Circumstantial evidence seemed to corroborate the extraordinary statement of Mrs. Tongue, recorded in the preceding chapter. It was now recollected that no other horse and rider had been observed to come from the direction of the Widow Wild's mansion during the day on which it was known that the lawyer had gone thither to see that eccentric lady in reference to Clement's claim. For about a week subsequent M. T. Pate was said to be confined to his house by sickness; and when his friends called to inquire after his health, they were told by his housekeeper that he declined to receive any visitors. When he again appeared in public it was noticed that he traveled as a pedestrian; and several youths, curious to know what had become of old Whitey, having clandestinely visited the stable which he had always occupied, upon peeping through a crevice in the door were astonished at beholding in a stall a horse which was as hairless as a Chinese dog of the edible species. They promulgated the opinion that old Whitey had been subjected to a tonsorial operation, and that his hair had been closely shaven off by a razor or some other sharp instrument. Another link in the chain of circumstances was the fact that M. T. Pate now wore a wig; and calling at the house of Mrs. Hobbs on a certain afternoon, a little daughter of that lady ran into the room and was taken by the lawyer on his lap. The innocent child playfully caught hold of Pate's locks, and screamed with horror at beholding the top of his head coming off. The child was carried out, vociferously shrieking, and from that day would never venture in the room when the lawyer visited the house. Although Pate quickly replaced his wig, the observant Mrs. Hobbs had discovered the entire nudity of his noddle; and, with all convenient speed, repairing to the house of Mrs. Foot, gave a detailed account of the catastrophe which had so frightened her little daughter;emphatically asserting that all the hair which once grew on the sides of Mr. Pate's head had mysteriously disappeared, and that his head, deprived of the wig, was as smooth and depilous as a pumpkin.
Notwithstanding the strange rumors in relation to his ride on the Woolly Horse, the manners of Mr. Pate in the presence of the gentler sex were so bland and fascinating that he soon recovered his popularity in the social circle. The wig, which he now wore, had greatly improved his personal appearance, and transformed him into quite a handsome man. In a few weeks the excitement produced by the startling apparition of the bare-headed rider on the Woolly Horse had subsided, and other subjects occupied the public mind. Old Whitey was still invisible, but Pate moved about on foot, and was frequently seen escorting the young ladies of the town, on their promenades, and to social parties and places of amusement.
On a bright Sabbath morning Toney walked with the Professor to the fine old church, which had been built in colonial times, on the suburbs of the town. The pastor failed to appear; but M. T. Pate ascended the pulpit and read the usual prayers, together with several chapters from the Bible, and gave out the first and fourth verses of Part 13 of the ninety-seventh selection of Psalms. When Pate joined in the exercises with his loud bass voice, the singing was very interesting and impressive; especially when they came to the last two lines.
After the services were concluded, he came down into the aisle, and gradually made his way to the door, surrounded by the female portion of the congregation. He seemed to be endeavoring to talk to more than a dozen ladies at the same time, and each of them appeared anxious to get nearest to his honored person. His manner in the pulpit had been most solemn and impressive; but now he had put off his clerical gravity, and was exceedingly merry and gallant; while his little pleasantries were delivered
"In such apt and gracious wordsThat aged ears play truant at his tales,And younger hearings are quite ravished;So sweet and voluble is his discourse."
"In such apt and gracious wordsThat aged ears play truant at his tales,And younger hearings are quite ravished;So sweet and voluble is his discourse."
"In such apt and gracious words
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse."
But it was quite evident that he gave a decided preference to the younger and prettier portion of this circle of his female admirers. He was soon seen to march off with a nice young lady hanging on his arm.
"Who is that beautiful girl whom the parson's proxy has captured and is carrying off?" said the Professor to Toney.
"It is Miss Juliet Singleton, the daughter of the wealthy old gentleman who lives in the rural retreat on the top of yonder hill."
"There is a young gentleman standing with his arms folded and his back against a tree, who does not seem to have much of the milk of human kindness in his bosom just at this moment," said the Professor, pointing to a stalwart young man, who was gazing at Pate and his fair companion with eyes in which indignation was plainly expressed.
"It is Juliet's discarded lover," said Toney, "and, by a singular coincidence, his name is Romeo."
"A discarded lover is usually of a very ferocious disposition."
