like to hear thee say it ag'in." 
 
 " ' Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,' is 
 that what thee means ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I'd like to hear the whole tarnal thing over 
 ag'in. I'm afeard I didn't quite ketch all of it, while 
 ago ; " and Jonathan straightened himself up behind the 
 cookstove to listen. 
 
 With a merry zest and a quaver of amusement in her 
 voice. Patience repeated the entire ballad, placing a 
 peculiar and meaningful emphasis upon the closing 
 lines : — 
 
 " So daring in love, and so dauntless in war — 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?" 
 
 Jonathan's face was all aglow. He rubbed his palms 
 together and remarked, " Well, I reckon there was right 
 smart punkins about that there young feller. Jist think 
 of him ^-ridin' away with that there gal of his'n 
 a-hangin' on ahind, and all the rest of them fellers 
 a-chasin' him. What did thee say his name was ? " 
 
LOCHINVAR 433 
 
 " Lochinvar." 
 
 " I knowed there was a lock about it somewhere. 
 Now, if 'tain't too much bother to thee, I wish thee 
 would say it all over ag'in. I'd kinder like to git it by 
 heart." 
 
 Patience obligingly repeated it the second time, not 
 forgetting a single accent, nor omitting a single gesture. 
 When she had finished, Jonathan turned abruptly about 
 and left the room. As he was closing the door, Charity 
 called to him : 
 
 " We've got a new name for thee, Jonathan. How 
 would thee like to be called Lochinvar?" 
 
 *' I wouldn't keen" 
 
 And he disappeared around the corner of the cabin. 
 
 At length the day approached for the demolition of 
 the dear old log cabin and the erection upon its site of 
 the grand new house which we had long been desiring 
 and anticipating. The cookstove and cooking utensils, 
 together with much of the furniture, were removed 
 into the " big-house " — thereafter to be called the 
 " kitchen " — ■ and temporary sleeping apartments were 
 arranged in one end of the barn. 
 
 How strange was the appearance of that humble 
 mansion, my birthplace, when at length all the objects 
 to sight and memory dear were carried out and nothing 
 remained but the bare rough walls, the unswept hearth 
 and the yawning cavern which was formerly the cheer- 
 giving fireplace ! Mother hid her face in her apron, and 
 despite her inherited stoicism, wept most bitterly. 
 Father busied himself with the moving, dissembling his 
 feelings, as was his habit ; but I noticed that he trembled 
 somewhat as he took part in the last sweeping and 
 
434" IN MY YOUTH 
 
 garnishing of the home wherein so many hopes and 
 ambitions had had their upspringing. But neither David 
 nor Cousin Mandy Jane betrayed any feelings of regret; 
 to them, it was only the discarding of a worn-out shoe 
 for a better one and they quietly accepted the change 
 as another step upward. As for Jonathan, however, he 
 was really jubilant. He whistled softly in a self-satis- 
 fied way as he walked around the desolate room, ex- 
 amining the stained old walls and the smoke-begrimed 
 rafters; and now and then he was heard to chuckle as 
 if contemplating a treasure trove. 
 
 " Well, Lochinvar," said Patience, just returned from 
 school, " it looks pretty bare in here, doesn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, it does look kinder so," answered Jonathan. " I 
 never knowed the old place was so tarnal ugly. But it 
 won't look that way very long." 
 
 " No, not longer than till it's torn down," responded 
 Patience. " I suppose you will chop the old logs up 
 and make fire-wood of them. They must be pretty 
 well seasoned, and they'll burn finely in the cook- 
 stove." 
 
 " Not much they won't," and Jonathan's face was full 
 of decision. " Them there logs ain't a-goin' into no 
 cookstove jist yit a while. They're goin' into a new 
 house." 
 
 "Into a new house? Why, how's that?" 
 
 '' Hain't thee heerd about it ? I'm goin' to haul 'em 
 over to my forty-acre piece, down by the Four Corners, 
 and put 'em up ag'in. They'll make a good enough house 
 for me till I can build a better one. Only I'm goin' to 
 put another log on top to make it a leetle higher." 
 
 " Oh, Lochinvar ! How thee surprises me ! " cried 
 Patience with innocent dissimulation. " Does thee 
 
LOCHINVAR 435 
 
 really mean it? And is thee going to make thee a home 
 of thy own? " 
 
 Jonathan nodded his head emphatically, and grinned. 
 
 " Well, then, I s'pose it's all settled," she continued. 
 " I s'pose thee and Esther Lamb will be giving in at 
 meeting pretty soon; for of course if thee has a house, 
 thee'll have to have a housekeeper." 
 
 Jonathan smiled broadly, and pulled nervously at his 
 galluses. He was not used to talking, especially about 
 his own private affairs; but to-day he felt so jubilant 
 that his tongue was ready to wag upon the least encour- 
 agement. 
 
 " Yes," he presently answered, speaking in a lower 
 and more confidential tone, " I kinder guess that maybe 
 Esther will be the housekeeper; but I'm afeard that me 
 and her won't do no givin' in — leastwise, it don't look 
 that way jist now." 
 
 " Indeed ! How is that ? " queried Patience, appear- 
 ing to be mystified, although she had heard the whole 
 secret from Cousin Mandy Jane, weeks before. " How 
 can Esther be thy housekeeper if she ain't thy wife? 
 And how can she become thy wife if thee and her don't 
 give in meeting together ? " 
 
 " I reckon they's more'n one way to git spliced," and 
 the young man gave another hitch to his galluses. 
 " They's a long way and they's a short way — a long 
 cut and a short cut." 
 
 " But there's only one right way," briskly returned the 
 twin teacher ; " and that is to get married in meeting 
 according to the Discipline/' 
 
 " But s'posin' thee cain't do that without a tarnal 
 fuss!" ejaculated Jonathan. "What's thee goin' to do 
 then?" 
 
436 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " I tell thee, Lochinvar, there ain't any such word in 
 the dictionary as cain't, specially when it comes to get- 
 ting married. Thee may think it's a pretty big word with 
 some old maids like me and Charity, but jist wait till we 
 git a chance. What if that other Lochinvar had said, ' I 
 cain't ' ? Does thee s'pose his girl would have ridden 
 away with him ? Not a bit of it ! " 
 
 " That's jist what I've been thinkin', and I hain't never 
 said I cain't. I've allers said I can, and I will.'* 
 
 " But thee says that thee and Esther cain't get mar- 
 ried in meeting, and I say that you can. So there ! " 
 
 ''Well, I'll tell thee, Patience — or Charity, I don't 
 know which thee is," — and the young man spoke very 
 confidentially, — " we cain't never git Old Enick to say 
 he is willin', and thee knows what the Discipline says 
 about gittin' the parents' consent." 
 
 "Is Enick the parent of Esther?" 
 
 " No, but he's her guardeen. She's a Lamb, she 
 hain't no Fox! But rother'n fuss any longer with 
 Old Enick, me and her, we've made up our minds to take 
 the short cut. There's Judge Davis, over to Dashville, 
 he'll do the whole business for a Mexican dollar and 
 have it over with in a jiffy. Henry Meredith, he's fixed 
 it all up with him; and the county clerk, he'll have the 
 license ready. But thee mustn't tell nobody." 
 
 " Oh, Lochinvar ! " and her tones were filled with re- 
 proach, " does thee realize how awful it will be to go 
 and get married in that way? Thee will be turned out 
 of meeting — disowned by Our Society, as the Discipline 
 directs — and then what will become of thee? Thee'U 
 be like a sheep without any shepherd." 
 
 " Well, I hain't a-hankerin' after no shepherd. I'm 
 a-hankerin' after a Lamb, and I reckon I'm a-goin' tq 
 
 
LOCHINVAR 4i37 
 
 git her In spite of Old Enick and the Discipline, to boot." 
 '' Bravo ! bravo ! " cried Charity, who had approached 
 just in time to hear this remark. " That's right, Loch- 
 invar." 
 
 And Patience, her face beaming and her eyes aglow, 
 began to repeat the now familiar lines: 
 
 " So daring in love, and so dauntless in war — 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?" 
 
 " Don't thee fool thyself about that there tarnal young 
 feller," blurted Jonathan in tones of irritation. " I 
 reckon some folks'U laugh on t'other side of their heads 
 some of these days " ; and with that, he shambled away. 
 
 It appeared to me that he was extremely angry with 
 the twins, and yet, for some time afterward, I observed 
 that he and Patience had many secret conferences to- 
 gether; and these were carried on with such energy that 
 I finally began to fear that the young man had trans- 
 ferred his affections to the lively twin teacher who had 
 no " guardeen " to restrain her. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE raisin' and THE QUILTIN' 
 
 THE day for the house-raising was at hand. All the 
 men in the Settlement had been invited to come — 
 at least all that belonged to meetin', besides several 
 Methodisters and a few reputed unbelievers. And to 
 make the occasion as enjoyable as possible, mother and 
 Cousin Mandy Jane had arranged for a " quiltin' and 
 comfort tackin' " at the same time, and had asked all 
 the wives and old maids to come with their men-folks, 
 assist in the labors of the day and partake of the raisin' 
 dinner. 
 
 According to their custom on such occasions, Cousin 
 Sally and her mother came over two or three days be- 
 forehand to render their valuable aid in matters per- 
 taining to the culinary arrangements. Chickens and 
 ducks were beheaded, the fatted calf was slain; the 
 choice treasures of the pantry, the varied products of 
 orchard and field, were all brought into requisition to 
 celebrate the rare occurrence and make glad the hearts 
 and stomachs of our neighbors and friends. 
 
 " I hain't counted 'em up," remarked Cousin Mandy 
 Jane, " but I calc'late they won't be no less'n a hundred 
 folks here to dinner, not countin' the children and them 
 that comes without bein' axed." 
 
 " It'll be a good deal like the company that comes to 
 a big quart'ly meetin'," suggested Cousin Sally. 
 
 438 
 
THE RAISIN' AND THE QUILTIN' 439 
 
 " Gee whiz ! Naw ! " growled David, coming in with 
 the hind quarters of the calf upon his shoulder. " The 
 biggest crowd we ever had to the biggest quart'ly meetin' 
 wa'n't no patchin' to what this'll be." 
 
 Oh, my Leonidas, the memory of that time is still like 
 the roll of a drum beat in the early morning ! You may 
 at some time in your life behold the hurry and hustle 
 on lower Broadway, but if you live to outnumber the 
 years of your great grandfather, you will never see so 
 busy a time as that was on the day and morning pre- 
 ceding our ever-memorable house-raisin' and quiltin'. 
 
 Long tables for the diners were extemporized on the 
 lawn at the farther end of the yard. The quiltin' frames 
 were set up underneath the historic cherry trees. In- 
 numerable blocks of wood and a few rough backless 
 benches were provided for seats for the multitude. A 
 camp-fire, to supplement the work of the inefficient 
 cookstove, was built in close proximity to the kitchen 
 door; kettles were swung over it, the old skillet oven 
 was placed on the coals beside it, and the long disused 
 tin " reflector " was set up in the full glare of the flames, 
 with half a dozen monstrous broilers inside of it, roast- 
 ing and sizzling in the glowing heat. 
 
 " It seems right smart like old times when we used 
 to have the fireplace," said mother as she thrust some 
 sweet potatoes into a heap of hot ashes to be roasted. 
 
 And poor old Aunt Rachel, sitting on a block as close 
 to the fire as safety would permit, pufifed contentedly at 
 her pipe and concurred in the opinion. 
 
 *' It is raaly cheerin'," she quavered ; " but after all, 
 there ain't nothin' quite so bracin' as the chimly corner 
 with plenty of red coals in the ashes." 
 
 The timbers for the great two-story frame house had 
 
440 IX MY YOUTH 
 
 all been hewn and '* framed," and were 
 venient places, each marked and numbered with red 
 keel for easy identification. Here, in separate piles, 
 were the beams and corner posts, the sleepers, the sills, 
 the studs, the joists, the braces, the plates, the girders, 
 the rafters, the sheathing boards, even the wooden pegs 
 for fastening tlie timbers together. All the mortices 
 had been made, the auger holes had been bored, the 
 tenons had been shaped — nothing remained to be 
 done save to put each piece in its proper place, 
 raise into position the various parts of tlie frame, 
 drive home tlie pegs — and there you are, as complete 
 and strong a structure as it is possible for the ingenuity 
 of a common carpenter to devise. 
 
