WHAT I KNOW
ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
BY
ABRAHAM PAGE.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1 869.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
JOHN S. HOLT,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of Mississippi.




CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR...........................     7
CHAPTER I.
Which is the longest in the book.................................  13
CHAPTER II.
Tells how the orphan was disposed of, and gives a few
incidents of his childhood.......................................   32
CHAPTER III.
Describes some friends Ben was about to make: and tells
of other matters important to be known by the world....  44
CHAPTER IV.
Tells about Ben's journey to school, and how he fared on
his arrival............................................................  56
CHAPTER V.
In which Mr. Page shows that there are more ways than
one of telling a story........................................  65
CHAPTER VI.
Introduces to the reader a sure-enough lady: and tells of
several other matters he would be sorry not to have
known.................................................................  72
CHAPTER VII.
Brings Ben's business affairs up to date, and disposes of
one of his pedagogues..............................................   83
CHAPTER VIII.
Ben Eccles quits school and goes to college: and comes
home and starts in his profession............................. 90
CHAPTER IX.
Begins with a psychological study, and ends with a description of the Rosstown Female College..................  97
(iii)




CHAPTER X.
PAGE
A  few words are said about boarding-schools; Susan's
college career is briefly described, and she herself is
described more perfectly; concluding with a good word
for Love............................................................... 105
CHAPTER XI.
Is altogether about Mr. Eccles................................... 112
CHAPTER XII.
Introduces. Miss Alice Charlton to the reader as a rival
to Susan Garthwaite in his affections........................ 121
CHAPTER XIII.
Tells of Mr. Bowman's first visit, and what he said on
that occasion, and what several persons thought of him. 127
CHAPTER XIV.
Tells why Miss Susan did not graduate at the college, and
how she went home, and Mr. Eccles calling to see
her, finds one of his friends and one of his antipathies
already in the way.............................................   134
CHAPTER XV.
Describes how Mr. Eccles felt, and how others thought
and felt, and how he began his courtship.................... 143
CHAPTER XVI.
Mr. Eccles, after courting awhile against wind and tide,
concludes to take a trip to North Carolina.................. 150
CHAPTER XVII.
Is devoted to the Stockdales....................................... 158
CHAPTER XVIII.
Narrates how  the Stockdales got along after the old
doctor's death; and what they thought about Dr. Sam,
and about his love affair..........................................   166
CHAPTER XIX.
Something more about Miss Alice, and a great deal about
the Bowmans....................................................... 177




CONTENTS.                         V
CHAPTER XX.
PAGE
Why Mr. Charles Bowman concluded to fall in love, and
how he carried on his courtship................................ 188
CHAPTER XXI.
Dr. Sam concludes to go a courting; and the tactics he intends to employ..................................................... 196
CHAPTER XXII.
Tells how Dr. Sam went a courting, and how he was received when he returned home................................. 204
CHAPTER XXIII.
Gives an account of Ben's return from North Carolina,
and describes the great Yatton barbecue, and what happened there..................................................... 215
CHAPTER XXIV.
Describes Simon Bills and his family, Mr. Bowman's
relatives; and tells what Mrs. Garthwaite thought of
Mr. Bowman, and how Dr. Sam fared....................... 230
CHAPTER XXV.
Gives an instance in which Mr. Charles Bowman acts in
character; and then speaks very plainly upon a most
important subject................................................... 241
CHAPTER XXVI.
Dr. Sam Stockdale comes to grief............................... 255
CHAPTER XXVII.
Tells how Alice Charlton thought, felt, and acted, and
how Mr. Bowman thought, felt, and acted; as nearly
as Mr. Page could understand them.......................... 268
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Shows how Mr. Bowman went a wooing, and with what
success; and the effects of his offending Miss Jones..... 280
CHAPTER XXIX.
Shows how Mr. Bowman was put upon his defence, and
how he defended himself and was discomfited............. 294
1*




Vi-                     CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXX.
PAGE
What Mr. Bowman thought, and how he conducted himself; and how he and Mr. Eccles took a short ride
together................................................................ 308
CHAPTER XXXI.
Explains a point necessary to be understood now, and
which shall hereafter be more necessary..................... 321
CHAPTER XXXII.
Miss Annabella Young pays another visit to The Barn
in the cause of Truth, and Truth triumphs at last........ 324
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The amiable character of Mr. Bowman is further illustrated, and Mr. Eccles affords him amusement............ 337
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Describes the wedding, and has a good deal to say about
cognate matters............................................... 344
CHAPTER XXXV.
Tells about some of the visitors the young couple had
when they moved to their home, and gives many whys
and wherefores. It also speaks of a visit made by Alice
Charlton to Rosstown, and what did not happen there,
and who she found when she got home...................... 360
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A chapter the reader can skip if he be reading only for
the  story...............................................................  368
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Takes up the story again, and discourses learnedly upon
love.....................................................................   379
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Contains an unpleasant, and a very pleasant portion of
the history, and prepares the reader for its end........... 392
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Makes a great skip, and ends the story......................... 400




PREFACE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR.
THE following paragraph occurs in Mr. Page's will:
"I have written these stories in the solitude of my
own home. Although there are among my acquaintance many gentlemen and ladies of extensive reading
and refined literary taste, there is not one amongst
them who can be called a'literary person,' whom I
might consult. It is the natural result of our institutions and mode of life, that we should occupy ourselves
with our own personal and domestic affairs rather than
with developing literature, science, or art for the public; and although in some respects this is to be regretted, it is undoubtedly but a small loss, which has
a noble compensation in the preservation of our individuality. The doctrine that:' The Individual should
be sacrificed to the Public,' is one of those bastard
truths which are produced from an illegitimate union
of society-universal equality. Really, natural society
is that which tends to preserve and strengthen individuality in all its members, and allows no subserviency or sacrifice either to itself or of the individual.
Individual modesty is of far more general importance
than public amusement, and of far greater public ben( vii )




viii   PREFACE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR.
efit than is the transient instruction of the public. To
consult my friends about my writing would bring
about publicity and fifty other embarrassments I dread,
while giving me no actual assistance; for, although
each could give me his or her own opinion, and very
severely chaste opinion, upon the morality and reasoning, the grammar and rhetoric, and other intrinsic
merits, not one could form an idea from experience as
to the popular merits of the works. 1, in some respects
a mere country bumpkin, have therefore had to be
guided by my own unaided judgment; feeling that so
long as I adhered to truth and natural sentiment, I
must please, even the public. I trust and defer to the
judgment of my executor, and feel sure that his regard
for my memory will make him a severe critic."
My venerated friend imposed upon me a task which
I should perform with great caution, even if I did not
distrust my own powers so much as to be unwilling
to undertake it at all. I could easily designate the
passages in this book, for instance, which please me
most; but I will not do so, and would be very loth
to disturb those which do not so well accord with my
own opinions or taste; for a discerning public might
decide that I was unfortunate, both in my selection of
pleasing passages, and in my discovery and criticism
of the faulty. I will therefore waive the task. -I have
added to this volume only two or three explanatory
notes, and a syllabus to each of the chapters-both of
which additions I thought might please the reader.
I will venture upon but one criticism concerning the
matter of the book. It may be thought that my dear
old friend has touched too often upon points of reli



PREFACE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR.    ix
gion; and some may find the additional fault that
those points are just those which are most controverted. I beg leave to differ with both objections.
The story of a life is incomplete unless the moral
and religious nature of that life be given; for not only
is that the most important portion of the life itself,
but, disguise it as we may, every living rational man
is engaged in a moral and religious struggle from the
time he first begins to reflect until the close of his life.
Because we see our friends light-hearted and apparently careless of all serious affairs is no reason that
they are not engaged actively and continuously in that
struggle. The elements of conflict are within and
around every one; none can avoid them while he lives,
and many seek relief for them in the long sleep of
death. Depend upon it, your most giddy neighbor is
at times as gravely and perhaps far more violently
occupied in this conflict than is the wisest of his
friends.
The other objection, that the points he has touched
upon are those most controverted is, in fact, equally
untenable. Faith and prayer are the two grand necessities of man. They are moral food and light, and
moral exercise and air, and his moral nature can exist
without them quite as ill as his life and health can
exist without light and air, physical exercise, and substantial food. If there be controversy upon these
two points it is a controversy between Christianity
and heathenism; no, I will not say that, for the heathen
seek for faith, and pray as well as Christians; it is a
controversy between the good and the evil, the instinctive and the stupid, in the man's own nature;




X     PREFACE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR.
and, however he may seek to controvert faith and
prayer as spoken of by Mr. Page, his own faith in his
own doctrine wavers, and he finds himself praying in
spite of himself. Mr. Page has set forth no new faith,
but has simply explained the nature and method of
faith, as every Christian from St. Paul to our day has
understood it, and he only tries to render the natural
action and emotion of prayer more satisfactory and
pleasing.
And he has touched upon these matters of religion,
simply so far as they were necessary to the proper
diagnosis and prognosis of the character and conduct
of his hero. It is more a psychological than a religious
story, and because the good old writer has not been
mystical or transcendental, but has used words of the
most common sort and of the plainest meaning, to
speak of what every one must feel, and, at least partly,
understand, it must not be supposed that his work is
any the less valuable.
This much I have felt that I might venture to say.
The story itself, as a story, and its manner of being
told, I leave with the reader. I, the executor, am not
aware of any other Ben Eccles, Susan, Alice, Dr. Sam,
or Charley Bowman, in literature-to say nothing of
Aunt Polly, and the others. They are, for the most
part, of Southern growth. Although the bases of
their characters exist wherever there are men and
women, the organization and state of the society in
which they lived peculiarly modified those bases, and
created with them characteristics. Whoever knows
human nature will find it normally though peculiarly
developed in them.




PREFACE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR.    xi
In my preface to Mr. Page's life of himself, I stated
that I did not feel myself qualified to meddle with the
old gentleman's grammar or style; and in this book
also I have carefully let those matters alone, having
found nothing in them revolting to my own knowledge
or taste-though it is possible that they may be obnoxious to severe criticism.
The reception of his "Life and Opinions" by the
public has been such as would have greatly gratified
their author; although the many flattering words the
book has received from his friends would have made
him suspect that friendship rather than its intrinsic
merits dictated them. I happen to know, that though
Mr. Page was fond of approbation, he generally suspected it, and always felt rather more humbled than
elated by it. "Some natures," I have heard him say,
"'grow in strength by approbation, as others gain
energy from opposition; but I have yet to see the
earnest man who is thoroughly contented with his
work, however much it may be praised.. When he
compares it with what he desired it to be, contrasts
its dull execution with his vivid conceptions, he is disappointed with himself. The glowing passion he tried
to describe appears vapid, and he cannot himself again
be affected by it; the plot he thought so ingenious
and delicate is awkward and stale; he can find innumerable faults with the diction which expressed his
ideas exactly and so neatly; his wit is paltry, and
his pathos mere sentimentality. Under these circumstances, praise sounds to him toned with compassion
for what he feels to have been his failure; and, though
he would be overwhelmed by blame, the encourage



xii   PREFA CE BY MR. PAGE'S EXECUTOR.
ment he finds in praise rather excites a tender humility
than a bold pride."
Such, I think, would be my feelings if I were an
author, though I might not be able to express them so
well.
It is my present intention to publish next Mr. Page's
story of "The Quines" —a family he seems to have
observed very closely. It will depend, however, very
much upon the state of the public affairs, and consequently the private prosperity of the country, and
upon whether the stories told. by the old gentleman
meet with as much favor as his "Life and Opinions"
has received.
JOHN CAPELSAY,
OF NATCHEZ,
Executor.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER I.
WHICH IS THE LONGEST IN THE BOOK.
MUST be allowed great latitude in telling what I
know about Ben Eccles, and may as well acknowledge at the outset that many things I will say about his
opinions and feelings are but conjectures founded upon
the facts he has told me, and upon what I know to be
his disposition and character. Although he is at this
moment in the house with me, and I could consult him
about everything I write here, it would make him
uncomfortable to know I was writing about him, and
I therefore will not arouse his suspicions by continued
questions.
If I were writing a work of fiction, I would perhaps
commence in this way:
One dark afternoon in early winter a brisk northeast
wind blew the sand and withered leaves about the
sparsely built streets of a small town in the interior of
North Carolina. It was a cheerless time and a cheerless place. Not a soul was to be seen abroad; even
the hogs had gathered into their beds under some of
the unoccupied houses, the little wooden church, and
2            (13)




14     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
the school-house; a few shivering cows could be seen
with roughened coats and drooping heads browsing
among the stunted oaks and huckleberry bushes around
the inclosures. Pine trees and scrubby black-jack oaks
came up to the very backs of the small yards and
gardens on the main street, and sand and yellow clay
composed the soil for such a growth.
It will always be a puzzle to the traveler why a town
should have been commenced on such a spot, unless it
were that healthiness was the first consideration of the
founders, and they thought that general desiccation
was favorable to health. But though it was a county
town its growth seemed to have been checked, years
before the time of which I am writing, and the scattered
one-storied wooden houses stood paintless and racked,
each surrounded by a dilapidated paling or board fence,
with here and there a gate hanging open on one wooden
hinge, or a gateway stopped up with rails; a rail or two
on forks, or a couple of wooden blocks answering for a
stile.
From one of the two chimneys of one of these wooden
houses at the farther end of the main street the smoke
poured lazily forth; but presently its volume became
larger and more brisk as though a few pine knots had
been added to the fire; and there was a sound of female
voices, and a lively bustle within, and a male voice was
to be heard on the back gallery calling: " Sally I! you
Sally!" to the negro cook and woman of all work
whose abode was the kitchen in the back yard.
" She ain't here, master; she gone to the spring I"
shouted her little son, Tom, running to the kitchen door.
"You Sally!" called the male voice at its strongest




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECOLES.    15
pitch: "run after her, Tom, and tell her to come to her
mistress, quick!"
And with that the man re-entered the house, and
presently emerged from the front door, kicking a
shivering hound off the shuck door-mat on the gallery,
and, as he went, buttoning up the overcoat which hung
upon his tall slender form, took his way hurriedly over
the stile and down the street where he soon arrived at
the door of old Mrs. Wobbles, good old Mrs. Wobbles,
the granny of the neighborhood, who in a few minutes
afterwards, well muffled up, and bearing a bundle
tied in a large striped cotton handkerchief, accompanied him as fast as she could along the sandy road
to his house again. After they had entered all became
as quiet as before on the street; but the other chimney
soon began to send forth smoke, and Sally hastened in
and out to and from the kitchen; and then as the gray
of the evening came on, the man came out on the front
gallery puffing nervously at a cob pipe, and after walking up and down until its contents were consumed,
knocked the ashes out on the bannisters and went in
again. As the night darkened the dogs of the town
seemed, now and then, to wake up, and bark and howl
in concert, and the cold wind rushed through the pines
and rattled the dead leaves on the black-jacks and the
wooden shutters and doors of the house, and the man
sat in the front room alone, on a stool, leaning with his
head in his hands in front of the fire, half asleep, half
awake, until just before midnight the faint cry of an
infant's voice roused him up, and old Mrs. Wobbles
presently came into the room smiling, and reaching for
her pipe in the chimney corner,as she said:




16     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
" Well, Mr. Eccles, you're a lucky man. It's all
over; right as a trivet."
" Which is it, Mrs. Wobbles?" inquired Mr. Eccles,
with a nervous smile.
"As fine a boy as you ever see, Mr. Eccles, but a
mighty small chance of a feller. His grandma's a
dressin' of him now, an' I thought I would come in
and kind o' take a little smoke. It's awful tiresome,
Mr. Eccles. You don't think so; but you jest try it
once. Jane, your wife, is a narvous critter, an' if it
hadn't a been for her ma I don't know what I should
a done; but.. "
"May I go in and see Jane now, Mrs. Wobbles?"
asked Mr. Eccles, with an undecided movement toward
the door.
"Wait a bit, sir. Miss Robbins, your ma-in-law,
will let you know when you can come in."
And Mrs. Wobbles having lit her pipe and established
herself comfortably before the fire in a large split-bottomed rocking-chair, soothed herself into silent meditation like one who has accomplished a great and arduous
work, and Mr. Eccles was fain to take his seat again,
and await the bidding of his ma-in-law; for he was
not a man to take liberties, or to assert his way, particularly at a time like this, and in the presence of
two such authorities as Mrs. Wobbles and Mrs. Robbins.
But at last Mrs. Robbins came to the door on tiptoe, and beckoned to him, and he went into the room
where his wife was calmly asleep, and saw at her side
a little bundle of blanket which the grandmother took
in her arms; and turning down one corner, she showed




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    17
him the little red and mealy face of the " mighty small
chance of a feller," his heir, and my hero.
Mr. Eccles, though a very nervous and imaginative
man, was not given to know exactly what he thought
or felt at any particular moment, but I fancy that he
felt a slight disappointment and sinking of the heart
when he beheld that all his hopes amounted to only
this tiny specimen. It seemed a very small matter to
have made so much fuss about, and he could hardly
realize to himself that this could ever be a boy to romp
and hurrah, to wear pants and go to school, to learn
books, and to fight, ride, and work, and finally to be
proud of.
If I were writing fiction, I say, I would perhaps
commence it with this scene, but as I am writing fact
I must candidly confess that I know nothing at all
about the birth of Ben Eccles, except that it was at
some village in North Carolina, and that it was about
the winter of the year 1800. I know, moreover, that
his mother, after giving birth to two other children
who did not live long, died when he was five or six years
old, leaving him the only child and stay of a father
broken'in health. Captain Benjamin Eccles, the father,
was a lawyer, and from his appearance, and all I could
ever learn about him, was, in many respects, such a man
as his son afterwards proved to be. After the death of
his wife, he dawdled and lingered about home for two
or three years, and then came out to Yatton, where he
commenced the practice of his profession, but in two
years more died of consumption, leaving his son almost
destitute and friendless.
The Captain had brought with him to Yatton, Sally,
2*




18     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
the cook, a kindly negro woman, who had grown portly
and sleek over her kitchen fires; and Tom, her son, now
about twelve years old-both black negroes. For three
hundred dollars he had bought from Squire Harkness
a small frame-house which stood near the edge of the
town, that is to say, about six hundred yards from the
court-house-for the population of Yatton at that time
did not exceed six hundred white and black, and the
accommodations for them were scattered over but a
small surface of ground.
The house was between my father's residence and
the main portion of the town, and fronted on the big
road, as the street was to be considered there, having
only two or three houses on one side of it; the other
side being already an old field washed into gullies with
here and there a pine bush growing on some island in
the gullies where the cattle could not conveniently
tread it down. It was a plain weather-boarded house
with the usual front and back galleries, and around the
front yard was the universal picket fence which was
extended on each side to about a hundred yards to the
rear inclosing the log kitchen, a chicken-pen, and a
small vegetable garden. The kitchen building was of
two rooms, one of which was occupied by Sally and
Tom. The house had in it three rooms: one, a bedroom, was occupied by Ben and his father; another, adjoining it, served as a dining and sitting-room and
library; and the third, a small room formed by inclosing
one end of the back gallery, was used as a pantry and
general store-room for provisions and other household
goods.
Back of the garden extended another old field, washed




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    19
into still deeper gullies, in fact, into deep ravines, along
one of which, near the fence, ran a spring branch which
took its rise from a bold spring about two hundred and
fifty yards above, nearer town, which supplied several
other households, besides that of Mr Eccles, with water
for all purposes. The neighboring washing was done
there, as was shown by the two or three large iron
kettles swung upon poles supported by forks; and after
breakfast every Monday morning that the weather was
fair, Sally, accompanied by Tom, to keep up the fire,
lugged her tub and the soiled clothes of the family to
the little shed at the spring where she met with plenty
of company in the other negro women who came for
the same purpose, with whom a boisterous laughing
and gossip were kept up until it was time to go home
and prepare dinner, by which time the washing was
generally concluded and could be packed in the tubs
and carried home to be hung out to dry.
So much for Ben's residence and surroundings, and
I have been thus minute in my description because I
have no doubt but that the scenes in which he was
placed at this time had much to do with giving tone to
his disposition. For a long time after he came to Yatton his father, Sally, and Tom were almost his only
friends, and he seemed a lonely little fellow. But I
doubt if he felt the loneliness. He was even then a silent little body, looking questions to strangers out of
his great gray eyes rather than asking them with his
lips, and always intent upon some work in the garden
or yard or on the spring branch-delving at a bed for
radishes or cabbage, contriving a kennel for his dog, a
sleeping place for his cat, or miniature mill-ponds; not




20     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
one of which designs was destined ever to be wholly
completed, though zealously worked at day after day.
I suppose that I was attracted to observe the boy
more than I should otherwise have done by the attachment taken to him by my own little son, whom I was
destined to lose but a short time afterwards. My little
boy, who lived generally at his grandfather's, always
loved best to play with boys older than himself, and
Ben was so gentle with him, and at the same time
seemed to him so bold and adventurous in jumping,
climbing, walking on stilts, and other such boyish
pranks, that he greatly admired and loved him. He
used often to say to me: "Pa, Ben's such a good boy;
aint he? But when I'm a big boy I'll beat him climbing and riding; wont I?"
It was after my son died that Ben's lone condition
impressed itself most strongly upon me. I suppose it
was by association and sympathy; but it always made
me sad to see him in winter, cleanly but thinly clad,
with his jacket ragged at the elbows, and his hands
far down in his poakets to keep them warm, walking
briskly, with his shoulders raised, along beside his
father to his office in town; or to see him in summer,
sitting alone on the front step, or in the office getting
his lessons, which he said to his father, who could ill
afford, and could not bear, to send him to school.
I pitied the father, and would have helped him if I
could; but what can one do for a stranger, not absolutely destitute, and who is broken in heart and health?
You may indeed sympathize with him, but he has no
sympathy with you, because he does not know the
bitterness of your heart, and is too wholly absorbed




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    2.1
with his own sorrows to intermeddle with your joysif, indeed, you have them. Our offices were but a few
doors apart, and little Ben, who seemed to consider
me his friend, and sometimes came to my office door
for a timid chat, was a bond of acquaintance between
us, which made his father rather more unreserved
with me than with any other person in the townexcepting always my father, to whom he, with his
grief and poverty, and need of friendship, was a real
blessing.
That blessed father of mine-whom I have never
tried to emulate, because I never possessed his vigor
of brain or simplicity of heart, and could not bear to
merely mimic; and to copy another's conduct without
possessing his qualities is only mimicry-the dear old
gentleman, I say, was never so happy as when some
one else was utterly miserable, and he could relieve
him. And Captain Ben Eccles was about as miserable
and helpless as a man-even though raised in the
piney-woods of North Carolina-well can be. I do
not mean that the pine forests, whether of North Carolina or Georgia, do not sometimes produce remarkably
intelligent, brave, and shrewd men; but my observation leads me to believe that they do not generally
produce tough men, in soul or body. I am neither a
learned psychologist nor a scientific physiologist, and
am not prepared to discuss the different effects of differing soils, climates, productions, habits, and customs
upon the souls and bodies of men. I merely record
it as the result of my observation, that men raised, as
was Captain Eccles, in those piney-woods districts generally lack fortitude and endurance. They are easily




22     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEW ECCLES.
discouraged and easily killed, particularly when they
are away from home.
However this may be, my father took a lively interest
in Captain Eccles. The state of the man's health was
peculiarly within the province of his knowledge and
skill, while the poor fellow's circumstances and condition of mind appealed strongly to his feelings. He
had no need to use art to attract the confidence of
others; the manifest qualities of his soul were officious
for him. His perfect integrity, great intelligence, and
kindly nature, shown in every action, seemed to draw
the weak to him as one who would always sympathize
with them, and upon whom they could lean with perfect trust. He was ready to meet them half way, and
it would have been a hard soul which could have
avoided going the other half. The consequence was
that very soon after the Captain came to the town, he
had been noticed by my father; and by the mutual
attractions of strength and weakness, sorrow and sympathy, an acquaintance had been formed as gratifying
to the one as it was helpful to the other.
It must not be supposed that Captain Eccles was
deficient in sense or knowledge of the world-that is,
as far as one raised in a North Carolina country village
could know the world. There are some qualities of
human nature which are best learned in Southern
country villages (I suppose the rule holds good elsewhere), and a lawyer has the best opportunity of
learning them thoroughly. But those qualities are of
the smaller and baser sort. Indeed, I do not know
but that to see human nature in its naked meanness
such a village is the very best place. But a lifelong




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    23
contact with this little world is apt to contract one's
ideas to its caliber; to make the lawyer shrewd and
suspicious rather than liberal and philosophic; in other
words, to make him cunning rather than intellectual
and learned in his profession. Captain Eccles had a
thorough knowledge of all the turns and twists of special pleading, and of all the art of getting out of witnesses what they least wished to divulge, or getting it
in the form least favorable to his adversary. He was
also possessed of a fair share of -rough common-sense
impressiveness which did good service with a jury.
But he was wholly.unaccustomed to polished society;
and though he had those good manners which a fair intelligence and a good heart always supply, he was out
of place among ladies of refinement and men of the great
world. Add to this the facts of his being a stranger, poor,
in bad health, and with a deep grief oppressing him, and
it may be readily imagined that he did not add much
animation or interest to my father's family circle, into
which he was speedily introduced. He was welcomed,
of course, by my mother and sisters, but welcomed
with pity, as one of our father's weaknesses (so the
girls irreverently termed his special pets, who were
always ailing), as one on whom benefits were to be
conferred.
Let what the poets will be said about pity, it always
argues inferiority in its object, and unless it be infused
with much more active feelings it is nigher akin to contempt than to love. For my own part, I should vastly
dread being thought a bore if I should find myself an
object of pity to a lot of women folk, though they
would be ready to move heaven and earth for my relief.




24     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
"Ma," I have heard Bel say of an afternoon when
Captain Eccles had paid a visit to the house, " Captain
Eccles is in the parlor."
"Well, my dear," my mother would answer, looking
up from her sewing, "go down and entertain him a
little while; for you see I am very busy just now.
Poor man I"
"No, ma; it's Julia's turn to do that. I went the
last time, and oh!" with a sigh, " how tired I got I It
was a whole hour before you came. And, besides,
ma," suddenly becoming enlivened, "I am very busy
too. You know I am just fitting the body of my Swiss.
Really, I do wish the man would stay at home!"
" You should be more charitable, my.dear. Recollect
that he has no friends here. You should be glad of an
opportunity to cheer him up a little. Poor man!"
"Why don't you go then, ma?" said Miss Bel, impertinently; "to cheer him up would be all very well
if it did not bore me so. You and pa are better than
I am, and it doesn't bore you; does it? I know pa
delights in it. How I do wish he was here. I'll go
and send Jim to find him. Brother, please do go down
and stay with the poor man a little while, till pa comes.
Julia has to help me, and it would never do to make
the poor man wait; it might hurt his feelings. You
can send little Ben up stairs to ma, and to play with
David. David I David I" calling my son from Julia's
room where he would be busy with his playthings.
"Ben's here I" And off she would march, as though
the difficulty were all settled to our mutual satisfaction,
leaving me no alternative but to follow her plan. My
little boy would come scampering, and calling eagerly,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    25
"Ben! Benl  Papa, where is Ben?  I want to see
Ben, papa. Where is he?"
But in a few months Captain Eccles' visits became
more and more rare until little Ben had to come alone;
for the walk was too much for his father. The hollow
cheeks and the panting breath, shown in the last few
visits, awakened all the warm and active benevolence
of the ladies, and Captain Eccles was no longer a bore.
He was a greatly suffering man, and though, in fact,
more animated than he was before, they knew that at
last death was really near him. Little Ben was required by them to come every day for some nice or
wholesome thing they had prepared with their own
hands to suit his palate, and their own servants were
continually on the go to and from his house. My
father spent several hours of every day with him, and
put knowledge and ingenuity to active work for methods
of making more smooth his path to the grave. One
of our negro men was required to stay at his house
every night, in case he should be wanted, and brother
Eldred and I and several brother Masons (for I must
not omit to state that the Captain was a Mason, and
that almost every gentleman of our town and county
was a zealous member of that order) visited him, at
first in a friendly, unceremonious way, and then day
and night as his nurses. He was grateful, but thought
all these attentions very strange and useless. He said
he felt better, and more at himself, than he had for
years past.  True, he was a little weak; but that
would pass off when the weather became cooler and
more bracing; and his cough, too, was better than it
had been: though it was perhaps a little more frequent,
3




26     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
it did not give him so much pain. Oh, he was decidedly better, and next spring would take a trip to
North Carolina, and put Ben to school near his grandfather's, and settle up some business he had left unsettled when he came away.
Then it was that my father's greatness showed itself.
I only admired it then-now that I am old, I call it
greatness. We could nurse the man's sick body as
gently and as efficiently, perhaps, as he; but he was
away above us and beyond us in his knowledge of the
sick man's heart, and his sympathy with the sick man's
soul; and he set himself naturally to the task we but
faintly appreciated and could not perform. Captain
Eccles had to learn that he was dying, and had to be
cheered along the darkening road until he reached the
point from which he must pass on alone; and my father
knew, far better than any man I ever saw, the cheer,
the only cheer which could be given. His heart knew
it even better, if it could be, than his head, and he gave
it clearly and firmly as it could be understood and
borne, lovingly and gently, as though he were persuading his own soul to take the last unavoidable step
without fear.
I shall have been but a sorry bungler if you, having
read my own life, do not understand and appreciate
my father's character. True greatness consists not so
much in doing grand and wonderful things as in doing
right things. That man is greatest who does his duties
best and confers most benefits upon his fellows. With
this criterion, in speaking of warriors, artists, and scientific men who have excelled, it is necessary to qualify
their greatness by adding its particular nature. A




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    27
man may be a great conqueror who is a sordid, mean,
malignant villain. One may be great as an artist or
savant, who is beneath the social notice of a mere
peasant. But where will you find a greater manl than
one who, by the grasp of his intellect and the gentle
sympathies of his heart, fully appreciates the dignity
and the needs of his fellow-men, and devotes his sife
to supporting and perfecting the one and supplying the
other! My father was such a man. He was no sectarian in religion, politics, or in social life. Learned in
the prejudices of sects, and in the actual teachings of
Holy Scripture, of profane writings, of observation,
and experience far beyond most men, he was a man
whose organization was so perfect and so delicate that
he sympathized with everything that could suffer, and,
consequently, with everything that lived. Above all,
he appreciated the wonderful dignity and the majestic
sufferings of the twofold organization of man, God's
chiefest work, for whose salvation the Son of God had
himself to suffer and to die. As a physician, he for
many years applied himself to the relief of man's body,
and as a companion, he always had a care for his soul.
As though he and his fellows were wandering in the
twilight, along a way he knew the best, he warned
them of the obstacles, assisted them when they stumbled, and encouraged them when they grew disheartened
or bewildered. Though he lived in only a little country village, thousands had to bless him for good deeds
done during his long lifetime, and I have no doubt but
that hundreds shall bless him throughout eternity.
I do not know exactly how he introduced the subject
of death to Captain Eccles, but believe that it was in a




28     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
conversation about the importance of making a will; of
which act some persons have a superstitious dread.
At any rate, he did introduce it, and as the Captain
gradually became convinced of the certainty of his
speedy death, he became also imbued with hope of the
life hereafter.
I am not fond of describing death-bed scenes, for
although we all have once to pass that dreadful hour,
unless our souls be suddenly shot into eternity as from
a catapult, I am not at all convinced that such descriptions benefit the living, either while they are in
health or when they come to die. The fact is, that the
greatest sinners often die like saints, and the best saints
like hopeless sinners. We can predicate nothing of the
manner of a mlan's death upon the manner of his life.
His nervous system has more to do with it than his
soul; and though it may flatter the vanity or feed the
prejudices of the members of some sect of religion
or philosophy, or the partisans of some national conflict or political clique, to know that some one of their
co-workers has died a brave or triumphant death, they
are apt neither to live the better for it, nor can they
control the manner of their own natural death. It is
possible that a Frenchman might rehearse his deathbed speeches beforehand, and, if he kept his senses, act
according to the rehearsal, but I imagine that with
most men when the supreme hour comes vanity and
affectation are forgotten in awe of the mighty King of
Terrors.
After all his preparation, Captain Eccles died suddenly to us all, and even, I presume, to himself. His
little son was in the house at the time, and did not




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    29
shriek and weep, as most children would have done,
but looked stunned and frightened. Awe, rather than
grief, oppressed him at first, and he went about on tiptoe, looking up at first the one and then the other of us
as we talked low and passed him, as though to realize
from us what all this great woe meant. My father had
his little trunk of clothes carried to our house, and sent
him there to remain until the funeral should be ready.
My little son, young as he was, seemed to know that his
friend had a great sorrow and could not play with him,
and approached him only with open-eyed, silent sympathy.
The lad moped about the house, or sat dull and tearless upon the steps, away from every one. My mother
and sisters patched and mended and brushed up his
slender wardrobe, so that he made a decent appearance
at the funeral, which took place at our family burying
ground. He stood by his father's open grave, calm
and sad, until Mr. Snow pronounced the words, " earth
to earth," and the first clods rattled from the sexton's
spade upon the coffin; and then the poor child shuddered and fell-fainting upon the ground. It was not
until in the deep silence of that night, when nature had
somewhat recovered from its depression, that he began
to weep. He waked up weeping, and after hours had
passed sobbed himself to sleep again. He seemed to
dread being heard; and then, and always after, when
he wept it racked my heart to see him weep so silently,
-as though his grief were his own and he had to bear
it alone, without sympathy.
Although it may be accounted inartistic in a storyteller, let nme here, in the first chapter, confess that
3*




30     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
though Ben Eccles is my principal character I never
loved him. Although I liked and like him very much,
I have always pitied, and therefore could not love him
in the strong sense in which only that term should be
used. To confer benefits on another is a sure way to
male one like, but however pure and honest and admirable that other may be, it is just as sure a way of preventing love, particularly if the sexes be the same and
the natures of the two be different. It is not true that
we love our opposites-unless we be ourselves of the
lower nature. Man loves that which he thinks admirable, and weakness is not admirable even in a boy-baby.
Though that boy-baby be your own, if you love it you
do so in spite of its weakness; you had much rather it
were bold and wilful and noisy. A man of strong nature loves the woman whose qualities of soul command
his respect on account of their strength and purity.
If he love a weak woman at all, it is in spite of her
weakness and on account of other attractions which
are powerful to him.
Of course I am not speaking of loving our opposites
in bodily construction. I grant you that fat men generally marry lean women; tall men, short women; blueeyed men, dark-eyed women; and vice versa-but that
is a wise provision in the economy of nature for another
purpose than spiritual. But for it the human race
would have long since been divided into four distinct
races: red-headed giants and black-haired giants, redheaded pigmies and black-haired pigmies; or, rather,
into as many races as there are hereditary peculiarities
in the human form; for instance, red-headed, slender
giants, and red-headed, fat giants; black-haired, slen.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    31
der, cross-eyed giants, and black-haired, fat, cross-eyed
giants, etc.
Nor am I speaking of opposites in mere mental power
or quality-though, even in that, average men generally marry average womlen, and no man knowingly and
voluntarily marries a fool. The principle I wish to
establish is, that we love only what we would wish to
resemble; in other words, what we admire and respect;
and unless one be of the inferior nature he is not apt to
love his opposite. The weak, vacillating man loves a
strong, firm man; but the converse rarely follows, unless there be other causes than sympathy for the affection. The strong attracts the weak, but the weak does
not attract the strong by its mere weakness.
Now, I know very well that I lay myself liable to be
called presumptuous and vain, in giving such a reason
for not loving Ben Eccles-and there comes up another
conventional humbug of a saying to be combated.
Men gravely commend the maxim, know thyself; and
quote with approbation Pope's line, " the noblest study
of mankind is man;" and yet when one has really studied
himself and his fellow-man, and has learned that he
has merits or qualities not possessed by another, or
that he can excel his fellows in one or more matters, if
he by chance let his having that knowledge come to the
world, he is called vain and presumptuous, and is ridiculed as one who blows his own trumpet.
Is it not laughable to analyze the feelings which give
rise to many of the maxins and habits of this world
which pass current, and meet you pat and bold as truth
at every turn? Because men do not like to have their
inferiorities exposed, they nmake a sin of one's showing




32     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
himself, even by innuendo, their superior. But a mall
does not necessarily boast when he shows a knowledge
of his own excellencies, nor does that knowledge, if he
be reasonable, make him vain; for he must understand
that though he excel one he does not excel all.
Let me, however, state in my defence-for I am an
old man, and a vain old man is the most pitiable of
human contradictions-that the reason I do not love
Ben Eccles, is not that I am braver, purer, or perhaps
more intellectual than he, but simply that my nature is
harder than his, more reasonable, and less sensitive:
although, if it can give my critics any satisfaction, I
confess that I am by no means so hard or so reasonable as some men I have seen, whom I did not pity, but
respected and admired, and therefore loved.
CHAPTER II.
TELLS HOW THE ORPHAN WAS DISPOSED OF, AND GIVES
A FEW INCIDENTS OF HIS CHILDHOOD.
CAPTAIN ECCLES left a will which was. a very
simple affair in itself, but it constituted my father
his executor, and the guardian of little Ben; neither of
which duties was so simple. If the property had been
large the administration of it would have been easier
though the accountability were increased; but it was so
small that only the nicest kind of care coul c make it produce anything for the boy. Nor is it a simple or slight




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    33
matter to have the care of another person's child thrust
upon one. It is true that the responsibility is not felt
to be so great as when the child is one's own; but the
annoyance is not so mitigated by affection. A man
takes care of his own child as he does of himself; the
motive is selfish; but to take care of another's child
demands the highest exercise of benevolence; and
benevolence, I have often thought, is more generally
passive than active in this world. If the way to hell
be paved with good intentions, certainly the paths and
the abode of misery are fenced by good wishes. I have
known very many wicked men, but never yet have seen
one who was devoid of benevolence. Such a man may
exist, and so may there be men born without selfishness; but I have never met one in whom I detected
such a monstrosity of disposition. What a happy
world this would be if all the good wishes of even the
worst of its inhabitants were put in execution I
Ben's house was rented out, and my father employed
at his own house Sally and her son, for whom he charged
himself with fair wages. They were much attached
to their young master, and he to them. Sally he had
always called mammy, and she had from his infancy
exercised a " mammy's" care and authority over him.
The peculiar relation of the black "mammy" to her
master's children has never, that I know of, been particularly described, and yet in nothing do I find the
singular nature of the negro so exactly and strongly
marked. In almost every Southern country family
there is one of the negro women, generally the cook
or the nurse, who stands by common consent as the
" mammy."  She is so called by all the white children




34     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
of the family, and her authority over them is nearly as
great as that over her own children, and they obey her
almost as implicitly as their own mother, and often
more willingly. But her authority over the white
children is manifested in a very different way from that
over her own; and I have often observed that she loved
them even better. This will not appear strange to
one who knows the negro well, and is one of the
characteristics in which the nature of that race differs
from what we commonly call human nature. Whether
the story of Ham be true or a fable, and whether the
negro have descended from Ham or another, one thing
is certain, that from the days of Ham, so far as there
has been any observation of the facts, the race has been
wanting in natural affection. A negro woman will
become furious if another beat her child, but almost
invariably she will herself beat and ill treat it most
abominably. One of the greatest troubles the Southern
planter has is to make the negro mothers take proper
care of their children; and that such a proportion of
them should live is only due to the care and authority
of their masters. In the marital relation the same lack
of affection exists; and neither its laxity nor the neglect
of the children is due to the state of slavery. It is
due to their nature, as is always seen whenever they
are found not in a state of slavery. Negroes do not
lack strong feelings, and their affections are warm
enough; but they lack moral stamina; and their
affections are generally volatile. Their appetites and
passions are furious, and their principles are weakwhen they exist at all. They neither respect themselves nor each other.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    35
These facts being predicated, it is not difficult to
understand that the negro "mammy" often (I will
even say generally) has a warmer affection for the
white children than for-her own. She respects them as
her superiors not only in station, but in nature also,
and therefore is more careful and loving towards them:
and in this matter of respecting and loving her superiors
she is just like most other women and men, whatever
their race.
Sally was therefore very much attached to Ben, and
would whale Tom on his account upon the slightest
provocation. In fact Tom knew by sad experience
that his Mas' Ben was to be respected in all his
humors, which, fortunately for him, were neither very
variable nor exacting. Mas' Ben was allowed to eat
in peace his potato roasted for him by his mammy in
advance of the dinner, and his especial hot biscuits
were duly respected. Nor did the difference in the
ages of the two boys perceptibly vary the respect
which would have been required for the one and paid
by the other if their ages had been the same, though I
must do Tom the justice to say that he too loved his
little master, and obeyed him almost as much for his
own sake as for fear of Sally. On the other hand,
when Sally told Ben to go out of the kitchen, or to
come in out of the wet, or to go to bed, he went; and
that not alone, because he was by nature bidable;
Sally would most assuredly have spanked him if he
had not obeyed her reasonable orders. The good soul
would spank him, and if he wept over-much, would
become compunctious and console him for his pain,
whereas the louder Tom yelled the harder she would




36     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
thrash him, and then would send him ignominiously
howling after chips, or to bed.
My father's old cook was my mammy, and the
mammy of my brothers and sisters. My son-who
claimed Martha, my cook, as his mammy-called her
grandmammy, and as he had found out that she used
to thrash me he respected her authority hugely. The
first day that Sally went to the house she was installed
as cook, for my father's cook happened to be sick. Ben
soon made his way to her, and was taken in her arms,
wept over, and condoled with.
"Come to Sally, honey I She's been a honin' to see
her boy for two days. You ain't got nobody but Sally
now; Sally an' Tom to take care of you —don't cry,
my chile; you mus' try an' be a man."'Oh, mammy!" said the weeping boy, "I don't
want to be a man I I want to be with my pa I"
" Yes, my chile, an' so you shill, in de happy lan'
whar dey's pleasu's evertno'. But you mus' be good
now. You' po' pa was a good man, an' he's done gone
to heav'n, an' lef' us here a little while longer. But
you mus'nt cry; you mus' bear up. I'll be with you,
my po' chile; me an' Tom's here."
And so the interview went on at length until Sally's
volatile spirit sought some distraction from the sorrowful theme, and she exclaimed:
" Why, hi I Bless de chile, if he ain't got on a new
jacket I an' new shoes too, bless de Lord I Why, you's
a comin' out! Who guv' em to you?"
"Ma-a-a-ly!" drawled Tom, running into the
kitchen.
"Ma-a-a-my I yes, it's mammy! ma-a-a-my!" ex



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    37
claimed Sally to her offspring, her admiration changing to wrath. "What you doin' here? Don't you see
yer Mas' Ben, you ill-mannered whelp, you?"
"How d'ye do, Mas' Ben?" said Tom, going up
sheepishly, and giving Ben his hand.
"Yes. How d'ye do, Mas' Ben I" said Sally, sneeringly, to Tom; and then changing her tone, "Whar
dem chips, I say? Whar dem chips I sont you fur? Ef
you don't git along out o' dis kitchen and fotch me dem
chips in a hurry, I skin you alive! you dratted'-"
and she made a rush at Tom, who cleared the door at
a double-quick, and soon reappeared with an armful of
sticks and chips, and beckoned to Ben to go off with
him to hunt hens' nests.
Ben for a few months led an even existence at my
father's, a lqving and loved companion for my little
son. His grief gradually disappeared from the surface,
and sank deep into his heart. Of such childish griefs,
cast by fate, with childish hopes and joys, all afterwards
forgotten in their particulars, are the foundations of
our characters made; they give shape to the whole
superstructure. And poor little Ben had sorrow upon
grief; first, his own loss, and then a woe which smote
me as its chief victim. Hardly had his smiles reappeared in transient gleams when that dreadful scourge,
scarlet fever, came, and took away my youngest brother, my sister Julia, and my dear little boy.
Let me pass that time by; I have not the courage
to recall its details. I could do so. When at any time
I would go back to my early days I have to fix my
eyes straight upon the object I would revisit, nor once
turn them into the gloomy chambers which open on
4




38     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
either side, whence come to me the faint moans and
whispering bustle around the dying, lest I should
enter there with one of the shadowy forms I meet, and
be again placed under the power of agony, to see and
hear, and wring my hands, and weep, without the power
to withdraw, until the bier, and hearse, and open grave
have received their dead, and the pitiless pattings of
the heavy spades upon the very breasts of my loved
ones dismiss me from the spell. Therefore I will resist
the allurements of fondly sorrow, and speak only of
Ben, who, when my little son and my brother Joseph
died in 9uick succession, thought that time had reached
its allotted point, and all the living were surely now
given over to death and eternity. The child was silent
and unsteady like one dazed, and when the fever seized
him, too, an unresisting victim, he bore its tortures as
though it were his allotted part, in which he had no
share but to suffer and submit without a murmur. It
was a sharp and long tossing and torment the fever
gave him, and while it was going on, one of his gentle
nurses, Julia, left his side. It was not until weeks
afterwards, when the storm was over, and he sat with
us, silent and trying to rearrange our scattered hopes
and objects in life, that he learned he would never see
her here on earth again.
I will not curse the scarlet fever; for who am I that
I should arraign the immutable and irresistible course
of Nature, and curse it for any of its effects! but of,all
the mortal epidemic diseases to which poor man may
be subjected without his own immediate fault, it is
the only one for which I have never yet been able to
find any compensation-except the comfort that having




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    39
had it one no longer has to dread it. The small-pox
can be prevented. The yellow fever generally renews
the constitution of the man who has had it, so that
however blase and worn out he may have been by ill
health or dissipation, he is made again capable of enjoying his life; and if it should become endemic, or a
regular disease of the country, it would lose its terrors,
and could in many respects be deemed a blessing to
the native inhabitants at least. Cholera, in most instances, also seems to make the life fresh and vigorous.
But the scarlet fever, besides being more virulent and
fatal than either of these, often leaves behind it deafness, sometimes blindness, occasionally dumbness, and
a long list of sequele which destroy beauty, and may
torment the victim all through a long life.
Ben escaped with an attack of the dropsy, during
which he was plentifully dosed with jalap and cream
of tartar. In a few weeks, however, from the time the
fever left him he was well; but his little companion
was gone; the voices about the house were more
hushed, and he commenced in a very lonely way his
new life; for he was as though he had commenced to
live in a new element. The past was past, and he
was now an orphan doubly desolate among strangers
-kind persons it was true, quite as kind and far more
able to assist the requirements of his boyish nature
than any he had ever known; but they were strangers.
All except Sally and Tom: and he showed a great
disposition to spend his whole time with them. But
that did not meet his guardian's views. Sally was
very devoted, but her place was the kitchen or the
wash-tub. Tom also was devoted, but was a mis



40     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
chievous black scamp, who would have been very
willing to pass a whole existence hunting eggs, chinquepins, and rabbits, and setting bird-traps with his
young master. Ben had to be educated in books, according to my father's idea, and fitted to become a
useful man, or, at any rate, to make his own living.
I may be pardoned for saying: first, that I do not believe in book-education at all for the generality of mankind; second, that I do not think that ordinary bookeducation adds to the usefulness, as it certainly detracts
from the happiness, of a large majority even of the more
intellectual part of mankind; and, thirdly, that I do believe that the man who earns his own living by honest
manual labor adds more to the stock of human comfort,
which is the soul of most human happiness, than all
the scholars, except those who by their learning find
out new or readier means to add to those comforts.
I do not believe in book-education (beyond reading,
writing, and the first rules of arithmetic) for the mass
of the human race, because to acquire it takes up too
much time from what is more useful; but principally
because the mass of the human race are not intellectually capable of profiting by it..Even reading, writing,
and the first rules of arithmetic are more than the large
majority can profit by, and are, at best, a dangerous
experiment. It has been my fate to dwell with books
all my life; they have been my dear companions, my
solace in grief, the chiefest sources of my pleasures.
I have read and studied all systems of philosophy, from
Aristotle down to Kant, and, here recently, to Comte;
and it may be because my mind is naturally narrow,
or it may be because it has become weakened by age,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    41
but, at any rate, now I often ask myself: What is the
use? Comte, the latest light, is no wiser than Aristotle. Neither of them, nor all of them, with all their
knowledge and ability, with all their subtlety and
rhetoric, has ever gone beyond the rules of common
sense. They have been for the most part wiseacres,
who hardly understood themselves, and were totally
incomprehensible to the mass of mankind, even to most
of the better sort. They have, none of them, invented
anything useful and new, but have only given names
to things in common use from the creation of reason
and man. Their inventions of the Inductive system
and the Deductive system remind me of Moliere's
Bourgeois Gentilhomme, who was overjoyed to find
that he always spoke in prose. But, granting that
they have made prodigious discoveries, what do their
teachings, except those which are plain common sense,
profit, when it is found that each in succession tries to
destroy the ideas of his predecessors?
The fact is their Philosophies are a muddle, and will
muddle the brain of every one who tries to indoctrinate
himself in them thoroughly. Man is, after all their
learning, forced to rely on FAITH, and HARD WORK at
the practical arts, sciences, and labors of life. Even
if the Philosophies were true, which, eXcept in two or
three points, they cannot be, they are not of the slightest
practical use; whereas steam, and electricity, and minerals, and metals, and plants, and all the visible and
invisible objects and powers of nature, are of real and
vital importance, and the workers in them, and the discoverers of the laws which govern them and their relations to each other, are the truly useful portion of man4*




42     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
kind. Better and cheaper clothing, food, and medicine
are the three great wants of man. Labor and death
are the curses upon the race, and whatever lightens
labor, makes life more enjoyable, or delays death, is
what the race must aspire to. All the rest is very
well in its place-as an amusement. I may, if I be
rich and perform all my duties, pass my leisure time in
discussing the Ego and the Non Ego, the Atomic
Theory, the Spasmodic Theory (which is one of my
own and is very true), the Inductive and the Deductive,
if I please, and no one can blame me. But what possible good can it do me, except to amuse?
This may be regarded by the prejudices of the world
as a heresy. But the fact is that I have studied all
these things until they made head and heart ache and
found myself presently afterwards still perplexed and
ignorant; and that Ben Eccles, poor fellow, did the
same thing with no better result; and that every other
honest man of common sense who studies the same
things will confess the same failure.
Mathematics and the kindred topics are useful because they are either immediately practical, or they
lead to what is practical and useful, and books upon
such subjects are necessary for the preservation of the
observations which have been made, for the use of
those who can profit by them. But what a small proportion of the human race can understand those observations and put them to any practical use, even if they
had time to acquire the learning! And so I can go on
and enumerate every other branch of human learning
even of the most practical kinds, and about each the
same interrogative observation may be made.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    43
The French understand this matter better than we
do and'-have already taken a step or two in the right
direction. Their schools of design, attached to several
of their great manufactories, where their workmen are
taught to develop all the talent nature has given them
to an immediately practical use; their conservatoire,
where music is taught practically and on a large scale;
are the beginning of the right work. The way to
educate the masses is by showing them what they can
see and understand. The object of education is to give
mere useful ideas; and one grain of practical instruction
is worth a thousand pounds of book puzzlement.
If we further take into consideration the awful harm
which superficial knowledge in religion, politics, medicine, and law always produce, and the very small
class who have the time, disposition, and intellect to
become profound in those most universal and necessary
branches of knowledge, we find the class of even intellectual men who ought to be taught in books to be
very limited in number.  To hear brutal heresy in
religion and politics, go among the farm laborers, the
carpenters, and other partly educated artisans throughout Christendom. To hear follies in medicine and law,
go to the thousands of jack-leg lawyers and doctors
who swarm in America to get a livifig as nearly as
possible without work. In Europe the apprenticeship
and examinations exclude ignoramuses (though they
do not keep out fools) from those professions.
I am thoroughly convinced-more now than everthat the two articles of my non-belief, and the one of
my belief with which I commenced this topic, are true.
But my father did not think so, and the consequence




44     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
was that he looked around for the best school to which
Ben could be sent. My opinion was that if he were
put at a trade it should be better for him. It is my
opinion still; but the reader will be better able to
judge after he has read all of this book
To encourage his patience I here promise that 1 will
not again, if I can avoid it, enter into a display of my
own opinions about dry subjects, but will confine myself
to the life, opinions, and adventures of Ben, and of his
friends, enemies, and acquaintance.
CHAPTER  III.
DESCRIBES SOME FRIENDS BEN WAS ABOUT TO MAKE:
AND TELLS OF OTHER MATTERS IMPORTANT "TO BE
KNOWN BY THE WORLD.
TWENTY-FIVE miles from Yatton, just over in the
adjoining county, lived the Reverend Dr. Alexander McCleod. He was originally from the north of Ireland, and belonged to one of those families in which
Presbyterianism has almost become hereditary-just
as Puritanism has actually become with some of our
Northern brethren. A materialist would say that the
peculiar religious belief had expanded or desiccated
some fibres of the brain or heart, and that the expansion or desiccation has after three or four generations
become so constitutionally impressed as to be transmitted. However that may be, Dr. McCleod was a




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    45
strong Calvinistic Presbyterian, and though some of
his tenets might appear to most men hard and repulsive, I who knew him well can say that a more kindly
or better man in every respect I never knew.
But there was great prejudice against him. He had
married a widow of large property, who had already
five children, and by her he had a son and a daughter.
Mrs. McCleod was one of the best of women; pious,
gentle, affectionate, intelligent, and energetic; and she
loved her husband and all of her children devotedly.
But where there is a large property and two sets of
children in the house, what can you expect? The elder
set, and their relations, hated the doctor, of course.
He was rigid, and that was bad enough, but he had
-also by his marriage and virility materially subdivided
the property, and the consequence was that there was
war; not outspoken hostility,-love and respect for the
mother prevented that,-but that kind of domestic
armed neutrality which engenders more hatred, malice,
and slander, than open strife could create.
For a small but active representation of Hell upon
earth commend me to a family in which there are disputes about property. And the more intellectual and
refined the family, the more aggravated- the hell; for
the grosser stock would fight it out and end it in some
way, whereas the others exercise their imaginations,
inflamed by passions, exaggerate the slightest faults,
and conjure up enormities of the penitentiary and gallows grades, while the fear of the world keeps their
hands and legs tied.
It appears that when the old gentleman first got the
property into his hands he was very gentle, and much




46     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
inclined to be liberal, but the relatives of the elder
children had stepped in on their behalf and demanded
the most unreasonable concessions, and he had become
fretted, and at last had fixed himself immovably upon
his legal rights, and would neither bestow nor concede
anything not strictly demanded by law or Christian
charity. His wife took his part, and soon, from fighting for him, she had to defend herself.
All this, however, by-the-by. I only speak of it in
order that the characters of the doctor and his family
may be the better understood; for, in the first place, it
has in itself nothing to do with the course of my story;
and, in the next, the dissension was very quiet and
decent, because the children loved their mother, and
she loved her husband, and the relatives did not live
in the immediate neighborhood.
In sober truth there was very little of the attractive
to a young person about the doctor. He was a tall
and heavily built man, with a narrow forehead, keen
dark.blue eyes, and dark hair, a firm mouth and square,
heavy Jaws generally bristling with a thick, stiff beard,
which he made it a rule to shave off about once in two
weeks, and was fond of rasping with the thumb and
fingers of his left hand. His voice was deep and sonorous, and he rarely raised or hastened it even when annoyed or angry. In fine, his expression, voice, and
manner were austere, and were well calculated to repel
the young who did not know him well. Infants were
pleased with him, because nature has supplied their
feebleness with an instinct more keen and infallible
than the reason of the older, who are able to protect
themselves; but boys generally dreaded "old Mac," as




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES,    47
they called him to each other. They dreaded his manner even after they had found out the great benevolence
of his heart.
But he was just the man for Mrs. King; who found
herself a widow with four strapping boys and a girl, a
large and troublesome plantation, and a natural veneration _for preachers.  She was a bright-eyed little
woman, affectionate, neat, and thorough in everything
she did. The doctor's office attracted her, the solidity of
his character suited her, and his goodness of heart
completely won her; and, as she suited him quite as
well, they married. Although he was only a poor
Presbyterian preacher, and she was a rich widow, such
was the manliness of his character that I doubt if any
person ever really believed in his heart that he married
her (at any rate, principally) for her money; but the
bickerings came, and the children, after awhile, and
the prejudice, as I have before related, and the good
doctor had taken up a position, head out, at bay,in a
moral fence corner, so that, as one of the cooler relatives irreligiously remarked, "neither the law, nor the
devil himself could get at him."
All but the youngest of the elder set of children were
off at school, and I pass over any description of them,
and come to Miss Mary Hart, better known as Aunt
Polly, who was of much more interest to Ben Eccles.
She was a second cousin to Mrs. McCleod, and had
come to live with her soon after her marriage to her
first husband, and had continued with her ever since,
the most industrious, sympathetic, and faithful of
friends. She was a tall, raw-boned, dark-faced woman,
with heavy eyebrows, and a large mouth well filled




48     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES'
with long and strong teeth.  Surely she was no beauty
to look at, but children and chickens, ducks, pigs, cows,
and everything about the place that could feel gratitude
or kindness disputed her love, and never knew that she
was ugly. The children of the family hardly seemed
to know whether she or their mother had the stronger
claim upon them; and although she never usurped
authority she was as implicitly obeyed by white and
black as though she were sole mistress. The house
negroes and those about the yard always came to her
when they were sick, and the negro children always
shunned her when they had been in mischief.
I do not know that Aunt Polly ever imitated Jeptha's
daughter, nor do I judge from her disposition that she
eve'r did, but the most of our race are discontented
with their lot in life, and it is usually supposed that
old maids regret it most. It has been my good fortune
to be acquainted with a large number of that class in
my life, and I must bear testimony to the fact that, as
a general thing, they are the most beneficent and contented of mortals.
There is a notable difference between them and old
bachelors. They are generally old maids because they
have sacrificed their selfish desires to others they have
loved better than themselves; whereas old bachelors
are generally those who have loved themselves better
than anybody else. In ninety cases out of a hundred,
the family which possesses an old maid possesses a
great blessing. She is the good providence of the children; the best of companions for the girls just growing
up, the most wisely indulgent of friends for the boys
from childhood to manhood; and the source of most of




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    49
the order and comfort about the establishment. The
mother is mother of the children, but she is the mother
of the family.
Aunt Polly was a housewife in this sense. What
if she were fussy sometimes I Did she not have the
whole little world she lived in to keep in order? And
can a world be governed by mortal without confusion?
And what if old maids do have whims, as they are
calledI Their imaginations are generally more pure,
their ideas more refined, and their general knowledge
of the fitness of things more accurate than can be expected in those in more intimate and narrow relations.
A mother may be led by prejudice to mistake what is
most fitting for her daughter or son to do, but the old
maid knows what is best fitted for all daughters and
sons to do; her views are not limited by the narrow
bounds of relationship. I speak, of course, of general
abstract fitness and propriety, and of that she is the
very best of all arbiters for herself and for other persons. And yet (and it is conclusive proof of the superexcellence of old maids) I never knew one who was
not led by the nose by the nephew or niece, cousin, or
other pet or pets she had taken into special fondness.
However, we shall hereafter learn more of Aunt
Polly. There was another personage in the doctor's
family whom I must describe. I am painting Ben
Eccles, and must paint at the same time the scene in
which he moves. Otherwise, the picture will be as
meaningless as would be the one of the youth in the
spelling-book without the rocks in the foreground and
the temple of fame in the distance.
This person, Mr. Theophilus McCleod, was a per5




50     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
sonage only in his relation to Ben. He was the doctor's youngest brother, but resembled him in very little.
He had been brought out from the Old Country to be
started in life in this, and as he had turned his thoughts
to medicine rather than to divinity, the doctor had given
him a home, and had set him up as a schoolmaster
while he was making his preliminary studies. I shall
sufficiently describe him by saying that he was of low
stature, had blue eyes, a ruddy complexion, an Irish
mouth, that he talked with a broad brogue; and that
to punish a child excited and frightened him more than
it did the child.
The school-room in which Mr. Theophilus presided
was built of logs, in one corner of the yard, about a
hundred yards from the family residence. It fronted
on the plantation road which swept around the fence,
leading, to the right, through the woods to the quarters,
and across Big Sandy Creek to the fields, and to the
left, after passing the fence turned to the north, towards
the main road, some two miles off, which passed from
Yatton to Rosstown. Just across the road a grove of
broad-spreading beeches, and Spanish oaks, and hickories, from among which the undergrowth had long
ago been cut, formed a grand play-ground, which
stretched along the level and down a gentle slope for
a quarter of a mile before it changed to be the denser
forest of the Big Sandy bottom, where the thick bushes
and tangled vines were the homes and covert of wild
turkeys, deer,'coons,'possums, and squirrels innumerable. The boys and negroes told stories to each other
of panthers and bears there too; but they had been
long before driven farther down the creek to the swamp




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    51
along the river. That they ever had been there, though,
was sufficient cause for wariness and sudden alarm to
those who found themselves in the dark forest far from
the clearings.
The large yard around the house was well shaded
by oaks beneath which Aunt Polly's chickens, turkeys,
guinea-chickens, ducks, and pigeons flew and scratched,
cackled, quacked, and pot-racked, giving animation, and
denoting abundance and comfort. The back yard too,
in which were the kitchen and out-houses for the servants, was filled with the feathered pets, whose coops
and ranges of nests in barrels and boxes were here and
there against the fence, and all about. I do not wish
to give an exaggerated idea of the number of Miss
Polly's favorites, but Ben has told me that the first
time he saw her in the yard holding a large tin-pan,
and scattering the wetted bran to them as she clucked,
and called at the top of her voice: Chick! chick!
chickee i! he thought the sky had rained pigeons, and
the earth had developed itself into chickens, turkeys,
ducks, and guinea-chickens. The pigeons came sailing
down upon her from their cote, lighting upon her person, and covering the very pan, while the chickens and
other fowl came fluttering and shrieking from all quarters, gathering about her a tumultuous mass of heads
and feathers.
I have in a preceding paragraph spoken of the House
negroes and the Yard negroes. I might also, if it had
been a proper place, have added the Quarter negroesfor all three sets are commonly found upon a plantation
in the far South. To those who live in the South this
is all very simple, but as my book may possibly be read




52    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
by others, it will be well that I shall give a few words
about our plantation economy.
The economy of our plantations is Waste; greater
waste of labor, time, and materials, than can be found
elsewhere in Christendom. It may be that the castles
in feudal times equalled, but they did not exceed it.
To make this apparent, I will describe, as an example,
the doctor's residence on his plantation.
The "big house"-as the residence of the white
family is always called, whatever its size-was a
wooden building of one story, with broad front and
back galleries, and a steep roof in which were set dormer windows, which gave light and air to two large
garret bed-rooms. A broad passage, in which were
the stairs of the upper rooms, ran from the front to the
rear, in the centre, and into it opened the dining-room,
parlor, and main bed-rooms. A wing at each end of the
front gallery contained another bed-room, which opened
upon it, and also upon the yard. One of these rooms
was occupied by Miss Polly, and the other was allotted
to strangers, or to two of the boys when all were at
home. A small building in the front yard, called " the
office," also contained a bed-room, appropriated to the
two eldest boys.
This was a small and modest enough establishment,
but to keep it in order and supply its demands there
were two negro women, Melissa and Ann, who acted as
chambermaids; Big Jane and Little Sue, seamstresses;
Mary Thompson, the head nurse; Jenny, about fifteen
years old, who nursed little Flora McCleod; and Tom,
about the same age, who accompanied and played with
Jimmy McCleod, six years old, and occasionally blacked




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    53
his master's boots. Then there were Old Mathilda
(mammy, par excellence), a fat old negress who had
retired from active service as cook, and only acted as
a sort of chef, while her daughter, Aunt Sally Ann,
assisted by her sister, Little Sis, who was herself a
mother, and by her son Jim and Little Sis's son Simon, and another grandson of Mammy's, attended to
the kitchen.
These were all the house servants proper, if we except Big Molly, the dairy-woman, Little Jane, her
assistant, and the two boys who drove up the cows,
and kept off the calves while milking was going on;
they were, perhaps, more properly yard servants.
Big Molly's husband, Old Tom, whose house was just
back of the yard, was the general minder of what was
called "the house stock." Black Tom and Sam Fox
were the hostlers. Uncle Jacob was the head gardener, and had as his regular assistant his son, young
Jacob, and occasionally, in the spring and fall, two
other men from the quarter.
Here were twenty-two servants, without including
their children and grandchildren too young to be put
at regular work, who were employed in the house,
yard, and house-garden, to do what four or five white
servants could have done far better and more speedily
than they.  And they thought they worked hard 
The most condign punishment, physical and moral, to
which they could be subjected was to be sent half a
mile off to the quarter, and to take their place in the
field with the seventy or eighty other hands, who contentedly spent their lives there doing, except in pick5*




54     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
ing cotton, what in a more favorable climate twenty
white men would have done more effectually.
I have made this digression because I wish to place
upon record something detailed about the manners and
customs of my own people in my own time. The time
will come when all this shall be changed; because we
are living in an active, working world, adverse to all
such fools' paradises. Even if the outer world does
not touch it, it will change itself, for it will starve itself
out by its own increase.
These digressions are also necessary to my history.
To judge properly a man's character, disposition, acquirements, and acts, it is essential that one should
know the state of society in which he lives, and his
exact position in that society. It is said that some
men impress their characters upon an age, but if we
are to understand that they are as original as new
creatures, and of their own vast power impress that
originality upon a nation or a world, it is pure humbug.
A man is in all respects the result of what has preceded
him; and though his genius may soar ever so high, it
rises from the spot which his predecessors had reached;
though he be ever so wicked, he but culminates the
wickedness of his ancestors, and concentrates the vices
of his age and country. Warriors, politicians, lawgivers, scientific men, all start from that goal and only
carry a little farther the tendencies and knowledge of
their respective ages.
From the time of Adam to this there has been but
one original man-the Man, Christ Jesus-and his
originality was only in so far as he was divine, and
taught and acted divinely. We are not taught that his




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    55
merely human knowledge and manners differed from
those of the age and country in which he lived. Even
his divine mission was begun at the very time best
suited for it; the time for which it was prophesied;
the time when the political power of the Jews was
about to be extinguished, and, consequently, could not
interfere; the time when Peter and John and Luke,
the Physician and one of the most perfect of all writers,
existed, and when Paul could appear, though.he came
" as one born out of due time." Nor did he impress the
age in which he lived; but as a divine being he, at the
best time, brought a redemption apart from which there
neither was nor can be any possible redemption, and
he taught truths which, necessary for all, were accepted
by some of his own age, and for the reception of which
all the progress of subsequent ages has only tended to
fit the whole race.
Ben Eccles should not have been the Ben Eccles I
knew if he had lived under any other circumstances;
and what he actually did become I must be allowed to
show as artistically as I can. If I had set out merely
to tell an entertaining or exciting story, I would not
have chosen him as my hero. Indeed, if I proposed
to accomplish only those objects I would certainly
throw aside my pen, and leave the task of amusing the
world to the many, whose youthful imaginations are
more attractively creative than my wearied memory is
retentive of facts.




