IT was quite dark when we entered the town of Barnstable, making as much noise as if the devil had broken loose and come to carry off the inhabitants, who were a timid people, but sharp enough to cut the best side of a trade. The bright blue waters skirting the town seemed reflecting ten thousand curious shadows, while several tall steeples of churches, (showing that the people had theology without stint, and to their liking,) loomed out through a gray mist that tipped the clouds with a pale fringe. And the clean green shutters of the bright white houses, and the neatly arranged gardens, with their picket fences, ranging along both sides of the street, and the flowers that were giving out their perfumes to the night breeze, were all blending in a panorama of exquisite softness.
The major plumed himself not a little on his popularity with the town's people, who made his departures and arrivals no common events. Nor was his admiration of himself one whit less than that so common with some others I have in view at this moment, and who follow the profession of arms.
And now, news of his approach having got spread abroad, he had scarcely entered the outskirts of the town when little Barnstable, hatless and shoeless, came running to meet him, cheering, clambering upon his wagon, and making such other demonstrations of welcome as satisfied the major that the town had waited his return with no little anxiety, though it annoyed old Battle exceedingly, for he had great difficulty in drawing the load over the sand. Seeing the distress the animal was in, two mischievous urchins fell upon him, seized him by the halter, and, after throwing it over their shoulders, were joined by some two dozen more, who ran ahead dragging him by the mouth, while three others plied his belly with switches. The major, in the meantime, continued to contemplate the fortune there was in a pig so learned, and who was now mingling his loudest squeals with the cheers and bravos of the urchins, until the very welkin rang with their echoes. We proceeded according to old Battle's slow pace to what I shall for convenience sake call the Independent Temperance Hotel, the guests of which were so alarmed at the strange noises in the streets that they came running out to ascertain the cause.
"Well, I'm back again, you see! and as for the rest, you may find that out!" exclaimed the major, cracking his whip, and declaring he would give the urchins three stripes apiece unless they ceased teasing old Battle, whom he now reined up in front of a large portico that opened into a spacious hall of the hotel. The bystanders, among whom there was a lawyer or two, as well as another species of hanger-on about a country tavern, sent up three loud and long cheers, which brought the major's friends in a crowd about the door. The major raised his hat, acknowledged the compliment with his usual grace, and dismounted over the wheel, displaying as he did so, the pins that had served to protect his dignity. But of this he was unconscious, and bidding me follow, he waddled into the house, an expression of gladness lighting up his broad red face, and saluting his friends, not one of whom said a word touching the condition of his garments.
"Major! is it you? Well, there ain't nobody more welcome in this hotel!" exclaimed a small, frisky figure, rushing through the crowd, and seizing him earnestly by the hand.
"Me?" replied the major, returning his salutation with equal warmth of manner, "Well, I reckon it is! you think of me in my absence, I see, colonel. Well, there is no roof Major Roger Sherman Potter feels so much at ease under as this." Here the landlord, whose name was Zach Aldrich, to which was added the title of Colonel, as a mark of distinction, for having commanded with great gallantry the Barnstable Invincibles. The host was fond of a joke, and after giving his guest a cordial welcome, bid him hasten into the parlor, where the hostess, who had long held him in great esteem, was rubbing her palms to see him. Impatient to pay his respects to so good a lady, he trudged up the hall, and turning to the right, entered the parlor, in which were seated some seven females, to the great delight of numerous bystanders, whom the major congratulated himself were laughing for joy at his return. He had scarcely disappeared, however, when a loud shriek was heard, and one after another the females came scampering out of the room, so sorry a figure did he cut. "Zounds, me," exclaimed the major, "what can have come over the witches?" and he followed them into the hall, surprised and astonished, while the compact little figure of mine host was seen almost splitting his sides with laughter. Indeed, I venture to say without fear of contradiction, that never did military hero cut so extravagant a figure before females; and as he had that scrupulous regard for their good opinion, so common with his brethren in arms, so was he only saved from swooning by the aid of a little whiskey and water. This, however, was not applied until the cause of the alarm was discovered. "Upon my life, Colonel," said the major, as the host aided him in securing his garments with a few pins, "I never was known to offer a discourtesy to ladies through the whole course of my eventful life. No, I wouldn't, by my military reputation, I wouldn't have had such a thing occur to me, especially as my friend here is the most distinguished politician in this part of the country." I could not restrain a blush at this naive remark, and begging that he would reserve his compliments for one more worthy of them, he continued by pleading with the host, and enjoining him to say to the ladies, that never in his life had he met with so serious an accident, and as it was woman's nature to be gentle and forgiving, he hoped they would forgive him this once, "and I shall not be so rude and ungrateful as to soon forget their generosity," he concluded. Having mended his garments thus summarily, mine host led the way into the bar room, in one corner of which was a square, mahogany counter, upon which stood a tin drain containing a jug of water, and several empty tumblers. An open stove stood opposite the counter; and in it were massive dog-irons in brass, highly polished. A square Connecticut clock ticked on a little shelf between two front windows; and suspended upon the walls were pictures of horses and bulls that had won prizes at the Worcester Cattle Show. Certain parts of the bar room were much distained with tobacco juice; while beneath the stove grate there lay a heap of cigar ends, and other soft projectiles common to such taverns. And these, with a bench and a few reed bottomed chairs, made up the furniture.