 People don't build in that way now, my Leonidas. All 
 the timber that is put into a modern two-story building 
 would scarcely make a small bedroom in a house like that 
 of ours : and how slender and frail are all the frames 
 now ! — *' balloon frames '' we used to call even the 
 hea\-iest of them. They tremble if you but lean against 
 them, they seem ready to collapse in the first brisk gale, 
 and yet a kind providence holds them up. But father 
 built for etemit}', and he was opposed to the tempting 
 of providence. He therefore made his frames so strong 
 that, to this very day, the Western cyclones steer shy of 
 the neighborhood where some of his barns and houses 
 still stand, the silent but expressive memorials of an 
 honest man. 
 
 And now, everything being in readiness, all of us who 
 were in the habit of praying (and some, alas! who were 
 not) began to send up secret petitions to the Arbiter of 
 Sun and Storm to grant us fair weather and good appe- 
 tites until the close of the long-looked-for day. \Vhether 
 
THE RAISIX' AND THE QUILTIX' 441 
 
 these brief mental ejaculations were heard or not, we 
 never knew ; but we speedily forgot about them when the 
 appointed morning broke, clear as a crystal sea and 
 perfect as mornings are ever made; and we were im- 
 mediately so busy that we also forgot to be thankful to 
 Him who sends such days. 
 
 The neighbors began to arrive soon after sunrise, some 
 of them in expectation, no doubt, of a supplementary 
 breakfast and a cup of mother's rare sassafras tea — 
 an expectation in which they were not disappointed. 
 By eight o'clock, all the able-bodied adults in the Set- 
 tlement, with numerous babies and quite a sprinkling of 
 growing boys and girls, were assembled in knots and 
 groups and various other combinations in our yard and 
 garden, barn lot and lane. Among the last contingents 
 to arrive was Old Enoch Fox, who came winding his way 
 along the woodland pathway, followed by his entire 
 family of seven womenfolks and Little Enick. 
 
 '* Yes, there she is ! " I heard Patience whisper to 
 Jonathan. " I knew he wouldn't leave her at home. 
 He's afraid thee might steal her." 
 
 " 'Twouldn't make much difference one way nor 
 t'other," he answered stolidly; but his face lit up like 
 the full moon in its glory when the cheerv voice of 
 Esther Lamb was heard returning the greetings of her 
 friends and neighbors in the yard. 
 
 " How's thee, Mandy Jane ? How's thee, Aunt 
 Margot? How's thee, Levi? And I declare, here's Lit- 
 tle Hanner Ann ! Howdy, Hanner Ann, howdy, 
 howdy ! " And thus the salutations continued, seem- 
 ingly without end. 
 
 But soon Patience rushed forth from the kitchen and, 
 meeting the Foxes as they were strolling bewildered 
 
442 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 among the groups, gave them the heartiest welcome of 
 all. 
 
 " Howdy, Becky ! Howdy, M'rier, and M'lindy ! " 
 shaking hands with each of the seven. " I'm so glad to 
 see you all. Come down to the barn with me, and take 
 off your things. We have to use this end of the barn 
 for sleeping-rooms till the new house is ready. Just lay 
 your bonnets right there on the beds." 
 
 And Charity was likewise busy with the other women 
 friends, cheerily greeting each and all, showing them 
 where to put their " things," marking every one instantly 
 feel at her ease and at home. Cousin Sally, in her newest, 
 reddest apron, was busy superintending the dinner; 
 Cousin Mandy Jane was occupied in marshaling the forces 
 for the quiltin' and tackin' ; and mother, overwhelmed 
 with the social functions devolving upon her, was dividing 
 her attentions between the elderly women and the in- 
 fants. 
 
 It was amusing to listen to her. " How's thee, Aunt 
 Mary? Take a cheer. Thee looks mighty spry for thy 
 age. I reckon thee won't want to go out to the quiltin' 
 jist yet a while. Set down and try a little of my elder- 
 berry wine for thy stummick." And then espying a 
 young mother with a three-weeks-old infant in her arms, 
 she would leave Aunt Mary to take care of herself, and 
 hasten to greet this latest arrival. *' And is this the 
 baby? How pretty it is? Boy, or girl? I'm glad it's 
 a boy. What's his name? Hezekiah? Well, that's a 
 mighty pretty name and it's Scripter, too." And thus 
 she went on, to the great comfort and edification of 
 everybody. 
 
 Meanwhile the men-folks had begun active operations 
 
THE RAISIN' AND THE QUILTIN' 443 
 
 at the other end of the yard. Amid clouds of dust and 
 the crash of falUng timbers, a contingent of a dozen 
 sturdy fellows under the direction of Levi T. was not 
 long in demolishing the old cabin and carrying the logs 
 to a suitable spot in the lane, whence Jonathan would 
 some day drag them away to his forty-acre piece by the 
 Four Corners. Two other companies under the com- 
 mand respectively of father and 'Lihu Bright, were put- 
 ting together the timbers of the new house, preparatory 
 to raising them into position. As the work proceeded 
 the excitement increased. The old house was cleared 
 away, the foundations of the new were laid. On every 
 side might be heard the sound of axes and hammers 
 pounding, of old and new logs tumbling, of sturdy 
 men's voices shouting, of dogs and boys forever putting 
 themselves in the way; and above all, rang the clear 
 commanding cry of the foreman : — 
 
 " Now, boys, all together ! Hee-oh-heave ! Right 
 along with her, there ! Up with that eend ! Now, easy ! 
 Whoa!" 
 
 And so the merry work proceeded. 
 
 Under the cherry trees, around the quilting frames, 
 the womenfolks were more quietly but none the less 
 busily occupied; and, as the quilts were being quilted 
 and the comforts were being tacked, the flow of genial 
 conversation and neighborhood news never lagged nor 
 was for a moment impeded. Here were gathered the 
 younger married women and the older maidens who 
 wished to be married ; and the jokes and repartees and 
 sly bits of information that were handed round were not 
 of a kind to be repeated. Nevertheless, the fingers that 
 manipulated the swiftly passing needles or tied the in- 
 
444 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 tricate " comfort knots," were known to be the skillfullest 
 and most diligent in all the New Settlement, if not in all 
 the Wabash Country. 
 
 On the lawn near by, or grouped conveniently about the 
 open-air fire, were the mothers in Israel — ancient women 
 like my chimney-corner aunts — each with her pipe in 
 her mouth, her knitting in her hands, and a sweet rem- 
 iniscence of bygone days in her heart. The long rough 
 tables were being rapidly loaded with toothsome viands, 
 and Cousin Sally and her young women helpers were 
 as busy as nut-gathering squirrels, flitting ceaselessly, 
 untiringly, back and forth from the kitchen stove and the 
 improvised camp-fire. 
 
 But why dwell upon these scenes of homely industry — 
 these incidents of the simple life, so insignificant, so old- 
 fashioned, so foolish to the minds of an enlightened 
 generation ? 
 
 The Seth Thomas clock on the mantel-shelf of the 
 kitchen struck the hour of twelve ; the frame of the new 
 house was " all riz " and nothing remained to be done 
 save the placing of the rafters ; the Joseph's-coat quilt — 
 Cousin Mandy Jane's special property and pride — had 
 been finished and hemmed, and was being handed round 
 for the general admiration of mothers and daughters ; and, 
 more than all, the dinner was ready — the time of times, 
 for which this particular day was made, had arrived. 
 
 " Everybody git ready for dinner ! " proclaimed Cousin 
 Sally at the top of her stentorian voice. And the word 
 was passed from mouth to mouth until it reached the 
 ears of the master of ceremonies and house-raisings. 
 
 " Now, friends," he announced, standing on one of the 
 topmost girders where all could see him, " I am informed 
 that our dinner is ready. We will attempt nothing more 
 
THE RAISIN' AND THE QUILTIN^ 445 
 
 until after we have eaten and rested. Let all pass around 
 to the tables, and take your places wherever the women- 
 folks may direct." 
 
 Very orderly and with a good-mannered appearance 
 of hesitation, the men strolled across to the farther side 
 of the lawn, where they gathered in groups and waited 
 for further instructions. There was not much done in 
 the way of slicking up for dinner. Some of the men 
 wiped their hands and faces on their cotton bandannas, 
 a few made some attempt to smooth their hair, and some 
 of the younger ones whose girls were present ran down 
 to the spring branch to make their toilets beside the flow- 
 ing stream. 
 
 One long table was assigned to the " raisers " and the 
 other, not quite so long, to the quilters and old women. 
 It required the genius of a general to accomplish the 
 satisfactory seating of the multitude, but Cousin Sally 
 was quite equal to the occasion. 
 
 ** Them that's been a-workin' may set down at the 
 first table," she announced, '' and them that's been 
 a-playin' must wait till the second table." 
 
 This of course meant that we children and all loafers 
 and hangers-on must be content with the leavings of those 
 who were more favored at the feast because they had 
 proved themselves more useful to the host. 
 
 Joel Sparker and Enoch Fox, as the eldest and most 
 venerable of the company, were given the seats of honor 
 at the head of the men's table ; the others were arranged 
 promiscuously without reference to rank — for there 
 was none. At the women's table, the grandmothers and 
 ancient aunts took precedence, the young mothers came 
 next, and the old maids together with the little girls 
 were crowded out to wait for the " second table." 
 
446 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 The feast was progressing with great satisfaction to all 
 concerned. The head-waitress's injunction to " help 
 yourselves and don't be bashful " was being literally 
 obeyed. The long table was being rapidly denuded of 
 its most valuable assets. Suddenly, in the neighborhood 
 of the barnyard fence, where many of the boys had con- 
 gregated, there were signs of unwonted excitement, and 
 some of the young men whose curiosity was stronger 
 than their half-satisfied appetites, rose from the table 
 and ran to see what was going on. What they saw was 
 not calculated to allay their interest. 
 
 Jonathan, wearing his " meetin' breeches and a biled 
 shirt," his boots newly greased and his hair newly combed, 
 was leading his filly from the barn. The latter was 
 equipped with bridle and saddle as if for a ride, and 
 behind the saddle was the small square blanket commonly 
 used when the rider was to have a companion. 
 
 " Heigh, there, Jont, wheer's thee goin' to ? " queried 
 Little Enick, climbing upon the gate-post. 
 
 " Seems to me thee's slicked up right smart for a 
 house-raisin' day," shouted Jake Dobson's big brother, 
 Nate. '^ Is thee goin' to see thy gal ? " 
 
 "Hello, Jonty! What's up?" asked Tim Bray's 
 father, his mouth distended with the fried chicken he had 
 snatched from the table. 
 
 " 'Tain't none of thy tarnal business," answered 
 Jonathan huskily; "but if thee must know, I'll tell thee: 
 I'm jist goin' to give the mare a leetle stirrin' up, like 
 she gits every day — and I thought maybe some gal or 
 other might kinder like to ride ahind me, pervided I was 
 slicked up a bit." And, with that, he leaped into the 
 saddle. 
 
 I ran and threw open the big gate, and he rode 
 
THE RAISIN' AND THE QUILTIN' 447 
 
 briskly out and down the lane. He went no farther 
 than the bend in the big road where a grove of sugar 
 trees shut off our view of him, and there he turned and 
 came back, the filly fairly flying before the wind. 
 
 As he approached the house. Patience ran out and, 
 standing in the gateway, began to repeat with great ani- 
 mation her favorite ballad : — 
 
 " Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, 
 Through all the broad Border his steed is the best." 
 
 The impatient animal pranced around the yard, eager 
 for another swift canter, and Jonathan was never in 
 prouder mood. 
 
 " Let her out ag'in, Jont," cried the small boys ; and 
 the young men looked on admiringly and allowed that 
 " that there mare is some punkins, sure as shootin'." 
 
 " Lochinvar," cried Patience, " will thy steed carry 
 double?" 
 