56    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER IV.
TELLS ABOUT BEN'S JOURNEY TO SCHOOL, AND HOW IIE
FARED ON HIS ARRIVAL.
EN'S little hair trunk had been packed the night
before by my mother and-sister Bel. His wardrobe
was for the most part new, and had been made up by
them in the fashion and of the material best suited for
his new career. It seems to me that I can yet see the
little fellow's six white-bosomed shirts, and three check
shirts, and his little pants with the flaps in front, packed
neatly together with the heavy woolen clothes, and his
small store of books, of which he was both proud and
fearful; and in thinking of them I remember how I
used to hate new clothes when I was of his age. There
was something so stiff and unfamiliar about them that
I was never pleased until they were well rumpled and
a little dirty.
But to return to Ben; his trunk was packed, and
after breakfast one bright morning in October it was
tied behind my father's barouche, driven by old Silas,
and he took a tearful leave of those who had been so
good to him, and started to begin a new life in a new
scene among total strangers.
The dusty road passed up and down long hills, and
over level stretches, sometimes through lanes of darkgray ugly worm  fence, and then through pleasant
woods just taking on the hues of autumn; and though




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN EOCLES.    57
the journey was an event, beyond the sudden whirr of
a covey of partridges flushed from their wallowing in
the warm dust by the horses as they went around some
sudden bend in the road, or the playful leapings of the
gray squirrels as they searched among the dead leaves
for the beech nuts and acorns now beginning to fall,
or the stealthy running of some veteran fox-squirrel
making for the lofty tree in which he had his abode, or
the grating of the wheels over the gravel, and the stopping of the horses to drink as they plashed through the
beds of the two or three creeks along the route, it was
not eventful. Silas, dressed in his best, was taciturn.
He was rather silent on most occasions when driving,
but now, and he with his " Sundays" on, it was rather
beneath his dignity to be on very talkative terms with
a little boy, and that boy a stranger and poor. He
was a kind-hearted old fellow in the main, but he knew
his own position, which was neither more nor less than
an exaggerated reflex of his master's position. That
master was the guardian of the orphan, and Silas was
therefore the boy's patron. If the boy had been the
favored son of some favored friend of the master, Silas
would have been obsequious for his patronage. So
Ben generally sat in silence, putting his head out of
the carriage on this side or that as birds, or squirrels,
or passing negroes attracted his notice. But the old
man occasionally broke out into soliloquy when a
suitable topic was presented:
"' Mighty small chance o' cotton dat! Wonderwhat
dey plants dem red hills fur; dey got plenty bottom
lan'. Don' know nother. It's dry dis yea', but las'
yea' de bottoms drownded out, an' de hills make all de




58     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
cotton. Reckon ole Mr. Smith think he fooled bof
ways. Wonder what he do nex' yea'."
And Silas grinned a grim smile to think of the perplexity of Mr. Smith at such changing cropping seasons.
" There's pretty cotton, Uncle Silas!" exclaimed Ben,
as they came to a field in the Baker Creek bottom.
"Le'me see!" said Silas, presently, to himself.
"Le'me see I I don' know dat fiel'. Mus' be Squire
Hopper's; but when dey clar it? Dat mus' be de fiel'
Squire Hopper's Joe done tell me'bout yea' befo' las'.
He say it was gwine to make bale to de acre yea' in
an' yea' out. Look like, Joe's right. Done been fo' yea'
nex' Chris'mus sence I pass' along dis road." And
then he turned back and addressed Ben: "Do dey
have sech cotton in No'f Ca'lina whar you come from?"
And as Ben could not answer that question in the
affirmative with any assurance of certainty, Silas
became a little enlivened, and put several other posers
to him, as: whether he knew his folks in North Carolina? If his grandfather was rich? What made his
father come out to Georgia? and wound up by letting
him know that in his (Silas') opinion, he (Ben) was
one of the most fortunate of mortals to have fallen into
the hands of the man who was his guardian.
"You take kea," said Silas. " Dey likes you dar at
de house;. dat is, dey will like you ef you does right.
But you take kea! Ole master sen' you to school, an'
he'spec' you to larn. You can't fool him! You can't
fool Mas' Abe nother. You can't poke you' finger in
none of'ems eye."
" I'm going to be good, and learn, Uncle Silas," said
Ben, a little alarmed.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    59
"You better mun; you better," replied Silas, gravely
shaking his head. "You ever hea' how ole master
sarve dat boy John Higgins? He was so deb'lish dey
couldn't keep him at de house, an' he run away from
school, an' he play hob all de time; an' master talk to
Mas' Abe about him, an' he jes take him to de court an' he
been bine him out to ole Mr. Small, de shoemaker; an'
ole Small make him work! I tell you he do I Eh,
eh! de ole man keep de strap gwine every day.'I
make you work, you dog-gone little raskil! I make
you work I you cut up bobbery here, dam' you, I skin
you alive!' strap, strap! strap, strap I an' John Higgins
done foun' his match I tell you. Hello! yonder de
road to Doctor McCleod's, I tought we git dar arter
awhile!"
It was about noon when Ben was driven up to the
doctor's front gate. Miss Polly's guinea-fowls were
going about the yard in pairs and bevies jerking their
heads forward and back, ejaculating pot-rack I pot-rack 
here and there, a cock flapped his wings and crowed,
and a hen was cackling and shrieking in the back yard,
and pigeons strutted and cooed on the house roof.
The haze of Indian summer was just beginning to settle
in the air, and in the bright sunshine, shorn of its more
fervid rays, the bees hummed leisurely, as though their
season of labor was well-nigh at an end. The hum of
a spinning-wheel was heard from one of the outhouses, but no human being was visible, and little Ben
felt more and more like a stranger when he got off the
carriage, and stood at the gate, as old Silas untied his
trunk.
The noise of the iron latch as the gate was opened




60    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
roused the fat old house-dog, which came waddling
leisurely down the walk from the front steps wagging
his tail, and barking huskily and doubtfully. Aunt
Polly hearing him, presently looked out of her door,
and seeing Ben come to the steps, went on the gallery
to meet and welcome him. She kindly took him by
the hand, and asked if he were not little Ben Eccles,
then ushered him into the broad passage which served
as parlor and sewing-room in warm weather, but which
now happened to be vacant, asked him to sit down,
and went off to announce his arrival to the doctor and
family. A negro girl presently came with a waiter,
and presented him with a glass of cool water, and then
in a few minutes the doctor, and Mrs. McCleod, and
Miss Jane King, about his own age, and Flora, and
Jimmy, all came in to make his acquaintance. Silas
was ordered to take the trunk up stairs, and to then
take the carriage around to the carriage-house, and the
horses to the stable. And Ben went up stairs to see
his trunk properly placed, and then when he had returned felt that one step in his career was accomplished,
and that although the doctor was a little awful in
appearance, his words and glance were kindly, and
that Mrs. McCleod and Aunt Polly were both good
women, and that the children were good natured, and
altogether that he ought to feel well pleased.
These details are not too unimportant to be narrated.
What boy of eleven years of age ever yet went away
from familiar faces to live among strangers but was
either very painfully or very pleasantly impressed by
every, even the minutest, incident of his reception?
And not only boys but men and women have that same




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    61
almost morbid sensitiveness when they first enter a
strange circle in which they have for some time to
dwell in intimate relations. The bride when she first
enters her husband's family; the husband when he first
visits his bride's relatives, if they should. be strangers;
the clerk when he first takes his place with his fellowclerks; even the prisoner when he is first ushered into
his penitentiary or military prison; every one has a
soul, like some flowers, laid open to receive the faintest
impressions, and upon the first touch it closes upon
rankling festers or precious drops of refreshing dew.
Silas, to Ben's mortification, after dinner showed his
negro nature —for I contend that in some respects
(though not, perhaps, in this particular instance) the
race are not possessed of what we term human nature,
as applied to the whites. Miss Polly had asked him,
soon after he arrived, whether his master had instructed
him to come home that evening, and he had answered:
"Master didn't tell me adsactly, ma'am. He'lowed I
mus' misgovern by sarcumstances; an' de bosses is
mighty tired an' blowed, ma'am."
Now the fact was that my father had expressly told,
him that unless the roads were in very bad order, or
unless some accident should happen, he must return
that same afternoon; and the roads were good, though
dusty, and not the slightest accident had happened to
carriage, horses, or harness. But Silas wished to pay
a visit while he was about it. There were a hundred
negroes on the place, the most of whom he knew
slightly, while his master's reputation secured him a
hearty welcome from them all. He wished to hear the
news, and he wished to communicate all he knew. The
6




g2    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
temptation was too great for him not to "misgovern"
very liberally, and he did his best to persuade himself
that it would be too hard on the horses to return at
once.
So, when Ben inquired after dinner if the carriage
was ready to start, the doctor asked him what instructions Dr. Page had given about Silas' return, and Ben,
who had heard them, told him. The old gentleman at
once sent for Silas.
"' What did you tell Miss Polly, sir, about your going
home this evening?" asked he in his stern manner.
"I'lowed to her, sir, dat de hosses was mighty hot
an' blowed, an' master tole me I mus' misgovern by
sarcumstances, sir."
"You're a pretty fellow to misgovern by circumstances, sir l When do you expect to start home?"
"I'lowed to start early in de mornin', sir."
"Early in the morning?  Why, to-morrow is the
Sabbath, and do you expect to leave my house and
travel on Sunday? Go and fetch the horses here, sir!"
And Silas went and brought the horses, and the
doctor examined them.
" Why, sir, they look as though they had not traveled a step to-day. Go and hitch them in the carriage,
sir; and be off from here in a half hour! Do you
hear?"
So Silas ignominiously missed his visit, and Ben
was deeply impressed by the stern, unanswerable manner of the doctor, which seemed to admit neither argument nor entreaty.
It being Saturday, and consequently the holiday,
Mr. Theophilus had gone to Rosstown to see the world,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    63
and to fulfill some little commissions for his sister-inlaw and Aunt Polly, so that it was reserved for another day for Ben to make his acquaintance.
The afternoon passed off pleasantly enough watching, with wonder, Miss Polly among her pets, and
investigating the garden, school-house, and play-ground
with the children. After the supper (not tea) table
was removed the prayer-bell rang.  All the white
family assembled in the passage, and the house and
yard servants, each with a stool or chair, also came
and took their seats, and the doctor read and commented upon a long chapter in the Bible, keeping an
eye all the while upon his congregation. As one or
the other would nod, he would pause and say: You,
such a one, stand up I Ben has told me that he often
afterward saw as many as half a dozen, with himself,
white and black (for the doctor was impartial), standing up at once. The singing would arouse all effectually, but when they got upon their knees for the prayer
the drowsiness would again visit the brains of some,
who would be sound asleep when the prayer was over,
and would be allowed to sleep after all the rest had
risen and gone out, when the silence would rouse them,
and they would try to sneak out of the room, conscious
that the doctor's eye was upon them, and glad if they
were not "kept in" and made to stand motionless for
ten minutes or more, and then dismissed with a box
on the ear, or a sarcastic word, which hurt the worse
of the two.
Then came bedtime, and Aunt Polly went with Ben
to see if all was in order for him, and to point out
which he was to occupy of the three little single beds




64    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
in the room. As soon as she had bidden him good
night and had left, he hurriedly undressed, blew out
the light, and got into bed. It was no new thing, alas,
for-the poor little fellow to spend the night by himself,
and wearied by the excitements of the day, he soon
fell into a dreamless sleep, to be waked in the morning
by the jangling of the bell which rang at sunrise for
all to get up; and by the time he was dressed and had
overhauled his trunk the bell rang again for morning
prayers, to which he descended; and then followed
breakfast, and after breakfast a catechism lesson which
the doctor set him to get by heart; then came dinner,
and after dinner the recitation of the catechism lesson,
and reading aloud a chapter in the Bible by all the
family-each a verse at a time-and then a saunter in
the garden and about the yard. Then came night, and
supper, and prayers, as before; and oh! how tired the
little fellow was when he got to his bed I and what a
dull and weary day Sunday was I
It was the first of many Sundays just like it the boy
had to spend at that place; and I verily believe that
to this day he dreads when Sunday comes-although
he would think it a great sin to admit to himself its
distastefulness.
That Sunday question has been very much vexed,
and although I do not intend to bore the reader by discussing it at this time, I will remark that, in my opinion, its strict ceremonial observance does as much
harm to Christianity as its total non-observance does
to religion and health. Virtue, it seems to me, lies in
all cases in the just mean between nothing and vice.
" The Sabbath was made for man," and he should




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    65
spend it so as to profit by it in the manner in which it
was intended he should profit; not so as either to be
bored, or to neglect its uses.
CHAPTER V.
IN WHICH MR. PAGE SHOWS THAT THERE ARE MORE
WAYS THAN ONE OF TELLING A STORY; AND DESCRIBES
BEN'S SCHOOLMATES.
BESIDES Ben and Jane King, Mr. Theophilus had
four other scholars, all of whom came promptly to
the school-house by nine o'clock Monday morning. As
their influence upon Ben's character, and, as will be
hereafter seen, the influence of some of them upon his
life, was great, it is necessary that I shall describe
them, though I confess that I am weary of this pen
and ink sketching of portraits. I fear that doing so
much of it at the outset will make me appear like the
Dutch leaper Washington Irving has told us of, who
took a start of six miles to jump over the mountain,
and when he arrived at the foot had to sit down and
rest.
Nevertheless, it will be admitted by all that I must
tell my story just as it naturally presents itself to my
mind. There are very few men the principal incidents
in whose lives cannot be told in four or five sentences;
while for the most of them one sentence is enough.
But what would become of story-telling if no greater
6*




66     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
scope were allowed? And what would become of a
story-teller if he were to be rigidly governed by the
rules laid down by others for their kind of stories?
Scott has told his stories, and Bulwer, Dickens, and
Thackeray tell theirs, and though each has differed
widely from the others, each has done admirably well.
That proves that there are at least four good ways of
telling a story: why may there not be more?
The old Greek and Latin poets and dramatists were
most excellent-What an admirable chance I have here
to display my learning I But it is one of my strongest
desires to avoid the exposure of such flimsy ware.
Every school-boy or literary young woman who keeps
a commonplace book could pile learning upon my
learning, so that my cheap commodities should be
crushed. I therefore lump the matter and say, without discriminating, that the old Greek and Latin authors were most excellent: but who has ever yet done
great things by imitating them? French dramatists
tried it; and where will you find anything more painfully wearisome, in spite of the grandeur of many of
its ideas, than the classic French school of tragedy and
comedy? It frets me, and makes me stretch myself
and yawn to remember it.
No. It is well to have all classic learning, ancient
and modern; but to imitate none of it in style: and
as for matter, it is best to forget its particulars as
soon as possible, and have its excellencies so assimilated with your own mind as that you shall not be
able to tell whether an idea is your own, or that of
Aristophanes or Schiller. When a thoughtful man has
reached this point, his writings can be called neither




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    67
pedantic nor dull, for they will possess what is called
originality, and be at the same time free of affectation.
A story-teller must, above all others, be left free to
go his road in his own way. His first requisite is to
have a good story, and his next is to tell it naturally
and well. He is like a man who invites you to take a
ride with him in strange localities, and visit persons
who are strangers to you. Though he be but a gump
himself, he may keep you amused all the while (some
of the best story-tellers I have ever known had no sense
otherwise), and if he be a wise and sensible man he
will point out each object necessary to understand the
locality, will pause with you to admire what is admirable in the view, will bring out by judicious management the peculiarities, whether laughable or sad, of
your new acquaintance, and will moralize just enough
to keep your heart as well as your senses and intellect
observant; so that when you leave him you shall exclaim: What a delightful ride I have hadI and what a
pleasant friend I have foundl I will go with him
again if he invite me I
I know that these wise and sensible guides are not
those most sought after nowadays. The Jehus are
most popular who shout and whip at full speed, at the
risk of all necks. But no matter for that; in the end
the more quiet drivers shall have had the most passengers-as they always have the best.
Alas I while I know that I am no Jehu, I fear that
I lack some of the entertaining qualities of their rivals,
and greatly fear that before our journey is half over I
shall have to nudge my fellow-traveler to keep him




68    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
awake, even if he should have the patience to continue
with me so far on the journey, or to its end.
However, I will do my best, and my executor shall
judge both of my story and of its telling, and will give
it to the world, or withhold it, as may seem to him
best. Let me then go on and describe Charles and
Henry Bowman, George Barnes, and Samuel Stockdale, the four schoolmates whose acquaintance Ben
E.ccles made that Monday morning.
It is a very extraordinary coincidence that all of the
first-class lia'rs I have ever known have had either red
or sandy hair. The observation of others may have
been different, but I speak only of my own acquaintance. Understand me well. I do not mean mere ordinary liars; for the bulk of the lying done in the world
is by the dark haired, as they constitute the bulk of
the people. I mean extraordinary liars; geniuses in
lying; men who have vivid imaginations, who talk a
great deal, and who do not care, and for the most part
do not actually know, whether they be telling truth or
falsehood.
I do not think that the number of facts I have observed would warrant my founding an ergo upon the
subject; and theories are very dangerous, for men are
apt to fix them in their minds as definite conclusions.
Besides, I neither wish to be unjust, nor to subject myself rashly to the ill will of the red and sandy-headed, by
theorizing upon the connection between hair of those
shades and temperament, the connection between temperament and imagination, between imagination and
memory, memory and morals. No, no: it would be
inexcusable to propound moral theories upon the color




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    69
of hair, the squinting of eyes, or any other physical
peculiarity. Why should I have my memory cursed
by the unfortunate as the inventor of a Theory against
them, whether it should prove true or false —a point
which the present accumulation of statistics does not
allow me to decide I Who knows, too, but that my
grandniece, the only one of my family, but myself, now
living, may marry, and that her husband, or the husband or wife of some child or grandchild of hers, may
" breed back," as the stock-men say, and leave the only
representative of my branch of the Page family a redheaded, cross-eyed, knock-kneed little body who may,
or may not, be either a liar, malicious, or weak-minded?
The utmost the facts in my possession warrant me
in saying is that, when a man with a sandy or red
head starts to lying he is apt to excel at it. Charles
G. V. Bowman had sandy hair, and he had a remarkable gift of lying. His hair also curled, and therefore
(Plutarch and several others of the ancients, as well
as most of the moderns, who have discussed that important point about the hair, warrant me in using that
therefore), I say, because his hair curled, therefore he
was a lively liar. His light-blue eyes were rather
small, but he was a very handsome boy of fifteen,
almost as handsome as the Stanley Ruggles of my own
boyhood.
His brother Henry was two years the younger; had
dark hair and gray eyes, and was already of the larger
stature; but he was slow in body and mind, goodnatured, but passionate and stupidly headstrong. They
were the sons of Col. Bowman, whose home plantation was about three miles from Dr. McCleod's. He




70    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
had two other large plantations, one adjoining his home
place, and one down on the river, and was a rich man.
He was rather ignorant, willful, and pompous; had a
great estimation of rich men, and, consequently, a low
esteem for the poor. He was charitable enough when
it came to giving, but had no sympathy with poverty
or suffering. His sons had been raised in his doctrines,
and had imbibed his feelings. Their mother was a
weakly sort of woman, and had little control over them.
So much for the two Bowmans. The father of
George Barnes lived six miles from the doctor's, upon
a plantation much smaller than either of Col. Bowman's three places, and as George was a fat, slowminded, good-natured boy of about Henry's age, he
was, of course, the butt of the Bowmans, who patronized him. Sam Stockdale was of altogether different
clay. He was the son of old Dr. Stockdale, of Rosstown, who neither was nor wished to be rich, and who
had a hearty contempt for such men as Col. Bowman.
Sam, who was a slim, silent, dark-eyed boy, of good
parts, solid character, and generous heart, had inherited
his father's independence and contempt for little-mindedness. George and Sam boarded at Dr. McCleod's,
and were Ben's roommates. They went home every
Friday evening, and remained until Monday morning.
Ben was the youngest of the boys, and his reception
was just in accordance with their characters. The
Bowmans were supercilious, George was stupidly
friendly, and Sam was polite and manly.
Having described Ben's schoolmates as well as his
school, it would be useless to narrate in detail their
little adventures, and how they got along together. I




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    71
am not writing a Sunday-school book, or a history for
good little boys, but a grave philosophic work for
grown folk. It has been necessary to describe the
childhood of Ben Eccles; but after the few additional
details I will give in this chapter, I will no longer
concern myself about him until he shall have reached
a more mature age.
Indeed, it is hardly necessary that I should even
mention the few additional details of his school-boy
days, beyond saying that he remained five years at
Dr. McCleod's house; that in the second year Mr. Theophilus left the school for a medical college, and his
place was taken by Jamie McDougal, a Scotchman, who
was almost as well indoctrinated and as firm in church
matters as the doctor himself, but whose conduct when
he sometimes got off to town was in total contrast to
his knowledge. The practiced reader of stories will
have jumped at once to the other facts.  Of course
Aunt Polly was the dearest old lady in the world, and
Ben worshiped her while she petted Ben; of course
Charley Bowman tried to tyrannize over him, and
Sam Stockdale became his protector; of course Jane
grew to be a nice young lady, and was sent away
to a girl's school; and of course all of the other little
incidents which naturally grew out of the characters
and circumstances of the parties.
There is one incident, however, which the practiced
reader will not have guessed, and that I will relate in
a very few words. After Ben had been at school
three years, that is when he was about fourteen, upon
the occasion of a revival at the Spring Hill Church,
four miles from the doctor's, which he, with the family,




7'2    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
constantly attended, he became very much impressed
with religion, and joined the church.
This act is the key-note to his subsequent history,
and although it is here related at the close of a chapter, the reader will have ample opportunity to reflect
upon its consequences.
CHIAPTER VI.
INTRODUCES TO THE READER A SURE-ENOUGH LADY,
AND TELLS OF SEVERAL MATTERS HE WOULD BE
SORRY NOT TO HAVE KNOWN.
ABOUT four miles from Yatton, near the Rosstown
1 road, lived the widow Garthwaite. She was a
good woman, but hardly one of those the apostle called
"widows indeed," for she was rich, and had a widow's
eye to the main chance. I knew her well from her
girlhood; we went to school together, and as she was
several years the elder and was very pretty, I was for
awhile a little in love with her. She married Tom
Garthwaite five years before I was grown, and he died
seven years after the marriage, leaving her a rich
widow with three children, the two eldest of whom
died soon after their father. She was still young
enough, and had plenty of offers. Why she never
married again I had not the means of knowing. Tom
had been a rough, spreeing man, and it was whispered




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    73
among the ill-natured that the kindest act he ever did
his wife was his involuntarily leaving her a widow.
How that was I do not know; but I do know that
it was a rough, spreeing age and country, and that the
widow might well fear the sobriety of almost any man
there whose rank in life fitted him for her husband; unless it might have been some preacher, and she was one
of the few women I have ever known who did not think
them always the best men in the world. The fact is,
that at that time almost every preacher who came to
the South was a Yankee in search of a fat salary, with
the subadmitted (to himself) ultimate chance of a rich
wife; and Mrs. Garthwaite being gifted by nature
with a good deal of strong common sense, and also
with a fair share of the desire to take care of her own,
and not being oppressed either by nature or education
with much superstition, could not admire a man for
the sake of his office. Indeed, she was one of those
who are curious to know how such a one became an
officer; whether merely by appointment of an earthly
power, or by a commission from the only Head of the
Church. She was in advance of her age, and was
therefore not in the highest favor with either preachers
or with most of her own sex, who, though they respected and liked her, used to talk about her as a sort
of free thinker.
And yet a more correct woman in all her deportment, or one who was more firmly convinced of the
fundamental truth of Christianity, it would be hard to
find. Her charity, too, to proper objects, was notable.
The only question with her was -whether the object
were a proper one. Her poor neighbors she esteemed
7




74    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
most proper objects, so did she the Rev. Mr. Snow;
but I am firmly convinced that the Tract Society, for
instance, never "saw the color of her money."
I must not be misunderstood with regard to Mrs.
Garthwaite. She was by no means what would be
called nowadays " a strong-minded woman."  She was
as womanly as a woman well could be, but not weakly
so. My dear father used to say that she laughed more
cheerily than any other woman in the county, and that
no woman with a hard heart or a bad conscience could
laugh so pleasantly. As she was not fond of preachers because they were preachers, and there was not
one of them who commanded her respect for his
other qualities, she used to come to him for advice in
all her spiritual troubles (and often in those of a temporal nature), and he knew and greatly esteemed her
good sense, and the true piety and nobility of her
character and disposition.
Her house was a great staring frame building of two
stories, which had been planned by Tom Garthwaite
when half drunk, and had been built without her being
consulted in the matter. It stood near the big road,
upon a hill in an old, worn-out field, and except a few
china-trees near the front gate, and a few young oaks
set here and there, and trying to live and grow in the
yellow clay, and some shrubbery planted around the
house, there was neither tree nor bush within a quarter
of a mile. Tom used to say that " he'd be d-d if he
didn't have the breeze if any came about, and he'd be
doubly d-d if he would have the gnats and musquitoes."
I must be pardoned for repeating this gross remark,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    75
but it tells a whole history; not only about Tom's
manners and character, but about the climate, insect
life, etc., of the country. It is much insisted that a
writer shall condense.
Mrs. Garthwaite did not like the situation or the
construction of the house, and she was abundantly rich
to afford to live in town or anywhere she pleased; but
the place was quite as healthy as any she could find
for herself or her daughter, Susan, and was near enough
to town to give her plenty of society if she wished any
beyond that in the immediate neighborhood, which was
excellent. Taking the pros and cons altogether, as
she was a prudent woman, and averse to troubling
" well enough," she remained at the house and made
the best of it.
And very excellent was the best of it she made-at
least to her friends and visitors.  Some way or another
her mutton, raised on the short grass of the yellow
hills, was declared by every one to be the finest in the
county, and she had the reputation of having it barbecued as no one else could cook it. Then her butter
was always plentiful, come rainy season or drouth, and
come grass or " weed" was always golden and sweet;
and her honey was the whitest of any, and had the
crispest comb, in which it was almost crystallized; and
her coffee was the most fragrant and clearest, and her
waffles and biscuits were the lightest. I declare it
almost gives me an appetite to think of the delicious
meals I used to get there, and the exquisitely neat
manner in which they were served; and when I think
of her smiling, hearty welcome, and remember the airy
bed-rooms with their elegant furniture and downy pil



76    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
lows, and snowy sheets fragrant with rosemary, old as
I am, I think I should greatly enjoy a few days again
at Mrs. Garthwaite's.
But these were everyday affairs which Mrs. Garthwaite, with the means at her command, could no.more
avoid than a bee could help making its cell a hexagonal, and keeping its hive clean and neat. I verily believe that had she been lost in a desert she would have
trained the branches of the shrub beneath which she
crouched into symmetry, and so as to give the greatest
surface of shade, and the sand around it she would
have lightened and smoothed before she died.
It was at the children's parties, to which she often
treated her daughter, that her best was at its most
glorious best. If the weather were fine and pleasant,
what need for growing shade-trees for out-door shelter,
when the thousands of trees in the neighboring groves
offered their branches for arbors I And if it were foul
or cold there were no-roomier parlors, and not a broader
passage, or more capacious galleries in the county than
were in "The Barn," as she had named her house.
The weather or season could be no drawback at Mrs.
Garthwaite's, and most of the children of the town and
its vicinity knew it, and felt suire of pleasure when they
were invited there. She had two negro men who were
good fiddlers; another, Abe, who was a chronometric
enthusiast upon the tamborine; Tom, who thought
himself an artist upon the triangle; and still another,
"James Gladden, sir, I thank'e," who was perfectly
up to every phase of a cotillion and a reel. Whether
under an arbor or in the house they were almost
unwearied in their music; and well they might be, for




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    77
when children are the dancers, and have. entered into
the spirit of it, the sets succeed each other very quickly.
I myself never was a dancer; not that I lacked
activity or the choregraphic faculty; I never was, as I
once heard it remarked at a ball about a young man
who had boasted of his strength and activity, "too
strong to jump and too active to dance." But the fates
decreed that beyond the simplest reel or cotillion I
never should acquire a skill; and, consequently, I
never much enjoyed children's parties when I was a
child. I enjoy them now. There is just as much
puppyism and coquetry displayed there as at the balls
of grown folk, and the ill-nature, vanity, and selfishness are more remarked, because children are less
hypocritical. The same young lady who now replies
when asked to dance by one of the ineligible: "Excuse
me, sir, I am engaged for every set," would have said
when a child: "No, I won't dance with you, my ma
don't want me to." But, on the other hand, one will
often see at a children's party more chivalrous gallantry
and more gentle modesty than he is apt to find among
older persons, for the reason that these qualities are
more called forth by the frank rudeness of others; and
it is a very excellent opportunity of judging the raising
and conjecturing the future characters and dispositions
of the young guests.
From Mrs. Garthwaite's parties the most quarrelsome
boors always went away soothed and happy. She had
a way about her, a gentleness and an authority, a sympathy and a knack, which would have kept in order an
assembly of young monkeys with burnt tails so that
not a squeal would have been heard but that it should
7*




78    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
have immediately been followed by grimaces of pleasurable content.
I have met with few persons who resembled her in
this respect to any great degree; but I have met a few,
and they were always ladies, and very intelligent and
refined ladies. A coarser nature, or one less accustomed
to the ways and amenities of life, could not have the
sympathy and authority; a nature less profoundly and
exquisitely hypocritical could not have the gentleness
and knack. A great blundering, combative man, however elegant in manners and insincere in heart, could
never accomplish it.
The reason for this difference can easily be understood by any one who has reflected upon the character
of "the sex." A woman who, with her sensitive knowledge of right and wrong and perfect purity of imagination, always acted and spoke as she thought and felt,
would be as much out of place in society as death in
the ball-room. Mankind and womankind would flee
from her as a pest. She is forced to be a hypocrite,
and is willingly and naturally a hypocrite all her life,
not to deceive, but to avoid giving useless pain. She
is a hypocrite to her husband if she be a good wife,
and to her children if she be a good mother. Above
all is she a hypocrite to her acquaintance if she esteem
them, and if she herself be really amiable and good.
Why, bless my soul, one or two of the very dearest
and most sympathetic female friends I have ever had
and loved I knew all the time in my inmost heart cared
nothing for me in their inmost hearts. But were they
any the less my friends for that? They were married
women, or else I was married and they were not, and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    79
was I to ask their warm affection? Was I to seek
to supplant their husbands, or to induce them to supplant my wife? They were my good friends, always
ready to enter into my likes and dislikes, to keep my
secrets, to advise me wisely when I needed advice, and
should I not have been a pretty fool if I had not been
contented with their hypocrisy when it was of such a
character? My experience and observation lead me to
believe that a woman (and the more intelligent she is
the more strictly is it true) either loves with all her
heart and soul-and in that case loves her husband, or
her lover-or she does not love at all. Her friendship
is hypocrisy; but an hypocrisy so natural, so beneficent,
and so deceptious to herself, that it is very beautiful
and sweet, and the man towards whom it is exercised
should think himself blessed and be contented. Let
him not seek for more than the sweet hypocrisy unless
he intend marriage. If he do, he will not only be a
fool, but will be laughed at by the fair one as a fool.
Moralizing is apt to be the vice of the old.
From what I have said of Mrs. Garthwaite it will
be seen that her daughter, Susan, had an excellent
mother, in every sense of the word excellent, as applied
to a country lady who did not set herself up As a saint,
a genius, or a heroine. The daughter was pretty much
what her name, Susan, denoted. It is a great mistake
to suppose that persons, particularly girls, are named,
either by their parents, or by truthful writers, according to their characters, dispositions, and appearance.
They really seem in the greater number of instances
to take their qualities from their names. I could instance the name Mary, and all its sweet associations;




80    CWHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
but that was the name of my darling wife, and it could
be plausibly suspected that my affection supplied me
with my theory. But leaving that aside I could go on
and moralize very prettily upon the subject of names,
and I have promised myself to guard against that vice
of composition. I avoid it now, only remarking that
though I hardly believe that the name really affects the
character, I do really believe that had I been named
Clarence I should not have lived sober and to my
present age.
But however that may be-and it is very difficult
to leave the theme and go on with the story, particularly as it is just now about a little girl-Susan
was a real Susan; had dark-blue eyes, long brown
curls, rosy, plump cheeks, a pretty mouth, a noseavery
slightly retrouss6, was very amiable, and had plenty
of spirit. In appearance she, as girls are apt to do,
rather resembled her father than her mother, and her
mind and disposition were also much like his, only
greatly softened. In spite of his headstrong willfulness he was a good-hearted, generous fellow, with good
hard sense, and his intemperance had not yet become
so constitutional as to affect the minds and bodies of
his children disastrously. I would gladly make Susan
out as superior as her mother in every respect, but I
am forced to stick to facts as they were. She was
nevertheless a very sweet and lady-like child, who
was as perfectly at her ease and as solicitous for the
pleasure of every one around her as an intelligent,
good-hearted girl entirely accustomed to her position
could be.
The practiced reader is now ready to jump to con



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    81
clusions, and exclaim, she's just the girl to suit Ben
Eccles when they both grow up I
I grant it at once; it is useless to try to deceive a
reader who is thoroughly conversant with books and
human nature. She did just exactly suit Ben Eccles,
and he fell desperately in love with her at one of the
parties he attended when on a holiday visit to my
father's. It was a boy's love, but none the less strong
and true for that, and none the less sensitive, and
shrinking, and hopeful, and absorbing. And after he
had seen more of her, and had become more accustomed
to his love-the love of a boy of fourteen for a girl of
eleven-he gloried in it and reveled in it, and built all
sorts of gorgeous castles in the air as abodes for the
loved one. Not only so, but on one Christmas occasion when the two Bowmans and Sam Stockdale happened to be in Yatton on a visit to friends (I will hereafter tell about the relatives of the Bowmans), and were
invited to the party at Mrs. Garthwaite's, he was proud
to introduce them, and to show himself before them as
a hero for the nonce, with the avowed and hopeful prospect of being in the future a permanent hero in the
most brilliant and important of all the achievements
of the battle of life.
If any one think that I speak too gravely and earnestly of this young passion, I must ask him to remember, reflect, and wait.
It would never do for me to so anticipate my story
and gratify the overweening vanity of the practiced
reader as to state at once that she returned or did not
return the ardor of her young lover. But I will say so
much as that she of course knew of his preference




82    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
almost as soon as it was conceived, that she knew all
his sad history, and that she felt very kindly for the
gentle, enthusiastic, imaginative, poor little beau.
Pshaw I This was not the only or the most momentous love affair which was commenced or concluded
at Mrs. Garthwaite's children's parties. After night
came on there was always a dance for the young folk
of larger growth, who kept it up in mirth and decent
jollity until the latest hour to which custom allowed
them the privilege. Was it not there that Dr. Stanhope and Kate Stirling agreed to make a match? and
Peter Talliafero and Mary Singleton, who had fallen
out, made it up again, to be married at the end of a
month? And was it not there thatBut why recall these scenes and events I The actors
in them have almost every one departed, and I doubt
if one of them, in preparing himself or herself to take
the dark cold journey, ever for a moment cast a thought
back to the cheerful lights and merry sounds in Mrs.
Garthwaite's house. Of all the actors of my acquaintance Ben alone remains, and I alone of all the spectators remember the light, and life, and pleasure of those
happy times.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    83
CHAPTER VII.
BRINGS BEN'S BUSINESS AFFAIRS UP TO DATE: AND DISPOSES OF ONE OF HIS PEDAGOGUES.
RHE Lodge in Yatton of course communicated the
death of Captain Eccles to his Lodge in North
Carolina, and at my father's request I also wrote to
Ben's grandfather, Mr. Matthew Robbins, telling him
exactly the state of affairs and the condition and prospects of the boy. It was a long time before the answer
came to my letter. I have it yet, and it was as
follows, in a round, formal hand:, N. Carla. March 10, 18Dr Sir
Your estd favr of the 3d Aug. ult. has been received, and contents noted.
Captain Benjamin Eccles married my daughter
against my will, but now that they are both dead I
have no more to say. Having recently made a purchase of negroes my means are at present limited, and
it will be impossible for me to make any advances.
Capt. Eccles' executor must do the best he can for
the child.
This is written for me by Mr. Ashe, merch't, of this
place.
Respy yr obt servt to command
MATTHEW ROBBINS
per J. A. ASHE.
To ABRAHAM PAGE EsQ
YATTON GA.




84     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
It seemed to me that this letter manifested a grasping, unfeeling disposition, but it was all we heard from
Ben's grandfather or family for four years. Then, just
before my father's death, I received another letter,
written by a different person, for Mr. Robbins, in which
the old man manifested some anxiety to know how his
grandson was doing, and suggested the idea that he
should soon be required to come on there. After the
death of my father I became his administrator, and the
administrator de bonis non of Captain Eccles' estate,
and Ben's guardian; and not many months afterwards
received another letter from North Carolina informing
me of the death, intestate, of old Mr. Robbins, and of
the fact that his estate, consisting of a small plantation and some negroes, was to be equally shared by
Ben and a younger cousin, who were the sole heirs.
As the estate would be more profitable to the heirs by
being kept together than by either being divided in
kind or sold and the proceeds divided, and as I learned
that the administrator in North Carolina was an honest
and capable man of business, it was arranged that it
should be carried on as before until the younger of the
two should come of age. Within a year intelligence
came of the death of the young cousin, leaving Ben
sole heir of a property which, though not large, might
be easily increased, and was, at any rate, large enough
to support him comfortably. Other arrangements had
then to be made with regard to the administration.
I will not inflict upon the reader a detail of all these
business matters. The facts I have stated have been
given merely as a necessary part of Ben's history, and
I have given them as briefly as possible. I have been




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    85
the more inclined to make the matter short, because I
have feared that the pat manner in which it all fell
out for his benefit might be taken for the stale ingenuity of a story-maker, instead of the narrative of facts
by a plain story-teller. How easy it would be for me,
if I wished to excite sympathy, to make Ben out a
poor young nobleman of nature, and a brilliant genius,
who is loved for his fine qualities, or despised for his
poverty. In the one case I could minister to the morbid love of excitement and admiration of a superior
nature to which the world is given; and in the other
I could gratify the sympathy of the world by describing suffering merit; or its envy, by portraying the
blind, haughty folly and wickedness of a "bloated
aristocracy" of wealth; and both sympathy and envy
are very common in the world. There are, however,
too many records existing, and too many witnesses
now living to testify to the exact truth, for me to indulge my fancy in the matter and my desire to please.
At the end of Ben's fifth year it was concluded by
Dr. McCleod to break up the school at his house. After
his brother, Mr. Theophilus, left, he had kept it up for
the sake of Ben, in whom he took a great interest,
and for his own little son, James, who was then nine
years old, and had been crammed with Ruddiman's
Rudiments and Historia Sacrw, until he had become
able to bolt portions of Caesar-most indigestible meals
for a young stomach. Mr. McDougal was a good
Latin scholar; in fact, he knew more about Latin than
he did about English. He was one of those book-educated men who pride themselves upon their learning,
8




86    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
and despise the unlearned in books as an inferior portion of humanity.
"Hoot, mon!" he would exclaim to Ben-but I must
be excused imitating his Scotch brogue-" a man who
is not learned in all the Elements is no man at all.
He is little better than the beasts that perish, the
Scriptures tell us ablut. He eats, and drinks, and
works, and his horses and oxen do the same. It's
when he becomes acquainted with the sacred oracles
of polite learning that he commences to live as a
man."
It is generally some idle, good-for-nothing drone we
hear using that kind of argument-a kind of argument
which has antiquity to support it. The practical spirit
of the age, and every earnest man who has caught
that spirit, has learned to estimate "polite learning"
at its true value. As an end it is of all things the
most valueless; it should be sought for only as a
means. Such scholars as was Jamie McDougal will
go scanning and parsing through the fields, and declaiming from Seneca or Homer in the workshops of
life, despising those who do not understand them, and
yet whose labor is burdened for their support: for
every non-producer is supported by the producers.
One Sunday morning McDougal asked Ben, "What
is the chief end of man?"
"To glorify God," answered Ben promptly, "and to
enjoy him forever. " And then he added quickly, " What
is'to glorify God,' Mr. McDougal?"
" Hm!" ejaculated Mr. McDougal, straightening
himself, and looking a little dictatorial and a little
puzzled. "Hml What is the next question, sir, in
your Catechism?"




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    87
"The next question is," answered Ben, "What rule
hath God given to direct us how we may glorify and
enjoy him?"
"And what is the answer, sir?" asked Mr. McDougal.
"The Word of God," answered Ben, glibly, " which
is contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New
Testaments, is the only rule?-"
"That will do, sir," said Mr. McDougal. "Now,
doesn't the Scripture say:'Whether therefore ye eat,
or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of
God.' And what more do ye want?"
Ben wanted and wished a great deal -more, but he
feared to make himself ridiculous by asking questions
for the further explanation of what to his teacher
seemed so perfectly satisfactory. So he determined
to study out the matter for himself, and learn what it
was to glorify God, and what was the rule upon the
subject contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New
Testaments. It puzzled him many a long day when
he grew older, until it grew to be the great puzzle and
maze of his mind.
I only introduced this conversation in this place as
an example of Mr. McDougal's shallowness, and to
draw from it a positive refutation of the idea some
good persons have of the utility of classical learning
as a part of general education. If it be true, as I
think it is, that man was created for the glory of God,
and that his chief object should be to glorify God, it
seems to me that of all men the unpractical bookworm
comes farthest from the object.  A few, a very few
men have "a gift that way."  To delve among Greek




88    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
and Latin roots or arbitrary signs, is their one talent,
and by its cultivation to the utmost they certainlythough generally unintentionally-glorify God who
gave it to them. Other men, and still very few, have
in addition to that gift the talent to make plain to all
by translations and commentaries the learning they
acquire, and they glorify God when they do that.
But to present classical learning to the minds of mankind as being a thing which is valuable in itself and
to God's glory, apart from the practical lessons it may
teach, is a great error. There is no part of learning
which may not at some time be practical and thus
valuable; and it is to be regretted that every man has
not all learning. But the question of education is one
of utility, and must be treated of as it affects the mass
of men who are created for the glory of God. Ninetynine men out of a hundred have neither the taste, nor
the capacity, nor the time to acquire classical learning,
and even if they had the taste, capacity, and opportunity, it would, except in the rarest cases, be a total
waste of time, which might be employed to the glory
of God in benefiting themselves and their fellows.
Jamie McDougal was impressed with the idea that
learning in Latin and Greek was intrinsically valuable,
"and made a man of him," and he studied hard
under the Dominie of the little village in which his
parents lived; and when the time came they pinched
and starved to send him to Edinburgh, and to keep him
there till he finished his studies, and thought themselves repaid by his ability to read Tacitus and Homer
without a dictionary, to dispute with the Dominie
about Greek particles, and to puzzle him with problems




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    89
in Conic Sections. And here was Jamie McDougal,
strayed off to the antipodes, a drunken schoolmaster
who had never benefited himself or another human
being. He could neither plough, sow, nor reap; could
not drive a nail without mashing his fingers, or drive
a horse without upsetting the vehicle.
It is easy enough to say that this was the fault of
Jamie McDougal; but that is a mistake. It was the
fault of the system, a system which is only now in
these late practical days going out of vogue. Men are
beginning to see that to glorify God more than barren
learning and passively doing no wrong, are required.
Energetically putting to practical use the talents He
has given them to discover and make profitable use of
the laws and objects of nature He has created, is one
of the manners in which they glorify His wisdom,
power, and goodness; actively doing right to each
other and benefiting themselves and each other by labor
in what they find to do for living and for pleasure, is to
glorify- His holiness, justice, and truth.
Jamie McDougal did none of these things. He did
wonders with a slate and pencil, and was perfectly
familiar with the Ancients, but that was all. During
the first year of his stay at the doctor's he made periodical visits to Rosstown, where he' would get quietly
drunk Friday evening, and remain so till Sunday morning, when he would begin to sober off, so as to return
all right to his school Monday morning. And so he
went on for several months undetected by the doctor,
who was not suspicious, and rarely went to the town,
or heard from there. But at last the frolics were prolonged over Monday; and then got still more flagrant.
8*




90    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
He even came to his duties two or three times before
he was quite sober, and suspicion being aroused, the
whole truth came out, and he was discharged, and the
school was broken up.
Ben, who was now my ward, told me about the
man's dissipation with many expressions of horror.
Now, I knew the boy's heart, and that he was perfectly sincere in his views of the enormity of McDougal's offences: but somehow or another it has always
given me a pang when I have seen and heard a boy
express too much horror at the vices of the appetites of
others. Apart from its too great resemblance to the
acts and protestations of a hypocrite, it is, when most
sincere, a sign of weakness in the boy. The same
qualities which in their strength make him rigidly
righteous allow him to run to the greatest excesses
when they become weakened.
CHAPTER VIII.
BEN ECCLES QUITS SCHOOL, AND GOES TO COLLEGE: AND
COMES HOME AND STARTS IN HIS PROFESSION.
SO Ben had to leave his school and the place which
had been his pleasant home for five years-a long
time at his age. The Bowmans and Sam Stockdale
had long ago been sent off to college, and their places
had been taken by other boys, sons of neighboring gentlemen. Ben and George Barnes alone remained of




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    91
the old set. The breaking up was unlooked for, and
word had to be sent to me before Ben could be disposed
of. He had parted sadly with the boys after many
hand-shakings and promises to. write to each other.
The day before old Silas was to come for him he went
around and made presents of what he could to his
favorites among the negro boys, reviewed and bade
farewell to the dogs, and play-ground, and garden, and
each familiar spot, gave Jimmy his ball and fishingrods, and helped Aunt Polly to pack his little trunk.
Ah, Aunt Polly! she was the hardest of all to leave.
She had taken him to her heart and had been mother,
aunt, and elder sister to the poor orphan. She had
stood between him and many a whipping from his
masters and the doctor; had protected him from slights
and neglect; had soothed his wounded feelings; had
sympathized with his hopes and fears, his enthusiasms
and depressions. Her long bony fingers had kept his
clothes always whole and in the nicest order. He had
found her many a Saturday night sitting up darning
his socks for the next day and peering at her work
through her iron-rimmed spectacles, which she only
wore when working by candle-light, and in which he
thought she looked so funny. It never occurred to his
mind that she was an ugly old woman. To him she
was beautiful, or, what is still better, kind, loving, and
pleasant; without flaw or defect. That is the kind of
beauty which never fades, but becomes more and more
perfect the longer it is contemplated.
Silas came over night with the barouche —which I
had borrowed from my mother for the occasion-and
brought a note from me to the doctor. Ben was to




92     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
start the next morning after an early breakfast. The
prayers that night seemed to him more impressive than
they ever did before-impressive of the fitfulness and
vanity of all earthly things. The doctor referred to
the parting, and prayed God to bless the boy in all his
future career, and Ben sobbed silently while on his
knees, and when bedtime came and he gave the dear
kind friends his last good-night kiss, he could contain
his grief no longer, but wept outright before them all.
The next morning he waked with a load upon his
heart. But breakfast was soon over; the last leave
was taken, and he started to Yatton. For two or
three miles his grief made him disinclined to take any
interest in the journey, but when the thought struck
him: how changed were his circumstances since his
first trip with Silas along that road; he found much
cause for cheerfulness and hope. Then, he was poor,
and had a heart almost empty; now, his future was
assured, and he had a heart filled with loved objects,
and knew that he was loved by them. Besides, he
was going to the object of his fondest devotion; or, at
least, he was going to the vicinity of her mother's, for
she was away at school; and might he not chance to
see her? Who knew?  She might be at home on a
holiday, or something might have occurred, or might
soon occur to fetch her there. When he had first
traveled that road, five years ago, only a moment to
look back upon, he was only eleven years old and was
friendless; now he was sixteen and knew and loved
Susan. In five years more he should be of age and
Susan should be a young lady, and if she only loved
him then he should be the very happiest of mortals.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    93
Of his own constancy, until then, he had no fear. He
would certainly be true to her; it were treason to even
doubt himself; and he would be a great man for her
sake.
HEe was heedless of the miles as they followed each
other. Up hill and down hill, forest and field, were
all the same to him, as he was absorbed in his happy
thoughts. Silas hardly knew what to make of his
mood, and tried several times to enter into conversation, but in vain. He no longer addressed him as
"youl" and "little boy!" and "I say!" when he
wished to attract his attention, but called him "Mas'
Ben," now that he had property of his own, and was
of the imposing age of sixteen. (That is another point
in which negro nature resembles human nature: Money
is to them "respectability.") At last, however, he hit
upon a theme which made Ben's blood tingle, and fully
aroused him.
" Mas' Ben!" said Silas, as they were passing near
Mrs. Garthwaite's; "Dey say ole Miss Gart'waite's
mighty lonesome. Miss Susan been gone to Augusty
mos' six mon's. Dey say she comin' home Chris'mus."'
Ah, how many weary months till Christmas 1 And
where should he be when Christmas came? Far away
at some school, perhaps. He would not go away to
school! But how could he become a great man, and
worthy of Susan if he should not go I It was a dreadful predicament; but he would see his guardian about
it. Blessed guardian, if he would only bring his hopes
to pass I
If any one suppose that in supplying these thoughts
and emotions to Ben Eccles (and I confessed in the




94    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
outset that it would be frequently necessary for me to
say and think a good deal for him), if any one suppose,
I say, that in these thoughts and emotions I have exceeded probability, he must certainly have forgotten
his own youth, or have had a youth not worth remembering. There is no estimating the brilliancy and complexity of the day-dreams in these early days of youth
when passion is first felt, and the imagination is still
pure and unlimited by stern realities, or, rather, is uncontrolled even by possibilities. In truth, the intelligent and imaginative boy of sixteen is wiser in his day
and generation, has more knowledge and more energy
in proportion to his age, than the man of forty. If it
were not so, if men grew in knowledge, wisdom, and
energy as rapidly from sixteen to forty as they do from
ten to sixteen, there would be no bounds to their acquirements. The greatest men of the past would sink
into utter insignificance beside such Godlike force.
Pooh I why do I, so old-man-like, try to justify my
attributing strong feelings and thoughts to Ben Eccles
at sixteenI When he presented himself to me that
afternoon on the street near my office he had a chew of
tobacco in his mouth, and his pants were braced up
and strapped down far tighter than my own; his boots
had higher heels and longer toes than mine; and his
voice, with but an occasional, faint, gosling inflection,
was manly, though not full-it never was. Modest
and quiet as he was, constitutionally, he already
thought his feelings and thoughts those of a man. He
possibly gave me credit for knowing a little more about
law and business than he did, but in point of scholarship he no doubt suspected my superiority, and in the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    95
matters of love and sentiment he possibly denied it. I
should not have been at all astonished if he had at
once asked my consent to his marriage, or proposed to
manage his own affairs. He was modest and quiet, as
I have said, but a fair average boy of sixteen must be
treated as a man, or he does not understand you, his
dignity is wounded; and the parent or guardian who
does not pay the most delicate attention to his boy's
feelings, and avoid in every way wounding his selfrespect, does a great and permanent injury.
A day or two after his arrival we had a grand consultation. I asked him what he wished to do now, and
what occupation or profession he wished to pursue in
life. He deferred to my judgment, but said that his
desire was to study and practice law. I advised him
to give the subject a further consideration, and in the
mean time to go to college until it should be time to
commence his legal studies, if he insisted upon being
a lawyer; and I pointed out to him the great necessity
in that profession for all the learning he could acquire,
be it ever so much or so varied. In short, we talked
the whole matter over, and he agreed to go at once to
Columbia College in South Carolina, which was then
the great Southern university for our part of the
South. As soon as his wardrobe could be prepared
he went, and from time to time I heard good reports
of his conduct and progress. The remainder of the
session carried him through the Freshman Class, and
he then went through the Sophomore and Junior
Classes. Finding himself over nineteen years old
when he was about half through his "Senior" year,
he became restless about his law studies. He was




96     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
very anxious, he said, to obtain his license as a lawyer
by the time he was twenty-one, and graduation was
nothing. In fact, the last year at college amounted to
nothing, he argued, and he wished I would allow him
to come to Yatton and begin his legal studies at once.
I consented, and he came to my house, and in a day
or two took his place in my office as my student.
Upon his first arrival he was, of course, afflicted with
college ways. He had a collection of pipes, chibouks,
hookahs, clay pipes of various shapes, wooden pipes,
and cob pipes, to one and the other of which he was,
I thought, rather too devoted. And he had a choice
assortment of boots and shoes, and fancy coats, vests
and pants-all of which I thought too fancy. But he
had become so sensitive that it was painful, even in
jest, to disapprove of any of his ways; and, besides,
I knew that they would all gradually wear into the
fashion of those around him. All I did was to caution
him against the abuse of tobacco. To use it was all
very well, and so long as it did him no injury he was
right to use it, or any other thing his soul or appetite
desired. He had no right, however, to use it to excess.
And so Ben Eccles was at last launched in his career.
So he may be said to have commenced life, and hereafter my story is to be of a more manly cast, and I
must change my manner of telling it accordingly.
Of his early companions, Sam Stockdale was off at
Philadelphia attending the medical lectures, and the
two Bowmans were set up by their father as planters.
George Barnes was still a nobody, and no one could
conjecture if he should ever become a somebody, or, if
he did, what sort of a somebody he should be.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.    97
CHAPTER IX.
BEGINS WITH A PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDY, AND ENDS WITH
A DESCR1PTION OF THE ROSSTOWN FEMALE COLLEGE.
I HAVE several times said that Ben was very sensitive, and I have also said that he joined the church
at Spring Hill, near Dr. McCleod's. The shrewd
student of human nature could write a whole history
from these two facts, and, according as he was satirical
or charitable, could place his hero in the most ludicrous
or most affecting situations. His sensitiveness was
morbid, not healthy, and his religion was, so far, a religion of the conscience and affections, and was not yet
adjusted by the intellect, that is to say, he felt rather
than fully understood. Now while it is certainly true
that a man had better be sensitive than callous, and
had better have a mere religion of the conscience and
affections than have no religion at all, it is also true
that Ben was in a condition of exquisite difficulty,
through which he could pass only in suffering tortures.
For the sensitiveness he could gain some relief by
solitude, but that very solitude would add poignancy
to the terrible conflict in which his religious feelings
were bound to plunge him.
I am speaking plain English, and am talking about
a state of mind which has been felt by millions now
living, and shall yet be felt by millions in every generation. With a man of intellect, though he may be
9




98     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
no genius, or may have no particularly bright talents,
when religion gets into the heart or conscience (by
religion, I mean a sense of dependence upon and
accountability to God), it has to be understood and
placed -in its proper symmetry by the head. It is a
warfare from which there is no discharge. All the
whys and the wherefores have to become plain, and
that cannot be, most generally, without a dreadful
struggle, which often endures a lifetime, but which, at
any rate, lasts a longer or a shorter time according to
the temperament and capacity of the individual, and
rather his temperament than his capacity.
If I were writing a religious story I would use all
the technical names for this conflict, and describe it
learnedly and with scholarly precision from its inception to its end. But I am not writing a religious story.
So far from it I will avoid religious topics as much as
I can, and although the course of my story should
necessarily lead me to refer to them, I will do so as to
mere matters of fact.
Cato, the censor, had a saying which I could not for
a long time after I read it fully understand: that " he
liked a young man who blushed more than he did one
who turned pale." I think I understand him now, and
that Ben was a good example of the truth of the observation. The man who blushes is gay and careless,
and has quick but evanescent feelings —only his head
is affected-but the man who turns pale is terribly in
earnest and feels deeply-the blood rushes to his heart,
gathers around the seat of life. Ben turned pale, and
never blushed. His feelings were mortal.
One day on entering my office I found him pale and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN EBOLES.    99
nervous,:though he pretended to be perfectly unconcerned. As I had just spoken to Susan and her
mother who were in town doing some shopping in
preparation for Susan's speedy departure for her new
school at Rosstown, from which she had returned only
the day before on some feminine exigency in the clothing
line, and I reckoned that Ben had seen them too, and
hence his paleness, I remarked:
"Well, Ben, I just now saw some old friends of
yours; Mrs. Garthwaite and her daughter."
"I thought I saw the carriage pass just now, sir."
"Why, I should have thought, young sir, that you
would have been all anxiety to render your thought a
certainty. At-your age, I spied, and inquired, and
found out, and then I acted," said I, rather boastingly,
for the truth was that I had been almost as nervous as
he now was about the girl I loved.
" I'll go directly, sir," said he. He had been sitting
there at least a half hour trying to make up his mind
to face Miss Susan and h6r mother, and had I not7thus
urged him on they would perhaps have left town without his having dared to budge from the office. As it
was, he went at once, and in about an hour returned
all smiling and happy, and said that he had seen the
ladies to their carriage, and that they had invited him
out to spend the evening.
There was a great big, staring, bran-new schoolhouse at Rosstowh, where young ladies were taught
all the'onomies and'ologies, with music, painting, and
the use of the globes, by a Yankee couple, or, rather, by
a German music-teacher named Von Corlein, and his
Yankee wife. They were a queer couple; she, an




100    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
energetic, smart, full-blooded Yankee woman, with no
end of a "system" and the newest and most minute
and inflexible rules and regulations; he, a slender,
soft, spectacled German, who had no system at all, except such as his wife might establish, but who founded
himself upon that as the newest and most wonderfully
perfect of all systems. It is to be supposed that as
they were husband and wife they understood each
other's speech, although he spoke German, of which
she did not know a dozen words, and neither of them
spoke English-at least, her English was so very
Northern that the good people around Rosstown for
some time had difficulty in understanding it, which
was, of course, their fault, not hers, as. she was fresh
from the very central abode of civilization.
I said they were a queer couple. I should have
rather said it was a queer match. Their marriage
was evidently, beyond usual marriages, a speculation.
He married a school-mistress, and she married a musicteacher, with the mutual idea of personal advantage
in the establishment of the Rosstown Female College.
Their assistants, every one a she professor, were
selected with care, they said; but they were all the
sisters and cousins of Mrs. Von Corlein. That only
proved that the Hitchins family from which she sprang
was both extensive and erudite-not that they were
poor, in want of situations, and, posssibly, humbugs.
However, the college got a great name for the
thoroughness in teaching art, science, and the belleslettres to be accomplished there, and for the elegance
of deportment there to be inculcated. The science of
CALISTHENICS, which was announced far and near in




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   101
large caps in the "Rosstown Gazette," and in the
circulars sent to patrons and desired patrons, and discussed in italics, with many exclamation and interrogation points, by the citizens talking on the streets, was,
I imagine, the great card of the enterprise. It was a
new name to the people, and therefore involved vastly
more than simple exercise. The science was the thing,
and the most religious of patrons could not object to
the necessary motions of dancing, as it was not dancing,
but Calisthenics, a purely scientific accomplishment,
invented for the express purpose of extracting the sin
from dancing. But that was only one of its moral
advantages. The healthy mind in the healthy body
was insisted upon by the Academicians, until it almost
got to be believed that no man's daughter could be a
real woman unless she had the agility of a rope-dancer,
with the pluck and science of a prize-fighter, and the
graceful looseness of an acrobat (only very highsounding names were given to the exercises necessary
to produce that state of things), and it was fully
impressed upon all that at the Rosstown Female College alone she could be made perfect.
When ladies called to see Mrs. Von Corlein about
placing their daughters at her school, she would pass
briefly over geography and grammar, reading and
writing, to fall back upon Calisthenics, which Mr. Von
Corlein could bear witness were revived in Germany
from the ancient Greeks, and were now all the rage at
the North. No young lady could be said to be fully
accomplished without one or more courses in the science, which was not only an accomplishment in itself,
but was the necessary prelude and accompaniment of
9*




102    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
all other accomplishments. And she would go out of
the room and presently return with her younger sister,
Miss Anchisia Hitchins, a rosy-cheeked, great-mouthed
young woman, with prodigious arms and breadth of
loin, whom she would introduce as the Calisthenician
professor, and with whom she would discuss the most
complicated manceuvres, which afterwards, when stripped of their technicalities, turned out to be the most
common of girls' amusements; for instance, skipping
the rope was, in their parlance, soter ly cord; battledore and shuttle-cock, was judy volant, etc. etc. A
Frenchman would have been as much mystified as
were the Rosstownians.
There was a furor in town and county about the
college. The young men fresh from college talked to
each other learnedly, and to the despair of the unlearned,
about ro xaRov, and laughed with vague meaning at each
other as though they had been only partly raised up
to it. Girls begged their mothers and coaxed their
fathers to send them to the college. What if the bill
were a little higher than ever school bill was before I
was there not superior mental and moral training perfected by Calisthenics? Little boys looked on and
listened in wonder, and thought the feminine seience
would ever be occult to them. I will warrant that
there are now in Rosstown and the county a half dozen,
at least, of old men who remember the impressions
made upon them when they were children by the wonderful word " Calisthenics," as taught at the Rosstown
Female College.
There was another word strangely and therefore attractively applied. It was not a school, or even a




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   103
seminary; still less was it an academy. It was a college, with its corps of professors, all shefi, it's true,
but still professors; and at the next meeting of the
legislature it should have a charter. It would have
its regular commencements, and graduating classes',
and speaking, and singing, and instrumental music,
and diplomas!
For once Rosstown was ahead of the world. The
Rosstownians, when at Yatton, spoke pityingly of our
limited facilities for female education, and commended
to us the " system " of the college in which mental and
moral training was assisted and perfected by Calisthenics. When at home they talked complacently
about the superior advantages of their town, as though
it would some- day rival Boston. The "Gazette"
lauded to the skies the enterprising spirit of the Rosstownians, and declared that "the thanks and the unyielding support of the nation, and of Rosstown in particular, are due to the energetic, learned, accomplished,
scientific, and artistic Principals of the Rosstown Female College, who are as elegant in manners as sound
and commanding in intellect, and have a breadth of
understanding, a height of genius, a length of foresight,
and a depth of wisdom unsurpassed by any of the
whole corps of educational evangelists." In the Methodist church —the Von Corleins were, to a man, or,
rather, to a professor, strong Methodists, and as that
was about the most enthusiastic congregation in Rosstown, had rather placed the college under Methodist
auspices; though Mr. Von was slightly inclined (Mrs.
Von confessed, aside, to the Presbyterians) to the Calvinistic school; and Miss Anchisia frequently attended




104    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
the Episcopal services; and Miss Joanna, a cousin, the
professor of ancient languages, had been led by her investigations of the verb /a7rrew to look with charity,
to say the least, upon the immersing school; and if
there had been Catholic families about, I expect that
the Miss Hitchins, who taught French, would have had
her missal: but, as I was saying, in the Methodist
church on the Sunday before the Monday on which
the first session of the college was to commence, Old
Father Bright (whom I best remember by his exclaiming, one day, in a sermon upon the Parables, that
" People mustn't make a figure go on all fours") hinted,
in no obscure terms in his prayer, that the enterprise
was worthy of the blessing of Heaven, and ought to,
and must receive it.
The college building had been speedily erected, by
subscription, upon a vacant lot just on the edge of the
town. It was a large two-storied wooden building,
painted white, with the school-rooms and parlor, refectory, Mrs. Von's apartment, and other domestic arrangements, on the lower floor, and the dormitories up stairs.
A broad gallery was in front, up stairs and down. It
was, by far, the largest dwelling-house in Rosstown,
not excepting the tavern, and was for that reason an
additional source of town pride. And it was soon
filled with scholars. Yatton was represented there,
and so were Barville, and Graystown, and Shoccoville
also, although it had a rival academy of its own.
Scholars had come from far and near, attracted by the
new system, and among them, at last, was Susan Garthwaite. She was now over sixteen, and in the natural course of things had but a year or two more to go




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   105
to school. The school in Augusta was excellent, and
her progress there had been marked, but she had been
there so long, and it was so dull, and so far away, and,
besides, Calisthenics were so new, and the chance for
superior polish at Rosstown was so much greater, that
her mother concluded that she should spend the last
year or eighteen months of her school-life with Mr.
and Mrs. Von. She had started there in the winter,
and now that summer was coming on she had made a
visit to her mother's for the important purpose of purchasing and preparing the additional necessaries and
krinkum-kranks for summer: hence her presence in
town; hence Ben's nervousness, and hence his going
to Mrs. Garthwaite's to spend the evening.
CHAPTER X.
A FEW WORDS ARE SAID ABOUT BOARDING-SCHOOLS;
SUSAN'S COLLEGE CAREER IS BRIEFLY DESCRIBED, AND
SHE HERSELF IS DESCRIBED MORE PERFECTLY; CONCLUDING WITH A GOOD WORD FOR LOVE.
IT would be absurd for one as old as I am to attempt
to enter into the spirit of a girls' boarding-school,
and describe the manner of life, the little cliques and
cabals, the quarrels and jealousies, the harmless scandals, and the devoted, undying friendships which characterize such institutions. I can with a good conscience thank Heaven that if I had a daughter I would




106    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECOLES.
not have her sent to a boarding-school.  True, it is
something like the Pharisee's thanking God that he
was not as other men are; nevertheless, I think that
the man who has sense enough to keep his daughter
away from such institutions has good cause for thanks
to Heaven.
I know that this sounds very harsh and sweeping,
and that it will be said that some of the very best of
persons preside over such schools, and that their
schools have turned out this and that excellent scholar
— all of which may be true enough. And yet I firmly
believe, and I think the experience of this and of all
past ages will agree with me, that any large assemblage of young persons of either sex, to live together
at a school or college, is productive of harm, sometimes
great injury, as it is certainly irremediable injury.
But enough of that. I cannot reform the world.
Colleges and boarding-schools will still exist, and be
patronized by a people who think that instruction
means education, and that instruction in books is the
great object in life.
I presume that no girl ever passed more unscathed
through the ordeal of boarding-schools than did Susan
Garthwaite. She was to the day of her death a pure
woman-a thing which I attribute, however, to her common sense and lack of imagination rather than to the influences which surrounded her at her schools. When
I speak of her as a pure woman and speak of the evils
of boarding-schools and such like, every one of sense
understands that I do not mean that any of her companions were impure girls or women, in the sense of
actually lacking in virtue. I mean that she knew so




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   107
little evil that she could not even understand a double
entendre, and used most innocently many proper expressions which almost invariably had cant and vulgar
meanings attached to them when used among men.
Her knowledge was pure; her imagination was pure;
and all things were pure to her.
She had her dearest friends among the scholars, of
course; she must be a very bad-hearted girl who has
not; but I doubt if she had any confidant among them.
Her mother had instilled into her that most necessary
lesson for a young person who goes to mix with others
in the great or a small world; a lesson first taught
ages ago, but which requires reteaching to every successive generation: to treat her best friend as though
she would some day be her worst enemy, and her
worst enemy as though she should some day be her
best friend.
This rule, proper for either sex, is. most essential for
woman in all stages of her growth. Naturally incapable as she is, except to a husband, a lover, or her child,
or parents, of that sublime friendship which was felt
by Damon and Pythias, she is yet fond of playing at
friendship, and fond of talking, and therefore of saying what she really does not mean, and in' point of
keeping to herself what she hears is not to be completely relied on. It is self-evident, therefore, that she
should be very guarded in her speech and conducta rigid state of things incompatible with the gushingness of the relations between confidants.
I afterwards knew and highly esteemed some of
Susan's dearest friends, but as they are not especially
concerned in my story I shall pass them by.