"Especially when he sees his rival walk off with the object of his affections."
"I know of no more savage animal, unless it be a man with the toothache. If I were walking in Mr. Pate's boots I would not like to meet that Romeo,—what's his cognomen?"
"Lawton."
"I would not like to meet Lawton in a lonely place upon my return from Juliet's abode. After beholding the menacing aspect of Romeo's visage, I think it highly probable that I shall, to-night, dream of M. T. Pate wending his way homeward with a pair of black eyes. How did it happen that Pate succeeded in stealing the affections of Juliet from that young man, who must be very handsome when he is not so diabolically ferocious?"
"Immediately subsequent to Pate's return from Bella Vista he discovered that Romeo was visiting Juliet——"
"With the obsolete idea of connubial felicity in his head, I suppose?"
"Juliet seemed to dote on her adorer. Love and Dovehad serenaded her in vain. Bliss had visited her, but she regarded him not. It was therefore a matter of astonishment to all the gossips, male and female, when they learned that, in a few weeks after M. T. Pate became acquainted with her, Romeo was a discarded lover."
"Poor Romeo! He had a perception of the miraculous power of superior genius. What are Pate's intentions? Does he propose to lead the young lady to the hymeneal altar?"
"Of course not. He is the founder of the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts, and is merely performing his duty. His object is to prevent a marriage."
"I must consult the five respectable maiden ladies in relation to this peculiar case," said the Professor. And bidding Toney good-morning, he walked towards his boarding-house.
During the above conversation, Pate was escorting the beautiful Juliet to her abode. His attentions to this young lady were extraordinary. Every evening he was seated by her side. In the mornings they would take long and romantic walks to gather wild flowers in the forest; and in the afternoons they had many pleasant drives in his buggy; he having purchased a magnificent gray horse as a substitute for the invisible Whitey.
He soon discovered that the young lady was exceedingly sentimental, and liked to listen to conversations in which love was the prominent topic. So he adopted a euphuistic style of speech, and became a successful imitator of Sir Piercie Shafton. He would address her as his adorable perfection; would sometimes lift her fair fingers to his lips; and, occasionally, in a sort of rehearsal, would go down on his knees and show her how love ought to be made. On one occasion the Irish servant found Pate in this attitude in the parlor, and hastily retreated, believing that he was making a proposal of marriage. She told her master that Miss Juliet was seated in a rocking-chair, and that Pate was kneeling before her, and praying to her as if she was the Blessed Virgin, and that she had heard him ask Juliet if she had no heart "at all, at all." The old gentleman was wonderfully pleased, when he received this information, at the prospect of soon having soaccomplished a son-in-law. Pate inserted many pretty verses, which had been written for him by a young poet, in the lady's album; and on one occasion, when he was absent from home, wrote her a number of sentimental letters, in one of which he spoke of the promise which he had made to her, and which he would never forget. On the seal, which he had used, were engraved the figures of two doves putting their bills together, as if in the act of exchanging a connubial kiss. In fact, so assiduous were his intentions, and so numerous his rehearsals of courtship, that the simple-minded girl actually believed that he had made her a promise of marriage, and that he was the man who had been predestined, from the beginning of the world, to be her wedded lord.
There was a sweet, sequestered spot near her father's mansion, where a number of trees threw a delightful shade over a bubbling fountain. Under the trees was a rustic bench; and this was a favorite resort of the fair Juliet, where she was often found by Pate sitting in the moonlight, and, usually, in a very sentimental mood. One evening, just after twilight, she not being at the house, he proceeded to the fountain, and discovered her sitting on the rustic seat. She seemed pensive, and, when he spoke to her, only answered with a deep sigh. He seated himself by her side and inquired into the cause of her melancholy; but there was no response. He took her left hand in his and lifted it to his lips. As with tender devotion he was about to imprint an impassioned kiss, she drew suddenly back, and dealt him a powerful blow, with her right fist, under the eye, which knocked him from his seat, and he fell on the ground. She then sprang to her feet, and, drawing a bludgeon from beneath her garments, commenced beating him cruelly, regardless of his cries for mercy, until, at last, he was stunned by the shower of blows which descended in rapid succession, and lay senseless on the earth.