In one of these chairs, a lean and somewhat shabbily clad man sat, his feet upon the rounds, his body thrown back against the wall, his face half buried in a slouch hat, and apparently dozing, but really keeping a watchful eye upon every movement in the room. The landlord, whose round face was lit up with a mischievous laugh, said he would bet his new frock coat, which had brass buttons and a velvet collar, and his white trowsers, and even his ruffle shirt, that the major had made a successful trip, and would do the generous without more ado. The bystanders said it would be only right that a person who had witnessed so many proofs of his own popularity as the major had done should pay the forfeit he had incurred by calling on such good beverages as the host was celebrated for affording his guests. The major placed the fore finger of his right hand to his lip, cast a look of inquiry at the bystanders, and then said he knew it would be no easy matter to apologize to ladies for so singular a transgression, but how his treating could extenuate an insult offered to another party, he could not exactly see. "By my word as a man of standing, I have spent much sweat and labor in getting the little Fortune has favored me with, and it seems to me that he who needs it most had better quench his thirst with what remains in his own pocket!" spoke the major, giving his head a toss, and edging aside from his importuners.
The landlord replied, that as the major had brought him a distinguished guest, he should claim the right to do the hospitalities of his own house, and this he held the more incumbent, as the major was returned from so long an absence. But in obedience to the spirit of temperance that ruled in the village, and was so rigid in its exactions, that it kept Captain Jack Laythe, the man who dozed in the chair, a spy over his counter, he could give them nothing but cider and mead. Indeed the whole town had gone into such exceedingly steady habits, that if an old friend chanced that way, and took it into his head that a drop of heavy would do him no harm, he was forced to wink him down into the cellar, and relieve his wants in a little out of the way place, for even the smell of whiskey upon the tumblers was set down as proof of guilt sufficient to call a town meeting.
They had scarcely drank the cider set before them by the landlord, when the man in the chair began to exhibit signs of motion. Then getting up from his seat, his sharp sallow visage assumed a look of revenge; and approaching the counter, he began scenting the tumblers. "Captain Jack Laythe!" said the major, casting upon the man a look of hate, "you might find a better business than scenting tumblers for temperance folks. You're a pretty Christian, surrendering yourself to such meanness!" It was evident that the major's choler was raised, and that he rather courted a set-to with the spy, who had no great admiration for heroes of any kind. Indeed, the major declared that if such a thing had happened when he was with his regiment in Mexico, his sword had not long remained in its sheath.
"This man," rejoined the spy, with a nasal drawl, "is a burning torch to the town, which he keeps in a perpetual uproar. The devil never thought of half the evil he has inflicted upon certain of the townspeople, for he serves them with his poison, and they go about as if they were dead. Time and again has he been commanded to surrender his traffic of misery, on penalty of being ridden into the river; but he has neither fear of the devil, nor respect for the laws; and though every pulpit in the land should preach against him, they cannot put him to shame." The host, who was itching to have revenge of the spy, hurled a lemon squeezer at his head, which took him between the two eyes, and caused him to retreat into the street, amidst the cheering and jeering of the bystanders. The major, too, applied his boot in right good earnest to the retreating gentleman's rear, and asserted his courage by making threats in the door, while the other, having regained his sight, stood challenging him to come out into the street, and take it like a man. The major called upon the bystanders to bear witness that he had courage enough to tackle a dozen or more of such spies, only he would rather not soil his hands just now. Nor was there any honor in fighting such people, which was a chief point in such game.
The landlord now reminded the major that the town esteemed him too highly to have him compromise himself by holding a parley with such a fellow, who was no other than an old Pawtucket stage driver, who having tempered his throat with brandy until it had dried up his wits, saw fit to reform, and had become the most implacable enemy of all who enjoyed what he had abused.
The spy seeing the landlord about to set on his big dog, took to his heels, muttering in a low and plaintive tone, and threatening to report his grievances to Parson Bangshanter, and Squire Clapp, two leading members of the temperance league, and who, in respect to good morals, had taken the sale of liquor into their own hands, and were making a good thing of it. The major now remembered that his wife, Polly Potter, would get the news and be impatient to welcome him, and so bidding the host and his company good night, and assuring me that he would ring the town out to pay me proper respect in the morning, he took his way home, meeting with so serious an accident as had well nigh cost him his life, the particulars of which I must reserve for another chapter.
HAVING got rid of the major, I desired to change my clothing before supper, and was shown to a snug little room up stairs by a damsel of such exquisite beauty and bashfulness, that my whole soul seemed melting within me, so quickly did her charms enslave me. In answer to a question that hung trembling upon my lips, and which I had only power to put in broken accents, for she passed me the candle, and as she did so, I touched her hand, and saw her bosom heave gently, and her eyes fill with liquid light, out of which came the language of love, she said, with a smile and a lisp, that they called her Bessie. Nature had been all bountiful in bestowing her gifts, for surely, thought I, the nation can boast of no prettier Bessie. I thought of the garden of Eden, of the palm groves of Campania, of every rural beauty that just then beguiled my fancies. But in neither of them did there seem happiness for me without Bessie for the idol of my worship. I had, indeed, touched the hidden spring of her sympathy, and as it gushed forth in unison with my own, I read the flutterings of her heart in her crimsoning cheeks, and contemplated the bounties of that Providence which forgets not the humblest of its creatures. "Oh, sir," said she, "what will my father say?" and she attempted a frown, and started back as I stole a kiss of the cheek now suffused with blushes. Then with an arch toss of the head, she turned her great black eyes rogueishly upon me, and said in a half whisper that I must not attempt it again. But I could not resist the magic of her glance, while, together with the cherry-like freshness of her lips, and the raven blackness of those glossy curls that hung so ravishingly over her fair blushing cheeks, discovering a delicately arched brow, and enhancing the sweetness of her oval face, carried me away captive, and made it seem as if heaven had created our loves to flow on in one unhallowed stream of joy. Her dapper figure was neatly set off with a dress of black silk, buttoned close about the neck, and showing the symmetry of her bust to great advantage; and over this she wore an apron of brown silk, gimped at the edge, and her collar and wristbands were of snowy white linen. "Heaven knows I would not harm thee, for thou art even too fair; only a knave would rob one so innocent." And I held her tremblingly by the hand, in the open door, as she attempted to draw herself away, beseeching me with a bewitching glance to "remember her youth." Bessie was the landlord's daughter; and though she was scarce passed her seventeenth summer, had became so famous for her beauty, as to number her admirers in every village of the county; and many were the travelers that way who tarried to do homage to her charms. I had just raised her warm hand to my lips, hoping, after I had kissed it, to engage her in conversation, when the door of a room on the opposite side of the passage opened, and a queer little man, with a hump on his back, and otherwise deformed, issued therefrom, and with a nervous step hurried down stairs, muttering to himself like one lost in his own contemplations. Bessie, with the suddenness of one surprised, vaulted in an opposite direction, and, ere I had time to cast a glance after her, disappeared down a back stair, leaving her image behind only to haunt my fancy, and make me think there was no one else in this world with whom I could be happy.
