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THE MAGIC EGG AND OTHER STORIES ..................................................................................................1

FRANK R. STOCKTON .........................................................................................................................1

The pretty little theatre attached to the building of the Unicorn Club had been hired for a certain January

afternoon by Mr. Herbert Loring, who wished to give therein a somewhat novel performance, to which he

Loring was a handsome fellow about thirty years old, who had travelled far and studied much. He had

recently made a long sojourn in the far East, and his friends had been invited to the theatre to see some of the

wonderful things he had brought from that country of wonders. As Loring was a clubman, and belonged to a

family of good social standing, his circle of acquaintances was large, and in this circle a good many

unpleasant remarks had been made regarding the proposed entertainmentmade, of course, by the people

who had not been invited to be present. Some of the gossip on the subject had reached Loring, who did not

hesitate to say that he could not talk to a crowd, and that he did not care to show the curious things he had

collected to people who would not thoroughly appreciate them. He had been very particular in regard to his

At three o'clock on the appointed afternoon nearly all the people who had been invited to the Unicorn Theatre

were in their seats. No one had stayed away except for some very good reason, for it was well known that if

About forty people were present, who sat talking to one another, or admiring the decoration of the theatre. As

Loring stood upon the stagewhere he was entirely alone, his exhibition requiring no assistantshe gazed

through a loophole in the curtain upon a very interesting array of faces. There were the faces of many men

and women of society, of students, of workers in various fields of thought, and even of idlers in all fields of

thought; but there was not one which indicated a frivolous or listless disposition. The owners of those faces

For a quarter of an hour after the time announced for the opening of the exhibition Loring peered through the

hole in the curtain, and then, although all the people he had expected had not arrived, he felt it would not do

for him to wait any longer. The audience was composed of wellbred and courteous men and women, but

despite their polite selfrestraint Loring could see that some of them were getting tired of waiting. So, very

reluctantly, and feeling that further delay was impossible, he raised the curtain and came forward on the

Briefly he announced that the exhibition would open with some fireworks he had brought from Corea. It was

plain to see that the statement that fireworks were about to be set off on a theatre stage, by an amateur, had

rather startled some of the audience, and Loring hastened to explain that these were not real fireworks, but

that they were contrivances made of colored glass, which were illuminated by the powerful lens of a lantern

which was placed out of sight, and while the apparent pyrotechnic display would resemble fireworks of

strange and grotesque designs, it would be absolutely without danger. He brought out some little bunches of

bits of colored glass, hung them at some distance apart on a wire which was stretched across the stage just

high enough for him to reach it, and then lighted his lantern, which he placed in one of the wings, lowered all

As Loring turned his lantern on one of the clusters of glass lenses, strips, and points, and, unseen himself,

caused them to move by means of long cords attached, the effects were beautiful and marvellous. Little

wheels of colored fire rapidly revolved, miniature rockets appeared to rise a few feet and to explode in the air,

and while all the ordinary forms of fireworks were produced on a diminutive scale, there were some effects

that were entirely novel to the audience. As the light was turned successively upon one and another of the

clusters of glass, sometimes it would flash along the whole line so rapidly that all the various combinations of

color and motion seemed to be combined in one, and then for a time each particular set of fireworks would

blaze, sparkle, and coruscate by itself, scattering particles of colored light as if they had been real sparks of

This curious and beautiful exhibition of miniature pyrotechnics was extremely interesting to the audience,

who gazed upward with rapt and eager attention at the line of wheels, stars, and revolving spheres. So far as

interest gave evidence of satisfaction, there was never a better satisfied audience. At first there had been some

hushed murmurs of pleasure, but very soon the attention of every one seemed so completely engrossed by the

For twenty minutes or longer the glittering show went on, and not a sign of weariness or inattention was

made by any one of the assembled company. Then gradually the colors of the little fireworks faded, the stars

and wheels revolved more slowly, the lights in the body of the theatre were gradually raised, and the stage

Anxiously, and a little pale, Herbert Loring peered through the loophole in the curtain. It was not easy to

judge of the effects of his exhibition, and he did not know whether or not it had been a success. There was no

applause, but, on the other hand, there was no signs that any one resented the exhibition as a childish display

of colored lights. It was impossible to look upon that audience without believing that they had been

thoroughly interested in what they had seen, and that they expected to see more.

For two or three minutes Loring gazed through his loophole, and then, still with some doubt in his heart, but

with a little more color in his checks, he prepared for the second part of his performance.

At this moment there entered the theatre, at the very back of the house, a young lady. She was handsome and

well dressed, and as she opened the doorLoring had employed no ushers or other assistants in this little

social performanceshe paused for a moment and looked into the theatre, and then noiselessly stepped to a

This was Edith Starr, who, a month before, had been betrothed to Herbert Loring. Edith and her mother had

been invited to this performance, and front seats had been reserved for them, for each guest had received a

numbered card. But Mrs. Starr had a headache, and could not go out that afternoon, and for a time her

daughter had thought that she, too, must give up the pleasure Loring had promised her, and stay with her

mother. But when the elder lady dropped into a quiet sleep, Edith thought that, late as it was, she would go by

She was quite certain that if her presence were known to Loring he would stop whatever he was doing until

she had been provided with a seat which he thought suitable for her, for he had made a point of her being

properly seated when he gave the invitations. Therefore, being equally desirous of not disturbing the

performance and of not being herself conspicuous, she sat behind two rather large men, where she could see

In a few moments the curtain rose, and Loring came forward, carrying a small, light table, which he placed

near the front of the stage, and for a moment stood quietly by it. Edith noticed upon his face the expression of

uncertainty and anxiety which had not yet left it. Standing by the side of the table, and speaking very slowly,

but so clearly that his words could be heard distinctly in all parts of the room, he began some introductory

"The extraordinary, and I may say marvellous, thing which I am about to show you," he said, "is known

among East Indian magicians as the magic egg. The exhibition is a very uncommon one, and has seldom been

seen by Americans or Europeans, and it was by a piece of rare good fortune that I became possessed of the

appliances necessary for this exhibition. They are indeed very few and simple, but never before, to the best of

"I will now get the little box which contains the articles necessary for this magical performance, and I will

say that if I had time to tell you of the strange and amazing adventure which resulted in my possession of this

box, I am sure you would be as much interested in that as I expect you to be in the contents of the box. But in

order that none of you may think this is an ordinary trick, executed by means of concealed traps or doors, I

wish you to take particular notice of this table, which is, as you see, a plain, unpainted pine table, with

nothing but a flat top, and four straight legs at the corners. You can see under and around it, and it gives no

opportunity to conceal anything." Then, standing for a few moments as if he had something else to say, he

Edith was troubled as she looked at her lover during these remarks. Her interest was great, greater, indeed,

than that of the people about her, but it was not a pleasant interest. As Loring stopped speaking, and looked

about him, there was a momentary flush on his face. She knew this was caused by excitement, and she was

"Here is the box," he said, "of which I spoke, and as I hold it up I think you all can see it. It is not large, being

certainly not more than twelve inches in length and two deep, but it contains some very wonderful things.

The outside of this box is covered with delicate engraving and carving which you cannot see, and these marks

and lines have, I think, some magical meaning, but I do not know what it is. I will now open the box and

show you what is inside. The first thing I take out is this little stick, not thicker than a leadpencil, but

somewhat longer, as you see. This is a magical wand, and is covered with inscriptions of the same character

as those on the outside of the box. The next thing is this little red bag, well filled, as you see, which I shall put

"Now I take out a piece of cloth which is folded into a very small compass, but as I unfold it you will

perceive that it is more than a foot square, and is covered with embroidery. All those strange lines and figures

in gold and red, which you can plainly see on the cloth as I hold it up, are also characters in the same magic

language as those on the box and wand. I will now spread the cloth on the table, and then take out the only

remaining thing in the box, and this is nothing in the world but an egga simple, ordinary hen's egg, as you

all see as I hold it up. It may be a trifle larger than an ordinary egg, but then, after all, it is nothing but a

"Now I will begin the performance." And as he stood by the back of the table, over which he had been

slightly bending, and threw his eyes over the audience, his voice was stronger, and his face had lost all its

"I now take up this wand," he said, "which, while I hold it, gives me power to produce the phenomena which

you are about to behold. You may not all believe that there is any magic whatever about this little

performance, and that it is all a bit of machinery; but whatever you may think about it, you shall see what you

"Now with this wand I gently touch this egg which is lying on the square of cloth. I do not believe you can

see what has happened to this egg, but I will tell you. There is a little line, like a hair, entirely around it. Now

that line has become a crack. Now you can see it, I know. It grows wider and wider! Look! The shell of the

egg is separating in the middle. The whole egg slightly moves. Do you notice that? Now you can see

something yellow showing itself between the two parts of the shell. See! It is moving a good deal, and the

two halves of the shell are separating more and more. And now out tumbles this queer little object. Do you

see what it is? It is a poor, weak, little chick, not able to stand, but alivealive! You can all perceive that it is

alive. Now you can see that it is standing on its feet, feebly enough, but still standing.

"Behold, it takes a few steps! You cannot doubt that it is alive, and came out of that egg. It is beginning to

Now, little chick, I will give you something to eat. This little red bag contains grain, a magical grain, with

which I shall feed the chicken. You must excuse my awkwardness in opening the bag, as I still hold the

wand; but this little stick I must not drop. See, little chick, there are some grains! They look like rice, but, in

fact, I have no idea what they are. But he knows, he knows! Look at him! See how he picks it up! There! He

"The grain seems to have strengthened him already, for see how lively he is, and how his yellow down stands

out on him, so puffy and warm! You are looking for some more grain, are you? Well, you cannot have it just

yet, and keep away from those pieces of eggshell, which, by the way, I will put back into the box. Now, sir,

try to avoid the edge of the table, and, to quiet you, I will give you a little tap on the back with my wand.

Now, then, please observe closely. The down which just now covered him has almost gone. He is really a

good deal bigger, and ever so much uglier. See the little pinfeathers sticking out over him! Some spots here

and there are almost bare, but he is ever so much more active. Ha! Listen to that! He is so strong that you can

hear his beak as he pecks at the table. He is actually growing bigger and bigger before our very eyes! See that

funny little tail, how it begins to stick up, and quills are showing at the end of his wings.

"Another tap, and a few more grains. Careful, sir! Don't tear the cloth! See how rapidly he grows! He is fairly

covered with feathers, red and black, with a tip of yellow in front. You could hardly get that fellow into an

ostrich egg! Now, then, what do you think of him? He is big enough for a broiler, though I don't think any

one would want to take him for that purpose. Some more grain, and another tap from my wand. See! He does

not mind the little stick, for he has been used to it from his very birth. Now, then, he is what you would call a

good halfgrown chick. Rather more than half grown, I should say. Do you notice his tail? There is no

mistaking him for a pullet. The long feathers are beginning to curl over already. He must have a little more

grain. Look out, sir, or you will be off the table! Come back here! This table is too small for him, but if he

"Another tap. Now see that comb on the top of his head; you scarcely noticed it before, and now it is bright

red. And see his spurs beginning to showon good thick legs, too. There is a fine young fellow for you!

Look how he jerks his head from side to side, like the young prince of a poultryyard, as he well deserves to

The attentive interest which had at first characterized the audience now changed to excited admiration and

amazement. Some leaned forward with mouths wide open. Others stood up so that they could see better.

Ejaculations of astonishment and wonder were heard on every side, and a more thoroughly fascinated and

"Now, my friends," Loring continued, "I will give this handsome fowl another tap. Behold the resulta

noble, fullgrown cock! Behold his spurs! They are nearly an inch long! See, there is a comb for you! And

what a magnificent tail of green and black, contrasting so finely with the deep red of the rest of his body!

Well, sir, you are truly too big for this table. As I cannot give you more room, I will set you up higher. Move

over a little, and I will set this chair on the table. There! Upon the seat! That's right, but don't stop. There is

the back, which is higher yet! Up with you! Ha! There, he nearly upset the chair, but I will hold it. See! He

has turned around. Now, then, look at him. See his wings as he flaps them! He could fly with such wings.

Look at him! See that swelling breast! Ha, ha! Listen! Did you ever hear a crow like that? It fairly rings

At this point the people in the house were in a state of wild excitement. Nearly all of them were on their feet,

and they were in such a condition of frantic enthusiasm that Loring was afraid some of them might make a

"Come, sir," cried Loring, now almost shouting, "that will do. You have shown us the strength of your lungs.

Jump down on the seat of the chair; now on the table. There, I will take away the chair, and you can stand for

a moment on the table and let our friends look at you; but only for a moment. Take that tap on your back.

Now do you see any difference? Perhaps you may not, but I do. Yes, I believe you all do. He is not the big

fellow he was a minute ago. He is really smalleronly a fine cockerel. A nice tail that, but with none of the

noble sweep that it had a minute ago. No, don't try to get off the table. You can't escape my wand. Another

tap. Behold a halfgrown chicken, good to eat, but with not a crow in him. Hungry, are you? But you need

not pick at the table that way. You get no more grain, but only this little tap. Ha, ha! What are you coming to?

There is a chicken barely feathered enough for us to tell what color he is going to be.

"Another tap will take still more of the conceit out of him. Look at him! There are his pinfeathers, and his

bare spots. Don't try to get away; I can easily tap you again. Now then. Here is a lovely little chick, fluffy

with yellow down. He is active enough, but I shall quiet him. One tap, and now what do you see? A poor,

feeble chicken, scarcely able to stand, with his down all packed close to him as if he had been out in the rain.

Ah, little chick, I will take the two halves of the eggshell from which you came, and put them on each side of

you. Come, now get in! I close them up. You are lost to view. There is nothing to be seen but a crack around

the shell! Now it has gone! There, my friends; as I hold it on high, behold the magic egg, exactly as it was

when I first took it out of the box, into which I will place it again, with the cloth and the wand and the little

red bag, and shut it up with a snap. I will let you take one more look at this box before I put it away behind

the scenes. Are you satisfied with what I have shown you? Do you think it is really as wonderful as you

At these words the whole audience burst into riotous applause, during which Loring disappeared, but he was

"Thank you!" he cried, bowing low, and waving his arms before him in the manner of an Eastern magician

making a salaam. From side to side he turned, bowing and thanking, and then, with a hearty "Goodby to

For some moments the audience remained in their seats as if they were expecting something more, and then

they rose quietly and began to disperse. Most of them were acquainted with one another, and there was a

When Loring was sure the last person had departed, he turned down the lights, locked the door, and gave the

He walked to his home a happy man. His exhibition had been a perfect success, with not a break or a flaw in

"I feel," thought the young man, as he strode along, "as if I could fly to the top of that steeple, and flap and

That evening, as was his daily custom, Herbert Loring called upon Miss Starr. He found the young lady in the

"I came in here," she said, "because I have a good deal to talk to you about, and I do not want interruptions."

With this arrangement the young man expressed his entire satisfaction, and immediately began to inquire the

"But I was there," said Edith. "You did not see me, but I was there. Mother had a headache, and I went by

"You were there!" exclaimed Loring, almost starting from his chair. "I don't understand. You were not in

"No," answered Edith. "I was on the very back row of seats. You could not see me, and I did not wish you to

"Edith!" exclaimed Loring, rising to his feet and leaning over the library table, which was between them.

"I was late," she said. "I did not arrive until after the fireworks, or whatever they were."

"They seemed to like them very well," she replied, "but I do not think they were quite satisfied. From what I

heard some persons say, I inferred that they thought it was not very much of a show to which you had invited

Again Loring stood in thought, looking down at the table. But before he could speak again, Edith sprang to

"Herbert Loring," she cried, "what does all this mean? I was there during the whole of the exhibition of what

you called the magic egg. I saw all those people wild with excitement at the wonderful sight of the chicken

that came out of the egg, and grew to full size, and then dwindled down again, and went back into the egg,

and, Herbert, there was no egg, and there was no little box, and there was no wand, and no embroidered cloth,

and there was no red bag, nor any little chick, and there was no fullgrown fowl, and there was no chair that

you put on the table! There was nothing, absolutely nothing, but you and that table! Even the table was not

what you said it was. It was not an unpainted pine table with four straight legs. It was a table of dark polished

wood, and it stood on a single post with feet. There was nothing there that you said was there. Everything was

a sham and a delusion; every word you spoke was untrue. And yet everybody in that theatre, excepting you

and me, saw all the things that you said were on the stage. I know they saw them all, for I was with the

people, and heard them, and saw them, and at times I fairly felt the thrill of enthusiasm which possessed them

Loring smiled. "Sit down, my dear Edith," he said. "You are excited, and there is not the slightest cause for it.

I will explain the whole affair to you. It is simple enough. You know that study is the great object of my life.

I study all sorts of things; and just now I am greatly interested in hypnotism. The subject has become

fascinating to me. I have made a great many successful trials of my power, and the affair of this afternoon

was nothing but a trial of my powers on a more extensive scale than anything I have yet attempted. I wanted

to see if it were possible for me to hypnotize a considerable number of people without any one suspecting

what I intended to do. The result was a success. I hypnotized all those people by means of the first part of my

performance, which consisted of some combinations of colored glass with lights thrown upon them. They

revolved, and looked like fireworks, and were strung on a wire high up on the stage.

"I kept up the glittering and dazzling showwhich was well worth seeing, I can assure youuntil the

people had been straining their eyes upward for almost half an hour. And this sort of thingI will tell you if

"There was no one present who was not an impressionable subject, for I was very careful in sending out my

invitations, and when I became almost certain that my audience was thoroughly hypnotized, I stopped the

show and began the real exhibition, which was not really for their benefit, but for mine.

"Of course, I was dreadfully anxious for fear I had not succeeded entirely, and that there might be at least

some one person who had not succumbed to the hypnotic influences, and so I tested the matter by bringing

out that table and telling them it was something it was not. If I had had any reason for supposing that some of

the audience saw the table as it really was, I had an explanation ready, and I could have retired from my

position without any one supposing that I had intended making hypnotic experiments. The rest of the

exhibition would have been some things that any one could see, and as soon as possible I would have

released from their spell those who were hypnotized. But when I became positively assured that every one

saw a light pine table with four straight legs, I confidently went on with the performances of the magic egg."

Edith Starr was still standing by the library table. She had not heeded Loring's advice to sit down, and she

"Herbert Loring," she said, "you invited my mother and me to that exhibition. You gave us tickets for front

seats, where we would be certain to be hypnotized if your experiment succeeded, and you would have made

us see that false show, which faded from those people's minds as soon as they recovered from the spell, for as

they went away they were talking only of the fireworks, and not one of them mentioned a magic egg, or a

chicken, or anything of the kind. Answer me this: did you not intend that I should come and be put under that

Loring smiled. "Yes," he said, "of course I did. But then your case would have been different from that of the

other spectators: I should have explained the whole thing to you, and I am sure we would have had a great

deal of pleasure, and profit too, in discussing your experiences. The subject is extremely"

"Explain to me!" she cried. "You would not have dared to do it! I do not know how brave you may be, but I

know you would not have had the courage to come here and tell me that you had taken away my reason and

my judgment, as you took them away from all those people, and that you had made me a mere tool of your

will glaring and panting with excitement at the wonderful things you told me to see where nothing existed.

I have nothing to say about the others. They can speak for themselves if they ever come to know what you

did to them. I speak for myself. I stood up with the rest of the people. I gazed with all my power, and over

and over again I asked myself if it could be possible that anything was the matter with my eyes or my brain,

and if I could be the only person there who could not see the marvellous spectacle that you were describing.

But now I know that nothing was real, not even the little pine tablenot even the man!"

"On that stage, yes," she said. "But you there proved you were not the Herbert Loring to whom I promised

myself. He was an unreal being. If he had existed he would not have been a man who would have brought me

to that public place, all ignorant of his intentions, to cloud my perceptions, to subject my intellect to his own,

and make me believe a lie. If a man should treat me in that way once he would treat me so at other times, and

in other ways, if he had the chance. You have treated me in the past as today you treated those people who

glared at the magic egg. In the days gone by you made me see an unreal man, but you will never do it again!

Walking home through the dimly lighted streets, Loring involuntarily spoke aloud.

It is now five years since an event occurred which so colored my life, or rather so changed some of its

original colors, that I have thought it well to write an account of it, deeming that its lessons may be of

When I was quite a young man I adopted literature as a profession, and having passed through the necessary

preparatory grades, I found myself, after a good many years of hard and often unremunerative work, in

possession of what might be called a fair literary practice. My articles, grave, gay, practical, or fanciful, had

come to be considered with a favor by the editors of the various periodicals for which I wrote, on which I

found in time I could rely with a very comfortable certainty. My productions created no enthusiasm in the

reading public; they gave me no great reputation or very valuable pecuniary return; but they were always

accepted, and my receipts from them, at the time to which I have referred, were as regular and reliable as a

It was at this time I married. I had been engaged for more than a year, but had not been willing to assume the

support of a wife until I felt that my pecuniary position was so assured that I could do so with full satisfaction

to my own conscience. There was now no doubt in regard to this position, either in my mind or in that of my

wife. I worked with great steadiness and regularity, I knew exactly where to place the productions of my pen,

and could calculate, with a fair degree of accuracy, the sums I should receive for them. We were by no means

Those of my readers who are married will have no difficulty in remembering the peculiar ecstasy of the first

weeks of their wedded life. It is then that the flowers of this world bloom brightest; that its sun is the most

genial; that its clouds are the scarcest; that its fruit is the most delicious; that the air is the most balmy; that its

cigars are of the highest flavor; that the warmth and radiance of early matrimonial felicity so rarefy the

intellectual atmosphere that the soul mounts higher, and enjoys a wider prospect, than ever before.

These experiences were mine. The plain claret of my mind was changed to sparkling champagne, and at the

very height of its effervescence I wrote a story. The happy thought that then struck me for a tale was of a very

peculiar character, and it interested me so much that I went to work at it with great delight and enthusiasm,

and finished it in a comparatively short time. The title of the story was "His Wife's Deceased Sister," and

when I read it to Hypatia she was delighted with it, and at times was so affected by its pathos that her

uncontrollable emotion caused a sympathetic dimness in my eyes which prevented my seeing the words I had

written. When the reading was ended and my wife had dried her eyes, she turned to me and said, "This story

will make your fortune. There has been nothing so pathetic since Lamartine's `History of a Servant Girl.'"

As soon as possible the next day I sent my story to the editor of the periodical for which I wrote most

frequently, and in which my best productions generally appeared. In a few days I had a letter from the editor,

in which he praised my story as he had never before praised anything from my pen. It had interested and

charmed, he said, not only himself, but all his associates in the office. Even old Gibson, who never cared to

read anything until it was in proof, and who never praised anything which had not a joke in it, was induced by

the example of the others to read this manuscript, and shed, as he asserted, the first tears that had come from

his eyes since his final paternal castigation some forty years before. The story would appear, the editor

If anything could make our skies more genial, our flowers brighter, and the flavor of our fruit and cigars more

delicious, it was a letter like this. And when, in a very short time, the story was published, we found that the

reading public was inclined to receive it with as much sympathetic interest and favor as had been shown to it

by the editors. My personal friends soon began to express enthusiastic opinions upon it. It was highly praised

in many of the leading newspapers, and, altogether, it was a great literary success. I am not inclined to be

vain of my writings, and, in general, my wife tells me, I think too little of them. But I did feel a good deal of

pride and satisfaction in the success of "His Wife's Deceased Sister." If it did not make my fortune, as my

wife asserted it would, it certainly would help me very much in my literary career.

In less than a month from the writing of this story, something very unusual and unexpected happened to me.

A manuscript was returned by the editor of the periodical in which "His Wife's Deceased Sister" had

"It is a good story," he wrote, "but not equal to what you have just done. You have made a great hit, and it

would not do to interfere with the reputation you have gained by publishing anything inferior to `His Wife's

I was so unaccustomed to having my work thrown back on my hands that I think I must have turned a little

pale when I read the letter. I said nothing of the matter to my wife, for it would be foolish to drop such grains

of sand as this into the smoothly oiled machinery of our domestic felicity, but I immediately sent the story to

another editor. I am not able to express the astonishment I felt when, in the course of a week, it was sent back

to me. The tone of the note accompanying it indicated a somewhat injured feeling on the part of the editor.

"I am reluctant," he said, "to decline a manuscript from you; but you know very well that if you sent me

I now felt obliged to speak of the affair to my wife, who was quite as much surprised, though, perhaps, not

"Let us read the story again," she said, "and see what is the matter with it." When we had finished its perusal,

Hypatia remarked: "It is quite as good as many of the stories you have had printed, and I think it very

interesting, although, of course, it is not equal to `His Wife's Deceased Sister.'"

"Of course not," said I; "that was an inspiration that I cannot expect every day. But there must be something

wrong about this last story which we do not perceive. Perhaps my recent success may have made me a little

"At any rate," I continued, "I will lay it aside, and will go to work on a new one."

In due course of time I had another manuscript finished, and I sent it to my favorite periodical. It was retained

"It will never do," the editor wrote, quite warmly, "for you to go backward. The demand for the number

containing `His Wife's Deceased Sister' still continues, and we do not intend to let you disappoint that great

body of readers who would be so eager to see another number containing one of your stories."

I sent this manuscript to four other periodicals, and from each of them it was returned with remarks to the

effect that, although it was not a bad story in itself, it was not what they would expect from the author of "His

The editor of a Western magazine wrote to me for a story to be published in a special number which he would

issue for the holidays. I wrote him one of the character and length he desired, and sent it to him. By return

"I had hoped," the editor wrote, "when I asked for a story from your pen, to receive something like `His

I was so filled with anger when I read this note that I openly objurgated "His Wife's Deceased Sister." "You

must excuse me," I said to my astonished wife, "for expressing myself thus in your presence, but that

confounded story will be the ruin of me yet. Until it is forgotten nobody will ever take anything I write."

"And you cannot expect it ever to be forgotten," said Hypatia, with tears in her eyes.

It is needless for me to detail my literary efforts in the course of the next few months. The ideas of the editors

with whom my principal business had been done, in regard to my literary ability, had been so raised by my

unfortunate story of "His Wife's Deceased Sister" that I found it was of no use to send them anything of lesser

merit. And as to the other journals which I tried, they evidently considered it an insult for me to send them

matter inferior to that by which my reputation had lately risen. The fact was that my successful story had

ruined me. My income was at an end, and want actually stared me in the face; and I must admit that I did not

like the expression of its countenance. It was of no use for me to try to write another story like "His Wife's

Deceased Sister." I could not get married every time I began a new manuscript, and it was the exaltation of

"It's perfectly dreadful!" said my wife. "If I had had a sister, and she had died, I would have thought it was

"It could not be your fault," I answered, "and I do not think it was mine. I had no intention of deceiving

anybody into the belief that I could do that sort of thing every time, and it ought not to be expected of me.

Suppose Raphael's patrons had tried to keep him screwed up to the pitch of the Sistine Madonna, and had

refused to buy anything which was not as good as that. In that case I think he would have occupied a much

earlier and narrower grave than the one on which Mr. Morris Moore hangs his funeral decorations."

"But, my dear," said Hypatia, who was posted on such subjects, "the Sistine Madonna was one of his latest

"Very true," said I. "But if he had married as I did, he would have painted it earlier."

I was walking homeward one afternoon about this time, when I met Barbel, a man I had known well in my

early literary career. He was now about fifty years of age, but looked older. His hair and beard were quite

gray, and his clothes, which were of the same general hue, gave me the idea that they, like his hair, had

originally been black. Age is very hard on a man's external appointments. Barbel had an air of having been to

let for a long time, and quite out of repair. But there was a kindly gleam in his eye, and he welcomed me

"Why, what is the matter, old fellow?" said he. "I never saw you look so woebegone."

I had no reason to conceal anything from Barbel. In my younger days he had been of great use to me, and he

had a right to know the state of my affairs. I laid the whole case plainly before him.

"Look here," he said, when I had finished; "come with me to my room; I have something I would like to say

I followed Barbel to his room. It was at the top of a very dirty and wellworn house, which stood in a narrow

and lumpy street, into which few vehicles ever penetrated, except the ash and garbagecarts, and the rickety

"This is not exactly a fashionable promenade," said Barbel, as we approached the house, "but in some

respects it reminds me of the streets in Italian towns, where the palaces lean over toward each other in such a

Barbel's room was, to my mind, rather more doleful than the street. It was dark, it was dusty, and cobwebs

hung from every corner. The few chairs upon the floor and the books upon a greasy table seemed to be

afflicted with some dorsal epidemic, for their backs were either gone or broken. A little bedstead in the corner

was covered with a spread made of New York "Heralds" with their edges pasted together.

"There is nothing better," said Barbel, noticing my glance toward this novel counterpane, "for a bedcovering

than newspapers; they keep you as warm as a blanket, and are much lighter. I used to use `Tribunes,' but they

The only part of the room which was well lighted was one end near the solitary window. Here, upon a table

"At the other end of the room," said Barbel, "is my cookstove, which you can't see unless I light the candle in

the bottle which stands by it. But if you don't care particularly to examine it, I won't go to the expense of

lighting up. You might pick up a good many odd pieces of bricabrac, around here, if you chose to strike a

match and investigate. But I would not advise you to do so. It would pay better to throw the things out of the

window than to carry them downstairs. The particular piece of indoor decoration to which I wish to call

your attention is this." And he led me to a little wooden frame which hung against the wall near the window.

Behind a dusty piece of glass it held what appeared to be a leaf from a small magazine or journal. "There,"

said he, "you see a page from the `Grasshopper,' a humorous paper which flourished in this city some

halfdozen years ago. I used to write regularly for that paper, as you may remember."

"Oh, yes, indeed!" I exclaimed. "And I shall never forget your `Conundrum of the Anvil' which appeared in

it. How often have I laughed at that most wonderful conceit, and how often have I put it to my friends!"

Barbel gazed at me silently for a moment, and then he pointed to the frame. "That printed page," he said

solemnly, "contains the `Conundrum of the Anvil.' I hang it there so that I can see it while I work. That

conundrum ruined me. It was the last thing I wrote for the `Grasshopper.' How I ever came to imagine it, I

cannot tell. It is one of those things which occur to a man but once in a lifetime. After the wild shout of

delight with which the public greeted that conundrum, my subsequent efforts met with hoots of derision. The

`Grasshopper' turned its hind legs upon me. I sank from bad to worse,much worse,until at last I found

myself reduced to my present occupation, which is that of grinding points on pins. By this I procure my

bread, coffee, and tobacco, and sometimes potatoes and meat. One day while I was hard at work, an

organgrinder came into the street below. He played the serenade from `Trovatore' and the familiar notes

brought back visions of old days and old delights, when the successful writer wore good clothes and sat at

operas, when he looked into sweet eyes and talked of Italian airs, when his future appeared all a succession of

bright scenery and joyous acts, without any provision for a dropcurtain. And as my ear listened, and my

mind wandered in this happy retrospect, my every faculty seemed exalted, and, without any thought upon the

matter, I ground points upon my pins so fine, so regular, and so smooth that they would have pierced with

ease the leather of a boot, or slipped, without abrasion, among the finest threads of rare old lace. When the

organ stopped, and I fell back into my real world of cobwebs and mustiness, I gazed upon the pins I had just

ground, and, without a moment's hesitation, I threw them into the street, and reported the lot as spoiled. This

"I have no more to say to you, my young friend. All I want you to do is to look upon that framed conundrum,

then upon this grindstone, and then to go home and reflect. As for me, I have a gross of pins to grind before

I cannot say that my depression of mind was at all relieved by what I had seen and heard. I had lost sight of

Barbel for some years, and I had supposed him still floating on the sunsparkling stream of prosperity where I

had last seen him. It was a great shock to me to find him in such a condition of poverty and squalor, and to

see a man who had originated the "Conundrum of the Anvil" reduced to the souldepressing occupation of

grinding pinpoints. As I walked and thought, the dreadful picture of a totally eclipsed future arose before

When I reached home I told my wife the story of my friend Barbel. She listened with a sad and eager interest.

"I am afraid," she said, "if our fortunes do not quickly mend, that we shall have to buy two little grindstones.

For a long time we sat together and talked, and devised many plans for the future. I did not think it necessary

yet for me to look out for a pin contract; but I must find some way of making money, or we should starve to

death. Of course, the first thing that suggested itself was the possibility of finding some other business. But,

apart from the difficulty of immediately obtaining remunerative work in occupations to which I had not been

trained, I felt a great and natural reluctance to give up a profession for which I had carefully prepared myself,

and which I had adopted as my lifework. It would be very hard for me to lay down my pen forever, and to

close the top of my inkstand upon all the bright and happy fancies which I had seen mirrored in its tranquil

pool. We talked and pondered the rest of that day and a good deal of the night, but we came to no conclusion

The next day I determined to go and call upon the editor of the journal for which, in happier days, before the

blight of "His Wife's Deceased Sister" rested upon me, I used most frequently to write, and, having frankly

explained my condition to him, to ask his advice. The editor was a good man, and had always been my friend.

He listened with great attention to what I told him, and evidently sympathized with me in my trouble.

"As we have written to you," he said, "the only reason why we did not accept the manuscripts you sent us

was that they would have disappointed the high hopes that the public had formed in regard to you. We have

had letter after letter asking when we were going to publish another story like `His Wife's Deceased Sister.'

We felt, and we still feel, that it would be wrong to allow you to destroy the fair fabric which you yourself

have raised. But," he added, with a kind smile, "I see very plainly that your welldeserved reputation will be

of little advantage to you if you should starve at the moment that its genial beams are, so to speak, lighting

"How would you like," said the editor, after a short reflection, "to allow us to publish the stories you have

recently written under some other name than your own? That would satisfy us and the public, would put

Joyfully I seized the noble fellow by the hand, and instantly accepted his proposition. "Of course," said I, "a

reputation is a very good thing; but no reputation can take the place of food, clothes, and a house to live in,

and I gladly agree to sink my overillumined name into oblivion, and to appear before the public as a new

"I hope that need not be for long," he said, "for I feel sure that you will yet write stories as good as `His

All the manuscripts I had on hand I now sent to my good friend the editor, and in due and proper order they

appeared in his journal under the name of John Darmstadt, which I had selected as a substitute for my own,

permanently disabled. I made a similar arrangement with other editors, and John Darmstadt received the

credit of everything that proceeded from my pen. Our circumstances now became very comfortable, and

occasionally we even allowed ourselves to indulge in little dreams of prosperity.

Time passed on very pleasantly. One year, another, and then a little son was born to us. It is often difficult, I

believe, for thoughtful persons to decide whether the beginning of their conjugal career, or the earliest weeks

in the life of their firstborn, be the happiest and proudest period of their existence. For myself I can only say

that the same exaltation of mind, the same rarefication of idea and invention, which succeeded upon my

wedding day came upon me now. As then, my ecstatic emotions crystallized themselves into a motive for a

story, and without delay I set myself to work upon it. My boy was about six weeks old when the manuscript

was finished, and one evening, as we sat before a comfortable fire in our sittingroom, with the curtains

drawn, and the soft lamp lighted, and the baby sleeping soundly in the adjoining chamber, I read the story to

When I had finished, my wife arose and threw herself into my arms. "I was never so proud of you," she said,

her glad eyes sparkling, "as I am at this moment. That is a wonderful story! It is, indeed I am sure it is, just as

As she spoke these words, a sudden and chilling sensation crept over us both. All her warmth and fervor, and

the proud and happy glow engendered within me by this praise and appreciation from one I loved, vanished

in an instant. We stepped apart, and gazed upon each other with pallid faces. In the same moment the terrible

truth had flashed upon us both. This story WAS as good as "His Wife's Deceased Sister"!

We stood silent. The exceptional lot of Barbel's superpointed pins seemed to pierce our very souls. A

dreadful vision rose before me of an impending fall and crash, in which our domestic happiness should

vanish, and our prospects for our boy be wrecked, just as we had began to build them up.

My wife approached me, and took my hand in hers, which was as cold as ice. "Be strong and firm," she said.

"A great danger threatens us, but you must brace yourself against it. Be strong and firm."

The next day I took the manuscript I had just written, and carefully infolded it in stout wrappingpaper. Then

I went to a neighboring grocery store and bought a small, strong, tin box, originally intended for biscuit, with

a cover that fitted tightly. In this I placed my manuscript, and then I took the box to a tinsmith and had the top

fastened on with hard solder. When I went home I ascended into the garret and brought down to my study a

ship's cashbox, which had once belonged to one of my family who was a seacaptain. This box was very

heavy, and firmly bound with iron, and was secured by two massive locks. Calling my wife, I told her of the

contents of the tin case, which I then placed in the box, and having shut down the heavy lid, I doubly locked

"This key," said I, putting it in my pocket, "I shall throw into the river when I go out this afternoon."

My wife watched me eagerly, with a pallid and firmset countenance, but upon which I could see the faint

"Wouldn't it be well," she said, "to secure it still further by sealingwax and pieces of tape?"

