"That man on the other side of the street looks like one of the belligerent doctors," said the Professor, as he and Toney stood on the pavement in front of the hotel.
"It is Doctor Bull, minus his spectacles, and with the addition of a very black eye," said Toney.
"His vision seems not to be very clear! There! he has stumbled over a dog, and is indignantly bestowing on the unlucky cur a couple of kicks," said the Professor.
"Bull is very near-sighted," said Toney. "He will get along badly without the aid of his spectacles."
"I wonder how he got out of jail?" said the Professor.
"Colonel Hazlewood bailed him out," said the landlord. "The colonel needs his services in attendance on his niece, Miss Carrington, who is still in a critical condition."
"Did the colonel also bail out the other physician?" asked the Professor.
"No, indeed!" said the landlord. "The colonel said he was afraid to let the other fellow out while the young lady was ill. The two doctors might get to fighting again, and their patient might die while they were settling their difficulties."
"I perceive that the colonel is an apt scholar in the school of experience," said the Professor. "It is not advisable to allow more than one doctor to run at large at a time in a small town like this."
"I am glad that Bull is out," said the landlord.
"Why so?" asked Toney.
"He has a patient in my house. The gentleman is quite sick. He is in the room next to the one occupied by you, Mr. Belton. I hope you have not been disturbed."
"Not at all," said Toney. "He has been very quiet. I was not aware that there was a sick person in the apartment. Come, Charley, let us walk to the post-office."
A letter was handed to Toney at the post-office, which he read, and then exclaimed,—
"Well, Charley, my holiday is over. I must go back to Mapleton by the next train."
"Indeed!" said the Professor. "What urgent business renders your presence necessary in Mapleton?"
"The great case of Simon Rumpvs.the Salt-Water Canal Company is to be argued next week. I am counsel for the company, and my distinguished friend M. T. Pate is Rump's attorney. It is a claim for damages. The company are about to construct a portion of their canal through Rump's real estate, and a jury are to assemble on the ground and assess the damages which should be paid to Simon Rump."
"Who is Simon Rump?"
"You have heard Tom Seddon and myself speak of Simon Dobbs?"
"The unfortunate individual who was baffled by the Mystic Order of Sweethearts in his efforts to obtain an angel and seven sweet little cherubs?"
"The same," said Toney. "Well, Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump."
"Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump? I don't comprehend."
"It is so. Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump, and in his domicile dwell an angel and seven sweet little cherubs."
"I am glad that the poor fellow has at last obtained the companionship of angelic beings after so much tribulation. But how did it happen that his name was changed? Had the angel changed her name, when she came to dwell with Dobbs, it would have been more in accordance with established usage."
"The angel would not consent to change her name. I might as well tell the story at once, for I see that your curiosity is aroused."
"Indeed it is," said the Professor. "I am as curious as a maiden lady who has accompanied this terrestrial orb in fifty annual revolutions around the center of the solar system. How did Dobbs become Rump?"
"After the poor fellow met with so serious a mishap, when he wanted to purchase a wife and a couple of children, he lived in melancholy seclusion during several years. He has a fine farm in the neighborhood of Mapleton. On the east side of his farm, and nearer to the town, is the estate of the Widow Wild, and on the west was the land of Farmer Rump who was also named Simon. Rump had fine possessions, and a buxom wife, and seven children, and was prosperous and contented. But he was taken sick, and a doctor being sent for, in about a week Simon Dobbs followed the hearse of his friend and neighbor Simon Rump to the cemetery. The widow wept and the seven children were in deep affliction. Dobbs had a soft heart, and went frequently to the house to console the widow and orphans. The widow was buxom and blooming and the children were chubby. An idea entered the head of Dobbs. Here were an angel and seven sweet little cherubs. Could he not persuade them to come and dwell in his domicile? In the solitude of his home he again hadvisions of future felicity. In due time he presented the question of annexation for the consideration of the widow. It was decided in the negative. She said that she had been the wife of Simon Rump, and when she planted a rose on the grave of that good man she had solemnly vowed that she would never be the wife of anybody but Simon Rump. Dobbs went home and had a fit of the blues. He thought of his first love and of his subsequent misfortunes. He thought of Susan and the Seven Sweethearts. He thought of the dreadful beating he had received when he wanted to buy a wife and a couple of children. He thought of the refusal of the Widow Rump, and he was in despair. His home would never be the abode of an angel and seven sweet little cherubs."
"Poor fellow!" said the Professor. "His was, indeed, a sad fate! Excuse me, Toney, if I apply my handkerchief. A tear will ooze from the corner of my eye."
"There is no need for your handkerchief. Dobbs's prospects now began to brighten. Fortune smiled on him at last."
"The cruel jade!" said the Professor. "She sometimes becomes ashamed of her barbarity and makes amends. I trust it was so in the case of poor Dobbs."
"It was," said Toney. "A few days after the rejection of his suit by the widow, a splendid opportunity, which presented itself, for an amazing display of his gallantry, enabled him to win her heart. On a bright morning in July there was an unusually large congregation assembled in groups in front of the village church, which stands in a grove of fine old trees, affording a delightful shade. While the people were thus awaiting the arrival of their pastor, the widow rode up, accompanied by her eldest son, a boy of twelve years of age. The lad dismounted and led the widow's steed to a big chestnut stump, then used as a horseblock. She attempted to dismount, but just at that moment the horse suddenly started to one side, and she was caught on the pommel, and there hung suspended, like Mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth. The gawky boy exclaimed, 'Great golly!' and stood holding the horse. The ladies shrieked and put down their veils, and the gentlemen, instead of going to the rescue, turned awayas if seized with a sudden panic. In this emergency the remarkable presence of mind of Simon Dobbs was wonderfully demonstrated. Hearing the cries of the distressed lady, he coolly put his hand in his pocket and drew forth a large knife, which he was accustomed to use in his orchard for pruning purposes; then turning his back and opening the blade, he advanced backward until his shoulders almost touched her as she hung in a state of awful suspense; when with a skillful movement of the knife he cut off the end of the dress which clung to the pommel, and the lady fell unharmed to the ground. A shout of applause rewarded this noble achievement; and from that day the heart of the buxom widow was the property of Simon Dobbs."
"So it should have been," said the Professor. "In books of chivalry and romance a valorous knight, who rescues a fair one in distress, is always rewarded by the possession of that important organ."
"The pastor did not come," said Toney. "The reverend gentleman was sick; but the congregation found an efficient substitute in M. T. Pate, who mounted the pulpit and read the usual prayers, and then selected the ninth chapter of Genesis. When in his loud and solemn tones Pate read the twenty-third verse, every eye in the congregation was directed first towards the widow and then towards Simon Dobbs. The widow went home and read the chapter over and was deeply impressed. She was convinced that Simon Dobbs was a good man, and could be compared to the favorite sons of the patriarch. She knew that he would make a devoted husband. When Dobbs called on the following day to inquire after her health, she blushed until her face was as ruddy as the morning, and Dobbs saw in her blushes the beams of an Aurora which was the harbinger of his happiness."