108    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
The nearest approach to an adventure Miss Susan
had during her stay at the college was when she was
a " Senior," on the occasion of the large dancing-party
given at Col. Christmas', to which she and five of the
other older girls were invited.
The first mention of the proposition to decapitate the
French king hardly caused so much horror and contention in the Assembly as did this ball in the college. The
question almost became national in its importance and
the excitement it engendered in the community. To say
that Mrs. Von was horror-struck is not sufficiently to
describe her feelings. Her horror was a stake horror,
and she glanced to this side and that to see its effects,
and judge of the proper succession of the intensities
and modifications. For awhile Mr. Von, the excitable
little German, encouraged her; so did the Misses
Hitchins, or the Professor Hitchinses; so did old Mr.
Bright, and Mrs. Bright, and the Misses Brightthough they were rather lukewarm, as they considered
dancing to be only one of the mata prohibita, which
needed but the name of Calisthenics to become a virtue; so did several other dear good people of the real salt
of the earth, who had received a savor of Puritanism
they had never lost. What I the Rosstown Female
College to have representatives in a ball-room I a private ball-room, truly,, but still a ball-room; the Devil's
front parlor! and those representatives the very pick
and choice of the college! It was an outrage, a pestilent scandal, an unheard-of attempt at sullying the
purity of the system, which combined high moral
sesthetics with all the practical branches I
But those who encouraged Mrs. Von were not them



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   109
selves encouraged. Mrs. Garthwaite, when she learned
her daughter's desire to go to the party which was
given at the house of one of her best friends, who was
also one of the first gentlemen in the country, and whose
family were most refined and excellent persons, gave
her consent at once; and not only so, came herself to
Rosstown expressly to go with her daughter. Four
of the other ladies, whose daughters were invited, also
consented., The better portion of the town-folk were
decidedly opposed to any strait-laced nonsense about
girls not going to Col. Christmas' house, party or no
party. So Mr. Von cooled down, and Mr. and Mrs.
Bright and the others thought that, well, perhaps they
were too hasty, and the Miss Hitchinses returned to
their normal state, and, of course, Mrs. Von had to
compose her features and mind.
It was a great triumph to the rebellious Susan to
go with her mother as the leader of the band of insurgents to the Colonel's ball; and vastly did she and
they enjoy themselves. They put in public exercise
their lessons in Calisthenics, to their own delight and
the admiration of others. Mr. Charles Bowman begged
to renew his acquaintance made years ago, when both
were children, and he danced with Susan. Dr. Sam
Stockdale, who was settled in Rosstown practicing his
profession, did the same thing. The tip of the Rosstown ton sought to make her acquaintance, and the
young gentlemen among them entreated her hand for
the dance.
To say that Susan was a pretty girl is rather cold
praise.  She was beautiful.  Her dark-brown hair
shaded a brow around which intelligence and virtue
10




110    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
and goodness wreathed their clustering graces; a
crown far more glorious than that which decked the
victor in the Isthmian games. To speak more to the
point, she had a correctness and delicacy of feature
and a soft radiance of bloom, with which -her intelligence and gentle dignity and goodness were in perfect
harmony. Her rounded and active form was exquisitely graceful, whether in movement or repose. A man
could not help loving her; not that she would encourage him, for her simple and sincere nature was utterly
ignorant of any of the arts of coquetry; but the thousand graces circling her about beckoned him on, and
she was unconsenting, while he was made captive.
Pshaw! one would think that I had got a leaf from
Ben Eccles' diary.
And yet, can anything be more bewitching even to
an old man, than a pure, beautiful, and gentle girl?
The sweetest dream I have of heaven is that I shall
there meet just such a one, a pure, beautiful, and gentle
girl, my Mary; the superior here of Susan Garthwaite
in beauty and in the bright intelligence which almost
rivaled light in its quickness and clearness; but, above
all, her superior, in my estimation, because she loved
me. She loved me! Blessed be the God of Love for
making man in his own image, and all nature in accord I
It is love which adds brightness to the sunbeam, beauty
and fragrance to the flower, symmetry to form, and
harmony to sound; which deprives the thunder-cloud
of its terrors, turns despair to hope, and takes the sting
away from death. It gives pleasure to the toils of life,
and always stands as the crown of their reward. Man
aspires to be wise, admires justice and holiness, seeks




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   111
after knowledge, and strives for power over nature,
but he feels Love; it alone can completely fill his nature, it alone of all his attributes is always present,
and it alone can be made nearly perfect here on earth.
His wisdom may prove folly; his justice, cruelty; his
holiness, sinful weakness; his knowledge, a vain boast;
and of his power he may despair; but his Love knows
neither despair, cruelty, sinfulness, folly, nor vain boasting. It is always the very perfection of perfection;
makes crooked things, straight; rough places, smooth;
ugliness, beautiful; stupidity, intelligent; and even
vice it often transforms to virtue. Man could neither
bear to live, nor living bear to die without it. And
when in addition to his own exquisite feeling of that
perfect sense he knows that all of it with which another is endowed, and she one of the most lovely and
loving of God's loving creatures, is bestowed upon
him as its object, he feels a pride of his own dignity
and an appreciation of his own blessedness as a man,
which no other contemplation of his nature can impart.
My Mary loved me, and I felt proud and blessed in
her love. Old as I am I still feel the pride, and throughout eternity I hope to feel the blessedness.




112    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER XI.
IS ALTOGETHER ABOUT MR. ECCLES.
EN studied hard and got his license at the time he
had appointed for himself. His gilt sign, " BENJAMIN ECCLES, ATTORNEY & COUNSELOR AT LAW," was
tacked on the shutter of one of my office windows
which always stayed open-because one of its hinges
was broken. We were very careless about our offices.
I doubt if there were three of the nine in town which
had serviceable locks on the doors. Our libraries were
almost in common, and all of our most valuable papers
were kept either at our own houses, or at the clerk's
office, or the bank.
It is not to be expected that I'should cudgel my
brains to remember his first cases. There was really
nothing remarkable about his professional career,
though the "American Lawyer's Mirror," or some
such periodical, applied to him many years later for his
biography, which it proposed to publish together with
his portrait, he having only to supply five hundred
dollars towards insuring the perfection of the work; a
small bonus which brought out the lives and portraits
of a large number of " the most remarkable men of the
country." Old Colonel Jenks had his portrait and
biography done up, and his wife and son were vastly
proud of him always afterwards, as one of the great




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT:BEN ECCLES.   113
public men of the nation. I do not know but that it
impressed me with a higher esteem for the old gentleman, although I had known him all my life, and knew
that the whole story was only " founded on fact." I
knew most of the petty cases, and sharp practice, and
close bargains, which had constituted "the heroic
struggle which raised him from poverty to opulence,
etc. etc." But the narrative of the struggle was very
affecting, and was calculated to fire the youthful hearts
of his son and grandsons with emulation.
It is my candid opinion that no matter how worthless may have been a man who dies and leaves a family,
it is the bounden duty of his Lodge, or Bar, or Board,
or Council, or Committee-and if he belong to none of
these, then it is the duty of the people of his town or
county —to call a meeting and pass resolutions of the
most laudatory character about him; and that it is also
the duty, the solemn and beneficent duty, of the epitaphs upon the tombstones of such men to lie, lie with
pious fervor about'them. It is almost equivalent to
an "ancestry" for giving self-respect to descendants.
This is the only sense in which the old Latin maxim
"de mortuis, etc.," is true.
Poor Ben was in fact not a very great man in his
own estimation. Sometimes his ambition and selfesteem would get the better of his judgment, and persuade him that he could attain renown in any pursuit
requiring brains. Sometimes, too, he thought himself
handsome. The spasms of conceit I would detect by
his conversation, and the accesses of vanity by his
conduct and dress. I myself have no doubt but that
his conceit was well founded. He only lacked the one
10*




114    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
little quality, hardness. His vanity was not without
good cause either. He was very good looking; had
dark-gray eyes, brown hair, a very intelligent and
amiable face, and a tall, graceful form. Though not
remarkably handsome, he certainly had a very pleasing appearance; and, except his chewing tobacco and
smoking, he was remarkably neat in all his habits and
ways. He prided himself a good deal upon his moustache-a sandy growth which contrasted strangely,
but he thought not unpleasantly, with his dark hairand in those youthful days he preserved a reasonable
degree of solicitude about the fashion and fit of his
boots and gloves, for he considered his feet and hands
his best features.
His conversation, when unrestrained, was always
very pleasing. Whatever the subject, he was earnest
about it. Every fact seemed to undergo in his mind a
kind of transmutation, and came forth bran-new, with
a sparkle of the comic, or a tinge of the sad, and an
entirely original association with other facts. He had
his full share of humor, sometimes pungent, often grotesque, but always amiable. Yet his most joyful bursts
could often be changed to shame and confilsion by a
want of sympathy in his audience, or the detection of
a sneer of disapproval in some blockhead of the company who aped a character for wisdom, or was envious
of the speaker.
Do not be startled, dear reader, and think that I am
about to inflict a dose of cant upon you when I inform
you that he had a class in the Sunday-school; that he
was a sort of pet with the Rev. Mr. Snow, and deputy
lieutenant for Mrs. Snow; and that he attended all the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   115
prayer meetings, and monthly concerts, and night services as well as day services of the church. Nor need
you be alarmed when I tell you that, sometimes, at the
various meetings, he was called upon to pray, and that
he did pray earnestly and intelligently. You wish to
know Ben Eccles, and I must, therefore, tell you all
about him; but I have no intention to go any further
into this branch of the subject than to state bare facts.
I have already told you that he had religion of the
heart and conscience, and you are to see, and should
wish to see, how he acted in such a condition.
I often noticed in the office that he would every now
and then lean his head for some moments upon his
open book, or on the table, and seem wrapped in reverie. One day I observed to him that he did not appear
to chew so much tobacco as usual, and asked him if
he had lost his taste for it. He told me that he liked
it still, only too much.
"Why, does it injure your health, Ben?" I asked.
"No, Mr. Page," he answered, " it doesn't injure my
health that I know of; but I think I shall have to give
it up."
" That's strange," said I. " If it doesn't injure you,
I'm sure it injures no one else; and if you like it so
much, why not continue to use it?"
"The truth is, Mr. Page," answered he, looking
doubtful, and a little confused, "I have been questioning myself whether I had the right to chew."
"The right to chew I" exclaimed I, in surprise.
"Why, what new doctrine is this you wish to start,
Ben?"
"It is no new doctrine at all, sir," he answered;




116    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECLGES.
"but the Apostle tells us that:'Whether therefore
ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the
glory of God.'"
" Well, Ben," said I, "what has that to do with the
matter?"
"Why, sir," he answered, looking earnestly at me,
"I can't see how my chewing tobacco redounds to the
glory of God, and am, therefore, in great doubt about
it."
Here was a revelation to me, and Heaven knows
how deeply I sympathized with the poor fellow. But
I could do nothing. All the reasoning and teaching of
all the preachers in the world could avail him nothing
in his then morbid state of mind and conscience. He
had to work the problem out by degrees, and for himself. His reason could not work it out, for though his
reason were a thousand times convinced, a thousand
times new doubts would arise, and the conviction would
have each time to be made anew, and still always be
mingled with lurking doubt.
One communion Sunday I noticed that Ben at the
close of the sermon slipped out of the church, and
before the ceremony commenced returned with his
moustache shaved cleanly off. I never mentioned to
him that I noticed it, for I knew the cause and pitied
him for it.
It cannot injure the course of my story, and may
perhaps add to its clearness and interest, if I shall here
at once in a few words precise the difficulty in which
the young man was. I know it partly because he told
me of it afterwards himself, and I understand it because, perhaps, I once felt something of it myself, but,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   117
at any rate, because I have observed it in many other
persons besides Ben- Eccles.
Ben was a Christian. He said he had faith, and
felt that he had faith, and he also said and felt that he
had no other hope of salvation than the atonement of
Christ, which he appropriated to himself by faith. He
was a hard Bible student and was as well instructed
in the Scriptures as any young man I have ever known,
and very far better than most old men who were his
superiors in the length of time since they had first professed their faith, and in the comfort they derived from
it. He not only studied the Scriptures themselves, but
every commentary upon them, and every other religious work he could lay his hands upon. And yet,
Ben did not understand. He had faith, trusted only
in the atonement of Christ, and yet-and yet, he was
trying to work out his own salvation. His faith had
not set him free from the covenant of works. He did
not realize, had not made it a living, active portion of
his faith, that, while his own works were necessary,
they were only necessary as being the only legitimate
proofs of his faith. They still, practically, appeared
to him to be necessary in the sense of eking out his
faith; of making it effectual for salvation as a sort of
addendum; and, therefore, his conscience was raw.
I do not know how to make my meaning more clear.
There is a vast number of good persons in the world
who calmly believe, or say they believe, just what Ben
unconsciously believed with such an agonizing effect.
As I am not writing a religious story I do not intend
to enter into long argument with them. I merely wish
to state facts, and they can do the doctrinal contro



118    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
versy. As a student of the human heart, anxious to
arrive at truth with regard to all human motives, I
wish to describe the state of belief which brought
about a certain course of conduct and certain other
effects. What may appear very rational and simple to
others was not so to Ben. He could not have faith
and feel that he had still to make up a deficiency for
his salvation by works, and have peace of mind; whatever others may do. For my own part, if I thought
that my salvation depended upon anything I could or
should think, say, or do, as making up the measure for
my salvation beyond and in addition to the atonement
made by Christ, I should certainly think my chances
for heaven very small, and live in continual fear that I
muight die suddenly, or in a delirium, or in a state of
idiocy or coma, with some little thing left undone or
some little sin not fully accounted for, and thus be lost
forever.
Feeling, then, as I have described, Ben Eccles was
miserable.  Doubts and fears continually tormented
him, and as his spirits lost their tone the doubts, and
fears, and misery increased. Tobacco was his greatest
want, and the occasion of his acutest pangs of conscience. He had innocently enough taken up the habit,
just as boys in our country are apt to do. To use tobacco is certainly rather a dirty habit, but it, or some
equivalent, seems to be necessary to the human race,
as almost every people on earth indulge it. I have
no doubt but that it is productive of great good by
soothing the nervous system, or in some other way. It
is certainly a great comfort and an active pleasure, and
when it is not productive of immediate or marked ill




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   119
effects —which any man of sense can perceive for himself in his own case-I think that its use should be indulged. I will go further than that, and say that as
the pleasures of this life are all the good we have of
the body in this life, I think it the duty of every man
to get just as much pleasure as he can, so that he neither injure himself nor any one else by his pleasure;
and that, therefore, if tobacco be likely to give him
pleasure he should prove whether it will injure him or
not, and if it do not, should enjoy it-and give God
the glory.
Ben had taken up the habit, I say, innocently enough,
and, as it did him no injury, he had continued it for
years, so that it had actually become a necessity, and,
in fact, did him great good. But here came those
doubts and fears. I have seen him, after heroically
denying nature's cravings for a day or two, sit for
hours impassive arguing to himself while he held his
ready chew between his fingers. Nature cried out for
it, and was in revolt for it, and conscience kept whispering that he could not glorify God by chewing tobacco, "and whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of
God;" and he would close his eyes and silently pray,
and would argue and convince himself to the point that
the precious morsel would be almost at his lips, and he
would let his hand fall again. And so it would go on
until at last desperate, rebellious, but groaning in the
agony of his mind, the chew would be taken, and he
would jump up and enter hurriedly into random conversation, or busy himself about some occupation, to
stifle and forget the tormenting doubts.
And so it went on for hours day after day, with, at




120    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
first, occasional intermissions for a week or two, and
sometimes a month or two, during which he would be
apparently assured and at peace. But where is the
human mind which can pass uninjured by a conflict
like this if long continued? One of three things must
happen if the man live: either "full assurance of faith,"
or despair and recklessness, or insanity. There is no
compromising the contest; though it often endures for
years before it is decided at last.
The reader thinks, no doubt, by this time, that -if my
story be true it is a queer sort of story to be chosen
for narration; and that if it be a fiction I have created
a before unheard-of hero for a novel and have got him
into a strange predicament. But never fear, gentle
reader; whatever shall happen to Ben there is a great
deal of bright sunshine and many a pleasant scene
before you. It was necessary you should hear all this
I have been telling you, and now that it is told thank
me that you are well through with it. There are few
story-tellers who would not have engaged you for at
least three long chapters upon this very explanation,
and here you are clear for but part of a short chapter.
An old man may be permitted to praise himself when
he has for once avoided garrulity; and if you still think
that I have said too much upon this subject reflect, O
reflect, upon the tremendous force I have had to exert
upon myself not to say more I




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   121
CHAPTER XII.
INTRODUCES MISS ALICE CHARLTON TO THE READER AS
A RIVAL TO SUSAN GARTHWAITE IN HIS AFFECTIONS.
IT is now time that I shall introduce into my story
another character whom I have not before mentioned, because it was only now that she commenced
to be mingled with its incidents.
Aunt Polly Hart, like several other homely old maids
whom I have known, had a charming niece, the daughter of her youngest sister. This niece's name was
Alice Charlton; she was about a year older than Susan
Garthwaite, and had been recently left an orphan by
the death of her mother, who had lived at Shoccoville.
Her father had died when she was eight years old, and
her mother had been a widow about ten years. After
her mother's death she came to live with Aunt Polly at
Dr. McCleod's; a welcome guest to the whole family,
for besides that she was Aunt Polly's dear and only
niece, and was amiable, and pleasant both to sight and
hearing, she was admirably educated both in books
and in all the details of domestic life. To be useful
seemed to run in Aunt Polly's family, and Alice, besides
being almost as good a housekeeper as her aunt, possessed a number of feminine accomplishments which
had been invented or introduced since the old lady's
youth. Notably, she had a very considerable talent
for drawing, a talent which is no rarer in our country
11




122   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
than in Italy or than it was in Greece in its happiest
days, but which is seldom cultivated.
The piano is almost enough to make one regret
modern civilization. It was right that man in his
progress of investigating the laws of mechanics and
sound should invent it, but the invention should have
been kept secret except to those who were engaged in
the higher walks of art and science. It might have
been allowed for one to be kept as a curiosity in every
chief museum and among the mechanical apparatus of
every university and national school of science, just
as each has a huge electrical machine, but that is quite
as far as the abominable complication should ever have
been extended. The cheap manufacture of them is
almost as glaring a wrong in the Yankee nation as
is Puritanism in religion and politics, cheating and
braggadocio.
If one could arrive at the exact amount of money
spent each year, for, say, the last twenty-five yearssince 1835-in pianos and music upon the piano, he
would find a sum total which would be almost as great
as that for the Tract and Foreign Missionary Societies
combined —and with just about the same benefit.
Let me not, however, stray away from a pleasant
subject to inveigh against the sinful waste of capital
(time and money) for afflicting children who have no
ear for music and grown folk who have a correct ear
and taste.  Alice Charlton had a pleasant voice,
whether she talked or sang, but she wasted no time in
attempting the impossible (correctly producing fine
music) upon a piano. She had a talent for drawing
and she cultivated that. It is an art which requires




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   123
only a pencil and paper, or a piece of chalk, or even a
stick, for its machinery, which may be exercised at all
times and in all places, and which is lasting in its
products; and her efforts were deemed little short of
the miraculous in her narrow circle of friends. A girl
who draws well is always a wonder in our country,
even to those who could do just as well, or better, if
they would only attempt and persevere at it.
It was not long till she had Flora McCleod as an
ardent pupil in the beautiful art, and even if she had
been otherwise objectionable she should have received
the benedictions of the old doctor for keeping the girl
quiet and amused.
Two or three weeks after Alice came to live with
her aunt, she attended with her the church at Spring
Hill. A visit to a country church is always novel,
however well one may be accustomed to it. The large
frame building perched on blocks, and situated on a
hill near the big road away from habitations, and surrounded by the great trees of the primeval forest; the
neighing horses hitched here and there in the wood;
the little groups of persons near the doors and about
under the trees; the horsemen as they arrive, turning
aside to some favorite hitching tree, dismounting, and
advancing to the group in which they see some friend,
and switching as they go the dust from their disordered
dress; the variety of vehicles, from the huge family
carriage to the gig hung high on wooden springs, and
the one-horse cart with chairs in it for seats; the
buxom country damsels with their short riding-skirts
of yellow nankin riding up to the horse-block, and
shaking all over as they nimbly dismount; the boys




124   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
in their Sunday-go-to-meetings, and new brogans with
the store shine still upon them, strutting about from
group to group, and insatiably visiting the spring in
the bottom; the graces of the young men as they think
themselves remarked by some fair arrival as she passes
into the church, or go to assist some other to dismount,
or alight from her vehicle; the business air of the
preacher when he arrives and enters the church without turning to the right or left to salute the crowd
which then streams in after him,-all is still novel,
however often one may see it, and once seen is never
forgotten.
It was in such a scene as this, one bright Sunday
morning, that Alice Charlton, paying her first visit to
the Spring Hill church, was remarked by Mr. Charles
Bowman, Ben's former schoolmate, a young and
thriving planter of the neighborhood, who wondered
to himself who that devilish pretty girl was who got
out of the carriage with Aunt Polly. And Mr. Charles
Bowman was not the man to wonder long on such a
subject without making an attempt to satisfy his
wonder; so, by dint of asking, he soon found out the
very pedigree of the young lady —so far away, at least,
as to her paternal and maternal grandfathers. When
church was over, he, of course, got out as soon as possible, and stationed himself at the door to see the
ladies pass out-nearly all young men do that at town
as well as at country churches-and when Aunt Polly
came along, he, of course, delightedly shook hands
with her, and manifested the greatest solicitude about
her, and acted in general the part of one who knows




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   125
he is well known, and who is highly gratified to revive
ancient friendship or acquaintance.
"Why, Aunt Pollyl I little expected to see your
welcome face here to-day. I need not ask you how
you do. You look as young as you did when you
used to scold me about making your roosters fight 1"
said he, shaking the old lady heartily by the hand, and
giving a sly glance or two at her companion as though
to see how she was struck with the appearance of her
aunt's young old-friend.
"I don't recollect ever scolding you about that,
Charley," said Aunt Polly, " but it's likely I did if you
made them fight, and you were a very mischievous boy."
" Ah, I've got over that, years ago, ma'am. The
mischiefs I used to delight in no longer please me.
Life has become too serious for such things," said the
hypocritical Charles.
" I'm glad to hear you say so, Charley, whether it's
true or not, and you've been so long a stranger that I
don't know about it," said Aunt Polly, who only doubted
the sudden conversion of her young friend to perfect
sincerity. "This is my niece, Alice Charlton. Mr.
Bowman, my dear."
" How do you do, Miss Alice?" said Charley, raising his hat and bowing very low. "You hear what
your aunt says about me I Why, Aunt Polly, I have
hardly been at home for nearly a year. I have been
to Alabama, where I am about to settle a new plantation near my father's and brother's places, and from
there I went over into Louisiana, where I found a
splendid place that just suited me, and on which I in11*




126    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
tend going into sugar next year. You see I have been
very busy, and away from home, and I couldn't call;
but I'll make up for it hereafter. Friends are too
scarce for me to lose them by neglect."
And the ladies passed on to their carriage, and were
seen comfortably seated in it by Mr. Bowman, who
then got on his own beautiful mare, a bright sorrel,
full of spirit; and as he was a good rider, made her
show him and herself off as he galloped alongside of the
carriage for about half a mile to the place where he had
to turn off to go home.
To save myself the trouble of hereafter selecting for
the reader the truth in what Charles Bowman may say,
let me here analyze what there was of it in this last
address to Aunt Polly.
In the first place, he had been from home exactly six
weeks and three days. In the next place, neither he,
nor his father, nor brother, had a plantation in Alabama
at all. His father had only talked of buying some land
there, and he had gone to the State on a frolic, but I
doubt if he had been within seventy miles of the land.
And, in the last place, the visit to Louisiana, the purchase of the place there, and the scheme for sugarplanting, were entirely imaginary, and invented at the
moment.
Let me then warn the reader that he is not to believe
anything Charles G. V. Bowman may say. If he hear
him say that he loves, or that he hates, that he is sick,
or is well, is glad, or is sorry, doubt it; and look for
corroborating evidence.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECOLES.   127
CHAPTER XIII.
TELLS OF MR. BOWMAN'S FIRST VISIT, AND WHAT HE
SAID ON THAT OCCASION, AND WHAT SEVERAL PERSONS
THOUGHT OF HIM.
THE next day was fair, and Charles Bowman went
to Dr. McCleod's. As the weather was warm
all the family were seated in the broad passage; the
doctor reading, Aunt Polly and Mrs. McCleod busily
sewing, and Alice and Flora engaged at a table, intent
upon a drawing lesson. After the salutations of the
day, Mr. Bowman ensconced himself comfortably in a
rocking-chair as near the younger ladies as he could,
but not so far from the doctor as to prevent conversation.
"I am told, Charles, that you have been a great
traveler of late," said the doctor in his precise and
sonorous voice.
"Not very great, doctor," answered Mr. Bowman
somewhat embarrassed, for he did not know but that
the old gentleman knew the particulars of his movements, and he was, of old, afraid of him. "Not very
great, doctor. I made a trip to Alabama."
" Why, I heard that you went to Louisiana too I I
have long had a great desire to visit that State. Its
population and the general character of its soil and appearance are so different from anything we have, that
I hoped you could tell us something about them "
" Well, I did go into Louisiana," said Charles a little




128    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
doubtfully, " but I was there only a couple of months,
and stayed almost all the while at one place."
"' Tell us what you saw, Master Charles," said the
doctor. "How did you amuse yourself?  Where did
you stay?"
"You recollect," said Charles, "Mr. Barrow, who
came out here winter before last to purchase negroes,
and passed a few days at our house I Well, I went to
his house, on the Mississippi River, about a hundred
and fifty miles above New Orleans." And then he
added, to himself: "How the devil did I get there!
Let me see    "
"You must have had some difficulty in getting
there," presently said the doctor.
" Oh, not at all," said Charles, by this time ready
with his itinerary. " I went down the Alabama River
to Mobile, and there I sold my horse- "
"What IDid you go down the river on your horse?"
interrupted the doctor, always critical.
" Oh, you understand me, doctor. I went the road on
the bank of the river.. And when I got to Mobile, a
gambler —there are a great many gamblers in that
part of the country: this one they called Si Thomas;
he took a great fancy to my sorrel nag; you used to
know her, doctor; and thought that he could win
money on her as she was a thorough-bred, and he
offered me eight hundred dollars for her, which I
took. "
"What  you sold your sorrel mare? Why, I was
sure that was she hitched out there at the gate."
"Oh no, doctor I that's her full sister I am riding
now," said Charles, quickly.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   129
"Well, may be so. I am not a horse-jockey, and the
resemblance is so great that I could very naturally
make the mistake," said the doctor: then, after a
pause, "'Well, what did you do when you had sold
your mare?"
"I took a schooner from Mobile to New Orleans,
and when I landed in the city I found the steamboat
Tamerlane about to leave, and I got on board of her
and went up to Mr. Barrow's place," and the young
man hurried over this part of his journey, for he had
never seen a steamboat, and feared to be called on to
describe the Tamerlane.  "I arrived there," he continued, "just in the midst of the fishing season."
"The fishing season!" exclaimed the doctor. "I
did not know there were fisheries on the Mississippi I"
"Oh yes, doctor. They call it the fishing season, but
it is alligators they catch. In August the crop is laid
by until October, when sugar-making commences, and
as the alligators are then fattest, the whole force of each
plantation, and the Creoles, little yellow fellows, along
the river, are occupied in catching them for their oil.
Why, one good sized alligator will make as much as
two barrels of oil, which sells at a very large price.
You see, they can't use any other kind of oil for greasing steam machinery, which goes so fast that it sets
afire all other sorts. Did you ever see an alligator,
Miss Alice?"
"I never did, Mr. Bowman," answered Alice, who,
with Flora, had become interested in his adventures,
and had altogether withdrawn her attention from her
pencil.
"Well, ma'am, it's not a pleasant sight. At first I




130   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
was very much afraid of them, but in a day or two got
so that I would mind handling one just as little as the
negroes and Creoles did. You see, doctor, the river is
full of them    "
"Why, Charles," said the doctor, " I thought they
generally resorted to the sloughs and bayous away
from the river."
" So they do, doctor, in laying time, but after that
you will not find a single grown alligator away from
the river. The sloughs and bayous are full of young
ones, which stay there till they get old enough to come
to the river. Well, when the fishing season is about to
commence, the planters bait their fishing-grounds near
their plantations, and that draws\ the alligators there in
crowds. Of a bright day, if you make a dog howl on
the bank, you will see their heads sticking out of the
water so thick that you could walk across the river on
them. When the first fishing day comes there is a big
feast given to the negroes, and about twelve o'clock the
hooks are set. They are large hooks attached to a section of chain, and they are thrown into the water out
of boats with a bladder tied to each line, and the bladders are all attached to a trot-line, which runs from the
bank across the river; and when a bladder bobs down
and they find the alligator is hooked, two hands go off
in a canoe with a rope which they tie to the line which
has the alligator, and then fasten the other end to a
windlass on shore, and thus drag the alligator on shore
and dispatch him by cutting off his head with an axe."
"I should think that a dangerous business, cutting
off an alligator's head with an axe. I have heard that
they strike violently with their tails," said the doctor.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   131
"Yes, but you see, as soon as they drag him up on
to the bank and get his neck across a log, which is
placed there for that purpose, the negroes hamper
his tail by ropes and chains they have in readiness;
and they are very expert at it. The oil kettles are
under a shed near the killing place, and the alligators
are tried up as fast as they are caught and killed."
" What do they do with the flesh?" asked the doctor.
"Why, the negroes are very fond of the tails, and
they are saved; but I believe they bury the rest of
them; for if they were to throw so much flesh into the
river the others would not bite at the hooks."
" Humph I" ejaculated  the doctor.  "It is very
likely;" and he turned again to his book, partly to
read, and partly to analyze in his own mind, with the
assistance of his memory, Mr. Bowman's wonderful
story. But Charley, seeing the ladies interested,
launched forth on the wings of his imagination into
other stories.
" One day," said he, " when we were out deer-driving,
and I heard the hounds running, and galloped to head
them as they were not coming by the stand where I
bad been placed, I came to a bayou which did not
seem very deep, and made my horse go in. The water
was almost swimming; and just as we were in the
deepest part a huge alligator rose by the side of my
horse with his mouth open. He was just about to
seize me by the thigh when I turned the muzzle of
my rifle down his throat and fired, and he sank, killed
dead, to the bottom. I expect my ball had broken his
spine, as he made no struggle. I never was so thank



132   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
ful in all my life as when we got out of that hole. I
trembled all over, and I'm sure that I was as pale as
death-for I felt so; and I don't mind confessing it to
you, Aunt Polly; I got off of my horse, and went down
upon my knees, and thanked God with more fervency
than I ever did before; and I have had a heap of narrow escapes."
The ladies drew long breaths of astonishment and
relief, and looked approvingly upon him for his piety;
but the doctor, whose previous ideas had been much
discomposed by Master Charles's story, said, " Why, I
thought that there were no large alligators to be found
away from the river."
"So there are not, doctor, except in laying-time,
and that is in October, and had just commenced when
we took the drive. It was the last drive of the season,
for the alligators are so bad on the dogs that they get
so they won't cross the water. There was one of Mr.
Barrow's hounds that used to fool the alligators when
she wished to cross a bayou, by sitting on the bank
and howling. It would draw all the alligators in
hearing to the spot; and then she would break and
run some distance up or down, and jump in and swim
across. Once, an alligator had snapped off her tail
just as she got to the farther bank, and always afterwards, whenever her feet struck land, after swimming
across, she would jump and howl frantically, as though
another'gator,' as they call them there, bad her."
This made open-eyed Flora laugh, and the ladies
smile pleased and astonished smiles; seeing which Mr.
Bowman entered into other details and anecdotes, no
less wonderful, which he had heard or read, and in




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECYLES.   133
which he always figured as a spectator or actor, until
at last the doctor, who listened closely, though pretending to read, cornered him in a "whopper." It is
a difficult matter to corner such a man as Mr. Charles
Bowman, whose imagination is as free and subtle as
air, and can glide in or out at the least cranny. He
was cornered, however, where there was no escape, and
he presently acknowledged complacently that that story
was not true, and he had only told it to entertain
Flora; but, he affirmed, everything else he had said
was strictly true.
"Humphi" ejaculated the doctor.
But Alice thought it was a mark of great amiability
in the young gentleman, who had seen so much of the
world, for him to try and please a little girl like Flora,
and presently, when the conversation turned to the
subject of drawing, she very pleasantly showed her
handiwork, and the young gentleman, and she, and
Flora, went to the drawing-table, where Flora's progress was exhibited and discussed; and the trio remained
together about the drawings, Mr. Bowman amusing,
and appreciative, and polite, keeping up a flow of anecdote and pleasant chat until almost dinner-time, when
he left, promising to call again very soon.
That afternoon Miss Alice told her aunt that her
old friend, Mr. Bowman, was a very pleasant man.
"He always was very pleasant to talk, my dear,"
answered Aunt Polly; "but it won't do to take all he
says for gospel."
And that night as she went to bed Mrs. McCleod
was descanting to her husband upon how much Charley
Bowman had improved, and upon his ability to support
12




134    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECULES.
a wife, etc., etc. The doctor, who was grunting as he
pulled off his socks, interrupted himself and her by
saying, "Well, my dear, are you almost through?
When you have finished with him let us converse on
some more profitable subject. Charles Bowman is
handsome, and is amiable among the women-folk,
and his wealth gives him a certain standing among
men. But he is accounted what my old father used
to call'a squirt.' You and your cousin may manage
as you please, but he should not marry a daughter of
mine. I have no ambition to emulate the Evil One,
and become a'father of liars!'"
And after that grim joke, which acted as an extinguisher upon his wife, he put out the candle, and went
self-approvingly to bed and to sleep.
CHAPTER XIV.
TELLS WHY MISS SUSAN DID NOT GRADUATE AT THE
COLLEGE, AND HOW SHE WENT HOME, AND MR. ECCLES, CALLING TO SEE HER, FINDS ONE OF HIS FRIENDS
AND ONE OF HIS ANTIPATHIES ALREADY IN THE WAY.
HEN the time came for Susan's class to graduateit was the first graduating class the college had
been able to turn out since it had got its charter-she
and her mother both revolted at the ordeal. The examinations were well enough, but the standing on a stage,
and speaking, and singing, and acting pieces from very




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   135
mild plays, and the conferring of prizes and receiving
diplomas-in short, making a show of herself before a
crowd-was not to the taste of Miss Susan; and her
mother fully agreed with her. She was not one of
those mothers, either, whose taste would have accommodated itself to her daughter's had it been the other
way. In that case there certainly would have been a
disagreement between them-the first of their livesand Miss Susan should have had to submit. But the
young lady was naturally averse to public display.
Until the college had been founded, and, by means
of its occult sciences, bad accustomed the people to the
reception of new ideas, such a thing as a public "exhibition " (they did not then call it "exhibition," though
they now do) of young ladies was unheard of in all
our part of the country. But where the "system "
goes, in other words, wherever the peculiar civilization
of the North is introduced, there is bound to be a shock
to retiring female modesty. The Yankee social system
is opposed to anything retiring. They live in crowds.
Their virtues are dependent upon public opinion for
their desirableness, just as are their vices for their
heinousness. Drinking and stealing, for instance, are
wrong because Public Opinion is opposed to them. The
consequence is that they are not so wrong if they can
be concealed from the public. Modesty is a stupid
virtue, but Learning is superexcellent with Public
Opinion, and consequently Modesty must get out of
the way for a display of Learning. Modesty I Why,
what, after all, is Modesty?  Is it to be allowed to
stand in the way of Progress, or of the vanity of parents, or of the desire of the neighbors for a little ex



136    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
citement, or admiration, or chance to gossip and criticise? According to their progressive ideas, there is
no differences, except physical, between a girl and a
boy; and how is it to be known that in the education
of the girls the teachers have done their duty if the
public shall not be allowed to judge for themselves by
a public exhibition of the results of their work? Then,
again, how is a system to become known? How is a
school to become popular?
But enough of that. Susan could not adopt the newfangled notion. Words could not convince her of its propriety. She had investigated the grand science of Calisthenics, and feared the other innovations should prove
about as showy and empty-about as much of " an advertising dodge;" though that phrase had not then been
invented, and she was too refined to have used it if it
had been. So she did not get her diploma. When the
grand day came, she had quitted the school, and quietly took her place, with her mother, among the audience, where she might hear and see in public what
she had seen and heard rehearsed in private, until she
knew it all by heart, and was sick of it. And after it
was all over, they went to Colonel Christmas's, and
the next morning went home to The Barn.
How perfectly splendid the old place had become l
The house had received a new coat of the whitest of
white, and the shutters had been painted the greenest
of green. The trees had grown in all those years since
she was a little child until now they were quite forestlike in their numbers and shade; the gullies on the
hillside had been filled up; and the whole was like a
fairy woodland carpeted with the softest and freshest




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   137
of grass; and the shrubbery around the house, and
the rose-bushes, and flower-plats were in full leaf and
blossom, and all was so beautiful and pleasant within
and without that it seemed to her that Nature loved
her also, and had joined with her mother to do her
honor and. give her pleasure.
Black Jane, who had been her waiting-maid when
both were children, had been carefully educated in all
her duties by Mrs. Garthwaite, and was anxiously waiting for Miss Susan to come home, so that she might
commence their exercise. Dinah, the cook, had found
out some new dishes she wished Miss Susan to try.
The dairy-woman had had her dairy newly fixed up,
and was proud of it, and wished Miss Susan to see it,
and admire her a little for it. Charley, who had succeeded old Tom as coachman, felt it the proudest day
of his life when he drove Miss Susan, with "old Mistuss," up to the front door, where Jane, and Dinah, and
the dairy-woman, and a whole crowd of other servants,
flocked to receive them, and feast their eyes on their
young mistress, who, when she alighted, seemed in
their eyes a bright and beneficent goddess just arrived
on earth.
And when the proper time came, Miss Susan visited
the dairy, and tried the dishes, and felt herself petted
and admired by her humble friends, and felt all the more
gentle towards them for their evident love and admiration.
But there were others to see, and others who would
love, and pet, and admire, besides homefolk.  The
neighbors began to call and pay their visits of welcome,
and in a few weeks The Barn was the scene of quiet
12*




138    WHAT I KNOW ABKOUT BEN ECCLES.
social gayety for the young lady even more than it had
been for the little girl.
Ben went there of course, though too shamefaced to
go among the very first. There was quite an assemblage
there that day, and the poor fellow, though he had
prayed heartily before he went, and had checked his
horse and prayed with his hat in his hand two or three
times on the road thither, was very much embarrassed.
But he went bravely in, and did his devoirs like a polished gentleman, as he was, although he felt that every
person present knew the thought and desire of his
heart. But after he had spoken to Mrs. Garthwaite,
and to Susan, and to some of his other acquaintance,
he espied, in a corner, Dr. Sam Stockdale, and unconsciously quoted aloud, but in a low voice, from Job:
"And Satan came also among them." Nevertheless,
he went up to him and greeted him cordially.
If there was any young man for whom Ben had a
fond regard, it was his old friend Sam. He loved him
for the noble frankness and loyalty of his character and
the gentleness of his disposition, and for the same reasons he feared him above all others as a rival with a
girl. It shot a pang into his bheart to see him there,
and he fairly groaned with it; but though he watched
with all the keenness of a jealous lover every word
and look and tone, he could remark no sign of love in
either the doctor or Susan.  They were barely acquainted as yet, and the doctor had come there entirely without design on his part.  lie had been to
Yatton on some business, and was returning with a
friiend, who was also the friend of Mrs. Garthwaite,
and who wished to call as he passed to pay his respects,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   139
and, perhaps, to get his dinner-for the two designs
are often mingled, and the former is vastly dependent
on the latter. He had insisted that the doctor should
call with him, and the doctor had done so. Ben's uneasiness was therefore groundless as to the past and
present; but, alas I in the future that chance visit was
destined to give him an uneasiness to which his present
pang was as nothing.
Among the other guests there was one for whom
both Ben, and afterwards Doctor Sam, had so hearty a
dislike that I must describe her.
She was Miss Maria Jones, a young lady of some
twenty-eight summers, of small stature, and prim as
starch and stiff silk could make her. Her large round
eyes were a pale gray, and her hair of a pale strawcolor; her nose was a decided pug, and her lips were
thin. She had what I have heard roughly called a
"bulging" forehead, over which, as over her nose, the
skin seemed to be stretched from some point about the
ears so as to be drawn in little folds and wrinkles. it
can be readily imagined that she was not prepossessing
in her appearance; and her manners were not more
captivating.
I always think of her when I see my great-niecefor in some particulars they resembled-but to compare them is " Hyperion to a Satyr." My great-niece
is beautiful (and she knows-it), and Miss Maria was
ugly, though she neither knew nor believed it. But it
would be interminable to tell all wherein they differed;
the points of resemblance were fewer and more marked.
Miss Maria had relatives on and with whom she lived,
and who by her petty malice and tyranny were made




140    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
miserable. So has my great-niece. Miss Maria was
as spiteful as a cat- and so is my great-niece; but it
is as a princess of a cat. Miss Maria had a little
property of her own which gave her self-importance,
and of which she took good care that no one else
should ever have the slightest benefit-it's just the
same with my great-niece, only as her property is
rather the larger her selfish ideas are correspondingly
larger. Miss Maria always seemed vexed when any
little project of happiness for others was going on, and
turned up her nose at it, and thwarted it if she couldand that is my great-niece to a dot.
But here was Miss Maria Jones in the parlor
monopolizing her dear friend Susan. She and Ben
had never belonged to the same mutual admiration
society, and when Doctor Sam was introduced to her,
she pursed her lips, and bowed her little head so stiffly
that he voted her a bitter crab; and after he bad
talked a little with her, he pronounced her a narrowminded bore. It was one of those cases of repulsion
at first sight, which are always more infallible in their
correctness and duration than is sudden love. One can
never be attracted to another where their natures are
so antagonistic.
"Ah, Susan I" exclaimed Miss Maria, bobbing her
little head and winking her round eyes to give them
more expressiveness.  "You will not be offended at
my calling you Susan now that you are a young lady!
I always used to call you so when you were a dear
little girl. We used to be great friends at the delightful parties given here by your good mother, where we
used to dance together; and now that you are at home,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN EOCLES.   141
and we are such near neighbors, we must be great
friends."
"Thank you, Miss Maria," said Susan. "I have no
doubt but that we shall be very sociable. You are
still living with your aunt, are you not?"
"Oh, yes I" answered Miss Maria. "Dear aunt says
she could never get along with those children without
me, though I tell her that I am of no use; they don't
mind me in the least,-he! he! he!" and she laughed a
little laugh which would have made Doctor Sam's flesh
creep if he had only known the malice at the bottom of
it, and had known that she mentally added that she
wished the miserable brats dead. "He! he! he! It
is a hard thing, Susan, to take control in the house in
which one has recently been a child."
"As for that," answered Susan, pleasantly, "I do not
expect that mother will soon give me a chance to try
it. She keeps me closely under her thumb, and is a
sad tyrant. Do you hear that, mother? Miss Maria
says that it is a hard thing to take control in a house.
in which one has recently been a child."
"I think, my dear," answered Mrs. Garthwaite, "that
it would be a hard thing for you to take any more
control than you have always had. I am sure that
all your life you have controlled this house and all
about it."
"Really!" said Miss Maria presently, drawing her
full-faced gold watch from her belt, and looking at it
(I always did detest the sight of a gold watch in a
lady's belt; always felt that it was out of place. What
has a pretty woman to do with time? and what difference can it possibly make to one who is ugly?)




142    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
"Really, it is near one o'clock, and I expect my poor
horses are tired waiting for me. I never like to keep
servants or horses exposed to the sun or rain waiting
for me."  (She ought to have added: "after I am ready
to go.") "Good-bye, Susan!" and she gave that
young lady a sharp little smouch. "Good-by, dear
Mrs. Garthwaite!" and she gave the mother another
sharp little smouch: " you must let dear Susan come
often to see me, and you must come too, and come
soon;" and she bobbed her head, and made a brisk little
courtesy to the remainder of the company, and sailed
off like a newly-painted, full-rigged toy ship under full
sail.
Ben had very little to say to Susan or her mother
during this visit. He was uncomfortable, and yet
could not complain of his reception from either; it was
kind and friendly. He was not Susan's declared lover,
and whatever she might suspect of the continuance of
his old liking for her, she neither knew what strong
love it had been, nor could suspect how very violent
it was now. She regarded him as an excellent young
man, and one in every respect a gentleman-and that
was all. So far, no serious thought of love on either
side had crossed her mind. She was therefore selfpossessed, and even more than polite, was friendly, and
when he got up to leave, both she and her mother expressed their pleasure at having seen him, and- said
they hoped he would not make himself a stranger at
the house. Ah, how cold all this was to the burning
fury of his love!
When he came to the office that afternoon he was
taciturn, and sat moodily reflecting upon his visit and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   143
his love, and often bowed his head upon the table and
mentally prayed. After awhile he drew the tobacco
out of his pocket (his conscience had been at rest for
several days), but when he had pulled off a chew, and
wont to put it in his mouth, the thought seemed to strike
him that perhaps it was wrong after all, and that God
would not answer his prayers for Susan's love if he
should take the chew of tobacco without being fully
persuaded in his own mind. And I left him, when I
went home, pondering and mentally praying over that
chew of tobacco.
CHAPTER XV.
DESCRIBES HOW MR. ECCLES FELT, AND HOW OTHERS
THOUGHT AND FELT, AND HOW HE BEGAN HIS COURTSHIP.
T was several weeks after his first visit before Ben
found himself again at The Barn. The rules by
which lovers act vary with their temperaments. Ben
was as impulsive and enthusiastic as any man I ever
saw, but those feelings were at all times kept in check
by his sensitiveness, and were now in a great degree
interfered with by the gnawings of his consciencewhich is the only expression I can think of to describe
his state of mind. The reader will understand its
exact value by what I have heretofore said. This
morbid state had increased considerably with the increasing perturbation of his mind by love. Frequently




144   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
upon returning to my office, after an absence of an
hour or so, I found the door shut, and upon opening
it discovered him confused and suddenly bustling
about; and once or twice, either because he was more
absorbed or my approach was more noiseless than
usual, I found him on his knees praying. Each time
that I so discovered him I turned and went out for a
few minutes till he could rise and compose himself; for
I felt that, earnest as he was, my discovery would
annoy him.
The poor fellow had now an additional burden to
carry. His belief in an overruling Providence in all
the affairs of life was implicit-as it should have
been. I found marked in his Bible, and even copied
on one of its blank pages, evidently for convenient
reference, the texts from Proverbs: "Whoso findeth a
wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the
Lord," and "A prudent wife is from the Lord." He
wished to make Susan his wife, and where could a
more prudent wife than she be found? But she must
come to him from the Lord "who turneth the hearts
of the children of men;" and what could he do to make
the Lord gracious to him? Could the Lord be gracious
to one who sinned so constantly as he did in thought,
word, and deed? That if he should marry her it
would be to the glory of God was clear enough to him,
for it would be, however it should turn out, in the way
of carrying out the divine command to increase and
multiply; but how could he who was constantly failing in glorifying God in everything else, ask that he
should be so blessed as to be enabled to glorify Him
in this one thing? Indeed, was not his so insisting




WIHA T I KNOWTV ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   145
upon it a proof that it was not the glory of God but his
own gratification he sought? and should not this completely shut his mouth? And he would find himself
baffled in an inextricable maze, and would grit his teeth
and groan without the power to pray, and with his
whole being concentrated upon what he desired more
than life, more than his own salvation.
With these feelings, and his natural diffidence keeping him in check, he was very dilatory in making his
first visits, and by his actions openly declaring his love
for Susan. But at the church door every Sunday he
feasted his eyes upon her glorious beauty, as he thought
it, and sometimes he mustered the courage to assist
her and her mother from the carriage. And whenever
the carriage came into town he was sure to know it,
and just as sure to find out if Susan were in it, and, if
she were, to go, as if by accident, into the store where
she was, or to be standing, as though by chance, where
she must pass, so as at least to bow and speak to her.
But one day Mrs. Garthwaite coming alone into
town he saw her in Mr. Hurlbut's store —poor Marlow
had been book-keeper there-and she reproached him
for not having come out to see them. Ben felt
strangely encouraged by such a reproach. It showed
that they valued his acquaintance; and if Mrs. Garthwaite only knew or guessed the feelings of his heart,
what more encouraging could he desire than that
sweet reproach! Happy fellow that he was! Had
God really been gracious to him, and turned the hearts
of mother and daughter towards him? But then, how
could Mrs. Garthwaite know what he felt? If she did
13




146   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
know it, was she not a woman of too much delicacy to
make such an open advance? It is said that women
have a strange facility of reading the hearts of men in
matters of love, and a mother is of all others the most
alive to what concerns her, daughter, and- Susan was
an only and a cherished daughter I Yet how could Mrs.
Garthwaite know, or even suspect?  He had never
breathed his feelings except to his God I Had God, to
bless him really, almost miraculously, gifted Mrs.
Garthwaite with a sympathetic insight to his heart?
Hardly, he thought-hardly; the age of miracles was
passed. But would this be a miracle?
Here was puzzle upon puzzle, and the poor fellow
knew not what to think. Indeed, I doubt if he had
not already quit thinking, and abandoned himself to the
tumultuous waves and tremulous wavelets of feeling.
At any rate, he concluded to commence with his courtship; but not to dash boldly into the waters, to sink
or swim. He had not come to that point yet. There
were many drawbacks to such precipitation. He would
be cautious. He would try the depth of the water,
inch by inch. At the worst it was but death. If the
stream were likely to prove treacherous, he could draw
back in time and die on the hither bank, and if at the
supreme moment, when the plunge must be made, he
should find it fatal, he could die there. There was no
hurry. He could not reasonably expect that a miracle
should be performed for him, and he must make use of
natural means; and he could glorify God only by
using natural means, and using them to the very best
advantage.
So he went again to The Barn, in his usual prayerful




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   147
mood and with his soul trembling and shrinking within
him.
He was met by mother, and daughter most pleasantly.
They had a high esteem of him, for they could know
nothing but good about him. Both knew that his
means were greatly increased since he used to come a
poor little orphan boy to Susan's parties, and both were
glad of it, for he was worthy of all kinds of prosperity.
Even had he been as poor as he then was he should
have been just as well received, because he was a
gentleman, and a good man, whose whole conduct
throughout-life had been irreproachable; and, after all,
that is a far surer passport to the respect of a rightminded woman than any amount of wealth. They
knew, too, that he was intellectual, and, for his age
and advantages, -quite learned. Had he not graduated
with high honors from the first college of the South?
Had he not been the law-student of their friend Mr.
Page, who would never have encouraged him or spoken
highly of him in his youth if he had been a dunce or a
vicious boy, and who would not now try to advance
him if he did not think highly of his capacity I Then,
also, he had already made a good appearance at the
bar, and many were prognosticating great success for
him in his profession; though they said he was rather
too serious.
So Susan exerted herself to please him and do him
honor, and thought she honored herself by doing so.
Young men, against whom nothing can be said, are
too rare not to be made much of when they appear;
and the women-folk are apt to make much or too little
of them; that is to say, the mothers are apt to vaunt




148    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
them overmuch to their daughters, and the daughters
are too apt to have an indifferent sort of confidence in
them, as though they were so many old women, and
try to please them because they wish to please themselves.
In pleasant chat about old things and new the hours
sped on until the sun was going down, and then, when
he was about to start, they pressed him to stay to tea;
and it was between nine and ten o'clock that night
when he came home (he lived with me then), put up
his horse, and went to bed, with a glorious future of
happiness spread out before him.
It would be a slur upon the reader's capacity if I
should attempt to reproduce the conversation at this
or at any of Ben's subsequent visits. There can be
but two good excuses for detailing a conversation.
The first is, that conversation is the necessary form
in which certain ideas, comic or serious, must be presented-and in that case the writer has no choice. The
other is, that the characters of the parties speaking
sometimes can be most strikingly developed by such a
form-and in that case the writer has an option. If
he be good at narrating sparkling wit and interchange
of thought he will adopt the conversational form; and
if he be not, he will, if he be a man of sense, content
himself with description. I give the reader the credit
of having as much sense, knowledge, and imagination
as I myself have, and I know that when I am
thoroughly acquainted with the characters, dispositions, and present motives of any two persons who
are together, I do not need to hear every word they
say. If I were writing a novel, and it had to be of




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   149
just such a bulk, I would fill up with conversations.
They make what the printers call "fat" matter, and
by their means I should save labor, and both the
printers and publishers make money. But I am writing against neither time nor space.
And besides, the commonplace conversations I
should have to detail, if I adhered to truth, would
hardly be understood by a reader of modern books,
who is accustomed to something like this: The lady
says:
"Ah, Mr. Fitzgibbons, the periphrastic diction of
the patristic writings emulating the You; of the inspired
and yet suffering the non ego to change positions with
the ego and become subjective can no longer be regarded as a truly enlightened manner of dealing with
Manichaeism, or the cosmogony of human aspirations."
To which Mr. Fitzgibbons answers complacently:
"But, my dear young lady, you must ascertain the
real definition by employing the  -Z~rxv ptatevcex-I and
proceed inductively; prout patet per recordum, etc."
I acknowledge that even this is but a feeble specimen
of modern book-conversations; but it is sufficient to
show that in no way should I be justified in detailing the
conversations which passed forty years ago between a
simply intelligent couple —one violently in love, and
the other not yet conscious of his passion.
The sum and substance of the matter is, that if the
reader be a person of sense he will know just the style
of the talk which passed between Susan Garthwaite
and Ben Eccles; and if he be not a man of sufficient
sense, or rather imagination, it would make out the
13*




150    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
couple too unfashionable if their talk were repeated
for his sake.
And soon the conversations became frequent. Ben
visited The Barn about every ten days, and in a few
weeks it got to be that he Went every Thursday afternoon. He had, however, made but two or three of
his regular visits when his object, before suspected,
became perfectly apparent to both mother and daughter, and he began to be looked for'when Thursdav
afternoons came. He generally found other company
there; Miss Maria Jones, for instance, who seemed
suddenly to realize the need she had long had for
young and tender friendship, and had attached herself
lovingly to Susan. Of course she saw his motives at
once. She had suspected them at his first visit, and
Ben was soon conscious that she knew them, and was
his enemy.
CHAPTER XVI.
MR. ECCLES, AFTER COURTING AWHILE AGAINST WIND
AND TIDE, CONCLUDES TO TAKE A TRIP TO NORTH
CAROLINA.
UOW  very affectionate Miss Maria would be when
Mr. Eccles was present t Her arms were around
dear Susan's waist whenever they walked together,
and she often whispered to her and giggled, looking
meaningly at him, or ignored him altogether, as he
nwal~ed by them, absorbed by the difficulties of his




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN EUCLES.   151
project, and kicking away clods or pebbles from the
path.
In later years I have several times heard Ben allude to
those rambles with Miss Maria and Susan, and always
with a degree of bitterness which sometimes appeared
exaggerated. "That woman"-he always mentioned
her in that endearing way-" that woman" appeared
to him as having thrown, by some devilish art, her
glamour over a lovely virgin, to whom she made herself appear a spotless angel, the embodiment of sincerity and intelligent friendship, while to his unaffected
eyes she was a she-dragon, with jutting fangs and
hideous mien, which stood between him and his love,
gentle and loving to her, threatening and hateful to
him. He had read such things in fairy books, and he
wondered if they were not founded on fact.
And in the house it was no better. She took it
upon herself to usurp the conversation, and argue with
him on any trivial or important point she could invent,
and to attribute to him ill nature and bigotry when
he became excited, stupidity and all sorts of self-contradictions when he remained calm. She seemed to
try to make him show himself unamiable when he most
wished to appear amiable, and she snubbed him when
he seemed at all at ease or hopeful. Often she answered him when Susan was addressed, as though she
were her regularly deputed mouth-piece, and as often
made nods and winks to Susan not to answer when
she intended doing so. In fine, she seemed to take
the mind, conscience, and desires, the likes and dislikes
of Susan entirely into her charge, and thrust herself
forward, and acted and spoke as though she were her



152   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
self being courted by a lover whom she wished to
repel.
All this, apart from its insolence, was vastly embarrassing. It complicated the elements of the problem
which Ben had to calculate. It was an interference
in what he thought should be the orbit of his planet.
It was a serious question how far Susan indorsed her
friend. At times, when she was friendly and earnest
in her talk, he thought her heart was well inclined
towards him, and that perhaps Miss Maria, after all,
was not his enemy, or could not affect his Susan; and
then, when she seemed to mind the hints and participate in the spirit of Mliss Maria, he felt himself almost
guilty of treason when the thought intruded itself that
perhaps she was more weak-minded and easily influenced than he had believed her to be.
But presently there came another complication which
gave him serious pause, and almost determined him to
turn back and resign himself to die on the hither bank.
One Thursday afternoon he called to see Susan, and
she excused herself from seeing him on the plea of
headache. Miss Maria was not there, or she would
have entertained him in her pleasant way; so he rode
back home disconsolate, and suffering heart-pangs at
every imagined throb in his sweet Susan's temples.
The next afternoon he went again, and found the young
lady sitting in the parlor with Miss Maria, as gay as
though she had never known what headache was;
and, too, when he questioned her sympathizingly about
her dear head, she treated it as a mere passing matter
of not the slightest moment. But the next Thursday
the same excuse was made: Miss Susan had a head



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   153
ache, and begged to be excused. Nor was Miss Maria
nor any other company there that afternoon either. It
looked suspicious, very suspicious, to the sensitive
young fellow. That headache was either very inconvenient, or a mere convenience; and yet she seemed
so merry and friendly when he was there the last Friday afternoon that he could hardly believe that she
would pretend sickness to avoid seeing him. But how
was he to account for the coincidence of the headache
with the absence of Miss Maria and all other company?
He concluded that, at any rate, he would not go out
to see her until the next regular afternoon, but would
contrive to get a bulletin of her health from some other
source. Seeing her mother in town the next day he
learned in answer to his anxious inquiries that Susan
was perfectly well and had gone late the afternoon
before to see Miss Maria.
This would have been crushing to an ordinary lover,
but it was not so to Ben. To be crushed while there
was any avenue of escape never suited his philosophy;
and, apart from his abiding confidence that even at the
last moment God might intervene to bless him (and in
all his agonizing prayers he pleaded God's power and
goodness), he had a confused theory about the peculiar
nature of woman,-a theory which has led many a
poor fellow to act so as that he afterwards should say
he had made a fool of himself.
Ben's theory of the peculiarity of woman's character
was, in two words, this: that she was inclined to act
by contraries; that is, to wish one way and act another.
I have now lived my full threescore years and ten, and




154    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
the result of all my observation is that if there exist
any created being which generally acts precisely as it
wishes, it is Woman. There are, certainly, exceptions
to the general rule. Some women are coy, and most
of them are rather catlike when they have the prey
safely entrapped; but almost invariably if she won't
she won't, and if she will she will, and there is no overcoming or escaping. But that a lover is naturally a
fool and not capable of judging he should have no difficulty in knowing exactly whether she will or will not.
In all her coyness encouragement slightly preponderates, if she will; and if she will not (mind you, I
speak of good, honest women), there is no yielding
further than to preserve her own sense of propriety, by
being polite, as a lady.
Anyhow, this was Ben's theory, and he made much
of it in his reflections. He reduced it as nearly to a
science as ever vain theory like it can be reduced, and
acted upon it almost to the point that as she was merry
his hopes declined, and as she became retiring and
silent he became bold and talkative, as though he
surely was about to triumph.
Let what I have said suffice for the present about
Ben's love, his manner of inspiring it, and his discouragements. A temporary cessation came to the active
events of his courtship, and I will therefore occupy
myself about other things important in his story.
Enough has been said, I hope, to give the reader an
exact idea of how he fared in both mind and affections,
objectively and subjectively considered-if I may be
allowed to adopt that new-fangled mode of speech for
which I never before now could find the least use.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   155
One day he came to me to ask my advice about his
going to North Carolina, settling up his business there,
and removing his negroes and other chattels to our
county, where he could have all his interests under his
own eye. After his majority, finding his property
honestly and well administered, he had allowed the
agent in North Carolina to continue his functions and
had contented himself with auditing the accounts and
receiving his income; but the land in North Carolina
was pretty well worn out, to judge by the income, and
his negroes would be doubly profitable if placed upon
a good place in our county. He said he had learned
that young Carraway, who had recently by the death
of his father come into possession of a place about three
miles southeast of Yatton, near Brown's Creek, and
who was a restless sort of body, wished to sell out and
move his force to Mississippi, which was then accounted
the garden spot of all creation. The place would suit
his means and purposes exactly. There was just about
enough land for his force, both of the cleared and the
uncleared, the place was healthy, and there was a very
good dwelling-house upon it. There could be no difficulty in his paying for it; the sale of his North Carolina place would nearly, if not quite do that, as lands
were much dearer there than here; and he proposed to
acquire and settle it and become a planter as well as
pursue his profession, which would not be interfered
with by the short distance of the place from town.
I thought the change would be beneficial whether lie
succeeded or failed in his scheme of marriage, which
he at the same time communicated to me as though I,
and every other man, woman, and child in town and




156   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
county, had not long known it. It would be beneficial
to his health both of body and mind; for he had not
sustained uninjured the terrible strain upon both, or,
rather, upon the body through the mind; even if it
were not the best thing he could do financially. And
then, if he should marry Susan, or any one else, he
should have to make the change, perhaps, and so might
as well make it now. Taking everything into consideration I advised him to do just what he proposed
doing.
And, let me here remark, this is the most prudent
advice a man can give another in nine cases out of ten.
When he comes to you and says: " My dear friend, it is
thus and so; now what course shall I take? —shall I
do it? or shall I not?" say to him: My dear fellow,
now tell me candidly would you not, taking all things
into consideration rather not do it? (or rather do it?
as his tone has indicated his desire). And when he
answers: Certainly I would I say to him: I thought
so, and my advice to you is to do just as you propose
doing. Besides that a man generally desires most to
do that of two things which is best, this course stops
all reproach from him if the affair should turn out
badly, and saves a world of trouble.
Ben immediately began preparing for his departure,
and in two weeks, as soon as the term (September) of
court was over, started on his journey. Of course he
went to announce his project and bid farewell to his
lady-love; and she neither wept his departure nor
bewailed her own fate. She acted and spoke just as a
gentle-hearted and sincere woman who has a respect
for a man in his position should speak and act in the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   157
circumstances. She manifested no surprise beyond
asking him if his resolution was not rather sudden; and
no interest beyond wishing him a pleasant and profitable journey. Although (and I may as well declare
it in so many words) she did not love him, she respected him highly as a man, and felt a kindly feeling
towards him for his affection for her-but at the same
time felt: oh I how much more she should love him if
he would only quit loving her.
The woman is very narrow-minded who does not
find cause to be gratified and honored by the pure and
ardent love of a good man, however little she may feel
inclined to return it, and she must be very narrowsouled if her annoyance at his attentions be not greatly
tempered by compassion and respect. She is to him
all of earth most desirable; he would live for her a life
which should be grand for its labors and unselfishness;
or he would die for her, and die willingly, so it were
in her behalf and she might bless his memory. How
then can she think that love a small matter which so
aggrandizes a fellow-mortal as -to make him like an
archangel, regardless of self?  He has created her for
himself a Goddess; how can she become so ignoble as
to show herself a Fury I
I imagine that Ben started on his journey with a
heavy heart.
14




158   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER XVII.
IS DEVOTED TO THE STOCKDALES.
IN the fall, not long after Ben Eccles left for North
Carolina, it became absolutely necessary that Dr.
Sam should go again to Yatton, on business. I recollect the time when business was just as imperative
upon me, and as opportune. Whatever the affair
was, it, in his estimation, rendered it perfectly proper
in him to excuse himself to those patients who did not
need his immediate services, and get other physicians
to attend to those who did, and to exercise his boldness and imagination in making excellent excuses to
his mother and sisters in order to make the trip. I
may be doing the excellent gentleman an injustice, but
after he arrived at Yatton I could hear of no business
he came for except to go out to The Barn and take tea,
and then to go again the next day on a sort of complimentary call, and then again, the second day after,
to bid the ladies good-by.
To drop all doubtful modes of speaking, Dr. Sam
Stockdale had stood the gradually increasing motivepower of love as long as he could without moving, and
he came to Yatton just because he could not help himself. His mind had been fixing itself upon an idea
(Susan) with a self-contracting intentness until he felt
himself bound to follow his idea, and see whether in
all respects she was worth living for, and if she were,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   159
whether he could succeed in living for her alone-a
man with one fruitful idea.
He was neither so well known to the ladies as was
Ben, nor did he have the reputation of being so harmlessly good; his reception, therefore, had a smack of
flavor to it of which Ben's was wholly lacking. He
had a character of that positive sort which admits of
no intrusive idea of gentle, Christian love, when the
man who possesses it begins to pay particular attentions to a young lady. It is known and felt at once
that he does not come to woo her soul to any other
object than himself. There is no sheep's clothing to
conceal his wolfish form. He is a wolf (though a
sober, respectable wolf) to be run from or submitted to
at once, and wholly, when he has made his election of
a victim. And it needs no spying and doubtful calculations to tell whether such a character has made that
election, or is only inclined to gambol and frisk with
the sweet lamb, because he happen to stray into her
pasture. These three visits, therefore, told Dr. Sam's
intentions more clearly than the first twenty did Ben's,
because twenty different reasons might be assigned for
the latter's twenty visits, as he was not suspected to be
Master Wolf.
I suppose that nothing occurred beyond the usual
humdrum of such first reconnoissances; but the doctor
went home more full than ever of his idea. The idea
had become a fact, a beautiful, living, and loving fact,
of which he was determined to possess himself, body
and soul, if he could; and he forthwith turned all his
thoughts and plans, and even the practice of his profession towards the accomplishment of his object.