A few minutes, and having completed my toilet, I appeared at the supper table, which the blushing Bessie had spread with all the niceties of the season, and was waiting to do the honors. My appetite was indeed keen, but the flashing of her eyes so troubled my sensitive nature, that I entirely forgot the supper, and began to inquire, half resolved to end my journey here, if mine host could accommodate me for a month. Bessie heaved a sigh, saying it should be done if she had to give up her own room. To which I replied that nothing could induce me to give her trouble for my sake; that I would take up my lodgings upon the corn shed, where, with the stars and her charms to occupy my musings, I could be so happy.
When supper was over, Bessie ushered me into a large sitting room, on the left of the hall, and bid me good night. A large, square table, upon which was a copy of Godey's Lady's Book, the New England Cultivator, the New Bedford Mercury, and sundry other papers of good morals, stood in the center of the room. The walls were papered in bright colors, and the floor was covered with an Uxbridge carpet, the colors of which were green and red, and made fresh by the glare of a spirit lamp that burned upon the table. A chart of the South Shoal, a map of Massachusetts and Rhode Island, and sundry rude drawings in crayon and water colors, hung suspended from the walls. The air of quiet cheerfulness that pervaded the sitting room, bespoke the care Bessie had bestowed upon it, and the active part she took in the management of the household. And, too, there was a piano standing open at one end of the room, for Bessie, in addition to having studied Latin and algebra two years at the high school, had taken music lessons of Monsieur Pensin‚, and could play seven tunes right off.
An aged, clerical-looking man, his visage lean and careworn, with his newly-married bride, a simply clad country girl of eighteen, sat at a window, looking out upon a little square, and every few minutes exchanging caresses they imagined were seen by no one else in the room. Indeed, when they were not caressing, they were whispering in very affectionate proximity. Once or twice I overheard, "My darling," and, "You know, my love," which curt but meaning sentences are much in fashion with persons on a bridal tour, and who set out with the belief that earth has no ill that can disturb the solace of their perhaps weak love.
The little deformed man, of the nervous temperament, and whose well formed head seemed to have been thrown by accident upon his distended chest, paced, or rather oscillated up and down the room, swinging his arms restlessly, now casting a glance of his keen gray eye at me, then pausing at the farther end of the room to read the notice of a lecture on Crabbe, inscribed upon a great red poster. There was something in the lettering of the poster that displeased him exceedingly, for, having scanned over it, he would turn away with a quickened pace, and mutter some incoherent sentences no one present could comprehend, but which his increasing nervousness betold were expressive of anger. The thought of Bessie made me impatient, and following the example of the little deformed man, I also commenced pacing the room, but on the opposite side of the table, meeting and exchanging glances with him in the center. The maps upon the walls furnished me themes for contemplation in my sallies; and I read and reread the exact latitude and longitude of the South Shoal, as it appeared on the charts. Then I paused at a front window, and peered out into the starlight night, and saw the tree tops in a little square opposite, move gently to the breeze, while my fancies recurred to the association of that home, at the fireside of which I pictured my father and mother, sitting thinking of me. At the opposite end of the room I read, for it was there printed upon the red colored poster, that the celebrated Giles Sheridan, (who was no less a person than the little deformed man who paced the room so briskly,) would lecture on Crabbe, in the basement of the "Orthodox Meeting House," at seven o'clock, on the following evening.
It perplexed me not a little to know why this Giles Sheridan, this queer little man, had selected for the subject of his lecture, a person so little known in the rural districts of Massachusetts. Had he consulted either the political or mechanical tastes of the people, instead of their literary, the cause would not have been involved in so deep a mystery; but this will be explained hereafter.
The clerical looking man had just kissed his young bride, and muttered something about the joys of paradise, as I, for the ninth time, paused to ponder over the curious announcement. And as I did so, the little man, with that sensitiveness common to true genius, looked up at me with an eye beaming with intelligence, while his lips quivered, his fingers became restless, and he locked his hands before him and behind him, in quick succession, then frisked his straight hair back over his ears with his fingers, and gave out such other signs of timidity as convinced me that he was a stranger in the land, and would engage me in conversation merely to unburden his thoughts. I have said true genius, in speaking of this queer little man, for indeed, if strange nature had so disfigured his person as to make it unsightly, she had more than compensated him with the gifts of a brilliant mind. "Like myself, sir, you are a traveler this way?" he spoke, with a voice clear and musical, and with just enough of a refined brogue to discover the land of his nativity, or to give melody to his conversation. "You will pardon me, sir; but I saw you evinced an interest in the notice of my lecture. Ah! sir; even a look of encouragement cheers and fortifies this misgiving heart of mine. Few, sir, very few, think of me, seeing that there is nothing about me pleasing to the eye." And as he said this, he sighed, frisked his left hand across his forehead, and shook his head. I saw he was troubled with that lack of confidence in himself, so common to men of his kind; he was also too timid for one thrown upon a strange land with only genius to aid him in struggling against adversity. On discovering to him who I was, and that I had written a Life and Times of Captain Seth Brewster, which my publisher, and several independent critics he kept in his employ, had praised into an unprecedented sale, though it was indeed the veriest rubbish, his pent up enthusiasm gushed forth in a rhapsody of joy. I told him, too, that two sonnets which I had written, over the signature of Mary, had been published in the "New Bedford Mercury," the editor of which very excellent paper said they were charming, though he never paid me a penny for them. It may interest all aspiring female poets to know that these little attempts at verse found their way into the "Home Journal," and were highly praised by it, as is everything written by Marys of sixteen.