When Pate became conscious he was in bed, having been carried home by some laborers, who found him in a sad condition, and thought at first that he was a murdered man. A doctor sat by his side, who had bandaged his wounds and bruises, and given proper attention to an arm which had been broken. It was many weeks before he could leave his house; and when he went abroad his bosom was boiling with indignation at the treatment which he had received at the hands of the fair Juliet, who, he believed, was a fiend or a fury in disguise.
So intense was his anger at the conduct of the beautiful Amazon that he treated her with the greatest indignity, and, when he met her at church, turned his back on her with a scornful curl of his lip. He publicly accused her of an atrocious assault on his person, and said that she had first knocked him down with her fist, and had then broken his arm, and attempted to murder him with a heavy bludgeon.
The greatest enemy which a man may have is the little organ which lies in his mouth just behind his teeth. The experience of M. T. Pate unfolded this truth when, one morning, the sheriff of the county called upon him with two interesting documents. The one was a writ of summons in an action for slander, and the other a similar process in a suit for breach of promise of marriage. He had accused the fair Juliet of an assault on him with intent to murder, which accusation, if true, would subject her to a criminal prosecution. The words spoken were therefore actionable. He had also treated her with contempt; and the poet tells us that
"Hell holds no fury like a woman scorned."
"Hell holds no fury like a woman scorned."
"Hell holds no fury like a woman scorned."
By the advice of her father, who was greatly enraged at the treatment which his daughter had received, both suits had been instituted.
When the day of trial arrived, there was an immense crowd in the hall of justice, all of whom sympathized with the young lady. In the action for slander, Pate had pleaded the truth in justification. By the rules of pleading, in so doing he admitted the speaking of the words complained of, and undertook to prove that they were true. But to his utter dismay he had no witnesses to establish the proof, as no one but Juliet and himself were present when the assault was made upon him. To put him in a worse position before the jury, the fair plaintiff succeeded in proving an alibi, by calling several witnesses to the stand who swore that, on the very evening when the assault was alleged to have been committed at the fountain under the trees, Juliet was some ten miles away at the house of her grandmother. Pate, when he heard this testimony, was immeasurably shocked at the corruption and villainy of mankind; for had he not sat by her side on the rustic bench? had he not taken her fair hand in his own and lifted it to his lips? had he not felt the blow from her fist which had knocked him from his seat? had he not beheld her standing over him with her garments fluttering in his face, and the terrible cudgel in her hand? had he not besought the infuriated Amazon to have mercy on him, while she was ruthlessly beating him, until he became insensible?—and now these false and perjured witnesses, bribed, no doubt, by her father's money, had sworn that she was some ten miles distant from the scene of the outrage!
Pate being unable to establish the truth in justification, the counsel for the plaintiff took occasion to arouse the indignation of the jury against the defendant. He traveled beyond the evidence, as zealous advocates will often do, and told them that this man had basely slandered a respectable young lady in order to extenuate his own dishonorable conduct in trifling with her affections by shamefully violating his promise of marriage. He called the attention of the jury to the absurdity of the charge which Pate, by his plea, alleged to be true. Could any sane person believe that a young lady, with a hand so small and delicate, could double her fist and knock down a bulky man like Pate, and then beat him unmercifully witha heavy bludgeon? And where was the proof of the allegation in the defendant's plea? While he had produced no evidence in support of his preposterous charge, the plaintiff had demonstrated its falsity by establishing an alibi. In a peroration, abounding in vituperation, he then demanded vindictive damages as a punishment for this base and abominable slander. When he had closed his argument, the feelings of the jury were so excited that they retired, and in a few moments returned, with a verdict awarding twelve thousand dollars to the plaintiff as damages for the injury which she had sustained.