160   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
The Stockdale family was in some respects peculiar.
The old doctor (Dr. Sam's father) had now been dead
some six or seven years. He was a fine old gentleman who had his own notions, and everything of his
about him partook of his individuality. His great
ability in his profession, and the superior quality of his
vigorous mind were conceded by all, and a very large
practice-more than double that of any other physician
in the county-testified to the regard in which he was
held. Strangers thought him rough and hard-hearted.
Tim O'Flannigan thought so, when the doctor, at his
second visit, ordered him to poke out his tongue, and
after observing it, bent his shaggy brows, and turned
upon him his fierce black eyes, and asked: " Did you
take that medicine I left you?"
" No, doctor," said Tim, " I didn't think my stomach
could stand it."
"You're a d — d fool, sirI You deserve to die 
Shut your mouth I If you were not'most dead already
I'd thrash you, sir!"
But when the doctor sent a man to nurse him, and
supplied his cabin with comforts and delicacies he himself could not afford, and told him to go to the devil
and quit bothering him when, after he had got well, he
asked how much he owed him, Tim O'Flannigan almost worshiped him.
The fact is there are saints for pretty much everything, but I do not know that there is a Gruff Saint
in the Calendar; and there certainly should be.
Mrs. Stockdale thought her husband was a saint, of
his own peculiar kind, and would at no moment, from
the time when she first toyed with his black locks




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   161
until those locks were as white as snow, have been
surprised to see a halo surrounding his head. He must
have been a glorious husband; a husband for whom a
woman would glorify herself above other women.
When I first knew him, though his hair was white, his
stalwart form erect and active, his shaggy black brows
set over bright black eyes, his sonorous voice, and
strong, manly grip of the hand, showed that age had
only ripened his strength of body and mind, and mellowed his affections.
But though a glorious husband, he must have been
a hard one to get along with; and in truth unless such
a man, as he was, is worshiped by his wife, there is
no getting along at all in that family; there will be
jars and misery in plenty, and finally total separation.
For instance:
"See here, Jenny!" he said one day to his wife,
looking with a disgusted expression upon a pair of new
pants he held before him at arms' length. "I told you
to make my breeches with narrow flaps, and you have
made a d —d broad concern —"
"Oh, but, doctor," interrupted Mrs. Stockdale, "narrow flaps have gone out of fashion."
D —n the fashion! I beg pardon, my dear. But
what in the-ahem! what do I care for fashions? Now
see here; if you can't make my clothes to suit me, I'll
go off and get a tailor to do it!" and he added, sotto
voce, looking with increased disgust at the unlucky
garment: "It's a d —d  shame that I should have
to wear such togs as that and not be able to tell
whether my breeches are on before or behind, because
14*




162   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
my wife chooses to follow the fashion instead of obeying my commands!"
Now what mortal woman could stand unmoved such
an attack as that except from a man she worshiped?
It had in it all the elements of caprice, ingratitude, ill
temper, and tyranny; grinding, bowing, crushing
tyranny. Here had she done the very best she could
to make her husband comfortable, and, more than that,
to improve his appearance. Her motives had been
pure and' disinterested. It was not for the good of his
success with the world that he should go so old-fashioned before it, and she had only tried to make him a
little, just a little, fashionable, and this was her reward  loud reproaches, sneers, and ill temper!  It
was enough to make a woman weep-which with the
sex stands in place of cursing. She neither could nor
would stand such ungrateful oppression if she did not
adore the tyrant. Mrs. Stockdale never thought once
of rebelling. She knew her tyrant too well even to
answer back and excuse or justify herself. " By God!
madam," he would have answered, "are they your
breeches or mine?"
Almost everybody cursed in those days, so the doctor must not be thought more wicked than he really
was. He merely followed an old fashion to which his
ardent temper inclined him-just as he refused to follow the fashion in breeches because he had no inclination for innovation.
In the matter of the pants, as in all other matters
in which the doctor was concerned (and very few were
the household affairs in which he did not at some time,
by fits and starts, annoyingly concern himself), Mrs.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   163
Stockdale acted wisely; and she had her reward. She
let the matter pass, and after wearing the pants a time
or two, he remarked: " Well, my dear, this new fashion is not so bad after all. It is just as convenient and
much more decent; though," he added, musingly, looking down at himself, " I should be slightly more like a
little boy if the d-d things buttoned to my shirt."
The old gentleman was just the same with his servants and his horses and dogs, and patients, and
friends. He knew but one will; and that was his own.
The will of everybody and everything else was ignored
as though it did not exist, and when a thing was done
after any other fashion than his he was astonished and
outraged. He was not the only Emperor I have seen
in private life, but he was about the best, because he
was utterly unconscious of his imperious disposition;
and became outraged, not because a thing was not
done in his style, but because it was not, he thought,
done in the right style.
There were two persons, however, who had him in
as complete control as he would have had every one
else. His two daughters, Sarah and Lily, had him
under their thumbs, and he never thought of rebelling
from them any more than did his wife dream of shaking off his yoke. But their influence was manifested
in different ways. Sarah resembled her mother in person, but had exactly her father's disposition, only it
was feminine and refined.  Lily, on the contrary,
looked like her father-a tall, stately, black-eyed girl
she was I but had her mother's gentle and affectionate
ways. When Sarah was a little girl she one day seriously informed her father when he had "burst loose"




164    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
(as Sam called it) about some matter which concerned
her dress, that she didn't intend to put up with such
language and conduct! The old gentleman was at
first amazed, and then gratified at her spirit, and ever
after bowed himself to her yoke. Lily, on the contrary, was always her father's darling, and could by
her loving ways completely mould him to her will.
To one who only knew the old gentleman.abroad, it
was wonderful to see his gentleness and meekness with
his daughters.
With Sam, however, it was different. He had inherited a great deal of his father's strength with a fair
share of his mother's softness. It was not long after
he was advanced to the dignity of boots that he began
to emulate his elder sister's spirit, and to "cut up a
little rusty," as our people express it, with his father;
and the consequence was that the strong hand came
down upon him. The old gentleman had a true respect
as well as a tender love for him, and could never act
so severely as to cow him, but he was the stronger of
the two, and though both made it a sort of stand-off
fight, Sam generally had to submit. And, after all, he
did not have to submit to much. His father had always made a companion of him, and in ordinary matters had treated him as his equal from his early youth,
and let him have his own way, only calling him "an
obstinate young rascal" when there was controversy
about some minor matter. As an example:
One day when Sam was a little chap, Mrs. Stockdale
said to her husband: "Doctor, I got Sam those boots,
but he has been fretting about them all the morning,
and doesn't wish to wear them."




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   165
"Where is he?" asked the doctor; and seeing Sam
out on the gallery, sulking, "Come here, sir I What is
this row about your boots? Didn't you ask me to get
you a pair of those boots at Smith's?  Now that you
have got them, what's the trouble about, eh?"
"They aren't the kind I wanted, father," said Sam.
"They've got blue tops, and I wanted red ones."
"That's a pretty thing to make a fuss about, sirl
What difference does it make whether they are blue
or red? Tell me, sir!"
"I never did like blue, father. I like red, and I
want red; and you know, father, that if you wanted
red-topped boots, you wouldn't like to have blue ones,"
said Sam, sturdily.
" The devil I wouldn't!" exclaimed the doctor.
"You obstinate young rascal, you're as notionate as a
girl. Clear out, and change your boots to what color
you please. Get sea-green if it please your delicate
fancy best. But see here, sir!" as Sam was running
off, boots in hand, "if you are so difficult to please,
your mother shall put you back into tow shirts again.
Look out, sir!"
"Jenny," said the doctor, after Sam was out of
hearing, "I don't think it is desirable to thwart a
boy's desires more than is absolutely necessary. It's
apt to make him rebellious. I have made it a rule to
let people, old and young, have their own way."
"How long since you made that rule, my dear?"
asked Mrs. Stockdale, innocently.
"Why, all my life, to be sure!" answered her husband. "I always have let you, and the girls, and
Sam, and everybody, have your own way. Of course,




166   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
I mean under proper restrictions; when your way was
the best way; for I should be a fool if I would let
any one dependent upon me do wrong if I could
help it. But you know now, my dear, that I never
do interfere except when I think it is necessary."
"Yes, doctor," answered his wife, "I do know that;
but you think it necessary all the time."
"Pshaw!" said the doctor, turning on his heel, and
going on out into the yard to regulate matters which
were no concern of his, and would, by his "regulation,"
give his wife all sorts of trouble.
CHAPTER XVIII.
NARRATES HOW THE STOCKDALES GOT ALONG AFTER THE
OLD DOCTOR'S DEATH; AND WHAT THEY THOUGHT
ABOUT DR. SAM, AND ABOUT HIS LOVE AFFAIR.
r!HE doctor's house was on the main street of Rosstown, and not far from the court-house. At Yatton
there was a large square fenced in around the courthouse, and then between that and the rows of houses
the streets were a full hundred feet broad, making the
town "roomy," as the inhabitants described it. But
at Rosstown the same plan was upon a more narrow
scale. The court-house square was small, and the
streets were narrow between it and the rows of stores.
Main street, running east and west, was the principal




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   167
street for business, and upon it the doctor had, many
years before when the population was not half so large,
erected his dwelling-house. The tavern was nearly
opposite to it, and the principal livery-stable was about
seventy-five yards below that. The house was two
stories in height, built of red brick, had a narrow little
gallery or stoop in front, and very green shutters to
the windows. A row of large china-trees made it
more quiet, and protected it in a good measure from
the glare and dust of the street. As brick houses
were then rather more rare than they now are, the
doctor's house had a particularly aristocratic and imposing appearance in the eyes of his fellow-citizens;
a fact of which the family were not at all disagreeably
conscious, although they were as unpretentious as a
family of so much character, intelligence, and merit
well could be.
Here, after the doctor's death, they still lived. Nothing had been changed, and nothing added to change
the appearance of the house, in or out. The same
china-trees put forth their lilac blossoms and their
leaves together in spring, became gray with dust in
the long droughts of summer, shed their leaves in the
fall, and kept shedding their berries upon the pavement
all the winter, much to the widow's annoyance. Dr.
Sam's new gig usurped the place of his father's old
sulky in the carriage-house, and a pair of fast-trotting
mares and a spirited young riding-horse occupied the
stalls of the heavy old carriage horses and the doctor's
easy cob. In the parlor and the dining-room the same
old-time appearance was observed. Grim profiles, cut
in black paper, hung on the parlor walls in little plain




168    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
gilt frames. There was the doctor's, at full length,
with a pair of legs of impossible symmetry; one, with
a sharp-pointed boot, standing in advance of the other,
upon which the boot was rather more blunt. But the
shaggy eyebrows were there, represented by the keenest little cut ever scissors snipped; the bold nose and
chin, and the firm mouth were also there. It was,
altogether, a very good likeness, and one to make the old
gentleman's descendants feel proud of having had such
a noble Titan of an ancestor. There was another-of
the doctor's mother, a trim old lady, with every frill of
her huge cap faithfully reproduced. Mrs. Stockdale
was also there, with her features more defined than
they were now, that they were somewhat smoothed
by age, but not more lovely in expression. Sarah and
Lily were also represented with the broadest of pantalets, and the sharpest of little feet showing below
their short dresses, and with the longest and most
luxuriant of pig-tails falling down their backs. There
was a sample or two of the most erudite needle-work,
the productions of mother and grandmother, also hanging in frames on the wall. I call it erudite, because
such work used to constitute a woman's erudition
before the'onomies, and'ologies, and Calisthenics came
in vogue. In the dining-room the doctor's old giltglass decanters, with the accompanying gilt liqueur
glasses, stood upon the sideboard, where his favorite
coffee-bowl-he would never use a cup-was in the
place of honor, and was never touched, except to be
dusted and cleaned by loving hands.
But housekeeping now was very different from what
it had been in the doctor's lifetime. When his stalwart




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   169
form was seen, and his stern, sonorous voice was heard
about that house, the visitors there were only those
who had business, those who were the intimate friends
of the family, and those who paid formal visits of ceremony. When those who had business had transacted
it, they went away; when intimate friends came, they
too knew when to go, and just what liberties to take
on the ground of intimate acquaintance; and when
formal visitors came, they paid formal visits, and never
fished for invitations to take up board or lodging.
But all this was changed. The stern presence which
repelled bores was gone, and good Mrs. Stockdale
found herself the victim of impositions innumerable.
There were country families who came from North,
South, East, and West in the county, and some from
neighboring counties, and always made it convenient
to " happen in " just at dinner-time or at night. They
would send their children to town with orders to go to
Mrs. Stockdale's for dinner and to feed their horses, or
to spend the night with her if they had to remain all
night in town; and if they sent a servant in town on
business, he had the like orders. There were families
in town and in its neighborhood who, while the old
carriage-horses lasted, borrowed carriage, and horses,
and driver, two, three, or even five times in a week,
on the plea that they only wished to use them an hour
or two, if the family were not using them. Old Jim,
the carriage-driver, used to boast bitterly that he was
the only public hack-driver nearer than Augusta. Not
only so, it was actually the case that country families
having carriages sent their daughters to town with
15




170   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
some friendly neighbor going there, and by them sent
a request to Mrs. Stockdale to please forward them ten,
fifteen, or twenty miles farther up or down the country,
as one of their horses was sick, or the crop was in the
grass, or the carriage-driver had hurt his hand, or some
such excuse. When the new carriage and the fast mares
were bought, Dr. Sam took his father's place, and said
no I to all such beggars; and once or twice said NO
with such a vengeance that they desisted, thinking that
he was surely a chip of the old block.
But so long as their mother yielded, neither Sam
nor his sisters could stop the other bores without acting more rudely than they thought becoming even
towards such conscienceless sponges.
As Mrs. Stockdale kept no cows she had to buy all
her butter and milk from the country, and to insure a
regular supply she had engaged so much a week from
a certain party, a stranger, but who made good butter.
One day there had been a failure in the supply, and as
she expected some of her country friends, who had
called in the morning and had announced that they
were coming back to dinner, she was at a great loss
what to do. Old Tom Ramsay, the old doctor's faithful dining-room servant, seeing a market-cart up the
street, hailed the driver:
" What you got, boy?"
"Butter, sah, an' aigs, an' veg'ablesl" answered the
simple-looking driver.
"Who do you belong to?" asked Tom.
"Ole Mis' Thompson, sah. I drives her marketkyart to town two times every week."
"You do, eh? Why, I never saw you in town befo'.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   171
What fur you don't come to Mis' Stockdale's sometimes?" said Tom.
"Oh, oh I Ole mis' tole me not to go dar."
"She did, did she?  What fur, you'spect?" said
Tom.
"I dunno," answered the driver, "'less'n she don't
like her I'"
Tom reported this conversation to his mistress when
he came home with the butter, and when Mrs. Thompson came that day, with half her family, to dinner (for
she and hers were among the most constant and frequent diners and lodgers), Mrs. Stockdale playfully
mentioned it to her, thinking it a mistake on the part
of the driver, or of Tom.
Mrs. Thompson blushed, and was much confused,
but presently answered that she had given such an order because she thought that if she sent her marketman there Mrs. Stockdale might think that, as they
were intimate friends, she ought to buy from him, and
because, also, it might be interfering with,the person
who constantly supplied the family.
Dr. Sam thought that it would have been vastly
more becoming if Mrs. Thompson, instead of lying,
had told the truth-that as she and hers ate about a
fourth of his mother's provisions, she had not the face
to sell to her, and did not wish to give to her.
Some of the friends of the family, however, were
not so considerate, or, rather, were more considerate
for themselves.
Strawberries were at that time not so common a
fruit in the country as they now are; and one family
near town, reputed well off, used every year to add a




172    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
nice little sum to their pockets for spending-money by
selling them at twelve and a half cents a small plateabout fifty cents a pint. One day Dr. Sam, expecting
two or three young lady friends of his sisters' to tea,
thought he would play the magnificent, and bought the
carrier's whole supply, about eight pints. The boy reported the wholesale transaction when he got home,
and the consequence was that four of the members of
that family came to Mrs. Stockdale's to tea that evening, so as to get enough strawberries for once, without
trenching upon their income.
Now, I am almost ashamed to write these disgusting
details as having occurred in the South. We usually
give our Northern brethren the credit for all the sharp
tricks and meannesses, but human nature is the same
here as there, only differently modified as a general
thing. But for the sparseness of our population, and
the beneficent influence of our system of slavery in
preserving the individuality of our people to a greater
degree than it can be preserved in a crowded country
where universal equality, so called, prevails, I expect
that we should present about as great an average,
among the masses, of sharp, selfish meannesses as the
Yankee can.
However, as I have for some time past in this story
cut loose from philosophy of the heavier sort, and as I
foresee that a little further along I shall have to return
to it again in spite of myself, I will spare the reader
any further analysis of this subject, and will return to
Dr. Sam and his family.
The doctor-Dr. Sam-was now about twenty-four
years old, and had an excellent practice for one who




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   173
had been only three years at it. Besides the widow's
income and that of the children from the estate, which
consisted of houses and lands and stocks, and produced
a revenue which, though not very great, was large
enough for all the comforts and elegancies of the quiet
life at that time and place-besides his share in that
income, I say, Dr. Sam also received enough from his
practice to make it perfectly proper for him to get a
wife as soon as he could. Sarah, who was two years
the elder, and who had no thought herself of marrying,
as she had never yet seen the man who would suit
her, and had too little nonsense about her to bother
her head and heart about wishing for such a man, used
to impress it upon her brother that he ought to marry
if he expected to ever be of any account —as if she
had really thought she had ever seen a young man of
more account than he already was. His mother was
used to tell him that she wished to see him married
and settled before she died, and she was getting oldthough, bless the dear woman, she was but little more
than half my present age, and I can't feel old, however
I may appear. Lily implored him to marry. She did
wish to have another dear sweet sister for a companion
although she knew perfectly well, the hypocrite, that
Willis Thurston was only waiting for her to name the
day when he should carry her away to Yatton and to
his sisters as his wife.
Imagine then, if you please, the trembling eagerness
of his secret within him to escape when he got back
home from his visit to The Barn. It would fly to his
lips and make them twitch with suppressed laughter;
it would find its way to his eyes and pucker their cor15*




174    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
ners with half concealed mirth; until, after struggling
with it a day or two, he could hold no longer, and let
it out, to the unfeigned astonishment and joy of the
dear ones who heard him.
And yet within two hours from that moment Lily
said to her sister: " I told you so I" and Sarah answered that she had done no such thing, but that she
herself had first remarked the strange manner of her
brother, and had suspected its cause.
"Yes," said Lily, determined not to be put down in
that kind of style, "but you know, sister, I was the
first to speak of it."
" Well, what of that?" the inflexible Sarah replied,
unwilling to share the glory of the discovery. " What
of that? I thought it, but did not care to speak where
I might be mistaken."
"Never mind, my daughters. I knew it when Sam
was so earnest and impressive with his mysterious and
contradictory excuses to go to Yatton," said Mrs. Stockdale. And Sarah and Lily yielded the palm to their
mother's jealous sharp-sightedness, though each thought
that in her way she was entitled to as much credit.
Here now was the first-no, not the first, because
Lily's little affair had been discussed and rediscussed
before that-but here was the grandest little exciting
secret the family had ever had. It was the grandest,
because in their, woman's, eyes it was by far a more
important matter to the family that brother should
marry than that either of them should either marry or
die.
It is a curious thing to notice how very important
an only son and brother is to a family of women when




WHAT I KNO W ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   175
he is the only male of the family and is at all good and
manly. Their devotion to him, and their pride in him
are exaggerated to an almost painful degree. Nay, I
have seen them go just as far for a no-account, dissipated whelp, whose proper place was breaking rocks
at a house of correction. I have known them contribute all their scanty earnings to his vanity in dress,
and sit up nearly all night, half starved, to let him in
the house when he should come home staggering with
drink which he had bought with the wages they had
hardly earned by sewing or teaching school, and which
he had shared with boon companions. And when
such a one has died I have seen them weep themselves
almost blind, and always afterwards bewail him as one
of the noblest or most gifted of mankind, whose only
fault was his generosity and goodness of heart.
And about this matter I must make a remark or two,
whether it be in or out of place.
Drunkards are very fond of boasting that it is only
the good fellows and the geniuses, or men of great
talent who drink to excess; and the women who are
so unfortunate as to be allied to them catch the lying
cant and comfort themselves with it the best they can.
Poor comfort it is, truly I even if it were a physiological
fact supported by the best evidence I But there is no
truth in it. It is true that great mental ability is usually accompanied by a vigorous vitality and strong appetites, and it is also true that the very amiable are
usually also very weak. But that because a man has
strong appetites he has a strong mind, or because he
is a sot he is therefore amiable, is as false as false can
be. I have tested and narrowly observed some of these




176   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
amiable sots, and can say with perfect truth that they
presented the most depraved instances of selfishness it
has ever been my lot to encounter among men-the
very foundation of whose whole nature is, at best, selfishness. I have repeatedly seen these amiable fellows
squander the little money they had made or got hold
of in some way, treating themselves and their close
acquaintance at bar-rooms and restaurants, when their
children at home needed shoes and clothing, and their
wives were at home almost frantic to find food for their
families. Was that amiability? or was it heartless
selfishness? I have heard some of them in a crazed
state spouting poetry or quoting Latin and Greek to
the admiration and wonder of their companions. Was
that genius? or was it the effect of the unnatural excitement of the memory by a poison?
Where one man of really eminent talent has had an
appetite stronger than his will, a thousand have had
wills stronger than their appetites. In nine hundred
and ninety cases out of a thousand it is the will
which makes the great man. The intellect is only a
tool, and a strong will may make most efficient use of
a dull, badly-tempered, or very gapped tool. Where
was there ever a great commander, who while he was a
great commander was guilty of habitual excess in
drink? Alexander? Not a bit of it. He was a remarkably temperate man in all his appetites until just
before the miserable close of his career, and I do not
know of any other great commander who has even the
reputation of having been a drunkard while he was in
the really effective service of his life. As for other
men of talent or genius the few, comparatively, who




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   177
have manifested a great weakness for drink, have either
overcome it or have had their usefulness crippled and
finally totally blasted; while with the mere Good Fellows, if they have kept up their drinking until it has
become confirmed, whatever they may have been in
public, they were at their homes peevish, and snappish,
and unreasonable-the terrors of their wives, children,
and servants, horses, and dogs.
But enough of this. The same thing has doubtless
been said over and over again before now, and I have
repeated it, not as a new thing, but as a fact, which
cannot be repeated too often to the rising generation.
Fortunately for the Stockdale family their man was
worthy of all their devotion. He was a good son, a
good brother, a good master, a good physician, and a
good citizen, and I take great delight in retracing his
career to happiness although I already know it so well.
CHAPTER XIX.
SOMETHING MORE ABOUT MISS ALICE, AND A GREAT
DEAL ABOUT THE BOWMANS.
TR. McCLEOD had lived long in the world, and
though he had lived very quietly had had his eyes
open all the while. He was a connoisseur in motives.
To find, analyze, and classify them, had been his labor
and his pastime. No bug-hunter ever more persistently and enthusiastically jumped, and stooped, and




178    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
got upon hands and knees, and peered upon the ground,
and slapped the air to secure a new specimen of insect,
than did the doctor's imagination jump, and peer, and
snap, at some new little motive. The more common
he let pass, only classifying them as they flew.
The moment Aunt Polly opened her mouth to speak
of Charley Bowman, after she came from church, he
knew exactly the idea which was uppermost in her
mind, the hidden motive of the impression which the
young gentleman had made upon her. And when
that night, after the visit, his wife spoke of the improvement of the young man and his ability to support a wife,
he knew that she too had the same idea and motive.
It is absolutely impossible for a woman to see a
young unmarried couple together without questioning
herself about the suitableness of their making a match.
Her memory instantly takes a view of all the past of
their families, of the present worldly condition of both,
of their dispositions, personal appearance, ages, education, social standing, and of all the little stories she has
heard about either of them. And if the couple be
strangers to her she scrutinizes their personal appearance, manners, dress, complexion, eyes, tones of voice,
and sets her imagination to work as to the propriety
of their marrying; and if it seem congruous, then as
to its probability.
Ask any woman of your acquaintance if this be not
the exact truth; and be she high or low, old or young,
wise or simple, she will tell you yes, if she tell you the
truth-unless she be an exception of a woman, which
she very likely, in her heart, may think herself, and
may claim to be.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   179
These good, guileless ladies had arranged it all in
their own minds. They knew only Charley's good
qualities. He was a young man whose family stood
well enough in the community; he was very well off,
had a fine plantation, with a thriving force upon it; was
handsome; sufficiently accomplished for a country gentleman, and was quite amiable. She was a charming
girl, pure in heart, refined in her manners, gentle in
disposition, and almost a genius; her property was
not large, but it was large enough to prevent her feeling that she should go dowerless to her husband, whoever he might be; and then she had black eyes and
hair, while his eyes were blue and his hair was sandy.
It was certainly an excellent match; a better for
either could hardly be found. And there seemed to be
no difficulty in bringing it about. Both the dear ladies
knew that propinquity was the surest fuel of love, and
opportunity its most certain spark: and here was the
propinquity, and opportunities could not be. lacking.
It was one of those rare conjunctions of fit things, and
it seemed " to run on wheels."
Mr. Bowman had promised to call again, and he did
call, only two days after. The doctor saw his approach
from the front gate, and uttered an ominous humph I
but when he came up on the gallery received him politely. There was a little bustle in the passage at the
announcement of his arrival, and the hurried tucking
away of needle-work, not suitable for strange gentlemen's eyes, and the disappearance of Alice and Flora;
but in a minute or two after he was seated, both
those young ladies reappeared as fresh and tidy as
though they had not before been out of their dressing



180    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
room that day. The conversation, at first general, soon
became special between the young folk, who had a
natural affinity for each other, and the drawings and
drawing-table became again the centres of attack and
defence, or rather of observation and counter-observation, of feint and counter-feint; for no determined
attack had yet been projected, and no defence had been
contemplated, or, if contemplated by the young lady,
then, almost unconsciously so, only on general principles.
As the experienced and observant reader has been
placed in possession of the outlines of the situation, I
need not accompany him all the time to mark the consequent movements. His own intimate knowledge
shall be a sufficient guide. I wish to say a few words
about the Bowmans, as I have about the Stockdales;
for it is desirable that everything possible shall be
known about Ben's schoolmates.
I cannot say that I ever liked the Bowmans. Although our personal acquaintance was slight, I knew
that we were not congenial. Col. Bowman (I never
knew how he got his title) always reminded me of Capt.
Cartwright, whose daughter my cousin Fitzroy married.
He was almost as fat, and quite as pompous, but not
half so intelligent. I think he was a native of New
York. I'll say he was, at any rate, for as he was not
remarkably literary, perhaps Massachusetts might not
own him. He came to the South when a very young
man, hardly grown, being sent out as a sort of protegO
of old Col. Vance, who had for many years done
business with his father, who had a shoe factory. Col.
Vance was very wealthy; had plantations and plant



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   181
ations; and as the young man was exceedingly respectful to him, and to his sons and daughters, and to
his horses, and dogs, and carriages, and carts, and
everything that was his, and evidently regarded the
whole as sacred, the old gentleman took his worship
as an outward sign of inward honesty, and after awhile
made him a sort of agent for himself. Mr. Bowman
got himself an office on the main street in Rosstown,
and the Colonel procured him the agency for several
Northern patent machines, and all that sort of thing,
with specimens of which he bedecked his office, and
obstructed the side-walk in its front. He had samples
of the Colonel's tobacco, cotton, and rice, all the finest
in the world, spread out on a table in the centre of the
office; and upon a railing which he had placed around
the Colonel's holy desk, he had a sign in beautiful gilt
letters, "COL. CHARLES GIBSON VANCE," in contemplating which he never wearied in the patron's absence,
and which he would caressingly decipher when the
Colonel was in presence. In the summer he had the
Colonel's first blooms of cotton hung at the door, and
in the fall his largest ear of corn and largest leaf of
tobacco were triumphantly exhibited.
As he was apt at figures, and became a very correct
and steady nan of business, the Colonel, besides making
him a broker for a great deal of his own produce, got
for him the patronage of several of his wealthy friends,
and also entrusted him with the care of his papers, and
finally with the drawing up of his deeds, and the collection of his rents, etc. All this paid handsomely, and
Mr. Bowman became Col. Bowman, and also from
mixing continually with the very rich, and talking
16




182    WHAT I KNOW ABOUTT BEN ECCLES.
about huge plantations, and huge sums of money, got
so lofty he could hardly see common folk and he got
him a wife too.
That was one of the crowning triumphs of the fitness
of things; which, to tell the truth, is often unlucky rather
than triumphant. She was created for him, and he for
her.  She was the Colonel's cousin, Miss Harmonia
Jenkins, poor, except in the awful contemplation of her
second cousin's wealth, and proud, with the glory of
that relative. She had no pride of her own; she would
have thought that sacrilege; any more than she had
wealth of her own; which would have been superfluous, and mere dirt beside her cousin's huge edifice.
Now, if there was any one particular thing which
Col. Bowman longed for, as the great panacea for all
the ills of life, and the great crown of his glory, it was
to be in some way connected with Col. Vance's family.
He did not care how; he would have married the
Colonel's grandmother if the dear old lady had been
living and able to consent; or the Colonel's white cook
if the Colonel had told him to do so and she had had a
drop of the Colonel's blood, or of the blood of any of
the Colonel's relatives by blood or marriage. It was
the bane of his life that he was not himself of the Colonel's blood, and he almost cursed his ancestors, whoever they might have been (and he knew he had
had them, though he did not and could never know
their names or whence they came),-he almost cursed
his ancestors, I say, because they had been so low in
life, or so unfortunate as not to be ancestors of the
Colonel also, or had not at least married some relative
of some of the Colonel's ancestors. He could never




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   183
think of marrying either of the Colonel's daughters,
though they were fine girls and marriageable, for, besides that the young ladies patronized and detested
him, he could not have the presumption to place himself in the direct line of the Colonel's property.
Miss Harmonia was a God-send to Col. Bowman, and
also thought Col. Bowman a G-od-send to her. Her
name was itself suggestive of a fortunate marriage;
and here was her chance  Who worshiped the Colonel?  Col. Bowman! Who was in intimate relations
with the Colonel? Col. Bowman! Who was trusted
by the Colonel and viewed the Colonel's wealth, and
handled the Colonel's wealth, and fully understood and
appreciated and bowed down to the Colonel's wealth?
Col. Bowman I And so it went on in her head in the
catechetical style of " My Mother."
On the other hand, his mind pursued the same exhaustive mode of argument. Who was the only eligible
female relative of the great Colonel? Miss Harmonia!
Who, because she was the Colonel's relative, was
beautiful? Harmonia! Who, for the same reason,
was wise and good and in all respects lovely and to be
desired? Harmonia  Who kneels with me in worship
of the Colonel? Harmonia!
And so they married. The Colonel, and his wife,
and daughters, and sons, and many of his servants
graced the wedding, and I verily believe that Bowman
would have had every overseer the Colonel had, and
as many of his negroes- as could have been spared from
the crop, if he had had his own way, and would have
gloried in feasting them all, with their horses and dogs,
and thought the money it cost nobly spent.




184    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
It was not very long after their marriage that Col.
Bowman began to get fat, and then began to yearn for
the pleasures of planting life, and the glory Qf taking
his place as a brother with the Colonel and the other
agricultural magnates of the land, He had accumulated money, and finding a place (the one he now lived
on, near Dr. McCleod's) offered for sale to settle up a
succession, he had purchased it, with all its force, just
as it stood. The investment had been profitable, and
as years rolled on he had purchased other places, two of
them for his sons Charles Gibson Vance Bowman and
Henry. His wife and he had harmonized perfectly in
their desires and schemes. Even her having two sons
was, though an accident, in exact harmony with what
he wished. He was a lucky man.
But when old Col. Vance died there was a great revulsion in the accordant feelings of the pair. The
old gentleman had died intestate, and therefore little
Charles was none the better off for his name; and,
worse than that, when the estate came to be settled up
it was found that the debts were greater than the value
of the assets.
Who would have thought it! It was all the fault
of those extravagant minxes the Misses Vance, and the
reckless expenditures of those dissipated dogs the Masters Vance, and that mean, penny-wise and poundfoolish, hard old woman, Mrs. Vance.  They needn't
come to Col. Bowlman for either sympathy or assistance. Had he not advised them, remonstrated with
them, besought them as a loving relative, with tears in
his eyes, to refrain from their courses? Had he not
warned the Colonel? And the Colonel was a weak




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   185
old fool for not having taken his warning; for did not
he, Col. Bowman, better than any other man, know to
a cent and the fraction of a cent just how affairs stood?
The old man had despised his warnings, and the young
folk and their mother had scouted his advice and remonstrances, and they might suffer the consequences.
He was not going to have a set of poor relations whining around him.
And when he went to town and met Mr. John Vance
he almost shocked himself by saluting him as John,
instead of "Mr. Vance;" and William Vance he called
Bill, instead of "Master William," and he inquired of
them how Louisa, and Jane, and Sally, and the old
woman were, instead of respectfilfly speaking of them
as "your respected mother and the young ladies, your
sisters;" and he never mentioned his wife's name once
to them, whereas always before, and especially if in
the presence of others, he had been particular to say:
" My wife, your cousin, bade me give her duty to your
mother, and remember her with respectful kindness to
the young ladies, her cousins, your sisters."
He had grown very fat by the time to which my
story has progressed, and was very patronizing, and
had a husky and condescendingly gentle voice to almost all who came in contact with him-except when
he was tyrannical and rough, and his voice was loud
and dictatorial to them. That is a queer freak of man's
nature. Such a man as was Dr. Stockdale becomes
more kind and sympathetic as he becomes more successful, and a Col. Bowman becomes more harsh and
hard and patronizing. But I'll not stop to analyze it
here; any thoughtful reader will do so for himself.
16*




186    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
There was one man, however, in Rosstown, who
put at defiance all the Colonel's coldness and frowns,
and whom the Colonel avoided with horror. It was
James Ransom; old Jim Ranser, they used to call
him. When the Colonel first came to Rosstown he
and Mr. Ransom were great cronies. Ransom's father
was a very well-to-do planter in my county, but James
had taken up the desire to make a merchant of himself,
and had been allowed to take a preparatory clerkship
in a store in Rosstown, which offered what he thought
unusual advantages. Here he was, a young buck of
the first year, when Bowman arrived, a stranger; and
being of a kind and rather enthusiastic nature in his
friendships and enmities, he had taken the new-comer
in charge and introduced him to his friends, allowed
him to sleep in his room; and, on two or three occasions, had fought his battles for him. But as years
passed on and Bowman went up, Ransom went down.
His father failed in planting, and was sold out by the
sheriff, and the store James was to have consequently
vanished. He found himself a confirmed clerk; for he
could not understand the energy and perseverance
which make a merchant of a clerk. To his comprehension one had to start with a fully-stocked store, or
not to start at all. So, as he could never be anything
but a clerk, he concluded to be just as jolly a clerk as
he could be. The consequence was his losing several
clerkships in succession after vain promises of amendment, and he was now " with the dogs," as he himself
expressed it; a seedy, talkative, ill-natured or goodnatured (according to the state of his nervous system)
drunkard.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   187
"I say, Bowman!" he called out to the Colonel one
day, when he saw him puffing along the street, " where
is it vou live?" And as the Colonel made no answer,
he continued: "0  my Aminadab, you needn't pretend
not to hear me. I want to know where you live. I
think of taking up my quarters with you next spring
when the fishing in the creek is good. I'm sure you'll
be glad to see your old friend and roommate. I say,
Bo', don't you —"
"Mr. Ransom, I'll thank you to call me by my
proper title, sir," the offended and disgusted Colonel
replied.
"And what in the hell is your proper title, Bo'?
They used to call you Toady, and Lick-spittle, and
Sneak, and it wasn't till you took the title of Colonel
that anybody ever thought you didn't have your proper
title. Now which of your really proper titles must I
give you?"
"Mr. Ransom! Mr. Ransom!" spluttered the
Colonel; " I'll not submit to such language!"
"You're right, Bo'! You're right, Aminadab! I
wouldn't either! I admire your pluck. But now I
come to think of it, the boy who used to back you is
now before you. So I expect you'll stand it, Bo'; just
a little, you know, by way of experiment. I say, my
Colonel! what have you been eating lately? You are
getting pussy. Been eating whales, eh?"
"' Mr. Ransom, I'll thank you to let me pass," said
the Colonel, with lofty dignity.
"Pass 1 Oh, certainly; but it's well the streets are
broad, my Colonel. Oh, just to think how spry you used
to be about Old Vance's horses when he drove to town!"




188    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
By the time the Colonel had borne as much as this
(and he had to bear it frequently), he would fairly turn
and flee, and if Ransom showed a disposition to follow,
would take refuge in some private house, or get in his
gig and leave town.
This was Col. Aminadab Bowman, the father of
Ben's friend Charles. Ben used to say that he never
saw stiffly starched white pants and a broad-brimmed
straw hat on a fat man but he thought of him, and felt
very small, and yet very contemptuous. I beg pardon
for taking up so much room in describing him, but the
fact is that there is scarcely a village, town, county, or
city in the South but has or has had its Col. Bowman,
and sometimes several of them, rivals, at once. And,
unfortunately, almost every man in the world has seen
a James Ransom.
CHAPTER XX.
WHY MR. CHARLES BOWMAN CONCLUDED TO FALL IN
LOVE, AND HOW HE CARRIED ON HIS COURTSHIP.
IE must be a very extraordinary man of whom
nothing but good can be said; yet, except that
Charles Bowman was reckless of truth, timid of danger, and an egotist, I have nothing but praises to
award him. A more affable and whole-souled young
man to those he esteemed his equals or superiors could
not be found in all that county. He was gay as a lark;




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   189
ready for any kind of amusement that offered itself.
He had that common kind of benevolence which always makes a man pleased to see others doing well
when it costs him neither thought nor exertion.  He
could, indeed, at times, when his sympathies were
much moved, exert himself to get others interested in
a case of charity; but as soon as they became engaged
in it he abandoned it to them, taking to himself, and,
loud talking fellow that he was, receiving all the credit.
As the world goes he was a good-hearted young man,
with a proper respect for the feelings and rights of
others; but, alas! I fear that in his case, as in so many
others, the good-heartedness was merely the effect of
a healthy digestion, and the respect for others was the
result of fear.
If all this does not appear to the reader to be praise,
let him not make his opinion known, or the bulk of
the world will call him censorious, and be personally
offended.
Alice pleased Mr. Bowman's fancy mightily. He
persuaded himself that she was all he could desire in
a wife. She was remarkably handsome, had a fine
mind, and many elegant accomplishments, and would
grace his establishment, as he who aspired to be one of
the finest gentlemen of the county should have it
graced.  Besides that, she was an excellent housekeeper, and would make and keep elegant and comfortable the establishment over which she presided. True,
she was not wealthy, and had no near male relative in
the world either to add to her wealth or to contribute
to the advancement of her husband's influence, but she
was of a loving disposition, and her blood was, he ad



190    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
mitted, a little better than even that of the Vances,
and had a distinctive line a very great deal longer than
that of his branch of the Bowmans. Her grandfathers
had been men of note in the colony, and their fathers
were gentlemen. That much he had learned of them,
and when he thought of how utterly unknown his own
ancestry must ever be to him, he, like his father before
him, was very desirous to ally himself to one whose
family was known and respected, whether in the present or for the past.
It was, take it all in all, a very desirable alliance,
and he determined to make it, if possible. This determination was not made all at once, like that of one
who falls violently in love. It was the result of calculation, and was made after many visits. That want of
wealth was a serious drawback; and then, again, her
beauty was not of that effulgent character, nor was
her mirthfulness of that gay and dashing sort which
attract a man to violent transports. The lady was, in
fact, in spite of her youth and health, very equable in
her feelings, or, rather, very calm in all her manifestations of feeling.  She was rather philosophical, as
those girls who are grave and take a sober view of life
are accused of being, though their dear little noddles
may never have been bothered by anything more knotty
than the intricacies of a new crotchet stitch or the
proper proportions for a pudding. Alice's philosophy
was deeper and more learned than that, but she had
nothing of the blue-stocking character about her. She
had had much sorrow at the death of her mother,
and was simply a sincere, affectionate, and domestic
woman, whose whole life was ready to devote itself to




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   191
the good of some other she could love better than herself. She was just one of those rare creatures who
are fitted by nature to become either the happiest or
most miserable of wives, or the most blessing and
blessed of old maids.
She had never before in her life met with a young
man so attractive as was Charles Bowman-for he was
one of those whose evil qualities can be discovered,
unless by chance, only after long acquaintance. He
was, too, a neighbor and an old friend of the family,
who, indeed, had been partly raised in the family, and
his visits were made upon that friendly footing. I suppose the spirit of love came upon her (so far as it did
come) by degrees, as it does sometimes upon menthat is to say, when it is produced by propinquity;
for all these rules fail when it is of the more sudden
and violent sort. At first he was an amusing visitor,
then his visits began to be expected, and she was even
more particular than usual in her toilet, and then they
were wished for; and she imagined to herself what she
would say if the conversation should be thus and so,
and what she would lead it to in case it should lag, and
so forth, and so on; the same old story which has been
understood from the beginning until now, and will be
always old and always new.
It was with him also the same old story, but not
with exactly the same particulars. lie went to see her
at first because she was pretty, and went again and
again because she was interesting, and then he went
because he was determined to make her his wife.
There were rambles in the garden and in the woods,
with Flora always along for company, and there were




192    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
rides on horseback, and, after awhile, he would come
to accompany her and her aunt to church. At home
he praised her singing, and never seemed to tire of
hearing her sing those ditties which expressed the ardor of love. Upon those he would dwell meaningly,
and he would beg her to teach him both tune and words.
He grew furiously in love; was never contented away
from her. In a thousand ways he showed his passion,
and yet when he would sometimes be on the very verge
of declaring it in words, his mouth would become dry,
and his knees would tremble, and the words would
fail.
This was a strange embarrassment for Charles Bowmahn, and I doubt if he himself quite understood it.
For my own part, it is the only evidence I have ever
had that he really loved the fair girl. Had he cared
nothing for her but to gain her as an elligible wife, he
would have been much more composed. He undoubtedly did love her as sincerely as such a man could
love; and though he thought she would accept him, he
dawdled and delayed with his fate until even Dr. McCleod at last began to weary of his slowness.
As for Alice, she was contented and happy. She
discovered new perfections in him every day, and would
have loved with all her heart if her natural caution
had not intervened. As it was, she thought his loving
her, if he really did love her, very pleasant, and that
his love, if it were love, was very sunny and genial
and pure. She never tired of his presence, and thought
often of him in his absence. It did not occur to her
that he was delaying his suit too long, for how could
she be happier than she already was? And yet she




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   193
did not abandon herself to the full flood of affection.
She loved, and was happy with reserve.
I almost seem ridiculous to myself to be thus, an old
man, occupied in describing the progress of a young
love. But it is a pleasant subject to me yet, and is environed still by mysteries my philosophy has been unable to solve. Why is it that there is so often such a
great inequality in the moral worth of those who love
each other? The world does not deceive itself about
either, and yet one of the parties is invariably deceived.
Every one else who knew Charles Bowman knew his
exact worth; some had discovered it, and had ~mmunicated their discovery to the others. This is what is
called reputation. Alice did not know his reputation
with the world, and Mrs. McCleod and Aunt Polly
knew it but slightly, for they rarely went from home,
and neither at home nor abroad would willingly listen
to the discussion of the characters of others. But even
if they had known it ever so well, the most patent defects were only such as would be covered, and might
be conquered by mighty love.  That is, really, the
great panacea for all ills, and the curer of all defects,
but woman alone pins her faith to it. She follows her
own nature in that.  She feels that "love worketh no
ill to his neighbor," and it is all and in all to her.
With what anxious interest Aunt Polly and Mrs.
McCleod watched and waited the progress of this loveaffair may easily be imagined. Both would often be
provoked when visit after visit occurred and they
should have to say to each other: " Well, there's
nothing settled yet."
"I'll declare," said Mrs. McCleod one day to Aunt
17




194    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Polly, after the young party had come in from a long
walk, and Charles Bowman had left for home without
any special manifestations on either part,-" I'll declare
I never saw such a man in my life  There can be no
doubt in the world but that he's in love, but "
"Do you really think so?" interrupted Aunt Polly,
looking up from her sewing. "I'm  sometimes doubtful, myself."
"Certainly I think so, Polly," answered Mrs.
McCleod, dogmatically. And then she added, smiling
pleasantly: " You are hardly so good a judge, perhaps,
as I am. I know that he is; but what makes him
delay so is more than I can conjecture. His father
and mother can't object. I know that Mrs. Bowman
is very anxious to see him married and settled, and
only last week she was praising Alice. One thing is
certain: if he does not very soon make his declaration
the doctor shall call him to account. Neither he nor I,
any more than you, Polly, intend to have Alice's affections trifled with."
" Of course not," said Aunt Polly. "But do you
think that Alice's affection is really placed on him? I
thought I was smart enough to find out all such things,
but I'm at a loss this time. She hardly ever talks about
him, and yet she seems to like his company very well."
"Think she loves him?" exclaimed Mrs. McCleod.
"Why, of course, she does, or will do so if he ask her.
Oh, Polly, Polly, you'll never be young again; that's
certain I"
" Where do you think they'll live after they are married?" asked Aunt Polly.  "I would hate to part with
Alice, and yet I would dislike to leave here."




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   195
"Leave here!" almost screamed Mrs. McCleod.
"Why, Polly, what do you mean? Of course you
can't leave here I Plague the man, what did he come
here for anyhow I Don't talk that way, Polly, and
for goodness sake don't let Flora hear you speak of
such a thing I The poor child would cry her eyes out."
And the affectionate woman wiped from her own eyes
the mist which already dimmed them at the terrible
thought of Polly's ever leaving her.
i" Yes, but you know, Kitty, that it would never do
for Alice to go alone among strangers. She would be
so lonesome away from me."
" Why, won't she be with her husband? What are
you talking about? She'll be with her husband on his
place only two miles off, and you can go over there
every day if you choose. The only thing I'm concerned about is what they'll do for a cook. I hardly
think his cook is of any account, and it will give Alice
a world of trouble to train her. I'll try and get the
doctor to let Sally Ann go over for awhile. She can
teach the cook, and be of great use to Alice in the preparations for all the company they'll have along at
first. "
And so the dear ladies went on discussing Alice's
affairs and laying plans for her, as all such good women
will do on such occasions. Their imaginations, busy
with the brilliant future, and their memories with
the active past, they soon lose sight of the dull present
which plods along bringing with it a future which all
their plans and fancies cannot alter.




196    WHAT I' RKNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER XXI.
DR. SAM CONCLUDES TO GO A COURTING; AND THE TACTICS HE INTENDS TO EMPLOY.
R. SAM was no laggard in love, but after his first
visit to The Barn, he seemed to think that he must
be doubly diligent in his attention to his patients. This
is generally the case with energetic men after they have
taken a holiday, but he had the additional inducement
of love to spur him on to labor. It would be an error
to say that he was not an imaginative man-for every
man of strong intellect, and especially every doctor
capable of eminence in his profession, must have an
active and high order of imagination. Our language
is deficient in many respects, but in none more than in
the words to express the ideas we have of the soul and
its attributes. We say soul, spirit, mind, intellect; and
we say imagination, fancy; and then we have to explain the idea we attach to each in the particular case.
However, he was not imaginative in the sense of being
fanciful (I feel that even that qualification needs explanation; but it will have to pass). He took up no
"notions," as they are called. His mind was well
balanced, and reason held sway over all its faculties.
Though he soon loved intensely (and nothing grows
in strength so fast as love), he neither saw the face
of his loved one on the page he was reading, nor heard
the tones of her voice in the music of the winds, the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   197
gurgling of the waters, or the singing of the birds.
Her radiant form did not appear to bless him-when he
had done some good deed, nor did a sense of her purity
and pleasantness of mind and body render the hovel,
or the rags, or the foul diseases of his patients, more
loathsome to him than they ever were. He was no
laggard, nor had he any nonsense about him, and yet
he took his time about going to visit again the lady of
his choice.
Why he did so I can only conjecture. Though he
resembled his father in the impetuosity of his feelings,
I suppose that in such a case as this he felt restrained
by delicacy, as well as prudence, from pushing matters
too fast. But I imagine that his knowledge of Ben
Eccles' love for Miss Susan was one main cause of his
hesitation.  True, there was no sense in any such
reason, and if any one had told him that she was so
volatile, or so weak as to be governed by mere attentions and solicitations in such a matter as the bestowal
of her heart, he would have been indignant. But a
man of honor instinctively avoids interference with his
friend in such a matter, and acts as though he really
thought he could influence the lady's will.
Now the truth is that so long as he acts fairly there
is no interference in the case. The lady may love
neither, and reject both; but if she accept either, it is
because the other does not suit her so well.
But neither patients, nor friendship, nor prudence
could prevent his going again to The Barn before a
month was over. Indeed, had he wished to remain
away, the advice and urging of his sisters would have
sent him there. His love tormented them. If he should
17*




198    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
be silent, they felt sure he was brooding over his
chances. If he were talkative, they were equally certain that Susan was the moving cause; as, indeed, she
generally was, for almost all the talk in the little family
was about her. Both of the girls knew her quite well;
that is to say, had met her several times at Col.
Christmas' and elsewhere, in and near Rosstown; and
were pleased with her manners, appearance, and conversation, though they had not been so ecstatically
affected as they now were.
Lily was especially eloquent in her discussions of the
perfections of her sister who-was-to-be. She seemed
to think that Susan must necessarily also be in love with
her brother, and being in love herself, she had an acute
sympathy with her. Did not Susan glorify her brother
as she herself glorified Willis Thurston? Did she not
invent perfections for him and think him a very wonder
of a man? What a precious season they should have
singing pseans to their respective Apollos if they could
be together  Dr. Sam thought to himself: what a
blessing it would be to have Lily with Susan if love be
surely budding in Susan's heart I but what a terrible
thing if she be entirely indifferent I
Sarah took a more matter-of-fact, but hardly less
ridiculous view of the case. Although she had had no
experience, she thought her accurate observation qualified her to give good advice in a-love affair; and she
exhorted and warned accordingly in the most exact and
weighty manner. One day, just before Dr. Sam made
his second courting visit, Lily was telling him what
girls did not like. "A girl," said she, " does not like
too much backwardness nor too much boldness."




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   199
"Pshaw I" interrupted Sarah, " nor does she like too
much candy. I'll tell you, brother, what you must do.
It is the great fault of you young men when you wish
to please a girl that you treat her like a child or a
doll-baby. A sensible woman, like Susan, does not like
that. She wishes to be treated like a reasonable being.
You must talk sense to her and she will feel complimented by it, and will like you all the more for it."
"How would it do sister," asked Dr. Sam, "if I
should get up a discussion with her about pleurisy, or
descant upon the exacerbations in typhoid fever?"
" I am not talking nonsense, sir," said Sarah, "and
I can tell you that if you go to prescribing calomel for
Susan should you find her in low spirits, or in any way
give her occasion to think you are making fun of her,
you may as well, from that minute, give up your
hopes."
" But, Sarah, I really wish to know what I should
talk about. The changes of the weather at this season
are not sufficiently numerous to afford constant talk,
and the crops are soon exhausted. It will not do, I
suppose, to talk politics, and you say I must sink the
shop; now what shall I talk about? I know nothing
of the fashions, and have never been to an opera in my
life. "
" It makes very little difference what you talk about,"
replied Sarah, "so you talk sense. I know very well
that if a man were to come either talking shop or
giggling about me he would disgust me."
"Yes, sister," spoke up Lily, " and I believe that if
any man in the world should seem 4isposed to court
you, he would disgust you."




200   WTHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
"Good for you, little sister," exclaimed Dr. Sam.
"This wise sister of ours wishes to lay down rules for
courtship to us, but we know that it has no rules;
don't we? You know that the man a woman loves
never talks nonsense, and the man she does not love
can hardly talk sense if he come as a lover. I'll tell
you what it is, Sarah, I am going to court Susan Garthwaite like a sensible man, provided I see I may succeed. If she like me, well; and if she don't like me,
well. I haven't the slightest fear of seeming to her to
be a fool in either case, for I will always be manly;
just as I never can be anything but a gentleman."
And in a day or two afterwards Dr. Sam started off
to court Susan in this manly way. His excuses to his
patients were made, and were no doubt excellent, but
they were too vague for the Rosstownians. They
thought they knew the exact business relations of every
one of their townsmen-but this urgent affair of Dr.
Sam Stockdale's intrigued them prodigiously. Mrs.
Fly told Mrs. Thompson —one of the town family of
Thompson-that she understood that " old Dr. Stockdale had a large property interest in Yatton, and that
the young doctor bad to go and see about it;" and
Mrs. Thompson, honest woman that she was, replied
that she " shouldn't wonder," and assisted in spreading
the report as decided truth. Others had it that a
medical college was about to be started in Yatton, in
opposition to the Rosstown Female College, and the
doctor had gone there to examine whether it would
pay to accept a professorship. Others, again, said that
he had gone to perform a capital surgical operation of
a before-unheard-of character. And old Jim Ranser




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   201
said to a group at a corner discussing the probable
causes of the visit: " Dr. Sam has gone to attend to
his own business, and you all had better by a d- d
sight do the same."
But this time the object of his visit was well known
at home, and extraordinarily loving were the words
and embraces he received at leaving the loved ones
there. Lily was joyous and hopeful, but Sarah and
her mother were as grave and impressive as though
he were about to start to the gallows.
" God bless you, my son," said Mrs. Stockdale as
she kissed him; "you have been a good son, and I
know you will be a good husband. I hope your Susan
will be kind and loving to you."
" Good-by, brother," said Sarah, kissing him in her
turn; "I hope you will succeed; but you mustn't take
it to heart if you do not. Girls don't always know
what is best for them, but if you manage it right you
can't fail if Susan have the sense I think she has. "
" Take care of yourself, brother," then said Lily, with
her arms around his neck. " I'll be miserable until I
know for certain that you are perfectly happy. Can't
you write us a note by some one coming from Yatton
if you should find Susan too attractive to be left soon!"
Even old Tom Ramsay, who, as servants in such
cases always have, had an inkling of his young master's errand, seemed to manifest sympathy with him by
an extra pressure of the hand at bidding good-by;
and when he remarked: " Mas' Sam, that little gray
shows you off mightily," the doctor knew that the old
butler was looking forward to having a new young
mistress.