"Too poetical, Toney," said the Professor. "But proceed. What did Dobbs do?"
"He drew his chair close up to the widow; and this time as he approached her he did not turn his back."
"Well, what did he do?"
"He took hold of her hand."
"Well."
"He squeezed it."
"Good!"
"He advanced his mouth in close proximity to her lips."
"Excellent!"
"He kissed her."
"And then?"
"One of the little cherubs ran into the room, and bawling out, 'You stop biting my mamma!' struck Dobbs with a stick."
"Horrible!"
"Dobbs saw a servant-maid's grinning face at the door. He snatched up his hat and rushed from the house. The widow seized the little cherub, and laid him over her lap and spanked him."
"What became of Dobbs?"
"He returned next evening. The cherubs were all put to bed. He again presented the question of annexation for the consideration of the widow. This time it was debated on both sides. The widow told him that she had solemnly vowed never to be the wife of anybody but Simon Rump. She could not break her vow. Dobbs then proposed to change his name to Rump. This proposition was satisfactory. M. T. Pate filed a bill in chancery for Dobbs, and a decree was passed changing his name to Rump; and Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump; and an angel dwells with him, and seven sweet little cherubs run about his domicile with their bare feet."
"Cherubs are always barefooted," said the Professor. "They are painted so on canvas. It couldn't be otherwise."
"Why not?" said Toney.
"Because no shoemaker ever entered the kingdom of heaven."
"I cannot see why the disciples of St. Crispin should be excluded," said Toney.
"They never tell the truth, and liars—you know the text. Did you ever see the picture of an angel with a pair of shoes on his feet?"
"Never!"
"They have no shoemakers among them," said the Professor.
They had now reached the hotel, and, after Toney had directed Hannibal and Cæsar to come for his trunks, were approaching his room, when they heard a loud noise, and Tom Seddon's voice furiously shouting "Villain!" This was followed by the sound of some heavy body falling on the floor. Toney and the Professor rushed into the room. In the middle of the floor stood Tom Seddon with his clothes covered with blood. A crimson stream spouted from his person and sprinkled the floor. In a corner of the room lay Dr. Bull, having just been knocked down by a blow from Seddon's fist. On the bed was a basin turned upside down. With the ferocity of a tiger Tom was about to spring at Bull again when Toney caught him and held him back.
"Let me at him!" shouted Tom, savagely. "He has had my blood and I want his!"
"Are you not Jones?" groaned Bull, in the corner.
"Jones! who is Jones? You bloody old villain!" cried Tom.
"Good heavens!" said Bull, "I fear I have made a mistake! I have bled the wrong man!"
Toney roared with laughter, and the Professor fell on the bed and emitted violent explosions of mirth.
Bull, who had been deprived of his spectacles in his desperate encounter with Bear, was nearly blind, and going into the wrong room had approached the bed. Tom was snoring. Bull felt his pulse. "Symptoms of apoplexy!" exclaimed Bull. "A decided change for the worse! He must be immediately depleted or the attack may be fatal!" Bull got a basin, rolled up Tom's sleeve, took out a lancet and sprung it. The blood spirted, and Tom jumped up and knocked Bull down.
All this was explained after Tom's arm had been bound up by the Professor; Bull being too much disabled by the blow and his fall to render any assistance.
"The doctor has amply apologized," said Toney.
"By Jove! does such an outrage admit of an apology?" said Tom, looking at Bull with savage ferocity.
"My dear sir, it was a mistake! I thought it was Jones!" said the doctor, making for the door.
"Good-by, doctor!" said Toney. "You have let the bad blood out of him, and he will soon be in a better disposition."
Bull hastily departed with both eyes in a damaged condition.
"He has had my blood and I would like to have his," said Tom.
"Mr. Seddon, you should cultivate a more benign disposition," said the Professor. "Bull practiced phlebotomy on you with the best intentions."
"And now, Tom, I must leave you," said Toney, as Cæsar and Hannibal entered the room to carry his trunks to the railway.
"Are you going?" said Tom.
"Must go," said Toney. "I have to prepare for the great case of Simon Rump vs. The Salt-Water Canal Company. I leave Charley with you, who will attend to your wound, and when it has healed you and he come to Mapleton and hear the argument of my distinguished adversary M. T. Pate."
Both promised to do so; and shaking hands with his two friends, Toney went out and closed the door, but immediately opened it again and said,—
"Tom, when you take another siesta, remember to bolt the door and keep Bull out. Good-by!"
"Simon, my love," said Mrs. Rump, as she handed her affectionate spouse a cup of coffee at breakfast, "what lawyer have you got to speak to the jury in our great case against the Canal Company?"
"Why, my angel," said Simon, "I have got Mr. Pate, the great lawyer in Mapleton."
"Is Mr. Pate the bald-headed man who sometimes reads the prayers in church?" asked the angel.
"He is the man," said Simon.
"He must be a very good man," said the mother of the seven sweet little cherubs.
"He is," said the lord of the mansion; "and he is also a very learned man. He has more than a dozen books in his office as big as the Bible, and he reads in them every day."
"Oh, my!" said Simon's angel. "No wonder he is bald! Reads all those big books! What a heap he must know!"
"Indeed, he does," said Simon. "And he has promised to make a great speech against the Canal Company, and get us a power of damages."
"How much?" inquired the angel.
"Thirty thousand dollars—not a cent less."
"Gracious goodness! thirty thousand dollars! We will be as rich as the Widow Wild almost! Indeed, my love, you must buy a nice new carriage. I don't like to ride to church on horseback and see the Widow Wild coming in her carriage."
"And I want a hobby-horse," said one of the male cherubs.
"And I want a nice new doll," said a female cherub.
"Hush, you noisy brats!" said the angel. And she slapped the male cherub on the side of the face, and in the operation overturned her cup, and spilt the hot coffee on the female cherub's head. The two cherubs tried thestrength of their lungs; and Simon Rump arose from the table, and, putting on his hat, opened the door to go forth and talk with his lawyer about the big case.
The angel followed Simon to the porch and said,—
"Thirty thousand dollars! Oh, my! But how much are you to pay Mr. Pate?"
"One-tenth," said Simon.
"How much is that?" asked the mother of the cherubs.
"Three thousand dollars," said Simon.
"Three thousand dollars! Gracious! That is a heap of money to pay a lawyer for talking to a jury for an hour."
"But Mr. Pate has to read all those big books. It would take me ten years to read all those books; and then I would not understand what is in them," said Simon, scratching his head.
"Three thousand dollars! How much will we have left?"