"No," said I. "I do not believe that any one will attempt to tamper with our prosperity. And now, my dear," I

continued in an impressive voice, "no one but you, and, in the course of time, our son, shall know that this

manuscript exists. When I am dead, those who survive me may, if they see fit, cause this box to be split open

and the story published. The reputation it may give my name cannot harm me then."

The Widow Ducket lived in a small village about ten miles from the New Jersey seacoast. In this village she

was born, here she had married and buried her husband, and here she expected somebody to bury her; but she

was in no hurry for this, for she had scarcely reached middle age. She was a tall woman with no apparent fat

She rose at six o'clock in the morning, cooked breakfast, set the table, washed the dishes when the meal was

over, milked, churned, swept, washed, ironed, worked in her little garden, attended to the flowers in the front

yard, and in the afternoon knitted and quilted and sewed, and after tea she either went to see her neighbors or

had them come to see her. When it was really dark she lighted the lamp in her parlor and read for an hour,

and if it happened to be one of Miss Mary Wilkins's books that she read she expressed doubts as to the

These doubts she expressed to Dorcas Networthy, who was a small, plump woman, with a solemn face, who

had lived with the widow for many years and who had become her devoted disciple. Whatever the widow

did, that also did Dorcasnot so well, for her heart told her she could never expect to do that, but with a

yearning anxiety to do everything as well as she could. She rose at five minutes past six, and in a subsidiary

way she helped to get the breakfast, to eat it, to wash up the dishes, to work in the garden, to quilt, to sew, to

visit and receive, and no one could have tried harder than she did to keep awake when the widow read aloud

All these things happened every day in the summertime, but in the winter the widow and Dorcas cleared the

snow from their little front path instead of attending to the flowers, and in the evening they lighted a fire as

Sometimes, however, something different happened, but this was not often, only a few times in the year. One

of the different things occurred when Mrs. Ducket and Dorcas were sitting on their little front porch one

summer afternoon, one on the little bench on one side of the door, and the other on the little bench on the

other side of the door, each waiting until she should hear the clock strike five, to prepare tea. But it was not

yet a quarter to five when a onehorse wagon containing four men came slowly down the street. Dorcas first

"Mercy on me!" she exclaimed. "Whoever those people are, they are strangers here, and they don't know

where to stop, for they first go to one side of the street and then to the other."

The widow looked around sharply. "Humph!" said she. "Those men are sailormen. You might see that in a

twinklin' of an eye. Sailormen always drive that way, because that is the way they sail ships. They first tack

"Mr. Ducket didn't like the sea?" remarked Dorcas, for about the three hundredth time.

"No, he didn't," answered the widow, for about the two hundred and fiftieth time, for there had been

occasions when she thought Dorcas put this question inopportunely. "He hated it, and he was drowned in it

through trustin' a sailorman, which I never did nor shall. Do you really believe those men are comin' here?"

The wagon drew up in front of Mrs. Ducket's little white house, and the two women sat rigidly, their hands in

This was an elderly personage with whitish hair, and under his chin a thin whitish beard, which waved in the

gentle breeze and gave Dorcas the idea that his head was filled with hair which was leaking out from below.

"Is this the Widow Ducket's?" inquired this elderly man, in a strong, penetrating voice.

"That's my name," said the widow, and laying her knitting on the bench beside her, she went to the gate.

"I was told," said the elderly man, "at a house we touched at about a quarter of a mile back, that the Widow

Ducket's was the only house in this village where there was any chance of me and my mates getting a meal.

We are four sailors, and we are making from the bay over to Cuppertown, and that's eight miles ahead yet,

"This is the place," said the widow, "and I do give meals if there is enough in the house and everything comes

"It does," said she, "and you can hitch your horse and come in; but I haven't got anything for him."

"Oh, that's all right," said the man, "we brought along stores for him, so we'll just make fast and then come

The two women hurried into the house in a state of bustling preparation, for the furnishing of this meal meant

The four mariners, all elderly men, descended from the wagon, each one scrambling with alacrity over a

A box of broken shipbiscuit was brought out and put on the ground in front of the horse, who immediately

Tea was a little late that day, because there were six persons to provide for instead of two, but it was a good

meal, and after the four seamen had washed their hands and faces at the pump in the back yard and had wiped

them on two towels furnished by Dorcas, they all came in and sat down. Mrs. Ducket seated herself at the

head of the table with the dignity proper to the mistress of the house, and Dorcas seated herself at the other

end with the dignity proper to the disciple of the mistress. No service was necessary, for everything that was

When each of the elderly mariners had had as much bread and butter, quickly baked sodabiscuit, dried beef,

cold ham, cold tongue, and preserved fruit of every variety known, as his storage capacity would permit, the

mariner in command, Captain Bird, pushed back his chair, whereupon the other mariners pushed back their

"Madam," said Captain Bird, "we have all made a good meal, which didn't need to be no better nor more of it,

and we're satisfied; but that horse out there has not had time to rest himself enough to go the eight miles that

lies ahead of us, so, if it's all the same to you and this good lady, we'd like to sit on that front porch awhile

and smoke our pipes. I was alooking at that porch when I came in, and I bethought to myself what a rare

"There's pipes been smoked there," said the widow, rising, "and it can be done again. Inside the house I don't

So the four captains betook themselves to the porch, two of them seating themselves on the little bench on

one side of the door, and two of them on the little bench on the other side of the door, and lighted their pipes.

"Shall we clear off the table and wash up the dishes," said Dorcas, "or wait until they are gone?"

"We will wait until they are gone," said the widow, "for now that they are here we might as well have a bit of

a chat with them. When a sailorman lights his pipe he is generally willin' to talk, but when he is eatin' you

Without thinking it necessary to ask permission, for the house belonged to her, the Widow Ducket brought a

chair and put it in the hall close to the open front door, and Dorcas brought another chair and seated herself

"Do all you sailormen belong down there at the bay?" asked Mrs. Ducket; thus the conversation began, and in

a few minutes it had reached a point at which Captain Bird thought it proper to say that a great many strange

"Such as anything in particular?" asked the widow, at which remark Dorcas clasped her hands in expectancy.

At this question each of the mariners took his pipe from his mouth and gazed upon the floor in thought.

"There's a good many strange things happened to me and my mates at sea. Would you and that other lady like

"There's nothing happened to me and my mates that isn't true," said Captain Bird, "and here is something that

once happened to me: I was on a whaling v'yage when a big spermwhale, just as mad as a fiery bull, came at

us, head on, and struck the ship at the stern with such tremendous force that his head crashed right through

her timbers and he went nearly half his length into her hull. The hold was mostly filled with empty barrels,

for we was just beginning our v'yage, and when he had made kindlingwood of these there was room enough

for him. We all expected that it wouldn't take five minutes for the vessel to fill and go to the bottom, and we

made ready to take to the boats; but it turned out we didn't need to take to no boats, for as fast as the water

rushed into the hold of the ship, that whale drank it and squirted it up through the two blowholes in the top

of his head, and as there was an open hatchway just over his head, the water all went into the sea again, and

that whale kept working day and night pumping the water out until we beached the vessel on the island of

Trinidadthe whale helping us wonderful on our way over by the powerful working of his tail, which, being

outside in the water, acted like a propeller. I don't believe any thing stranger than that ever happened to a

Captain Bird now looked at Captain Sanderson, and the latter took his pipe out of his mouth and said that in

all his sailing around the world he had never known anything queerer than what happened to a big steamship

he chanced to be on, which ran into an island in a fog. Everybody on board thought the ship was wrecked, but

it had twin screws, and was going at such a tremendous speed that it turned the island entirely upside down

and sailed over it, and he had heard tell that even now people sailing over the spot could look down into the

Captain Sanderson now put his pipe back into his mouth, and Captain Burress took out his pipe.

"I was once in an obeliskship," said he, "that used to trade regular between Egypt and New York, carrying

obelisks. We had a big obelisk on board. The way they ship obelisks is to make a hole in the stern of the ship,

and run the obelisk in, p'inted end foremost; and this obelisk filled up nearly the whole of that ship from stern

to bow. We was about ten days out, and sailing afore a northeast gale with the engines at full speed, when

suddenly we spied breakers ahead, and our Captain saw we was about to run on a bank. Now if we hadn't had

an obelisk on board we might have sailed over that bank, but the captain knew that with an obelisk on board

we drew too much water for this, and that we'd be wrecked in about fiftyfive seconds if something wasn't

done quick. So he had to do something quick, and this is what he did: He ordered all steam on, and drove

slambang on that bank. Just as he expected, we stopped so suddint that that big obelisk bounced for'ard, its

p'inted end foremost, and went clean through the bow and shot out into the sea. The minute it did that the

vessel was so lightened that it rose in the water and we easily steamed over the bank. There was one man

knocked overboard by the shock when we struck, but as soon as we missed him we went back after him and

we got him all right. You see, when that obelisk went overboard, its buttend, which was heaviest, went

down first, and when it touched the bottom it just stood there, and as it was such a big obelisk there was about

five and a half feet of it stuck out of the water. The man who was knocked overboard he just swum for that

obelisk and he climbed up the hiryglyphics. It was a mighty fine obelisk, and the Egyptians had cut their

hiryglyphics good and deep, so that the man could get hand and foothold; and when we got to him and took

him off, he was sitting high and dry on the p'inted end of that obelisk. It was a great pity about the obelisk, for

it was a good obelisk, but as I never heard the company tried to raise it, I expect it is standing there yet."

Captain Burress now put his pipe back into his mouth and looked at Captain Jenkinson, who removed his

"The queerest thing that ever happened to me was about a shark. We was off the Banks, and the time of year

was July, and the ice was coming down, and we got in among a lot of it. Not far away, off our weather bow,

there was a little iceberg which had such a queerness about it that the captain and three men went in a boat to

look at it. The ice was mighty clear ice, and you could see almost through it, and right inside of it, not more

than three feet above the waterline, and about two feet, or maybe twenty inches, inside the ice, was a

whopping big shark, about fourteen feet long,a regular maneater,frozen in there hard and fast. `Bless

my soul,' said the captain, `this is a wonderful curiosity, and I'm going to git him out.' Just then one of the

men said he saw that shark wink, but the captain wouldn't believe him, for he said that shark was frozen stiff

and hard and couldn't wink. You see, the captain had his own idees about things, and he knew that whales

was warmblooded and would freeze if they was shut up in ice, but he forgot that sharks was not whales and

that they're coldblooded just like toads. And there is toads that has been shut up in rocks for thousands of

years, and they stayed alive, no matter how cold the place was, because they was coldblooded, and when the

rocks was split, out hopped the frog. But, as I said before, the captain forgot sharks was coldblooded, and he

"Now you both know, being housekeepers, that if you take a needle and drive it into a hunk of ice you can

split it. The captain had a sailneedle with him, and so he drove it into the iceberg right alongside of the

shark and split it. Now the minute he did it he knew that the man was right when he said he saw the shark

"What a happy fish he must have been!" ejaculated Dorcas, forgetful of precedent, so great was her emotion.

"Yes," said Captain Jenkinson, "it was a happy fish enough, but it wasn't a happy captain. You see, that shark

hadn't had anything to eat, perhaps for a thousand years, until the captain came along with his sailneedle."

"Surely you sailormen do see strange things," now said the widow, "and the strangest thing about them is that

"You wouldn't suppose," said the Widow Ducket, glancing from one bench of mariners to the other, "that I

"It was a good while ago," she said, "when I was living on the shore near the head of the bay, that my

husband was away and I was left alone in the house. One mornin' my sisterinlaw, who lived on the other

side of the bay, sent me word by a boy on a horse that she hadn't any oil in the house to fill the lamp that she

always put in the window to light her husband home, who was a fisherman, and if I would send her some by

the boy she would pay me back as soon as they bought oil. The boy said he would stop on his way home and

take the oil to her, but he never did stop, or perhaps he never went back, and about five o'clock I began to get

dreadfully worried, for I knew if that lamp wasn't in my sisterinlaw's window by dark she might be a

widow before midnight. So I said to myself, `I've got to get that oil to her, no matter what happens or how it's

done.' Of course I couldn't tell what might happen, but there was only one way it could be done, and that was

for me to get into the boat that was tied to the post down by the water, and take it to her, for it was too far for

me to walk around by the head of the bay. Now, the trouble was, I didn't know no more about a boat and the

managin' of it than any one of you sailormen knows about clear starchin'. But there wasn't no use of thinkin'

what I knew and what I didn't know, for I had to take it to her, and there was no way of doin' it except in that

boat. So I filled a gallon can, for I thought I might as well take enough while I was about it, and I went down

to the water and I unhitched that boat and I put the oilcan into her, and then I got in, and off I started, and

"Madam," interrupted Captain Bird, "did you row oror was there a sail to the boat?"

The widow looked at the questioner for a moment. "No," said she, "I didn't row. I forgot to bring the oars

from the house; but it didn't matter, for I didn't know how to use them, and if there had been a sail I couldn't

have put it up, for I didn't know how to use it, either. I used the rudder to make the boat go. The rudder was

the only thing I knew anything about. I'd held a rudder when I was a little girl, and I knew how to work it. So

I just took hold of the handle of the rudder and turned it round and round, and that made the boat go ahead,

"Madam!" exclaimed Captain Bird, and the other elderly mariners took their pipes from their mouths.

"Yes, that is the way I did it," continued the widow, briskly. "Big steamships are made to go by a propeller

turning round and round at their back ends, and I made the rudder work in the same way, and I got along very

well, too, until suddenly, when I was about a quarter of a mile from the shore, a most terrible and awful storm

arose. There must have been a typhoon or a cyclone out at sea, for the waves came up the bay bigger than

houses, and when they got to the head of the bay they turned around and tried to get out to sea again. So in

this way they continually met, and made the most awful and roarin' pilin' up of waves that ever was known.

"My little boat was pitched about as if it had been a feather in a breeze, and when the front part of it was

cleavin' itself down into the water the hind part was stickin' up until the rudder whizzed around like a patent

churn with no milk in it. The thunder began to roar and the lightnin' flashed, and three seagulls, so nearly

frightened to death that they began to turn up the whites of their eyes, flew down and sat on one of the seats

of the boat, forgettin' in that awful moment that man was their nat'ral enemy. I had a couple of biscuits in my

pocket, because I had thought I might want a bite in crossing, and I crumbled up one of these and fed the poor

creatures. Then I began to wonder what I was goin' to do, for things were gettin' awfuller and awfuller every

instant, and the little boat was aheavin' and apitchin' and arollin' and h'istin' itself up, first on one end and

then on the other, to such an extent that if I hadn't kept tight hold of the rudderhandle I'd slipped off the seat

"All of a sudden I remembered that oil in the can; but just as I was puttin' my fingers on the cork my

conscience smote me. `Am I goin' to use this oil,' I said to myself, `and let my sisterinlaw's husband be

wrecked for want of it?' And then I thought that he wouldn't want it all that night, and perhaps they would

buy oil the next day, and so I poured out about a tumblerful of it on the water, and I can just tell you

sailormen that you never saw anything act as prompt as that did. In three seconds, or perhaps five, the water

all around me, for the distance of a small front yard, was just as flat as a table and as smooth as glass, and so

invitin' in appearance that the three gulls jumped out of the boat and began to swim about on it, primin' their

feathers and lookin' at themselves in the transparent depths, though I must say that one of them made an

"Now I had time to sit quiet in the midst of the placid space I had made for myself, and rest from workin' of

the rudder. Truly it was a wonderful and marvellous thing to look at. The waves was roarin' and leapin' up all

around me higher than the roof of this house, and sometimes their tops would reach over so that they nearly

met and shut out all view of the stormy sky, which seemed as if it was bein' torn to pieces by blazin' lightnin',

while the thunder pealed so tremendous that it almost drowned the roar of the waves. Not only above and all

around me was every thing terrific and fearful, but even under me it was the same, for there was a big crack

in the bottom of the boat as wide as my hand, and through this I could see down into the water beneath, and

"Madam!" ejaculated Captain Bird, the hand which had been holding his pipe a few inches from his mouth

now dropping to his knee; and at this motion the hands which held the pipes of the three other mariners

"Of course it sounds strange," continued the widow, "but I know that people can see down into clear water,

and the water under me was clear, and the crack was wide enough for me to see through, and down under me

was sharks and swordfishes and other horrible water creatures, which I had never seen before, all driven into

the bay, I haven't a doubt, by the violence of the storm out at sea. The thought of my bein' upset and fallin' in

among those monsters made my very blood run cold, and involuntarylike I began to turn the handle of the

rudder, and in a moment I shot into a wall of ragin' seawater that was towerin' around me. For a second I

was fairly blinded and stunned, but I had the cork out of that oilcan in no time, and very soonyou'd

scarcely believe it if I told you how soonI had another placid millpond surroundin' of me. I sat there

apantin' and fannin' with my straw hat, for you'd better believe I was flustered, and then I began to think

how long it would take me to make a line of millponds clean across the head of the bay, and how much oil it

would need, and whether I had enough. So I sat and calculated that if a tumblerful of oil would make a

smooth place about seven yards across, which I should say was the width of the one I was in,which I

calculated by a measure of my eye as to how many breadths of carpet it would take to cover it,and if the

bay was two miles across betwixt our house and my sisterinlaw's, and, although I couldn't get the thing

down to exact figures, I saw pretty soon that I wouldn't have oil enough to make a level cuttin' through all

those mountainous billows, and besides, even if I had enough to take me across, what would be the good of

"While I was thinkin' and calculatin' a perfectly dreadful thing happened, which made me think if I didn't get

out of this pretty soon I'd find myself in a mighty risky predicament. The oilcan, which I had forgotten to

put the cork in, toppled over, and before I could grab it every drop of the oil ran into the hind part of the boat,

where it was soaked up by a lot of dry dust that was there. No wonder my heart sank when I saw this.

Glancin' wildly around me, as people will do when they are scared, I saw the smooth place I was in gettin'

smaller and smaller, for the kerosene was evaporatin', as it will do even off woollen clothes if you give it time

enough. The first pond I had come out of seemed to be covered up, and the great, towerin', throbbin' precipice

"Castin' down my eyes in despair, I happened to look through the crack in the bottom of the boat, and oh,

what a blessed relief it was! for down there everything was smooth and still, and I could see the sand on the

bottom, as level and hard, no doubt, as it was on the beach. Suddenly the thought struck me that that bottom

would give me the only chance I had of gettin' out of the frightful fix I was in. If I could fill that oilcan with

air, and then puttin' it under my arm and takin' a long breath if I could drop down on that smooth bottom, I

might run along toward shore, as far as I could, and then, when I felt my breath was givin' out, I could take a

pull at the oilcan and take another run, and then take another pull and another run, and perhaps the can

would hold air enough for me until I got near enough to shore to wade to dry land. To be sure, the sharks and

other monsters were down there, but then they must have been awfully frightened, and perhaps they might

not remember that man was their nat'ral enemy. Anyway, I thought it would be better to try the smooth water

"So I blew the can full of air and corked it, and then I tore up some of the boards from the bottom of the boat

so as to make a hole big enough for me to get through,and you sailormen needn't wriggle so when I say

that, for you all know a divin'bell hasn't any bottom at all and the water never comes in,and so when I got

the hole big enough I took the oilcan under my arm, and was just about to slip down through it when I saw

an awful turtle awalkin' through the sand at the bottom. Now, I might trust sharks and swordfishes and

seaserpents to be frightened and forget about their nat'ral enemies, but I never could trust a gray turtle as big

as a cart, with a black neck a yard long, with yellow bags to its jaws, to forget anything or to remember

anything. I'd as lieve get into a bathtub with a live crab as to go down there. It wasn't of no use even so

much as thinkin' of it, so I gave up that plan and didn't once look through that hole again."

"And what did you do, madam?" asked Captain Bird, who was regarding her with a face of stone.

"I used electricity," she said. "Now don't start as if you had a shock of it. That's what I used. When I was

younger than I was then, and sometimes visited friends in the city, we often amused ourselves by rubbing our

feet on the carpet until we got ourselves so full of electricity that we could put up our fingers and light the

gas. So I said to myself that if I could get full of electricity for the purpose of lightin' the gas I could get full

of it for other purposes, and so, without losin' a moment, I set to work. I stood up on one of the seats, which

was dry, and I rubbed the bottoms of my shoes backward and forward on it with such violence and swiftness

that they pretty soon got warm and I began fillin' with electricity, and when I was fully charged with it from

my toes to the top of my head, I just sprang into the water and swam ashore. Of course I couldn't sink, bein'

Captain Bird heaved a long sigh and rose to his feet, whereupon the other mariners rose to their feet

"Madam," said Captain Bird, "what's to pay for the supper andthe rest of the entertainment?"

"The supper is twentyfive cents apiece," said the Widow Ducket, "and everything else is free, gratis."

Whereupon each mariner put his hand into his trousers pocket, pulled out a silver quarter, and handed it to the

"Cast off, Captain Jenkinson," said Captain Bird, "and you, Captain Burress, clew him up for'ard. You can

All being ready, each of the elderly mariners clambered over a wheel, and having seated themselves, they

But just as they were about to start, Captain Jenkinson asked that they lay to a bit, and clambering down over

his wheel, he reentered the front gate and went up to the door of the house, where the widow and Dorcas were

"Madam," said he, "I just came back to ask what became of your brotherinlaw through his wife's not bein'

"The storm drove him ashore on our side of the bay," said she, "and the next mornin' he came up to our

house, and I told him all that had happened to me. And when he took our boat and went home and told that

story to his wife, she just packed up and went out West, and got divorced from him. And it served him right,

"Thank you, ma'am," said Captain Jenkinson, and going out of the gate, he clambered up over the wheel, and

When the elderly mariners were gone, the Widow Ducket, still standing in the door, turned to Dorcas.

"Think of it!" she said. "To tell all that to me, in my own house! And after I had opened my one jar of

"In your own house!" ejaculated Dorcas. "And not one of them brandied peaches left!"

The widow jingled the four quarters in her hand before she slipped them into her pocket.

"Anyway, Dorcas," she remarked, "I think we can now say we are square with all the world, and so let's go in

The little seaside village of Sponkannis lies so quietly upon a protected spot on our Atlantic coast that it

makes no more stir in the world than would a pebble which, held between one's finger and thumb, should be

dipped below the surface of a millpond and then dropped. About the postoffice and the storeboth under

the same roofthe greater number of the houses cluster, as if they had come for their week's groceries, or

were waiting for the mail, while toward the west the dwellings become fewer and fewer, until at last the

village blends into a long stretch of sandy coast and scrubby pinewoods. Eastward the village ends abruptly

Among the last houses in the western end of the village stood two neat, substantial dwellings, one belonging

to Captain Eli Bunker, and the other to Captain Cephas Dyer. These householders were two very respectable

retired mariners, the first a widower about fifty, and the other a bachelor of perhaps the same age, a few years

more or less making but little difference in this region of weatherbeaten youth and seasoned age.

Each of these good captains lived alone, and each took entire charge of his own domestic affairs, not because

he was poor, but because it pleased him to do so. When Captain Eli retired from the sea he was the owner of a

good vessel, which he sold at a fair profit; and Captain Cephas had made money in many a voyage before he

When Captain Eli's wife was living she was his household manager. But Captain Cephas had never had a

woman in his house, except during the first few months of his occupancy, when certain female neighbors

came in occasionally to attend to little matters of cleaning which, according to popular notions, properly

But Captain Cephas soon put an end to this sort of thing. He did not like a woman's ways, especially her ways

of attending to domestic affairs. He liked to live in sailor fashion, and to keep house in sailor fashion. In his

establishment everything was shipshape, and everything which could be stowed away was stowed away, and,

if possible, in a bunker. The floors were holystoned nearly every day, and the whole house was repainted

about twice a year, a little at a time, when the weather was suitable for this marine recreation. Things not in

frequent use were lashed securely to the walls, or perhaps put out of the way by being hauled up to the ceiling

by means of blocks and tackle. His cooking was done sailor fashion, like everything else, and he never failed

to have plumduff on Sunday. His well was near his house, and every morning he dropped into it a lead and

line, and noted down the depth of water. Three times a day he entered in a little notebook the state of the

weather, the height of the mercury in barometer and thermometer, the direction of the wind, and special

Captain Eli managed his domestic affairs in an entirely different way. He kept house woman fashionnot,

however, in the manner of an ordinary woman, but after the manner of his late wife, Miranda Bunker, now

dead some seven years. Like his friend, Captain Cephas, he had had the assistance of his female neighbors

during the earlier days of his widowerhood. But he soon found that these women did not do things as

Miranda used to do them, and, although he frequently suggested that they should endeavor to imitate the

methods of his late consort, they did not even try to do things as she used to do them, preferring their own

ways. Therefore it was that Captain Eli determined to keep house by himself, and to do it, as nearly as his

nature would allow, as Miranda used to do it. He swept his doors and he shook his doormats; he washed his

paint with soap and hot water; he dusted his furniture with a soft cloth, which he afterwards stuck behind a

chest of drawers. He made his bed very neatly, turning down the sheet at the top, and setting the pillow upon

edge, smoothing it carefully after he had done so. His cooking was based on the methods of the late Miranda.

He had never been able to make bread rise properly, but he had always liked shipbiscuit, and he now greatly

preferred them to the risen bread made by his neighbors. And as to coffee and the plainer articles of food with

which he furnished his table, even Miranda herself would not have objected to them had she been alive and

The houses of the two captains were not very far apart, and they were good neighbors, often smoking their

pipes together and talking of the sea. But this was always on the little porch in front of Captain Cephas's

house, or by his kitchen fire in the winter. Captain Eli did not like the smell of tobacco smoke in his house, or

even in front of it in summertime, when the doors were open. He had no objection himself to the odor of

tobacco, but it was contrary to the principles of woman housekeeping that rooms should smell of it, and he

It was late in a certain December, and through the village there was a pleasant little flutter of Christmas

preparations. Captain Eli had been up to the store, and he had stayed there a good while, warming himself by

the stove, and watching the women coming in to buy things for Christmas. It was strange how many things

they bought for presents or for holiday usefancy soap and candy, handkerchiefs and little woollen shawls

for old people, and a lot of pretty little things which he knew the use of, but which Captain Cephas would

As Captain Eli came out of the store he saw a cart in which were two goodsized Christmas trees, which had

been cut in the woods, and were going, one to Captain Holmes's house, and the other to Mother Nelson's.

Captain Holmes had grandchildren, and Mother Nelson, with never a child of her own, good old soul, had

three little orphan nieces who never wanted for anything needful at Christmastime or any other time.

Captain Eli walked home very slowly, taking observations in his mind. It was more than seven years since he

had had anything to do with Christmas, except that on that day he had always made himself a mincepie, the

construction and the consumption of which were equally difficult. It is true that neighbors had invited him,

and they had invited Captain Cephas, to their Christmas dinners, but neither of these worthy seamen had ever

accepted any of these invitations. Even holiday food, when not cooked in sailor fashion, did not agree with

Captain Cephas, and it would have pained the good heart of Captain Eli if he had been forced to make believe

to enjoy a Christmas dinner so very inferior to those which Miranda used to set before him.

But now the heart of Captain Eli was gently moved by a Christmas flutter. It had been foolish, perhaps, for

him to go up to the store at such a time as this, but the mischief had been done. Old feelings had come back to

him, and he would be glad to celebrate Christmas this year if he could think of any good way to do it. And

the result of his mental observations was that he went over to Captain Cephas's house to talk to him about it.

Captain Cephas was in his kitchen, smoking his third morning pipe. Captain Eli filled his pipe, lighted it, and

"Cap'n," said he, "what do you say to our keepin Christmas this year? A Christmas dinner is no good if it's

got to be eat alone, and you and me might eat ourn together. It might be in my house, or it might be in your

houseit won't make no great difference to me which. Of course, I like woman housekeepin', as is laid down

in the rules of service fer my house. But next best to that I like sailor housekeepin', so I don't mind which

Captain Cephas took his pipe from his mouth. "You're pretty late thinkin' about it," said he, "fer day after

"That don't make no difference," said Captain Eli. "What things we want that are not in my house or your

"In the woods!" exclaimed Captain Cephas. "What in the name of thunder do you expect to get in the woods

"A Christmas tree," said Captain Eli. "I thought it might be a nice thing to have a Christmas tree fer

Christmas. Cap'n Holmes has got one, and Mother Nelson's got another. I guess nearly everybody's got one. It

Captain Cephas grinned a grin, as if a great leak had been sprung in the side of a vessel, stretching nearly

"A Christmas tree!" he exclaimed. "Well, I am blessed! But look here, Cap'n Eli. You don't know what a

Christmas tree's fer. It's fer children, and not fer grownups. Nobody ever does have a Christmas tree in any

Captain Eli rose and stood with his back to the fire. "I didn't think of that," he said, "but I guess it's so. And

when I come to think of it, a Christmas isn't much of a Christmas, anyway, without children."

"Yes," replied Captain Eli, reflectively, "we did do it, but there was always a lackmentMiranda has said so,

"No, we didn't. But I don't think that folks was as much set on Christmas trees then as they 'pear to be now. I

wonder," he continued, thoughtfully gazing at the ceiling, "if we was to fix up a Christmas treeand you and

me's got a lot of pretty things that we've picked up all over the world, that would go miles ahead of anything

that could be bought at the store fer Christmas treesif we was to fix up a tree real nice, if we couldn't get

some child or other that wasn't likely to have a tree to come in and look at it, and stay awhile, and make

Christmas more like Christmas. And then, when it went away, it could take along the things that was hangin'

"That wouldn't work," said Captain Cephas. "If you get a child into this business, you must let it hang up its

stockin' before it goes to bed, and find it full in the mornin', and then tell it an allfired lie about Santa Claus

if it asks any questions. Most children think more of stockin's than they do of treesso I've heard, at least."

"I've got no objections to stockin's," said Captain Eli. "If it wanted to hang one up, it could hang one up either

"You couldn't keep a child all night," sardonically remarked Captain Cephas, "and no more could I. Fer if it

was to get up a croup in the night, it would be as if we was on a lee shore with anchors draggin' and a gale

"That's so," said Captain Eli. "You've put it fair. I suppose if we did keep a child all night, we'd have to have

Captain Cephas sniffed. "What's the good of talkin'?" said he. "There ain't no child, and there ain't no woman

that you could hire to sit all night on my front step or on your front step, awaitin' to be piped on deck in case

"No," said Captain Eli. "I don't suppose there's any child in this village that ain't goin' to be provided with a

Christmas tree or a Christmas stockin', or perhaps bothexcept, now I come to think of it, that little gal that

was brought down here with her mother last summer, and has been kept by Mrs. Crumley sence her mother

"And won't be kept much longer," said Captain Cephas, "fer I've hearn Mrs. Crumley say she couldn't afford

"That's so," said Captain Eli. "If she can't afford to keep the little gal, she can't afford to give no Christmas

trees nor stockin's, and so it seems to me, cap'n, that that little gal would be a pretty good child to help us

"You're all the time forgettin'," said the other, "that nuther of us can keep a child all night."

Captain Eli seated himself, and looked ponderingly into the fire. "You're right, cap'n," said he. "We'd have to

ship some woman to take care of her. Of course, it wouldn't be no use to ask Mrs. Crumley?"

"And there doesn't seem to be anybody else," said his companion. "Can you think of anybody, cap'n?"

"There ain't anybody to think of," replied Captain Cephas, "unless it might be Eliza Trimmer. She's generally

ready enough to do anything that turns up. But she wouldn't be no goodher house is too far away for either

"So that settles the whole business," said Captain Cephas. "She's too far away to come if wanted, and nuther

of us couldn't keep no child without somebody to come if they was wanted, and it's no use to have a

Christmas tree without a child. A Christmas without a Christmas tree don't seem agreeable to you, cap'n, so I

guess we'd better get along just the same as we've been in the habit of doin', and eat our Christmas dinner, as

Captain Eli looked into the fire. "I don't like to give up things if I can help it. That was always my way. If

wind and tide's ag'in' me, I can wait till one or the other, or both of them, serve."

"That's so. But it does 'pear to me as if I'd have to give up this time, though it's a pity to do it, on account of

She's a nice little gal, and takes as natural to navigation as if she'd been born at sea. I've given her two or

three things because she's so pretty, but there's nothing she likes so much as a little ship I gave her."

For a few moments nothing was said. Then Captain Eli suddenly exclaimed, "I'll tell you what we might do,

cap'n! We might ask Mrs. Trimmer to lend a hand in givin' the little gal a Christmas. She ain't got nobody in

her house but herself, and I guess she'd be glad enough to help give that little gal a regular Christmas. She

could go and get the child, and bring her to your house or to my house, or wherever we're goin' to keep

"Well," replied the other, a little hesitatingly, "so far as I'm concerned,that is, I don't mind one way or the

other,she might take her Christmas dinner along with us and the little gal, and then she could fix her

"Well," said Captain Eli, "she couldthat is, it doesn't make any difference to me one way or the othershe

might stay all night at whatever house we kept Christmas in, and then you and me might spend the night in

the other house, and then she could be ready there to help the child in the mornin', when she came to look at

Captain Cephas fixed upon his friend an earnest glare. "That's pretty considerable of an idea to come upon

you so suddint," said he. "But I can tell you one thing: there ain't agoin' to be any such doin's in my house. If

you choose to come over here to sleep, and give up your house to any woman you can find to take care of the

There was a certain severity in these remarks, but they appeared to affect Captain Eli very pleasantly.

"Well," said he, "if you're satisfied, I am. I'll agree to any plan you choose to make. It doesn't matter to me

which house it's in, and if you say my house, I say my house. All I want is to make the business agreeable to

all concerned. Now it's time fer me to go to my dinner, and this afternoon we'd better go and try to get things

straightened out, because the little gal, and whatever woman comes with her, ought to be at my house

tomorrow before dark. S'posin' we divide up this business: I'll go and see Mrs. Crumley about the little gal,

"No, sir," promptly replied Captain Cephas, "I don't go to see no Mrs. Trimmer. You can see both of them

just the same as you can see onethey're all along the same way. I'll go cut the Christmas tree."

"All right," said Captain Eli. "It don't make no difference to me which does which. But if I was you, cap'n, I'd

cut a good big tree, because we might as well have a good one while we're about it."

When he had eaten his dinner, and washed up his dishes, and had put everything away in neat, housewifely

order, Captain Eli went to Mrs. Crumley's house, and very soon finished his business there. Mrs. Crumley

kept the only house which might be considered a boardinghouse in the village of Sponkannis; and when she

had consented to take charge of the little girl who had been left on her hands she had hoped it would not be

very long before she would hear from some of her relatives in regard to her maintenance. But she had heard

nothing, and had now ceased to expect to hear anything, and in consequence had frequently remarked that she

must dispose of the child some way or other, for she couldn't afford to keep her any longer. Even an absence

of a day or two at the house of the good captain would be some relief, and Mrs. Crumley readily consented to

the Christmas scheme. As to the little girl, she was delighted. She already looked upon Captain Eli as her best

It was not so easy to go to Mrs. Trimmer's house and put the business before her. "It ought to be plain sailin'

enough," Captain Eli said to himself, over and over again, "but, fer all that, it don't seem to be plain sailin'."

But he was not a man to be deterred by difficult navigation, and he walked straight to Eliza Trimmer's house.

Mrs. Trimmer was a comely woman about thirtyfive, who had come to the village a year before, and had

maintained herself, or at least had tried to, by dressmaking and plain sewing. She had lived at Stetford, a

seaport about twenty miles away, and from there, three years before, her husband, Captain Trimmer, had

sailed away in a goodsized schooner, and had never returned. She had come to Sponkannis because she

thought that there she could live cheaper and get more work than in her former home. She had found the first

When Captain Eli entered Mrs. Trimmer's little room, he found her busy mending a sail. Here fortune favored

him. "You turn your hand to 'most anything, Mrs. Trimmer," said he, after he had greeted her.

"Oh, yes," she answered, with a smile, "I am obliged to do that. Mending sails is pretty heavy work, but it's

"I had a notion," said he, "that you was ready to turn your hand to any good kind of business, so I thought I

would step in and ask you if you'd turn your hand to a little bit of business I've got on the stocks."

She stopped sewing on the sail, and listened while Captain Eli laid his plan before her. "It's very kind in you

and Captain Cephas to think of all that," said she. "I have often noticed that poor little girl, and pitied her.

Certainly I'll come, and you needn't say anything about paying me for it. I wouldn't think of asking to be paid

for doing a thing like that. And besides,"she smiled again as she spoke,"if you are going to give me a

Captain Eli did not exactly agree with her, but he was in very good humor, and she was in good humor, and

the matter was soon settled, and Mrs. Trimmer promised to come to the captain's house in the morning and

help about the Christmas tree, and in the afternoon to go to get the little girl from Mrs. Crumley's and bring

Captain Eli was delighted with the arrangements. "Things now seem to be goin' along before a spankin'

breeze,"said he. "But I don't know about the dinner. I guess you will have to leave that to me. I don't believe

Captain Cephas could eat a womancooked dinner. He's accustomed to livin sailor fashion, you know, and he

has declared over and over again to me that womancookin' doesn't agree with him."