202    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Now, they were all very much mistaken in supposing that the doctor's happiness or misery was so near
at hand. The rank and file do not always know when
a battle is to be fought, and are often deceived by its
postponement. It was not the general's intention on
this occasion to bring on a decisive action. He was
going to view the ground; see where he could post his
heavy guns, deploy his infantry, use his cavalry, and
find cover for his sharp-shooters.
This use of military phrase reminds me of a letter I
once received from a friend, who had served in the
army, describing his courtship. I preserved it, and
will copy it here:
" You remember my telling you that I was regularly
campaigning my courtship. Well, sir, I did conduct
the war with consummate skill, quietly and surely
making my advances —the little lady herself being the
centre of attack, her father the right, and her mother
the left wing.
"Monday, Sept. 10th. Every preparation having
been made I determined to strike the blow. You may
well suppose the time called for all the cool judgment
and manhood I could muster for the fray.
"All of my plans having so far carried beautifully,
I made a bold and terrific assault upon the city
itself, and after about two hours of such fighting as
has never been recorded, I drove the besieged back
within her strongest works, and captured the key to
the whole position, I might hope. Here I massed my
artillery, and ceased for the night.
"Sept. 11th. Early this morning I surprised the
right wing in his office, and after a tremendous and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   203
determined onslaught, which met with a heavier resistance than was anticipated, I finally carried his position
in so far as to render him neutral. In like manner I
carried the left.
"I now commenced the concentration of my whole
force under cover of the works captured the preceding
evening. Several batteries of siege guns and mortars
were added to those already in position, besides the
pieces used in the engagement with the flanks.
"Everything having been most carefully ordered
and arranged, the engagement opened about 8 o'clock
P.M. with light picket firing, indicating the advance
of my skirmishers. Pushing them forward, I found
her occupying the inner fort and works protecting
the palace, evidently expecting an assault. An hour
having been consumed in ascertaining her exact position and ranging for the fray, I ordered a general advance, under cover of the artillery, along the whole
line. In an instant after the opening of my guns the
grand fort and palace were entirely obscured by a
sheet of flame that told the metal of my adversary.
My force was equal to the work in hand, and two
hours later had captured the fort and all the works,
and had demanded the surrender of the palace. She
consented, conditionally; that I should give her time
to think. I replied,'Certainly; how long do you
desire?' She answered,'Only six months.' I settled that question mighty quick by throwing a few
shells into the palace itself, which brought a final
answer, and a royal gun with it."
Now, I call that very clever; and an additional
beauty of it.is, and therein it differs from the majority




204    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
of the reports of battles, it was all exactly true as it
was meant. And, what is also singular, though he
did not marry the young lady shortly afterwards, he
was just as happy as happy could be shortly afterwards
that he did not do so. Sic transit!
CHAPTER XXII.
TELLS HOW DR. SAM WENT A COURTING, AND HOW HE
WAS RECEIVED WHEN HE RETURNED HOME.
NEVER much liked that thirty miles of road between Rosstown and Yatton, though to a stranger
to the country it may possess some points of interest.
The long lanes of dark-gray worm-fence, without a
tree to obstruct the wind or sun, are the coldest of
rides in winter and the hottest in summer. In this
pleasant autumn weather, however, Dr. Sam had no
inconvenience. Even the dust seemed loth to stir in
the lazy air as his sturdy gray jogged along at a brisk
walk. The sumach bushes with their feathery tufts
*changed from red to brown, and beginning to incline
their points downward, stood upright in the corners of
the fences, and the poke-berries hung in clusters on
their crimson stalks grown too feeble to hold them upright; and the blackberry briars growing rusty, both
leaf and stem, began to look bare as they protruded
through the rails, or ambitiously had climbed over




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECULES.   205
their top. When he would emerge from some long
lane into a strip of wood, the solemn stillness which
seems to accompany the hours when the trees are
going into their slumber was broken only by the tapping of the woodpecker, or the melancholy bark of
some solitary squirrel in the depth of the forest, and
the pattering down of the prematurely yellow and
crimson leaves, as they loosed their hold and came
fluttering to the earth. Sometimes the road passed
through a grove of pines which had sprung up a
thicket in some old field, and in a few years had grown
to be a forest. The ground was covered with a russet
coat of "shatter," as the dead pine leaves are called
here, and the air was perfumed with resinous fragrance,
but hardly a fly was abroad to give the spot animation.
On the doctor trudged, wrapped in pleasant reverie,
scarcely interrupted by the grating of his horse's armed
hoofs upon the pebbles of the main branch of Big
Sandy, near the town, and of the other little creeks
which every five or six miles went gurgling merrily
over beds of shining sand and pebbles, across the road
on their way to the larger creeks. Mechanically he
would loose the reins to give liberty to his horse when
it would stop and paw the water, and toss its head
impatiently to drink. About noon, from the top of a
lofty ridge upon which the road meanders for four or
five miles, he descried, through the warm, hazy air, the
high bluffs which lay like a dark-blue cloud along the
farther bank of the river, nine miles (by the road) beyond Yatton, and he knew he was nearing his destination.
Now, I have no means of knowing what were Dr.
18




206    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Sam's harmonious thoughts, until his near approach
to The Barn roused him to sit more upright in his
saddle, and check up his horse, to take a look at the
distant hills, and remember the exact spot in which he
found himself. I suppose that Susan was their subject,
and Love the burden of their melody. It is the sweetest of all melodies; that which has been most gladdening since the time the stars sang it together, and shall
be the most universal and the most cheering until the
trump of the archangel shall announce it perfect, uninterrupted, and eternal. But on earth, alas! the melodious harmony is often interrupted by discords from
without and around, which make it sound jangled and
out of time.
Dr. Sam, no doubt, was often put out in his harmony
by the intrusion of the discordant sounds of the syllables "Ben Eccles." Whati if Susan loved Ben EcclesI
And if she did not love him (the doctor), should he not
rather she would love his friend Ben than any other
man? No, sir! the doctor must have answered to
himself. No, sir I That is superhuman nonsense. If
she cannot love me, let her love a stranger; one, of
whose qualities I know and care nothing.
This thing of preferring a friend in such a case is all
bosh. No man does so. It is humiliating to his
self-respect to have one, all of whose weaknesses he
knows so well, to be preferred to himself. Either
Caesar or some unknown  is the sentiment of every
true lover; to whom friendship in such a case is in the
attitude of an alternative, and is an impertinence.
Nor was Ben Eccles the only discord in the sweet
strain. Susan might have other beaux; or even if she




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   207
had not, and did not love Ben, she might feel disinclined to her new lover. Was he her lover, though?
Was he not merely going on a tour of observation?
And would he not be governed by circumstances in his
subsequent proceedings? He thought so, no doubt.
I have seen a great many philosophic lovers, but have
yet to see one who has successfully practiced his philosophy. To be in love is to persevere in love until a
catastrophe takes place; just as with some men to begin to drink is to persevere in drinking until nature
can bear the strain no longer. In spite of his manly
self-confidence and strong mind, Dr. Sam was just as
certain either to be accepted, or by word or conduct
positively rejected by Susan Garthwaite, as he was
certain to die when his time came. And it would have
been just as nonsensical to talk to a man in his condition as to the victim of drink about exerting his will
and stopping himself in his career. In both cases it is
the will which carries the man on. Change the will
of either and he becomes sober.
It was probably the thought of its being near dinnertime which made the doctor check up his horse as be
arrived at the front gate of The Barn, and, after a
moment's halt, ride on more briskly into town. He did
not like to intrude uninvited and unexpected upon the
family meal, although he knew he should be kindly
welcomed to a bountiful board. Lovers are always
more particular than other persons about such small
matters. Or, perhaps, he was moved to take the course
he did by a judicious care for his toilet, which must
have been disarranged by his long ride. That's another
point upon which the true and sensible lover is very




208   TVHA T I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
particular. But whatever the cause, he rode on into
town, had his horse put up and fed at the livery stable,
took dinner at the tavern, and not until about five
o'clock in the afternoon, tidy and spruce, went to make
his important visit.
Miss Maria Jones was with her dearest friend in the
sitting-room, and her round eyes became a little rounder
and more open when Dr. Sam was announced and
walked in. He scarcely saw her, and she noticed it.
It would be hard to tell what such a woman as she
does not notice. She saw him looming large, not as
her beau (in that case he would have appeared as perfect and gigantic as an archangel), but as Susan's
beau. Beau was the term she always used for lover.
A lover was to her the perfection of all things beautiful,
and was therefore a beau. She saw, she observed, she
solved, and she resolved that Dr. Samuel Stockdale
would not suit her, and therefore ought not to suit her
dear friend. Such an earnest, single-minded, affectionate, and just man as was the doctor is always
tremendous to the Maria Joneses of this world. They
are impassable barriers to their plans. A Dr. Sam in
the house is, surely, a Miss Maria out of the house,
just as when the staunch house-dog takes up his abode
in a room, the house-cat takes to the stairs or an open
window. Neither Ben Eccles, with his honesty and
all-absorbing love, nor Dr. Sam, with his vigorous
hatred of humbug and his strong love, was calculated
to leave Miss Jones the fond friend and arbitress of
her dearest pet; so Miss Jones was determined that
neither of them should succeed. The fact is that she
was a silly goose not to understand better her own




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   209
sex, and Susan in particular. She was not the only
silly goose I have ever seen who thought her word was
law with the king. Theretofore the king had been
placable, and she had got to the pitch that she herself
must be pleased and must be courted to gain every
suit. She had yet to see the king (I mean our dear
Susan; it is only a figure of speech),-she had yet, I
say, to see Susan implacable; to see her set her head
in an opposite course to the one she (Miss Maria)
would have her go. Alas, the day when that should
be the case I
But at this visit nothing passed remarkable for skill
or stupidity. According to the ingenious doctor, he
had only come to pay a visit to some friends in the
neighborhood, and had thought he would call and see
how the ladies were and pay his respects. Pshaw!
thought Miss Maria, that man was never cut out for a
lawyer. I know very well who the friends are I And
when he got to praising his absent friend, Ben Eccles,
she thought: Oh, what an artful fellow we have here l
He wishes to spy a little; I'll lead him on the wrong
track, and she forthwith began Ben's praises in such a
way as to make it appear that she feared to embarrass
Susan by too much talk on that subject, and presently
suggested that Susan had not latterly been in the best
spirits, and seemed to be anxious about something.
How low the pulses of Dr. Sam's heart became at
this innuendo she seemed instinctively to know, but
it was not her cue to give Susan occasion for anger
against her on account of open deceit or a false accusation, so she relieved the matter by an " if" and a " but"
18*




210    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
in.talking further about Ben's good qualities thus
vindicating her loyalty to Susan, though leaving the
doctor in doubt.
Forty years ago, when my memory and feelings
were in their vigor, I could have described Miss Maria
Jones with every detail of every trait, but now I shall
have to leave much of her portrait to the knowledge
and imagination of the reader who has seen the world.
In spite of her, the visit was pleasant and exceedingly
satisfactory to the reconnoitering doctor. Susan was
even more beautiful than he had thought her, and her
manners were perfection. What a magnificent wife
she should make! Beautiful, intelligent, refined, loving, dignified, a good housekeeper, accomplished in
every detail of domestic life. "Whew!" Dr. Sam whistled to himself, as he got on his horse to ride away.
"; Won't I be the most fortunate of men? Ah, I will
make my Susan the happiest of wives!"
Mother and daughter were greatly pleased with the
visitor. The mother looked forward with no little
pleasure to having a doctor in the house. It would
certainly be a handy arrangement, even better in some
respects than that coveted by a great many excellent
ladies of having a preacher in the family. As for
Susan, she felt already that Dr. Stockdale was of the
material of which heroes are made. She had heard a
great deal about him at the Female College, and had
often seen and remarked his handsome and commanding presence in church and passing along the street.
He was the beau-ideal fondly cherished in the hearts
of two or three of her larger companions; and of
several (there was no telling how many) of the smaller




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   211
girls. And now that he had come a courting to her
she felt somewhat fluttered, and was disposed to look
a little coldly upon her officious friend, Miss Maria.
It was certain that Dr. Sam was very greatly to be
preferred to Ben Eccles. In the first place, Mr. Ben
Eccles' law, however much he might know of it, was
not likely to be of assistance to her mother, and Dr.
Sam's medicine was just what the whole family, white
and black, were bound to need at some time. In the
next place, she liked dark eyes better than gray eyes,
and then she liked a sturdy, independent spirit better
than one more gentle and sentimental.
I do not affirm that just exactly these thoughts passed
through the young lady's mind. The chances are that
they never went further than sentiments, as her mind
made up the balance of preference for the one man
to the other, and did not assume the definite form of
thought at all. We all decide in many cases, particularly those of liking and disliking others, upon just
such vague reasoning-the reasoning of the heart
rather than of the head.
I, myself, like Susan, always preferred Sam Stockdale to Ben Eccles, and yet am even now puzzled to
reason out the cause of my preference. Strictly speaking, he was not the handsomer, and if I regard the
mere intellect of the two men, Ben had the more. The
doctor could be no more loving than Ben, and I doubt
very much if he ever could be so devoted to the object
of his love. Ben was as highly honorable in all his
thoughts and sentiments as was his friend, and they
were both just as brave as brave could be.
It is a curious thing that some men bear with them




212    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
an aspect or an influence which compels love or fear
more promptly, and to a far greater degree, than others
who have in a superior degree the qualities which ac.
tually give cause for love or fear. I cannot explain it,
but I, and all men, can feel it, and all do act according
to it. If Dr. Sam and Ben Eccles were now young
men they would be in the Confederate army; but although the doctor was just as modest, and no more brave
or intelligent than Ben, he would no doubt be a general, and Ben be only a private, or, at most, a captain.
To make a r6sum6: Susan liked Ben Eccles very
much, and so did her mother, but both of them liked the
doctor better. Ben was very intelligent, loving, loyal,
good, and the doctor was not more so, but the doctor
had a spice of the devil, or of an archangel, which we
call willfulness, in him, which gave his intelligence, affection, and goodness a twang Ben's did not possess. At
any rate, it is convenient to assign this definite cause
for the fact. A vine naturally seeks to cling to a high
and strong object; though, alas! but a miserable shrub,
or a tree already decayed, is often the strongest and loftiest object it can find. So when woman casts around
to place her affections, she seeks a strong and noble support, and she never deceives herself, if she can help it.
Some men are as strong as others with whom they are
compared, but do not look so; some are as good, as
honest, and as bright, but do not look so. The woman
is apt to choose the one she thinks looks to be the most
reliable support, and which will lift her crown highest.
Therefore Susan preferred Dr. Sam to Ben, and therefore her mother, in her heart, approved the preference.
(I congratulate myself upon having argued that out
completely.)




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   213
Susan was not, however, the woman to suddenly
make up her mind about anything on which she had
the opportunity of reflecting at leisure. She knew the
doctor's design, but had by no means already assented
to it. There are so many things which make such a
hasty conclusion dangerous. It might be that he had
some defect of character she had not yet discovered. It
might be that he would change his mind, and never go
so far as to ask her to be his wife. The prospect of
becoming the wife of such a man was not disagreeable,
but to conclude that she actually should become so,
and upon that to proceed to fall violently or even rationally in love with him, would be imprudent. She
would wait, and if it should turn out that he should
ask her, and she found that she could love him better
than any one else, why then she might say yes, and
go on to love him with all her heart.
Miss Susan was a very prudent young lady. To
any one, however, who knows the human heart, it is
evident that, so far, Dr. Sam's chances with her would
be extremely small if some more attractive man should
come along. She was just not displeased; and it was
the time for the doctor to strike in boldly. After one
other visit, made two days afterwards, he determined
that he would strike in boldly, and that very soon.
He returned home deeply in love. His mother and
sisters met him with sympathetic embraces and a
thousand questions. Had he asked her? How had
she received him? How often did he see her? Who
was Miss Maria Jones? Where did he stay? etc., etc.,
etc. They were impatient. They were put out when
they learned that he had not proposed to Susan; were




214    WHA.T I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
annoyed when he spoke indifferently of his reception,
and hoped he was just dissembling. Altogether, they
were not so well satisfied with the campaign of their
conquering hero as he himself was, and they laid aside
the laurels with which they were secretly prepared
to crown him. In fact, Sarah, like a good, patriotic
newspaper editor, was disposed to cavil at his generalship, and suggested that he should have done this, and
should not have done that, and appeared to consider
him a humbug as a lover. She would have acted differently, I promise you. She would have had the young
lady at her feet, would have flouted all the Misses Maria Jones in the world, would have veni-d, vidi-d,
vici-d with a vengeance!
When she was at the height of her eloquent didactics,
Lily said: " Oh, pshaw, sister I Set a woman to court a
woman and what a pretty muss she'd make of it I I'm
sure brother did the best he could. We are the ones
who have gone too fast."
" Speak for yourself, Lily," answered Sarah. "I
didn't go too fast; but I'd not have come home without having at least made a bold demonstration and
discovered something of how the young lady felt towards me."
" Sister," replied Lily, " if Willis Thurston had proposed to me the fourth time he ever visited the house,
would you not have been indignant, and have called
him overbold?"
" That's different, Lily," said Sarah. "Brother has
known Susan Garthwaite ever since she was a child."
"Yes," answered Lily, " when he was a boy he once
went to a party at her mother's. It seems to me that




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   215
would be a poor ground even to claim acquaintance
upon, let alone to presume to claim love."
"Bah! Lily," said Sarah, "you've started on that
topic, love, and I give it up. I've had no experience in it."
" That's just what Lily has been trying to convince
you of, sister," said Dr. Sam. "When the gentleman
comes courting you, if he does not propose at once you
will despise him as a fool, and if he do, you will say
he is lacking in respect for you, and will grow indignant and wish to knock him down. He will have a
sweet time of it."
" Oh, brother, you are so ridiculous!" said Sarah,
half impatiently, half pleased, turning away from the
conclave. " Manage affairs your own way; but if you
don't look sharp some one will cut you out yet, even
if Ben Eccles do not succeed."
CHAPTER XXIII.
GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF BEN'S RETURN FROM NORTH CAROLINA, AND DESCRIBES THE GREAT YATTON BARBECUE,
AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE.
EN ECCLES met with a ready sale for his place,
which, indeed, had been advertised as for sale
several weeks before his arrival in North Carolina.
The price was not very large, but it was cash, and
was more than enough to enable him to make the
two first payments on his new place. He had started




216    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
with his force, who had their goods and chattels in
three covered wagons; one drawn by four mules; one
by seven yoke of oxen; and one a two-horse wagon;
but, growing impatient, he had left them three or four
days' march from Yatton in charge of the overseer,
and had hurried on home.
Three days after his arrival they passed through
town, a queer procession. Riding in front of all came
the overseer, clad in homespun, with a long rifle across
his lap and a pair of plethoric saddle-bags under him.
His horse was sleek and fat, though a little travel-worn.
No one has ever yet seen an overseer whose own horse
was poor, unless there were an actual famine in the
land. Just behind him, in the middle of the road, and
clothed in white homespun, was the head driver, a confidential negro man, who marched firmly along with
his old master's (Ben's grandfather's) rifle on his
shoulder; and on either side of him, just in the rear,
were five or six of the stoutest young men and women,
whose eyes rolled and whose heads were turning to see
the strange sights in the town. A brindled cur and a
long-eared yellow dog, both lank, and with heads down
and tails tucked between their legs, kept close to them,
and were often trampled on or kicked away. A tussle
or two with the vagabond, dissipated town dogs which
had rushed at them when they were entering the outskirts of their city, had impressed them with a sense
of its being an inhospitable region. Another, a large
brindled bitch, preserved her dignity more intact by
marching closely by the tar-bucket under the two-horse
wagon, which, loaded with the overseer's goods and
chattels, and the materials for camping out, followed




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   217
closely behind the straggling young negroes. - The
four-mule covered wagon came next.  The driver
cracked his whip, and cried: " Gee up thar!" with extra
fervor. A negro woman nursing her baby sat in the
bow looking out, and the heads of four or five negro
children could be seen peeping out from behind her and
from under the cover at the sides and rear. The feedtrough behind was ornamented with six split-bottomed
chairs tangled up with each other. Behind this wagon
came the more sturdy and steady of the negro men
with axes on their shoulders, and negro women, one or
two of them leading children by the hand and placidly
smoking their short-stemmed pipes, and a half dozen
or so of negro boys and girls, of from eight to fifteen,
who were all eyes, and occasionally all mouth, when
any unaccustomed sight caused them to exclaim, " Jes
look dar!" One negro woman, leading a brood mare,
upon which she had mounted her little shirted urchin,
followed them, and was followed by the colt, which
sometimes walked, sometimes trotted, with head and
tail up, in the middle or on either side of the road.
The ox wagon brought up the rear. It was loaded and
ornamented like the other, except that two or three plain
poplar bedstead frames were tied to its sides, and a
spinning-wheel accompanied the chairs, tied on behind.
Some of the yokes of oxen pulled from each other, and
others pressed towards each other, and the leaders
rushed to turn every corner instead of decently keeping straight ahead as the driver wished them to do before strangers; and their perverse conduct was the only
interruption to the perfect content of every one of the
19




218    WHA T I KNOW AB 0 UT BEN ECCLES.
movers.  The driver tried to keep his temper and
tongue, but the crack of his whip was savage as the
near or off leader would find himself impelled by pain
to spring forward and thus come straight in the road.
A mule or an ox generally tries to do his worst when
it has a sensitive driver or rider who wishes it to do
its best.
Ben met the procession on the street, and piloted it
out to his new place, where he assigned the quarters
to each family and single individual. A busy scene of
unpacking and arranging then took place, in the midst
of which he left his overseer and came into town. He
evidently felt unsettled in mind and body. Another
man would have busied himself with his new affairs,
and never ceased working and directing until he had
them all arranged just to suit himself; but Ben was
not in a condition to do that. In spite of the healthful
distraction and journey he had taken he was very thin
and looked badly. He was very nervous, too; could
scarcely keep still for a minute, and I noticed his lips
often move and his eyes often close as he lifted his hat
in silent prayer. He had not yet mustered courage to
go to The Barn. Having put it off the first day after
his arrival, he seemed to have made up his mind not to
go until he had settled his place; and then, lacking
strength of will, he appeared to wish to take the occasion of first'seeing Susan or her mother when they
should chance to come to town; and, finally, he determined to wait to see them at the barbecue.
There had been great talk of the barbecue for three
or four weeks before Ben's arrival. It was to be a
grand affair; something of a picnic, something of a




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   219
barbecue, and something of a fishing frolic. It was to
be held in a pleasant grove on Brown's Creek, not far
from Ben's place, and all the country was invited to
attend. The invitation had extended as far as Rosstown and to every other village and neighborhood
around; and there was no fear but that there should
be a large attendance. The question was not: who
would go? but: who could go and who must stay away?
And no wonder; for with such managers as the Yatton frolics generally had, and such as it was to have,
more particularly, on this occasion, it was counted a
calamity not to be able to attend.
There was Col. Carey, and an elegant gentleman he
was. Although he was a monstrous long way from
being pious, his heart was the teacher of his manners,
and his manners were nearly perfect. HIe was too rich
not to be hospitable at his own house, and too hospitable ever to become any richer than he was when he
came into his property on becoming of age. He was
the chief director and master of ceremonies; and while
he directed all, and made each subscriber contribute a
fair quota, his own sheepfold, cattle-pen, and fowl-yard
were the heaviest sufferers, and his own cellar was the
most generous contributor to drinkables.
Then there was Gen. Watkins, the heavy gentleman of the committee, as generous, but not quite so
rich as, and much more fussy than Col. Carey.  IIe
presided over the cooking, and I would defy a joint to
be cooked one instant too long, or to be one moment
left unbasted, while he was about. He was despotic
over the perspiring cooks, inflexible to the butchers,
severe upon the waiters, a very Procrustes to the dig



220    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
gers of the pits, and a Cortez to the fire-makers. When
he had the direction of the cooking at a barbecue he
always reminded me of the chiefest of the Lords who
had the fire made for Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, or the head executioner of St. Lawrence.
After these two notables came eight or ten other
gentlemen of little less merit, who were to act as ushers,
and assistant superintendents. They had charge, under
Col. Carey's plan, of the preparation of the ground for
the dance, and of the seats and the tables, and collecting the knives and forks, spoons, plates, and cups, and
getting up the music, and all the various details of a
large public dance and feast.
I really cannot stop now to enter into a history of
picnics, which should be honored as a relic of antiquity;
a little remnant of the classic ages to which we have
clung; although the name we use is by no means classical or euphonious.
Before man had invented the artificialities of evening
entertainments, and enervating midnight revelings, in
the bright light of the morning of the world, we see
shepherds and nymphs mingling in the graceful dance
upon the grassy sward, following with measured step
the dulcet notes of some Pan-taught swain. The light
has never faded from their forms. Fancy repels the
thought of their being subjected to the cares and sorrows of everyday life, and clothes them with an immortality of youthfulness and grace.
And the banquets of the Gods! what were they but
grand Olympian picnics, in which, far above the clouds,
those celestial gastronomes were never disturbed by an
envious shower, a damper to their enjoyment?




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   221
Early in the morning of the great day Ben Eccles
rode through the fields over to the ground to see what
progress had been made in the preparations. The sun
was just rising, a great red globe, through the haze.
The tie-vines (convolvulus), matted in tangled masses
over the dead stalks of corn, displayed here and there
among the brown bunches of seed pods their pink, blue,
and white flowers, dwarfed by the dryness and lateness
of the season; the grass and weeds were for the most
part dead and withered, and a general dustiness seemed
to be upon everything, even to the unseasonable yellow
flowers upon the still green extremities of the pumpkinvines. Pulling down the bars and entering the wood
the dead leaves were crisp beneath his horse's feet, and
everything bore the marks of the long, dry, autumnal
weather we sometimes have for five or six weeks and
call the Indian summer. As he approached the ground
his nostrils were saluted by the savory smell of cooking meats, and presently, upon rising a gentle swell, he
saw below him a busy scene. The smoke from the
long barbecue pits hung in the calm air, and the cooks,
in white jackets and aprons, were busy under its canopy
basting the whole sheep and hogs and quarters of
beef which broiled briskly on their wooden bars over
the masses of live coals, spluttering and smoking as
the rich juices distilled and fell upon them. Here a
party was engaged in fixing forked stakes for the crosspieces upon which the rough planks were to be laid
for the long lines of table; there was another party
putting the last pine tops upon the arbor, which was
about a hundred feet long; and still another smoothing
under it the last loads of sawdust for the dancing floor.
19*




222    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
The stand for the musicians had already been constructed in the centre, so that on either side of them
two sets of dancers could be engaged at once, with
plenty of room for the full display of their grace or
activity.
Gen. Watkins was already upon the ground, busy
with the cooks; exhorting, scolding, directing, and
fussing about as though he were the only person
responsible for the full pleasure of the day. Other
gentlemen of the committee were also there, each active
in superintending his portion of the work; and Ben
soon rode away, feeling that he was an idler upon the
scene.
By nine o'clock all was in good order for the reception of the guests, and they began to arrive. At first,
boys, dressed in their best, were seen standing about,
looking on. No one had seen them arrive. They
came upon the scene, as one described it, "promiscuous
like," as though they had dropped from the sky, or risen
from the ground; or, as old Jim Ranser, who hated
boys, said: "like nettle-rash bumps upon a clean skin;
you see the blasted things, and they hurt, but you
don't know how they came there.:' Then men began
to come singly, and in pairs, and then in squads, upon
horses and mules of all sorts of sizes, colors, and values;
the older men jogging along deep in grave conversation
and turning business-like to find the safest hitchingplaces for their horses, the younger dashing-up more
prancingly and talking loudly to each other, some
hesitating and some careless where they should leave
their steeds. Several smart negroes were on hand,
however, in hope to make a dollar or so by relieving




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   223
all anxiety upon the score of having the horses kept
safely; and they showed as keen a knowledge of their
customers as ever did the most practiced Jew or Yankee; they knew who would pay best, and they waited
on them accordingly.
About ten o'clock the carriages began to arrive, and
the ladies on horseback, and the business of the day
commenced in earnest. The seats around the sawdust floor of the arbor began to fill with the fair guests,
and their attendant cavaliers collected in groups about
the arena and the entrances to it, or waited upon
them with glasses of cool water, procured with all the
speed and bustle such a demand produces on such an
occasion.
It would be tedious to describe all the various pranks
by which human nature displayed the items of its multifarious compound of good and bad qualities that day:
how, before the dancing commenced, some of the girls
were continually going from the arbor to the dressingroom, built near it of rough planks and leafy boughs,
as though some of their gear needed fixing, but in
reality to be admired as they took the short walk
which separated them from the crowd; how some of
them were too shamefaced even to stand up gracefully
until seats could be found for them; how some of the
young men were bold and showy, full of vanity and
animal spirits, and others were awkward and silly
from the same vanity without the animal spirits. I
went there early and observed it all, but to recount it
here would be but to describe what every one who has
ever been in such a scene has observed for himself, and
what every one who knows human nature, though he




224    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
may never have been in the country at all, knows is
perfectly natural.
It was an important day to Ben Eccles, and he had
come about ten o'clock so as to be there when those
should arrive whom he wished to see. He was dressed
with great care and with all the skill which the art of
tailor and shoemaker at Yatton could accomplish. But
he looked rather haggard and preoccupied as he stood
one among the crowd of gentlemen at the front entrance to the arbor with his eyes continually wandering towards the road which led to Yatton. Presently
a carriage drove up with Charley Bowman's aunt
and two cousins, and Charley himself came gallantly
along upon his sorrel mare in attendance upon
them.
I hardly know whether to fulfill my previous promise
to describe these relatives, or to put it off to a future
chapter. It will be, perhaps, more artistic to defer it
and not interrupt the description of the barbecue, which,
it was admitted by all, gave the crowning touch to the
glory of Yatton for hospitality.
I cannot say that Ben seemed enthusiastically glad
to meet his friend Charley, who, after he had seated his
party, went up to him with beaming smile and outstretched hand. But Ben was not in the humor for
friendship. No anxious lover can be. Even those
dearest friends he may bore with the theme of his love
become bores when any other theme is started. Ben
had no such friend; unless he had admitted Aunt
Polly to his secret and talked it over with her on the
two or three short visits to Dr. McCleod's after he
had returned from college. I am sure that no one else




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   225
except myself had been admitted to share it, for the
passion seemed to isolate him to itself.
Standing not far from him, and curious to see how
he should bear himself through the trial I knew approaching him, I presently noticed him turn a shade
paler and close his eyes as though in silent- prayer,
and I knew that he had seen Mrs. Garthwaiteis carriage coming. And, sure enough, it presently drove
up with Mrs. Garthwaite, and Susan, and Miss Maria
Jones inside; and who, of all men, should presently
approach the carriage door to assist them to alight,
but Dr. Sam Stockdale, who had accompanied them
on horseback. He had come to carry out his wellmatured plan of energetic movement.
By a prodigious effort Ben overcame his trepidation
and was at the carriage door almost as soon as his
friend. Mrs. Garthwaite received him very kindly,
and so did her daughter-though a little reserve mingled with her kind politeness. Miss Maria, however,
acted as though her feelings were somewhat outraged,
and she found herself bound to emphatically decline
Mr. Eccles' attentions, and so end the matter at once.
The trouble was that she could not consistently with
her intentions accept the gallantry of the doctor, and
it was a great relief to her when Mr. Bowman came
forward and offered her his arm. She had met Mr.
Bowman frequently before, and considered him a
model young man.  Ben offered his arm  to Mrs.
Garthwaite, and Sam escorted Miss Susan, and they
went with them first to the dressing-room, and then
found them good seats in the circle around the dancers,
who were by that time becoming enlivened with their
exercise.




226    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
The ice which had kept Ben so long bound was at
last broken, but I could not perceive that he made very
rapid progress in either thawing himself or in entertaining his companions; and, positively, I feel so
acutely his embarrassment that it is embarrassing to
me to relate what passed. I had a keen sympathy
with the morbidly sensitive and almost hopeless young
man, and felt the sinking of heart which oppressed
him, when in a few moments and after a few commonplaces had been ventured by him to the ladies, Sam
Stockdale came up and led Susan smiling to her place
in the new cotillon being formed, and he subsided into
her seat beside her mother. I felt the agony and
longing with which he watched the graceful form of
his love gliding in the dance, and her merry smile bestowed upon her partner and her other acquaintance
engaged in the set, or her pleasant greetings to those
friends who, passing by, paused to salute her and remark upon her good looks and seeming enjoyment.
And above all, I felt the mingled rage and agony with
which he saw Charley Bowman reintroduced to Susan
by Miss Maria, and, after a few words, lead her again
to the dance with apparent alacrity and pleasure.
His effort could go no further. He was completely
baffled for the day, and retired from the contest dissatisfied, miserable, and at his wits' end. Thereafter
he hardly approached the party, though not one of
their movements escaped him. Even at the dinner-table,
to which Susan was escorted by Charley Bowman,
who had had her hand for the preceding dance and
had thus "cut out" Dr. Sam, he kept near to them;
but except that he was ready to hand Bowman a glass




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   227
of the sangaree he was going off to find for Susan, and
anticipated him in getting a plate of the breast of turkey,
and handing it to him for her, he pretended not to
notice her.
The day from which he had anticipated so much was
ending in disappointment to him: nor do I think that
Dr. Sam found it one of unmixed satisfaction. He had
never had any particular respect for his old schoolmate,
Charley Bowman, and before the day was over his
want of respect had become positive contempt. Whatever fear he might have had of the chances of Ben
Eccles was completely allayed, and he felt even more
friendly towards him than ever.  But Mr. Bowman
seemed to place himself in the way, and Miss Susan
appeared by no means inclined to thrust him out of
the way. She found him agreeable; he was gay and
made her laugh; he had no fear of her, and she thought
him manly; he had no embarrassment, and danced
well, and was handsome, and her sweet friend Maria
spoke several times in approbation of him; and, take
him all in all, there was no one on the ground in whose
company she felt more at her ease and more interested
in herself than she did in his.
Of course Dr. Sam had a sovereign contempt for
this man, and I fear that once or twice he betrayed
it, as though he would wish to inspire Susan's breast
with a like feeling-not that he would act ungenerously
or disingenuously (I feel sure that he never did a mean
thing in his life), but, you know, Susan did not know
the man so well as he did, and as he took a great interest in her, it became a sort of duty to let her know
that he was not held by every one in the highest es



228    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
teem. I fear, too, that he even discountenanced the
growing acquaintance between Susan and that man's
two cousins, who were in public much inclined to manifest and increase it.
Dr. Sam had a contempt for the whole family. They
had more bad or indifferent qualities than any other
family of the like number he had ever met. He had
always thought so, though he had never before admitted it to himself. He did not hate them! far from
it. He did not fear them I not he; he feared no one.
He had a contempt for them-that was the word.
Lovers in their elevation have always a contempt for
rivals, or possible rivals, for whom they have no great
esteem. So it is with politicians and preachers and
fashionable women. They cannot always give the
reasons for their contempt; for their rivals may be so
far from being contemptible as to be very formidable;
but the contempt exists. When it comes to be analyzed it is so nigh akin to hatred that the difference
seems to lie only in the distinction.
After the dinner was over (a dinner which I need
not say immortalized Gen. Watkins, and by his overexertions came near making him an angel or saint
before his time, if such a fat and jolly gentleman who
swore so loudly could ever become an angel or saint
except to dinner lovers and a loving family), the dance
became fast and furious, and Ben's vexed soul could
endure it no longer. It was not his righteousness that
was vexed, for though he did not dance himself he did
not think dancing a sin; but whose soul would not be
vexed if he were condemned to see the girl he loved
keeping time to the jumping up and down of others




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   229
keeping time before her, and smiling upon them, while
he is forced by fate or his own awkwardness to stand
aloof? When the last grand reel was being formed,
and Susan was handing her mother her black silk mittens preparatory to going out into the ring with Charley Bowman, who triumphed to the last, he went hurriedly up to them and bade them good-by; a piece of
needless ceremony, which ended, however, in his receiving a pleasant, friendly smile from Susan, which completely effaced all the miseries of the day. She had
not been watching him as I had, and had attributed
his want of attention to the wrong cause. The kindhearted girl hoped and believed that he had quit loving
her as a lover, and flattered herself that she could now
really like and cherish him as a friend. And he, poor
fellow, was made happy with a kind of new and blind
happiness. It seemed to him that her soul too mfist
be vexed with all the frivolity around her, and thP
wearied at last she had turned to him with kindly and
kindred interest.
We are all liable to mistakes, and I hardly know
which made the greater; Ben Eccles when he misinterpreted Susan's smile, or Sam Stockdale when he
exclaimed to himself, after seeing the ladies to their
carriage to leave for home: "Well, thank the Lord,
we're done with that d -d fool at last," meaning, of
course, done with Charley Bowman, "and I'll have a
chance for a pleasant evening." He and the family,
in which Miss Maria was included this evening, as
usual, had scarcely seated themselves in the parlor after
tea when the gentleman towards whom he had used
such a harsh expression knocked at the front door and
20




230   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
was admitted, "all smiles and gab," as Miss Maria
would have remarked about any one else who had so
approached; and was made most welcome.
CHAPTER XXIV.
DESCRIBES SIMON BILLS AND HIS FAMILY, MR. BOWMAN'S RELATIVES; AND TELLS WHAT MRS. GARTHWAITE THOUGHT OF MR. BOWMAN, AND HOW DR.
SAM FARED.
IT is no very agreeable task to have to describe
Charley Bowman's aunt, Mrs. Bills, her deceased
husband, Mr. Simon Bills, and their two daughters,
Emily and Louisa Bills. The name is not euphonious,
but after their mother's voluntary act in marrying Simon, the poor girls could not help it; though they for
several years had been persistently trying to do so.
They at least could not be blamed; nor, when the
truth was known, was any one inclined to blame the
elder lady. The fact is that neither Sophronia Jenkins
nor her sister, Harmonia, had had a fair chance. The
immense wealth of their second cousin, Col. Vance,
not only weakened their own energies, but it dwarfed
them in the eyes of the community —just as to be the
king's poor cousin is to be confoundedly poor indeed.
But the contemplation of their cousin's wealth and
their own condition had had different effects upon the
two. We have seen that Mrs. Bowman was of the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   231
world, worldly; her younger sister was of just the
contrary disposition, and was of the church, churchy.
And indeed, when Simon Bills, a well-to-do planter of
middle age, and respectable standing in the community and in a popular church, took her to himself, years
before her sister married Col. Bowman, it seemed to her
that she had chosen the better part, and that her reward
was beginning.
Mr. Bills was a shouting Christian. I use the word
"shouting" rather in a figurative sense, to denote his
enthusiastic zeal, than to describe the manner of his
devotions. He believed strongly in Faith-which is
very different from having a strong faith. Faith was
the beginning, middle, and end; and he was so zealous
for it that he despised Works, and distrusted them to
such a degree that, upon principle, he never performed
any more of them than was perfectly convenient, or,
rather, than were thrust upon him. Mr. Bills' belief
in faith was so strong that he could get drunk conscientiously; and he did get drunk, religiously drunk,
every time his faith was aroused more than usual; and
the spirits strengthened his furious faith. I would
consider myself one of the greatest mnemonists the
world has produced if I could transcribe, verbatim, any
one of the didactic discourses I have heard him deliver
when in that condition. They ran something like this:
" Pedobaptism being a ramification of the great line
of argument, which coming from the first, still continues carrying all truth with it, must be considered in
a twofold aspect, according as the tenor of the mind
which contemplates it, without bias. Hence we see
that when John saw the heavens open-no, it wasn't




232   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
John, but it's all the same thing, you understand mewhen the heavens opened it was Faith which was
preached, as it were, that faith which removes mountains, and, therefore, to believe stands in place of to do,
for what can man do, the vile worm unregenerate except by Faith? Of course when I argue in this curriculum the grand Arcanum of stated preaching must
not be ignored, for what saith the Scriptures? not only
seek that ye may find, but likewise how shall they hear
without a preacher? Don't you see?"
I am inclined to think that Mrs. Bills never did see
that Simon was any the better for his faith, when it
had this violent effect upon him; but she bore her burden in a Christian spirit. Mr. Bills was a man who
throve in the goods of this world, at least, and, in spite
of his occasional excitements, was respected by his
brethren, and only laughed about by the ungodly of
the community. He was a very wiry and fiery little
man, and not over-particular as to when or where or
upon whom he should resent an insult or injury. When
he was about half drunk, and wholly absorbed in
religious argument, it was not safe to show an inclination to jeer him, and the laughers always laughed to
themselves.
When Mr. Bills died his widow moved into town,
where she purchased a neat cottage residence, and devoted herself to her sorrows and the education of her
two daughters. I have no idea that the good woman
ever thought for an instant that she had not been the
best wife Bills could have had; but it always seemed
to me that she rather aggravated his peculiarities of
temper and doctrine.  He, a man of middle age and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   233
thoroughly set in his ways, had taken her, a poor girl
of twenty-two, with respectable connections and but
slight personal beauty to recommend her. There did
not seem to be a show of love on either side; they
made a dry business affair of both the courtship and
marriage, as though they were acting not from passion
but from principle.  He appeared to think that he
ought to marry for the sake of his comfort, and for increased respectability; and she took him for conscience'
sake, as performing the most binding duty of woman,
and for her own sake as her first and last and only
chance. If she had been of a lively, sunny disposition,
I have no doubt but that she would have shed some
brightness over his vague and erratic faith.
Such a religion as was his is but theoretical. In its
own nature it cannot be practical, for it excludes as
sinful everything like action on the part of the believer.
It was painful to me to watch the operation of the two
opposite errors in which Simon Bills and Ben Eccles
found themselves. The one repudiated works altogether, and was miserable in holding that nothing was
actually sinful to a man justified by faith; and the
other was plunged almost into despair by the impossibility which he found to eke out his faith by his works.
When men set up error as truth they go from error
to error in supporting it; and though the first is the
more abominable, it would be hard to tell which of
these two errors has the more depressing effect upon
man's spiritual life. One of the strangest of all mental and moral phenomena is this division of a single
truth into two or more gross errors. It is true that
we are justified by faith, and it is also true that faith
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234    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
without works is dead, and yet we are not justified by
faith in the sense that faith is itself a meritorious work,
nor are our works of any merit in themselves, except
as they exercise the soul in virtue and are evidences
of our faith. We stand justified before God when by
faith we appropriate to ourselves the atonement made
for us by Christ: it is the atonement made by our
surety which justifies us, our faith is merely the hand
which appropriates it. On the other hand, it is a selfevident proposition that if our faith do not perform its
natural functions, by influencing our conduct, it is but
a dead faith, which does not deserve the name of faith
at all. The whole may be summed up in this: The
atonement of Christ is the grand truth, and by faith
we stand, by faith we act.
Now, Mr. Bills believed in faith without works, just
as poor Ben Eccles was practically acting on the contrary theory; and Mrs. Bills being but a weak woman,
and Methodistically inclined, had the whole matter
jumbled up in her head, and at the same time believed
both ways and neither way, and did not exactly know
what she did believe.
One thing is certain; she never wooed her husband
to good works by the pleasantness she might have
given their exercise. She was gloomy and sad, and
treated this world as a vale of sorrows into which it
was a punishment to be placed, and in which the church
buildings here and there were the only places of refuge.
She was too meek to argue, and too weak not to hang
her hands down and snivel when he got drunk, as his
increasing confidence in faith allowed him to do more
and more frequently. Such a thing as remedying any




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   235
of the evils of this present life never seemed to occur
to her, and Bills, so far from meeting with resistance
or guidance from her, found in her nonentity no discouragement of his belief and much aggravation for
his conduct. The woman who expects by her tears
and other manifestations of weakness to drive her husband from evil courses, does not understand human
nature, and if she come about him snivelling, and upbraiding, and irritating him when he is drunk, she is
most pitiably and wickedly foolish. It was just this
last act which drove Bills from home the day he fell
over his mare's head at the pond and broke his neck,
and though Mrs. Bills always considered his death as
a judgment upon her, and as a lesson and warning sent
expressly to her, she never thought that she really was
herself the moving cause of his untimely death.
Such had been the uncle by marriage, and such was
the aunt of Charles Bowman. As for his two cousins,
they were so much like thousands of other insipid
young ladies that I do not feel justified in describing
them minutely. Emily was a gushing, timid little
darling of about twenty-seven, who had large dark eyes
and long dark curls, kept an album, and was easily
moved to the ecstatics; and Louisa, her younger sister,
who had more of her father's spirit, despised nonsense,
talked horse and dog, was an authority on the breeds
of cattle, and thought herself a Lady Di to ride to
hounds. Archie Glenn, who owned Sir Bertram, used
to swear she would make a first-rate partner, and had
the insolence to try to make her acquaintance and court
her, but was ignominiously repulsed, as her tastes were
only affected and not real.




236    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Susan had never had any special liking for either of
them, but had been too amiable to repel the great
admiration they always manifested for her. She was
a wise woman so long as she was governed only by
her reason; so soon as her heart took the reins she
was like any other woman, wise only as it might happen. She never had thought either of them so amiable
as she did three or four days after the barbecue, when
they came in state, Louisa driving, in the gig to visit
her, and after they were gone she expressed her surprise
to her mother that they had improved so much.
" I cannot say, my dear," answered her mother, "that
I saw any marked improvement. Louisa was boisterous, and Emily talked almost too much about her
Cousin Charles."
" Yes, but, mother, you know that she said that her
cousin was the only brother she had ever known, and
she has good reason for being fond of him; and, besides;
she is older than he."
If Mrs. Garthwaite had only pondered the whys and
wherefores of that addition: "she is older than he,"
she might have seen cause to fear that her daughter
did not fancy the idea that any love beyond cousinly
love should exist between Emily and her cousin. I
say "cause to fear," because Charley Bowman was
not at all to Mrs. Garthwaite's taste as a son-in-law.
Even granting that he was as gay, manly, and generous as he appeared to be, she did not think that he had
those other and more solid qualities which make a man
contented and secure the content of a wife. The gay
in youth, or in public, often become the peevish and
ill natured in private, or when they grow older, the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   237
manly in speech are often hard and exacting, and dissipation is often the result of careless generosity, just
as lavish generosity is frequently the foil of intense
selfishness. To sum it all up: Charles Bowman's
character appeared to her too light to be solid, and it
had the ring of hollowness, and she did not esteem him.
She felt that Sam Stockdale was worth thousands of
such men, and that Ben Eccles was much to be preferred to him. And besides, she had thoroughly known
his mother and father, and had never esteemed them.
How could she do so?  Their present wealth was no
recommendation in her eyes. They had only been
lucky and saving. Col. Bowman was to her still Col.
Vance's humble servant, and Mrs. Bowman was still
Harmonia Jenkins, the poor cousin, and the idea that
a son of theirs should come courting her daughter was
too shocking to enter her mind without preparation or
violence.
What a splendid state of society we should have in
the South, and everywhere else, if the good parents
were allowed to regulate matters of love and marriage!
We have caste here, not in its Hindoo sense certainly,
but in its English sense, quite as strongly developed
as in any monarchical country, though, as we have no
titles, it may sometimes be mistaken-never neglected
when known. Mrs. Garthwaite knew that Charles
Bowman was not her daughter's equal in point of blood,
and if she had her way he should never have been
admitted to any acquaintance whatever. But Susan
did not know it. If she had she would never have
given Master Charles any but the most distant bows,
and his cousins only stately courtesies. How was she




238    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
to know that a wealthy and well-educated young man,
whose father was called colonel, and was the acquaintance of all the good people she knew, was not on
account of the station and peculiarities of his ancestors
a fit person for her to marry in case he should love her,
and she should return his love? Was he not the
schoolmate and the apparent equal of both Ben Eccles
and Sam Stockdale, who were the acknowledged equals
of any other young gentlemen in any other country?
The fact is that equality is a humbug, and we should
have certain titles or marks by which to distinguish
who is who. There are certain families of my acquaintance every male in which should be marked by
a crop in one ear, and others who should be distinguished by a crop and an underbit; and still others
who should have crops and underbits in both ears and
slits in their noses, to warn all men who they are.
The most preposterous of all foolish ideas is that
which makes every one the equal of every one else;
and the best proof of its folly is that none but fanatics
preach it up and none but idiots act upon it
Mrs. Garthwaite did not ponder the words of her
daughter, and did not suspect that Charles Bowman
was going to fall in love with and court that young
lady. Besides the reasons I have already given for
her not doing so, she thought she had heard that the
young man was already engaged to some young lady
in his own neighborhood. She was not certain who
had told her, or who the young lady was, or even that
she had, in fact, heard so. It was only a sort of vague
impression upon her mind; but sufficient to avert from
her any suspicion of his courting Susan.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   239
She did know that Sam Stockdale was in love with
her daughter, and, as I have before intimated, she was
heartily pleased with the fact. He was in every respect eligible, and she thought her daughter was in a
fair way to accept him as the man of her choice. It
was very certain that the young lady did not repel
him, and had shown no repugnance to his attentions.
She even seemed, so far, to prefer his society to that
of any other young gentleman who had ever visited
the house. She often repeated his dry or comical sayings, and quoted his opinion with respect. Miss Maria
Jones, herself, was in alarm about the case, and professed that she could make nothing of dear Susan, but
she could not see for the life of her what the sweet girl
could find to admire in that great rough doctor, who
seemed to care for no one but himself, and lolled back
at his ease in the softest rocking-chair, and laughed and
chatted as though he thought himself smart; for her
own part she was afraid of him, and should not be at
all surprised if he would some day snap her head off,
or suddenly whip out his lancet and bleed her on the
spot; he was a monster whose awful character could
not be covered by all the polish of manner he assumed;
she knew exactly what all such hard men were; polite
enough in society, but perfect brutes to their wives
and children; and she'd warrant that if his mother and
sisters would tell the truth they were as afraid of him
as of death, and would be very glad to get him off their
hands and out of their house.
I need not say that Dr. Sam did not deserve this
enmity. Although the woman bored him, and annoyed
him prodigiously, he tried at all times to be polite to




240    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
her; and if his politeness was sometimes frigid, or, tc
say the worst of it, severely dignified, it was only when
she was more impertinent than usual. He did not inconvenience his dignity by trying to conciliate, her,
neither did he belie his manliness by being rude. But,
at the same time, the evident ill will of one who appeared to be Susan's bosom friend gave him some uneasiness; for the most valiant lover who ever lived
will weigh the minutest chances, just as the greatest
mathematician must take into consideration the smallest
fractions; and when, in addition to this, he saw the
evident pleasure with which Susan received Charley
Bowman the two or three times when he happened on
this visit to Yatton to see him come into her presence,
he thought he would pause and see how matters were
speeding before he pressed his suit to a decision. And
so, as his term of absence had expired, he took his
leave and went back to Rosstown, leaving Charley
Bowman in full possession of the field, except in so far
as Ben Eccles might be considered as still keeping it to
all comers, though he seemed retired to one corner of
the lists.
In about two weeks Mr. Bowman paid a short visit
home, as I shall hereafter relate. In the next chapter
I will pass over what happened to him at home during
the three or four days he was there, to tell what happened upon his return to Yatton —and I hope the misplacement of incidents in point of time shall cause no
confusion to the reader.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   241
CHAPTER XXV.
GIVES AN INSTANCE IN WHICH MR. CHARLES BOWMAN
ACTS IN CHARACTER; AND THEN SPEAKS VERY PLAINLY
UPON A MOST IMPORTANT SUBJECT.
I BELIEVE that I have no arrears to bring up. Dr.
Sam is at home puzzled and uneasy about his love
affair; Alice Charlton is with her aunt neither puzzled
nor uneasy (for a few days-as I will hereafter tell —)
about her heart story, for though her lover is absent
and engaged in courting another girl, she does not
know it, but feels perfectly assured that all is right,
and that he will soon return to her. Ben Eccles and
his friend Charles can have the full possession of our
attention, and we can see how it fares with them without feeling that we are neglecting any one else.
It may readily be supposed that Ben was no match
for Bowman in a contest like this; and, indeed, if he
were not the person with whom I am naturally most
concerned, as I am writing what I know about him, I
would before now have taken leave of him in describing this love affair, and would have treated it as a
separate story running parallel to his. When I saw
how it was going I wished him to quit it, and I know
that Susan did so most heartily, but this was his story;
it was a warfare from which he would take no discharge, and I must needs follow his fortunes. Nevertheless, I must not be held bound to describe all of his
21




242    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECClES.
awkwardnesses, and hopes, and fears, his fancied encouragements, and positive or imagined rebuffs; let
them be taken for granted. What I was most concerned about was the condition of his mind, which
gave me great pain and anxiety, for I always had what
I may call a sort of curious interest in him as a study,
as well as a friendly interest.
If any one think that he had failed at all in intellect
or manliness, let him be undeceived. In ordinary matters his intellect was of the clearest and most vigorous,
and of his manliness there could be no question; at
any rate, no one about Yatton was hardy enough to
question it. Though sufficiently long-suffering, he was
not the personification of meekness when it was attempted to impose upon him, or to do an injustice to
him or in his presence to another, even though that
other were a stranger. He had early imbibed from
my father the true doctrine, that whatever Christians
should do in heathendom, among Christians they must
make themselves respected by a strong arm and a hard
fist, cudgel, or bullet, or else have every dog lift his
leg upon them, and all their chances of usefulness destroyed. Like my father he fulfilled the command:
"Whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with
him twain," by going the mile, and then taking his
adversary by the ear, and lugging him back to complete the two miles.
Charles Bowman knew his spirit very well, and
never dared to ridicule him to his face, or even behind
his back if there were any fear that he should hear of
it. He knew that at this time, and regarding Susan
especially, he might as well rob a bear of her whelps




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   243
as be guilty of an attack of any sort uponBen's dignity.
And yet he felt that it would be well to place him in
an odious or ridiculous light before her; not that he
was actually afraid of his rivalry, but it was best, after
all, to make assurance doubly sure.
Mrs. Bills, good soul, was a great admirer of Mr.
Ben Eccles, and almost imagined she could see the
wings budding out on his shoulders. True, he was
neither Methodist nor Baptist in his doctrines, but she
envied Mr. Snow the possession of such a disciple,
just as a continental town envies another the possession of some rarer relic, or an amateur geologist covets
a choice ammonite in the collection of another. If he
should have taken a fancy to either of her daughters
she would have, to use her own words, "jumped at
the chance," and a disparity in ages should have been
no obstacle. But Ben had never visited them; neither
mother nor daughters pleased him. The mother was
too good, and he had no place for admiration for the
daughters, however admirable the mother thought
them.
Not very long, indeed only about three weeks after the
barbecue, there was a protracted meeting of the Methodists in Yatton, and a certain preacher, who had a great
reputation as a revivalist, and was starring it through
the country, happening to be there at the time, attracted large audiences. Emily and Louisa persuaded
Susan to go one night to hear him, and as Ben had
gone to The Barn to spend the evening, he went along
too. After church the girls were vociferous, or rather
Louisa was vociferous, and Emily was pertinaciously
entreating to Mrs. Garthwaite for Susan to go and




244    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
spend the night with them, which, her mother consenting, she did, carrying Ben of course in the train to the
house. By some extraordinary coincidence, Charley
Bowman had happened to arrive that evening, though
he did not make his appearance with his cousins until
they had got home from church. It may be that he
had only been attracted by the fame of the preacher, or
had other special business which called him suddenly
to town; but Ben always believed that it was a plan
between him and his cousins to get Susan to the house
while he was there.
However that may be, he came into the parlor soon
after they had arrived, and much was the astonishment
and joy manifested on the part of his cousins at seeing
him, while Ben's soul hardly understood his eyes when
they told him they saw a gentle blush mantle his
Susan's cheek as she gave the intruder her hand. All
was merriment in a few minutes. Master Charles was
even unusually gay and witty, and seemed to take a
delight in being trotted out and shown off before Susan
by his cousins. As it approached the time for retiring
for the night, he followed his aunt, who went out of
the room for something, and the following conversation
ensued:
"Aunt, do you never have family prayers?"
"Certainly I do, Charles, when the girls and I are
here by ourselves."
"Well, why don't you have them all the time?"
"The reason is that I do not like to pray aloud before
company. "
" Well, but, aunt, Ben Eccles is here, and I am sure
that he would very cheerfully hold prayers if you would
ask him. "




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   245
"Oh, Charley! how should I ever ask him   It
would look so strange, and this his first visit, too, to
be asked to pray before those giddy girls! " said Mrs.
Bills, her own sense of propriety rebelling against the
proposition.
"Pshaw, aunt! I'm astonished at you. You know
very little of Ben E~cles, if you do not know that he
only lives to do good. Why, nothing could rejoice
him more than an opportunity to join his friends in an
appeal to the throne of grace. You just ask him, and
I'll bet he does it."
"But, Charley, how can I introduce the subject?
Nothing would delight me more, I'm sure, than to
have Mr. Eccles make one of his beautiful prayers.
I know he is gifted that way; and I'm sure it would
do us all good. But the request will be so sudden I"
"No, it won't, aunt. You go on about what you
are going to do, and come back to the parlor presently;
I will lead the conversation, so that your asking him
shall be the most natural and graceful thing in the
world. After the stirring sermon I heard this evening
I feel that a good prayer would be of great service to
me, and I'm determined to hear one if possible."
And he returned to the parlor, where presently his
aunt followed him, and he led the conversation into a
religious channel, and soon got to speaking of domestic
piety, and the excellence of spiritual communion among
Christians of all denominations and at all times, until
at last his aunt found herself almost compelled to ask
Ben to lead in family prayer.
The very thought of poor Ben's situation almost
makes me gasp, as it did him, and I must pause to
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246    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
fully realize it, and tutor my mind to regard it complacently.
Was ever a poor man placed in such a dilemma!
He was one of the most morbidly sensitive of men,
and his sense of the ludicrous was exceptionally keen.
He was almost dead with love, and at the same time
was almost crazed by the religious conflict I have heretofore described. On the one hand was the ludicrous
incongruity of the whole affair; that he, a very young
man, neither an elder, a deacon, nor a preacher, but a
young lawyer, and an ardent lover, should be called
upon to perform, in the presence of his lady-love, a
gay girl, the functions which were suited to one much
older than he, and who had a name and standing in
the church! On the other hand was his natural piety,
and the dread he now had of doing anything to offend
a Deity who was pressing him closely to account for
his thoughts, words, and deeds, and was swift to mark
his iniquities I All his feelings were in tumult. What
should he do? He blushed and stammered, and then
turned livid with resolve, and consented, almost cursing
his fate in his heart.
It was a hideous struggle, in which the purest and
blackest feelings of his heart were mingled in chaos.
He read the words of Holy Writ with a secret sneer
in his soul; when he raised the hymn he felt like shouting out blasphemy; and though the words of his prayer
were smoother than oil, " war was in his heart;" and
when he had concluded and said "Amen," he could
hardly restrain himself from crying out: " There! and
be damned to you, Mrs. Bills! I have settled my fate
now!" and the next instant he almost fell fainting with
compunction.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   247
When he had gone out of the gate on his way home,
he stopped and knelt in a corner of the fence and prayed
and groaned over the mutinous and blasphemous feelings of his heart. He felt that God was very angry
with him, and that he had perhaps committed the unpardonable sin; and yet the remains of the rebellion
were still there, and pray as he might, he could not
entirely shake it off. Why should he have been forced
to ruin his dearest hopes in this manner I Why had a
cup so bitter been given him to drink! God have
mercy upon him, and forgive him; he was the most
rebellious of men!
And then came a ray of hope across his anguish at
the occurrence which made his sense of his sin all the
deeper. Might it not be that this very scene which he
thought a misfortune should be the means of helping
his hopes I Not that he took any merit to himself for
what he had done; oh no; for it was his duty, and he
had performed it with a wicked heart; but Susan was
a sensible woman, and surely she could see the moral
courage which had sustained him, and would rather
dwell upon that than upon the ridiculousness of the
scene!
His mind was chaotic when he rose from his knees
and proceeded home. He no longer thought; he felt;
and his whole being was pain, dull, heavy pain, with
now and then a keen pang which made him groan and
sent him to his knees again.
I can no longer persist in describing his condition of
mind. It is too painful to me, and must be so to every
man who has so felt as to be able to feel with him.
One must himself have felt to be able to sympathize




248    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
with others. If I were writing a sensation story with
seduction as its theme I should enlist the sympathy of
every male who has reached the age of puberty. If I
could produce a well-wrought tragedy the whole world
would be thrilled, because the whole of mankind are
capable of anger, and, consequently, of murder. I am
inclined to think that the number of those who can
sympathize with Ben Eccles is much larger than most
men believe. Of one thing I feel certain: almost every
thinking man in Christendom, and every thinking
heathen, has had to bear a share, slight or great, short
or long, in that same spiritual conflict which now convulsed his mind. It has been a conflict which has
divided Christians into many sects, and is the source
of all the penances, sacrifices, and other religious rites
of heathendom and of Christendom.
The heathen have sought to work their atonement
and acceptance with the gods by senseless rites and
ceremonies, penances, and sacrifices. Christians have
attempted, and attempt to eke out their salvation by
the same means, as though any man could merit salvation by works of supererogation. In so far as what
they do is a duty, it is but their duty, and they must
say, when it is done, that they are, after all, but " unprofitable servants;" and in so far as it is not their
duty, "Who hath required this at your hand?"
Alas, poor human nature, ignorant of its own freedom, still calls upon itself to worship "in this mountain," or at Jerusalem, to have its devotion accepted;
and, not vain of, but mistaking its own strength, and
above all, confounding the infinite justice of God with
its own feeble, vacillating decisions, still tries to curry




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   249
favor with Him, or by hypocritical good works or selfabasement to swerve Him from the right I
The task is vain. God's justice is infinite. Christ's
atonement alone is man's justification; for as in Christ
God is love, infinite in pardoning mercy to the guilty,
and in tender beneficence to the pardoned, so out of
Christ "our God is a consuming fire."  Ben Eccles
was feeling this truth in its agonizing effects as millions
felt it before him, and as millions shall feel it yet.
If I were writing a novel or a religious story I would
dwell upon this subject and pursue it in all the ramifications which my feeble reason has discovered. An
old man, whose life has had its sorrows and whose
mind has had its grievous errors to combat, but who
has learned with the sorrows and conflicts to love and
sympathize with his fellow-man in whom he has always
found more sorrow, and trouble, and goodness than
rude unkindness, I would gladly relieve, even if it were
only one poor fellow-mortal, from the vexations which
any error and sorrow must produce. And if I thought
that I could do good by changing my story of Ben
Eccles into a series of religious disquisitions, I would
take him as a text and do my best. But I should bore
the reader if he would continue to read, and most likely
should deter him frorn reading at all. Thousands of
far more able books than I could write have already
been produced upon this particular subject, and first
among the thousands is the Bible itself.
If men would only read the Bible itself rather than
trust to commentaries and religious books, they should
be far wiser. More injury-at least I think so-has
been done by taking texts and preaching or writing




250    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
from them out of the preacher's or writer's own head,
with this or that quirk of education, or that or this
quiddity of imagination as a guide, than in any other
way whatever. Rhetoric is so daring or feeble in its
flights; logic is so uncertain in its conclusions from
only one premise, and that, perhaps, only a small fraction of a truth; passion is so deceptions in its fury or
allurements; pride is so unreasonable in its haughtiness, that the man, however grand in intellect, is apt
to be preaching or writing his own crude self rather
than the strict truth as it exists. And however careful he may be, and however correct, according to the
meaning his words convey to his own mind, he gives
most of his hearers but half the truth, and many of
them positive errors, as what he says excites predisposed trains of false reasoning or sentiment in their
minds.
Understand me. I do not inveigh against preaching.
God forbid. So far from it am I that I would that
every man were a preacher. The appointed means of
spreading the Gospel is by preaching; but it is by
preaching the Gospel, and the simple Gospel: Christ,
and him crucified. What matters it if by the bias of
temperament or education a man also believe in Election, or in Falling from Grace, in Immersion or in
Sprinkling, yea, even in the Sacrifice of the Mass, or in
Confession, so he believe in Christ's atonement? As
I have grown older my charity has been very much
enlarged, and I can more fully appreciate the fact that
whether in contention about other matters, or in the
simplicity of the truth, so Christ is believed, the end is
gained. The Atonement of Christ is the one essential,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   251
and whoever has that can have or dispense with any
other matter of belief. While I bewail the gross errors
of almost every association of Christians which usurps
to itself the name of THE CHURCH, I believe that where
the simple truth, which is the peculiarity of Christianity, is firmly believed, all their errors do not hinder
their salvation, any more than their rites and ceremonies, new moons and sabbaths, incense, vain oblations,
calling of assemblies, gowns and bands, and other follies,
forward or secure it. I thank God that the years of
sorrow and conflict which have brought me to old age
have also brought me to the quietude which enables me
to say: "I know whom I have believed," and to feel
assured that the kingdom of Him in whom I believe is
broader than the bounds of earthly churches.
But the error of Ben Eccles is the error of every
one, church or individual, who preaches or believes
that anything in addition to the Atonement of Christ
is essential, or is even of the slightest assistance to
salvation. The error of Mr. Bills was, not that he
placed too much confidence in Christ's Atonement, but
that he placed too much confidence in Faith, as though
it were itself meritorious-a good work which excluded
all other good works. I repeat here what I have before said: without faith, works are dead; certainly;
but without works faith is also dead. Whosoever shall
have the proper faith will strive to perform its legitimate works-but neither the faith itself, nor the works
themselves are of any effect to salvation, but the Atonement of Christ alone is the means and method of justification.
Let us have preaching, then, by all means, and




252    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
plenty of it; but let it be the preaching of the good
tidings that sinful man can be saved if he will come
and appropriate to himself by acceptance the atonement made for him by Christ. We cannot have too
much such preaching. It is a gamut which embraces
every tone, and from which every grade of music, from
that sung together by the morning stars to the mother's
simple lullaby, can be formed in endless change of
harmony and melody. There is no danger of beconming tired of it, for throughout eternity it shall be the
choicest theme of seraphim and saints-the love of
God to man in Christ.
In view of that atonement, of the life, sufferings,
and death, the burial and resurrection of the Son of
God, how mean are all the pompous forms and ceremonies, how paltry all the gaudy paraphernalia which
men join to that sacrifice to strive to please God or to
cheat him! " Who hath required this at your hand?"
Man, and all that he is and has, is God's, who is the
Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor; and shall man purchase his Creator's favor, and blind his justice? And,
after all, when he brings his empty forms and childish
ceremonies, his trivial rites and footy penances, what
does he but offer the blind for sacrifice, and the lame
and sick! "Offer it now unto thy Governor; will he
be pleased with thee and accept thy person? saith the
Lord of hosts." Is God a man, that he should feel
honored by mass-meetings and laudatory resolutions
and speeches?  Does he not see into the heart?
"Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow
myself before the high God? Shall I come before him
with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old? Will




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   253
the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,, or with
ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the
sin of my soul? He hath shewed thee, O man, what
is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee but
to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly
with thy God?"
Cast down the barriers of the churches, which make
a monopoly of religion, disregard the dogmas about
non-essentials with which they have environed it, and
preach the simple truth of Christianity; and the wisdom of the world shall be set at naught.
It is objected that forms and ceremonies, the shapes
and colors of garments, the precise drill for genuflexions, prayer and praise, the size, positions, and decorations of church buildings, inside and out, are necessary
to attract the attention and win the hearts of men to
the truth as it is in Jesus. Then God himself will do
evil that good may come  Avaunt with such blasphemy! Away with such foolish readings of the human heart! Is it true with you, Mr. Objector? No,
you' say; but it is true with the masses! Are you
more human than the masses? have you a tenderer
conscience? does sin hang a more heavy load upon
you? does punishment seem more dreadful, or salvation appear more desirable to you than to other men?
Your objection is unfounded. God is the God of all
men, and has put a conscience into all men, and a natural desire for good to themselves, and a natural
dread of evil. The earliest church had no such adjuncts as you now find necessary, and yet the gospel spread, and men believed and were saved, thou22




254    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
sands in a day I The times have changed, but man has
not changed, nor has God changed. His SPIRIT still
moves upon the face of the waters, and He can still
command: Let there be light! and there shall be light
over a whole world, as there is in the hearts of those
who now believe. Your adjuncts mislead. They are
a snare. They encourage the belief of that very error
which now agonized the soul of Ben Eccles. It was
in a precisely similar case that Paul wrote to the Galatians:
"Behold, I, Paul, say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing. For I testify
again to every man that is circumcised, that he is a
debtor to do the whole law. Christ is become of no
effect unto you, whosoever of, you are justified by the
law; ye are fallen from grace. For we through the
Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith.
For in Jesus Christ neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision; but faith which worketh by
love. Ye did run well; who did hinder you that ye
should not obey the truth? This persuasion cometh
not of him who calleth you. A little leaven leaveneth
the whole lump."