 ** Jist thee git on to her and see," he answered curtly, 
 but with a half-repressed smile. 
 
 Immediately Patience ran out to the uppin'-block, and 
 as the rider brought his steed within reach, she leaped 
 skillfully up behind him, threw her arms around his 
 waist — and they were off! Oh, but that was a rare 
 sight, my Leonidas — a sight not so rare in those 
 medieval times as now, but a sight sufficient to make 
 any horse lover's heart beat hot and fast beneath his 
 jacket. They were down to the foot of the lane, they 
 were out on the big road and half a mile away in less 
 time than it has taken me to tell you about it. And 
 then, with merely a touch of the bridle, the filly stopped 
 and turned and came walking back, as slowly and 
 demurely as any broken-down plow horse at the close of 
 
448 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 a day of hard work. When they reached the barn lot 
 again, and Patience leaped laughing to the ground, the 
 boys broke out into a shout that startled all the feasters 
 at the tables and was very shocking to the pious nerves 
 of good Joel Sparker. 
 
 " Stephen," said he, between great mouthfuls of roast 
 veal and stewed punkin, " it seems to me that there is 
 altogether too much levity among thy young folks. If 
 thee would admonish them to think upon their latter ends 
 before they come to thy table, perhaps thee might prosper 
 better with the new house thee is puttin' up." 
 
 '' What's all that noise about, anyhow ? " queried Old 
 Enoch with some difficulty. 
 
 *' Oh, it's only Cousin Jonathan and his filly," an- 
 swered Mandy Jane, helping him to a third plate of 
 chicken and whole hominy. " He's jist givin' the critter 
 a leetle exercise like he does every day, so as to keep her 
 limbered up and in good condition." 
 
 ** Does thee know wheer my Esther is ? " growled 
 Enoch, beginning to appear somewhat ill at ease. 
 
 '' She's in the kitchen, helpin' the girls git the dishes 
 ready for the second table." 
 
 " Huh ! " and the ancient man bent over his plate and 
 renewed his gustatory labors. 
 
 Meanwhile the excitement at the barnyard continued, 
 and several of the more temperate men rose from the 
 table, leaving their plates half emptied, and hurried across 
 the yard to see what was going on. The filly was pranc- 
 ing uneasily back and forth between the uppin'-block 
 and the barn. She had just returned from another wild 
 canter down the road. 
 
 " I wonder if there ain't no other young woman that 
 would like to ride ahind me," said Jonathan exultantly. 
 
THE RAISIN' AND THE QUILTIN' 449 
 
 " Yes, I'd like it. Take me ! " cried Cousin Sally, 
 rushing from the kitchen door, her cheeks aflame with 
 red blood, her apron tucked up in a double fold about 
 her waist. 
 
 " Well, I wasn't a-keerin' about thee," blurted young 
 Lochinvar, petulantly but good-naturedly ; " yit, even 
 so, if thee ain't afeard of thy neck, come and git 
 on." 
 
 She ran through the gate, and without making use of 
 the uppin'-block, leaped upon the filly's crupper and 
 dexterously seated herself on the scant blanket behind 
 the saddle. She was known throughout the Settlement 
 as the most daring rider among women, and her per- 
 formance occasioned a shout of applause that caused 
 Old Enoch to rise from the table before he had finished 
 his third piece of pie. But the venerable friend at his 
 right hand restrained and hindered him. 
 
 " Set still, Enoch," commanded Joel. " I know thee 
 has still enough room under thy jacket for one of Debby 
 Dudley's doughnuts. Folks say they ain't nobody can 
 bake 'em as good as she does. Have one." 
 
 And so he was fain to remain a little longer. 
 
 In the meanwhile Jonathan and Cousin Sally had re- 
 turned, and as the latter ran laughingly back to her 
 kitchen duties, the former sat carelessly, side-saddle 
 fashion, on his filly and called for another recruit. 
 
 " Who'll be the next ? " he shouted, in a tone the queer- 
 est I had ever heard issue from between his incapacious 
 lips. 
 
 " Charity ! Where's Charity ? " inquired Patience, 
 making her way through the crowd of children and men. 
 " Charity would like that sort of sport I know." 
 
 " There she comes ! " cried Ikey Bright from his perch 
 
450 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 on the barnyard fence; and all eyes were turned toward 
 the kitchen door. 
 
 She came briskly across the narrow yard space, looking 
 neither to the right nor to the left, her movements re- 
 minding me strangely of a timid hunted animal, seeking 
 some way of escape. What could ail our Charity, 
 usually so bold? She wore a ''split pasteboard" sun- 
 bonnet which was drawn so far forward as to conceal 
 her features ; and she had on a long linen riding skirt of 
 the kind which some women of quality were in the habit 
 of wearing when they went to meetin' on horseback. As 
 she passed me at the gate, I saw that underneath the rid- 
 ing skirt there was a dress of richer material, and un- 
 derneath the sunbonnet there was a face that was not 
 Charity's. There were others who saw the same, but 
 before any one could recover from his astonishment, she 
 was on the uppin'-block, she had vaulted upon the filly's 
 back, her right arm was about young Lochinvar's waist — 
 and the filly was speeding away. 
 
 ''Father! O father!" cried Little Enick, leaping off 
 the gate-post and running toward the dining tables. 
 " Our Esther, she's gone and rid away with Dudley's 
 Jont ! They're a-clippin' it down the lane to the big road 
 right now ! " 
 
 The anger and dismay of Old Enoch were plainly 
 visible on his wrinkled countenance as with long quick 
 strides he hurried over the lawn and joined the company 
 of lookers-on. But he restrained his emotion as, shad- 
 ing his eyes with his hands, he saw the young couple 
 just disappearing around the bend in the big road. They 
 were riding rather slowly now, the filly gliding easily 
 along, and not in the swift reckless manner of the two 
 former occasions. * 
 
THE RAISIN' AND THE QUILTIN^ 45i 
 
 " Jont, he's right smart more keerful of Esther than 
 he was of the t'other gals," remarked one of Abner 
 Jones's boys. " Jist see how 'mazin' slow he goes." 
 
 ''But jist thee wait," returned Jake Dobson; ''he'll 
 make it up on the home stretch." 
 
 And 'Lihu Bright, observing Old Enoch's anxiety, 
 kindly explained, " They'll be back in a few min- 
 utes. Jonathan is only exercising his filly, and he's 
 been taking some of the young women with him, just for 
 diversion. He takes 'em as far as the big mudhole 
 around the bend, and then he turns and comes back." 
 
 " Wale ! Thee says so," grimly returned the older 
 man. " Maybe thee knows." 
 
 But they didn't come back. The diners at the first 
 table had finished eating and were dispersed about the 
 premises. The second table was called, and the younger 
 contingency, including the boys, big and little, the cooks, 
 the waitresses and other helpers, were busily engaged in 
 devouring the leavings. And Enoch, with a few of the 
 middle-aged men, still lingered about the gate and waited. 
 
 " It's my 'pinion it's a ruse," finally remarked Abner 
 Jones. 
 
 " That's been m.y 'pinion all along," said Enoch, going 
 to the camp-fire and raking out a coal with which to light 
 his pipe. " That there Esther of mine, she's up to most 
 every sort of deceivin' trick. She's good at a ruse." 
 
 " It wouldn't s'prise me if they was to ride all the way 
 over to Dashville and git married by the short cut," said 
 John Dobson. " I've heerd that Jonf s been a-threatenin' 
 sich a thing." 
 
 " He's been a-threatenin', has he ? " and Enoch's face, 
 as he spoke, was strangely puckered with contending emo- 
 tions. " Well, if I know anything about it, I guess him 
 
452 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and my Esther won't find no short cut yit a while, 
 threatenin' or no threatenin'." 
 
 He turned squarely away from the group of men about 
 the gate and strode back to the long tables, where his 
 wife and daughters were variously occupied. 
 
 " Becky," he said with a quaver in his voice, " I ain't 
 feelin' very well, and I reckon I'll be goin' home. As 
 soon as thee's done thy duty a-helpin' Debby, maybe 
 thee'd better come too, and fetch the gals along with 
 thee." 
 
 " Yes, Enoch, I'll come right soon," answered Becky 
 with kindly solicitude. " Thee'd better take a leetle drap 
 of cordial when thee gits home, and, this evening, thee 
 must bathe thy feet in warm water and mustard." 
 
 But before the half of the last sentence was out of her 
 mouth, Enoch had turned around, and without saying 
 farewell to anybody, was soon over the fence and strid- 
 ing homeward. We watched him as he threaded his 
 way along the tortuous path, now in the calf pasture and 
 now in the strip of new clearing; we saw him climb the 
 fence and disappear among the low bushes in the out- 
 skirts of the big woods. A cloud seemed to cast its 
 shadow over all our merriment, The word quickly 
 passed from one group of friendly neighbors to 
 another that Jont Dudley had " rid away " with 
 Esther Fox, and that Old Enoch had gone home " firin' 
 mad about it " ; and from the group of dishwashers down 
 by the spring branch, we shortly afterward heard the 
 strong clear voice of Patience declaiming : — 
 
 " So faithful in love and so dauntless in war — 
 Have ye e'er seen gallant like young Lochinvar ? " 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE RUSE 
 
 IT was very late in the night when Jonathan returned 
 home — and he was alone. We heard him as he 
 led the filly into the barn and with extreme quietness to 
 her stall. Father rose, and lighting the old tin lantern, 
 went out to have an opportunity with him. My own 
 temporary sleeping quarters being in the haymow, I 
 could not help being an involuntary although very in- 
 terested listener to all that was said. 
 
 *' Is that thee, Jonathan ? " and father's voice trembled 
 with emotion. 
 
 " I reckon 'tain't nobody else," was the petulant reply. 
 
 " Well, thee has occasioned me a great deal of anxiety, 
 and I venture to say that thy name is on the tongue of 
 every man and woman in the New Settlement." 
 
 '* I don't keer if it is." 
 
 " But is thee aware that thy riding away with Esther 
 Fox and not coming back till this late hour will cause a 
 vast amount of scandal ? " 
 
 ** I didn't ride away with no Fox, I rid away with a 
 Lamb — and we hain't nary one of us none the wuss for 
 it, nother." 
 
 *' But what has thee done with Esther — with the 
 Lamb as thee insists upon calling her ? " 
 
 " Well, I hain't done nothin' wrong with her, I tell thee 
 that," answered Jonathan in a tone half -exultant, half- 
 
 453 
 
454 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 defiant. " I s'pose thee'd like to know all about it, 
 wouldn't thee?" 
 
 " Yes, I want a full account of thy transactions," and 
 father spoke huskily and with grim decision. "If thee 
 ever expects to be received again into our family as an 
 adopted son, thee must clear thy skirts of all blame in 
 this matter." 
 
 *' Well, I kinder reckon I can do that," returned 
 Jonathan, straightening himself up and pulling at his 
 galluses. " My coat tails hain't been draggled the least 
 mite and if thee'U only listen to reason I'll prove it to 
 thee." 
 
 '* My mind is free to consider whatever thee has to 
 say," answered father. 
 
 And so the two sat down upon the edge of the feed 
 box, with the faint glimmer of the tin lantern playing 
 upon their features, and the young man in his character- 
 istic homely manner, related his story. 
 
 " Well, it was Patience, she put me up to it. When 
 I heerd her sayin' her piece about that there tarnal 
 young feller lockin' the bars, it set me to thinkin' whether 
 I mightn't ride off with Esther, jist like that feller done 
 with his gal; for thee knows Old Enick, he's always 
 been dead set ag'inst me havin' her. So I told Patience 
 about it and she says, * Go ahead ' ; and her and Charity 
 and Esther, they put their heads together and made up 
 the whole thing, how we'd fool Old Enick and ride 
 double over to Dashville and take the short cut in spite 
 of the tarnal Discipline and everything else. And Pa- 
 tience she even seen Henry Meredith, and Henry he 
 seen Judge Davis about it and made it up with him how 
 he was to splice us in a hurry, as quick as we got to his 
 offist. And Charity she fixed it with Isaac Wilson and 
 
THE RUSE 455 
 
 his wife how we was to stay at their house a day or two 
 till we found out how Old Enick was a-takin' it. For 
 thee knows Isaac's wife, she's Esther's mother's own 
 aunt, and she's named after her, and she's always kinder 
 had a likin' for her." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said father dryly. '' Go on with thy 
 narrative." 
 