"But I can cook sailor fashion," said Mrs. Trimmer,"just as much sailor fashion as you or Captain Cephas,

and if he don't believe it, I'll prove it to him; so you needn't worry about that."

When the captain had gone, Mrs. Trimmer gayly put away the sail. There was no need to finish it in a hurry,

and no knowing when she would get her money for it when it was done. No one had asked her to a Christmas

dinner that year, and she had expected to have a lonely time of it. But it would be very pleasant to spend

Christmas with the little girl and the two good captains. Instead of sewing any more on the sail, she got out

The next morning Mrs. Trimmer went to Captain Eli's house, and finding Captain Cephas there, they all set to

work at the Christmas tree, which was a very fine one, and had been planted in a box. Captain Cephas had

brought over a bundle of things from his house, and Captain Eli kept running here and there, bringing, each

time that he returned, some new object, wonderful or pretty, which he had brought from China or Japan or

Corea, or some spicy island of the Eastern seas; and nearly every time he came with these treasures Mrs.

Trimmer declared that such things were too good to put upon a Christmas tree, even for such a nice little girl

as the one for which that tree was intended. The presents which Captain Cephas brought were much more

suitable for the purpose; they were odd and funny, and some of them pretty, but not expensive, as were the

fans and bits of shellwork and carved ivories which Captain Eli wished to tie upon the twigs of the tree.

"I don't suppose, after all," said he, "that the little gal ought to have all the things. This is such a big tree that

it's more like a family tree. Cap'n Cephas can take some of my things, and I can take some of his things, and,

Mrs. Trimmer, if there's anything you like, you can call it your present and take it for your own, so that will

"I'm sure I think they ought to be," said Mrs. Trimmer, looking very kindly at Captain Eli.

Mrs. Trimmer went home to her own house to dinner, and in the afternoon she brought the little girl. She had

said there ought to be an early supper, so that the child would have time to enjoy the Christmas tree before

This meal was prepared entirely by Captain Eli, and in sailor fashion, not woman fashion, so that Captain

Cephas could make no excuse for eating his supper at home. Of course they all ought to be together the whole

of that Christmas eve. As for the big dinner on the morrow, that was another affair, for Mrs. Trimmer

undertook to make Captain Cephas understand that she had always cooked for Captain Trimmer in sailor

fashion, and if he objected to her plumduff, or if anybody else objected to her mincepie, she was going to

Captain Cephas ate his supper with a good relish, and was still eating when the rest had finished. As to the

Christmas tree, it was the most valuable, if not the most beautiful, that had ever been set up in that region. It

had no candles upon it, but was lighted by three lamps and a ship's lantern placed in the four corners of the

room, and the little girl was as happy as if the tree were decorated with little dolls and glass balls. Mrs.

Trimmer was intensely pleased and interested to see the child so happy, and Captain Eli was much pleased

and interested to see the child and Mrs. Trimmer so happy, and Captain Cephas was interested, and perhaps a

little amused in a superior fashion, to see Captain Eli and Mrs. Trimmer and the little child so happy.

Then the distribution of the presents began. Captain Eli asked Captain Cephas if he might have the wooden

pipe that the latter had brought for his present. Captain Cephas said he might take it, for all he cared, and be

welcome to it. Then Captain Eli gave Captain Cephas a red bandanna handkerchief of a very curious pattern,

and Captain Cephas thanked him kindly. After which Captain Eli bestowed upon Mrs. Trimmer a most

beautiful tortoiseshell comb, carved and cut and polished in a wonderful way, and with it he gave a

tortoiseshell fan, carved in the same fashion, because he said the two things seemed to belong to each other

and ought to go together; and he would not listen to one word of what Mrs. Trimmer said about the gifts

"It seems to me," said Captain Cephas, "that you might be giving something to the little gal."

Then Captain Eli remembered that the child ought not to be forgotten, and her soul was lifted into ecstasy by

many gifts, some of which Mrs. Trimmer declared were too good for any child in this wide, wide world. But

Captain Eli answered that they could be taken care of by somebody until the little girl was old enough to

Then it was discovered that, unbeknown to anybody else, Mrs. Trimmer had put some presents on the tree,

which were things which had been brought by Captain Trimmer from somewhere in the far East or the distant

West. These she bestowed upon Captain Cephas and Captain Eli. And the end of all this was that in the whole

of Sponkannis, from the foot of the bluff to the east, to the very last house on the shore to the west, there was

Captain Cephas was not quite so happy as the three others were, but he was very much interested. About nine

o'clock the party broke up, and the two captains put on their caps and buttoned up their peajackets, and

started for Captain Cephas's house, but not before Captain Eli had carefully fastened every window and every

door except the front door, and had told Mrs. Trimmer how to fasten that when they had gone, and had given

her a boatswain's whistle, which she might blow out of the window if there should be a sudden croup and it

should be necessary for any one to go anywhere. He was sure he could hear it, for the wind was exactly right

for him to hear a whistle from his house. When they had gone Mrs. Trimmer put the little girl to bed, and was

delighted to find in what a wonderfully neat and womanlike fashion that house was kept.

It was nearly twelve o'clock that night when Captain Eli, sleeping in his bunk opposite that of Captain

Cephas, was aroused by hearing a sound. He had been lying with his best ear uppermost, so that he should

hear anything if there happened to be anything to hear. He did hear something, but it was not a boatswain's

In a moment Captain Eli was sitting on the side of his bunk, listening intently. Again came the cry. The

"Cap'n! " said he, and at the word Captain Cephas was sitting on the side of his bunk, listening. He knew

from his companion's attitude, plainly visible in the light of a lantern which hung on a hook at the other end

"Bounce on deck, boys!" said Captain Cephas, getting out on the floor. "There's some one in distress off

"It couldn't be a call from land?" he asked hurriedly. "It don't sound a bit to you like a boatswain's whistle,

"No," said Captain Cephas, disdainfully. "It's a call from sea." Then, seizing a lantern, he rushed down the

As soon as he was convinced that it was a call from sea, Captain Eli was one in feeling and action with

Captain Cephas. The latter hastily opened the draughts of the kitchen stove, and put on some wood, and by

the time this was done Captain Eli had the kettle filled and on the stove. Then they clapped on their caps and

their peajackets, each took an oar from a corner in the back hall, and together they ran down to the beach.

The night was dark, but not very cold, and Captain Cephas had been to the store that morning in his boat.

Whenever he went to the store, and the weather permitted, he rowed there in his boat rather than walk. At the

bow of the boat, which was now drawn up on the sand, the two men stood and listened. Again came the cry

"Yes," said Captain Eli, "and it's some small craft, fer that cry is down pretty nigh to the water."

"Yes," said Captain Cephas. "And there's only one man aboard, or else they'd take turns ahollerin'."

"He's a stranger," said Captain Eli, "or he wouldn't have tried, even with a catboat, to get in over that shoal

As they spoke they ran the boat out into the water and jumped in, each with an oar. Then they pulled for the

Although these two captains were men of fifty or thereabout, they were as strong and tough as any young

fellows in the village, and they pulled with steady strokes, and sent the heavy boat skimming over the water,

not in a straight line toward the Turtleback Shoal, but now a few points in the darkness this way, and now a

few points in the darkness that way, then with a great curve to the south through the dark night, keeping

always near the middle of the only good channel out of the bay when the tide was ebbing.

Now the cries from seaward had ceased, but the two captains were not discouraged.

"He's listenin', and he'll sing out again if he thinks we're goin' wrong," said Captain Eli. "Of course he doesn't

And so when they made the sweep to the south the cry came again, and Captain Eli grinned. "We needn't to

spend no breath hollerin'," said he. "He'll hear us makin' fer him in a minute."

When they came to head for the shoal they lay on their oars for a moment, while Captain Cephas turned the

lantern in the bow, so that its light shone out ahead. He had not wanted the shipwrecked person to see the

light when it would seem as if the boat were rowing away from him. He had heard of castaway people who

became so wild when they imagined that a ship or boat was going away from them that they jumped

When the two captains reached the shoal, they found there a catboat aground, with one man aboard. His tale

was quickly told. He had expected to run into the little bay that afternoon, but the wind had fallen, and in

trying to get in after dark, and being a stranger, he had run aground. If he had not been so cold, he said, he

would have been willing to stay there till the tide rose; but he was getting chilled, and seeing a light not far

The two captains did not ask many questions. They helped anchor the catboat, and then they took the man

on their boat and rowed him to shore. He was getting chilled sitting out there doing nothing, and so when

they reached the house they made him some hot grog, and promised in the morning, when the tide rose, they

would go out and help him bring his boat in. Then Captain Cephas showed the stranger to a bunk, and they

all went to bed. Such experiences had not enough of novelty to the good captains to keep them awake five

In the morning they were all up very early, and the stranger, who proved to be a seafaring man with bright

blue eyes, said that, as his catboat seemed to be riding all right at its anchorage, he did not care to go out

after her just yet. Any time during floodtide would do for him, and he had some business that he wanted to

This suited the two captains very well, for they wished to be on hand when the little girl discovered her

"Can you tell me," said the stranger, as he put on his cap, "where I can find a Mrs. Trimmer, who lives in this

At these words all the sturdy stiffness which, from his youth up, had characterized the legs of Captain Eli

entirely went out of them, and he sat suddenly upon a bench. For a few moments there was silence.

Then Captain Cephas, who thought some answer should be made to the question, nodded his head.

"I want to see her as soon as I can," said the stranger. "I have come to see her on particular business that will

be a surprise to her. I wanted to be here before Christmas began, and that's the reason I took that catboat

from Stetford, because I thought I'd come quicker that way than by land. But the wind fell, as I told you. If

either one of you would be good enough to pilot me to where Mrs. Trimmer lives, or to any point where I can

Captain Eli rose and with hurried but unsteady steps went into the house (for they had been upon the little

piazza), and beckoned to his friend to follow. The two men stood in the kitchen and looked at each other. The

"Of course. Take him to my house. There ain't no other place where she is. Take him along."

Captain Cephas's countenance wore an air of the deepest concern, but he thought that the best thing to do was

As they walked rapidly toward Captain Eli's house there was very little said by either Captain Cephas or the

stranger. The latter seemed anxious to give Mrs. Trimmer a surprise, and not to say anything which might

The two men had scarcely stepped upon the piazza when Mrs. Trimmer, who had been expecting early

visitors, opened the door. She was about to call out "Merry Christmas!" but, her eyes falling upon a stranger,

the words stopped at her lips. First she turned red, then she turned pale, and Captain Cephas thought she was

about to fall. But before she could do this the stranger had her in his arms. She opened her eyes, which for a

moment she had closed, and, gazing into his face, she put her arms around his neck. Then Captain Cephas

came away, without thinking of the little girl and the pleasure she would have in discovering her Christmas

When he had been left alone, Captain Eli sat down near the kitchen stove, close to the very kettle which he

had filled with water to heat for the benefit of the man he had helped bring in from the sea, and, with his

"If I'd only slept with my hardo'hearin' ear up," he said to himself, "I'd never have heard it."

"That's next to murder," he muttered, "fer he couldn't have kept himself from fallin' asleep out there in the

cold, and when the tide riz held have been blowed out to sea with this wind. If I hadn't heard him, Captain

But, notwithstanding his better nature, Captain Eli was again saying to himself, when his friend returned, "If

Like the honest, straightforward mariner he was, Captain Cephas made an exact report of the facts. "They

was huggin' when I left them," he said, "and I expect they went indoors pretty soon, fer it was too cold

outside. It's an allfired shame she happened to be in your house, cap'n, that's all I've got to say about it. It's a

Captain Eli made no answer. He still sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair.

"A better course than you laid down fer these Christmas times was never dotted on a chart," continued

Captain Cephas. "From port of sailin' to port of entry you laid it down clear and fine. But it seems there was

Captain Cephas made no attempt to comfort his friend, but went to work to get breakfast.

When that meala rather silent onewas over, Captain Eli felt better. "There was rocks," he said, "and not

a breaker to show where they lay, and I struck 'em bow on. So that's the end of that voyage. But I've tuk to

"I'm glad to hear you've tuk to your boats," said Captain Cephas, with an approving glance upon his friend.

"Yes, by myself. I'd rather go alone. I don't intend to mind anything, and I'm goin' to tell her that she can stay

there and spend Christmas,the place she lives in ain't no place to spend Christmas,and she can make the

little gal have a good time, and go 'long just as we intended to go 'longplumduff and mincepie all the

same. I can stay here, and you and me can have our Christmas dinner together, if we choose to give it that

And if she ain't ready to go tomorrow, she can stay a day or two longer. It's all the same to me, if it's the

Captain Cephas having said that it was the same to him, Captain Eli put on his cap and buttoned up his

peajacket, declaring that the sooner he got to his house the better, as she might be thinking that she would

Before Captain Eli reached his house he saw something which pleased him. He saw the seagoing stranger,

with his back toward him, walking rapidly in the direction of the village store.

Captain Eli quickly entered his house, and in the doorway of the room where the tree was he met Mrs.

"Merry Christmas!" she exclaimed, holding out both her hands. "I've been wondering and wondering when

She looked a little surprised. "What's the matter, Captain Eli?" she exclaimed. "You don't seem to say that as

"Oh, yes, I do," he answered. "This must be an allfiredI mean a thunderin' happy Christmas fer you, Mrs.

"Yes," said she, her face beaming again. "And to think that it should happen on Christmas daythat this

blessed morning, before anything else happened, my Bob, my only brother, should"

"Your what!" roared Captain Eli, as if he had been shouting orders in a raging storm.

Mrs. Trimmer stepped back almost frightened. "My brother," said she. "Didn't he tell you he was my

brothermy brother Bob, who sailed away a year before I was married, and who has been in Africa and

China and I don't know where? It's so long since I heard that he'd gone into trading at Singapore that I'd given

him up as married and settled in foreign parts. And here he has come to me as if he'd tumbled from the sky on

"Of course it is," said she. "Who else could it be?" Then she paused for a moment and looked steadfastly at

Mrs. Trimmer looked straight in the captain's eyes, then she looked on the ground. Then she changed color

"I don't understand," she said hesitatingly, "whyI mean what difference it made."

"Difference!" exclaimed Captain Eli. "It was all the difference between a man on deck and a man

overboardthat's the difference it was to me. I didn't expect to be talkin' to you so early this Christmas

mornin', but things has been sprung on me, and I can't help it I just want to ask you one thing: Did you think I

was gettin' up this Christmas tree and the Christmas dinner and the whole business fer the good of the little

Mrs. Trimmer had now recovered a very fair possession of herself. "Of course I did," she answered, looking

"Well," said he, "you were mistaken. It wasn't fer any one of you. It was all fer mefer my own self."

"But I see how," he answered. "It's been a long time since I wanted to speak my mind to you, Mrs. Trimmer,

but I didn't ever have no chance. And all these Christmas doin's was got up to give me the chance not only of

speakin' to you, but of showin' my colors better than I could show them in any other way. Everything went on

askimmin' till this mornin', when that stranger that we brought in from the shoal piped up and asked fer you.

Then I went overboardat least, I thought I didand sunk down, down, clean out of soundin's."

"That was too bad, captain," said she, speaking very gently, "after all your trouble and kindness."

"But I don't know now," he continued, "whether I went overboard or whether I am on deck. Can you tell me,

She looked up at him. Her eyes were very soft, and her lips trembled just a little. "It seems to me, captain,"

The captain stepped closer to her. "Mrs. Trimmer," said he, "is that brother of yours comin' back?"

"Yes," she answered, surprised at the sudden question. "He's just gone up to the store to buy a shirt and some

"Well, then," said Captain Eli, "would you mind tellin' him when he comes back that you and me's engaged

to be married? I don't know whether I've made a mistake in the lights or not, but would you mind tellin' him

Mrs. Trimmer looked at him. Her eyes were not so soft as they had been, but they were brighter. "I'd rather

The little girl sat on the floor near the Christmas tree, just finishing a large piece of redandwhite candy

which she had taken out of her stocking. "People do hug a lot at Christmastime," said she to herself. Then she

Captain Cephas waited a long time for his friend to return, and at last he thought it would be well to go and

look for him. When he entered the house he found Mrs. Trimmer sitting on the sofa in the parlor, with

Captain Eli on one side of her and her brother on the other, and each of them holding one of her hands.

"It looks as if I was in port, don't it?" said Captain Eli to his astonished friend. "Well, here I am, and here's

my fust mate," inclining his head toward Mrs. Trimmer. "And she's in port too, safe and sound. And that

strange captain on the other side of her, he's her brother Bob, who's been away for years and years, and is just

Captain Cephas looked from one to the other of the three occupants of the sofa, but made no immediate

remark. Presently a smile of genial maliciousness stole over his face, and he asked, "How about the poor little

The little girl came out from behind the Christmas tree, her stocking, now but half filled, in her hand. "Here I

am," she said. "Don't you want to give me a Christmas hug, Captain Cephas? You and me's the only ones that

The Christmas dinner was as truly and perfectly a sailorcooked meal as ever was served on board a ship or

off it. Captain Cephas had said that, and when he had so spoken there was no need of further words.

It was nearly dark that afternoon, and they were all sitting around the kitchen fire, the three seafaring men

smoking, and Mrs. Trimmer greatly enjoying it. There could be no objection to the smell of tobacco in this

house so long as its future mistress enjoyed it. The little girl sat on the floor nursing a Chinese idol which had

"After all," said Captain Eli, meditatively, "this whole business come out of my sleepin' with my best ear up.

Fer if I'd slept with my hardo'hearin' ear up" Mrs. Trimmer put one finger on his lips. "All right," said

Even now, several years after that Christmas, when there is no Mrs. Trimmer, and the little girl, who has been

regularly adopted by Captain Eli and his wife, is studying geography, and knows more about latitude and

longitude than her teacher at school, Captain Eli has still a slight superstitious dread of sleeping with his best

"Of course it's the most allfired nonsense," he says to himself over and over again. Nevertheless, he feels

I was still a young man when I came into the possession of an excellent estate. This consisted of a large

country house, surrounded by lawns, groves, and gardens, and situated not far from the flourishing little town

of Boynton. Being an orphan with no brothers or sisters, I set up here a bachelor's hall, in which, for two

years, I lived with great satisfaction and comfort, improving my grounds and furnishing my house. When I

had made all the improvements which were really needed, and feeling that I now had a most delightful home

to come back to, I thought it would be an excellent thing to take a trip to Europe, give my mind a run in fresh

fields, and pick up a lot of bricabrac and ideas for the adornment and advantage of my house and mind.

It was the custom of the residents in my neighborhood who owned houses and travelled in the summer to let

their houses during their absence, and my business agent and myself agreed that this would be an excellent

thing for me to do. If the house were let to a suitable family it would yield me a considerable income, and the

place would not present on my return that air of retrogression and desolation which I might expect if it were

My agent assured me that I would have no trouble whatever in letting my place, for it offered many

advantages and I expected but a reasonable rent. I desired to leave everything just as it stood, house,

furniture, books, horses, cows, and poultry, taking with me only my clothes and personal requisites, and I

desired tenants who would come in bringing only their clothes and personal requisites, which they could

quietly take away with them when their lease should expire and I should return home.

In spite, however, of the assurances of the agent, it was not easy to let my place. The house was too large for

some people, too small for others, and while some applicants had more horses than I had stalls in my stable,

others did not want even the horses I would leave. I had engaged my steamer passage, and the day for my

departure drew near, and yet no suitable tenants had presented themselves. I had almost come to the

conclusion that the whole matter would have to be left in the hands of my agent, for I had no intention

whatever of giving up my projected travels, when early one afternoon some people came to look at the house.

Fortunately I was at home, and I gave myself the pleasure of personally conducting them about the premises.

It was a pleasure, because as soon as I comprehended the fact that these applicants desired to rent my house I

The family consisted of an elderly gentleman and his wife, with a daughter of twenty or thereabout. This was

a family that suited me exactly. Three in number, no children, people of intelligence and position, fond of the

country, and anxious for just such a place as I offered themwhat could be better?

The more I walked about and talked with these good people and showed them my possessions, the more I

desired that the young lady should take my house. Of course her parents were included in this wish, but it was

for her ears that all my remarks were intended, although sometimes addressed to the others, and she was the

tenant I labored to obtain. I say "labored" advisedly, because I racked my brain to think of inducements

Apart from the obvious advantages of the arrangement, it would be a positive delight to me during my

summer wanderings in Europe to think that that beautiful girl would be strolling through my grounds,

enjoying my flowers, and sitting with her book in the shady nooks I had made so pleasant, lying in my

hammocks, spending her evening hours in my study, reading my books, writing at my desk, and perhaps

musing in my easychair. Before these applicants appeared it had sometimes pained me to imagine strangers

in my home; but no such thought crossed my mind in regard to this young lady, who, if charming in the

house and on the lawn, grew positively entrancing when she saw my Jersey cows and my two horses,

Long before we had completed the tour of inspection I had made up my mind that this young lady should

come to live in my house. If obstacles should show themselves they should be removed. I would tear down, I

would build, I would paper and paint, I would put in all sorts of electric bells, I would reduce the rent until it

suited their notions exactly, I would have my horses' tails banged if she liked that kind of tails better than

long onesI would do anything to make them definitely decide to take the place before they left me. I

trembled to think of her going elsewhere and giving other householders a chance to tempt her. She had

looked at a good many country houses, but it was quite plain that none of them had pleased her so well as

I left them in my library to talk the matter over by themselves, and in less than ten minutes the young lady

herself came out on the lawn to tell me that her father and mother had decided to take the place and would

"I am so glad," she said as we went in. "I am sure I shall enjoy every hour of our stay here. It is so different

When everything had been settled I wanted to take them again over the place and point out a lot of things I

had omitted. I particularly wanted to show them some lovely walks in the woods. But there was no time, for

As soon as they departed I had my mare saddled and rode into town to see my agent. I went into his office

"I've let my house," I said, "and I want you to make out the lease and have everything fixed and settled as

The agent asked me a good many questions, being particularly anxious to know what rent had been agreed

"Heavens!" he exclaimed, when I mentioned the sum, "that is ever so much less than I told you you could get.

I am in communication now with a party whom I know would pay you considerably more than these people.

"Withdraw!" I cried. "Never! They are the only tenants I want. I was determined to get them, and I think I

must have lowered the rent four or five times in the course of the afternoon. I took a big slice out of it before I

mentioned the sum at all. You see," said I, very impressively, "these Vincents exactly suit me." And then I

went on to state fully the advantages of the arrangement, omitting, however, any references to my visions of

It was now May 15, and my steamer would sail on the twentyfirst. The intervening days I employed, not in

preparing for my travels, but in making every possible arrangement for the comfort and convenience of my

incoming tenants. The Vincents did not wish to take possession until June 1, and I was sorry they had not

applied before I had engaged my passage, for in that case I would have selected a later date. A very good

Happening to be in New York one day, I went to the Vincents' city residence to consult with them in regard

to some awnings which I proposed putting up at the back of the house. I found no one at home but the old

gentleman, and it made no difference to him whether the awnings were black and brown or red and yellow. I

cordially invited him to come out before I left, and bring his family, that they might look about the place to

see if there was anything they would like to have done which had not already been attended to. It was so

much better, I told him, to talk over these matters personally with the owner than with an agent in his

absence. Agents were often very unwilling to make changes. Mr. Vincent was a very quiet and exceedingly

pleasant elderly gentleman, and thanked me very much for my invitation, but said he did not see how he

could find the time to get out to my house before I sailed. I did not like to say that it was not at all necessary

for him to neglect his affairs in order to accompany his family to my place, but I assured him that if any of

them wished to go out at any time before they took possession they must feel at perfect liberty to do so.

I mentioned this matter to my agent, suggesting that if he happened to be in New York he might call on the

Vincents and repeat my invitation. It was not likely that the old gentleman would remember to mention it to

his wife and daughter, and it was really important that everything should be made satisfactory before I left.

"It seems to me," he said, smiling a little grimly, "that the Vincents had better be kept away from your house

until you have gone. If you do anything more to it you may find out that it would have been more profitable

He did call, however, partly because I wished him to and partly because he was curious to see the people I

was so anxious to install in my home, and to whom he was to be my legal representative. He reported the next

day that he had found no one at home but Miss Vincent, and that she had said that she and her mother would

be very glad to come out the next week and go over the place before they took possession.

"But I shall be here," said Mr. Barker, "and I'll show them about and take their suggestions."

This did not suit me at all. It annoyed me very much to think of Barker showing Miss Vincent about my

"After all," said I, "I suppose that everything that ought to be done has been done. I hope you told her that."

"Of course not," said he. "That would have been running dead against your orders. Besides, it's my business

This gave me an unpleasant and uneasy feeling. I wondered if Mr. Barker were the agent I ought to have, and

if a middleaged man with a family and more experience might not be better able to manage my affairs.

"Barker," said I, a little later, "there will be no use of your going every month to the Vincents to collect their

rent. I shall write to Mr. Vincent to pay as he pleases. He can send a check monthly or at the end of the

season, as it may be convenient. He is perfectly responsible, and I would much prefer to have the money in a

Barker grinned. "All right," said he, "but that's not the way to do business, you know."

I may have been mistaken, but I fancied that I saw in my agent's face an expression which indicated that he

intended to call on the first day of each month, on the pretext of telling Vincent that it was not necessary to

pay the rent at any particular time, and that he also proposed to make many other intervening visits to inquire

if repairs were needed. This might have been a good deal to get out of his expression, but I think I could have

On the day before that on which I was to sail, my mind was in such a disturbed condition that I could not

attend to my packing or anything else. It almost enraged me to think that I was deliberately leaving the

country ten days before my tenants would come to my house. There was no reason why I should do this.

There were many reasons why I should not. There was Barker. I was now of the opinion that he would

personally superintend the removal of the Vincents and their establishment to my home. I remembered that

the only suggestion he had made about the improvement of the place had been the construction of a

tenniscourt. I knew that he was a champion player. Confound it! What a dreadful mistake I had made in

selecting such a man for my houseagent. With my mind's eye I could already see Miss Vincent and Barker

I took the first train to New York and went directly to the steamboat office. It is astonishing how many

obstacles can be removed from a man's path if he will make up his mind to give them a good kick. I found

that my steamer was crowded. The applications for passage exceeded the accommodations, and the agent was

delighted to transfer me to the steamer that sailed on June 3. I went home exultant. Barker drove over in the

evening to take his last instructions, and a blank look came over his face when I told him that business had

delayed my departure, and that I should not sail the next day. If I had told him that part of that business was

Of course the date of my departure did not concern the Vincents, provided the house was vacated by June 1,

and I did not inform them of the change in my plans, but when the mother and daughter came out the next

week they were much surprised to find me waiting to receive them instead of Barker. I hope that they were

also pleased, and I am sure that they had every reason to be so. Mrs. Vincent, having discovered that I was a

most complacent landlord, accommodated herself easily to my disposition and made a number of minor

requirements, all of which I granted without the slightest hesitation. I was delighted at last to put her into the

charge of my housekeeper, and when the two had betaken themselves to the bedrooms I invited Miss Vincent

to come out with me to select a spot for a tenniscourt. The invitation was accepted with alacrity, for tennis,

The selection of that tenniscourt took nearly an hour, for there were several good places for one and it was

hard to make a selection; besides, I could not lose the opportunity of taking Miss Vincent into the woods and

showing her the walks I had made and the rustic seats I had placed in pleasant nooks. Of course she would

have discovered these, but it was a great deal better for her to know all about them before she came. At last

Mrs. Vincent sent a maid to tell her daughter that it was time to go for the train, and the court had not been

The next day I went to Miss Vincent's house with a plan of the grounds, and she and I talked it over until the

matter was settled. It was necessary to be prompt about this, I explained, as there would be a great deal of

I also had a talk with the old gentleman about books. There were several large boxes of my books in New

York which I had never sent out to my country house. Many of these I thought might be interesting to him,

and I offered to have them taken out and left at his disposal. When he heard the titles of some of the books in

the collection he was much interested, but insisted that before he made use of them they should be

catalogued, as were the rest of my effects. I hesitated a moment, wondering if I could induce Barker to come

to New York and catalogue four big boxes of books, when, to my surprise, Miss Vincent incidentally

remarked that if they were in any place where she could get at them she would be pleased to help catalogue

them; that sort of thing was a great pleasure to her. Instantly I proposed that I should send the books to the

Vincent house, that they should there be taken out so that Mr. Vincent could select those he might care to

read during the summer, that I would make a list of these, and if Vincent would assist me I would be grateful

for the kindness, and those that were not desired could be returned to the storehouse.

What a grand idea was this! I had been internally groaning because I could think of no possible pretence, for

further interviews with Miss Vincent, and here was something better than I could have imagined. Her father

declared that he could not put me to so much trouble, but I would listen to none of his words, and the next

The selection and cataloguing of the volumes desired occupied the mornings of three days. The old

gentleman's part was soon done, but there were many things in the books which were far more interesting to

me than their titles, and to which I desired to draw Miss Vincent's attention. All this greatly protracted our

labors. She was not only a beautiful girl, but her intelligence and intellectual grasp were wonderful. I could

not help telling her what a great pleasure it would be to me to think, while wandering in foreign lands, that

"You are so fond of your house and everything you have," said she, "that we shall almost feel as if we were

depriving you of your rights. But I suppose that Italian lakes and the Alps will make you forget for a time

"Not if you are in it," I longed to say, but I restrained myself. I did not believe that it was possible for me to

be more in love with this girl than I was at that moment, but, of course, it would be the rankest stupidity to

I went to that house the next day to see that the boxes were properly repacked, and I actually went the next

day to see if the right boxes had gone into the country, and the others back to the storehouse. The first day I

saw only the father. The second day it was the mother who assured me that everything had been properly

attended to. I began to feel that if I did not wish a decided rebuff I would better not make any more pretences

There were affairs of my own which should have been attended to, and I ought to have gone home and

attended to them, but I could not bear to do so. There was no reason to suppose she would go out there before

Thinking over the matter many times, I came to the conclusion that if I could see her once more I would be

satisfied. Then I would go away, and carry her image with me into every artgallery, over every glacier, and

under every lovely sky that I should enjoy abroad, hoping all the time that, taking my place, as it were, in my

home, and making my possessions, in a measure, her own, she would indirectly become so well acquainted

To obtain this final interview there was but one way. I had left my house on Saturday, the Vincents would

come on the following Monday, and I would sail on Wednesday. I would go on Tuesday to inquire if they

found everything to their satisfaction. This would be a very proper attention from a landlord about to leave

When I reached Boynton I determined to walk to my house, for I did not wish to encumber myself with a

hired vehicle. I might be asked to stay to luncheon. A very strange feeling came over me as I entered my

grounds. They were not mine. For the time being they belonged to somebody else. I was merely a visitor or a

trespasser if the Vincents thought proper so to consider me. If they did not like people to walk on the grass I

None of my servants had been left on the place, and the maid who came to the door informed me that Mr.

Vincent had gone to New York that morning, and that Mrs. Vincent and her daughter were out driving. I

ventured to ask if she thought they would soon return, and she answered that she did not think they would, as

they had gone to Rock Lake, which, from the way they talked about it, must be a long way off.

Rock Lake! When I had driven over there with my friends, we had taken luncheon at the inn and returned in

the afternoon. And what did they know of Rock Lake? Who had told them of it? That officious Barker, of

"Will you leave a message, sir?" said the maid, who, of course, did not know me.

"No," said I, and as I still stood gazing at the piazza floor, she remarked that if I wished to call again she

would go out and speak to the coachman and ask him if anything had been said to him about the time of the

Worse and worse! Their coachman had not driven them! Some one who knew the country had been their

companion. They were not acquainted in the neighborhood, and there could not be a shadow of a doubt that it

was that obtrusive Barker who had indecently thrust himself upon them on the very next day after their

arrival, and had thus snatched from me this last interview upon which I had counted so earnestly.

I had no right to ask any more questions. I left no message nor any name, and I had no excuse for saying I

I got back to my hotel without having met any one whom I knew, and that night I received a note from

Barker, stating that he had fully intended coming to the steamer to see me off, but that an engagement would

prevent him. He sent, however, his best good wishes for my safe passage, and assured me that he would keep

My steamer sailed at two o'clock the next day, and after an early breakfast I went to the company's office to

see if I could dispose of my ticket. It had become impossible, I told the agent, for me to leave America at

present. He said it was a very late hour to sell my ticket, but that he would do what he could, and if an

applicant turned up he would give him my room and refund the money. He wanted me to change to another

I now had no plan of action. All I knew was that I could not leave America without finding out something

definite about this Barker business. That is to say, if it should be made known to me that instead of attending

to my business, sending a carpenter to make repairs, if such were necessary, or going personally to the

plumber to make sure that that erratic personage would give his attention to any pipes in regard to which Mr.

Vincent might have written, Barker should mingle in sociable relations with my tenants, and drive or play

tennis with the young lady of the house, then would I immediately have done with him. I would withdraw my

business from his hands and place it in those of old Mr. Poindexter. More than that, it might be my duty to

warn Miss Vincent's parents against Barker. I did not doubt that he was a very good house and landagent,

but in selecting him as such I had no idea of introducing him to the Vincents in a social way. In fact, the more

I thought about it the more I became convinced that if ever I mentioned Barker to my tenants it would be to

warn them against him. From certain points of view he was actually a dangerous man.

This, however, I would not do until I found my agent was really culpable. To discover what Barker had done,

what he was doing, and what he intended to do, was now my only business in life. Until I had satisfied myself

Now that I had determined I would not start for Europe until I had satisfied myself that Mr. Barker was

contenting himself with attending to my business, and not endeavoring to force himself into social relations

with my tenants, I was anxious that the postponement of my journey should be unknown to my friends and

acquaintances, and I was, therefore, very glad to see in a newspaper, published on the afternoon of the day of

my intended departure, my name among the list of passengers who had sailed upon the Mnemonic. For the

first time I commended the superenterprise of a reporter who gave more attention to the timeliness of his

I was stopping at a New York hotel, but I did not wish to stay there. Until I felt myself ready to start on my

travels the neighborhood of Boynton would suit me better than anywhere else. I did not wish to go to the

town itself, for Barker lived there, and I knew many of the townspeople; but there were farmhouses not far

away where I might spend a week. After considering the matter, I thought of something that might suit me.

About three miles from my house, on an unfrequented road, was a mill which stood at the end of an extensive

sheet of water, in reality a millpond, but commonly called a lake. The miller, an old man, had recently died,

and his house near by was occupied by a newcomer whom I had never seen. If I could get accommodations

there it would suit me exactly. I left the train two stations below Boynton and walked over to the mill.

The countryfolk in my neighborhood are always pleased to take summer boarders if they can get them, and

the miller and his wife were glad to give me a room, not imagining that I was the owner of a good house not

far away. The place suited my requirements very well. It was near her, and I might live here for a time

unnoticed, but what I was going to do with my opportunity I did not know. Several times the conviction

forced itself upon me that I should get up at once and go to Europe by the first steamer, and so show myself

This conviction was banished on the second afternoon of my stay at the mill. I was sitting under a tree in the

orchard near the house, thinking and smoking my pipe, when along the road which ran by the side of the lake

came Mr. Vincent on my black horse General and his daughter on my mare Sappho. Instinctively I pulled my

straw hat over my eyes, but this precaution was not necessary. They were looking at the beautiful lake, with

When the very tip of Sappho's tail had melted into the foliage of the road, I arose to my feet and took a deep

breath of the happy air. I had seen her, and it was with her father she was riding.

I do not believe I slept a minute that night through thinking of her, and feeling glad that I was near her, and

When the early dawn began to break an idea brighter than the dawn broke upon me: I would get up and go

nearer to her. It is amazing how much we lose by not getting up early on the long summer days. How

beautiful the morning might be on this earth I never knew until I found myself wandering by the edge of my

woods and over my lawn with the tender grayblue sky above me and all the freshness of the grass and

flowers and trees about me, the birds singing among the branches, and she sleeping sweetly somewhere

within that house with its softly defined lights and shadows. How I wished I knew what room she occupied!

The beauties and joys of that hour were lost to every person on the place, who were all, no doubt, in their

soundest sleep. I did not even see a dog. Quietly and stealthily stepping from bush to hedge, I went around

the house, and as I drew near the barn I fancied I could hear from a little room adjoining it the snores of the

coachman. The lazy rascal would probably not awaken for two or three hours yet, but I would ran no risks,

Now I knew exactly why I was staying at the house of the miller. I was doing so in order that I might go early

in the mornings to my own home, in which the girl I loved lay dreaming, and that for the rest of the day and

"What place in Europe," I said to myself, "could be so beautiful, so charming, and so helpful to reflection as

this sequestered lake, these noble trees, these stretches of undulating meadow?"