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   255
CHAPTER XXVI.
DR. SAM STOCKDALE COMES TO GRIEF.
DR. SAM had very little comfort at home. His love
did not fit him quite so easily as it had done, though
it was just as warm, and, beside that, his sister Sarah
seemed inclined to hustle him with the cold shoulder,
and the countenances of Lily and his mother were
shrouded with a little cool pity, which was even worse.
Sarah's conduct was aggressive, and could be fought
and beaten, but that of the others was aggravating,
and yet safe from attack; for who can attack contempt?
"Well, Sam," said Sarah, with a fine sneer, "I do
think you are a brave wooer "
"Don't trouble brother, Sarah," said Lily; "the poor
fellow has enough to bear "
" Look ye here, girls I" exclaimed Sam, in brotherly
wrath, "you are both too hard upon me; but I can
stand your abuse, Sarah, better than I can Lily's compassion. Neither of you knows anything about the
case, and I wish to gracious you were in my place for
about five minutes. Confound it allI You women
who have to be courted think that you could succeed
splendidly if you were to court; but I tell you, you
would make a botch of it! I know what I'm about,
and you don't. I wish neither instruction nor pity I"




256    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
And he turned on his heel, had his horse saddled,
and went to see a patient.
"You see, sister," said Lily, after he was gone,
"he has hope still; and he may succeed after all."
"You are mistaken, Lily," answered Sarah. "He
may flatter himself, and try to brave it out with us
that he has hope, but he feels that he has no chance,
or, if any, but the faintest of the faint. When such a
man as brother is, a real man, begins to mope and be
uneasy, it is because his affair has gone wrong and
can't be remedied. If he could see any remedy, do
you think he would dawdle about here and do nothing?"
"But, sister," said Lily, "it is not like brother to
mope and pine about what he can't help; and I should
think that if he really had no hope he would give the
affair up."
"That shows, Lily, that you know nothing of that
brother of ours," answered Sarah. "He has some
most fantastical ideas in his head about a gentleman's
duty. He holds that if a gentleman has paid such
marked attentions to a lady as to show her that he
wishes to marry her, and she has not been so decided
in her rejection of his attentions as to make it insulting
for him to still offer them, it is his duty to make a
plain declaration to her, and have the affair definitely
settled. "
"I think he is right in that!" said Lily.
"Perhaps he should be, with regard to some girls,"
answered Sarah, "for they are very silly, and either do
not know their own minds, or are too trivial to manifest themn; but I am sure that, with such a girl as




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   257
Susan Garthwaite, it is nonsense, or I'm much mistaken. I don't think she's a coquette, and I do think
she has already fully made up her mind. I'll tell you
what, Lily," she added, "Sam  has lost his chance;
and that's what vexes me. He will go back to see
Susan in a few days, and will return here a rejected
man. Mark my words for that! There is no use in
talking to him. Let him alone   If he had taken
my advice, and had pressed his suit a month ago, he
should have been successful; for it only needed a
positive declaration on his part to have enlisted all
of Susan's thoughts and affections."
I am inclined to think that she was right in that last
declaration. Many a matter would not turn out as it
does had one of those "if's" been put into execution; but their non-execution was predestined with
the event.
A few days after this Dr. Sam came to Yatton sure
enough, and came as usual to my house; for, by virtue
of my guardianship of Ben, he and I had for years
been friends; and, indeed, it was by reason of his visits
to me, whenever he came to Yatton, and his friendly
unreserve, that I came to know so much as I do about
his affairs.
Let it be understood, once for all, that there is very
much of the by-play of my story that I do not relate,
because it is not necessary, and not sufficiently interesting to be noted as I go along, and because much
of it concerns myself. Dr. Sam stayed at my house
whenever (except the first afternoon of his first courting visit) he came to Yatton. I was the friend who
took him first to The Barn, and about whom I made
22*




258    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
that cutting remark about calling to get dinner; as I
knew that I was innocent of such selfishness upon that
occasion, I thought I could safely cut at others through
myself. I knew Mr. and Mrs. Bills far better than
I have pretended, and knew Charley Bowman well in
almost every phase of his life; had lawsuits and settlements in plenty for all of them, for I was their lawyer.
I have not thought proper to narrate all these things,
trusting that the perception of the reader would be
sufficiently acute to discover them, or to suspect them.
For the same reason I have not stated in so many
words that Ben Eccles was at last settled at his new
place, and was keeping bachelor's hall, nor about his
visit to Dr. McCleod's after his return from college, nor
have I described a thousand other events and persons
which had connection with the characters of my story.
But Dr. Sam came to my house as cheerful as ever,
although I thought I could perceive in him a sort of
mental subsultus which boded no good. He had long
ago told me of the rise and progress of his love affair,
and had often consulted me with regard to it. As
I knew my man, and that his asking advice was a
mere form of talking about what was nearest his heart,
I had always advised him in the manner for which I
have heretofore given directions-to act as I saw he
was most inclined to act, leaving the decision entirely
on his own responsibility.  Knowing it to be my
doctrine that everything was for the best, he on this
occasion propounded to me, with a rather sickly laugh,
the question: Whether I thought it would be all for
the best whether Susan accepted or rejected himn; and
I answered him: "Although I admire her very much,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   259
Sam, as you know, I am certain it will be for the best
if she reject you. If she accept you, I'll wait and see
before I decide about it."
My father gave me just such an answer once, and he
was right. I was rejected, and can affirm emphatically
that it turned out all for the best.*
Never mind, however, about myself. In the evening the doctor went to The Barn, and as he returned
after 1 had gone to bed I did not know that night what
he had done, or with what result. At breakfast the
next morning I looked to see upon his countenance
traces of joy or sorrow, and only saw the same anxiety
he had shown the day before. I left him at my house
when I went into town to my office, and when I returned to dinner he had just arrived and was getting
off of his horse.
"What cheer, doctor?" I asked when I joined him on
the front gallery.
"Nothing cheering at all, Mr. Page," he answered,
giving my hand a strong nervous grasp.  "Nothing
cheering at all. She has refused me; but she is one
of the noblest women in the world for all that; God
bless her!"
"I'm sorry you did not succeed, Sam," said I, "for
she is a sweet girl. But better luck next time. There
are plenty of other sweet girls in the world."
* This admission makes one believe that Mr. Page in his
story of his own life was not particular to tell all of its events,
or even all of those which were important. It would have
been interesting if the old gentleman had given us a history
of his cases of mistaken confidence, as well as of his actual
sorrows.-J. C., Exr.




260    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
" Oh, I know that, Mr. Page," answered Dr. Sam,
walking up and down the gallery. "I know that, and
I'll get over this after awhile. But I did not know that
a woman could refuse a man decidedly and at the same
time give him more cause for admiring love than he had
before. There never was such an angel; that's my
opinion. You must think me very weak and silly, sir,"
added he, turning off; " but I did love her very much,
and, by George I" bringing his fist down upon the banisters, " I love her yet, and it makes me a better and a
gentler man to love her. Damn the scoundrel who
does marry her I If he treats her badly I'll cut his
throat I"
Now this was not very gentle to commence with,
and it was a direct threat against his old schoolmate,
Charley Bowman; and I knew it, though he had no
idea that I did. Why should he have characterized the
man she should marry as a scoundrel, and why should
he fear her being ill treated if he had not had a sort of
conviction that his friend was the lucky man; a man
who, he thought, had not the capacity to love. her and
the magnanimity to treat her as she should be loved
and treated?
Of course I never knew the particulars of what
passed between Susan and Dr. Sam; but I can well
imagine that with her calm good sense and gentle
heart, with her high respect for him and her quiet
dignity, she appeared to him in refusing him more like
an angel of light delivering a painful message and inwardly weeping the while with compassionate woe,
than a heartless creature who ruthlessly gave him
pain.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   261
After dinner he ordered his horse, and said he was
too restless to remain quiet, and, besides that, he was
neglecting his business at home. " There's poor Kitty
Mason," said he, "who I know will never consent to
get well unless I get back and treat her."
"So, sir," said I, "if you had been accepted, poor
Kitty Mason would have still had to suffer unheeded
by you  Why, no wonder you were rejected! Mrs.
Bills would think it was a judgment upon you."
"See here, Mr. Page," said he gravely, "I don't
wish you to think me disrespectful; but did you ever
see anything in your life you could not find fun in?"
"Certainly I have," answered I, "a great many
things; but a young gentleman disappointed in love
is not one of them. I told you yesterday that I should
consider that disappointment all for the best, and ten
years hence you will agree with me. I find nothing
in Kitty Mason's case to make fun of, and I can see
nothing amusing in the real sorrows in the world; but
I do not confound disappointments with sorrows. Man
proposes.and God disposes, and disposes right. Sin,
and physical pain, and death and dishonor are the only
real causes we personally have for sorrow."
"I suppose we sin of ourselves; but does not God
dispose our physical pains and death and dishonor
too?" asked Sam.
" Yes, he does," I answered; " and yet it is right to
sorrow on account of them, because they are a part of
our burden and it is natural we should sorrow."
"Is not disappointment also part of our burden?"
asked he, thinking he had me refuted.
"No, it is the result of our short-sightedness and




262    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
folly," I replied; " and our sorrow on account of it is
also the result of our folly. Do you suppose that because you have made a miscalculation the world is
going in a wrong course? Just wait five or ten years
and then tell me what you think of this disappointment-certainly the most grievous that can happen to
a man. Let me tell you, Sam, that the worst use to
which a man can place his time and feelings is to waste
themn in grieving over what he can't help. You take
my motto:' It's all for the best,' and I'll warrant that
you never in your whole life shall see occasion to
regret it. You have failed in getting the girl you love;
when you shall marry some other dear, loving woman,
years hence, you will be glad that you did fail in getting her."
"Ah, Mr. Page," said Dr. Sam, "Ill never regret
having loved Susan!"
" Certainly you never will. To love such a woman
as she is equal to a short visit to heaven, and to ever
regret it would show that you had been possessed by
base and groveling ideas. There is one time, doctor,
in which every man, however low, is a gentleman; and
that is when he is really in love. His nature is then
elevated nigher to divinity; he more resembles the
image of God in which man was created than at any
other time when actuated by any other sentiments."
No suggestions about its being too late to start upon
a ride of thirty miles, about there being no moon, or
about the cold wind and threatening clouds, could induce him to remain. He had an excellent horse; he
was accustomed to darkness and bad weather; he could
stop on the way; in fine he intended to go. So I bade




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECGLES.   263
him good-by and he rode away, as gallant a young
fellow as ever had bitterness of heart and courage to
endure. As I learned afterwards, he did not halt by
the way, even in front of The Barn, to apostrophize his
cruel fate.
It was a lonesome ride, though black care, the drear
companion, was seated behind him.  The earliest.
chilling blasts of December had almost stripped the
trees bare; but a few pale yellow leaves lingered upon
the extremities of the under branches here and there.
Dun fleecy clouds scudded swiftly across the sky from
the northeast; such as would betoken snow in a more
frigid clime. The golden-rod, with downy seed-spikes,
and the dry stalks of other weeds in the bare fields, shivered in the blasts' the sparrows and snow-birds were
flitting in the hedges; an occasional flock of rice-birds
passed swiftly in undulating flight across the road; a
scattered flight of robins, high up in the air, called to
each other; or a flock of wild pigeons swooped through
the woods, silent and swift, as though they were wandering without object, and could never rest. As the
twilight gathered, the robins, jorees, and sparrows
chirped, whistled, and fluttered in the briar-patches and
cane-brakes in the bottom fields as they selected their
roosts, and the husky voices of brown thrushes, scolding at being disturbed by such neighbors, were heard
from every clump. When dark night had come down
over the scene these voices were hushed, and the chill
wind hissed in gusts through the leafless boughs and
the dead weeds, or sighed above and around him, burdened only by the dull, distant sound of some idle
negro's axe chopping the supply of fire-wood which




264    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
should have be.en provided before night. This alone
indicated occasionally to his heedless ears that he was
passing some habitation on one side or the other of the
road. The clouds sped swiftly; the very outlines of
the road could hardly be seen; and he rode on steadily,
trusting to his horse, and forgetting time and place.
The burden of his thoughts was: " My darling Susan!
Oh, how can I forget thee! The damned rascal; to
think that he should be loved by her, the lying
scoundrel I Never mind; if he dare to be unkind to
her I'll get some excuse and call him out; but he'd
never come unless he were shamed into it. I know
him of old, damn him t My sweet Susan, you'll never
have any one to love you so fervently and purely as I
do I" and so on, and so on: of all men a disappointed
lover thinks least consecutively and most in a lump.
He arrived at home before his sisters and mother
had retired for the night. They heard him call for his
hostler, Jim, and knew from the tone of his voice that
he was rather surly than gay.
" I told you so!" said Sarah to Lily and her mother;
and by that mysterious sympathy which exists between those who live and love together she was perfectly understood; and her mother added, with a
sigh:
" Poor boy, how disappointed he must be! See if
there is a good fire in his room, Lily; I told Tom
Ramsay to have one made, for I felt sure he would be
at home to-night. Sarah, tell Tom Ramsay to fix
supper for his young master, and to have the coffee
strong."
After a little while his firm, quick step was heard in




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   265
the hall, and he opened the door of the sitting-room
where they had reassembled.
"HilloaI" he exclaimed, seeing them, "are you
good people not in bed yet? Why, mother," —kissing
her, -" what do you mean by keeping such late
hours?"
"It is only half-past seven o'clock, my son," she
answered.
"Is it possible?" said he. "Why, I thought it
was ten or eleven, at least. Well, have you all had
supper?  I'm hungry?  Where is Tom Ramsay?  I
must have something to eat I Come, girls, bestir
yourselves and get your poor disappointed brother
something to eat; he needs nourishment."
"Oh, pshaw, brother!" said Sarah, "you are not
half so disappointed as you pretend to be. You knew
when you left here how it was going to turn out; and
I can hardly believe but that you went there, and finding your heart fail, came back contented to abandon
the field."
"Indeed, my heart did not failI I went in like a
man and took my punishment as a man should take it
from an angel, and here I am safe and sound." Then
shaking his finger at them, impressively, " so don't let
us refer to the subject again."
They were model sisters, and did not, ever after,
first refer to it again; nor did they put on lackadaisical
airs of compassion, but let the matter pass as though
it had never occurred. They never uttered a word in
blame of Susan, except that Lily said to Sarah that
she did not admire the young lady's taste if she preferred Ben Eccles or any other man to brother Sam.
23




266   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Both agreed that it was best as it was, and if she could
not love him she was right to tell him so, and not trifle
with him or be tempted to marry him because it was
advantageous; he would have no difficulty in getting
a wife, and there was plenty of time.
It was not until the first soreness was passed that
their brother told them one evening that he thought
Susan had a special liking for Charley Bowman.
"Oh, what a pity I" exclaimed Lily, mournfully,
and wondering; " and he engaged to Alice Charlton,
too! Why, brother, how can you say such a thing?
She could never show any such preference unless he
gave her reason, and how can he do that when he's
in love with another girl?"
"In love!" said her brother, with lofty disdain.
"You don't know the man, Lily, or you would never
use such an expression. He love? or he stickle at
breaking his word? The miserable, lying scamp never
told the truth in his life to a man, and how can you
expect him to adhere to it with a woman I"
"Pshaw, brother!" said Sarah, almost as wonderstruck as Lily, but vastly more indignant. "You must
be mistaken!"
"Mistaken? See here, Sarah, you must think that
because I am disappointed I have lost my senses. I
tell you that if he were engaged to forty girls he is
also courting Susan Garthwaite, and that she will accept him, and they will marry. Confound his picture!
if she accept him he shall marry her, though the Queen
of Sheba should tempt him away. If Alice Charlton
had a big brother or her father were alive he would
never dream of deserting her; and if he think he can




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   26'
play that game with Susan, I'll show him that though
she have no big brother she has me."
"Just let him try it!" he added, talking to himself,
and growing very wrathy; "just let him cause her one
tear, and I'll break every bone' in his rascally carcass!"
And I verily believe that he would have done so.
Mr. Charles Bowman, had he had other intentions, was
little aware that he was at length engaged in a courtship from which the lady herself could alone release
him; nor did Susan know that the strong arm of her
rejected lover was a guarantee of the honesty and constancy of her favored suitor which should not fail.
"But, brother," said Lily, "how do you know that
she loves Charley Bowman? Did you ask her? or did
she tell you of herself?"
"Now Lily, that is too bad!" exclaimed Sam, hurt
and vexed. " Sarah talks as though I were crazy, and
you talk as though I were a brute I Do you suppose
that I asked such a question?  Come now; do you
really think that I could do such a thing? or do you
suppose that she would volunteer such information?
Was it not enough for me that she did not love me?
and could such a gentle and modest girl as Susan
unveil her heart to me, and that, too, for no other purpose than to add to my misery? I'm ashamed of you,
Lily. Take her off to bed, Sarah, and make her examine the delicacy of her own heart. Good night, both
of you. I must go and see Kitty Mason again. The
poor'creetur' declares she'll get'on the lift' again
unless I see her at least three times a day."
And with that he went out of the room and the




268   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
house, leaving with his sisters a topic of thought and
conversation which stirred all their womanly sympathies, and caused them to exert all their womanly
efforts to search the decrees of Providence for righteous
retribution.
CHAPTER XXVII.
TELLS HOW ALICE CHARLTON THOUGHT, FELT, AND ACTED,
AND HOW MR. BOWMAN THOUGHT, FELT, AND ACTED;
AS NEARLY AS MR. PAGE OOULD UNDERSTAND THEM.
ALICE CHARLTON was a woman who had a
great deal more vigor of mind and strength of
character than she thought she had. The degree of
caution infused into some women by the shrinking
delicacy of their sense of propriety is absolutely wonderful, and I do not think that it has been sufficiently
noted. Such women can never be made the victims
of blighted affection unless matters go much farther
than they did between Charley Bowman and Alice.
That young lady was just one of those women, and
that very same delicate sense of propriety gave her
also so great a loathing of meanness that even if her
whole maidenly love had been engaged it would have
changed to contempt upon the discovery of dishonor
or baseness in its object. There is no doubt but that
she loved Charley Bowman, for I have reason to know
that if he had asked her to marry him she would have




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   269
consented, but her love was not a complete love. It
was, as the lawyers say, "laid under a videlicet as to
time, value, and amount." It was only an inchoate
love, though perfect as far as it went.
It would be a little ridiculous to pretend to attribute
to a woman a quality which is not natural, though
theorists often do worse than that; but if I can understand myself, and make myself thoroughly understood,
I think that both I and the reader shall see that what
I state is strictly natural and correct. I do not mean
that Alice Charlton's love was like a glove, to be put
on or off at will, and without effort or pain-that
would not be love at all. Nor do I mean that it was
a compound, ready to turn to sugar by a proper degree
of heat; but that it was that kind of love which can be
more accurately described as interest and preference.
She felt a lively interest in Mr. Bowman, and preferred him to any other man she had ever met. A
word would have made her feelings love of a more
absorbing character, and if she had then married him
her love would have become part of her nature, no
more capable of being laid aside than would have been
her soul while she had life; but the word not being
spoken, the interest and preference remained mere interest and preference, subject to be changed by his conduct into contempt. And it is this ability of woman's
nature to keep her affections perfectly under control
which I find so wonderful. I do not think that a man
is capable of such a suspension of affection, for but few,
and those the wisest of them, can even suspend an
opinion.
I might have expressed all the ideas I have given in
23*




2'70    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
the two foregoing paragraphs with half the number of
words, but, bless my soul, if I condense with all my
might, my story shall be a short one, and what would
become of those readers who wish some one to elaborate thoughts for them as well as amuse them by narrative! My opinion is that most of the reading done
in this world is to save the task and annoyance of
thinking. I candidly confess that most of my reading
has been done for that purpose. Give a man his five
(or seven, which is it?) senses and a few fundamental
principles, and if he be a thinker, he is instructed, and
proceeds to educate himself. But most men are not
thinkers; thinking is too slow and painful a process
for them. They are assimilators of the thoughts of
other Mren, who say of a proposition that it is true
when it accords with their experience and observation
(which require only eyes and memory), but could never
have collated their experience and observation, and
have originated the proposition if left to themselves.
It is a positive pleasure to undergo painful thought for
such men. It does them so much good to say, why, I
knew that before! and it is so flattering to their vanity
to be able to believe that they are just as smart as that
writing fellow who has set himself up as an author and
teacher. It is an author's business to please, and if he
set out openly to instruct his good readers he will be
sure to bore them. For my own part, in all my disquisitions upon serious matters, I only propose to myself to arouse and combine certain ideas in minds
which already know their bases as well as I do myself.
I am certain, at any rate, that I am telling them
nothing really new.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   271
It is an old, old reflection, as old as thinking itself,
that the characters and dispositions as well as the
frames and bodily functions of all animated things are
perfectly adapted to the conditions in which they shall
live, and yet it is very pleasant to discover and watch
the instances of this old fact. The characteristic of
Alice Charlton, of which I have been speaking, is one
of those instances. We speak in condemnation of the
coquetry of woman, and yet the vice is even more common with men, and far more hurtful and lasting in its
effects. See, then, and admire, the compensation which
nature has supplied the woman in that shrinking
delicacy which forces her to keep her affections in
abeyance.
And, to return to the point of my starting out, Alice
Cha.rlton had this compensation in perfection, as all
women naturally have it in some degree. When she
discovered that Master Charles had proved volatile her
love had no blighting process to undergo; it was simply neutralized by the addition of an alkali; and as
the alkali was greatly in excess the product became
somewhat caustic.
How she discovered his "goings on," as Aunt Polly
called them, I do not know exactly. I have been told
by some of our young gentlemen who have been at
home on furlough from Virginia, that they have often
noticed during great battles that any very important
event which happens at the extremity of one wing is
known to those at the farthest extremity of the other
within a very few minutes after; and that though they
can account for it through the stragglers and couriers
and wounded men, and all that sort of means of com



272    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
munication, it travels with almost inconceivable rapidity, and it is impossible to trace up its course. In
the same way, I suppose, the first inkling of this news
came to Alice within two or three days after the barbecue, although, as we have seen, nothing decided had
been done or said there in the matter. There was no
need of supernatural or preternatural manifestations
to convey the news. Alice was not a Caesar, nor was
her cause so important to the heavens as that of Rome
or Jerusalem. Neighbors brought the gossip, already
grown to the full and sharply.defined proportions of
accomplished truth, and Aunt Polly and Mrs. McCleod
almost believed it at once. Not so with Alice; she
had a better opinion of the noblest man she had ever
yet seen. It was a slander upon her own acute and
accurate perception of character; it was unworthy of
him, unworthy of herself, and, besides, she suspected
that certain persons were inclined to be meddlesome;
at any rate, she knew that the world was given to
jump to conclusions and to make the worst of everything. Believe it I Why, it was only four days ago
that he parted from her as though he thought the parting were a disaster which could never be remedied.
He did not say so in so many words, but what he did
say and look amounted to that. He did not go to attend the barbecue; he was not fond, he said, of such
promiscuous amusements; he went at great inconvenience to attend to some business for his aunt, a rigid
business woman, who was very wealthy, and had (he
said, "had very singularly") more confidence in him
than in any one else about business matters, and never
purchased or sold without his advice. If he went to




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   273
the barbecue at all, it was to accompany and give confidence to his cousins, who were young and timid
girls-particularly Louisa. What folly that her aunt
should trouble herself about such a silly report I But
never mind; he would himself be at home to go with
her on the next Sunday to church; for he had arranged
how long he should be gone, and what he would do
while he was gone, and when he should return.
But Sunday came and no Master Charles with it.
Here was a shade of color to the story; but a thousand
things might have occurred to prevent his return; his
aunt's business might have been more complicated
than he had represented, for he was given to making
the easiest of everything; and, besides, she had no
right to hold him bound to a day more or less; he was
under no obligation to her, and it was really childish
in Aunt Polly to harp upon this prolonged absence as
though it were a violation of duty.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, the second Sunday,
passed away, and still no Charles; and when at last he
did come it was on the day after his arrival at home,
and was too late for a walk, or for anything more than a
mere call, before night, and he talked flippantly, and
seemed averse to leaving the general conversation for
a more private chat at the drawing-table or near the
window, and paid a few compliments that sounded
rather far-fetched than sincere, and even referred to her
probable marriage some day to some one else; and he
left before tea.
Altogether it was a very unsatisfactory visit. He
had certainly changed a great deal during his absence.
Perhaps he did not feel well, although he was the pic



274    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
ture of health; perhaps —well, a hundred things: she
would wait for the next visit before she would admit
to herself the possibility of the truth of that dreadful
story. But at the next visit, nearly a week afterwards,
the same scene was re-enacted, though somewhat
modified. He was more particular in addressing her
and more familiar in what he said, but she felt that he
was reserved, and it was evident to her, inexperienced
girl that she was, that the silken cord had been broken,
or, at least, was unraveling. He even talked gaily
about the time when she should be an old married lady
and he would come to see her in dread lest his rough
country ways should put in confusion her neat household arrangements.
She now fully admitted that the story might be true,
and when after the lapse of several days his brother
Henry riding by called in to say that Charles had bade
him say to the.family that important business had
called him to Yatton, she knew that the dream —it was
nothing but a dream-was over.
When I first heard the particulars of the young man's
withdrawal of his attentions from Alice I thought
there must be some mistake, for it seemed rather too
sudden to be natural, either if what I had previously
believed about the sincerity of his affection for her were
true, or if it were true that he was determined to have
a wife, and was actuated only by policy. It appeared
to me that in the latter case he would have been more
deliberate in his movements, and would not have been
off with the old love until he was certainly on with the
new. But I have since been convinced that his whole
conduct was perfectly natural-to him. I still believe




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   275
that he for awhile had what was, for him, sincere
affection for Alice —but then, he fell violently in love
with Susan; her beauty was the more appetizing to
such a youth. I still believe that had he not gone to
the barbecue he would have married Alice-but then,
he did go, and Susan, to use one of his own phrases,
"filled the bill better;" she was just as good a housekeeper, and, moreover, had vastly more to keep house
with. I partly believe that he had long had a lurking
idea of Susan, and that his conduct was not so sudden
and eccentric as it appeared to be. It is rarely the
case that the motives for human conduct have not been
accumulating long and almost imperceptibly before
they attain the strength to make, what we think, a sudden exertion. His going to the barbecue and perceiving the possibility of success only determined his course.
Had he stayed away and not seen the chance he would
have remained constant to Alice.
Nevertheless, though this previous inclination and
this violent love may not have existed to account for
his conduct, there are men gifted with such prodigious
impudence that no sudden determination for carrying
out their own desires need cause surprise. It supplies
the place of genius, and they conceive and execute
with a rapidity which conquers success. It was certain that, beauty and accomplishments being equal,
Susan was a vastly better match than Alice in point of
wealth, and a better match also in point of Mclat, personal and public. Alice was but a quiet country girl,
living in the quietude of a preacher's family away off
from town; while Susan was the reigning belle, the
toast of town and county-so much for the public




276    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
eclat. As for the private glory, Alice had no lover,
nor was he likely to have any rivalry in his courtship
of her, while both of his old schoolmates, Ben and
Sam, who had excelled him at school and excelled him
after their school-days were over, in point of standing
in social life and before the public, here they were both
of them dead in love with and avowed suitors of this
belle; and what a triumph if he should cut them out I
Sam Stockdale I why, he could out-talk and out-lie him
any day, and understood women infinitely better. As
for Ben Eccles, —pshaw! he was in nobody's way; any
one could cut out such a timid, half-cracked wooer as
he I
I give these as my various readings of the motives
and of what passed through the mind of Charles Bowman. The reader can adopt or reject either or all. The
facts were as I have narrated them, and I have not
sufficient confidence in my own knowledge of human
nature to insist upon my reasoning from them. I am
rather more certain of what passed with Miss Alice,
and, to tell the truth, feel far more complacent when
analyzing her excellencies than when trying to trace
the devious nature of her false lover.
As I have before said: she had more vigor of mind
and strength of character than she thought she possessed. If any one suppose that she fainted or went
into hysterics, or that she grew frantic and stamped
her little feet with rage, or became maudlin with grief,
or misanthropical and sarcastic with grief, rage, and
wounded pride, he is much mistaken. She almost made
Aunt Polly's head swim by the cool and self-possessed
manner with which she ignored that any particular at



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   277
tentions were ever paid her by Mr. Bowman, and all
idea that he had ever given cause for any one to believe that he meant to court her.
" But, my dear," said Aunt Polly, looking as though
she could not believe her own ears, "you must acknowledge- "
" I acknowledge, aunt, that you are a dear, darling
old goosey, who are always casting your eyes up to
the clouds as though they were going to rain angels
and lovers and other such intangible objects. Wake
up, aunty  You've been dreaming, while I've been
wide awake all the time. A young man cannot visit
here a half dozen times but that you grow delirious,
and have visions of wedding-cake and fat turkeys!"
" My sakes!" exclaimed the old lady, alarmed. "I
do wonder if the poor child is not daft I Let me see
your tongue, my child."
" There, aunty," said Alice, laughing, and then putting out her tongue. " Did you ever see a more marked
case of congestion? But let me tell you something,
aunty: you will hurt my feelings seriously if you persist in trying to make out that Mr. Bowman made love
to me,. and engaged my affections and then jilted me.
He did nothing of the kind. He came often to see us
because we were his near neighbors, and he fancied
our company; and as for his having jilted me, it is a
shame that you should ever dream of such a thing,"
said she, her face growing crimson.  "He never had
the opportunity to do so, and when I grieve for any
man, he shall be worthy of it, and I shall have good
cause for it."
"But, Alice  -" the old lady commenced to reply.
24




278    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
"Don't say'But, Alice,' aunty. Listen to me.
Promise me now that you will never speak of such
nonsense again. You don't know how angry I can get
sometimes, and I know you would not willingly hurt
my feelings. Do you promise, aunty? and will you
promise to tell Aunt McCleod that she must never hint
at such a frightful thing either?J'
" Of course I will, Alice, if you wish it," said good
Aunt Polly; " but it's mighty strange! Just to think
that I should have been fooling myself all this while!
And you didn't care for him, Alice?"
"Not one particle, aunty, do I care for him; I
promise you that," said Alice, always truthful, though
slightly evasive.  "I never did love him, and he can
marry just as soon as he chooses, for me. I hope his
wife will be happy."
"Well, I'm mighty glad of it, Alice, and that's the
truth," replied the old lady, with quick feelings and
short memory. " I'm mighty glad to hear you say
so, for I always mistrusted him; and I wish Susan
Garthwaite joy of him, though she's a monstrous fine
girl, from all accounts. I used to know her mother
when she was a girl, and she was as well-behaved a
girl as I ever saw. Let me see; was she the second?
no, she was the-yes, she was the second child, I recollect, for the first was a boy, and they named him after
his old Uncle Hawkins, and he died when he was a
little fellow. You don't remember Hawkins' wife-oh,
pshaw I of course you don't; your poor mother was a
baby when she died. Bless my soul, what was her
maiden name! I'll go and ask Kitty about it."
And the old lady gathered up lier sewing, and went




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT' BEN ECCLES.   279
out of the room to find her Cousin Kitty: and so Alice
was over the trial, so far as her friends could add to or
assuage it. It was but a few days till all the agitation
of her feelings was settled, and settled into cool contempt; for Bowman had acted meanly, and even dishonorably. The marble of which she was constructing
her idol had crumbled to base lime, and she threw the
paltry trash away, and with it dismissed the inspiration which was to give it life and sanctity.
She had not then been indoctrinated into my philosophy, that "it was all for the best," although her
healthful nature practically supplied its place very
excellently. But I promise you that years afterwards,
when she heard that philosophy discussed and applied
with certain one or two delightful illustrations, she became a hearty convert to it, or, rather, heartily adopted
it; for she was one of those choice beings to whom all
things work together for good, and she never could
have so opposed the doctrine as to make conversion
necessary.




280    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
SHOWS HOW MR. BOWMAN WENT A WOOING, AND WITH
WHAT SUCCESS; AND THE EFFECT OF HIS OFFENDING MISS JONES.
MR. BOWMAN went to Yatton, no doubt congratulating himself that he was well out of that
scrape. Confound the girl, he thought, I'm not bound
to waste my life and my money upon her because she
has taken a fancy to me I I'd have a mighty dull existence, with her old aunt always pestering about the
house, and old Mac coming over there with his severe
manners, and his praying and preaching all the time.
Why, it almost makes me feel, when I'm with him and
his family, as though I were at a funeral, or at a prayer
meeting, and services were just about to commence.
What a damned fool I was ever to think of such a
match! Why, I'd have been perfectly miserable!
And at the same time Mr. Charles Bowman felt in
his heart the uncomfortable consciousness that he had
acted the dog; that he was a poor, mean, pusillanimous creature, who had basely deserted a charming
and noble woman, whose heart he had won unworthily,
or, miserable creature as he was, could have completely
won had he not changed his mind; that he was so
selfish and so unprincipled in his selfishness that he
deserved to be put out of society as no gentleman, and
kicked by any one who had sufficient interest in the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   281
young lady to kick him. And he shivered when he
thought of Dr. McCleod, who, old and preacher as he
was, he knew would just as lief kick him as not, if
he should happen to be in his presence while in the
spirit of it. Might he not meet him while he was in
that spirit? That was a serious question. He might
avoid it by carefully keeping out of the way; but,
taking all things into consideration, might not the
doctor seek him? He hardly believed he would; the
old fellow was growing old, and was a preacher after
all-though, damn him! if he laid his finger upon him
(Charles Bowman) he would show him that his
preachership shouldn't protect him.  But, pshaw!
they all had better sense; they would hush up the
matter rather than make it public; they had too much
pride and reserve to be making a fuss about such a
thing. Besides, suppose they did make a fuss, could
they point to one single word or action of his which
he could not justify as a result of mere brotherly affection I He had been very careful in that matter.  He
had done nothing and said nothing, in fact, which any
sensible girl ought to construe into a serious advance.
Oh, damn the luck! let it go; he was well out of it,
and shouldn't trouble his head about it. If they chose
to do or say anything, let them do so; he didn't care,
they couldn't hurt him; he was well enough off to
stand their hatred.
Yet he felt that the true reason why he should
escape the effects of the doctor's just indignation was
that he was a shabby fellow, who, in spite of his
wealth, had sunk far beneath the doctor's notice, and
24*




282    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
that the old gentleman would not notice him even for
the sake of his own dignity.
"After awhile," said he to himself, "after a long
time has elapsed, or after I shall have married Susan,
and shall be able to present myself as it were a new
person, with another character, with fresh vouchers, I
will see them all; but I'll not visit there till then, for
the old fool would most likely shut the door in my
face, or order me off the premises."
So Mr. Bowman came to Yatton as he had planned
with his cousins, and found Susan at his aunt's, and
took occasion to add to his security by inducing his
aunt to get Ben to lead in family prayers as I have
related. What else he did during the first part of that
visit I do not know, except that he was a very constant
visitor at The Barn, and always had some walk or
ride planned beforehand with Susan, who took great
pleasure in the company of the amusing young gentleman. It took but a few days, however, for the bold
and dashing wooer to come to the point, and he declared his love to willing ears, and received the plighted
word of as sweet a woman as ever lived.
I pass over this love scene very curtly, because, in
the first place, I never knew all the particulars, but
principally because it did not please me at the time,
and pleases me still less now. I hate to record the
success of such a scamp in his pursuit of so true a
heart. How  Susan Garthwaite could have refused
the ardent love of so noble a gentleman as Sam Stockdale, to accept the attentions and propositions of so
worthless a character as Charles Bowman, passes, I
was going to say, my comprehension; and yet I sup



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   283
pose that it can be explained (for such things often
happen), and that I should more properly say that it
excites my pity. Really, I do not wonder that she
should not have returned the love of Ben Eccles, for
he was not the man to suit such a girl —not that he
was not good enough for her: he was good enough
for any woman, so far as moral character, and manliness, and intellectuality, and social position were concerned; but goodness is one thing, and suitableness
is another and a very different thing. Susan was a
sensible and gentle hearted girl, but she was also a
girl of high spirit, and her ambition was of a more
worldly character than that of those girls who, like
Mrs. Snow, are raised to consider an alliance with the
Hierarchy the topmost round in life to which they
may attain. She loved a gay, generous, gallant spirit,
and thought she was getting one in Charles Bowman,
but knew that however charitable and brave Ben was,
he certainly was not gay, and that his wife was not
likely to lead a very lively and amused life of it. She
loved a noble, independent spirit which could and
would take its place at the council board and in the
fox hunt, at the fray and at the feast, the peer of all
other noble, independent spirits-and a precious specimen of the noble, independent spirit she chose, didn't
she!
But let the reader work out all that matter of the
reasons for her choice for himself-if he will excuse
me from doing so. There are some things so plain
that it is a bore to relate them. As he, the reader, if
I should ever have a reader, has already seen, she
was completely deceived. Most women are.deceived




284    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
when they marry, but few are so badly fooled as she
was likely to be. Many a woman marries gayety
and finds peevishness, marries wealth and finds pov.
erty, marries love and finds only transient appetite,
marries generosity and finds stinginess. What Susan
should find if she married Charley Bowman my good
reader may easily conjecture from what I have already
said about him.
Of course Mrs. Garthwaite objected, and was in a
peck of trouble. She could not say to her daughter
that she should not marry; it never occurred to her
that she could say so, though she was greatly opposed
to the match.  It was the first sorrow her daughter
had ever caused her, and yet the dear girl was not to
blame; had done nothing wrong; had acted perfectly
naturally. What should she do? Where should she
turn for relief?  Why should Susan have selected this
young Bowman, of all other men?  There was nothing especial that she could designate against his character, though his disposition and manners did not suit
her in general; but he was the son of that mean,
odious man and woman who had been the laughingstock of the country when she was a girl; and how
could a gentleman come from such a stock? She
would reason with Susan; she would tell her the
whole history. But when she began to reason with
Susan, she saw that the dear one's heart was too
deeply involved, and that it would be only a useless
cruelty to tell her the mean things she knew about the
lover's parents; that it might, indeed, be the means of
putting dissension between her and the dear daughter
of her heart.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   285
Miss Maria Jones had now an opportunity to show
her usefulness —for the Maria Joneses, much-abused
young ladies as they are, have their uses as well as
other people, though their usefulness is seldom intentional.
Mr. Charles Bowman in the insolence of his success
neglected his friend, Miss Jones; for the sly, the acute
schemer had made her his friend from the start. He
had flattered her; he had paid her great attention; had
treated her as though he knew that all his hopes for
success depended upon her; he had recognized the
fact that she was arbitress of her sweet Susan's fate;
and had so conducted himself as to show her that it
was not only to her glory, but also to her advantage,
to allow him to conquer; for though he conquered, it
should be as her subject, and she should still rule over
the conquered province. Item. —The Misses Jones
are not always so accurate in their calculations of
their own strength as such scheming young ladies
should be. The idea of a Maria Jones dividing a
girl's heart with her husband! Pooh I
However, Miss Jones had given her assent, and, in
her way, had given her assistance. She had praised
her young protege in season and out of season; and I
must say that Susan was dreadfully in love not to
have been disgusted with her. She had done all she
could, and he had succeeded; but now where was
her glory? Was she not ignominiously thrust aside?
Did not her ungrateful subject sometimes make fun of
her, almost laugh at her whims, as he disrespectfully
called her well-matured ideas, and even hint that she
was a sour old maid? Human nature could not en



286    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
dure such base desertion; her complacency became
ruffled; her patronage should be changed to enmity I
Susan's fair friend had keen ears, and never forgot
what they -communicated. She had some time ago
heard about Mr. Bowman's courtship of a young lady
in his own neighborhood, and though she had then
passed it over as a matter to be subsequently investigated, she now determined to get at all the facts.
How she manceuvred to get on their track it is useless
to inquire, but she did do so, and learned them in all
their details, and with a good many details supplied
by her own fancy; and she received them, not directly,
but indirectly, from Aunt Polly.
It appears that Aunt Polly had an old friend and
schoolmate living at Yatton; a good old maid, like
herself, though neither so active nor so useful in the
world, nor half so amiable. Miss Young, that was her
name, Miss Annabella Young had had much more
trouble than had fallen to the lot of Aunt Polly. She
had trouble about her health, and had had trouble with
her youthful affections, and trouble with a wild brother
of hers, and trouble with her guardian, and trouble
about her property. The troubles with the lover,
brother, guardian, and property were over —and a very
nice property she had to live on-but she had no
cousins whom she would acknowledge, and no dear
niece; she took no delight in turkeys and chickens, and
despised ducks; she abominated the kitchen, abhorred
sewing, and in truth there was very little she did like,
and certainly nothing which could assuage the ills of
her past life, which still afflicted her, or the present
evils of ill health. Yes, there was one thing-and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   287
that was, telling the truth. To tell the truth was a
mania with her; and the more startling and unpalatable the truth the more she thought it her duty to declare it.
As I have told all I know about Miss Young in
another volume,* it will be sufficient to say here that
she had kept up a correspondence with Aunt Polly ever
since they were separated in their girlhood; for she
had an esteem for her old friend which she scarcely
bestowed upon any one else; and Aunt Polly esteemed
her. At school she had thought her a heroine, a victim
of a wicked guardian, and a miracle of suffering fortitude; and had always consulted her in her own joys and
troubles, as a congenial spirit-an instance of how persons who have been long separated may mistake each
other! Miss Young was in full possession of every phase
of Mr. Bowman's courtship of Alice except the last,
which Aunt Polly was careful to communicate, with all
the apologies she could make for her previous mistake of
the matter, but which had not yet come to hand when
Miss Maria Jones heard the particulars and read the
letters. There it was, all in black and white-the frequent visits, the long walks, the pressures of the hand,
the quiet chats-everything but the declaration, and
Aunt Polly wrote as though that were a foregone conclusion, or already as good as made-yea, perhaps
already made in so many words, only Alice had, may
be, too much delicacy to speak of it at once, or, may
be, Charles had requested her not to do so just yet as
* This shall appear hereafter, if I determine to publish
more of Mr. Page's works.-JoHN CAPELSAY, Exr.




288    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
it would certainly meet with the approbation of all
concerned.
Phew I Here were nuts for Miss Jones-nuts which
should break Mr. Bowman's teeth! But she was careful not to appear too eager. She knew that she had a
difficult game to play; first it would require some skill
to get hold of the trumps; for Miss.Young had a candidly outspoken hatred of meanness which must be
blinded. Thank fortune, she had her blind side
and let the Misses Jones alone for always finding
that I
"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Miss Maria, with
acute horror depicted on every feature, " and just to
think that your po-o-r friend and that dea-a-a-r innocent girl should be so deceived by such a monsterl"
"I do not understand you, Miss Jones," said Miss
Young, bridling up and glancing at her severely over
her spectacles. "You will please explain yourself! I
am not accustomed to hear my friends called poor, or
to have them pitied."
"What!" exclaimed Miss Maria. " Dear Miss Young,
have you not heard that this young man-oh, how
could I be so deceived! how could I have been so blind!
And that dear girl; it will break her fond, confiding
heart, when she hears the dreadful news! and her poor
mother who only lives in her happiness; her heart will
be racked with tormentl Oh, that I should live to
find such wicked deceit in the world!" and the ingenuous and tender-hearted damsel buried her face in her
handkerchief.
"What girl? What are you talking about, Miss
Jones?" exclaimed Miss Annabella, leaning back in




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   289
her rocking-chair. "Alice has no mother alive. What
has the young man been doing? Be pleased to be
more definite ma'am; you make me nervous!"
" Oh, Miss Young! do you not know what that
young man has been doing? and that he is engaged to
another? When I first spoke to you about his affair
with Miss Alice I thought it was only an amusing
jest. Little did I think that he could so deceive me,
and that his playful flirtation with a giddy flirt could
turn out to be a serious affair with a noble and true
womanll!"
" I'm getting out of patience, Miss Jones!" exclaimed
Miss Young in some wrath. "Explain yourself! Has
the young man been courting you? are you engaged to
him at your time of life? Speak, ma'am. and tell me
the truth!"
Now this was not a very pleasant mode or manner
of address to Miss Maria, and at another time she
would have resented it even from Miss Young, but now
it had only the effect to quiet her agitation-just as a
sudden tilt the other way to a bucket of water produces
a calm in its waves-so with firm dignity she explained
to Miss Young that Charles Bowman was engaged to
Susan.
"Ah, Miss Young I" she exclaimed, going off again
into sentiment, "I told you that I was the friend he
consulted and who knew all his affairs of the heart, and
that I took the greatest interest in his success; but I
little thought I should hear such a tale as those letters
have told I"
"I never would have shown you the letters if I
hadn't thought you already knew all about it," said
25




290    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Miss Young with a little sense of having been taken
in; " but I'm glad I did so now. I believe in the cause
of truth, ma'am. It must always triumph, however
cunningly opposed!" (Some dear good persons will
flatter their opinions in this way, and in spite of experience will deceive themselves in seven cases out of
ten!) " I will go to Mrs. Garthwaite, and expose to her
this whole affair; for though it should break her heart
she shall never have to say that I voluntarily deceived
her even by keeping silence."
" Oh, Miss Young, you are so just, and you will do
so much good I Ah, what a triumph of truth for dear
Susan to be thus delivered from the wiles and deceits
of that unprincipled young man I" said the gratified
Miss Jones.
"I'll go, you may depend upon it I" said Miss
Young, rising from her chair with difficulty, and slowly
straightening to her full height; "I'll order the gig
and go now."
" Oh no, Miss Young, not now. It would be too
great an exertion for you after the excitement of the
morning, and after your long confinement to the house;
and, more than that, do you not think it would be less
cruel if I should first prepare their minds for the frightful disclosure?" said Miss Jones, who was anxious on
several accounts that the old lady should not precipitate
matters. She had to taste the sweets of her revenge
in her own way. She must first take a private sip before she allowed Miss Young to come to the feast.
And, besides, she had to determine upon her own
course, for though she now had the trumps in her hand,
she had to play against a wily and unprincipled adver



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   291
sary, who had as his backer one who was solely and
wholly devoted to his interests, and she had as an ally
only Mrs. Garthwaite, who, even if she won, would
sorrow to see her daughter grieve, though for a fancied loss.
The matter required reflection, and Miss Maria was
determined to have time for it; so, knowing Miss
Young to be as true to time and promise as she was to
everything else, she induced her to appoint noon the
next day as the hour at which she should call at The
Barn with the letters. By that time she said she
would have the minds of the dear ones prepared for
the damning proofs; and she went out to her carriage
and ordered herself driven first through the town to
price some goods, and then to The Barn.
Mr. Bowman was in the parlor with Susan and her
mother when she arrived. Her manner towards him
was frigid, but towards the two ladies tenderly compassionate. Mr. Bowman's attempts to thaw her were
treated with a still more frozen disdain, until, at last,
apparently worried into saying or doing something
with regard to the important matter she was so deeply
meditating, she got up to go, and, as she did so, remarked to Susan and Mrs. Garthwaite that she had a
most terrible piece of news to communicate to them,
and would call again at half-past eleven the next morning. " No," she answered to the entreaties not to keep
them in suspense, "I shall be better prepared then to
substantiate what I will say, and the matter will
keep till then. Good-by, dear Susan I Good-by, Mrs.
Garthwaite!" kissing them both with even unaccustomed fervency. "I presume I shall see you again,




292   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Mr. Bowman!" making the gentleman a most stately
courtesy, and passing out of the room and house.
Mr. Bowman had not much principle, but he had
plenty of timidity, and felt that this treatment and
these words boded him no good. Miss Jones was not
one of those serpents (he began to picture her as a
serpent) which threaten and do not strike. What did
she mean? Had she got hold of that damned story
about Alice Charlton? Suppose she had; what could
she make out of it? Why, nothing at all. Where
were her proofs? Alice was too much of a lady to
give them; and even if she were not, what good could
it do her to thwart him? Pshaw, Miss Jones was
ridiculous.
But at the same time he was very uneasy. Nemesis
was on his track; a foolish Nemesis, truly, but a very
spiteful one; and he need expect no mercy. He must
circumvent her if possible; his word was as good as
hers.  So, by means perfectly at his command, he
brought the conversation, which had for awhile languished under the wonder excited by Miss Jones'
words and conduct, to his own neighborhood, and to
the young ladies and gentlemen there, to Dr. McCleod's
family, and to Alice. He spoke of her as a remarkably
intelligent young lady, and a great talker and rattlebrain, whose company he liked, because she was so
lively: her popularity was very great, and he at one
time thought that his brother Henry was much taken
with her.
The truthful young man seemed for the moment to
conceive the idea that it would perhaps be a capital
stroke if he should substitute Henry in his place as the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   293
suitor of Alice; but it evidently would-not suit; the
proof was too easy; so he continued to say that he
himself had paid her a great deal of attention in a
brotherly way, as she was an orphan and had no
brother, but was living there in that hermitage with
old Dr. Mac; and he made Susan laugh with his description of old Dr. Mac's sayings and doings.
It was a lame story: the latter part of it did not
suit the former; but what did he care? his hearer was
not critical, and was easily amused. He had done
what he intended; had anticipated the enemy; and if
the fight should be upon that ground he had the first
occupation, and could choose his positions as circumstances demanded.
Miss Maria's words had partially the effect she intended upon the young man-but their effect upon the
ladies was no less discomforting. In spite of her apparent lightness of spirits, Susan had forebodings of
unhappiness to come. To say the truth, Miss Jones'
manner had been more vehement than she herself intended, and she fully appreciated it when she reflected
upon it; but, as she said, "who could endure the cool
insolence and hypocrisy of that young man without
getting angry?" Susan feared, she did not know what,
but was sure it had some reference to her lover. Mrs.
Garthwaite also feared, but it was that the terrible
news should bring unhappiness to her precious daughter. She wished with all her heart that the young
man were away, that the match were broken off by
any means; but then the distress and suffering of her
daughter-she dreaded that.
Neither of the three reposed untroubled heads upon
25*




294    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
their pillows that night (though Mr. Bowman tried a
narcotic in the shape of ardent spirits), nor did Miss
Jones fare any better. Her indignation, mingled with
keen anticipation of pleasurable excitement the next
day, kept her long awake. Miss Young, alone, of all
the parties to the drama preserved an untroubled
breast. Hers was the cause of Truth: and Truth was
mighty and should prevail.
CHAPTER XXIX.
SHOWS HOW MR. BOWMAN WAS PUT UPON HIS DEFENCE,
AND HOW HE DEFENDED HIMSELF AND WAS DISCOMFITED.
AN ordinary December day in our climate is a poor
affair, considered as a winter day. It would do a
little better if one could convince himself that it was
March or April; but the children and negroes keep
one reminded that Christmas is almost here.  Generally when it is not raining the sun shines warmly,
and even in the shade it is but pleasantly cool to a
Southerner; to one just from a northern clime it is
like summer. Sometimes we have very cold weather
in this month; that is to say, ice forms as much as a
half inch in thickness; but this is rarely the case. A
few white frosts succeeded by several warm days,
then rain, and frosts, and warm, dry weather again,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   295
are the common weather of December. This December (I remember it perfectly well) had been very
pleasant. During the latter part of the previous
month and early in this we had had two or three
frosts, and some hard, cold winds from west of north,
but then the weather seemed to be settled fair and
warm.
It was a cloudless morning when Mr. Bowman rose
from his couch, a more miserable man than when he
had lain down upon it. The night had not brought
refreshment. This may have been partly because he,
who never drank to excess, he said, had stopped in
town on his way to his aunt's and had taken divers
and sundry cocktails and whisky punches, but it was
principally owing to facts which he knew, and which
he feared others also knew only too well-some of the
facts in his history I have narrated. A vague uneasiness tormented his mind even when he first waked up;
and when his ideas were a little more clear his impatient exclamation was "Damn the woman!" As he
lazily arrayed himself that wish: Damn the woman I
passed often through his mind, until when his head
felt a little light from the exertion of pulling on his
boots he changed it for once to " Damn the liquor!"
He was not in a pleasant humor here by himself.
He always needed the charms of company to bring
out his amiability, and on this particular occasion
needed his breakfast and some strong coffee to establish even his ordinary equilibrium.  His aunt and
cousins noticed at the table that he seemed crusty and
uncommunicative, and they imagined that his love
business was not so prosperous as it had been; but




296   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
they were careful to make no comment, for they knew
his humors of old. After breakfast he sauntered out
into the sunshine, went to the stable and saw that his
horse was well curried, brushed, and fed over again,
and that his saddle too, and bridle were thoroughly
rubbed; about ten o'clock he sauntered down to the
tavern, where he took a hearty drink of Jamaica rum,
and came back to his aunt's feeling revived in the inner
man and encouraged to look the troubles of the day
boldly in the face.
lHe arrived at The Barn a little after eleven o'clock,
and was, as usual, seated in the parlor with Susan
when Miss Maria came in state-that is to say, with
stately airs as though great affairs depended upon her.
A very formal courtesy was vouchsafed to Mr. Bowman and a gentle kiss to Susan, and then she went
out to find Mrs. Garthwaite, with whom  she was
closeted until just before the time for Miss Young's
arrival, when both went into the parlor as though
they were about to witness and engage in a solemn
scene. Mr. Bowman felt that a crisis in his fate was
approaching, and tried to despise his adversary; but
the effort was vain. She could be despised, but perhaps the facts she brought to bear like so many heavy
and light guns might prove irresistible. An ominous
silence reigned for two or three minutes, made all the
more ominous by the ticking of the great hall clock,
the hands of which pointed to seven minutes to noon.
Then Miss Maria Jones sent out her skirmishers, and
the first dropping shot was heard in the front, followed
by others more and more brisk, until the entry of Miss
Young was the signal for the opening of the artillery




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   297
and a general advance of the whole line.  It came
about something in this way:
"When did you hear from home, Mr. Bowman?"
inquired Miss Maria with the greatest politeness.
" I think my aunt received a letter from my mother
last week," replied Mr. Bowman.
"Really, you seem to be yourself a poor correspondent," said Miss Maria with a faint hysterical giggle,
which was very alarming to her adversary and was
altogether unaccountable to Susan.
" I am not so good as I ought to be about it, Miss
Maria; and that's the fact," said Charles.
"Why, I should think that one who had so many
tender ties to bind him to a neighborhood would like
to hear from there more often," said Miss Jones, argumentatively and with gentle interest.
"I don't know that I have any cause to feel uneasiness about them; they are all healthy, and were
well when I left home," said Mr. Bowman, evading the
point.
"Was Miss Alice also well? though I suppose she
was, or you would not have left her! It is curious to
me, and to your friends, however, how you can bear
to stay away so long from her without writing," said
Miss Jones, still politely, but with signs of malice.
"What do you mean, Miss Maria Jones?", said Mr.
Bowman, showing a little disposition to bluster.
"Oh, you needn't become alarmed, Mr. Bowman!
So far as I know, the young lady is perfectly well.
What I mean is that a lover is not usually contented
to remain away so long from his lady-love without
writing to her, or having her write to him, at least."




298    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Susan had grown very pale, but until now had remained silent, not knowing the specific charge brought
against her lover; but now she rose with all the dignity of protecting love, and demanded of Miss Jones
to speak more plainly, and say all she had to say.
Upon which, Miss Maria, without more ado, then and
there, in so many words, announced that Mr. Charles
Bowman had long been courting Miss Alice Charlton,
and was then engaged to be married to her.
Susan did not faint or fly into a rage any more than
did Alice when her trouble came upon her. She was
hurt and angry, but was too just a woman to show
anger against Miss Maria if she spoke the truth,
or against Mr. Bowman, as she might speak falsely.
She remained pale and patient, only now and then casting a glance of reproachful interrogation to her lover,
who was preparing for an indignant denial and eloquent burst of passion when Miss Annabella Young
was shown into the room, much to his temporary relief; for he supposed that the contest would end there
for the time, and give him an opportunity to reconnoitre and perhaps parley a little. But much was his
dismay when Miss Maria, instead of turning the conversation, saluted Miss Young, almost before she had
taken her seat, with:
"I am just telling Mr. Bowman, Miss Young, that
I am surprised that he should be contented to remain
so long away from Miss Alice Charlton without hearing from her, and telling Miss Susan and her mother
that he has long been courting that young lady."
"You told them the truth, Miss Maria," said Miss
Young, in her most judicial manner. "I never saw




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   299
the young man before since he was a child, but I have
come, Mrs. Garthwaite, in obedience to the solemn
dictates of my conscience, which will neither allow me
to deceive nor to stiffer another to be deceived when I
can prevent it, to lay before you these letters, several
of them of very recent date, received by me from my
friend Miss Mary Hart, the aunt of Miss Alice Charlton. You will perceive by the post-marks, madam,
that they are genuine, and not forgeries," partly holding up her open right hand, " and I am willing myself
to take an oath, if you think it necessary, that they are
in the handwriting of Miss Hart, who was my schoolmate, and with whom I have kept up a constant correspondence since our girlhood." And she handed the
letters over to Mrs. Garthwaite.
" I give the letters to your charge," continued she,
"that you may examine them at your leisure. You
will find that they narrate the consecutive more striking
events of a protracted courtship of Miss Charlton by
Mr. Charles Bowman; and the last letters speak of an
engagement between them, not declared, but understood, and only not openly spoken of. My friend, Miss
Hart, is a woman of singular clearness of mind, and
of most perfect sense of propriety, and I hold it to be
equally impossible that she should either deceive herself or attempt to deceive me." And the old lady
became silent and grim.
Mrs. Garthwaite was, as she appeared to be, in great
trouble; her good sense, however, and natural indignation, made her calm and fully equal to the occasion.
" You will perceive, Mr. Bowman," said she, addressing the unfortunate Charles, " that it will be best for




300    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
you to absent yourself, and to remain absent until we
shall have had an opportunity to calmly investigate
this most serious charge    "
" But won't you hear me a single word in my defence, ma'am? I deny everything that old Aunt Polly
has said," and he cursed her in his heart for a chattering old fool. "She has had the meanest of motives in
making this change against me —-"
"She has made no charge against you, young man!"
spoke up Miss Young. "Those letters were intended
only for bny eye, and she never dreamed when she
wrote them that they should convict you of baseness."
"Mrs. Garthwaite I" exclaimed Mr. Bowman, "she
doesn't know Aunt Polly so well as I do. The old
woman loves Ben Eccles as if he were her own son,
and would do' anything to help him. She —— "
"' Hush, young man!" said Miss Young, "you only
stultify yourself.  I have heard something of Mr.
Eccles' case, and know him to be as highly honorable
as is my friend perfectly truthful and sincere. Many
of these letters were written before, if I am rightly informed, you ever pretended to cast your eyes in love
upon the young lady now present!"
"Mr. Bowman," said Mrs. Garthwaite, "there is no
question here of anything but what you have done.
You may rest assured that you shall have a fair
and patient hearing if necessary, and if you are not
guilty —"
" But, Susan!" exclaimed Mr. Bowman, interrupting
her. "You don't think I am guilty, do you? You
know that I told you all about this myself only yesterday 1"




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   301
" Yes, mother," said Susan taking his part, "he did
so I and I do not believe anything at all against him.
I would not believe it if Miss Hart were herself here to
declare it!"
" You had better go now, Mr. Bowman," said Mrs.
Garthwaite decisively; " we will decide upon this case,
and if it be necessary to hear any explanations from
you we will call upon you for them. I am not so easily
blinded as is my daughter; but you may be assured
that you shall have justice I"
"I doubt," said Miss Young, as he was about leaving the room, "if the young man told Susan all that
you will find in those letters. However, I have done
my duty, and I wash my hands of the consequences.
The truth is a precious help in all kinds of trouble, and
to have told it is better than to have been crowned
with all earthly blessings. I have told it, and am content; but I shall be able hereafter to add one more
evidence of its perfection and power to my testimony."
" Yes, you can, Miss Young!" spoke up Miss Maria.
"I never saw a more guilty face in my life. He
would have stood me down that it was false if vou
hadn't come with those letters. He couldn't deny
them. Ah-b-h! he's a convicted felon!"
"Miss Maria I" exclaimed Susan, indignant. "You
shall not speak in that manner about Mr. Bowman in
my presence  Please to remember where you are!
and before whom you are talking!"
"Why, Susan, my dear," said Miss Jones deprecatingly. " I did not wish to hurt your feelings; but I do
not see how you can have any good feeling for a man
who has behaved so wickedly as lie has."
26




302    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
"You are not the judge in this case, Miss Maria,"
replied Susan, still angry; " and even if you were you
are not the only judge. I will judge for myself if you
please, and when I find a difficulty I will refer to my
mother for assistance." And the poor girl came near
bursting into tears. Her heart was very full of its
first woe; a woe which had disgrace attached to it; the
disgrace of the man she loved. For she did love him;
her heart was singularly captivated by him, and though
she had not lost her power of judging, and would no
doubt judge in strict accordance with what she saw to
be justice and propriety, she was loth to judge; she
dreaded to bring her lover to the bar; it was humiliating to do so; and then-it might be dangerous. If he
were convicted, what should she do I All was blank
to her after that if it- should indeed be the result; a
dark blank of wretchedness.
It is not my intention to draw a disadvantageous
parallel to either of them between Susan and Alice, for
I most heartily admired and loved them both; but
I may permit myself to say that had their positions
been reversed the result to them would have been
different. This sounds very much like saying just nothing at all, but what I mean is that if Susan had been
in the place of Alice she would have suffered vastly more
than Alice did, and that if Alice had been in Susan's
place she would have suffered less than did Susanbut that also sounds like a truism-or worse. I must
be getting stupid. I wonder if it is not because I am
averse to telling the whole truth and saying that my
favorite Alice had a more evenly-balanced mind, and
though just as strong, more equable affections, than




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   303
my favorite Susan? I believe that to have been the
fact; and yet how very perfect were both women I
how lovely, add pure, and great-souled! It seems to
me to be almost hypercritical to attempt to find a defect
in either of them. I declare that there was no defect
in either I They only slightly differed in their excellencies. The two purest gems that ever mortal eyes
beheld were not exactly alike, though each were perfect and priceless!
I know a number of gems as perfect as they. Their
daughters were almost as perfect, and there is living
not very far away one of Alice's granddaughters in
whom are combined all the beauties and perfections of
both my favorites. Aye, young men, whoever of you
may survive this conflict, when you come home you
shall have no difficulty in selecting wives and mothers
for heroes! The girls who are now at home sewing
for you, and going half starved that you may have
some food, and poorly clad that you may not go naked,
who are praying for you, and glorying in you, are fit
mates for you, heroes as ye are. They are not all so
beautiful, or so rich, or so elegant in education and
manner as were my dear pets, but many, very many
of them are just as true and great-souled and lovely.
But, to return to my little Drama; Miss Young soon
took her departure, followed by Miss Jones, and mother
and daughter were left to themselves.  I need not
follow Mr. Bowman, whose heat of temper of the
morning was but as cream-tarts to his rage of the
afternoon-fire mingled with hail; for he shivered for
his chances. Let him go, and let us see how the only
parties to be pitied passed their time.