"Men of letters are brothers!" said the little, deformed man, grasping tightly my hand. "They should bind their sympathies in eternal friendship. You have no other word for it! The world never thinks of them until they are dead; ought they not then to be brothers to one another while they live?" He now placed two chairs, frisked about like one half crazed, expressed his joy at meeting one who had aspirations in common with him, said he wished the meek old lover in the corner had his young bride in paradise, and bid me be seated and join him in a talk over the past and present of letters. I replied by saying I was more impatient to know what had brought him to Barnstable with so strange a subject for his lecture. "That is the point, and I will tell you; for a stranger is never to blame for doing wrong when he thinks he is doing right!" said he, with great earnestness of manner. And he drew his chair closer, and tapped me impressively on the arm with the fore finger of his right hand. "And you read my name, Giles Sheridan, on the pink poster. I am well known in some parts of the world, and not so well known in others. Thanks to a merciful God, I am not the worst man in the world, and yet I am deformed; and as the world praises most the beauty that adorns the surface, so few think of me, care for me, or say, 'Giles Sheridan, there is meat and wine at my house, where you will be welcome.' Thinking even a cripple might find favor and fortune in the country, I came over not long since, and sought the city of Boston, it being, as many had told me, the great center of America's learning and refinement. There I gave a lecture or two; but being a stranger, and deformed withal, the reception I met was cold and discouraging. Against such men as Lowell, and Curtis, men born on the soil, and of such goodly person as made them the pets of the petticoats and pantaletts, I could not hope to succeed. In truth, I gave up, sick at heart, clean only in pocket, and with the alternative of a garret and a crust staring me in the face, in a land of plenty. At length a friendly hand came to my succor, and through it I was invited by a committee, composed of the tavern keeper, the schoolmaster, the Unitarian clergyman, and the milkman, (who had a relish for letters,) to deliver three lectures in this town, for which they promised to pay me five dollars a lecture, and my victuals. Yes, sir, my victuals. Five dollars and victuals for a learned lecture was something for a man whose pocket stood much in need of replenishing. I came, disposed to do to the best of my ability; and the victuals I have had, and they are good. I chose Crabbe for the subject of my lecture, in deference to my own taste, and also because I was led to believe, judging from analogy, that the knowledge of men of letters which ruled in Boston, must also rule in the villages and towns round about. It was that which led me to announce Crabbe, which announcement has much disturbed the town. No one seems to know who or what manner of man he was, and many curious questions have been put to me concerning his origin, the things he did while living, the manner of his death, and what was said of him afterwards. Several inquisitive old ladies, who called to see me to-day, put many questions concerning his morals and religion. Not entertaining a doubt of his loving all religion that was founded in truth and reason, I sent them away fully satisfied that Mr. Crabbe was a man of good standing in the church. You will remember sir, it was Crabbe who said, 'There sits he upright in his seat secure, As one whose conscience is correct and pure.'"
Here he continued to repeat several of the most beautiful lines written by that poet, and which are familiar to his readers.
"An unhappy sort of man, clothed in the garb of a mechanic, and calling himself a nonresistant, has several times called to inquire if Mr. Crabbe, of whom I proposed to speak, was an advocate of physical resistance. Not being able to satisfy him upon this point, he has sought in divers ways to pick a quarrel with me." Just at this moment the door opened, and there entered to the evident annoyance of the little deformed man, one Ephraim Flagg, a clicker of shoes, and an ex-stagedriver. He was lean and low of figure, had a long bony face, and a gloomy expression of countenance, and a straight, narrow forehead, and coarse, silvery hair, that stood erect upon his head. "I have come again, you see; but don't let your choler get up, my little stranger. Peace and little men ought to keep each other company," spoke the man, with a strong, nasal twang, after having adjusted his thumbs in the arm holes of his waistcoat, and passed twice or thrice up and down the, room, with a tantalizing air. Ephraim Flagg had given up driving the stage between New London and Norwich, and had recently taken to books, and so studied certain exact and inexact sciences, as they were called, and neglected all business, that it was feared he would become a town tax. In addition to this he had made himself famous for quarreling with all those who differed with him on the peculiarities of his social problem.
"Sir!" replied the lecturer, "as you chose neither to be convinced, nor to accept reason for argument, perhaps we had as well end this bantering!"
"Oh! there you are," interrupted the nonresistant, "you must not allow your ill temper to rise. You can't get (no you can't) the better of your adversary that way. If a man kicks you, and if you want to show yourself his superior, turn right round and thank him. Depend upon it, there is nothing equal to it! It so unhinges the man. Now, as to this Mr. Crabbe, (you forgot, in our controversy yesterday, to say where he was born,) being a gentleman, and in favor of using physical force-"
"Seeing that I am engaged, Mr. Flagg," interrupted Giles Sheridan, "perhaps you will excuse me any further controversy on the peculiar merits of Crabbe's combativeness."