 " Well, it was Patience, she put me up to it," continued 
 Jonathan. *' She's purty slick, I tell thee, when it comes 
 to cunnin'. I seen all the time that she wasn't quite 
 clear in her mind about us takin' the short cut. ' It's 
 a mighty pore way of gittin' spliced,' she said, * and it's 
 sure to land you both outside of Our Society ; for you'll 
 be turned out of meetin' without mercy,' she said. And 
 then Esther, she would begin to cry; cause she didn't 
 know what to do; for it's a turble thing to be turned 
 out of meetin'." 
 
 '* I know all that, too," said father, growing impatient. 
 *' Go on with thy narrative." 
 
 '' Well, it was Patience, she put us up to it ; and she 
 said, ' If you can only skeer Old Enick right bad, maybe 
 he'll give his consent at the last minute, and then you can 
 git spliced right, after all.' And she said to me, 
 ' Lochinvar, if I was thee, I would try it/ And I told 
 her I would. So, when we rid away on the filly, Esther 
 and me, we went kinder slow; for we wanted to give 
 Old Enick another chance. We was sure he'd foller 
 us, and we didn't keer if he did ; for everything was fixed 
 up, and we knowed that he couldn't help hisself, no 
 matter how ugly he wanted to be." 
 
 He paused a few minutes to give the filly some grain, 
 and then resumed his story. 
 
 " It was Patience, she put us up to it. When we rid 
 
456 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 away, we didn't go in no hurry, for we wanted him to 
 foller us. But after a while we got to the river, and we 
 seen Dashville in plain sight on t'other side, and there 
 wa'n't no sign of him nowhere. Then I said to Esther, 
 * I guess, maybe, we'll have to be spliced by the short 
 cut, after all. Thy grandfather, he don't seem to be a 
 follerin' us very brisk.' And jist then we come to the 
 ferry, and she begun to cry. 
 
 " The ferryboat was on t'other side, and the feller 
 that runs it, he was settin' at the eend of it, a-fishin'. 
 Me and Esther, we lighted from the filly, and I hollered 
 to him to come and take us acrost. But he was e'en- 
 a-most ketchin' a big black bass that was teasin' his hook, 
 and he hollered back to us to wait a bit till he yanked 
 the fish in. I hollered to him that we was in right smart 
 of a hurry ; but he jist kep' on fishin' for that there black 
 bass as if it was the onliest thing under the sun. I hol- 
 lered ag'in, and let on as if I was hoppin' mad about it, 
 but he jist kep' on. Seems to me we stood on the bank, 
 waitin' for the tarnal feller, fully a half an hour. 
 By'm-by, the black bass it swum away without takin' the 
 hook, and the feller poled his boat acrost to where we 
 was standin'. I was so tarnal mad that I felt like lickin' 
 him, and I think I would 'a' done it, too, if it hadn't been 
 for Esther. I kinder hated for her to see me a-fightin'." 
 
 " Thee would have disgraced thyself and thy relations, 
 and I am glad thee restrained thy temper," said father; 
 " but go on with thy narrative." 
 
 " Well, we went on to the boat, me and the filly and 
 Esther, and the feller was jist pushin' ofif into the water, 
 when we heerd a great clatterin' of horse's hufs, and we 
 looked up, and there come Old Enick on his gray mare, 
 a-gallopin' right down to the river. He hollered to the 
 
THE RUSE 457 
 
 feller on the boat, and told him to wait, but the feller 
 jist kep' on and didn't so much as look around. He said 
 to me that he was in a hurry to git acrost to see if there 
 wa'n't a fish on the line he had set there ; and he said he 
 wouldn't turn back for nobody. 
 
 '' Old Enick, he come a-poundin' down to the river, 
 and jist as the boat bumped ag'inst t'other side, he 
 rid up and stopped at the landin' on this side. He was 
 all out of breath, and so was the gray mare, but he didn't 
 seem a bit mad. As soon as he could git his breath a 
 leetle, he hollered out to Esther and axed her wheer she 
 was goin' to. She hollered back and told him that we 
 was goin' to Dashville to be spliced, and the jedge was 
 'spectin' us and the papers was all writ up ready to be 
 signed. And Enick, he hollers ag'in and says he won't 
 allow no sich thing, and tells her she must go right back 
 home with him on the gray mare. 
 
 *' Then I hollers back to him, and I says, * Esther ain't 
 a-goin' to do no sich thing. She ain't no Fox, she's a 
 Lamb, and she's promised to b'long to me. If thee won't 
 give her leave to be spliced the right way, then her and 
 me, we'll take the short cut, and thee cain't help thy- 
 self.' 
 
 '' Then Enick, he hollered to me that he wouldn't never 
 allow any sich thing to be did ; and I guess we stood and 
 hollered back and forth acrost the river longer'n it takes 
 to break up a settin' hen. Then I led the filly out of the 
 boat and up to a stump by the road, and me and Esther 
 we let on as if we was a-goin' to ride right off into the 
 town. Old Enick, he hollered to the feller in the boat 
 to come and git him, but the feller was in great hopes of 
 that there black bass ag'in, and he let on not to hear him. 
 I seen that Esther's grandfather was beginnin' to melt, 
 
458 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and so I tetched on a corn-promise that I'd been thinkin' 
 of all along. 
 
 " ' Enick Fox/ I hollered, ' thee sees that Esther and 
 me, we're bound to git spliced and thee cain't help it. 
 We'd like to git spliced the right way, but if thee won't 
 let us, then it will be thy fault if we go ag'inst the Disci- 
 pline. I know thee don't like me, but I'm bound and 
 set on havin' Esther; and if thee will only sign a little 
 paper that I have already writ out, we'll go right back 
 home with thee and be good friends with thee as long 
 as we live ! ' 
 
 '* Then he hollered out and axed me what it was that 
 was writ on that piece of paper, and I took it out of my 
 hat linin' and read it to him so loud that the ferryboat 
 feller, he laughed and skeered his black bass clean away. 
 
 " It was Patience, she put me up to it, and it was her 
 that writ it with her own quill pen on a leaf of her copy- 
 book. Here it is, father; thee may read it." 
 
 He took from his hat a carefully folded bit of bluish 
 foolscap, and father bending low over the feeble flicker- 
 ing lantern, read aloud the writing that was on it : 
 
 " To the Dry Forks Monthly Meeting — 
 
 "Dear Friends: 
 
 ** I hereby give my consent to the marriage of my grand- 
 daughter, Esther Lamb, with my young friend Jonathan Dudley, 
 provided they get married in accordance with the rules of our 
 Discipline. 
 
 "E. Fox." 
 
 " That's it," exclaimed Jonathan. " It was all writ 
 jist so, 'ceptin' the name, and I read it to him as loud as 
 I could. Then Enick, he hummed and hawed and kicked 
 the sand a little bit, and at last he hollered back and said 
 
THE RUSE 459 
 
 he reckoned that when young folks made up their minds 
 to git spliced, the Old Feller hisself couldn't stop 'em 
 with all his fire and brimstun. And he said he'd rather 
 see one of his datters in her grave than to let her be 
 spliced to anybody ag'inst the Discipline, and as to his 
 granddatter, he reckoned if she could stand it to live 
 with a Dudley he could maybe stand it to let her have one 
 of 'em, but he vowed and declared that he never could 
 begin to stand it if she got spliced to me ag'inst the Disci- 
 pline. 
 
 " Then I hollered back to him, and I says, * What's thee 
 goin' to do about this here little writin' I've jist read to 
 thee?' 
 
 " And he hollers and says, ' I reckon I'll sign it. Thee 
 come back to this side with Esther and thy filly, and I'll 
 sign it, and then we'll all ride home together. 'Tain't no 
 use for us to be a-hagglin' over this matter forever. 
 
 " I seen from the way he spoke that he was clean 
 beat; and Esther she was so glad that she begun .to 
 cry ag'in. Jist then the ferryboat feller, he ketched his 
 fishin'-line on to a snag and lost his hook, and us and the 
 filly we went back on to the boat. He wanted me to pay 
 him another levy for f erryin' us over ; but I told him we 
 had changed our minds and that, seein' we had rued the 
 bargain, it was for him to give me back the levy I had 
 paid him when we first went on to his boat. The feller, 
 he got mad, and I had e'en a great mind to fling him into 
 the river ; but Esther, she kinder pacified me. 
 
 " When we got back to this side, there was Enick, 
 a-holdin' his gray mare by the bridle. He shuck hands 
 with us both, and I never dreamt that he could be so 
 friendly and nice to anybody. And then I laid the piece 
 of paper up ag'inst the smooth part of his saddle and give 
 
46o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 him my piece of keel to write with, and he signed his 
 name, jist as thee sees it there. Then he shuck hands 
 with us ag'in, and called us his children and said he 
 reckoned we might as well ride back home together. 
 So he got on the gray mare, and I got on the filly, and 
 Esther she up behind me, and we left the ferryboat 
 feller on the landin' a-sayin' bad words about us. 
 
 " When we got to Enick's big gate, Esther, she slipped 
 off of the filly's back and run to the house. But we'd 
 made it up to give in at the monthly meetin' in next 
 Third-month, and Enick, he agreed to it. And so thee 
 sees I hain't done no bad thing to-day a-tryin' to be like 
 that there young Lockin'-the-bars, have I ? " 
 
 *' I am glad that thee has done so well," said father, 
 taking his hand ; " and I am glad that thy troubles have 
 been so happily adjusted. We shall all rejoice to have 
 so capable a young woman as Esther Lamb become a 
 member of our family, and it is very pleasing to know 
 that Friend Enoch has consented to it." 
 
 The candle in the old lantern had burned down to the 
 socket. It's little light flickered desperately for a mo- 
 ment, and then vanished. The barn was in total dark- 
 ness. And as father groped his way back to his couch, 
 I heard the Seth Thomas clock strike twelve. 
 
 Thus ended a most eventful day. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 
 I. " THE GIVIN' in " 
 
 GETTING married in meetin', my dear Leonidas 
 and Leona, was a serious and long-protracted af- 
 fair, requiring much deliberation and courage on the 
 part of the two persons most interested therein. It was 
 an ordeal through which very few young people were 
 likely to venture without due consideration of the conse- 
 quences and an heroic determination to endure unflinch- 
 ingly the bonds of wedlock which they were thus volun- 
 tarily assuming. 
 
 The first step in the process was the " givin' in," and 
 our Jonathan performed it with becoming dignity and 
 grace. It was on a Fifth-day morning in the latter part 
 of that month which worldly people vulgarly call March, 
 in honor of a heathenish god of war as unlovely as he 
 was unchristian. In the woods where snow-drifts had 
 lately been heaped up, the grass was already growing 
 green. The johnny-jump-ups were beginning to bloom 
 in sunny places, robins and bluebirds were mating in the 
 orchard, the spring lambs were frisking in the woods pas- 
 ture. The smell of the soil was in one's nostrils, the 
 music of nature thrilled the senses. 
 
 It was such a morning as sends the red blood joyously 
 coursing through your veins, filling your heart with glad- 
 ness and your whole body with strength. It was just 
 
 461 
 
462 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the kind of morning to be thinking of pilgrimages, of 
 marriage, of nest-building and of the infinitude of love. 
 But within the somber walls of the meetin'-house at Dry 
 Forks, there was little of spring-time, and even the sun- 
 shine which struggled through the dust-covered windows 
 was tempered with solemnity. The monthly meeting 
 was in session, and the " shetters were shet," effectually 
 separating the sexes. In one of the compartments the 
 men were deliberating upon various weighty matters of 
 church and state; in the other the women were giving 
 their mites to charity and vigorously denouncing the 
 fashions and the flippant tendencies of the times. The 
 solemn faces of the men, shaded by the brims of their 
 ample hats, seemed surcharged with a sense of the tre- 
 mendous seriousness of life. The weary but kindly coun- 
 tenances of the women, half-concealed in the depths of 
 their dove-colored bonnets, gave evidence of saintly 
 resignation and faith too deep for words. Very few of 
 all that were assembled there on that well-remembered 
 Fifth-day morning had seen the johnny-jump-ups, or the 
 frisking lambs, or the birds in the tree-tops ; fewer still, 
 having seen them, could have derived aught of Inspira- 
 tion or joy therefrom. The vain things of this world 
 were put far away, and the thoughts of the faithful were 
 centered upon the grim realities of life and the grimmer 
 possibilities of immortality. 
 