Even if I should care to go abroad, a month or two later would answer all my purposes. Why had I ever

There was a pretty stream which ran from the lake and wended its way through a green and shaded valley,

and here, with a rod, I wandered and fished and thought. The miller had boats, and in one of these I rowed far

up the lake where it narrowed into a creek, and between the high hills which shut me out from the world I

Every morning, soon after break of day, I went to my home and wandered about my grounds. If it rained I did

Day by day I grew bolder. Nobody in that household thought of getting up until seven o'clock. For two hours,

at least, I could ramble undisturbed through my grounds, and much as I had once enjoyed these grounds, they

never afforded me the pleasure they gave me now. In these happy mornings I felt all the life and spirits of a

boy. I went into my little field and stroked the sleek sides of my cows as they nibbled the dewy grass. I even

peeped through the barred window of Sappho's box and fed her, as I had been used to doing, with bunches of

clover. I saw that the young chickens were flourishing. I went into the garden and noted the growth of the

vegetables, feeling glad that she would have so many fine strawberries and tender peas.

I had not the slightest doubt that she was fond of flowers, and for her sake now, as I used to do for my own

sake, I visited the flower beds and borders. Not far from the house there was a cluster of oldfashioned pinks

which I was sure were not doing very well. They had been there too long, perhaps, and they looked stunted

and weak. In the miller's garden I had noticed great beds of these pinks, and I asked his wife if I might have

some, and she, considering them as mere wild flowers, said I might have as many as I liked. She might have

thought I wanted simply the blossoms, but the next morning I went over to my house with a basket filled with

great matted masses of the plants taken up with the roots and plenty of earth around them, and after twenty

minutes' work in my own bed of pinks, I had taken out all the old plants and filled their places with fresh,

luxuriant masses of buds and leaves and blossoms. How glad she would be when she saw the fresh life that

had come to that flowerbed! With light footsteps I went away, not feeling the weight of the basket filled

The summer grew and strengthened, and the sun rose earlier, but as that had no effect upon the rising of the

present inhabitants of my place, it gave me more time for my morning pursuits. Gradually I constituted

myself the regular flowergardener of the premises. How delightful the work was, and how foolish I thought I

had been never to think of doing this thing for myself! but no doubt it was because I was doing it for her that

Once again I had seen Miss Vincent. It was in the afternoon, and I had rowed myself to the upper part of the

lake, where, with the high hills and the trees on each side of me, I felt as if I were alone in the world.

Floating, idly along, with my thoughts about three miles away, I heard the sound of oars, and looking out on

the open part of the lake, I saw a boat approaching. The miller was rowing, and in the stern sat an elderly

gentleman and a young lady. I knew them in an instant: they were Mr. and Miss Vincent.

With a few vigorous strokes I shot myself into the shadows, and rowed up the stream into the narrow

stretches among the lilypads, under a bridge, and around a little wooded point, where I ran the boat ashore

and sprang upon the grassy bank. Although I did not believe the miller would bring them as far as this, I went

up to a higher spot and watched for half an hour; but I did not see them again. How relieved I was! It would

have been terribly embarrassing had they discovered me. And how disappointed I was that the miller turned

I now extended the supervision of my grounds. I walked through the woods, and saw how beautiful they were

in the early dawn. I threw aside the fallen twigs and cut away encroaching saplings, which were beginning to

encumber the paths I had made, and if I found a bough which hung too low I cut it off. There was a great

beechtree, between which and a dogwood I had the year before suspended a hammock. In passing this, one

morning, I was amazed to see a hammock swinging from the hooks I had put in the two trees. This was a

retreat which I had supposed no one else would fancy or even think of! In the hammock was a fana

common Japanese fan. For fifteen minutes I stood looking at that hammock, every nerve atingle. Then I

glanced around. The spot had been almost unfrequented since last summer. Little bushes, weeds, and vines

had sprung up here and there between the two trees. There were dead twigs and limbs lying about, and the

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to six. I had yet a good hour for work, and with nothing but my

pocketknife and my hands I began to clear away the space about that hammock. When I left it, it looked as

it used to look when it was my pleasure to lie there and swing and read and reflect.

To approach this spot it was not necessary to go through my grounds, for my bit of woods adjoined a

considerable stretch of forestland, and in my morning walks from the mill I often used a path through these

woods. The next morning when I took this path I was late because I had unfortunately overslept myself.

When I reached the hammock it wanted fifteen minutes to seven o'clock. It was too late for me to do

anything, but I was glad to be able to stay there even for a few minutes, to breathe that air, to stand on that

ground, to touch that hammock. I did more than that. Why shouldn't I? I got into it. It was a better one than

that I had hung there. It was delightfully comfortable. At this moment, gently swinging in that woodland

solitude, with the sweet odors of the morning all about me, I felt myself nearer to her than I had ever been

But I knew I must not revel in this place too long. I was on the point of rising to leave when I heard

approaching footsteps. My breath stopped. Was I at last to be discovered? This was what came of my reckless

security. But perhaps the person, some workman most likely, would pass without noticing me. To remain

But the person approaching turned into the little pathway. The footsteps came nearer. I sprang from the

What was my aspect I know not, but I have no doubt I turned fiery red. She stopped suddenly, but she did not

"Oh, Mr. Ripley," she exclaimed, "good morning! You must excuse me. I did not know"

That she should have had sufficient selfpossession to say good morning amazed me. Her whole appearance,

in fact, amazed me. There seemed to be something wanting in her manner. I endeavored to get myself into

"You must be surprised," I said, "to see me here. You supposed I was in Europe, but"

As I spoke I made a couple of steps toward her, but suddenly stopped. One of my coat buttons had caught in

the meshes of the hammock. It was confoundedly awkward. I tried to loosen the button, but it was badly

"Oh, don't do that," she said. "Let me unfasten it for you." And taking the threads of the hammock in one of

her little hands and the button in the other, she quickly separated them. "I should think buttons would be very

inconvenient thingsat least, in hammocks," she said smiling. "You see, girls don't have any such trouble."

I could not understand her manner. She seemed to take my being there as a matter of course.

"But it is not my land," said I. "It is your father's for the time being. I have no right here whatever. I do not

know how to explain, but you must think it very strange to find me here when you supposed I had started for

"Oh! I knew you had not started for Europe," said she, "because I have seen you working in the grounds"

"Oh, yes," said she. "I don't know how long you had been coming when I first saw you, but when I found that

fresh bed of pinks all transplanted from somewhere, and just as lovely as they could be, instead of the old

ones, I spoke to the man; but he did not know anything about it, and said he had not had time to do anything

to the flowers, whereas I had been giving him credit for ever so much weeding and cleaning up. Then I

supposed that Mr. Barker, who is just as kind and attentive as he can be, had done it; but I could hardly

believe he was the sort of man to come early in the morning and work out of doors,"("Oh, how I wish he

had come!" I thought. "If I had caught him here working among the flowers!"),"and when he came that

afternoon to play tennis I found that he had been away for two days, and could not have planted the pinks. So

I simply got up early one morning and looked out, and there I saw you, with your coat off, working just as

"Really, at first I did not know what to think," said she. "Of course I did not know what had detained you in

this country, but I remembered that I had heard that you were a very particular person about your flowers and

shrubs and grounds, and that most likely you thought they would be better taken care of if you kept an eye on

them, and that when you found there was so much to do you just went to work and did it. I did not speak of

this to anybody, because if you did not wish it to be known that you were taking care of the grounds it was

not my business to tell people about it. But yesterday, when I found this place where I had hung my

hammock so beautifully cleared up and made so nice and clean and pleasant in every way, I thought I must

come down to tell you how much obliged I am, and also that you ought not to take so much trouble for us. If

you think the grounds need more attention, I will persuade my father to hire another man, now and then, to

I was humbled, abashed. She had seen me at my morning devotions, and this was the way she interpreted

them. She considered me an overnice fellow who was so desperately afraid his place would be injured that he

came sneaking around every morning to see if any damage had been done and to put things to rights.

She stood for a moment as if expecting me to speak, brushed a buzzing fly from her sleeve, and then, looking

I could not let her go without telling her something. Her present opinion of me must not rest in her mind

another minute. And yet, what story could I devise? How, indeed, could I devise anything with which to

deceive a girl who spoke and looked at me as this girl did? I could not do it. I must rush away speechless and

"Miss Vincent," said I, "you do not understand at all why I am herewhy I have been here so muchwhy I

did not go to Europe. The truth is, I could not leave. I do not wish to be away; I want to come here and live

"Oh, dear! " she interrupted, "of course it is natural that you should not want to tear yourself away from your

lovely home. It would be very hard for us to go away now, especially for father and me, for we have grown to

"I want you to leave!" I exclaimed. "Never! When I say that I want to live here myself, that my heart will not

let me go anywhere else, I mean that I want you to live here tooyou, your mother and fatherthat I

"Oh, that would be perfectly splendid!" she said. "I have ever so often thought that it was a shame that you

should be deprived of the pleasures you so much enjoy, which I see you can find here and nowhere else.

Now, I have a plan which I think will work splendidly. We are a very small family. Why shouldn't you come

here and live with us? There is plenty of room, and I know father and mother would be very glad, and you

can pay your board, if that would please you better. You can have the room at the top of the tower for your

study and your smoking den, and the room under it can be your bedroom, so you can be just as independent

as you please of the rest of us, and you can be living on your own place without interfering with us in the

least. In fact, it would be ever so nice, especially as I am in the habit of going away to the seashore with my

aunt every summer for six weeks, and I was thinking how lonely it would be this year for father and mother

The tower and the room under it! For me! What a contemptibly littleminded and insignificant person she

must think me. The words with which I strove to tell her that I wished to live here as lord, with her as my

queen, would not come. She looked at me for a moment as I stood on the brink of saying something but not

"Did you see anything of a fan I left here?" she said. "I know I left it here, but when I came yesterday it was

Now, the morning before, I had taken that fan home with me. It was an awkward thing to carry, but I had

concealed it under my coat. It was a contemptible trick, but the fan had her initials on it, and as it was the

only thing belonging to her of which I could possess myself, the temptation had been too great to resist. As

she stood waiting for my answer there was a light in her eye which illuminated my perceptions.

"Then you know," I exclaimed, stepping nearer to her, "why it is I did not leave this country as I intended,

why it was impossible for me to tear myself away from this house, why it is that I have been here every

She looked up at me, and with her eyes she said, "How could I help knowing?" She might have intended to

say something with her lips, but I took my answer from her eyes, and with the quick impulse of a lover I

"You have strange ways," she said presently, blushing and gently pressing back my arm. "I haven't told you a

"Let us tell each other everything now," I cried, and we seated ourselves in the hammock.

It was a quarter of an hour later and we were still sitting together in the hammock.

"You may think," said she, "that, knowing what I did, it was very queer for me to come out to you this

morning, but I could not help it. You were getting dreadfully careless, and were staying so late and doing

things which people would have been bound to notice, especially as father is always talking about our

enjoying the fresh hours of the morning, that I felt I could not let you go on any longer. And when it came to

that fan business I saw plainly that you must either immediately start for Europe or"

I do not know whether she was going to say "gardener" or not, but it did not matter. I stopped her.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later, and we were standing together at the edge of the woods. She wanted me

"Oh, I could not do that!" I said. "They would be so surprised. I should have so much to explain before I

"Well, then, explain," said she. "You will find father on the front piazza. He is always there before breakfast,

and there is plenty of time. After all that has been said here, I cannot go to breakfast and look commonplace

"Well, then you will have to go back and take breakfast with your miller," said she.

I never saw a family so little affected by surprises as those Vincents. When I appeared on the front piazza the

old gentleman did not jump. He shook hands with me and asked me to sit down, and when I told him

everything he did not even ejaculate, but simply folded his hands together and looked out over the railing.

"It seemed strange to Mrs. Vincent and myself," he said, "when we first noticed your extraordinary

"Very soon," he said. "When you and Cora were cataloguing the books at my house in town I noticed it and

spoke to Mrs. Vincent, but she said it was nothing new to her, for it was plain enough on the day when we

first met you here that you were letting the house to Cora, and that she had not spoken of it to me because she

was afraid I might think it wrong to accept the favorable and unusual arrangements you were making with us

if I suspected the reason for them. We talked over the matter, but, of course, we could do nothing, because

there was nothing to do, and Mrs. Vincent was quite sure you would write to us from Europe. But when my

man Ambrose told me he had seen some one working about the place in the very early morning, and that, as it

was a gentleman, he supposed it must be the landlord, for nobody else would be doing such things, Mrs.

Vincent and I looked out of the window the next day, and when we found it was indeed you who were

coming here every day, we felt that the matter was serious and were a good deal troubled. We found,

however, that you were conducting affairs in a very honorable way,that you were not endeavoring to see

Cora, and that you did not try to have any secret correspondence with her,and as we had no right to prevent

you from coming on your grounds, we concluded to remain quiet until you should take some step which we

would be authorized to notice. Later, when Mr. Barker came and told me that you had not gone to Europe,

"You are mistaken, sir," said Mr. Vincent. "He spoke with the greatest kindness of you, and said that as it was

evident you had your own reasons for wishing to stay in the neighborhood, and did not wish the fact to be

known, he had spoken of it to no one but me, and he would not have done this had he not thought it would

"I do not know," said the old gentleman, "but after the questions I put to him I have no doubt he suspected it.

I made many inquiries of him regarding you, your family, habits, and disposition, for this was a very vital

matter to me, sir, and I am happy to inform you that he said nothing of you that was not good, so I urged him

to keep the matter to himself. I determined, however, that if you continued your morning visits I should take

He smiled. "Truly," he said, "I have not answered you; but the fact is, Mrs. Vincent and I have considered the

matter so long, and having come to the conclusion that if you made an honorable and straightforward

proposition, and if Cora were willing to accept you, we could see no reason to object to"

"Are you going to stay to breakfast?" she asked. "Because, if you are, it is ready."

I am now living in my own house, not in the two tower rooms, but in the whole mansion, of which my former

tenant, Cora, is now mistress supreme. Mr. and Mrs. Vincent expect to spend the next summer here and take

Mr. Barker, an excellent fellow and a most thorough business man, still manages my affairs, and there is

nothing on the place that flourishes so vigorously as the bed of pinks which I got from the miller's wife.

By the way, when I went back to my lodging on that eventful day, the miller's wife met me at the door.

"I kept your breakfast waitin' for you for a good while," said she, "but as you didn't come, I supposed you

"Oh, yes, sir," she said. "We did not at first, but when everybody began to talk about it we couldn't help

"I think it was the general opinion, sir," said she, "that you were suspicious of them tenants of yours, and

nobody wondered at it, for when city people gets into the country and on other people's property, there's no

I could not let the good woman hold this opinion of my tenants, and I briefly told her the truth. She looked at

"I am glad to hear that, sir," said she. "I like it very much. But if I was you I wouldn't be in a hurry to tell my

husband and the people in the neighborhood about it. They might be a little disappointed at first, for they had

a mighty high opinion of you when they thought that you was layin' low here to keep an eye on them tenants

During the winter in which I reached my twenty fifth year I lived with my mother's brother, Dr. Alfred

Morris, in Warburton, a small country town, and I was there beginning the practice of medicine. I had been

graduated in the spring, and my uncle earnestly advised me to come to him and act as his assistant, which

advice, considering the fact that he was an elderly man, and that I might hope to succeed him in his excellent

At this time I practised very little, but learned a great deal, for as I often accompanied my uncle on his

I had an invitation to spend the Christmas of that year with the Collingwoods, who had opened their country

house, about twelve miles from Warburton, for the entertainment of a holiday house party. I had gladly

accepted the invitation, and on the day before Christmas I went to the livery stable in the village to hire a

horse and sleigh for the trip. At the stable I met Uncle Beamish, who had also come to hire a conveyance.

"Uncle Beamish," as he was generally called in the village, although I am sure he had no nephews or nieces

in the place, was an elderly man who had retired from some business, I know not what, and was apparently

quite able to live upon whatever income he had. He was a good man, rather illiterate, but very shrewd.

Generous in good works, I do not think he was fond of giving away money, but his services were at the call

I liked Uncle Beamish very much, for he was not only a good storyteller, but he was willing to listen to my

stories, and when I found he wanted to hire a horse and sleigh to go to the house of his married sister, with

whom he intended to spend Christmas, and that his sister lived on Upper Hill turnpike, on which road the

Collingwood house was situated, I proposed that we should hire a sleigh together.

"That will suit me," said Uncle Beamish. "There couldn't have been a better fit if I had been measured for it.

Less than half a mile after you turn into the turnpike, you pass my sister's house. Then you can drop me and

go on to the Collingwoods', which I should say isn't more than three miles further."

The arrangement was made, a horse and sleigh ordered, and early in the afternoon we started from

The sleighing was good, but the same could not be said of the horse. He was a big roan, powerful and steady,

but entirely too deliberate in action. Uncle Beamish, however, was quite satisfied with him.

"What you want when you are goin' to take a journey with a horse," said he, "is stayin' power. Your fast

trotter is all very well for a mile or two, but if I have got to go into the country in winter, give me a horse like

I did not agree with him, but we jogged along quite pleasantly until the afternoon grew prematurely dark and

"Now," said I, giving the roan a useless cut, "what we ought to have is a fast horse, so that we may get there

"No, doctor, you're wrong," said Uncle Beamish. "What we want is a strong horse that will take us there

whether it storms or not, and we have got him. And who cares for a little snow that won't hurt nobody?"

I did not care for snow, and we turned up our collars and went as merrily as people can go to the music of

The snow began to fall rapidly, and, what was worse, the wind blew directly in our faces, so that sometimes

my eyes were so plastered up with snowflakes that I could scarcely see how to drive. I never knew snow to

fall with such violence. The roadway in front of us, as far as I could see it, was soon one unbroken stretch of

"This is the big storm of the season," said Uncle Beamish, "and it is a good thing we started in time, for if the

wind keeps blowin', this road will be pretty hard to travel in a couple of hours."

In about half an hour the wind lulled a little and I could get a better view of our surroundings, although I

"I was thinkin'," said Uncle Beamish, "that it might be a good idee, when we get to Crocker's place, to stop a

little, and let you warm your fingers and nose. Crocker's is ruther more than halfway to the pike."

"I don't want to stop any more than you do, but it does seem strange that we ain't passed Crocker's yit. We

could hardly miss his house, it is so close to the road. This horse is slow, but I tell you one thing, doctor, he's

improvin'. He is goin' better than he did. That's the way with this kind. It takes them a good while to get

The big roan was going better, but still we did not reach Crocker's, which disappointed Uncle Beamish, who

I did not wish to discourage him by saying that I did not think we had yet reached Crocker's, but I believed I

Again the wind began to blow in our faces, and the snow fell faster, but the violence of the storm seemed to

"That's the sort of beast to have," exclaimed Uncle Beamish, spluttering as the snow blew in his mouth. "He

is gettin' his spirits up just when they are most wanted. We must have passed Crocker's a good while ago, and

it can't be long before we get to the pike. And it's time we was there, for it's darkenin'."

On and on we went, but still we did not reach the pike. We had lost a great deal of time during the first part of

the journey, and although the horse was travelling so much better now, his pace was below the average of

"When we get to the pike," said Uncle Beamish, "you can't miss it, for this road doesn't cross it. All you've

got to do is to turn to the left, and in ten minutes you will see the lights in my sister's house. And I'll tell you,

doctor, if you would like to stop there for the night, she'd be mighty glad to have you."

"Much obliged," replied I, "but I shall go on. It's not late yet, and I can reach the Collingwoods' in good

We now drove on in silence, our horse actually arching his neck as he thumped through the snow. Drifts had

"Stayin' power is what we want, doctor!" exclaimed Uncle Beamish. "Where would your fast trotter be in

drifts like these, I'd like to know? We got the right horse when we got this one, but I wish we had been goin'

"That beats me," said Uncle Beamish. "I don't remember no other house so near the road. It can't be we ain't

passed Crocker's yit! If we ain't got no further than that, I'm in favor of stoppin'. I'm not afraid of a

snowstorm, but I ain't a fool nuther, and if we haven't got further than Crocker's it will be foolhardy to try to

I did not give it up so easily. I greatly wished to` reach my destination that night. But there were three wills in

the party, and one of them belonged to the horse. Before I had any idea of such a thing, the animal made a

sudden turn,too sudden for safety,passed through a wide gateway, and after a few rapid bounds which,

"Hello!" exclaimed Uncle Beamish, peering forward, "here's a barn door." And he immediately began to

"I'm goin' to open the barn door and let the horse go in," said he. "He seems to want to. I don't know whether

this is Crocker's barn or not. It don't look like it, but I may be mistaken. Anyway, we will let the horse in, and

then go to the house. This ain't no night to be travellin' any further, doctor, and that is the long and the short

I had not much time to consider the situation, for while he had been speaking, Uncle Beamish had waded

through the snow, and finding the barn door unfastened, had slid it to one side. Instantly the horse entered the

"Now," said Uncle Beamish, "if we can get somethin' to tie him with, so that he don't do no mischief, we can

leave him here and go up to the house." I carried a pocket lantern, and quickly lighted it. "By George!" said

Uncle Beamish, as I held up the lantern, "this ain't much of a barnit's no more than a wagonhouse. It ain't

We fastened the horse, threw a robe over him, shut the barn door behind us, and slowly made our way to the

back of the house, in which there was a lighted window. Mounting a little portico, we reached a door, and

were about to knock when it was opened for us. A woman, plainly a servant, stood in a kitchen, light and

"Come right in," she said. "I heard your bells. Did you put your horse in the barn?"

"All right," interrupted the woman, moving toward an inner door. "Just wait here for a minute. I'm going up

"I don't know this place," said Uncle Beamish, as we stood by the kitchen stove, "but I expect it belongs to a

"'Cause she said she was goin' to tell HER. If there had been a man in the house, she would have gone to tell

"She says you are to take off your wet things and then go into the sittingroom. She'll be down in a minute."

I looked at Uncle Beamish, thinking it was his right to make explanations, but, giving me a little wink, he

began to take off his overcoat. It was plain to perceive that Uncle Beamish desired to assume that a place of

"It's an awful bad night," he said to the woman, as he sat down to take off his arctic overshoes.

"It's all that," said she. "You may hang your coats over them chairs. It won't matter if they do drip on this bare

In spite of my disappointment, I was glad to be in a warm house, and hoped we might be able to stay there. I

could hear the storm beating furiously against the windowpanes behind the drawn shades. There was a stove

"It strikes me," said Uncle Beamish, when we were left alone, "that somebody is expected in this house, most

"Of course we will do that," said he, "but I can tell you one thing: whoever is expected ain't comin', for he

can't get here. But we've got to stay here tonight, no matter who comes or doesn't come, and we've got to be

keerful in speakin' to the woman of the house. If she is one kind of a person, we can offer to pay for lodgin's

and horsefeed; but if she is another kind, we must steer clear of mentionin' pay, for it will make her angry.

I was about to reply that I was more than willing to do so when the door opened and a person

enteredevidently the mistress of the house. She was tall and thin, past middle age, and plainly dressed. Her

pale countenance wore a defiant look, and behind her spectacles blazed a pair of dark eyes, which, after an

instant's survey of her visitors, were fixed steadily upon me. She made but a step into the room, and stood

"You can sit down again," she said sharply to me. "I don't want you. Now, sir," she continued, turning to

Uncle Beamish gave a glance of surprise at me, but he immediately followed the old lady out of the room,

For ten minutes, at least, I sat quietly waiting to see what would happen nextvery much surprised at the

remark that had been made to me, and wondering at Uncle Beamish's protracted absence. Suddenly he

"Here's a go!" said he, slapping his leg, but very gently. "We're mistook the worst kind. We're mistook for

doctors." "That is only half a mistake," said I. "What is the matter, and what can I do?"

"Nothin'," said he, quickly,"that is, nothin' your own self. Just the minute she got me outside that door she

began pitchin' into you. `I suppose that's young Dr. Glover,' said she. I told her it was, and then she went on

to say, givin' me no chance to explain nothin', that she didn't want to have anything to do with you; that she

thought it was a shame to turn people's houses into paupers' hospitals for the purpose of teachin' medical

students; that she had heard of you, and what she had heard she hadn't liked. All this time she kept goin'

upstairs, and I follerin' her, and the fust thing I knowed she opened a door and went into a room, and I went in

after her, and there, in a bed, was a patient of some kind. I was took back dreadful, for the state of the case

Your uncle had been sent for, and I was mistook for him. Now, what to say was a puzzle to me, and I began

It was an awkward business to have to explain things to that sharpset old woman. The fact is, I didn't know

how to begin, and was a good deal afraid, besides, but she didn't give me no time for considerin'. `I think it's

her brain,' said she, `but perhaps you'll know better. Catherine, uncover your head!' And with that the patient

turned over a little and uncovered her head, which she had had the sheet over. It was a young woman, and she

"Of course you must have been," I answered. "Why didn't you tell her that you were not a doctor, but that I

was. It would have been easy enough to explain matters. She might have thought my uncle could not come

and he had sent me, and that you had come along for company. The patient ought to be attended to without

"She's got to beattended to," said Uncle Beamish, "or else there will be a row and we'll have to

travelstorm or no storm. But if you had heard what that old woman said about young doctors, and you in

particular, you would know that you wasn't goin' to have anything to do with this caseat least, you

wouldn't show in it. But I've got no more time for talkin'. I came down here on business. When the old lady

said, `Catherine, hold out your hand!' and she held it out, I had nothin' to do but step up and feel her pulse. I

know how to do that, for I have done a lot of nussin' in my life. And then it seemed nat'ral to ask her to put

out her tongue, and when she did it I gave a look at it and nodded my head. `Do you think it is her brain?' said

the old woman, half whisperin'. `Can't say anything about that yit,' said I. `I must go downstairs and get the

medicinecase. The fust thing to do is to give her a draught, and I will bring it up to her as soon as it is

"I knowed it," said Uncle Beamish. "An old doctor might go visitin' without his medicinecase, but a young

one would be sure to take it along, no matter where he was goin'. Now you get it, please, quick."

"My notion is," said he, when I returned from the kitchen with the case, "that you mix somethin' that might

soothe her a little, if she has got anything the matter with her brain, and which won't hurt her if she hasn't.

And then, when I take it up to her, you tell me what symptoms to look for. I can do itI have spent nights

lookin' for symptoms. Then, when I come down and report, you might send her up somethin' that would keep

her from gettin' any wuss till the doctor can come in the mornin', for he ain't comin' here tonight."

"A very good plan," said I. "Now, what can I give her? What is the patient's age?"

"Oh, her age don't matter much," said Uncle Beamish, impatiently. "She may be twenty, more or less, and

"I will give her some sweet spirits of nitre," said I, taking out a little vial. "Will you ask the servant for a glass

"Now," said I, when I had quickly prepared the mixture, "she can have a teaspoonful of this, and another in

"In the first place," said I, producing a clinical thermometer, "you must take her temperature. You know how

"Oh, yes," said he. "I have done it hundreds of times. She must hold it in her mouth five minutes."

"Yes, and while you are waiting," I continued, "you must try to find out, in the first place, if there are, or have

been, any signs of delirium. You might ask the old lady, and besides, you may be able to judge for yourself."

"Then, again," said I, "you must observe whether or not her pupils are dilated. You might also inquire

whether there had been any partial paralysis or numbness in any part of the body. These things must be

looked for in brain trouble. Then you can come down, ostensibly to prepare another prescription, and when

you have reported, I have no doubt I can give you something which will modify, or I should say"

"Hold her where she is till mornin'," said Uncle Beamish. "That's what you mean. Be quick. Give me that

thermometer and the tumbler, and when I come down again, I reckon you can fit her out with a prescription

He hurried away, and I sat down to consider. I was full of ambition, full of enthusiasm for the practice of my

profession. I would have been willing to pay largely for the privilege of undertaking an important case by

myself, in which it would depend upon me whether or not I should call in a consulting brother. So far, in the

cases I had undertaken, a consulting brother had always called himself inthat is, I had practised in hospitals

or with my uncle. Perhaps it might be found necessary, notwithstanding all that had been said against me, that

I should go up to take charge of this case. I wished I had not forgotten to ask the old man how he had found

"I'll give them to you," said he, taking his seat. "I'm not in such a hurry now, because I told the old woman I

would like to wait a little and see how that fust medicine acted. The patient spoke to me this time. When I

took the thermometer out of her mouth she says, `You are comin' up ag'in, doctor?' speakin' low and quickish,

"Well," he answered, "in the fust place her temperature is ninetyeight and a half, and that's about nat'ral, I

"All of which means," I remarked, "that there is no fever. But that is not at all a necessary accompaniment of

"There isn't none," said Uncle Beamish; "they are ruther squinched up, if anything. And as to delirium, I

couldn't see no signs of it, and when I asked the old lady about the numbness, she said she didn't believe there

"The trouble is," said I, standing before the stove and fixing my mind upon the case with earnest intensity,

"that there are so few symptoms in brain derangement. If I could only get hold of something tangible"

"If I was you," interrupted Uncle Beamish, "I wouldn't try to get hold of nothin'. I would just give her

somethin' to keep her where she is till mornin'. If you can do that, I'll guarantee that any good doctor can take

Without noticing the implication contained in these remarks, I continued my consideration of the case.

"No, no!" exclaimed Uncle Beamish, "I'm not goin' to do anything of that sort. What in the name of common

"I would examine it microscopically," I said. "I might find out all I want to know."

"If you did find out there was the wrong kind of germs, you couldn't do anything with them tonight, and it

would just worry you," said the old man. "I believe that nature will get along fustrate without any help, at

least till mornin'. But you've got to give her some medicinenot so much for her good as for our good. If

she's not treated we're bounced. Can't you give her somethin' that would do anybody good, no matter what's

the matter with 'em? If it was the spring of the year I would say sarsaparilla. If you could mix her up

somethin' and put into it some of them benevolent microbes the doctors talk about, it would be a good deed to

"And if you had," he remarked, "I'd be in favor of givin' 'em to the old woman. I take it they would do, her

more good than anybody else. Come along now, doctor; it is about time for me to go upstairs and see how

the other stuff actednot on the patient, I don't mean, but on the old woman. The fact is, you know, it's her

"Not at all," said I, speaking a little severely. "I am trying to do my very best for the patient, but I fear I

cannot do it without seeing her. Don't you think that if you told the old lady how absolutely necessary"

"Don't say anything more about that!" exclaimed Uncle Beamish. "I hoped I wouldn't have to mention it, but

she told me ag'in that she would never have one of those unfledged medical students, just out of the

eggshell, experimentin' on any of her family, and from what she said about you in particular, I should say

"Give it up," said he. "Can't guess it. But that ain't the p'int. The p'int is, what are you goin' to give her? When

I was young the doctors used to say, When you are in doubt, give calomelas if you were playin' trumps."

"Nonsense, nonsense," said I, my eyes earnestly fixed upon my open medical case.

"Wouldn't do at all," I interrupted. "Wait a minute, now yesI know what I will do: I will give her

"`Which will hit if it's a deer and miss if it's a calf' as the hunter said?" inquired Uncle Beamish.

"It will certainly not injure her," said I, "and I am quite sure it will be a positive advantage. If there has been

cerebral disturbance, which has subsided temporarily, it will assist her to tide over the interim before its

"All right," said Uncle Beamish, "give it to me, and I'll be off. It's time I showed up ag'in."

"No symptoms yit, but the patient looked at me as if she wanted to say somethin'; but she didn't git no chance,

for the old lady set herself down as if she was planted in a gardenbed and intended to stay there. But the

"That is very good," said I. "It may be that she appreciates the seriousness of her ewe better than we do."

"I should say she wants to git well," he replied. "She looks like that sort of a person to me. The old woman

said she thought we would have to stay awhile till the storm slackened, and I said, yes, indeed, and there

wasn't any chance of its slackenin' tonight; besides, I wanted to see the patient before bedtime."

"She says you are to have supper, and it will be ready in about half an hour. One of you had better go out and

"I will go to the barn," said I, rising. Uncle Beamish also rose and said he would go with me.

"I guess you can find some hay and oats," said the woman, as we were putting on our coats and overshoes in

the kitchen, "and here's a lantern. We don't keep no horse now, but there's feed left."

"I've been tryin' my best to think where we are without askin' any questions, and I'm dead beat. I don't

"That may be," said he, as we entered the barn. "It's a straight road from Warburton to the pike near my

sister's house, but there's two other roads that branch off to the right and strike the pike further off to the east.

Perhaps we got on one of them in all that darkness and perplexin' whiteness, when it wasn't easy to see

"I would not be at all surprised," said I, "if this horse had once belonged here and that was the reason why, as

"That isn't unlikely," said Uncle Beamish, "and that's the reason we did not pass Crocker's. But here we are,

We found hay and oats and a pump in the corner of the wagonhouse, and having put the horse in the stall and

made him as comfortable as possible with some old blankets, we returned to the house, bringing our valises

Our supper was served in the sittingroom because there was a good fire there, and the servant told us we

"We'll excuse her," said Uncle Beamish, with an alacrity of expression that might have caused suspicion.

We had a good supper, and were then shown a room on the first floor on the other side of the hall, where the

We sat by the stove awhile, waiting for developments, but as Uncle Beamish's bedtime was rapidly

approaching, he sent word to the sickchamber that he was coming up for his final visit.

"She's fast asleep," said he, "and the old woman says she'll call me if I'm needed in the night, and you'll have

The next morning, and very early in the morning, I was awaked by Uncle Beamish, who stood at my side.

"Look here," said he, "I've been outside. It's stopped snowin' and it's clearin' off. I've been to the barn and I've

fed the horse, and I tell you what I'm in favor of doin'. There's nobody up yit, and I don't want to stay here

and make no explanations to that old woman. I don't fancy gittin' into rows on Christmas mornin'. We've

done all the good we can here, and the best thing we can do now is to git away before anybody is up, and

leave a note sayin' that we've got to go on without losin' time, and that we will send another doctor as soon as

possible. My sister's doctor don't live fur away from her, and I know she will be willin' to send for him. Then

our duty will be done, and what the old woman thinks of us won't make no, difference to nobody."

"That plan suits me," said I, rising. "I don't want to stay here, and as I am not to be allowed to see the patient,

there is no reason why I should stay. What we have done will more than pay for our supper and lodgings, so

I tore a leaf from my notebook, and went to the window, where it was barely light enough for me to see how

I made it very short, and then, valises in hand, we quietly took our way to the kitchen.

"How this floor does creak!" said Uncle Beamish. "Git on your overcoat and shoes as quick as you can, and

I had just shaken myself into my overcoat when Uncle Beamish gave a subdued exclamation, and quickly

turning, I saw entering the kitchen a female figure in winter wraps and carrying a handbag.

"Oh, Dr. Glover!" she whispered, "I am so glad to get down before you went away!"

I stared in amazement at the speaker, but even in the dim light I recognized her. This was the human being

whose expected presence at the Collingwood mansion was taking me there to spend Christmas.

"Don't ask me for any meanings now," she said. "I want you and your uncle to take me to the Collingwoods'.

I suppose you are on your way there, for they wrote you were coming. And oh! let us be quick, for I'm afraid

Jane will come down, and she will be sure to wake up aunty. I saw one of you go out to the barn, and knew

you intended to leave, so I got ready just as fast as I could. But I must leave some word for aunty."

I gave her a pencil, and she hurriedly wrote something on the paper which I had left on the kitchen table.

Then, quickly glancing around, she picked up a large carvingfork, and sticking it through the paper into the

"Oh, no, no, no," she answered, "I must not wait here. If I once get out of the house I shall feel safe. Of

course I shall go anyway, but I don't want any quarrelling on this Christmas morning."

"I'm with you there," said Uncle Beamish, approvingly. "Doctor, we can take her to the barn without her

touching the snow. Let her sit in this armchair, and we can carry her between us. She's no weight."

In half a minute the kitchen door was softly closed behind us, and we were carrying Miss Burroughs to the

barn. My soul was in a wild tumult. Dozens of questions were on my tongue, but I had no chance to ask any

Uncle Beamish and I returned to the porch for the valises, and then, closing the back door, we rapidly began

"I suppose," said Uncle Beamish, as we went into the stable, leaving Miss Burroughs in the wagonhouse,

"that this business is all right? You seem to know the young woman, and she is of age to act for herself."

"Whatever she wants to do," I answered, "is perfectly right. You may trust to that. I do not understand the

matter any more than you do, but I know she is expected at the Collingwoods', and wants to go there."

"Very good," said Uncle Beamish. "We'll git away fust and ask explanations afterwards."

"Dr. Glover," said Miss Burroughs, as we led the horse into the wagonhouse, "don't put the bells on him.

Stuff them gently under the seatas softly as you can. But how are we all to go away? I have been looking

"It's rather late to think of that, miss," said Uncle Beamish, "but there's one thing that's certain. We're both

very polite to ladies, but neither of us is willin' to be left behind on this trip. But it's a goodsized sleigh, and

we'll all pack in, well enough. You and me can sit on the seat, and the doctor can stand up in front of us and

drive. In old times it was considered the right thing for the driver of the sleigh to stand up and do his drivin'."

The baggage was carefully stowed away, and, after a look around the dimly lighted wagonhouse, Miss

Burroughs and Uncle Beamish got into the sleigh, and I tucked the big fur robe around them.