On the following day the suit for breach of promise of marriage was tried. As men seldom make promises of marriage in the presence of witnesses, in actions of this sort much of the proof is inferential. It was proved that Pate was in constant attendance on the young lady; that every evening he was seated by her side in her father's parlor, or taking romantic walks in her company, by moonlight, with her arm locked in his own; that in the morning he would walk with her to gather wild flowers in the forest; that in the afternoon he would be seen riding with her in lonely and unfrequented roads; and several witnesses swore that they had seen him on his knees before her, apparently making a most tender appeal. The Irishwoman testified to the scene in the rocking-chair, and said that he was praying to her, and asking her "if she had no heart at all, at all." The woman was asked if she could recollect what day it was on which she had witnessed the scene in the rocking-chair. She said it was the twenty-first day of May, because on that day the bantam hen had hatched a brood of chickens, and she had marked the date of the successful incubation on the top of the hen-coop. A letter, from Pate to Juliet, was then produced, dated the twenty-fifth of May, in which he spoke of the promise he had made her, and which he would never forget. The nature of this promise was not explained by the context; but so powerful was the impression made on the minds of the jury, that, after the closing argument of the counsel for the plaintiff, in which the character of M. T. Pate was torn to tatters,they retired, and soon returned with a verdict awarding damages to the injured lady to the amount of twenty thousand dollars.
In each case a motion for a new trial failed, and the judgments were soon followed by executions, under which the whole of Pate's property was seized and sold. He bore his reverses with fortitude until he saw old Whitey under the auctioneer's hammer, when his firmness forsook him, and he was seen to shed tears. When the judgments were satisfied but a small sum remained. Pate was compelled to remove from his beautiful residence, and obtained lodgings in the boarding-house where the Professor and the five respectable maiden ladies had dwelt for many months.
Not long afterwards he was informed by one of the respectable maiden ladies that Juliet, with the proceeds arising from the sale of his real and personal estate in her possession, had been married to Romeo, to whom she had become reconciled. M. T. Pate had no ill feelings towards this young man, and could not help pitying him. He predicted, in the presence of the Professor and the five respectable maiden ladies, that Romeo would be murdered by Juliet, in cold blood, before the end of the honeymoon.
At the very moment when Pate was predicting this homicide, the young wife was seated by Romeo's side on the rustic bench by the fountain. One arm was around Romeo's neck and her head rested fondly against his shoulder. And it so happened that their conversation was about M. T. Pate.
"And he asserted," said Juliet, "that on this very spot he was dreadfully beaten. How strange that a man, who reads the prayers from the pulpit, should tell such a falsehood!"
"Dearest Juliet," said Romeo, "Mr. Pate did not tell a falsehood."
"Oh, Romeo! can you believe that man's story?"
"Indeed, I do."
"Believe that Mr. Pate was beaten?"
"Yes; dreadfully beaten."
"By me?"
"No; not by you."
"By whom?"
"By him who is now your loving husband."
"By you?"
"Yes; by me. When I heard that you had been suddenly called from home to attend upon your grandmother, who was sick, I clothed myself in female attire, and seated myself on this bench, to settle accounts with M. T. Pate. It was this arm which dealt him the blow under the eye, and afterwards wielded the cudgel which bruised his body and fractured his limb."
"Oh, Romeo! you nearly murdered him."
"Had it not been for the approach of the laborers I would have murdered him!"
"You would?"
"Dearest Juliet, I loved you so that I would have murdered twenty men for your sake!"
Juliet threw her arms around Romeo's neck and kissed him a countless multitude of times; and, strange as it may seem, she loved her husband more deeply after he had confessed that he was capable of committing twenty homicides for her sake.
The marriage of Juliet to Romeo had made one young man supremely happy, and another intensely miserable. At a distance of about three miles from the residence of the fair Juliet dwelt Farmer Lovegood, having an only son, who, as he grew up, looked so like a picture of the leader of the Israelites in the farmer's old family Bible, that he was called Moses by common consent, and was soon known by no other name. This unsophisticated youth had always been remarkable for bashfulness in the presence of the opposite sex. So vividly had his imagination depicted the horrors of a captivity in the hands of these merciless foes of the masculine gender that, at the first glimpse of a petticoat, he would frequently glide away asif he had beheld "the devil in disguise." But on a certain Sabbath he saw the beautiful Juliet, seated in her father's pew, and was cruelly enamored. He became a regular attendant at the church; but instead of joining in the devotions of the congregation, he sat in a corner and silently worshiped the lovely owner of the pair of blue eyes and golden tresses. During the week he profoundly meditated on the beauty of Juliet, and on each successive Sunday repaired to the church, and devoutly adored her in the seclusion of his corner.