 Suddenly, there was a perceptible stir of expectancy 
 in the men's end of the meetin'. At a well-understood 
 signal from one of the overseers, our Jonathan rose from 
 his place on one of the middle benches and with no un- 
 certain steps went up the aisle and handed a folded slip 
 of paper to the clerk, who, as both moderator and secre- 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 463 
 
 tary of the meeting, was sitting behind a Httle desk at the 
 top of the gallery. 
 
 " Say, Bobby ! " whispered Ikey Bright, leaning over 
 from the seat behind me and punching me sharply in the 
 ribs. " Say, Bobby, it's goin' to be a splicin' at your 
 house, ain't it? It'll be lots of fun to see Jont and the 
 Lamb girl a-standin' up in meetin' together. Jist wait 
 and see." 
 
 I dared not make any response, for father's eyes were 
 upon me. The young man who was committing the 
 act of " givin' in " was returning with downcast eyes and 
 measured tread to his accustomed place. A profound 
 silence filled the room, as though every person was duly 
 impressed with the awfulness of the undertaking upon 
 which he was about to embark; and then the solemnity 
 was rudely disturbed by an accident without parallel in 
 the annals of this meetin'. For, in his great perturba- 
 tion of mind miscalculating the place and the distance, 
 our Jonathan missed his bench and sat forcibly down 
 on the floor. Despite most vivid visions of mother's 
 hickory and father's dire displeasure, I gave way to a 
 fit of suppressed laughter that no eflfort of the will 
 could restrain ; Jake Dobson actually snickered in an 
 audible and most disgraceful fashion; and I was led to 
 suspect that he and Little Enick Fox, who sat near by, 
 had perpetrated a miserable and most sinful joke by 
 tipping the bench just at the psychological moment when 
 Jonathan was off his balance. The ministers and elders 
 moved uneasily in their seats, and the overseers glanced 
 sharply about the room and thereby silently quelled any 
 further exhibition of hilarity. 
 
 The clerk himself seemed somewhat perturbed by the 
 
464 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 unusual occurrence. He unfolded the bit of paper very 
 deliberately, turned it over and viewed it from every 
 angle, coughed nervously, and then rose to a standing 
 position beside his little desk. 
 
 " I have here a communication from two of our young 
 friends which I will now proceed to read," he announced. 
 
 The silence was audible, as he paused before begin- 
 ning, and I glanced once more at our poor Jonathan, 
 cowering on his bench and making himself as small as 
 possible. 
 
 " The communication is as follows," continued the 
 clerk : 
 
 " To Dry Forks Monthly Meeting, to be held at Dry Forks, 
 Indiana, on the twenty-fifth day of the Third-month. 
 
 "Dear Friends: 
 
 " This is to certify that we the undersigned intend marriage 
 
 with each other. 
 
 " Jonathan Dudley, 
 " Esther Lamb." 
 
 There was a perceptible hum of satisfaction among the 
 younger men and boys as he finished the brief reading, 
 but the ministers and elders, in deep meditation, sat im- 
 movable as marble statues. The clerk slowly refolded the 
 paper, returned it to his desk, and then in formal tones 
 inquired, — 
 
 '' What is the feeling of the meeting with reference to 
 this communication from our young friends ? " 
 
 After a short pause, as if for consultation with the 
 spirit, Levi T. Jay rose from his top-gallery seat and 
 gave expression to his thoughts : 
 
 " My mind is free to suggest the appointment of a com- 
 mittee to unite with a like committee of women friends 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 465 
 
 in examining into the relations and conduct of the young 
 couple, and if no obstacles appear, to report the same to 
 our next monthly meeting." 
 
 " My mind is free also," said Abner Jones, the first 
 overseer. 
 
 " Mine is also," sang out old Joel Sparker. 
 
 " Mine, also ! " echoed a chorus of voices from all 
 parts of the room. 
 
 The committee was accordingly appointed, with Levi 
 T. as its chairman. 
 
 Then, at the clerk's suggestion, the communication was 
 sent by a special messenger to the women's meeting on 
 the other side of the " shetters." There it was read 
 with all due solemnity, and the requisite committee 
 was named to act, jointly or independently as the case 
 might require, with the men's committee already ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Thus the " givin' in " was accomplished. 
 
 When the meeting " broke," and even before the elders 
 in the top gallery had finished shaking hands, our 
 Jonathan fled incontinently out by the nearest door, and 
 with unseemly speed betook himself to the spot where 
 his filly was tethered. He paused not to hear the con- 
 gratulations of his friends or to reply to the jibes of un- 
 mannerly boys who pursued him. He cast not even a 
 glance backward toward the women's end of the meeting- 
 house where he might have seen Esther Lamb, in blue 
 sunbonnet and white apron, shaking hands with our 
 Cousin Sally and other well-wishing friends. But, in 
 evident agitation, he mounted his steed, cantered out into 
 the big road and hurried homeward. 
 
 " Well, Jonathan, how does thee like ' givin' in ' ? " in- 
 quired Cousin Mandy Jane. 
 
466 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 '* It's the tarnalest thing I ever tackled. I wouldn't 
 never do it ag'in for the purtiest gal on airth I " 
 
 It was the last Fifth-day morning in the Fourth- 
 month, otherwise called the month of April. The fields 
 had been plowed for corn, the oats had already been sown 
 and were springing up thick and green in the sun- 
 warmed soil, the birds had finished their love-making 
 and were keeping house. Our dear old log cabin had 
 been erected anew on Jonathan's forty-acre piece, and 
 was ready for occupancy. It looked very snug and com- 
 fortable under its brand-new roof of shaved shingles; 
 and it seemed very grand with its painted door and the 
 shining " chany " door-knob which had taken the place 
 of the ancient latch-string. 
 
 As I have said, it was Fifth-day morning, and at 
 Dry Forks the monthly meeting was again in session, 
 with the " shetters shet " and the men and women gravely 
 deliberating in their respective *' ends." There was a 
 large attendance of the curious and irreverent, for the 
 ceremony of " passin' meetin' " was to be performed, 
 and next to a real wedding, it would afford the rarest 
 entertainment known to the people of the New Settle- 
 ment. 
 
 The clerk opened the meeting with the usual formal 
 reading of a " minute " announcing that event. A few 
 minor items of business were disposed of, and a season 
 of silent waiting ensued which seemed greatly to refresh 
 the impatient souls of the seekers for diversion. Then 
 the clerk, standing up beside his desk, inquired if it 
 was the mind of the meeting to consider the case of the 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 467 
 
 young friends who at the preceding meeting had given 
 in their intentions of marriage. 
 
 In answer thereto, Levi T. Jay arose and announced 
 that " The committees appointed to have this matter un- 
 der advisement are ready to make their report." 
 
 ** If that is the case and there are no objections on the 
 part of friends," said father, " I think that we might 
 proceed with the matter in the usual way." 
 
 As he resumed his seat, the door nearest to the facin* 
 bench was thrown open and the two persons who were 
 the center of interest entered. There was a bustle of 
 excitement among the irreverent, and some of the ruder , 
 small boys tittered audibly as the pair of intenders, hold- 
 ing each other's right hands, advanced and stood up in 
 front of the facin' bench which had been vacated for 
 their accommodation. Scarcely had this unseemly in- 
 terruption subsided when an unexpected stir was ob- 
 served in the gallery, with a general rising among the 
 elders and a removing of hats. Good old Joel Sparker 
 had dropped upon his knees, being suddenly moved to 
 offer supplication in behalf of the adventurous couple 
 who were seeking to embark on the uncertain sea of 
 matrimony. 
 
 Of course, we were all obliged to rise and turn our 
 backs toward the supplicator lest we might see his at- 
 tendant angel (as in my former days of innocence I had 
 supposed). But I had now grown hardened with respect 
 to the ways of angels — having had no little experience 
 in that direction — and skepticism had already taken 
 deep root in my heart. Therefore, while Joel was 
 valiantly wrestling with the Lord and earnestly pleading 
 for blessings on the heads of our dear young friends, I 
 
468 IN IMY YOUTH }| 
 
 turned half-way about and busied myself with taking a ! 
 
 mental photograph of them. j 
 
 Our Jonathan was to me the central figure in the whole tj 
 
 assemblage, and I felt that by his present action he li 
 
 was bringing great distinction to our household. He j 
 
 was fixed up in a style which must have made him feel I 
 
 uncomfortable. He wore a starched shirt with a stand- j 
 
 up collar which sawed the bottoms of his ears. His ' 
 
 trousers of home-made brown stuff were much too large I 
 
 for him, having been made by our Aunt Rachel, who be- i 
 
 lieved in always giving good measure. He wore no f 
 
 coat, for the day was warm ; but his shirt-sleeves were | 
 
 spotlessly clean, and his galluses, which had been bought I 
 
 in Nopplis, were beautiful to see. His face was j 
 
 smoothly shaven, and his hair, oozing with bear's grease, ] 
 
 was smoothly plastered down on his forehead. His eyes \ 
 
 were directed straight before him, and he seemed j 
 
 scarcely conscious of the presence of buxom Esther who \ 
 
 stood, trembling and blushing, by his side. < 
 
 And she — she had never appeared so charming. She \ 
 
 had exchanged her usual coarse garb of homespun for ■ 
 
 a handsome gray gown of store-goods material ; and in- ^ 
 
 stead of her much-worn pasteboard sunbonnet, she wore - 
 
 the daintiest little turtle-shell of brown silk that had ! 
 
 ever been seen in the Dry Forks meetin'-house. Fur- ; 
 
 thermore — but here my furtive observations were sud- ] 
 
 denly terminated by hearing the ** forever and ever \ 
 
 amen " with which Friend Joel always ended his suppli- . 
 
 cations. With much unnecessar)^ shuffling of feet, the ; 
 
 men and boys resumed their places, and the business i 
 of the meeting proceeded in the usual established order. 
 
 " The meeting will now listen to the reports of the \ 
 
 committees to which I alluded a few moments ago," an- j 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 469 
 
 nounced the clerk ; and taking up a half-sheet of foolscap 
 he read the following: 
 
 "To the Dry Forks Monthly Meeting, to be held on Fifth- 
 day, the twenty-ninth of the Fourth-month. 
 
 " We the undersigned appointed to inquire concerning the 
 conduct and outward relations of Jonathan Dudley and Esther 
 Lamb, do hereby report that we find no obstacles to prevent 
 them from proceeding with their intentions of marriage, their 
 parents and guardians being favorably disposed toward the same. 
 
 " Signed by the Committee." 
 
 " Is it the mind of the meeting to accept this report? " 
 inquired the clerk. 
 
 " I unite with the report," answered 'Lihu Bright. 
 
 " I do also," reponded various voices in the gallery. 
 
 The clerk accordingly declared that the meeting was 
 in entire agreement with the committee; and the report 
 was ordered to be copied in the " minutes." Then 
 father, as the official head of the meeting, arose in his 
 place and made announcement: 
 
 " I think that if the mind of the meeting is clear and 
 no obstruction appears in the way, our young friends 
 might now reaffirm their intentions and pass into the 
 women's meeting to repeat the same." 
 
 A deep and solemn silence followed. Then the crucial 
 point in the proceedings arrived as the bustling little 
 clerk arose behind his little desk and addressed himself 
 to the " intenders " : 
 
 " Jonathan and Esther, do you still continue your in- 
 tentions of marriage with one another? " 
 
 '' We do," bravely asserted Jonathan. 
 
 *' We do," sweetly echoed Esther. 
 
 " Your answers will be recorded in the minutes of the 
 
470 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 monthly meeting," said the clerk. ** You may now pass ; 
 into the women's meeting and there make the same 
 avowals." | 
 
 The door between the two compartments was silently [ 
 opened, and the passing was promptly and creditably per- 
 formed. The intending couple disappeared, the door 
 was closed by an unseen hand, and we could only guess 
 what was occurring on the other side of the shetters. j 
 
 Nothing more remained to be done by the men's meet- 'j 
 ing, save to appoint a committee of three to attend the j 
 marriage ceremony and wedding festivities, to see that ' 
 everything was performed in accordance with our Disci- ' 
 pline, decently and in an orderly manner, and to report I 
 thereon at the next monthly meeting. 
 