"I hate to make a journey before breakfast," said Uncle Beamish, as I was doing this, "especially on

Christmas mornin', but somehow or other there seems to be somethin' jolly about this business, and we won't

have to wait so long for breakfast, nuther. It can't be far from my sister's, and we'll all stop there and have

breakfast. Then you two can leave me and go on. She'll be as glad to see any friends of mine as if they were

her own. And she'll be pretty sure, on a mornin' like this, to have buckwheat cakes and sausages."

Miss Burroughs looked at the old man with a puzzled air, but she asked him no questions.

"Oh, this long ulster will be enough for me," I replied, "and as I shall stand up, I could not use a robe, if we

In fact, the thought of being with Miss Burroughs and the anticipation of a sleighride alone with her after we

had left Uncle Beamish with his sister, had put me into such a glow that I scarcely knew it was cold weather.

"You'd better be keerful, doctor," said Uncle Beamish. "You don't want to git rheumatism in your j'ints on

this Christmas mornin'. Here's this horseblanket that we are settin' on. We don't need it, and you'd better

"Oh, do! " said Miss Burroughs. "It may look funny, but we will not meet anybody so early as this."

I slid back the barn door and then led the horse outside. Closing the door, and making as little noise as

possible in doing it, I got into the sleigh, finding plenty of room to stand up in front of my companions. Now

I wrapped the horseblanket about the lower part of my body, and as I had no belt with which to secure it,

Miss Burroughs kindly offered to fasten it round my waist by means of a long pin which she took from her

hat. It is impossible to describe the exhilaration that pervaded me as she performed this kindly office. After

"It is so lucky," whispered Miss Burroughs, "that I happened to think about the bells. We don't make any

This was true. The slowly uplifted hoofs of the horse descended quietly into the soft snow, and the

"Drive straight for the gate, doctor," whispered Uncle Beamish. "It don't matter nothin' about goin' over

I followed his advice, for no roadway could be seen. But we had gone but a short distance when the horse

"What's the matter?" asked Miss Burroughs, in a low voice. "Is it too deep for him?"

"We're in a drift," said Uncle Beamish. "But it's not too deep. Make him go ahead, doctor."

"What a dreadful thing," whispered Miss Burroughs, leaning forward, "for him to stop so near the house! Dr.

Glover, what does this mean?" And, as she spoke, she half rose behind me. "Where did Sir Rohan come

"That horse," she answered. "That's my aunt's horse. She sold him a few days ago."

"By George! " ejaculated Uncle Beamish, unconsciously raising his voice a little. "Wilson bought him, and

his bringin' us here is as plain as A B C. And now he don't want to leave home."

"But he has got to do it," said I, jerking the horse's head to one side and giving him a cut with the whip.

"Don't whip him," whispered Miss Burroughs; "it always makes him more stubborn. How glad I am I thought

"You must give him sugar and pat his neck. If I had some sugar and could get out"

"But you haven't it, and you can't git out," said Uncle Beamish. "Try him again doctor!"

"Haven't you got somethin' in your medicinecase you could mollify him with?" said Uncle Beamish.

For an instant I caught at this absurd suggestion, and my mind ran over the contents of my little bottles. If I

had known his character, some sodium bromide in his morning feed might, by this time, have mollified his

"If I could be free of this blanket," said I, fumbling at the pin behind me, "I would get out and lead him into

"You could not do it," said Miss Burroughs. "You might pull his head off, but he wouldn't move. I have seen

At this moment a windowsash in the second story of the house was raised, and there, not thirty feet from us,

stood an elderly female, wrapped in a gray shawl, with piercing eyes shining through great spectacles.

"You seem to be stuck," said she, sarcastically. "You are worse stuck than the fork was in my kitchen table."

We made no answer. I do not know how Miss Burroughs looked or felt, or what was the appearance of Uncle

Beamish, but I know I must have been very red in the face. I gave the horse a powerful crack and shouted to

"You needn't be cruel to dumb animals," said the old lady, "and you can't budge him. He never did like snow,

especially in going away from home. You cut a powerful queer figure, young man, with that horseblanket

"Miss Burroughs," I exclaimed, "please take that pin out of this blanket. If I can get at his head I know I can

But she did not seem to hear me. "Aunty," she cried, "it's a shame to stand there and make fun of us. We have

got a perfect right to go away if we want to, and we ought not to be laughed at."

"Young lady," said Uncle Beamish, "I'm no false doctor. I intended to tell you all about it as soon as I got a

chance, but I haven't had one. And, old lady, I'd like you to know that I don't say I'm a doctor, but I do say I'm

"Catherine," said she, "I can't stand here and take cold, but I just want to know one thing: Have you positively

I had never asked Kitty to marry me. I loved her with all my heart and soul, and I hoped, almost believed, that

she loved me. It had been my intention, when we should be left together in the sleigh this morning, after

The old woman's question pierced me as if it had been a flash of lightning coming through the frosty air of a

winter morning. I dropped the useless reins and turned. Kitty's face was ablaze. She made a movement as if

"Oh, Kitty!" said I, bending down toward her, "tell her yes! I beg I entreat, I implore you to tell her yes! Oh,

With the agility of a youth, Uncle Beamish threw the robe from him and sprang out into the deep snow. Then,

"By George!" said he, "you're a pair of trumps. I never did see any human bein's step up to the mark more

prompt. Madam," he cried, addressing the old lady, "you ought to be the proudest woman in this county at

seein' such a thing as this happen under your window of a Christmas mornin'. And now the best thing that

you can do is to invite us all in to have breakfast." "You'll have to come in," said she, "or else stay out there

And if my niece really intends to marry the young man, and has gone so far as to start to run away with

him,and with a false doctor,of course I've got no more to say about it, and you can come in and have

"That's talkin'," said Uncle Beamish. "Sit still, doctor, and I'll lead him around to the back door. I guess he'll

Without the slightest objection Sir Rohan permitted himself to be turned back and led up to the kitchen porch.

"Now you two sparklin' angels get out," said Uncle Beamish, "and go in. I'll attend to the horse."

I do not know how long we were together in that sittingroom. We had thousands of things to say, and we

said most of them. Among other things, we managed to get in some explanations of the occurrences of the

previous night. Kitty told her tale briefly. She and her aunt, to whom she was making a visit, and who wanted

her to make her house her home, had had a quarrel two days before. Kitty was wild to go to the

Collingwoods', and the old lady, who, for some reason, hated the family, was determined she should not go.

But Kitty was immovable, and never gave up until she found that her aunt had gone so far as to dispose of her

horse, thus making it impossible to travel in such weather, there being no public conveyances passing the

house. Kitty was an orphan, and had a guardian who would have come to her aid, but she could not write to

him in time, and, in utter despair, she went to bed. She would not eat or drink, she would not speak, and she

"After a day and a night," said Kitty, "aunty got dreadfully frightened and thought something was the matter

with my brain. Her family are awfully anxious about their brains. I knew she had sent for the doctor and I was

glad of it, for I thought he would help me. I must say I was surprised when I first saw that Mr. Beamish, for I

"And so," she said, when I had finished, "you had no idea that you were prescribing for me! Please do tell me

what were those medicines you sent up to me and which I took like a truly good girl."

"I didn't know it at the time," said I, "but I sent you sixty drops of the deepest, strongest love in a glass of

"Nonsense!" said Kitty, with a blush, and at that moment Uncle Beamish knocked at the door.

"I thought I'd just step in and tell you," said he, "that breakfast will be comin' along in a minute. I found they

were goin' to have buckwheat cakes, anyway, and I prevailed on Jane to put sausages in the bill of fare.

Merry Christmas to you both! I would like to say more, but here comes the old lady and Jane."

The breakfast was a strange meal, but a very happy one. The old lady was very dignified. She made no

allusion to Christmas or to what had happened, but talked to Uncle Beamish about people in Warburton.

I have a practical mind, and, in spite of the present joy, I could not help feeling a little anxiety about what was

to be done when breakfast was over. But just as we were about to rise from the table we were all startled by a

great jingle of sleighbells outside. The old lady arose and stopped to the window.

"There!" said she, turning toward us. "Here's a pretty kettle of fish! There's a twohorse sleigh outside, with a

man driving, and a gentleman in the back seat who I am sure is Dr. Morris, and he has come all the way on

this bitter cold morning to see the patient I sent for him to come to. Now, who is going to tell him he has

"Fool's errand!" I cried. "Every one of you wait in here and I'll go out and tell him."

When I dashed out of doors and stood by the side of my uncle's sleigh, he was truly an amazed man.

"I will get in, uncle," said I, "and if you will let John drive the horses slowly around the yard, I will tell you

The story was a much longer one than I expected it to be, and John must have driven those horses backward

"Well," said my uncle, at last, "I never saw your Kitty, but I knew her father and her mother, and I will go in

and take a look at her. If I like her, I will take you all on to the Collingwoods', and drop Uncle Beamish at his

"I'll tell you what it is, young doctor," said Uncle Beamish, at parting, "you ought to buy that big roan horse.

"Oh, that would never do at all," cried Kitty. "His patients would all die before he got there."

Before beginning the relation of the following incidents, I wish to state that I am a young married man, doing

I was going into town the other morning, when my wife handed me a little piece of red calico, and asked me

if I would have time, during the day, to buy her two yards and a half of calico like it. I assured her that it

would be no trouble at all, and putting the piece of calico in my pocket, I took the train for the city.

At lunchtime I stopped in at a large drygoods store to attend to my wife's commission. I saw a

welldressed man walking the floor between the counters, where long lines of girls were waiting on much

"This way, sir," and he led me up the store. "Miss Stone," said he to a young lady, "show this gentleman

I showed her the little piece of calico that my wife had given me. She looked at it and handed it back to me.

"That may be," said I. "But, you see, I want to match this piece. There is something already in my house,

made of this kind of calico, which needs to be made larger, or mended, or something. I want some calico of

"Yes. But this isn't to be worn. It's for furniture, I think. At any rate, I want perfectly plain stuff, to match

"Well, I don't think you can find it perfectly plain, unless you get Turkey red."

"We haven't any Turkey red calico left," she said, "but we have some very nice plain calicoes in other

I next went into a store a few doors farther up Broadway. When I entered I approached the "floorwalker," and

"Yes, sir," said he. "Third counter to the right." I went to the third counter to the right, and showed my sample

to the salesman in attendance there. He looked at it on both sides. Then he said:

"I should think people could use anything they wanted for furniture," I remarked, somewhat sharply.

"They can, but they don't," he said quite calmly. "They don't use red like that. They use Turkey red."

I said no more, but left. The next place I visited was a very large drygoods store. Of the first salesman I saw

I walked through the crowds of purchasers and salespeople, around the counters and tables filled with goods,

"The second counter down this side," said the man. I went there and produced my sample. "Calicoes

"Not these plain goods. You'll find them downstairs at the back of the store, over on that side."

"Next counter but one, " said the man addressed, walking with me in the direction pointed out. "Dunn, show

Mr. Dunn took my sample and looked at it. "We haven't this shade in that quality of goods," he said.

"Yes. We've got it finer." He took down a piece of calico, and unrolled a yard or two of it.

"I thought you weren't particular about the match," said the salesman. "You said you didn't care for the

quality of the goods, and you know you can't match without you take into consideration quality and color

"No, sir. But perhaps they may have it in the upholstery department, in the sixth story."

I went to the fourth counter to the left, and showed my sample to a salesman. He looked at it, and said:

I turned on my heel, descended in the elevator, and went out on Broadway. I was thoroughly sick of red

calico. But I determined to make one more trial. My wife had bought her red calico not long before, and there

must be some to be had somewhere. I ought to have asked her where she bought it, but I thought a simple

I went into another large drygoods store. As I entered the door a sudden tremor seized me. I could not bear

to take out that piece of red calico. If I had had any other kind of a rag about mea penwiper or anything of

But I stepped up to a young woman and presented my sample, with the usual question.

The lady looked at me rather strangely, but measured off five yards of Turkey red calico. Then she rapped on

the counter and called out, "Cash!" A little girl, with yellow hair in two long plaits, came slowly up. The lady

wrote the number of yards; the name of the goods; her own number; the price; the amount of the banknote I

handed her; and some other mattersprobably the color of my eyes and the direction and velocity of the

windon a slip of paper. She then copied all this in a little book which she kept by her. Then she handed the

slip of paper, the money, and the Turkey red to the yellowhaired girl. This young girl copied the slip in a

little book she carried, and then she went away with the calico, the paper slip, and the money.

After a very long timeduring which the little girl probably took the goods, the money, and the slip to some

central desk, where the note was received, its amount and number entered in a book; change given to the girl;

a copy of the slip made and entered; girl's entry examined and approved; goods wrapped up; girl registered;

plaits counted and entered on a slip of paper and copied by the girl in her book; girl taken to a hydrant and

washed; number of towel entered on a paper slip and copied by the girl in her book; value of my note and

amount of change branded somewhere on the child, and said process noted on a slip of paper and copied in

her bookthe girl came to me, bringing my change and the package of Turkey red calico.

I had time for but very little work at the office that afternoon, and when I reached home I handed the package

"Match it!" I cried. "Oh no! it doesn't match it. You didn't want that matched. You were mistaken. What you

wanted was Turkey redthird counter to the left. I mean, Turkey red is what they use!"

"Well," said she, "this Turkey red is a great deal prettier than what I had, and you've bought so much of it that

"Well, sir," said old Silas, as he gave a preliminary puff to the pipe he had just lighted, and so satisfied

himself that the draught was all right, "the wind's acomin', an' so's Christmas. But it's no use bein' in a hurry

Silas was sitting in the stern of a small sailingboat which he owned, and in which he sometimes took the

Sandport visitors out for a sail, and at other times applied to its more legitimate but less profitable use, that of

fishing. That afternoon he had taken young Mr. Nugent for a brief excursion on that portion of the Atlantic

Ocean which sends its breakers up on the beach of Sandport. But he had found it difficult, nay, impossible,

just now, to bring him back, for the wind had gradually died away until there was not a breath of it left. Mr.

Nugent, to whom nautical experiences were as new as the very nautical suit of blue flannel which he wore,

rather liked the calm. It was such a relief to the monotony of rolling waves. He took out a cigar and lighted it,

"I can easily imagine how a wind might come before you sailors might want it, but I don't see how Christmas

"It come wunst on me when things couldn't `a' looked more onready fur it," said Silas.

"How was that?" asked Mr. Nugent, settling himself a little more comfortably on the hard thwart. "If it's a

The barelegged boy whose duty it was to stay forward and mind the jib came aft as soon as he smelt a story,

and took a nautical position, which was duly studied by Mr. Nugent, on a bag of ballast in the bottom of the

"It's nigh on to fifteen year ago," said Silas, "that I was on the bark Mary Auguster, bound for Sydney, New

South Wales, with a cargo of canned goods. We was somewhere about longitood a hundred an' seventy,

latitood nothin', an' it was the twentysecond o' December, when we was ketched by a reg'lar typhoon which

blew straight along, end on, fur a day an' a half. It blew away the stormsails. It blew away every yard, spar,

shroud, an' every strand o' riggin', an' snapped the masts off close to the deck. It blew away all the boats. It

blew away the cook's caboose, an' everythin' else on deck. It blew off the hatches, an' sent 'em spinnin' in the

air about a mile to leeward. An' afore it got through, it washed away the cap'n an' all the crew 'cept me an'

two others. These was Tom Simmons, the second mate, an' Andy Boyle, a chap from the Adirondack

Mount'ins, who'd never been to sea afore. As he was a landsman, he ought, by rights, to 'a' been swep' off by

the wind an' water, consid'rin' that the cap'n an' sixteen good seamen had gone a'ready. But he had hands

eleven inches long, an' that give him a grip which no typhoon could git the better of. Andy had let out that his

father was a miller up there in York State, an' a story had got round among the crew that his granfather an'

greatgran'father was millers, too; an' the way the fam'ly got such big hands come from their habit of

scoopin' up a extry quart or two of meal or flour fur themselves when they was levellin' off their customers'

measures. He was a goodnatered feller, though, an' never got riled when I'd tell him to clap his flourscoops

onter a halyard. "We was all soaked, an' washed, an' beat, an' battered. We held on some way or other till the

wind blowed itself out, an' then we got on our legs an' began to look about us to see how things stood. The

sea had washed into the open hatches till the vessel was more'n half full of water, an' that had sunk her, so

deep that she must 'a' looked like a canalboat loaded with gravel. We hadn't had a thing to eat or drink durin'

that whole blow, an' we was pretty ravenous. We found a keg of water which was all right, and a box of

biscuit which was what you might call softtack, fur they was soaked through an' through with seawater.

We eat a lot of them so, fur we couldn't wait, an' the rest we spread on the deck to dry, fur the sun was now

shinin' hot enough to bake bread. We couldn't go below much, fur there was a pretty good swell on the sea,

an' things was floatin' about so's to make it dangerous. But we fished out a piece of canvas, which we rigged

up ag'in' the stump of the mainmast so that we could have somethin' that we could sit down an' grumble

under. What struck us all the hardest was that the bark was loaded with a whole cargo of jolly things to eat,

which was just as good as ever they was, fur the water couldn't git through the tin cans in which they was all

put up, an' here we was with nothin' to live on but them salted biscuit. There wasn't no way of gittin' at any of

the ship's stores, or any of the fancy prog, fur everythin' was stowed away tight under six or seven feet of

water, an' pretty nigh all the room that was left between decks was filled up with extry spars, lumber, boxes,

an' other floatin' stuff. All was shiftin', an' bumpin', an' bangin' every time the vessel rolled.

"As I said afore, Tom was second mate, an' I was bo's'n. Says I to Tom, `The thing we've got to do is to put

up some kind of a spar with a rag on it fur a distress flag, so that we'll lose no time bein' took off.' `There's no

use aslavin' at anythin' like that,' says Tom, `fur we've been blowed off the track of traders, an' the more we

"Now when I heared Tom say this I sot still an' began to consider. Bein' second mate, Tom was, by rights, in

command of this craft. But it was easy enough to see that if he commanded there'd never be nothin' fur Andy

an' me to do. All the grit he had in him he'd used up in holdin' on durin' that typhoon. What he wanted to do

now was to make himself comfortable till the time come for him to go to Davy Jones's lockeran' thinkin',

most likely, that Davy couldn't make it any hotter fur him than it was on that deck, still in latitood nothin' at

all, fur we'd been blowed along the line pretty nigh due west. So I calls to Andy, who was busy turnin' over

the biscuits on the deck. `Andy,' says I, when he had got under the canvas, `we's goin' to have a 'lection fur

skipper. Tom, here, is about played out. He's one candydate, an' I'm another. Now, who do you vote fur? An'

mind yer eye, youngster, that you don't make no mistake.' `I vote fur you' says Andy. `Carried unanermous!'

says I. `An' I want you to take notice that I'm cap'n of what's left of the Mary Auguster, an' you two has got to

keep your minds on that, an' obey orders.' If Davy Jones was to do all that Tom Simmons said when he

heared this, the old chap would be kept busier than he ever was yit. But I let him growl his growl out, knowin'

he'd come round all right, fur there wasn't no help fur it, consid'rin' Andy an' me was two to his one. Pretty

soon we all went to work, an' got up a spar from below, which we rigged to the stump of the foremast, with

"Them seasoaked, sundried biscuit was pretty mean prog, as you might think, but we eat so many of 'em

that afternoon, an' 'cordingly drank so much water, that I was obliged to put us all on short rations the next

day. `This is the day afore Christmas,' says Andy Boyle, `an' tonight will be Christmas eve, an' it's pretty

tough fur us to be sittin' here with not even so much hardtack as we want, an' all the time thinkin' that the

hold of this ship is packed full of the gayest kind of good things to eat.' `Shut up about Christmas!' says Tom

Simmons. `Them two youngsters of mine, up in Bangor, is havin' their toes and noses pretty nigh froze, I

'spect, but they'll hang up their stockin's all the same tonight, never thinkin' that their dad's bein' cooked

alive on a empty stomach.' `Of course they wouldn't hang 'em up,' says I, if they knowed what a fix you was

in, but they don't know it, an' what's the use of grumblin' at 'em fur bein' a little jolly?' `Well,' says Andy `they

couldn't be more jollier than I'd be if I could git at some of them fancy fixin's down in the hold. I worked well

on to a week at 'Frisco puttin' in them boxes, an' the names of the things was on the outside of most of 'em;

an' I tell you what it is, mates, it made my mouth water, even then, to read 'em, an' I wasn't hungry, nuther,

havin' plenty to eat three times a day. There was roast beef, an' roast mutton, an' duck, an' chicken, an' soup,

an' peas, an' beans, an' termaters, an' plumpuddin',an' mincepie' `Shut up with your mincepie!' sung out

Tom Simmons. `Isn't it enough to have to gnaw on these salt chips, without hearin' about mincepie ?' `An'

more'n that' says Andy, `there was canned peaches, an' pears, an' plums, an' cherries.'

"Now these things did sound so cool an' good to me on that br'ilin' deck that I couldn't stand it, an' I leans

over to Andy, an' I says: `Now looka here; if you don't shut up talkin' about them things what's stowed

below, an' what we can't git at nohow, overboard you go!' `That would make you shorthanded,' says Andy,

with a grin. `Which is more'n you could say,' says I, `if you'd chuck Tom an, me over'alludin' to his

eleveninch grip. Andy didn't say no more then, but after a while he comes to me, as I was lookin' round to

see if anything was in sight, an' says he, `I spose you ain't got nothin' to say ag'in' my divin' into the hold just

aft of the foremast, where there seems to be a bit of pretty clear water, an' see if I can't git up somethin'?'

You can't take out no insurance at this office.' `All right, then,' says Andy; `an' if I git stove in by floatin'

boxes, you an' Tom'll have to eat the rest of them salt crackers.' `Now, boy,' says I,an' he wasn't much

more, bein' only nineteen year old,`you'd better keep out o' that hold. You'll just git yourself smashed. An'

as to movin' any of them there heavy boxes, which must be swelled up as tight as if they was part of the ship,

you might as well try to pull out one of the Mary Auguster's ribs.' `I'll try it,' says Andy, `fur tomorrer is

Christmas, an' if I kin help it I ain't goin' to be floatin' atop of a Christmas dinner without eatin' any on it.' I let

him go, fur he was a good swimmer an' diver, an' I did hope he might root out somethin' or other, fur

Christmas is about the worst day in the year fur men to be starvin' on, an' that's what we was acomin' to.

"Well, fur about two hours Andy swum, an' dove, an' come up blubberin', an' dodged all sorts of floatin' an'

pitchin' stuff, fur the swell was still on. But he couldn't even be so much as sartin that he'd found the canned

vittles. To dive down through hatchways, an' among broken bulkheads, to hunt fur any partiklar kind o' boxes

under seven foot of seawater, ain't no easy job. An' though Andy said he got hold of the end of a box that

felt to him like the big uns he'd noticed as havin' the meatpies in, he couldn't move it no more'n if it had

been the stump of the foremast. If we could have pumped the water out of the hold we could have got at any

part of the cargo we wanted, but as it was, we couldn't even reach the ship's stores, which, of course, must

have been mostly sp'iled anyway, whereas the canned vittles was just as good as new. The pumps was all

smashed or stopped up, for we tried 'em, but if they hadn't 'a' been we three couldn't never have pumped out

"So Andy he come up, so fagged out that it was as much as he could do to get his clothes on, though they

wasn't much, an' then he stretched himself out under the canvas an' went to sleep, an' it wasn't long afore he

was talkin' about roast turkey an' cranberry sass, an' punkinpie, an' sech stuff, most of which we knowed

was under our feet that present minnit. Tom Simmons he just b'iled over, an' sung out: `Roll him out in the

sun an' let him cook! I can't stand no more of this!' But I wasn't goin' to have Andy treated no sech way as

that, fur if it hadn't been fur Tom Simmons' wife an' young uns, Andy'd been worth two of him to anybody

who was consid'rin' savin' life. But I give the boy a good punch in the ribs to stop his dreamin', fur I was as

"It was a little arter noon when Andy woke up, an' he went outside to stretch himself. In about a minute he

give a yell that made Tom an' me jump. `A sail!' he hollered. `A sail!' An' you may bet your life, young man,

that 'twasn't more'n half a second afore us two had scuffled out from under that canvas, an' was standin' by

Andy. `There she is!' he shouted, `not a mile to win'ard.' I give one look, an' then I sings out: `'Tain't a sail!

It's a flag of distress! Can't you see, you landlubber, that that's the Stars and Stripes upside down?' `Why, so

it is,' says Andy, with a couple of reefs in the joyfulness of his voice. An' Tom he began to growl as if

"The flag that we saw was on the hull of a steamer that had been driftin' down on us while we was sittin'

under our canvas. It was plain to see she'd been caught in the typhoon, too, fur there wasn't a mast or a

smokestack on her. But her hull was high enough out of the water to catch what wind there was, while we

was so low sunk that we didn't make no way at all. There was people aboard, and they saw us, an' waved their

hats an' arms, an' Andy an' me waved ours; but all we could do was to wait till they drifted nearer, fur we

"`I'd like to know what good that old hulk is to us,' says Tom Simmons. `She can't take us off.' It did look to

me somethin' like the blind leadin' the blind. But Andy he sings out: `We'd be better off aboard of her, fur she

ain't waterlogged, an', more'n that, I don't s'pose her stores are all soaked up in salt water.' There was some

sense in that, an' when the steamer had got to within half a mile of us, we was glad to see a boat put out from

her with three men in it. It was a queer boat, very low an' flat, an' not like any ship's boat I ever see.

But the two fellers at the oars pulled stiddy, an' pretty soon the boat was 'longside of us, an' the three men on

our deck. One of 'em was the first mate of the other wreck, an' when he found out what was the matter with

us, he spun his yarn, which was a longer one than ours. His vessel was the Water Crescent, nine hundred tons,

from 'Frisco to Melbourne, an' they had sailed about six weeks afore we did. They was about two weeks out

when some of their machinery broke down, an' when they got it patched up it broke ag'in, worse than afore,

so that they couldn't do nothin' with it. They kep' along under sail for about a month, makin' mighty poor

headway till the typhoon struck 'em, an' that cleaned their decks off about as slick as it did ours, but their

hatches wasn't blowed off, an' they didn't ship no water wuth mentionin', an' the crew havin' kep' below, none

of 'em was lost. But now they was clean out of provisions an' water, havin' been short when the breakdown

happened, fur they had sold all the stores they could spare to a French brig in distress that they overhauled

when about a week out. When they sighted us they felt pretty sure they'd git some provisions out of us. But

when I told the mate what a fix we was in his jaw dropped till his face was as long as one of Andy's hands.

Howsomdever, he said he'd send the boat back fur as many men as it could bring over, an' see if they couldn't

git up some of our stores. Even if they was soaked with salt water, they'd be better than nothin'. Part of the

cargo of the Water Crescent was tools an, things fur some railway contractors out in Australier, an' the mate

told the men to bring over some of them irons that might be used to fish out the stores. All their ship's boats

had been blowed away, an' the one they had was a kind of shore boat for fresh water, that had been shipped as

part of the cargo, an' stowed below. It couldn't stand no kind of a sea, but there wasn't nothin' but a swell on,

an' when it come back it had the cap'n in it, an' five men, besides a lot of chains an' tools.

"Them fellers an' us worked pretty nigh the rest of the day, an' we got out a couple of bar'ls of water, which

was all right, havin' been tight bunged, an' a lot of seabiscuit, all soaked an sloppy, but we only got a

halfbar'l of meat, though three or four of the men stripped an' dove fur more'n an hour. We cut up some of

the meat an' eat it raw, an' the cap'n sent some over to the other wreck, which had drifted past us to leeward,

an' would have gone clean away from us if the cap'n hadn't had a line got out an' made us fast to it while we

"That night the cap'n took us three, as well as the provisions we'd got out, on board his hull, where the

'commodations was consid'able better than they was on the halfsunk Mary Auguster. An' afore we turned in

he took me aft an' had a talk with me as commandin' off'cer of my vessel. `That wreck o' yourn,' says he, `has

got a vallyble cargo in it, which isn't sp'iled by bein' under water. Now, if you could get that cargo into port it

would put a lot of money in your pocket, fur the owners couldn't git out of payin' you fur takin' charge of it

an' havin' it brung in. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll lie by you, an' I've got carpenters aboard that'll put

your pumps in order, an' I'll set my men to work to pump out your vessel. An' then, when she's afloat all right,

I'll go to work ag'in at my vesselwhich I didn't s'pose there was any use o' doin', but whilst I was huntin'

round amongst our cargo today I found that some of the machinery we carried might be worked up so's to

take the place of what is broke in our engine. We've got a forge aboard, an' I believe we can make these

pieces of machinery fit, an' git goin' ag'in. Then I'll tow you into Sydney, an' we'll divide the salvage money. I

won't git nothin' fur savin' my vessel, coz that's my business, but you wasn't cap'n o' yourn, an' took charge of

"I wasn't at all sure that I didn't take charge of the Mary Auguster to save myself an' not the vessel, but I

"`Oh, we kin git at your stores easy enough,' says he, when the water's pumped out.' `They'll be mostly

sp'iled,' says I. `That don't matter' says he. `Men'll eat anything when they can't git nothin' else.' An' with that

"I must say, young man, an' you kin b'lieve me if you know anything about sech things, that the idee of a pile

of money was mighty temptin' to a feller like me, who had a girl at home ready to marry him, and who would

like nothin' better'n to have a little house of his own, an' a little vessel of his own, an' give up the other side of

the world altogether. But while I was goin' over all this in my mind, an' wonderin' if the cap'n ever could git

us into port, along comes Andy Boyle, an' sits down beside me. `It drives me pretty nigh crazy,' says he, `to

think that tomorrer's Christmas, an' we've got to feed on that sloppy stuff we fished out of our stores, an' not

much of it, nuther, while there's all that roast turkey an' plumpuddin' an' mincepie afloatin' out there just

afore our eyes, an' we can't have none of it.' `You hadn't oughter think so much about eatin', Andy,' says

I,`but if I was talkin' about them things I wouldn't leave out canned peaches. By George! On a hot Christmas

like this is goin' to be, I'd be the jolliest Jack on the ocean if I could git at that canned fruit.' `Well, there's a

way,' says Andy, `that we might git some of 'em. A part of the cargo of this ship is stuff far blastin'

rocksca'tridges, 'lectric bat'ries, an' that sort of thing; an' there's a man aboard who's goin' out to take

charge of 'em. I've been talkin' to this bat'ry man, an' I've made up my mind it'll be easy enough to lower a

little ca'tridge down among our cargo an' blow out a part of it.' `What 'u'd be the good of it,' says I, `blowed

into chips?' `It might smash some,' says he, `but others would be only loosened, an' they'd float up to the top,

where we could git 'em, specially them as was packed with pies, which must be pretty light.' `Git out, Andy,'

"But the idees he'd put into my head didn't git out, an' as I laid on my back on the deck, lookin' up at the stars,

they sometimes seemed to put themselves into the shape of a little house, with a little woman cookin' at the

kitchin fire, an' a little schooner layin' at anchor just off shore. An' then ag'in they'd hump themselves up till

they looked like a lot of new tin cans with their tops off, an' all kinds of good things to eat inside, specially

canned peachesthe big white kind, soft an' cool, each one split in half, with a holler in the middle filled

with juice. By George, sir! the very thought of a tin can like that made me beat my heels ag'in the deck. I'd

been mighty hungry, an' had eat a lot of salt pork, wet an' raw, an' now the very idee of it, even cooked,

turned my stomach. I looked up to the stars ag'in, an' the little house an' the little schooner was clean gone, an'

"In the mornin' Andy he come to me ag'in. `Have you made up your mind,' says he, `about gittin' some of

them good things fur Christmas dinner?' `Confound you!' says I, `you talk as if all we had to do was to go an'

git 'em.' `An' that's what I b'lieve we kin do,' says he, `with the help of that bat'ry man.' `Yes,' says I, `an' blow

a lot of the cargo into flinders, an' damage the Mary Auguster so's she couldn't never be took into port.' An'

then I told him what the cap'n had said to me, an' what I was goin' to do with the money. `A little ca'tridge,'

says Andy, `would do all we want, an' wouldn't hurt the vessel, nuther. Besides that, I don't b'lieve what this

cap'n says about tinkerin' up his engine. 'Tain't likely he'll ever git her runnin' ag'in, nor pump out the Mary

Auguster, nuther. If I was you I'd a durned sight ruther have a Christmas dinner in hand than a house an' wife

in the bush.' `I ain't thinkin' o' marryin' a girl in Australier,' says I. An' Andy he grinned, an' said I wouldn't

"A little arter that I went to the cap'n an' I told him about Andy's idee, but he was down on it. `It's your vessel,

an' not mine,' says he, `an' if you want to try to git a dinner out of her I'll not stand in your way. But it's my

'pinion you'll just damage the ship, an' do nothin'.' Howsomdever, I talked to the bat'ry man about it, an' he

thought it could be done, an' not hurt the ship, nuther. The men was all in favor of it, fur none of 'em had

forgot it was Christmas day. But Tom Simmons he was ag'in' it strong, fur he was thinkin' he'd git some of

the money if we got the Mary Auguster into port. He was a selfishminded man, was Tom, but it was his nater,

"Well, it wasn't long afore I began to feel pretty empty an' mean, an' if I'd wanted any of the prog we got out

the day afore, I couldn't have found much, fur the men had eat it up nearly all in the night. An' so I just made

up my mind without any more foolin', an' me an' Andy Boyle an' the bat'ry man, with some ca'tridges an' a

coil of wire, got into the little shore boat, an' pulled over to the Mary Auguster. There we lowered a small

ca'tridge down the main hatchway, an' let it rest down among the cargo. Then we rowed back to the steamer,

uncoilin' the wire as. we went. The bat'ry man clumb up on deck, an' fixed his wire to a 'lectric machine,

which he'd got all ready afore we started. Andy an' me didn't git out of the boat. We had too much sense fur

that, with all them hungry fellers waitin' to jump in her. But we just pushed a little off, an' sot waitin', with

our mouths awaterin', fur him to touch her off. He seemed to be a long time about it, but at last he did it, an'

that instant there was a bang on board the Mary Auguster that made my heart jump. Andy an' me pulled fur

her like mad, the others ahollerin' arter us, an' we was on deck in no time. The deck was all covered with the

water that had been throwed up. But I tell you, sir, that we poked an' fished about, an' Andy stripped an' went

down an' swum all round, an' we couldn't find one floatin' box of canned goods. There was a lot of splinters,

but where they come from we didn't know. By this time my dander was up, an' I just pitched around savage.

That little ca'tridge wasn't no good, an' I didn't intend to stand any more foolin'. We just rowed back to the

other wreck, an' I called to the ba'try man to come down, an' bring some bigger ca'tridges with him, fur if we

was goin' to do anything we might as well do it right. So he got down with a package of bigger ones, an'

The cap'n he called out to us to be keerful, an' Tom Simmons leaned over the rail an' swored; but I didn't pay

"When I got aboard the Mary Auguster, I says to the bat'ry man: `We don't want no nonsense this time, an' I

want you to put in enough ca'tridges to heave up somethin' that'll do fur a Christmas dinner. I don't know how

the cargo is stored, but you kin put one big ca'tridge 'midship, another for'ard, an' another aft, an' one or

nuther of 'em oughter fetch up somethin'.' Well, we got the three ca'tridges into place. They was a good deal

bigger than the one we fust used, an' we j'ined 'em all to one wire, an' then we rowed back, carryin' the long

wire with us. When we reached the steamer, me an' Andy was agoin' to stay in the boat as we did afore, but

the cap'n sung out that he wouldn't allow the bat'ry to be touched off till we come aboard. `Ther's got to be

fair play,' says he. `It's your vittles, but it's my side that's doin' the work. After we've blasted her this time you

two can go in the boat an' see what there is to git hold of, but two of my men must go along.' So me an' Andy

had to go on deck, an' two big fellers was detailed to go with us in the little boat when the time come, an' then

"Well, sir, the pop that followed that tech was somethin' to remember. It shuck the water, it shuck the air, an'

it shuck the hull we was on. A reg'lar cloud of smoke an' flyin' bits of things rose up out of the Mary

Auguster; an' when that smoke cleared away, an' the water was all b'ilin' with the splash of varioussized

hunks that come rainin' down from the sky, what was left of the Mary Auguster was sprinkled over the sea

"Some of the men sung out one thing, an' some another, an' I could hear Tom Simmons swear; but Andy an'

me said never a word, but scuttled down into the boat, follered close by the two men who was to go with us.

Then we rowed like devils fur the lot of stuff that was bobbin' about on the water, out where the Mary

Auguster had been. In we went among the floatin' spars and ship's timbers, I keepin' the things off with an

"Suddenly Andy give a yell, an' then he reached himself for'ard with sech a bounce that I thought he'd go

overboard. But up he come in a minnit, his two 'leveninch hands gripped round a box. He sot down in the

bottom of the boat with the box on his lap an' his eyes screwed on some letters that was stamped on one end.