"Twenty-seven thousand dollars," said Simon.
"Twenty-seven thousand dollars! That is a heap of money! I must have a brand-new carriage with eagles painted on its sides. I don't like to ride to church on horseback."
"Before we were married I used to like to see you coming to church on horseback," said Simon.
The mother of the cherubs bestowed a connubial kiss on Simon, who went from his gate merrily whistling, as any man might who had an angel and seven sweet little cherubs dwelling in his domicile, and expected soon to get twenty-seven thousand dollars from a wealthy corporation.
Toney Belton had been occupied since his return to Mapleton in preparation for the proper presentation of his case to the jury. His distinguished adversary had composed a great speech to be delivered on the occasion. Pate had determined to operate on the feelings and prejudices of the jury, and thus obtain a verdict for the thirty thousand dollars which he had confidently promised to his client Simon Rump.
On the morning of the day on which the jury were to assemble on the ground, Tom Seddon and the Professor arrived in the cars from Bella Vista. The jury wereconveyed to the ground in an omnibus in charge of the sheriff. M. T. Pate arrived on Old Whitey, and, dismounting, tied his steed to a tree, which the animal immediately commenced divesting of its bark.
The twelve peers deliberately walked over the ground, and having carefully examined that portion of it through which the canal was to be constructed, seated themselves on two benches, which had been prepared for their accommodation, under the shade of a spreading beech. Simon Rump's counsel was then informed that the jury were ready to hear his argument.
"Pate is going to make a great speech," said Tom Seddon, as Pate drew from his pocket a number of papers and laid them on a stump which he used as a table. "With that black coat and white cravat he looks very much like the picture of old John Bunyan in the Pilgrim's Progress."
"John Banyan was an eloquent man," said the Professor. "And from the very profound and extremely solemn look of the advocate now preparing to address the jury, I expect to listen to eloquence of the highest order. Be ready with your handkerchief, Mr. Seddon, for or some burst of pathos may find you wholly unprepared for the flood of tears which you will be compelled to shed over the wrongs of Simon Rump."
"Hush!" said Tom Seddon, "Pate is wiping the top of his big bald head with his handkerchief. He is about to begin."
"Mr. Seddon," said the Professor, "must I continually admonish you to speak reverently of bald heads? Remember the she-bears!"
"Hush!" said Tom,—"listen!"
M. T. Pate spoke as follows:
"Gentlemen of the jury,—No more important case than this ever came before a jury either of ancient or modern times. An outrage unparalleled in the whole history of Christian jurisprudence is about to be perpetrated upon my law-abiding, inoffensive, and patriotic client, Simon Rump. And by whom? By a powerful, an overgrown, a gigantic corporation! And, gentlemen, what is a corporation? It is defined by the great Judge Marshall tobe 'an artificial being, invisible, intangible, and existing only in contemplation of law.' In addition to this, I assert, that these corporations have neither souls to be saved nor bodies to be damned. Gentlemen, we read of no such thing in the Bible as a corporation. I have carefully searched the five books of Moses, from Genesis to Deuteronomy, and I cannot find that God's chosen patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, or Noah, ever chartered a single corporation. Neither do we find that such monopolies were ever tolerated by David or Solomon, or any of the kings or judges of Israel. And I challenge my learned brother on the other side to produce from the whole of the New Testament one single text in favor of corporations. Have I not, then, a right to assert that these soulless corporations are not sanctioned by the Christian religion, but are of heathen invention?
"Gentlemen, is it necessary for me to tell you who is the plaintiff in this cause? Is there an individual now within the sound of my voice who has not known and loved the name of Rump since the days of his boyhood? Simon now lives upon the very spot where he was born, and where the bones of his ancestors are buried. Few men can boast of so glorious a lineage. His forefathers fought against the Frenchmen, the Indians, and the British; and had Simon lived in those days, he would have fought as valiantly as they did; for he is a worthy descendant of illustrious sires.
"Gentlemen, if you have tears to shed, prepare to shed them now. A few weeks ago a worthy farmer of your county, upon a bright, warm summer's day, was seated by his own cheerful fire, with his venerable wife and innocent little ones playing around him. There he sat with his head proudly erect, for he knew that no mortal man could take from him one foot of that sacred soil without his own free consent. But what it was out of the power of mortal man to do he learned could be done by a soulless corporation. Imagine the feelings of Simon Rump then, and imagine the feelings of Simon Rump now. Imagine the feelings of Simon Rump's venerable wife then, and imagine the feelings of Simon Rump's venerable wife now. Imagine the feelings of SimonRump's innocent little ones then, and imagine the feelings of Simon Rump's innocent little ones now.
"But, gentlemen, Simon Rump is not the only man, nor is Mrs. Rump the only woman, nor are the innocent little Rumps the only children who will be made to suffer from the outrage of this heathen defendant. A whole community will be divided in twain. Permit this canal to be dug, and will not your county be virtually divided as if into two separate kingdoms? It is to be forty feet wide and six feet deep, and not one word is said about bridges over it. What will be the consequences? Will there not be a separation of friends and relatives; and what money can compensate for that?
"Gentlemen of the jury, in behalf of Simon Rump; in behalf of Simon Rump's venerable wife; in behalf of Simon Rump's innocent little ones; in behalf of Simon Rump's friends and Simon Rump's neighbors; and in behalf of an insulted and outraged community, I appeal to you by your love of right and your abhorrence of wrong, and by your devotion to your country, and your pride for your country, to inflict upon this soulless, tyrannical, and heathen defendant such a tremendous verdict as will ever hereafter operate as a shield to the weak and a warning to the proud."
"What do you think of that?" said Tom Seddon to the Professor when Pate had concluded.
"Mr. Seddon, you might live longer than an antediluvian and never hear such a speech again," said the Professor, with impressive solemnity.
"Toney will find it difficult to make a reply," said Tom.
"Toney looks serious," said the Professor. "He seems to be aware that he has to surmount huge difficulties, and is going to work with due deliberation."
"What a grave aspect he has assumed as he now rises before the jury!" said Tom. "One might suppose that, instead of answering Pate's speech, he was about to deliver a funeral oration over his dead body."
Toney Belton now spoke as follows:
"Gentlemen of the jury,—While listening with the most profound attention and admiration to the solemn and powerful appeal just made by my learned andeloquent brother; and while beholding, at the same time, the evident wonder thereby created among this large and respectable assemblage, I was reminded of what is written in the fourth chapter of the First Book of Kings,—'And there came of all people to hear the wisdom of Solomon.'
"Gentlemen, I shall not even attempt to reply to all the arguments advanced to you by my learned brother. I have too much respect for Simon Rump's venerable wife, and Simon Rump's innocent little ones, and for the bones of Simon Rump's buried ancestors, to say one word in disparagement of any of the aforesaid individuals.