 Such was the ceremony of " passin' meetin'," as I re- : 
 member seeing it once, and only once, in my lifetime. : 
 (But, O Leona, what tricks your memory will play you | 
 at the end of sixty years!) The custom was perhaps a 
 vestigial relic handed down to our fathers from the God- I 
 fearing days and saintly practices of George Fox and his j 
 disciples. It was designed to be one of several safe- i 
 guards against hasty and ill-advised marriages, and in '■ 
 those remote times of non-haste and simple living, it no \ 
 doubt served a good purpose. But when the hydra of ' 
 progress began to lift its hundred heads, our people soon ; 
 caught the fever of impatience (and in matters of mar- : 
 riage that fever is sometimes intense) and this awkward ' 
 old practice of stopping, looking, and listening before i 
 taking the irretrievable step was voted foolish and un- i 
 necessary ; and, at about the time of which I am writing, ; 
 it was abandoned and the rule was expunged from the \ 
 Discipline, j 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 471 
 
 " Well, Jonathan, how does thee like passin' meetin' ? " 
 inquired Cousin Sally. 
 
 " I like it right smart," he answered ; " and I wouldn't 
 mind doin' it ag'in if I had to." 
 
 III. " THE splicin' " 
 
 Again it is a Fifth-day morning — it is the 
 first Fifth-day in the Fifth-month, commonly called 
 May. Again, in the solemn old meetin'-house the people 
 are gathered. A meeting is in progress — not the 
 monthly nor the quart'ly, but the usual week-day meet- 
 ing for worship. The shetters are opened, and men 
 and women are worshiping together, each sex in its own 
 part of the great dingy room. 
 
 There is a much larger attendance than usual, and 
 every bench is filled. Many worldly people and many 
 strangers from distant parts have assembled with us, 
 some drawn by feelings of friendship and good will, 
 but more, it is feared, by motives of idle curiosity. For 
 to-day there is to be a marryin* in meetin'. Yes, the 
 anxious young people, who have been dallying with in^ 
 tentions for lo ! these six weeks, are finally about to ac- 
 complish those intentions and be duly " spliced " in the 
 good old-fashioned way of the Discipline. 
 
 And there you may see them, sitting on the women's 
 facin* bench, erect and motionless as dead statues, their 
 eyes fixed on vacancy, their thoughts centered upon the 
 ceremony that is so soon to take place. They are the 
 center of attraction to a vast multitude, and they know 
 it ; and this fact gives them much additional concern, for 
 they are by no means used to notoriety. 
 
 By the side of the bride sits her " waiter," her dearest 
 
472 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and most trusted young woman friend, even our Cousin 
 Sally, blushing all over like a rose in summer. The 
 groom also is flanked by his " waiter " in the person of 
 — would you believe it ? — his brother David ! 
 
 " I don't keer to go out of the fambly for any help," 
 he said, when twitted on account of his choice of best 
 man. " Th' ain't no man livin' that knows how to wait 
 on me better'n our David; and th' ain't no other man 
 livin' that I'd resk to stand up with me when I'm sure to 
 be so tarnal skeered and likely to forgit what I ought to 
 say." 
 
 And David had long demurred chiefly on account of 
 his great bashfulness in the presence of women. '' I'll 
 do it for thee, Jonathan," he said, finally consenting, 
 *' 'cause I don't so awfully mind it to walk alongside of 
 Cousin Sally, anyhow. Everybody knows that her and 
 me's kinder half-way kin, and I guess they won't be a- 
 thinkin' that we are gettin' sweet on one another. Yes, 
 I'll stand up with thee, Jonathan, if it skeers all my toe- 
 nails clean out'n my boots." 
 
 How very stiff and uncomfortable they are, sitting 
 there on the facin' bench and waiting for the hour of 
 doom! Jonathan is resplendent in a broad-brimmed 
 beaver hat, of the natural color, and David looks scarcely 
 less becoming under his last year's home-made straw, 
 now newly pressed and bleached for the occasion. The 
 hands of both are sadly in the way, and their feet, so 
 large and cumbersome, give them much additional con- 
 cern. The day being warm, they have worn their coats 
 under protest; and their red cotton bandannas are fre- 
 quently drawn from their hat crowns in order to mop 
 the sweat from their troubled brows. What a fearful 
 experience it must be, and how abashed they must feel, 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 473. 
 
 sitting there in the women's end of the meetin', with 
 Esther Lamb and Cousin Sally so close beside them, 
 and women all around ! 
 
 And Esther and Sally are as unconcerned as though 
 nothing were going to happen. How handsome are 
 their neatly fitting gowns, innocent of all flounces and 
 furbelows ; and how becoming are their new little bon- 
 nets of light brown silk half concealing their blushful 
 cheeks! From my accustomed seat I can gaze at them 
 undisturbed. If I were older by twenty years and 
 should I be choosing a wife, I don't know which one 
 of the two I would take — Ah! I wouldn't give a snap 
 for either; for there, just beyond the partition, I see a 
 third face which makes my heart thump loudly and 
 my whole being quiver with joy. It is the face of my 
 Angel, grown a little older, a little more sedate, but 
 none the less beautiful. 
 
 A half-hour passes in awful silence. I try my best 
 to be good and to meditate on the good place and the 
 best method of getting there — as mother has often told 
 me to do. Nevertheless, in spite of all my efforts, my 
 eyes and my thoughts will wander to the women's end 
 of the meetin' — to the occupants of the facin' bench, 
 but most often to the angelic creature who is but par- 
 tially visible by reason of the plainly dressed maids and 
 matrons who block the women's aisle and obscure the 
 view. The spirit is quiescent to-day, for it moves no 
 one to speak — no, not even Joel Sparker or Margot 
 Duberry. The elders, male and female, sit in their 
 respective galleries, absorbed in contemplation, oblivious 
 of the things of time and sense, waiting for the divine 
 fire. But among the undevout, on the back benches of 
 the two apartments, symptoms of impatience are begin- 
 
474 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ning to be manifested. The silence is being interrupted 
 by the shuffling of feet, the rustle of garments, even 
 the whispering of ill-mannered boys and the giggling of 
 scatter-pated girls. And yet the elders heed none of 
 these tokens of unrest. 
 
 The minutes drag by on leaden wings. The suspense 
 becomes unbearable, the silence becomes a mockery. 
 Even I, Robert Dudley, am becoming infected with the 
 general nervousness, the growing feeling of impatience 
 and hilarity. I look to see if my Angel is among the 
 undevout disturbers of the peace, and she has disap- 
 peared. I fidget in my seat. Is it possible that we must 
 remain quiet through the whole of another half-hour? 
 
 I see father slyly nudging Levi T. with his elbow. The 
 sun has reached the noon mark on the window-jamb just 
 before their eyes. The period of silent waiting is at last 
 ended. Levi T., in his capacity as assistant head of the 
 meeting, rises, slowly and with becoming dignity. From 
 his lofty place in the top gallery he surveys the impatient 
 assemblage before him; then, as a profound silence en- 
 sues, he makes his official announcement: 
 
 " I think that, if the minds of all seem clear, the time 
 has about arrived for the marriage of our young friends 
 to be duly and properly performed." 
 
 As he resumes his seat there is a hum of mingled 
 satisfaction and anticipation. The elders, awakened from 
 their meditations, raise their heads and look beneficently 
 happy. There is a general craning forward of necks, a 
 manifestation of the intensest interest. Some of the boys 
 stand up on the benches, thus obstructing the view of 
 the more mannerly people behind them. The young 
 mothers on the other side of the partition lift their babies 
 very high in their arms, perhaps to enable them to se^ 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 475 
 
 the marryin', perhaps to encourage the faltering souls 
 who are about to embark on the perilous voyage of 
 matrimony. 
 
 Another minute elapses. The bustling little clerk of 
 the men's meetin' hurries down the aisle with a roll of 
 parchment in his hand. He takes a position in full view 
 of the occupants of the facin' bench ; he raises the hand 
 with the parchment roll a very little — a very little, but 
 the signal is seen and understood by those for whom it is 
 intended. Our Jonathan and his Esther join hands and, 
 with their respective waiters, rise solemnly in the pres- 
 ence of the meetin'. There is an awesome hush as the 
 four stand up in a stiff row with the facin' bench behind 
 them. The eyes of groom and bride are directed va- 
 cantly forward, their faces flush quickly and then turn 
 pale, their hearts are in a tumult. The supreme moment 
 has arrived. 
 
 The clerk raises the parchment roll again — a very 
 little, but how tremendous the event that it signals! 
 Our Jonathan, holding the plump little hand of Esther in 
 his long lank palm, speaks up in strong but tremulous 
 tones, repeating the formula prescribed by the Disci- 
 pline : 
 
 " Friends, in the presence of the Lord and here before 
 you all, I take this my friend, Esther Lamb, to be my 
 wife, promising with divine assistance to be unto her a 
 loving and faithful husband until death shall separate 
 us." 
 
 It is observed by those who sit nearest that he gives 
 Esther's hand an assuring squeeze, perhaps as a mere 
 signal that her time has come, perhaps to emphasize the 
 meaning of his words in a special manner. She raises 
 her expressive eyes and looks squarely at the audience 
 
476 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and at her grim old grandfather who sits facing her on 
 this side of the partition. Then, in a low clear voice, 
 which not half the people can hear, she repeats the 
 similar formula: 
 
 " Friends, in the presence of the Lord and here be- 
 fore you all, I take this my friend, Jonathan Dudley, to 
 be my husband, promising with divine assistance to be 
 unto him a loving and faithful wife until death shall 
 separate us." 
 
 This is all. The two have proclaimed their vows and 
 they are now man and wife. No priest has mumbled 
 his meaningless prayers in their presence; no magistrate 
 has read to them the questions prescribed by the state; 
 there has been no formal presentation of the wedding 
 ring; the bride, poor thing, has not been given away 
 by her nearest relative — and yet they henceforth, " un- 
 til death shall separate them," belong irrevocably to each 
 other. They, with their waiters, resume their seats on 
 the facin' bench, and the ceremony of declaring and 
 attesting follows. 
 
 The clerk of the men's meeting is having the greatest 
 day of his life. He comes forward briskly, carrying his 
 little official desk, which he places in the aisle quite near 
 the newly married. Then standing up behind it, he un- 
 rolls the precious parchment, which he has all along 
 held in his hand. It is the marriage certificate of Jon- 
 athan Dudley and Esther Dudley, his wife. He proceeds 
 to read it aloud to the assembled audience, and his tones 
 are so clear and distinct that the loafers who are whittling 
 around the door of the post-ofifice, a hundred yards away, 
 hear every word of it. It is a long and wonderful docu- 
 ment, bristling with " saids " and " aforesaids " and 
 " wherefores " and " therefores," and giving a full his- 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 477 
 
 tory of the marriage from the *' givin' in " to its culmina- 
 tion at the conclusion of to-day's meeting for worship. 
 As the little man finishes the reading and lays the un- 
 rolled, unfolded certificate down flat on his desk (with 
 the inkstand upon it to keep it in place), he looks around 
 at his audience with an air of triumph and superiority. 
 It is hard to say which of the two men is to be most 
 envied, the self-important little clerk or the trembling 
 bridegroom upon the facin' bench. 
 
 But hark! The little man raises his hand, he is about 
 to speak. Let everybody listen. 
 
 " Friends," he says, '' this certificate of marriage is 
 now ready for the signatures of witnesses. Members of 
 the two families and special friends of the two young 
 people, who may desire to subscribe their names to the 
 document, may come forward and do so." 
 
 He pushes his little desk a trifle nearer to the vacant 
 end of the facin' bench, he dips his best goose-quill pen 
 into the ink, and with a genteel flourish of his left hand, 
 stands waiting to serve the signing witnesses as they 
 come. Custom and good manners have decreed that the 
 waiters shall have the precedence in this last act of the 
 little drama, and therefore Cousin Sally is the first to 
 afiix her name to the immortal document. Her signature 
 is as round and plump as herself, but she would have 
 written it a little better if the ink had been pokeberry 
 juice instead of the plain black liquid that it is. Then 
 David with supreme awkwardness attempts to wield the 
 stubborn pen. He has been practising on his name for 
 the last two weeks, but when at length the difficult feat 
 is accomplished he leaves at the bottom of the certificate 
 only an indistinguishable scrawl that looks like the trail 
 of a thousand-legged worm through a sea of darkness. 
 