At length Moses manfully resolves on a pilgrimage to the hallowed spot which holds the object of his adoration. Accordingly he starts from his rural home, and, with infinite toil, wends his way in solitude beneath the silvery light of the twinkling stars, through tangled thickets and thorny fields; floundering through bogs and briers, and tumbling over snake-fences, with thoughts so delicious that, could they have escaped from his bosom and taken a beautiful embodiment, they would have planted his pathway with flowers as sweet as if steeped in the honeyed dews of Hymettus. And now he comes in view of the mansion in which dwells the lovely idol of his worship. He stands beneath the spreading boughs of the trees which shade the sacred spot. He sees the lights within the neatly-furnished parlor. He even hears the siren song of the enchantress, giving utterance to the sweet emotions of her soul, as if magnetically informed of his approach and inviting him to enter. But he pauses. His faculties are seized with a sudden panic, like raw recruits when first brought into action. His heart palpitates, and, with a pit-a-pat motion, comes mounting up to his mouth. His joints tremble. He walks to and fro under the trees, like a fellow sent upon a fool's errand, who has forgotten his message. Finally the lights disappear, and the fair Juliet has retired to rest, while the toil-worn swain proceeds homeward, breathless, and faint, and leaning upon his hickory cudgel. Moses made many nightly pilgrimages in the same manner, and with similar results; until, one morning, he accidentally heard that Juliet was married to Romeo.
The unfortunate Moses now became intimatelyacquainted with misery. Sleep forsook his pillow, and after several nights of wakefulness, he began to meditate upon the various methods of putting one's self to death; but for a number of days his conclusions were unsatisfactory. He put the muzzle of a pistol in his mouth, but there was a mutiny among his fingers, and they rebelliously refused to obey his will, and pull the trigger. He seated himself on a beam in his father's barn, with one end of a rope around his neck and the other securely fastened to the beam, when he suddenly recollected that a man who is hanged usually turns black in the face and presents a hideous appearance. He stood on a brow of a precipice, overhanging a deep and turbid stream, and was about to leap into the water below, when he recoiled with horror at the prospect of being eaten by the fishes, and thus deprived of decent sepulture.
Moses now wisely determined to pass away without any unnecessary suffering. He supposed that on the shelves of the apothecary, in Mapleton, were potent drugs which would put him in a condition of somnolency, during which he could easily glide out of this sublunary state of existence. So he proceeded to the town, and having procured the proper material for his purpose, was hurrying homeward with deadly intent, when he inadvertently ran against a man who was standing in the street reading a newspaper to a crowd of people. The rapidity with which Moses was walking caused him to collide with great force, and nearly overthrew the reader of the paper. The man turned round, and, grasping Moses by the collar, shook him fiercely.
"I beg pardon!" exclaimed Moses, aroused, by the rude shaking he had received, to a consciousness of his surroundings,—"I beg pardon! I did not see."
"Did not see!" said the man. "Where are your eyes that you can't see a whole crowd of people?"
"I beg pardon!" reiterated Moses, meekly.
"It is granted; but mind how you walk next time!" And with this admonition, the man resumed the reading of the paper, as follows:
"Immense discoveries in the placers! Captain M. reported to have already fifteen barrels buried!"
"Fifteen barrels of what?" asked Moses of a man standing near him, and who happened to be M. T. Pate.
"Fifteen barrels of gold!" said Pate.
"Of what?"
"Of gold."
"Have they discovered gold near Mapleton?"
"No—no—not here."
"Where, then?"
"In California. Have you not heard the news? The papers have been full of the accounts for the last three weeks. Where have you been living?"
"At home."
"And not heard of the gold discoveries! People are digging out gold-dust by the barrel. In a week a man can become as rich as John Jacob Astor. We have formed a company and are going to California as soon as the ship is ready to sail."
"I would like to go," said Moses.
"You can join our company."
"I will go," said Moses.
"Come along with me," said Pate. And he conducted his recruit to a room where several members of his company were assembled. Here Moses was introduced to Wiggins, Love, and Dove, and a long and earnest conversation ensued; after which Moses signed a paper purporting to be the constitution of a mining association; to which were already subscribed the names of the persons present, and also of Messrs Botts, Perch, and Bliss.
"When does the ship sail?" asked Moses.
"In about a week," said Wiggins.
"We leave Mapleton to-morrow," said Pate. "We must be in the city to make arrangements for the voyage."
"I wish we were off," said Moses. "I will go home and bid my father farewell, and come here to-night."