"But there are other portions of my brother's argument which I must notice, for I fear that they were calculated to produce a powerful effect upon a jury of humane and benevolent men.
"The learned counsel tells us that this county is to be divided into two separate kingdoms, as distinct from each other as if an impassable gulf had suddenly opened between them. He informs us that such must be the inevitable result of the construction of this canal. As he alluded to the heart-rending scenes about to ensue from this separation, the description was so graphic that the picture became visible, not only to the imagination, but almost to the naked eye.
"Behold the canal already dug not less than forty feet wide and six feet deep! On either side are assembled groups of men, women, and children; for the locks are about to be opened and the waters to rush in. Tears are standing in their eyes, and their sighs and lamentations burden the air. On the east side of the canal is the fond father, and on the west his favorite son. On the east side of the canal is the anxious mother, and on the west her prettiest daughter. On the east side of the canal is the pensive maiden, and on the west her lover 'sighing like a furnace.' There they stand about to part forever! For the lock has been opened above, and the water is now rushing into the canal. The moment of separation is at hand, and they are about to part never to meet again beneath the skies!
"Instinctively each one of these disconsolates stretches forth the right hand to take a last embrace of a parent,child, brother, sister, mistress, or lover! But even this small consolation is denied; for, behold, the water is already forty feet wide, and nearly six feet deep! Then there are groans, and moans, and loud lamentations; and tears gush forth, falling like a summer's shower into the dividing waters. There is cast from each face one last, long, agonizing look; and those broken-hearted friends and relatives depart to their respective homes, to meet no more until they meet in heaven, and to smile no more on earth.
"But hark! what sudden, horrid shriek is that? It comes from the Rumps!
Oh, mercy dispelYon sight that it freezes my spirit to tell!
Oh, mercy dispelYon sight that it freezes my spirit to tell!
Oh, mercy dispel
Yon sight that it freezes my spirit to tell!
One of the little Rumps has been left on the other side of the canal!
"Gentlemen of the jury, my feelings so overcome me that I can proceed no further, and must therefore submit the rights of my heathen client solely to your Christian mercy."
The effect produced by Tony Belton's speech was extraordinary. Shouts of laughter burst from the spectators and the jury. Indeed, some of the latter were so overcome with merriment that they rolled from their benches upon the grass; the tears streaming from their eyes, and their whole frames apparently convulsed with laughter.
"Where is Mr. Pate?" cried Simon Rump, when the tumult had, in some degree, subsided. "Mr. Pate! Mr. Pate! Where is Mr. Pate?"
"Yonder he goes!" said a boy. "Great golly! ain't he riding!"
"Go fetch him back! Go fetch him back!" cried Rump.
"It would take Flying Childers to catch that old white horse!" said one of Rump's neighbors. "Your lawyer has gone, and you will now have to make a speech yourself."
"My lawyer has run away! I am ruined! I am ruined!" exclaimed Rump.
"Mount my horse, and ride after your attorney," saidthe sheriff, his sides shaking with laughter. "Make haste, Mr. Rump! The jury are waiting to hear his argument in reply to Mr. Belton."
Simon Rump shook his head in despair. Rendered frantic by the ridicule of his merciless adversary, his attorney had rushed wildly from the scene of his discomfiture, mounted his horse, and galloped away, and poor Rump was leftinops consilii.
"Mr. Rump," said the sheriff, "the jury have requested me to inform you that they are ready to hear anything which you have to say. You are entitled to the closing argument."
"I can't make a speech," said Rump; "and my lawyer has run away."
"Then the case is submitted for the decision of the jury without further argument," said the sheriff.
Rump mournfully nodded his head in acquiescence. Whereupon the twelve peers arose from their seats, and walked aside in consultation. They soon returned, and rendered a verdict for the defendant. Rump had to pay the costs, which amounted to one hundred dollars. He pulled out his pocket-book, and handed ninety dollars to the sheriff.
"Ten dollars more," said the sheriff.
"Mr. Pate will pay the other ten dollars," said Simon.
"How so?" asked the sheriff.
"He was to get one-tenth of the money recovered," said Rump.
"Well?"
"As we have lost the case, he should pay one-tenth of the costs."
"That is strictly in accordance with the principles of law applicable to copartnerships,—is it not, Mr. Seddon?" said the Professor.
"Certainly," said Tom; "profits and losses must be in proportion to the interest which each partner has in the firm."
The sheriff thought otherwise, and Rump reluctantly paid the whole amount; saying that he would sue M. T. Pate for the ten dollars paid on his account. A few days afterwards he actually brought suit before JusticeJohnson, who rendered a judgment against M. T. Pate for ten dollars and costs.
Simon Rump went home a melancholy man. As he entered his door he was met by the mother of the cherubs, who threw her arms around his neck and embraced him with connubial fondness.
"Oh, Simon, my love, I am so glad you have come back! There is a brand-new carriage in Mapleton now offered for sale. It will just suit us. Have they paid all the money? How much have you got?"
Simon Rump was silent.
"How much money have you brought home with you?" asked Simon's angel.
"Not one cent," said Simon, sadly. "I went away this morning with one hundred dollars in my pocket-book, and now it is empty. I had to pay some money for Mr. Pate."
"But Mr. Pate will pay it back to you out of the three thousand dollars," said the angel.
"No he won't," said Simon.
"Yes he will," said the angel. "Mr. Pate is a good man. He reads the prayers in church."
"I'll sue him," said Simon.
"What?"
"I'll sue M. T. Pate for ten dollars," said Simon, savagely.
"Sue your own lawyer?" exclaimed the mother of the cherubs. "Your own lawyer, who has made a great speech, and gained our case?"
"He didn't gain our case,—he lost it."
"Lost our case?" screamed the angel. "Simon Rump, you don't mean to say that Pate lost our case?"
"That's just what happened," said Simon Rump.
"Did he make a speech?"
"He made a speech, and then he ran away."
"What made him run away?"
"He got scared," said Simon.
"What did he say in his speech?"
"He talked to the jury about you, and me, and the children."
"What did Pate say about me?"
"He called you venerable."
"What?"
"He called you Simon Rump's venerable wife."
"Me? Me?"
"Yes, you," said Simon. "He called you venerable several times."
"Several times?"
"Yes, four or five times."
"Said so to the jury?"
"Yes."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"Simon Rump, you are a brute!" said the angel.
"But, my duck," said Simon, "I could not——"
"Don't call me your duck! Duck, indeed! Simon Rump, you are a brute! You have no feeling. What! stand there and hear that bald-headed booby call me venerable! Well, I'll give Mr. Pate a piece of my mind. Venerable! venerable!" And the mother of the cherubs rushed from the room in a state of unangelic excitement, while Simon Rump seated himself in his big arm-chair and looked doleful and desolate.