47B IN MY YOUTH 
 
 Other friends and relatives now come forward, and 
 the signing proceeds briskly and without interruption. 
 Meanwhile, there is a general movement and more or 
 less disorder among the spectators on the back benches. 
 Many of them, realizing that the entertainment is at an 
 end, are withdrawing from the house, before the meeting 
 is formally " broke " by the shaking of hands. Others 
 have left their seats and are crowding forward in the 
 aisles to get a closer view of the newly married. The 
 minutes glide by with accelerated speed ; the excitement 
 is at high tide. Then the little clerk, with dripping pen 
 in hand, makes his final announcement: 
 
 " There is still room for three more names as witnesses 
 to this certificate. If there are any other near friends or 
 relatives who would like to sign, now is the time for 
 them to come forward." 
 
 There is a slight stir on the other side of the partition 
 near the spot where I saw my Angel a little while ago. 
 A well-dressed woman has risen and is going forward 
 to sign her name. I recognize her as the stately lady 
 who was so kind to me that day when I was in Dashville 
 and in Paradise. And Edith is with her ! She is going 
 down the aisle toward the facin* bench; she is actually 
 taking her seat beside the clerk's desk! She is truly 
 writing her blessed name at the bottom of that parch- 
 ment roll — writing it with those of the other witnesses 
 to the marriage. She has surely grown taller since that 
 day in her father's library, she looks more womanly but 
 every bit as angelic, she is the same merry Edith — but 
 with additions and improvements. 
 
 She rises from the desk after writing her signature, 
 she turns her face for one moment toward the spot where 
 I am sitting. I fancy that there is a look of recognition 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 479 
 
 in her eyes; but the next moment she has turned away 
 and is lost to sight among the women who are now 
 crowding down into the aisle. 
 
 A sudden impulse comes upon me to write my name 
 underneath hers on that certificate of Jonathan's. I slip 
 off my bench and make a brief movement toward the 
 aisle; but my timidity restrains and prevents me. Ev- 
 ery eye in that vast company seems to be looking directly 
 at me ; and I shrink back, trembling and abashed. 
 
 " It's too late now, Bobby," whispers Ikey Bright, gently 
 punching me with his big fist. ** Meetin' 's broke." 
 
 I look up at the top gallery, and see father and the 
 elders shaking hands. The married couple with their 
 waiters have risen and are pushing their way down the 
 women's aisle, briefly responding to congratulations as 
 they pass. The little clerk has folded the marriage cer- 
 tificate very accurately and neatly, and is tying a bit of 
 red tape around the parchment, preparatory to delivering 
 it to the proper authorities for record. Yes, *' meetin' is 
 broke," and nothing remains to be done but to glide 
 bashfully out-of-doors and prepare to ride with father 
 and mother to the weddin' dinner at Old Enoch's. 
 
 The marryin' in meetin' is at last accomplished. 
 
 IV. THE INFARE 
 
 And what of the wedding dinner? I have father's 
 word for it that it surpassed his expectations ; but be- 
 yond that, the less said of it the better. 
 
 ** Well, Lochinvar," inquired the twin teachers, '* how 
 does thee like getting spliced according to Discipline ? " 
 
 " I like it right smart," he answered. " I like it so 
 well that I don't never aim to git spliced ag'in as long 
 as I live." 
 
48o IN MY YOUTH 
 
 And Esther remarked that she felt much the same 
 way. 
 
 *' It was turble tryin' to have the business a-hangin' 
 fire so long," added Jonathan ; " but I reckon the long 
 cut was right smart better nor the short one might 'a' 
 been, after all." 
 
 ** That's so," she smilingly agreed. 
 
 Jonathan's infare, which occurred the following day, 
 was an event long to be remembered; for it celebrated 
 not only his home-coming after the wedding but also the 
 completion and full occupancy of our grand new house. 
 It marked also, in a certain sense, the end of the era of 
 innocence in our Settlement and the inevitable triumph 
 of social progress and worldly ambitions. 
 
 The dinner on that occasion was an affair worthy 
 to be talked about by generations yet unborn. It had 
 been prepared under the supervision of our Cousin Sally, 
 and while it was no better than might have been expected, 
 it evened up the festal matters most wonderfully, leaving 
 a large balance on our side of the account. 
 
 There were many guests present from near and far, 
 and among them were our friends, the Wilsons and the 
 Merediths, from Dashville. That it was possible for 
 so celestial a being as merry Edith Meredith to become 
 a visitor in our own home surpassed all my wildest flights 
 of fancy. I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw 
 her alight from her grandmother's carriage and, under 
 mother's pilotage, enter our respectable but unworthy 
 dwelling. And when, in response to my timid, awkward 
 greeting, she held out her hand and, smiling sweetly, 
 said " Good morning, Robert ! " my soul was lifted into 
 Paradise. From that hour and moment, our front door 
 was a hallowed place at which I always paused to repeat 
 
THE LONG WAY ABOUT IT 481 
 
 a little prayer ; and never afterward, so long as that home 
 was ours, did I cross the threshold (which her dear 
 feet had pressed) without first pronouncing her name. 
 
 The day was glorious and all nature seemed rejoicing. 
 The cherry trees were white with blossoms, the . . . 
 
 [Note. — These are believed to be the last words ever 
 penned by the hand of Robert Dudley. . The sheet on 
 zuhich they were zvritten, with the ink not yet dry, was 
 found on his desk beneath his nerveless arm, when the 
 housekeeper, coming in and, thinking him asleep, at- 
 tempted gently to rouse him. What were his intentions 
 regarding the continuation of his narrative, it is impos- 
 sible to say; but there are reasons for believing that he 
 did not contemplate carrying it beyond the story of his 
 boyhood. Among his miscellaneous zvritings, however, 
 a number of random sketches and brief notes, throwing 
 light on different periods of his life, have been discovered 
 — some scribbled on little scraps of paper and some 
 jotted down in a vest-pocket memorandum. Among these 
 are the three little fragments included in the follozdng 
 chapter, zvhich, if properly interpreted, zmll go far toward 
 bridging the chasm between childhood and age, and 
 completing the story of a long and not uneventful life. 
 
 — Editor.] 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 FRAGMENTS 
 I. ANNIVERSARIES 
 
 THE day being near its close and the lamps not yet 5 
 lighted, I had wheeled her into the library. She 
 
 lay quietly back in her invalid's chair, looking up alter- i 
 
 nately at the rows of books which we both loved j 
 
 so much and at the face of the one who was bending ! 
 over her. 
 
 " My merry Edith, do you know what day to-morrow | 
 
 will be?" I asked. | 
 
 She was silent a little while, trying to recall her scat- | 
 
 tered memories ; then she answered : j 
 
 " I don't remember, Robert. It is hard to keep the j 
 
 days in mind, but I think it will be Thursday? Won't j 
 
 it?" I 
 
 I saw that she did not understand, and I explained that J 
 to-morrow would be an anniversary of something. Did J 
 she know what it was? i 
 
 She shook her head and sighed. She could not quite J 
 remember. I 
 
 " It was just sixty years ago," I said, thinking to help 
 her by suggestion. 
 
 "Just sixty years ago? And what was it that hap- 
 pened then ? " And in those once glorious brown eyes 
 — now none the less glorious to me — there was a f ar- 
 
 482 
 
FRAGMENTS 483 
 
 away look that told me her mind was traveling slowly 
 back to that distant time which I wished to recall. 
 
 " Dear, merry Edith, do you remember the day that 
 you surprised a bashful, barefooted, little boy in your 
 father's library?" 
 
 '' And we stood by the table and looked at pictures 
 together ? " Thank God ! she was remembering. " The 
 little boy was you, Robert; and I taught you to 
 use the unplain language, didn't I? Oh, but you were 
 so timid and so awkward. And how careful you were 
 with your bare feet ! " And she laughed that same little 
 rippling, merry laugh that had overjoyed my heart so 
 long ago, so long ago. 
 
 Her face brightened as I toyed with the thin gray 
 locks, as dear to me now as were the golden brown curls 
 that so thrillingly brushed my cheeks on that eventful 
 morning, so long ago. 
 
 I saw that the mists were lifting and that the mem- 
 ories of the past were again making blessed sunshine 
 in her heart, and I said, " Yes, merry Edith, I was shy 
 and green; but that was my first day in paradise, and 
 to-morrow it will be just sixty years — so long ago ! " 
 
 Her mind was clear and strong now, for a brief space, 
 and together we recalled the childish prattle and the in- 
 nocent joys that were ours on that never-to-be-forgotten 
 day. ** I think it was only yesterday," she said, " and yet 
 you and I have spent many, many days in paradise to- 
 gether since that first October morning — so long ago." 
 
 " True," I answered, " there have indeed been many 
 such days; and I now have in mind the one that was 
 the grandest and the loveliest of them all. It was an 
 old-fashioned Sunday in the country, and we two went 
 walking together through the orchard and underneath 
 
484 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 the apple trees where the autumn leaves rustled about 
 our feet. The air was mild and calm, and the haze of 
 Indian summer obscured the sun. The world seemed so 
 peaceful and so good a place to live in; and we were 
 so young and hopeful. Do you remember that day, my 
 Edith — so long ago ? " 
 
 " How can I ever forget it ? It was the day — the 
 day of our betrothal. It was not long ago." 
 
 " And yet just half a century has gone by since then, 
 and to-morrow will be a double anniversary." 
 
 The youthful look of my Angel of the Facin' Bench 
 came back into her eyes, and her countenance glowed with 
 sweetness as she exclaimed, " What is half a century ? 
 What is half a century to us, Robert — to us who have 
 known each other so long, and have had so many anni- 
 versaries? It is as but a single day: The morning 
 dawns, the noonday heightens, the evening falls, the night 
 brings darkness and rest — but it is neither the begin- 
 ning nor the end. And so I think it was only this morn- 
 ing — this blessed morning — that we walked together 
 beneath the orchard trees." 
 
 She was not used to speaking so much, and she lay 
 back in her chair silent for a while, exhausted by the 
 unwonted effort. Then she added : " But now the night 
 is near, and darkness." 
 
 I held one poor, helpless little hand in my own, while 
 with the other she lovingly stroked my cheek. " Dear, 
 merry Edith," I said, " let us take courage and be com- 
 forted. For, when the clouds pass that are now ob- 
 scuring our sky, and when the darkness and the silence 
 give way to another morning, we shall again in innocence 
 bend our faces over the same picture books, and we shall 
 
FRAGMENTS 485 
 
 again walk, arm In arm, under the blessed fruitful trees, 
 our youth renewed and glorified." 
 
 The light of day was fading fast. The night was 
 close at hand. We spoke not another audible word, but 
 we knew each other's thoughts — our souls were as one. 
 
 The light continued to fade; darkness fell and silence 
 ensued ; and still we sat there, sorrowing, believing, trust- 
 ing, rejoicing. 
 
 To-morrow comes, a new day will dawn. 
 
 II. AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 I had a visitor yesterday. 
 
 The afternoon was warm, the air was bracing and I 
 was strolling along a woodland pathway, far from the 
 resorts of men. I walked slowly, enjoying for the first 
 time in many years a full and sweet communion with 
 nature. On my right, a wood thrush was calling; on 
 my left, a gray squirrel (descendant perhaps of my Esau) 
 was noisily scolding ; young rabbits and chipmunks raced 
 in the path before me. I fancied that, as in the days of 
 my childhood, I could see the dryads and the wood 
 nymphs peeping out from their secret bowers and smiling 
 sweet recognition as I passed. 
 
 Suddenly, as I was entering a more open space among 
 the trees, I felt a soft arm clasped around my neck, while 
 a little hand was laid gently over my eyes. 
 
 " Guess who it is," said a sweet voice which I could 
 not mistake. 
 
 " O Inviz ! It is you ! " I cried, submitting myself 
 to his loving embrace. More than fifty years had passed 
 since I last heard that voice, and yet I recognized it at 
 once and it was music to my sorrowing soul. 
 
486 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Yes, it is I, and I have come to walk with you, just 
 as I used to do," he answered. 
 
 His touch was as tender, his step was as light, his 
 breath on my cheek was as soft as in those days of 
 yore which now exist only as pleasant memories. 
 