Moses hurried home, and on the way threw the deadly drug, which he had purchased of the apothecary, into a stream of water to poison the fishes. He thought no more of suicide. Avarice had entered his soul, and expelled another powerful passion, which had been impelling him to the commission offelo de se. Love, like a cruel leopard, had clutched the heart of Moses, whenAvarice, like a mighty lion, appeared and compelled the leopard to abandon its prey.
The father of Moses had already heard of the wonderful discoveries of gold on the Pacific coast, and was willing that his son should go thither and secure his fortune. The parent was a pious man, and he bade Moses kneel before him, while he laid his hands on his head and gave him his blessing. He then proceeded to his barn, and procuring two sacks made of stout canvas and each capable of containing a couple of bushels, he presented them to Moses, saying,—
"My son, be not greedy of gold. Moderate your desires; and when you have filled these two sacks return again to your father's house."
Moses dutifully vowed obedience to the injunctions of his venerable sire. He received the sacks with a light heart, for he felt that light was the task imposed upon him. He departed with the pleasing anticipation of a brief sojourn in the distant land and a speedy return to the halls of his ancestors.
"It was the saddest hour of my life when I parted from Rosabel," said Toney to the Professor, as they stood on the platform at the railway in Mapleton waiting for the train which was to convey them to the Monumental City, where they were to embark for California.
"Rosabel was willing that you should go?" asked the Professor.
"The dear girl wept as if her heart was breaking. I never knew how deeply I loved her until then. Only to think that I may be absent for five years! But we both thought that it was better that I should go."
"And make the hundred thousand dollars."
"There can be no hope of our union until I have thehundred thousand dollars. You know the Widow Wild's eccentricity."
"That woman is a profound mystery. And Tom Seddon, whom we expect in the train,—do you think that he can part from Ida?"
"Poor Tom's situation is like mine. He can never hope to marry Ida while her uncle is alive, unless he has an ample fortune."
"You refer to the old Cerberus, who used to pretend to have fits of canine rabies, and drive Tom out of the house?"
"He has entirely excluded Tom from the house."
"Where does Tom manage to see Ida?"
"At Colonel Hazlewood's residence. Ida is the only companion of Claribel and Imogen, who see no other company."
"See no company! They used to be gay enough."
"When Clarence and Harry went to Mexico, they secluded themselves from society."
"What has become of those young men? They did not return when the troops came back from Mexico."
"At the battle of Molino del Rey, where both were distinguished for heroic daring, Clarence was badly wounded; and, after our army entered the City of Mexico, he was in the hospital for several months, and was tenderly nursed by Harry until he recovered. When peace was concluded, and the army was about to march back to Vera Cruz, they resigned their commissions and proceeded to the port of Acapulco on the Pacific coast. Since then there have been no tidings of them."
"Look yonder!" said the Professor. "Are they going to California?"
Toney's eyes followed the direction indicated by the Professor's finger, and beheld what seemed like a procession of giants. In front towered Mrs. Foot by the side of her tremendous husband; while behind them walked the three stupendous sisters, followed by Hercules, who brought up the rear.
"A fine morning, Mrs. Foot," said Toney.
"How do you do, Mr. Belton?" said the towering lady. "Have you seen Mr. Love?"
"He has gone to the city to embark for California," said Toney.
"He has!" exclaimed Mrs. Foot. "And Dove? And Bliss?"
"Gone with Mr. Love," said Toney.
"I told you so!" said Gideon Foot, looking around at the young giantess in his rear.
"Going to California—are they?" cried Mrs. Foot.
"Yes, madam," said Toney.
"If I catch Dove I'll wring his neck!" said the gigantic Gideon.
"Oh, father!" exclaimed Theodosia.
"Come!" said Gideon, gruffly. "Yonder is the train!"
The harsh scream of a steam whistle was heard, and a train of cars thundered up to the platform. Gideon Foot and his family went on board, and were followed by Toney and the Professor, who found Tom Seddon, seated in a car, looking pale and melancholy. After an exchange of salutations, poor Tom relapsed into silence, for he was thinking of Ida. Toney was also extremely taciturn, and hardly uttered a word until they reached the depot in the suburbs of the city. Here they took a carriage, and were driven directly to where the ship lay at the wharf, and went on board,—their arrangements having been made on a former visit to this beautiful metropolis of Maryland.