`Pidjinpies!' he sings out. "Tain't turkeys, nor 'tain't cranberries but, by the Lord Harry, it's Christmas pies

all the same!' After that Andy didn't do no more work, but sot holdin' that box as if it had been his fust baby.

But we kep' pushin' on to see what else there was. It's my 'pinion that the biggest part of that bark's cargo was

blowed into mincemeat, an' the most of the rest of it was so heavy that it sunk. But it wasn't all busted up,

an' it didn't all sink. There was a big piece of wreck with a lot of boxes stove into the timbers, and some of

these had in 'em beef ready b'iled an' packed into cans, an' there was other kinds of meat, an' dif'rent sorts of

vegetables, an' one box of turtle soup. I looked at every one of 'em as we took 'em in, an' when we got the

little boat pretty well loaded I wanted to still keep on searchin'; but the men they said that shore boat 'u'd sink

if we took in any more cargo, an' so we put back, I feelin' glummer'n I oughter felt, fur I had begun to be

"As soon as we had got our boxes aboard, four fresh men put out in the boat, an' after a while they come back

with another load. An' I was mighty keerful to read the names on all the boxes. Some was meatpies, an'

some was salmon, an' some was potted herrin's, an' some was lobsters. But nary a thing could I see that ever

"Well, sir, there was three loads brought in altogether, an' the Christmas dinner we had on the for'ard deck of

that steamer's hull was about the jolliest one that was ever seen of a hot day aboard of a wreck in the Pacific

Ocean. The cap'n kept good order, an' when all was ready the tops was jerked off the boxes, and each man

grabbed a can an' opened it with his knife. When he had cleaned it out, he tuk another without doin' much

questionin' as to the bill of fare. Whether anybody got pidjinpie 'cept Andy, I can't say, but the way we piled

in Delmoniker prog would 'a' made people open their eyes as was eatin' their Christmas dinners on shore that

day. Some of the things would 'a' been better cooked a little more, or het up, but we was too fearful hungry to

"The cap'n went out afterwards, an' towed in a couple of bar'ls of flour that was only part soaked through, an'

he got some other plain prog that would do fur future use. But none of us give our minds to stuff like this

arter the glorious Christmas dinner that we'd quarried out of the Mary Auguster. Every man that wasn't on

duty went below and turned in fur a snooze all 'cept me, an' I didn't feel just altogether satisfied. To be

sure, I'd had an A1 dinner, an', though a little mixed, I'd never eat a jollier one on any Christmas that I kin

look back at. But, fur all that, there was a hanker inside o' me. I hadn't got all I'd laid out to git when we

teched off the Mary Auguster. The day was blazin' hot, an' a lot of the things I'd eat was pretty peppery.

`Now,' thinks I, `if there had been just one can o' peaches sech as I seen shinin' in the stars last night!' An' just

then, as I was walkin' aft, all by myself, I seed lodged on the stump of the mizzenmast a box with one corner

druv down among the splinters. It was half split open, an' I could see the tin cans shinin' through the crack. I

give one jump at it, an' wrenched the side off. On the top of the first can I seed was a picture of a big white

peach with green leaves. That box had been blowed up so high that if it had come down anywhere 'cept

among them splinters it would 'a' smashed itself to flinders, or killed somebody. So fur as I know, it was the

only thing that fell nigh us, an' by George, sir, I got it! When I had finished a can of 'em I hunted up Andy, an'

then we went aft an' eat some more. `Well,' says Andy, as we was aeatin', `how d'ye feel now about blowin'

"`Andy,' says I, `this is the joyfulest Christmas I've had yit, an' if I was to live till twenty hundred I don't

b'lieve I'd have no joyfuler, with things comin' in so pat; so don't you throw no shadders.'

"`Shadders!' says Andy. `That ain't me. I leave that sort of thing fur Tom Simmons.'

"Well, sir," continued old Silas, putting his hand on the tiller and turning his face seaward, "if Tom Simmons

had kept command of that wreck, we all would 'a' laid there an' waited an' waited till some of us was starved,

an' the others got nothin' fur it, fur the cap'n never mended his engine, an' it wasn't more'n a week afore we

was took off, an' then it was by a sailin' vessel, which left the hull of the Water Crescent behind her, just as

she would 'a' had to leave the Mary Auguster if that jolly old Christmas wreck had been there.

"An' now, sir," said Silas, "d'ye see that stretch o' little ripples over yander, lookin' as if it was a lot o' herrin'

turnin' over to dry their sides? Do you know what that is? That's the supper wind. That means coffee, an' hot

cakes, an' a bit of br'iled fish, an' pertaters, an' p'r'aps, if the old woman feels in a partiklar good humor, some

canned peachesbig white uns, cut in half, with a holler place in the middle filled with cool, sweet juice."

Early in my married life I bought a small country estate which my wife and I looked upon as a paradise. After

enjoying its delight for a little more than a year our souls were saddened by the discovery that our Eden

It had been a rainy season when we first went there, and for a long time our cisterns gave us full aqueous

satisfaction, but early this year a drought had set in, and we were obliged to be exceedingly careful of our

It was quite natural that the scarcity of water for domestic purposes should affect my wife much more than it

did me, and perceiving the discontent which was growing in her mind, I determined to dig a well. The very

next day I began to look for a welldigger. Such an individual was not easy to find, for in the region in which

I lived wells had become unfashionable; but I determined to persevere in my search, and in about a week I

He was a man of somewhat rough exterior, but of an ingratiating turn of mind. It was easy to see that it was

"And now, then," said he, when we had had a little conversation about terms, "the first thing to do is to find

out where there is water. Have you a peachtree on the place?" We walked to such a tree, and he cut

"A peach twig will do quite as well," said he, and I have since found that he was right. Diviningrods of

peach will turn and find water quite as well as those of hazel or any other kind of wood.

He took an end of the twig in each hand, and, with the point projecting in front of him, he slowly walked

along over the grass in my little orchard. Presently the point of the twig seemed to bend itself downward

"I do not want a well here," said I. "This is at the bottom of a hill, and my barnyard is at the top. Besides, it

His rod turned at several other places, but I had objections to all of them. A sanitary engineer had once visited

me, and he had given me a great deal of advice about drainage, and I knew what to avoid.

We crossed the ridge of the hill into the low ground on the other side. Here were no buildings, nothing which

would interfere with the purity of a well. My welldigger walked slowly over the ground with his

diviningrod. Very soon he exclaimed: "Here is water!" And picking up a stick, he sharpened one end of it

and drove it into the ground. Then he took a string from his pocket, and making a loop in one end, he put it

"I am going to make a circle four feet in diameter," he said. "We have to dig the well as wide as that, you

"But I do not want a well here," said I. "It's too close to the wall. I could not build a house over it. It would

He stood up and looked at me. "Well, sir," said he, "will you tell me where you would like to have a well?"

"Yes," said I. "I would like to have it over there in the corner of the hedge. It would be near enough to the

house; it would have a warm exposure, which will be desirable in winter; and the little house which I intend

He took his diviningrod and went to the spot I had indicated. "Is this the place?" he asked wishing to be sure

He put his twig in position, and in a few seconds it turned in the direction of the ground. Then he drove down

a stick, marked out a circle, and the next day he came with two men and a derrick, and began to dig my well.

When they had gone down twentyfive feet they found water, and when they had progressed a few feet

deeper they began to be afraid of drowning. I thought they ought to go deeper, but the welldigger said that

they could not dig without first taking out the water, and that the water came in as fast as they bailed it out,

and he asked me to put it to myself and tell him how they could dig it deeper. I put the question to myself, but

could find no answer. I also laid the matter before some specialists, and it was generally agreed that if water

came in as fast as it was taken out, nothing more could be desired. The well was, therefore, pronounced deep

enough. It was lined with great tiles, nearly a yard in diameter, and my welldigger, after congratulating me

on finding water so easily, bade me goodby and departed with his men and his derrick.

On the other side of the wall which bounded my grounds, and near which my well had been dug, there ran a

country lane, leading nowhere in particular, which seemed to be there for the purpose of allowing people to

Along this lane my neighbors would pass, and often strangers drove by, and as my well could easily be seen

over the low stone wall, its construction had excited a great deal of interest. Some of the people who drove by

were summer folks from the city, and I am sure, from remarks I overheard, that it was thought a very queer

thing to dig for water. Of course they must have known that people used to do this in the olden times, even as

far back as the time of Jacob and Rebecca, but the expressions of some of their faces indicated that they

My neighbors, however, were all rural people, and much more intelligent in regard to watersupplies. One of

them, Phineas Colwell by name, took a more lively interest in my operations than did any one else. He was a

man of about fifty years of age, who had been a soldier. This fact was kept alive in the minds of his associates

by his dress, a part of which was always military. If he did not wear an old fatiguejacket with brass buttons,

he wore his blue trousers, or, perhaps, a waistcoat that belonged to his uniform, and if he wore none of these,

his military hat would appear upon his head. I think he must also have been a sailor, judging from the little

gold rings in his ears. But when I first knew him he was a carpenter, who did masonwork whenever any of

the neighbors had any jobs of the sort. He also worked in gardens by the day, and had told me that he

understood the care of horses and was a very good driver. He sometimes worked on farms, especially at

harvesttime, and I know he could paint, for he once showed me a fence which he said he had painted. I

frequently saw him, because he always seemed to be either going to his work or coming from it. In fact, he

appeared to consider actual labor in the light of a bad habit which he wished to conceal, and which he was

Phineas walked along our lane at least once a day, and whenever he saw me he told me something about the

well. He did not approve of the place I had selected for it. If he had been digging a well he would have put it

in a very different place. When I had talked with him for some time and explained why I had chosen this spot,

he would say that perhaps I was right, and begin to talk of something else. But the next time I saw him he

would again assert that if he had been digging that well he would not have put it there.

About a quarter of a mile from my house, at a turn of the lane, lived Mrs. Betty Perch. She was a widow with

about twelve children. A few of these were her own, and the others she had inherited from two sisters who

had married and died, and whose husbands, having proved their disloyalty by marrying again, were not

allowed by the indignant Mrs. Perch to resume possession of their offspring. The casual observer might have

supposed the number of these children to be very great,fifteen or perhaps even twenty,for if he

happened to see a group of them on the doorstep, he would see a lot more if he looked into the little garden;

and under some cedartrees at the back of the house there were always some of them on fine days. But

perhaps they sought to increase their apparent number, and ran from one place to another to be ready to meet

observation, like the famous clown Grimaldi, who used to go through his performances at one London

theatre, and then dash off in his paint and motley to another, so that perambulating theatregoing men might

When Mrs. Perch had time she sewed for the neighbors, and, whether she had time or not, she was always

ready to supply them with news. From the moment she heard I was going to dig a well she took a vital

interest in it. Her own watersupply was unsatisfactory, as she depended upon a little spring which

sometimes dried up in summer, and should my well turn out to be a good one, she knew I would not object to

"It will be fun for them," she said, "and if your water really is good it will often come in very well for me.

Mr. Colwell tells me," she continued, "that you put your well in the wrong place. He is a practical man and

My neighbors were generally pessimists. Country people are proverbially prudent, and pessimism is

prudence. We feel safe when we doubt the success of another, because if he should succeed we can say we

were glad we were mistaken, and so step from a position of good judgment to one of generous disposition

without feeling that we have changed our plane of merit. But the optimist often gets himself into terrible

But, whatever else he may be, a pessimist is depressing, and it was, therefore, a great pleasure to me to have a

friend who was an outandout optimist. In fact, he might be called a working optimist. He lived about six

miles from my house, and had a hobby, which was natural phenomena. He was always on the lookout for that

sort of thing, and when he found it he would study its nature and effect. He was a man in the maturity of

youth, and if the estate on which he lived had not belonged to his mother, he would have spent much time

and money in investigating its natural phenomena. He often drove over to see me, and always told me how

"I have the wildest desire," he said, "to know what is in the earth under our place, and if it should so happen

in the course of time that the limits of earthly existence should be reached byI mean if the estate should

come into my handsI would go down, down, down, until I had found out all that could be discovered. To

own a plug of earth four thousand miles long and only to know what is on the surface of the upper end of it is

He was sorry that I was digging only for water, because water is a very commonplace thing, but he was quite

sure I would get it, and when my well was finished he was one of the first to congratulate me.

"But if I had been in your place," said he, "with full right to do as I pleased, I would not have let those men

go away. I would have set them to work in some place where there would be no danger of getting water,at

least, for a long time,and then you would have found out what are the deeper treasures of your land."

Having finished my well, I now set about getting the water into my residence near by. I built a house over the

well and put in it a little engine, and by means of a system of pipes, like the arteries and veins of the human

body, I proposed to distribute the water to the various desirable points in my house.

The engine was the heart, which should start the circulation, which should keep it going, and which should

send throbbing through every pipe the water which, if it were not our life, was very necessary to it.

When all was ready we started the engine, and in a very short time we discovered that something was wrong.

For fifteen or twenty minutes water flowed into the tank at the top of the house, with a sound that was

grander in the ears of my wife and myself than the roar of Niagara, and then it stopped. Investigation proved

It is needless to detail the examinations, investigations, and the multitude of counsels and opinions with

which our minds were filled for the next few days. It was plain to see that although this well was fully able to

meet the demands of a handpump or of bailing buckets, the water did not flow into it as fast as it could be

pumped out by an engine. Therefore, for the purposes of supplying the circulation of my domestic water

My nonsuccess was much talked about in the neighborhood, and we received a great deal of sympathy and

condolence. Phineas Colwell was not surprised at the outcome of the affair. He had said that the well had

"It is all very well for you," she said, "who could afford to buy water if it was necessary, but it is very

different with the widow and the orphan. If I had not supposed you were going to have a real well, I would

have had my spring cleaned out and deepened. I could have had it done in the early summer, but it is of no

She told a neighbor that she believed the digging of my well had dried up her spring, and that that was the

way of this world, where the widow and the orphan were sure to come out at the little end.

Of course I did not submit to defeatat least, not without a struggle. I had a well, and if anything could be

done to make that well supply me with water, I was going to do it. I consulted specialists, and, after careful

consideration of the matter, they agreed that it would be unadvisable for me to attempt to deepen my present

well, as there was reason to suppose there was very little water in the place where I had dug it, and that the

very best thing I could do would be to try a driven well. As I had already excavated about thirty feet, that was

so much gain to me, and if I should have a sixinch pipe put into my present well and then driven down and

down until it came to a place where there was plenty of water, I would have all I wanted.

How far down the pipe would have to be driven, of course they did not know, but they all agreed that if I

drove deep enough I would get all the water I wanted. This was the only kind of a well, they said, which one

could sink as deep as he pleased without being interfered with by the water at the bottom. My wife and I then

considered the matter, and ultimately decided that it would be a waste of the money which we had already

spent upon the engine, the pipes, and the little house, and, as there was nothing else to be done but to drive a

Of course we were both very sorry that the work must be begun again, but I was especially dissatisfied, for

the weather was getting cold, there was already snow upon the ground, and I was told that work could not be

carried on in winter weather. I lost no time, however, in making a contract with a welldriver, who assured

me that as soon as the working season should open, which probably would be very early in the spring, he

The season did open, and so did the peablossoms, and the pods actually began to fill before I saw that

welldriver again. I had had a good deal of correspondence with him in the meantime, urging him to prompt

action, but he always had some good reason for delay. (I found out afterwards that he was busy fulfilling a

contract made before mine, in which he promised to drive a well as soon as the season should open.)

At lastit was early in the summerhe came with his derricks, a steamengine, a triphammer, and a lot of

For many a long day, and I am sorry to say for many a longer night, that triphammer hammered and banged.

On the next day after the nightwork began, one of my neighbors came to me to know what they did that for.

"Get through what?" said he. "The earth? If they do that, and your sixinch pipe comes out in a Chinaman's

When the pipe had been driven through the soft stratum under the old well, and began to reach firmer ground,

the pounding and shaking of the earth became worse and worse. My wife was obliged to leave home with our

"If he is to do without both water and sleep," said she, "he cannot long survive." And I agreed with her.

She departed for a pleasant summer resort where her married sister with her child was staying, and from week

to week I received very pleasant letters from her, telling me of the charms of the place, and dwelling

particularly upon the abundance of cool spring water with which the house was supplied.

While this terrible pounding was going on I heard various reports of its effect upon my neighbors. One of

them, an agriculturist, with whom I had always been on the best of terms, came with a clouded brow.

"When I first felt those shakes," he said, "I thought they were the effects of seismic disturbances, and I did

not mind, but when I found it was your well I thought I ought to come over to speak about it. I do not object

to the shaking of my barn, because my man tells me the continual jolting is thrashing out the oats and wheat,

but I do not like to have all my apples and pears shaken off my trees. And then," said he, "I have a late brood

of chickens, and they cannot walk, because every time they try to make a step they are jolted into the air

about a foot. And again, we have had to give up having soup. We like soup, but we do not care to have it

I was grieved to trouble this friend, and I asked him what I should do. "Do you want me to stop the work on

"Oh, no," said he, heartily. "Go on with the work. You must have water, and we will try to stand the

bumping. I dare say it is good for dyspepsia, and the cows are getting used to having the grass jammed up

against their noses. Go ahead; we can stand it in the daytime, but if you could stop the nightwork we would

be very glad. Some people may think it a wellspring of pleasure to be bounced out of bed, but I don't."

Mrs. Perch came to me with a face like a squeezed lemon, and asked me if I could lend her five nails.

"The kind you nail clapboards on with," said she. "There is one of them been shook entirely off my house by

your well. I am in hopes that before the rest are all shook off I shall get in some money that is owing me and

My optimist friend was delighted when he heard of my driven well. He lived so far away that he and his

mother were not disturbed by the jarring of the ground. Now he was sure that some of the internal secrets of

the earth would be laid bare, and he rode or drove over every day to see what we were getting out of the well.

I know that he was afraid we would soon get water, but was too kindhearted to say so.

One day the pipe refused to go deeper. No matter how hard it was struck, it bounced up again. When some of

the substance it had struck was brought up it looked like French chalk, and my optimist eagerly examined it.

"A Frenchchalk mine," said he, "would not be a bad thing, but I hoped that you had struck a bed of mineral

But the chalkbed was at last passed, and we began again to bring up nothing but common earth.

"I suppose," said my optimist to me, one morning, "that you must soon come to water, and if you do I hope it

"Oh, yes, you would, if you had thought about it as much as I have," he replied. "I lay awake for hours last

night, thinking what would happen if you struck hot water. In the first place, it would be absolutely pure,

because, even if it were possible for germs and bacilli to get down so deep, they would be boiled before you

got them, and then you could cool that water for drinking. When fresh it would be already heated for cooking

and hot baths. And thenjust think of it!you could introduce the hotwater system of heating into your

house, and there would be the hot water always ready. But the great thing would be your garden. Think of the

refuse hot water circulating in pipes up and down and under all your beds! That garden would bloom in the

winter as others do in the summer; at least, you could begin to have Limabeans and tomatoes as soon as the

I laughed. "It would take a lot of pumping," I said, "to do all that with the hot water."

"Oh, I forgot to say," he cried, with sparkling eyes, "that I do not believe you would ever have any more

pumping to do. You have now gone down so far that I am sure whatever you find will force itself up. It will

Phineas Colwell was by when this was said, and he must have gone down to Mrs. Betty Perch's house to talk

"I understand," said she, "that you are trying to get hot water out of your well, and that there is likely to be a

lot more than you need, so that it will run down by the side of the road. I just want to say that if a stream of

hot water comes down past my house some of the children will be bound to get into it and be scalded to

death, and I came to say that if that well is going to squirt b'iling water I'd like to have notice so that I can

move, though where a widow with so many orphans is going to move to nobody knows. Mr. Colwell says

that if you had got him to tell you where to put that well there would have been no danger of this sort of

The next day the optimist came to me, his face fairly blazing with a new idea. "I rode over on purpose to urge

you," he cried, "if you should strike hot water, not to stop there. Go on, and, by George! you may strike fire."

"Oh, quite the opposite," said he. "But do not let us joke. I think that would be the grandest thing of this age.

Think of a fire well, with the flames shooting up perhaps a hundred feet into the air!"

I wish Phineas Colwell had not been there. As it was, he turned pale and sat down on the wall.

"You look astonished!" exclaimed the optimist, "but listen to me. You have not thought of this thing as I

have. If you should strike fire your fortune would be made. By a system of reflectors you could light up the

whole country. By means of tiles and pipes this region could be made tropical. You could warm all the

houses in the neighborhood with hot air. And then the power you could generatejust think of it! Heat is

power; the cost of power is the fuel. You could furnish power to all who wanted it. You could fill this region

with industries. My dear sir, you must excuse my agitation, but if you should strike fire there is no limit to the

"Oh, water is a trifle," said he. "You could have pipes laid from town; it is only about two miles. But fire!

Nobody has yet gone down deep enough for that. You have your future in your hands."

As I did not care to connect my future with fire, this idea did not strike me very forcibly, but it struck Phineas

Colwell. He did not say anything to me, but after I had gone he went to the welldrivers.

"If you feel them pipes getting hot," he said to them, "I warn you to stop. I have been in countries where there

are volcanoes, and I know what they are. There's enough of them in this world, and there's no need of making

In the afternoon a wagoner, who happened to be passing, brought me a note from Mrs. Perch, very badly

spelled, asking if I would let one of my men bring her a pail of water, for she could not think of coming

herself or letting any of the children come near my place if spouting fires were expected.

The welldriving had gone on and on, with intermissions on account of sickness in the families of the various

workmen, until it had reached the limit which I had fixed, and we had not found water in sufficient quantity,

The welldrivers and some specialists were of the opinion that if I were to go ten, twenty, or perhaps a

hundred feet deeper, I would be very likely to get all the water I wanted. But, of course, they could not tell

how deep they must go, for some wells were over a thousand feet deep. I shook my head at this. There

seemed to be only one thing certain about this drilling business, and that was the expense. I declined to go

"I think," a facetious neighbor said to me, "it would be cheaper for you to buy a lot of Apollinaris water,at

wholesale rates, of course,and let your men open so many bottles a day and empty them into your tank.

Phineas Colwell told me that when he had informed Mrs. Perch that I was going to stop operations, she was

in a dreadful state of mind. After all she had undergone, she said, it was simply cruel to think of my stopping

This is what Phineas said she said, but when next I met her she told me that he had declared that if I had put

the well where he thought it ought to be, I should have been having all the water I wanted before now.

My optimist was dreadfully cast down when he heard that I would drive no deeper.

"I have been afraid of this," he said. "I have, been afraid of it. And if circumstances had so arranged

themselves that I should have command of money, I should have been glad to assume the expense of deeper

explorations. I have been thinking a great deal about the matter, and I feel quite sure that even if you did not

get water or anything else that might prove of value to you, it would be a great advantage to have a pipe sunk

"I will tell you," he said. "You would then have one of the grandest opportunities ever offered to man of

constructing a gravityengine. This would be an engine which would be of no expense at all to run. It would

need no fuel. Gravity would be the power. It would work a pump splendidly. You could start it when you

"Oh, of course you would have to have water," he answered. "But, no matter how you get it, you will have to

pump it up to your tank so as to make it circulate over your house. Now, my gravitypump would do this

beautifully. You see, the pump would be arranged with cogwheels and all that sort of thing, and the power

would be supplied by a weight, which would be a cylinder of lead or iron, fastened to a rope and run down

inside your pipe. Just think of it! It would run down a thousand feet, and where is there anything worked by

I laughed. "That is all very well," said I. "But how about the power required to wind that weight up again

"Oh, no," said he. "I have planned the thing better than that. You see, the greater the weight the greater the

power and the velocity. Now, if you take a solid cylinder of lead about four inches in diameter, so that it

would slip easily down your pipe,you might grease it, for that matter,and twenty feet in length, it would

be an enormous weight, and in slowly descending for about an hour a dayfor that would be long enough

for your pumpingand going down a thousand feet, it would run your engine for a year. Now, then, at the

end of the year you could not expect to haul that weight up again. You would have a trigger arrangement

which would detach it from the rope when it got to the bottom. Then you would wind up your rope,a man

could do that in a short time,and you would attach another cylinder of lead, and that would run your engine

for another year, minus a few days, because it would only go down nine hundred and eighty feet. The next

year you would put on another cylinder, and so on. I have not worked out the figures exactly, but I think that

in this way your engine would run for thirty years before the pipe became entirely filled with cylinders. That

would be probably as long as you would care to have water forced into the house."

He saw that his scheme did not strike me favorably. Suddenly a light flashed across his face.

"I tell you what you can do with your pipe," he said, "just as it is. You can set up a clock over it which would

I smiled, and he turned sadly away to his horse; but he had not ridden ten yards before he came back and

"If the earth at the bottom of your pipe should ever yield to pressure and give way, and if water or gas,

oranything, should be squirted out of it, I beg you will let me know as soon as possible."

When the pounding was at an end my wife and child came home. But the season continued dry, and even

their presence could not counteract the feeling of aridity which seemed to permeate everything which

belonged to us, material or immaterial. We had a great deal of commiseration from our neighbors. I think

even Mrs. Betty Perch began to pity us a little, for her spring had begun to trickle again in a small way, and

she sent word to me that if we were really in need of water she would be willing to divide with us. Phineas

Colwell was sorry for us, of course, but he could not help feeling and saying that if I had consulted him the

It was late in the summer when my wife returned, and when she made her first visit of inspection to the

grounds and gardens, her eyes, of course, fell upon the unfinished well. She was shocked.

"I never saw such a scene of wreckage," she said. "It looks like a Western town after a cyclone. I think the

best thing you can do is to have this dreadful litter cleared up, the ground smoothed and raked, the wall

mended, and the roof put back on that little house, and then if we can make anybody believe it is an

This was good advice, and I sent for a man to put the vicinity of the well in order and give it the air of

The man who came was named Mr. Barnet. He was a contemplative fellow with a pipe in his mouth. After

"I'll tell you what I would do if I was in your place. I'd put that pumphouse in order, and I'd set up the

engine, and put the pump down into that thirtyfoot well you first dug, and I'd pump water into my house."

"There's lots of water in that well," he continued, "and if there's that much now in this drought, you will

surely have ever so much more when the weather isn't so dry. I have measured the water, and I know."

I could not understand him. It seemed to me that he was talking wildly. He filled his pipe and lighted it and

"Now," said he, after he had taken a few puffs, "I'll tell you where the trouble's been with your well. People

are always in too big a hurry in this world about all sorts of things as well as wells. I am a welldigger and I

know all about them. We know if there is any water in the ground it will always find its way to the deepest

hole there is, and we dig a well so as to give it a deep hole to go to in the place where we want it. But you

can't expect the water to come to that hole just the very day it's finished. Of course you will get some,

because it's right there in the neighborhood, but there is always a lot more that will come if you give it time.

It's got to make little channels and passages for itself, and of course it takes time to do that. It's like settling

up a new country. Only a few pioneers come at first, and you have to wait for the population to flow in. This

being a dry season, and the water in the ground a little sluggish on that account, it was a good while finding

out where your well was. If I had happened along when you was talking about a well, I think I should have

said to you that I knew a proverb which would about fit your case, and that is: `Let well enough alone.'"

I felt like taking this good man by the hand, but I did not. I only told him to go ahead and do everything that

The next morning, as I was going to the well, I saw Phineas Colwell coming down the lane and Mrs. Betty

Perch coming up it. I did not wish them to question me, so I stepped behind some bushes. When they met

"Upon my word!" exclaimed Mrs. Betty, "if he isn't going to work again on that everlasting well! If he's got

so much money he don't know what to do with it, I could tell him that there's people in this world, and not far

away either, who would be the better for some of it. It's a sin and a shame and an abomination. Do you

believe, Mr. Colwell, that there is the least chance in the world of his ever getting water enough out of that

"Mrs. Perch," said Phineas, "it ain't no use talking about that well. It ain't no use, and it never can be no use,

because it's in the wrong place. If he ever pumps water out of that well into his house I'll do"

"What will you do?" asked Mr. Barnet, who just then appeared from the recesses of the enginehouse.

"I'll do anything on this earth that you choose to name," said Phineas. "I am safe, whatever it is."

"Well, then," said Mr. Barnet, knocking the ashes from his pipe preparatory to filling it again, "will you

Phineas laughed. "Yes," he said. "I promised I would do anything, and I'll promise that."

"A slim chance for me," said Mrs. Betty, "even if I'd have you." And she marched on with her nose in the air.

When Mr. Barnet got fairly to work with his derrick, his men, and his buckets, he found that there was a good

deal more to do than he had expected. The welldrivers had injured the original well by breaking some of the

tiles which lined it, and these had to be taken out and others put in, and in the course of this work other

improvements suggested themselves and were made. Several times operations were delayed by sickness in

the family of Mr. Barnet, and also in the families of his workmen, but still the work went on in a very fair

manner, although much more slowly than had been supposed by any one. But in the course of timeI will

not say how much timethe work was finished, the engine was in its place, and it pumped water into my

house, and every day since then it has pumped all the water we need, pure, cold, and delicious.

Knowing the promise Phineas Colwell had made, and feeling desirous of having everything which concerned

my well settled and finished, I went to look for him to remind him of his duty toward Mrs. Perch, but I could

not find that naval and military mechanical agriculturist. He had gone away to take a job or a contract,I

could not discover which,and he has not since appeared in our neighborhood. Mrs. Perch is very severe on

"There's plenty of bad things come out of that well," she said, "but I never thought anything bad enough

would come out of it to make Mr. Colwell go away and leave me to keep on being a widow with all them

Mr. Tolman was a gentleman whose apparent age was of a varying character. At times, when deep in thought

on business matters or other affairs, one might have thought him fiftyfive or fiftyseven, or even sixty.

Ordinarily, however, when things were running along in a satisfactory and commonplace way, he appeared to

be about fifty years old, while upon some extraordinary occasions, when the world assumed an unusually

He was the head of a business firm. In fact, he was the only member of it. The firm was known as Pusey and

Co. But Pusey had long been dead and the "Co.," of which Mr. Tolman had been a member, was dissolved.

Our elderly hero, having bought out the business, firmname and all, for many years had carried it on with

success and profit. His countinghouse was a small and quiet place, but a great deal of money had been made

And yet, as he sat in his countingroom one winter evening, he looked his oldest. He had on his hat and his

overcoat, his gloves and his fur collar. Every one else in the establishment had gone home, and he, with the

keys in his hand, was ready to lock up and leave also. He often stayed later than any one else, and left the

keys with Mr. Canterfield, the head clerk, as he passed his house on his way home.

Mr. Tolman seemed in no hurry to go. He simply sat and thought, and increased his apparent age. The truth

was, he did not want to go home. He was tired of going home. This was not because his home was not a

pleasant one. No single gentleman in the city had a handsomer or more comfortable suite of rooms. It was not

because he felt lonely, or regretted that a wife and children did not brighten and enliven his home. He was

perfectly satisfied to be a bachelor. The conditions suited him exactly. But, in spite of all this, he was tired of

"I wish," said Mr. Tolman to himself, "that I could feel some interest in going home." Then he rose and took

a turn or two up and down the room. But as that did not seem to give him any more interest in the matter, he

sat down again. "I wish it were necessary for me to go home," said he, "but it isn't." So then he fell again to

thinking. "What I need," he said, after a while, "is to depend more upon myselfto feel that I am necessary

to myself. Just now I'm not. I'll stop going homeat least, in this way. Where's the sense in envying other

men, when I can have all that they have just as well as not? And I'll have it, too," said Mr. Tolman, as he went

out and locked the doors. Once in the streets, and walking rapidly, his ideas shaped themselves easily and

readily into a plan which, by the time he reached the house of his head clerk, was quite matured. Mr.

Canterfield was just going down to dinner as his employer rang the bell, so he opened the door himself. "I

will detain you but a minute or two," said Mr. Tolman, handing the keys to Mr. Canterfield. "Shall we step

When his employer had gone, and Mr. Canterfield had joined his family at the dinnertable, his wife

"Only to say that he is going away tomorrow, and that I am to attend to the business, and send his personal

"I'll tell you what he ought to do," said the lady. "He ought to make you a partner in the firm, and then he

"He can do that now," returned her husband. "He has made a good many trips since I have been with him, and

things have gone on very much in the same way as when he is here. He knows that."

Mr. Tolman went home and wrote a will. He left all his property, with the exception of a few legacies, to the

"People will think I am crazy," said he to himself, "and if I should die while I am carrying out my plan, I will

leave the task of defending my sanity to people who are able to make a good fight for me." And before he

The next day he packed a trunk and left for the neighboring city. His apartments were to be kept in readiness

for his return at any time. If you had seen him walking over to the railroad depot, you would have taken him

When he arrived at his destination, Mr. Tolman established himself temporarily at a hotel, and spent the next

three or four days in walking about the city looking for what he wanted. What he wanted was rather difficult

to define, but the way in which he put the matter to himself was something like this:

"I would like to find a snug little place where, I can live, and carry on some business which I can attend to

myself, and which will bring me into contact with people of all sortspeople who will interest me. It must

be a small business, because I don't want to have to work very hard, and it must be snug and comfortable,

because I want to enjoy it. I would like a shop of some sort, because that brings a man face to face with his

The city in which he was walking about was one of the best places in the country in which to find the place of

business he desired. It was full of independent little shops. But Mr. Tolman could not readily find one which

resembled his ideal. A small drygoods establishment seemed to presuppose a female proprietor. A grocery

store would give him many interesting customers; but he did not know much about groceries, and the

He was much pleased by a small shop belonging to a taxidermist. It was exceedingly cosey, and the business

was probably not so great as to overwork any one. He might send the birds and beasts which were brought to

be stuffed to some practical operator, and have him put them in proper condition for the customers. He

might But no. It would be very unsatisfactory to engage in a business of which he knew absolutely

nothing. A taxidermist ought not to blush with ignorance when asked some simple question about a little dead

bird or a defunct fish. And so he tore himself from the window of this fascinating place, where, he fancied,

had his education been differently managed, he could in time have shown the world the spectacle of a

The shop which at last appeared to suit him best was one which he had passed and looked at several times

before it struck him favorably. It was in a small brick house in a side street, but not far from one of the main

business avenues of the city. The shop seemed devoted to articles of stationery and small notions of various

kinds not easy to be classified. He had stopped to look at three penknives fastened to a card, which was

propped up in the little showwindow, supported on one side by a chessboard with "History of Asia" in gilt

letters on the back, and on the other by a small violin labelled "1 dollar." And as he gazed past these articles

into the interior of the shop, which was now lighted up, it gradually dawned upon him that it was something

like his ideal of an attractive and interesting business place. At any rate, he would go in and look at it. He did

not care for a violin, even at the low price marked on the one in the window, but a new pocketknife might

The shop was in charge of a very pleasant old lady of about sixty, who sat sewing behind the little counter.

While she went to the window and very carefully reached over the articles displayed therein to get the card of

penknives, Mr. Tolman looked about him. The shop was quite small, but there seemed to be a good deal in it.

There were shelves behind the counter, and there were shelves on the opposite wall, and they all seemed well

filled with something or other. In the corner near the old lady's chair was a little coal stove with a bright fire

in it, and at the back of the shop, at the top of two steps, was a glass door partly open, through which he saw a

small room, with a red carpet on the floor, and a little table apparently set for a meal.

Mr. Tolman looked at the knives when the old lady showed them to him, and after a good deal of

consideration he selected one which he thought would be a good knife to give to a boy. Then he looked over

some things in the way of papercutters, whistmarkers, and such small matters, which were in a glass case on

She was a friendly, sociable body, very glad to have any one to talk to, and so it was not at all difficult for

Mr. Tolman, by some general remarks, to draw from her a great many points about herself and her shop. She

was a widow, with a son who, from her remarks, must have been forty years old. He was connected with a

mercantile establishment, and they had lived here for a long time. While her son was a salesman, and came

home every evening, this was very pleasant. But after he became a commercial traveller, and was away from

the city for months at a time, she did not like it at all. It was very lonely for her.

"If I could do it," said she, "I would give up this place, and go and live with my sister in the country. It would

be better for both of us, and Henry could come there just as well as here when he gets back from his trips."

"Why don't you sell out?" asked Mr. Tolman, a little fearfully, for he began to think that all this was too easy

"That would not be easy," said she, with a smile. "It might be a long time before we could find any one who

would want to take the place. We have a fair trade in the store, but it isn't what it used to be when times were

better. And the library is falling off, too. Most of the books are getting pretty old, and it don't pay to spend

"Oh, yes," replied the old lady. "I've had a circulating library here for nearly fifteen years. There it is on those

Mr. Tolman turned, and beheld two long rows of books in brownpaper covers, with a short stepladder,

standing near the door of the inner room, by which these shelves might be reached. This pleased him greatly.

"I declare!" said he. "It must be very pleasant to manage a circulating librarya small one like this, I mean. I

The old lady looked up, surprised. Did he wish to go into business? She had not supposed that, just from

Mr. Tolman explained his views to her. He did not tell what he had been doing in the way of business, or

what Mr. Canterfield was doing for him now. He merely stated his present wishes, and acknowledged to her

that it was the attractiveness of her establishment that had led him to come in.