On the following morning as M. T. Pate sat on his porch, brooding over the humiliation of his defeat, a sable son of Africa rode up and handed him a letter. He opened it and read as follows:
"Mr. M. T.Pate,—Simon has told me that in your speech to the jury you several times called me venerable. No wonder you lost our case! for after such a whopper about me it was not likely that a single man on the jury would believe one word you might say. How dare you call a decent woman like me venerable? I am not so venerable as you yourself, with your big head almost bare of hair outside and altogether bare of brains inside."You ran away because you were afraid to look twelve honest men in the face after what you had said about me. You may have better luck when you have learned to tell the truth. No more at present."Abigail Rump."
"Mr. M. T.Pate,—Simon has told me that in your speech to the jury you several times called me venerable. No wonder you lost our case! for after such a whopper about me it was not likely that a single man on the jury would believe one word you might say. How dare you call a decent woman like me venerable? I am not so venerable as you yourself, with your big head almost bare of hair outside and altogether bare of brains inside.
"You ran away because you were afraid to look twelve honest men in the face after what you had said about me. You may have better luck when you have learned to tell the truth. No more at present.
"Abigail Rump."
This letter, though mortifying at the time, wasafterwards of essential service to M. T. Pate. He perceived that adjectives suggestive of personal qualities were often, like edged tools, to be used with extreme caution, especially in their application to the female sex; and that the equanimity even of the mother of seven sweet little cherubs might be seriously disturbed by an indiscreet use of the word venerable.
"Mr. Pate made an astonishing speech," said the Professor to Toney and Tom, the day after the trial; "such a speech as has been seldom listened to by any audience,—a speech that was unanswerable by argument."
"And Toney knew it," said Tom, "and did not attempt to answer it by argument."
"Toney," said the Professor, "was like a wild Indian, dodging around and aiming his arrows at Pate, who had come on the ground with a heavy piece of artillery."
"Why do you compare me to a savage?" said Toney.
"Because you use merciless weapons," said the Professor. "Civilized men do not employ the scalping-knife and tomahawk."
"Nor did I," said Toney.
"Figuratively and metaphorically speaking, you did," said the Professor. "You brought into the field of forensic controversy a most barbarous and cruel weapon."
"What was that?" asked Toney.
"Ridicule," said the Professor. "It may be termed the oratorical scalping-knife. Why, sir, Demosthenes, with all his thunder, would have been powerless against it. Now, M. T. Pate, though not equal to the great Athenian, is an eloquent man. He drew tears from Mr. Seddon, who wept profusely over the wrongs of Simon Rump, and his venerable wife, and innocent little ones. But of what avail is the most touching pathos and sublime eloquence when met by ridicule? Do you notrecollect what the poet and philosopher Pope says on this subject?"
"I do not," said Toney.
"Let an ambassador," says he, "speak the best sense in the world and deport himself in the most graceful manner before a prince, yet if the tail of his shirt happen (as I have known it to happen to a very wise man) to hang out behind, more people will laugh at that than attend to the other."
"That is as true as a text from Holy Writ," said Tom Seddon.
"It is a truth, Mr. Seddon, by no means creditable to the good sense of mankind, as we have seen in the case of the learned, eloquent, but unlucky M. T. Pate," said the Professor. "Pate's unfortunate allusion to the prospective division of families, resulting from the construction of the canal, afforded an opportunity for ridicule, and the great beauty and eloquence of his speech were lost sight of the very moment the audience beheld Tony Belton's finger pointing to the visible protrusion of his nether garment."
"Pate rode away at a terrific speed," said Seddon. "I have not heard of him since. If he has unfortunately broken his neck, Toney Belton will be answerable for the awful catastrophe."
"No responsibility can possibly attach to me," said Toney. "You are entirely mistaken in reference to the cause of his abrupt departure. Mr. Pate had promised to make a speech in behalf of Simon Rump. He did make a speech, and then, looking at his watch, he hurried away; for he had more important business on hand than any which lawyers have to transact. He was to preside at a committee. The hour for its meeting had nearly arrived, and hence he was compelled to make a liberal use of whip and spur."
"A committee!" exclaimed Tom.
"What committee?" asked the Professor.
"A committee composed of several of the most distinguished members of the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts," said Toney.
"What is its object?" asked the Professor.
"A tournament," said Toney.
"A what?" exclaimed Seddon.
"A tournament," said Toney. "To M. T. Pate belongs the distinguished honor of being the originator of a tournament in this age and country."
"How did such an extraordinary idea ever enter his head?" said Seddon.
"Great men," said Toney, "are often led to important discoveries by certain phenomena, which, to ordinary minds, are devoid of significance. Suppose you, Tom Seddon, had been sitting under an apple-tree, instead of Newton, and an apple had fallen and hit you on the head; what would you have done?"
"Scratched my cocoanut," said Tom.
"In the situation supposed," said the Professor, "it is highly probable that Mr. Seddon would first have vigorously titillated the top of his head, and then picked up the pippin and devoured it."
"It was not so with the great Newton," said Toney. "The sudden shock which his cranium received awakened an idea, and that idea expanded into a magnificent system of philosophy. And so it was with M. T. Pate."
"Did Pate sit under an apple-tree?" asked Tom.
"No," said Toney; "it was a cherry-tree. He was seated on the greensward under its shade, when his attention was attracted to the curious pranks of a couple of urchins. They had paper caps on their heads with the tail-feathers of a rooster stuck in their crowns. Pate heard one of the little fellows say, 'I'll be Bonaparte,' and his companion immediately rejoined that he was Wellington. The illustrious Napoleon was armed with a bean-pole, and the Iron Duke held in his hand the fragment of a fishing-rod. After marching and countermarching, and performing many difficult evolutions, the martial enthusiasm of Napoleon finally rose to such a pitch that he could no longer restrain himself. As impetuously as when he was leading his valiant legions over the bridge of Lodi, he charged upon Wellington, and, before the latter could parry the thrust, inserted the end of the bean-pole in his mouth, to the no small damage of his ivory. The hero of Waterloo having his mouth thusunexpectedly opened, gave utterance to a cry which was, by no means, so warlike as might have been anticipated. It had the effect to bring a certain belligerent dame to the door, who had thus got an intimation that hostilities had actually commenced between Bonaparte and Wellington. She sallied forth, and seizing upon the illustrious Napoleon, she laid him over her lap, and gave him what, in the technical phraseology of the nursery, is termed a good spanking. Poor Bonaparte bellowed lustily under the operation, and as soon as he had escaped from the hands of his ruthless captor, went and sat on the sill of the door and sobbed sorrowfully over his disgrace. All his martial enthusiasm had been suddenly quenched. 'No sound could awake him to glory again,' and for the space of one whole hour he indignantly refused to eat even gingerbread."