Mrs. Foot and her three daughters proceeded to the residence of her sister, who lived in the city, and was the wife of a Mr. Sampson. Gideon and Hercules went in search of Love, Dove, and Bliss. In about an hour they encountered these three adventurous gold-hunters daintily dressed, with nice silk hats on their heads, and polished French leather on their lower extremities. Each had white kid gloves on his hands, and carried a slender cane, with which he occasionally tapped the toe of his boot. They looked like little bridegrooms going to be married.
"Good-morning, Mr. Love," said Gideon, blandly.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Foot," said Love. And he and his two companions shook hands with Gideon and Hercules.
"You seem to be in a hurry," said Gideon.
"The ship sails to-day, and we must be aboard," said Love.
"Going to California?" said Gideon.
"Yes; going to dig gold," said Love. And he and Dove tapped the toes of their boots with their little canes, while Bliss pulled off his new silk hat and smoothed his odoriferous locks.
"Hercules is going," said Gideon.
"Are you, indeed?" asked Love, looking up at Hercules.
"Yes," said Hercules, "as soon as I have bid my mother good-by."
"Is Mrs. Foot in town?" inquired Love.
"She is, and would be so glad to see you," said Gideon. "Come with us and bid Mrs. Foot good-by, and Hercules will go with you to the ship."
"Let us go and bid Mrs. Foot good-by," said Love, looking at his two companions.
"We will go," said Dove.
"Let us go," said Bliss.
"Come," said Gideon. And the three little men accompanied the gigantic father and son to the residence of Mrs. Sampson. They entered the house, and were conducted by Gideon, through a large front apartment, to a back parlor, which communicated, by a door, with a room in the rear.
"Take seats, gentlemen," said Gideon. "Mrs. Foot will be with you in a moment."
Gideon returned to the hall where Hercules was waiting.
"Go fetch the parson," said Gideon. "Make haste!"
Hercules hurried away, and Gideon returned to the back parlor and locked both doors. He then stood in the middle of the floor and elevated himself to his full height, so that his head almost seemed to touch the low ceiling, as he gazed sternly at Love, Dove, and Bliss, who sat on a sofa, and who now began to tremble.
"Look here!" said Gideon, "I am a man of few words. Do you know what you have got to do?"
"What?" said Love, looking dreadfully frightened.
"You three fellows have been hanging around my daughters for the last six months," said Gideon. "You have come to the house in the morning; you have come in the afternoon; you have come at all hours, andthe girls have had no time to do any household work on account of you. Even at night, when they were in bed, you would be under their windows making more noise than so many tomcats with your serenades. Now, what do you intend to do?"
"Nothing," said little Love, very meekly.
"Nothing!" exclaimed the gigantic Gideon Foot. "Nothing! Just say that again and I will wring your neck! Come! I'll have no fooling! You have got to marry my three daughters!"
The eyes of the three little men widely dilated, and were fixed on Gideon's towering form, but their tongues were silent; they were dumb with terror.
"You have got just ten minutes to make up your minds. If you don't agree to marry my daughters, I will come back in ten minutes and wring your necks."
Gideon left the room and locked the door.
"What shall we do?" said Love.
"He has locked the door," said Dove.
"He'll murder us!" said Bliss.
"We had better marry the young ladies," said Love.
"You will take Cleopatra," said Dove.
"And you will take Theodosia," said Love.
"And Bliss will marry Sophonisba," said Dove.
The three little men now held a hurried consultation, and were unanimously in favor of matrimony, when Gideon opened the door.
"Your ten minutes are out," said Gideon.
"We have agreed to be married," said Love.
"Very good," said Gideon. "The parson is waiting in the front room, and I have the three licenses in my pocket. Which one do you marry?"
"Cleopatra," said Love.
Gideon went to the door opening into the back room, and unlocking it, put his head through and uttered a few words. Cleopatra came forth, blushing.
"Stand up!" said Gideon to Love.
Love arose from his seat trembling from head to foot.
"Take her arm," said Gideon. "That's right. Now, come along!"