"But there was one point not made quite clear to me, and I came back, not to make you angry, for men who give lectures should have good tempers, but to inquire if this Mr. Crabbe was ever kocked down; and if he was, how and in what manner he returned the kindness?" To this question, Giles Sheridan was not inclined to vouchsafe an answer. The nonresistant then said, the principles he had been trying to defend, were being illustrated. "I am an enemy to physical force; but I have gained a victory over you! You won't deny that, I take it?" continued the nonresistant, taking a seat uninvited; and, having placed his feet upon the table, near Giles Sheridan, who was scarce able to restrain his feelings at the want of good breeding therein displayed, threw his hat upon the floor, and said he would wager four dollars and thirty cents, which was all the money he possessed, that he could lecture on the principles of nonresistance, and draw an audience greater by ten per cent. than would come to hear about Mr. Crabbe. "You don't know whether your man had a liking for tobacco and whiskey?" he parenthesized. A look of contempt flashed from Giles Sheridan's eye, as he twirled his fingers, and curtly replied, "I wish, for your own sake, sir, that your tongue did not betray the error of the doctrine you have set up-"
"Oh! there you are!" the nonresistant quickly replied, "establishing by your acts what you have not courage to acknowledge with your lips." Wounded in his feelings, the little deformed man turned away, and commenced inquiring what I thought about several learned, but very heavy reviews that had recently appeared in Putnam's Magazine, a monthly so sensitive of its character for weighty logic, that it never gave ordinary readers anything they could digest. I confessed I was not sufficiently qualified to speak on the subject; to do which, required that a man be a member of that mutual admiration society, beyond whose delicate fingers it seldom circulated. The nonresistant evidently saw my embarrassment, and saying he had but one more question to ask respecting the man Crabbe, continued in the following manner, while Giles Sheridan remained doggedly silent. "Now, look a here! if your Mr. Crabbe had a bin a farmer who had grown a nice field of wheat, which his neighbor's horse, being breachy, had got into, wanting to get the best of that neighbor, would he have killed the horse, or would he have gone to that neighbor and said, 'Neighbor, thy horse is in my wheat, pray come and take him out, that I may not bear thee malice?'" This question, and the quaint manner in which it was put, so conciliated the little deformed man that he could not resist a smile. "I have you there!" exclaimed the nonresistant with a toss of his head.
"It occurs to me that Crabbe never had a farm, hence it would not become me to speak for him. For myself, I had driven the horse out with my dog," replied the other.
"There you are wrong," retorted the nonresistant, "for the dog would have destroyed the wheat, and so carried the devil to the heart of the farmer, that he had gone to law, if, indeed, he had not killed the horse, and by so doing lost all power over his adversary. Whereas, if he had spoken gently of the conduct of the horse, the owner would have been sorely grieved, and set about making good the damage, according to the promptings of his own heart."
The landlord hearing the nonresistant's voice, entered the room and ordered him to begone about his business, and seek some better employment than that of hectoring every traveler who chanced to put up at his inn. But the nonresistant replied that he was not to be insulted by a landlord who professed to keep a temperance house, and sold liquid death daily on the sly; nor would he leave the inn, in which he had a common right, until his own convenience dictated. This so enraged the landlord, that although he was a little man, he seized the nonresistant by the collar, and would have forced him to leave the premises but that the other proved too strong for him. Indeed the nonresistant, notwithstanding his principles, had well nigh divested the landlord of his coat, and done serious damage to his face, and was only ejected from the house by the timely assistance of the hostler and the bar tender.
THE nonresistant, resolving to make the street his castle, stood for some minutes making grimaces, and hurling coarse invective at the landlord, who, with sundry idlers, had gathered into the portico. He then took his leave, swearing to have satisfaction of his assailants, as Giles Sheridan, looking out at the window, said he should long remember the fellow for the courtesy he had manifested towards him.
Peace being restored, the landlord, his shirt ruffle in a sad plight, returned to apologize for the disturbance to his guests; while peeping in at the door, I saw Bessie, her black eyes almost swimming in tears, and evidently alarmed for my safety. Again Giles Sheridan spoke up and said: "It can be no good that brought the fellow hither. He must have been begotten under an evil star, and nursed by a virago. The fellow has but to take good care of his invective; and if he adopt the ass instead of the madman, he may in time become an excellent critic." Here he paused, turned his head quickly, and frisked his fingers nervously through his straight, silvery hair. The clerical looking groom, hearing the little deformed man speak thus, led his young bride frightened to bed.
The lecturer now drew a much worn and almost illegible manuscript from his pocket, and commenced reading to me a few passages from it, in a clear, shrill voice, and with much earnestness of manner. His love of approbation, I saw, was only equaled by his want of self-confidence, which made him anxious to hear what I would say of it. So I listened with more than ordinary attention while he read, and then expressed a firm belief that the people of Barnstable could not fail to appreciate his ascetics. This so encouraged him that his heart seemed beating with joy, and he warmed into enthusiasm, and read on, watching intently the changes of my countenance, as if he wished to read in them my fleeting thoughts. I was about to inquire whether it were good policy to measure public taste by one's own, when he paused, and heaving a sigh, said in a modulated tone of voice, that so many queer inquiries had been made of him respecting Crabbe, that he began to doubt whether he could interest the people in a discourse upon the character of one they had scarce heard of. No longer ago than yesterday, he said, General Sam Wheeler, the popular high school committeeman, looked in to say, that it was getting all over Barnstable, and had very nearly got into the columns of the Patriot, that he had been got down by the evil agency of the anti-temperance men to lecture on a new process of making brandy from crab apples. And the Baptist clergyman rather encouraged this report, which was doing serious damage. I was told, too, that the subject of my lecture had been warmly debated by the ladies of the Orthodox Sewing Circle, where Mrs. Silas Heywood, who had written several strong articles for the Patriot, which journal adopted them as its own, was heard to declare emphatically that she had never heard of this man Crabbe, though she had read no end of books. Miss Bruce had been six quarters at the high-school, knew something of Latin and algebra, and had taken music lessons of Monsieur Pensin‚; but she had never heard of Crabbe until she read "Night and Morning," where, out of sheer affectation, as it seemed to her, she found that the author had made sundry quotations from him to adorn the heads of his chapters. As for Miss Leland, who had been two years abroad with her father and mother, and was supposed to know all about literature and the poets, she thought Mr. Crabbe could not be much, since she had not even heard of him while in England. Mr. Faulkner, the storekeeper, had not a book of Crabbe on his shelves, though he dealt largely in hardware and literature, and was a very respectable scholar. And Squire Brigham, the lawyer, who mixed himself up with other people's business a great deal, busied himself in saying: Crabbe must have been an obscure fellow, for though there was a pyramid of old books in his library, he had not one of this author's among them; and perhaps he ought to be thankful for it, for indeed Mrs. Forbush had said to him in confidence, that she understood of the little deformed man that Crabbe had written some very bad things of lawyers. Mrs. Forbush went regularly to Boston to get the fashions and attend the Lowell lectures; Mrs. Forbush had written a religious novel for the "Olive Branch;" Mrs. Forbush said, who would have thought of giving such a looking little creature five dollars and his victuals for lecturing upon such a subject