"Oh, yes, I do," said he. "And I really believe, if we can come to terms, that I would like the two other knives,

The old lady laughed a little nervously. She hoped very much indeed that they could come to terms. She

brought a chair from the back room, and Mr. Tolman sat down with her by the stove to talk it over. Few

customers came in to interrupt them, and they talked the matter over very thoroughly. They both came to the

conclusion that there would be no difficulty about terms, nor about Mr. Tolman's ability to carry on the

business after a very little instruction from the present proprietress. When Mr. Tolman left, it was with the

understanding that he was to call again in a couple of days, when the son Henry would be at home, and

When the three met, the bargain was soon struck. As each party was so desirous of making it, few difficulties

were interposed. The old lady, indeed, was in favor of some delay in the transfer of the establishment, as she

would like to clean and dust every shelf and corner and every article in the place. But Mr. Tolman was in a

hurry to take possession; and as the son Henry would have to start off on another trip in a short time, he

wanted to see his mother moved and settled before he left. There was not much to move but trunks and

bandboxes, and some antiquated pieces of furniture of special value to the old lady, for Mr. Tolman insisted

on buying everything in the house, just as it stood. The whole thing did not cost him, he said to himself, as

much as some of his acquaintances would pay for a horse. The methodical son Henry took an account of

stock, and Mr. Tolman took several lessons from the old lady, in which she explained to him how to find out

the selling prices of the various articles from the marks on the little tags attached to them. And she

particularly instructed him in the management of the circulating library. She informed him of the character of

the books, and, as far as possible, of the character of the regular patrons. She told him whom he might trust to

take out a book without paying for the one brought in, if they didn't happen to have the change with them,

and she indicated with little crosses opposite their names those persons who should be required to pay cash

It was astonishing to see what interest Mr. Tolman took in all this. He was really anxious to meet some of the

people about whom the old lady discoursed. He tried, too, to remember a few of the many things she told him

of her methods of buying and selling, and the general management of her shop; and he probably did not

Finally everything was settled to the satisfaction of the two male parties to the bargain,although the old

lady thought of a hundred things she would yet like to do,and one fine frosty afternoon a cartload of

furniture and baggage left the door, the old lady and her son took leave of the old place, and Mr. Tolman was

left sitting behind the little counter, the sole manager and proprietor of a circulating library and a stationery

and notion shop. He laughed when he thought of it, but he rubbed his hands and felt very well satisfied.

"There is nothing really crazy about it," he said to himself. "If there is a thing that I think I would like, and I

There was nobody there to say anything against this, so Mr. Tolman rubbed his hands again before the fire,

and rose to walk up and down his shop, and wonder who would be his first customer.

In the course of twenty minutes a little boy opened the door and came in. Mr. Tolman hastened behind the

counter to receive his commands. The little boy wanted two sheets of notepaper and an envelope.

The boy didn't know of any particular variety being desired. He thought the same kind she always got would

do. And he looked very hard at Mr. Tolman, evidently wondering at the change in the shopkeeper, but asking

"You are a regular customer, I suppose," said Mr. Tolman, opening several boxes of paper which he had

taken down from the shelves. "I have just begun business here, and don't know what kind of paper you have

been in the habit of buying. But I suppose this will do." And he took out a couple of sheets of the best, with

an envelope to match. These he carefully tied up in a piece of thin brown paper, and gave to the boy, who

handed him three cents. Mr. Tolman took them, smiled, and then, having made a rapid calculation, he called

The boy took the cent, looked at Mr. Tolman, and then got out of the store as quickly as he could.

"Such profits as that are enormous," said Mr. Tolman, "but I suppose the small sales balance them." This Mr.

One or two other customers came in in the course of the afternoon, and about dark the people who took out

books began to arrive. These kept Mr. Tolman very busy. He not only had to do a good deal of entering and

cancelling, but he had to answer a great many questions about the change in proprietorship, and the

probability of his getting in some new books, with suggestions as to the quantity and character of these,

mingled with a few dissatisfied remarks in regard to the volumes already on hand.

Every one seemed sorry that the old lady had gone away. But Mr. Tolman was so pleasant and anxious to

please, and took such an interest in their selection of books, that only one of the subscribers appeared to take

the change very much to heart. This was a young man who was fortythree cents in arrears. He was a long

time selecting a book, and when at last he brought it to Mr. Tolman to be entered, he told him in a low voice

that he hoped there would be no objection to letting his account run on for a little while longer. On the first of

the month he would settle it, and then he hoped to be able to pay cash whenever he brought in a book.

Mr. Tolman looked for his name on the old lady's list, and, finding no cross against it, told him that it was all

right, and that the first of the month would do very well. The young man went away perfectly satisfied with

the new librarian. Thus did Mr. Tolman begin to build up his popularity. As the evening grew on he found

himself becoming very hungry. But he did not like to shut up the shop, for every now and then some one

dropped in, sometimes to ask what time it was, and sometimes to make a little purchase, while there were still

However, taking courage during a short rest from customers, he put up the shutters, locked the door, and

hurried off to a hotel, where he partook of a meal such as few keepers of little shops ever think of indulging

The next morning Mr. Tolman got his own breakfast. This was delightful. He had seen how cosily the old

lady had spread her table in the little back room, where there was a stove suitable for any cooking he might

wish to indulge in, and he longed for such a cosey meal. There were plenty of stock provisions in the house,

which he had purchased with the rest of the goods, and he went out and bought himself a fresh loaf of bread.

Then he broiled a piece of ham, made some good strong tea, boiled some eggs, and had a breakfast on the

little round table which, though plain enough, he enjoyed more than any breakfast at his club which he could

remember. He had opened the shop, and sat facing the glass door, hoping, almost, that there would be some

interruption to his meal. It would seem so much more proper in that sort of business if he had to get up and go

Before the evening of that day Mr. Tolman became convinced that he would soon be obliged to employ a boy

or some one to attend to the establishment during his absence. After breakfast, a woman recommended by the

old lady came to make his bed and clean up generally, but when she had gone he was left alone with his shop.

He determined not to allow this responsibility to injure his health, and so at one o'clock boldly locked the

shop door and went out to his lunch. He hoped that no one would call during his absence, but when he

returned he found a little girl with a pitcher standing at the door. She came to borrow half a pint of milk.

"Milk!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman, in surprise. "Why, my child, I have no milk. I don't even use it in my tea."

The little girl looked very much disappointed. "Is Mrs. Walker gone away for good?" said she.

"Yes," replied Mr. Tolman. "But I would be just as willing to lend you the milk as she would be, if I had any.

"Well, then," said Mr. Tolman, "here are three cents. You can go and buy the milk for me, and then you can

Even this little incident pleased Mr. Tolman. It was so very novel. When he came back from his dinner in the

evening, he found two circulating library subscribers stamping their feet on the doorstep, and he afterwards

heard that several others had called and gone away. It would certainly injure the library if he suspended

business at mealtimes. He could easily have his choice of a hundred boys if he chose to advertise for one,

but he shrank from having a youngster in the place. It would interfere greatly with his cosiness and his

experiences. He might possibly find a boy who went to school, and who would be willing to come at noon

and in the evening if he were paid enough. But it would have to be a very steady and responsible boy. He

He thought it over for a day or two, but he did not spend his whole time in doing so. When he had no

customers, he sauntered about in the little parlor over the shop, with its odd old furniture, its quaint prints on

the walls, and its absurd ornaments on the mantelpiece. The other little rooms seemed almost as funny to him,

and he was sorry when the bell on the shop door called him down from their contemplation. It was pleasant to

him to think that he owned all these odd things. The ownership of the varied goods in the shop also gave him

an agreeable feeling which none of his other possessions had ever afforded him. It was all so odd and novel.

He liked much to look over the books in the library. Many of them were old novels, the names of which were

familiar enough to him, but which he had never read. He determined to read some of them as soon as he felt

In looking over the book in which the names and accounts of the subscribers were entered, he amused himself

by wondering what sort of persons they were who had out certain books. Who, for instance, wanted to read

"The Book of Cats," and who could possibly care for "The Mysteries of Udolpho"? But the unknown person

in regard to whom Mr. Tolman felt the greatest curiosity was the subscriber who now had in his possession a

"How on earth," exclaimed Mr. Tolman, "did such a book get into this library? And where on earth did the

person spring from who would want to take it out? And not only want to take it," he continued, as he

examined the entry regarding the volume, "but come and have it renewed one, two, three, fournine times!

Without exactly making up his mind to do so, Mr. Tolman deferred taking steps toward getting an assistant

until P. Glascow, the person in question, should make an appearance, and it was nearly time for the book to

"If I get a boy now," thought Mr. Tolman, "Glascow will be sure to come and bring the book while I am out."

In almost exactly two weeks from the date of the last renewal of the book, P. Glascow came in. It was the

middle of the afternoon, and Mr. Tolman was alone. This investigator of musical philosophy was a quiet

young man of about thirty, wearing a lightbrown cloak, and carrying under one arm a large book.

P. Glascow was surprised when he heard of the change in the proprietorship of the library. Still, he hoped that

there would be no objection to his renewing the book which he had with him, and which he had taken out

"Oh, no," said Mr. Tolman, "none in the world. In fact, I don't suppose there are any other subscribers who

would want it. I have had the curiosity to look to see if it had ever been taken out before, and I find it has

The young man smiled quietly. "No," said he, "I suppose not. It is not every one who would care to study the

higher mathematics of music, especially when treated as Dormstock treats the subject."

"He seems to go into it pretty deeply," remarked Mr. Tolman, who had taken up the book. "At least, I should

think so, judging from all these calculations, and problems, and squares, and cubes."

"Indeed he does," said Glascow. "And although I have had the book some months, and have more reading

time at my disposal than most persons, I have only reached the fiftysixth page, and doubt if I shall not have

"And there are three hundred and forty pages in all!" said Mr. Tolman, compassionately.

"Yes," replied the other. "But I am quite sure that the matter will grow easier as I proceed. I have found that

"You say you have a good deal of leisure?" remarked Mr. Tolman. "Is the musical business dull at present?"

"Oh, I'm not in the musical business," said Glascow. "I have a great love for music, and wish to thoroughly

understand it. But my business is quite different. I am a night druggist, and that is the reason I have so much

"Yes, sir," said the other. "I am in a large downtown drug store which is kept open all night, and I go on duty

"It seems to," answered Glascow. "I sleep until about noon, and then I have the rest of the day, until seven

o'clock, to myself. I think that people who work at night can make a more satisfactory use of their own time

than those who work in the daytime. In the summer I can take a trip on the river, or go somewhere out of

"Daylight is more available for many things, that is true," said Mr. Tolman. "But is it not dreadfully lonely

sitting in a drug store all night? There can't be many people to come to buy medicine at night. I thought there

was generally a nightbell to drug stores, by which a clerk could be awakened if anybody wanted anything."

"It's not very lonely in our store at night," said Glascow. "In fact, it's often more lively then than in the

daytime. You see, we are right down among the newspaper offices, and there's always somebody coming in

for sodawater, or cigars, or something or other. The store is a bright, warm place for the night editors and

reporters to meet together and talk and drink hot soda, and there's always a knot of 'em around the stove about

the time the papers begin to go to press. And they're a lively set, I can tell you, sir. I've heard some of the best

stories I ever heard in my life told in our place after three o'clock in the morning."

"A strange life!" said Mr. Tolman. "Do you know, I never thought that people amused themselves in that

"Well, no," said the other. "It's rather cold this afternoon to read. I think I'll take a brisk walk."

"Can't you leave your book until you return!" asked Mr. Tolman. "That is, if you will come back this way. It's

When he had gone, Mr. Tolman took up the book, and began to look over it more carefully than he had done

"How anybody of common sense can take any interest in this stuff is beyond my comprehension," said Mr.

When Glascow came back, Mr. Tolman asked him to stay and warm himself. And then, after they had talked

for a short time, Mr. Tolman began to feel hungry. He had his winter appetite, and had lunched early. So said

he to the night druggist, who had opened his "Dormstock," "How would you like to sit here and read awhile,

while I go and get my dinner? I will light the gas, and you can be very comfortable here, if you are not in a

P. Glascow was in no hurry at all, and was very glad to have some quiet reading by a warm fire; and so Mr.

Tolman left him, feeling perfectly confident that a man who had been allowed by the old lady to renew a

When Mr. Tolman returned, the two had some further conversation in the corner by the little stove.

"It must be rather annoying," said the night druggist, "not to be able to go out to your meals without shutting

up your shop. If you like," said he, rather hesitatingly, "I will stop in about this time in the afternoon, and stay

here while you go to dinner. I'll be glad to do this until you get an assistant. I can easily attend to most people

So P. Glascow came every afternoon and read "Dormstock" while Mr. Tolman went to dinner; and before

long he came at lunchtime also. It was just as convenient as not, he said. He had finished his breakfast, and

would like to read awhile. Mr. Tolman fancied that the night druggist's lodgings were, perhaps, not very well

warmed, which idea explained the desire to walk rather than read on a cold afternoon. Glascow's name was

entered on the free list, and he always took away the "Dormstock" at night, because he might have a chance

of looking into it at the store, when custom began to grow slack in the latter part of the early morning.

One afternoon there came into the shop a young lady, who brought back two books which she had had for

more than a month. She made no excuses for keeping the books longer than the prescribed time, but simply

handed them in and paid her fine. Mr. Tolman did not like to take this money, for it was the first of the kind

he had received; but the young lady looked as if she were well able to afford the luxury of keeping books

over their time, and business was business. So he gravely gave her her change. Then she said she would like

Mr. Tolman stared at her. She was a bright, handsome young lady, and looked as if she had very good sense.

"Out!" she said. "Why, it's always out. It seems strange to me that there should be such a demand for that

"It IS strange," said Mr. Tolman, "but it is certainly in demand. Did Mrs. Walker ever make you any promises

"No," said she, "but I thought my turn would come around some time. And I particularly want the book just

Mr. Tolman felt somewhat troubled. He knew that the night druggist ought not to monopolize the volume,

and yet he did not wish to disoblige one who was so useful to him, and who took such an earnest interest in

the book. And he could not temporize with the young lady, and say that he thought the book would soon be

in. He knew it would not. There were three hundred and forty pages of it. So he merely remarked that he was

"So am I, " said the young lady, "very sorry. It so happens that just now I have a peculiar opportunity for

There was something in Mr. Tolman's sympathetic face which seemed to invite her confidence, and she

"I am a teacher," she said, "and on account of certain circumstances I have a holiday for a month, which I

intended to give up almost entirely to the study of music, and I particularly wanted "Dormstock." Do you

"Reserve it!" said Mr. Tolman. "Most certainly I will." And then he reflected a second or two. "If you will

come here the day after tomorrow, I will be able to tell you something definite."

Mr. Tolman was out a long time at lunchtime the next day. He went to all the leading bookstores to see if

he could buy a copy of Dormstock's great work. But he was unsuccessful. The booksellers told him that there

was no probability that he could get a copy in the country, unless, indeed, he found it in the stock of some

secondhand dealer, and that even if he sent to England for it, where it was published, it was not likely he

could get it, for it had been long out of print. There was no demand at all for it. The next day he went to

When he came back he spoke to Glascow on the subject. He was sorry to do so, but thought that simple

justice compelled him to mention the matter. The night druggist was thrown into a perturbed state of mind by

"A woman!" he exclaimed. "Why, she would not understand two pages out of the whole of it. It is too bad. I

"Do not disturb yourself too much," said Mr. Tolman. "I am not sure that you ought to give it up."

"I am very glad to hear you say so," said Glascow. "I have no doubt it is only a passing fancy with her. I dare

say she would really rather have a good new novel." And then, having heard that the lady was expected that

When the young lady arrived, an hour or so later, she was not at all satisfied to take out a new novel, and was

very sorry indeed not to find the "Logarithms of the Diapason" waiting for her. Mr. Tolman told her that he

had tried to buy another copy of the work, and for this she expressed herself gratefully. He also found himself

compelled to say that the book was in the possession of a gentleman who had had it for some timeall the

"Is it not against the rules for any person to keep one book out so long?" she asked.

"No," said Mr. Tolman. "I have looked into that. Our rules are very simple, and merely say that a book may

"Oh, I wouldn't despair about it," said Mr. Tolman. "He has not had time to reflect upon the matter. He is a

reasonable young man, and I believe that he will be willing to give up his study of the book for a time and let

"No," said she, "I don't wish that. If he is studying, as you say he is, day and night, I do not wish to interrupt

him. I should want the book at least a month, and that, I suppose, would upset his course of study entirely.

But I do not think any one should begin in a circulating library to study a book that will take him a year to

finish; for, from what you say, it will take this gentleman at least that time to finish Dormstock's book." So

When P. Glascow heard all this in the evening, he was very grave. He had evidently been reflecting.

"It is not fair," said he. "I ought not to keep the book so long. I now give it up for a while. You may let her

have it when she comes." And he put the "Dormstock" on the counter, and went and sat down by the stove.

Mr. Tolman was grieved. He knew the night druggist had done right, but still he was sorry for him. "What

"Oh, no," said Glascow, gazing solemnly into the stove. "I will take up some other books on the diapason

which I have, and so will keep my ideas fresh on the subject until this lady is done with the book. I do not

really believe she will study it very long." Then he added: "If it is all the same to you, I will come around

Mr. Tolman would be delighted to have him come, he said. He had entirely given up the idea of getting an

It was some time before the lady came back, and Mr. Tolman was afraid she was not coming at all. But she

did come, and asked for Mrs. Burney's "Evelina." She smiled when she named the book, and said that she

believed she would have to take a novel, after all, and she had always wanted to read that one.

"I wouldn't take a novel if I were you," said Mr. Tolman; and he triumphantly took down the "Dormstock"

She was evidently much pleased, but when he told her of Mr. Glascow's gentlemanly conduct in the matter,

"Not at all," said she, laying down the book. "I will not break up his study. I will take the `Evelina' if you

And as no persuasion from Mr. Tolman had any effect upon her, she went away with Mrs. Burney's novel in

"Now, then," said Mr. Tolman to Glascow, in the evening, "you may as well take the book along with you.

But Glascow would do nothing of the kind. "No," he remarked, as he sat looking into the stove. "When I said

I would let her have it, I meant it. She'll take it when she sees that it continues to remain in the library."

Glascow was mistaken: she did not take it, having the idea that he would soon conclude that it would be

"It would serve them both right," said Mr. Tolman to himself, "if somebody else should come and take it."

But there was no one else among his subscribers who would even think of such a thing.

One day, however, the young lady came in and asked to look at the book. "Don't think that I am going to take

it out," she said, noticing Mr. Tolman's look of pleasure as he handed her the volume. "I only wish to see

what he says on a certain subject which I am studying now." And so she sat down by the stove on the chair

She sat earnestly poring over the book for half an hour or more, and then she looked up and said: "I really

cannot make out what this part means. Excuse my troubling you, but I would be very glad if you would

"Me!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman. "Why, my good madam,miss, I mean,I couldn't explain it to you if it

"Oh, well, then," said he, "if you can wait ten or fifteen minutes, the gentleman who has had the book will be

The young lady seemed to hesitate whether to wait or not; but as she had a certain curiosity to see what sort

of a person he was who had been so absorbed in the book, she concluded to sit a little longer and look into

The night druggist soon came in, and when Mr. Tolman introduced him to the lady, he readily agreed to

explain the passage to her if he could. So Mr. Tolman got him a chair from the inner room, and he also sat

The explanation was difficult, but it was achieved at last, and then the young lady broached the subject of

leaving the book unused. This was discussed for some time, but came to nothing, although Mr. Tolman put

down his afternoon paper and joined in the argument, urging, among other points, that as the matter now

stood he was deprived by the deadlock of all income from the book. But even this strong argument proved

"Then I will tell you what I wish you would do," said Mr. Tolman, as the young lady rose to go: "come here

and look at the book whenever you wish to do so. I would like to make this more of a readingroom, anyway.

After this the young lady looked into "Dormstock" when she came in; and as her holidays had been extended

by the continued absence of the family in which she taught, she had plenty of time for study, and came quite

frequently. She often met Glascow in the shop, and on such occasions they generally consulted "Dormstock,"

and sometimes had quite lengthy talks on musical matters. One afternoon they came in together, having met

on their way to the library, and entered into a conversation on diapasonic logarithms, which continued during

"The proper thing," thought Mr. Tolman, "would be for these two people to get married. Then they could take

the book and study it to their heart's content. And they would certainly suit each other, for they are both

greatly attached to musical mathematics and philosophy, and neither of them either plays or sings, as they

Mr. Tolman thought over this matter a good deal, and at last determined to mention it to Glascow. When he

did so, the young man colored, and expressed the opinion that it would be of no use to think of such a thing.

But it was evident from his manner and subsequent discourse that he had thought of it.

Mr. Tolman gradually became quite anxious on the subject, especially as the night druggist did not seem

inclined to take any steps in the matter. The weather was now beginning to be warmer, and Mr. Tolman

reflected that the little house and the little shop were probably much more cosey and comfortable in winter

than in summer. There were higher buildings all about the house, and even now he began to feel that the

circulation of air would be quite as agreeable as the circulation of books. He thought a good deal about his

"Mr. Glascow," said he, one afternoon, "I have made up my mind to sell out this business shortly."

"What!" exclaimed the other. "Do you mean you will give it up and go awayleave the place altogether?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Tolman, "I shall give up the place entirely, and leave the city."

The night druggist was shocked. He had spent many happy hours in that shop, and his hours there were now

becoming pleasanter than ever. If Mr. Tolman went away, all this must end. Nothing of the kind could be

"And considering this," continued Mr. Tolman, "I think it would be well for you to bring your love matters to

"Yes, certainly," said Mr. Tolman. "I have eyes, and I know all about it. Now let me tell you what I think.

When a thing is to be done, it ought to be done the first time there is a good chance. That's the way I do

business. Now you might as well come around here tomorrow afternoon prepared to propose to Miss

Edwards. She is due tomorrow, for she has been two days away. If she doesn't come, we will postpone the

matter until the next day. But you should be ready tomorrow. I don't believe you can see her much when

you don't meet her here, for that family is expected back very soon, and from what I infer from her account of

"There is nothing to think," said Mr. Tolman. "We know all about the lady." (He spoke truly, for he had

informed himself about both parties to the affair.) "Take my advice, and be here tomorrow afternoonand

The next morning Mr. Tolman went up to his parlor on the second floor, and brought down two blue stuffed

chairs, the best he had, and put them in the little room back of the shop. He also brought down one or two

knickknacks and put them on the mantelpiece, and he dusted and brightened up the room as well as he could.

When the young lady arrived, he invited her to walk into the back room to look over some new books he had

just got in. If she had known he proposed to give up the business, she would have thought it rather strange

that he should be buying new books. But she knew nothing of his intentions. When she was seated at the table

whereon the new books were spread, Mr. Tolman stepped outside of the shop door to watch for Glascow's

"Walk right in," said Mr. Tolman. "She's in the back room looking over books. I'll wait here, and keep out

customers as far as possible. It's pleasant, and I want a little fresh air. I'll give you twenty minutes."

Glascow was pale, but he went in without a word, and Mr. Tolman, with his hands under his coattail, and

his feet rather far apart, established a blockade on the doorstep. He stood there for some time, looking at the

people outside, and wondering what the people inside were doing. The little girl who had borrowed the milk

of him, and who had never returned it, was about to pass the door; but seeing him standing there, she crossed

over to the other side of the street. But he did not notice her. He was wondering if it was time to go in. A boy

came up to the door, and wanted to know if he kept Easter eggs. Mr. Tolman was happy to say he did not.

When he had allowed the night druggist a very liberal twenty minutes, he went in. As he entered the shop

door, giving the bell a very decided ring as he did so, P. Glascow came down the two steps that led from the

A few days after this Mr. Tolman sold out his stock, good will, and fixtures, together with the furniture and

lease of the house. And who should he sell out to but to Mr. Glascow! This piece of business was one of the

happiest points in the whole affair. There was no reason why the happy couple should not be married very

soon, and the young lady was charmed to give up her position as teacher and governess in a family, and come

and take charge of that delightful little store and that cunning little house, with almost everything in it that

One thing in the establishment Mr. Tolman refused to sell. That was Dormstock's great work. He made the

couple a present of the volume, and between two of the earlier pages he placed a banknote which in value

"What are YOU going to do?" they asked of him, when all these things were settled. And then he told them

how he was going back to his business in the neighboring city, and he told them what it was, and how he had

come to manage a circulating library. They did not think him crazy. People who studied the logarithms of the

When Mr. Tolman returned to the establishment of Pusey & Co., he found everything going on very

"You look ten years younger, sir," said Mr. Canterfield. "You must have had a very pleasant time. I did not

"Interest me!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman. "Why, objects of interest crowded on me. I never had a more

When he went home that evening (and he found himself quite willing to go), he tore up the will he had made.

I was about twentyfive years old when I began life as the owner of a vineyard in western Virginia. I bought

a large tract of land, the greater part of which lay upon the sloping side of one of the foothills of the Blue

Ridge, the exposure being that most favorable to the growth of the vine. I am an enthusiastic lover of the

country and of country life, and believed that I should derive more pleasure as well as profit from the culture

I built myself a good house of moderate size upon a little plateau on the higher part of my estate. Sitting in

my porch, smoking my pipe after the labors of the day, I could look down over my vineyard into a beautiful

valley, with here and there a little curling smoke arising from some of the few dwellings which were scattered

about among the groves and spreading fields, and above this beauty I could imagine all my hillside clothed in

My family consisted of myself alone. It is true that I expected some day that there would be others in my

During the summer I found it very pleasant to live by myself. It was a novelty, and I could arrange and

manage everything in my own fashion, which was a pleasure I had not enjoyed when I lived in my father's

house. But when winter came I found it very lonely. Even my servants lived in a cabin at some little distance,

and there were many dark and stormy evenings when the company even of a bore would have been welcome

to me. Sometimes I walked over to the town and visited my friends there, but this was not feasible on stormy

But spring came, outdoor operations began, and for a few weeks I felt again that I was allsufficient for my

own pleasure and comfort. Then came a change. One of those seasons of bad and stormy weather which so

frequently follow an early spring settled down upon my spirits and my hillside. It rained, it was cold, fierce

winds blew, and I became more anxious for somebody to talk to than I had been at any time during the

One night, when a very bad storm was raging, I went to bed early, and as I lay awake I revolved in my mind a

scheme of which I had frequently thought before. I would build a neat little house on my grounds, not very

far away from my house, but not too near, and I would ask Jack Brandiger to come there and live. Jack was a

friend of mine who was reading law in the town, and it seemed to me that it would be much more pleasant,

and even more profitable, to read law on a pretty hillside overlooking a charming valley, with woods and

I had thought of asking Jack to come and live with me, but this idea I soon dismissed. I am a very particular

person, and Jack was not. He left his pipes about in all sorts of placessometimes when they were still

lighted. When he came to see me he was quite as likely to put his hat over the inkstand as to put it anywhere

else. But if Jack lived at a little distance, and we could go backward and forward to see each other whenever

we pleased, that would be quite another thing. He could do as he pleased in his own house, and I could do as I

pleased in mine, and we might have many pleasant evenings together. This was a cheering idea, and I was

planning how we might arrange with the negro woman who managed my household affairs to attend also to

I did not sleep long before I was awakened by the increased violence of the storm. My house shook with the

The rain seemed to be pouring on its roof and northern side as if there were a waterfall above us, and every

now and then I could hear a shower of hailstones rattling against the shutters. My bedroom was one of the

rooms on the lower floor, and even there I could hear the pounding of the deluge and the hailstones upon the

All this was very doleful, and had a tendency to depress the spirits of a man awake and alone in a goodsized

house. But I shook off this depression. It was, not agreeable to be up here by myself in such a terrible storm,

but there was nothing to be afraid of, as my house was new and very strongly built, being constructed of logs,

weatherboarded outside and ceiled within. It would require a hurricane to blow off the roof, and I believed

my shutters to be hailproof. So, as there was no reason to stay awake, I turned over and went to sleep.

I do not know how long it was before I was awakened again, this time not by the noise of the storm, but by a

curious movement of my bedstead. I had once felt the slight shock of an earthquake, and it seemed to me that

this must be something of the kind. Certainly my bed moved under me. I sat up. The room was pitchy dark.

In a moment I felt another movement, but this time it did not seem to me to resemble an earthquake shock.

Such motion, I think, is generally in horizontal directions, while that which I felt was more like the

movement of a ship upon the water. The storm was at its height; the wind raged and roared, and the rain

I was about to get up and light the lamp, for even the faintest candleflame would be some sort of company

at such a grewsome moment, when my bedstead gave another movement, more shiplike than before. It

actually lurched forward as if it were descending into the trough of the sea, but, unlike a ship, it did not rise

again, but remained in such a slanting position that I began to slide down toward the foot. I believe that if it

had not been a bedstead provided with a footboard, I should have slipped out upon the floor.

I did not jump out of bed. I did not do anything. I was trying to think, to understand the situation, to find out

whether I was asleep or awake, when I became aware of noises in the room and all over the house which even

through the din of the storm made themselves noticed by their peculiarity. Tables, everything in the room,

seemed to be grating and grinding on the floor, and in a moment there was a crash. I knew what that meant;

my lamp had slipped off the table. Any doubt on that point would have been dispelled by the smell of

The motion of the bed, which I now believe must have been the motion of the whole house, still continued;

but the grating noises in the room gradually ceased, from which I inferred that the furniture had brought up

It now was impossible for me to get up and strike a light, for to do so with kerosene oil all over the floor and

its vapor diffused through the room would probably result in setting the house on fire. So I must stay in

darkness and wait. I do not think I was very much frightenedI was so astonished that there was no room in

my mind for fear. In fact, all my mental energies were occupied in trying to find out what had happened. It

required, however, only a few more minutes of reflection, and a few more minutes of the grating, bumping,

trembling of my house, to enable me to make up my mind what was happening. My house was sliding

The wind must have blown the building from its foundations, and upon the slippery surface of the hillside,

probably lashed into liquid mud by the pouring rain, it was making its way down toward the valley! In a flash

my mind's eye ran over the whole surface of the country beneath me as far as I knew it. I was almost positive

that there was no precipice, no terrible chasm into which my house might fall. There was nothing but sloping

Now there was a new and sudden noise of heavy objects falling upon the roof, and I knew what that meant:

my chimney had been wrenched from its foundations, and the upper part of it had now toppled over. I could

hear, through the storm, the bricks banging and sliding upon the slanting roof. Continuous sounds of cracking

and snapping came to me through the closed front windows, and these were caused, I supposed, by the

Of course, when I thoroughly understood the state of the case, my first impulse was to spring out of bed, and,

as quickly as possible, to get out of that thumping and sliding house. But I restrained myself. The floor might

be covered with broken glass, I might not be able to find my clothes in the darkness and in the jumble of

furniture at the end of the room, and even if I could dress myself, it would be folly to jump out in the midst of

that raging storm into a probable mass of wreckage which I could not see. It would be far better to remain dry

and warm under my roof. There was no reason whatever to suppose that the house would go to pieces, or that

it would turn over. It must stop some time or other, and, until it did so, I would be safer in my bed than

Sitting upright, with my feet pressed against the footboard, I listened and felt. The noises of the storm, and

the cracking and the snapping and grinding before me and under me, still continued, although I sometimes

thought that the wind was moderating a little, and that the strange motion was becoming more regular. I

believed the house was moving faster than when it first began its strange career, but that it was sliding over a

smooth surface. Now I noticed a succession of loud cracks and snaps at the front of the house, and, from the

character of the sounds, I concluded that my little front porch, which had been acting as a cutwater at the bow

of my shiplike house, had yielded at last to the rough contact with the ground, and would probably soon be

It was not long before I perceived that the slanting of my bed was becoming less and less, and also I was

quite sure that the house was moving more slowly. Then the crackings and snappings before my front wall

ceased altogether. The bed resumed its ordinary horizontal position, and although I did not know at what

moment the house had ceased sliding and had come to a standstill, I was sure that it had done so. It was now

resting upon a level surface. The room was still perfectly dark, and the storm continued. It was useless for me

to get up until daylight came,I could not see what had happened,so I lay back upon my pillow and tried

to imagine upon what level portion of my farm I had stranded. While doing this I fell asleep.

When I woke, a little light was stealing into the room through the blinds of my shutters. I quickly slipped out

of bed, opened a window, and looked out. Day was just breaking, the rain and wind had ceased, and I could

discern objects. But it seemed as if I needed some light in my brain to enable me to comprehend what I saw.

I did not stop to investigate, however, from my window. I found my clothes huddled together with the

furniture at the front end of the room, and as soon as I was dressed I went into the hall and then to my front

door. I quickly jerked this open and was about to step outside when, suddenly, I stopped. I was positive that

my front porch had been destroyed. But there I saw a porch a little lower than mine and a great deal wider,

and on the other side of it, not more than eight feet from me, was a windowthe window of a house, and on

the other side of the window was a facethe face of a young girl! As I stood staring in blank amazement at

the house which presented itself at my front door, the face at the window disappeared, and I was left to

contemplate the scene by myself. I ran to my back door and threw it open. There I saw, stretching up the

fields and far up the hillside, the wide path which my house had made as it came down from its elevated

position to the valley beneath, where it had ended its onward career by stopping up against another house. As

I looked from the back porch I saw that the ground still continued to slope, so that if my house had not found

in its path another building, it would probably have proceeded somewhat farther on its course. It was lighter,

Almost breathless with amazement and consternation, I ran again to the front door. When I reached it I found

a young woman standing on the porch of the house before me. I was about to say somethingI know not

"Please don't speak loudly," she said. "I am afraid it will frighten mother. She is asleep yet. I suppose you and

"That is what has happened," said I. "But I cannot understand it. It seems to me the most amazing thing that

"It is very queer," said she, "but hurricanes do blow away houses, and that must have been a hurricane we had

last night, for the wind was strong enough to loosen any house. I have often wondered if that house would

"Yes," she said. "Soon after it was built I began to think what a nice clean sweep it could make from the place

where it seemed to be stuck to the side of the mountain, right down here into the valley."

I could not talk with a girl like this; at least, I could not meet her on her own conversational grounds. I was so

agitated myself that it seemed unnatural that any one to whom I should speak should not also be agitated.

"Who are you?" I asked rather brusquely. "At least, to whom does this house belong?"

"This is my mother's house," said she. "My mother is Mrs. Carson. We happen just now to be living here by

ourselves, so I cannot call on any man to help you do anything. My brother has always lived with us, but last

She was rather a pretty girl, of a cheerful disposition, I should say, for several times she had smiled as she

"Oh, I am astonished," she answered; "or, at least, I was. But I have had time enough to get over some of it. It

was at least an hour ago when I was awakened by hearing something crack in the yard. I went to a window

and looked out, and could just barely see that something like a big building had grown up during the night.

Then I watched it, and watched it, until I made out it was a whole house; and after that it was not long before

I guessed what had happened. It seemed a simpler thing to me, you know, than it did to you, because I had

"You are right there," said I, earnestly. "It would have been impossible for me to imagine such a thing."

"At first I thought there was nobody in the house," said she, "but when I heard some one moving about, I

came down to tell whoever had arrived not to make a noise. I see," she added, with another of her smiles,

"that you think I am a very strange person not to be more flurried by what has happened. But really I cannot

think of anything else just now, except what mother will say and do when she comes down and finds you and

"Please speak more gently," she said. "Mother is always a little irritable when her night's rest has been

broken, and I would not like to have her wakened up suddenly now. But really, Mr. Warren, I haven't the

least idea in the world how she will take this thing. I must go in and be with her when she wakes, so that I can

"Of course I know your name," she answered. "Could that house be up there on the hillside for more than a

I could not help smiling when I thought of the young lady regretting that there was no man in the house who

might help me do something. What could anybody do in a case like this? I turned and went into my house. I

entered the various rooms on the lower floor, and saw no signs of any particular damage, except that

everything movable in each room was jumbled together against the front wall. But when I looked out of the

back door I found that the porch there was a good deal wrecked, which I had not noticed before.

I went upstairs, and found everything very much as it was below. Nothing seemed to have been injured

except the chimney and the porches. I thanked my stars that I had used hard wood instead of mortar for the

I was about to go into my bedroom, when I heard a woman scream, and of course I hurried to the front. There

on the back porch of her house stood Mrs. Carson. She was a woman of middle age, and, as I glanced at her, I

saw where her daughter got her good looks. But the placidity and cheerfulness of the younger face were

entirely wanting in the mother. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were red, her mouth was partly opened, and it

"Is this your house?" she cried, the moment her eyes fell upon me. "And what is it doing here?" I did not

immediately answer, I looked at the angry woman, and behind her I saw, through the open door, the daughter

crossing the hallway. It was plain that she had decided to let me have it out with her mother without

interference. As briefly and as clearly as I could, I explained what had happened.