304    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
By a natural instinct each first sought the solitude
of her own chamber, and when there each by a natural
instinct as well as an enlightened instruction and a
humble heart went upon her knees to implore aid and
wisdom from Him who "giveth and upbraideth not.'"
Susan sought aid with tears of deep grief and helplessness; her mother sought wisdom with many a sigh:
and when each arose she set with firm determination
-Susan, to examine the past and her heart and conduct; her mother, to read the letters and collate the
facts stated in them. At last a gentle knock at the
door roused Susan from  her meditations, and her
mother entered with a calm, sad face, and approached
and kissed her, saying:
"My poor daughter, I fear it is too true!"
" Do not say that, my darling mother!" exclaimed
the poor girl, turning still paler, and throwing her
arms about her mother as though for mercy and protection. "Do not say that! There must be some
mistake! I'm sure there is!"
" There can be no mistake, my dear," said her
mother, handing her one of the letters. "Read that,
and then read this, and this," handing her two others.
When Susan had read them, she looked up with
woe in her face. There could be no mistake if the
letters were true, and it was impossible to doubt their
sincerity, at least.
" Now read this last, my daughter," said Mrs. Garthwaite, handing her the letter which spoke of the engagement.
"Oh, mother!" exclaimed Susan, after she had read
it, "this does not say that they are engaged!  It only




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   305
supposes that they may be so now, or may be so, or
may declare it soon.  Indeed, mother, you are too
hasty. It may all be explained. Remember what he
said about Miss Hart and Mr. Eccles!"
" I do remember it, my dear," answered the mother,
"and must acknowledge that it shocked me to hear
him unblushingly utter a thing so shamefully false.
Most of these letters, indeed all but the very last, are
dated before Miss Hart could have possibly heard that
Mr. Bowman was paying you any attention; and I
regret very much that Mr. Bowman should have attempted to cast such a slur upon either Miss Hart or
Mr. Eccles. Even if he were perfectly innocent it was
a reckless accusation, but it is to me sure proof that he
is not innocent."
"But, mother, may not Miss Hart be mistaken?"
asked Susan. " He told me that Miss Alice was very
lonely and very amusing, and that he had visited her
very often, and may not her aunt have mistaken the
object of his visits? Be just, mother, and do not condemn without absolute proof."
"I will not, my dear," answered her mother. "God
knows that your happiness is all that I have lived for
these many years in which you have been my only
happiness; but I do not see how Miss Hart can be
mistaken. I do not say that there is sufficient evidence of the engagement, but there certainly is of the
courtship; and in his situation, that unexplained, is
about as bad as though he were actually engaged.
But we will find out all about it now that we are on the
track. In the mean time, my dear, I think it best that
you should have no communication with Mr. Bowman.
26*




306    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Three or four days will be sufficient to decide the matter, and if he will deceive one he will another in the
same way.  Admit no interview or communication
with him until we shall have heard further. Don't you
think this will be the wisest course?"
" Certainly, if you think so, mother; but I am very
wretched I" said the poor girl, burying her face in the
side of her bed, beside which she was sitting.
"Remember, my child," said the gentle mother,
"that you have One to whom you can plead for assistance and comfort, and not plead in vain, although it
may be long before the comfort come. You may have
a duty to perform, my love, which will require all your
fortitude aided by your faith; but recollect that it is
your duty because it is for the best."
And with that she went to her own room, where she
instantly engaged herself in writing a letter to Aunt
Polly, which she then sent by a special messenger, her
own carriage driver, Charley, to wit, that same afternoon. Here is the letter; for in my varied relations
as friend and lawyer with all the personages of my
story, I am not at a loss for the original materials of my
narrative:
"MY DEAR MADAM,-You will pardon me for asking
answers to a few questions which are of such great
importance to me that I am not justified in taking an-,other and more roundabout course for discovering the
truth. Although it is a most delicate matter, I feel
well assured that I can trust to your prudence and
good heart in making a short explanation. Mr. Charles
G. V. Bowman has been addressing my daughter,




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   307
and as a certain rumor has come to our ears it is impossible for her to decide upon the answer she shall
give to his suit until she shall learn exactly its truth or
falsity. Being put in possession of these facts, dear
madam, you will appreciate the propriety of the questions, and the'very great importance of their being
answered at once. The questions are these:
" First: Has Mr. Bowman, at any time, paid his addresses to your niece, Miss Alice Charlton, with the
ostensible object of marrying her?
" Second: Has your niece accepted him? or, if not,
has she refused him? or has she a proposition from
him still under consideration?
"An early answer to this will greatly oblige
"Very respectfully,
"Your obedient servant,
"ANNE GARTHWAITE.
"THE BARN, Dec. 16th, 18-."
It will be seen from this letter that though Mrs.
Garthwaite had the woman's habit of underscoring her
words, she was not one of those who put the object of
their letters in a postscript. She had been so long a
real business woman that she fully appreciated the importance of clearness and directness; and, besides, it
was her natural disposition to go straight to the merits
of what she had to communicate or discuss.
And so the momentous day wore through! A great
deal of rage, a great deal of anxiety, a good deal of
whisky, and a vast deal of conscious meanness on the
part of Mr. Bowman; a great deal of wretchedness
mingled with a great deal of love, some hope, and




308   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
a few spasms of natural womanly indignation with
Susan; a fair share of sorrow and annoyance, and a
mighty deal of cool, calm determination with Mrs.
Garthwaite; a strange conglomeration of gratified
malice, wounded pride, virtuous indignation, and uneasy cunning on the part of Miss Maria Jones; and,
lastly, a calm reliance on the perfection, and almost
miraculous ubiquity and interposition of truth on the
part of Miss Annabella Young.
Who was in the right?
CHAPTER XXX.
WHAT MR. BOWMAN THOUGHT AND HOW HE CONDUCTED
HIMSELF; AND HOW HE AND MR. ECCLES TOOK A
SHORT RIDE TOGETHER.
BY the middle of the next day Mr. Bowman found
himself sufficiently composed to determine what
he should do, and at about three o'clock in the afternoon Susan received a note from him imploring her to
see him; only to grant him a few short moments to
plead his cause to her, and show how he had been maligned. For he protested upon his sacred word of
honor that the whole story was false; that he never in
his life had loved any one but her; and that the story
of his having loved Alice Charlton, a girl so inferior
in every respect, was an absurdity of which no one
who knew him could think him capable.
Now I submit it to the reader who understands




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   369
human nature, was not that last assertion just fit for a
small creature of the Charley Bowman caliber? He
could not strive to justify himself without trying to
belittle the woman whom it was his greatest honor to
have loved-even in his mean way. His attempt at
justification was a lie, and he had to tell another to
make it symmetrical to himself, who knew all the facts.
Susan, who knew none of the facts, found her heart
entirely inclined to believe him; and would have liked
nothing better than to hear him plead his cause and
assert his perfect love; but she showed the note to her
mother, who had, indeed, been expecting such a one
all the day. After consultation it was concluded that
it was best Mrs. Garthwaite should answer it, and accordingly she soon prepared a reply, and sent it by the
messenger, who was waiting for it.
Of course Mr. Bowman was not pleased when he
read it, and particularly when he saw by whom it was
signed. "Damn her old soul!" was his mental exclamation as he crushed it in his hand after reading it,
and turned upon his heel from the messenger. " I might
have known she would meddle in the business. She's
cool enough, anyhow; and if I have to deal with her in
the affair, I'll have made a mess of it, for she don't care
a damn for me and doesn't like me. I've known that
all the time, damn her 1"
The reader must pardon my repetition, here and
elsewhere, of Mr. Bowman's language. I have maturely reflected upon the propriety of giving uverbatim
the oaths and other profanities of the characters which
a writer has to describe, and have come to the conclusion that where those objectionable expressions are




310    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
necessary to show the exact character and disposition,
they are perfectly allowable; and, in fact, that it is
part of his duty to give them. What a mystically
over-nice painter he should be who completed a picture
of a country cattle-yard swept clean I
Mrs. Garthwaite's reply was as follows:
" SIR,-My daughter has received your note of
this date, and has requested me to reply to it.  She
thinks with me that she must for the present decline
your request for an interview. If at any future time
she should desire it she will either directly or through
me make you aware of the fact. She can, just now,
assign no time when it is probable an interview will be
productive of any good.
"Respectfully, etc.,
"ANNE GARTHWAITE.
" THE BARN, Dec. 17th, 18-."
Certainly Mr. Bowman could not glean much encouragement from anything in that note. It seemed
to cut off all hope; for what could further inquiries
produce but perfect conviction? and he know that Mrs.
Garthwaite was not a woman who would stop short of
the whole truth in her investigation. That infernal
Alice Charlton! and that doubly infernal old aunt of
hersI how they would gloat over his discomfiture!
how they would glory in exaggerating all he had
said and done  He admitted that it was perfectly
natural they should do so, for he felt that such would
be his conduct in similar circumstances. Oh, yes,
confound them! if that precious niece could not get him
and his acres, fine house, and negroes, no one else




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   311
should have him and them! He'd ruin her! Yes, by
George, he'd ruin her for it! She shouldn't have enough
character to get the meanest man for a husband, hang
her! (Of course he didn't content himself with such
words as Confound, Hang, and the rest.) He'd blast
her reputation, by George  He'd court her, sure
enough, for revenge, and she was what's-its-named fool
enough to take the bait. Oh, yes I she'd be mighty
glad of the chance; and then he'd leave her-for
reasons; and he'd let his reasons be known.
" Oh, pshaw I" he exclaimed to himself in a moment
of reflection in his vain rage. "I couldn't do that if I
tried, for no one would believe me, and I'd have some
damned fool taking up her cause; and besides that, I'm
not sure she'd have me; for she's a damned singular
girl anyhow, and has plenty of pluck, damn her, to kick
me to the devil if she got mad!" Then he lapsed into
thought again: "But what a shame it is that I should
be euchred in this way, and that too when I held almost
a point certain I They can't prove anything, hang them,
no matter how hard they try I Am I the first young
man who has ever paid particular attentions to a young
lady, as a friend? There's the misery of this damned
country! you can't go to see a girl twice but that
there's talk about it, and if you go three times and
don't pop the question, why, damn it, you've got either
to explain or to fight, if she's got a brother or a father
who is able to fight. It's a wonder to me old Mac
hasn't been at me before now. He'll come next, for
my luck's down on me, and I could be beat if I had
four kings and an ace. I know where my mistake was.
It was in stirring up that infernal little viper, Jones.




312   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Confound her ugly picture, she had to stick her long
nose into it, and she's got as keen a scent as the best
hound in the county, hang her! Yes, and when the
scent is too cold she'll run by sign. She beats the
dogs, by jings!" and he laughed a grim laugh at his
conceit; "I wish I had a hound like her, hang her I
I'd cut her throat for being too infernally smart. What
a confounded fool I was to make the little thing mad!
I might have known she would do her best to hurt me.
If I had really done anything wrong I shouldn't mind
it. If I had really been engaged and broken it off
as they say, I shouldn't wonder at their getting their
backs up. But I didn't do anything of the sort. Very
clear of it.  Hang it all! what's the use of my staying
here any longer! I'll go off home and let the thing,
settle itself, as they won't let me settle it. I wonder
if the old woman won't go down herself and see Aunt
Polly? Phew I what a time they'll have when they
get their heads together! and old Mac'11 pray that they
may all be delivered from the snares of the Evil Onemeaning me, and be blessed to him! And then there's
that blasted Ben Eccles!  He'll be as pleased as a
monkey with the scratches," etc
Such were some of the thoughts which passed
through the mind of Mr. Charles Bowman in the solitude of his room after reading Mrs. Garthwaite's note.
If any one think that I have exaggerated them, or have
made him out a very demon instead of a young man
of only ordinary wickedness, he is mistaken. I have
neither exaggerated, nor was he, for all that, any worse
than tens of thousands of the narrow-souled, selfish,
sensual, and lively young men who may be found in




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   313
all enlightened countries — that is, all countries in
which manners and desires do not always agree. They
occupy high social positions very frequently; in fact
they always do, or aspire to do, so. He is one of a
class, and I have tried to paint him faithfully for the
benefit and encouragement of his fellows. I have
known a good many of them, as clever, social, frank,
boisterous, young gentlemen as ever lived; rich too, or
at any rate belonging to rich families, or trying to belong to them; but my experience and observation have
been that they were as empty of all real good as apples
of Sodom.
However, although I have shown a little of the
heart of Mr. Bowman, we are now more concerned
about his actions and fortunes, and I must confine myself to them. What does the world care for a man's
inner life if his outward conduct be correct or amusing!
And, fortunately, the world is right-far be it from me
to teach otherwise! I should dislike for the world to
know all my thoughts, feelings, and imaginations about
even the most beautiful, innocent, and perfectly holy
of earthly or of heavenly things. I should shrink from
its concerning itself about much of my past conduct,
though of no importance to it. And yet I am an old
man, whose character is irreproachable. I say it boldly
and with some pride, that I defy any human being,
living or dead, to charge me truthfully with any meanness or dishonorable act, open or secret. When I say
" dishonorable act," I mean, of course, dishonorable in a
worldly sense; for, alas! I could not make such a boast
before my Maker. No, I never in my life have done
27




314    WHAT I KNOW AB OUT BEN ECCLES.
a mean thing; never oppressed the poor, if I knew it;
never defrauded rich, or poor, or the public, of money
or duty. Though my grand-niece may hereafter think
she can contradict this assertion, I defy her to prove to
any sensible person that I was under the slightest
natural or legal obligation to leave her my property!
She is none of my begetting, thank Heaven! On the
contrary, she is my sister's daughter's child, begotten
in lawful wedlock and with precious little of my blood
in her to judge from her conduct, which is virtuous, and
damnable. The virtue of some persons has a sort of
hell-fire tinge about it which is to me very uncomfortable; or else it is of the thumb-screw, Procrustean, iceribbed sort which —
But never mind that. This is not exactly the time
and place to be pleading my private woes; nor, indeed,
my outward virtues; except by way of illustration;
and having sufficiently done that, let me pass on to my
main subject. When I write my own life I will tell
all the whys and wherefores about my grand-niece.*
Mr. Bowman, then, was no demon, although his
thoughts were mean, and one or two of them were
diabolical. I suspect that these last were the effects
of excitement, for I have not the least idea that he
would have cut his hound's throat any sooner than he
would Miss Jones', or that he would have injured
Alice as he threatened, even if he had had the opportunity. He could imagine such a thing —was mean
enough to imagine such a thing-but, had it come to
* Mr. Page's own life has already been published by the
publishers of this book.-JOHN CAPELSAY, Exr.




WHAT I KRNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   315
the trial, would have had neither the courage nor the
abandoned villainy to have put it into execution. A
pure and dignified woman has an influence over the
Charley Bowmans of the world, which is a powerful
shield against their malignant imaginations. And,
besides that, it was impossible in the very nature of
things that his heart once touched, though ever so
slightly, by the celestial fire of love, as I have said
that I believed his was by Alice Charlton's noble
qualities and beauty, could ever wholly lose its genial
glow. It might cool, and become covered with ashes
and cold cinders, but a little warmth should still remain; a little tenderness, to change the figure, which
could never become callous.
His resolution to leave Yatton and go home turned
out, like many other hasty ideas, no resolution at all.
In the first place, the solitude of the country would
have been utterly distasteful to him, and he was one
of those who did not think it gentlemanly to drink by
himself. But in the second, and principal place, in
the midst of all his misery he had a faint hope that
everything should come out right; that is, in his favor.
He felt sure that he had had a powerful hold on Susan's
affections, or rather, that her affections had taken a
powerful hold on him, miserable stick that he was (that
is my comment, not his), and that there was a chance
that she still clung to him. If so, he had a most to-behoped-of ally, and it would not do to be out of the way
if anything should turn up.
So at his usual hour for a late afternoon visit he got
upon his horse and took the road to The Barn. He
had no more intention of actually going to the house




316    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
than you or I have of sticking our head into the fire;
but he thought he could serve two purposes. He
might chance to see Susan walking or driving about
the neighborhood, and though he would not accost her,
what a reminder it should be to her to see him riding
about her vicinage disconsolate, as though his body
must come and wander with his soul! It would, certainly, be a great satisfaction to him to see her, but it
would be a greater help to him that she should see
him, and if it should so happen that to speak to her
was almost unavoidable, he would speak, and if she
were alone he could say more in a few minutes to restore himself to favor than all the mothers and vipers
in the world could do in a month to put him out of
favor. But, at any rate, if the ride had no such result
as this, it would serve, secondly, to blind the public
eye as to what was going on; and he would go before
it as he usually did-and come home after dark by a
back way.
A cunning young gentleman was Master Bowman;
and, on this occasion, fate was so propitious as to throw
another result in his way, which, though it vexed him
greatly at the time, afterwards afforded him  much
secret satisfaction. He had hardly left the outskirts
of the town when he was overtaken by Ben Eccles,
also on horseback. Though they had never been cordial friends, there never had been any open enmity between them, and there was, therefore, no reason why
they should not salute each other and ride along together as far as their roads should be the same. Neither
was in a mood for amusing chat; for Ben's morbid
conscience and morbid love were both combating with




WHAT I KNO W ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   317
the demon jealousy. He did not like the frequent visits
his friend Charles was making, he heard, to The Barn.
He did not think that the young man stood much
chance with either Susan or her mother, for he was a
notorious liar and braggadocio, if he was rich and gay;
and he knew that they preferred truth and courage to
wealth and gayety.
He was not certain whether Susan knew the subject
so well as he did, and those who lived about Rosstown.
She must know it, he thought, and if she did not, was
it not his duty to tell her? He was just as far removed
from the possibility of doing a mean or officious act as
was his friend, Dr. Sam; but it is somewhat singular
that both men should have had the same suggestion of
duty. Both, however, knew that though it is a capital
suggestion, and rarely erroneous when it is about something which concerns only one's self, it may be very
suspicious when it relates to some one else, and particularly in such a case as this. The baser temptations
of self-interest would more than counterbalance the
idea of disinterested probity in the minds both of the
lady and of others who heard of it. Might this not
be with good reason? At any rate, it was too serious
a matter for their own sakes to be undertaken rashly;
for while it would have the appearance of raising Mr.
Bowman to the importance of a bugaboo to themselves,
it might also augment his importance to the lady, and
lessen their own chances. All this reasoning did not
pass through Ben's head; for when a proposition presented itself he did not always stop to investigate it
thoroughly if it looked uninviting; and this looked
27*




318   WIHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
shabby at the first glance. He would lay it aside to be
thought over if there were more occasion than there
appeared to him now to be. Mr. Bowman was nothing
to him, and could be nothing to her-and yet he did
not like his visits; he did not like his becoming acquainted with Susan at the barbecue, and could not
imagine what encouragement he could receive that he
should go on visiting there-but the impudence of
some men was past comprehension!
And so they jogged on, scarcely speaking, each occupied with his own thoughts. We know pretty well
what Mr. Bowman's must have been upon the grand
subject, and can guess that he was mentally cursing
his fate that this dear fool should come poking out there
that evening, and planning how he should get out of
the scrape gracefully. When they arrived at the lane
which turned to the right, about half a mile from The
Barn, and led over to Miss Jones' aunt's house, Mr.
Bowman checked up and turned his horse's head
towards it, saying:
"Well, good-by Ben. I take this road."
"Why, I thought that you were going on to The
Barn?"
"No," answered Charles a little crustily; "I am not
going there this evening; I have another engagement.
Good-by," and he rode off.
Ben felt greatly encouraged. His heart was lightened by the loss of a companion with whom he had so
little sympathy, and who gave him so much actual
cause for pain. He thought that it was a mistake that
Charley's rides in this direction were to The Barn, and
reproached himself for his uncharitable idea of expos



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   319
ing the young man's faults to others. It had been a
sinful design-for as he had conceived it, was it not a
design? And he took off his hat and mentally asked
pardon of God for his sin.
Poor fellow I let me not again intrude either upon
the patience of the reader, or the more tender feelings
of my own heart by describing more than is necessary
of his mental malady. Brave, courteous, magnanimous gentleman that he was, it has made my heart
ache to have to tell of his unfortunate condition, and
show him in positions in which the heartless and ignorant who knew him and the heartless and ignorant who
read about him, thought and shall think him ridiculous.
Alas, his life had had little sunshine upon it though its
way had been generally smooth enough. We speak of
physical blessings, kindly associates, and wealth as the
most important things for man, and yet a mental cloud
or a peculiarity of nervous organization shall make them
all worthless, or a burden. Equability of mind is worth
them all, and he who has it can bear with resignation,
at least, if not with cheerfulness, the absence or loss of
wealth, station, friends, or health. From his childhood
Ben lacked this placid equability; and when the cloud
came the fleeting moments which before were bright became gloomy. A jealous, all-seeing Eye was upon him
at all times, and towards it he would often look askance,
and with a start drop the pleasure in his grasp; and
never was he without the consciousness that every
thought, word, and deed was narrowly scanned and
necessarily found defective or impure.
But though he was in this wretched state he felt that
God was good. He knew He was good; in his pangs




320    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
of thought he would shout out that He was good; and
yet His holiness and justice so overshadowed His goodness that its blessings became painful, and the sources
of more and more sin and misery. How could he enjoy
the goodness of a holy and just God? Ah, this is a
question which has puzzled and tormented many, and
wiser men than he!
On the present occasion, after he had penitentially
recalled his sinful design, another unreasoning pang of
conscience came upon him, and he went like a criminal
at large to seek a moment's rest and pleasure, if haply
he might find it, and as he neared the house his heart
hardened itself as though he would seek it in defiance
of the Power which was frowning upon him. The
ladies begged to be excused, and he rode back home
feeling that it was-a providential arrangement to punish
him.
It will be perceived that his malady had grown
greatly upon him-that he had, in fact, become crazy.
True, it was only monomania, but it was a monomania
which found excitement on every hand, and would not
suffer him to rest. He was as affable as ever, had as
much knowledge, and as much keen perception and
clear method in business as ever, but at every turn his
Enemy met him-an Enemy to be dreaded, and not to
be avoided do what he should.
Fortunately —and I hasten to say this for my own
relief-there shall be but one or two more occasions to
portray his wretchedness, and I feel like hastening on
that they may be done with; but I will not anticipate
events. Although he is the subject of my writing,
there are other persons in whom I take a great interest




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   321
and whose conduct is so connected with his that it
must be portrayed in order that his may be fully
understood.
CHAPTER XXXI.
EXPLAINS A POINT NECESSARY TO BE UNDERSTOOD NOW,
AND WHICH SHALL HEREAFTER BE MORE NECESSARY.
ALTHOUGH to give the reasons why of something
which has gone before is rather an awkward commencement of a chapter-as though that which should
before have been last were here placed first —I find it
the most convenient place to explain how it came that
Ben Eccles and others were ignorant of what had taken
place at The Barn; both the engagement and its interruption. It is the most convenient place because that
ignorance was the prelude to other events, not yet related, which took place, and were in a great measure
dependent upon it, and because I could not tell it before without interrupting my narrative.
I think that I have heretofore remarked that Mrs.
Garthwaite was a very prudent woman, and that her
daughter much resembled her. They were not only
prudent themselves, but, by a natural influence which
every one must have observed, all who were accustomed to be about them were more than ordinarily
prudent. A gossiping, tattling husband will make a
gossiping, tattling wife, children, and servants; and
though the same qualities in a wife will not always in



322    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
feet upwards to the husband, if he have the proper
spirit he will always by judicious severity be able to
repress it and establish prudence in its place. A wife
may deprive a husband of his good sense by making
him wretched, but not by example. I am not one of
those who believe that a bad or foolish wife makes a
bad or foolish husband. If the husband be wise and
good, the wife shall be the same, or, at least, will keep
her wickedness and folly in check.
Example and firmness are great regulators, and Mrs.
Garthwaite was a model in respect of prudence; prudence in speech an4c in behavior. Her servants never
tattled to her-as Mrs. Ruggles had taught her servants
to do-and had almost lost the faculty of tattling to
each other. Hardly one of them had ever been found
guilty of confiding to strangers the private and domestic affairs of the family, their intentions and opinions.
In every case conviction had been followed by expulsion to the negro quarter and the field, besides other
condign punishment. Mrs. Garthwaite had too much
just pride to wish her affairs made the subject of general
talk, or to desire to hear of the affairs of others; and
her servants had become infused with the same.pride.
Now Miss Jones, though she would have scorned to
think herself the humble companion of Mrs Garthwaite
and Susan, and would have been indignant had any
one intimated such a thing to her, really had a great
many of the traits of an humble companion. In the
shade of their authority she was vastly independent
towards others, but very dependent towards them-in
other words, she was obsequious; towards what pleased
them she, knowingly, manifested no displeasure, and




WHAT I KNVOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   323
what displeased them she never defended. She was,
therefore, perforce, prudent in speech and behavior so
far as their affairs were concerned; and though, I suspect, she was never formally told of Susan's engagement, but knew it by putting this and that together, as
she had a fair talent for doing, she never breathed it
until, for a purpose,. she told Miss Young.
Miss Young had, so far, had no opportunity of
making it widely known, even if, with her love of truth,
she had wished to do so. But her love of truth was
not characterized by the missionary spirit. It was
conservative.
The aunt and cousins said nothing about it because
they knew nothing for a certainty, and feared, by talking, to ruin Charley's chances for so splendid a match.
Therefore, as these were all the parties who knew,
or were likely to know the facts, the public and Ben
Eccles were left to guess-and they had an uncertain
subject to guess about, whether they took love or
Charley Bowman as the subject. Ben was too much
of a without-fear-and-without-reproach gentleman to
guess or inquire about the matter, even if he had not
had other subjects -to occupy his mind; and although
he had suspected and regretted the young man's course
as a piece of presumption which must lead to mortification, he had not the remotest idea of the real situation. of affairs.
And now that I have given the reasons of some
things which have gone before, and of some others
which are yet to come, I have concluded that it is
best to proceed by a new chapter, in which I can really
begin at the beginning.




324   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER  XXXII.
MISS ANNABELLA YOUNG PAYS ANOTHER VISIT TO THE
BARN IN THE CAUSE OF TRUTH, AND TRUTH TRIUMPHS AT LAST.
MRS. GARTHWAITE'S messenger got lost. Dark
came on when had got about eighteen miles from
home, and he turned off at the wrong road. About
ten o'clock, after wandering about from plantation to
plantation, becoming more and more bewildered, he
concluded to stop for the night at a quarter where he
was offered hospitality, and found upon inquiry that
he was still some twelve miles from his destination.
It was between eight and nine o'clock the next morning when he arrived at Dr. McCleod's, and Miss Polly
and her niece had left an hour before for Rosstown,
upon a shopping expedition.
There was nothing to be done but to wait until
their return that evening, for he had been charged to
deliver the letter into Miss Polly's own hand and to
wait for an answer, with which he was to return with
all convenient speed. As Mrs. Garthwaite never manifested over-anxiety, the messenger felt himself at
liberty to consult his own convenience, and was therefore well content to remain in such pleasant quarters.
Now, Aunt Polly had gone not only to shop, but
also to put in the post-office a letter to her friend, Miss
Annabella Young, which she had prepared with much




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   325
secrecy and pains. It contained a delicate and embarrassing matter-nothing less than the recantation of
her foolish mistake about Charley Bowman and her
niece; and if any one can find a more embarrassing
task than that of acknowledging in a graceful and dignified manner that he or she has heretofore been a fool
in a very important and delicate affair, I would like to
hear of it. At any rate, it embarrassed dear Aunt
Polly; and to such a degree did she feel it that for the
first (and last) time she acted secretly, and, as she felt,
disingenuously towards her niece. Heretofore she had
written and sent her letters boldly, without the slightest thought or fear that their contents should be questioned, and she was much relieved when she had taken
a favorable opportunity, while her niece was engaged
in the store next to the post-office, to step out of the
door, and slyly slip the wretched burden into the postoffice box. And it was a still greater relief when, about
an hour after, she heard the stage horn and saw the
Yatton stage dash gallantly down the street to the
post-office door, and bear it away to its destination.
The next morning the important missive was duly
delivered to Miss Young, and great was the hubbub it
stirred up in the old lady's mind. Indignation ivas at
first the uppermost feeling; and then regret, and a
vehement desire to right herself and set the matter
right, displaced it. At first her faith in truth was a
little staggered; but upon reflection she found the virtue to be positively miraculous in its workings. Why,
who would ever have dreamed that here in the very
nick of time a letter like this should arrive to remove
28




326    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
unmerited blame, and make smooth the course of true
love I It was wonderfulI The other truth was only
a mistake, but here was the genuine article at last;
and its triumph should be perfect and lasting I
What a precious set of simpletons we are, to be
sure I Miss Annabella was only a type of most of us.
We divide truth up into morsels and boast of their
magnitude and perfection, and then when other fractions of truth or whole falsehoods are pressed upon us
with sincerity, we accept them and suffer our first impressions to fade, or violently rub them out-particularly if they be a little ugly.
There was a bustle in the old lady's household at
once. John, the hostler and driver, was sent for, interrogated, and instructed.
"Well, John," said Miss Young, in her slow, precise manner, as the black Phbebus came into the room
making more noise with his creaking shoes by trying
to step lightly on his toes than he should have done
by tramping, " well, John, how are you this morning?
and how is Dolly?"
"We's all well, mistuss."
" Have you fed the horse this morning, John?"
"Yes, ma'am; long time ago. I allers feeds him'fore
I eats myself," answered the black rascal, who had
that morning bantered a neighbor's hostler for a quarter-race in which he was confident his gig horse should
win, and had consequently given the steed an extra
allowance with a whole pumpkin thrown in.
"It seems to me that he looks very rough. Are you
sure you curry him morning and evening?"
" He been had the lampers, ma'am, but I got ole Joe




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   327
to burn'em out las' week, an' he smoove enough now,
ma'am."
"Burn my horse  What do you mean, sir?" exclaimed his mistress, changing her tone to one more
energetic.  " You get old Joe to burn my horse?"
"Lor', mistuss, you dunno?  Why, dey likes it!
Dey gums eatches'erm so dat nuffin else can't tetch'em!  I allers has'em burnt out. Nuffin else won't
cure'em. I done try everything."
" You say that he is well now?"
" Yes, ma'am."
" Have you cleaned my harness well?"
"Yes, umr"
"And brushed out my gig?"
"' Yes, umrn!"
"Are my cushions there?"
"Yes, um I"
"And my whip?"
" Dey all dar, ma'am."
" Well go and get the gig ready, and brush it out
again, and dress yourself, and be around at the door as
soon as you can."
"Yes, ma'am, I hurry," said the black, going out.
" Do you hear, John? brush my gig out again i"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"And turn my cushions over I"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"And dress yourself neatly!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And"-pausing to reflect-"there's nothing else.
You may go."
In due time the gig was around at the front door,




328   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
and Miss Young prepared to take her high seat by the
side of John, who was dressed in his best.
"Have vou examined my springs, John?"
"Yes, ma'am. "
"And are they all right?  And have you looked at
my axle-trees?"
" Yes, ma'am. I seed to it all 1"
"When did you grease my gig?"
" Yeste'day, ma'am; an', mistuss, we mus' git some
mo' grease. Dubbin's the bes' dey tells me."
"Why, sir, where is all that dubbing you got only
last month?"
"Oh, its done used up, ma'am. Dis gig takes a
mighty heap o' greasin' I" said the scamp, who had
soaked his own shoes and boots and his wife's, and those
of some of his chums with the dubbing,. which was
common property.
"Very well, get some more and take better care of
it. Come to me when we return, and get the money.
What does it cost?"
"Oh, I reckon a dollar's wuff'11 be enough, ma'am!"
" Very well. Are you ready?"
And after all her interrogations and preparations
were concluded, because she could think of no more,
she mounted the chair which had been brought out and
placed there by her house-woman, and slowly ascended
to her place, and was driven off. The house-woman
lingered for a few minutes, with her hand on the chair,
to chat with a passing neighbor, and then went in and
slammed the door, and Miss Young's house was quiet,
while her feeble body was being swayed and jolted and
her righteous soul was plunged in regret and eager to




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   329
right herself and the truth. Old Mr. Jackson, who
forty-five years before had been one of her admirers,
took off his hat to her as she passed him on the street,
and remarked to himself that she was showing her age.
A little farther down Mr. Jackson's youngest blooming
daughter looked from her window and was glad in her
heart that she was not such an old fright, and Mrs.
Jackson herself, and young Popkins, who were sitting
near, echoed the sentiment-that is, if sentiment can
echo, which I doubt, though speakers and newspaper
men continually repeat the phrase.
It was about noon when the old lady arrived at The
Barn. The house was silent, and except for the chickens which were heard from the back yard, seemed
deserted. After giving her man particular directions,
as that he must keep by the gig, and how he must conduct himself otherwise during her absence —which he
took good care to hear and disobey; for she was no
sooner fairly in the house than he was back at the
kitchen-she went up the steps, knocked at the door
with the handle of her large parasol, and was admitted.
There are all sorts of angels, and I suppose that
every messenger of good news is an angel for the
nonce. Miss Young was certainly an angel to Miss
Susan for this day-she ever after respected her as "a
well-meaning old woman." It would be entirely out
of the question for me to delay to describe the slow
and precise manner of the old lady, the very many explanations and comments she gave, and the whole matter and manner of her communication, when the result
was so exciting to the principal party concerned. She
never paused to remark those things, nor will I. I am
28*




330    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
getting too old to waste my time in minutime when I
can avoid them by a few outlines, and I have too many
sketches to make. Some writers can fill up two or
three volumes with the events of a week in a love
affair. It would be too much trouble to go to my library to see how many reigns Tacitus has perfectly
described in the same volume of words.
Of course, as the necessary result of this triumph of
truth, the poor, forsaken, maligned hero of the hour
had to be sent for forthwith. Susan, with love and
joy, penitence and righteous indignation in her heart,
could not rest until she had expressed it all to him.
Even Miss Maria, had she been there, would have participated in the prevailing sentiment, and have wished
to hurry up the scene of her own penitence and forgiveness. But she was not there.  Her Susan had
looked upon her with a cold eye, which sorely grieved
her sense of gratitude-if there be such a sense; my
observation is that all have it objectively and very few
subjectively (another time I can use those wretched
words; and I would not swear that I have used them
rightly). Mrs. Garthwaite's countenance was not sufficient solace. That was only turned towards her justice and intelligence; whereas it was her tenderer
feelings which had been moved, and which required
recognition. She was therefore not present to have
her share in the triumph of truth, which, in truth,
proved to be the cause of her final downfall in the affections of her sweet friend, who, though she afterwards looked approvingly upon her act, could never
forget the spirit with which it was done.
Good Miss Young was also eager to see the recon



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   331
ciliation, or, rather to right herself and her cause in the
eyes of the Victim of Mistake. But Mrs. Garthwaite
had no such feeling. She was gratified that her daughter had not been deceived; but was sorry that the
match was not broken off. It was a sore disappointment; but she was too wise to show it. There was
yet a chance; she did not know what it was, but as
they were not yet married there must be several
chances. She would bide their time, and if the worst
came to the worst-why, she herself had made a mistake, and had been delivered from it.
Do not think it strange that I attribute this last sentiment to so excellent a woman. It was perfectly
natural. No just and pure woman can, after time has
passed, regard with any degree of regret the early
death of a husband whose brutally selfish conduct was
a constant reproach and cause of misery. She naturally feels that, as good women are apt to express it,
"he has gone from the evil to come," that is, that he
was taken away before he reached the lowest depths
to which his course would necessarily carry him.
Mrs. Garthwaite did- not, therefore, participate. in
her daughter's joy; but she had lost none of her
motherly love and tender sympathy, which would
have rejoiced for the joy though the cause of it should
break her own heart.
But where was the young man? Who had seen
him, or heard from, or of him? He certainly had not
left the town? They would dispatch a messenger with
a note to him at his aunt's. And it was soon done.
Susan wrote the joyous billet, and though she destroyed
several sheets of paper before it was to her sense of




332    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
love and propriety (two mighty difficult senses to reconcile sometimes), it was sent before a half hour had
passed from the time Miss Young had arrived.
The messenger did not see Mr. Bowman. He was
in his own room, sick, said one of the cousins, but give
her the note and she would take it to him. He was
sick; not with the pangs of wounded love, but with
the disordered head and stomach of a man who had
drunk a great deal too much overnight, and although he
was by no means a teetotaller, he was not accustomed
to such great excesses.
He drank, as did almost every one in the country,
more or less, but always some during every day. The
fashion of taking Ea julep before breakfast was then
rapidly going out of vogue, but the side-boards were
still in first request upon occasions of a visit or a departure, a rain, a drouth, a hunt, a reconciliation, a
quarrel, or of anything else which could by any means
be made the occasion of a drink. And Mr. Bowman
was generally ready to go up to them as frequently as
he was invited; but still, he was not a drunkard. I
doubt if any one had ever seen him drunk in public,
that is, on the streets. He was rather too cautious to
get right down drunk: it might place him in a natural
position and get him into difficulty.
But the night before he had certainly drunk too
much; too much for his health, and almost too much
for his prudence, for he had talked in a maudlin way
about his being the worst used man in the country,
and had hinted to his companions (it was at Barker's
room in town, and there were three or four young
fellows there besides Barker and Bowman-all wild




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   333
scatter-brains), he had hinted to them that he could a
tale unfold which would make them pity him; he must
keep his mouth shut, his honor kept him silent; but never
mind, the time would come when he should have his
revenge. And young Barker swore he would carry
his challenge, and Billups and Jimmy Quine said they
would stand by him, and Alfred Chives, with a halfdrunken sneer, wished to know what redoubtable boy
or female his friend Bowman intended fighting, and if
he intended eating his enemy if he killed him or herand other such sneers, all of which Mr. Bowman
treated with silent contempt.
Later in the night, after they had drunk still more,
there was a quarrel, and Chives haa attempted to strike
him, and he then made a motion to get at Chives, and
there was a great noise and scuffle to keep them apart
until the quarrel was settled, and they took a drink
together, and Bowman swore that he had none but
the kindest feelings towards Mr. Chives, and wouldn't
hurt him for the world, and Chives replied that that
was lucky, and there came near being another quarrel,
which was quieted, and they parted for their homes,
Mr. Bowman never missing his way, nor stumbling,
but going straight to his room and to bed-to wake up
the next morning feeling very badly as I have said.
It was a bad condition in which to receive a note
from his lady-love requesting his presence and forgiveness, and all that sort of thing, and he had to get his
Cousin Emily to write to Susan that he was very
unwell, but thought that he should be able to be at
The Barn that evening. Susan received the note, and
forthwith pictured to herself that he was an innocent




334    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
sufferer from her own folly and want of love, and vowed
to herself to love him more tenderly than ever, and
never to doubt him herself or suffer any one else to
doubt him again. And when he did come in the evening, with glassy eyes, and looking rather flushed with
the brandy he had taken as " the hair of the dog which
had bitten him," as he -expressed it, and smelling of
cloves, she never once perceived the cause of his ill
looks, but attributed them all to herself, and was as
miserable and happy as a dear, innocent, tender-hearted
girl could be upon such an occasion.
Miss Young had to go home, but Mrs. Garthwaite
was there, and made all the requisite explanations, to
which he replied somewhat sulkily, as though his
honor had been deeply wounded by their distrust.
But in the midst of the explanation the answer from
Aunt Polly arrived. No secret was made of it, and it
was with internal trepidation that Mr. Bowman saw
Mrs. Garthwaite open it before him and read it.
The note was not the composition of Aunt Polly
herself, although she had written it. When she got
home from Rosstown and had read Mrs. Garthwaite's
letter she instantly showed it to Alice, and asked her
what she must say in her reply. After many pros
and cons, suggestions and objections to its exact contents and wording, Alice prevailed upon her aunt to
let her compose it, which she did as follows:
"DEAR MADAM,-Your note of yesterday by messenger was received last evening. I regret that my
absence from home prevented its earlier reception by
me. I hasten to answer your inquiries in the same




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   335
spirit in which I feel convinced they were made. I
answer generally that Mr. Bowman's visits to me and
my niece were always based upon the ostensible object
of cultivating our friendship. My niece has never
either accepted or refused him, nor has she any proposition of marriage from him under consideration.
"I can assure you, madam, that Mr. Bowman is
perfectly free to act according to his fancy so far as
my niece is concerned, and if it should be that he is
about to become connected with your family she will
heartily join me in wishing contentment and happiness
to the lady.
"Very respectfully,
" MARY HART."
This was the note which Mrs. Garthwaite read
and then passed to Susan and her lover. The word
"fancy" made the gentleman wince a little (and it
always seemed to me that Alice intended it as irony,
and might have used a more genial word), and the
total abnegation and ignoring of all his honeyed phrases,
and sweet looks, and assiduous attentions was rather
galling to his vanity; but, on the whole, it was vastly
better than his guilty conscience feared, and he mentally blessed Aunt Polly, and called her a good, blind
old fool. A little reflection, however, convinced him
that not Aunt Polly but Alice herself had composed it,
and he cursed her for a cold-hearted coquette, who had
no more feeling than a statue, and more hypocrisy than
the devil himself.
But for the present he was contented, and when
Mrs. Garthwaite went out of the room he, as though it




336    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
was a matter of duty, put his arm around Susan and
drew her towards him and she for the first time suffered
him to kiss her. Was she not his? Did he not love
her, and her alone? Ah, what a happy girl she was!
Certainly he might kiss her this once for all the grief
she had given him.
But it was a maudlin sort of kiss; not a chaste,
loving kiss, but one given by a man half drunk, who
thought it was the thing and must be done —and who
said to himself at the moment, " Oh, how damned badly
I do feel I! I wish I was back in my room, and had a
good hearty drink i"
And he soon excused himself: the excitement of the
last three days, he said, had been too much for him,
and he really felt very unwell, and must go home.
No, he couldn't wait for tea, he felt too badly; but he
would come the next day and see his darling, and
hoped he should then feel perfectly well.
I am sorry for all this I have been narrating about
Bowman and Susan; very sorry. Had I had my own
way it should never have happened. She should have
married Sam Stockdale, and Bowman should have got
a vixen who would have punished him throughout life
for his evil qualities. But I did not have the management of the affair; and as it has turned out am glad
that I did not. It was eventually all for the best.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   337
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE AMIABLE CHARACTER OF MR. BOWMAN IS FURTHER
ILLUSTRATED, AND MR. ECCLES AFFORDS HIM AMUSEMENT.
/ DAY or two after the grand reconciliation Mr.
Bowman sauntered into my office where Ben Eccles was busily engaged, and, after some unimportant
general talk, asked him when he was going to The
Barn again.
"I will go in a day or two," answered Ben, somewhat confused. " But why do you ask?"
"Oh, it's nothing. I only thought that as you are
intimate out there I would ask you to present my re-spects, as I shall have to go home without calling."
" Certainly. I'll do that for you. When do you
leave?"
" I thought of starting in the morning. I have been
idling too much time about here, and must be at home
with my negroes, Christmas. The only reason why I
wished you to present my respects is that I know the
ladies like you very much, and as I am inclined to think
that they do not care much for me, and don't wish them
to be any more unfriendly than they are, I thought
that if you-if you would undertake to bring me to
their remembrance it would be all the better for me."
Y' ou may be sure that I will do so," said Ben with
29




338   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
great gratification, mingled with some pride, and also
with much compunction for his previous hard thoughts.
" Please do so, Ben. As I suppose you are to be
the lucky fellow I don't know any one to whom I can
more heartily wish success. If I had not been such a
torn-down scamp I would have put in there myself.
But I shouldn't have stood the ghost of a chance. I've
found that out."
"Well, never mind about that," said Ben, becoming
a little nervous and offended. " I'll be certain to do
what you request."
" Ben I" said Bowman, after a short pause and looking thoughtful, " you and I were schoolmates and have
been friends for a long time, and I hope you'll not be
offended with me if I tell you something which touches
your interest I"
"No," answered Ben with a little trepidation, for
he could only dread to what such a prelude should
lead.
"Well now, I ask you as a friend why you don't act
with more energy? I've seen a good deal of the young
lady, and you'll wear out your love if you keep putting
it off. Why, sir, if I had been in your place, with your
advantages, I would have settled my happiness months
ago, and should now be married."
" Mr. Bowman," answered the victim coldly, and yet
with hope wild in his heart, "I think I know my own
business, and have always shown myself able to attend
to it without advice unless I asked it 1"
"I didn't mean to offend you, Ben. I told you so
in the first place. I only —"
"I know. You have not offended me, but at the




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   339
same time I would in a friendly spirit ask you to attend
to your own business."
"Come; you are angry, and I'll have to leave. But
I did not wish you to get mad with me!"
And after Ben, disarmed, had protested that he was
not angry, and Bowman had declared over and over
again his sincere friendship and interest, the visitor
left, and Ben sat alone in deep reflection.
Yes: he had waited just as long as propriety could
demand. He had unmistakably manifested his love and
intentions long ago; and Susan had had plenty of time
to make up her mind. Heaven help him! he could not
see much encouragement; and yet a woman's heart and
a woman's conduct generally disagreed in such a case.
He felt that it had become a solemn and pressing duty
to himself and to the lady to make a declaration and conclude the matter. He might succeed! Others thought
he should; and if he did, what a blessed man, what an
overhappy man he should be! He could not decide
upon his chances; they might be very poor, but as
woman was so strange, and Susan had not decidedly
repulsed him (what could the poor fellow have imagined a decided repulse to be!) he must come to a
plain explanation with her. What a miserable, cowardly scoundrel he should be if he had gained her affections and would let her timid concealment of the fact
deter him from offering himself, and thus render her
miserable! It was his duty! and he would do it at once
though it should cost him his life. And, ah! it was like
walking into the very gates of death to put his fate to
the final test. He had rather love on forever in uncertainty than find the certainty of his being unloved; but




340    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
it was not his choice which should govern; it was
Susan's welfare.
And he commenced bracing his mind for the final
decision of his dearest hopes. I need not tell the number of times he prayed, nor how he groaned. It would
be almost heartless to try to expose all the conflict of
his heart and mind which the reader can so well
imagine.
The very next day, at about eleven o'clock in the
forenoon, he got on his horse and rode out to The
Barn. As the visit was at an unusual hour, Susan
suspected its object, and gladly descended to the parlor.
She was eager for his sake and for her own that he
should declare himself, and so end a dream which had
from her first knowing of it been a source of disquiet
and annoyance to her, as she was sure it had been of
anguish to him. She wished to like and to be able to
enjoy the company of a man whom she respected so
much, and she could never do so as long as he had the
idea of courting her. She was glad the idea was likelyto be destroyed now. She had given him every rebuff
and discouragement that she, as a lady, could give;
and in vain. She would now give him every opportunity and every facility to make his proposal; she
would even tempt him to make it-so great was her
desire to have the matter ended. True, she was engaged to Bowman, but it had been agreed that the
engagement should not be made public for a month or
two, and in the mean time neither could she endure the
persecution, nor ought Mr. Eccles to undergo the disquiet of his suit. Yes, it was best for her own sake
as a lady, and as a woman of good feeling, to give Mr.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   341
Eccles his answer, independent of all other considerations, and without reference to a prior engagementfar better than that she should let such a fervent love
as his fall to the ground untold, and as though unregretted by her.
It may be thought that Susan had a slight but unacknowledged desire to gratify her vanity by having
Mr. Eccles at her feet. But she was above all such
pettiness. It was a great grief instead of a triumph to
her. She had done all she could to prevent it, and she
was now actuated by the desire to spare him continued
pain, and the final mortification of seeing another preferred to himself while he was still courting her, and a
desire to both get rid of his attentions and conceal her
engagement. She had thought, at first, that since he
had come and would declare himself, she should, at the
first word, tell him that she was already engagedbut had concluded that that would be too shockingly
and heartlessly cruel.
She entered the parlor alone and sat there with him
alone, talking as he chose to talk. After an hour or
two thus spent by her, and spent by him in agonized
and vain endeavors to speak the words he had to speak,
he proposed that they should walk in the garden.
She readily assented, and after a few turns around the
walks he managed, with a husky voice, a dry mouth,
and trembling limbs to declare his love, and she firmly,
but gently, gave him his answer.
The shock, tenderly administered though it was,
overcame him. He almost staggered, and then fell
upon his knees at her feet, and began praying in a
muttering tone, joining her name, and mercy, and God,
29*




342    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
and love, in a confused manner; and then, while she
was in a state of intense alarm, suddenly arose, and
looking in a sad and startled manner at her, touched
his hat politely and left the garden, got on his horse,
rode back to town, and came to my office. I came in
soon after he arrived and found him on his knees, praying; he got up upon my entrance and began to laugh,
and to talk volubly about what he intended doing with
his place the next year, and then about his sins and
his love.
In fine, I discovered that his brain was wandering,
and immediately persuaded him with authority to go
with me to his house in my gig in which I had come
to town. Before we started I sent word for Dr. Hutchins, in whom both he and I had great confidence, to
come out there immediately. When he arrived, Ben
had fallen into a lethargic, almost comatose state, and
was at once put to bed, ordered hot foot-baths, etc.
The most skillful treatment and gentle nursing, together with perfect quiet, restored the patient after a
few days to his ordinary condition of mind, except that
it was more calm and despairing; but a severe attack
of bodily illness supervened, attended with much delirium and great nervous excitement.
The natural strength and elasticity of his constitution at last successfully resisted, and he became convalescent. It was the happiest convalescence I ever
saw, for with increasing health and strength came increasing peace of mind. The cloud was gone; when
it left, or why, or how, I cannot tell —but it was gone.
For the first time in years he smiled peacefully, and
seemed happy, for his Judge looked with benignant




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   343
eye upon him. At last, as though he had just awaked
from a frightful dream, he saw that his attempt to eke
out his salvation by good works was a prolific error,
and henceforth he was content. God could be just,
and yet by Christ's means could justify sinners. Justice satisfied by Christ was in harmony with love
manifested in and by Christ.
A soothing calm came upon his mind; although, as
shall be seen, it never lost an impression made constitutional with it by the trouble it had been in so long;
and when he got strong enough to relish his tobacco
he took a chew between his fingers, and smilingly looking at it he placed it in his mouth. and then shut his
eyes and thanked God for all His blessings.
I have said that his long trouble left upon his mind
an impression from which it never entirely recovered,
and as I shall no more have to depict the trouble, I
had perhaps better state the effect, and be done with
it. He had got into the habit of praying at all times
and places; and it never wore off. The troublewas
gone, but the habit remained; in other words, he acted
like a crazy man, and was to all seeming intents and
purposes a crazy man in that one thing. He would
drop upon his knees in the office and pray, and at last
would do the same thing in the street or the fields.
He appeared to think that no one saw him but a good
God, and that if he were seen he was unobserved.
It was a curious monomania. In all other respects
his mind was clear in all its functions, though by insensible degrees he became more and more mild and
gentle in his disposition, until he was almost useless
in the rough affairs of life.




344    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
We shall see that he yet had hard doubts to overcome, but I have, under the impulse of the moment,
anticipated the narration of the effects of the struggle
which I have heretofore attempted to describe. I have
had a painful task, and feel like indemnifying myself,
and the reader who has persevered in reading, by
this almost premature avowal that the painful portion
of his history is done. Hereafter, though we may pity
him for his mania, there will be no painful doubts concerning it. All was calm enough in his mind, and
everything was correct in his conduct, if we except
the habit in which he became confirmed.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DESCRIBES THE WEDDING, AND HAS A GOOD DEAL TO
SAY ABOUT COGNATE MATTERS.
IT was in early spring that the wedding took place.
The wintry winds which whirled about the dead
leaves, heaping them here, there leaving bare the
ground, had been driven to their northern caves by
the fair maid, Spring, who came upon the scene from
more southern lands, heralded by warm rains and a
more genial glow of the sun; bland zephyrs floating
mingled with the sheen; and an emerald carpet sphngled with modest star-flowers rose to her tread as she
advanced. The gray and russet buds fast swelling
big, burdened with joyous load each slender spray,




WHA T I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   345
and here and there branches and trees were seen with
yellow, silvery green and crimson, dotting the wood.
The beeches had begun to wave their banners, the
red-buds clothed themselves in rose color, and the
dogwood blossoms, growing fast from green to white,
gave notice to the rustic fishermen to prepare their
tackle. The wild violets, blue and white, covered the
mossy banks along the gurgling rills, pendant honeysuckles gemmed with dew fringed the bottoms, yellow
jessamines, wild pea, spiderwort, and daisies covered
the slopes, and bright verdure and many-colored flowers began to clothe the vales and crown each hill.
And every nook in earth and air was filled with
busy life. The hooping cranes circled high in noisy
consultation, or, with necks and legs outstretched,
took straight their northern flight. In the fields the
pitiless ploughshare, upturning the mellow earth,
wrenched to the light the nest of the timid field-mouse,
and crows and prying blackbirds, heedless of the loud
woa! and hawl of the ploughmen, scanned narrowly
each furrow to seize the unearthed worm and sluggish
snail; and the feathered songsters sent their notes
from every hill and brake as they searched about with
tender care where each might build its nest. From
some lowly bush the gentle thrush poured forth his
song of love with bated voice; the gallant partridge
strutting on a stump or fence gave out his loudest
challenge; in the clumps of hazels and dwarfed oaks
the gay redbird flaunted his bright plumage, and the
noisy jay delighted his soul with discord; twittering
swallows skimmed the verdant meads; noisy martins
and trustful wrens peered business-like around the




346     WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
eaves of every house; doves cooed softly, deep in the
wood, and from the topmost twig of some bush growing in the hedge the mocking-bird repeated ir ecstasy
every note he had ever heard or could invent. The
white-winged gnats in the sun's first glances weaved
their mazy dance in mystic cirole. The ants, bound
upon industry, commenced to excavate, and bore with
unwearied patience their mighty loads of loam and
grains ot sand; here a scout sped his zigzag course,
and there a long dark moving throng took its way in
devious line to some new enterprise.
Here on these weeds with cunning skill, last night
A spider wove her web, which, misty, bright,
-Like frosted silver, sparkles now with dew.
These gems will soon exhale and leave to view
A trembling, frail, attenuated thread,
To snap by wayward winds or passer's tread.
So when youth's freshness gems man's hopes they take
A misty radiance, tremble thus, thus break.
It was in this delightful season, early spring, that
the wedding took place-and Susan's heart was in
unison with the season. Not a single cloud obscured
the brightness of her sky; no obstacle presented itself
in her path; all the present was smooth and bright,
and all the future a glow of rosy light. She thought
that surely there never was before a girl so happy as
she; nor was there ever one better fitted for happiness
to herself and others.
It was to be a grand affair. Augusta, Charleston,
and New York had laid her under contribution for
her wedding garments-trousseau, I believe they are
called by the fashionable-and with air, earth, and sea
provided the feast. It was pleasant to see her for days




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   347
before the time, now in the house with the seamstresses,
snipping here, and directing there, and then tripping
to the kitchen to consult with Dinah and the assistant
cooks. And yet to me, who was there more than once,
it was more sad than pleasant. I had been formally
told of the approaching marriage, and then informally
talked to and consulted about it. To have spoken a
word against it could have done no possible good, and
must have caused unhappiness, if not ill will; and even
if I had been rashly frank, I had nothing tangible to
urge why it should not be consummated. If I had said
that Bowman was unsuitable, I should have been
asked: in what respect? and though I should have
mentioned ten good reasons, there was not one of them
which could not be palliated or excused. Had I said
that he was dissipated, I should have been told that it
was only because he had not a wife, and that almost
every young man was the same. His lying would
have been mere playful exaggeration, the result of an
exuberant fancy and a gay disposition; and I could
hardly have sustained a specific and marked example
of the still more serious defects which I rather suspected and feared than knew to be in his character.
But I instinctively felt that they were there, and it
was therefore more sad than pleasing to me to see the
lovely girl gaily anxious to deck herself for the sacrifice, and to furnish forth a feast for the occasion.
Getting married is a serious affair, though the large
majority make a jest of it. It is serious enough for
the man who is about assuming great responsibilities;
but it is infinitely more so to the woman, whose cares
anh responsibilities are much more varied and of in



348    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
finitely more importance.  I, who am a very old man
and have experienced and observed almost every phase
of human life, may surely be permitted to tell what I
know and think about this subject. I well recollect
upon my own wedding night wondering to myself at
the ignorance of perfect innocence, and at the perfect
faith in me my Mary must have to allow me to take
her in my arms as my wife. Surely the poor woman
who voluntarily subjects herself to a master, to toil
for him, suffer for him, and obey him (for all the suffering and obedience, and most of the wearing toil, are
her portion), must be looked upon by a gentleman with
the greatest admiration and respect! If he knows his
own nature he can find nothing in it to call forth such
self-abnegation, and nothing which can by any means
imitate, much less rival, her act. What is his love
compared with hers? what does he sacrifice? what
does he subject himself to? Nothing! absolutely nothing! True, it is her nature to do this, but is it any
the less admirable for that? I declare that whenever
I meet upon the street or elsewhere a woman about to
become a mother, I cannot forbear-taking off my hat
to her and bowing my head in reverential pity.
To gain a juster idea of the case, imagine a pure
and sensitive woman, forced by unnatural parents or
overwhelming circumstances to marry and submit herself to the embraces and the whims and habits of a
man she dislikes. Faugh! what disgust! what unutterable horror must fill her whole being! The violence
of ten thousand tragedies cannot equal it; no imaginable situation is so pathetic!
I have actually heard men argue that if the woman




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   349
does make a sacrifice for the man it is no more than he
does for the woman. Certainly we men must be-great
brutes when we do not appreciate the delicate sensitiveness and trusting love of the woman. We have no
such delicacy, because we are not so innocent. Our
love trusts more to a strong arm and a strong will in
ourselves, than to any qualities outside of ourselves;
whereas the woman is ignorant, loves, and must put
her whole trust in us.
Ah, poor women, who have to bear the burden of
the race and suffer the pangs of its renewalI we call
you fickle and vain, say that you amuse yourselves with
trifles, and are incapable of great achievements; as
though it were a reproach that she who has so much
to suffer should not coyly evade it if she might, she
whose lot is so hard should not pride herself upon the
charms which serve in many ways to relieve its exactions, and amuse herself with the veriest trifles which
can bring diversion and forgetfulness I Kind nature
has given these compensations which accord most exactly with her lot in life, and her fickleness, vanity, and
triviality render her more attractive and pleasant to
man. It is well for her that in addition to her hard
lot she has not to find her happiness in grand achievements, in the clash and turmoil of the world. It is
her greatest glory that those she bears and those she
loves go like men into the strife, and achieve great
things!
I fear that the best of men, though they may love
intensely, are not sufficiently appreciative and tender to
their wives or mothers. I know that Charley Bowman no more appreciated the noble confidence and de30




350    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
voted affection of Susan than would his discordant
soul have understood the divinest harmonies sung by a
seraph. He gloried in her beauty, her soft, luxuriant
hair, her rosy lips, her blooming cheeks, and symmetrical form, and he respected her for her wealth, which
was soon to be his own; but as for love, as love should
be, pure and sympathetic as well as ardent, he did not
know what it was. And she, sweet girl, had crowned
him with all the glorious virtues and excellencies man
can possess i
It vexes me to think of this marriage, though so
many years have passed away since it took place. And
yet, of what avail to be vexed or to complain, either at
the time or afterwards? In nine cases out of ten such
marriages seem as happy as any other. There ensues
a little coldness with one party and a little disappointment with the other, and the one contents himself as
best he may with the bargain he has made, and the
other bows herself to the yoke, and the world wags on,
and is peopled, and there is the end of it. Such mismatches are a vexation because the one party requires
a more appreciative master, and the other a stern mistress instead of a wife.
But to continue my narrative: grand were the preparations on this occasion, and Miss Maria Jones heard
with envious curiosity of all the fine things which had
been imported from New York; of the bonnet and veil,
of the second-day dress, the morning wrappers and
evening dresses, the wreaths, and other tricks and
furbelows which are used to set forth a bride and a
new  wife —but she, with irksome resolve, refrained
from. going to see them. It cost her many a pang to




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   351
hear the bridesmaids discuss what they should wear
and what they should do, and then to think that had
she only made more allowance in her calculations for
the variation of polarity she too might have shone in
this galaxy. But she was only a looker on; for as
there was no social reason for her being omitted she
received an invitation. Mrs. Garthwaite was inclined
to think that she had made no error, and Susan was
not one to bear malice, at any time.
Dr. Sam Stockdale also received an invitation for
himself, Sarah, and his mother. I rather think it was
sent by Mrs. Garthwaite herself. She always had a
singular confidence in the young man. I do not mean
that the confidence was undeserved, but that it was
singular in that it was so strong and so abiding. He
was the man she wished for a son-in-law, and she
seemed to feel his disappointment long after its rawness had been covered in him.
"Will you go, brother?" said Sarah to him, when
she saw the note inviting them.
"Certainly, I will  Why not?" said Sam, undismayed. "I'm sorry for Susan; but why should I not
go to her wedding? To stay away would look churlish, and might afford some pleasure to that dam-I
beg pardon, Sarah-to that infernal scoundrel she is
going to marry."
"I didn't think you had so much littleness about
you, brother, as to hate a man merely because he is
successful in what you desired for yourself. You know
that the affair with that other young lady was a mistake."
"Neither am I little, Sarah You jump at very




3 52   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
harsh conclusions for a just woman. Even though the
affair with Miss Charlton was a mistake, it is not the
only reason why I call him a scoundrel; I have known
the fellow from his childhood. However, never mind
that. I intend to go, and you had better go with me.
You can stay with Lily and see how she gets on in
her new paradise; and you can see, too, how I behave
myself at the wedding. I promise you I will not knock
the bridegroom down and take his bride off amid
screaming, overturned lights, and confusion-though
it would be the most benevolent piece of work I ever
did in my life if I should do so. Come, Sarah, get
ready!"
And she did get ready; and Lily fairly wept when
she saw her, although she had been absent from her
only a few weeks, and had already been married more
than long enough to have got over the novelty and
excitement of bridehood.
" What are you crying about, you silly child?" said
Sarah, when Lily's tears had flowed rather longer than
the occasion seemed to demand.
"O.h, I'm so happy, sister!" exclaimed the sobbing
Lily..
"I should think so," said the unsympathetic Sarah.
And then Lily began to laugh as unreasonably as
she had before wept, and Sarah had almost lost her
patience before the young wife became calm and sensible as she would have her.
And the young wife, who had also been bidden,
and her husband, and brother, and sister, and almost
half the county went to the wedding. Ben Eccles was
also there. He went as a duty and because he was




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   353
magnanimous. He had discovered the cruel trick his
false friend had played him, and it was with difficulty
and after much praying (heartfelt and reasonable
prayer it was, unblinded by error) that he had kept
himself from  taking a summary vengeance.  For
Susan's sake, at last, rather than from any religious
restraint, he had resisted his natural desire. His
prayers had been to have wisdom in the emergency so
to act as should be best for all parties; for himself, for
Bowman, for social order, and, above all, for Susan.
For himself, in the abstract, he cared nothing; for the
good of social order and for the good of Bowman himself he wished to give the young man a thrashing,
which he felt it would be a perfectly proper thing for
a Christian to do; but for Susan's sake, to save her
the pain of having a meanness exposed in one she
loved, and the mortification of having her name brought
into a quarrel, and having her beloved insulted or belabored, as he, (Ben) could and would have belabored
him, he restrained his just indignation, and upon his
invitation went to the wedding as calmly as though it
were all according to his wish.
I was there, of course. When I say: "of course,"
I mean that as I was Mrs. Garthwaite's lawyer as well
as her intimate friend from childhood, it was in the
social course of affairs that I should be there; and
also that if I had not been there I should not be ableto describe the affair as I have been doing, and am
about to do.
Susan was a charming bride. I do not know a more
trying ordeal to which beauty can be exposed than
the monotony of color and extreme precision of bridal
30*




354    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
garments, and I have rarely ever seen a woman who
looked so well thus dressed as she did when more
negligently and naturally attired. The darlings delight in colors; bright ribbons, cunning knots, and all
sorts of pretty little assortments and arrangements to
set themselves off with; and they know just which
colors and arrangements suit them best. To dress one
all in white is therefore unnatural, as I have said, and,
to my taste, better suits the bier than the bridal. But
Susan was one of those graceful, as well as beautiful,
beings to whom every sort of dress is becoming.  Let
but a dress fit her, and it was at once beautiful, whatever its color or material.
And Mr. Bowman, too, was very handsome. Every
one remarked that it was a glorious couple. Even Dr.
Sam muttered to himself that if looks were all it was
a happy marriage; and when, after the ceremony was
over, the bride and bridegroom were separated by the
throng around them, and then separated as those should
be who desire to be hospitable and not to attract attention to themselves as being weak and love-sick, the
doctor watched the gentle bride follow with proud and
softened gaze the movements of her husband, he mentally hoped that both might be happy, and mentally
registered additional vengeance against the groom if
they were not so.
That Mrs. Garthwaite should shed tears during the
ceremony seemed to Susan rather weak and ill timed,;
though she said nothing to her about it. But the poor
woman had cause for tears. She knew what her
daughter was undertaking so innocently and with such
faith, and even if Dr. Sam had been the groom, she




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   355
would have wept; and the doctor was not the man
M ho had to be trusted-more was the pity.
Mr. Snow performed the ceremony under Mrs.
Snow's eye, for she was there looking as much like a
fly-away as she had ever looked in her younger days
when she had had only four or five babies to take care
of.* I believe she was hooked-up all right, for a wonder, but she looked wild and undone about the hair, as
though at least two babies had touseled it.
It would never do for me to omit to mention in my
description the throng of negroes, principally women,
which blocked up windows and doors to gaze upon the
marriage of their young mistress. It was a source of
the greatest satisfaction to them; not that she was
going to be happy, for they took that for granted, or
never thought about it; but because her husband had
the reputation of being rich. Negroes have even an
extra share of human nature in that respect. They have
not the slightest respect for poverty in "white folks,"
no matter how honest and meritorious its possessors
may flatter themselves it is. " Poor white trash" they
abominate. The rich they sometimes hate, but always
respect. For a doctor, or a lawyer' or a preacher to
be poor is not at all out of the way in their eyes; they
have other claims to respect than mere wealth, and are
not included in the term " Poor white trash;" but no
one else, who has not plenty of money or property, is
excluded.
* The reader will find a full description of Mrs. Snow in
Mr. Page's life of himself, already published.
JOHN CAPELSAY, Exr.