The cry of fire without, and the loud peals of an alarm bell, suddenly threw the town and the tavern into a state of great excitement. Giles Sheridan stopped short in his discourse, and the inmates of the house rushed in great agitation into the street. The alarm spread rapidly, and people began to run in every direction but the right one. One declared it a false alarm. That it was set on foot to afford recreation for the mischievous, another was quite sure. A third was ready to swear he saw the incendiary run down "the lane." People ran in opposite directions, crying fire. People, wayward and confused, were endeavoring to persuade one another that the scene of the fire was not in the direction they were going, though neither smoke nor flame could be seen in any part of the town. And while the people were thus confused, an harsh and grating voice cried out that the fire was down the lane, a narrow pathway that led from one part of the town to another. The confused figures of men who had stood contemplating here and there about the square, now rushed down the lane, and soon came in hearing of moans and lamentations, which grew louder and louder, as of one in great distress. "Oh! unworthy sinner that I am, let every man exert himself to remedy this misfortune!" a stifled voice was heard to cry out, as a crowd, having gathered round a pit, where some workmen had been digging for a well, discovered no less a person at the bottom, half buried in sand and water, than Major Roger Potter. "Peace, good man, and thy misfortune shall be remedied soon," said the Orthodox clergyman, who was among the alarmists, and, notwithstanding his accustomed frigidity, could scarce suppress a smile at seeing the major cut so sorry a figure. The clergyman now ordered the bystanders, who were much more inclined to enjoy the joke, to bring ropes, and assist in relieving the distressed man, who, if not a friend of the church, was at least a Christian. "Aye, aye," responded the major, "and be not long about it, for the sand is caving in, and I feel the devil fingering my toes." Seeing the people come to his relief, the major regained his courage, (for when discovered he was nearly frightened out of his wits,) and began heaping curses upon the head of the miscreant who had laid so diabolical a plot against his life. Indeed, he stubbornly refused to be convinced that it was anything else than a trick of his enemies to rob him of his military title. In fine, he declared to the parson, who several times rebuked him for his free use of profane adjectives, that nothing but his good will for mankind in general prevented him from taking summary vengeance of his enemies with his sword, which, fortunately for those who were making light of his distress, he had left at home. It was not that he set so high a value upon his life, for he had shown while in the Mexican War that he was not wanting in valor, and was ready at any moment to sacrifice it to his honor; but it sorely grieved him to think of what a loss the nation and Barnstable would suffer in his death by falling into a pit.
The rabble, as he called those who had come to his relief, now began to jeer him, and to demand of him a speech, merely to occupy the time while ropes necessary to his deliverance were being brought. This so enraged the major, that in addition to swearing he would not be drawn up by such a set of inhuman rascals, he commenced to curse his hard fate. A few moments more and he became calm, and looking up beseechingly in the clergyman's face, which was reflected by the light of a lantern, he enjoined him to hasten to his wife, Polly Potter, and tell her of the plight he was in. She had never forsaken him in his misfortunes. But the clergyman was scrupulous of his dignity, and not fancying the strong quality of the expletives he was using, took his leave, saying he could not waste sympathy upon one who so far forgot his afflictions as to take the name of the Lord in vain.
Ropes were now at hand, and amidst much laughter and jeering, the major was relieved from his perilous position, not, however, until his face had received some bruises and his garments much injury. The crowd now professed so much affection for him, that he began to deplore the loss of his temper, and to offer apologies for what he had said when in the pit, which were readily accepted, with regrets for his misfortune. Indeed, he inwardly congratulated himself that he had not lost a whit of his political or military popularity, and that the mishap was one of those peculiar interpositions of Providence which may occur in the life of any great man. As to the oaths that had lost him the friendship of the clergyman, he regretted them from the very bottom of his heart, and hoped his friends, in the exercise of that generosity they had ever evinced for him, would set them down to the bewildered and confused state of his faculties. Hoping he would never again be in a condition to merit their jokes, the major bowed in the politest manner, and turned to take his departure, adding that he would have to perform certain offices pleasing to his wife, Polly. He had, however, no sooner turned his back, than the crowd gave out shouts of laughter, seeing the condition his nether garments were in. Being unconscious of the cause, the major mistook their shouts for a manifestation of his popularity, and having paused to acknowledge it with a bow, continued on his way as the crowd dispersed.
It seems that the mischievous urchins, on seeing the major enter the tavern, mounted his team and drove several times round the town, the pig and chickens keeping up a medley of noise that seriously annoyed numerous peaceably-disposed citizens. And having satisfied their mischievous propensities, they left old Battle to himself, knowing that he would keep faith with his master. Finding his faithful animal gone, when he issued from the tavern, the major, not doubting the steady habits of his horse, very naturally believed that he had taken his way home, and thus forestalled his arrival. The only thing that caused him any fear was, that some accident might occur to his live stock. He therefore took the shortest road home, and so completely absorbed in the contemplation of his profits, and of the prospect of another chance for political fame, was he, that he hastened on regardless of the planks the workmen had placed round the well they were digging, and of which he became conscious only when he had tumbled some twenty feet to the bottom. Beginning to sink deeper and deeper in the sand, from which all his efforts to extricate himself failed, he set up a cry of fire, regarding it the one which would soonest bring him relief. And this cry he bawled until he sent the whole town into a state of excitement.