"What is all that to me?" she screamed. "It doesn't matter to me how your house got here. There have been

storms ever since the beginning of the world, and I never heard of any of them taking a house into a person's

back yard. You ought not to have built your house where any such thing could happen. But all this is nothing

to me. I don't understand now how your house did get here, and I don't want to understand it. All I want is for

"I will do that, madam, just as soon as I can. You may be very sure I will do that. But"

"Can you do it now?" she asked. "Can you do it today? I don't want a minute lost. I have not been outside to

see what damage has been done, but the first thing to do is to take your house away."

Mrs. Carson made no answer, but she turned and walked to the end of her porch. There she suddenly gave a

scream which quickly brought her daughter from the house. "Kitty! Kitty!" cried her mother. "Do you know

what he has done? He has gone right over my round flowergarden. His house is sitting on it this minute!"

"Help it!" exclaimed Mrs. Carson. "I didn't expect him to help it. What I want" Suddenly she stopped. Her

eyes flashed brighter, her mouth opened wider, and she became more and more excited as she noticed the

absence of the sheds, fences, or vegetablebeds which had found themselves in the course of my

It was now well on in the morning, and some of the neighbors had become aware of the strange disaster

which had happened to me, although if they had heard the news from Mrs. Carson they might have supposed

that it was a disaster which had happened only to her. As they gazed at the two houses so closely jammed

together, all of them wondered, some of them even laughed, but not one offered a suggestion which afforded

satisfaction to Mrs. Carson or myself. The general opinion was that, now my house was there, it would have

to stay there, for there were not enough horses in the State to pull it back up that mountainside. To be sure, it

might possibly be drawn off sidewise. But whether it was moved one way or the other, a lot of Mrs. Carson's

"Which shall never happen!" cried that good lady. "If nothing else can be done, it must be taken apart and

hauled off in carts. But no matter how it is managed, it must be moved, and that immediately." Miss Carson

now prevailed upon her mother to go into the house, and I stayed and talked to the men and a few women

When they had said all they had to say, and seen all there was to see, these people went home to their

breakfasts. I entered my house, but not by the front door, for to do that I would have been obliged to trespass

upon Mrs. Carson's back porch. I got my hat, and was about to start for the town, when I heard my name

called. Turning into the hall, I saw Miss Carson, who was standing at my front door.

"Oh, no," said I. "My servants are up there in their cabin, and I suppose they are too much scared to come

down. But I am going to town to see what can be done about my house, and will get my breakfast there."

"It's a long way to go without anything to eat," she said, "and we can give you some breakfast. But I want to

ask you something. I am in a good deal of perplexity. Our two servants are out at the front of the house, but

they positively refuse to come in; they are afraid that your house may begin sliding again and crush them all,

so, I shall have to get breakfast. But what bothers me is trying to find our well. I have been outside, and can

"It ought to be somewhere near the back of your house," she said. "May I go through your hall and look out?"

"Now, it seems to me," she said, after surveying the scene of desolation immediately before, and looking

from side to side toward objects which had remained untouched, "that your house has passed directly over

our well, and must have carried away the little shed and the pump and everything above ground. I should not

I jumped to the ground, for the steps were shattered, and began to search for the well, and it was not long

before I discovered its round dark opening, which was, as Miss Carson had imagined, under one end of my

"What can we do?" she asked. "We can't have breakfast or get along at all without water." It was a terribly

depressing thing to me to think that I, or rather my house, had given these people so much trouble. But I

speedily, assured Miss Carson that if she could find a bucket and a rope which I could lower into the well, I

She went into her house to see what she could find, and I tore away the broken planks of the porch, so that I

could get to the well. And then, when she came with a tin pail and a clothesline, I went to work to haul up

"I don't want mother to find out what has happened to the well," she said, "for she has enough on her mind

Mrs. Carson was a woman with some good points in her character. After a time she called to me herself, and

told me to come in to breakfast. But during the meal she talked very earnestly to me about the amazing

trespass I had committed, and about the means which should be taken to repair the damages my house had

done to her property. I was as optimistic as I could be, and the young lady spoke very cheerfully and

hopefully about the affair, so that we were beginning to get along somewhat pleasantly, when, suddenly, Mrs.

Carson sprang to her feet. "Heavens and earth!" she cried, "this house is moving!"

She was not mistaken. I had felt beneath my feet a sudden sharp shocknot severe, but unmistakable. I

remembered that both houses stood upon slightly sloping ground. My blood turned cold, my heart stood still;

When we had rushed out of doors to see what had happened, or what was going to happen, I soon found that

we had been needlessly frightened. Some of the broken timbers on which my house had been partially resting

had given way, and the front part of the building had slightly descended, jarring as it did so the other house

against which it rested. I endeavored to prove to Mrs. Carson that the result was encouraging rather than

otherwise, for my house was now more firmly settled than it had been. But she did not value the opinion of a

man who did not know enough to put his house in a place where it would be likely to stay, and she could eat

no more breakfast, and was even afraid to stay under her own roof until experienced mechanics had been

I hurried away to the town, and it was not long before several carpenters and masons were on the spot. After a

thorough examination, they assured Mrs. Carson that there was no danger, that my house would do no farther

damage to her premises, but, to make things certain, they would bring some heavy beams and brace the front

of my house against her cellar wall. When that should be done it would be impossible for it to move any

"But I don't want it braced!" cried Mrs. Carson. "I want it taken away. I want it out of my back yard!"

The master carpenter was a man of imagination and expedients. "That is quite another thing, ma'am," said he.

"We'll fix this gentleman's house so that you needn't be afraid of it, and then, when the time comes to move it,

there's several ways of doing that. We might rig up a powerful windlass at the top of the hill, and perhaps get

a steamengine to turn it, and we could fasten cables to the house and haul her back to where she belongs."

"And can you take your oaths," cried Mrs. Carson, "that those ropes won't break, and when that house gets

halfway up the hill it won't come sliding down ten times faster than it did, and crash into me and mine and

everything I own on earth? No, sir! I'll have no house hauled up a hill back of me!"

"Of course," said the carpenter, "it would be a great deal easier to move it on this ground, which is almost

"Well, then," said he, "there is no way to do but to take it apart and haul it off."

"Which would make an awful time at the back of my house while you were doing it!" exclaimed Mrs.

I now put in a word. "There's only one thing to do that I can see!" I exclaimed. "I will sell it to a match

factory. It is almost all wood, and it can be cut up in sections about two inches thick, and then split into

Kitty smiled. "I should like to see them," she said, "taking away the little sticks in wheelbarrows!"

"There is no need of trifling on the subject," said Mrs. Carson. "I have had a great deal to bear, and I must

bear it no longer than is necessary. I have just found out that in order to get water out of my own well, I must

go to the back porch of a stranger. Such things cannot be endured. If my son George were here, he would tell

me what I ought to do. I shall write to him, and see what he advises. I do not mind waiting a little bit, now

that I know that you can fix Mr. Warren's house so that it won't move any farther."

Thus the matter was left. My house was braced that afternoon, and toward evening I started to go to a hotel in

"No, sir!" said Mrs. Carson. "Do you suppose that I am going to stay here all night with a great empty house

jammed up against me, and everybody knowing that it is empty? It will be the same as having thieves in my

own house to have them in yours. You have come down here in your property, and you can stay in it and take

"I don't object to that in the least," I said. "My two women are here, and I can tell them to attend to my meals.

"No, sir!" said Mrs. Carson. "I am not going to have any strange servants on my place. I have just been able

to prevail upon my own women to go into the house, and I don't want any more trouble. I have had enough

"But, my dear madam," said I, "you don't want me to go to the town, and you won't allow me to have any

"Well," she said, "you can eat with us. It may be two or three days before I can hear from my son George, and

in the meantime you can lodge in your own house and I will take you to board. That is the best way I can see

of managing the thing. But I am very sure I am not going to be left here alone in the dreadful predicament in

We had scarcely finished supper when Jack Brandiger came to see me. He laughed a good deal a about my

sudden change of base, but thought, on the whole, my house had made a very successful move. It must be

more pleasant in the valley than up on that windy hill. Jack was very much interested in everything, and when

Mrs. Carson and her daughter appeared, as we were walking about viewing the scene, I felt myself obliged to

"I like those ladies," said he to me, afterwards. "I think you have chosen very agreeable neighbors."

"How do you know you like them?" said I. "You had scarcely anything to say to Mrs. Carson."

"No, to be sure," said he. "But I expect I should like her. By the way, do you know how you used to talk to

me about coming and living somewhere near you? How would you like me to take one of your rooms now? I

"No," said I, firmly. "That cannot be done. As things are now, I have as much as I can do to get along here by

Mrs. Carson did not hear from her son for nearly a week, and then he wrote that he found it almost impossible

to give her any advice. He thought it was a very queer state of affairs. He had never heard of anything like it.

But he would try and arrange his business so that he could come home in a week or two and look into

As I was thus compelled to force myself upon the close neighborhood of Mrs. Carson and her daughter, I

endeavored to make things as pleasant as possible. I brought some of my men down out of the vineyard, and

set them to repairing fences, putting the garden in order, and doing all that I could to remedy the doleful

condition of things which I had unwillingly brought into the back yard of this quiet family. I rigged up a

pump on my back porch by which the water of the well could be conveniently obtained, and in every way

But Mrs. Carson never ceased to talk about the unparalleled disaster which had come upon her, and she must

have had a great deal of correspondence with her son George, because she gave me frequent messages from

him. He could not come on to look into the state of affairs, but he seemed to be giving it a great deal of

Spring weather had come again, and it was very pleasant to help the Carson ladies get their flowergarden in

orderat least, as much as was left of it, for my house was resting upon some of the most important beds. As

I was obliged to give up all present idea of doing anything in the way of getting my residence out of a place

where it had no business to be, because Mrs. Carson would not consent to any plan which had been

suggested, I felt that I was offering some little compensation in beautifying what seemed to be, at that time,

My labors in regard to vines, bushes, and all that sort of thing were generally carried on under direction of

Mrs. Carson or her daughter, and as the elderly lady was a very busy housewife, the horticultural work was

I liked Miss Kitty. She was a cheerful, wholesouled person, and I sometimes thought that she was not so

unwilling to have me for a neighbor as the rest of the family seemed to be; for if I were to judge the

disposition of her brother George from what her mother told me about his letters, both he and Mrs. Carson

Nearly a month had now passed since my house and I made that remarkable morning call upon Mrs. Carson. I

was becoming accustomed to my present mode of living, and, so far as I was concerned, it satisfied me very

well. I certainly lived a great deal better than when I was depending upon my old negro cook. Miss Kitty

seemed to be satisfied with things as they were, and so, in some respects, did her mother. But the latter never

ceased to give me extracts from some of her son George's letters, and this was always annoying and worrying

to me. Evidently he was not pleased with me as such a close neighbor to his mother, and it was astonishing

how many expedients he proposed in order to rid her of my undesirable proximity.

"My son George," said Mrs. Carson, one morning, "has been writing to me about jackscrews. He says that

"You lift houses with them," said she. "He says that in large cities they lift whole blocks of houses with them

and build stories underneath. He thinks that we can get rid of our trouble here if we use jackscrews."

"Oh, he has a good many plans," answered Mrs. Carson. "He said that he should not wonder if jackscrews

could be made large enough to lift your house entirely over mine and set it out in the road, where it could be

carried away without interfering with anything, except, of course, vehicles which might be coming along. But

he has another planthat is, to lift my house up and carry it out into the field on the other side of the road,

and then your house might be carried along right over the cellar until it got to the road. In that way, he says,

All this sort of thing worried me very much. My mind was eminently disposed toward peace and tranquillity,

but who could be peaceful and tranquil with a prospective jackscrew under the very base of his comfort and

happiness? In fact, my house had never been such a happy home as it was at that time. The fact of its

But the coming son George, with his jackscrews, did trouble me very much, and that afternoon I

deliberately went into Mrs. Carson's house to look for Kitty. I knew her mother was not at home, for I had

seen her go out. When Kitty appeared I asked her to come out on her back porch. "Have you thought of any

"No," said I, earnestly. "I have not, and I don't want to think of any plan of moving it. I am tired of seeing it

here, I am tired of thinking about moving it away, and I am tired of hearing people talk about moving it. I

have not any right to be here, and I am never allowed to forget it. What I want to do is to go entirely away,

"You understand me, Kitty," I said. "There is nothing in the world that I care for but you. What have you to

Then came back to her her little smile. "I think it would be very foolish for us to go away," she said.

It was about a quarter of an hour after this when Kitty proposed that we should go out to the front of the

house; it would look queer if any of the servants should come by and see us sitting together like that. I had

We were standing on the front porch, close to each other, and I think we were holding each other's hands,

when Mrs. Carson came back. As she approached she looked at us inquiringly, plainly wishing to know why

we were standing side by side before her door as if we had some special object in so doing.

"Well?" said she, as she came up the steps. Of course it was right that I should speak, and, in as few words as

possible, I told her what Kitty and I had been saying to each other. I never saw Kitty's mother look so

cheerful and so handsome as when she came forward and kissed her daughter and shook hands with me. She

seemed so perfectly satisfied that it amazed me. After a little Kitty left us, and then Mrs. Carson asked me to

"Now," said she, "this will straighten out things in the very best way. When you are married, you and Kitty

can live in the back building,for, of course, your house will now be the same thing as a back

building,and you can have the second floor. We won't have any separate tables, because it will be a great

deal nicer for you and Kitty to live with me, and it will simply be your paying board for two persons instead

of one. And you know you can manage your vineyard just as well from the bottom of the hill as from the top.

The lower rooms of what used to be your house can be made very pleasant and comfortable for all of us. I

have been thinking about the room on the right that you had planned for a parlor, and it will make a lovely

sittingroom for us, which is a thing we have never had, and the room on the other side is just what will suit

beautifully for a guestchamber. The two houses together, with the roof of my back porch properly joined to

the front of your house, will make a beautiful and spacious dwelling. It was fortunate, too, that you painted

your house a light yellow. I have often looked at the two together, and thought what a good thing it was that

one was not one color and the other another. As to the pump, it will be very easy now to put a pipe from what

used to be your back porch to our kitchen, so that we can get water without being obliged to carry it. Between

us we can make all sorts of improvements, and some time I will tell you of a good many that I have thought

"What used to be your house, " she continued, "can be jackscrewed up a little bit and a good foundation put

under it. I have inquired about that. Of course it would not have been proper to let you know that I was

satisfied with the state of things, but I was satisfied, and there is no use of denying it. As soon as I got over

my first scare after that house came down the hill, and had seen how everything might be arranged to suit all

parties, I said to myself, `What the Lord has joined together, let not man put asunder,' and so, according to

my belief, the strongest kind of jackscrews could not put these two houses asunder, any more than they

could put you and Kitty asunder, now that you have agreed to take each other for each other's own."

Jack Brandiger came to call that evening, and when he had heard what had happened he whistled a good deal.

"You are a funny kind of a fellow," said he. "You go courting like a snail, with your house on your back!"

I think my friend was a little discomfited. "Don't be discouraged, Jack," said I. "You will get a good wife

When an archery club was formed in our village, I was among the first to join it. But I should not, on this

account, claim any extraordinary enthusiasm on the subject of archery, for nearly all the ladies and gentlemen

Few of us, I think, had a correct idea of the popularity of archery in our midst until the subject of a club was

broached. Then we all perceived what a strong interest we felt in the study and use of the bow and arrow. The

club was formed immediately, and our thirty members began to discuss the relative merits of lancewood,

yew, and greenheart bows, and to survey yards and lawns for suitable spots for setting up targets for home

Our weekly meetings, at which we came together to show in friendly contest how much our home practice

had taught us, were held upon the village green, or rather upon what had been intended to be the village

green. This pretty piece of ground, partly in smooth lawn and partly shaded by fine trees, was the property of

a gentleman of the place, who had presented it, under certain conditions, to the township. But as the township

had never fulfilled any of the conditions, and had done nothing toward the improvement of the spot, further

than to make it a grazingplace for local cows and goats, the owner had withdrawn his gift, shut out the cows

and goats by a picket fence, and, having locked the gate, had hung up the key in his barn. When our club was

formed, the green, as it was still called, was offered to us for our meetings, and, with proper gratitude, we

This gentleman was eminently qualified for the presidency of an archery club. In the first place, he did not

shoot: this gave him time and opportunity to attend to the shooting of others. He was a tall and pleasant man,

a little elderly. This "elderliness," if I may so put it, seemed, in his case, to resemble some mild disorder, like

a gentle rheumatism, which, while it prevented him from indulging in all the wild hilarities of youth, gave

him, in compensation, a position, as one entitled to a certain consideration, which was very agreeable to him.

His little disease was chronic, it is true, and it was growing upon him; but it was, so far, a pleasant ailment.

And so, with as much interest in bows and arrows and targets and successful shots as any of us, he never

fitted an arrow to a string, nor drew a bow. But he attended every meeting, settling disputed points (for he

studied all the books on archery), encouraging the disheartened, holding back the eager ones who would run

to the targets as soon as they had shot, regardless of the fact that others were still shooting and that the human

body is not arrowproof, and shedding about him that general aid and comfort which emanates from a good

There were personsoutsiderswho said that archery clubs always selected ladies for their presiding

officers, but we did not care to be too much bound down and trammelled by customs and traditions. Another

club might not have among its members such a genial elderly gentleman who owned a village green.

I soon found myself greatly interested in archery, especially when I succeeded in planting an arrow

somewhere within the periphery of the target, but I never became such an enthusiast in bowshooting as my

If Pepton could have arranged matters to suit himself, he would have been born an archer. But as this did not

happen to have been the case, he employed every means in his power to rectify what he considered this

serious error in his construction. He gave his whole soul, and the greater part of his spare time, to archery,

His equipments were perfect. No one could excel him in, this respect. His bow was snakewood, backed with

hickory. He carefully rubbed it down every evening with oil and beeswax, and it took its repose in a green

baize bag. His arrows were Philip Highfield's best, his strings the finest Flanders hemp. He had

shootinggloves, and little leather tips that could be screwed fast on the ends of what he called his

stringfingers. He had a quiver and a belt, and when equipped for the weekly meetings, he carried a

fancycolored wipingtassel, and a little ebony greasepot hanging from his belt. He wore, when shooting, a

polished armguard or bracer, and if he had heard of anything else that an archer should have, he straightway

Pepton was a single man, and he lived with two good old maiden ladies, who took as much care of him as if

they had been his mothers. And he was such a good, kind fellow that he deserved all the attention they gave

him. They felt a great interest in his archery pursuits, and shared his anxious solicitude in the selection of a

"You see," said he, "a fine bow like this, when not in use, should always be in a perfectly dry place."

"And when in use, too," said Miss Martha, "for I am sure that you oughtn't to be standing and shooting in any

To which sentiment Miss Maria agreed, and suggested wearing rubber shoes, or having a board to stand on,

Pepton first hung his bow in the hall, but after he had arranged it symmetrically upon two long nails (bound

with green worsted, lest they should scratch the bow through its woollen cover), he reflected that the front

door would frequently be open, and that damp drafts must often go through the hall. He was sorry to give up

this place for his bow, for it was convenient and appropriate, and for an instant he thought that it might

remain, if the front door could be kept shut, and visitors admitted through a little side door which the family

generally used, and which was almost as convenient as the otherexcept, indeed, on washdays, when a wet

sheet or some article of wearing apparel was apt to be hung in front of it. But although washday occurred

but once a week, and although it was comparatively easy, after a little practice, to bob under a highpropped

sheet, Pepton's heart was too kind to allow his mind to dwell upon this plan. So he drew the nails from the

wall of the hall, and put them up in various places about the house. His own room had to be aired a great deal

in all weathers, and so that would not do at all. The wall above the kitchen fireplace would be a good

location, for the chimney was nearly always warm. But Pepton could not bring himself to keep his bow in the

kitchen. There would be nothing esthetic about such a disposition of it, and, besides, the girl might be

tempted to string and bend it. The old ladies really did not want it in the parlor, for its length and its green

baize cover would make it an encroaching and unbecoming neighbor to the little engravings and the big

samplers, the pictureframes of acorns and pinecones, the fancifully patterned ornaments of clean wheat

straw, and all the quaint adornments which had hung upon those walls for so many years. But they did not

say so. If it had been necessary, to make room for the bow, they would have taken down the pencilled profiles

of their grandfather, their grandmother, and their father when a little boy, which hung in a row over the

However, Pepton did not ask this sacrifice. In the summer evenings the parlor windows must be open. The

diningroom was really very little used in the evening, except when Miss Maria had stockings to darn, and

then she always sat in that apartment, and of course she had the windows open. But Miss Maria was very

willing to bring her work into the parlor,it was foolish, anyway, to have a feeling about darning stockings

before chance company,and then the diningroom could be kept shut up after tea. So into the wall of that

neat little room Pepton drove his worstedcovered nails, and on them carefully laid his bow. All the next day

Miss Martha and Miss Maria went about the house, covering the nailholes he had made with bits of

wallpaper, carefully snipped out to fit the patterns, and pasted on so neatly that no one would have suspected

One afternoon, as I was passing the old ladies' house, saw, or thought I saw, two men carrying in a coffin. I

Without a moment's hesitation, I rushed in behind the men. There, at the foot of the stairs, directing them,

"Coffin!" cried Pepton. "Why, my dear fellow, that is not a coffin. That is my ascham."

"Come and look at it," he said, when the men had set it on end against the wall. "It is an upright closet or

receptacle for an archer's armament. Here is a place to stand the bow, here are supports for the arrows and

quivers, here are shelves and hooks, on which to lay or hang everything the merry man can need. You see,

moreover, that it is lined with green plush, that the door fits tightly, so that it can stand anywhere, and there

need be no fear of drafts or dampness affecting my bow. Isn't it a perfect thing? You ought to get one."

I admitted the perfection, but agreed no further. I had not the income of my good Pepton.

Pepton was, indeed, most wonderfully well equipped; and yet, little did those dear old ladies think, when they

carefully dusted and reverentially gazed at the bunches of arrows, the armbracers, the gloves, the

greasepots, and all the rest of the paraphernalia of archery, as it hung around Pepton's room, or when they

afterwards allowed a particular friend to peep at it, all arranged so orderly within the ascham, or when they

looked with sympathetic, loving admiration on the beautiful polished bow, when it was taken out of its

baglittle did they think, I say, that Pepton was the very poorest shot in the club. In all the surface of the

muchperforated targets of the club, there was scarcely a hole that he could put his hand upon his heart and

Indeed, I think it was the truth that Pepton was born not to be an archer. There were young fellows in the club

who shot with bows that cost no more than Pepton's tassels, but who could stand up and whang arrows into

the targets all the afternoon, if they could get a chance; and there were ladies who made hits five times out of

six; and there were also all the grades of archers common to any club. But there was no one but himself in

Pepton's grade. He stood alone, and it was never any trouble to add up his score.

Yet he was not discouraged. He practised every day except Sundays, and indeed he was the only person in the

club who practised at night. When he told me about this, I was a little surprised.

"Why, it's easy enough," said he. "You see, I hung a lantern, with a reflector, before the target, just a little to

one side. It lighted up the target beautifully, and I believe there was a better chance of hitting it than by

daylight, for the only thing you could see was the target, and so your attention was not distracted. To be

sure," he said, in answer to a question, "it was a good deal of trouble to find the arrows, but that I always

have. When I get so expert that I can put all the arrows into the target, there will be no trouble of the kind,

night or day. However," he continued, "I don't practise any more by night. The other evening I sent an arrow

slambang into the lantern, and broke it all to flinders. Borrowed lantern, too. Besides, I found it made Miss

Martha very nervous to have me shooting about the house after dark. She had a friend who had a little boy

who was hit in the leg by an arrow from a bow, which, she says, accidentally went off in the night, of its own

accord. She is certainly a little mixed in her mind in regard to this matter, but I wish to respect her feelings,

As I have said, there were many good archers among the ladies of our club. Some of them, after we had been

organized for a month or two, made scores that few of the gentlemen could excel. But the lady who attracted

When this very pretty young lady stood up before the ladies' targether left side well advanced, her bow

firmly held out in her strong left arm, which never quivered, her head a little bent to the right, her arrow

drawn back by three wellgloved fingers to the tip of her little ear, her dark eyes steadily fixed upon the gold,

and her dress, well fitted over her fine and vigorous figure, falling in graceful folds about her feet, we all

"There is something statuesque about her," said Pepton, who ardently admired her, "and yet there isn't. A

statue could never equal her unless we knew there was a probability of movement in it. And the only statues

which have that are the Jarley waxworks, which she does not resemble in the least. There is only one thing

that that girl needs to make her a perfect archer, and that is to be able to aim better."

This was true. Miss Rosa did need to aim better. Her arrows had a curious habit of going on all sides of the

target, and it was very seldom that one chanced to stick into it. For if she did make a hit, we all knew it was

chance and that there was no probability of her doing it again. Once she put an arrow right into the centre of

the gold,one of the finest shots ever made on the ground,but she didn't hit the target again for two

One evening I was sitting with Pepton on the little front porch of the old ladies' house, where we were taking

our afterdinner smoke while Miss Martha and Miss Maria were washing, with their own white hands, the

china and glass in which they took so much pride. I often used to go over and spend an hour with Pepton. He

liked to have some one to whom he could talk on the subjects which filled his soul, and I liked to hear him

"I tell you," said he, as he leaned back in his chair, with his feet carefully disposed on the railing so that they

would not injure Miss Maria's Madeiravine, "I tell you, sir, that there are two things I crave with all my

power of cravingtwo goals I fain would reach, two diadems I would wear upon my brow. One of these is

to kill an eagleor some large birdwith a shaft from my good bow. I would then have it stuffed and

mounted, with the very arrow that killed it still sticking in its breast. This trophy of my skill I would have

fastened against the wall of my room or my hall, and I would feel proud to think that my grandchildren could

point to that birdwhich I would carefully bequeath to my descendantsand say, `My grand'ther shot that

bird, and with that very arrow.' Would it not stir your pulses if you could do a thing like that?"

"I should have to stir them up a good deal before I could do it," I replied. "It would be a hard thing to shoot

an eagle with an arrow. If you want a stuffed bird to bequeath, you'd better use a rifle."

"A rifle!" exclaimed Pepton. "There would be no glory in that. There are lots of birds shot with

"Well, perhaps they are too little for a rifle," said he. "But what I mean to say is that I wouldn't care at all for

an eagle I had shot with a rifle. You couldn't show the ball that killed him. If it were put in properly, it would

be inside, where it couldn't be seen. No, sir. It is ever so much more honorable, and far more difficult, too, to

"That is very true," I answered, "especially in these days, when there are so few eagles and so many targets.

"Indeed!" said I. And from that moment I began to understand Pepton's hopes in regard to the grandmother of

"Yes, sir," he continued, "I should be truly happy to see her win the badge. And she ought to win it. No one

shoots more correctly, and with a better understanding of all the rules, than she does. There must truly be

I turned aside to see who was coming down the road. I would not have had him know I smiled.

The most objectionable person in our club was O. J. Hollingsworth. He was a good enough fellow in himself,

There was, so far as I know, scarcely a rule of archery that he did not habitually violate. Our president and

nearly all of us remonstrated with him, and Pepton even went to see him on the subject, but it was all to no

purpose. With a quiet disregard of other people's ideas about bowshooting and other people's opinions about

himself, he persevered in a style of shooting which appeared absolutely absurd to any one who knew

I used to like to look at him when his turn came around to shoot. He was not such a pleasing object of vision

as Miss Rosa, but his style was so entirely novel to me that it was interesting. He held the bow horizontally,

instead of perpendicularly, like other archers, and he held it well downabout opposite his waistband. He

did not draw his arrow back to his ear, but he drew it back to the lower button of his vest. Instead of standing

upright, with his left side to the target, he faced it full, and leaned forward over his arrow, in an attitude which

reminded me of a Roman soldier about to fall upon his sword. When he had seized the nock of his arrow

between his finger and thumb, he languidly glanced at the target, raised his bow a little, and let fly. The

provoking thing about it was that he nearly always hit. If he had only known how to stand, and hold his bow,

and draw back his arrow, he would have been a very good archer. But, as it was, we could not help laughing

Our champion was a tall man, very cool and steady, who went to work at archery exactly as if he were paid a

salary, and intended to earn his money honestly. He did the best he could in every way. He generally shot

with one of the bows owned by the club, but if any one on the ground had a better one, he would borrow it.

He used to shoot sometimes with Pepton's bow, which he declared to be a most capital one. But as Pepton

was always very nervous when he saw his bow in the hands of another than himself, the champion soon

There were two badges, one of green silk and gold for the ladies, and one of green and red for the gentlemen,

and these were shot for at each weekly meeting. With the exception of a few times when the club was first

formed, the champion had always worn the gentlemen's badge. Many of us tried hard to win it from him, but

On the morning of one of our meeting days, the champion told me, as I was going to the city with him, that

he would not be able to return at his usual hour that afternoon. He would be very busy, and would have to

wait for the sixfifteen train, which would bring him home too late for the archery meeting. So he gave me

the badge, asking me to hand it to the president, that he might bestow it on the successful competitor that

We were all rather glad that the champion was obliged to be absent. Here was a chance for some one of us to

win the badge. It was not, indeed, an opportunity for us to win a great deal of honor, for if the champion were

to be there we should have no chance at all. But we were satisfied with this much, having no reasonin the

So we went to the targets with a new zeal, and most of us shot better than we had ever shot before. In this

number was O. J. Hollingsworth. He excelled himself, and, what was worse, he excelled all the rest of us. He

actually made a score of eightyfive in twentyfour shots, which at that time was remarkably good shooting,

for our club. This was dreadful! To have a fellow who didn't know how to shoot beat us all was too bad. If

any visitor who knew anything at all of archery should see that the member who wore the champion's badge

was a man who held his bow as if he had the stomachache, it would ruin our character as a club. It was not

Pepton in particular felt greatly outraged. We had met very promptly that afternoon, and had finished our

regular shooting much earlier than usual; and now a knot of us were gathered together, talking over this

"I don't intend to stand it," Pepton suddenly exclaimed. "I feel it as a personal disgrace. I'm going to have the

champion here before dark. By the rules, he has a right to shoot until the president declares it is too late.

And away he ran, first giving me charge of his precious bow. There was no need of his asking us to stay. We

were bound to see the fun out, and to fill up the time our president offered a special prize of a handsome

Pepton ran to the railroad station, and telegraphed to the champion. This was his message:

"You are absolutely needed here. If possible, take the fivethirty train for Ackford. I will drive over for you.

There was no train before the sixfifteen by which the champion could come directly to our village; but

Ackford, a small town about three miles distant, was on another railroad, on which there were frequent

Then Pepton rushed to our livery stable, hired a horse and buggy, and drove to Ackford.

A little after halfpast six, when several of us were beginning to think that Pepton had failed in his plans, he

drove rapidly into the grounds, making a very short turn at the gate, and pulled up his panting horse just in

time to avoid running over three ladies, who were seated on the grass. The champion was by his side!

The latter lost no time in talking or salutations. He knew what he had been brought there to do, and he

immediately set about trying to do it. He took Pepton's bow, which the latter urged upon him. He stood up,

straight and firm on the line, at thirtyfive yards from the gentlemen's target; he carefully selected his arrows,

examining the feathers and wiping away any bit of soil that might be adhering to the points after some one

had shot them into the turf; with vigorous arm he drew each arrow to its head; he fixed his eyes and his whole

mind on the centre of the target; he shot his twentyfour arrows, handed to him, one by one, by Pepton, and

The whole club had been scoring the shots, as they were made, and when the last arrow plumped into the red

ring, a cheer arose from every member excepting three: the champion, the president, and O. J. Hollingsworth.

"What in the mischief did they cheer him for?" asked Hollingsworth of me. "They didn't cheer me when I

beat everybody on the grounds an hour ago. And it's no new thing for him to win the badge; he does it every

"Well," said I, frankly, "I think the club, AS a club, objects to your wearing the badge, because you don't

"Don't know how to shoot!" he cried. "Why, I can hit the target better than any of you. Isn't that what you try

"Yes," said I, "of course that is what we try to do. But we try to do it in the proper way."

"Proper grandmother!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't seem to help you much. The best thing you fellows can do is

When the champion had finished shooting he went home to his dinner, but many of us stood about, talking

"I feel as if I had done that myself," said Pepton. "I am almost as proud as if I had shotwell, not an eagle,

"Why, that ought to make you prouder than the other," said I, "for a lark, especially when it's soaring, must be

"That's so," said Pepton, reflectively. "But I'll stick to the lark. I'm proud."

During the next month our style of archery improved very much, so much, indeed, that we increased our

distance, for gentlemen, to forty yards, and that for ladies to thirty, and also had serious thoughts of

challenging the Ackford club to a match. But as this was generally understood to be a crack club, we finally

When I say we improved, I do not mean all of us. I do not mean Miss Rosa. Although her attitudes were as

fine as ever, and every motion as true to rule as ever, she seldom made a hit. Pepton actually did try to teach

her how to aim, but the various methods of pointing the arrow which he suggested resulted in such wild

shooting that the boys who picked up the arrows never dared to stick the points of their noses beyond their

boarded barricade during Miss Rosa's turns at the target. But she was not discouraged, and Pepton often

assured her that if she would keep up a good heart, and practise regularly, she would get the badge yet. As a

rule, Pepton was so honest and truthful that a little statement of this kind, especially under the circumstances,

"It's about archery," he said, "and I don't mind telling you, because I know you will not go about telling

"It's this," he answered. "When you draw your bow, bring the nock of your arrow"he was always very

particular about technical terms"well up to your ear. Having done that, don't bother any more about your

right hand. It has nothing to do with the correct pointing of your arrow, for it must be kept close to your right

ear, just as if it were screwed there. Then with your left hand bring around the bow so that your fistwith

the arrowhead, which is resting on top of itshall point, as nearly as you can make it, directly at the centre

of the target. Then let fly, and ten to one you'll make a hit. Now, what do you think of that for a discovery?

"I think," said I, "that you have discovered the way in which good archers shoot. You have stated the correct

He did so, and the consequence was that one day, when the champion happened to be away, Pepton won the

badge. When the result was announced, we were all surprised, but none so much so as Pepton himself. He

had been steadily improving since he had adopted a good style of shooting, but he had had no idea that he

When our president pinned the emblem of success upon the lapel of his coat, Pepton turned pale, and then he

flushed. He thanked the president, and was about to thank the ladies and gentlemen; but probably recollecting

that we had had nothing to do with it,unless, indeed, we had shot badly on his behalf,he refrained. He

said little, but I could see that he was very proud and very happy. There was but one drawback to his triumph:

Miss Rosa was not there. She was a very regular attendant, but for some reason she was absent on this

momentous afternoon. I did not say anything to him on the subject, but I knew he felt this absence deeply.

But this cloud could not wholly overshadow his happiness. He walked home alone, his face beaming, his eyes

That evening I called on him, for I thought that when he had cooled down a little he would like to talk over

the affair. But he was not in. Miss Maria said that he had gone out as soon as he had finished his dinner,

which he had hurried through in a way which would certainly injure his digestion if he kept up the practice;

and dinner was late, too, for they waited for him, and the archery meeting lasted a long time today; and it

really was not right for him to stay out after the dew began to fall with only ordinary shoes on, for what's the

good of knowing how to shoot a bow and arrow, if you're laid up in your bed with rheumatism or disease of

the lungs? Good old lady! She would have kept Pepton in a green baize bag, had such a thing been possible.

The next morning, full two hours before churchtime, Pepton called on me. His face was still beaming. I

"There's no reason why it should notat least, for a week," I said, "and even longer, if you repeat your

I did not feel so much like congratulating Pepton as I had on the previous evening. I thought he was making

"Look here!" said Pepton, seating himself, and drawing his chair close to me, "you are shooting wildvery

wild indeed. You don't even see the target. Let me tell you something. Last evening I went to see Miss Rosa.

She was delighted at my success. I had not expected this. I thought she would be pleased, but not to such a

"`Miss Rosa,' said I," continued Pepton, without regarding my interruption, "`it has been my fondest hope to

see you wear the badge.' `But I never could get it, you know,' she said. `You have got it,' I exclaimed. `Take

this. I won it for you. Make me happy by wearing it.' `I can't do that,' she said. `That is a gentleman's badge.'

"I can't tell you all that happened after that," continued Pepton. "You know, it wouldn't do. It is enough to say

"I don't owe a snap now for shooting an eagle," said Pepton, springing to his feet and striding up and down

the floor. "Let 'em all fly free for me. I have made the most glorious shot that man could make. I have hit the

goldhit it fair in the very centre! And what's more, I've knocked it clean out of the target! Nobody else can

ever make such a shot. The rest of you fellows will have to be content to hit the red, the blue, the black, or the

I called on the old ladies, some time after this, and found them alone. They were generally alone in the

evenings now. We talked about Pepton's engagement, and I found them resigned. They were sorry to lose

"We have always known," said Miss Martha, with a little sigh, "that we must die, and that he must get

married. But we don't intend to repine. These things will come to people." And her little sigh was followed by