"I can sympathize with poor Bonaparte," said the Professor, "for I was once the unhappy victim of a similar misfortune in days gone by, when I was not much taller than a gooseberry-bush. I had been diligently perusing that good old book, the Pilgrim's Progress, and under the delusion that I was the valiant Great-heart, I assaulted an urchin who was supposed to be Giant Despair. I overcame the giant, and was imprisoned in the pantry, and afterwards tried, and convicted, and sentenced to undergo the cruel ordeal of a tough twig for a forcible entry into sundry jars of jelly. But what impression did the fall of Napoleon make upon the mind of M. T. Pate?"
"While meditating upon this event, an idea entered his head, which ultimately led to an important discovery. His wonderful sagacity enabled him to perceive that if a little boy could be Bonaparte, a little man might impersonate any hero of whom history makes mention."
"Even Jack the Giant-killer," suggested Tom Seddon.
"If," said Toney, "the unlucky urchin, who had been spanked by his indignant mamma, could arm himself with a bean-pole, and assault Lord Wellington with such vigor and impetuosity, could not a number of delicate and dainty youths be mounted on diminutive horses, and represent Richard the Lion-hearted, or Ivanhoe, or anyof the mail-covered barons whose valorous deeds are immortalized in the pages of Froissart or of Walter Scott?"
"Is it meant that the Dainty Adorer or the Winsome Wooer could do this?" asked Tom Seddon.
"So thought M. T. Pate," said Toney.
"What would be the effect of a moderate blow from the ponderous fist of one of the aforesaid barons on the head of little Love?" inquired Tom.
"Immediate work for the undertaker," answered the Professor.
"Or suppose," said Tom, "that Dove was spanked by Richard, as was the little boy by his mother?"
"He would be crushed like a pepper-corn pounded by a pestle in a mortar," remarked the Professor.
"And," said Seddon, "the immense load of iron and steel carried by one of the knights at the tournament of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, where three combatants were killed, one smothered in his armor, and thirty wounded, if put upon Bliss——"
"Would cause the dainty creature to think of Pelion piled upon Ossa," observed the Professor.
"But," said Toney, "Pate was well acquainted with the wonder-working powers of the imagination, and knew that with the aid of this faculty he could easily induce young maidens, who were diligent students of romance, to believe that the Noble Nonentity, the Dainty Adorer, and the Winsome Wooer, mounted on ponies, and flourishing long poles, were valorous knights, armed for the performance of doughty deeds; just as the unsophisticated birds are made to imagine that the effigies placed by a farmer around his cornfield are the dangerous and destructive bipeds in whose images they have been cunningly fashioned."
"You now perceive, Mr. Seddon," said the Professor, "in what various aspects the same subject will be contemplated by different minds. Mr. Pate is a man of an original and sublime genius, and entertains ideas which would never enter into either your head or mine."
"But," said Tom, "what did he do with his grand idea?"
"Having thoroughly elaborated it," said Toney, "hecalled a meeting of the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts and made known his important discovery. The announcement was received with acclamations of applause, and the projected tournament pronounced worthy of the illustrious founder of their noble order. A committee was appointed, composed of the Prince of Pretty Fellows, the Noble Nonentity, the Dainty Adorer, and the Winsome Wooer, with the Noble Grand Gander himself as chairman; and upon this dignified body was devolved the onerous duty of developing all the details of the intended tourney. Numerous meetings were held by the committee, and many discussions ensued. Books of chivalry and romance were referred to, and the Chronicles of Froissart diligently perused. But by far the highest authority on the subject was the novel of Ivanhoe, in which the most graphic and intelligible account of a tournament was to be found. But when Pate read to the committee Walter Scott's description of the passage of arms at Ashby——"
"I remember it well!" exclaimed Tom Seddon, enthusiastically. "How the knights met in the encounter,—how the lances were shivered, the powerful steeds thrown back on their haunches, and many combatants hurled from their saddles by the terrible shock,—how Richard assailed the gigantic Front de B[oe]uf, and struck down horse and rider at a single blow, and then, wresting the battle-axe from the hands of the bulky Athelstane, dashed him senseless to the ground! It is sublime! it is magnificent!"
"What effect did the reading of this description by Walter Scott, which has so aroused the enthusiasm of Mr. Seddon, produce on the committee?" asked the Professor.
"Every member of the committee turned pale," said Toney. "Bliss trembled and was silent; while Love loudly exclaimed that he would not take part in any such performance, and Dove said that indeed it was too dangerous."
"But the ultimate result?" said the Professor.
"The panic produced by the reading of this passage from Ivanhoe was so great," said Toney, "that it nearlycaused an abandonment of their intention to hold a tournament. The committee adjourned to meet on the following day for further deliberation. M. T. Pate went home and passed a sleepless night in profound meditation."
"One might suppose," said the Professor, "that the activity of his mind would have enabled him to surmount the difficulty which had presented itself. Could he not recollect that in the encounter between Napoleon and Wellington, neither of them had used artillery or any of the deadly weapons employed in modern warfare? If these illustrious heroes could dispense with fire-arms, why could not Richard and Ivanhoe get along very well without their heavy defensive armor and ponderous swords and battle-axes?"
"That was precisely the conclusion arrived at by M. T. Pate in his nocturnal meditations," said Toney. "He perceived that the whole danger of a tournament might be avoided by mounting his knights on small horses, with chicken-feathers in their caps, and long poles in their hands; when, instead of charging at each other, they could, in succession, charge at a mark in the shape of a ring; and he who was the most expert in thrusting his pole through the ring, could be proclaimed the victorious champion, entitled to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty."
"It is to be hoped," said the Professor, "that this grand idea entered the mind of M. T. Pate cautiously and on tiptoe. If it rushed in unannounced, like a daring intruder, there was danger of its upsetting all the furniture, and disturbing him as much as was Archimedes when he leaped out of the bath exclaiming, 'Eureka! eureka!'"
"Pate jumped out of bed," said Toney, "and danced over the floor, exclaiming, 'I have got it! I have got it!' His old housekeeper, who had been fast asleep in an adjoining apartment, was aroused by these loud cries, and thinking that there were robbers in the house, ran to the window and commenced shrieking, 'Help! help! help! murder! murder! murder!' with the whole strength of her lungs."
"Now, here was a fuss in the family," said Seddon. "What did Pate do to quell this disturbance?"
"He called to her in loud and angry tones, and ordered her to cease her frightful outcries. But the more loudly he called, the more loudly the old woman bawled, and finally four or five neighbors came running to the house armed with axes and pitchforks. These men, hearing the cries of murder from the old woman, and Pate's angry voice in denunciation, under the impression that the latter had gone crazy and was about to commit a homicide, broke down the door, and, rushing in, seized him and threw him upon the floor, and bound him fast with the bedcords. The housekeeper, when she heard the men rushing into the house, was convinced that robbers had possession; and, in the utmost terror, the poor creature fled down a back stairway and out the door, and ran across a field until she entered a forest, where she fell down in a state of insensibility."