And now, since I have exhausted the limits of my chapter, I must reserve what took place between the major and his wife Polly, and how she almost fainted at seeing him enter the house in so shattered a condition, for another chapter.
MAJOR ROGER SHERMAN POTTER lived in a little red house in the outskirts of the town of Barnstable. There were two crabbed little windows in front, for it could boast of but one story, and a narrow green door, over which a prairie rose bush clustered, as if to hide its infirmity. A small window, reminding one of a half closed jacknife, and in which were two earthen flower pots containing mignonnette, set jauntily upon the roof, which was so covered with black moss, that it was impossible to tell whether it was shingled or tiled. Indeed such was the shattered condition of the little tenement, that you might easily have imagined it suffering from a forty years' attack of chronic disease, and quite unfit for the habitation of so great a military hero. The major, however, had a peculiar faculty for reconciling humbleness with greatness, and always overcame the remonstrances of his wife, (who was continually urging the necessity of a larger tenement, in accordance with their advanced popularity,) by reminding her that General Scott, who was a great military hero, and to whom the nation owed a debt of gratitude it had no notion of discharging until after his death, was kept poor and humble by the nation, merely for its own convenience. In truth, whenever Polly Potter upbraided the major for not keeping up proper appearances, he would mutter so that her ears could not escape the meaning, that rags might cover a nobleman, while the knave might scent his fine linen with the perfumes of Arabia. In reply to this, Polly would remind him in her own way, that tattered garments and good society were not the fashion of the day, and seldom went together.
"Well, here I am, wife! in an unsuitable condition, I confess," said the major, stalking into his little habitation, and embracing his wife, who had been waiting his coming in great anxiety, seeing that old Battle had arrived nearly an hour previous, with the tin wagon in a very disordered condition. "Heavens! my faithful husband, my dear good husband, what has happened?" shrieked his wife, standing aghast for a moment, and then throwing herself almost fainting into his arms, as two shy looking and ill clad little girls, and a boy of some twelve years old, clung about her garments, and commenced to cry with all the might of their lungs. The major's wife was a slender, meekly attired woman, with exceedingly sharp features, a bright, watchful eye, evincing great energy of character, and a complexion which might be considered a compromise between the color of Dr. Townsend's sarsaparilla and the daintiest olive-induced, as the major afterwards told me, by bilious disorder.
The major was at a loss how to account to his wife for his shattered condition, nor was he conscious of the disordered state of his nether garments, the rent in which had been made larger by the process of getting him out of the pit. However, as her recovery was almost as sudden as her notion to faint, and seeing that nothing serious had resulted therefrom, he placed her in a chair, and commenced recounting to her how he got into the pit, which he swore, and made her believe, was set for him by his enemies, who had for many years bore him great malice, in consequence of his fame, which, God knows, he had worked hard enough to gain. "La's me, husband," said the artless woman, making him a return of her affections; "it's just what I've a dozen times told you they'd do, if they'd only a sly chance. There's Robins Dobson, who has been trying for years to be Major of the Invincibles, and it's just what his wife wants. She wants to see his name, with the title 'tached, in the Patriot some mornin'. Poor folks has a hard enough time to get up in the world, and when they gets up, everybody wants to pull 'em down. That's the way the world goes." As it had always been a custom with the good woman to believe no greater military character than the major ever lived-an opinion he shared to the fullest extent-so was it the most pleasing thing with him to reciprocate the honor by asserting, whenever an opportunity offered, that history afforded no example of a military hero ever before being blessed with so good a wife. Indeed I very much doubt whether there ever existed a heaven in which love, joy, and mutual confidence were so liberally exchanged as in this, the major's little tenement. As for furniture, it could boast of but little, and that of the shabbiest kind. It was true, there was a print of General Scott hung upon the discolored wall, and another of Zack Taylor, and another of General Pierce, mounted upon a ferocious-looking charger, and about to demonstrate his courage (not in attacking the lines of an enemy) by rushing into the thickest of a hailstorm. By these, especially the latter, Polly Potter set great store, inasmuch as they illustrated the major's taste for the profession of which he was so illustrious a member. I had almost forgotten to mention, while enumerating the portraits of these great generals, that there was hanging over the tea-table (as if to do penance for some grievous wrong committed against that venerable institutution) a picture of General Webb, who had distinguished himself in several great battles, fought in the columns of an almost pious newspaper, published in Wall Street, New York, and whom Polly Potter verily believed, having heard it of the neighbors, to be a wonderful diplomatist, which was rare in so great a general.
"And now, seeing that we have had but scanty fare for the week past, and have got deeply in debt to the grocer, who has twice threatened to take our little things for pay, pray tell us of your voyage, and what success you have met with;" said the good woman, which reminded the major of his neglect of his faithful horse, which, in reply to a question concerning his arrival, he was told had come safely home, and been put in the barn, but without either pig or chickens. The major was not a little surprised on hearing this account of his team, and repaired at once to the barn, where he found old Battle a little jaded, but otherwise in his usual good condition, and as ready as ever to acknowledge the caresses of his kind master. To his utter astonishment neither pig nor chickens, upon which he had set so much store, as constituting the larger half of his available profits, were to be seen. He now swore either that the town was full of thieves, or that it was another trick of his enemies to deprive him of the means of sustaining his hard-earned reputation. His wife now, evincing great grief at the sad misfortune, held the lantern while he counted his skins and tin ware, which he found to tally exactly with his account of stock, which he kept on a dingy slip of paper, with the exactness of a cotton broker. "Curse on these enemies of mine; they are all an evil minded set of blockheads!" ejaculated the major, pausing to consider a moment, and then heaving a sigh. "Husband, curse not your enemies," enjoined the confiding woman, "for the Scripture teacheth that we must pray for them; and you know we have much need of being exalted above them."