356    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Late in the evening, after the dancing had been
going on for some time, and the gallery and hall were
full of promenaders, and all the guests had become
engaged in amusing themselves as they thought best,
I sauntered out into the front yard where, beneath the
glorious stars, I could reflect a little upon what had
happened, was happening, and should happen. The
dew glistened on the leaves of the shrubbery and
sparkled in drops on the blades of grass, the katydids
and crickets rivaled the music of the fiddles and tamborines I heard behind me, and the hoot of the owls in
the distant forest showed that all was undisturbed
there. And as I walked, musing, and pleased with
the agreeable change, I thought I saw the outlines of
a man's form kneeling near a young oak by the garden
walk, and as I approached nearer, said: " Well, Ben,
so you too seek the delicious calm out of doors," not at
all heeding his attitude; for I had learned that he appeared either to be unconscious of the position, or to
think that no one could observe it as unnatural. I had
to wait a few moments for him to conclude his prayer,
and when he had done so he rose from his knees and
gave me his hand as frankly as though he had been
only standing up engaged in thought, and said: "Excuse me, Mr. Page; I was thinking deeply, and did
not hear your remark-though it seemed to me you
said something."'
" Yes, Ben; I say that you too appear to seek the
delicious calm of nature, rather than stay in the house
with the young folk."
" Oh, you know that I am very much of an old fogy,
Mr. Page. I regret sometimes that I did not learn to




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   357
dance. I might have been able to add so much more to
the pleasure of others; but we are generally wise when
it is too late; at least, I am. The bride looked very
beautiful to-night, I thought."
" Yes; she is a lovely woman, and I hoped she would
have made a different match. I hope that she too may
not find that wisdom comes too late sometimes," said
I, wishing to draw him out.
"I was thinking of that too, when I made my remark. I do hope and pray that her life may be one of
uninterrupted happiness. A woman risks so much
when she marries that I wonder more of them do not
become old maids. Susan, though, is so prudent and
so good that I do not see how any one could ever be
unkind to her. You know, sir, that from my childhood
I have never admired the person she has married, but
it seems to me that her gentle and therefore powerful
influence must result in making him kind to her, even
if it cannot eradicate his evil habits."
"What are his evil habits, Ben?"
" I do not like to talk about them, sir, for it is possible I may be prejudiced. We all have more or fewer
evil habits, and to those who do not like us they generally appear exaggerated."
" I know you too well, Ben, to suppose you would
exaggerate, however much you might dislike.  For
instance, is he not sincere? You can answer me
that."
And thereupon, with the confidence he had had in
me from his early boyhood, he told me of the manner
in which Bowman had urged him to court Susan, and
concluded: "I was very angry when I learned the




358    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
way in which I had been served, and yet I do not
know but that I should thank him for having done me
a great service. The agitation of the occasion brought
on that attack of sickness, which, I can tell you, sir,
resulted in my gaining a peace of mind to which I had
long been a stranger, and for which I had most fervently prayed. What do you think of the efficacy of
prayer, Mr. Page?"
"I knew your condition of mind, Ben, but knew
that I could do nothing for your relief. I am heartily
glad that you have emerged from it; and it should
seem that prayer had been very efficacious in your
case. "
" I do not mean efficacious mentally or spiritually to
the person who prays, sir, for no one can help observing and admitting that. I mean, what do you think of
its efficacy as regards outward events, matters with
which the person's own soul or mind can have no connection-as, for instance, health, or deliverance from
danger, or fortune, or the affairs of the outer world?"
As this was not our last conversation upon this subject, and I shall hereafter have a more fitting opportunity to relate my answer and all the points of our
discussion, I will not now any longer divert the reader's
attention from the wedding, though I have but little
more to say about it. I will only remark that I could
not get Ben to manifest the least malignancy towards
Charley Bowman, although I knew perfectly well that
were the occasion to arise he would feel and act almost
exactly as Dr. Sam was already vowing in his heart to
act. Ben was more gentle and more unsuspicious than
was his friend Sam; and that was all.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   359
When we returned to the house supper had been
already announced, and Mrs. Garthwaite was looking
for me to accompany her at the head of the procession
always formed upon such occasions. And after I went
to perform my part in that ceremony I had no sight of
Ben until, after the supper was over and it was time for
the guests to retire, I saw him go manfully up to the
bride and take her by the hand, bid her good night,
and express the wish that she might have a long and
happy life. And I came nearer loving him when I
saw his magnanimity, fortitude, and gracefulness on
that occasion than I ever came before. Susan, too,
seemed struck by it, and I know that she thought of it
many a time afterwards when, though her path had
diverged so far from that in which her former lover was
forced to walk, she had occasion to contrast his former
love and sufferings with his subsequent steady friendship and quiet usefulness.
Gradually the candles had burned low in the sconces
and candlesticks, the music became more monotonous
and languid, the guests began to yawn in the passage
and on the gallery, and then there was a search for
shawls and bonnets and other coverings, and the rumble of carriages moving was heard without, and the
neighing of restless horses, and then The Barn was
left to quiet.




360    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
CHAPTER XXXV.
TELLS ABOUT SOME OF THE VISITORS THE YOUNG COUPLE
HAD WHEN THEY MOVED TO THEIR HOME, AND GIVES
MANY WHYS AND WHEREFORES. IT ALSO SPEAKS OF
A VISIT MADE BY ALICE CHARLTON TO ROSSTOWN, AND
WHAT DID NOT HAPPEN THERE, AND WHOM SHE FOUND
WHEN SHE GOT HOME.
MR. BOWMAN had passed gallantly through the
courtship and marriage, but there were other ordeals which were to him far more trying, and through
which he had reasonable fears that he should not be
able to pass unscathed. It was already arranged that
the young couple should go at once to housekeeping at
his residence near his father's, and it had been repainted, repapered, and refurnished for their reception. The first essay at keeping house alone, and the
first introduction into the neighborhood and circle of
her husband's parents and friends, with their criticisms,
and peculiarities of habit, disposition, and character,
were somewhat embarrassing to Susan. But she had
no dread, no undercurrent of uneasiness, nor were
these matters which seemed to concern her husband
at all. In fact he never once thought about either the
trouble or the embarrassments of his young wife, any
more than he feared he should not have bread and
meat, furniture, preserves, and pickles enough, or any
other things which might be bought with money.
The introducction of his wife into his neighborhood,




WIlAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   361
where every one knew and distrusted his peculiarities,
and, above all, her meeting with Alice, that hoyden,
were the matters which gave him an uneasiness he
could not shake off.
I am not ascribing to him too much delicacy of feeling when I say this. He had the natural desire that
his wife should look upon him as without defect. Her
being loved and addressed by other men was too
recently possible for him to be able to shake off the
fear of being exposed and then brought into comparison
with them, and though he should not care how mean
he was in the abstract, he must care not to seem mean
to one who was not grounded and settled in her affections.
Now you and I know that this was not only nonsense, but a sort of sacrilegious nonsense; a vile miscomprehension of the noble and strong-hearted woman
who had married him, and who loved him purely and
more than she did her own being; who worshipped
him. But what should you have from an animal but
an animal instinct?
At any rate, whether sentiment or instinct, whether
shame or cowardice, he did dread the time when his
wife should become acquainted with Alice. And he
wondered to himself how the meeting should take
place, for he knew it must occur sooner or later.
Would Alice call at his house? At first he was inclined to doubt it, but when he reflected that if she did
not his wife would remark it and might be led to suspect the cause, he began to really hope that she would
call. "Oh, confound her," he said to himself, "she
has spunk enough to call; there's no fear on that score;
31




362    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
but may she not dislike me so that she will not care to
come? I do wish to goodness she would come at
once and have it over. And I do hope that she will
take a fancy to Susan. Not that I care a damn
whether she likes her or not, but it will make it just
that much easier for me. And I hope that old fool of
an aunt will come too. Oh, confound them I let them
all come and let's be friends and good neighbors. But
what will Susan say when she sees her? and then
when she knows her? There's the rub 1"
A man must have delicate sensibilities to comprehend a woman's nature. A great brute who must cry
out when he is pinched cannot understand the noble
hypocrisy-sometimes called fortitude-the peculiar
characteristic of woman. Consequently Mr. Bowman
had no capacity to comprehend either Alice or Susan.
Had he understood Alice he would have known that all
her keen senses were alive to extricate herself, even in
her own estimation, from the false position in which
she felt herself. And had he known his wife he would
have known that she was not likely to suspect him,
and would hardly comment, unless laughingly, upon the
mistaken impression he had given her of Alice; and
that even if she did suspect, even if she did know the
whole truth, she would treat it as a matter too late to
be remedied, and he should never discover the shock
to her respect for him the discovery of his deceit
(lying) had given her.
It was but a few days after their arrival that Alice
and her aunt paid their first visit. In addition to her
desire to right herself, Alice had a very natural and
lively curiosity to see the young lady who had been




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   363
so suddenly preferred to herself; and as Susan had just
as natural and just as lively a curiosity to see the
young lady who had given her so much foolish uneasiness, they were mutually prepared to make themselves
most attractive. Both were agreeably disappointed,
and, to tell the truth, I think they were the two most
glorious women of their generation in our part of the
country; and how such a fellow as Bowman should
have ever been so placed as to have his choice of
them is to me a matter of some surprise and a great
deal of mortification. The best gentleman in the world
would have thought his happiness and glory of manhood complete with either, and for a Charles Bowman
to have had his choice only proves that the most perfect of human beings are subject to errors of judgment,
and are never so easily misled as when attracted by
the fair seeming of others, and urged by their own
affections.
Last night, wearied with writing, I went to bed, and
during the night I dreamed a dream which made my
soul rejoice. I dreamed that my face was smooth and
ruddy, my eyes bright and soft, my hair glossy, and
that I had the most beautiful mouth in the world. It
was of entrancing beauty, in color, form, and expression, and looking in the mirror I said beau-ti-ful,
beau - ti -ful, several times, and admired the movement
and the sweet smile which accompanied the pronunciation of the word.  Ah, thought I, no wonder that I
am beloved and admired by all the young ladies and
by the old of both sexes I and as I am so beloved, no
wonder that my heart is so filled with love for all.
Alice had once been almost as much charmed with




364    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
Bowman as I was in my dream with my own face;
but I waked to see a wrinkled, gray-headed, and toothless old man, and she had waked to see Bowman just
as unlovely as he really was. And the dear girl, so
far from feeling malice towards him, prayed that Susan
should never discover his defects and worthlessness,
and that the influence of her goodness might lead him
to better things.
But all this is not giving a description of the visit,
although it was remarkable rather for the feelings of
the parties than for anything that occurred. Aunt
Polly was perfectly grand in her black silk dress and
snowy cap. Her worsted gloves had given place to
black silk mittens, and her white apron to one to suit
her gown. The ordinary briskness of her movements
was changed to a straight and benignant dignity, which
she thought vastly becoming the occasion of a visit to
a bride who had the reputation of being so fine and yet
so sensible. I really cannot tell how Alice was dressed,
for, like Susan, whatever she wore became her, and
nothing she could choose was ever so extravagant in
color or form as to be remarked-though I do not doubt
but that either of them could have told to the last
detail the color, cut, and material, and even the probable cost, of every portion of the dress and toilette of
the other.
Susan, it must be confessed, was a little taken aback
when instead of a laughing, boisterous, giddy girl of
only ordinary good looks, she met in her visitor a
dignified, perfectly well-bred, and almost perfectly
beautiful woman-but the disappointment caused no
embarrassment. She was as pleasant to her visitors




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   365
as could well be one in her situation-a new-comer,
who wished the hearty suffrages of all, and particularly
of her nearest neighbors, and those such estimable persons. Mr. Bowman, himself, who was present, was
not so easy when she laughingly referred to him as
being here where he was raised, and among his old
friends; and was but little relieved when Aunt Polly
remarked rather stiffly that she had known Mr. Bowman all his life. It was grazing almost too nearly the
subject upon which he was now most sensitive. It was
bad enough that Alice's looks and manners gave him
the lie; if that other part of his lie came out, what
should he do!
To make a long story short, when the visitors had
departed, Susan said to her husband: "Oh, what a
charming girl I How glad I am that she is such a near
neighbor!" and then she archly added, kissing him,
"What did you mean by telling me that story about
her being boisterous, and only pretty? Why, she's
perfectly beautifull and her manners are most ladylikel You must have been blinded, sir."
All of which was very comforting to Mr. Bowman's
consciousness.
But some way or another the fair neighbors, though
mutually so pleased, did not at once contract one of
those violent friendships which lead to intimacy and
constant intercourse.  I am  inclined to think that
Alice, though pleased, did not encourage any such intimacy. She did not directly discourage it, for neither
was she one to be impolite, nor was Susan a woman to
force herself upon another. The latter would have
been perfectly willing for the most fervent friendship,
31*




366   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
but was rather too absorbed in her new existence to
find it unless it were placed so that she could hardly
avoid it. Not to encourage was therefore sufficient,
and each was contented to think the other worthy of
all her esteem and love in case it should occur that the
esteem and love should need an object.
This was not, however, the only reason why the
friendship did not at once ripen. It will be remembered that it was during the summer before this that
Alice had come from Shoccoville to live with her Aunt
Polly, and had been first seen at church by Mr. Bowman. For some months, then, taken up with the visits
and the dreams, the turmoil and the strife of spirit, she
had had no desire to visit and make acquaintance in the
county and the immediate neighborhood. The consequence was, that though her fame had spread abroad
for beauty, and goodness, and talent, she knew personally but few persons. Except to go a few times
with her aunt on shopping expeditions she had hardly
left home. Even Sarah Stockdale had never seen her
though she went to church every Sunday, and, living
on the main street, had an excellent opportunity for
seeing all strangers who came to town. She had
known Aunt Polly from Sam's childhood, but Aunt
Polly's niece was almost a myth.
But the time had come when Alice's retirement was
to be disturbed; and as she had neither duties nor
solicitude to prevent it she soon had plenty of acquaintances and great popularity-though "popularity" was
a word she disliked. One Sunday Dr. McCleod having
to preach at Rosstown (as the phrase is, be "filled the
pulpit" of the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, who had to be




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   367
absent to attend Presbytery), Alice and her aunt went
with him. The dear girl was as much the admiration
of the Rosstownians as she had been of the Spring
Hill congregation; and when the meeting was over
Sarah Stockdale, in her own impulsive way, went up to
Aunt Polly, saluted her affectionately, was introduced
to Alice, and fairly forced the old doctor and his party
to go home with her to dinner. And in the same impulsive and powerful way she fairly forced Aunt Polly
and the old gentleman to go home without Alice,
promising to fetch her herself as soon as she desired
to go.
Now the astute reader discovers the whole story at
once. Alice sees Dr. Sam and Dr. Sam sees Alice,
and both fall vehemently in love and marry at once I
That is the plan of the sharp reader, and he is ready to
exclaim: " What a splendid match!" But wait a little,
my dear sir. You have, perhaps, heretofore found
yourself disappointed in your expectations, and you
have, at any rate, found that the final arrangement of
things is not always in accordance with the apparent
fitness of things. You may find it so again. I am
writing what I know about Ben Eccles, Aunt Polly's
pet; and although in order to tell his whole story I have
had to say a great deal about other persons, and to
show him sometimes at a very great disadvantage, you
must not too hastily conclude that I am going to describe every one else happy and leave him lonely.
The fact is, that even if Alice had met Dr. Sam,
neither he nor she was in the mood to fall in love. He
was still in the calm which succeeded the violent storm
of his love for Susan; and she was tenfold more cau



368   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
tious with her affections than she had ever been before.
But she did not see him. There was a great deal of
sickness in the country and he was hardly ever at home
to a meal; often, except for a few hours at night, not
at home at all for three or four days at a time, and his
mother and sisters knew of his movements only through
the servants, or by sometimes hearing his voice calling
for his hostler. It happened that while Alice was
there, though he was once or twice at home, he did not
know that she was in the house.
When she got home, however, the following Friday,
she met Ben Eccles, who had come on a visit to Aunt
Polly and the scene of so many years of his boyhood.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A CHAPTER THE READER CAN SKIP IF HE BE READING
ONLY FOR THE STORY.
DO not know a more appropriate place than this for
making a condensed statement of the discussions
between Ben and myself about the efficacy of prayer.
It would be somewhat unnatural if it did not appear
that I did most of the talking; for, apart from personal
habit, I was in the place of an instructor, and he in
place of one who wished to learn rather than to controvert. It should, doubtless, be to the credit of my
modesty if I would substitute another for myself and
represent Ben as the instructor, particularly as it may




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   369
turn out that I was neither a learned nor wise instructor; but I must represent the matter just as it was.
The reader can avoid every question, either personal
or about the subject-matter, by skipping the chapter;
and shall not have to say if he read it that I entrapped
him into doing so.
Ben's question was, what I thought of the efficacy,
and consequently of the utility of prayer in matters
which do not directly concern the mental or spiritual
education of the one who prays; for, he said, every
one can observe and must admit its personal benefit.
I give the idea, not his words.
He had been studying some of the modern philosophers, who, having discovered, as they say, that everything is governed by fixed laws and must happen in
accordance with them, conclude that prayer is useless,
and therefore foolish.  This is, I think, a brief but correct statement of their position, stripped of its verbiage;
and it puzzled Ben, as it certainly has puzzled me, and
a vast number of men wiser and better than either of
us. Every reader will see at once that it was peciuliarly of a character to distress one who had gone
through such a conflict and had prayed so fervently, and,
apparently, so ineffectually as he had; and that it was
a difficulty which very naturally and forcibly presented
itself to him.
I believe, said I to him, that every modern philosopher worthy of respect admits that there is a God,
from whom has emanated what we call nature or the
universe, with every substance tangible and intangible,
soul as well as body; and there can be no doubt but
that what they say is true: that everything is gov



370    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
erned by fixed laws. But it seems to me that at the
outset there is danger of a misapprehension of terms.
The properties of substances are fixed, and must have
their effects, and the same effects when the proper conjunctions are made of substance, time, place, temperature, or whatever other incidents may be necessary.
An alkali, for instance, will neutralize an acid, and
when their relative strength and all other incidents are
precisely the same, will neutralize it in the same way
and to precisely the same degree. Gravitation is also
a phenomenon which has an unchangeable law: that
it is inversely as the square of the distance of the
bodies that are attracted.
Now, in this sense of law, as applied to the invariable properties of substances, to gravitation, and to
every other atom and portion of creation, the philosophers are strictly correct, and no amount of prayer is
going to change those laws; nor is there any promise
upon which such a prayer can reasonably be founded.
The infraction of one of these natural laws will bring
its punishment, and there is no escape; and the wisdom, knowledge, and power which have created and
placed and continued in operation all of these laws
which never change, never conflict, and never, it would
seem, can be all discovered, is past the comprehension
of finite man.
But when we go higher and attempt to bind the
Creator by his own laws, we must make a distinction.
God is, indeed, "a law unto himself;"' that is to say,
He can never do what is contrary to the perfection of
His own attributes; He can never be unjust, or unwise,
or unholy. But here we must stop. He cannot be in



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   371
eluded in the "everything" or "all things" of the philosophers; and although He has, according to the
counsel of His own will, ordained the laws of nature,
there is not one of them which He cannot change,
direct, or abrogate, if He, in accordance with His infinite attributes, see fit to do so. That He does not so
continually is only a proof of the infinity of His wisdom when he first created and set them in operation,
and cannot be used as an argument against His power
to change or abrogate. The miracles performed by
our Saviour prove His power to do so to those who
believe that those miracles were performed; and that
He has the power to do so, which must be admitted by
every thinker, is a good evidence of the possibility, if
not of the probability, of the miracles.
One great difficulty, Ben, in arguing about this and
similar matters is, that one does not always know his
auditor, and therefore does not know where and how
to commence with him. As you believe the Bible, I
can use with you what may be called Christian arguments, that is, can take for granted many propositions
which it would take volumes to set in order and elucidate to another who does not bel;eve the Bible. Nevertheless, what I have heretofore said is, and what I am
going to say shall be, fair argument for all those who
believe with the philosophers that there is a God who
is the Creator. But there is one point I wish to speak
of and lay aside as I proceed.
The philosophers puzzle themselves greatly over
"the time when," and say that as God (and consequently all His attributes) has existed from all eternity,
it is impossible to imagine a time when creation did




372    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
not exist; and they talk of the millions and billions of
years during which this earth, with its indestructible
elements, has been whirling in space in company with
other planets and their indestructible elements, until
they make one's head ache with trying to imagine
"the time when." I will readily grant that no man
can imagine a beginning to creation-because it is impossible for any man to imagine nothing. Space seems
to be all innate idea, if there be no other innate ideas;
and space includes within it,bounds. If a man try to
imagine Nothing, he imagines Space, as I take it, and
that is something, and a thing which includes other
things. But because I cannot imagine God without a
creation, any more than I can a creation without a God,
is no reason why there should not have been a beginning. " In the beginning God created the heavens and
the earth," and it is no matter whether our imaginations can or cannot conceive when the beginning was,
since we cannot imagine creation without a Creator, or
without a beginning.
I will readily grant, then, that no man can imagine
a time when only God existed, and there was nothing
created-that is to say, will grant that no man can
imagine how it looked or would have been perceived by
his bodily senses when that was the case; when there
was neither light, nor darkness, nor atmosphere, nor
tangible object. I will, I say, grant this; but at the
same time I deny the consequence drawn by the philosophers that therefore God is himself governed by
immutable laws of creation. Let me even grant, in
order to narrow down the controversy to the point at
which I wish to arrive, that God is bound by those ira



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   373
mutable laws as to the original frame of the universe
and its original elements and laws; yet it is certain
that at a recent time the present things and order of
things on this earth were created, for the geologists
themselves can show irrefutable evidences that that has
been the case: the natural increase of the human race
proves it. We here, then, have a beginning, which is
sufficient for my argument. But recently the creative
power has been exerted, and within historical times
stars have disappeared which had either existed from
the original no-beginning of the philosophers, or had
subsequently been created for a certain purpose and
then removed. God, the Creator, in this recent exertion of His power, made substances different from those
which He had before made, on this earth at least, and,
consequently, properties different from those He had
before made. I do not say contrary, but different; for
that all, whether the recent, or the previously created,
are and were in precise accordance with His wisdom,
goodness, justice, and holiness, cannot be doubted.
We see then, Ben, that God, the Creator, has made
everything and governs everything by laws, but that
He can change or abrogate those laws at His will,
when to do so is in accordance with His perfections;
and that He has accordingly, at a comparatively recent
date, both abrogated and changed, and has also created
new and different objects and essences with new and
additional, if not different laws. When He created
man-whom all allow to be one of the latest of His
creations-He gave him a soul and a different body
from any previous creation, on this earth at least, and
adapted to each other the soul and the body, and the
P32




3714    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
laws which govern them. Remark now, that the farther we remove our inquiries from man the more general and simple are the laws, the effects of which we
see, and the nearer we come to him the more numerous
and complex they are. So numerous are these laws,
and to such complexity does their action upon each
other lead, that it can never be hoped that man with
his finite mind shall be able even to approximate to
any precise generalization of their action. Take, for
instance, the health of the human body; an astronomer
call tell the exact spot to which any star shall have
progressed one hundred and forty-two years and six
months hence, but he cannot tell what shall be the
state of any one of his own bodily functions in a half
hour from that time; and yet his body is the subject of
law just as much as is the star. So with regard to all
his affairs; his best laid plans miscarry, and often without a definite plan he succeeds. So uncertain, indeed,
are all of his own concerns, internal and external, even
those over which he seems to have most control, that
he has invented the word "Chance," although he
knows and sees every moment that no effect whatever
can be without a cause, and that every cause acts according to a law.
To admit that God has the power to change, or abrogate, or interfere with any one, or any series of the
substances and laws He has established, is sufficient to
encourage a man who desires very strongly to hope
that He will do so in a given case; but we are not left
to hope superstitiously in the matter, nor are we bound
to believe that though God has full power over His substances and laws, He ever interferes with them in order




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   375
to answer prayer. Our hope that our prayers shall be
efficacious is based upon the nature of man, and upon
the promises of God, as well as upon His nature.
Man has sins which demand contrition, has blessings
to give praise for, has dangers to be preserved from;
and has benefits to desire, and it is not only his duty to
pray, and not only is prayer the becoming act of a
creature, but it is also his nature to pray. His Creator has implanted in his heart the necessity of prayer,
and all men pray at some times just as naturally as
they gasp, or cry out, or are pleased or displeased at
other times. Prayer is the instinctive act of an inferior,
and we see it manifested in the lower animals towards
those stronger than they and towards man. It would be
altogether foolish, then, whatever the philosophers may
say, to suppose that this instinct, this necessity, is a
mere fruitless instinct and necessity implanted in the
nature of man only for a moral purpose. Even if we
had no revelation we. should suppose that there must
be efficacy in it, not only morally upon the man himself, but also to procure what he prays for. But we
have a revelation which warrants us in praying; for it
tells us that our prayers are heard, and promises that
they shall be answered if we pray aright and for what
is really for our good.
This is an argument, and a sure argument to a
Christian, but there are many Christians who need constant reference to it; for their faith in the efficacy of
prayer must have some higher authority than their own
mistaken ideas and short-sighted observation.
That God can answer prayer, and has promised to
answer prayer is a sufficient warrant for a Christian to




376    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
pray, though he may not understand or even be capable of understanding the whys and wherefores of logic
and the subtle reasonings of metaphysics.
It is not necessary to suppose that in order to answer
prayer, or to bless or preserve a man, the great Creator,
who is infinite in His wisdom and power, and who sees
the end from the beginning, has to interfere in the
minutest degree with the order He has established.
From the beginning He has known every prayer which
should be made, and from the beginning He determined,
according to the counsel of His own will, which should
be and which should not be answered; and from the
beginning, without ever the slightest interference,
cause may have produced effect, and effect becoming
cause produced its effects, and combining those effects
with others produced still other effects, so that at the
moment the effect should be produced which answers
the prayer, or produces the blessing or preservation.
If you now say that since it is the case that all things
are ordered beforehand there is no need to pray! I
answer, in the first place, that you cannot overcome
your own nature which impels you to pray; but I also
add, that while it is certain that if you do not pray you
cannot receive an answer to prayer, it is equally certain that you must and shall pray-the prayer as well
as the answer to it has been foreordained.
This may sound to some very dogmatical, and some
may even for a moment call it nonsensical: but let me
ask such if they think that God has ordained the order
of events coupled with "ifs " and " buts," as a chessplayer is bound to do?  That if the man pray so and
so, then such and such a thing shall happen, and if he




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   377
pray another thing, so and so will happen, and if he do
not pray at all, then another and a different thing shall
happen? This, if prayer be answered at all, would
place the whole destiny of the world, in which effects
follow causes in unbroken and certain sequence, at the
whim of any one man of the human race. If Hezekiah
had not prayed, America might not have been discovered; but as he did pray, the Rothschilds are the great
bankers of the nineteenth century.
Man's nature and God's promises lead to rational,
faithful prayer, whether God interfere to keep His promises, or have preordained the action of His laws for
their fulfillment; and though I think it more probable
that the latter is the case, because to the infinitely wise
God no interference can be necessary, and because to
my finite mind, which is now judging, it appears that
the slightest interference might produce uncertainty (so
intimate is all the harmonious connection of nature),
and uncertainty would have the most disastrous effects
upon the character of man, who would not then know
what to depend upon-yet, whether the one or the
other, whether by preordination or interference, God
does answer prayer, and prayer is therefore efficacious.
When we say that God answers prayer, we do not
mean that He directly complies with all the prayers
made and directions given Him by His creatures. It
would be in direct contradiction of His infinite goodness, wisdom, justice, and holiness, if He should do so.
But here is what a man can confidently affirm: that
" all things work together for good to them that love
God;" and that if what they pray for is that wvhich
shall be for their good, they shall receive it; and if it
32*




378   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
would not be for their good, His love will refuse it.
This is what the Christian may depend upon. He is
not left to any uncertainty about it; and if he have the
proper spirit of humble dependence upon the superior
knowledge, wisdom, and love of God as to what is best
for him, he shall never be disappointed in his prayers;
for they will always be coupled with a reference and a
deference to that superiority. He never prays for
bread and receives a stone, or for meat, and has a serpent given him. Take your own case, Ben. You know
it more intimately than any one else can know it. If
you have ever been disappointed in receiving what you'thought you had a warrant to pray for, has not the disappointment turned out for good to you? Has it not
invariably been the means of producing other blessings,
and often far greater blessings?
I do not believe that it is always only the prayer of
the Christian which brings an answer. The prayer of
the creature is often answered by an infinitely loving
Creator. The people of Nineveh have not been the
only heathen whose repentance and prayers have been
accepted and answered.
But I am convinced that there is and has been a
great deal of superstition, and a vast amount of arrogance felt about this very matter of prayer. In China
when it will not rain, or rains too much, the people upbraid their Gods and beat them;. and there are, I fear,
many otherwise good persons who have the Chinese
idea that God owes a duty to them, and who feel reproachful and rebellious towards Him when it is not
performed to suit them. This spirit is very different
from that humble dependence and confidence a Chris



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   379
tian or a creature should feel. God promises and will
bestow his blessing temporal and spiritual; but " Thus
saith the Lord God; I will yet for this be inquired of
by the house of Israel to do it for them; * * * * * *
and they shall know that I am the Lord."
CHAPTER XXXVII.
TAKES UP THE STORY AGAIN, AND DISCOURSES LEARNEDLY UPON LOVE.
T REALLY do not know what immediate effect was
produced upon Ben Eccles by my attempt to concentrate in one short conversation a subject which has
exhausted so many wise and learned brains, and so
many large volumes, without being itself exhausted.
He was a very respectful young man, and though the
conversation (or talk) had appeared tediously long,
and my reasoning pitifully meagre, he would not have
manifested weariness or contempt. I have always
had a fear to enter into an explanation of questions of
such great importance, either in conversation or in
writing, lest I should hurt the truth by my own ignorance and the weakness of my reasoning powers. But
though I cannot expect from the reader the deference
paid me by Ben, I feel sure that he will excuse my
feebleness on account of my motive, and will grant that
though I may have done no good I have certainly done
no harm by my effort. I love to try to do good when



380    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
ever an opportunity offers itself, but at the same time
am often glad and frequently doubtful of success when
I am through with the effort. I am particularly relieved, however, in the present instance for the remembrance of that talk and the effort I knew I should have
to make to reproduce it have been weighing upon my
mind almost ever since I commenced to write this
history. To give a true knowledge of Ben I had to
speak of his doubts, and it is evident that to speak of
them, and not to clear them up, or attempt to do so,
would be the part neither of a philosophic writer nor
of a true friend.
However, I am through with it, and can go on with
my story.
Let me see. I left Ben at Dr. McCleod's, where
Alice found him upon her return from Rosstown.
Well, my dear reader, he did not at once go on his
knees to her, nor did she fall violently in love with
him. They were a very sober-sided couple. She
looked at him, and no doubt said to herself: Well,
that's Ben Eccles, is it? Aunt Polly's pet I He's a
queer enough looking young gentleman, but I suppose
is all that's excellent. I wonder what he's thinking
aboutl And he looked at Alice, and perhaps said to
himself: So this is Alice Charlton! Aunt Polly's
niece! She's a splendid looking girl, and I'll be bound
is a good one! I wonder what she thinks of the
efficacy of prayer?
You perceive that every meeting of young folk who
are marriageable is not productive of either poetic or
any other kind of fire, and you may have seen less
hopeful meetings than this produce very joyous results.




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLJS.   381
Alice had a thousand things to think of with which
Ben neither had nor could have the slightest concern,
and Ben had abstruse as well as practical sorrows and
difficulties which Alice could scarcely have comprehended had she heard them. There was one resemblance between them which, however, served as a cause
for no nearer contact of feeling than they at first experienced. Each had had a grievous wound to the
affections: with Alice it had left an ugly scar-called
contempt; but with Ben, whose wound was a thousand
times more profound, the effect had been very different.
He had no cause for contempt; no cause for hatred.
The object he worshipped was as bright as ever, though
less attainable; and though he was no child to cry for
moon or sun, he none the less admired it. The fact
was, that having loved Susan once he was bound to
love her as long as life lasted, and to love her as purely
and chivalrously now that she was married as he did
when she was a maid. His was no groveling soul to
hate the lovely because she could not love him, nor
was he so low as to covet the wife or the happiness of
another. Far from it, he would-though the thought
did not disturb his more unsuspicious fancy-most
cheerfully have thrashed his friend Charles had he
proved unkind or unfaithful to his wife, or most vigorously have punished any other man who had
whispered or looked an insult to her.
But the necessity was upon him to sometimes see his
idol. He hardly intended to call at her house, but he
loved to be near her, to feel that he breathed the same
air, and could render her his protection and assistance
if she might possibly need them. It must be remem



382    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
bered that love is a feeling, and not one of the reasoning faculties. His reason could have told him that she
felt that she had sufficient protection and aid with her
husband near her, and that even if she did not feel so
the chances were almost infinite against his having
any opportunity to render either, but his love suggested
that he might (who knew?) do the loved one some
service, and that, at any rate, it was pleasant to be in
a place to do so if the chance arose. Love in woman
is sometimes a brooding, tremulous, nonsensical, and
fantastical sort of quiet hysterics, and in this case Ben
much resembled a woman.
As my young readers (always in case I should have
any, young or old) may like to hear what an old man
thinks of love between the sexes, I will tell them a result or two of my experience and observation. There
is a vast deal of humbug in the popular representation
of the passion, most notably in the idea that it must
be single in its object. That it is most frequently so I
grant, but I deny that it is necessarily so. And yet
we must distinguish.
To the beautiful we naturally ascribe every good
quality. Many a man at sight of a very beautiful
woman feels a pang of discontent at the wife who has
been good to him and true to him through long years
of sorrow, trouble, and, perhaps, of wickedness.  I
think it is most rarely the case, however, that a further
acquaintance with the disposition and mind'of the
beautiful one does not, if his heart be noble, refreshen
the languid love for the faithful wife. Her love for
him, a love he can hope for nowhere else, draws him
back to her. She may not be so beautiful in face, but




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   383
her affection haloes her homeliness; her form may not
be so symmetrical and graceful, but she is trusting
and true. She is his, soul and body; no thought of
preference for another, however handsome, ever intrudes into the heart she has consecrated a temple to
his worship-unworthy idol! It would be rejected
with indignation and a bitter sense of self-insult. He
knows it too, and would feel utterly wretched if he did
not feel certain of it; and yet his eyes wander away
after beauty-and his heart goes with them a little
way.
I never saw a woman to be preferred in any way to
my Mary. She was to me as beautiful and as holy as
the mother of mankind, and the eyes and heart of
Adam were not more safe from wandering than were
mine. But I know my heart; and if by chance I had
seen a more perfect woman, and had found myself in
danger of being lured by her charms, even to a sigh
of regret, I could have had but one refuge. I could
not have gone to principle, or to fear of consequencesfor both should have been vain. I should have had
to refer myself to AMary's fond affection, to her pride
in me, her holiness to me, and her sufferings for me,
and to ask myself if I would like this other to take
her place; and not till then should my whole nature
have risen in horror at the thought.
It is not the man's love nor the wife's beauty which
keeps a man faithful; it is the wife's love which binds
her husband to her, and, as a corollary, unless she
love fondly, yet prudently, there is no trusting his
heart at home or away.
Nevertheless, I can conceive a man of such a nature




384    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
as that he shall truly love his wife and at the same
time have a fond affection for another woman-though
it seems to me absolutely impossible that a woman
who has a beloved husband living should have such a
duality of love. Let us suppose Ben Eccles or Dr.
Sam married; should it be thought strange that either
should still have a gentle respect and tenderness for
Susan, whom he had truly loved?  So far from its
being strange, I would call it unnatural if he did not
feel so. It is not necessary that we should associate
crime, or immorality, or even imperfection with this
dual love. Neither Ben nor Dr. Sam would wish
Susan to be in his own wife's place, nor need he "imagine" Bowman's death and the death of his own wife
in order that such a union should take place. He
would simply love both women, and love both truly
and purely; and if he should have married Susan in
the first place, he might have afterwards met a woman,
an Alice Charlton or a Kate Bolling, whom he might
also not merely esteem and like, but love truly and
purely.
This duality of man's love is a.subject which in the
hands of modern French writers has been made very
gross and immoral. But I am convinced that its
grossness and immorality are the effect of their own
ignoble imaginations; for in the heart of a magnanimous man it may be perfectly delicate and perfectly
free from ill-regulated desires.
I have elsewhere written about my love for little
Kate Bolling, and it is my love for her which gives
me experience in this matter and assists my observation of it in others. If she could see into my heart




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   385
and discern its gentle and strong affection for her, and
should take its tremulous sensitiveness for the love of
a lover, she would no doubt be amazed, perhaps somewhat amused, and possibly a little offended that an old
man of seventy-six should have such feelings towards
her. And yet, although I cannot precise wherein it
differs from the love of a lover, I know full well that
were I only twenty-six I should love her in the same
way, and love my Mary too. I should abide strong
in my wife's affection, and yet be jealous of the attentions of others to Kate; I should regard my wife's
honor as the most sacred of obligations, and yet be
willing to fight and die for Kate's honor; I should go
through fire and water for my wife's preservation, and
yet would do the same for the safety of Kate.
Of course, I do not mean that I should at once love
both equally well. What I started out to illustrate
was that love is dual, and that a man may not only at
once love two brothers, or two sisters, or two sons,
but may also love two women with the same kind of
love. I am not comparing the degrees, but the kind
of love. If I had had to choose between the two in
any given case I would have chosen my wife without
hesitation.
This duality of love is certainly true with man, and
hence the polygamy we read of in the Bible was
natural. But our monogamy is even more natural;
for though a man can love two women at once he will
always love one much more than the other. We have
therefore improved on the ancients in this respectnot that they were wicked, but that we are more prudent than they were. Jacob was a good man (though
33




386    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
I never admired him), but he had a hard time of it
with his family; a much harder time than I should
think a modern would care to have even if there were
no statutes against bigamy. Those statutes would
never have been invented but for the greater facilities
of travel and the greater prevalence of peace among
adjoining nations since Jacob's history has been generally known.
What has led me into this digression about lovea digression which may be foolish in this place, but
the substance of which is true for all that-is the fact
of Ben Eccles' visit. I imagined to myself what
should have been the state of his feelings if while his
old love was still strong upon him he had fallen in
love with Alice. He did not do so, I know; but suppose that he had! In the first place, was it a possible
case? and, if possible, should there have been any
conflict of feeling? Hence my attempt to show that
it was possible, and could have detracted neither from
his manliness nor truth.
Old men are not easily satisfied with problems
unless they can work them out in harmonious detail;
at least I find that to be the case with myself; and
also frequently find, as in this case, that the play has
perhaps not been worth the candle.
Aunt Polly made much of her dear boy. She had
heard of his sickness and of some of his sorrows, and
she sympathized heartily with him, and showed a
strong inclination to coddle him up as though he were
still a boy, and still only convalescent. Mrs. McCleod
and Alice entered into her spirit, and for a day or two
they almost worried the sensitive fellow into having




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   387
his sorrows replaced by vexation-a feeling quite as
antagonistic to sorrow as it is to joy; but his cheerfulness and quiet humor soon restored him to a more independent footing, and the visit was prolonged to the
satisfaction of all. Ben was now able to join the
doctor in the discussion of those high subjects which
were nearest the old gentleman's heart and had been
his most profound study, and completely charmed him
by his acuteness and breadth of intellect, and the great
progress in knowledge he had made in the few years
since he was a school-boy. Good old gentlemen are
apt to be wonder-struck and captivated by pet prodigies; but, indeed, take Ben at this period of his life,
when he was nearly freed from his depression of mind,
and it would be hard to find a young man more pleasing either to the refined or to coarser natures. Not
only was he unselfish, but I never knew any one more
fitted to please a selfish companion; for he was unsuspicious of selfishness, and fully entered into the sorrows, joys, and other egotisms which were spread
before him, as though they were real and important.
And though he had such a keen sense of the ludicrous,
and enough gentle, quaint humor in his composition to
often put his friends in gleeful spirits, I never knew
him to ridicule any one who had confided his feelings
to him. This is saying a great deal for his goodness
of heart, but no more, I think, than was perfectly warranted.
Fortune seemed to favor him by bringing Susan to
pay a morning visit three or four days after his arrival.
He was sitting in the passage alone when she came
in unannounced, and though he was, for a second,




388   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
startled, and turned a shade pale, he preserved his
composure, and gave her his hand as frankly as though
she had never been but his friend, but with a solicitude for her well-being he could only have felt for one
who had been more than that. I hardly know how to
make my meaning more clear. His frankness was
neither bold nor embarrassed, and his solicitude was
only shown by his cordiality in asking after her health,
and the quiet manner with which he watched her smiles,
words, and expression to discover lurking signs of discontent or unhappiness.
He could discover nothing but peace and happiness.
No cloud yet seemed to darken over her, no doubts
even of her perfect blessedness ever appeared to have
crossed her mind. And while he was thankful that
it was so, I have no doubt but that his heart would
not have been displeased if he could have discovered
that there was something lacking in her happiness
with which he could at least sympathize, if he could
render her, to remedy it, no active assistance. Although
he would not have admitted such a charge for an instant, I have no doubt but that he would have felt so
-for it is a natural feeling.
Pshaw I Do I not know that when Molly Higgins
married, though I was only a school-boy, and at least
six years younger than she, I fully expected and desired that she should in a short time come to me and
complain of her husband, and admit in her heart, if
not in words, that I was the only one who could
have conferred perfect and permanent happiness upon
her?
Ben was not destined, any more than was I, to see




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   389
the immediate unhappiness of the one who thought
she could be happy without him. Nor did he, when
he went with Alice two or three days later to return
the visit, find any cause to think that Susan had
either unhappiness or discomfort. Mr. Bowman was
present on this occasion-though he had not been with
his wife to the doctor's. His friendliness and buoyancy of spirits appeared rather forced when he met
the visitors, and so long as they remained there. He
had wronged both of them, and felt in his heart that
both had a supreme contempt for him. He did not
hate either, for the wrong he had done was in neither
case of that character which always produces hatred
in the wrong-doer. He was only uneasy with them;
could look neither straight in the eye; and his wife's
evident fondness of him and references to him, and
talk about him in the conversation (things which not
one good young wife in a hundred thousand can avoid,
though she were otherwise a Minerva for wisdom)
were rather irritating to him; though her love was in
reality his only patent excuse for his former conduct
to Alice, and his only refuge from the just wrath of
Ben Eccles.
Alice was very much pleased with Ben. She did
not have the remotest fear that he should fall in love
with her, or that she should grow too fond of him for
her own happiness.  They walked and rode, and
talked and laughed, sketched and read together more
like brother and sister than like new acquaintance.
Aunt Polly was a tie in which they were quickly
united, and in the house, and sometimes in their walks,
33*




390    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
she made one of as guileless and pleasant a trio as one
would wish to find.
The change of scene, and consequent change and
excitement of ideas, for a few days prevented any
manifestation of his idiopathy; but one day Alice
found him upon his knees on the gallery, and her
woman's eye soon discovered he was praying, and
she slipped noiselessly away. Another time, that same
afternoon, she again saw him in that position in the
garden. And so it went on, and she began to suspect
his monomania, until at last he one day went on his
knees and began to pray while they were out walking.
There had happened to be a lull in the conversation
when he did so, and though she was much alarmed,
she neither spoke nor moved until he got up, and continued to converse undisturbed. She had found out
that her pleasant companion was crazy —that is the
word most commonly used-and though his craziness
was of the most harmless and touching character, it
was none the less craziness.
Imagine the tender pity which filled her heart at the
discovery I She respected him none the less; was none
the less pleased with his wit, wisdom, and pleasant
fancy and humor, but-but-he was crazy.
Now, it is not easy to prove that men in Ben'slcondition are really crazy, though all should say they are.
In the first place, it will be granted that it is better to
pray than to curse; and I will venture to say that fourtenths of the so-called sane persons in the county
cursed more than Ben Eccles prayed. So far as the
two acts themselves are concerned those who cursed
were crazier than he who prayed, and yet no one con



WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   391
sidered them crazy, though they cursed, as he prayed,
almost unconsciously. The reason, then, why he was
called crazy, while they passed along as sane, was that
he stopped and prayed methodically, and they went
along as usual, and cursed "promiscuously and hdterogeneously," as poor Ransom used to damn his foes
when he got generally angry I The method was the
fault; and it does seem hard that a man who is
methodical in doing right should be shunned as crazy,
while those who are irregularly but frequently violent
in doing wrong should be trusted as sane.
If it were not so the fashion to curse, and take up
other such habits as senseless and wicked, the number
of reputed crazy men in the world would be vastly
increased. In fact, it seems that the really crazy are
in a majority; and the majority rules. If you should
try any man of ordinary wickedness by strictly logical
rules, and before a wise and unprejudiced jury, he
would be sent to a mad-house-but neither logic nor
wisdom rule just now, and very few are not biased by
fellow-feeling.
This, after all, though it only shows that others are
also crazy who are not called so, is but a reason why
slight aberrations, such as Ben's, should be looked
upon with great leniency. He was crazy, and a crazy
world called him so. But I declare that I would
rather be crazy Ben Eccles than have the sanity with
which I see thousands of others flatter themselves.




392   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN EUCLES.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONTAINS AN UNPLEASANT, AND A VERY PLEASANT
PORTION  OF THE HISTORY, AND PREPARES THE
READER FOR ITS END.
I MUST now pass over nearly two years in my history; years filled with events to the personages I
have introduced to the reader, but with only such
events as occur in the ordinary course of the lives of
ordinary persons, such as they were, and as I myself
am. Susan was weaning her boy,-a bright, beautiful
little fellow, who was just beginning to talk and to
walk. They had not been years of uninterrupted
happiness to her, though she often, when charmed by
the manifold perfections of her son, tried to think they
had been. Her husband was neither the patient nor
the guileless man she had thought him to be. In truth,
she had begun to doubt his word when he spoke, and
to suspect his conduct when he acted; and his high,
frank spirits in public were a mocking commentary
upon his peevish, snappish ways in private. His
habits, too, had changed for the worse.
Lying Charley, as he was called far and near, had
reached the stage of life and living when men begin to
have boon companions (in the ordinary, woman's sense
of "boon," which is " carousing"), and often two and
three afternoons and evenings in a week witnessed him




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   393
and them at his own house, or one of theirs, at a dinner party.
A gentlemen's dinner party in those days was a
grand and serious affair. Ladies were rarely present,
and when they were, the mistress of the house presided at the table, and they all left the gentlemen to
their wine as soon as the dessert was ready to be removed. Then the gentlemen drunk long and deep,
until the wits of all were unsteady, and many of them
staggered in their walk or fell under the table. Mr.
Bowman was fond of these parties, but had gone to
many of them before he ventured to put his young wife
to the vexation and mortification of giving one at his
own house. After he had broken the ice, however,
and had proved her compliance, he was as hospitable
as any of them, and got to think that Susan had no
feeling at all in the matter. Because she never reproached him, he would rise in the morning from the
bed to which he had barely been able to stagger with
her assistance the night before, and begin lying volubly about what was said and done, whom he had helped
off to bed, and whom assisted on his horse or to his
gig, and how he was complimented on his sobriety; as
though she had not seen him, and did not know how
very drunk he had been. Or, if he were too sick for
much talk, he would complain of his unfortunate idiosyncrasies; that from his earliest childhood he had not
been able to eat even two brandy cherries, or a single
pickled oyster, without being made violently sick, and
all that sort of stuff; when she had had to call his
man-servant to pull of his boots, and get him, helpless
as a child and comatose with drink, to his bed, where




394    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
he had lain like a log until nearly daylight, when he
had shown symptoms of satiety.
Oh, it makes me angry to write about this, and tell
how he progressed; how he made a most particular
companion of one of the worst of his acquaintance, a
selfish, sensual old bachelor, who lived a few miles off,
and about whom some of the most scandalous of stories
were told; of how he got to almost living at that
friend's house where he was sufficiently well fleeced in
private games of poker to make his company acceptable, and where he soon learned and adopted some of
the other vices there tolerated. It makes me angry, 1
say, to write about or even to remember this, when I
know the agony such conduct caused poor Susan. The
fellow demanded of her-the same respect, familiarity,
and obedience, as though he were the best of husbands;
and she, poor girl, suffered his embraces, and gave him
respect and prompt obedience, in hope to wean him
from his ways. Wean him from his ways I Alas, he
was naturally no gentleman, and did not have the improvable material in him; his nature would have had
to be changed to make anything but a gross brute out
of him.
As I am so near the end of my story, it will not do
for me to attempt to enter here into the details of their
domestic life-particularly, as I intend doing so in another place where it is necessary for the completion of
my narrative. Indeed, I do so fear to be tedious that
the remainder of my story shall be but a sketch, to be
filled up by the profound knowledge of human nature,
and the perfectly correct taste which I most cheerfully




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   395
and certainly ascribe to the reader, who has thus far
followed me.
Dr. Sam had not been idle during these two years.
His practice had increased until it almost rivaled that
of his father before him, and he attended to it with an
assiduity which made the girls and other women folk
say that he was cut out for an old bachelor and was
determined not to thwart his nature. There was one
young lady, however, who did not join in this talk or
opinion. She, about this time, began to be very reserved when Dr. Sam was the subject of conversation,
and very grave when she thought of him. Somehow
or another she had got the idea that he was more dangerous than he appeared to be, was a sort of snowcovered volcano, was a man who could love with
amazing strength, and, moreover, that she was in danger of being loved by him, of being snapped up by
him, a gentle lamb by a ravening wolf. Dr. Sam was
a wolf still; but he had not in this case, as when he
first went to see Susan, put on his wolfish air. Then,
he was upon an expedition, a declared and undisguised
wolf; now, he was rather playing the part of grandmother. "Oh, grandma, what makes your eyes so
big?" "To see the better, my child!" And little Red
Riding Hood began to tremble at the answer, she knew
not why.
Sarah Stockdale was a loving, impetuous woman,
who took upon herself the cares and the welfare of her
brother Sam, and could never rest until she had all his
cares removed, and his welfare secured, according to
her notion. It occasionally seemed to occur to her
that her notion might not be his notion; but she would




396    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
say that she knew what was right, and intended to do
it. "Sam may differ with me, but I'll do my best."
From the first she appreciated the noble qualities as
well as the beauty of Alice, and she never rested until
she got her and Dr. Sam acquainted with each other.
She was a woman, and therefore was more patient to.
wait the six or eight months, until the meeting could
be naturally brought about, than her father could have
been in the like circumstances. He would have lugged
them together by the ears, and stormed as though he
would box their ears if they had not acted to suit him.
She visited Alice, and had Alice visit her several times,
until at last, upon one of Alice's visits, Dr. Sam was
at home, and the introduction took place. And then
Sarah had a fixed point of departure, and felt confident
in her navigation. No blind or rash navigator was
she, to crowd on sail, and run upon sunken rocks and
outlying reefs in trying to make straight to the port.
She was wary; oftentimes her course seemed just the
opposite to that it should be, and often she seemed to
pass the port as though it were not there she wished
to go at all; but all the time her eyes were watchful,
and she kept the lead going.
"Oh, Dr. Sam, what makes your eyes so soft and
bright when you look at me?"
"Loving you, my dear!" was the answer our little
Red Riding Hood began to feel in her heart she was
to receive. Ah, she knew better than that Dr. Sam
was cut out for an old bachelor, or that he intended
to become one if he could help himself; and she knew
it long before even Sarah had guessed the success of
her design; and it made her serious. Here was no




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   397
lying, volatile youngster to have dreams about! Here
was a man! a man who could love and who would
love, and who would be loved, and never take "noo"
for an answer from her.  "Grandma, what makes
your mouth so big?" "To eat you up!" There was
no escaping him; she felt that. The charm was upon
her; and though it was by slow degrees, she was yet
surely falling to him, and the power of resistance was
fast being lost.
There are some joys which fill the heart with laughter, but are too sacred for any outward show of mirth,
and I cannot imagine one more holy or of more exquisite delight than that which fills a pure and loving
woman's heart when it becomes conscious of the love
of a noble man, a great, strong-sensed, imperious master in the world, whose fondest desire is to become a
gentle, affectionate, devoted companion to her. Alice
became conscious of this love in Dr. Sam's heart by
degrees, and without a word of love being spoken by
him; gradually the love had filled his being, and gradually it enveloped, and overpowered, and led her
captive, and the two were of one accord with no preceding doubt or embarrassment.
I used.to tell Dr. Sam that I understood he had
communicated his proposition of marriage to Alice by
asking her to engage him as her family physician.
At any rate, they became engaged to be married;
and Sarah Stockdale was as iniportant, and in as much
of a "feeze," as a young mother over her first baby;
far more joyful and agitated than if she herself had
been going to marry, and be the sole wife of the king
of the fairies. But what gave her joy was woe to the
34




398    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
McCleods, until after more grave consultations, sug.
gestions, objections, entreaties, arguments, and scheming, than were used about the disposal of Napoleon
the Great, it was settled that Aunt Polly, until she
could reasonably be required to be with Alice, should
remain at her old home. Alice did not inquire particularly as to the details of the agreement, nor did
Dr. Sam show much curiosity to have the time when,
and the causes why, set forth so minutely as a solemn
treaty should seem to demand; but that was the agreement, and it is to be supposed that Mrs. McCleod and
Mrs. Stockdale, who was consulted, and even Aunt
Polly herself, knew what they were talking about.
As this only hitch in the perfect fitness of things
was removed, there remained nothing to prevent the
speedy marriage of the young couple, and I am greatly
tempted to describe at length another wedding; but I
spare my dear reader-ah, how I admire his patience,
and love his sympathy I Ben Eccles and I were of
the few who were invited. To have had a large wedding would not have suited the circumstances of Alice
and her aunt, any more than it was desired by them.
She should not be a rich bride in her own mother's
house, as was Susan, but was an orphan, not dowerless,
certainly, but living with the old aunt in the family of
relatives. The old doctor, strange to say, wished to
have one of the grandest affairs the country had ever
seen, and Mrs. McCleod seconded him, and even went
beyond him; but Alice had too much delicate sense
of propriety for that, and Dr. Sam told them that all
he wanted was his wife.
The fact was that Dr. Sam was opposed to a large




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   399
wedding-party. As he said, all that he wished was
his wife; but, besides that, he thought a large party
at a preacher's bound to be a bore. Dancing was out
of the question; "Here I sit under the juniper-tree,"
he said was a confounded sight more immoral than
dancing, and "thimble and forfeits" was worse than
that; and the conversation of a general assortment,
prolonged over four or five hours, was infinitely worse
than that, for it would set each at enmity with all
the others as insufferable bores, and so destroy the
brotherlylove which should prevail in every community;
and the stuffing and guzzling the guests would have
to resort to for amusement and compensation would
be a direct effort to create practice for himself, and he
would wish to remain quiet at home for a few days;
and, take it altogether, he-well, he wished to get his
wife, and they might do just as they pleased, but if
their consciences were enlightened they would give
him his wife and let the party alone.
And so there was but a small company of witnesses
invited, among whom were Susan and her husband,
who did not come on account of an engagement (dinner party) of Mr. Bowman, which he could not honorably forego-he said. Dr. McCleod performed the,
ceremony, and Mrs. McCleod and Aunt Polly made a
quiet crying match in one corner, and Mrs. Stockdale
joined them through sympathy, and Sarah pooh-poohed
at her mother, and covertly brushed away a tear or
two from her own eyes. Then came the little bustle
of embracing, and hand-shaking, and good wishes, and
blessings, and after that pleasant chat and a bountiful
and delicious supper, and all were just as happy and




400    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
far more comfortable than a grand wedding could have
made them.
And here, with much regret, I take leave of Dr. Sam
and Alice. If the reader have for them one tithe of
my affection, he will be glad to know that their
married life was just as happy as a union based upon
virtue and a sincere admiration and respect for each
other's virtues possibly could be. If I live to complete
the task I have set for myself the reader shall have
hereafter to renew their acquaintance and recognize
again their excellent qualities. From the time of their
removal to Rosstown, except upon the occasions of a
rare visit, they passed out of the scenes in which Ben
Eccles moved, and I should not be justified in following their fortunes any further.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MAKES A GREAT SKIP, AND ENDS THE STORY.
RECALL your acquaintance of fifteen or twenty
years ago, and trace out the lot of each as nearly
as you can. It is likely that the great majority are
dead, and of the remainder the larger part have gone
elsewhere and passed without your ken; your present
acquaintance, if you have remained stationary, are
almost altogether new persons, either new to the community or newly grown to notice in it. This was and




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   401
is now the case about Yatton, and in all of our Southern country of which I have any personal knowledge.
Here and there, as I look over the county, I find an old
familiar face of fifteen years ago; there are, perhaps, in
all the country around a dozen I used to know thirtyfive _years ago, but not six who were boys with me, or
whom I remember even as children when I was first a
grown man. Even the names of many of the families
which in my youth were numerous and prosperous are
now no longer known unless by some registry in the
clerk's office of one of the courts. In an old and settled country, like England, this is not so marked, though
even there the changes among the people in a few
years-changes which, occurring one by one at intervals
more or less great, were scarcely observed-are apt to
astound when summed up. But here the changes are
more frequent and violent. Most are dead or gone;
the rich have become poor, the poor have acquired
wealth; the known are sunk into obscurity, and the
unknown lead the fashion; the handsome have become
ugly, and the ugly are now, perhaps, decrepit; thieves
have acquired a character as honest men, and honest
men are known as thieves; in fine, however still you
may think yourself to have stood, there has been little
stand-still in others.
A few years have wrought great changes in the lot
of those whose history we have followed thus far; and
when the curtain rises and we look upon the same
scenery we find that there are some new actors, that
some of our old friends have changed their roles, some
have been called from the stage forever, and that a
34*




402   WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
new drama is being played. There is The Barn, for
instance, the same white, wooden structure we saw
before, but within it sits the widow Bowman talking
with her mother, who is now quite a gray-headed old
lady in snowy cap, but still active, energetic, and as
good as ever. And beneath the shade of the large
forest trees which embower the house and stretch their
huge arms over the whole expanse from the front gate
to the gate at the main road, are walking young Tom
Bowman, about eighteen years old, and his sister
Anne, who is four years younger Their father has
been dead nearly twelve years. Tom is at home for
the vacation in his college where he has just ended his
Junior year. Anne has never been sent off to school,
but has received her education from her mother and
grandmother, who have both had the ability and inclination to direct her studies-except in music, and a
teacher from Yatton comes out three times a week to
teach her to bang with more or less precision upon the
piano.
I do not intend to describe minutely these young
folk (I will do so elsewhere). It is sufficient to say
that their mother and grandmother are not only fond
of them, but have good reason to be contented. So far
Tom has manifested none of his father's bad traits of
character, but seems to take, both mentally and in
appearance, after his mother. Anne has been so raised
that it is impossible she should not be all that is good
and truthful.
"I was certain," says Tom, "that I saw Uncle Ben
coming over the hill and down the road just now, but
he ought to have been to the big gate by this time."




WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   403
" I expect he stopped when he got to the big oak in
the bottom," answers Anne. "He almost always
stops there, and generally stops five or six times between town and here if he walks out."
"It seems to me, Anne, that he prays more now
than he used to. Isn't it growing on him? You see
him all the time and ought to know."
"It depends upon the weather, brother, and the
news, and his health, and our health, and a heap of
circumstances. When he has much care on his mind
he is sometimes three hours coming from town, he
stops so often to pray-that is when he is alone."
"Why don't you and mother make himl quit it,
Anne? I've seen you stop him many a time. Yonder he is now. Hillo, Uncle Ben! Come this way!"
And the person called to, after carefully fastening the
gate behind him, goes toward the two, who also
advance to meet him. He is decently dressed in black,
but his pants are somewhat frayed at the heels and
where they rub against the buckskin strings of his
brogans, and are rather shiny at the knees, and his
dress coat is worn thin at the elbows, and begins to
look whitish at the points of the shoulder-blades. His
hair is quite gray, and as he strides along towards
them, looking to the ground, with his shoulders slightly
stooped, and his arms hanging listlessly by his side,
one would think him some obedient old dependent who
has no will of his own, but moves as he is bid. As
he nears them he looks up, and the smile upon his lips
and in his eyes is more sad, but just as kindly as when
in his younger days he used to love and desire to be
loved by all. He has got to be "old Uncle Ben" and




404    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
"old Mr. Eccles," and yet his real age is not yet fifty.
Feeling has made him aged; failures in crops, deaths
among his negroes, who were badly managed, purchases
of bank and other stocks of'36, not worth the paper on
which they were written or printed, consequent lawsuits, and the sale of the bulk of his property by the
sheriff, have made him poor. For seven or eight years
he has been living at The Barn, because he was willing
to do so, and because I strongly recommended it to the
ladies —for though not their dependent for his support,
he was and is wholly dependent upon them for happiness and comfort. He was essential to their security,
and is most useful as a faithful friend, and they were
and are necessary to him as giving him something to
live for and devote himself to. The children have, long
ago, got to regard him as their uncle sure enough, and
Susan and her mother feel for him the love due to a
near relative.
" Is your mother in the house, children?" asks he,
when he comes up to them.
" Yes, sir. Did you fetch me what I asked you to
get, Uncle Ben?" asks Anne.
" Certainly, my dear; but I wish to see your mother
now; I have a letter for her." And with that he passes
them and goes on to the house; but Anne runs, and
reaches it before him, and has her mother on the front
gallery to meet him when he reaches the steps. She
is still our dear Susan, though so much older and
stouter. The matronly air becomes her; the widow's
cap is no deformity. Her hand is still soft and white
and dimpled, and her smile is still bright and full of
affection. The loss of two of her children in their in



THAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   405
fancy, and all the troubles of these weary years, of
which the death of her husband was the least, have but
rendered more gentle and intelligent that spirit which
was pure and lovely before: as the blush rose may become a perfect white rose, every tinge of passion has
been removed.
"Well, madam, the case of Bowman vs. Bowman
has been finally decided, and in your favor. I have
received a note from the lawyer at Milledgeville, and
here is a letter to you from him."
Susan turns a little pale, but receives the letter in
silence, and breaks it open.
"Ah, I am so thankful," says she, drawing a deep
breath after she has read it. " You always bring good
news, Ben; and I am very grateful to you."
" It is I who am grateful to you, madam, for all your
goodness," says Ben, with a low bow. "You ought
to be glad that justice has been done. Mr. Henry
Bowman will have to content himself with what
rightfully belongs to him."
Ben's formal method of addressing her mother has
long been a source of great annoyance to Anne, who
now interrupts him with the inquiry she has made,
perhaps, a hundred times before:
"Uncle Ben, what makes you always call ma Mrs.
Bowman, and madam?' She calls you Ben, and you
ought to call her sister, or Susan. You are my uncle,
and of course you must be her brother."
"So I am, in feeling, my child; and I hope she
knows that. Yes, you ought to rejoice very much,
mad  -"




406    WHAT I KNOW ABOUT BEN ECCLES.
" Call me Susan, Ben," says Mrs. Bowman, smiling.
"You know I have often asked you to do so."
" Thank you, Su-   madam, thank you," says he,
bowing and embarrassed; "it isn't natural to me, and
I fear you will have to allow me to keep up my old
habit. But you are very good."
Presently, Susan goes into the house to communicate
the good news to her mother, and Ben, after walking
up and down the gallery a time or two, halts at one
end of it, and kneels down to pray. Tom, who by this
time is seated on the steps, beckons to Anne, and when
she has approached, whispers to her:
" Why don't you stop him from that, Anne?  You
can do so."
"I would, brother, if there were company here, or
there were any other good reason, but I haven't the
heart to do so all the time; nor would you have if you
could only see his face, and knew how happy it makes
him to pray. Ma don't like me to keep him from it
either, and sometimes has checked me when I was
going to do so, or to interrupt him. I often see tears
in her eyes when she sees him on his knees, and it
always makes her very sad."
I must now dismantle my stage, and pack the scenery
away until I shall have to use it again. The play is
over. The active part of the lives of some men continues to the end; with others it lasts through one act,
and for the remainder of the play they are mere supernumeraries or walking gentlemen. Ben Eccles' part,
though essential to the plot, and of the deepest interest




WHAT I KN'W ABOUT BEN ECCLES.   407
in itself, was brief. After Susan's marriage his greatest ambition was to keep away from the footlights.
Had some master-mind understood his story and set
out to tell it, the world should have admired its pathos.
It was a story worthy of being told; no one knew it
but myself, and I have done the best I could. It is,
perhaps, the case that I have slighted many parts
which should have been more fully developed, and have
made too full portions which might, advantageously,
have been slighted, or omitted altogether. But different minds are affected by the same object differently;
and in what I have slighted, and in what I have dwelt
upon, I have followed the bent of my own mind. His
history, from the time that I presented him just now
to the reader, may be told in few words. In due course
of time both Anne and Tom married, and both Susan
and her mother died, and then he came to live with me,
and lives with me still-an old man before his time,
but a harmless, loving old man, gentle towards everything that lives.
There is one point of sympathy between us: We
live in the past, before the graves opened to entomb
our loved ones; and in the future, when the graves
shall give up us and our dead.