"But what did the men do with their prisoner?" said Seddon.
"Pate being bound with cords now conducted himself like a furious maniac. He raved, and swore, and kicked, and foamed at the mouth, and endeavored to bite his captors with his teeth. But he was held down on the floor by two stalwart farmers, while the others consulted together; and the unanimous opinion was that so dangerous and murderous a lunatic should be immediately confined in a hospital. A horse was harnessed to a cart, and they put Pate, securely bound with cords, in the bottom of the vehicle, and while one drove, the others walked alongside, with their axes and pitchforks on their shoulders, and thus conveyed him to a lunatic asylum situated a few miles from Mapleton."
"It is under the superintendence of Dr. Mowbray," said Seddon. "I know him well."
"Dr. Mowbray was awakened by the farmers loudly calling at the door. 'What do you want?' said he, putting his head out the window.
"'We've got a crazy man here,' said Farmer Brown, 'and want to get him off our hands. Come down, doctor, and take him in.'
"The doctor dressed himself and came down. 'Here he is,' said Farmer Jones. 'He is as mad as the moon can make a man!'
"'I am not mad! I am not mad!' exclaimed Pate, in the bottom of the cart.
"'He is talking poetry,' said Brown. 'I heard my little boy speak that at school.'
"'My men,' said the doctor, 'whom have you got here? Why, it is Mr. Pate! When did he go mad?'
"'I am not mad! I am not mad!' piteously exclaimed poor Pate.
"'Don't you hear that, doctor?' said Jones. 'He is as crazy as an old cow with a wolf in her back!'
"'Who sent him here?' asked the doctor.
"The farmers now told their story.
"'My men,' said the doctor, 'I fear that you have acted without sufficient authority. Let me talk to Mr. Pate.'
"After a conversation with the unhappy captive, the doctor told his captors that they had better go home and attend to their own business; that Pate was not crazy, and might have every one of them prosecuted for a burglarious entry into his house in the night-time. When the farmers heard this they fled with precipitation, leaving their captive in the hands of the doctor, who unbound him and treated him kindly, and, after breakfast, loaned him a horse, on which he rode back to his home."
"What did Pate do after he was declared sane by the doctor and released from captivity?" asked the Professor.
"He proceeded with his preparations for the tournament," said Toney. "His views in relation to tilting at a ring were unanimously approved by the committee; though the Noble Nonentity suggested, that as the weather would be very sultry, each knight should be allowed to carry an umbrella to protect himself from the heat of the sun. This prudent suggestion, intended to guard against the danger ofcoup de soleil, is still under consideration, and is a matter yet to be decided by the committee, to meet which was the cause of Pate's hurried departure on yesterday."
"When does the tournament come off?" asked Tom Seddon.
"Next Monday," said Toney. "Tom, you must be here on that day."
"I most certainly will," said Tom.
"And I, too," said the Professor.
"Are you going back with Tom?" asked Toney.
"I intend to return to Bella Vista for the purpose of protecting Mr. Seddon from Dr. Bull, if that eminent physician should undertake to make any more experiments in phlebotomy," said the Professor. "But I will be here on the day of the tourney. Good-by, Toney."
"Good-by, Charley; good-by, Tom," said Toney, shaking hands with his two friends, who proceeded to the cars, and took passage for Bella Vista.
Intense excitement prevailed in the community when the day for the tournament arrived. The governor of the State was expected to be present with his military staff, the adjutant-general, and other distinguished personages. It was anticipated that the array of beauty would be immense; and, for a week anterior to the eventful day, each fair maiden had held frequent consultations with her mirror, in order to ascertain whether there was a probability that she might have the high honor of being crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by some valorous and victorious knight.
Tom Seddon and the Professor had arrived on the preceding evening from Bella Vista. Tom was now supremely happy, for Ida Somers had temporarily escaped from the supervision of her cynical uncle, and was the guest of the Widow Wild. The Professor told Toney that when Tom heard that Ida had gone to Mapleton to attend the tournament, he could hardly content himself to wait for the next train, but wanted to be off like a pyrite of iron after the magnet; and that, when on the cars, he was continually complaining of the sluggishness of the iron horse, which failed to go faster than twenty miles in an hour.
Tom escorted the beautiful Ida to the ground, who bestowed on her escort many a smile, and furtively glanced at his face, radiant with happiness, and came to the conclusion that Tom was a very handsome fellow; but would not for the world have permitted anybody to know that such was her decided opinion.
Toney walked behind Ida and Tom, with Rosabel by his side, while the Professor had the Widow Wild under his protection. They were soon comfortably seated, and cast their eyes around to survey the scene before them.
"Who are those military gentlemen standing in a line in front of their horses?" said Rosabel to Toney.
"Those are the knights," said Toney. "The big man on the right is Richard."
"Who is Richard?" asked Rosabel.
"Richard the Lion-hearted," said Toney.
"Why, he looks like Mr. Pate," said Ida.
"Richard and Pate are one and the same person to-day," said Toney. "M. T. Pate is now Richard Plantagenet, Miss Somers; and if he should prove victorious in the lists he may crown you Queen of Love and Beauty."
Tom Seddon was silent, but he gazed at Richard with a look of savage ferocity, which reminded the Professor of the expression of his countenance just after he had been bled by Doctor Bull.
"The knight standing next to Mr. Pate, who is he?" asked Rosabel.
"Ivanhoe," said Toney.
"It is Mr. Wiggins," said Ida.
"Formerly Mr. Wiggins, now the son of Cedric,—the disinherited knight, the valiant Ivanhoe."
"And the little man whose head hardly reaches to his horse's mane? How in the world will he ever mount?" said Rosabel.
"Oh, never fear. His esquire will help him on his horse. He is a Knight Templar," said Toney.
"What is his name?" said Rosabel.
"Brian de Bois Guilbert," said Toney.
"It is Little Love," said Tom Seddon.
"And the one next to him is Dove," said the widow.
"Formerly Dove, but now Athelstane the Saxon,"said Toney. "He is a knight of great prowess, and has royal blood in his veins."
"And the other little man standing in front of the black horse, who is he?" asked Rosabel.
"Why, that is Bliss," said the widow.
"No longer Bliss," said Toney, "but the accomplished and gallant Maurice de Bracy."
"And Ned Botts and Sam Perch," said the widow, "who have they become?"
"Those two gentlemen," said Toney, "have selected their designations from localities to which they are strongly attached and desire to honor by their valorous deeds of knighthood. Mr. Botts, who formerly resided in a village where each householder was required by an immemorial custom to keep at least six of the canine species, whose barking and howling at night were supposed to be good for persons afflicted with typhoid fever, calls himself the Knight of Cunopolis."