"I leave what the Scripture teacheth to Parson Boomer," interrupted the major, "who deals in that sort of commerce. Scripture, as I take it, has little to do with one's military reputation. And, may the devil take me if I don't think military men get it right nine times out of ten, and won't be far behind them in getting to heaven, (I mean the parsons,) unless they look well to the state of their morals."
Being very short, and stout, and singularly duck-legged withal, the major, having had his attention called to the condition of his garments, drew forth his cotton handkerchief and hung it about his loins, as a means of protecting the exposed state of his battery. Thus protected in his dignity, he resolved that his wife should bear him company, and together they would sally down the road a mile or two, in search of his lost live stock. As this necessarily incurred some danger to his person, which it required courage to overcome, he thought it well to step into the house and get his sword, a weapon that never failed him, and with which, according to his own account, he had killed innumerable Mexicans. Having girded on this venerable weapon, he came forth as never before did military hero, swearing to have satisfaction of every enemy who chanced in his way.
Let it be understood by all my military acquaintances, that I mean no offence in what I have here written. Nor must it be inferred because I have thus accoutered the major, who must be set down for a military politician, that such is the fashion with all great majors and colonels; for indeed history furnishes no account of their going to war with what is generally accepted as their most vital parts protected with pocket handkerchiefs, not even when fleeing before the enemies' bullets. Nor would this history sustain the reputation for truth I have from the beginning resolved it shall maintain with generations yet unborn, were I to leave unrecorded this act of heroism, seeing that it has so many counterparts among those who affect the profession of arms, and are honest enough in their belief that the nation's battles cannot be fought without them.
And now, having prepared himself for a tilt with assailants, rather than a search for his pig and poultry, he strode forth, his wife following a few steps behind, lantern in hand, and so regulating the shadow as not to obstruct his vision. Being a woman of great kindness, and much given to religion, his wife would pause every few steps, and enjoin the major to treat his adversary, if any he should chance to meet, with great consideration. There was no knowing, she said, but that it might all be the work of some mischievous boys. "That may be, wife; but they are set on by older heads. There's Captain Tom Baker, and Sergeant Prentice, of the Invincibles, in it somewhere! And they'll never stop molesting me until they have felt the weight of this sword!" returned the major, touching the hilt of his sword, and quickening his pace.
They had not proceeded far, when the rippling of a brook, and a slight rustling of leaves among some bushes by the roadside, caused the major to halt suddenly, half unsheath his sword, and place himself in an attitude of defence. "I said we should find them, wife; and may the devil take me if I don't make dead men of them in a trice."
"Truly, husband, it is only the wind and the brook you hear, and which, at this hour of the night, sounds very like the talking of conspiring men," interupted the woman, as if to encourage the major, who shrugged his shoulders, and began to show signs of fear in the backward and cautious movement of his steps. "As I hope to be saved, wife," returned our hero, in a modified tone of voice, "though it takes more than a trifle to alarm me, who has seen much service in Mexico, I am not mistaken. A vagabond of some kind lurks in the bushes yonder, for I heard his voice as distinctly as if it had been bawled into my ears. There! hear you not the sound of his footsteps? Go you ahead with the light, and leave the rest to me."
"Pray, husband, do not let your fancies lead you to rash acts."
"Rash acts?" rejoined the major, "to kill a score of such lurking vagabonds would only be doing good service for the devil, who merits one's aid now and then." In evidence of her faith in the cause of the sounds, the good woman advanced forward, and, followed by the major, with his sword drawn and braced, they proceeded cautiously on over the bridge, though not until our hero had several times stopped to listen, which he declared was enjoined by every rule of the profession, and was a means to avoid surprise while advancing upon an enemy.
Having ascended the brow of a hill, a short distance beyond the bridge, it was agreed between the major and his wife, that, being out of danger, they might now look more after the lost property and think less of assailants. The major, in the meantime, commenced giving his wife an account of the pig's knowing qualities, which, together with a description of the eccentric swine driver, amused her not a little. If the pig, she argued, was possessed of one half the gifts set down to him, he would take care of himself for the night; and as to the chickens, not even the black people who lived on the hill, would think of coming out at night to steal them-for though they were proverbially fond of keeping a large poultry yard, and not over scrupulous of the means by which they supplied it-they were too sparing of their energies to waste them at that hour of night. She therefore enjoined that they return peaceably home, and leave the search to be resumed at daylight. The major admitted the reason of his wife's argument, but declared his determination to traverse the road round and return by way of the tavern. It might, in truth, betray a want of courage, did he retrace his steps at this stage of the road.
"As to courage, husband," said his wife, holding the lantern so near that the shadow reflected over his broad face, "I am sure you have already proved that you are not wanting in that; and as there are but a few hours until daylight, we had as well go home and get us comfortably to bed." The figure of a man, whose dusky shadow reflected along the fence, was now seen approaching in the road. The major had no sooner descried him, than he fell in with his wife's opinion, and as a practical illustration of his faith in it, commenced retracing his steps so fast that it was with much difficulty she could keep up with him. Looking neither to the right nor the left, he continued on until he had gained the house, from the door of which he turned to look back, when, finding the figure had vanished, he said with an air of regained courage, that it was not that he feared the miscreant, but having a wife and three children dependent upon him, he could not hope for forgiveness were he to risk his valuable life in combat with a lurking vagabond. He therefore shut the door, partook of an humble supper, and went quietly to bed, leaving the pig and chickens to take care of themselves until daylight.