 " O Inviz, I am so glad ! " and I was again the bare- 
 foot little Towhead driving home the cows, while he was 
 my welcome companion. 
 
 " And I am glad, too," he chirped joyously, as he 
 tripped along beside me. " This seems just like old 
 times ; doesn't it ? " 
 
 *' Indeed, indeed it does," and tears of happiness filled 
 my eyes. " But tell me, Inviz, where have you been 
 through all these many, many years ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have been in various places and I have had 
 numerous playmates since I bade you good-by that day 
 just before they pulled the old log cabin down. A cer- 
 tain small boy is waiting for me now, over there on the 
 other side of this woodland, and I must go to him 
 soon." 
 
 '* And do you lie down on the big hearth beside him, 
 and look into the blazing fire, and dream dreams, just 
 as you used to do with me ? " I asked. 
 
 His arm trembled a little, and I fancied that I felt 
 a tear fall upon my hand as he answered, " No, Robert, 
 people don't live beside big hearths and blazing wood 
 fires nowadays — except in a kind of make-believe sense- 
 less fashion ; and when children are brought up on penny 
 banks and toy automobiles, what can you expect? With 
 most of them * the hour of splendor in the grass, of 
 glory in the flower' is of short duration, and that being 
 ended, what further use can they have for me ? " 
 
 We walked on silently for a little while, and then, com- 
 
FRAGMENTS 4S7 
 
 ing to a shady place where the grass was green and soft, 
 we lay down, side by side, and, as in other days, amused 
 ourselves by watching the summer clouds float lazily 
 across the infinite sky. And there we remained through 
 the greater part of that summer afternoon, recalling 
 sweet memories of the days of innocence in the New 
 Settlement and of the loved ones long departed. 
 
 " Robert, do you remember how we used to romp and 
 wrestle under the old cherry trees ? " at length asked 
 Inviz. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! and it was grand fun," I answered. 
 
 " Suppose we have a little tussle of the same sort right 
 now," he said, rising and bantering me just as he used 
 to do. *' Come ! I can beat you in a fair race to that 
 old oak over there. Come, I dare you to run ! " 
 
 I was on my feet in a moment, though not so quickly 
 as I wished, and we were off like a flash. I strained 
 every muscle, my breath came hard and quick, my heart 
 thumped wildly — but in spite of all my efforts, Inviz 
 outran me, two to one, and while I was yet toiling mid- 
 way in the course, he reached the goal, and looking back 
 laughed joyously but not tauntingly at my discomfiture. 
 
 " My legs are not what they used to be," I said, sitting 
 down in despair. *' I am afraid I am getting old." 
 
 "No, not you, Robert!" exclaimed my jolly compan- 
 ion, coming up and again putting his arm around me. 
 " You, yourself, can never grow old — you are not made 
 that way. But your legs, being only temporary affairs, 
 may sometimes become wabbly through lack of nutrition. 
 Your body, being a kind of machine and also chemical 
 laboratory, will necessarily wear out, by and by, and 
 become useless." 
 
 " And then, what ? " I asked. 
 
488 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 " Then, when the right time comes, you shall be given 
 another," he whispered very softly. 
 
 I lay quite still, thinking he would say more. Pres- 
 ently, I felt his arm withdrawn, and I missed the cheer 
 of his warm breath upon my cheek. 
 
 " O Inviz, Inviz ! " I cried. " Don't leave me. Stay 
 with me till the end." 
 
 " It can not be," he answered, with not a touch of sad- 
 ness. " The end is not yet, nor shall it ever be. In the 
 new life that shall ere long be yours, I will again be 
 your friend and playmate; we shall ramble side by side 
 in sunny places, and we shall read the same books and 
 dream the same dreams. But until then, farewell ! " 
 
 I felt his kiss on my brow, but when I reached out 
 to touch him, he was gone. 
 
 I lay there quietly in the grass, my face upturned, my 
 arms folded helplessly across my breast. I knew noth- 
 ing more until, the sun having set and night drawing 
 near, I was roused by some one rudely shaking me and 
 a rough voice shouting in my ear: 
 
 ** Hello, there, old codger ! Wake up ! It's time you 
 was gittin' toward home." 
 
 Old codger, indeed ! 
 
 III. A VISION 
 
 Last summer, in my loneliness I made a brief flying 
 visit to that part of the Wabash Country once known 
 as the New Settlement, but now called by quite another 
 and more high-sounding name. Oh, my heart! how 
 changed was everything! I looked in vain for the old 
 familiar landmarks, for the face of some one whom I 
 might remember as friend and neighbor. All had dis- 
 appeared, and most had been forgotten. 
 
FRAGMENTS 489 
 
 That blessed spot which, in my innocence, I had fondly 
 believed to be the center of the world, was scarcely 
 recognizable. The roads and lanes were not in their 
 former places but had been straightened and improved. 
 The hills, where were they? The worm fences of pon- 
 derous rails had been removed or replaced by lines of 
 barbed — yes, barbarous — wire. The buildings — even 
 that grand new house, the triumph of father's architec- 
 tural skill — had been obliterated. In their places I be- 
 held a stately farmhouse of brick and stone, a modern 
 barn of vast extent, a silo and a garage (things unknown 
 and undreamed of in my day), and outhouses of many 
 shapes and for many uses. 
 
 The spring-house was no more, and not a trace re- 
 mained of the spring branch with its pellucid water and 
 its forests of waving cattails. I looked for the cherry 
 trees under which I had so often romped with Inviz or 
 spent the summer hours in conning the pages of some 
 loved book, and I found only a smooth grassless quad- 
 rangle with a net stretched through the middle, which 
 they told me was a tennis-court. I gazed southward 
 where once were deadenings and the big woods and the 
 bottom, dotted with white-trunked sycamores ; all were 
 gone, and in their stead was nothing but one vast field 
 of growing corn. Following a strange pathway, I went 
 down through this field to see the " crick " where I had 
 so often waded and fished for tiny shiners ; and what do 
 you suppose I found ? Only a straight, muddy, ill-smell- 
 ing ditch, with hardly a pretense of water at the bottom. 
 Even the old swimmin' hole had been filled in and its 
 place was known no more. Ah! how wonderful is 
 progress ! 
 
 The great man, the possessor of the old home place 
 
490 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 and of ten times as much land as my father ever dreamed 
 of owning, was very kind to me — very condescending 
 in his evident pity of my ignorance and great antiquity. 
 His name was Dobson, and I learned that his grand- 
 father had been Jacob Dobson — the same Jake with 
 whom I had done some disastrous swapping sixty years 
 before. He carried me in his automobile to the spot 
 which I had once known as Dry Forks. It was Dry 
 Forks no longer, but a young and growing city known 
 by a very different name, and its chief asset was natural 
 gas. 
 
 *' We have now a population of five thousand and we 
 confidently expect it to reach fifty thousand within the 
 next decade," said the pompous postmaster. 
 
 But where was the meetin'-house once the center of 
 social activities and of religious culture? 
 
 In its place I was shown a fine modern structure with 
 stained-glass windows and a little steeple pointing toward 
 the sky. 
 
 " We don't call it a meetin'-house any more," said 
 my friend the landholder. ** We call it a church, and 
 there ain't any building of the kind anywhere in this part 
 of the state that can come up to it in genuine comfort 
 and style." 
 
 It was Sunday morning. The door was open, and I 
 was told that " services " were going on inside. We 
 paused within the little vestibule, and I looked in. The 
 single large assembly-room was handsomely decorated. 
 There were no " shetters " to separate the sexes, no back- 
 less benches (not even a facin' bench), no galleries for 
 the ministers and elders. But there were soft-cushioned 
 pews, all facing the same way, wherein men and women 
 sat together and were not at all ashamed; and beyond 
 
FRAGMENTS 491 
 
 these there was an elegant little pulpit with a gilt-edged 
 Bible reposing on it. Behind this pulpit, there was a 
 pretty little sofa on which a sleek-haired minister was 
 reposing his weary limbs; and on the right-hand side 
 of it (oh, ye shades of John Woolman and Joel Sparker!) 
 stood a modest cabinet organ on which a young lady in 
 fashionable attire was attuning a hymn. 
 
 " Do you have music in your meetings ? " I whispered 
 to my friend. 
 
 '' Oh, certainly ! We have the best that's goin\ That 
 organ cost five hundred and forty dollars, and it's a good 
 one. Sometimes we have a cornetist to come and play 
 at the evening services — and that's just bully to draw a 
 crowd." 
 
 '' But I suppose that you occasionally have silent meet- 
 ings, to wait for the moving of the spirit, and to meditate 
 concerning the good place, just as we used to have when 
 I was a boy ? " 
 
 '' Well, not gener'lly. We have a reg'lar progrum, 
 and go through it without stopping. The minister, he 
 conducts the service, and there ain't much time for 
 silence." 
 
 " Do your young people ever get married in meeting? " 
 
 " They used to, but they've mostly quit it nowadays. 
 They say it's a leetle mite too slow ; and so the minister, 
 he does the business privately at his home or at the 
 bride's residence." 
 
 I looked at the congregation. Some of the men wore 
 cutaway coats, but I sought in vain for a single plain 
 garment of the collarless, shadbelly variety such as father 
 and all good members of Our Society used to wear. The 
 only broad-brimmed hats that I saw were those worn 
 by the ladies. Far over in one of the free pews, how- 
 
492 
 
 IN MY YOUTH 
 
 ever, I recognized a single plain bonnet of dove-colored 
 silk — modest and neat, a relic of ancient times. I felt 
 strongly moved to go forward and shake hands with its 
 wearer and say, " Howdy, mother. How is thee and 
 thine?" 
 
 *' I see that you have done away with plain clothes, 
 the ancient and honorable insignia of Our Society," I 
 said to my friend Dobson ; " but certainly there are some 
 who still adhere to the use of the plain language ? " 
 •' Plain language ! Well, I don't know. What is it? " 
 " The use of the pronoun * thee ' instead of the singular 
 pronoun ' you,' and generally the avoidance of all un- 
 necessary expletives and compliments." 
 
 " Well, I recollect that my grandfather and some of 
 the other old ones did used to say ' thee ' and ' thy ' and 
 ' First-day,' and that sort of thing. But most every- 
 body's got out of the way of talking so now. They 
 don't see no use in sich language." 
 
 " It was the language of George Fox," I ventured. 
 " Well, maybe it was. Grandfather used to talk right 
 smart about an old Enick Fox that owned part of my 
 farm, a long while ago. He went out to Kansas, way 
 back in war times — and I never seen him. Maybe it's 
 him you are thinking of." 
 '* Very likely," I answered. 
 
 The hymn was ended, the organ was hushed, and the 
 minister rose to announce the next number of the " pro- 
 grum." Leaving my friend and guide at the door, I 
 went forward and sat down in a vacant pew which a 
 kindly usher showed me. The minister was addressing 
 his congregation, but I did not hear him. My mind was 
 far away, busied with thoughts of other days, and I 
 was soon oblivious to all that was going on around me. 
 
FRAGMENTS 493 
 
 Presently, however, I ventured to raise my head and 
 look up. What do you suppose I saw? 
 
 There, directly in front of me, was the old comfortless 
 gallery, with my father sitting at the head of the meeting, 
 and the elders, including Joel Sparker and Levi T., ranged 
 in order beside him. Very solemn and saintly they ap- 
 peared, with their broad-brimmed beaver hats on their 
 heads and their toil-worn hands crossed resignedly upon 
 their knees. And there also was the women's gallery, 
 with mother in her plain silk bonnet, sitting meekly 
 and not altogether comfortably by the side of holy Mar- 
 got Duberry. And just a little way below them was the 
 women's facin' bench, and oh, joy ! there was my Angel 
 just as I had seen her on that ever-blessed First-day 
 morning, more than threescore years before. Her 
 golden-brown curls were surmounted by that same won- 
 derful hat with the big feather in it, and her dainty 
 little feet, with real shoes and stockings on them, were 
 dangling midway between the bench and the floor. . . . 
 And then ... as I looked . . . she turned her glorious 
 eyes toward me . . . and beckoned . . . and smiled. 
 
 O my Leonidas, my Leona! There is nothing more 
 to be said. 
 
 THE END 
 
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