"Cunopolis!" said Ida. "Oh, what a pretty name!"
"It is composed of two Greek words," said the Professor.
"What is the signification?" asked Rosabel.
"Dog Town," said the Professor.
"Dog Town! Oh, horrid!" said Ida.
"Mr. Botts is the Knight of Cunopolis, or Dog Town," said Toney.
"And Perch?" asked the widow.
"The father of that young man," said Toney, "had heard that N. P. Willis, while residing in Wyoming Valley, had named his place Glenmary in compliment to his wife, and in honor of his own wife has named his place Glenbetsy. So Perch is the valorous Knight of Glenbetsy."
"Glenmary is a very beautiful name," said Ida.
"And so is Glenbetsy," said the Professor.
"Tastes may differ," said Toney.
"Mr. Belton," said the widow, "what is Barney Bates doing there—holding that horse?"
"He is esquire to Richard Plantagenet," said Toney. "Each one of those boys is esquire to a gallant knight, and holds his horse until the champion is ready to mount."
"Barney is a bad boy," said the widow.
"Indeed, he is a bad boy!" said Rosabel.
"The only harm I ever knew Barney to do," said Toney, "was to turn a tavern-keeper's sign upside down, and when Boniface came out in the morning, he beheld an Irishman standing on his head before the door trying to read the letters which were inverted."
"He tied bells to my horse's tail," said the widow.
"He did worse than that," said Rosabel.
"What was it?" said Toney.
"Why," said Rosabel, "some pious people were engaged in holding a prayer-meeting, and he tied a bundle of firecrackers behind an unlucky cur and applied a torch."
"Oh, I recollect!" said Toney, laughing. "The demented dog ran into the midst of the meeting, carrying terror and confusion wherever he went. The worthy minister said that he saw the hand of Satan in this trick; and ever since that time Barney has been supposed, by good people, to act by the instigation of that great designer of mischief."
"That boy will play some trick on those knights," said the widow.
"Why, mother," said Rosabel, "how can he? They have him right before their eyes."
"Never mind," said the widow. "Mark what I say. Barney will play some trick on the knights."
"Look yonder!" exclaimed Tom Seddon.
"Oh, splendid!" cried Ida.
"Who is he?" asked Rosabel.
"The governor of the State," said Toney.
"What a noble horse he is riding!" said Rosabel.
"And what a beautiful uniform he has on!" said Ida.
"Who is the fat man riding on his right?" asked Rosabel.
"The adjutant-general," said Toney.
"And these other gentlemen?" asked Ida.
"His military staff," said Toney.
The governor and his staff, in gorgeous uniforms and magnificently mounted, rode over the ground, and halting in front of the knights, who were standing in a line, each by the side of his steed, his Excellency addressedthem in a brief but eloquent and impressive speech. He told them that this was a great occasion, and that the eyes of fair women and brave men were fixed upon them; and urged them to comport themselves as chivalrous and valiant knights. His Excellency, amidst loud applause, then retired to the extremity of the lists, where he gracefully sat on his horse, a few paces in advance of his staff, with the adjutant-general on his right.
The valiant champions now proceeded to mount. It devolved on Richard to make the first tilt at the ring. The Marshal blew a trumpet, and exclaimed, in a loud voice, "Preux chevaliers! faites vous devoirs!" Richard leveled his pole and was about to make an impetuous charge at the ring, when Old Whitey began to kick up behind, and becoming unmanageable, ran off in the direction of the governor and his staff. Richard still held his pole horizontally, and had not his Excellency skillfully handled his horse, he would have been hurled from his saddle. As it was, the unfortunate adjutant-general received the shock. The end of the pole struck him fair on the breast, and down he went in the dust; for who could withstand the terrible charge of Richard the Lion-hearted?
Having unhorsed the adjutant-general, on went the indomitable Richard, scattering the crowds, until he suddenly left the lists, and was seen dashing down the road, with his pole still poised, and his horse kicking up his heels and casting clouds of dust behind him.
Just then Ida uttered a shriek as Love was thrown over the head of his horse and fell at her feet.
"Pick Love up!" exclaimed the widow.
"Oh—oh—oh, mercy!" screamed Rosabel, as Bliss came charging towards her; and his horse, rearing and kicking, hurled the rider over his head and almost deposited Bliss in the young lady's lap.
"Look out for Dove, ladies!" exclaimed Toney, as Dove took flight from the back of his horse and fell at the feet of the fair candidates for the crown.
"Gracious heavens! look yonder!" cried the widow.
All eyes were turned in the direction indicated.
The other knights, emulating the example of theirillustrious leader, were charging the governor's staff. The Knight of Cunopolis headed the onset; and after dismounting two captains and one colonel, the three valorous knights, with an amazing clatter of hoofs, went off after Richard the Lion-hearted.
His Excellency was astounded at this novel manner of conducting a tournament; but, being admirably mounted and fond of excitement, he galloped off with a portion of his staff in pursuit of the fugitive knights. About a mile on the road his horse leaped over Ivanhoe, who had sought repose on the bosom of his mother earth. Farther on the valorous Knight of Glenbetsy was seen floundering among the frogs in a pond of water. They now came in sight of the Knight of Cunopolis, who was going along at a furious speed, still carrying his pole in his hand, when down went his horse in a gully. Leaving one of his staff to assist the fallen hero, on went his Excellency in pursuit of Richard the Lion-hearted. Reaching the top of an eminence, he beheld Richard on his white charger riding along at a terrific speed. His Excellency, who was a famous fox-hunter, now stood in his stirrups and shouted, "Tallyho! tallyho!" and then applied whip and spur with redoubled vigor.
They soon crossed a stream which formed the boundary of two counties.
Richard was now hidden from their view by an angle in the road; and when their panting and foam-covered horses had galloped another mile, they beheld him lying on the ground by the side of his gallant charger. Old Whitey had fallen, thoroughly exhausted; and Richard, dismounted at last, now lay in the road, gasping for breath, but still grasping his long pole.
When he had been restored to consciousness, his Excellency complimented him on his admirable horsemanship, and said that the chase had afforded him fully as much enjoyment as he had ever found in the most exciting fox-hunt.
In the afternoon of the same day, as Rosabel and Ida were seated on the porch of the Widow Wild's mansion, in company with Toney and Tom, they beheld, on the road leading to Mapleton, a procession of people onhorseback following a carriage, in which were seated a Caucasian and an African.
"What is that?" said Rosabel. "It looks like a funeral."
"Nothing like a funeral," said Toney, who had applied an opera-glass to his eye.
"What can it be?" asked Rosabel.
"A triumphal procession in honor of Richard Plantagenet," said Toney. "The governor and his staff are conducting him back to the town. Richard's chariot is driven by an Ethiopian, and another African is leading his white charger, which seems much exhausted."