Gideon opened the door, and Love walked withCleopatra into the front room, where stood the parson with his book open ready to make them man and wife. In a very brief space of time Love and Cleopatra were united in the holy bands of matrimony. The parson looked as if he expected to see the happy man salute his bride; but Love was unable to reach up, and Cleopatra did not bend down, and so this formality was not observed. The wedded pair walked into the back parlor, followed by Gideon, who turned to Dove and said,—
"Whom do you marry?"
"Theodosia, if you please," said Dove, with meek resignation.
At the summons of Gideon, Theodosia appeared and was united to Dove, and then Sophonisba was married to Bliss. Mrs. Foot then rushed from the back room and fondly embraced her daughters, and also her three little sons.
"There, now," said Gideon, "we are through with the business. Are the carriages at the door?" asked he of Hercules, who went out to ascertain if they had arrived.
"We will go home in the next train," said Gideon.
"Can't we go to California?" whimpered Love.
"No," said Gideon, "of course not. You must go home with your wives."
"And be happy," said Mrs. Foot.
"Hercules is going to California," said Gideon. "He can dig gold enough for the whole family."
Hercules was standing in the street before the door, when Pate and Wiggins approached him.
"Have you seen Mr. Love?" asked Pate.
"He is in there," said Hercules, pointing to the house.
"And Dove and Bliss?" said Pate.
"In there with Love," said Hercules.
"We have been looking for them," said Wiggins.
"The ship will sail in a few hours, and they should be on board," said Pate.
"I don't think they are going," said Hercules.
"Not going!" exclaimed Pate.
"I think not," said Hercules.
Two carriages were now driven up, and stopped infront of the house. The door opened, and out came Love hanging on the arm of Cleopatra.
"Mr. Love! Mr. Love!" exclaimed Pate, "the ship is about to sail and you should be on board. Come with us."
"I can't go; I am married," said Love, with a look of despair.
"Come along!" said Cleopatra. And she and her little husband entered one of the carriages.
"Good heavens!" ejaculated Pate.
"Married!" exclaimed Wiggins.
"Mr. Dove! Mr. Dove! you will be left!" cried Pate, as Theodosia led her husband down the steps.
"I can't go; I am married," said poor Dove, as his wife conducted him to the carriage.
"Indeed, Mr. Bliss, you will be left behind!" said Pate, as Bliss and his bride descended the steps.
"I can't go; I am married," said the little man, dolefully, as Sophonisba led him to the carriage.
"All married!" exclaimed Wiggins.
"What does it mean?" said Pate.
"Good-by, Hercules," said Gideon.
"God bless you, my son," said Mrs. Foot. And she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Good-by, father! good-by, mother!" said Hercules. And then he rushed to one of the carriages, and putting in his head, exclaimed, "Good-by, sisters! good-by, little brothers!"
The three brides kissed Hercules and wept, while their husbands shook him by the hand. After many fond embraces and wishes for his welfare the carriages were driven off, leaving Hercules standing in the street, with Wiggins and Pate gazing up at him with looks of perplexity.
"Are you going to California?" asked Pate.
"I am," said the giant, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"And Love, Dove, and Bliss are not going?" said Wiggins.
"No; they have married my sisters, and are going home to be happy," said Hercules. And he wiped away some more tears that came into his eyes.
"What made them marry your sisters?" asked Pate.
"I reckon it was because they loved them," said Hercules.
"They should have given us notice," said Wiggins.
"We have lost three men from our company," said Pate.
"Did my little brothers belong to your company?" asked Hercules.
"They did," said Pate.
"And have left us without giving notice," said Wiggins.
"Will you take me in their places?" said Hercules. "I can dig more gold than they could."
"Will you join our company?" asked Pate.
"Yes, if you will give me as much gold as my three little brothers were to get. I can do more digging than all three of them."
"So he can," said Wiggins.
"I have no doubt of it," said Pate, looking at the towering form and broad shoulders of the giant with enthusiastic admiration.
After a brief conference, the proposition of Hercules was acceded to, and the three gold-hunters hurried on board the vessel, which was about to spread her white wings, and proceed on her way to the land where rivers were said to be rolling between banks of golden sands, which glittered in the last rays of the setting sun.
As the ship moved away from the wharf, and was towed by the steam-tug into the stream, M. T. Pate stood upon the deck, humming a stanza of Byron's celebrated adieu to his native land, when he heard a strain of music as if coming from the clouds. From the foretop, in clear and mellifluous tones, was heard the following melody: