The sword and the distaff, or, Fair, fat and forty
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF; "FAIR, FAT AND FORTY," AT THE CLOFTHE THE REVOLUTION. BY THE AUTHORF- "THE PARTISAN," "MELLICHAMPE," "KATHARINE WALTON," ITC, CHARLESTON: WALKER, RICHAVIDS & CO.' 1852. page: 0[View Page 0] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the yar 1852,' by W. GILMORE SIMMS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for he District ol South-Carolina, T0 JOSEPH, JOHNSON, M D., CHARLESTON, S. Ca MY DEAR A RDRn- I THINK it very , that you have encountered, in your early days, s the persons of this domestic novel. They are all rawn from the life, and are suffi- ists of "Glen Eberley!" were well known personages of preceding generations, here thinly disguised under false fnames, and fanciful localities, which, I am inclined o think, will prove no disguise to you. I shall keep my secret, however, as a matter of course; but you are under no obligations to 1do so, and will please remem- ber what you can, and relate what you please. You have so long wandered in the interesting periods of the Revolution, and among the generations which immedi- ately followed that event, that I am persuaded to believe page: iv-1[View Page iv-1] IVi DEDICATION. . :ar, that you will find pleasure even in the perusa! of a record so imperfect as my own. I owe Do mruch tc your kind communications, and to your own researches in this direction, that I derive great satisfactpfroln the hope that you will find pleasure in perusing my story, and that it may stimulate your memory irto recallling many things'which it may be agreeable to you to :'esus- citate. With great respect and regard, I am, dear Sir, faithfully, your friend, THE AUTHOR. , -THE SWORID AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER I. A BRAVE WIDOW. ' THE provisional articles of peace, between the King of Great Britain, and the revolted colonies of America, were signed at Paris, on the 13th Nov., 1.2. The British forces in Chaileston, South-Carolina, prepar I andon that city early in the follow- ing December. The eg k place on the 14th of that months Prior to this period, thIlwe my had been confined to the imrme- i diate precincts of the garrison. The gradually contracting arms of the Americans had established a -cordon about them, which they had found it impossible to break; and-the rival armies, the Ii one unable to take the field, and the other too feeble to force the garrison, lay watching each other, like a couple of grim tigers, tfiB who have-leafned, by frequent combats, to regard their opponents F with respect, if not affection. Both were exhausted. Exhaustion, not wisdom, or a better state of feeling, was the secret of the peace which was finally concluded between the two nations, and of which, South-Caxolina, and Charleston in particular, was eager- ly expecting the benefits. For more than two years this' region !!l was in full, or in partial keeping, of the enemy. The days had a^1 been counted by skirmishes and battles, by fears, hates, anxieties, persecution' and blood. The time for repose was at hand. Peacde page: 2-3[View Page 2-3] 2 ' THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFEf. was agreed upon; the British army was about to evaculte. the city; the Americans Were crowding about their ou-tposts, elger to come in. Meanwhile, commissioners from both, were in tfle city, preparing for a peaceable restoration of prisoners, a4attals and soil.. There was much to be re-delivered, which i ked the3 stom- ach of the British captor, and his allies among the Loyalis-s. The latter had many &ars of meeting with their ancient bretlhren.- Both the British aild themselves had much plunder which it Was becoming difficult to make away with. The American commis- sioners were particularly solicitous in respect to this matter. South- Carolina had already lost twenty-five thousand slaves, which Bri- tish philanthropy had transferred from the rice fields of Carolina, to the sugar estates of the West India Islands; and thera were yet other thousands. waiting to be similarly transported. But how to conceal them f'omn the lynx eyes of the commissione 's, who -were studiously attentive to the modf fitting. up the traisport- ships, and their accommodations pr(] r passengers; and 9spe- cially heedful that they were not to7 rowded with the iack, for the comfort of the white inhabita Such vigilance 'FaV the subject of much soreness on the part of those who exerciser -heir charities for the African race, without desiring to give their labours any unnecessary publicity. The anxieties of the one party, and the vigilance of the other, were duly increased as the pronent drew nigh for the exodus of the British. It was but three days from this event, when Colonel Moncrie of the latter-whose philanthropy on behalf of the blacks ha been exercised on a most extensive scale-was surprised by an un- expected visitor. We may add, an unwelcome one. He was sit- ting in his office, books and papers around him, sFwords upor- the wall; pistols among papers upon the table, and witca but on 3 com- panion. This was a person of rusty complexion, sharp visage, small bulbous-shaped nose, a low, broad forehead, and siig ;e- ex- pression of mouth and eyes. The' latter were of a light grey, i ' ': \ A BRAVE WIDOW.; 3 : keen rather than bright, and significant of .cunning rather than , character. The two appeared to be busy in long details, figured out on several. sheets of paper, and a-confused array of arithmeti- i cal propositions.. But there seemed no difficulty between them; the business, which equally interested both, seemed mutually sat- isfactory. Over some of the details they chuckled pleasantly. : They were thus employed, when'the door was suddenly thrown open, and a white servant, partly in military habit, appeared at :' the entrance. i-i "NWell, Waldron ;" said Moncrieff, scarcely looking up, " what now?"' !"A lady, sir." 4 'A -lady? Who, pray What name?" )':J "Didn't tell me, sir-is here, the lady says she must see you." , " a Well, if a lady says she must see me, the necessity is hardly H to be escaped, I suppose. 4&ow her in." The servant stepped and the lady entered-a fair and comely dame, scarcely vith a fiesh, healthy expression, a bright, cheery blue eye, a wee , intelligent mouth, as indicative of character as of beauty, and a frank, buoyant expression of coun- tenance. Her figure was tall, yet somewhat inclined to embon point, though her carriage was equally dignified and graceful.-- The gentlemen rose promptly at her entrance. Moncrieff advanced Politely and handed her a chair, which she took with a quiet ease d promptness that showed her to be accustomed to society. Moncrieff was evidently and immediately impressed by her presence. It was quite apparent, however, that she was entirely unknown to him. Not so with his companion, whose visage put on a look of blank dissatisfaction at the moment of her entrance, which at once dispersed the smiles that had mantled it only a ? moment before. But neither of the other persons in the room -: seemed to notice his disquiet. He drew apart, and went towards one of the windows, but kept his eye upon the two, with an oblique page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] 4 THE SWORD AND TtHE DISTAFF. glance -eminently his own; and his ears were keenly alive to whllat was spoken. ".May I have the honour, madam, of serving you .X" vas the- iquestion. of Moncrieff, with all the courtesy proper to an oficer in his Britannic Majesty's service. The answer was prompt. In a clear, frank, musical voice, the lady said- "'I bring you, sir, a billet from his Excellency, xeneral Leslie, which will fully explain my business. My name is Evelei,:,L, the widow of the late Major Eveleigh, who once held the office -n your arnay that you now hold." "I remember, madam; I had not the pleasure of knowing Ma- jor Eveleigh personally, but his rank and character are fully known to me.' "Here, sir, is General Leslie's letter." ! She took it from her bag, and-handed it as she spoke. The brow of Colonel Moncrieff clouded? read. "You will perceive, sir," said tP "that his Excetlency General Leslie, requests you to see S tain negroes be r stored to me, my property, which are now thin the garrison---heir names are in this paper, and a description of theli indivilually, by which they may each be identified." Moncrieff read the second paper 'with increasing gravity of as- pect. His male companion crossed the floor to hi-m, and Looked over the paper as he read. The widow Eveleigh observed theI movement--and the man-with some interest. After a few moD ments, Moncrieff, with something of annoyance in his to-we, reB marked- i W Thy, madam, it is very doubtful if there be any such slaves within the garrison. You are aware that we have been d'll'ver- ing them up, as fast they can be foun , to the American Commis- sioners. They may be concealed--" "They are concealed," answered thq lady. "If that be the case, Mrs. Eveleigh,' answered the other: with A RAVE WID OW. 5 a soothing smile, "we must try and find them for you. We shall institute a thorough search, and should they be found, they shall be delivered to the Commissioners." "I thank you, sir; but something of this trouble may be spared you; and. I should prefer-as the ownership of the prdper- ty is unqestionably in me, as I have -satisfied General Leslie-that they be delivered to myself." ' That, too, my dear madam, I cheerfully promise, should we find them."' "It is the trouble of this search, sir, that I would spare you. I have already found them." "The devil you have, madam!" cried Moncrieff, starting to his feet, and evidently disquieted,-" and where, pray?" "In the old ILulk, sir, at Market Dock, in company with some two hundred others, upon-vhom I have no claim, but who, I have no doubt, will find clai' I fast enough if they be once exposed on the wharf to the e ation of the American Commission- ers." "'Pon my soul, madam, for a whig-American, you calculate largely upon the generosity of his Majesty's Government." "Very far from it, Colonel Moncrieff; I calculate nothing at all upon the generosity of His Majesty's Government. My calculations are all based upon what seems the necessity of the case, and the policy, which His Majesty's officers seem-generally to recognize, of performing the conditions of the treaty in good faith. You speak of me, sir, as an American and a whig;-- I am not ashamed to I say that I am both; but, remembering that my late husband was a good Loyalist, and a faithful and trusted-officer in His Majesty's service, I have forborne, with a due regard to his memory, from taking any active part in this ^contest. On this- subject, however, General Leslie has been long quite satisfied. I feel proud that I may number him amuong my friends. You have read his let- ter--it appears to me that nothing more is necessary to be said." page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 TIIE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Well, madam, allowing all this, it appeals to me that' what is expected of us, is the delivery, to the Rebel Cormmissioner;, of all the negroes. claimed as fugitives-" "Let me interrupt you, Colonel Moncrieff. ThM Commi,;s on- ers are-employed only to represent the absent. I amr here ptesent, I can identify my negroes-I have done so--and now I de&nand of you their re-delivery," "But, why of me, madam?" "For the best of reasons, sir. They are enterec. in the -Illk- book in your name." r "The devil they are, madam!" "I forgive your irreverence, Colonel Moncrieff, to myself; but regret that your tone should be so disrespectful to ks Satanic Ma- jesty." Moncrieff could not forbear a laugh. "Begad, madam, you have me! hat names do yol dis- tinguish these negro subjects of you; ! "Here is the list ;--they have been identified by my ovorkseer as well as myself." I "But, madam, I am somewhat curious--pray how did 3o u- - yet, no matter!"You say, Mrs. Eveleigh, that you have, yo'lrself, seen these negroes at the Hulk V. " \ "I have, sir, and spoken with them." i "Then there can be no doubt! But-" Herle he paused, looked hurriedly over a pile of memoranda before him, bit the) tip of his goose quill, and seemed, for a few moments, to'meditate; then turning to his former companion, he said- i "McKewn, I must confer with you. Will Mrs+ Evelei h ex- cuse me for a few moments" . The lady bowed her head, and the two gentlemen left the apart- Dment. The brave widow was left alone. o THE WIDOW MAKES SOME-DISCOVERIES. "'MCKEWN!" said the lady in an under tone. She appeared to muse for awhile. Then, looking up, her eyes seemed to be- come interested in the furniture of-the apartment, which, as it was that of a military bachelor, was somewhat curious and contradic- tory in its character. The floor of the room was cumbered with chests, trunks and boxes. The walls were hung with pistols and sabres. Intersperised among these, were sundi'y articles of unmen- tionable clothing, to say nothing of military, parade, service and undress coats;--Moncrieff was something of a carpet-knight.- Great boots lay sprawlign beneath the table. An elegant chapeau bras rested upon it; in near neighbourhood, protruding from beneath a pile of papers, was a pair of pistols of extraordinary beauty and finish., The widow possessed some rather curious tastes for a lady. She rose, took up the pistols, and examined them without any of that shuddering feeling which most ladies would exhibit at the contemplation of such implements. They might well attract the attention of a person not an amateur. The weap- ons of that day were of much more curious and costly workman- ship than ours. There was an antique richness in the ornaments of the pistols which was calculated to gratify the eye. The stocks' were quaintly inlaid with fleurs de lis and vines, done in filag-ee of variegated gold. The butts were capped with gold, in the cen- tre of which was an elaborately wrought eye, with a small ame- thyst forming the pupil. The barrels were plain, but exquisit1ly polished. They were of rifle-bore--the duelling pistol in fact,--a weapon. more in use then than now, and in the workmanship of which much more care and ornament were expended. The in- page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. spection of these beautiful tools of murder seemed to afford on- siderable interest to our widow' Sle finally laid thenb dow n I their places. As she did so, her eye was arrested Iby a pa)er which lay open beside the weapons. Her own name cau'ht ler glance. She uttered a slight ejaculation of-sulprise, and caugAht up the paper, which was one of those enormous sheets of dingy I foolscap which were in common use at that period. ' Her intemest ! increased as she examined the writing, and she felt: justifie( in reading it. It afforded her some curious intelligence in regard to the very business In which she was engaged ; containin%, in facn, a long -catalogue of names, evidently those of slaves-Sam, To:, i Peter, Dick, Pompo, Cudljoe, Dembo, C-ush, Binah, Bess, Bathsl e- ba, and a hundred more-and all parcelled off in sections, embla- ced in brackets, opposite to each of which were the names, also, of their respective owners. To some, the nadnes of places; or estate s were appended. There she beheld her own name in connecti, i with-the slaves she claimed. There womething further. memorandum, against each column, contatned a reference to t i source from which they had been obtained. - She read the nane 0 f "McKewn" as that of the person who had put her negroes n possession of Moncrieff. There wras Moncrieff's acknoiwledgment i and signature. lThere were McKewn's memoranda with his own landwriting as she supposed, and"rightly; and other matters, al 1 n detail, which she saw, in a moment, comprised a large body If i 3onclusive testimony that might be very useful. I This, then, was the document which the British Colonel ant X is companion had been studying when she came in. She laid he paper down in its place. But her lips became rigid with resolu ion. Shehastily seized .the document and folded it. I "I am dealing," she said to herself, " with enemies. This do ment may become -necessary yet to secure my property. T% illains! Shall I scruple when I am in such hands ' Shall Isu ,r them to defraud my son of his rights, when it is in my powe " THE WIDOW MAKES SOME DISCOVERlES. ? to prevent them? Away with such childish scruples. It is war between us, perhaps, and I owe them no courtesies, no fqrbear- ance.". She put the paper into her pocket. "McKewn! McKewn!" she muttered. "Where have I heard that na-me before?" She heard footsteps approaching from without, and hastily re- sumed her seat'and her composure. Her face on the i:stant bh- came one of singular calm and simplicity. She was a woman evi- dently of equal good sense and nerve, and seemed totally uncor-- cerned and unemployed, as the outer door was thrown open. The orderly, Waldron, again made iis appearance, followed by anotk- er person. He looked about the room for his superior. "He is not here--the Colonel?" he remarked inquiringly. l He is within," answered the widow, pointing to the chamber to which Moncrieff and McKewn had retired. As she spoke, she observed that the person who followed Waldron, started, and seemed disposed to retire. Her eye quickened with intelligence, but she ceased to look at the new party. A single glance- had suf- ficed. Waldron advanced, calling to his companion to follow. '"Come this way," said the orderly. The person addressed, hes- itated for a moment, then, rapidly moving to the side of Waldror, pitt him between himself and the widow. They crossed the room together, and, without reserve, entered the inner apartment, thp door of which they closed behind them. Mrs. Eveleigh followed them with a careless but intelligent glance. When they had pas- sed from sight, she muttered- "I see it now! Bostwick has been the creature of McKewn in this business, as McKewn is the creature of Moncrleff. The un- grateful wretch ; and I have fed his family for years; his wife an child-when they were sick and starving. Oh! what a frightful, fiendish thing is- Poverty,when it is linked with ingratitude!" J 1 The widow had discovered, in the new comer, the squatter om r r i, page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 ' THE SWORD -AND THE DISTAFF. % a plantation which adjoined her own. The single glance w -fch she had given him, had sufficed to identify him ; and she was, "oo circumspect to allow him to perceive that she had my ade the ciis- covery. She was satisfied to look no farther. His slight form, sidelong gait, low, swarthy features, and long blackl hair, wt'ch hung down heavily upon his cheeks and shoulders, were not to be mistaken. She smiled sadly as-she mused upon the ingratit'.de, which had been fed at her hands without thanks, and which had' robbed her of her property without remorse. Let us leave he: for awhile, and become parties in the conference between Moncdff and McKewn. CHAPTER III. ROGUES iN CONFERENCE. "THS is a d--d awkward business, McKewn!" "What's to be done?" said the person addressed, ill rather E ul- len accents. ; "Aye, what? . That's the question," answered Moncrieff; "I ee no way to escape it, my good fellow. It robs us of some of qur profits." / "But will you give up the negroes?". "Eh! to be sure! What else? Show me how it may be mrn.- aged, saving me scot-free with old Leslie, who, though three pa :ts old woman, is yet a Tartar when you cross him-and I'm for ahy remedy. But it seems to me impossible." "Can't we get off the negroes while you keep her in play?" "Scarcely! She has identified them, and found them entered in my name., How the devil she has done this, I can't see. Wh a, could that Hessian, Dort, have been about?" i i ROGUES IN CONFEIRENCE. 1 "He was drunk, I reckon! He was the last man to have beer trusted with them. I feared it. But, it strikes me that we migh-E run the negroes without committing you." "How so? Remember, my honour as a British officer--" "May be kept safely, if we can prove that tley broke out of keeping and took boat up the river."' "Indeed! Half-a-dozen of negroes break away from a score o-' Hessian guards--" ' "All being drunk." "Unchain themselves-secure a .boat, and make their way up the river through a fleet of three hundred vessels of all sizes! No! no! McKewn! That won't do! Old Leslie is too shrewd a sold- ier to listen to such a story. Miy answer would be an arrest and a court of Inquiry. You must think of something better. McKewn remained sulkily silent. '"You are gravelled!" said the other. "So am I! I do not see but that we shall have to make a merit of necessity, i and the sooner we. do so, the better., If we delay 'about it, we shall have a host of other claimants; and the danger will be, not only that they will prove three hundred slaves in our keeping, but that some- thing will come out showing how they came into our keeping.- You, for example, might be required to explain some queer histo- ric. My notion is, that we must yield handsomely to the hand- some widow-a devilish fine looking woman, by the way, with a head of her own!-and, by promjptness in her case, a void the danger of other visitors.' We must discharge -her chattels, and transfer the rest to the "Tartar' before day, to-morrow. By the way, does this woman know you?" "I think not. Her husband did. I have seen her repeatedly, anid have been on her plantation. In fact, I am somewhat inter- ested in an estate in her neighbourhood. But this need not con- cern us now. It is a matter of some concern with me, as I am i to remain'in the country, that she should not know me in connec- page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] i: 12 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. tion with this affair. I shall avoid showing myself when you re- turn to her." "You see no means, then, of evading the surrender?" "None, but that already hinted." "That is out of the question," said, Moncrieff, rising. "I will take the physic without w:y faces. But, as soon as she goes, do you see to the transfer to the' ;TaTtar." -1 "It will be well, too," added McKewn, "if'you put them -i- der some better keeper than that drunken Hessian." "It shall be done. Well!, How now, Waldron?" At this moment, Waldron entered the room, followed by Bost- wick, the Squatter, At his entrance, McKewn looked disquieted. Waldron was immediately dismissed. "You here?" said McKewn to Bostwick. "Did you see --he lady?"!" "The widow-Eveleigh?-Yes!". "Did she see you?" 1 "Don't think! Jest as I caught the shine of her eyes I ddg- ed ahind the Surgeant. Don't think she made me out at al.- Did'nt look as ef she did."' Do you know what she comes about?" demanded Moncrilef. "Reckon I does, Colonel. She's been to the ' Hulk ' and seed the niggers herself." "Remain here, both of you, till she is gone. Take care i that she sees no more of either of you. If she has made you out, Master Bostwick, your best course will be to get into His Majes y's transport, as soon as you can, or she will hang you when the Re- bels take possession here." "She hain't seen me yit, I reckon," answered the Squatter, ? though a dubious expression darkened his swarthy visage as he spoke. Moncrieff, meanwhile, proceeded, rath ar reluctantly, though hutriiedlyto give his answer to the widow's requisition. Mclewn resumed the subject with Bostwick. Ig ROGUES IN CONFERENCEM "That woman has eyes to see through a stone wall. Do you think she got a glimpse of you at all " "I seed her first, I reckon." "You are not sure?" "No! nobody's sure of nothing, no-how, it seems to me, in this world," responded the Squatter. "Well! tven if she did see you here, it would only prove to the rebels that you were in bad company as wellas myself. I have my excuse--my reasons, for being here,-which, indeed would silence suspicion; and you being seen with Moncrieff and myself would only provoke suspicion, not confirm it. We must be cautious, that's all." - "Well, now, look you, squire, there's no caution without money, and I'm mightily needing the article. I must haye some, right away." Why, you had five guinealast week, Bostwick." f' I've lived a week since, and fed and drank- -" "Ay, and got drunk upon food and drink. Five guineas ought to last you a month, if you were a sober, prudent person." "Look you, Squire, I'm too bad a fellow tobe sober or pru- dent. I aint in love with myself, at all, when I'm sober; and, as for being whatyou call prudent, why, the thing's onreasonable. Ef I'd been a prudent person, would you have seen me here? Would I be doing for you all them dirty little transactions?" "Pshaw! you're well enough as you are." "I reckon'd you'd say so. You'll let me have the five guineas, squire ." "I suppose so-for this time; but the business is nearly done up now, Bostwick. I do not see that we can be of much farther use to one another : and all that's to be done, is to close up the old accounts. Don't you suppose that you're pretty well paid up for the past?'7 "I don't know what you mean by being paid up. I aint any 2 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. better off for all 've done for you and him. You're pretty rich, I reckon. I'm as poor as a wood-rat." i "And whose fault? You've had money. Why did'nt you keep it?" "I've had precious little, any how; and I had to live-me' and my wife and children. What I've got, always came by drib-ets, and went as fast as it came." - "You talk of your wife and children, Bostwick, but I'm think- ing they got but a small share of your mroney. You've drun- it up and gambled' it away, and to keep you in money, when it goes as fast as it comes, is clearlyimpossible?" "I must have it, that's sartain, squire ;" answeredthe other dog- gedly. "I've been working mighty hard, and not at good work neither, for a mighty long time. You've got rich by my labours. You and he (meaning Moncrieff) got all the niggers-more than * two hundred, I reckon. Ef I had got for them niggers-all of my bringiing-what they focht, or will fetch, to you-I'd ha' been as rich as any." "Yes! perhaps! But without him and me, you could have got nothing for them. He had the ships to carry them off, and the King's stores to pay for them, and, but for him, you wouldn't have had the price of the hair of a negro for your pains. You. must not suppose, that what you've done, could have been of any use but for:us. Still, you have been paid, according to agreement.-- You've had a good deal of money-" "In driblets, I say." "And stores-clothes-" "Yes, the King's stores; and ef I was to blow him to GeLeral Leslie, for it, where would he be? And if I was to blow, you to the Rebels, where would you be?" \ "Pshaw! you might blow to all eternit;, Bostwick, and would only hang yourself the faster. You sold me negroes, and gave me your titles for them. I have your hand and seal on it,'my THE WIDOW BECOMES TROJUBLESOME. 15 good fellow-all fair business transactions. Don't be a fool, Bostwick, as well as a knavel Keep your senses as long as you can. You shall have the five guineas as soon as Moncrieff comes back; but the question then will be, how much more you are to have? I suppose we can present you with a good chance 'of stores which you can sell to the Rebels at your own price. They are monstrously in need of clothes." "I hain't made much by what Ive- sold yit, and I'm jest as poor a man as ever. That ain't reasonable. Arter all I've done to make a little money, losing my character, and my own right' feeling, I ought to have something to show for it." - "Well, as the British are going, there will be pretty leavings, and Moricrieff won't stand upon trifles, in helping a fellow that has been faithful to him. If he leaves you stores, which will bring a hundred guineas, you ought to be satisfied. Don't you think so?" "Ef I kin do no better;". was the somewhat sulky answer. "Well, I suppose that something of the kind will: be done, and J Liat will settle off for the past. I may give you good business hereafter. Moncrieff's coming now, and we'll fix your affairs for Tyou at once." ] The approaching footsteps of Moncrieff arrested the conference between the 'two. He soon after appeared, looking excessively disquieted. Let us leave the three for a few moments, while we return to the widow Eveleigh I CHAPTER IV. X" THE WIDOW BECOMES TROUBLESOOME. WE left the brave widow in an apparent calm of mirid, which ghe did not) altogether feel. She was a person of that tempera- nellt -which does not affect repose,-to which it is rather restraint JB0 Ir I zin page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 ' - THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. " than rest---and which, having grateful performances before it, rbe- gards delay with disgust, and feels the necessit-y to wait, as f,n evil rather than a virtue. ;But the good lady had schooled her moods with considerable success, and, if she felt the feverish impa- tience which prompts one to be up and 'doing, she was yet able to subdue its exhibitions when these might come in conflict with du- ties equally req tring forbearance. She amused herself, as ,ie have seen, in examining the more curious portions of the furniture of the apartment n which she was required to wait. We hal'e noticed' her examination of the beautiful duelling pistols of Mon- crieff, and the discovery to which this examination led. Her eyes were soon caught by the swords and sabres hung upon the wall. Among these was a Turkish scimitar, with a handle of mother of pearl, a the sight of which she slightly started. In a moment she had arisen and taken the weapon from the wall. She drew it fairly from the scabbard, and surveyed the polished and beautiful blade, unstained and unspotted, with a degree-of interest which seemed to arise from other causes ttian its simple beauty. She waved the bright steel upwards, with a somewhat gladiatorial air, then held it before her eyes, -and -it was while she was thus 8e- ployed, and in this attitude, that Moncrieff suddenly reentered the' apartment. - He absolutely recoiled at the spectacle, with an ex- pression of wonder on his countenance, which he did not seek to conceal. "By Mars, madam, you terrify me . Positively, I must arm myself, and get me a shield. I shall believe in the Amazons after this." The lady smiled sadly, and restored the weapon slowly and carefully to its sheath. A tear was in her eye, but it escaped that of Moncrieff. She said in low tones, as if apologetically-- "I know this scimitar, Colonel Moncrieff: I have seen it often, with its former owner, at my dwelling. It was Major Andre's." "You are right, madam; and I do not wonder at your curios- THE WIDOW BECOMES TROUBLESOME. 17 ity. Poor Andr6! What a cruel fate!-and he, with such tastes, such sensibilities, and such ambition!" "Too much lacking pride, however." ": How, madam, pride?" "Yes ; or he had never suffered himself to be put to such base uses." "I do not see, Mrs. Eveleigh, that fidelity to one's'King, can properly be so stigmatized." , , : There is a higher fidelity to one's self, one's honour and indi- vidual character. But he paid the terrible penalty, and we must not dwell upon his weaknesses. He had tastes, and sensibilities, as you say;-he loved music and poetry, and could make the song, and find for it the fitting harmonies. He has frequently joined J me on the harpsichord, and would forget, (at our evening fireside, all the habits of'the soldier. He was not fitted for such a life, and he felt it. I have listened to his own se'tf-reproaches, for hav- ing chosen the profession. He did so in atr hour of disappoint- mient-of weakness-and was only not courageous enough to abandon it when he felt his unsuitableness for -it." "But, Andre was a brave man, Mrs. Eveleigh." "Yes; in one sense of the word. -He had conventional courage, but not intrepidity. Hle would have shown himself fearless in the sight of armies-he would have fought his man tithout flinching in the sight of friends ; but he ha'd none of that gladiator spirit- that Hunnish blindness-which belongs to the soldier from choice... t Had he possessed this quality, he would have disdained the petty. employments which finally cost him his life." "Well, madam, you have given me something to think upon, though I knew Andr6 well. We exchanged swords in proof of X! friendship,-though, by the way, mine was the most costly weapon : of the two. It was a genuine Damascus, while this, though a ' very beautiful imitation, is not!" The widow looked at the speaker with an unalloyed expression 'i page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. of disgust. Her glance did not escape him, and his face was slight- ly flushed, as he added- "Though, of course, the difference of value between the wea- pons wlas hot a subject of consideration. Indeed, if I remember lightly, the-first proposal to exchange came from me. It was just when he was about to embark for New-York, with Sir Henry." He paused, and the lady was also silent. She appeared willing to drop the subject. Moncrieff then promptly recurred to the bu siness upon which she came. '"I have made you out the 'order, Mrs. Eveleigh, for your ne- groes, if they are, as you say, in the custody of Captain Dort." "Captain Dort, sir! I know nothing of him, and have named no such person. The negroes are in the "Hulk" at Market Dock, and their keeper I have not seen." "He is Captain Dort, madam, a Hessian, and the keeper of the "BHulk." Hlad he not been dunk, madam,- you would possi- bly have seen him,--and possibly not your negroes." This was spoken with unsuppressed chagrin. "' Here is the order, madam." "I thank you, Colonel Moncrieff. And now that my own affair is settled, suffer mle to draw your attention to that of one of my neighbours, and an old acquaintance. I discovered in the "Hulk," ' while looking for my own slaves, seven otiers, who belong to Cap- tain Porgy, a planter on the Ashepoo. They knew me, and I them, in an instant. They implored me to obtain their restora- 't ion to their owner, and I shall be obliged to you for an order to tiffs effect also." "By the powers, madam, but this is quite too much! One would think that you might be content with having secured your own property." "Not so, Major Moncrieff! We are taught to love our neigh- bour as ourself, and such love can be shown in no better way, per- haps, than in giving heed to- his interest at the moment when we - 19 : 'l THE WIDOW BECOMES TROUBLESOME. 19 attend to our own. Indeed, sir, I do not know but that, as a good Christian, I should have thought first of his concerns." "Oh! you are scrupulous, ma'am! But, in truth, this Porgy is a fierce and pestilent fellow-one of the gang of Marion-who has made himself particularly conspicuous as a malignant. He has certainly no reason to expect favour at our hands." "Oh! surely not favour! The question is one of right, sim- ply. Either these negroes are Captain Porgy's or not. I can i .prove them to be so." ,a "But not that he has not sold them?" "His Bill of Sale would show that." ' 6 Madam, you should have been a lawyer." ' But a little while ago, your opinion was that I should have been a soldier." "Egad! madam, it is difficult to say what profession you might not have chosen successfully." "Thank you sir for the compliment, however equivocal. But you will give me the order, will you not?" "Oh! to be sure, if there really be -such negroes in our posses- sion." d "They are entered in the ' Hulk-book' in your name." "The devil they are! It is is strange that people should take my name in vain so eternally. I must see to it. These cursed Hessians, Mrs. Eveleigh, are the greatest rogues and drunkards in the world. I will see to the matter. If the negroes are there, when I make inquiry, I will send you an order for them. Let me have your address, if you please." "I am with my friend, Mrs. Merchant, in Church-street." "Mrs. Merchant," writing. "The Merchants are all our'friends. I AI1And now, Mrs. Eveleigh, as I have already said, if the negroes of Captain Porgy are really in the ' Hulk'-- " '"You forget, Colonel Moncrieff, that I have just told you that I myself have seen them there," page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] o0' THE SWORD AND THE' ISTA FF. \ /t :- Pardon me, madam ; I do not forget. 1But you do Lnot know these Hessians. If they have had the audacity to enter these ne- groes in my name, they will not scruple at doing worse. They will be very apt to hide' them elsewhere, the moment they suspect thiat-they are in danger of detection." "So much the more important, Colonel' oncrieff, tat I should have the order for them promptly, and before they get wind of their danger. But, in fact, there is no chance of their doing as you suppose; for, before I came here, apprehending this very danger, I procured the assistance of three vigilant friends, who are now watching every movement at the ' Hulks,' and'will follow the ne- groes wherever they go." "Then, madam," answered the British Colonel, with evident chagrin, "I may as well give you the order out of hand." "I shall thank vou, sir.?' ' I trust, madam, that your requisitions stop here; for, though very happy to oblige the ladies, and to do ustice, my interference will make me many .enemies among these rascally Hessians." I "Oh! sir, you will survive that danger. But this is the extent of my demands. I have no doubt that there are many other slaves, about to be fiaudulently taken from their owners, but I can ad- vance no proof to this effect." "The names, if you please, madam, of the negroes, whom you claim for this rebel, Porpoise!" "Porgy, sir," was the correction, with a quiet smile, as the lady beheld the evident chagrin of her companion. "Well, madam-Porgy-though both names are sufficiently. fi&hy, and of the two, the Porpoise is decidedly the most dignified." '"But less fit for the table, sir," answered the widow, as she pro- ceeded to give the names of the negroes. Moncrieff wrote as she spolke. A few moments were thus consumed; then he threw down his pen, looked at the lady, then among his papers, rose at length with a dissatisfied air, and hu ied again to the inner room where ^l * ,i , ' " eTHE OVERSEER,' FORDHAM. 2" ]i he had left McIKewn and Bostwick. In a few seconds he again returned, still with a manner of some disquiet. Again he stired a X up, and glanced over the papers upon, histable, but without seem- g1 , ing to satisfy his search. Resuming his seat and pen, at length, - I e 'he finished the orderfo e tldelivery ofPorgy's negoos, and isi , ' handed it Wtith great politeness to' the widow, expressing at the same time, in very stately language, the profound delight which he felt in being able to comply with the wishes of a lady whom General Leshe was so well pleased to honour. The widow was not to be outdone in conventional graces. She answered him in terms equally polite and profound; and, with smiles and courtesies, took her depa:'ture. He waited upon her to the entrance. When the door had fairly closed behind her, he gave full expression to his chagrin in a burst of wrath and denunciation. "The d--d cool and confident creature! Hark you, within there, McKew:1, come out!-and you, too, Master Bostwick!-that may have somebody to curse 'till I am comfortable. We are handsomely bedevilled, i' faith, and- by a woman. But such a woman! In truth, she is a woman, and worth half the men I l know." CHAPTER V THE OVERSEER, FORDHAM. TaTHE excellent lady of whom these words were spoken, had, meanwhile, qu etly taken her place in the carriage which had been awaiting her in the street. The driver was a black, in the livery of Mrs. Merchant, to whom the establishment belonged. , Mrs. ! Eveleigh was not its only occupant. On the back seat, beside her, page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. sat a white man, who had held possession while she remained within the quarters of Moncrieff. Here, ie had studiously kept himself from being seen, but had not been the less disposed to maintain a vigilant watch upon all without. He received the widow, cn her return, with a manner which was equally attentive and respectful. The appearance of this person was that of one who had not been accustomed to a place so distinguished. tHe was not abashed, but awkward. He was evidently "a backwoods- man, in humble life, wearing the costume of the woodsman of that period, a rather snug fitting suit of blue homespun, with a sort of hunting shirt of the same colour and material, though without the ctstomarv fringes which made it the military garb of the for- est rangers, or militia. His face and hands were well embrowned by the sun. The latter were large and rough, and had been well exercised in splitting their two hundred ra'ls per day. The fea- tures of his face were large and'rough also, but mild, and full of honesty. His great blue eye was expressive of much benevolence, but mixed withla decisive and earnest manhiness. The widow ad- dressed him as Mr. Fordham-nay, she called him "Fordham," familiarly, without the prefix, and it did no; at -all lessen his defer- ence, this freedom. He- was, in fact, the overseer of her planta- tion, and had been the employe -of her husband. A long expe- rience had perfectly assured-them both of his fidelity and worth. That the widow had chosen him as her companion, on the present occasion, was due to the objects she had ir view, and to the neces- sity of the case. He had been the agent who had successfully discovered the place'in which her negroes were confined. By his scheming, the Hessian guards at the "1 Hfulk" had been drenched with Jamaica, and access had been procured to that prison, and to the books which identified the slaves- with their several British ap- propriators. In this business he was much more efficient than any of the mo're eminent friends of Mrs. Eveleigh could have been; and the work being an unpleasant or-e, she had preferred to i . THE OVERSEER, FORDHAM. 23 8 employ a person whose services she could compensate, rather than those who, however well pleased to serve her, would yet have found the particular duty somewhat disagreeable. But the good lady, though an aristocrat, was not disposed to underrate Mr. Fordham, t as a friend, while employing him as her overseer. She really re- spected the man, and, as he never trespassed upon her indulgence, she felt that she might safely honour him with her friendship, as well as her interests. "Well, Fo-:dham," she said, as soon as she had taken her seat beside him, "' f you have kept your eyes about you, you have, probably, mace a discovery.'& "Indeed I have, ma'am! You mean the squatter, Bostwick." "I was not mistaken in the fellow, then! You saw him ." "Oh! yes, ma'am; there's no mistaking such a fellow! He Ii came up soon after you went in-pushed in without knocking, jest as ef he was at his own home. But, did he see you, ma'am?' "Yes; but I rather think he believes that I did not see him! Are you sure -hat he did not see you 2" "Quite sure, ma'am. He never once looked this way, and seemed a little beflustered and in a mighty great hurry. I reckon he's fo-nd out what we've been after. He's at the bottom of this r business." "I -have no doubt of it now. Yet, who could lhave believed it?-that the wretch could be so ungrateful-and his wife-and children living, as it were, out of my hands!" "He's jest one of that very breed, ma'am, that does this sort of things. No good ever comes out of sich a cre'tur' no more than out of a snake. Warm 'em as you please by your own fire- side, and feed 'cem kindly out of your own hands, and it makes no difference. Once warm, they're sure to bite you. All their var, tue, they seems to think, lies only in their venom. What will you do with him, ma'am?" "I don't see that any thing can be done with him. The proofs g S . I , . page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 . THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ! * s i**n. Bes ide-, .o- against him ar ,at present, only in our suspicions. Beside, for the sake of the poor, broken-hearted woman, his wife and his wretched children, I prefer that he shouc C go free." "Why,' yes, ma'am, if one could be sure that he would do no more mischief. Bu; you're not sure o- sich a cre'tur' a minute. He's always t something wrong. 'Twould be a monstrous tsight better for his wife and children ef he'd clear out with the British. He's as good as one of 'em." "Perhaps he may." "A good iddancej! then for all. But Lynching might be of help to him before he goe s." "Nay, I'm -not sur-e of that." "Twould hurt hm mthen, and that's, anyhow, as much as we ought to care about. But, one thing, I'll tell you, ma'am. Ef he don't clear out when the British go, he':l bed of trouble to us fit. We'll have to keep all eyes open, ef he's to stay in the country."' "I must use your eyes then, Fordhanm, or this purpose, as I have done for so long a time already. I hav every confidence in your vigilance and ability, Fordham." ! "' You may rest or0 me, ma'am." a"Thank you, Forjpham. I feel sire of that. I need not tell you, Fordham, that have the order for the negroes." ' 'Captain Porgy's I too, ma'am " " "Yes, both." I :- "Good! It must have been like physic to the British Colonel to have to give 'em FIp.' ," Yes, indeed! iSut-here are the orders, both for Capt. Porgy's and mine. You must take the negroes into your own keeping- take them to Moore's house, (up the Path,' and Moore and his two sons, will take 1 turns with you, fo: a few days, in watching them. We will keei within the garrison 'till the British troops leave, and our own people march in, and shall then escape any danger from- detachjnents about the country. In a week or ten ' Ij * Al' THE OLD ROGOUES MAKE iNEW PLOTS. 25 days we may depart safely. I will leave town with you. Here we are, at Mrs. Merchant's. You will-take the carriage, and go at once Ito the ' Hulk.' My friends there, Miles, Johnson and Stur- gis, Will help you to procure the negroes, and here is General Les- lie's order for keeping them in your possession undisturbed. I will getthe protection of our CommissIorrers also, who will be in town to-morrow. Now, Fordham, I leave all in your hands. Good morning." CI1tAPTER VI. THE OLD ROGUES MAKE NEW PLOTS. "MAY the Foul Fiend deliver us from such a woman!" was the exclamation of Moncrieff, as his two confederates entered thle apartment; and he swore terribly as ' our army did in Flanders.' "' Why, wkat's the matter? any thing more--any thing'worse?" demanded McKewn. "Why, indeed!" answered Moncriefl, busily looking among his papers-and he told of the further requisition which the widow had made for the negroes of Porgy. "But you did not. give them up?" "How, the devil, could I help it?" was the fierce response of the British Colonel. McKewn was almost as furious. "I'd have seen her d-d first!" cried the other. "Oh! you would, would you? but she would have had the negroes, though you d-d her into the deepest part of your bwn future dominions." And he then told of the precaution taken by the wily widow- how she had placed her friends in watch upon the "Hulk,' leaving page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. theii no opportunity for evasion. For the time, they were in her power. 4l would have baffled her if the thing could have been done; but I saw no way of a escape. She has -he order, and it will not be long before the negroes are in her keeping.. Moncrieff and McKewn were equally savage. Bostwick, who had nothing to lose, and could not be made to disgorge, was com- paratively cool and indifferent. The anger of the two former hav- ing subsided a little, they began to corgratulate themselves that the matter was no worse-that they had got off, in fact, so easily. The requisition might as readily have relieved them of two hun- dred as of twenty negroes. The question with them was, in what way to save the residue. The widow hiad only to report what she knew, to the Commissioners of the American army, to wrest from them all of their ill-gotten fugitives. Fortunately for them, the Commissioners were not then in the c ty. They were in the American camp, procuring all possible forins of proof for the re- clamation of the goods of citizens. They might, .and probably would, return to the city, in the space of another day, and the first object with our Arcadians, was how, meanwhile, to secure the rest of the stolen negroes. But the parties interesteda had their mode of operation, and were not without experience. It will suf- :fice here, if we mention the fact that, but very few of the two hun- clred remaining in the "Hulk," after Mrs. Eveleigh had secured hers, were ever restored to their owners, The next morning, at dawn, found the "Illk" empty, while one of the transports had hauled out into the stream, ready to depart at a given signal. To arrange these matters, our companions reeded little discussion. "And now," said Moncrieff, " now that we have resolved what is to be done, I will give you the orcer without delay. That drunken rascal, Dort must be. relieved of all such trusts in future, This woman, through some of her friends, has practised upon his love of Hollands. She hadnever got a peep at those bpoks otherl 1 . THE OLD ROGUES MAKE NEW PLOTS. 27 wise. We must give their charge to Witsell. Do you keep here, McKewn, and see that Bostwick does not expose the beauties of his face until I send Waldron to you. He will tell you if the coast be clear. For his own sake, it will not do to identify him in my quarters. Indeed, I dont know but that my own character needs the same precaution. You are not, Master Bostwick, the handsomest piece of humanity that the world has witnessed." "I am jist as God made me, Colonel Moncrieff," responded the Squatter, sulkily. * "Pooh! pooh! Bostwick, that's all a mistake. Do you suppose that God made you at all? If he did, do you presume to say that you are in just as good condition as when you came out of his hands?" "Ef I'm changed for the worse, Colonel, I know who has helped to change me;" and the fellow's eyes looked alternately to his two companions. "What! you would give us the credit of your bad improve- ments; but you know better, Bostwick. We found you as you are, a ready made rascal, my lad; and employed you in a busi- ness for which your education was 'complete. But you want-money, McKewn says? Well, we must give you a little. Five guineas you say? There it is. Anid now, Master Bostwick, you are pretty well paid. In fact, considering our losses this morning- the seven of the widow Eveleigh, and the' seven more of the rebel, Captain Porpoise-seven, is it, or six?-where the d-1 can those memorandums be?-I say, considering these losses, you are some- thing overpaiL. But we won't be tight with you, my good fellow; and, as McKewn hints, I will lea'f-yiu, at parting, a tolerable supply of stores with which you can do a clever little business, hereafter, with your rebel friends. How does this plan suit you " "I reckon It must do, Colonel." "Do! By -- , my good fellow, you are about the most un- grateful,; and not easily satisfied scoundrel of my acquaintance!" page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "And it's a mighty large one too, I reckon;" was the answer of Bostwick, with a grin that seemed to show that he was fully conscious of the sarcasm contained in his reply. "You are right, my handsome fellow-many rascals in it, no doubt, but no one, by --, who seems so little grateful for little favours as yourself. But, where, the d-1, are these memoran- dums? Have you seen them, McKewn?" "You mean those of the negroes?" "'Yes , to be sure! I had them here but a while ago;" and as he spoke,' Moncrieff looked suspiciously a; Bostwick. He tumbled over the papers on his table, but without effect. He failed to find what he sought. McKewn interested himself also in the search. "Could the widow have laid hands upon them 2" he suddenly asked, with some anxiety. "No! Impossible!" said Moncrieff, and his eyes again glanced at Bostwick, who sae sullenly beside the fire-place, looking down upon the hearth. M Kewn also glanced in the same direction; but his mind reverted again to his former suspicion. "If the widow has i id hands on them, it will be a bad busi- ness," said he, appreheisively. I Pshaw! she wouldn,'t have touched them for the world. A lady, McKewn-a lady." "If she did take them, there's no way of getting them from her." "I should certainly be the last man to think of demanding them. But, continue the search, McKewn. Look among the pa- pers in the other rooim. I must hurry off to Dort, and see to this business." When he was gone, McKewn exclaimed- "Lady or no lady, I'll lay my life,tha; woman has pocketed the papers!" "What papers?" asked Bostwick, indifferently. "The papers that will hang you like a dog, fool! The memo- THE OLD ROGUES MAKE NEW PLOTS. 29 randums of all the negroes brought in during the last month, and who brougrLt them, antl whence they were taken. My name and yours are both upon the paper." "Who pat 'em there? I can't write. You must ha' done it." "So I did. I had to keep your accounts as well as my own, with Moncrieff. Look you, Bostwick, we must find out if she's got them, and: if she has, we must get them from her, or the country will be too hot to hold us." "I don't see. There's a paper, you say, with your name and my name; but any body can write my name, and I'm not answer- able if I dont wri:e it myself. I reckon, if there's anybody in danger, you're the man." "You reckon so, do you?-as if my evidence won't convict you, should ;he paper convict me;-for I must show how the ne- groes came into my hands. Don't be a fool, Bostwick. We must get those papers!" "Well,--how? I'm agreeable to any thing." "I'm glad to hear you say so, and to make the necessity seem more reasonable to you, let me hint that we must not only get the papers back, but the negroes. They're as good to you as ready money." "How can it be done?" asked the Squatter. "I must fi -d out when the widow and the slaves leave town. You can easily pic. up half-a-dozen of the fellows of Huck's gang, can't you?" "For good pay, and the guineas in hand, I reckon." "You sha:l have them. If we can find out when she leaves town, you car intercept her and recover the papers and the negroes. We shall have a transport sloop at the mouth of the Edisto, off and on, for the next two weeks. In that time the negroes must be off for the plantation, as they will be wanted pretty soon for breaking up the rice land. If you can recover them, you can I 3* ' ' '*I page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] g0 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. push down the Edisto in boats, where Barton and Drummond S will be on the lookout for you. Do you see " "Yes-c--l'ar enough. But there's no gitting the boys, without the guineas in hand. I'm rather owing tem something now,-and they won't b'lieve me unless I kin show them the gould." "You shall be provided. Leave it to me to procure the neces- sary information, while you go and pick up the refugees. Half-a- dozen stout fellows, in all, will probably answer, and you, yourself, can make the sixth man. The fewer the better. They are more manageable, and the pay will be larger to each. When you have engaged your men, promise the cash, and come to me for the money." Waldron at that moment entered. "The Colonel says all's clear, Mr. McKewn." "Then I'm off ;" said Bostwiqk. "I know where Dick Norris and Rafe Burke keep, and they can show me the other men. I'll come to you at your own place to-night, Mr. McKewn." "Very good, only be sure and keep sober. You will need all your senses." "I'll walk a crack with you any day," answered the other, as he hurried out of the aoom with Waldron. For a moment after his departure, McKewn sate musing. Then, appearing to recover his thoughts, he: proceeded, anew to search for the missing papers amopg the piles which lay upon the table. "I'lllook," he muttered, "but something tells me that woman has got them. She may,do mischief with them, and, unluckily, it's just in her neighbourhood now that most of my interest lies. 'There's that estate of Porgy-: my mortgage covers his land.- There's Gillon's, which I've bought outand out-all, as I may say, alongside of her. If she has the papers, though they may abso- lutely prove nothing certain, they prove too much. She will Ihardly niake use of them now. The British going out, and the Americans coming in, will cause a stir for soimetime, and she'll be NEW ISSUES DETWE/;N OLD ALLIES. 31 quiet 'till all the l. ubbub's over. Then!-But that will give us time, and time is half the capital of a wise man. She's a mon- strous fine woman. What an eye She carries in her head! What a head! I must see her again! She has' fine estates, almot joining thosq I got of Gillon." - i: - Ye need pot follow him in his musings. Enough to say. that . his search was frititlessly continued, for some time longer, after ,i the missing papers. CHAPTER VII. SATURDAY7 the 14th I of December, 1782, was the day, memhora- ble in the annals of Charleston, for the evacuation of that city by its British conquerors. They had held possession of it for two years, seven months and two days. Painful to, them was-the ne- cessity of departing from a region in which they ieen so suc- cessful in combining profit with pleasure; They had spoiled the Egyptians with a vergeance"-had luxuriated in their flesh-pOts for a long season, and naturally tore themselves away with reluctance. Nobody suffered. more grievously f-om the necessity than our thirsty Colonel of E:lgineers, Moncrieff. Yet, no one, probably, had so successfully engaged in th9 business of "gappropriation." Hils portion of the stoiAs, in negro es alone, is estimated at eight hundred. These had been shipped, at various pciods, for the WestInRDia, the s soon14th as it bec ame obvious to was ll that the whle inw as about to close, and the evacuation was inev itable. Fullby war was about to close, and the evacuation was inevitable. Fully page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. two hundred slaves, as we have seen, were about to accompany his departure, all to his credit;!the profits of which, in some degree, served to alleviate the disquiet that he felt at the discontinuance of a career, the fruits of which had been so abundant. In respect to these, there was a final conference between himself and Mc- Kewn, at the dawning of the day assigned for the exodus of the British. McKewn sought the British Colonel in his chamber, and while the latter was yet yawning dismally, not thoroughly awake, at once over his own broken slumbers, and the cheerlessness of the prospect, the former opened the last interview that was des- tined to take place between the parties, by a somewhat abrupt re- ference to the one matter which particularly concerned himself. "You have not found the memorandum, Colonel?" "No, d-n it, it is-gone, certainry. I have searched everywhere but in vain. Your rascal, Bostwick, has it, in all probability. I can hardly persuade myself that the woman took it. She is too much of a lady." "That may be, yet I doubt; and, indeed, I'm not so sure that, even as a lady, she need have any scruples at putting in her pocket a document which so much concerned her own interest." Ah! and that's your opinion?" said Moncrieff, yawning, with an insolent contempt in his manner. "But, permit me to say, McKewn, th our habits in life, and business, are not, perhaps, the best calculated to make you a judge in such matters. The rules which govern the conduct of ladies and gentleman do not necessarily occur to persons in trade. They are, perhaps, almost exclusively understood by those only whose life firm the beginning has been in society, and among that class which finds its chief oc- cupation in this very study. Now, you are a shrewd man of bu- siness, McKewn-devilish shrewd as a man of business-one may say wise, indeed,-certainly, monstrous knowing-but you will ad- mit that you have paid but small attention to the affairs of polite society. You cannot well understand them, my good fellow.- j . . .% NEW ISSUES BETWEEN OLD ALLIES. 33 Permit me to repeat -hat Mrs. Eveleigh, who was born in the pur- ple chamber of aristocracy, never could have taken this paper:- never! never!" McKewn's brow became contracted as he listened. to this offen- sive speech. It bet'ayed the contempt, without any desire for concealment, with which the insolent Briton regarded him. All motives for concealing this contempt were at an end. The inter- course was over between them. The orange had been fully sucked, and McKewn could ro longer be of use to the avarice of his em- ployer. He felt all tais, in an instant, but it was not his policy to express the indignation which it provoked. A shar3 sarcasm, in- deed, almost forced its way between his teeth; but he crushed them together, at the peril of his lips, and held his peace until the impulse was over. Then he said, quietly-- "Bostwick, I know, could not have taken the paper, for the scoundrel can't read a syllable, and knew not that such a paper was in existence. The temptation to the widow, 3veleigh, was great, and if she has it in her possession, the affair becomes a very serious one to me." "Why, yes," rejoined the other, with an air of the greatest sang froid, " it might hang you, McKewn." "Hardly that; but it would ruin me." "You have managed badly. Why did you invest' real estate? How could you expect to make away with it? Hiw could you expect to remain after our departure 2 Whether thls paper arises or not, you are surely committed irrevocably with the rebels.- Here you have been a contractor for the British army-you were one of the addressors of Sir Henry-an unforgivable offence. That you are a creditor of some of-v the rebels, and hold mortgages up- on their estates, are only additional reasons for the confiscation of your property, and the endangering of your personal safety. It has always seeimed to me the greatest folly that you should think to remain. It is not too late to determine more wisely. Abandon 9 . I page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. these villainous acres, these liens, which will be wholly worthless to you, and get yourself aboard the fleet before the army moves." McKewn seemed to brood upon the suggestion for a few mo- ments, then looking up suddenly, replied- "No! it is now Impossible. I should be a beggar elsewhere. My whole capital consists in these lands, and these liens, and my whole stock in trade. I must take my chance. I do not think that my debtors, though rebels, will take advantage of my situa- tion; and but for this accursed paper-- ', "Oh! d-n the paper! Let's hear no more about it. You see my desk there. It contains tLe only papers in my possession which I have not destroyed. These will go with me, and can nev- er rise against you. I can say no more on the subject. I repeat, you are an idiot if you stay. You cannot hope tor safety. Take to the fleet, and be aboard as soon as you can. This is my last and best counsel." McKewn longed to utter the savage answer which he could have spoken--longed to snap his fingers in the face of the inso- lent Briton, and tell him that while he fancied that he used him, he was himself used--that he had guarantees of safety of Which the other did not cream, and which, had he known, would have probably ensured him a British, quite as soon as an American gallows ;- the noment for such daring had not come by sev- eral hours. He reserved himself for this relation to the moment when the American army was fairly within the city. A slight smile, therefore, was employed to shadow his future purpose.- Moncrieff did not perceive the sinister meaning of this smile--he added-rather contemptuously than kindly- "If you reject my counsel you will deserve your fate. Yet, I assure you, McKewn, it will distress me to hear that so shrewd a business man has seen suddenly madelto ride a wooden horse, and unprovided wita stirrups." NEW ISSUES BETWEEN OLD ALLIES. 35 "I see that you have nothing farther for me, Colonel;" was the only answer of McKeWn. "No, my good fellow, nothing. Take yourself of, now, while I make my toilet. Tlere is the morning gun. YoL can see me on thl. march if you desire it; but i' faith, the ceremony of parting is usually so dismal hnd distressing, that I do not know but we may well dispense witl it. At all events, for the present, McKewn, good morning--good 'morning." "The selfish and harrow-minded scoundrel!" muttered Mc- Kewn, as he slowly wdund his way down .the staircase. "What a bore i" exclaimed Moncrieff, as the other disappeared. "With his d--d memoranda! What do I care if they do hang him! That he should presume to know the laws of hmour for gentlemen or lady. EFe deserves to be hanged for that, if nothing else. Ho! there, Waldron!" And ringing his bel furiously, our excellent Colonel entered upon the duties of his toilet. Meanwhile, the business of the day was fairly begun in the I American camp, and within thelines of the garrison. By a plan previously agreed uporo between General Leslie of the one, and General Greene of the other army, the British column was to be in motion at the firing of the morning gun, withdrawing from the lines, near Shubrickls farm, anld noving through the city to the wharves. At the samd moment, the advance of the Americans, under General Waynes who -had been slowly approaching from Ashey Ferry where Greene's army lay, wag to follow slowly upon their footsteps, until ttle city, abandoned by the one, should be fully occupied by the forces of the other. The Fleet of the Bri- tish, more than three hundred sail, lay at anchor in the roads, stretching, in a beautiful crescent, from Fort Johnson to Five Fathom Hole. "It wrs. a grand and pleasing sight," says old Moultrie, who accompanied Greene in his triumphal entry. Not less pleasing to the war-worn and returning patriots, an I the brave . - ^ page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 3 6. THE SWORD AND THE DISTAPF. and glorious Dames, who cheered them in their weary struggle, was the progress of the' troops of the conqueror, sullenly retiring from their places of pleasure and pasturage. The windows, balco- nies, housetops, in all the principal streets, were crowded with happy smiling faces, beholding with equal joy the departure of the one dynasty, ana the reappearance of the other. At an early :r hour of the day the embarcation of the British began, but it was not. till near 1 1 A M, when the rear guard began to file, with mea- sured steps, through the centre of the city. Wayne's detachment, i; consisting of three hundred Light Infantry, twenty artillery Ivith two six pounders, and eighty of Lee's cavalry, following them at an interval of two hundred yards only, constituted the advance of the-American army. It was a novel situ*ion for both parties to approach to such propinquity, yet forbei from blows; and the British evinced no small feeling of disquiet, as, in the impatience of the former, to obtain possession of that city for which they had so long been striving, they pressed forward at a pace which promis- ed to unite the two Armies in one indistinguishable mass. "C This must not be,' cried a British officer, riding up to the head of the Americans, " you are too fast upon us, gentlemen--you press upon us too closely."' - l The American GOneral Was'compelled to call a halt--and then the shouts rose fio. the housetops and the balconies, while trum- pets blared, and a thousand palmetto banners were flung out in air as the cry went up-- "Welcome, welcome home, brave hearts! God bless you;, gal- lant gentlemen!" "How the brutes howl!' muttered Moncrieff to one who at that moment jogged hisI elbow. Ah! is it you, McKewn. You are justin time to say farewell." . "But I shall not say it, sir ;" was the reply, in a tone, and with a manner which at once drew the astonished attention of thy Bri- tish officer. ; \ ' . / " - i ' ,*** NEW ISSUES BEi'TWEEN OLD ALLIES. e37 "Elh! what's the matter now?" "Read that at your leisure, Colonel Moncrieff," said McKewri handing him a billet where he stood, curbing his chafing steed, beneath a low balcony near Chalmers, in Meeting-street. Mon- crieff took the paper, and proceeded to open it on the spot. "It will teach you- sir," continued McKewn, "that you were never more my tool than when you thought me yours!" With these words he disappeared within the dwelling before which the scene took place. Mioncrieff, astonished, looked about him, but not seeing the speaker, he turned to the billet. In-a mo- ment his eyes glittered with sudden rage, and in the next instant the voice of McKewn from the balcony above gave rew impulse to his ftiry. - ' "Rather a new feature in the history, Col. Monciefl!" "Ha! villain, but you shall not escape me!" nd, thus speak- ing,.he dashed up to the balcony, which, on horseback as he was, his drawn weapon might have reached. But the sidelwalks were covered with spectators, who were not disposed to give way, and one of these, an old man with a great white beard, but sturdy and fearless, grasped the bridle of the horse and forced him back. At the same moment, Major Barry hurried forward, threw himself be- tween, and drew Moncrieff away. The procession was again in motion. ' "What are you at, Moncrieff?-this will never do. A single rashness will bring their whole force upon us, and three-fourths of our army are already ernbarked." , "D--n the scoundrel!" was the exclamation of Mor-crieffas he suffered himself to be led away. "I would give fifty guineas for a chance at his ears!" and, glairing as he spoke, like a hyena, at the balcony where McKewn stogd, lthe centre of a crowd of men and women, he'was answered by a grin from his former ally which added an hundred fold to his vexation. The concourse beheld this singular scene, and many of them heard the- language which the 4 * ' page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. British Colonel had employed. The circumstance raised McKewnn inconceivably in their estimation. The man who bad provoked the ire" of Moncrieff, was necessarily, in that period and place, a patriot. But the procession moved on, and the parties were soon separated. i - The clamours increased. The trumpets rang forth more merry peals. As the rich scarlet uniforms of the British disappeared in-, to Broad-street, greaj-fest ons were swung across Meeting, which j' they had left, and tEle crowds increased in the balconies. Then, ! as Wayne pressed folrward with his blue coats, in double quick time, the shouts went up i] redoubled peals. :Rolled onward the solemn artillery:--gallopped- forward the gay horseman of Lee's squadron--while the roll of drums in the "distance announced the ( gradual approach of the main army of the Americans. At 3 P M., the rear gard iannounced the approach of General Greene; the Governor of the }State, Mathews; with the Council of State; closely followed by General Gist and the brave old Moultrie, and accompanied by a noble civic procession. This cortege halted in Broad-street, opposite the spot now occupied by the Bank of South Carolina, and the shouts of welcome which hailed the appearance of the defender of the country, announced the final embarcation of the foe. Tr Lmpets sounded merrily--drums rolled from a hun- dred conspicuots points, and the cannon belched forth their mighty thunders, in echo to the general voice of public thanksgiving. CHAPTER VIII.- PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE J THE day passed off in pleasurable excitements which did not end with the night. An illumination followed, and every house ', ' i' ' fig. PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TA-BLE.! 39 was thrown wide for the reception of friends and visitors. The military bands were in full requisition: and the merry violin, sounding from this or that great house, in almost every street of thecity, denoted "the extem pore dancing patyand the joyful S' T"Or dancing ^ pmty, tand the joyful riunion of long separated friends and dear ones. ormaity inter- posed to emar none of tlae conviviality. There were no tedious ceremonials. The strangers were known fiends, and successful valour and unquestioned patriotism, were to be honoured and re- warded. There ha been little time, and less means for any state- ly ceremonials. Invitations had not been given out, but were commonly understood; and every gentleman kney that he was welcome at every whig mansion. Doors every where were thrown wide, and the gay cavalier passed from one to another ddwelling sure to find in all an attraction and a welcome.' It was at one of these, in Bload-street, that Mrs. Eveleigh was,for the evening, an State was honourablv represented in more than one .all and portly soldier while Georgia had two or three handsome blue-eyed -and round-facedyouths, following the wake of the fiery W yne. The assemb!age hastily conceived, and promiscuously brought together , was nevertheless, comparatively, a brilliant one. We do not pro- pose to describe it more particularly. It oas was whie the ms were most crowded, that M ars. Eveleigh was suddenly surprised by the entrance of McKewn, whom she had known only as the associate of Moncriefi; and by the memo- randa whichl she still held in her possession. He approached the hostess, Ms. W , with the easy assurance of one who has no doubt of his reception . Mrs. Eveleigh watched curiously to see what that reception would be. To her increased surprised page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. found it affable in the extreme. MceKewn was next seen among the gentlemen. -With these, also, he seemed to enjoy an excellent understanding. Her surprise underwent still farther increase, as she discovered in the persons with whom he seemed most at home, none but unquestionable patriots. By one of these she saw him led up to General Greene and introduced; a few words were whis- pered in the General's ear, by the gentleman who did the courtesy on this occasion, and' Greene was then seen to shake McKewn's hand with a hearty and nervous grasp. Good Mrs. Eveleigh knew not what to think. She turned to a gentleman who sate beside her, whom she well knew, and asked- "Who is that person just introduced to General Greene-he to whom General Moultrie is now speaking?" "Hisiname is McK ewn-he is, or was, a Scotch merchant here, but I believe he has declined business rqcently. He is. a man of substance." "The General seems to view him with favour." "Well they may, if all's true that is said of him. tHe is one of the few Scotchmen who have been with us during the war. He was one of the addressors of Sir Henry Clinton, but his ostenta- tious loyalty was only employed as a cover for his revolutionary principles. He has been one of the spies, in part, upon the garri- son, and has frequently 'served Marion with information of' the state of affairs rr "His being a Scotchman, yet a spy for us, does not speak much for principle of any kind. I suppose he feathered his nest hy it." "Ah!" with a shrug, " we must not be too scrupulous about the quality of the tool we use if ;we pick the lock with it." "Perhaps not: the necessity of the case is to be considered, surely. But is it certain that Marion got any really valuable in- formation out of him .?" "That is a problem. But you seem curious in respect to this person. Have you any reason for it?" l PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. 41 fig, - "I have, and I must consult you in regard to it and him. But ,:::. not now. I see that he approaches." -? brThe companion of Mrs. Eveleigh was, in that day, a very cele- : brated Carolina layer, land, subsequently, the widow unfolded to hm the discoveries wich she had made. i I am not at all surprised at it," was the reply. "It is certain : that McKewn has grown wealthy. He is proprietor of several I large estates, or rather has liens upon them, for advances made at enormous interest. *A foreclosure of these mortgages, at this mo- ment, when there is no money in the county would give him X these estates at his own prices. These papers wh:ch you possess would be fatal to im. But, unless he proceeds to extremities ? with his debtors, it may be well not to use them." " "Should he not e made to disgorge?" ' 'I! "Yes, if there be any good whig who suffers by him. But in all probability most of his debtors are tories, and they will scarce- ly oppose his action." The good widow shook her head. "He has other victims. I know of onie at least, a true patriot- a strange creature--of many eccentricities, but of many noble i qualities and of much real talent. He has been the loser already (by this McKewn. I recovered half-a-dozen slaves for him, when I got my own out of the Hulk." "You mean Porgy 2" Y "Yes!" "Oh! Ve must save Porgy ;-we will! But, fo: the present, keep perfectly quiet. We are yet in the storm. Government is onlyknomirally establ'shed-we know not what may follow; keep an eye on -he fellow-that is enough for the present-and with these papers, we can bring him up with a short cord at any mo- ment." - Enough of this conversation-'which took place the day after the I party at Mrs. W - 's. To that let us now return. The approach 4? page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 THE SWORD' AND THE DISTAFF. of McKewn to the place where Mrs. Eveleigh sate, followed very soon after the moment when' she discovered his presence in the assembly. He appeared to seeher suddenly; but, we may state, from otf1wn knowledge, that his motive for appearing in that particular assembly, that night, was the result of his previous knowledge that he should be sure to meet her there. He had taken sufficient pains to satisfy himself on this point. His object in desiring to see her' should be obvious to the reader. He was deeply interested in knowing whether she had possessed herself- of the missing paper which so greatly compromised him. His no- tion was that, -s a woman, she would in some way betray her knowledge--byllook, word, manner-and thus enable him to de- termine upon the necessity before him, and the game which he would need to play. But the widow Eveleigh was no ordinary woman. She was a good whist player, and when you find a good whist player among women, be sure that she knows how to keep a secret. Her trumpet never announces the number or the value of her trump cards. A stmilq and bow-a- look and manner-of the profoundest courtesy-mingled with that sort of triumphant pleasure which might be supposed to appear in the faces of all good citizens at such a moment-distinguished the address of Mr. McKewn, as he stood before Mfrs. Eveleigh. The lady acknowledged his ad- dress with a courtesy sufficiently decided to make no revelations. McKewn took the seat beside her, which her late companion --had just vacated, and, in the current phrase of the hour, congratulated her on the grateful change which the country had undergone. She answered him in a manner of perfect good faith, avoiding with care every look or word which the most jealous nature might con- strue into suspicion or sarcasm. ' It is certainly an event at which every good citizen should re- joice, Mr. McKewn, Our people have gone through a terrible trial. They have shown themselves worthy of the liberties they \ ' I;: PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. 43 have won. It is to be hoped that they will now prove themselves worthy to retain them." "A morn difficult matter. But we must hope, my dear madam. It is something in proof of their capacity to keep, that they have shown the capacity to win. I found you lately engaged in a some- what unp easant business. I trust you were successful in getting back your negroes." X I was, sir." "You were then much more fortunate than some of your neigh- bours. I had much trouble with CoI Aloncrieff in removing some of my own, and was only in part successful." X ' "Indeed." ,' Yes ; I have lost a number, and was quite satisfied not to have lost all. The British have had their emissaries all over the coun- try, and some of these creatures, madam, were such as we should little suspectl. When you found me with Col. Moncrieff, I was endeavour-ng to procure some clues to their detection, for it is im- possible but that some of these wretches will still remain in the country." , "Were you successful in your inquiries, sir?" "Not altogether; but I fancy H have some clues in regard to one or more of our neighbours. You are aware, madam, that I have become the proprietor of an estate near yours on the Ashe- poo?" * No, sir, I was not! whose pray?" "Gillon's.-I took it for a debt; shall send up negroes to work it, and hope to find mryself one of your neighbours in the spring, if not before." The lady bowed rather stiffly, but said nothing. The wily McKewn construed Ler manner into a confirmation of his suspi- cions. If i; had been her object to baffle his scrutiny in regard to the missing paper, she had lost a point in the game. There was a brief pause in the conversation, which McKewn, at length, re- page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " THE SWORD AND 'TE DISTAFF. sumed by returning to the subject of his interview with Moncrieff. He told a very pretty little story of the ingenious processes by which he had succeeded in recovering his negroes, and concluded by stating that Moncrieff and himself had quarrelled finally. "But I had the last word, Mrs. Eveleigh, and one that he will remember. I was compelled to bear his insolence while the Bri- tish garrison was yet in possession, but, in the moment of his de- parture, and when he could no longer exercise his power, I gave him my opinion of -his character."' He then told of the final passage already detailed between him- self and Moncrieff. The note which he had put into the hands of 'the latter, he described as full of the most stinging insult. The lady could not forbear the sarcasm, which she yet uttered very quietly, and with a seeming unconsciousness of its latent mean- "Certainly, a very daring procerding, Mr. McKewn. But, if I recollect rightly, Wayne's advance was within a hundred yards of you at the moment. Of that, how ever, you were unaware." A slight flush tinged the dark cheeks of McKewn; but he an- swered calmly. "No, indeed, Mrs. Eveleigh-I knew it well enough: and knew that, were it otherwise, I should have perilled my neck to have done what I did. "There would have been no sense or even courage in speaking freely, what I thought of the scoundrel, at a time when I -should have no power to contend with him. I did all that I properly could in expressing my sense of his rascality." The lady appeared to hear him indifferently. He discovered this, and soon after withdrew from her side. 4 Fool!" thought Mrs. Eveleigh, as he moved away. "Does he think to delude me with his inventions ." "She has the paper!" muttered McKewn, at the' same moment; "and now to ascertain when she leaves town." His- spies were set accordingly; and instructed to watch every PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. - 45 movement of the widow. They did their duty faithfully. The very next day, the Squatter, Bostwick, was in attendance upon his employer. "Well Bostwick, have you got the fellows?" "Five of the best bloodhounds in the country. But I must have money for 'em. I'm at great expense in keepirg 'em. Jest; simple meat and drink won't answer to keep em quiet. You must soak 'em and stuff 'em ;-ef you leave a vacant place in 'em, they begins to be good and religious-like, and to talk about sins and sich like matters."' "Pshaw ." "It's mother-truth, I'm telling you. There's no keeping 'em properly sinful foi your wants, onless I'm a drenching and stuffing 'em. It's something's a-wanting from morning to rFight. They wants everything they sees or thinks about, and they say they've I ' a right to all I can git." o "But you forget-you agreed with them for a certain price." "Yes! that was the pay when the work was done. But I was to keep them in the meantime, you know, and it's mighty hard work. They're all asleep now at Broddus's, up the p)ath. They was most eternally drunk last night, broke all the windows, and killed Broddus's dog--so them's to be paid for. Broddus says the windows is two do lars, and the dog cost him two guineas." i "The devil! And you expect me to pay me this fellow?" "In course--it's only reason--seeing as how these boys is in your keeping." "But I'll do no such thing." ' "You'll hav' to, McKewn, so it's no use to kick ag'hn it. They will git drunk, and when they're drunk, they will splurge and shine. There's no hencering 'em." "And you?" "Oh! I must drink with them, you know- -" & "And spurge- and shine too, I suppose; break windows, kill dogs, and expect me to square the bill." page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] I 46 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "In course. It's the life we lead, and belongs to the business, and one part jest as much as the other. The man what sells him- self to the devil, must in nature hev' a sort of devil's edication, -and must play devil's ,tricks. It keeps the hand in for devil's business." a "Well, it's some consolation that we shall not have the keeping of such rascals very long. This woman leaves town next week." "Which day?" "Friday, I think-but we shall find out." , a "Friday-a bad day for a start. Hangman's day." "Yes; a bad day for her, as she will start then. Yo[ will set out the day before, and choose your place of ambush. Remem- ber, Bostwick, you are not to fail. Your pay depends upon it;- the negroes you will recapture, depend upon it;-and your neckba - depends upon it; for she certainly has got the paper." "(I reckon it's your neck jest as much as mine, McKewn, so you'll jest please to stop with that sort of talking. Nobody likes to have the rope and gallows constantly flung in his face, jest when he's thinking of other things. As for my name on the pa- per, it ought'nt to consarn me so much, seeing as how I did'nt put it thar. But you did, and you put your own too, and I reckon when they're h'isting me on the cross-trees, they'll be swinging you off to make room.' Ef you wants me'to be reasonable and do your business, you'll jest stolf with a sort of talk, which makes my blood bile agin you." "'Well! well! since you're so nice about this hanging,-I'll say rope to you no- more." ' Better not--t'aint devisable, no how. It's better to talk of the business atwehn us. I must have money for the keeping of the boys." "(!"Here's three guineas --" - "Why, there's six on us." "If, there were sixty, I have no more money about me." ? , - 2 PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. 47 "It takes pretty nigh a guinea a day to keep 'elt., as they ex- pects to be kept." "Damn -Jleir expectations! Do they suppose me to be made of money? You must make them more reasonable, Bostwickl, for you yourself will lose by it in the end." I I don't see." "But I do!--make these three guineas answer for the week and coime to me at the end of it." "I'l be sure to do that, whether the week's at an end or not. Tiger-cats must be fed." "Ay, but as tiger-eats only, and not as lions. Remember the difference, 'f you please. Yon have taken care that none of theim knows me in the business" "To be s 're! make yourself easy thar'." "Make yourself ready, and see that they are quite sober when the work is done; and when you have got the negroes- and pa- per, push down the Edisto, where I will contrive to meet you, and get the negroes off to the transport sloop. But we'll talk over these particulars before youfstart." Here the conference ended. We have been content to give a sample of it only. There ivas much more said, unavoidably, be- tween the parties, which it is not necessary that we should chroni- cle. The week passed, and McKewn was called upon to disgorge other guineas, and meet other bills for da'mages done by his dogs in keeping. Meanwhile, Mrs. Eveleigh was making ier prepara- tions. - On Wednesday, not on Friday, she set out for her planta- tion, accompanied by her negroes, and those of Porgy,--her over- seer, and her son--the latter, a youth of fifteen. IBut we shall introduce this lad more formally hereafter. 1 page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER IX. THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HS OCCUPATION. ' WE must n6w change the scene of operations, and introduce new parties to our drama. Let us present ourselves at the Camp of Marion, at the head of Cooper river. The reader will, perhaps, have observed that, in speaking of the departure of the British forces from the city of Charleston, and the grand entry of the American troops at their heels, we said nothing of the militia, the rangers, the famous Partisans, cavalry and foot, of Marion, Sum- ter, Maham, and the many other brilliant cavaliers, whose sleep- less activity, great audacity, and frequent successes, had, perhaps more than any other cause, kept alive the hopes, and maintained the cause of liberty in Carolina, at a period when Fate seemed to have decreed the utter subjugation of the country by the enemy. The fact is, none of these gallant spirits were permitted to be pre- sent at the iroccupation of 'the metropolis by the patriot army! They had shared the usual fortune of modest merit; had served their purpose, and had survived their uses. The work done; the game won, they had been thrown aside, as the orange sucked of its contents, with no more scruple or concern. It-willscarcely be believed, but such is the fact, that the militia of the country, were especially denied the privilege of being spectators of the de- parture of that enemy, against whom none had battled more ceaselessly, more fearlessly, or with better success, than themselves. It might have been that they were too nude to be seen on such a brilliant occasion. They were, verily, very nigh to utter naked- ness. They were mostly in rags. 'Their rents of garm'ent were closed by bandages of green moss. Their shoulders and hips were thus, in like manner, padded, as a protection against abrasion THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HS OCCUPATION. 49 y the belts which they had to wear, bearing their aims and am- aunition. They were commonly shoeless and hatless. Raw hides iade the sloes of many, wrought roughly, moccasin fashion, into lere troughs for the feet, the seams running down, and gathering p the edges of the leather, from the, instep to the toes. A frag- ient of coarse cotton, or a ragged handkerchief, wound about like turban, was the substitute with many for a hat; -hile, with a ;ill greater number, the skins of 'coon or possum) untanned, ntrimmed, and with the tail jauntily stuck out on the side, made ips of every pattern, and of fashions the most extraordinary- heir weapons were of similar diversity; from the long duciing an of the planter, to the short fusee of the German Yager; the 3avy tower musket of George the Third, to the long rifle of the ountain rangers from that section of the Apalacaian::lopes, hich divides, or rather unites, the States of North and South- arolina anu Georgia. Sabres, wrought from mill-saws, with Lidles of common wood, graced the thighs of half the dra- )ons. Such equipments would scarcely have made a brilliant showing a scene so brilliant as; that witnessed at the recoveryi of Charles- n. Whether it'wou:d not have been most noble Snd impres- re, as illustrating the true worth and honest patriotism of the irtisans, is a matter which the reader will take into considera- ,n. It, certainly, was not considered by the-rulling powers at at period, or considered only as calculated to subtract froni the lendours of the triumphal pageant. But the reasoning by which i militia were excluded from the scene was really of a more of- isive and objectionable character. An unworthy fea--a dread the power of a body of troops who were supposed to be less ;ily brought under the control of authority,-who were known be dissatisfied, and who, it was felt, had just cause for discon- it and dissatisfaction-'was the true secret of their, exclusion m the scene. Badly armed and worse clad, fighting for years ma i- page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. amidst thousand other privations, without pay, and almost with- out thanks or acknowledgment, their achievements slurred over and diparaged, as they have been too frequently since,- while the d eds of others were exaggerated and clothed :with a false lustre ;-it was apprehended that, with the withdrawal of the i enemy, they might be disposed to assert their r:ghts, and do jus- 1 tide to themselves. It is possible they might have done so; since humanity is not to be supposed capable, always of forbearinllg the exhibition of a just indignation, under continued wrong and pro- - vocation. But the possibility was still a very faint one.' They !,' A) had given no reason for the suspicion. Nay, they had been cal- led in, and kept ready, smore than once, under Marion, to suppress the apprehended outhreaks and- insurrections of some of those veryj t inental troops who had been deemed worthy to be present, at the event, which they were denied to behold. deep feeling of indignation, naturally enough, was awakened among our'partisans at this ungenerous exclusion. But it-did not declare itself, and could not, wh;le under the leader wh\Shad so nobly conducted them throughout the war; and now they were about to be disbanded-to separate from their leaders-to pay the last honours of salute to the colours theyl! had so often watched in the heady storms and vicissitudes of battle, and:to retire to their homes--such homes as awar of seven years had left them- , homes in ruins;-and to sink unhonoured into an obscurity, which held forth little promise of distinction in the future, and still less of improving fortunes. It was in that tract of countryl so often distinguished by his active enterprise, lying near the he d waters of Cooper Rielr, that Marion assembled his brigade foi" the purpose of dissolving his connection with them, and their existence as a military society. Their number did not much exceed four hundred men, infantry and horse. At an early hornu of the morning, the stir of prepara- tioni was begun, and, by nine o'clock, the rolling drums and sharp * . i!lL THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HS OCCUPATION. 51 1 clamours of the bugle, summoned them to the area of a. noble wood of ancient cedars in which they were to take leave of their well-beloved chieftain. At ten, the General appeared among them, attended by all his staff. He was received in deep silence;--a si- lence expressive of emotions too solemn for shouts or [words. His fface, usually' grave, wore a still graver expression than was its wont. His words, always few, were scarcely more copious now, when so much wasto be said,.even if much was tolbe left un- i spoken. There was more than his usual hesitation, in! his manner, , ", as he addrbssed them. His tones slightly treimbled, and thu spoke directy to their own feelings. He spoke of their longy ser- j g vices, their cidelity to himself and country; the honourable termi- nation of their labours in the field, and the necessity of now sink- I ing back to the no less honourable duties of the citizen. He as- i sured them that, in him, his old soldiers should always find a 1 personal friend, who, whatever might be the charges of the H future, could never forget his sympathy and connection with the s past. At the close, they gathered about him, each e grer to seize i his hand in friendly gripe. Nor was he the man to insist uport f6 , the dignities and formalities of his positio-rat such a moment. The I Wcommaider was forgotten in the friend, and the leave -taking -was suchl as might be expected, at the breaking up and dispersion of the members of an ancient and loving house!toid. It was mid- day before he left them, riding slowly away, attended. 1y his suite, b s and escorted by a small detachment of cavalry. Night found the scene of thel encampment silent--no drums rolled-ljo trumipets sounded-no fires were lighted. The cedars at Wathbo, were as ! lonely, as if they sheltered the graves only of the brave fellows to whose living heads they had so long afforded the imnost grate- ful prd*etion! We cannot follow the fortunes of out scattered partisans, pur- suing, as theydid, a score of different routes, each with his thought and heart turned upon some special home and object. Bands of n t ! i ' page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 - THE SWORD AND THE -DISTAFF. fifty might be seen, on horse or a-foot, taking the route for Orange- burg; other groups went northward, bound for 'Waccnamaw and Peedee; others again moved down the river, taking one or other of, the two routes conducting to Charleston, while sundry squads sped directly southward, aiming for the Ashey, the Edisto, the ' Ashepoo and the Savannah rivers; from all of which' regions they hd severally been drawn. We will accompany one of these parties, i a group consisting of four persons, all well mounted, and, com- i : ::paratively speaking, all well armed fand caparisoned. Two of o.7 .:ftiem, in fact, are officers. One of these is a stout, and somewhat , plethoric gentleman; full, and smooth, and florid of face, with in- dubitable signs of a passion for the good things of this life. His fea- ir 2 tures -are marked and decisive, with a large capacious nose, a mouth rather feminine and soft, and a chin well defined and masculine. But for the excessive develolment of the'abdominal region, his figure would have been quite worthy of his. face. He rode a no- ble gray, of great size and strength, good blood and bottom, and with his fires but little subdued by hard service. Peside this per- son, whose epaulettes 'showed him to lhave held a Captain'$ com- mission, rode a youth, who could not have been more thar nine- teen years of age. He is slender and all, but wirey and agile; with features rather pleasing and soft, thian expressive; and which might Dave seemed somewhat lacking in manliness but for the dark bronzing which they had taken from the sun, He wris well - mounted also, tolerably well d essed, and wore the equipment of a cavalry Ensign. The third -2erson of this party was a riYan of altogether inferior appearance, Short, massive and awkward. with features harsh and irregtuar, redeemed only by a certain :rank- ness and honesty of expressionI which was derived from a large and gentle eye of hazel, and A broad good-natured ito :He carried an enormous beard almost. of lemon colour, and hi - hair streamed down his shoulders in waving masses,. that faint'y re- [ minded you of a falling mountain torrent. A stout chunk of a i * I ,. i'X THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HS OCCUPATION. 53 rS horse, of frame not unsuited to his own, bore his ieight. He i ii wore no other uniform than the common blue frock, or huntinfg shirt of the rangers, a cap of coon skin, and, for weapbns, a broad- "g sword, of im mense dimensions as from the primitive forges of a mi I son of Anak, and a pair of common pistols. These weapons, X!! 'i we may add, -he could use with the left hand only--:he right be- e iig wanting. Ite was one of the few who, in the miserable deficien- cy of the militia service, had survived a hurt which hatd complete- ly shattered the limb. :His safety was due to his owln stout heart, and the unflinching promptness of the friend and superior whom X:H1 he followed. His right arm, torn into strips by a brace of bullets : from a musket held within a few paces, was stricken off at his [i entreaty, by his Captain, and the bleeding stump 'was thrust in- '5 stantly into hot, seething tar. The -wounds ealed, Heaven knows how, and he recovered. But for this prceeding he must have per- ished. At that time, there was not a surgeon in AMarion's Bri- ; gade, and every hurt which affected the limbs of the victim was XJ certain to end in death. Sergeant -Millhouse, the mnan in ques- tion, became the devoted adherent of a superior, who had the X 'firmness to comply with the stern requisition of the patient, and himself perform the cruel operation, which the sufferer bore with- , .out a groan. - - ;::g The fourth party in this group is a negro,--a native African- IJ: [ the slave of the Captain; a fellow of flat head and tried fidelity; E of enormous mouth, but famous as a cook; of a nose that scarce- ly pretendedsto elevate itself on the otherwise plain surface of an acre of face; but -of a genius- for stews that commended him quite as much- as any other of his virtues to the confidence and regards of his master. Tom, had a reputation in camp, for his terrapin soups, which made himSthe admiration of the whole Bri- gade. He well knew his own merits, and was always careful to be in condition to establish them. The sumpter horse which lhe rode was covered, accordingly, with '. variety of kitchen equipage. I ' t page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 5b4 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Pots and kettles were curiously pendant from the saddle, strapped over the negro's thighs, or hanging from his skirts. A sack, wlhich exhibited numerous angles, ca:-ried other utensils, 'to say nothing of pewter plates, iron spoons, knives and forks, and sundry odds and ends of bread and bacoL. Tom was really buried in his kitchen baggage. But this seemed to offer no impedimer-t, nor 'to be felt as an incumbrance. He kept close to the heels of his master, and,had as ready an ear for all that Nwas spoken, as any of his superiors. He was not wanting, also, in. the occasional -I comment-the camp-life haviig done much towards perfecting the republicanism-of all the parties. Our company had ridden a couple of hours from the ti aie of their- withdrawal from the ' Cedars,' and the separaton froig their ancient comrades;,and had compassed, perhaps, eight r ten miles ill this interval. Yes, but little conversation had taket place among them, 'and, though they rode together, they \main!ained comparative silence. Our Captain, who bore the name of I0orgy, was almost the only speaker. 'He was one, in fact, who claimed P a liberal endowment-of the gif-;of language, and grea'ly d^,lig ed, on ordinary occasions, in his own eloquence. But he, ton), was influenced, in some degree, by t!he scene through which they had so recently gone ;-by thoughks which were now, perforce, Hequir- ed to meditate the fture, and by the sterile country through ;which they were pas:ing -reaped by the greedy sickles of the enemy, and sending Dup no cheerful smokes from the homesteads of welcoming friends. The day itself, from being bright a; sun- rise, had become overcast with Clouds. Chilly, without being cold, it added to the feeling of chill which the circumstances of the day had naturally occasiored in their hearts. Nor did the solemn, stately, and ever murmuring and monotonous pine--brests through which-they rode--by no means enlivened by occasional tracts of scanty oak, stript who ly of its foliage, or by the ru ins of ancient farms, and decaying fen es-contribute to lessen the f eling ." ;!f THE SOLDIER SURVIVES- HS OCCUPATION. 55 of melancholy which sensibly possessed our little group of travel- lers. At length, however, Capt.: Porgy broke the silence, as'he alone had hitherto done, ]Yy something that sounded monstrously like an oath, but which we may render into more innocent language. "By St. Bacchus, Lance, I must drink--I must eat--I must be guilty of some fleshy indulgence! Let us get down here. There is a branch before us, the water of which I have tried before. We have still a bottle of Jamaica. Tom must knock us up a fry, and \ we must eat and drink, that we may not grow stupid from exces- sive thinking. If one must think, its most %agreeable exercise, to ,my experience, is over toast and tankard. Tom, 'light, old fellow, -and get out your cookables. Lance, you carry that Jamaica;-I would see if it loses any of its colour'in these dark and drowsy times." The command was instantly obeyed: though, to descend out of his piles, to fling off straps to which hung pot and kettle, bread and bacon, &c., was, to Tom, a sort of performance which needed equal discretion and deliberation. iHe was extricated, at last, - though only with the assistance of Corporal Millhouse; and, hav- ing relieved his horse of its luggage, he adjusted himself to his tasks. Very soon, his box of tinder, flint and steel, were in re- quisition, and he had kindled a pleasan/t blaze within twenty steps of the running water. To this, Captain Porgy, accompanied by Lance; his Lieutenant-Lance Frampton being the full name- had at once proceeded and already had he brightened the clear, but rather unmeaning complexion of the water, with the rich, red liquid of Jamaica. A pewter mtig, of moderate dimensions, suf- ficed for the embraces of the separate fluids, and having first, with his nbstrils, inhaled the fragrance of the rum, our Captain held it to his eye for a moment, surveying it with a glance of decided complacency, before he carried it to his lips. He drank, smacked his lips with a sense of cordial satisfaction, and offered the cup page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. t and bottle to Frampton. But the latter declined the liq:-or re- spectfully, and, stooping to the brooklet, drank directly firi m the running stream., Millhouse, the Sergeant, was more easil yper- suaded, aid Capt. Porgy, as he beheld him pour with liberal hand into the 'cup, might' have, entertained some reasonable ,doubts of the propriety and wisdom of suffering a man, with but one hand, to adjust his own measures, ;particularly where the source cf sup- ply was so distressingly small. But he suffered the sol-lier to help himself, and, Petiring a few paces, let himself dow:l-no easy matter-at the foot of a pine, where the straw of pli vious seasons afforded a couch of tolerable softness. Hither, wh'll the lorses were fastened, came th? Ensign, Frampton, whle th3 Ser- geant, Millhouse, bestowed himself more particularly upon Tom, the cook. A hoarse sigh, that, issuing from a plethoricl chest, r might have been held a groan, betrayed, in C ptain Porgy, f more than usually serious sense of ]is sittuation. The Ensign, Wlho had thrown himself down on the )pposite side 9f the tree, molestly remarked- , "I think, Captain Porgy, yJu are more sorrowful than : ever saw you before. Indeed, I ca&i't say that Ilever saw you sorrow- ful 'till now." "Well quite likely, Lance;-I have reason for it. Othello's oc- cupation's gone."' "Othello, Captain? Was the gentleman a soldier?" "Ay, indeed, a Moorish solc ier!-a Blackamoor-a negr)--of whom, it is quite likely, you have never heard-of whorl you will, probably, hear no more than I shall tell you. tEe was a fa- mous fighter in his day; but there came a day when his wars were ended-like ours -and then!--" "'And then " I "' Ee swallowed his sword thrlough an artificial mouth!" "What? . How? Swallowed his sword?"- "In other words, cut his throat!" itS,"Lo . A, s * --iF ;. * ^ baa " THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HS OCCUPATION 57 "What? because he could no 'longer cut the throats of other people?" "Partly that-and reason' enough too? Throat cutting was his business. Nobody ought to survive his business! Now, if I were quite sure that mry wars were wholly ended-that I should never be permitted to cut throats again,i according to law-I should certainly request of you the favour, Lance, as an act of friendship, to pass, the edge of your sabre across my jugular." "I T hould do no such thing, Captain Porgy." ' "Oh! yes, you would;-that is, if I particularly requested it; and I don't knobw but I shall have to do so et. You will certain- tainly oblige me, Lance, when the necessity shall arrive, and when I make the entreaty." "I don't think, Captain. No! I could nev-er do it." "Oh! yes, you will; but the necessity is not apparent yet, since l my nse tells me that Tom has still some material left, by which my throat shall find agreeable employment. I suppose, so long as one may tickle his throat with fish, flesh and fowl, and soothe it with Jamaica, he may still endure a life relieved of its usual9 occupations. But, this is the doubt, Lance. How long shall there be fish, and flesh and fowl, and Jamaica? I am a ruined man! I go back to the ancient homestead of my fathers, to find it desolate. Negroes gone, lands under mortgage, and not a rooster remaining in the poultry-yard, to crow ine-a welcome to dinner. Such a prospect does not terrify you. You have not been reared and trained to position, and artificial wants. You are young, just at the entrance of life, my dear boy, and can turn your hand to a thousand occupations, each of-which shall supply your wants.- Such is not the case with me. At forty-five, neither heart nor head, nor hand, possesses any such flexibility. A seven years ap- prenticeship to war, has left no resources in peace. Othello's oc- i cupation's gone!-gone! There is little or nothing now, that I *i 4 should live for ;-family, wife, friends, fortune-I have none;- page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 TTHE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. loneliness, poverty, desolation-these are the only prospects before me!" This was spoken with so much real mournfulness, that it com- pelled the warmest sympathies of the youthful hearer, who, in spite of many eccentricities on the part of the speaker, wh hi he failed to understand, and a strong and active selfishness, which he comprehended well enough, had yet a real affection for his su:perior. He crept nearer to Porgy, and said-- "Oh! it can't be as bad as aill that, Captain. You have many frieds. There's General Marlion, and-there's our Colonel, and many besides; and you've got a fine plantation, and I I ckon some of your negroes are left-" I "Tom only! The last accounts reported that every hai of a negro was gone-all carried off by the tories, I suppose, cr the Briitish., As for the plantation, it's under mortgage to a d--d shark of a Scotchman; and, even if it Nwere not, it would be I vorth nothing without the slaves. I tell you, boy, I see no remedy but to get my thrt cut like a ger-tleman, and die in my epat lettes and boots." "Oh! something will be sure to turn up, Captain. Remember what old Ben Brewer iused to say when any thing misfort lnate had happened--' Look up, I say,-God's over all!' God's D your friend, Captain2' , O "Well, in truth, Lance, I've so seldom called upon him, amnong my other friends, that, perhaps, he might do something fo,' me 1nOW.' . The irreverence was rebuked by his young companion i:l the following terms- "Oh! Captain, don't talk so! He's been doing for ycu all along! Who has taken care of you 'till now, when you're!trty- five years old?. Who saved you so often in fight?-and that's another reason, Captain, why you should have faith in his mercies! I reckon God always puts in, at the right time, to save people, if 1, - , ,i AMBUSCADE. , 59 so be they only let him! It's we that Wvon't be saved, and that's continually fighting against his mercies." "You talk like an oracle, Lance! Ohe thing's certain, that at times, when a fellow discovers that he can do nothing to save himself, the best philosophy is to confide in powers superior to his own. Of one thing, rest assured, my lad-I -shall never hurry my own case to judgment. I should fear the Judge's charge would be against me, let me plead as I might, and be his mercies as great as I could hope for. It will be always time enough to end one's own history; and since I've escaped the British bullet ' and bayonet, during a seven years' service, I shall certainly not use either to my own disquiet. The smell of Tom's fry, makes my philosophy more cheerful. It is, indeed, surprising how a man's griefs dwindle away towards dinner time. Ho!! Tom! are you ready?" "Jes' ready, maussa," was the prompt reply of the cook. "Let us eat, Lance. I see that Millhouse has his cleaver out already. Help me with an arm, my boy, while I rise to a sitting posture, -I am no small person to heave up into perpendicularity." Leaving our little group of partisans, for a while, let us return to the widow Eveleigh, on her i'oute homewards. CHAPTER X. AMBUSCADE. MRS. Eveleigh, as we have already stated, left the city for her plantation on 'Wednesday, instead of Friday. The change in her arrangements, called for a corresponding change in those of Mc- Kewn, and the Squatter, Bostwick. The latter, with his five con- page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 TH E SWORD AND TIE DISTAFF. federates, or emnloyeds, took their departure on Tuesday; and, : well knowing the route to be pursued by the widow, sped rapidly . for the Edisto, in the neighbourhiod of which river, they ploposed ! to plant their ambush. Their departure was quite a relief to Mc- Kewn, as it greatly lessened the expense to which he was necessa- r? rily subject, so long as they remained in idleness, and in a vicinity ; X so fall of temptations. We,\need not note their progress, Con- ? ducted by Bostwick, they were not long in reaching theil hiding t places, and in taking such a position, west of the Edisto, as would t I enable them to fasten upon their prey at a bound. The excellent i" lady, unsuspicious of clanger, set forth after breakfast on BV)ednes- day morning, in her great family carriage drawn by fou stout sj horses. The lumbering vehicle of that period need not'be partic- j:^g ularly described. It is very well known that the carriages Df that. - day were huge, unsightly and heavy machines, very solid str ictures 1 ' of wood and iron, which, even when entirely empty, were a suffi- 1 ;; cient burden for their teams. When occupied by our widow, her son, a youth of sixteen, a maid-servant of no small dimensions, sundry trunks, bags and boxes, filling up every foot of spac --and condemned to a. lonely pro gress over rough and heavy roads, it was inevitable tlat its movements must be slow. Accor lingly, ? it made no more rapid progress than the plantation wagon which l1 accompanied it, and in which several of the negroes found a'place. One or two of these were., mounted on mules, wrile othe:'s, the more vigorous, walked, easily keeping up with the carri ge.- Among these were the half-dozen negroes, belonging to Captain Poiggy, whom, as T ye have seen, the widow was so fortunate:, and so 5rm, as to recover, with her own, from the clutches of Mon- criefT. The overseer of Mrs-. Eeleigh, Fordham, led the: cortege, mounted on a clumsy, but powerful, sumpter lorse, and -rmed with the well-used long rifle of the country. He carried, b-sides, in holsters, a pair of large but common pistols. Young EVieleigh was similarly armed. He rode, souietimes with his mother ln the - Hi ,1 ., 1 r ..c1,' ] AMBUSCADE.- 61 carriage, but occasionally left the vehicle for a little 'marsh- tacky,' or poney, of Spanish breed, such as are to be found very commonly about the parishes of South-Carolina to this day- a light, hardy, lively creature, very small, but of great endurance. Young Eveleighl was a tall, handsome and vigorous youth, full of spirit, of a strong will and resolute charater. Properly armed, the party, including the negroes, might have laughed at any de- monstration which could be made by the force under Bostwick; but, unsuspicious of danger, they had taken no precautions against it, and travelled as carelessly along as if their course lay through the pathways of the peaceful city. Sometimes, Fordham and young Eveleigh rode together ahead; at other moments they were to be seen about the wagon and negroes, in the rear; and, not unfre- quently, when riding ahead, they' were out of sight both'of wagon and carriage. Bostwick had made all his calculations with due regard to what he knew of the travelling habits of the people on such occasions. The party had been suffered to., cross the Edisto at Rantowle's, and had made some progress upwards and towards the Ashepoo; when the hour for "nooning" approached. Of course, carriage and wagon were both well provided with the ne- cessary supplies of provisions; as the lodging houses along the route, few at any time, and with long intervals, had been very gen- erally broken up during the war, upon any but the great thorough- fares. Fordham and young Eveleigh had ridden forward to find a branch-a stream of water-or a spring, at which the party might stop. A turn of the road had taken them out of sight of the carriage. The regions were well wooded; and the ve- hicles were passing. through a defile of the forest, more than commonly dense. They had just passed an ancient Club- house, such as may be found, to this day,' throughout the Parish country of South-Carolina - where, after the day's hunt, the gen- try of the surrounding district reassembled for dinner. The house had been disused for this purpose, during the war, and was now in 6 page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] - - I sI 62 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ruins. The planks had been torn off from the frame, which stood up an almost naked skeleton. The floor was gone--the ropof could afford no shelter. Weeds and grass, -still in ran'-est luxuriance, environed the decaying frabric, in which, no dcubt, during the i heats or summer, the serpent and the wild-cat found frequent ? harbourage, Just beyond this spot, a heavy timbereq. forest spread away to the South, over a low, mucky tract, wl-ich'the deer and the bear could alone inhabit. The road wounld along the edges of this low region, pursuing the higher grounds. It was while the carriage was passing through the dark shaldows of t this defile, that it was suddenly arrested. The horses wer, made rudely to i'ecoil, and wheeled about; the vehicle was th:ust di- rectly across the road so 'as fairly to close it up. The shock : awakened Mrs. Eveleigh from a drowsy mood, while the cry of ; the servant-maid who accompanied her, warned her of son e event which required her attention. At first, she fancied that th horses were unruly; but she was soon undeceived. The words of the negro girl-- ; "Ohl! missis, look a' dem black looking man! He da ketch de horse by de head." i i At that moment the driver cried out- "Hello! da'-wha' you gwine do wid my hosses?" ;s He was silenced with a blow from a bludgeon delivered: by a . hand which he, had not seen, and which tumbled- hma fair y from I his seat. Two or three men, covered with masks, and dressed 8 with long, shaggy black hair, through which their will dark / eyes only were visible, now appeared at the side of the cu'.riage, the door of which was torn-open in an instant. : "Who are you? What do you mean by this violence?" de- manded the widow, looling very pale, but speaking very firmly. One of them replied harshy, seizing her by the wrist as he spoke- I "Come out, my good woman!-that we may hev' a good look I at your handsome wisage!" - D AMBUSCADE. ' 63 I will come out! Release me. I need no help." *' All right, ma'am; I'm all ciwility!" said the- fellow, as he made way for her to descend. The negro girl sate trembling in the carriage, after her mistress had got out. "Out with you, Jenny!" .cried the spokesman, taking the ser- vant by her ears, and with so much effect, 'that she screamed vio- lently. "Shut up your fish-trlap, you ---;" he cried, with a terrible voice and oath, " or I'll tear out your tongue, and eat it without bread or gravy." The threat, and the action by which it was accompanied, caused her to redouble her screams, and to cling the closer to the vehi- cle; upon which, the other jumped in, and tumbled her out head- long, as if she had been a bale of cotton. He then proceeded, with singular industry, to search the carriage: possessing himself, among other things, of a richly inlaid mahogany case, which he drew from beneath the seat. By this time, his confederates had cut the traces, and freed the horses. The servant girl continued her screams, until flung down, and her mouth bandaged-an op- 'eration which was performed by one of the assailants, with the celerity of an old practitioner. The widow, Eveleigh, meanwhile,. stootl silent, anxious, breathless, with expectation and apprehen- sion, but mairltinining a noble and fearless deimeanour. At this moment, a pistol shot was heard ahead--then another, and an- other. At the sound the lady could not suppress the murmur- "y son---my son! My God! protect my son!" She clasped her hands with increasing apprehensions, while the new terrors in her face were too strong for concealment; her knees trembled beneath her, and she sank back for support against a tree. Two of the assailants had remainDed with the carriage. These started into activity as the sound of- the fire-arms reached them. They came from the road in front, along whch young Eveleigh and Fordham had ridden. A moment only did they pause; then, page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. 0 simultaneously, darting forward, they hurried in ,he direction of i the scene of action. The widow watched them wilh eager terrors, ] :i as they sped along, chiefly under cover of the trees, pursuing the roadside, but avoiding, as much as possible, the exposure of !; their persons. Suddenly they crouched beneath opposite trees, and, in a second or two after, the tramp of a horse, at a run, smote their ears. At the sound, one of them raised a light tarbine which he carried, and which he cocked in readiness. ]Fe had ; scarcely done so, when young Eveleigh came in sight, push ng the :i poney to the utmost. -hen was heard the ciy of She motl er-at }: the top of her voice--but very faintly, at that distance;--reaching f; the ears of the banditti Only. i "Back, Arthur, back, my son. Beware! beware! Th-re are : enemies in ambush!" The youth seemed to hear; and appeared disposed to gather ! up his horse: but he was anticipated by the amrbush. A shot was fired, and the little steed went down, forward on h s face, j pitching the youth over his head. The two assailants then darted , out of their place of hiding, and threw themselves upon hm as he was feebly endeavouring to rise, He struggled as well as he could, being evidently somewhat stunned by his fall; but what ; could his unhardened sinews avail in a struggle with two r .ffians, i practised in allf sorts of encounter, with frames well set, tmnd in ! the full vigour of manhood. .While they held him down,?repa- 'p ring to bind lis arims, the mother rushed towards them, lrying A aloud- "( Spare him, spare my son, and you shall have all--all! Any thing! Spare him! Let him rise!" - I She did not wait to see the effect of her entreaty, but puslied in between the assailants. -It was a noble exhibition of maternal i courage, reckless for herself, moved only by the one impulse of love and devotion'to her young. One of the ruffians seized her and bore her back, while the 6ther kept his knee upon the breast of the youth. AMBUSCADE. 65 ':My son I my son! Spare him! spare him!" she continued to cry, " and I will give you every thing." "Shut up, good woman, shut up! There's no danger, ef the young cub will only keep quiet. There's no harm done him yit; and none will happen to him ef so be he has sense enough not to pro- vocate us. I reckon he's done some mischief a'ready. See, Fire Dick,"--to his companion--" both pistols is empty." As he spoke, two fellows, masked and bearded like himself, with false hair, and great handkerchiefs muffling their heads and faces, ran towards them from above. To these, the bandit who had just spoken, addressed himself- "Well! . How goes it?" " Bad enough! Bill Sykes is on his back, and has'nt a word for a dog. This young bull-pup has'laid him out with a bullet through the head." A fierce glance from all parties was addressed to the young man; and, having secured the prisoners from whom they had most to fear, they drew aside for a moment to consult. "What hev' you done with the overseer, Fordham?" demand- ed one who seemed to be the leader, and who was, in fact, the Squatter, Bostwick. "He's fast." ' You hev'nt killed him a?" 'No ; only stunted him with a backstroke over the head andB neck, and then tied him down to a sapling." "Is he safe 2" "I reckon! 'Hee don't move, and kaint!" "How was it?" "Why, he got down to drink at the branch, and when he was drinking, Bill Sykes jumped out of the bush, and knocked him into the wat-erwith the butt-eend of his rifle. As the young- fel- low seed that, setting on his horse, he let fly at Bill, 'first one shot, then another, though I reckoff 'twas the first bullet that did 6* page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. en he wheeled about, and. went off at full speed. fellow has killed i, but 'twas only a snap; and we had to turL about, as the Bible says o manage Fordham, who had raised himself up "Take all " s Br, and was aiming to get at his horse and iollers, A go". ae had two pistols. But I gin hirr a settl r, side j "'Twont do! rich sprawled him, and Sam took u-) his ho:'se." be more, ef you lust see to business. Bill Sykes, you say, wants "What, more i :: "We'll think Ilast bacon!" ; a little hitch abc then, 'till we see to our work. We must pick up He pulled a b I be off. There's not much time." "You will nol ut the carriage, Bost?" demanded one of -he fel- with loathing a - -:!: felt by her son. s nothing mucn, I reckon," ately in his bon !?@ !" i2- b hand upon the see-but I hev'nt looked in yet." eyes were filled iat;" said Fire Dick, otherwise Dick Norris.; Each struggle. But s arted off in the direction of carriage and dmagon, sistance must on] :; who, having already quietly possessed 1 inself flection she held ly box of Mrs. Eveleigh, which he had sormehow "Well! I ca ceal from all parties in the bushes, seemed to take the other way, n: nture quite coolly. To him, as he s-ood, apt arent- see, ef I was to he widow now advanced. Her son lay boud and The calculatin; the road. - feeling of loathi pose plunder?" ,e demanded of the Squatter.- X #tion of a momen "that is in the carriage and wagon-n-.orey, "Now, ma'am :ase my son, and let us go." jest set down wit money in the carriage?" asked the Squatter. it, you see. 'Tw as only, which you will find in a small mahogany She sat down seat." the tree. tat else in the box . "Now, I'll jes a few papers of value to nobody bit mysef." bellow, for there' e to that! Do you come with me. The young they'llnot be ova I . no t o . AMBUSCADE. 67 fellow has killed one of our people. That must be paid for-or, as the Bible says-' life for life !"' "Take all!" she exclaimed, " all--as I said before, and let us go." "'Twont do! We've got all that's here, a'ready. There must be more, ef you would save the young un from a dog's death." "What, more! How shall I pay you ? What sum? When ?" " We'll think of that ! But, jest now, look you, I must put a little hitch about your arms." He pulled a bundle of cord from his pocket as he spoke. "You will not dare !" exclaimed the lady, drawing herself up with loathing and indignation: in her face. Her indignation was felt by her son. The youth shrieked in fury, and writhed desper- ately in his bonds. But the ruffian was unmoved, and laid his hand upon the arm of the widow. At first she recoiled-her eyes were filled with such gleams of anger, as promised desperate struggle. But she subdued herself; feeling that any effort at re- sistance must only expose her to worse indignities. With this re- flection she held out her wrists. "Well ! I call that sensible and civil ;" cried the ruffian, " but the other way, ma'am-behind your back, ef you please. You see, ef I was to tie your handsin front, you might gnaw through." The calculating rascal! Again the lady recoiled with a natural feeling of loathing and indignation; again, however, the reflec- tion of a moment caused her to subdue it. "Now, ma'am, ef you please," continued the ruffian, "you'll jest set down with your back to this sapling. You kin lean agin it, you see. 'Twill be a help to you." She sat down passively, and suffered herself to be fastened to the tree. " Now, I'll jest warn you to keep quiet! 'Twill be no use to bellow, for there's nobody to hear you but our own people; and they'll not be overquick to help you, onless it's out of the world; page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 THE SWORD, AND THE DISTAFF. I for they don't like a woman's hollering when there's no help for it; and itf won't take them much to make 'em knock yo. and the young fellow over the head." ' With no more words, having made both the parties as secure 'as possi ble, the bandit turned off to join his 'cmrades leaving the widow with a soul swelling to bursting with fruitless indigna- tion, with fear and ill-suppressed rage, for which she could find no relief even in feminine'tears., - But, when she looked upon her son, -terror, in respect to his danger, suspended every other feeling. "Oh! Artlumr-m my son! my son! What is Jo become of us? They will kill you, my son ; they will kill us both!" The son groaned in answer, and once more writhed desperately, but vainly, ii his bonds. Exhausted with his ineffectual sW;r iggles, and humbled by the sense of shame and impotence, tears. Lot and scalding, gushed from his eyes, which he closed, in very lortifica- tion, as if to conceal the weakness which he cou'd not co attrol. i i CHAPTER XI. A CHANGE IN THE ASPECT OF AFFAIRS. THE MOUSE 'NAWS THROUGH THE LION S MESHES. I HALF an hour might have elapsed, or even a long: period, and the outlaws had all disappeared from the sight of the two fettered parties-having now addressed themselves to th( duty of capturing the negroes, and overhaulingo the wagon, which slowly ! followed in the rear. But few words had passed betWegn the : mother and her son. They had nothing consoling in their t-ilughts, -and no motive, accordingly, for speech. They c:'ouched, gloomy, wretched, and full of apprehensions, on the spot, and agiinst the, A CHANGE IN THE ASPECT OF AFFAIRS. 69 trees to which they had been separately fastened ;-when the ear of the widow caught a rustling sound among the bushes behind her, and, a moment after, she heard a yoice, which she readily re- cognized as that of her maid servant, Jenny. It was at this mo- ment that she remembered that the ruffian who ordered the girl from the coach, and finally hurled her out of it, bad called her by her true name-a fact to be remembered. The girl had been much more fortunate than her mistress.' It is true, the outlaws, provoked by her clamours, had bandaged her jaws; but they had neglected, in their anxiety to secure the widow, and search the carriage, to bandage her arms also. The sly negro, in the general confusion, and not being a conspicuous personage, was allowed to crawl away unperceived into the bushes; and, in the variety of interests which the outlaws had to consult, remained, for a time, altogether unremembered. While the two, having charge of the widow, ran forward to plant an ambush for the son, the girl had found close shelter in the thickets'-had succeeded in stripping the bandage *from her jaws, and had so far recovered her wits, or her instincts, as to feel the desire of being useful. Keeping still the cover of the thicket, she had wound her way along the road, though at; a safe distance from it, t6ofards the spot subsequently marked by the struggle with young Eveleigh, and the pinioning of himself and mother; an-d now she stood but a few paces dis- tant in the woods, seemingly afraid to venture out upon the pub- lic road, on the margin of which the captives had been bound.- Her object was to feel if the coast was clear. She could see her mistress and the youth, from her place of harbourage,. but the high- way, up and down, was beyond her survey. "Hi! missis, hi! Da me! Da Jinney! I jis' want for know ef dem black people gone." "Oh! Jenny, yes; I don't see them!" "Look up de road' missis, ef you kin! Le' me yer wha' you kin see up de road, fus', 'fore I come!" page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "I see nothing but the carriage, Jenny. I see no personr about it. They are gone, but I hear a noise." "I yer dat noise too, but he's fur away on de roac. i I kin come out den?" "Yes; you may, but look sharp, Jenny." "Yer's me!" cried the girl emerging from the wood. "ILor' a massy?-an' he tie you, andmass Art'ur! De black delbils-he tie you, missus? You got knife?" "Put your hand in my pocket-you will find one." "I hab 'em-lm' ne cut you loose." "Arthur first, Jenny," said the mother, earnestly. But the girl was already slashing away at the ploughnes which had been :used to secure the mistress. In a moment, her arms wee free. The mother then seized the knife, herself, to perform the g:ateful office of giving freedom to her son. A few more seconds& s-ufficed for this, and the youth sprang up with a new sense of iranhood, l and full of a fierce desire for the conflict. "Now, Arthur, my son, fly to the woods, hide yourse f, see if you can find a horse, and speed for help." "No, indeed, mother," cried the youth, resuming his e:nity ri- fle and pistols, which had been Suffered to lie where they h'd f1- len in the scuffle ; " do you and Jenny take to the woods. Push down for the swamp, which is only a few hundred yards below, and there hide yourself." "What do you propose to do, Arthur?" she asked, ii some trepidation, seeing him proceed to reload his rifle; the outlaws having thought it quite unnecessary to deprive him of his powder horn and pouch. - "I must see after Fordham, mother. They may have. killed him, or bound him, as they bound us. If he lives, there {,re two of us, both armed-" ' - "But two, Arthur, against six." ' "Five only, mother, now/o One you recollect-" A CHANGE IN THE ASPECTr OF AFFAIRS. 71 "Yes, yes!" "Well, two against five, both armed, is no bad ambush: and we shall surprise the rascals. You will see." "But if poor Fordhllam should have been killed, my son?" "I will revenge him!" cried the noble boy, driving home the bullet, and, immediately after, bounding off along the road in the direction of the spot where Fordham had been knocked down.-- Ilis mother wrung her hands passionately. She dared not call j out after him, lest she should alarm other ears; and it was only with a great effort of will, that she controlled her feelings, and adopted the youth's counsel, by burying herself in the woods be- yond. Yet she only put herself in partial cover. Her anxiety led her still to pursue a course parallel with the road, keeping the same direction with her son. It did not require many minutes to enable Arthur Eveleighl to cover the space between, and to reach the borders of the creek where the outlaws had attacked the overseer and himself. There were all the signs of the struggle between Fordham and the ruf- fian who assailed him; but Fordham himself was not to be seen. While the youth looked about in vonder, he heard his name cal- led, by some one in the wood, and reasonably conjectured the per- son to be Fordham.. He pushed through the bushes to the spot, and found him, bruized and beaten-hardly well recovered from the stunning blow by which he had been felled to the ground,- but otherwise not injured. H-Ie was tied down to'a sapling, as the widow and the youth hadl. been; and, beside him, within a cou- ple of feet, lay the corpse of the outlaw, stark and stiff, whom Ar- thur himself had slain-a spectacle which made the boy shudder, and grow suddenly sick ; but which poor Fordham had been com- pelled to endure for a goodly hour! But time was pressing. The exigency of the case did not allow Arthur Eveleigh to give way to any nervous emotions, however natural. Their assailants, as they reasonably apprehended, might page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF be soon again upon them, and the youth, strolgly exi l;ing his moral nature, overcame his sickness, and cut the cords i ich fet- tered the overseer. Fordham, on his feet, rapid/ly recove red him- self. His own rifle, and that of the dead mn, lay I together, with an- odd pistol belonging to the outlaws. Of thies, Arthur and himself took quick possession. "And now," said Fordham, "I want to see if I can m ke out this carrion." And he stooped to examine the body of the slain m . But Arthur turned away-though a strange fascinati n seemi d, a mo- ment after, to compel him to gaze upon the face of the victim, from whose head Fordham had removed a wilderness of fa sh, black and matted hair. The whiskers came off with ike, read nass. "He's a stranger to me,' said Fordham. " e's amil tybad look, and here's a cut over his cheek, a great slas, that 1 oks as if 'twas done with a broad sword; and it has'nt beei so verj long. I reckqn he was some tory. Your shot was well p'inted, Mr. Ar- thur-it's gone, I reckon, straight through his heart. It' worked a most amazin' big hole in his bosom. See to thiat." The youth looked as directed, but turned away quickly ": Enoughl, Fordhanm! We have precious little time.* We had better be loading, and putting ourselves in readin ess." "What's to be done? Where's your mother?"; "In the woods with Jenny. I told her to pus. into th 4wamp where she could hide so close that-a hundred en coul 'at find her in a three day's search--" ' "Onless it so happened! But you are right. And w t now are we to do?" There are two of us-there are four or five of these utlaws. They have gone down the road, but will probably retu. We can ambush them, as they ambushed us; we hire thre13 rifles, and as many pistols." "Good, Mr. Arthur! But to ambush them, we m st hide HOW BLACKIBIRD8 ARE TAtEN . 7 ,ther side of the spot where they tied you and your mot/her If ey git to that spot and find you gone, they'll take the woods on "True! Let's push for it, Fordham." "rm consenting;" answered the other, who had just fin- ied loading the two rifles. These he took on his shoulder. ie pistols were loaded also; and the whole pretty equally divided tween the two. In a few moments, they struck into the woods, rdham taking the lead, and following the edge of the road, th a bold stride, yet a vigilant eye to every bush that-stirred. e had recovered all his energies, and now showed himself, as was, a thorough master of woodcraft. We leave the two in eir progress ; having almost reached the spot where the carriage 4d been halted and turned across the roaid. At this moment, Ld when Arthur, seeing nothing, was about to push forward, )rdham caught his wrist, suddenly, and drew him back into the elter of the thicket. Let us leave them, and look after our out- ws for awhile. CHAPTER X1n., HOW BLACKBIRDS ARE TAKEN, AND HOW BLACKBIRDS FLY. HAVING, as they fancied, secured-the only persons who were rely to give them any trouble,--having ransacked the carriage, id taken into their own keeping any small valuables which had reviously eluded their search-our bandittii under the conduct ' the Squatter, Bostwick, now prepared to turn their attention pon the negroes and the approaching wagon. This vehicle might 7 . page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. have been three quarters of a mile in the rear of the ea-riage when the latter was arrested, the inmates taken captive, ard the assault made upon Fordham and young Arthur. Of these events, the negroes, by whom the wagon was accompan'ed and driven, had no sort of conjecture, at the moment when they haopened. I The road was one of thoste admirably circuitous ones, so common in our forest country, which seldom afford you a direct strvey of the route for three hundred yards together; and, trudging on, with tongues incessantly employed, singing or talking, the :legroes had ears for no sounds but those which they themselves produced. The wagon was mostly filled with stores, sugar, coffee, flo ir, ba- con, blankets and negro clothes. These loaded it rather ;eavily v for the six mules by which it was drawn. To this load, ycu may add, at intervals, two or three of the negroes, who, from tempora- ry lameness, or a less degree of strength than the rest, were per- mitted, occasionally, to relieve their fatigue by a lift in the W'agon. One of these negroes, belonging to Captain Porgy, was, by the way, an expert violinist. His only possession was a cracked and ancient fiddle, the seams of which had been carefully, but :ough- ly, closed with resin from the pine trees, gathered as he assed. With this instrument, he contrived to increase the noise atr the merriment which still accompanied their progress, and to lessen the consciousness of fatigue on the part of his compani ns.- Pomp, or Pompey-that was his name-as might be expected, was a great favourite; and his plea of lameness, we may add, was not examined too closely by the driver of the wagon, when it was remembered that his violin could be made to work while he played. The negroes were fourteen in number, seven of them beirg the property of Mrs. Eveleigh, the rest of Captain Porgy--all of whom, with one exception, had been recovered from"the clitches -of the insatiate Colonel Moncrieff and -his colleagues. These were all walking, with the exception of the wagoner, Tobias, Pomp, the violinist, and Dembo, a young fellow of sixteen; the HOW BLACKBIRDS ARE TAKEN. 75 two latter being within the wagon; Dembo looking out from the opening of the cover, in the rear, while Pomp occupied a similar position in front; the post of honour being naturally claimed'for the violin. Tobias bestrode the wheel-horse immediately in front of him, and when Pomp was not actually playing, he and Tobias kept up a running commentary upon the ways before them, the events through which they had passed, their recent captivity in the British Hulk, and their fortunate escape at the very last mo- ment. Thus travelling and employed, the party at length wound its way slowly into the plain, at the farthest opening of which- perhaps a quarter of a mile distant-the carriage of the widow could now be seen, awkwardly enough, turned directly across the road. The situation of this vehicle was first beheld by the pioneer of the party, an able bodied, fine looking fellow, named John, or John Sylvester, as he preferred to be called, after a former owner by whom he had been reared. John was a calm, and rather thoughtful fellow, of quick comprehension, keen sight, and good judgment. He stopt immediately, looked earnestly about him, and, after surveying, for a few moments, the situation of the car- riage, he turned quietly back to the wagon and his companions. "Look yer, Toby,"--speaking to Tobias, the wagone"r-" dem boss of missis nebber tu'n dat carriage 'cross de road, as you see 'em. He habsomebody for tu'n 'em so, for sure!" "Ki!" quoth Tobias, looking out and drawing up his team, as he gazed. "Wha' dat? He choke up de road for true. Sartain, John, de boss nebber tu'n'em so hese'f (heself)!" "Nebber!" continued John, and you see nudder t'ing, Toby- de hoss tak' out and gone! He nebber tak' out hese'f." "Da's true! Wha' dis ."7 "Now, Toby, you hab eye! Look to de little wood 6b scrubby oak; you see? You see hoss hitch, and der's a coal black boss hitch wid udder boss in dat scrubby oak?" " ^ i page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 7fs i6 THE SWORD AND 'THE DtSTAPF. "I see! Coal black hoss dey, for true, John." "Missis aint got no coal black hoss, Toby." "Nebber." "Toby, I'm jubous, der's somet'ing wrong in dis bis'ness Boy, you 'member dat d----n poor buckrah, Bossick He hab big, rawhone, coal black hoss, same time he catch we, ;nd carr) we to town." - ' You sure he been Bossick was catch we, John? ' "Enty I know! .He big beard like goat, and head o' hi like wolf, nebber been blin' me, so I can't tell the d---n blear e y6son y ob a skunk. I smell 'eni out, same as pole-cat in my n se. I : tell you, Toby, Bossick was the same poor buckrah been nab we. He de same one was ride de rawhone black. He can't fool dis nigger. I'm jubous dat is Bossick hoss you see dey in de Isrub- by oak. I'm jubous Bossick is yer in dese parts. I t'inkl I feel de smell of de pole-cat in my nose jes' now. Dat carriage aint cross de road for nuttin' (nothing)." "Well,-wha' for do?" demanded Toby, in considerable excite- ment. "Da's de t'ing;-but I tell you, Toby, John Sylvester ne')ber guine le' Joe Bossick put he dirty, poor buckrah paw 'poil him shoulder agen! I nebber guine back to "dat d---'n salt-Water hole in de wharf ef I kin help it. You mus' do wha' you' kin! You can't lef' de hosses -dat you know. But, dis niggerl will hide hese'f in de wood, and be ready for a run; and you tetter gi' all dese niggers a chance. Better we bury wese'f up t;j de neck in de swamp, where we knows Be varmints, dan le' 'en car- ry we off to de British Hulk, I'm a t6nking." "You fight! But wha' me for do?" You stick to de wagon. You will hab for dribe, you k now. But Ppmp kin slip out wid me; and Dembo dere ; and any b de fellows wha' chooses, kin mak' track (run) same as you see, me mak'." HOW BLACKBIRDS ARE TAKEN. "But you aint guine run 'fore you see wha's a-coming? . "No! But I guine to stan' ready for wha's a-coming, boy. You see dat close t'ick (thick or thicket) 'pon -de lef' ob de road a I'm jubous der's some d---d varmint, like a poor buckrah, da's a-lyin' close 'pon de lookout in dat same t'ick. You dribe slow; I watch 'em. Da's all. You yer, (hear) boys? Jes' wha' you see me do, ef you hab sense, you guine do de same as me. De lame nigger wha' can't run, le' 'em lie close and kick! Ef Bossick nebber see nigger legs 'fore to-day, I 'spec he will hab sight dis time! Yer!" i Thus warned and counselled, the negroes were all on the lookout. John Sylvester, for his own part, took care to suffer the wagon to keep between himself and the suspicious wood he had pointed out. Pomp, the violinist, slipped out of the wagon, still keeping his fiddle in hand, and followed in the steps of John. The oth- er negroes, with one or two exceptions, seemed rather stupefied and undetermined, at the notion that they were in some peril of a return to captivity. They crowded together at the taill of the wa7gn, as a flock of sheep threatened on all sides. Tobias drove slowly, keeping up a soliloquy, in under tones, which betrayed his fear to his mules; if to no other auditors. In this way, the party had advanced about a couple of hundred yards, when a shrill whistle was heard from the thicket to which Joan had pointed. Tobias drew up at the same instant." "You ye'r, (hear) John Sylbester .?" quoth Tobias. "I ye'r, Toby! You dribe on! Don't you stop! Ef you see any t'ing like trouble, gee de mule de whip, and push. We only seben mile from home, I t'ink." Y "Wha' dat?" cried Tobias. "I see Buckrah, for true." "In de t'ick?" "He da peep!" "Ha! de d d snake in de grass!" was the brief commen tary of John, as, squatting, he peered beneath the wheels of the page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. wagon. The mules were again in motion. Hardly had ther ad- vanced ten paces, when there was a rush from the thicket. A cou- ple of fierce looking brigands, black with hair, aid beard4 and smut, appeared a little in front of the mules, each carrying i rifle in his grasp. At that moment, John Sylvester disappeared ii the opposite woods; Pomp, still carrying his fiddle, close in his wake. They had barely gained the cover, when three other bandits mnade their demonstration close beside the wagon. Stop, there, you d--d black Belzebub!" was the cry of one of them, to the wagoner, who now began to whip up his wleary and sluggish mules. The negroes, recovering their consciouness and energies, proceeded to scatter in various directions; but 'n a state of confusion, which left them doubtful which way to go.-- The mules were forcibly arrested, and taken out of the wagoL.-- Tobias was tumbled from his perch, still grasping the lines. "Hello! maussa! wha' dis?" demanded ;he poor fellow. A rude blow of the fist, dexterously planted in his jaws, muz- zled him completely; and. while one of the party roped him, the others scattered in pursuit of the flying negroes. A terrible st m- mons, followed by a pistol shot, fired over their heads, broigght three or four of them to a dead halt. In fear and trembling, they suffered themselves to be caught and corded by a single rur- suer. With these, tobias, and a lame fellow in the wagon, the brigands found themselves in possession oof six of the fugitives.- There were still eight to be taken, and, leaving one of their nm- berin charge of the captives, two of the four dashed into the op- posite woods whither most of the negroes had been seen to fly; while the remaining two hurried back to theL' horses, in order ;he better to resume the chase. 4TOO QUICK R01 TRIGGER." 79 I CHAPTER XIII. 4 TOO QUICK ON TRIGGER. IT will be remembered, at the close of the scene that witnessed the extrication of young Arthur from his bonds, and the recovery of Fordham, the overseer, that these two had advanced to the place where the assault had been made upon the carriage; and that, when the former was about to emerge ea(erly from cover, he was arrested suddenly by his companion, in consequence of some discovery which had been made by the latter. The discovery was that of the horses of the party, which, as we have seen, were all fastened to swinging limbs of trees, in the cover of a little clump of scrubby oaks. The quick, sagacious experience of Fordham, at once showed him the advantages which we!e pro- mised by this discovery. Stop, Mr. Arthur;-we must think a little." "What do you see, Mr. Fordham ." "The horses! Our horses, and those of the inimy." "Where " - "Yonder ;-in the scrubby oaks. .I "We have them!" cried the youth eagerly, seeing the uses of the discovery at a glance. "Perhaps!" replied the other. "The first thing is to know if any one watches the horses. We must see to that. We must fetch a compass through the woods, and come in on the back of them. I must give you a lesson in woodcraft. We are to see without being seen. If they see us, we lose all that we have gained. A rifle shot from behind a log may tumble both of us, and these rascals won't stop at a shot, if they see us making at them with page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. we'pons in our hands. Let us round this thick, and git across the road above."' The caution necessary, rendered the opeiation a tedious one; but it was managed with perfect success by the practised woods- man; Arthur Eveleigh following promptly in his track, and emu- lating his circumspection. They wound their way under cove-' to the horses, and found them without any guard-the bandit need- ed all their forces for the pursuit of the negroes. In silence, and with great deliberation, Fordham proceeded to strip the horse of their saddles, which he concealed in the thicket. To remove'the bridles was the next operation. "What's the use of this, Fordham ." was the whispered query of his young companion. ' To gain time-to make the horses as useless to the inimy as possible. But we will leave two of the nags saddled, and if you will lead these quietly, through the wood ahead, and get them across the creek, where we can find them at a moment, they Wivill help you and youi mother to git on. These rogues are all below us, I reckon, and looking out for the wagon. It's cl'ar they're aim'ng - at a great plunder. They'll gut the wagon if we let 'em." "But, couldn't we mount, and ride the rascals down .' demand- ed the youth. . "And draw a rifle:.shot from every bush as we pass? No! no! Mr. Arthur, that would be to spile the whole business. Welve got a leetle the advantage now, and I'm for keeping it. I'd much rather cut the throats of all the horses than mount them, ncw when these scamps are jscattered through the wood. But let us stir ourselves. Willyou take the two horses down to the creek, while I keep watch?" "Yes; but what will you do with the rest " "Turn 'em loose, and let 'em pick about the woods. They'll be so much harder to be caught." . "But why not take them all over the creek?" ! "TOO QUICK 0'ON TIGGER. 81 "I'm afraid; lest we should be caught, and be attacked ona- wares. It's better so, as I tell you. Ef you don't like the job, Mr. Arthur, say so, and I'll do, it while you keep watch here; though I'm rather the better hand, -I'm a-thinking, to do the watching part of the business." "No, Fordham; I'll do it." "Hurry then, Master Arthur, and be back as soon as possible. With our three rifles, we can make these rascals feel very sore, ta- king tihem onexpectedly out of these bushes. I'll not turn the, other horses loose till you git back." , The youthad but three hundred yards or so to go, and he ex- ecuted his duty with sufficient celerity, and with success. He crept back, and into cover, alongside of Fordham, with all the stealth of an experienced woodman. He was on his best per- formance, and taking his first lesson in war; arid-proud and soli- citous accordingly. "And now that we are ready for the rascals, I'll jest slip the bridles and let the horses free. Do you lie close, keep behind&that log, and see that you hav'nt spilt your priming." A few moments sufficed to let the horses loose, and then Ford- ham crept to a thick clump of bushes, some ten yards from the spot occupied by Arthur, and laid himself at length behind it. The horses, for a, while, as if unconscious of their enlargement, stood with heads down in the same place. Soon, however, they began to turn, now to one side and now to the other;--anon they thrust their noses to the earth, and nibbled at the meagre grasses; gradually, they began to wander, and, after a short interval, to scatter themselves about the wood. Meanwhile, the wagon ap- peared in sight, and our party, lying perdti, beheld the rush upon it from the wood, and saw the result, as we have thus far de- scribed it. 1 Their turn was about to come. "I count the whole five, Mr. Foydham;'" murmured Arthur crawling nigh to his companion. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Yes; and they've work to do before they catch Jack $ylves- ter. He's off. It's him, I know, that walked this side of the I wagon; and Captain Porgy's Pomp was jest behind him with his fiddle. With two horses only, the rascals will never catch them all-in this world."- "Thley've gone after them." "Three of them, I think. No; only the two mounted ren. I still see three, neatr the niggers they've caught. They're itying them. Well-that s strange! I wonder what they can mean? They surely don't intend to steal 'em ag'in, now the Britishrhave gone." And Fordham raised himself uneasily, as if disposed to take the field. "Lie close, Mr. Fordham-they're coming this way." I ' Sure enough: two of them! They're coming after the horses, I reckon. Well, with two off, in chase of the runaways, one minding the wagon, and only two to manage at a time, Ithink, Mr. Arthur, we ought to manage 'em. If we can pick off these two skunks, it 'll take more courage than I give the other chaps credit for, to bring 'em down to attack us in our ambush. Now, don't be too eager, Mr. Arthur'-keep down your heart. Shet your lips close, and spread out quiet on your left side. Don't you cock ---your weapon 'till you're ready to let drive. There's always /ime enough for that. Perhaps you'd better wait 'till I give tongue with my rifle, and then yours can follow at the chap that you! see still standing." "Let me shoot first, Mr. Fordham, if you please?" murmured the youth eagerly. "Well! But I'm afraid you'll be too onsteady;-you talk like it." "No! no!" answered the other, "you'll see." "Well! well!" replied the overseer, good naturedly--"young fe'llows must begin some time or other! Only, Mr. Arthur, don't waste the bullet when you show where y u take your rest. Don't A ; "TOO QUICK ON TRIGGER.' 83 let your heart thump. so as to knock your eye out of the range. See to that." "I will!" in a subdued, yet agitated voice. No more was said between the parties; the approach of-the two brigands requiring their utmost silence and attention. On a sudden, they were seen to halt. They had discovered that the horses had escaped from their place of fastening. One of them pointed to a couple of the animals whichhad wandered some fifty, yards from the cover, and were now feeding up through an open pine ridge. They both turned aside in this direction y At this momentlthey were within longrifle range of the ambush. The course they now pursued was calculated to take them entirely be- yond it. Arthur Eveleigh saw this, and, in his eagerness, his unwillingness that they should escape him, and, perhaps, from a miscalculation of the distance, he pulled trigger upon them. "Too ofar-too far!" muttered Fordham-" i I was afear'd he'd be too quick on trigger!" "e's got it!" cried the youth, almost tooloudly for prudence. "Only a taste-a flesh-wound, uIr. Artiur!" said Fordham, whio could better appreciate the effects produced by the shot.- The man aimed at was certainly hit. Hewas seen to spin round for a moment like a top, while his right hand caught convulsive- ly the left arm just below the shoulders. "A little more to the left, Mr. Arthur, and the bullet would have bored him through the heart. Now it's only grazed the arm. He's got a taste, however, that'll operate mightily like a scare.-- They'll fight shy of us, now ;- and we must watch that they don't fetch a compass rounld us. Lie close and reload." Meanwhile, the companion otf the wounded man hurried to his" assistance, and they both retired in the direction of the wagon.- Here, they were seen to tear off the coat of the sufferer, to exam- ine and to bandage up the wound. The fellow laid himself down, leaning with his head against a tree. The dressing as soon per- page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84; THE SWORD AND TH DISTAFF. formed, and Arthur Eveleigh -was mortified immensely to discover, what was sufficiently apparent, that the hurt. as Fordham had said, was to the flesh only. Not a bore was broken and the blood was quickly staunched. The wounded man was seen to lift his arm without assistance, and, after a few moments of repose, he got up and .joined his comrades who had now retired to the woods, as if for consultation. CHAPTER XIV. "ESSONS IN WOODCRAFT. THE whole aspect of the affair had now undergone a serious change in the eyes of the outlaws. We must enter into their councils for a moment. Close by the side of the road, but con- cealed amid the shubbery which skirted it, three of the party had assembled, including the person who had been left in charge of the captured negroes. These, as they had all, by this time, been well secured with ropes, and were now grouped together at the side of the wagon, needed, perhaps, no close surveillance. Still, the party at the road-side, but a few -)aces distant, were ready, should there be any movement among the slaves. But they lay quiet, crouching dlose to the earth, and entirely subdued by their terrors. The two absent outlaws were still in pursuit of the fugi- tive negroes in the woods opposite. '-'he three whom we now find in council,consisted of Bostwick, the squatter,Ralph Burke and Dick Norris-distinct persons all, certain-y, but with such a family likeness among them, the result of great beards, mammoth wigs and .,hiskes, all -of glossy back, and similar habits, that they I LESSONS IN WOODCRAFT. 85 could really only distinguish each other by their voices. ]ostwick, as was proper, was the person to open the conference upon the state of their affairs. "Well, boys, here's a trouble. These chaps have 'got loose, and how, is the puzzle."' "No puzzle, I reckon;" answered Burke. "They've been on- tied by that wench that you let slip out of the carriage. That's the how!" --- "I reckon it must be so ;" answered Bostwick. "And how you come to let her slip, is a matter I can't see. You would take the carriage to yourself, and shet your eyes to hafe (half ) the business." "Yes; whar' was your eyes, Bostwick?"' quoth X1orris. l "In the widow's pockets, I reckon;" muttered Burke, with a I shrewd approach to the truth. "I miss'd it sartain, somehow ;" replied Bostwick, composedly; "but that's not the matter now. It's now to see how we hev' to mend the slip. It's sartin sure that Fordham and the young man are loose, and it don't matter by whose hands.' I suppose the widow's loose too 2? "There was only one shot, Bostwick;" quoth Norris. "Well! What of that?" ; "Well! That would show there was only one man. Now, it's not so cl'ar to me that Fordham's loose. He had quite too hard a hit o' the head to git the use of his eyes and fingers so mighty quick, ay, or his senses either. Now, if it should be only the young un." "Hardly! He's not got the sense for it yet, though he's spunky, I know-I know him of old. I've seen and talked with him years ago, when he was'nt- knee high. Ef 'twas only him, we could soon sarcumvent him. But it's not so easy work with Fordham, who is a sort of man-fox, I tell you; as cunning as a sarpent, and- with a mighty hard head and fist in a fight." 8 i:'J page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 .THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "There was but one shot!" quoth Norris, pertinaciously. "Yes; and Fordlham wasn't the man to shoot that, I'm think- ing," said Burke. "Ef he's the man you say, he'd ha' held back ontil he-could have made a better mark with the bullet. It's the boy, I tell you." "' But suppose the man's along with him?" "Would Fordham ha' let the chap shoot a minnit before the time ." "I reckon he couldn't help it. The boy was always mighty hard-headed. But whether there's one or two, boys, there's only one way before us, and that's to find out, and take the back track upon '6m. So, up with you, Rafe Burke; we're the men for this business!. Ve'll leave you, Norris, to keep an eye on the road and the negroes- seeing as how you're a wounded man; you're an oncombatant, as they say, and kin- only do hospital sarvice." "Psho! I kin do as lmuch as ever. This here is only a scratch, and a mighty leetle one at that." "It come mighty nigh to making your cross, old fellow. The same bullet, only a leetle to the left, would have worked out a but- ton hole in your ribs that no plaister could havse shet up agin.- But, whether you kin do much or leetle, aint a matter now. You kin use your rifle, at a push, and that's enough. Keep your eye Go: on the nigoers, and if Jeff Brydges and Tony Hines come in, afore we git back, keep 'em in 'till you hear the whistle, three times,- three short whistles and a long one. tYou know what that means 8 Then bring all hands to bear. We'll want you." "Wha t's your first aim, now, Bostwick?" "To get on the back of these fellows, and see after the widow. Ef we kin git hold of her agin, supposing they've cut her loose and hid her, we shall be mighty nigh to imaking what tarms we please with her son and Fordham.'" Such was the ruffianly policy of the parties. Bostwick and Ral h Burke now disapppeared, pushing deeply into the woods, and t te W a p LESSONS IN WOODCRAFT. 87 carefully giving a wide berth to the precinct still occupied by the carriage, where they now knew the two honest men to be in amn- bush. Meanwhile, what of these companions, the overseer and young Arthur? We must not suppose that Fordham was so inexperienced a woodman, as to continue in occupation of the spot which' they had distinguished by the discharge of fire-arms. He knew better the necessity, so admirably practiced among all the partisans of this region, of changing tl6e ground the moment they had struck a blow, or in any way given reason to an enemy to think that they occupied it. Scarcely had Norris and Bostwick retreated fi'om be- fore young Arthur's fire, than the o:erseer said to his inexperienced companion-- "Now, Mister Arthur, this is jest no place for ui! We must creep out and off, and shift quarters! Don't you rise; for you don't know what spies may be looking out in this direction now.- Take your rifle in youl right hand, and crawl, as well. as you kin, side-ways, 'tell you git to the end of that log, then twist round, and crawl fora'd, in a straight track for the crossing at the creek." "What's to be done now, Mr. Fordham?" "Jest now, nothing, but what I tell you! To creep out of quar- ters-in front of which you've cried aloud fi'om the mouth of a rifle, ' here your inimies camp.' Yon aintto-think that five rapscallions like these, aiming at plunder, will give up the s'arch when they know there's only two ag'inst 'eli. Thley'll be upon'us ag'in, and it's my notion now to take up a position jest where they mightn't look to find us." Shall we not push down to the swamp where mother's gone?" ' "No! no! Mr. Arthur,-there's some birds about your own fields that could teach you better than that. They takes care, when you're birding, to fly Jest the firthest firom where they hides their family ;,and they takes pretty good care, by crying, and cllir- ruping, and screaming, and dipping about all the time, to make you page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. believe jest the contrary. Leave your mother to herself. I reckon they'll never do her any mischief, mnore -han robbing her of all she has about her. Bit, we hain't got the protection of a petticoat; and we musn't risk any thing by having a petticoat in our way.-- Do you jest follow now, as Hshow you, never rising up once higher than you do now, 'tell I give the word. One never knows when he's quite safe in sic I an expedition as this; and the only chance is in jest playingthe scout, as ef you Lad a wolf on one quarter, and a yellow painter (panther) on t'other. Pull up now-its slow and tiresome walkirlg, this, on all fours, or belly to the ground like a snake; but it's more sure than any other, and won't last very long .": Fordham led the way with a will, crawling forward with a de- gree of ease and rapidity which was quite surprising to young Arthur, whose practice had never been in this sort of woodcraft. He was forever arrested by boughs of-trees, fragments of the storm; by holes and hillocks; by vines and roo-s that, bulging out upon the surface, and concealed by dried leaves, caught foot or hand, or rifle, alternately, and to his perpetual annoyance. He was, a dozen times, on the point of springing to his feet, and braving evely dan- ger; but that he was'- partly -subdued by the reflection that his recent precipitation had already brought of mischievous results,. Be- sides, he was watched by Fordham; who, ever and anon, put in" his exhortation judiciously, to "' take it coolly," "-don't be in a hur- ry, Mr. Arthur," " only a leetle bit longer," and "it will soon be over." When the patience of the you-h was almost exhausted, Fordham uttered the grateful words of relief. "Now, Master Arthur,- we can lift ourselves. We're in a pretty close thick, you see, of Gall and ' Hurrah-bushes,' where it: would puzzle the prophet, Daniel, to look us ou.. Here, do you lie qu'et for a bit, 'tell I take a View of the field of battle. I'll not be long; and you shall hear me hoot dike an owD when I'm coming back."' He -disappeared, almost with the words, affording young Arthur, - "ESSONS IN WOODCOAFT. 89 who was buried on every side in the thicket, no opportunity for a single word. The place in which the latter found himself was a sort of wolf-castle, as, in the southern country such places are apt to be called. The wild, matted, tangled, tough and altogether in- describable shrub, which the woodman described as the "l Hurrah- bush," and for which we have no better name, constitutes, in poor soil, and on the edges of swamps and drowned lands, one of the most formidable and impenetrable of forest walls ;-whilethe gall- bushes, which are apt to associate with it, mass themselves togeth- er with a luxuriance of to-, which effectually closes every aperture of sight. Beneath them, the bear and wolf, of the wilder regions, or the hog and wild cat in the more civilized, find their way, mak- ing the only avenues of egress and entrance; and these of a sort to require the hunter of them, to crouch almost to their four-footed levels, with his feet half the time buried from sight in mud pud- dles, while his hands labour incessantly in pushing the thick mas- ses of shrubbery firom his eyes. Poor Arthur grew monstrous impatient in this gloomy abode. Fortunately, the season had been dry, and he had no inconveniences to endure beyond those of constraint. But, to a youth of his eager and restless tempera- ment, this restraint was the worst of evils. His horizon was with- in reach of, his grasp.. The great trees above shut out the heav- ens. The wall of shrubbery about him left him no other objects of survey but the one monotonous wilderness of dull, green waste; and it was only by squatting and crouching almost to the earth, that he could pierce to the distance of a few yards along the dark alid sinutous beast-paths that ran below; the highways of deer, and bear; of fox, and 'coon, and 'possum. But Fordham was not long absent. Soon, the faint hooting of the owl was heard, and, suddenly, the youth discovered the overseer within a few paces of him, winding along beneath the bushes like a black snake, seeming- ly without motion, and certainly without noise. The stealthiness of his approach, caused the young man, to start. His enemies, ia 82 ', -4 page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90. THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. approaching with such facility, would have fatally surprised him. He learned a new lesson of woodcraft, and his humility increased with his caution, in the gYrowing conviction that he had a great deal yet to learn ;-a fact which fast young persons are very un- willing to believe, and rarely discover for themselves. "They're travelling, I'm sure:" quoth Ford!ham, with evident anxiety. "They're not idle, I could take my Bible oathh ;-but whar'? That's the question! They make no signs! They're fox-bred, all of them; ad an re now winding about in the %%ools, without turning up a leaf. We shall have to git closer into the swamp, Master Arthur, and put some good sized pond on the back of us, so that, if they find us, they'll bhave to take us in fiont.- Then we kin managef; only, you must let me tell you when to shoot. Ef we throw away another shot, it's lext to throwiing a scalp along with it, andc l'd rather not part wit.! mine; and I'll die hard, Arthlur, before I see them finger your'n." The youth caught the hand of the overseer, and pressed it warmly, but without spe king. "We must back out of these 'hbrrah-busheg,' and git upon the tussocky places, among the pines. Jest now, do you follow me close ; I reclkon we kin go ahead boldly in this quarter, sence it's on7possible that these rascallions kin have got quite to these parts. Here, away, and don't be oneasy." "But, my mother, Fordham!" , "Well, we shall push for one side of the same swamp that you told her to make for. As I told you, I'd a'most rether that' she shouldn't be wyith us; for though she's a mighty strong-hearted lady, your mo;her, yet there is no answering for any woman in a sudden bloody skrimmage, with, maybe, sharp shooting, and a wild Iigin-shouting;at the same time goirg on. There's no telling what sort of stlpper these fellows mean to get ready for us. Stoop a- 'bit, now, Mster Arthur, and keep close to the bushes- we've got to cross a lqetle rising ground jest here, before we reach the swamp." ti "ESSONS IN WOODCRAFT. 91 They were moving pretty quickly over this tract, when, seeing Arthur a little too erect, the woodman caught his wrist and pulled him down. a Squat-close-quiet now-es (as) you are!" said Fordham, in a whisper. "Hist now, don't you hear .?" "Nothing! What is it?" "There was a whistle, jest there to the right-hist! Again! Don't you hear it?" Arthur fancied he did hear something like a whistle, but added- "It's a bird's, Fordham." "Ay--but a sort of bird that's born without feathers, Arthur! Creep, now-- hands and knees--and take care not to jostle a bush- a leetle more this way. We must make for them cypresses, jest ahead; there is, likely, a pond behind them, and we'll put it to the back of us." "All this wlas said in a whisper. The two moved forward; Ar- thur exerting all his will in subduing the eager anxieties that dif- fused a feverish glow over his whole system. He was almost breathless when Fordham paused, on the edge of a small tract of soft ooze, which indicated the terminus of the little rising ground over which they had been crossing. * "Now," said the latter, still in a whisper; "w e'll work round this little ooze, and git upon the tussock among them big cypres- presses. There are, you see, some bay bushes jest in front of them, which will do to cover us. ' We must still crawl, for that whistle is a little nigher than you reckon, and we must use all our ' caution."1 He led the way in the manner he described. Never did fellow, carrying two rifles, exhibit such agility. Arthur could scarce con- ceive, though he beheld it; how the thing was done. He found his one rifle,-though a shbort one, and his pistols, a sufficient bur- den, pursuing such a progress, and, half the time, in a crouching, page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. or crawling attitude. But one of the rifles carried by Fordham, was the German yager, short, and with a strap attached, which the overseer contrived to bind pretty close to his body, and beneath it, when he crawled; the stock being just under his left shoulder. His right hand grasped the long rifle; which he held above the ground. The two soon reached the designated tussock, and crouched quietly behind the bay or laurel bushes. "]Now," said Fordham, let, us repr me. I reckon we've spilt the powder from our' pans." He himself lifted the cover of his rifle pan with great delibera- tion; but the incautious Arthur thrqg. his open without heed, suffering the click to be sufficiently heard. "Ah! Mister Arthur," whispered the woodman, reproachfully, "that will never do. You've got a mlightv deal to l'arn. That click kin. be heard jest as far as the whistle of that ere bird. One talks to the otherso as he kin onderstand. In these swamp woods, so still as they are, now, I kin hear the!click of a rifle fifty yards, and el-rm not mightily mistaken, these scamps can hear it too. We'll try 'em Now-are you pm med?'. "Jejt then-give me your cap. Lie close now, and keep ready. We'll just draw-their shot, ef so be they're in rifle distance.- You'll see what'eyes, these fellows have for an inimy, ef so be they've got round, as I'm thinking they! hev', to the edges of the swamp." J He elevated the cap upon the rod of his gun, just beside one 'of the cypresses, showing the cap, only, above a bunch of laurel. Scarcely hid he done done so, when the report of a rifle was heard. T le rod was lowered instantly, the cap was untouched- the aim had been six inches below it--and the ripping of the bul- let through the bark of the cypress, showed how narrow would. have been the escape of a man occupying the same position. ", You see.! The culrsed skunks!" THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. 93 "Can't we get a crack at them, Fordham ?"' "Ef we could, I'd say take it; but lie close, and keep your fhe. I'll riconn'itre.'" And the shrew woodman crept away down the bank-side and disappeared. Artliur soon lost sight of his person among the bushes on the right, and everything remained as still as if the re- gion had never been inhabited. CHAPTER XV. THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. WHLE'the youth remained, thus, perdu, confused and impa- tient, but, by this time, fully tutored in the necessity of keeping quiet and watchful where he had been placed, ten minutes might have passed; to him seemingly a good half hour. He was sud- denly awakened to increased agitation and anxiety, by hearing a second rifle shot about twenty paces on his right. He con- ceived, rightly, that this shot was. from the overseer, and ea- gerly began to anticipate the necessity, himself, of taking part in the action. But a deep silence again followed, and ten minutes more may have elapsed, when he was suddenly conscious of a sound among the bushes as of a stick broken. He turned his eyes in this quarter, guaged it with his rifle, and, though expect- ing Fordham, stood prepared to meet an enemy. He was reas- sured by a chirp, not louder than that of the cricket fikom a split- log, and the next moment the overseer glided up the bank. "You shot! What have you done 2" "Nothing much, I reckons! I didn't expect to do much, but page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. mostly to give the skunks an idee that we were in different camps, and that they could'nt git at one fairly, without putting, themselves in the way of eating the bull ts of the other. I was tempted, as I seed a little motion in a heap of tallow-bushes; and, as I reckon- ed that was pretty much about the spot where their shot come from, I kept my eye upon it, and when I saw the top of the bush move ag(ain, I aimed pretty low down and blazed away." "Well " "Nothing came of it, so far as I seed! I reckon I was a leetle too quick on trigger,'jest like a youngel person, Arthur. But let us slip down this bank, and get farther along up the swamp." "But when you drew their fire, by the cap, Fordham, why did'nt you offer for a rush at them?" ' "How was I to know how many rifles they had, with mouths full of bullets still? No! no! Master Arthur ;-we are but two, and they are five, may be;-certainly four;--and ef thar's to be a rush made, why they are the proper persons to take the resk. We must resk nothing. We're on the defensive, all the time. What lwe must aim at is to sarcumvent them. We must fetch another compass, and change ground constantly." Having, bylthis time, reloaded his discharged rifle, Fordham led the way for his young companion. Creeping along the hedge of laurel, but not so near it as to disturb a sprig, the two glided down the tussock, and soon made their way into the deeper shel- ter of the swamp. They now moved steadily upward, aiming, A though by a circuitous progress, in the direction of the creek i whereFordham was suprised in the opening of the affair. While thus moving, let us look into the camp of the enemy, and pierce their policy, if that be possible. Werieed not detail the several fetches by which the two ban- dits, Bpstwick and Ralph Burke, approached the point where we find thein. Their route, like that of the party we' have hitherto accompanied, has been a circuitous one; in recognition of the vi- THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. 95 al necessity, which existed, that they should not unadvisedly hap- pen upon their foes. A proper knowledge of woodcraft, led Bost- ;rick and Burke readily' to conjecture what would be the game practised by Fordbham. They aimed, accordingly, to accomplish a circuit so sufficiently wide, as to bring them, finally, in the rear of the overseer, no matter how much the compass, be, too, might have allowed himself in the desire to attain, a similar object. In this progress, they measurably accomplished their aims; and, but for the retreat to the "Hurrah" and " gall berry bushes," and the short pause of the ove'seer and Arthur in that place of refuge, they would, probably, lave arrived at better opportunities than those which they enjoycd. It was while fully concsious, from cer- tain discoveries which they had made, that the fugitives were near- ly within striking distance, that the two-outlaws hid themselves for awhile; keeping a sharp watch, rifle in hand, within twenty paces of each other. Their instincts led them to divine that Fordham would seek the cover of the swamp ;--and, upon this re-. gion they kept their eyes, from the centre of that elevated ground over which the oversee" had so cautiously crept, leading his inex- perienced associate. While lurking and watching thus, the eyes of Burke were the firstl to catch a glimpse of the youth's cap ele- vated above a clump of laurel. The bait took and he fired; to the great annoyance of Bos twick, who had seen it also, and had suspected the ruse. he parties rejoined, a moment after this shot, and, with a brief vranygle in respect to it, separated as before, and once more shrouded themselves among the myrtle and tallow buhles. It was, while recovering this position, that Bostwick drew the fire of Fordham ;-suffering a narrow escape, the bullet actually cutting the cape of his coat, and razing the skin of his shoulder as if a cowhile had been laid on with a will. The fellow writhed under the sma't, but made no other movement, and, after a brief pause of watch, in the hope that the secret enemy, whose bullet he had escaped presuming onz a more fatal result, would 1 e. * * - page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. show himself, he readily conjectured, from his forbearance to do so, that he had changed his ground. But he waited still awhile longer; then, as all continued silent, he whistled to Burke, who answered him from his place of shelter, and both drew backwards, crawling away in snake-fashion, and scarcely stirring the foliage which had given them shelter. "We can't play thesei cards too nicely," said -Bostwick, to Burke, as they went some yards in the rear of their late position, and with the ' hurrah bushes' effectually concealing them from sight. - "This chap, Fordham, is a whole team of foxes, and-no mistake! We must git across the road, and push down quick for the swamp on that side-cross the creek and road at the same time, and come in on 'em from that quarter." The plan was agreed on, and at once put in execution. Once in. the forest,Ion the opposite side of the road, the two bandits made rapid progress upward; reaching the margin of the swamp in which, as we have seen, the widow Eveleigh had previously taken shelter, very nearly as soon as Fordham and young Arthur. But a considerable space now lay between the latter and their ' hunters, destined, however, to be rapidly overcome, as the over- seer and his companion were also bending their steps towards the same creek which the bandits are now crossing, Once on the op- posite side, the two latter struck, into the swamp, proposing to pursue the ;course of the creek which wound through it, and place themselves in ambush among the willows and laurels by which it was skirted. But they had not gone far, preserving the caution which had hitherto marked their mrovements, when they discovered such proof of the near neighbour2ood of other parties, as made them momently forgetful of Fordham. The anxieties of the widow Eveleigh, in respect to her son, had made her unwilling to leave him, while there was any prospect of his suffering from an encoun- ter with his foes. Though she had crossed the creek, and had consented to go forward on her route--keeping still the cover of THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. 97 the wood, under the guidance of Jenny, the servant-maid-yet with a fearful fascination, which she could not withstand, did she again return upon her own footsteps. Her track, going, had been detected in the soft ooze along the margin of the creek. It was followed instantly by the outlaws. Let us but git our hand on her ag'in," quoth Bostwick, "and we'll git a purchase on her son and Fordham." , ' Such was the cold-blooded calculation. "Right!" responded Burke. "Son or mother, the one kin al- ways be made to sell out for the othler." "That's jest as they have vartue and nateral affection. These will do it-but, let me tellyou, 'taint the case with many hundred others. 'Gad! there's some people that'd rether sell mother and , grandmother, and son and grandson, than give up the hair of a nigger, or the shine of ;a dollar. I've known many of that sort- but it's no use to talk. There's man-beasts, Burke-'wolf and ti- ger, fox and skunk, 'coon and 'possum, snake and spider--who don't know no law but 'est to strike and swallow-and make snares and steal, when they can't take; and run, Tether thanfight, for their thievings! I don't know, old fellow, but 'e b'longs ;o some one of these breeds, ourselves; and we'd be bad enough, ef we wa'n't *willing to resk our lives as well as our honesty. There's one I know, but---" "Who l." "Never minc--he's one who would cut his inimy's .thr6at with your knife or mine, and take his neighbour's money with our hands; he's-but no matter. Now, this widow and her son are of the true grit-people of raal blood; and raal blood, Burke, is a vartue by itself, and by natur'. - They'd die for one another!" ",We won't hurt 'em, Bostwick?" - "That's as it happens. We don't know what we may hev' to do. One must help himself, no matter who he hurts I We must use one of 'ema'to brirg the other to reason. So-stop!-hist!" J page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 THE- SWORD AND3 THE DISTAFF. The two crouched instinctively into cover. "The turkey's walking straight into trap!:' quoth Bostwick. A whisper btween the parties, and they stole off, still under cover, in different -directions. - A few moments only had elapsed, when Bostwick laid his hand on the unconscious shoulder of the widow Eveleigh, taking her by surprise, while the fingers of Burke griped Jenny, the servant-maid, rather tenderly than otherwise, about the nape of her neck. "Jest taking a leetle liberty, my lady," 'said Bostwick, in a gruff and disguised voice. She started and shuddered, but submitted with dignity; vexed to the soul, and humbled, that, once free from his clutches, she had not followed the instructions of her son and the overseer, and pushed rapidly from the scene of danger. She felt, in an instant, all the advantage that her second captivity would afford to the enemy. Jenny, the servant-maid, was overwhelmed with her ter- rors, and screamed, and continued to scream, until the enraged Burke, throwing her to tLe ground, crammed her distended jaws with moss enough to make an infant's matrass. "I must take the liberty, ma'am, of giving your arms a hitch as I did before, but, this time, you must walk with me. I shan't leave you a second time out of sight." "What is your design upon me, sir Speak out! If it is money--you are a-ready in possession of all I have about me.-- If you require more for my ransom, and that of my friend, say so, and if it can be procured, I will consent to any sum, sooner than submit to this treatment!" V "Directly, ma'amn;--that's for afterwards. But, jest now, you must foot it along with me. Quick, ma'am, I've got no time to waste." "But whither must we go?" "Back to your carriage! I reckon we'll put you in it, right away, and send you home safe enough, after a leetle while.-- That's ef you aint obstropolous." SUhIRMSHNO. 99 "Who are you?" "A wolf, ma'am, or a tiger, ef you axes after my family and name. Come, ma'am, walk, or by I'll lace you with a hick- Z ory. I will, by thunder!" ' This was plain language enough. The widow bestowed but a single glance of her Elerge blue eye upon the ruffian, calm and strong, under the threat and indignity; then quietly moved for- :i ward in the direction which she was bade to take. What was only a threat in the case of the widow, became an experience in that of the servant-maid. - Gagged and on the ground, she reso- lutely refused to rise, till the enraged Burke, cutting a rod from a neighbourinng bush, laid it thrice over her shoulders. The argu- ment proved sufficient, and she set forward with aspeed that was studiously ,calculated to leave a space of five feet, o-: more, be- tween herself. and-assailant; who still continued to threaten with the rod which he found no longer necessary to use in any other way. Again the party sped across the creek, and into the oppo- site forest, making rap'-d progress, and keeping vigilant eye upon , the road which separated them from those woods, in the unknown retreats of which Fordham and young Arthur -continued to find shelter, and where itwas very well known they lurked and watched. Let us now return to them. - CHAPTER XVI. SKIRMSHN G. THE overseer and his young companion, having sJruck some- what deeper into the swamp, were necessarily compelled to make a considerable circuit in approaching the point, where the outlaws I' page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 TH SWORD AND THE DISTAFF.' 'had succeeded in recapturing Mrs. Eveleigh. The swamp, of ir- regular figure, thrust; out a huge horn between the parties, the extent of which Fo'dham had not calculated. This was always pretty full of water, and not passable, except with great difficulty and inconvenience. The two were on one side of this horn, or ami of the swamp, itself a lake--while the outlaws -skirted the -other-the creek being between the parties also-when the screams of the servant maid of the widow, smote sharply on the ears of our wanderers. The first instincts of Arthur led him nat- urally to suppose that the cries were from his mother. "My poor mother 1!" he exclaimed, passionately. "They have found her, Fordham! Hear! It is she! These are her screams. They are ill-treating her." "I don't thinkl!" returned the other, with interest, but still calmly. "Don't be scared, Arthur. I reckon they've found your mother, and have made her a prisoner again, though she ought, by this time, to have been a mile farther on the road. But 'taint her that you hear a-screaming. I'ts Jenny, the gal,. I reckon.- Mrs. Eveleigh aint the lady to scream, I'm thinking. It aint like her." "But are we ,to stand here, Fordham, when there's no knowing what these villains are after?" - "That we must try and see, Arthur. We must push on, that's sartain ; but we musn't push on any faster than we've been doing. The only way to save her, and to savqourselves, is just to play scout 'tell we kin gi; some advantage. rest you leave the thing to me, and ef so be we're to work out of this trouble, with whole bones, it's only by showing not a white of the eye to'these skunks, until we kin speak to 'em safely by the mouth of the rifle. Let's push on, along the edge of this lagoon, as we're a-doing. It'll bring us out upon the road after awhile, and we'll see. Now that these rascals have got your mother, as I reckon, they'll not be able to work their way through the woods so easy as afore." - --;--- --J-1i1 SKIRMSHNG. 101 The youth felt tha, every thing must be left to Fordham, in whose ingenuity and courage, as well as'fidelity, he had full con- fidence, and the two pushed forward, still with great caution, wormr- ing their way along the edge of the swamp, Fordham taking the lead with equal energy and circurnspection. They reached, in this way, the road, just where the creek crossed It, and there Fordham halted. "Now," said he, Arthulr, do you keep close here in this cover while I take an. observation of the countlry. I'll be gone only a little while." He was gone somewhat longer than he himself had anticipated, and young Eveleigh was getting quite impatient, when the over- seer suddenly reappeared. His countenance was grave and anx- ious. "Well, Mr. Fordham! my mother?" demanded Arthur. "Them's mighty sharp rascals, Mister Arthur," replied the overseer. "They've got back to the carriage, and they've put your mother, and the gal into it. But there's no scaring the scamps. They've put your mother on the seat of the driver, and they've tied her to it, and the gal's tied inside. Besides, they've carried off the two horses." ' The youth gnashed his teeth. F "You've seen her then-my mother?" "Yes! she's put so that we could see her-the d --d var- mints! By that I know'd they're on the watch for us. They think that when we've seed her, and not them, we'll be such blind buzzards as to show ourselves. But I see the trap as well as the, cheesei We'll not take the bait, Arthur." "How do you know she's tied?" "I reckon so from the way she sits, though I didn't go nigh enough to see. I calculate that these scamps are lying on both sides of the carriage, close in the bush, with their eyes running close along their rifle'-arrels. They know we're between them 9 . page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. SKIRMSHNG. 103 and the creek. Now, as that's the case, our first business is to work round on t'other side. We must take another fetch through the woods." "Let's be moving then," said the youth, impatiently. And the overseer struck out at right angles, as if wholly leav- ing the road. 4e pursued this course for a while, with a compar- atively swift moion, and, after compassing a couple of hundred yards which brought them once more upon the swampi he turned suddenly to the left, and took a route parallel with the road, which he followed with lit-le variationfor about thrice the distance.- Then, making another turn to the left, he made his way forward, seeking a point near the highway, but at some distance in the rear of the carriage. When he caught sight of these objects which taught him to believe he had gone sufficiently far, h9 re- strained his youthfu_ companion. They both crouched, and went forward, steadily keeping under cover of the shrubs, bushes, and long grass which covered this region. After a brief space con- sumed in this way, during which they had drawn nigher to the carriage, Fordham paused and whispered to Arthur. " Now you lie down snug. Ef I calculate rightly, these skunks are now within reach of a long tongued rifle. I reckon that one lies on t'other side of the road among them oak bushes, and in that tall dry grass. The other is, Im thinking, on this side of the road somewhere amrong them water myrtle and willow bushes.- Do you see your mother in the front seat of the carriage ?' "Yes !" "Well, I reckon, ef she could speak, she could tell us jist where these critters harbour. They're on a sharp look out for us now fi'om above. But we're hzere, Arthur, and its always half the battle, 'when your inimy oon't know where to look for you, and when you can reasonably p'int your finger andsa thar' he is ' Look back, Arthur, and see ef there's any body ir the shape of a white man, nigh the wagon." * page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 THEk SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. not if any effect had/ensued from his fire, for a deep silence over- spread the scene; ar-d he began bitterly to reproach himself with the precipitance with which he had again emptied his rifle with- out first making sure of his object. But, had he then known the truth, 'he might have congratulated himself in the language of Hamlet--" praised be rashness for it"--that he had obeyed his impulse without regard to the policy of the proceeding. "Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall ;" and so it was in the present instance. The almost random bul- let of the youth had buried itself in the brain of the ruffian, and, with a single. fearful spasm, he lay dead beneath the cover which had lately formed his ambush. 1 iCHAPTER XYVII. THE CONFEDERATES 'CHANGE THEIR GAME AND WOULD CLAW OFF. FRoM the deep silence which covered the region, one might sup- pose that all the parties had suddenly disappeared.. Mrs. Eveleigh had been warned to1 silence by the brutal threat of the ruffian, Burke; and having, as she thought, sufficiently informed her son and his companion of the proximity of enemies, she was not un- willing to respect the warning. She knew not of the effect pro- duced by her son's shot. The fact was unknown, indeed, to any of the parties. Fordham had been suddenly made more than ever cautious by the; narrow escape he h d made from Burke's bullet, and lay in supreme quiet in the bushes which sheltered him. Young Arthur had also sunk back into cover, quite asham- 'IIE CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEIR GAME. 105 ed of his own (assumed) rashness and indiscretion, and congrat u- lating himself that he had not drawn the enemy's fire also. Bost- wick, in the meanwhile, conscious of the fact which Fordham had no reason to suspect, that the parties were- equally rratched, and that all his hope lay in the excellence of his own stratagem, crouched more closely than ever in his place of ambuscade, with every sense quickened by the feeling that he had an enemy be- fore him, who, thus far, had shown himself a match for him in Indian artifice. In the practice of -woodcraft he was now willing to acknowledge that Fordham was quite as good a man as himself. Of that which had been exercised by the opponents r-espectively, we have been able to report but imperfectly. It would need more space than we could afford, to chronicle minutely those details, of which we have given an outline only. The fox-like doublings, the snake-like crawlings, the subtlety, stealth, keen sight, and fore- sight, equally, which Ead been shown by both sides, in, their sever- al approaches to, and -ecedings from, each other, had been of the best school of stratagem, as practised by the red-men of America. The little practice of our dramatis personse will, on a small scale, exhibit the characteristic features of Indian warfare, which, first of all, recognizes the necessity of riskingonothing, and of making a clear gain, without equivalent loss of all its advantages. Where the number is so small on both sides, the first necessity is to economise it. Art is to supersede brute valour. No perils are to be ifcur- red except in cases of extreme necessity, and when the issue of new force is absolutely inevitable. In the present instance, Bostwick and Fordham were equally impressed with the necessity of avoiding loss. Neither dared shwi. himself, with the view to an assault, or any bold demonstra- tion, as long as an enemy lay concealed and on the watch, with a rifle-barrel still unemptied. Thus, accordingly, after the space of ten or fifteen minutes, after the several shots of Burke and Arthur had been delivered, neither of the parties had moved or spoken. ; ^ ^ *o page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. :The first sounds which struck the ears of Fordham and Arthur were the faint whistles of a partridge. The latter, in. his inexpe- rience, really supposed them to proceedj from the bird; but Fordham knew better.' He now held his breath, if possible to distinguish from what precise quarter the sound had issued. He knew it to be a signal. It was repeated at slight intervals, anEd he found that it came from the opposite woods, the carriage' eing, in fact, directly between himself and the sound. lie supposed'it to be forty or fifty yards distant. Thrice did he hear it, and always from the same precinct. He -could perceive no answer to it.- Either therefore, his late assailant was nifher to him than he had imagined, and therefore dared not answer, or he had succeeded in drawing himself off from the scene of action. He never once fancied any thing so agreeable, but so little probable, as that the hasty shot of Arthur had done his business. But the conjecture of Bostwick led him more nearly to the truth.- The failure of Burke to answer his signal-for it was his-filled him with doubt and apprehension. Hte repeated it thrice, as had been agreed up- on between them, and listened vainly for the reply. He, at once, reviewed all his ground, and, for the first time, began to loose his confidence in the enterprise. "I'm, jubous," he muttered to himself, " that Burke has got his fodder! There's but one way for it, and that's to backl out. It's high time! -Better half a loaf than no bread! Six negroes sure, is better than a dozen, with a ragged bullet to chaw into the bar- gain. I must shift the ground-get back to the wagon-bring the boystogethler, and take what we've got." \ These results were slowly arrived at. Once resolved upon, the execution was immediate.- Bostwick, with habitual crnning and caution, withdrew from his place of'hiding, drawing back into the deeper woods, and without provoking any suspicion of his movement. The widow, from her seat in the front of the carriage, and who, without acti&ally seeing the Squatter in his place of am- THE CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEIR GAME. 107 bush, was yet taware of the spot in which he harboured, was total- ly ignorant of his departure. Once in the deep thicket behind, Bostwick rose to his feet, and sped down the road with all possi- ble haste, in the direction of the wagon. There, also in conceal- ment, he found his colleague, Norris, whoa having heard the fir- ing, had become exceedingly uneasy. "Well-how goes it, Beost" -he enquired, as the other drew to his side. "Where's Burke " "Not in Heaven; I reckon! Maybe in a worse -lace, if the preachers know any thing about it." "What? You don t mean-?" 1 .- "I reckon he's chawed his bullet. Hie don't answer the call. That d-- d etarnal Fordham! They've had a shoe; apiece, and the widow cried out, and Burke, like a bloody fool, mast git out of the bush, and curse her, and shake his fist at her, and so draw'xl the inimy's fire. Sence then,. he's laid quiet, and don't answer to the call." - "But yol ain't sure? You hla'int seed for sartain .' "No! -Ie may be only barked a leetle; but there's no telling. I dirs'nt ventur', as Fordham still keeps close!" "And wh-at's to be done?" "Claw o--that's the how! Take what we've got, sure, and be off.' The boys not in?. "Yes; they're after the horses. They caught arother of the niggers; and we've tied him with the rest." "Makes seven?" , y "Yes." "V(We Irust be satisfied with that, and be off. It's been a mighty hard business, and I'm getting tired, and scary too. We'll be having somebody upon us, ef we stay much longer. Better mount anc drive the' niggers we've got, and make for Dooley's Cove. We ought to be there afore moonrise." "But don,t -you think we kin git something out of the wagon'? page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. i A jug or two of rum, I'm thinking, and prehaps some other little fixings 'that we kin carry on the saddle?" "Well, I suppose, we might make a s'a'ch; but you mus'nt be long about it. I reckon the boys have got the horses by this time. There's been nobody to hender, t lis time. Where did they go to " a Yonder, in the open piney wood, where there's grass, I'm thinking. It's tharl the boys went. lesh!--thar' they come, bringing all the critters. What shall we do about Burke?" "Do! What should we do? Mind what the Scripture tell us--' Let the dead bury the dead."' "But we don't 'know that he's dead." "And we mus'nt resk the life of a live man to find out. Ef he's living, I reckon he knows what to do. We'll make a divar- dion inhis favour, ,and he kin then snake away to the swamp. Ef he's dead, there's'an eend to his troubles, and we kin take care of his horse among us, and spend his share of the money! Aint that sense, I ax you .l 9 8 "Right! But about the divarsion?" "Well, look you-these chaps-this overseer Fordham-d---n his quarters, I say! he and the young chap lie about the carriage now, a'most within pistol shot. I'll put myself in the thicket thar'-pointing to a spot some fifty yards farther on the road, one third of the distance, perhaps, between the wagon and the car- Xriagre)-and jest cover the track with my rifle, while you s'arch the wagon. Let Brydges and Tony Hines lead off the niggers. Have our horses ready to follow. Tell 'em to take the woods down for a mile or so, then strike into the old road for the burnt Church; we can push a'ter tihem at a smart gallop, and overtake 'em any time. Anything more?" "No! go ahead, and put yourself on the watch, and 1'll make the s'arch. -We must pick up some little vallyables, if we kin." "(How'S your arm " AI -HE CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEIR GAME. 109 "Fe&els a little num' ish, but don't hurt. It's only a skin trans- action!'" "Now, don't be long about the wagon s'arch; and don't stop to try the liquor. That's your danger, Dick, you know." "Psho! a taste kin do no man any mischief." "But yo ir taste is ne er less than a swallow, and a swallow, like what you takes, ('darages mightily the sight-seeing for a rifle. Be quick, row, in what you do, for the sun's loweling fast, and we've been too long a'ready about the business." "Be off, Bost, and keep a sharp look out. I'll take care of what I'm after." Thus the parties separated. A few moments sufficed to put Bostwick in his new place of ambush, covering a1l approaches from the direction of'the carriage; and to set Norris at work in exploring -,he contents of the wagon. The two confederates, meanwhile, came up with the horses which now, with one excep- tion, had all been safely recovered. The negroes were then roped, together as they were, set in motion, and slowly disappeared from tlhe road; driven before the two outlaws on horseback. The -move-, ment did not escape the keen eyes of Fordham; and he groaned, i in the bitterness of his spirit, as he beheld, first a box, then a sack, then I keg, pitched out from the wagon, as from invisible hands within the vehicle. 'Thar's the sugar;" hle muttered; "thar's the coffee; thar's the kag of rum! Tae varmints! Lord, ef I cou-d only git a sight of the chapthat's sh active-it's not quite two hundred yards I reckon-I'd try what vartue's in a good rifle at longer sthot than I likes to use it in common shooting. But, Lorc! what can be done?" " The soliloqtuy reached no ears but his own, He did not yet dare to speak aloud, or to show any sign of life. TLe very silence that p'reva'led-aroundl him, led him still to apprehend that his'en- emies were near him, and still on the watch; while Mrs. Eveleigh, 10 z page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. still bound, and still in sight, preserved the quiet of one who was conscious that she had hostile listeners. The overseer readily con- jectured the game which the ruffians were prepared to play. le saw the negroes marched off by two of the outlaws. There were still three as he conjectured, with whom he had to contend. Two of them were still, he supposed, in the precincts of the carriage; and the fifth man was in the wagon. To move against hin, or to attempt to pursue the two, with the negroes, would be to expose himself and companion to the fire of the two whom he assumed to be on the watch for him. He was thub completely masked, and felt himself bewildered. To draw off from this dangerous neighbourhood was his best policy, yet he dreaded the attempt un- der the surveillance (as he supposed) of his two enemies. We must add, in justice to our overseerthat his chief anxieties were on account of young Arthur. The devoted fellow never once for- got how precious in the mother's eyes, was the safety of her only son. To remain quiet stillf longer, and wait the further develop- ment of the schemes of the highwaymen, was the conclusion to which the meditations of Fordham conducted him. To lie close, keep dark, and wait events, is, perhaps, the best policy, always, in any such contest, where we do not see clearly the prospect or pro- priety of action. He did not adopt this policy in vain. Hardly had he come to this resolution, when the scene was changed by the introduction of other parties. For these, however, we must open another chapter. Of . ':! Iik THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA IN THE BOTTLE. 1" CHAPTER XVIII. THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA IN THE VETERAN'S BOTTLE. THE reader will, perhaps, find it advisable to go back with us to a certain small group of Marion's partisans, whom we left, en route, frorn the camp of that chieftain, for the ancient settlements upon the Ashepoo, which they had abandoned at the opening of the Revolutionary struggle, to undergo the capricious events of war. Captain Poigy, with his little suite of three persons, having been making easy progress since we left them- have advanced considerably on their way homeward, and are now almost within striking distance of the Ashepoo. A few miles beyond it, and the Captain will once more be able to contemplate his ancient homesteac--the paternal house and hearth, the well known fields and woods-a once valuable property which had been transmitted to him through three or more careful generationts--he, alas! being the only careless one of the race, in whose hands ,their continued accumulations had constantly undergone diminutipr-, until now- what with his own profligacy and the misfortunes naturally -fol- lowing the sort of war through -which the colony had just gone, his homestead was almost wholly desolate, stripped of negroes, and covered with debt as with a winter garment. Porgy had been a fast youth. He Lad never been taught the pains of acquisi- tion. Left; to himself-his own dangerous keeping-when a mere boy, he had too soon and fatally learned the pleasures of dissipa- tion.. The war found him pursued by debt and embarrassments, as unrelaxing as the Furies that hunted the steps of Orestes.- He had found temporary relief from the hands of usury, and may thus be described as falling from the grasp of the Furies, into the worse keeping of the Fates. He held himself very nearly a ruin- page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ed man, when the war began; and the loss of numerous negroes, carried off by the enemy, gave him no reason to doubt upon the subject. His lands were mortgaged, 'the negroes gone, his debts cried aloud against him for judgment, and he had reasoifto know that his chief creditor was on the watch for his return. The ces- sation of war, which stripped him of his occupation, was an event which niecessarily restored the common law to its fearful activity. The Camp was now doomed to pale in the shadow of the Court ; nrms must give way, to the gown,; and the laurels of war soon wither, ip sight and from remembrance, when the tongue only is allowed to carry on the contests of human antagonism. The pil- lars in war, are notoriously the caterpillars. in peace, and there was no blessed exemption, in the lot of Captain Porgy, from this distressing prospect. Of that he. was'well assured. He did not once deceive himself. He could, with sheer force of will, expel from his presence the gloomy prospect, but le had no imagination such as would enable hm to look on it, till he made it grateful and encouraging. , To the strongest-nay, to the most reckless nature-there will be always something humbling and oppressive in the surpvey of such a situation. The questions " what is to be done V-" "whither am I to turn?"-"-' of what an I capable "- "where is my resource?.--to be asked of himself, for the first time, and by the man who has already passed middle age, are' well \ calculated to fling a pall over the prospect, and make the heart to shrink at the entrance upon the unknown void of life which yet spreads before it. Porgy was the man to feel, thoroughly, the dis- couraging and sad, in'this survey,; for he was a man really of good sense and many sensibilities ;--but he had moral resources which kept him from basely cowering and whining beneath the cloud. He was-only not so blind as not to see it with oppressive distinctness--to feel its pressure, to acknowledge the doubts and embarrassments which crowd upon his path;--not to shudder at them basely, or to yield tp any weaknesses of mood, in conse- THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA IN THE BOTTLE. 113 : quence. Besides, he had a taste for pleasure, was not a little of A an epicure--there may have been, indeed, some affectation in this characteristic-and he prided himself upon the fact that he could I extract his morals always -'om his appetites. He took philosophy with him ,o his table, and grew wise over his wine. So, at least, he claimed to do. 5 We have seen him, in a previous chapter, resorting to this sort of remedy against the cares which he was yet compelled to con- template--appealing to his appetites against his grefs, and seek- I ing consolations against thought, in his last bottle of Jamaica. It j so happens that inresuming our acquaintance with his party, we find him again similarly engaged. It is noonday and past. Our partisans feel the necessity of stopping, for refreshment, on the I route. TLey have reached a pleasant spot upon the road-side, a I rill of sweet water trickling across the sandy hig:hway from a green copse that shelters it,-and there are still a few bright drops I in the corpulent bottle of Jamaica-one of a shape and size that we do not often see in use in these degenerate days. It was, in shape, an oblong square, with portly capacities, holding, perhaps, a trifle uncer a gallon. A netting of wire-grass envelopes it, af- fording it comparative safety against the vicissitudes of travel.-- I The party have tasted of the beverage ere we come upon them. I The bottle leans against a tree just above the streamlet. Tom, the cook, Las been again made to descend to unstrap his wares, and prepare his hoe-cake and bacon. The feast has, already, in a great measure, beer. enjoyed. The only persons who still show an unrelaxing appetite, are the Corporal, Millhouse, the one-armed, veteran, and Tom, thie Aftican. You may see that each of these carries in hand certain fragments of bread, and broiled ham of correspond'ng dimensions, the latter done to a turn. The Ser- geant eats as if duly conscious of Tom's excellence as a cook, and --for no other reason. He is not silent when the expression of his gratitude is becoming. 20* page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Tom," says he, "I shall never be able to eat br'iled ham of any other cook but you! You knows what a br'ile ought to be, Tom, and what hog-meat naturally desarves." "I ought for know, .Mass Millhouse! Maussa show me how for cook 'em hese'f. Mass Porgy fus'-rate cook! He 'tan' (stand) i ober me when I fus' begin for l'arn, May-be he no cuss when I sp'ile 'em! Sometime I do 'em too much, sometime I do 'em too little; he cuss bote times, and sway (swear) he'll make me see h-- ef I do 'em so nex' time. Wha' den? I no want for see h-l, and I miln' (mind). I l'arp! Once I larn, I nebber forgit. Maussa hole me to 'em. He quick for cuss-like de debbil!- Sometimes he lick! But, wha' den? I always hah good share of wha' I cook. Ef Maussa only hab skin ob de pig, he sure for gib me de ears and tail." "He's a d--d good fellow, Tom,-Captain Porgy. I'd 'a been a dead dog ef 'twa'nt for him. But he seems mighty dull, these times, Tom;-droopy, I may say; like a young turkey in wet weather." Tom looked with interest towards his master, who was sitting some steps off-reclining, rather than sitting-beneath a tree, with young Lance Frampton, the Ensign, in attendance. In the low tones of voice employed by the Corporal and the negro, in this conference, they were quite unheard by the subject of their dia- logue. "I sh' um (see 'em) ;" responded the negro. De trute is, Mass Copp'Tal-de bacyn is most gone; de bottle, I 'spec' (expect) hab room 'ough for fill agen;-I most 'fear'd der's no quite 'nough 1 ef' in 'em, to gib you and me anoder dram; and de army's broke up, de British and Torys, day say, all gone; and nobody lef' -or we ravage 'pon, and git new supplies. Da's it! Wha' we for do now, is de t'ing. Wha', you say, make Mass Porgy look like young tukkey in de rainy wedder." "Tom, old boy, we'll have to work for the Captain." THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA IN THE BOTTLE. 115 "Yor work, Mass Corporal?-wha' you kin do when you only got one han'?" "But I'm got a h-1 of a big heart for my friend, Tom, by thunder; and when there's heart enough in a man's buzzum, Tom, he kin always find arms enough to sarve his friend, even if so be both hands are chopped off." ")ers trute in dat, Mass Corporal," answered the negro grave- ly with an assured shake of the head. "Truth! By thunder, Tom, it's all truth! It's the body and soul of truth, and I'm the man to prove it! I'll work! The Captain shan't want! He can't do much, Tom, for himself, seeing that there's to be no more fighting, which is the only work that a gentleman kin do, without s'iling his fingers." "Mass Porgy is gempleman for true." "Let anybody stand up and say he ain't, and I'll gallop through him, by thunder!" "I trot t'rough arter you, Mass Copporal." "But he don't need that. He's the man to do all his own fight- ing, and mighty glad of the chance." "Fight like de debbil, Mass Copporal! You take some more of dis br'ile?" "No, Tom, no more ;-and yet, you do br'ile it so bloody fine that-yes! You may fork over that bit. The small bit, Tom, keep t'other piece for yourself." "I done! Ef der' was only de smalles' drop o' dat Jamaica in de bottle!" The fellow looked wistfully towards his master. The eye of Corporal Millhouse took the same direction; but reither of them would have dreamed of doing, or saying, anything, which might declare ;heir wants, to their superior. But it was in proof of Captain -orgy's claim to the character they had both been pleased to assign him, that of the gentleman, that he always duly consid- ered the claims of the inferior, and anticipated their reasonable page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. desires. As if divining their wishes, he seemed to waken up at this moment, and cried out from his tree, to Millhpuse-- "Corporal,. there's still a drop of the Jamaical for you in the bottle. Give what you leave to Tom. There's, perhaps, a toler- able sup for you both; but it's the last. I suppose, whenever we deserve it, the Good Fortune will send us more." Millhouse did not wait for a second invitation. Tom smacked his lips as the Corporal approached him with the bottle. "Wha' I bin say, Mass Copporal? Ef Mass Cappin hab only de skin ob de pig, he will gib we de tail and yea's.' "He's a born gentleman, by thunder; and we'll work for him, Tom, more hard than any nigger he ever had." "I 'stan (stand) up wid you for dat, Mass Copporal. I cook myse'f 'fore I guine let Mass Cappin want for dinner. So long as dere's 'coon and 'possum, squerril and rabbit in de wood, pattridge and dub (dove)-duck in de ribber, and fish in de -ond-so long, I tell you, Tom will always hab 'nough somet'ing to cook-! As for de corn, we kin make dat too. Ef you no got two han' for hoe, Mass Copporal, you kin drop de seed." "ButI kin hoe like h-l, with one hand jest as. well as two! Why not? By thunder, Tom, you must think me a sort of child, old fellow, ef you think I kaaint!" "Well, Mass Copporal Iknow you hab de strengt', but it don't come so easy to de one-hand man. You hab de strengt'. You will help me pack up de pots and kettles, when we ready for start, Mass Copporal?" "Why not, nigger? To be sure! It's for your maussa, Tom, and I love him, boy, and I'll be his nigger, too, when it aint on- decent-that's tp say, when there's no company. Ef a great Col- onel or Ginneral should come to visit the Cappin-Col. Singleton, maybe, or the 'Old Fox' himself, maybe, or Ginneral Greene, or- any other big person-why then, Tom, don't say work to me them time! I must be in my rigimentals when they comes, and stand jist behind the Cappin." ' ' I { PHLOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR'S WALLET. 117 "Da's right! I comprehend, Mass Copporal! Every' nigger to he own sawt o' bizzness. But, hello! Wha' dis I see. Der's strange pusson, Mass Copporal, coming out de bush i Wha' for dat? Man da' run! Nigger da run! Hte holla! Ha! look da' Mass Copperal. Two nigger da' run. Enty I know 'em? Stop! Le' me see. Sure as a gun, Mass Copporal, one ob dem boys is our Pomp. I lef' 'em a boy! He's grow a man! Wha' Pomp! PDa' you? Ha! ha! a!-ho! ho! ho! Lord ha' massy (mer- cy) 'pon my eyes! Dey blin' wid water!" We must account for these broken apostrophes hereafter. We owe it to Captain Porgy and his companion, to bestow our atten- lions upon them also, and see what have been their meditations while at dinner. CHAPTER XIX. PHLOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR'S WALLET. THE moment we choose to reintroduce Captain Porgy, and his late lieutenant to our, readers, is one which is usually found to fulfil all the conditions of happiness to the ordinary mortal. They have dined. Crouched at ease, under the shadows of an enor- mous oak, -hey have feasted upon the simple fare provided by the hands of their excellent cook, and have done the amplest jus- tice to the -hin slices of broiled ham, 'done to a tufn,' and the brown hoe-cake, in the proper composition of which, Tom had established in camp the most enviable reputation. These con- stituted the sum total of their commissariat. The sufficient pota- tions of oily old Jamaica had followed; and, with a sense of physical satisfaction which greatly brightened the prospect, Capt. e, page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 THE SWORD AND- THE DISTAFF. Porgy leaned back against the shaft of the tree and closed his eyes in order justly to enjoy it. That complacen: sort of reverie which usually occupies every mind, after the noon-day appetite has been subdued and satisfied, had already seized upon our cor- pulent Captain. Under its present influences, the state of his af- 'frs began to look less gloomy. The circumstances which more particularly pressed upon his thoughts at this juncture-the loss of his late employment, the involvement of his estates, tthe sup- posed abduction of all his negroes, the danger which threatened at the hands of certain creditors-sharks, in shoIls, lying in wait like tigers of the land, seeking what they may devour-these crowding and dismal figures upon his landscape which, before he dined, had rendered his thoughts a very jungle,! worse than In- dian, of lions, tigers, and snakes of mammoth dimensions-with the consummation of the noonday nieal, retreated from before his' path, disarmed of most-of their terrors, and, thorgh still lurking and still hostile, looking so little capable of doing mischief,that our Captain began to wonder at his own feebleness of soul which had, but a little while before, so greatly alarmed him on their ac- count. A mild- and soothing languor of mood, as if by magic, changed and modified all the figures in his landscape, and nature, having gained time-which is the best capital, after all, as well in morals as in war,-it was surprising how grateful and agreeable became the philosophy which she had taught our Captain He actually--to the amusement of Lance Frampton, who had t ied in vain to soothe his melancholy mood as they rode together ioefore dinne--began to chuckle aloud, yet unconsciously, durirg his reverik, and finally afforded to his young lieutenant an opportunity to twit him, good humouredly, upon his sudden change of hLmour, by snapping his fingers in the air, as if at the flight of some ene- my, whom he had successfully combatted. "Well, I say, Captain, you don't seem quite so sick of iife as you said you were before dinner. I reckon you won't be shooting yourself, as you threatened, only a little while ago." I * ' ' , ". ., Xi - zPHLOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR'S WALLET. 119 ! "Well, boy, what then? Is life less loathsome because one learns to laugh at it as well as hate it 2? "But you don't hate it, Captain-not now." "No: and for a good reason;-because I no longer fear it. I see the worst of it. I see all that it can do, and all that it can deny, and - feel, let it do its worst, that I'm the man for it." ' "And what's made you so much stronger now to bear, Captain, than you were only an hour gone?" asked the youth , with an in- sinuating chuckle. I "Dinner you dog, I suppose-dinner and drinl Is that what you mean Well-I grant you. We are creatures of two lives, I two principles, neither of which have perfect play at any time in the case of a man not absolutely a fanatic or a brute. The ani- mal restrains the moral man, the moral man checks the animal. There are moments when one obtains the ascendancy over the other, and our moods acknowledge this ascendancy. Before din- ner, my animal man was vexed and wolfish. It tendered me savage and sour. I could not think justly. I could not properly weigh ar determine upon the value of the facts in nmy own con- dition. I exaggerated all the ills of fortune, all the evils- before me, my poverty, my incapacity, and the ferocious greed of my creditors. My soul was at the mercy of my stomach. But, the wolf pacified, my mind 'acquired freedom. The wild beast sunk back into his jungle, and the man once more walked erect having no fear. Philosophy, my boy, appears once more to comfort me, and the landscape gr6ws bright and beautiful before my evening sun.' i "Well, all's right then, Captain, until you get hungry again?" "Poh; poh! boy, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.- God will provide. Vex me not with what to-morrowi may bring forth, or refuse to bring forth. To-day is secure. Thai is enough; and the philosophy which to-day has brought, will, n6 doubt, re- concile me t3-morrow. IL-ear you, Lance? It is thefirst policy i ^ i page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. in a time of difficulty or danger, always to know the vrorst- never to hide the truth from yourself--never to persuade Yourself that the evil is unreal, and things are better than they rea-ly are. When you'know the worst, you know exactly what is to by: done, and what is to be endured. In, time of war, with the eneny be- fore you, and- around you, you are required to see his whole strength, give him full credit for what he can do, and ough: to do, and determine, accordingly, whether it be your policy to fight, or fly, or submit- whether you can fly, what will be your trelatment -if you yield, and what is the reasonable chance of safety or ictory, if you resolve to fight. In time of peace the necessity is the same. Peace is only a name for civil war. - Life itself is civil war; and our enemies are more or less strong and numer4 us, ac- cording to 'circumstances. One of the greatest misforttnes of men, and it has been mine, until this hour, consists in the great reluctance of the mind to' contemplate and re!ew, calmly, the difficulties which surround us-to look our dangers in tie face, see how they lie, where they threaten, and how we may contend against them. We are all quite too apt to refusp to lookllat our troubles, and prefer that they should leap on us, it a bound, rath- er than disquiet ourselves. in advance of the conflict, by contem- plating the dangers with which we think it impossible to cdntend. I have- just succeeded in overcoming this' reluctance. I hvre ar- rayed before my mind's eye all my annoyances , and the conse- quence is that I snap my fingers at them. As o d Jerry Sanford used to cry out when he was in a fight, I Hurrah for nohing!' Jerry was a true philosopher. His motto shall be mine. Hurrah for nothing, seems to me to embody the full amount of mos, men's matter for rejoicing." . "Well, now, Captain, it's a fine philosophy I reclkon, that'll bring a man to such a sort of feeling. But, i I may take the liberty, rd just like to know, how such a philosophy can put a stop to the trouble, make the enemy quit the field drive the credi- * I[ PHLOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR S WALLE 121, tors off the plantation, arid fill the corn-crib when ts empty? I ax these questions with ylour permission, Captain, seeing as how you've been good enough to talk to me upon your affairs, and your debt%, and the troubles from the Sheriff that you're so much afraid of." "Afraitc of the Sheriff, boy! Who dares to say that of me? Never was 'afraid of a Sheriff in my life. D----n him! Let him come. I have the heart, or I'm no white man, to take the whole posse comitatus by the snout." "Posse comitatus! Oh! I reckon you mean the Deputies a' "Ay! ajt! the host of Deputies-a legion of Deputies if you will, from Peedee to the Savannah. But you hav'n caught my ideas, Lance. - I must try and be more intelligible. "I thank you, Captain." "You know, Lance, as well as anybody else, that I've been a d----d fool in my time." "Yes, Cfptain, to be sure!" Porgy's Self-esteem was not pleased with so ready a concession. "Well, boy, I don't mean exactly that. How the devil do you know any thing of my folly?" "Oh! I 6an guess, sir." "Can you, indeed.?" with a sardonic grin. "You are too know- ing, by halt, sir,-presuming to know, for one so young as your- A self. I mean, boy, that I've done a d--d sight too many fool- ish things. This don't make a man utterly a fool." "No, Captain." "Unless le continues to do foolish thinks, mark you." "Yes, Captain, I see." "Most men, the wisest, do foolish things. I don't know, indeed, but that wisGom itself requires to go through a certain probation of folly, in older to acquire the degree of knowledge, which shall teach what f1llv is-what shape it takes, and how it will affect us. I suppose that it was in obedience to this law of Nature, that - '"I ' . --- "- ,' * page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. my follies were performed. But my error was that I continued my probation quite too long. I was ambitious, you see, )f the highest sort of wisdom. I made too many experiments ir folly, and found them too pleasant to abandon them 'n season. The consequence was, that I began to grow wise only as I forfeited the means for farther experiment. My wisdom had its birth i n my poverty, and as it was through my follies that I became pbor, I suppose, logically, I am bound to say that I was wise because I had been so great a fool. Do you comprehend me?" "A little, Captain; I think I see." "You will understand me better as I go on. I wasted [ioney -a great deal--ran into debt-sold negroes-mnortgaged 'thers -and when I joined the brigade, my plantation -was mortgaged also-I can't tell you for how much. But, even if the Ifritish and TQries had not stolen all the rest of my negroes, the sale of the whole of them, would scarcely have paid the debt their, and there's some six years' interest since. A very in:eresting condi- tion of affairs, you will admit, for my contemplation now." "Very, sir." "Now, to look fully these affairs in the face requires no small degree of courage. I confess, until I had finished dinner to-day, I was scarcely the man for it. But that last draught of tha: bles- sed and blessing old Jamaica-did Millhouse and Tom get I good sup of it " "Pretty good, Captain." ! "They require good measure, both! Well Lance, boy, that last sup of the Jamaica seemed to warm up my courage, md I resolutely called up the whole case, didn't suppress any of the facts, looked at all the debts, difficulties, duns and dangers, and s, id to myself-a fig for 'em all. Let the. lands go, and the negro3s go, and still-I'm a man!-a man!" "That's the way, Captain," responded the you-h, with enthu- siasm, seizing the extended hand of his superior, and pressing it with a real affection. I *I iiPHLOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR'S WALLET. 123 It was just when I had come to this conclusion, Lance, that I snapt my fingers. I couldn't' help it. It was' the spontaneous g sign of my exultation, and as I did so, I thought I saw the d--d mealy face, blear eyes, hook nose, and utterly rascally whole, of my creditor, McKewn, backout from before me, and take to the woods at a full run. Along with him went, sheriff and the whole swarm of deputies, all of whom have been dodging about me the whole morning, shaking their d--d writs, ca. sa's, fi. fa's, and a thousand other offensive sheets of penal parchment in my face. I discomfited the wretches by that same snap of the fingers, and the adoption of old Jerry Sanford's cry of battle-' Hrrah for nothing!' has made me able to back poverty" and the sheriff into the woods!" "I'm so glad, Captain; after a pause, was the response of Lance Frampton-but, with some hesitation, and perhaps, not well knowing how to shape the question which he only desired to intimate-" but Captain, is that all? Will it end so " "End how?" "Won't the sheriff come again?" "What then! Give him another snap of the fingers, and the wa' cry," "But won't he take-" "The property? Yes! I suppose after a while, I shall have to surrender; but we'll make a d--d long fight of it, Lance; and we'll get terms, good conditions when we give in-go off with our side arms, flag flying, and music playing the grand march ' Hurrah for nothing!" "But, Captain," continued the youth; I don't altogether know. You're a man of 'arning, and can tell much better than me, but I!m rather dubious. When I was a boy, old Humphries of Dor- chester, father of our Bill, you know, he sent the sheriff after my father, and took him, and took all the property besides, even to the very beds and bedding. Now, won't they take you, Captain, if you can't pay." page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. S "Take me, boy! Do I look like a man in danger fro-m the claws of a sheriffs No, no! There will be blows in thatl busi- ness. They know better, Lance. In fact, they are content, deal- ing with a gentleman, and a soldier, to take his baggage wrgons, his impedimbente, and that purely out of kindness, as they 'lesire to free him from all incumbrances.' They will hardly at'empt more! ' That d-- d harpy, McKevn, will be quite content, I suspect, to take the plantation. There are no negroes!eft, I fear." "But, Tom?" "Tom! oh! -ay?-and you think Tom liable 8" "Aint he, then "Well, I suppose so. Tom is certainly a negro. Tom i,: cer- tainly mine. As mine, Tom is liable for my deats, and it may be, that some d--d fool of a creditor or sheriff may fancy that he can take Tom. But 'he shall have a hint, in season, Of the danger of any such experiments upon my philosophy. - love Tom. Tom is virtually a free man. It's true, being a del ;or, I i cannot confer his freedom upon him. But let a sheriff touch him, and I'll put a bullet through his diaphragm. I will, by Ju;)iter! If I don't do that, Ltance-if there's no escape for Tom-for they may seize him when I am napping-after dinner, perhaps--;hen, I shall kill Tom, Lance; I'll shoot him--him, Tom,--in ord r to save him. The poor fellow has faithfully served a gentlemean.- He shall never fall into the, hands of a scamp. I'll sacrifice him as a burnt offering for my sins and his own. Tom, I'm thinfing, would rather die my slave, than live a thousand yea-s under a loth- er owner." . -He does love you, Captain. . "And I love him. The old rascal, I do love him. He 8 akes the finest stew of -any cook in Carolina. He shall cook for n e as long as I'm able to eat; and when I'm not, we-shal- both be t wil- ling- to die together." "Well, but Captain, you was saying--" . ") ! I,! PHLOSOPHY IN- THE -BEGGAR'S WALLET. 125 "Alh! yes! We are supposing that all's gone, lands, negroes, baggage-all the impedimente. Every thing but Tom-and what then? That :is the pointwhich I have reached, and to which my: philosophy reconcilesl me. It is still possible for me to live." "Oh! yes, sir!" "How the devil should you know? To be sure, I could live precisely as you and a thousand others would live; but you see, Lanuce, life is a very different thing to different persons. One man lives like a dog, a hog, a skunk, a 'coon, or even a cabbage. With such a person, you can despoil him of nothing 'by any pro- cess. You cannot rob him. 'Theives cannot break into his premi- ses and steal. Take all he has, and he loses nothing. He can still find grubbage-water lies conveniently before him -in every puddle-and he may swallow air without even' vexifg the fears of a chameleon. He acknowledges only the principle of distension, not of taste or even appetite, and there is no stint of grass and weeds for a starving heifer. ' Root lig or die,' is with him the whole body -of law; and his snout has long since been practised i+ finding its way into the potato hills after the crop has been withdrawn. But to reconcile a man, with my training, to such a life, requires a rare philosophy indeed. How, with such tastes as mine, am. I to live? How dig?-where find potatoes, and with what substitutes for tea and coffee, and Jamaica, refiesh the inner man? That, I should be able to cry ' Hurrah for nothing!' with perfect good humour, after such a survey of my case, is the glo- rious triumph that I have this day achieved. Would you believe it, Lance, that I go out of the war, with a:paltry eleven guineas in my pocket. And this is all I really own in the world,-but-" "Captain!" "Well!" B . "I've got a leetle more than that. Here's twenty guineas that Col., Singleton give me more than a month ago. If you're' willing, 'll page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 TH'E SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. we'll put your's and mine\ in the same bag, and you shall have the keeping of it." "You're a good boy, Lance, and I love you, but d--n your guineas. What should make you think that I whnt 'em? What should make you think so meanly of me as to suppose that I would rob you of your little stock in trade?" "But it's no robkery, Captain-I'm glad to-'" "Pooh, pooh! Put up your guineas, Lance. You'll want 'em all. Don't I know you? Are you not going toI marry th at pret- ty little witch, Ellen Griffin?" "Well, sir-I reckon. Yes, sir, Ellen and me-" l Give her the bag to keep! Don't trust yourself witl. it, or, in 'some fit of folly, you'll be for giving it to some other )erson, who will take you at your word. You will want all that, and even more to begin your career in this world! is for mi, I see exactly what I am to do, and will tell you." ! "I'll thank you, sir." ;"There was, many years ago, an old Frenchman, that came into "our neighbourhood. He was the most dwarfish and dried up lit- tle fellow in the world. He was poor as Job's turkey-" "Why was Job's turkey so poor, Captain?" I suppose, that being a favourite with Job iaimself, h s wife never fed it. But don't interrupt me by asking such a d--d unnecessary question, Lance! As I was saying of this F :ench- * man, he was wretchedly poor, in purse as in body, owned no'goods that I could see- except the clothes on his back, and a mis arable little single-barrel bird gun, small in bore, but something taller than its owner. The only luxury that the old fellow indulred in was snuff; and with this, his upper lip, his shirt bosoL., coat sleeve, and vest p(cket, were all dyed deeply with a never fading saffron brown. His snuff, gun, a supply of powder and shor, and an old box with some mean cooking apparatus, were his only pos- sessions. I doubt if he had an extra pair of breeches. He s light- PHLOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR'S WALLET. 12C7 ed suddenly in the neighbourhood, and presented himself before me, with a polite bow, and a most persuasive grin. 'Monsieur Porgy, I yer of you! You s'all let me live on your plantation! Dere is one house of log by de leetle swamp! Dere s'all be nobody live in him! 'Spose you s'all soffre me, I s' all live in him! I have no money to pay! I live by my leetle 'gon! I s'all shoot your little-de dove, de-what you call 'him, patridge, de squirrel, de rabbit, all de leetle beast. I no trobble g de deer, and de big bird de torkey! You s'all soffre me dat leetle house, and to kill, for my leetle dener, dese leetle bird, and ; de leetle beasts, I s'all be votre tres homble sarvant two t'ousand times, and s'all t'ank you two, t'ree, seven, eight, fiv' times ovair!' "I consented to the very moderate entreaty; but offered that he should live with me-offered him money-but he refused every thing but the sinrp!o privileges which he applied for, ' to liv' in de leetle pole house, by de leetle swamp, and kill de leetle birds and beasts.' There, accordingly, this poor fellow lived, for seven years, literally on nothing. -le would accept no gifts, -and even strove to put me under obligations. If, for example, he shot a pair of fine English ducks, which was sometimes the case, he would bring them to me with a grateful grin- "'Monsieur Porgy, you s'all do me de ver' great honneur.' "At first I accepted, but when he steadily refused my help, I refused his game, except as a purchase. His wants- were few and easily provided. His powder and shot, his snuff and coffee, salt and sugar, oil and vinegar-these he procured from a pedlar who went the rounds of the parish at stated periods. To procure these articles, he sold at the cross-roads, or to neighbouring families, his surplus game. He planted a couple of acres of corn and peas, just about his habitation, which, under his cultivation, yielded twice or thrice as much as any two of my best acres. His food, besides, was wholly procured by his gun, yet he was not a surpri- sing shot. But he was indiscriminate in his slaughter of 'de X ' + page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 THE SWORD - AND THE DISTAFF. leetle birds.' He showed few preferences. If the dove and par- tridge did not come immediately in his way, he shot down wood- pecker and blue jay. The hawk was not rejected from } is cook- pot. He luxuriated in 'coon and 'possum when he could g t them, and with this object, he frequently went on the night-hunts with the negroes. His taste required that his birds and beast s should be utterly stale before he ate them. - His larder was hung with birds, of all sorts, almost dropping to pieces, before he ithought them well flavoured enough for his palate. Then, witl: a little salt, oil and red pepper, he made his meal with the relist of one who has eaten of a princely feast. He was always cheei ful as a lark. He sang and even danced alone benea;h his tres. He X had been on the place for about a year, when he went off sudden- ly, on foot, to Charleston. When he returned, he brought bick with him an old violin, the vilest looking thing in the world, but, stuffed to the core with the sweetest music, which the old fellow i)rought out with singular skill. The instrument was a gen sine Cre'nona-- a 'famous fine one-which,- as I found out afterwards, he had left in pawn in the city. His happiness was quite complete then he had redeemed it. I often strolled out to hear him play. I He had no apparent griefs. He never complained-never even fitetted- was always 'eady with a grin of good humour-smile, I e could not, on accont of the peculiarly ill-formed mou;h which 'ie own- ed; -'and so, for seven years he lived, entirely companionless.- Yet he had visitors, and of his own countrymen. At Ch-istmas, he sometimes had no less than three or four guests, who came again at the close of spring. Without bedding or covering, ex- cept-the scantiest for himself, they remained withi him mo6:e than a week on each occasion. I was curious to see -ow he would en- tertain them, and always paid him a visit when Z heard if their arrival. He received them with open arms. They were welcome to all he had. True, he had nothing; but what'-,Len? He made room for them, gave place by the fire-side, spread a third of his : PH ILOSOPHY IN THE BEoGARES WALLET. 129 i, room with pine straw, ground an extra cuantity, of corn and cof- ;-- fee; then, as they had finished their morning meal, he would say--'Allons! my friends-we s'all go shoot de leetle birds!' = Each had brought his gun, and they knew that each was expected X! to find his own dinner; and he did so. I have encountered them j on their return frqm a morning's excursion, and their bags were X:7 full--and such an 'assortment! They killed every thing that cros- H sed their paths, taking care, however, to spare the ' big birds and beasts.' 2My Frenchman, Louis DuBourg, scrupulously respected i his pledges. But, in fact, they all lacked the enterprise which re- g quired long and remote wanderings. Their largest visitors, of the bird kind, were the duck; the squirrel and the rabbit, were the 'small deer,' which satisfied their ambition in respect to large i four-footed game. , "Now, Lance, what I have told you is a history. Poor old Louis Du Bourg is dead: but he has left me his example! I see exactly how I may live, as happily and as independently as he- that is, when all's over, and I have seen the worst. I shall then turn in to killing 'de leetle bird and de leetle beast," squatting on some great man's property. I can surely get this privilege from some of my old associates; and, with two acres of tolerable land, I shall hoe and hilli my own corn; sow and dig my own potatoes; cook my own hotiny; sell my ducks and birds when I want powder and shot, and be able, possibly, as I was once something of a hunter, to car!?y enough venison to market to procure me an occasional demnijphn of good Jamaica. Perhaps, in process of time--but I need look no farther. Enough, Lance, my boy, that like my old Frenchman, I shall be able, once or twice a year, to entertain my old friends. You shall come and see me, Lance, you and our friend here, Corporal Millhouse, he shall help me set my snares, and you, will help me kill my 'leetle birds and beasts,' and with a 'poon and 'possum hunt, by night, we shall lay in suf- ficient store of venison for a week's entertainmnent of any friends. O . e page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. There, boy, is a prospect for you; and, after surveying it, I can sing out heartiTy, and with a philosophy that is quie consoing-- 'Hurrah for nothing! Let the world slide!-Sessa.' " "Oh! Captain," cried the youth, seizing affectionately the, hand of his superior, "you shan't work-you shan't hill and ho, corn and potatoes, while I've the hands to do it for you! I'T come and live with you, and work for you-" "You forget, Lance, you are soon to have a wife." "True-to be sure ;" answered the other, staggered for a mo- ment; but quickly recovering, he cried-"Ther, Captaii, you must come and live with me. Ellen will be glad, and-" "You're a good fellow, Lance, my lad, and I love yon, t ough I don't think that I shall ever be able to become your gi est.- 'Twouldn't suit, Lance. It would be all right -;at you should live with me, and I must insist upon that, boy, until you a e fair- ly married. For me, at the worst, old Louis Du Bourg's ,lan is the only one. It will have a look of independence, at lea't, and that is always a matter of great value to a person of my tamper. But, hey! what's the outcry from Tom, and ,who are these Htelp heave me up, Lance, and see to to your weapons. It looks like a siurprise 1" \By dint of great exertions on his own part, and with the stren- udus help of his lieutenant, the huge bulk of Captain Porgy was lifted into the perpendicular, and, in a moment, Lance and limself were prepared to make battle as if an enemy were upor them. The cause of the alarm was soon explained; and Tom, th cook, accompanied by Corporal Millhouse, rapidly approached at the command of Porgy, bringing with them two of the escap ng fu- gitives from the wagon of Mrs. Eveleigh; namely, John, other- wise Sylvester, the slave of the widow, and Ponr-pey, juni3r, be. longing to Captain Porgy himself. EH ; TO HORSE! THE CAMP IN MOTION. 131 CHAPTERXX. TO HORSE! THE CAMP IN MOTION. HERE'S a smash-and-tear-it sarcumstance, Cappin Porgy, as ever you did see;" quoth Corporal Millhouse, advancing before t the fugitives. ad "Der's John Sylvester, Mass Porgy, b'long to widow Ebleigh, i and dis"-thrusting his hand familiarly into the wool of Pompey, and pulling him forward-" dis da' our own little Pomp, you know." "Little! The fellow's as tall as you are. Why, Pomp! is A that you, boy? Where have you been? What are you doing : here? They told me you were carried off by the British." ' "I git 'way, maussa! Dey tief me, but I git 'way! How you bin, Mass Cappin God A'mighty! I so glad for see you ;" and the fellow ran forward and shook his master's hand with the ea- gerness with which one welcomes the best friend in the world.- "Oh! maussa, it's de blessed t'ing you is come. You hab sword and gun. You mus' mak' haste now. De tory got we-got Ben and Bill and Josey, Little Peter, and all of we, and Toby, - and Jupe, and Sam, an' all of dem b'long to Missis Ebleigh: and he hab catch Missis Ebleigh, shese'f, and him son, Mass Art'ur, and de obe'shar, Mr. Fordham, and de wagon, and Little Peter, and all-only Mr. John Sylvester, yer, and me, Pomp, show 'em legs, and git 'way." "What the d--- does the fellow jabber about? What's the ieL rigmarole?"? "It's a surprise, Cappin, and no mistake," put in Corpbral Mill- house, "a smash-and-tear-it business! as I said before. You see, page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF,. ) the tories, so they call 'em, half a dozen or more, in mighty strange ; clothes and looks--? "He face and head all bury in hair and whisker, maissa, da's true ;" interposed John Sylvester. "Yes-you see?" w "Well!" "Have laid an ambuscade for this lady, her son, overs Der, wag on and negroes, and these two chaps have slipped omt of thd scrape. ' "Eh! What's this?" demanded Porgy, at once beginning to perceive that the affair possessed some essentials of im?ortance. "Do you mean to say that this ambush has been iet to-dly--that these things have only now taken place? Hol; long-fellow- you--what's your name?" This was said to John Sylvester. "What! Mass Porgy, you no 'member me, John Sylbester, wha' b'long to widow Ebleigh? I sure I 'memberiyou fas' enough." - "No matter! To be sure I remember you, John, lend your great grandmother, too, if you desire it, but we need say nothing of either now. Where is your mistress, John " "In de wood, Mass Cappin--on de road guine hon;e to de plantation, jes' down by de leetle creek wla' run out of Turkey swamp. Dere we meet dem man in de hair and whisker. iHe shoot-I fear'd he kill Mass Art'ur and de obe'shar (overseer)-- he catch Mfissis-den he jump out'pon we people wid d( wagon, and I reckon he catch we all, only we two, me a rd Pomp, get off in de woodcs. Dey push arter'us, but we lef' 'em in little green 1 bay, and run, I 'spose must be most four miles, 'fore we see smoke. We creep up, and Pomp say--' Da's maussa, Tom, me fe low sar- bant! I know 'em, like me own fadder!' " ' "Yes: da me!" quoth Tom, interposing to confirm the re-1 ! port. : SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. 13 "And this but now, and only four miles off! and here, you d---d pair of long collards, you've taken-a good hour-to tell it. Boot and saddle, Lance! Millhouse, to holrse! Tom gather up follow as fast as' you can. John Sylvester--up behind Lieutenant Frampton. You, Pomp, jump up-behind Corporal Millhouse, and show the way between you. Ride apart, Lance, you and Millhouse, and see to your priming. Let these fellows tell when we are within three hundred yards from the spot where the affair took place. Give the whistle then, and haul up and move with caution. Don't dismount-we may have, to dash in upon the ras- cals headlong. I'll take the woods between you-let there be some twenty yards between us each. And now, at a smart gal- lop, as soon as you can!" It required but a few minutes to prepare the party in order for the march, as required.- John jumped up behind Frampton, Pomp took his place in the rear of Millhouse, and Capt. Porgy, setting these two horsemen in the proper direction, dashed for- ward through the piney woods with -a spirit and celerity that seemed scarcely consistent with his great bulk, and the languor which he had exhibited but a little while before. CHAPTER XXI. SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. THE negro guides did their duty with the exactness and prompti- r tude of persons who knew exactly what was required of them, 'I" and what was the object of the arrangement. They stopt the rapid motion of the horsemen when within three or four hundred yards of the spot where they conjectured the wagon had been 1 . 1 page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. left, and with that happy instinct which marks the faculty f the Southern woodsman, they uttered their several w rnings narly at the same moment. The horsemen drew up caefully 1e ne- groes, John and Pomp, leapt down, and kept alog on ot ith the horses, which were now held at a walk; ani, in this way, they approached the opening of the road, within eighty y rds of the plade where the wagon stood. Here, Porgy was. enabled to get a practi al glance of th state of affairs. They arrived at a fortunate moment. The n i'oes, who had been -captured, roped together in pairs, were ma, ceing off under the charge of two of the ruffians, who wer3 both n ont- ted, and were still to be 'seen moving slowly- away into the pine forests in the distance. Four other horses were discovered i Lten- ed to the swinging branches of a tree some ten or fifteen ss t eps from the wagon. The wagon-horses were hidden in the ooods. The vehicle, itself, however, presented a singular appeara ic of vitality. The cover had been thrown off, and lay upon"the g *o nd on one side of it. On the other were to be see, bales, itgs, boxes and barrels; and, every now and then, somet: ing wa s en to upheave itself within the wagon, to revolve slcwly ove the sides, and come down upon the grovnd with. a heav squelsl Were the robbers all in the wagon, the two excepted who re to be seen going off with the negroes? That was Porg y' irst question, which he soon answered, as he saw that the conte it of the wagon were thrown out slowly, and seperately, giving evi le ce of the presence of a single worker only. Where were the her three In ambush somewhere -but where . A m ment's ec- tion led our troopers, in a brief conference, to the cnclusioy tiat they were somewhere in fiont, between the wagon and carr age I and not in the rear, or on the route which they were pursui gX-- Th6 carriage was to be seen, and Lance Frampton fancied th t he could distinguish the garments of a woman in it. tolgys b vkv a ed the field with a military eye. A dead silence preailed, b i en * SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT; AND FIGHT. - 135 only by the dull, heavy sound of the falling packages from the wagon. "There is some bush-whacking going on still," said he; " some hiding anid seeking, but it is not hereabouts. The fellow in the wagon works coolly and composedly, as if he had no apprehen- sions, If there had been any suspicion of danger from our side of the woods, the ambush would have beeh so placed, as to have kept us from working so tar forward. Our first duty is clear.- We must pursue these fellows who are marching away, cut them off, and rescue the negroes.' This will compel the ambush to show itself. We may draw their bullets, as we appear-but if we are sudden, with a shout, and go forward at full speed, we are very apt to escape the taste of lead. We can ride those rascals down! They are but two! Lance, you will keep back, and, with John and Pomp, contrive to capture the fellow in the wagon.- Don't kill him if you can help it. We must get his despatches, and cut the secret of this expedition-from under his tongue! Do you hear?" - ' Every word, Captain!" "Very good; now, if you will dismount, fasten your nag in the bushes, and creep forward with, John and Pomp towards the wagon, you will, probably, have a good chance, the moment after we make our rush! The rascal will then jump and make for the bushes, or for the horses. In either case, you ought to be able! to grapple him. See to it and let the boys understand you." ! The negroes were soon instructed, anid betrayed a patriotic eagerness to be up and doing. Seeing that Frampton had fasten- ed his horse, and was already advanced upon his way, with his sable allies, in the direction of the wagon, Porgy gave the signal, and, with a terrible shout from the throat of Millhouse, the two dashed headlong out of the wood in pursuit of the robbers who had charge of the fugitive negroes. At, thins sound, as Porgy had anticipated, the outlaw, Norris, e' page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. who had been at the work of unlading the wagon, naturally pop- ped up his head to see what was the matter. The vigilant eye of Frampton saw it. \H1e could have shot the fellow even n the single instant of opportunity which was thus afforded him; but he remembered-his instructions, and forebore; wisely, it seemed, for Norris, seeing the charge of two well mounted horsemen upon his companions, and recognising these as new comers, whose rein- forcement to the two customers whom they had already found so troublesome, might well lead to doubts of his own safety, conclu- ded to see to this matter, without any regard to -he spoils con- tained in the wagon. Seizing his rifle, accordingly, he leapt out of the Vehicle; but, with singular ill-fortune. His feet aliglted upon a hamper of Irish potatoes, part of the contents cf the wagon, which rolled away Beneath him, and laid him at length with his face to the ground. Before he could recover himself, Lance Frampton was upon him. The rifle of the outlaw was wrested from his grasp; and, with the vigorous young lieutenant griping him firmly by the throat, John Sylvester by the legs, and Pompey, junior, literally sitting, astraddle, upon his back, Dick Norris resigned himself to his fate, after a few spa dic but ineffectual struggles! The whole affair 'consumed but : ew minutes, and was concluded by Lance Framptor securirg his prisoner, within the wagon, by the strongest cordage, scientifically knotted; while John Sylvester, pistol in hand, was seated at his head, instructed to quiet him with a bullet, should he prove trou- blesome. Frampton, meanwhile, with Pomp, stole away tc -he bushes opposite, prepared to afford succour to his friends whmnev- er there should be need and opportunity. Meanwhile, Bostwick, the Squatter, lying snug ir his pla ie of watch, contemplating his enemy only in the direction of the car- riage, was confounded by the sudden appearance of the hLrse- men in his rear. With their shout and charge, he became al- most instantly aware of the assault upon, and the captivity of SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. 137 Norris; for, though the struggle had taken place on the opposite side of the vehicle, of which he had but a very impbrfect view from the spot where he crouched,-he could yet see enough to as- sure him of such an inequality of force, between the parties, as must be fatal to his colleague. He was too heedful of himself to incur any unnecessary perils in the effort to succour his com- panion; and, indeed, could not well have done so, at least, at that distance, and with his rifle, as it was impossible so to distinguish any of the writhing figures upon the ground, as to be sure that he should not draw his lead upon his friend rather than his foe. i Besides, he well knew, that, to show himself in any demonstra- tion upon the new enemies in the rear, he must only become ek- posed to the shot of those whom he felt to be somewhere harbour- ing, and on the watch, in front. To crawl backwards-ito increase the distance between himself and all these parties--his own as well as the rest--beeame now the selfish policy of the Squatter. He could do nothing to help his comrades--the negroes would be recovered--two of his associates were slain already-he him- self was in danger, unless he moved, promptly away; and, besides, he was already in possession of the most valuable of the portable spoils,-the strong-box of the widow, having the important paper--as virtually important to the rich McKewn as to the Squat- ter, Bostwick-to say nothing of the fifty guineas, in money, which--he had the widow's word for it-was in the strong box also; and of which he had already determined to betray nothing to his comrades. It required no great argument to persuade him to be content with his acquisitions, and to draw off in season; no, matter what fate should befal his companions. He crawled back, accordingly; slowly and with admirable circumspection; and so changed his ground, as to place himself out of immediate reach of either of the several groups, into which his assailants were di- T vided. But one anxiety alone prevented him from utterly taking his ?!?- 12* page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 1388 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. departure. He would, unhesitatingly, have gone, were he sure that his comrades were all slain, or certain to be slain, without speaking. But the doubt occurred to him. "Norrls is -taken! Should he confess Sho'ald others be taken and confess? Thar's the trouble! Thar's the danger and the resk!"' This reflection disquieted him. He lingered in sight lf the field of action, fully assured that he ought to fly, yet with that in- certitude of mood which left him incapable of determination. If they confess," said he to himself, "there's nothing for me but to cut and run! The country would be too hot for me!" Why he should not leave it?--is the question that might occur to any body else. But the wretch was not without his ties, his affections, his sensibilities, such as they were--and wher; he thought of the necessity of leaving the country, a picture of three young children-bone tall, sad-eyed girl among them-grew vivid- ly up before his eyes! He had a wife too, but he saw nothing of her. It was the three children, alone, that formed, the s. ell, so potent about the heart of the bad and seemingly heartlesq man. Strange, that such a creature should so feel and think, at sylch a moment! Yet not strange either!" Let us follow our partisans. The wild halloo of theirj onset soon made their presence and purpose apparent to the parsons they pursued. Looking about them quickly, one cried to the other- "Jimini! They're Marion's men, as I'm a sinner! Here's a fix! Cast the niggers loose, Jefif and use a bloody spur e' you knows how! We must scatter." "How many do you see, Ton ' cried the other. "Only two as yit; but they rush as ef there was a dozen!- They've got the heels of us, too, I reckon! there's no racing with such a nag as this! I'm for the swamp, Jeff; I can't trust the run; I must try the dodge! And you better do the sam i, but , * . SCAMPER AND SOUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. 139 make your push for the hammock lower down. We must scat- ter!" Wheeling to the right, as he spoke these words, one of the out- laws made off for the denser woods which conducted to the heart of the swamp, and was soon lost to the sight of his companion in the thick undergrowth of that region. The other, whether less apprehensive of danger, or more confident of his horse, which was young and of tolerable swiftness, seemed to hesitate. He bade the negroes run ahead, and hide themselves; then, once more looking over his shoulder, he felt the necessity of going off at all speed, and did so with the best impulse-of whip and rowel. Porgy and Corporal Millhouse were soon up with the negroes who cheer- ed them with hearty shouts as they drew nigh. "Da iraussa 1I was the cry of his own people, almost with one voice. "Hurrah, maussa! Gorrah Mighty bress you! How you do?" "Young, boys, young and lively! God bless you! How many of these tory rascals are there?" "Only two ob dem, maussa; one push right ahead t'rough de woods-t'udder one gone keen for de swamp. Push hard, maussa, you sure for catch 'cm. He hoss no better dan cow for run." "Don't mind the fellow in the swamp, Corporal! We can look for him as we return. Go back, boys, to the wagon, and help Lieutenant Frampton to put the things into it again, or you will lose all your chance for coffee and molasses. Now, Corporal, as you are left-handed, take the right of this robber, while I take the left. His nag will be a good one, if we do not overhaul hirr between us in the next three hundred yards." No more words! They were off, separated by an interval of fifty yards, perhaps, and coursing through the pine woods at , tearing gallop. A few minutes hard riding gave them a fresh glimpse of the fugitive. He was making up for lost time, and page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. i. going through the undergrowth, and among the thick-set trees, which began to approach each other more and more clos6ily, at a rate, which, to those who have never beheld a fax chase in the South, would seem sheer desperation. The fellow was i good rider, however, and an experienced hunter, born in the bush, and of kindred to the fox himself!" a He goes well, but it can't last-! muttered Porgy, as he eapplied h s persuaders anew to the flanks of his own high-spirited ovurser. It was wonderful to see howjell the animal sped with such a bulk upon his ba/ck! But the steed was a powerful one, Iosen hbeedfully with reference to the severe duty which he had b "en re- quired to perform. The fugitive looked about him as he 3ed.- The partisan Captain could already count his gains. The space was reduced between then. Th outlaw soon made this discovery. He extricated one of his pistols from the holster, a nd knit hi 3 -eeth firmly together, with the air of a man who already anticipates the worst. Porgy was too good a soldier not to calculate on a cer- tain degree of danger, in such an enterprise as tha; which I e had in hand;--but, as he was apt to phrase it himself-- "Danger is a part of the contract! It is to be counted on, but not considered I He who stops to consider the danger neve'- goes into battle! No wise man, embarking in such an amusem nt as war, ever considers its mischances as likely to occur in hi, own case. He knows the Fatal Sisters have singled out certain ftvour- ites for Valhalla, but he always takes for granted that they have v overlooked himself/ He relies, always, on his peculiar personal star, and goes into battle-not to be killed, but to kill!" With such reflection-' our Captain Porgy, corpulent as he is, was very apt to behave in battle, as we are told the Berserki s, or wild warriors of the Scandinavians, were wont to behave. To dash, with a sort of phrenzy, into the worst of dangers, totally heedless of them all, as if bearing a charmed life-and only Iseek- ing to destroy! And such a practice, by the way, is very ept to O N- SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. 141 camry with it its own securities. A rage that blinds the cham- pion to all dangers, and makes him totally unconscious of all fears, is very apt to inspire fear in the enemy who beholds his ap- proach. The onset of Porgy was well calculated to prompt such feelings. A mountain in a passion, and in progress-a human avalanche descending upon the plain-crashing, rending, over- whelming, as it goes-such, in some small degree, was the image presented to the mind of the trembling enemy, seeing the head- lono rush of our plethoric Captain! Our outlaw was soon enabled to distinguish his chief pursuer. He knew his man as he approached-t-knew his character-his fierce, headlong valour, the power of his arm, the fleetness of his steed. His mind became oppressed heavily, with the sense of whelming danger, as he saw the space lessening momently be- tween them. He now saw his other assailant, Corporal Millhouse, who, less rapidly, but quite as certainly, was making towards { him on the right. He felt very sure that the game was up with him unless some interposition of Good Fortune-call it, if you will, his gallows destiny-should baffle the pistols, or the swords, of his pursuers. The outlaw had no remafkable properties of I mind or courage ;-he was only one of the myriad of ordinary men, who, as we are told by the dramatic poet, issue from- one common mould; nature, after their being cast, ashamed of her own handy-work, and sending them forth into the world without putting any mark upon them! But he was a drilled and prac- ticed ruffian; had served for years as a soldier; as a robber; as a pirate ;-and, from habit, and induration, was a man with whom the exigency only brought out the coolness, the determination I and resource. He did not show his pistol, but he cocked it He I saw the course which Porgy rode, and he slightly inclined his I horse to the right, in order that RIe should use his pistol-hand I more freely. Porgy suspected his object and made a correspond- I ing change in his own course. He was now sufficiently nigh to I the robber to make himself heard. He accordingly cried out- j - - page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Halt, you d---d outlaw, and surrender, or I'll cut you lown in your tracks!" The fellow, slightly glancing over his left shou-ler, "gr:rned horribly a ghastly smile," but made no answer. The Cqptain was near enough, by this time, to fancy that he heard the cleck of the pistol-lock; but it was fancy only. The outlaw had cocked it several seconds before. The latter glanced uneasily at Corloral Millhouse, who was now approaching him on the r:ght; an I felt the necessity of crippling one of his enemies at once. By -his time, Porgy was preparing himself also; but his slightest motion seemed to become apparent to the fugitive. Sharply applying both rowels to his horse's flanks, the great sabre o- the partisan Captain was drawn in an instant, and the flash of it, as it sud- denly waved in air, gleamed unpleasantly in the eyes of the man it threatened. He kept his coolness, however, an his course; and, as Porgy came on with a speed suddenly accelerated, and while he was measuring the distance which he should first over- come before rising in his stirrups to execute the fatal stroke, ;he outlaw pulled trigger under his left arm. The steed of Porgy swayed round at the instant, threw out its fore-feet wildly, then settled heavily down upon the earth, in the immediate agonie of death! Porgy, however, had sufficient warning that the animal was hit, and, releasing his feetfrom the stirrups as the beast was falling, he escaped fom being crushed beneath his weight. He recovered his legs with some effort but without injury. The h rse of the outlaw kept on: but there had been a paus$ in his oro- gress, which, however brief, had enabled Corporal Millhousd to get almost within striking distance. But he was on the righf of the outlaw, who, ignorant of the left-handed, and single-hanced, condition of the remaining pursuer, fancied that some change in their relations was necessary to enable the other to use his sword. But he really saw no sword, and his object was simply to escape the pistol. But, against this, Millhouse was desperately resolved. He had hitherto kept his steed rather in hand. He now plded * I' i SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT-AND FIGHT. 143 him with the terrible Spanish rowels which he wore, and which he never used but in extreme cases. To the surprise of the outlaw, who had judged of the horse by his previous performances, the animal made but a single bound or two, to bring his rider within, striking distance; then, as the outlaw fumbled to extricate his re- maining pistol from the left holster, he beheld, to his increased surprise, a gleaming sabre suddenly plucked from an invisible scabbard, and wielded, with a wonderful ease, in the left hand of his enemy! He bowed his body to the opposite side of the sad- dle, drove the spurs into his beast, bore down upon the curb to the left,-almost swinging the horse about as he rode,-and all this in a single moment-but all too late! A swift, sharp flash, as of lightning, seemed to darken his sight, and the next moment the keen, heavy steel might have been heard to gride through the solid skull of the victim. Down he sank, hanging to one stirrup, while the frightened horse, dragging him forward, darted blindly into a clump of scrubby oaks, and became tangled and held, until caught by Millhouse. Captain Porgy came up a few seconds af- ter; almost as soon, indeed, as Millhouse, who had just alighted to extricate and examine the body. They both bent over in this scrutiny, but to neither was the victim known. "The face of the rascal is strange to me;" said Porgy, "and that's a strange fact in my experience; for, in this seven years' war, I fancy I've made the acquaintances, in some way or other, of all the rascals in the country? Do you know any thing about him, Corporal ." "Only that he is a rascal, Cappin, or was so a while ago; and that he's dead now as Job's turkey, with a loss of all the profits of his trade! I never seed him afore!" "The scoundrel! Had he been Christian enough to have suffer- ed himself to have been cut down five minutes ago, and before that last pistol shot, I could have been sorry for him! But he has done for my noble gray, the best of friends; a horse that has page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 THE SWORD AND THE IDISTAFF. borne his own flesh and mine so long to the satisfaction'of both! I feel, Corporal, as if IL could blubber like a boy ovel .is first colt!"f Our two partisans did not waste ay unnecessary lime, you may be sure, in a fruitless examination f the outlaw's b y; nor did they consume much thought in s eculating upon event that had too frequently occurred in their experience, no; to leave them comparatively callous. "See what the rascal has about him, Corporal;" said Porgy; and, like a good trooper, perfectly aware of what such cas usual- ly required, Millhouse searched the clothes, and turned out the 4"silver lining" of the pockets of the dead man, with all the dex- terity of a Parisian Chiffonier. He stript him of every ithing of value; and, seeing that he wore a tolerable pair of English boots, he had them off..in the twinkling of an eye; though, t ow the thing was done-our Chiffonier with one hand only-it i;as diffi- cult to describe as to conceive. His search into the po6kets of the outlaw was productive of no very astonishing results. They yielded up only a few English shillings and sixpences; a empty flask, the odour of which still pungently declared for it former contents; a clasp, and a dirk knife; extra flints and steel; a small finger ring, and the fragment of a bracelet or necklace. The ring had been worn about the neck, suspended by a faded and soiled ribbon, which had once been blue. Of what was this th9 miser- able token? Was it love, or gratitude, dr a filial feelingI which had hung this ornament about the neck of the ruffian s 'There is norecord? The memorial was of a nameless virtue! Captain Porgy surveyed these things, as they were severally produced by the search of the Corporal, and, after the Ecrutiny wasp over, he yielded them, with the grace of a feudal bitron, to the Ipossession of the latter. "Keep 'em, Millhouse, until you find the proper heirs for them." SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND- FIGHT. 145 I iThe Corporal grinned, as he replied-- 'i' I reckon they'll be rether slow, Cappin, to ask after 'em." ' Send them to me, should they ever be so bold, and these shall furnish my answer," quoth Porgy, at the same time taking possession of the holsters and pistols-a very useful pair of the bull species--which the outlaw had carried. 8 "These and the horse, shall be mine, Millhouse; and then I i lose by the exchange. My brave old -gray! He was worth a score of such nags as this!" And here he walked round the still trembling animal, taken II from the outlaw. i "Yet he must do! lHe has bone and strength enough, per- i haps, for a season in camp-peace and no active service! He will do to ride about the plantation, and for a Saturday hunt. He must do--the devil take the unchristian do', who should kill a man's horse in sheer wantonness, and when it couldn't profit him at all!" "Heworn't to know that, Cappin g was the suggestion of Millhouse. "He's wiser by this time! He should have known it. Did he expect to escape us both? Did he think I'd leave such an an- imal as mine unrevenged? If you hadn't cut him down, Corpo- ral, and I had laid hands on him, I'd have scalped him! As it is, considering his condition, I forgive him! God forbid that I should harbour malice against the dead. But, were he living! Were he living l" ' I' 13 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, ' OGHAPTER XXII. DELIVERANCE' OUR Captain of Partisans, after this bullition of Pagan reeling " ,and Christian philosophy, proceeded to mount the horse lof the a ruffian, taken, perforce, in exchange for his own; and proceeded, in considerable sullenness, in the .direction of the scene of former action, and where Lance Frampton remained in possession of the wagon. He was followed, more slowly, by Corporal Millhouse; that excellent trooper, following a practice that had been too much taught by the cruel war through which he had gone, leaving the carcass of the slain outlaw, upon the spot where he had fallen; having no sort of notion, apparently, that humanity require4 him to give it better sepulture'than that afforded by a wintry forest. We shall see, however, that the Corporal's omissions were repaired, at a more becoming moment, by his superior. The negroes, meanwhile, still roped in pairs, had returned in safety to the wagon, and had-been set free from their villein ponds -by the ready couteau de chasse of Lieutenant Frampton. t Our Captain, on his return, found the latter in quiet possession of the field of action, with the ruffian Norris well hampered with plough- lines under the tail of the wagon, and yoked to one of the wheels. He deigned but a single glance at the captive, who lay coiled up like a snake, looking quite as full of venom, and just as ready for the spring at his enemy's breast! But the ability no longer second- ed the will! Capt. Porgy bestowed but a single -glance upon the grouped negroes, who were all busy in repacking the wagon with its contents, which had been so unceremoniously tumbled out by the captive outlaw. --He had recognized the voice of his!own slaves, even in the hurry of his pursuit of the fugitives; but he jDELIVERANCE. had not then scanned thei x faces. Their familiar featr and a - feotionate assurances of lome, touched the soul of the sensual and the sel fish soldier, w ch wai not wholly made of clay. w m , Thank you, boys, thank you, m y good fellows. God bless you! I'm really glad to see you again, all of you; and to see that the tories hav'nt quit e eaten you all; but, as for shaking hands just now, that's impossible ! We must do oure wrk first. K eep at yours, like goodfellows; shovel in the kegs; and you shall allbe ewarded. But now to business; and fist, Lance, about the car'riage? the widow and her party, and the rest of these robbers What is your report? What have youseen What heard Speak- -we have no time to lose!" "Well, Captain, there's nothing to report but what you see for yourself. There's the lady, I reckon-it's a woman7 you see set- ting bolt upright in the front seat of the carriage. At least, it looks like a woman, by the dress, but I haint seen it move once senee I've been watchingit. Ive seen nobody, and nothing else, though I've kept a bright look out over all the track between, and the boys have been scouting, jest about here, and within leach of my rifle. I didn't want them to-resk themselves by going too nigh to the carriage. ' s "You were right, piculartiully as you could see nothing stirring in that quarter. That's something singular! Our demonstration should have caused Fordham and young Eveleigh to-show them selves, unless, indeed, they were hurt, or felt themselves to be , athed by enemies. Hlave you kept your eyes, Lance, on that long grass around the carriage?" 'i "Yes, sir, pretty ruch, but couldn't see so much as a sparrow stirring any where! It's a dead calm, as far as I could see.' , X "Strange! We've chasedtwoof these rascals. eresathird. Are there more of them . John and Pomp reported half a dozen : or more They were probably mistaken. Hoa now Pomp John?" page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 THE SWORD 'AND THE DISTAFF. The two negroes disagreed; but they were positive as to five or six assailants on the ground. "S'pose you ask him, Captain," said Lance, pointing to the captive outlaw. To be sure-right! Hark ye, fellow; who are you? What's your name? And how many had you in your company?" The fellow glared up fiercely at the inquirer, but made no: an- swer. "Sullen, eh! Well, we will find a way to make you speak! There's no use to waste words upon this scoundrel! We must put him to the hempen question. A rope, with a swinging limb at one end and a rogue at the other, will probably find an answer. quick enough, and sometimes even rises into eloquence I The short way; now, is the best! Mount you, Lance, and w6'll all three make a rush for the carriage. We can't be mousing all d&y with fruitless conjectures! Here comes Tom, too, just in season. We can trust him to keep watch over this rascal! Here, Tom, 'light, and take these pistols-keep them within six inches of this fellow's head; and give him his physic, a full dose from both bottles, if he offers to give you trouble, or if any body comes to help him! 'Light, I say, you- lazy rascal, and be quick I' "Ki! Mass Porgy!-you talks as ef I hadn't a hundred poun' of pot and kettle on dis nigger t'ighs (thighs)! Gib 'em time, I tell you! Here, you boys. You Pomp, and John, and Dick, and Bob-enty I know you all; you han'some, pot-black rascals! You no see wha I want? Help tak' off some of dese pretic'lars wha' I hab yer---'nough to bury any man, eben ef he bin name Samson!" The negroes eagerly went to Tom's assistance. "Why, brudder Tom, you is load mos' like a mule ;" quoth John, almost pulling away the thigh of -,he cook in the, endeavour to withdraw a gridiron, without ist remarking that it was well- strapped to the member! DELIVERANCE. 149 "An' you pulls to onload o dis mule, berry!much as ef you was an ass, brudder John! Dere-you hab 'em now: you see he 'pen' (depend) 'pon dat little strap and buckle!" Tom was relieved after a while, and, now alight, was pro- vided with the pistols taken from the outlaw whom Millhouse had cut down. He placed himself at the head of the captive, Norris. "Now, buckrah," said he to the ruffian, "jes you be easy and cibil, whey you is, or I'll g'e (give) you the benefit of dese yer two barking puppies!"--showing the two pistols in ugly proximi- ty to the outlaw's jaws as he spoke. Tom was an old soldier; cool and confident; who stood ready at all times, to execute his I master's orders without the smallest scruple. He always rose too, on an occasion like the present, in his sense of what:was due to his elevation. "Niggers!" said he to the clustering slaves, "you kin stan' back dere, and not crowd too close 'pon de buckrah wha' I got-to X!; shoot, may-be!" -Captain Porgy, mounted, as we have seen, upon the horse of the outlaw by whom his own had been shot, having seen that his two comrades were quite ready, now gave the signal; which was i responded to by a tremendous shout from the throat of Corporal Millhouse. The worthy Captain took the lead, and, allowing a lit- tle interval between them, the three partisans darted forward at a i smart gallop, riding, as they had every reason to apprehend, into something like a wolf-trap. The trap had, indeed, been set, as we have sufficiently shown; but we have also seen in what manner its teeth were drawn. Our gallant partisans were unassailed by i' any foe, and encountered no strange presence, until they were X:g thirty yards of the carriage; when the overseer; Fordham, sprang up from the bushes in which he had so long been crouching, and cried out his welcome to the strangers. "' Friends i friends!" he shouted, dropping his rifle to the ground, Z13' X *^ - page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. and clapping his hands. "We're none but friends here, now, I reckon, Captain. God be praised for sending you jest at the right moment!" The troopers drew up suddenly. "Who is that?" demanded Porgy. "Why, don't you remember me, Captain? Fordham, you know, that you used to see at Major veleigh's, and---" "Ah! Fordhami;-yes! How aie you, my good fellow, and all? Are you ll well?" "Yes, thank, God, and mighty glad to see you, as you bring us safety! Glad to see you at any time, Captain; but preticilar- ly, jest now, when we did'nt know whether we should ever have to sup upon anything better than lead and cold steel agin'! We've had a mighty sharp scrimmaging here for more than three hours, and been in such a stew as I don't want to be in ag'in." "Not like the stews of Tom's making then;" quoth our Cap- tain, sotto voce; "they are such as a man might swim in without feeling too hot with the exercise, or getting beyond his depth at any time! Stew! do you say, Mr. Fordham! I trust I can say ' well done' to you!' Well, it's pretty well, then, I tell you. I'm thinking, consider- ing all things, we made a pretty good out of it-Master Arthur Eveleigh and me! But God be praised for bringing you when He did; for I don't know how it would La' turned out in the eend. Even ef we could ha' stood it out tell dark night, then, their great- er number, would have brought them down upon us; and on which side, there would be no telling. You've saved us, Captain, I tell you; and I thank you for it-and bless God for it, and all other marcies.". By this time, they were joined by young Arthur Eveleigh, who showed himself, rising out of the bushy fastnesses, as soon as he heard Fordham cry aloud in tones of confidence and cheer, Ho promptly came forward and joined the party, and was hurriedly DELIVERANCE. 151 introduced, by Fordham, to the Captain of Partisans, but not be- fore the worthy fellow had embraced the youth with such asense of joyous relief, as was natural to a heart so loyal under the circum-- stances. He then brought the youth forward, saying-- "This, Captain Porgy, is Master Arthur Eveleigh, son of the widow Eveleiga, whom you remember. .He's done mighty good sarvice in this scrimmaging business. He'll be, a man, I tell you, ef ever there was one." "Good!" answered Porgy, alighting and grasping the hand of the blushing youth, with an encouraging frankness, - "You've begun early, and well, Master Arthur; and a good beginning is always half the battle! I'm glad of it for your sake, and that of your parents! But, talking of your parents, reminds me of your excellent and amiable mother, whom I claim as an old friend.- Let us go to her assistance. I trust that she's not hurt." And the Captain of Partisans turned and proceeded toward the carriage, accompanied by theothers.. "I think not; I hope not;" answered the youth anxiously, while hurrying forward ahead of the rest, his stride increasing to a bound and run, as he advanced. The eyes of Porgy followed him. "A fine, vigorous lad; well made; looks like his father in form, his mother in face; bating the eyes, which are not blue, and which look far less amiable. I should say the lad was a bold, rash, high-spirited fellow. "He's all that, Captain! He'll fight, too, like the devil. Twa'nt so easy to keep him back and quiet, to keep him from putting his head up as a mark; but he'll soon l'arn, with proper edication!- It's surprising how well he could take the track and keep it. The i work mwato keep him down; but he had sense enough to see how 'twas needful! We've been watching here-jest covering the gro- .d'ith'our beads, for a good hour, not daring to stir- not knowing how soon we should hear the crack of an inimyfs rifle." . page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 THE SWORD A-ND TEE DISTAFF. "How many of these rascals were there . demanded Porgy. "We have one of them,l a prisoner; one was cut down by Corpo- ral Millhouse; and another made his escape into the swamp, half a mile or so below. That accounts for three of- them," "There were six in all, at first, I reckon; but its not so certain but there might have been more. Of these we killed one." "There are then, at least, two yet Jo account for. They must be about-are probably not far off. But they will keep snug and quiet for awhile. It's hardly likely that they will attempt any- thing farther at present.' But keep your rifles primed, and your horses at hand. We must not let ourselves be surprised!" ; These orders were given-more in detail to Lance Frampton. He and Corporal Millhouse made themselves busy, and took the ne- cessary precautions. Meanwhile, Capt. Porgy proceeded towards the carriage, having considerately delayed his own and the move- ments of Fordham, in that direction, by saying- "A momentY or two, Mr. Fordham! Let the young man re- lease his mother himself!" The youth, meanwhile, had sprung with proper alacrity to this. grateful duty. The mother and son embraced with mutual tears and thankfulness. - The glad widow held the happy boy apart from her, ,gazed fondly in his face, and then, even where she, stood, in the box of the coachman, sank down upon her knees in silent prayers to. Heaven. The boy instinct'velyvsank down beside her, and both yielded themselves, in -the sight of, Heaven, to frank and fervent but silent prayer,. THE SOLDIER AND THRE LADY. 153 CHAPTER XXIII. THE SOLDIER AND THE LADY. THE good sense, and good taste, of Captain Porgy, sufficed to prevent him from interrupting such a scene. He stood apart, con- ferring with Fordham, seeming to see nothing at the carriage ; but his eye took in all the sweet picture of maternal love; of all the forms of love, perhaps, the most pure, the least selfish, the longest lived! At length, the voice of the widow was heard calling our partisan. ( Captain Porgy-will you not suffer me to thank you?" Our Captain, as we know, was not one of the most sprightly of living cavaliers. Agility, as he himself freely admitted, formed no portion among his physical virtues; ,buthe certainly made the most astonishing efforts, at this summons, to appear agile; and did -succeed, we allow, in reaching the carriage in a tolerably short space of time, and without appearing too greatly breathed from the exertion. As he drew nigh, the widow, supported by her son, lalighted 5rom the box, and extended her hand-to the grasp of her deliverer. Conspicuous on each-of her wrists was a dark ring, the mark of the cords with which she had been tied by the ruffians. "How much ought I to thank you, Capt. Porgy-how much do I owe you. sir! See, from what indignities you have rescued me!- "Would I had been with you some hourl sooner, my dear madam;" cried the Captain, seizing her hand and carrying it, in courtly fashion, to his lips. Those were days, be it remembered, of more lavish-ceremonial thin ours; and the act was held one of mere grace, rather than of gallantry. At all events, it seemed d' d t page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to occasion no emotion in the bosoi of Mrs. Eveleigh, and lessen- ed, in no degree, the warmth of her. acknowledgements. "That you have come in seasor for our safety-to relieve my i dear son, and this brave man to wYhom I owe so much,--is quite enough to make me thankful to God, and forever grateful to you! Ah! sir, Ihave passed a terrible hour and more! How I bore up against my own terrors, thus fettered, and unable to act, or even to speak, without going mad, I know not! But all is over now, I trust! There i; no more danger '; "I hope not;--I believe not, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh; and, now l that it is over, rerhaps I ought to congratulate you on what has taken place i It has had its good, along with its evil. :It has brought outlthe manhood in your brave son, and shown the ad- I mirable stuff which he has in him for future work. Mr. Fordham has given me a glowing account of his conduct. I am really sor- ry, for his sake,l that our wars are ended. I should like to take him into my keeping as my Ensign." , The tears again gathered into the mother's eyes, while the boy's S cheeks became crimson. Some farther conversation ensued be- tween the Widow and the partisan on this subject, so grateful to the mother! until the lad himself interposed, and in a whisper, taking her hand, said- i' No mole, mother, if -you please! i If Captain Porgy knew all that I had done, he would'nt be-so ready to praise me, I assure you." ' The Partisan half heard the worCs, and guessed the meaning of the rest; and rejoined good naturedly and sensibly--- "Ah! my dear fellow, you are conscious of some mistakes perhaps; but that is only another proof in your favour. A fool is never aware that he has made any blunders-never! To be conscious that you have done so, is the first proof of wisdom- - the necessary process by which to avoid them in future. I You were too quick and rash; too hasty; and fancied you understood THE SOLDIER AND THE LADY. 155 the whole game, when you were only taking the first lessons in it. An error, doubtless; but one, my dear boy, that seems natural to our clima te; where one usually dates his manhood from the moment when he instructs his father in what way properly to break his eggs. You will soon get over all your mortifications of this de- scription--too Soon, perhaps!" But we do not propose to report the whole of the dialogue, as it took place between the parties ;--a dialogue, such as -can readily be conjectured under the circumstanes, and at the meeting of old friends, after such a long. interval of time, occupied by war and its worst vicissitudes. - Captain Porgy, himself, not regardless of duty, soon brought the merely amiable in their conversation to a close; though it was,t evidently, very grateful to him. It seemed to restore him at once, to the social sphere from which he had so long been an exile. He -hus changed the topic- "But we must reserve: these matters, Mrs. Eveleigh, for a mo- ment of greater leisure. 'We must not forget our duties now.--- The sun wanes, and you have yet to find your way home. We have accounted for all these outlaws, but two; and to do our work thoroughly, we should give an account of them. Two have been slain outright, one by your party, and another by mine; one is even now our prisoner; and the fourth man we have seen making his escape into the swamp, below, where we cannot now hope to hunt him up. There . are still two others, somewhere, lurking in the neighbourlhood, of whom we must ascertain all that we can within the next two hours, or before dark." "I am somewhat bewildered;" said the lady, " and have suffer- ed so much, from the sun in my eyes, and the cords about my arms, that I may have allowed things to pass under my very sight without being altogether conscious of the fact; but, just before the last skirmish of Mr. Fordham and 'my son; there were two of them harboured very near the carriage; one on-that side," point. ing to the right--" whom I could not see after he first proceeded page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. in that quarter; while the other was hiddlen among these myrtles just in front. Now, I've never seen that last one leave his posi- tion*' With a few bounds, as he heard these words, Lance Frampton was at the indicated spot.' Hie stooped--then cried out- "He's here, sure enough; stone-dead with a bullet through his head!" He drew' the body out of the bushes as he spoke. "That was your bullet, Master Arthur;" said Fordham. "And a chance bullet too," replied the ingenuous youth. '"I felt somuch ashamed at having fired, thinking that I had thrown the shot away!-for I felt that I had taken no aim at all!" ' "Ah!" said Porgy, " you know Lot how wonderfully the hand seconds the eye, and both the will, wahen there is no time left for preparation. -The best shots are frequently those which are taken yhen we are so conscious of a purpose, that we are wholly uncon- scious of an aim. If the will is rig-t, the hand and eye obey, as implicitly as the slaves of an Eastern despot!" "I remember the moment that you shot, my son!" said the widow, with a shudder of horror, as the body was drawn out of tlhe bushes. "He rose out of that very clump of grass and myr- tle; swore, and shook his fist at me, and made some horrible threats. It was because I had called out to warn Mr. Fordham, whom I had seen approaching, wherel they were in concealment. I only saw Fordham; but I concluded you were somewhere with him, and I trembled at the cunn'lg ambush which they had set. It-was all over in a moment. It seemed as if I heard the outlaw and the shot, all in the very instant when I was speaking." "No' doubt," answered Porgy. "There's now only one for -::wiom we cannot account; and of h'm we may be sure of this- that he will not remain long in a reighbourhood'the climate of which has been so unfriendly to the Health of his people. At all events, Mrs. Eveleigh, it Nwould be only ldoking through the hay- l ' . .I THE SOLDIER'- AND THE LADY. 15' stack for the cambric needle, to attempt to hunt him up, at this late hour, and on the edges of this swamp! And yet,"-looking round upon the dense thickets which indicated the swamp fortres- seCs-" poor a I am, I would give the last hundred guineas for a couple of good Scotch blood-hounds, or Spanish, for a single hour! But, the wish is idle. There are, nevertheless, some things within i I our power, Mrs. Eveleighb, and the first is .to get you homewards with all despatch. 'We must use promptly all the daylight that is left us; and, with all our efforts, it will be a little in the night before you can possibly get home. Still, there can be no danger now! Neither of the two rogues whom we shall leave running, will be so hardy as to attempt anything new in this quarter; and you will have quite a sufficient escort in your son and Mr. Ford- ham. They have already managed successfully a force of six assailants; they will have no difficulty in managing a couple. But even these two, it is likely, do not hunt together. The one we drove into the swamp, took its shelter some two miles below. The other scoundrel, as last reported, had his perch rather above than below. Be it as it may, you must push on for home, before night, under your escort. You need not fear these ruffians, who, even if they had nothing to apprehend from our superior force, bringing up the wagon and the rear as we propose to do, would never attempt your carriage now, guarded by your son and Ford- ham. Leave me to secure your property, and guard your negroes home. The more grateful duty would be to guard yourself, but the more arduous duty is here. Fordham will now be on his guard against surprise; and, to render you quite safe and sure, I will confide a few pistols to some of your most courageous negroes --your felloW, Sylvester for one. These will suffice. With my party, I will remain, and see to the repair and reloading of your wagon, the horses of which, I perceive, my people have already recaptured. It shall follow you as soon as ready. But, the sooner you start the better. You have hardly an hour of sun-light left, " ' page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] i^N11^^ THE SWORD ANDI THE DISTAFF. A -/ e the rogue sees better in the night than the honest man, as :-;:.: lie owl sees better than the chicken." The widow was quite sensible of this good advice, and prepared for its adoption. Her servants rapidly got her carriage ready, the traces, where they had been cut, being supplied with plough-lines. The appearance of his own negroes ass'sting in this duty, reminded our Captain of the active agency bf the widow, in recovering them for him from the British hulks-a ciicumnstance of which she had entirely foreborne to speak. "I, too, have my thanks, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, since, as- I learn, but for your keen eye, and fearless spirit, my negroes would now be on their way to the British West Indies. Bpt I must take a less hurried moment for making my lacknowledgm ll nts." "Don't speak of it, my dear Captain; I did on]y as a neigh- bour should have done. But, of course; you will ascompany my people to my house. Your own will scarcely give you alproper shelter just now." I - No, thank you a thousand times, iut I have some of my old and young soldiers with me---" "I have room for all ; said the hos-itable widow. "I thank you again; but I must see to these negroes; and--" The Captain paused. The widow fancied there was some little embarrassment in his manner. She fancied there was a slight' flushing through all the bronze on his cheeks. Mrs. Eveleigh was a woman of good sense and good feeling. Such a person always receives an apology-for what it is worth; at least she never disputes it, driving the apologist to the wall, and exposing to himself the poverty of his excuses. She behaved, accord- ingly in the right manner. She forebore annoying him, the mo- ment she discovered him resolved to excuse himself. , She took for granted that he had his reasons, pr-oper enough for himself, which it might not be proper for him to unfold. This was enough. 9 THE SOLDIER AND THE LADY. 159 "As you please, Captain. Remember, from this moment, I ( take for granted that you will feel yourself always welcome, and at home, at my house. Your old and young soldiers will share this welcome all whom you commend. Pray believe, in addi- tion, that I shall desire to see you at an early moment. I have much to hear from you, and something to communicate. Why not ride over and' dine with me to-morrow, or the day after, and bring your friends with you?." "And very much delighted, indeed, to do so, Mrs. Eveleigh, if it be possible. At all events, I shall let you know in due season, I if I shall not be able to come to-morrow. Believe me, I have not been living so long in camp as to have quite lost my relish for a good dinner." 3K u ; "Visit her now," quoth Porgy, turning away to see after the coach and wagon, " with such a beard-mixed grey and brown, a1 salt and pepper-and in this travelling gear-a break under the X arm a rent in- -+ And he paused as if at some unmentionable difficulty-then Xgg proceeded- X ' "No! no! One puts on his best favours and front, when he goes to court, Beven in a republic. This grisly beard!"- XJ[! Here he stroked his chin reproachfully-literally took himself :A! by the beard-land added- S "I^Who the devil could have anticipated such an adventure-- X: That I should have put away my b5est things in my valise!" He was brought to think of other matters by the approach of his ; i lieutenant. Meanwhile, all were busy. To gather the negroes 4^ }and horses together, repair the- harness, and set the coachman X I ; once more upon his box, was a task of no great labour with so ; many hands.! Fortunately, the outlaws had left behind them ;j an abundance of -plough-line, and there was a bolt of rope in the wagon. The harness was quickly put' in strong travelling order, and all ready for a start in a much shorter period of time : ii page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 1-60 THE SWORD AND- THE DISTAFF. than had been anticipated. The widow, accompanied by her son, Fordham and the servant girl, bade Porgy and his followers a i fiendly farewell; repeating her thanks to all, and giving separate and warm invitations to each to visit her; which all parties prom- ised. When they were fairly out of sight of the troopers, she call- i ed the overseer to the -side of the coach. "Mrw. Fordham, have you been lately to Captain Porgy's place?" A "Notilater than a month ago, ma'am, oI thereabouts. I pass! it constantly, you know." "It is all destitute, I think; almost in ruins?" "The house is good, ma'am, wants a little repairing; but there's not a stick of fence, and " "Ah! that's not what I mean! Do you suppose he has any provisions there?", "Not the feather of a chicken, ma'am--not the hair of a hog! How should he? The niggers eat him out before the tories took 'em off. They left nothing. There may be a few cattle in the swamps, and perhaps hogs; but it's worth more than they'd bring to look 'em up." "How then is he to feed all these people?" "God knows, ma'am; it's a wonder to me." '"Mr. Fordham, we must take care of him and them'for the present. Men who have s6o long served, and helped to save, the country, and who have so lately served and saved us, must not be suffered to,want. I'll tell you whatyou must do." "To be sure, ma'am." "When we reach his place, we shall be so nigh our own that there can scarce be any further danger from these outlaws. 'You will, accordingly, stop at Capt. Porgy's, and stop the wagon there also, when it arrives. Knock open the sugar barrel, and leave him a fourth of it; give him a like proportion out of the coffee sack. There are, I think, four boxes of candles, leave him one. Put out , l H iiIJUDICIAL DIGNITY IN. THE FORESTS. 161 B for him, also, a dozen of the blankets, and if you can think of t any other matters, that may be useful from among our stores, leave him a like supsply. When I get home, I will send him some meal Iand bacon. Oh! don't forget to leave him one of the jugs of Jamaica. These soldiers are all fond of spirits, you know." Porgy would have retorted-"How else should they have spi- l'&it ? i The plethoric old soldier little dreamed, at that moment, what m the charities of the amiable widow had decreed for his creature X comfort. As little did she conjecture the sort of business which, Iat the same time, occupied his hands. Let us return to him and ! note the progress of events. X ; ii:JiiCHAPTER XXIV. -JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE-FORESTS. S::i OUR- Captain of Partisans would have gladly undertaken the 1 escort of the widow, had circumstances--in which the condition s: of his travelling cosJume must be included-allowed. But he felt, as leader of the earty, so suddenly engaged in such an adven- ture as that w ich followed his encounter with the outlaws, that a Xij serious further duty Lad devolved upon him; and, however selfish, or lixurious his character might be, it was seldom that he per- X! ki mitted his tastes or Lis love of ease and enjoyment, to thwart the e performances to which he was professionally bound. He was a !! soldier, not less than a bon vivant and gentleman. -True, he had ! been regularly dismissed from duty. He was no longer an officer :i in command. 1 There was no longer an army. But he had char- :II I acter. He was sure of his own honesty. He felt, and understood, "I ? " page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 THE SWORD AND' THE DISTAFF. the lawlessness which prevailed throughout the country; and,. in the deficiency of Courts and Sheriffs, he resolved that he was still a Captain of militia, And that each militia officer was ad interim, in the commission of 'the peace. The old idea of regulation was as much in fashion throughout the country as evei\ It was now as much the necessity of the region, as it had been in the early stages of society when the practice originated. The woods were filled with outlaws and offenders; and, to ahvait the slow processes of the courts of law, at-such a period, and ina country so sparsely settled, was to sacrifice all the securities of the better sort of peo- ple. Society, in such cases, always resorts lto the necessary means for sustaining law; and the morals of law always will, and should, sustain what are the obvious necessities of society. In this you have the full justification of the code of regulation; a code which is, no doubt, sometimes subject to abuse, as is the case with law itself, but which is rarely allowed to exist in practice a day longer than is absolutely essential to the common weal. Captain Porgy simply fulfilled the conditions of this code when he resolved on subjecting the captive outlaw to the tender mercies of an extem- pore court of justice, all the members of which had been trained in a severe military school, the rules of which recognised no limits to its own powers, and usually threw upon the accused the burden of proof, n establishing his 6wn innocence. The wagon of Mrs. -Eveleigh, reloaded, and despatched upon its way, under an escort composed wholly of the slaves of the widow-several of whom, including Johfi Sylvester, had been armed, with the view to its defense, should either of the two outlaws in the woods, be prepared, 'and in the humour to at- tempt farther mischief-whlch was held to be scarcely possible - our Captain established himself under a goodly oak, planted him- self comfortably upon a heap of dry leaves at its roots, and in- structed Corporal Millhouse to bring the offending outlaw before him. - JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN .THE FORESTS. . 163 This order was pror ,ptly obeyed. His coat off, his arms bound behind him, the outlav, Norris, was pushed forward by Millhouse, his one hand diligent, applying the point of his sword to the fel- low's haunches, whenever he halted or seemed unnecessarily reluc- tant. Norris was su len and savage both, looked the tiger, and spoke as snappishy as a lean cur over a beggarly bone, with two or three other compa ign curs, as lean as himself, watching, close at hand, for the opportunity to dart in and bear away the prize. The fellow's case was desperate, and he knew it! He had been taken flagrante delict+; and he had sufficient experience of law, when administered by a military man, to know that it was usually a matter singularly densive and summary in all its piocesses. He was a hardy Riuffian; and, with a gloomy sense of the danger that awaited him, his habi ual mood now assumed the a ppparance of, I insolence and audacit:r. But he was in the ]lands of those who had been a ccutomed to , deal with all sorts of ffenders. Porgy awaited-his approach with rare patience of deme nmour. His pistols, taken fron his holsters, ... .. lay before him. His sword,'unbelted, but sheathe, crossed his lap. We are constrlined to state the farther fact, 'hbat our Cap-. tain of Partisans, in order to the more easy administration of jus- ^ tice, had unbuttoned oat, vest and small clothes, as art as he pos- sibly could, without atuallv discarding them; and is appearance was, accordingly, sign ficant of a singular looseness of habit, which, we are pleased to say did not, by any means, repres ent his usual moral character. Let us add, also, that the act which gave him this peculiar laxity in dress, was studiously foreborne until the car- riage of the fair widow was quite out, of sight. Captain Porgy was a of that good old school, which, where ladiest and gentle- men wet, concerned, was always carefully tender ofd the proprie- ties. The school is somewhat out of fashion now, and is supposed to need its apologies but we have not space enough for them in this place. I page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Lance Frampton stood a little on one side of the Judge; but the latter, after the prisoner had been brought up, bade him be seated as one of the Court. Porgy was heedful of all details. "You, Corporal;" said he to Millhouse, "acting as Sheriff, will be required to stand. A certain degree of vigilance is necessary always, even when the Court feels itself perfectly secure. Ensign," to Lance-" take your seat more to the left; let the tree be a ! little between us-where you are now, we might both be ranged with a single rifle shot;' a fact which might tempt the rascal, yet in the woods, to let drive at us." As this was spoken, the prisoner began to whistle. The sounds were suddenly silenced by a smart blow from the stump of Cor- poral Millhouse's game-hand, who well -understood the object of the whistle. "Wait with your music till it's called for, my lark;" quoth the vigilant Corporal. i The ruffian twitched violently at the phords by which his wrists were fastened, evidently desirous of resenting the indignity ; and, failing in this, he plunged his head incontinently into the breast of the assailant, witf bull-like ferocity. He was not tall enough to address his battering-ram at the face of the Corporal, or he might have done rrischief to the mazard of the veteran. The latter was taken by surprise; and almost lost his feet, as well as his breath, for a mo-ment; but his huge and well buttressed form was staggered only, not overthrown; and, recovering himself, he dropped his sword, and planted a settler in the nostrils of the out- law, which laid him out like a log, the blood spurting, in a big stream, from the proboscis of the victim. t Well delivered," quoth Porgy; "he will hardly try his horns upon you a second time, C6rporal. Help him to rise, boys."-- This was said to the negroes who hung around, quite delighted with the solemnity of the scene, and the action which had begun with so much spirit, and which promised to be so enlivening.- *. ^ " ". JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE FORESTS. 165 Pomp, the fiddler, absolutely lost his propriety so far, as to wave his fiddle aloft, while executing a sort of wild-colt movement upon his pins ;-a proceeding which was quickly arrested by an order of his master, to " box that fellow up, till he's wanted." Pomp sank back demurely enough, and took especial care, during the rest of the scene, to attract no especial attention to himself :-Tom, the cook, givipg him first a gentle admonition, by a sharp sudden gripe about his weasanc. This little episode occupied but a few moments. 'The outlaw, Norris, half stunned, was raised once more to his feet, the blood still dripping from his nostrils. Capt. Porgy surveyed him very much as the Bow-street Magistrate is said to examine the visages of old offenders; or those whom he thinks so; but he did not fall into the usual habit of that officer, of finding the offender always ill-looking. On the contrary, he had a different theory in such matters. "But that you have spoiled his nose for a time ;" quoth Porgy, "the offender would be a good-looking fellow-even handsome, perhaps, stript of his brush, and with a clean shirt or. Is it not curious that these rogres should be so commonly handsome! I don't remember one waom we have had to hang, w'io wouldn't be accounted quite a pretty fellow among the women! There was that fellow, Bryce, whom we left swinging at Four Holes; he was a fine looking fellcw, -Lance. And old Echars, the Dutch- man, whom we dressed in tar and feathers at Monk's Corner, for stealing cattle, he was ' beauty, though nearly sixty years of age. You see, my friend, tlat beauty is 'a snare! It makes many a poor fellow a rogue! I suppose, because it first makes him a fool! It turns his head, and when the head's turned, a fellow ceases to be a man, ar d goes to the devil like a beast. It is the head that keeps a mail in position. Let him lose that balance, and he staggers, from :ight to left, with a sort of moral drunken- ness. Talking of drunkenness, reminds me that a good sup of Jamaica would'not be amiss after that little run we had, Corporal page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 ' THE SWORD AND- THE DISTAFF. ! Millhouse; but"-with a sigh--" we must now think f other matters! A handsome rascal, indeed, but- " addressing the 'prisoner abruptly-" well, my good fellow, how do you call your- self '" ' i Let us-leav e this examination for a moment, in order that all the parties to-the s ene should be properly shown up, each in his exact position, to, t!e eye of the reader. Thus far, the whole pro- gress of the affair had'been witnessed, though imperfectly, at the - distance of two or ithree hundred yards, more or less, by the out- lying squatter, Bostwick. Perfectly familiar'with the ground and region, he had regulated his own course and movements, entirely 'by those of the party which he no longer dared to assail. By crawling, and creeping, crouching land. winding--by stealthy move- ments, like those of the wild cat and fox--by a sinuous progress like that of the serpent-he had wound his way from point to point, wherever he 'ancied that a good place could be had -for sur- veying the proceedings of his enemies. In this progress, he omit- ted no precaution, and none suspected how closely they were watched. It was the conviction of Porgy and the rest, that the outlaws were completely dispersed; and that, terrified by the exe- cution done among them-the deatl of no less than three of their number, and the captivity of a fourth-the two, escaping, had fled incontinently from the dangerous neighbourhood. But Bost- wick had several reasons for lingering upon the ground, even after the chances of profit had wholly disappeared. - He had a fellow- feeling for his captive comrade; and, as he had frequently done before, was prepared to follow the footsteps of his captors, in eager expectation of the moment when their vigilance would so relax, as to enable him to effect his rescue, even at some hazard to him- self. He was thus far faithful to the bond of brotherhood, which is said to be sacred even among thieves. He was prepared, as we shall see, for other necessities. He was not long permitted to re- main in doubt as to the purposes of Captain Porgy, and his asso- : JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE FORESTS. 6 7 ates; these, indeed, he readily divined. He naturally conjectured at^ the policy of the captors, would prompt them to ascertain l om the prisoner, all the facts of the expedition-the parties by horn it was set on fOO J--the persons actually engaged in it; and e mnotives by which it was prompted. All the proceedings, as tready described, confirmed him in his conjectures; and his in- arest and anxiety continued to increase, as he beheld -he deliber- tion with which the party commenced the affair. -e had got s near to the spot, as he well -dared; from that quarter of the i robds which afforded kim concealment; relying, not less on the ' lepth of cover which he occupied, than upon the facility with xhich, in the event of danger, he could glide, unseen, into the re- cesses of the adjacent swamp. Here, he beheld the progress of affairs; saw Porgy let ihimself down deliberately at the base of e oak; beheld the -pisoner brought up; heard the beginning rf his whistle, and sat the summary manner in which he had been silenced by the game-hand of Corporal Millhouse. The ferce assault of Norris, by which he had resented the blow; and the severe punishment which he had received in consequence, ad- ded to his excitement; and, but for the madness of such an act, - he would have darted An to the succour of his comrade. He fore- bore; but it was with a feverish vexation, which kept him singu- larly fidgetty and restless. Xot a syllable could he distinguish of what was said by either of 'the parties ;-but he could very well conjecture what was likelyto be said. is disquiet greatly in- creased in consequence ofi; inability to hear. His interest was by no means an unselfish Sot. He knew that Norris was a stub- born scoundrel; hardened in sin; callous by repeated infamies; and one whom frequeat hair-breadth escapes, had rendered tena- cious of his secret, ancd more than commonly confident of his good luck in escape. iut the Squatter dreaded still, lest tempta- tion and fear combined, should finally get the better of his hardi- hood, and promipt those revelations which must be fatal to his own page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. safety. Could he have heard the proceedings, he would have been more at ease, even though these should only tend to confirm his apprehensions. With a mood that became momently more and more desperate, from the very continuance of his doubts, Bostwick began, at length, to finger the loci of his rifle, scarcely conscious that he was doing so. He could scarcely resist the impulse which prompted him to send a bullet throug' the provoking abdomen of the Captain of Partisans, now rendered doubly offensive to the eye, by the remo- val of the usual restraints of button, belt and buckle! At another moment his thought would be to single out, as a victim, the tall, erect and raw-boned figure of the Corporal, acting as Sheriff in the proceedings. Could he have got the three, the Captain, En- sign, and Corporal in a range, or even two of them, he had never resisted the temptation! He had, under these exciting tenden- cies, continued to crawl and creep up within a hundred and thirty yards of the scene of trial; and, at such a distance, with a rest, he had the most perfect faith in his own skill to make his mark, and the capacity of his rifle to speed the bullet home!' The disposition grew, in his mind, to adopt some such desper- ate course of action. He looked about him, accordingly, with re- gard to the means left him for escape, should he resolve to fire.- This examination of the spot which he occupied, ledthim instant- ly to change it ;-a proceeding which involved, necessarily, some little loss of time. But he moved briskly, as well as stealthily, and at length found himsef in a more satisfactory place of con- cealment, and ambush, upon the edge of the swamp-where he was sheltered partly by the dense thicket of gall-bushes, of which we have already given some idea. Here, at his back, were all the facilities for flight, by a sinuous progress, and under cover all the way. Here, ran a mighty cypress, half buried in water, hidden from view by a wilderness of bushes, growing ipon the tussocky ridge on the edge of which it had fallen. Farther on, JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE FORESTS. 169 a clump of bays, or cdwarf-laurel, interposed to receive him. Be- yond was a tract of the gall and hurrah bushes, matted by vines, which seemed to enmesh their entire tops; beyond, the places of refuge spread away interminably; forming, even in daylight, an almost perfect shelter; but, at nightfall, a questionless place of security. This region, which was called "Bear Castle" by the neighbourhood, was one which he. well knew. It yielded him, comparatively speakirg, a perfectly safe mode of retreat, from the point where he established himself, in the event of any necessity occurring for sudden flight. Here, he found himself in a place altogether to his liking; one, in which, he might contrive to ob- tain a knowledge of what was going'on among the partisans; overlook their proceedings,- and interpose if necessary, at the proper moment; yet one which he could leave, at short notice, and without embarrassment, for the deeper recesses of the swamp thicket. "And now," said 'e to himself, "Dick Norris, it's jist as hell and you chooses! E- you're the man to hold out, I'm the man to help you! You've been in as tight a fix afore now, and you know that I stuck by you then! Set your teeth hard, Dick, and I reckon we can scrape you through!" This was all said, in a whisper, though as if the person spoke n to could hear. Bostwick now appeard d-more at his ease, was cooler and more composed; and, satisfied to have gained the re- quired place of watel and safety, not much over a hundred yards from the place of trial, rifle in grasp, and couteau de-chasse loosen- ed in his belt, crouching beside a pine. which grew upon a bank somewhat raised above the general level, before which stretched a little forest of gall-bushes and young myrtle, he peered keenly through the vistas of the wood, not losing a single movement among those he watched, while his comrade was undergoing "The Question. 15 15 ! \ *- . I page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 TEE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER XXV. RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW, THE Question, verily, in the sense usually given to the phrase in the times-which the silly world usually calls, "good old X times,'-when State tyranny, and the Spanish Inquisition, were in full blast,-to use a Vulgar idiom, but a very appropriate fig- ure-did. the trial of Norris, by our military court, prlmise in reality to be. Bostwick well knew the usual practice on all such occasions. ie hac. some personal experience of "the question" himself. He had, as we have gathered from his words, been more than once instrumental in rescuing his comrade from its operation. He did by no meand despair, accordingly; but kept himself in reserve for the chapter of accidents. Our Captain of partisans very well understood that one of the outlaws might be lurking about, and looking on; but he little dreamed how nigh, or with what purposes in his mind. He was proceeding with singular calmness in the trial, but with a solemni- ty of manner fully proper to the enormous offence of the prisoner. We have heard the inquiry with which he commenced the exami- nation of Norris. It met with no answer. The fellow sullenly stood up, though with half-shut eyes, through which the latent ferocity could be seen still to flash out brightly, and showing that the devil was by no means subdued, though 'bruised sorely, and in tight bonds.' ! Hark ye, fellow said Porgy, repeating the question,!" do you hear?--by what name are you known among your kindred? -wh? are you ;-- nd what has prompted you to the commission of this outlawry? Be civil now-your safety depends somewhat n v RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW. 171 l:pon your fully unburthening your conscience of all Its secrets.- Give an account of yourself to the Court." " "Court!! I don't see any Court!" responded -,he prisoner, with a mixed air of contempt and defiance. "Ah! you don't, eh! Well, but what if it makes you feel it? It strikes me there's something in that! Think bet;er of it, my poor fellow, and answer the Court with a decent sens 3 of its pow- er, if not of its autho:rity." "I'll answer when it suits me! Time enough, when I'm raally before a Court. You're none, I reckon. You're no more a Jedge than I am." "I'm sorry you think so, my good fellow," said Porgy, mildly: E "for your own sake, you'd better come to the conclusion that we are a Court, having the power of life and death; and prepare your I defence accordingly. We give you a fair chance for your life.- i Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and you don't know what good it will do you--if not in this world, at all events in the next. Confess who set you on this expedition- who were your associates-where do they harbour-what are the names of those who survive? Turn State's Evidence as fast as t you can, if you wouln be treated with indulgence." "I don't see what you can do with me, but carry me to prison. i There's no army! Don't I know that the army is broken up, and all the British gone. And, there's -no Courts yit; and if there ! was Courts, you, I reckon, aint no Jedge, and these niggers'aint no Jury! You kin only carry me to jail. That's the worst that you kin do; and I air-t afeered of any jail I ever seed yit!" I And he chuckled, with the feeling of one who hacd been partic- larly smart, if not severe. . { "'You grieve me, iny interesting fellow, by your imperfect knowledge of the lav! I am, at this moment, both Judge and Jury; and my excellent friend, on the right, is my Sheriff, and the executioner of my decrees!' These sons of Ethiopia are all page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. good men and true, having an abiding sense of authority and jus- tice. You will find them fully capable of understanding all the facts in your case and I feel myself equally able to expound to them the law upon it. As for the army, my friend, that is never broken up, so long as there are criminals, like yourself, to be broken in. The good citizens of a country must always consti- tute a standing artny for the purposes of public justice and public security. Answer, therefore, as civilly and fully as possible, to the questions I shall put to you, if you would secure for yourself the least indulgence. What may be your name " - I shan't tell you!" was the insolent reply. "Well, perhaps that is not necessary. It is not necessary that we should know a man's name in order to hang him. In report- ing our proceedings we shall, doubtless, find a name for you. For the present, we will consider you one John, or Tom, or Peter Ne- mo. Remember, Corporal Millhouse, and you Pomp, and you, boys, generally, that the prisoner is called Peter Nemo, alias John Nemo, alias Nebuchadnessar Fish, alias---" "I don't answer to any such names!" "Silence gives consent! You don't answer to any name, ndr, it would seem, to any thing 1 Don't deceive yourself, my pleasing prisoner. I don't care a straw whether you answer or not. That's just as you please i But we must go through certain forms; for your own sake; and, for the same reason-simply to give you every chance-I must put some other questions to you. I don't want you to answer, if you don't think proper to do so. Who were your confederates, your allies, your associates, in this higl- way robbery 2" "There's no higLway robbery." Sorry that we must differ, my friend, in this matter. You are unfortunate that we found you in the act-in the full possession of the plunder. I am indulgent to you. I will repeat the ques- tion-who were your associates in the interesting enterprise in which I found you engaged?" / RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW.. 1'3 7 "Nobody! Ask me no questions. I shan't answel Take me to jail, if you choose." 1 "Jail, my friend! Impossible! I don't approve of imprison- ment. It degrades a freeman into the condition of a wild beast. I should think a man of your spirit would prefer death, a thou- sand times, to incarceration within stone walls, and iron bracelets. No! no! my friend, we will not punish you so cruelly. Your tortures, when your trial is over, shall be short. Who was the ringleader in this expedition?" "Oh! be d-- d! Don't bother me with your axings. 1 aint guine to answer nothing!" uYou are irreverent, my poor fellow; you don't know the mis- chief you may do yourself! Once more, let me know how many persons, and who, were concerned in this enterprise, which you will not allow was highway robbery. Who first set you upon it; who was your leader: and what was your scheme throughout.?- Make a clean breast of it, my good fellow, that you may have I 'well done' said to, you for once in your life." "Ax away, 'tell you're tired. You git no answer from me, old Porpoise!" "The poor, d-- d fool!" quoth Millhouse, in a whisper to Lance. "Every word ae says is a-hitching him tighter and tighter!" "That Las a salt-water sound " was the remark of Porgy, quietly made, but there was a sudden redness about the cheek and gills, as he spoke, that showed him beginning to be chafed at the outlaw's insolence. He restrained every ebullition of temper, however, iL recognition of what he held to be the solemn unim- passioned character o:- his present duty; and continued to put his questions, in various shapes, until he had exhausted all the proper subjects of inquiry, and afforded the prisoner the fullest opportu- nity to reveal all that he knew. This done, and the answers being all equally unsatisfac;ory and insolent, our Captain of Partisans turned to Corporal Mlhouse. lii 5a ... page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Mr. Sheriff, we have given our prisoner every chance; but he is wedded to his idols and vanities-he rejects every opportunity of mercy! There is a proverb, Mr. Sheriffi upon which we, in the army, are always prompt to act, and the expediency of which our experience has usually confirmed-'The bird that can sing, and won't sing'--Eh! you remember, Corporal?" "Must be made to swing /" "Exactly!" "I've been- a-thinking, Cappin, for a long time, that you was a'most forgitting our army practice. I've been a-wanting to clap a stopper on the fellow's muzzle ever sence you begun to ax him the questions." "Ah! but a muzzle was not the thing exactly. To make him unmuzzle, was my object. Well, he would not do so to please us, we must now persuade him to do so to please himself! Give him a stretch, Corporal! Appoint a couple of the Ethiopians, your Deputies for the occasion, while you act as Provost Marshal, aid"-looking above and about him--" there is a good large hick- ory upon the left which seems to' have stretched out its arms for the very purpose the moment itlwas wanted. Let him be per- suaded to that hickory i" Corporal Millhouse seemed to have provided himself with due reference to the exigency. His single remaining hand produced a coil of slender rope from behind him. A running noose was found in it already; and, calling Pompey from the crowd, the fiddler was made to take the rope over his shoulder, and ascend the. hickory. He stood on one of its outstretching boughs, and, having dropt the cord across the bough, sate quietly awaiting the prisoner. "You see!" said Porgy to Norris. The fellow refused to look up, but sate doggedly, with his head stuck on one side, as if with the most rigid determination. "You hear!'" continued Porgy. "Be warned, my poor fellow, *2A ,- * RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW. 175 and make a free confession. There is no good reasor why your tongue should make your throat suffer. Speak freely, and don't make a figure of yourself." l No answer! "Let him be persuaded to speak, Mr. Sheriff;" said Porgy, in accents as mild as those of Ali Pacha in his most patriarchal mo- ments. In an instant, and at a sign from Millhouse, a couple of the negroes seized upon the prisoner, and, in their stalwart arms,! it required b'it a moment to conduct him to the designated tree. Another moment sufficed to slip the noose about his neck; this done, the negroes took hold of the rope with alacrity, and, thus in readiness, they looked to the Captain for his further orders. "You feel?" said Porgy to the outlaw. No answer. "My friend," continued the Captain of Partisans, "I would not ruffle a single feather ir the wing of so innocent a bird as your- self; but birds must be made to sing at the proper season. Will you sing for us?" "No! d--n my liver if I do!" "You have been a tkad liver, my poor fellow. Whether you will die as you have lived, is a question for yourself! I give you time. I am, naturally, the most tender-hearted man in the world; but tough rogues mnst 'e made tender also. Confess! I would not be guilty of a cruelty to beast or man; but outlawry must be stopt; and taieving and murder are such offences, tha; indiscreet persons, like yourself, must be made to forbear them. Open your eyes to your danger, and empty your bosom of its evil secrets. I will count ore dozen, while you meditate what to do. I will count slowly, that you may Lave time for meditation; but, so sure as I am an honest Judge, and my Sheriff a faithful officer, if, by the time I have said twelve, you do not confess, you' ride a nag that blacksmith never yet tried to shoe." And the Captain of Partisans began the tale with well measur- page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 7 THE 'SWORD AND THE DISTA-FF. ed deliberation; pausing, between the numbers, the length f a colon at least--" one :" " two :" " three ;" and so-forth! CHAPTER XXVI. THE APPLICATION OF "THE QUESTION.? JUSTICE BAFFLED! / MEANWHLE, the Squatter, Bostwick, had become quite sensible of the danger of his comrade. He could not mistake his situg- tion, or the nature of the experiment which was about to be triedB upon his firmness. Old experience had made him quite familiar with the whole process. He was very well aware that the pur- pose of the Partisans would not be simply to execute punishmer-t upon him, except in degree; and simply to the extent -whica would ensure the revelation of his secrete But this was the very danger that he most dreaded. Were they to slay the prisoner. outright, the Squatter would be much less disquieted. But to ! force him to speak-to .compel him to buy his life by giving up his 6omrades--was a danger to himself, involving many dangers - which he could by no means contemplate with serenity. Agita- ted by various dark and savage feelings, he unconsciously advanced several paces from the spot where he had sheltered himself. H advanced; but did not forget' his caution. His approach wasS still from cover to cover; his place of concealment being always made sure of ,before taking a single forward step. But he again a receded-once more crouched into the thicket, and leaned against his tree; the big sweat coursing, in beaded drops, upon his swarthy forehead. But he still kept watch upon his unhappy comrade, and ,upon the proceedings of his judges. Sometimes, ! \ X THE APPLICATION OP "CTHE QUESTION." 177- he muttered in brief spasmodic soliloquy, as if endeavouring to assure himself, in some such utterances as the following- "He will die game! He will not confess! Very well! a!l's right! Norr s was always a tough fellow! He won't give out! I wish I could help him; btut that's onpossible! But they won't carry it through! It's only to scare him! He know's that -- He won't leak! He'll keep all close!--Ah!" He again advanced, and!a shudder went over his frame. He caught up his rifle, threw it out, and drew it to the range, as if in the act to fire, but, in a moment after, dropt it in the hollow of his arm, again, while he murmured-- "It's no use! It kin do no good! I might kill one on 'em, easy enough' but that wouldn't save him, and would' only resk myself. Bet-er he should die in the rope! Every man has his time. He must die sometime or other. Ef I could help him, wouldn't I? But I car't! It's onpossible, me one, to do anything! Ah! they're at him! The bloody tigers! I know what they're arter!", Meanwhile, at the signal of Millhouse, the culprit was drawn up slowly into the air, H's hands were tied behind him. He could offer no resistance. lHe showed' no submission-uttered no en- treaty-submitted doggedly to the torture-impressed with the idea, no doubt, that the party would not proceed to extremities, and that the purpose was to scare him only. He, accordingly, re- mained firm! He bore, without a groan or struggle, the painful distension of his frame, and the stifling pressure of the cord about his throat-his face alternately whitening and reddening, and his breast heaving, with th3 voluminous effort of- his lungs. Porgy watched the effect with painful feeling. Practice had not indura- ted him, and, though satisfied 'of the outlaw's deserts, and fully sensible of the importance of procuring his confession, and not prepared to quarrel with a process which the practice of the army had fully justified--he was yet not insensible to the claims of hu- l l page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 1 78 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. inanity; and was disposed to spare the victim as much as possible. It is indeed, highly probable, that, as was the conjecture of the prisoner, himself, and of his ally, the Squatter, our Captain of Partisans did not really meditate any thing beyond the whole- some fright which would compel the outlaw to disgorge his se- crets. But the fellow remained obstinately silent, and his Judges were disappointed. "Ease him down, Corporal;" was the order of the Captain. "Now, fellow;" he continued, as soon as the criminal had some- -what recovered, "are you grown wiser Do you begin to -com- prehend your danger? Are you ready to confess?" The half suffocated wretch answered with curses, and scorn, and defiance! In fact, from having been let down so soon, and having suffered so much less than he had anticipated, or had even endured before, he had grown more confident of his position, and more insolent accordingly. Porgy replied to him with real sym- pathy, but in his own manner. "My poor fellow, you are trifling with your safety. You don't know your danger! Let me warn you. Do not'force me to the last extremity." A brutal oath was the only answer. "Hoist away boys;" cried Millhouse, not waiting for the orders of his superior. Again the fellow was hauled up-again let down; but with the same result! Porgy began to grow restive under the insolence of the outlaw; who, evidently suffering, wae as insolent after recovering as ever. Time was accorded'him, and new exhortations addressed to him. ' My poor fellow," said Porgy, " you must speak now or never! Your last chance is before you. If you go up again, you only come down to make a full confession, or you come down a dead man! You hear whatI say? I am in earnest! You have shown yourself very much a fool as well as a robber. The time left you for growing wise is very short. The sun is near his setting! TEE APPLICATION OF a THE QUESTION." 1'79 Confess your accomplices, and if we can catch and convict them, by your evidence, we'll get you clear! Show yourself hardened, I and you sleep to-night six feet under this tree. You have heard; will you deliver?" "Do your d-- dest! I ain't afear'd!" This is quite enough of his answer, which exhibited greater brutality than before. We suppress the oaths with which he gar- nished every sentence. Again, the executioners, at a signal from Millhouse, mutely drew tie fellow up to the tree-this :ime with a swift motion and a somrewhat rapid jerk. Millhouse had served as Provost-Marshal, on other occasions. The outlaw now showed great distress. It was seen that his hans worked-opened and shut-as if giving signs; then he kicked desperately. His gasp- ing, at length, grew into sounds like speech, and the party below at once understood the half-stifled assurance that he wou-d confess, if let down. The miserable wretch succumbed the moment he be- gan to fear that his Judge was in earnest. His sufferings were of a sort to induce this change in his opinions. H6 could not have borne them much longer and lived. He was already black in the face, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. Por- gy had already thwarted his own policy in the premature yieldings which he had shown. He was evidently unwilling to urge the torture beyond the degree necessary for his object. he had tried to maintain his apparent calmness-it was a matter of pride with him that he should do so; but he was not always' successful; and now, as he witnessed the sufferings of the outlaw, he cried out quickly to Millhouse-- "Let him down, Corporal! For God's sake, let him down!" Millhouse hesitated, and ventured to expostulate. "He's a mighty tough rascal, Cappin! 'Taint 'tell the life gits a'most clean out of the body of such a rascal, that the honesty gits in! Don't be too easy with him, or we'll have to do it all over again." ; page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 THE SWORD AND TIIE DISTAFF. "Let him down, I say, Corporal!" "Very well; it's jest as you say. One thing's sa/tin. He's had a leetle bit of a warning this time;--jest a sort of idee of what's the raal state of the argyment. He feels it too! He's not guine to crow agin to-day, and when a rogue stops to crow, why, you may look for him to sing as you want him!" Millhouse was a tough customer even as a soldier. While he soliloquized, he motioned the negroes to let the outlaw descend slowly. When the'fellow reached the ground, and the rope was relaxed, he sank down upon the earth exhausted, though appaxent- ly striving to speak. Lance Frampton promptly clapt a bottle to his mouth. "Why, Lance, what's that?" inquired Porgy, with a new inter- est in the transaction. The youth slightly laughed. "Jamaicaj Captain." "Jamaica/! Where did it come from?" "The wagon, sir! This lark had been long enough in it, to knock the bung out of a keg, and try the liquor. It was open when they went to load the wagon, and Toby filled a bottle or two for us, thinking it might help us in sickness, or--" "Ah! rascal, and you heard me sighing for this very stuff af- ter our fatiguing services; and never gave signs of life!" This was said very reproachfully. "I knew he sort of work to be done, Captain, and didn't know whether we ought to do any drinking in camp while the enemy was about us in the woods." "You-were light, boy! Many's the good fellow that has lost his scalp from taking too much heed tolhis swallow. But I am not the person, as you should know, to err thus-and I was al- most fainting." "Yes, sir, but if you had seen the bottle, the Corporal and Tom, sir, would have seen it too, and---" "Git out, you impartinent!" quoth Millhouse, interrupting him, THE APPLICATION OF 'tHQE QUESTION. - 181 with a slight kick, "and don't be choking him with an over- dose." He pushed him awWy from Norris as he spoke. the outlaw, meanwhile, had been made to swallow a few mouthfuls of the Jamaica, wlich had somewhat recovered him ;though he looked about him'vacantly, with blood-shot eyes, and seemed still very much stupifed. Porgy was disposed to be indulgent, and pre- pared to wait on the fellow for his revelations; but Corporal Mill- house thought this was altogether a mistaken pity. He looked out impatiently into the west, where the sun, himse f no longer visible, was glinting the forests tops with faint horizontal fires. I'm a-thinking, Cappin, we hai'nt got too muchi time to be waisting on this here rapscallion! Ef he's got to speak, let him speak! He kin make the music, or he kaint! Another h'ist will bring it out of him, I reckon. I We've got a good ei ht miles to ride, andwe'll be in the night." Porgy looked at the outlaw forbearingly. The fellow had evi- dently suffered a good deal, and wavs still suffering; though his glances showed that Le had fully understood all that had been said, and was not now insensible to his danger. - He felt that Mill- house, at all events, a hard old soldier, was in downright earnest; and he might reasonably conclude that his suggestion would, in the end, influence the decision of his superior. "It will pot need many words ;" said Porgy. "We can ride in the night, Corporal, I think. We've done it a thousand times before, in wmorse weather, and with home much farther off. Nay, with no home at all to go to! Give the poor devil a chance to recover. We may have to hang him after all. But I hope not. He has had a strong taste of the tree, that last trial; and has probably come to his senses. Give him the needful time tu'get his wits together. When he does speak, it is only to answer some half-dozen questions, which will hardly need as many sentences. Meanwhile, let some of the boys be getting our horses ready." i6 page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 1THE SWORD AND lTHE DISTAFE. i Ensign Frampton gave the necessary orders, and two or three of the negroes proceeded to this'duty.' The horses captured from the outlaws were among the objects of their care. While they were thus employed, and Porgy and his companions waiting, f with more or less impatience, upon the slowly recovering outlaw, how did the Squatter, Bostwick; employ himself? His interest in j S the progress of the affair, we may be sure, has undergone no di- g minution. The proceedings, which we have thus far detailed, were all as evident to his understanding as they were apparent to his sight. He had beheld the sufferings of Norris, with feelings for which he could not easily find words; not pity exactly-the sentiment was one not likely to penetrate his bosom-but grati- tude perhaps; at all events, with a conviction that the degree of endurance which the outlaw was required to show, was quite as important to his safety-though more remotely-as to that of the sufferer himself. Anxiety, the more predominant feeling, was nat- irally-mixed up, accordingly, with a certain annoying sense of self-reproach,-:which gave bitterness to his moods, and made him! eager to be doing something which might employ his rage against the persecutors of his colleague. : t Thi3 sort of feeling, of mixed anxiety-and rage, changed to abso- lute terror when he saw the culprit let down from the tree for the firs! time. Had he then consented to reveal his secret? Was X he already frightened from his propriety? Beyond the torture of the process, Bostwick readily persuaded himself that there was no real danger to the victim. He had seen, from the slow and grad- ' ual manner in which the executioners Forked, that the purpose was neither to strangle him nor to break his neck ! When let down, accordingly, he rationally conjectured that this was done, only to receive his confession. Such a conviction naturally filled i his soul with fear. His brain throbbed. He advanced nervously, some ten steps nearer, with the most desperate impulses; but pausedrxelieved, in some degree, when he saw the executioner ITHE APPLICATION OF "THE QUESTION." 183 esume his cruel toils, and saw the culprit reascending. But. his ears were aroused anew, when, a 'second time, he saw him let lown to the earth. A new relief was brought him, when, a third ime, he beheld the struggling figurie of his comrade, depending n empty, aili. The selfish nature of the ruffian actually rejoiced n the sufferings, so 'well endured, of the miserable wretch, as hey seemed. td promise him security for his secrets-as they tes- ified to thef hardened courage of the sufferer, and seemed to de- ,lare his determination to suffer the 1 ast extremities rather than )etray his pledges, even to associates so unworthy of such fidelity: Ie could value this virtue in another, as it told for his own securi- y. With a husky chuckle, he kept repeating to himself as he eheld the spectacle- "Oh! he's all flint and iron! He's close as an oyster!' You tan't prize his jaws open, and make liis tongue wag however you :in fix it! Norris is a glorious chap. He's true blue! I've al- ways know'd him for a man I He'll die game 1 with a stiff upper ip! - Poor Dick-! Ef I could only help you, wouldn't you see he furi fly!"; 'Then, as he beheld the dangling figure again going up, he al- nost cried aloud- . "Hold on, awhile longer, Dick! Hold on, and the'1ll hev' to Aive it up! Shet (shut) your--teeth fast, Dick; -jes' stand to it low, this one time, and they'll let you off. It's only to scare the ruth out of you; but don't be scared; and I'm here to save you At the right time.?' And, as if his comrade could hear every syllable he said, he )roceeded with whispered assurances of succour. "They'll carry you off to Porgy's house, and I'll follow.- They in't got no flock up. I'll be close ahind them. I'll watch the ,roper chance for cutting in, and geting you-out. It's only a sharp, xye, and a light foot, and a bold heart, and a keen knife, and, naybe, a quick bullet, and we kin git you out of the hands of. page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. any one they puts to watch over you; and I'm here, a fre) man still to help you, Dick, and you knows me, Dick-you knows Bostwick-he never desarts a friend so long as life's in him. Close, Dick, and don't you be scared!" - And all this, though spoken in a whisper, or at most a murmmur, was accompanied with a restless, eager action, as if every s) liable could reach the ears of the victim, and every movement of the speaker was apparent'to his eyes. Thd encouragement thus st)oken was really meant to reassure himself. For a moment, although the sweat covered his face and neck, t seemed to have the effect. His manner became calmer-his eye more steady, and with even step he stole back to the sheltering place from which he ha ad- vanced. But when, the third -time, he beheld the culprit swing aloft- when the distress of the victim was observed to be greater than before-when his hands were seen to work and twisti eyen in their gyves, and the legs were convulsively thrown out witi spasaodic action-and the forms below were observed to be more than usu- ally attentive, while the extended hand of Porgy, seemed tc pro- mise indulgent mercy; and when, a moment after, the outla r was :let down suddenly, supported tenderly beneath the tree, and liquor brought to refresh him: then, the apprehensions of the Squat- ter obtained full ascendancy. He then knew all his danger. He felt that the revelation was about to be made. He underst6od the terms of mercy. He saw that the prisoner was let down, and these attentions shown him, only because of his promise of con- fession'; and though, from the spot where he stood, he hear. not a word that was spoken,he yet understood the new relatios of the parties, as tloroughly as if himself one of the nearest by- standers. His opinion of his comrade changed instantly from. the favourable one which he had so recently expressed., "The mean, miserable skunk!" he exclaimed.- "He couldn't grin and keep it in, like a man! Ef Itwas only nigh-him jes' to . 5 THE APPLICATION OF "TITAH QUESTION." 185 drive my knife into his jaws! The poor, mean, cowardly beast, with no more sperrit than a spider! But he mus'nt tell! Lord G-d! he mus'nt tell! He must shet up forever. Ef he speaks, I'm gone! Let me see. They've lifted him agin! Thar he stands up afore the inimy. I could put a bullet through the jack- et of either of them; but what's the use? I could kill one of 'em, I reckon; but that would'nt help him! The niggers is there, and they've got we'pons too; and, with the other two white men, they'd soon be upon him, and finish him. .-They'd be upon me, too; but"-looking around him--"I reckon 'twould be a cold trail they'd have a'ter me! I could'soon put swamp enough -a-tween us to laugh at all their s'arching. What's to be done? It mnust be done! Lord ha' mercy upon you, Dick Norris-you're a most bloody fool I But et you're coward enough to blab, I ain't fool enough to let you, ef I kin help it." The Squatter now advanced a few paces. He moved confident- ly, as if his policy had been fully determined upon. He surveyed his ground very narrowly-saw that he had space for a run-cal- culated nicely the distance of the swamp thicket--the proximity of the cypress tree-the shelters, severally, of the gall and hurrah bushes; and then, deliberately, wiped the perspiration from his brows with his sleeve. His head was stretched forward, as if, at the distance of a hundred yards, or more, he could hear anything that was spoken; and, in this attitude, he appeared to listen. He seemed certainly disposed to wait awhile, on the proceedings of the partisans. Meanwhile, the outlaw, Norris, was recovering. "You feel easier now, my good fellow," said Porgy; "and we've given you every indulgence. You've had time enough.- Tell your story now; say who are your accomplices; who set you on this expedition, and what were its precise objects. A clean breast of it, my man, if you would hope for mercy; or you are run up for the last time!" 16* page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186: THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. I "I'l tell you all;" said Norris, utterly broken down. t "Good!" answered Porgy. "The sooner you set about! it the bettej; for, though really willing to wait upon you, and be as in- dulgent as possible, time won't suffer it. We can't afford io lose the daylight-we must ride." "Well, I'll tell you ;" began the outlaw. "There was six, of us, you must know. We was got together in Charleston for t is-- 9 Herehe stopt suddenly--perforce. He was not permitt d an- other syllable-arrested, at the very opening of his revelations by a stroke,' as if firom the very bolt of fate. A rifle bullet teas in his brain! The report of the rifle, and the effect of the shot were one! The victim was falling, forward, among the group -of Histen- ers, at the very moment when the report of the gun was herd.-- 'The bullet was aimed with the truest skill. It had boied it, way through the forehead, a little over the eyes, the region abov. both of which it completely traversed. The miserable wretch was dead before he fell! I A moment after, and Bostwick wheeled about for the swamp. He had but few words more of soliloquy. * , "It :had to be done, Dick Norris! Ef you had to spear for your life, I had to stop you for mine! I would ha' saved you, but you would'nt let me'! I'm mighty sorry, but it had to be done!" The swamp thicket received him a moment after. -CHAPTER- XXVII. HOW THE FOX DOUBLES, WHLE THE HOUNDS PURSUE. IT would be much more easy to imagine, than to describe the confusion which ensued among our partisans and their followers, *4 ' '\ HOW THE FOX DOUBLES. 187 by this unexpected catastrophe within their circle. For a moment all seemed paralyzed. The event was so strange, so startling, and so utterly unaccountable, particularly supposing it to be the act of one of the outlaws. Porgy was the first to recover, and to conceive the motive for the murder by the fellow's colleague. He started up and cried aloud-- ' "One hundred guineas to him who shall take the murderer alive!" One hund'ed guineas! Our Captain of Partisans was a person of most magnificent ideas. Porgy had not, himself, seen such an amount of cash, in one heap, during the last seven years! We have already been advised of the very moderate amount in guin- eas which hel bore away with him at the disbanding of the army But our Captain always spoke in round numbers, such as could roll off trippingly from' the tongue. He might have been good for five guineas, and no doubt he would have given this number, cheerfully, though it drained him of every copper that lIe had; but a hundred! He laughed the moment after, at the audacity of his own imagination. But it did not need any reward, so soon as the party had suffi- ciently recovered their faculties, to stimulate their pursuit of the murderer. Iut there was a decided pause, for a brief space after the event. The negroes, at fist, were terribly alarmed; some ,crouched closely to the earth, while others were disposed to scatter themselves in flight. All but Tom, the cook, who was an old sold- ier, and Pomp, the fiddler, who, flattered by recent distinctions, was ambitious to prove himself a young one-were utterly para- lyzed by their terrors. A gulph, opening suddenly beneath their feet, could notehave more suddenly swallowed -up their courage than did the uinexpected bullet of Bostwick. But, with the voice of Porgy lthey looked up. Its clear, trumpet tones cheered them, and satisfied them that they were not all slain. He rose to his feet, with surptising agility, as he cried aloud, and found his Lieu. i.. page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 THE SWOTI ANDI THE DISTAFF. tenant, Lance Frampton, already on the alert; while Corporal Millhouse, without a word, after giving a single glance to the stif- fening body of the outlaw, proceeded, at monstrous long strides, in the direction whence came the bullet of the living one. Tom, the cook, and Pomp, the fiddler, both caught up weapolns and darted after Millhouse. Frampton dashed off, also, pursuing anoth. er route. The negroes, now, generally, encouraged by these de- monstrations, took heart and followed in pursuit and search They were all more or less provided with weapons which had beei- taken from the outlaws. "Scatter yourselves, boys, scatter if you 'Would search rnd be safe!" .was the cry of Porgy. He, too, was in motion, Vith an agility really astonishing in his case. He caught up swoid and pistols in the twinkling of an eye, and started off,; at a mnderato trot, to gain the tree, where his horse-that which he had taken, from one of the slain outlaws--was fastened to a swinging; limb. But he was not destined to reach it so easily, or in so short i: space of time, as he had allotted himself. He had forgotten certein em- barrassments in his own case-forgotten that he had, in order to the more easy administration of justice, ungirthed, and unb utton- ed :himself, when taking his seat under the royal oak. Ee was suddenly restored to recollection, on this subject, and brourhlt to an abrupt stand, by feeling himself fettered, with his nether gar- ments clinging about his legs. The circumstances in wh ch he i found himself, were utterly indescribable, but it will not bi diffi- cult to conjecture them. He was only brought to a full conecious- ;I ness of his embarrassment, by nearly measuring his full length upon the ground. . "What a devil of a fix!" quoth he, soliloq eg.4 "Vere I now to hear the cry which aroused the Hebrew wrestler-' The Philistines are upon thee, Samson!' what should I I be shot, and sabred, and scalped, before I could steadmI legs Q for decently falling to the ground! I should go over in a ' HOW THE FOX DOUBLES. 189 heap like a bushel of terrapins! And what a figure I should make upon the eartL! How dreadfully exposed! A most shame- ful condition for ' man, and ,soldier V " And thus speaking, he deliberately laid down sword and pis- tols, and, looking about him cautiously, proceeded to draw up his inexpressibles, and to button, and belt up-a performance less easy than necessary. "It's well the war is over." quoth he, as he laboured to con- tract his waisthands over his enormous waste of waist, and to bring the strap and buckle of his belt to bear. ." I am no longer fit for war. It's wonderful that I've escaped so long and so well! With such a territory to take care of, it's perfectly surprising there have been so few trespassers! I could not always have kept them off! They would have overcome me at last! They might have caught me at some such awkward moment, in some such awk- ward fix, as the present! Ah! There! It is done at last! The wilderness is under fence at last!'"- And he breathed, long and heavily, after such severe e ertion! But he wasted no mdre time than was necessary. Porgy was no loiterer when duty was to be done. Hie skulked no tank, skirked no obligations; and, hence his greater merit, inclining, naturally, as he did, to the creature comforts, and a selfish desire for repose , and luxury. He now reached his horse, and mounted in-a few moments. He was a good horseman. It was much easier to raise than to lower himself--easier to get into the saddle, than to subside upon his leafy couch on the earth. Once in the saddle, he was a hard rider! The steed that carried him had a great deal to bear beside his weight. aI-e used the spur freely, and was nev- er more liberal in its use than now, when required to make up for lost time.: HEadlr g, he drove into the thick cover,of the forest, and for the swamp-fastnesses, where the outlaw, Bostwick, had taken refuge. Here, our Partisan Captain was soon found, mak- ing his way over log and through bog, i: mire and water, through page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 10O THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF.- close thicket and tangled vine, in a wilderness from which I;he light was disappearing fast; -and as far as horse could well go, where a career on horseback must be very soon arrested. The pursuit was hotly urged. It was well that Bost],ick had made his calculations so cunningly, and taken such delibe- ate pre- cautions. He had to deal with old "1 swamp-suckels,"--hinters as keen and familiar with such places as himself. Had they been as well acquainted with this particular locality, he had never escaped. Nay, had there been 'one hour more of sunlight, his chances would have been very doubtful. As Porgy phrased it-- i "But once inch of candle more, and we should have h3i hide." As it was, the outlaw was more than once caught sight of in the chase.- Millhouse once detected him, as a half-floating log turned with him in the water. Pompey cried out that he was going through the gall bushes in front; and Lance Framrfton got a clear view of him, at long distance, crossing a tussock.- Be gave him b6th pistols as he sped-" bang! bang!" with scareo, an in- terval between the the two shots; but, at each fire,.Bostw ck was seen to duck his head instinctively; and, at length, he disaap)peared in a pond, rising up on the opposite side, amidst a heapl Df drift wood. Here he paused, with his nose just out of water,' jind lay still, as he thought he lay unseen. And he was in a place I of safe- ty. Night had come to his relief. He could hear the crieh; of his pursuers, but could no longer see them, and he felt that he was secure. It only required that he should keep still. The sounds of pursuit finally ceased; his enemies had all disappeared; and, like a great Newfoundland dog, shivering all over, he raise. him- self out of the alligator hole which had harboured him, anc. stood, savage and gloomy, upon the neighbouring bank; the ow! hoot- ing overhead from the blasted cypress, and the sad starsVoming out, one by one, and looking down like so many mysterious senti- nels in Heaven, watchers over the guilty course of man on earth. Bostwick shivered, as he looked up, with superstition as s ell as fOW THE FOX D OUB lES. 191 cold. He had certainly, that day, received a fearful lesson of the vicissitudes and terrdrs whi ch-wait upon evil deeds! The way of the transgressor is inceed hard! His comrades gone; not one to be seen! How many of the fiv; who had set out with him on this expedition, now breathed the!Fir of life with him? He knew not, then, of one! He had been;i baffled in the purpose he had in view. Hlad lost every thing-even his rifle, which, in the hotness of the pursuit, he had been compelled to cast away. But one thing he had saved-,the box of the widow Eveleigh, containing X the fifty guineas, and the papers which McKewn so much desired! He had concealed th's box in a hiding place in the swamp above, which he had no fear would be discovered. There was consola- tion in the recollectioh of those fifty guineas. He had other con- solations when he thought of the papers and McKewn! For the latter, his present situation filled him with new bitterness. , "D --n him!" he muttered to himself. "He shall pay well for them afore he gits them! He shall make up to me all my los- ses! He shall pay for these poor fellows, apd what they suffered. There will be a sweet bill of it, which be shall foot up every shil- ling, or there shall be no peace for him on this airth!" Let us leave him, cowering and cursing in the swamp, and re- turn to the partisansi They gave up the chase only when they found it no longer pdssible to see. Lance Frampton picked up, and brought in, the oltlaw's rifle, which they all examined closely, in the hopes to identify it; but they had none of them seen it be- fore in any hands. Three letters, evidently initials of a former owner's name, were cut rudely in the stock. "M. T. C." "Marcus Tullius Cicero!" quoth Porgy, very gravely. "Who, Captain? I never heard the name! Do you know him?" was the simple inquiry of the Lieutenant. "I ought to; for I received many a flogging, when a boy, that I might become intimate with him, and the old fellows he kept page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. th. And you may be sur the flogging id rot me me love him or them any better! But I doubt if eithe Marcus or his companions owned this rifle. If they did, then tie histo- rians have suppressed many an interesting fact in science. But, let us push out of this wilderness, Lance,'and get into he open road. Corporal, see to the negroes, and send them on ihead.- Let them get wood and have fire for us at least, when we reach home. It is getting monstrous chilly! Yes-we shal, need a fire, even more than supper!" Supper, indeed! thought Porgy. It was his philosophy only which preferred the fire. Obedience was now pleasure. The whole party was well tired of the fruitless pursuit, and all began to feel the chilliness of which the Captain complained-and the hunger also. "See that the negroes cover the dead bodies with leave, Lance, until to-morrow, when we must borrow shovels from Mrs. Eveleigh, and have them buried. The buzzard and w-jdi-; will hkrdly find them in one night." CHAPTER XVIII. THE OLD SOLDIER RETURNS TO A RUINED HOMESTEAD. ALL was done as had been commanded. Tom's world of kitch. en and camp baggage, was fairly divided among the negroes, all of whom were now mounted on the captured horses of the out- laws, some of them riding double. The dead bodies wer. hidden away beneath the forest leaves and branches, as closely as it could possibly be done. The odds and ends of the party were carefully THE OLD SOLDIER RETURNS TO A RUINED HOMESTEAD. 193 picked up; not a tin pan suffered to escape inquiry; and, under the growing starlight, the negroes took up the line of march, as a sort of advance, with Tom, the cook, for guide And leader; Porgy, Frampton, and Millhouse following at a less rapid pace. Of these, three, the two latter were suffered to lead the way, our Captain of Partisans seeming disposed to linger in a manner that surprised Millhouse, who made it a subject of comment to his companion. Frampton, through the sympathies which he entertained for his superior, could well understand the reason of his apparent apathy. Without much logic or knowledge-without being much a stu- dent of human nature-the genial temper of Frampton had taught him to conjecture the peculiar mood which now troubled the Partisan. Besides, he had been enlightened measurably, that day, on the subject of Porgy's secret cares, by the long conversa- tion between them- which has been already reported, and, through which, the Lieutenant had found clues to the Captain's nature arid difficulties, such as his buoyant temper had never before suffered him to betray. That the latter should now hesitate--now that he was almost at his own threshold-di& not greatly surprise the youth, and reawakened all his sympathies for his chief. He might well linger on the route, loath to approach scenes so precious once, so full of dear recollections, but now so full of gloomy aspects and discouraging arguries. From Porgy's own description, there could be no prospect half so cheerless as that of the- ancient homestead- which was about to receive him. Memory and thought might well be painfully busy in his mind. The one recalled a past which was full of sunshine and promise. The other reproached him with a profligacy which had measurably cast fortune from his arms; and bitterly rehearsed the recent history, in which events seemed to have studiously aided to consummate the ruin which his own erring youth had begun. The journey, from the Camp of Ma- rion, at the head of Cooper river, and which was now to termi- nate upon the Ashepoo, had afforded prospects, all along the route, 17 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. well calculated to give the gloomiest colour to the mind of the X observer. Of this journey, we cannot afford a better idea than j to copy from Moultrie's memoirs, a few passages descriptive of what he saw) in a neighbouring district of coun;ry, aboit the same period-in fact, the preceding summer--on- his own return to his estates, which -had suffered in like manner with most others. "Soon after my being exchanged," writes the old General, "H prepared to set off, with my family, for South Carolina, and, early ^ in April, left Philadelphia, and arrived at Waccamaw, in South i Carolinai .where I was informed that General Greene's army lay 1I at Ashey river, quite inactive, and no military operations going ^ on. I remained at Winyaw till late in September, at which time i I paid a visit to General Greene. It was the most dull, 'nelan- choly, dreary ride that any one could possibly take, of aboat one oi hundred miles, through the woods of' that country, which I had : been accustomed to see abound with live stock, and wild fowl of : every kind. It was now destitute of all. It had been si) com- ; pletely chequered by the different armies, that, not a par; of it 4 had been left unexplored; consequently, not a vestige of horses, cattle hogs or deer, &c., was to be found. The squirels and birds of every kind were totally destroyed. The dragoons told me, that, on their scouts, no living creature was to be seen, except a . few camp-scavengers, (turkey-buzzards) picking the bones of some unfortunate fellows, who had been cut or shot down, and left in the woods above ground ...... My plantation I 'ound to be a desolate place; stock of every kind taken off; the furniture car- ried away, and my estate had been under sequestration." ! i This individual picture. was equally true of all the country; and the condition of Moultrie's estate, that of every man who hid dis- 1 tinguished himself on either side, whether for, or against the revo- . lutionary struggle. Ver many had fared even worse--their ne- ! . groes being wholly carried: off, and their dwellings destroyed by fire. Though but a Captain in the brigade of Marion, Porg7 had ia THE OLD SOLDIER RETURNS TO A RUINED HOMESTEAD. 195 been honoured by a fair share of British hostility. His home, he knew, had escaped the torch of the incendiary, but his negroes liad been stolen, and the, plantation utterly laid waste. We have already seen what special additional causes of anxiety were at work to make him moody. Debt hung upon his fortunes like an incubus; and he possessed no conscious resources, within him- self, by which to restore his property, or even to acquire the means of life. He rode forward, gloomy and comfortless, in spite of all lts philosophy, scarcely -exchanging a word with his companions. Meanwhile, his negroes, under Tom's guidance, eager once more to regain their old homes, sped on, at a smart canter, which soon left their superiors behind. It was after ten o'clock at niht, when the lights from a score of wild, gleaming torches, waving in air, announced the approach to the avenue of "Glen-Eberly," which was the name'of Porgy's ancient homestead-so named after a goodly grandmother by whom it had been entailed on her broth- er's children. Our Captain of Partisans was aroused to a con- sciousness of external things, by the loud shoutsof the negroes who- had preceded him, and who now hailed his approach after a fash- tion such ass Moult cribes in the same narrative from which we have already quoted. ' ,' T'ank de Lord, here's maussa git to he own home-at last!- Bress de Lord, Maussa, you come I We all berry glad for see you, maussa-glad too much!" And the same negroes who had been with him for several hours before, without so much as taking his band, now rushed up and seized it, with loud cries, as if they were hosts, and welcoming a favourite guest. The tears stood in the eyes of our Captain, though he suffered none of his companions to behold them; and he shook hands with, and spoke to them each in turn-few words, indeed, but they were uttered tremulously, and in low tones. Fordham, the overseer of Mrs. Eveleigh, now, made his appear- ance from- the house. The wagon had departed, having left the page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 THE SWORD AND THE -DISTAFF. supplies as the good widow had ordered. Porgy entered hib house expecting to find it empty and cheerless. He was confoui ded to see the goods, blankets, drink, provisions, all around the hall, and shown to the best advantage under the ruddy gleams of a ousing fire in the chimney. "Ah!"--said he, "Fordham, Mrs. Eveleigh is a very noble lady. Make her my best respects and thanks. I shall soon ride over and make them in person." "Well] my friends ;" said he to Frampton and Millhouse, when Fordham had departed, "I felt doubtful how to provide you your supper to-night; though, knowing this excellent lady as I did, I should not have doubted that she would contribute largely to it. See what she has done! Here are sugar and coffee; he e are meal and bacon; here is a cheese; here-but look about yo', and say what we shall have for supper. Supper we must have! I am famishing. Tom! Tom! where the d---- is that fellow! Does he think that h's free of- me, because he's free of the army 8- Tomr! T To!" ' "Sah! yer, maussa! Wha' de debbil mek' (makes) yoi lol- ler so loud, maussa, when I's jis' (just) at you elbow You t'ink I hard o' hearing, 'cause I got hard maussa, I 'spose!" "Hard maussa, youimpertinent scamp! Another master would have roasted you alive long before this. See, and let us have s Dme- thing, in the twinkling of an eye. Look among these provisions, that Mrs. Eveleigh has sent us, and take out enough to give :s all a good feed--nggers and-all!" "Miss Ebleigh! He's a bressed (blessed) woman, for sartin, for sen' we all sich good t'ings; de berry t'ings we bin want; and jis' when we want 'e. He's a mos' spectable pusso., is dat Mrs. Ebleigh. Ki! Here's a'mos' (almost) ebry t'ing for gemplecnan supper! Kah, me! dis dah cheese, in dis tub! Pomp, you son ob a snail! whay you day? Yer! (here) open dem bundle -vha' b'long to me, in de piazza! bring fanner, (a shallow winnowing , 4 THE OLD SOLDIER RETURNS'TO A RUINED ,HOMESTEAD. 197 basket) and bring bucket you will see day (there). Hab out de t'ree knife and' de four fork, for maussa, when he got comp'- ny. See a'ter de hom'ny pot; and de coffee pot; and look up some water for wash dem! Dere's no kitchen, maussa; he all bu'n down. We hab for cook de supper in de house, yer, or, maybe, we kin find fire-place down stairs in de brick pa't. Go see, Pomp-and Pomp, sen' out some of dem nigger for git light- wood, and bring water and de udder t'ings."- We allow Tom to be thus prolix, not-simply because he was so permitted by his master, but as he gives us a very correct idea of the condition of household affairs. The kitchen, as he states, was destroyed; the cooking was finally decreed to be carried on in the brick basement of the house hereafter, but, for this night, Tom made free with the fireplace of the salle a manger. The house was an ample one, of wood, on a brick basement. But it had been completely gutted. There was neither table nor chair; and our friends couched themselves upon the blankets of Mrs. Eveleigh, spread about the fireplace; and, accustomed as they had been to still harder, if not humbler seats, upon the naked ground, were not seriously conscious of any privations. Thus sitting, or recli- ning, they waited in comparative silence the preparations which Tom was making for supper. That sable kitchen-despot had found employment for all the negroes, Pompey acting as a sort of lieu- tenant or orderly. Water and wood, in any quantity, were soon provided. Soon, the hominy was set to boil; the coffee-pot be- gan to smoke; while the " hoe" and "johnny" cakes, spread, upon sections of barrel heads, four or five in number, were seen facing the now brightly blazing fire. The chimney-place of the dining- room, though not quite so ample as that of a Southern plantation kitchen, was yet one of sufficiently large dimensions. What with the hominy and coffee pots, the bread stuffs, and the frying-pan, hissing with broad Put tender slices of ham-which the fork of the Grand Cuisinier shifted from side to side, as the occasion seemed to 17' . . . page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, require-there was little space left in the premises, and no room suf- fered near them for mere idlers : in which rank, at this moment we may consider the Captain, himself, and his two companions in arms. But the fire, was sufficient to warm the room, the shutters b Eing closed in, though there was not a pane of g!ass left in one of tie sashes. If the. whites of the group were silent, Tom was gnot.- The benefactions of Mrs. Eveleigh afforded him an ample theme for talk; and, while he stirred the hominy, and turned the liam and the hoe cakes, and pushed up the fire--keeping Pompey ')usy all the while--he maintained a running commentary on the ')les-- sings of life in-the neighbourhood of- such an excellent woman- a woman so well conversant with her duties to her neighboums. "Dis is fus' (first)- rate new bacon, maussa, dat Miss Ebleigh b n sen' we! And de grits (grist) is de bes' flint; an' dis flot r is white'like snow; and sich a bowl of coffee, as I guine gib yor to- night; wid sich sugar, you ain't bin see dis fibe, t'ree, seben ye ars, maussa! ' Lord be praise, for all he massies! When I bin- ricing 'long yer to-night, coming to we ole home, I bin say to myself all 'long de way, wha' de debbil we guine fin' home yer for supper to-night! Enty I know, dem d---n British and Tory bin skir de plantation ob ebbry t'ing?- Hah! I say, der' will be heap o' growling 'tomachs yer to-night! ' An' I t'ink of de cole (cold) mnd de starbatlon, 'till I begin to shibber all ober like new sodger ji's when de inimy begin for shoot! But, de Lord be praise! - D3r's no cole, der's no 'tarbation! Yer's ebbry t'ing for las' we nigg 3rs, and you gemplemens mos' t'ree week!" Tom had calculated nicely, as well as an experiencec commissa- riat could have done. He had an eye to a man's dimensions. He continued- "Time 'nough, t'ree week from now, to consideration how for git more supper: and der's no knowing wha' guine tu'n (turn) up, in- dat time, for gib us more hom'ny and bacon. De Lord is wid us! An' Maussa, you ain't bin see dis bag o' rice, a gcod ] , HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY A DRAGOON S APPETITE. 199 bushel, I reckon, dat Miss Ebleigh bin sen' wid dem udder t'ings. Hab a pot o' rice to-morrow!" Tom, when he declared it time enough to consider how to pro-' cure more food when the present supplies were fairly exhausted, dealt in genuine negro philosophy. Sambo seldom t oubles him- self to look out for the imiorrow; His doctrine somewhat tallied I with that of Scripture. Ipstead of--"sufficient for the day, the evil thereof," he read, " sq fficient for the day, the good thereof." i Foresight and foretthougit are his remarkable deficiencies. He : never houses his harvest in anticipation of the storm. I There was one virtue in Tom's philosophies. They- never em- barrassed, or delayed him, in his duties and performances; and it was not very long before he made the grateful annunciation to the hungering troopers that supper was ready to be served. Then followed the bustle.. Then was Pomp conspicuous as head waiter, while Tom, as if satisfied with his share of the performance, al- rely executed, drew up a keg to the fireside, and leisurely seated himself as a spectator--ready to take up the smoking dishes from the fire as soon as the. cloth should be spread to receive them; but: in no other way interested in the performance! CHAPTER XXI-X. HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY A DRAGOON S APPETITE. "WHY you no spread de table-clot', Pomp ., was the snappish demand of Tom, seeing the other hesitate. "I no see no clot', uncle Tom," replied the bewildered fiddler. "Enty blanket is clot' you son ob a skunk! Is you lib so long in de worl', dat you nebber l'arn what one t'ing is, and wha' nod- @I! - page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. der t'ing is--wha' is wood, and wha' is clot'! I reckon, boy, when we calls you to eat you'- own supper, you wunt ax ef it's dut (dirt) you mus' eat, or hom'ny." - Pomp, humbled by this rebuke, possessed himself of one of the'blankets, from the pile sent by the widow, but he still stood, vacantly looking about the apartment. "Well," quoth our Major Domo, "wha' you n' (stan:) for, sucking in de whole room wid your eyes?" "I no see any table, -uncle Tom!" "Don't you uncle me, you chucklehead! Lay de table on de -floor! , Who could b'lieb dat a pusson could lib so long and g-ow so big, and nebber Parn nutting! Ha! boy, you bin in de .rmy, you'd ha' Parn all sort ob t'ing at de sharp p'int ob de baggnet! De army's de place for mek' man ob sense out ob fool. Ax de gempleman's to, git out ob de way, so you kin spread de table-c oti; dough -gemplemans ought to hab sense 'nough, hese'f, for mnoob (move) widout axing! "Hear that impudent rascal!" quoth Porgy, moving good-na- turedly, his example followed, by Frampton and Millhbuse. '"Was ever fellow so completely spoiled?" "I nebber spile -supper, maussa!" responded Tom, with a toss of the head, as if to say-' nobody knows my qualit'es better than yourself.' L "No, indeed, Tom, and you presume on your merits, som(what to their injury; but you will be taken down, you scamp, when you are required to find and hunt up the supper, as well as cook "Ha! but you see, maussa, my business is cook- -I knows um! It's maussa business to fin' de bittle (victuals). Put de mea: and bread yer, whay I kin put out my han' -and git 'ena, and laff it to me to hab 'em ready for eat; but da's "I hab a right for do." "Ah! indeed, my buck; but I'll persuade you, at the endj oa a hickory, that you have other rights." '-, r I 4 HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY A DRAGOON 'S APPETITE. 201 -"Wha' maussa; hick'ry for Tomn! Nebber! Any body else bin tell me sich a t'ing, I say, widout guine to be sassy-' he's a d-- n fool for he trouble.'" "Hear the fellow! Corporal, do you want a negro-a cook ." '"I'll thank you, Cappin, very much! Tom and myself agree very well together. I like his fries monstrous." "-You shall have him--when I'm d ne with him." "You nebber guine done wid Tom, maussa! I 'tick to you. ebbry where; you comp'ny good 'nough for Tom in- any country, no matter whay you go." "Thank you, Tom ;-but Tom, if you don't clap a hot iron to Pomp's haunches, he'll never have supper on table to-night." "The boy will be de deat' ob me!" cried Tom starting up, and administering a sudden whack to the ear of Pompr-with the flat of an amazingly rough hand. The lad reeled under the salutation. Pompey was more dexterous at the violin, than in the capacity of a house-servant. He had no idea of the novel duties he was re- quired to perform ; and, jerking him by the collar to the fire-place, Tom clapt the several dishes into his hand, and proceeded, with the expertness of a veteran, to guide :everything to its proper place.. Under his administration, the table was soon spread. "Now you see, boy, how de t'ing is for done. 'Member nex' time, or you'll see sights ob hickory, wid de twigs all growing downwards. Now, tell de gempleman's dat supper is a-waiting." And Tom resumed his seat upon the keg by the fire. Pomp made' the necessary signals, after a fashion of his own, and Porgy, letting himself down upon one corner of the blanket, which served as a table-cloth, invited his comrades in war to follow-his example. They did not wait for a second invitation, but grouped themselves about the lowly board, occupying opposite places.' Tom flung some fresh brands into the fire, which blazed up ruddily, throwing a strong light over the great hall, and showing, picturesquely, the group upon the floor, with Pomp in waiting, and several sooty g roup up o n page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 - THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. faces peering in through one of the windows-from which a shut- ter had been torn-opening upon the piazza. The equipments of the board were quite as picturesque as the group around them. The crockery closet of Captain Porgy be- ing utterly empty, the hominy-pot, black and smoking as it was, had been lifted bodily fromn the fire, and now stood in the cer tre, resting upon a barrel-head, into which its three legs burnt regular sockets. A pewter spoon was employed to scoop up its white and well-boiled contents. The coffee-pot, a battered vessel that had been in the wars, occupied a similar resting place; whi e the fried bacon was handed round, by Pomp, to the several part es in the huge frying-pan, in which it had been " done to a turn." This vesseldbore proof, also, of serious service, having more thlan one flaw in the sides, while one half of the handle had been carried away in actual conflict with the keen sabre of a British dragoon. The Partisans helped themselves to meat and gravy, in turn, from this sooty vesseli which was then restored -to the fire-place, the better to keep warm the residue of the bacon. The hoe cake, broken into good sized bits, -was placed upon another sectior of a barrel-head, by the hands of Porgy himself. At the side of each stood his tin cup-smoking with coffee, while the top of the coffee- pot was employed to hold- sugar, and stood, conveniently for the use of all, in the centre of the group. I Thus served, our partisans were by no nreans slow in their per- formances. The edge of'appetite was keen. They worked vigo- rously. The taste of the meats improved the moods of all par- ties, and opened hearts as well as jaws. The fullness o -,he mouth prompted the heart to speech; and, in the enjoymer t of things of the flesh, Porgysoon began to forget his arxieties of the spirit. He smacked his lips over the luscious ham, exclaiming- "s This may be called good, Tof,--very good; in fact, I rever tasted better. You have certainly lost none of your talent in con- sequence of your leaving the army." HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY A DRAGOON S APPETITE. 203 "I bin good cook 'fore I ebber see de army." "So you were, Tom; but your taste was matured in the army; particularly on the Pedee. But you were better at a broil, I think, before the war." "Tom's Jest as good; I'm-a-thinking, at a fry as at a brile, Cap- pin ;" quoth Millhouse, licking his chaps, while elevating a huge slice of his bacon into sight, upon the prongs of his fork. "An' why you no say bile, too, Mass Copp'ral?" demanded Tom, apparently not satisfied that there should be any implied de- merits in his case. "En (and) so I mout (might)," answered the Corporal. "This here hominy now, to my-thinking, is biled-to a monstrous soft- ness." "An' de bake-de bread; wha' you say for him?" was the next exaction of Tom's vanity; and he handed up, as he queried, a fresh supply, from the fire, of the crisp, well-browned "Johnny- cake"-an article, by the way, which is too often served up, of most villainous manufacture, particularly at a modern barbacue; but which, in those days, might usually be commended, and which, in Tom's hands, was an achievement--a chef d'aeuvre pf kitchen art. , - "Well, Tom, I kin say with a mighty cl'ar conscience, that this is raal, gennywine bread. I only wish Miss Ebeleigh was here now, herself, jest to try a taste of it" "Ha!" quoth Tom, heaving up--"I 'speck (expect) ef he bin would nebber le' maussa res', tell he beg me from 'em. He - would want you to gib me to um, I tell you, maussa!" "Give you, Tom! Give you to anybody? No! no! old fel- low! I will neither give you, nor sell you, nor suffer you to be taken from me in any way, by Saint Shadrach! who was your blessed father in the flesh, and from whom you inherit your pecu- liar genius for the kitchen! Nothing but Death shall ever part us, Tom, and-even Death shall not if I can help it. When I die, page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 THE- WOAD AND THE DISTAFFP. you shall be buried with me, We have fought and fed too long itogether, Tom, and'I trust we love each other quiJe too well, to submit to separation. When your kitchen fire groves cold, Tom, I shall cease -to eat. Tom, you will not have breath enough to ghlow up the fire when mine is out! I shall fight -'or y6u t the last, Tom, and you, I know, would fight to the last for me, as I am very sure that neither of us can long outlast -the- other."- ":Fight for you, maussa!] Ha!V Jes' le' dem ;ory, try we, maussa!" responded Tom, qiite excited, and shaking his head with a dire significance. But Tom did not exaetly conceive the 5cenor of his master's speech, or the direction of his thoughts. He did not conjecture that the earnestness with which the latter spoke, had its origin in his recent meditations; and these iad rega 'd to ! l civil, rather than military dangers;--to the claws :of the Sl eriff, rather than tory weapons! Once on this track, Porgy founc. re- lief ,in continuing it, and in making himself better understood. "They shall take none of you negroes, if I can halp it! But theylshall take all before they touch a hair of your head, Te rr-! "Da's it, maussa! I know you nebber guine part wid Tcr!" "Before they shall tear you from me, fTom---- ! "Day (they) can't begin to come it, maussa! I 'tick to you, maussa, so lono as fire bu'n!" "But, it might be, Tom; the time might come; circumstances might arise; events might happen.; I might be absent, or unab e; and then, you might fall into the clutches of some of ;hese d-- d harpies, who take a malignant pleasure in making people uncom- fortable. You have, heard, Tom, of such an animal as a Sheriff, or Sheriff's Deputy?" "Enty I know? He's a sort of warmint! I know's 'em rvell! He come into ide hen-house, cut chicken t'roat, drink de blood, and suck- allde eggss!- I know 'em, for sartain! Da him?" "Yes; thev are blood-suckers, and egg-suckers, and thr3at- cutters--that's true, Tom; vermin of the worst sOr/;--but they HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY A DRAGOON'S APPETITE. 205 1 still come in the shape of human beings. They are men after fashion ; men-weasels, verily, and they do the work of beasts!- You will know them by their sly looks; their skulkings, peepings, watchings, and the snares they lay;-by the great papers, with great seals, that they carry; and by their calling themselves Sheriffs or Constables, and speaking big about Justice and the Law! IF any of you negroes happen to see any such lurking about the plan- tation, or within five miles, let me . know I Donl't let them lay hands on you, but make for -the swamp, the: moment they tel you 'stop-!' You, Tom, in particular, beware of all such! Should. they succeed in taking you, Tom-should I not be able to help you-should you find them carrying you off, to the city, or else- where, to sell you to some other master--" "Gor-a-mighty! maussa, wha' for you scare me so tAinking ob sich t'ings" "Tom! sooner than have you taken off by these vermin, I will shoot you!' '"Me! shoot me I me, Tom! Shoot me, maussa!" 'Yes, Tom! you shall never leave me. I -will put a brace of bullets through your abdomen, Tom, sooner than lose you! But,- it may be, that I shall not have the opportunity. They may take advantage of my absence-they may steal you away-coming on you by surprise! If they should do so, Tom, I'rely upon you, to put yourself to death, sooner than abandon me, and become the slave of another. Kill yourself, Tom, rather than let -them carry you off. Put your knife into your ribs, any where, three inches deep, and you will effectually baffle the blood-hounds!" "Wha'! me, maussa! kill mese'f! Me, Tom! 'Tick knife t'ree inch in me rib, and dead! Nebber, in dis worl' (world) maussa! I no want for dead! I always good for cook! I good. for fight-good for heap o' t'ing in dis life! No good 'nough for dead, maussa! No want for dead, so long as der's plenty ob bile- and brile, and bake, and fry, for go sleep 'pon. Don't talk ob 18 8' page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. sich t'ing, maussa, jis' now, when de time is 'mos' (almost] come for me, eat supper!" "Tom!" exclaimed the Captain of Partisans, laying down his knife and fork, and looking solemnly and sternly at the negro--"I thought you were more of-a man-that you had more affectionr for me! Is it possible that you could wish to live, if separated from me? Impossible, Tom! I will never believe it. No, boy, you shall never leave me. I We will never part. -Y you shall be my cook, after death, in future worlds, even as you are Ihere. Should you suffer yourself to survive me, Tom-should you be so, Lard- hearted-I will haunt you at meal time always. Breakfast din ner, supper-at every-meal-you shall hear my voice. I vill sit before you as soon as the broil is ready, and you shall always help me first!,", The negro looked aghast. Porgy nodded his .head solemnly- "Remember! It shall be as I have said. If you are not pre- pared to bury yourself in the same grave with me when I die, I shall be with you in spirit, if not in flesh; and I shall make you cook for me as now. At breakfast you will hear me call o- I for ham and eggs, or a steak; at dinner, perhaps, for a terrapiri stew; at supper, Ton-when all is dark and dreary, and there is nbbody but yourself beside the fie--I shall cry out, at your elbow, 'my coffee, Tom! in a voice that shall shake the very house!" , "Oh! maussa, nebber say sich t'ing! Ef you promise sich t'ing, you hab for come!" "To be sure!;-so you see what you have to expect, {- you dare to survive me!" Tom turnel gloomily to the fire, not a little bewildered. The bravest negro is the slave of superstitious fancies, and Tom iwas a devout believer in ghosts, and, quite famous in the kitchen. fo his own ghost experience.} "But to your own isupper, now,- with what appetite you may, and see that you feed. the other negroes. I see that we ha re all supped." BUPe"? MLLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF CAPTAIN PORGY. 207 "Lor' a-mighty, maussa, you tek' 'way all me appetite for sup- per." "You will soon enough find it,'I fancy ;" quoth Porgy, coolly, as he lighted his pipe. Corporal Millhouse followed the example, and, accompanied by Lieutenant Frampton, the two adjourned to the piazza, leaving the field to the negroes, who, at a given signal, rushed eagerly in to the feast. CHAPTER XXX. CORPORAL MLLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY--OF CAPTAIN PORGY. IT has been said that the homestead of the old soldier was en- tirely swept of furniture. In emerging from the hall to the piazza, Porgy and his followers were without a chair upon which to sit. They paced the piazza, accordingly, puffing as they went. The floor of it shook beneath their steps. It needed repair. The bannisters were gone. The boarids were half-decayed. The steps by which they ascended to the /house, "were ticklish to the last degree," to employ the phrase of Porgy himself. The latter paused in his paces. "This won't do," said he. "To smoke is to contemplate. Con- templation implies calm, repose, and an easy position for the body With the pipe in my mouth, I must sit or lie. Let us go out anld y sit by that fire, boys." The negroes had kindled a fire within fifty 'feet of the house, and on one side of the avenue. It was the customary camp-fire to the old-soldiers, and there was no reluctance, expressed or felt, page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to the proposition of the Captain of Partisans. He led the way, accordingly, and, with a grunt and some effort, let hirself cown beside the blaze. New brands were supplied by Frampton, and himself and Corporal Millhouse, subsided upon the ground a so, at respectful distances from their superior. Here they crouched for awhile. Supper had done its work, in inducing a certain feeling of sluggishness. Change of circumstance was productive also, of a mood which inclined rather to musing than to speech. The thoughts of all were more or less busy. The subjects of Porgy's speculations may be easily conjectured. Those of Millhouse are not less easily definable, but they involved few anxieties onihis own account. Lancee Frampton was a young lover, who felt very -hour an age which kept him away from his rustic beauty I [Of course his head and heart were filled with her image. Not that he had not other thoughts more proper to his immediate assAcia- tions. His was a spirit of generous sympathies, and, Spite ch all Porgy's selfishness of character, the young man, through an iaqer- course of three years had learned to love and honour him fot the really good points in his nature in spite of its egotism. He mused quite as much upon the fortunes of his superior as upon his bwn. For a time, accordingly, all were busy, brooding each after his own fashion, and all silent. The pipes sent forth their voltines, adding not a little to the cloudy atmosphere by which they were surrounded. The night was dark and raw, without being really cold. The winds were low, and faintly sighed through the too scanty bit-of wood which lay between our group and the n th. The prospect promised rain by morning. The weight of thi at- mosphere was felt, and, pressing back the smokes of the fire, -lept the arty enveloped in a white shroud of mist and vapour. A melancholy stillness overspread the scene, and the ear felt oppres- sed: as well as the eye, by the uniform absence of all provocation from without. Not a star was to be seen. A solid wall seeded to shut in the circle within thirty yards; and-' inside of -;his MLLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF CAPTAIN PORGY-. 209 circuit, nothing was visible but the skeleton outlines of the trees, and the vague, faint white of the dwelling-house. Our party felt the gloom of the prospect. The Captain and Corporal puffed with all their vigour, and very soon replenished their pipes. The for- mer at length broke silence. '"We-are to have rain by the, morning; but this must not pre- vent us from putting those rascals out of sight--(meaning the outlaws who had been slain). Ybu must give instructions, Lance, to one of the negroes, to set off by daylight to Mrs. Eveleigh, and borrow spades and showels, or hoes, for the purpose of burying them. I doubt if such things are to be found any where on this place. After that, Lance, I suspect that you will desire to ride . over and visit the widow Griffin. It will be a day's visit only, I suspect, and you will be back at night. But that's just as you and they think proper. Of course, you know, my boy, that so long as I have house-room and enough for supper, you shall share it. When you are married, you shall still do as you please. You may bring your wife here, if it suits you, and her mother too. At all events, here is your home, so long as it is mine." "Thank you kindly, Captain; and I hope you'll keep your plan- tation forever. I expect to work for you here, until I'm married, and after that we'll see. I reckon Mrs. Griffin will want Ellen and me to live with her when we are married, and to manage her little place." '( That is, if she-lerself does not marry." ' Oh! I don't think she's going to do that. She was mighty fond of her husband."' "' Y-e-s!" quoth Porgy, taking out his pipe, and emptying the ashes--"Y-e-s! It may be so-and yet; the widow is tolerably young, fresh and good-looking. A dead husband is of no sort of use in this world,'and that is the present question. When I have smoked out my pipe, and emptied the ashes, I am apt, after a lit- tle pause, to fill it with firesh tobacco. He who has smoked one 18* page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. pipe, will be apt to try another, and another, as long as h1 can smoke. That is, if the first has not sickened him. Tha. the widow has found one husband grateful, is good reason whyb she should try another. Mrs. Griffin is a woman of sense, andj has too many good qualities to remain single. She is a good hbuse- keeper-every thing is in trim about her. She takes care of every thing, and keeps herself neat. Besides, she makes a first-rate ter- rapin stew, quite as good as Tom; and her broil and fry will pass muster in any camp. I remember the blue cat, which she gave us on the Edisto, with a relish even now; and that reniinds zne, by the way, that we must get hooks and lines ready foi the Ashepoo pretty soon. We shall have the Spring upon us b'fore We get our tackle ready." "I'm a-thinking, Cappin," said Millhouse, " that you'll have to be seeing about something besides blue cat and fishing lines. You'll want ploughs and hoes sooner than any thing else. These rig- gers must go to work, mighty soon, ef I'm to have the manag'ng of 'em." "You, Millhouse! Do you mean to volunteer as overseer?' "Don't I! I reckon-that's pretty much all I'm goodd for. But it's lucky I do know something of rice planting; and I was never a slouch at making corn. I'm for breaking up land, and gong to work, Without so much as axing your leave or blessing." "You shall do as you please, old fellow, for I don't know tiat I can teach you any thing in these matters. I was always one of that large class planters who reap thistles from their planting. I sowed wheat only to reap tares. I never'had luck in planting." "That's because you never trusted to luck, Cappin. You was always a-thinking to do something better than other people, and you wouldn't let nater (nature) alone. You was always a-hulry- ing nater, 'tell you wore her out; jest like those foolish mothers who give their children physic-dose after dose-one dose fight- ing agin the other, and nara (neither) one gitting a chancy to '1 MLLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF CAPTAIN PORGY. 2" work. Now, I'm a-thinking that the true way is to put the ground in order and at the right time plant the seed, and then jest lie by, and look on, and see what the warm sun and the rain's'guine to do for it. But you, I reckon, warn't- patient -enough to wait. You was always for pulling up the corn to see if it had sprouted; and for planting over jest when it was beginning to grow. I've known a many of that sort of people, preticklarly among you wise people, and gentlemen born. It ain't reasonable to think that a man kin find new wisdom about every thing; and them sort of people, who talk so fine, and strange, and sensible, in a new way, about the business that has been practised ever sence the world begun, they're always overdoing the business, and working agin nater. They're quite too knowing to give themselves a chance." "That's philosophy, Millhouse." "No, Cappin, 'tain't philosophy, but its mighty good sense. I kin make corn, and rice, I reckon, jest as good as any man; and you must leave it all to me. I'll work it all out, and you musn't meddle, Cappin, except to do jest them things that I tell you." "Good! I like that! I feel that I should greatly improve under a good sense keeper." "'Zackly, Cappin; that's the very thing you've been awanting all your life. Now, I've hearn you tell, how you used, when a- planting these same rice lands of your'n, to -let the water off of the fields to catch the fish, ef so be some of your friends happen'd to come and dine with you. Sp'ile a whole field of fine rice, jest flooded, to catch a few pairch " i "Ah! but Millhouse, they were such beauties. You never saw such perch in your life." "I reckon I've seed as fine pairch as ever you caught, Cappin. But that ain't the thing, no how. Ef they were as fine fish as ever grow'd in water, it was a sin and shame to spile the rice to catch 'em; and, as sure as a gun, Cappin, ef you had been rightly sarved, you'd ha' been tucked up to a swinging limb, and been page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF., dressed with a dozen hickories, 'tell you was made sensible and ashamed." "Humph!" exclaimed Porgy, emptying the ashes from his pipe, and by no means delighted with the suggestion. But his self-es- teem was less combative than usual, and he remained silent. Mill- house proceeded. li "Now, Cappin, rI'vewolunteered to be your sense-kieeper, as you calls it, in all the plantation business, and you must jest let me have my own way, ef you want to git on sensible in the world.- I'm overseer, and you musn't come between me and the niggers. 'll do my work and will make 'em do their's. Ef there's any lidk- ing to be done, I'll lay it on. You may look on, but you mus 't meddle. You may think what you please, but you mus'nt say nothing. We kin talk over the matter every night, and I'll show you-the sense of what I've been doing in thelday. You kin fish in the river when you please, and hunt in tie woods when you please, and go riding and dining out where you please, anc' I won't meddle nor say nothing; but in the Crop, Cappin, you musn't put a finger to spile what I'm a-doing for your' good." \ "A very pretty arrangement." "Ain't it, now ." "Very! I have your permission to hunt, and fish, and dine abroad, if I think proper. These, then, are my duties .l" ! "'Zackly!-but you are not to take hands and horses out 9f the crop, Cappin, for your Amusements. You're not to carry a gopd plough-boy off, to find bait for you when you're a-fishing; or horse and nigger to beat the woods when you're a-hunting. You must choose one horse for your own riding, Cappin, and stick to that." "You'll let me keep a dog or two, Millhouse?" "One, I,reckon, ef he's a good one, Cappin. One good beagle is quite enough for these woods." - But I shall want a pointer for birds." "A p'inter! Hnever could see the uge of a p'inter! I kin find MLLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF CAPTAIN PORGY, 213 as many partridges, or doves, to shoot, in a pea country, as any man can p'int a gun at, and without any dog at all! I've shot, myself, a whole covey of partridges, sixteen, at a single fire." "Oh! that was butchery, Millhouse. Any body can kill par- tridges upon the ground, or doves upon thetree., But to do this upon the wing, and to bird like a gentleman and a sportsman, Millhouse, requires a dog to point and flush." "Look you, Cappin, them 's all notions; and when a mari's wanting flesh for the pot, and meal for the hoe-cake, it's not reson- able that he should be a sportsman and a gentleman. That's a sort of extravagance that's not becoming to a free white man, when he's under bonds to a Sheriff." "D n the Sheriff! Don't mention such an animal in miy Shearing." "Well, d----n the Sheriff! I'm agreed to that. I've no rea- son to love the animal any more than you; but when we -can't shake off the beast, the best way that I kin see is to draw his teeth. Now, the sort of life you wants to lead, Cappin, will co for a nigger gentleman, that ain't got nothing to lose; or for an Ingin gentleman who's got nothing that a Sheriff can put under the hammer; but for you 'that's got edication, and has been a soldier, the thing is different. The difference between a white man and a nigger, or an Ingin, is that a white man was made ;o gather substance about him, and a nigger and an Ingin was made to waste it. That's the whole. The Ingin was born to clear the woods of the varmints for us; and tae nigger to cleanup after we've eaten. That's the philosophy." "And very sensible philosophy too, Millhouse. I had no id{a that you had such profound ideas. I begin to think that you'll save me from the Sheriff if any one can." "You must be doing something for yourself, Cappin, besides fishing and hunting; or, ef you will hunt, there's a sort of gamle that, ef you kin take it, will always be sure to bring us meat for tie page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. pot. That's the sort of game that you might hunt, and want no p'inter more than your own nose!" "Unless yourself, Millhouse. Pray point out this profitable sort of game, if you please." A "Well, that ain't so ha-rd a matter. And first, Cappin, let me say you're a good-looking personable man, only a little over mid- dle age. You haint lost your uprightness. Your face is smooth. It hatint a wrinkle on it. Your eyes is small, but of a mighty sweet sort of blue; and though you're a leetle too fleshy to i be sprigh, yet, Lord save me, you kin- stand a mighty great deal -of hard usage." "Andso--" "And, therefore, Cabpin, you ought to, git married!" "As logical a conclusion as I ever heard in all my life. A man who can stand hard usage may safely venture upon matrimony. 'Pon my soul, Millhouse, your philosophy and logic improve to- gether." I(m glad you think so, Cappnl ;responded the other with increasing gravity. I've been a-thinking what you ought to do ever sence I heer'd you talking of the bad state of your affairs, Now?]ays I to myself, what better kin th-e Cappin do, than find some clever, good sort of woman, that's outlived all her girlishness and foolishness, and that's come to know ;he valley of a husband! That won't be looking too closely at his figure, and thinking his paunch too big, and his legs too little--that-won't be axing whether he's cut his eye-tooth or not; but '1 jest consider that a man's a man in spite of his gairth, that a soldier's altogether the best sort of a man going in these times; and that'll pass over the sprinkle of gray in his heads in consideration of his sound teeth and goodlwind. Now, Cappin, you does git a leetle out of wind, when you're pushed too hard; but considering what a mortal weight of flesh you've got to carry, it's wonderful how much you kin stand. It's wonderful I say, and jest as surprising as wonder MLLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF CAPTAIN PORGY. 215 ful. Wel, now, considering all these things, what's to hender you from gitting to the -right side of some good woman, with a smart chance of property, and proving your title to it, by the sen- sible way you come over her. I reckon there's more than a hun- dred such women here; in Carolina, now, that, when they come to consider how many of the handsome young fellows is cut off in the war, will be mighty glad to hev' you in spite of figure, and gray hairs. You aint so old, Cappin, but that you've a right to hev' a wife:' and, under the sarcumstances, I say, a wife is the one thing needful; that is, always providing she's got something of a property to go upon; for, onless you git a woman of substances it'll only make your affairs harder to manage than ever. You must be thinking of a woman that'll pay off that mortgage yo. talk about, and shev' something over. Then, we kin work the plantation to some purpose. Then you need'nt fear the d- d warmint of a Sheriff, and then, with God's blessing on our innoi cent disposition, we may all live here like fighting cocks." All this, and much more, was said with a delightful gravity. Porgy was overwhelmed. He was so taken by surprise,-by the coolness with which Millhouse analyzed himself and his affairs and reported upon his shortness of wind, while he acknowledged the excellence of his teeth ;-the immensity of his girth, while he admitted the amiable cast of his eyes; his slenderness, of leg, (or "shrunk shank," as Porgy muttered sotto voce) while recognizing the smoothness of his cheeks-that he was absolutely dumb! foundered, and never once -thought to interrupt him, letting him run to the end of his tether, which was by no means a short one. At length, the worthy Corporal came to a halt. He had reached his climax. What a soldier's idea of life-living " like a fighting cock"-properly must be, need only be left to the conjecture of the reader. Porgy evidently understood it. "That would be something, indeed, Corporal." i "Wouia't it!" exclaimed the other. page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, "Yes, indeed; as fighting militia men, we have seldom been allowed the privilege of living like fighting cocks, and I confess, for one, I should like to try it, for a season, itf '.only by way of a change. But " Here the Captain of Partisans turned uneasily. "Lance," said he to the Lieutenant, " those negroes will never finish supper unless you stir them up; and I begin to think that the house would be quite as comfortable as the avenue. This mist is turning into rain. Get in, my la., and see after them, and let them make a clearing for us!" The youth disappeared in an instant. And so, Millhouse, you think I am still able to undergo the fatigues of matrimony?" "It's the very thing for you, Cappin." "Well, you've thought so much upon the subject, I suppose you've even thought of some woman in particular, such as you describe, who has ' the needful,' and krows the value of a man. Pray, tell me, if stch is the case." "To be sure, I hev'! I've seed the very woman, and so hev' you." "Ah! Well -" "WWell! it's jest this same lady, here, that we cut loose from the robbers-this widow Ebeleigh. When I seed the supplies in ,her wagon, and seed how liberal she -was in giving; when I seed he bacon and the bread, the sugar and the coffee, and the old m, Cappin-says I to myself-' that's the woman for the Cap- in ;' and I say it agin, Cappin, she's ia woman you kin stand. I would'nt be consenting to your heving any sort of woman, but this here one is a beauty for a man at your time, who's a soldier, and knows what's good living in this world! And I'm a-thinking, Cappin, that that's not far from her notion too. She looked on you amazin' sweet, I tell you." - "It is something to be thought of, Millhouse; but, as the widow . I X MUSINGS--MDNIGHT ALARM. 21 1 is'nt here, just now, suppose we try the rum? What do you sa y to a toddy " "Well, I say, that's quite a sensible and sodger-like idee." "Your arm, my good fellow," quoth Porgy; and, with the help tril s of the Cor oral, he heaved his bulk into uprightness, and botA of them passed into the house; from the hall of which Framptoa had, by this time, expelled the negroes, sending them into the basement, Tom and Pompey alone remaining above, with the view to making proper arrangements for the night. CHAPTER XXXI. MUSINGS--MDNIGHT ALARM. "TOM," said Porgy, stirring his rum and sugar, and touching glasses with the Corporal-Frampton declined to drink--"Tom! wher e are you going to spread my blankets to-night X"5 "Yer, Inaussa, yer by de fire. Yer's de place for you; de Lieu- tenant must lie dere, and de Copp'ral will ease he limbs yonder, dclose by de sugar kag." ' "'Twont do, Tom! I must sleep in my old room, you rascali if it's habitable. You know this, but ? "But dere's no fire dere, maussa." "And why the d-- 1, didn't you have a fire made there, yo lazy rascal? See to it atTonce. Open the room, and if there's floor enougk for my length and breadth, have it swept out in the twinkling of aneye. Set some of the fellows at once to work bringing in wood and kindling fire." "You, Pomp----' page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Let Pomp alone! I want him here.. Do it yourself if you can find no one else." Tom disappeared and stirred up the negroes below stairs. The door of achamber, entering from the hall, was thrown open, and a torch carried in. "Is it habitable?" was the demand of Porgry. "Oh! yes, maussa, when I done bresh 'em out' and mek'- de fire bu'n. One ob de floor board is gone, but 'nuff lef' for you lie 'pon." Yery good! Bestir yourself!-and now, men, for th order of the day to-morrow. We must get an early breakfast, and set out betimes for the burial of these rascals. Lance, did you irstruct one of the fellows to ride over at daylight to Mrs. Eveleigh's for the shovels?" The reply was affirmative. "Very good! And now, men, the sooner you take your rest the better. To-morrow" we must be stirring. There is much to be done. Tom, do you give out a blanket to each of the negroes below; take one for yourself, and give Pomp another. Put the rest into my room. You, Tom and Pomp, will sleep in the shed- room, to be within call. See to the negroes below, 'before you lie down, that they do not crowd into the fire. If let alone, the blockheads will burn us all up. Have an eye to them. We must build a feW pole-houses as soon as possible. And now to bed.- Corporal, will you take some more rum before you sleep " "Not a drop, Cappin." Help yourself, Tom, and put the rest safely away." "T'ank you, maussa," and Tom helped himself with a liberal hand. Millhouse had already stretched himself out, rolled up in his blanket. Frampton lay upon his, resting upon his elbow, with his head upon his palm, and gazing derrurely into the fire. Por- gy cast a dubious glance around him, then gathering up his sword and holsters, was about to retire, when he turned and said- - MUSINGS-MDNIGHT ALARM. 219 "Who has seen to the horses?" Framptor replied- "I have fastened them under the piazza, Captain, and given them both corn and fodder. Mrs. Eveleigh's overseer brought over a supply to last a week." "Ah!-all's right! Well, good night, men, and a good sleep to you; though I may as well tell you that the house is haunted." Millhouse growled from within his blankets, with something of the tone of a bull-dog suspicious of a stranger. .Frampton's eye brightened a little, but, except the "good night," with which he replied to the Captain's, said nothing. In a few moments, Porgy Tom and Pomp, having retired to their several lairs, the house was left in deep quiet, save from an occasional murmur that as- cended from the negroes in the basement. An Our Captain of Partisans entered his chamber, and let himself down upon the pile of blankets which formed his couch. This was spread before the fire-place, and he sat with his feet to the blaze. He had disencumbered himself of his coat and small- clothes, his boots and stockings. His sword and pistols lay be- side him, his saddle, over which one of the blankets was spread, served him for a pillow. But, for a iong time, he did not lie down. His eyes were bent upon the fire, or slowly wandered around the almost vacart chamber. It was a snug, but sufficiently capacious apartment, probably eighteen by twenty feet. The walls still ex- A hibited proo? of a degree of prid6 and state, which declared for a former wealth and taste, such as was strangely inconsistent with the present fortunes of the possessor. The panelling of wood, over the fire-place, still showed traces of two landscape paintings in oil, done upon the panels with no inconsiderable art. The framework around them consisted of heavy carved work, and the pillars of the mantel-piece were richly ornamented with carvings in similar style. About the room still hung the dingy and scat- tered frames of pictures, probably portraits, from which the can- ;^t * ! A.1, page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. vass had been cut out. It had probably been found useful for the meanest purposes, and had been appropriated, with all other mova- bles of any value, 'y the marauding British and Tories. The glass was destroyed in the sashes of all the windows. The shut- ters were mostly torn from the hinges and carried off, probably de- stroyed for fire-wood. One of the planks of the floor had been taken up, and lay beside the opening, very much hewed and mangled by the axe. The fragments of an ancient mahogany bedstead lay piled ip ii one corner, but it was evidently no longer available for use. It had been that on which Porgy had slept when a child. It was the bedstead of his mother. A bit of green cord still depended from a nail against the opposite wall. It had sustained the picture of his mother; that portrait of a fair young woman, taken when she was yet unmarried, whose sweet smiling features, in the active exerc-se of memory and fancy, seemed still to be lpoking down upon Lim. Porgy knew not that the big tears were gathering slowly In his eyes, and gradually stealing down upon his cheeks. He had reached his home, but it was a home no longer. The home is made by the hopes which it generates, and he had survived all those, of whatever sort, which came with youth and childhood. The prospect before him was one of unmixed desolation. How was he to redeem the mort- gaged acres of his domain? How was he to retain the poor re- mains of a once ample fortune? What were his own resources for this task. What was left for him to do, and where was the agency, external to himself, by which to effect the difficult achieve- ment.' The embarrassing straits of his condition had made them- selves apparent to him, most fully, on the moment of his return. But for the unexpected events of the day, and the generosity of Mrs. Eveleigh, he must have gone, imself, supperless to sleep, and witnessed the privations, in extreme, of his followers and slaves. And the relief was temporary only. He must provide for these hereafter; and how-? By incurring new embarrassments and I A MUSINGS-MDNIGHT ALARM. 221 obligations; by adding to the weight of former bonds and respon- sibilities; by endeavouring to establish a credit without being able to offer new securities. Was it probable that he could do this, in the unsettled condition of the colony?: And what securi- ties could he offer to the creditor? His lands were mortgaged to an amourt five times their' present value. A foreclosure of mortgage a, the present juncture would not only sweep them away, but take his negroes also, and still'leave him a debtor be- yond all means of paymeat. Even if time were allowed him, could he hope, criminnally ignorant as he was of all the arts requi- site to the good planter, to recover himself and renovate his for- tunes. These were the subjects of his meditations, and, cheiing the bitter cid of thoight and memory, his heart almost failed him. He stretched himself out upon his blankets almost reproach-' ing the. merciful Fate which had saved him from the bullet or bayonet of ;he enemy. His despondency, for awhile, increased with his meditation, until he felt that it would not be difficult that very hour to die. To die, was to escape the cares, the trou- bles and the humiliations to which he felt himself unequal, and which he now felt to be inevitable from life, with such a prospect as now grew up, dark and distinct, before his mind. He would have found it at once easy and grateful to be roused that moment with the call to battle. He would have rejoiced to find a full finish to his cares, in a desperate onset, at the head of his corps of partisans. "But the wars were all over," and this refuge was de- nied him. He must live, and how to live? The reflections that followed this inquiry, arrayed before him the small operations of his little force of half-a-dozen negroes in the rice fields, under the doubtful management of Corporal Millhouse. True, the Corporal boasted of his merits as a rice planter, but was it so sure that he knew anvth:ng of the matter? True, rice was the most profita- ble crop then made in the country, but how much rice, even sup- posing the best management, and the most favouring seasons, :i 19-* *,L t{ t ' page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] i222 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. could be made rby -his half-dozen negroes? But then came up the, last suggestioni of the sanguine Corporal. i There was the widow Eveleigh? The widow was a woman of goodly form, of gracious manners, of fine and indeperdent estates. The widow had experienced his! friendly services; ,she had witnessed his valour in her cause; he had perilled life in'her defence; he had, in all probability, saved herself from brutality, and her son from death. These were eminent services. She evidently felt them. Why should he not aspire to the widow? V Was he not' a man of per- son, portly, of commnanding figure, of good features, and quite young enough for her. The Captain stroked his chin with a sense of satisfaction as he reasoned thus. But, just then, occurred to him the somewhat disparaging reflection of the Corporal upon his legs. He looked down at the mermbers, which were thus as- sumed to be impediments to progress, in direct conflict with their designed uses. Sutrely, they are not so slender--they are not shrunken at all; th!r dimensions are as great as every It is only in contrast with the Imountainous abdomen, that they appear rnfe- rior. It was with some feeling of reproach and impatience that our Captainfixed his eyes on the unnaturally distended member. By what malice of Fate was it that it had so greatly grown at the- expense',af all:the rest! But he was kept from quarrelling out- light with :the one region, by a timely recollection of the famous allegory of Meneniis Agrippa. "No! no!" quoth he to himself. "This will never do. I could wish my store-house differently shaped and sized, if only for compactness and more easy carriage; but it has done good service in its time, and it is my own fau t if I have used it a little too much, and the other members muc& too little. Had I worked them more, and it less-had I uffered them less to take their ease, I should now have nothing to complain of, either in respect to their deficiency or its excess. 'It has distribute&las liberally as it could, ccording to my allowance; and they, according to Agrip- MUSINGS-MDNIGHT ALARM. 223 pa, have received 'the flower of all,' leaving to the belly the bran only. Certainly, it is a monstrous necessity that I should be com- pelled thus to carry with me such a bag of bran. But what is to be done? It is an inheritance which one may not mortgage; a store-house of which no Sheriff can deprive the possessor.- This, at least, is a perfect right and indefeasible!" and he laid his hands rather affectionately on the region under description. "At least!" he continued, "there is nothing insignificant about it. It may not be comely to the eye, but nobody can regard it as contemptible. It is not calculated to admit of the exhibition of grace; bat flat gentleman is ambitious of the renown of a dancing master. Still, it is something on parade. Nobody finds fault with s-uch an abdomen in a General. It embarrasses no man whose position requires that he should move with dignity. It guarantees the courage of the proprietor, since one is scarcely apt to run in battle; with such extensive stores to carry with him. No! no! Corporal, you shall not persuade me out of the faith that my par;s are at all in the; way of my person. But you may persuade me to the effort to place them properly in the way of other people. This widow is a noble :creature-pleasing to the eye; amiable, I know; well off, in respect of fortunes She can redeem my acres. She can put me on my legs again, however heavy my incumbrance. And why should she notdo so? She is young enough still for tastes and sensibilities, for which mere wealth can r-ever suffice. She has tasted of matrimony, and does not seem to have suffered from the taste. We must think more closely of th's matter." He laid himself back upon his saddle, and mused awhile, rose again, and sitting, pushed up the. brands, and drew the blanket over his legs. -lis meditations were now upon topics and details more immediately prosing. "To-morrow, we will bury these scoundrels. It will take us till afternooni. We can do little more that day. The next I am ';2 page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224- TH SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to dine with the widow. Humph! The next I must set off for the city. We must have ploughs and hoes, and a hundred other things for the plantation. Millhouse must be pacified. The ne- groes set to work. We must work, that is clear, though the Sheriff steps into the harvesting. Wagons, ploughs, hoes, axes, rope, furniture-I must have. By Jupi;er! I am resolved to die in a feather-bed, if I can. Food-we must have some bacon for the negroes. I must have some wine for myself, and for a guest, and rum for the Corporal. Kitchen furniture-" And he enumerated a score of other commodities. "But, the d--1! How for-the credit! I must counsel on the subject' with the widow. A woman is never- more flattered by a man than when he solicits her advice. She usually gives him more than he bargains for, but she not unfrequently gives herself into the bargain!" - The meditations of Porgy, mixed as they were, carried him late into the night. When every thing was still about the premi- -ses he was wakeful. As a thought would occur to him with any force, he would rise, fling a fresh brand into the Bfre, and sit up watching the blaze ;I lie down again for awhile, only to start up once more to meditation. But nature asserted her necessities at last, and his nostrils soon furnished audible echo to those sounds which he had heard at interval issuing from the neighbouring hall, and, as he assumed, from the proboscis of the Corporal. Deep thus con- tinued for a season to call unto deep, wi-hout either paying much heed to their mutual responses. Once, 't is true, a more than or- dinary explosion from the Corporal's nose, seemed to disquiet the slumbers of the Cap'tain. E "Zounds!" quothI he, drowsing again. "How Millhouse does snore! What an infirmity!-peculiar, I believe, only to the low- er orders. Gentlemen never snore! How is it with ladies?- Wonder if the widow Evel " And the conjecture remained unconcluded; and the mutual i s -:: MUSINGS-MDNIGHT ALARM. 225 nostrils of Captain and Corporal continued to respond to one an- other, without causing any annoyance to either party. But they were both destined to be aroused by an explosion of very different character. They had slept some hours, soundly, as was natural to men who had gone through such a day's work as that we have already described. It wore on towards morning-was, indeed, but a short hour to daybreak-when Porgy started up with a ringing i and a rushing sound, seemingly immediately at his ears. Mill- house was awakened at the same moment. They were both up- on their feet in an instant. But they were in the dark. The fire had burned down in both apartments, and Millhouse was stunm- bling in confusion over kegs and boxes, not knowing in which way to turn,' or whence came the sounds of alarm which were still ringing in his ears. The Captain wakened to instant con- sciousness of his situation It was a pistol shot he had heard the moment after he was awakened. He detected a rush in the piazza, and fancied he, could hear still the distant tramplings of a horse. He could also hear the soft dull pattering of the rain upon the roof of the piazza. There. was evidently an alarm. His holsters were caught up, and the pistols detached in an instant. In another he was feeling his way into the hall, whither he made his way without any difficulty, the whole regionbeing familiar to his childhood. Suddenly he encountered Millhouse. They grap- pled one another with 4 mutual instinct.- "Speak!" cried Porgy, " or I shoot." "It's you, Cappin, is it?" replied the other. "'What's the matter, Millhouse?" "Dogs!I don't krow! I jest heerd bang! bang! and a shout- ing, and a noise of feet, and started up to make my way out, and heeled over one of these d--- d kags! I've spilt some blood in the affair, though it's only fronm my nose.'? "A part that may well spare it," replied Porgy, not willing to forego his 'jest at any season. "But, where's Lance?" :- I - -"'t , , page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 - THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "I ha'n't seed him.." "Then it was his pistol. Thatfellow never Sleeps. Stay! that window is open on the piazza. I see. He has jumped out there. Let me find the door. We must see af;er him. He's a sentinel among a thousand. Those d--d negroes haven't heard a word of the matter." "Hain't turned over for a second nap, I reckon." "Strike a light, Millhouse! Here's the fire-place, you know where you put the flint and matches. I've got the door." Saying these words, Porgy unfastened the door and stept out into the piazza. All was still for a few moments. He could see nothing. The night was dismally dark. The rain fe!l in a settled shower. The wind sighed at a distance very mournfully. Porgy waited in silence. As the light kindled within, he drew the door to, that it might offer no aid to a random bullet. He stood thus, beginning, in his only-half-dressed condition, to shiver with the chilling night wind, when he heard a footstep upon some decaying branches on the earth below. "Who goes there e" "Lance!" was the reply, and the young Lieutenant sprang up the steps, covered with mud, and soakirg with water, with a pis- tol in each hand. "What the d---'s the stir, Lance V" The youth's story was soon told. He was awakened by a trampling and seeming confusion among the horses below. He listened, and, as the stir continued, he rose, found his pistols, and was preparing to step out quietly, -when he distinctly heard the free movements of al single steed, as if guided round the house. He immediately dashed open the shutter of the window under which he lay, jumped out into the' piazza and challenged. In- stead of an answer, the horse was, put Into instant motion down the avenue. He fired twice, at random, at the object which he fan- cied he could see, but he supposed without effect. He then qrl-1eT MUSINGS--MDNIGHT ALARM. 2227 }' . X A . " darted down the steps, and down the avenue for a hundred yards, but without result. Tke fugitive, whoever he was, had succeeded in making his escape. Of the mischief done, if any, nothing as yet was known. To this inquiry all parties now addresed them- selves. Porgy hurried on his clothes. Millhouse, penetrating the shed-room where Tom, the cook, and Pomp, the fiddler, were do- ing any quantity of sleep, endeavoured to arouse them both at the same moment, by punching them, as they lay side by side, with his sheathed sabre in his one hand, and with the stump of his remaining arm. His sword stirred Pomp into consciousness, while i the stump of arm, pressing closely'against Tom's cheek, was in- stinctively seized, by the sleeve, between the teeth of the negro, and held with a growl, which made the Corporal a little doubtful of his condition. "Why, Tom," said he, "you're wolf-bit, and dog-bit too, I I reckon, jedging by the sort of teeth you carry; but let loose, old fellow, or I'll be drawing 'em out with a handspike." "Who dat?" quoth Tom. "Git up, you varmin;, and shake yourself." "Gorrah! I nebber guine git my sleep!" "Sleep! You've had enough for amonth. You sleeps like a bear in cold weather." "Dis dah cold wedder 'nough for nigger. Ef I bin bear, Mass Copporal, I nebber beer let you go so easy. Wha' de matter now? Wha' for you no let poor sodger nigger hab he leetle sleeps wid- out 'tir'em up wid stump and swode?" "Why, we're robbedl and killed here, you skunk; we've had a fight with the tories, arld-hey've scalped Lance, and shot the Cap- I pin in three places, his head, his belly, and his, witals." "Lord ha' massy! Shoot maussa jes' as he git to he own home at last. I never b'lieb, eben ef I see em. Ho! maussa, I say, in der'!" And, shouting as he went, followed by Pomp, Tom, the cook, page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. now thoroughly awakeqed, hurried to join the group within the hall. Torches were kindled, and all armed, the party sallied out, having divided, one por-ion taking the front, the other, the rear outlet. - The house was circled, the avenue explored; horse-tracks were found going forth, freshy made in the mud; and an exanli- nation of the horses showed one of them to be missing. "'Tis de raw bone black, Pomp. De same sawt of horse I bin see dat d -n-Bossick ride," The proceeding was a sufficiently daring one. "The Squatter, Bostwick?" queried Porgy, looking to-Tom. ' Da him, maussa, sure as a gun."5 "It may be! Well!" compressing his lips. "He may ride one horse -too much for his own comfort yet." "The foal of an acorn!" said Millhouse. "I reckon it was sartain one of the chaps we fout with yesterday, whether you call him Bossick, or what. And a mighty sassy fellow! Why Cap- pin, sich a thing hardly ever happened to us in all the cam- paigns." . "No, indeed!" "It is a shame and a disgrace to us as sodgers." "You forget that the was is ove0 and we had no reason to ex- pect attack. But it's no use talking. Well it's no worse. He might have taken all, but for Lance. Millhouse, you sleep like a tomb-stone, and snore like the Seven Sleepers. There's no more sleep for any of us to-night. It must be near day. Tom, turn in and have us some coffee. Lance, send off the fellow to the widow Eveleigh's for the spades and hoes. Tell him to go to the overseer's house, and be careful not to disturb the lady. Corporal, will you take a little rum now, or wait for the coffee?" "Well, Cappin, jest to be a-doing, I'll do both." "You were born to be a soldier, Corporal," replied Porgy quiet- ly, as he motioned (to the liquor before him.-, Pomp was already at hand with a gourd of water. But Millhouse drank alone. Por- t I * * * ?) RETURN TO THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 229 - gy had already turned to his usual resource, and was crowding 8fresh-tobacco into his pipe. - Day dawned within the hour, but very gloomily, and the rain, though slackened, still continued. CHAPTER XXXII. RETUTRINi TO THE FIELD OF BATTLE, THE day, as was expected, opened in gloom. The sun made no thowings that morn'ng. The skies were enveloped in unbroken cloud and vapour, relieved, imperfectly, by a constant fall of rain, which was of that cool measured, deliberate sort, which indicates unfailing resource, and a quiet determination to have i;'s own way. Our Captain of Partisans Walked out into the piazza, front and -; 'rear, without any sense of relief from either quarter. The avenue ! in front exhibited a dreary aspect in spite of the fact that it was ^ composed mostly of evergreens. The great oaks, grown together ?: and arching above the track, each wore its heavy streamers of gray X moss, which drooped almost to the earthl with the great water - drops, like the old ,fashioned pictures of Winter, h's big beard ; crested with icicles. Vracant fields on each hand, fenceless and wholly uncultivated, added vastly to the dreariness of the scene. Fog and cloud, vapou and rain, were present everywhere, and made every thing as gloomy to the eyes of the spectator, as it : was to his thoughts. Those old fields, should he ever again see them smiling incorn? The old house, whose timbers groaned T beneath his tread, how long should he enjoy its shelter?--should i he ever, with any feeliug of security, behold it gay with the joy- 20 't ::szit page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, ous faces of his friends ' Was not all the life prospect before his mind, as sombre and cheerless as that before his eyes W? While he mused thus, perhaps with a wholesome bitterness,- having in it no small degree of sell-reproach, he was joined by Millhouse. '"These old fields, Cappin," said the latter, extending the stump of his arm, as he spoke, to the indicated quarter, " these old fields will be sure to bring fine corn; they-are all matted with weeds, and have been lying but so long. I reckon you kaint icollect t when they were planted last '" ! "Not I!" was the answer. / "But you hev' seen em a-growijg, Cappin?" "I suppose so; I can new see that they have been planted, and I suppose in my time; but really, 'my good Corporal, to say that I saw them in a crop, or ever saw the crop, of any kind, whenl I was professedly a'planter, would be something ,of a rashness on my part. Pray believe that I. was a very foolish, profligatD per- son, who, in ceasing to be-young, did not cease to be-foolisl, and continued his absurd vanities and excesses to the last. 'Ald, I am telling you :now, Millhouse, what has been but too commonly the case among our young men of fortune of my day. There were some exceptions, it is true; but the curse of my generation was that our fathers lived. too well, were too rapidly prosperous, -, and though they did not neglect the 'exercise of a proper indulstry in Ithemselves,'they either ldid not know how to teach it to their children, or presumed on the absence of any necessity ttat they should learn.:' We'w'ere- to be affluent in what thei- should leave us-enough, in G6ods name, if we could keep it-but it is very sure that the best way to teach one to value and to keep what he gets, is just to teach him how to get. He who has not learned the one lesson will fail in the other, and is apt to waste what'he did not work for. And now, my good fellow, don't "sey another word to me about the crops in past seasons. I have really no wish to confess my sins and follies to man as well as to myself and ,. ' - * '*'., RETURN TO THE FIELD OF BATTLE. - 231 God. Turn in, if you are so disposed, and mae your crops; ' you say you know, how, and I am willing to believe you. I will assist you when I can--- . - ' But don't you meddle, Cappin." "Oh! no! you'shall have full swing for a season, at least,' and I will second you-I will be your Corp[oral only. You shall have a fair share of the spoils at harvest time, and we'll continue to live as decently as possible in the meanwhile. And that reminds me that it is time for breakfast. That rascal, Tom, because we broke his slumbers so suddenly this morning, will be out of hu- mour all day. 'Let's see to him." Corporal. Millhouse was not quite satisfied to have his mouth shut so summarily lby the frankl confession of the faults and follies on the part of his sluperior. He was not content that a general confession, however sweeping, should anticipate the details, one by one, of Porgy's short-comings. He had a sort of inquisitorial faculty for dra'ging ,out the truth, inch by inch, slowly from the criminal, so that he should not escape a. single pfng which was proper to his case; and his deliberate purpose hbd been to take the Captain over his territories, field by field, and extort from him at each, some adamlssion of fault or ignorance. It was with a growl that he yielded to the very decided manner of his superior whicah at once closed the-door against farthelr "question." The day, opened as we have seen with bustle and confusion, was destined to be a busy one. Breakfast was su'lenly prepared by Tom--with whom the whole world had seemned to go wrong from the moment wien the stump of Alillhouse's a'm, that morn- ing had made so fi'ee with his sensibilities ; and Pomp, stupid, rather than savage, w as serving it up to our partisans, as he had done the sur per the night before, when Fordham, the overseer, suddenly cantered up to the house. lHe had brought with him the negro who had gone for hloes and shovels, with some three of four others, similalty provided, for the purpose of assisting in the page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 "'HE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. burial of the outlaws. This was due to the timely suggestion or the widow Ereleig, who, the night before, ad given the foroverseer his instructions, and who had expressed herself particularly anx-. ious for the recovery of the mahogany box, which she urgently counselled him to look for in all the places in which the outlaws had been seen to Larbour during the day of her adventure. She did not tell him of the contents of the box, and had been silent, so far as he was concerned, in respect to the paper which. contained the memoranda of McKewn, and the' signature of that amiable philanthropist. Fordhain, accordingly, simply stated that a ma- hogany box was missing containing fifty guineas, and we may mention, in this place, that Porgy, his followers, and the negroes generally, all busied themselves in its search with as much anxiety as if the property had been their own. But the labour was una- vailing, and the search' was finally given up as hopeless, after a persevering scrutiny in swamp and thicket, hiding place and hol- low, wherever it seemed possible, or plausible to think, that the outlaws had penetrated. But to return. Fordham was iLvited to share the breakfast, which he did with right good will. He was now told of the alarm which the party had had, and the loss which they had suffered, of one of the cap- tured horses. "Which one, Cappin?" demanded Fordham. "A raw bone black." "Ah!" "Da Bossick horse, Mass Fordham," quoth Tom, putting in con- fidently. "Pomp say he know de horse, and John Sylbester bin tell me de same t'ing." "He look like hoss I bin see Bossick ride one time." "But you ain't sart'in, Pomp?" asked Fordham. "He bin ride raw bone black, one time." "It may Ye," said Fordham. "Bostwick is not too good for any villany; and we have good reason to think it was by his / RETU .N TO THE FIELD..OF PBATTLE. 233 means that your niggers and Mrs. Eveleigh's was carried off to the British. We don't know for sartin, but it's mighty like. Now, I have hearn of Bostwick riding a raw bone black, but I don't know that I ever seed him on a critter in my life. He's a mighty cute fellow that never lets you git too near to him. I'm pretty sure he headed them rascals yesterday, yet I never seed one man more than anotherthat I could lay finger on for him ant be sart'in.- Yet I could almost Swear a Bible oath that he was one of them and one of the worst. There was one on them tha; called Jenny, the nigger gal, by tlze right name; and I reckon he was the one. He know'd her well, and let the word slip onawar's." "Does not the fellow live somewhere in this reighbourhood still?" demanded Pqrgy. "Well, thar's no telling if he lives any whar. He's never to be seen in these pars. I haven't heard of him for a year, posi- tive, from anybody t':at could sw'ar they seed him. He's got his family on the cornwe of Mrs. Ev'leigh's land, anc not far from your's-jest in the swamp, and not a half a mile from the river; but I reckon he's hardly there once a year. .The family never sees much of him, I'm sartin." "But that is one of his quartering places. We must root 'em out, Fordham; his family. is as bad as himself. Has he any sons " " "A leetle boy, only, and two gals. The boy is just creeping about. The two gal are most half-grown-one's about twelve, I reckon, the other tep. But, Lord love you, Capyin, there's no rooting these people lout. 'It would be the cruellest thing that you could do. They are so poor }and miserable, ard so humble, and the poor wife's so sad and heart-broken, -nd onhappy, and the gal children 's so sweet, and so mighty pretty, preticular- ly the oldest, who's a born beauty, jest like the darter of some great people. As foil being as bad as himself, that's not so, Cap- pin, axing your pardqn. They're good people, workirg hard, night 20* t \ page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 TEE SWORD AND THE3 DISTAFF. ar d day, and gitting none of the benefit of all that Bostwick airns or steals. He's hardly ever with 'em, and does nothing for 'em when he comes, onless for the oldest gal, and they tells me that he pets her a leetle, and according to his humours. It's a a hard case for them that they have to do with sich a born rascal; but what's to help it. The poor wife can't git rid of him now, and the poor little chilcren., They can only groan and cry together, when they're by taemselves, and take what the marcy of. God sends 'em, through the hands of their neighbours. You kain't think of rooting 'em out; Mrs. Ev'leigh knows jest as well as anybody what Bos wick is, but she has pity on the poor wife and children. She gives them spinning to do, and weaving, and the oldest darter is both mighty clever to work and willing; and it's througL Mrs. Ev'leigh that they gits on at all; but for her they'd starve; she feeds 'em, and physics 'em, and clothes 'em; and yit that black-hearted scamp, Bostwick, has been about the worst inimy of her' and her plantation, that she ever had in these parts." "Well, Fordhari, I'm sworn to do this poor woman and her children a greater charity than ever Mrs. Eveleigh has done " "Ah! you kain't do that easily, Cappin." "I will!" "What's that?" I've sworn by Acheron and Styx, to see him hung to the first good swinging limb within half an hour after I Jay eyes upon him." "And may' God, in his marcy, grant you the strength and the chance, Cappin, to keep your oath! That would be a great char- ity, I'm consenting, to the poor woman and the little chicks; and I'm willing to take a hand in it, whenever you are ready to tree the critter. Ef she was free of him, she would do better, for he bdings her no help, and I'm a-thinking takes away from her all she can aim. Besides, people's afear'd to hire her at their places, i RETURN TO THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 235 for fear they'll bring-him about 'em. Ef he was dead and out of the way, she would be a thousand times better off." "We must pay her a sudden visit to-day-t y to ascertain if he has been there lately, and when., He would hardly visit the neighbourhood, without seeing them." "That's as it hlappens, and seems advisable. -e wouldn't resk a hair of his head on a visit to them at any time, though the nig- gers do say that 1'e loves the eldest gal child." D "And she's a beauty?" "A raal flower of the forest, Cappin." "Poor thing! Why don't Mrs. Eveleigh take her home?" "She's afear'd of the fathers coming about the place; besides, the mother won't let her leave her. Sle says she's her only com- fort, and I reckon she is. She's a raal sweet, smart, and beautiful little critter." "We'll take them coming back. You can guide us, Fordham, for I pretty much forget all the routes in this quarter. And now, to horse." But what's the need for you to go, Cappin?' demanded Ford- ham and Millhoise in the same breath. "We kin bury these blackguards, and look up for the box without troubling you; and you see the raih keeps on." "A fig for the rain! After soaking for five years in rain, and, indeed, all sorts o liquors, to talk to me now of another soaking as a thing to skALlk from. Shut up, my good fellows. Pomp, my horse! Besides, how do I know but that you may have cus- tomers in the surviving robbers. A couple of stout rascals, in ambush, would easily settle twice their number, for your negroes could never be relied on. Ho! Pomp!" "Wha' mek' you holler, maussa? Enty you see de boss ready for you by de tree. All ready but you swode and pistols, and yer he is." Thus Tom, with sword- and holsters on his arm. The sword I * - page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. : was quietly girded about the waist of Porgy by Friampton, while Tom followed with the holsters. A few moments, and the party moved up the avenue, all mounted, even the negroes, who carried their hoes and shovels across their thighs, or up in air, as the Scy- thian and Cumanche robber carries his spear, and went forth better pleased with the idea of burying their dead, than with that of going into battle. L Their farther progress requires no detailed report. They reach- ed the skirmishing ground in due season, and reviewed its aspects. The slain outlaws were found undisturbed where they had been left, and were buried where they lay. No coffin or shroud en- wrapped the forms of those who had cast themselves off fi'om so- cial sympathies. 'Holes in the earth, some three feet deep, be- yond the reach of wolf and wild cat, sufficed to hide them out of sight. And this was all. The negroes heaped up the earth in mounds above them, and a stake, cut from the woods and driven down at the head of the grave, indicated to the wayfarer the place of human sepulture, in that-wild spot, knd remote from settlement or church, very much as the wayside cross in Spain denotes where the murdered traveller has perished. 'his duty done, and the search after the lost box of Mrs. Eveleigh proving ineffectual, our Captain of Partisans, some two hours after noon, proposed to his party to return. All assented but Lance Frampton, yho seemed to hesitate, and, by Lis manner, reminded Porgy of rhe young man's obligations elsewhere. "Ah! Lance, by -the way," said he, "ride over an see Mrs. Griffin and her daughter. It is but two miles and a half from us where we stand, and a shorter distance, by twice that number than if you gh back with us, and then proceed. You can retuin at night, or not, as you think proper. Of course, we want you, if you can be spared, and will keep supper for you, till bed time.-- Go, my good boy, an. present my best respects to the good widow. You remember, I spend the day, to-morrow, at Mrs. Eveleigh's, BOSTWIOK, THE SQUATTER, AND HS FAMLY. o 237 and shall wish you to accompany me. MillhoTxse will go also, while Tom keeps watch at home. The next day or soon after, I shall, probably, be compelled to set out for the city to get sup- plies. There now, my lad, you have all my plans for the present, and can make your own arrangements accordingly." "Ef you are ri ling over to the widow Griffin's now, Lieuten- ant," said Fordham, turning to the youth, be so good as to say to her, that I'll send the peas and inyons (onions) over to her a Sat- urday night-that's all." And Lance Frampton rode off alone. E "And now, Fo-dham," said Porgy, " lead the way to the wig- wam of the Squatter. Let us see his family at all events, and find out, if we can, whether he has been there lately." I : - . I CHAPTER XXXIII. BOSTWICK, THE SQUATTER, AND HS FAMLY. IT is time that we should return to the recesses of the swamp where we left the Squatter, Bostwick, up to his neck in water. No condition could have appearea more hopeless,-no situation more humbling or perplexing. It is, perhaps, the case commonly, that the habitual crim'nal is habitually an unthinking person, else how should the utter?rofitlessness, and certain perils of -crime, fail to impress themselves upon the mind of him who toils in his voca- tion of sin, and is taught by the bitter experience of each day the terrible truth that the only wages he can earL, in this employ- merit, is shame and scorn, and foes, and ignominy and death!- What had been Bostwick's profits in hiscareer . As he mutter- page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ed more than once to himself, standing on the cold and gloomy hammock- "I have nothing to show! McKewn kin show, and Moncrieff kin show; they've got the money and the goods; they're great men in the world and 'ich;--but H've got nothing but the dan- ger, and the cold, the resk and the exposure, the empty pockets, and the swinging limb! Empty pocket! No!-not so bad as all that, either. The widop said there was fifty guineas in her box." The miserable wretch found his temporary c nsolation in this reflecti6n. His comrades had mostly perished. He had nearly shared their fate. The plunderers were stript. They who went forth to shear,s cameI home shorn. Even his horse and rifle had dis- appeared in the grasp of the partisans; and they were a class of people with whom long experience had taught him that it was very dangerous to meddle. But the recollection of the widow's strong box consoled him for thie moment. That was safe. He had hid- den it beyond the search and suspicion even of his comrades, and he chuckled to himself, 'even in that gloomy hout, at the cleverness with which he had succeeded in doing so. -Fifty guineas were in that box. Fifty guineas! He began to calculate how long they were to last, according!to the life of riot, drinking and gaming which-he led. He made no appropriations of any portion to his family. They had no such need as himself. Fifty guineas!--and the\papers. They, too,lmust be in that box; and these papers, according to the inadvertent admissions of McKewn, were impor- tant to his safety. i "The d-- d skinflint!" muttered Bostwick to himself. "H e i shall pay for them or hang! He talks of me hanging, and to my face, jest as ef he, had any right-to makeme feel oneasy. But we'll see who's most likely to hang. We'll see who's the rope guine to fit best. The mean, dirty scoundrel. I see what he's after; but I'll put a spoke in that wheel, will upset his carriage, ef he don't walk a safe track with me. He's got property. He's I EK I- sF'BOSTWICK, THE SQUATTER, AND HS FAMLY. 239 a great man now-a-days. He's bought a plantation here jest alongside the widow's, and who but he, with his niggers and lands. Ha! well! He's played a mighty strong hand in the game, but there's a trmp he aint got, and aint guine to git till j he agrees to share the stakes. Let him try! He was quite a [: clever chap among th British. Lord! how they loved one an- other; and he's now to be quite a clever chap among the rebels l Well, it's for me to say,. I reckon, how much love is to be lost atween 'em. -Only wait! I'll wait--jest as long as it suits me., But now for the box." f il And threading his vjay out of the swamp, with the ease of one who had never walked on freer or firmer ground, he proceeded to the spot in the woods above, not a hundred yards from the place where the widow's carriage had been brought to a halt, in which the box had been safely hid away. ie found it even where he sought. He held it up to the light of the stars. It was heavy, but it was locked. The key had never been taken from the possession of Mrs. Eveleigh. Her bunch still remained-in her pocket. She had not been searched; but would I ave been, in all probability, but for the unexpected defeat of the -enterprise of the outlaw's. But the want of the key suggested no difficulty to our Squatter. At one moment he had lifted up the box -to dash it upon a stlump, the short process being always the most grateful to the ruffian for attaining his ob- ject. But Bie arrested himself. " "The guineas will scatter, and I kaint afford to lose the ugliest on, 'em." He felt for his knife. It was gone-lost. "Never mind!" he muttered, "I kin wait'till-I git to see Ra- chel." Raclel -poor Rachel--his wife! He thought of her. at that moment, not as one whom he loved or cared -for, but as the crea- ture from whom he might find :service--obtain the' 'mplement ' I ' page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] l / -- t 240 TEIE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. which should give him access to a more precious treasure. He start- ed off with the box under his arm.- His swiftness of foot seemed undiminished by the day's fatigue. He was one of those sinewy, lean, elastic, beings of iron-hardwood. and endurance-who seem never to have enjoyed life, yet are equal to all its requisitions. In training, like most people of the same description of life in the same region, he was an Indian-could outrun a horse in a day's journey, and never appeared to suffer from thirst or hunger. He had short cuts through swamp and thicket, known to few besides himself, and in half the time occupied by our Partisans on horse, he made his way, on foot, to the swamp margins of the plantations of Mrs. Eveleigh and Captain Porgy. Within half a mile stood the wigwam of his wretched family. It occupied a place half, hidden in a little clump of woods, near which stretched a small cornfield of a few acres, the old decaying stalks crumbling over the spot where they lad feebly grown. He again concealed his box, this time in thet hollow of a cypress, when aboutf to emerge from the cover of the swamp. He did not approach his own dwelling without the greatest caution. 'He knew not what sort of customers he was to encounter in the neighbourhood. Winding about the woods wherever a cover could be found, he gradually drew nigh to the rear of the habitation which he skirted cautious- ly. The hum of the spinning-wheel alone reached his ears from within. He stole up to the habitation and peeped through a cre- vice between the logs. We will follow his example. The wigwam was one of the meanest sort of log-houses, not more than sixteen by twenty feet-built of slender pine poles, which were already greatly decayed. The spaces had been closed with clay, but this had mostly fallen out. Originally, the house had been clap-boarded (a coarse and inferior shingle) with split pine, and fastened down by wooden pegs. Much of the roofing had decayed, and the openings were thatched-with ricks, of broopn-grass and pine-straw--a very sliht and imperfect shelter i . ; ' - 4' :t THE SQUATTER, BOSTWICK, AND HS FAMLY. 241 for the encounter with our March and September squalls. But I there was an additional protection in a great live oak, of a thou- sand generations, whick overspread the roof on the northern side, the branches resting upon it, and, when stirred by the wind, mak- ing such a strange scraping along the clap-boards, as if-a score of wild cats were striving to scratch their way, as would have'startled one, not familiar with ;he noise, with a thousand staggering ap- prehensions-particularly at midnight. But our Squa;ter's family heard nothing, or if they did, the sounds had become companion- able, and thus agreeable. We are not sure that the wife of the Squatter did not find it a great relief to listen to the disordered branches, in -he long, weary hours of the night, when the child- ren were all asleep, but when she could not. The poor, subdued, faint-spirited woman, she sat within, knitting her worsted and cot- ton into thick stockings for the ungrateful wretch who peered, un- suspected, between the logs, and beheld her occupation. She was a thin, frail, pale-faced body, with fair complexion still, of soft, sad eyes, the only remains of a once girlish beauty, Her look almost vacan;, was fixed upon the fire. Her dress-was of the plainest sort of blue homespun-her own manufacture-but it was scrupulously neat and clean. She seemed to work unconscious- ly as if from habit; ye; her fingers traversed the needles and passed the threads with the rapidity of one whose whole soul was in the task. At the other corner of the fire-place, stood her eld- est daughter, whom she called Dory. Her proper name was Do- rothy. It was her spinning-wheel whose song saluted thp ears of Bostwick as he approached the house. Dory, although Itill but twelve years old, was an adept at all her labours. Noody---it was her motEer's boast-could spin better than Dory, a finer or a stronger thread. And Dory could weave also, quite as well as her mother. The child was nearly as strong. Indeed, responsibilities, at an early period, had matured her mind and body very equally. They grew together, and therefore both. grew strong. I The child 21 4t page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. might have passed for a girl of fifteen, so well was she developec. When you looked at her face she seemed still older-there was such a sad, settled, and profound expression in the sweet symme- trical and chastened features. She was very fair, though she bore the fuel from the woods, and the water from the spring. She was taM, and, moving to and fro about the spinning wheel, she exhibited a natural grace such as a humble1 life like her's seldom displays. Her hair, a rich auburn, curled and floated free in long silken tresses, having escaped from the massy folds in which she commonly kept it bound. She, too, was clad in the simplest homespun, and her naked feet and ancles, in consequence of the. scantiness of her dress; were conspicuous upon the floor. But the floor was kept tidily clean. If there was poverty in the dwelling, there was evidently a natural purity also, which reconciled the spectator to the scene. The other children of the Squatter, were asleep in a pallet in one corner of the room. There was no separate apartment. Dory slept with her mother in the father's absence, and when he came home she crouched in with Bet, her, younger sister, and Bennyt, the infant boy. The mother's bedstead, was a rude frame work of pine, clumsily executed by a country carpenter. There was a single pine table in the room, and four chairs, bottomed with cow- hide. This was all the furniture. A few gourds containing seeds and spices hung against the walls. A shelf outside sustained the watei bucket. In a corner of the fireplace was an iron pot, and in a nook of the chamber was leaned a frying-pan. The fragment of a mirror, without frame, a trimmed bit of glass, of a few inches at most each way, was fastened by pegs against one of the logs over the fire-place. Such was the picture, lightened up fully by the blaze from half-dozen pine knots, which hissed and spark- led in the hearth, giving light and heat equally. The very poor, in all the South, rarely use candles, or those of their own making only. The Squatter's wife had her's, it is true, a small making only. S a Small^ TEE SQUATTER, BOSTWICK, AND HS FAMLY. 243 supply, made of tallow and myrtle wax, but these were to be used only or particular occasions. They were made by Dory, and were too precious to be wasted. But this was not a considera- tion with Bostwick. He consumed them whenever he came home, t with little heed to the poor child whose means were so small, and : whose labours were so heavy. Yet the miserable wretch loved this child as well as he could love any human being-infinitely ^ more than he loved the mother. He was sensible of her beauty- her eye sensibly impressed him. To her he was never brutal, seldom harsL. To all others of the family he was cold or trucu- lent. Something in her glance seemed to impress him with re- l spect, if not awe. She did not shrink from, yet did not seek to ?' conciliate him. She fe-t, and resented by her withdrawal, his bru- talities to her mother. She submitted to his endearments, yet never returned them. Eer instincts-shall we notsay her thoughts -were all at war with his nature, and the habits in which he in- : - dulged. She had courage, too, and, never once forgetting that he : . . was her father, she could yet venture upon terms of rebuke aind : reproach, at moments when his excesses revolted her, such as be- came singularly impressive, spoken by the lips of a child, and in AdJ the unsophisticated language of the heart. Still he loved hen af- ter a fashion-loved her with a sort of reverence, as she repiesent- ed to his eyes that hig -er phase of society to which he felt etg : he himself could never aspire, and to which, as is conimonly the case with the class to which he belonged, he lookedl ever with feelings of envy and desire. He announced his preser-ce to the inmates of the iovel, by a peculiar whistle through the logs. The girl looked quietly at her mother, but said nothing. The woman started up, all in a terror, and hastened to draw tLe bolt of the door and give him entrance. "What! Bostwick! You've come?" "Don't you see me Well, Dory, hev' you got nofaing to say to me?" page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Howdye, father," and the wheel was stopt, and she offered her hand. He kissed her, but not the mother; and frequent re- pulses had taught the latter not to attempt to bestow her kisses upon him. - "You're all well, I reckon ." - '"Yes!" faintly answered the woman, as she resumed her seat by the fire, and her knitting, after drawing a chair for him. Dory resumed her spinning at the same time. "What! the d-- ," said he," a'n't you guine to git me some supper?" - And he flung himself into the chair, and looked fiercely at the wife. ' "We hain't got much," replied the woman, meekly, sing at the same moment and proceeding to one side of the chimney where some clothes were hanging, forming a sort of curtain. "Much or leetle, let's hev' it; I'm, hungry to kill. Got anyl thing to drink?" "Not a drop, but I'll make you some coffee, Sam, ef you'll wait for it" "Wait! Humph! Git it! But first, let me hev' a big knife, ef you've got one, and your tinder-box and steel." a Why, what's become of yours, Sam?" "What's that to you? It's lost somewhere." "And you've been in the water, Sam!" "Yes; hev' you got any dry Clothes for me?" "There's the old scarlet breeches of the officer, and the coat, Sam " I "Won't do; scarlet won't do for my wearing now. That time's gone. You must dye them clothes, before I can wear 'em. Dye 'em blue or green, either." "You come on foot, father?" queried Dory. "Well, ef I did, Dory, I reckon foot was given to me to come on." THE SQUATTER, BOSWICK, AND HS FAMlY. 245 "But you hev'nt sold Black} Ball .," "Sold h'm! Yes,! Perhaps! a sort of mortgage, I reckon; but what's the matte? Suppose I hev' sold him, who's to ax - about the bargain? Mind your own business, child." The girl looked at him, quietly, and the brute turned his eyes i upon the fire. He somehow couldn't meet her glance. The moth- fI er, spreading the table the while, with a rare inexperience, took up ,':: -the inquisition. TV- "And where's you: rifle, Sam You didint bring it with '.l *you?" "Look you, woman, I didn't come here to answer questions.- Suppose I left horse and rifle ihi the swamp, it's what I've had to- do a thousand times, and I had my reasons for it; only do you recollect, keep your tongue close when you talks to other people about my horse and rie, and about me, too, ef you please. You don't know how soon you may be axed. And look you, Rachel, when you've gotto6 answer, seb that you do it yourself. Don't leave it to Dory. You rain't trust her. She don't love her father ; enough, to say what may save him from the inimy." "But you've got no 'nimy now, father. Why should vou have an inimy 2 Don't they say its peace, now?" "Peace! As ef there was any peace for me! I ell you the whole county's sworn agin m, onlyecase I wan to git my I living out of it. But that's neither here nor there. You remem- X ber, you dort know nothing about me; ef you're axed, you reckon a H I've left the cpuntry. I hain't been here. I've got no black horse X --remember that, in preticklarl! -.That's enough! Where's the 1 knife I, axed you for 8" I i5 "It's here!" said the mother, handing him a clums blade, set in a commor- wooden handle. He looked at it scornfuily. "It's the best we've got;" said the woman, apologecally. "And good enough, too, for all you want with it. Now, git the coffee ready by the time I git back." 1.:gJ "'1 page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246' THE .SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. With these words, grasping knife, flint, steel and tender-box, he rose and hurriedly left the dwelling. The moment he had disap- peared, the mother said- "I wonder what he's after now. I'm afraid it's no good. Lord, ef he'd only stay quiet at home, and make corn for-his family; but there's no such comfort for us, Dory, I'm afear'd. He's got the habit of going off, and doing God knows what; and we must only i work as we kin, to keep from starvation." The girl was silent for a space, and the mother, in the meantime, spread the table, got out some cold meat, and kneaded the dough into a hoe-cake, which was set promptly before the fire to bake. She hadkresumed her seat, when Dory, pausing at her wheel, re- marked quietly and gently, but with that air of certainty which I truth, simplicity and earnest conviction will inspire, -at all times, even in a child, and which crown its words with a degree of au- thority--- "I .wouldn't be asking father any more questions, mother. It does no good, and only makes him angry. He don't mind what we say, and we can't help it when he loses anything. He's al- ways losing, and coming home poor and wanting; and he don't like to tell us how he came to lose. He's in some great trouble now, and you'd better not speak to him about it. I reckon he's not going to stay now he's come; but I would'nt ask him." "Ah, Dory, it's easy for you to talk so; but when I know-when I know " Here the mother sobbed and wiped her eyes with her apron. What did she know 1 and why did she forbear to dqclare it? The girl had no answer and' no inquiry. The wheel Whizzed round more rapidly than ever. The mother spoke again. "It's fifteen years a'most sence we were married. Then he was so fond of keeping at home. Then he was'nt so fierce and fret- ful as he is now. Then he didn't drink, and there'was'nt a more active peison, in the world, in the corn-field. Oh! it was a cruel THE SQUATTERIS TREASURES, KNOWN AND -UNKNOW';. 247 Aday when he fell into-the hands of Dick Jeffordsi-a cruel day. He's never been the same man sence. Dick Jefford& taught him I all that he knows of wickedness-taught him to diink-taught him to----" h Another pause, and sobbing and wiping of the eyes. 1 " But Dick Jeffords is dead, 'mother," said the girl. "Don't l you talk so of him." X:: And why shouldn't I talk of; him, when he was the cause of all the mischief----" - s ,"( Hush! Another!" with a warning finger, said the hild, point- it ing towards the door. Her keden ears had distinguished the light i footstep of -he Squatter. The mother stooped to turn her hoe- cake, and the wheel continued its evolutions even wrore rapidly than ever. 1LCHAPTER XXXIV. THESQUATTER'S TREASURES, KNOWN AND UNKNOWN. THiE Squatter, meanwhile, armed with knife and tinder-box, hurried away to the edge of the swamp, eager to examine his casket of ill-gotten treasures. He drew the box of M 1. Eveleigh from the hollow of the cypress, and, upon a little bank in the swamp, surrounded by a wall of forest and swamp, thicket, shrubs, vines and tress, he proceeded to strike a light. It required but a few moments after this, to pry open the cover of the box, which was much be;ter suited ;o a lady's toilet, than for the purpose of keeping or securing a treasure. The guineas were the first objects that compelled his attention. They were contained in a small page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 \ THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. linen bag, andi rolled in paper in small sums of ten each. 'He counted them religiously, and then proceeded to turn over the [ rest of the contents of the box, which ws pretty closely packed with papers. He was able neither to read nor write. He took for granted that the paper, which McKewn so much desired, was among them, but the point was one beyond his capacity to deter- mine. "It's here, I reckon, safe with the rest; but won't he pay for it when he gits it." His curiosity was satisfied, if not his cupidity. One would sup-i pose that his first act would be to convey to his wife and children a small portion, at least, of the golden spoils in his possession.- But he was too selfish and too wary for that. His cunning did not suffer him to risk, in their hands, any proof that might facili- tate his detection. It seems that some suggestion did arise in his mind, prompting him to detach a guinea, to be given to Dory. He spoke of her affectionately, and turned the glittering coin, separated from- " his pile," between thumb and forefinger. t"But where's the use," he muttered, " and ef they was to ax where she got it, what was she guine to say?" He restored it to the heap, restored the bag to the box, with all the papers, and restored the box to the hollow of the cypress, the base of which was encircled by a thick shrubbery. This done, he made his way back to the cottage, where his supper of bacon, corn-bread and coffee, already awaited him. He flung the knife down upon the table, and proceeded to eat, but had scarcely be- gun, when he commanded that the spinning-wheel should stop. "The blasted noise keeps a body from hearing any thing. Ef an inimy was at the door, nobody could know 'tell they bursted in." The girl obeyed, put her cotton into the basket, and removed the wheel to a corner of the room. She then disappeared behind the curtain of clothes, and when she again came forth, and drew near the fire, he perceived that she had a book in her hand. Dory i . . ji; IITHE SQUATTER' TREASURES, KNOWN AND UN NOWN. 249 had been tught to read by her mother, and loved hr book. The I eyes of 'th Squatter id not suffer her long from sight. ;, , A boo]!," said he and what sort of book is it, you've got?8 "It's the Holy Bible, Father." 'r "The H ly Bible;--and What do you know about the Holy ^ Bible, and where did you et it, I want to know You hain't been spendng money, or your airnings, upon a thing that'snoac- : count, hev' you ", ":No, father, 'twas given to me by Mrs. Eveleigh." ^- "Well, she might .ev' given you something to be more useful Xto you. Xle's rich; s he might hev' given you some kood clothes, I'm a-thinking, ef she'd ha' wanted to do a good ting for you. But these reat rich flk are all as mean as h-ll!" 1 'i-, "Mrs. Eeleigh ait mean, father; and she ha/ given me ;: clothes," rellied the child. ,i "r She has, has she? what! the frock you've got oni I reckon." ' T:No, I made that myself. She's given me goo clothes, to wear when . go out, and on a Sunday." : "Sunday! as ef ther:e ever was a Sunday for a pooi- man ! Let me look at he book." ! She hand id it to h m without a word, and he turned it over a curiously. t was not costly book; had it been--hd the edges been of gol, and the lack richly adorned with the same metal- it io quite pobable that the perverse wretch would have been X tenmpted to throw it into the fire. As it Was, he thrust lit back into the child's hands, sayin- "And wh t's the go/d of it to you . You kain't understand it even ef you reads it." I T - "Oh!" yes I can, father." . 7 "Let me hear you read some--thar', jest where the aper's been turned down I'll see ef you ain't been reading how to curse your own dad dy." The child gave him but a single look, but it made him restless. sii, page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. He could not meet the clear, calm glance fixed upon his own. He turned his gaze upon the fire, but repeated- "Read, I say,-let's hear what sort of bible l'arning you're a-gitting. Read where you've put the mark.-That a man's own children should turn agin him!" The child gave him another look, so simple, so expressive-of a calm, unspeaking, submissive sorrow, the most touching of all sorts of reproach: then, turning to the book she began to read from the New Testament, the Acts of the Apostles, the first chap- ter, just where the leaf had been turned down; but scarcely had she got through three paragraphs, when the Squatter started up, having by this time finished eating, and, swallowing a pint of cof- fee at a gulph, he cried out- ":That's enough! It's mighty good, what you're reading, I'm a-thinking, for a gal child. But it's no use. There's no apostles, now-a-days. At least, I never hear tell of any merracles now, or I reckon I might have a chance of being saved myself. But, with- out a merracle, I'm pretty much past saving, so it's no use to try. Shut up, Dory; you kin read to your mammy after I'm gone. I must be off." "What!" cried the poor mother, "you're not a guine, Sam, at, this late time o' night." "And what should I stay for? Don't I know there's rone of you hev' any love to spare for me here." "Oh! don't sayso; Sammy: don't!" "Pooh! Git out! Don't suppose I'm fool as well as scamp. You're too full of good books, and good women here, to h4ve any likings for sich as me. Kiss me, Dory, you're a good child for a gal. I don't say you shan't read the book the widow give you, only I don't care. / You may read, for the good 'twill do you.- 'Twont do me none. Blas't all the gifts of your rich people1 They only burn the heart out. What's good you kin gft out of them, is what you kin take! I'm off;-and look you, Rache, mind TIIE SQUATTER'S TREASURES, KNOWN AND UNKNOWN. 251 what I say. Ef you're axed, you don't know nothing about me. You ain't seed me you don't know when, and, as for a horse, you don't reckon I've had one for a year, not sence the blasted men of } Harden carried off my bay trotter. Blast all their two legs for- ever for it. Don't you let Dory say nothing. She don't know how to speak sensible in such cases. Good-bye, Dory." And he was gone-gone out into the darkness-lost to sight as to hope. Not another word of kindness or farewell. None, in : fact, to the poor woman who followed him to the door, as if en- Kil treating for it. Not even a glance to' the poor children sleeping a i on the pallet, the eldest of whom, awakened by the urusual voices, ; raised herself up in the bed, and looked, but did not dare to make 2j herself heard. She had old experience of blows, s ddenly and -a sharply administered, to admonish her against any childlike and aj loving forwardnesses. Besides, the watchful mother Lad seen, and t pushed her back, under th scanty covering, with- ' "Lie still, Ben, it's pappy!" Dreadful sound with whch to quiet the baby! the baby was X quiet for the rest of the night. But he was gone, and then the j woman sate down and wept over the fire-place. ":Ef he had only shaken hands, Dory, and told me good-bye, my child; but no! He wouldn't care e. I was on my cooling board to-morrow." The girl began quietly to read the chapter in the Acts which she had attempted at her father's biading, and her love, soft voice, still that of a child, delivered the inspired sentences in good time, and with vsry tolerable discretion, but without emphasis, and with the simplicity of one who did not fully comprehend what she was reading. When 'he had finished-and put away the book, the mother said- "I know t's good to hear and to read the blessed book, but my heart ain't in it. I don't feel it at all. I feel only that I am la very. great sinner, very poor and miserable." ,. page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "We must pray now, mother, you know." And the two dropt upon their knees, while the child atone au- dibly uttered "Our Father." Let us leave them to such sleep as God vouchsafes to -he suf- ferer, more sinned against than sinning, and follow the f otsteps of the Squatter, reckless of the peace he outrages, an(. quite incapable of conceiving the purity he leaves behind him; "Acts of the Apostles," quoth he, as he darted forward in the direction of the highlands. "They saived for their time. There's no Apostles now, I reckon, to do any more acts for poor people. Sich as preaches to us now, don't help much. Lord! whtit war- mints. I've hearn a hundred that hadn't any more sense and I reckon, warn't no better, ef the truth was known, than miself.-- They talk and they talk, about it and about it, and all what they says, don't consarn us at all, and don't suit. One speaks mighty big about luxuries and fine linen, yit I never seed one 7it that warnt ready to swig the best of liquors at a rich man's table, and to eat ontell he -wready to burst; and which of 'em ever refused the best of English broad-cloth for his back. There was Joe Downs, and Ephraim Sparkin, and Jake Frisbie, and a lundred more I've know'd, that was all jest too lazy for any work, and so they set up to bet apostles; living from house to house, ne,'er pay- ing for nothing; never refusing good feed and liquor, and jest talking things they didn't know. No! the days for Apostles is at an eend, and men does jest what acts suits 'em best. S) I does mine. 'Taint so good as it mout be, but ef I can git back the old Black, with fifty gould guineas in hand, and what I kin squeeze out of McKewn, I'll do for awhile yit. It's a resk to ;ry, but what's to be done? I shan't walk when I kin ride, and ef I take, it's only my own l Such were the, meditations which led to the attempt of the Squatter. We have seen how it succeeded. -Once n, 3unted, though with the pistol bullets of Lance Frampton whistlin t about HOW MLLHOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORGY. 253 his ears, ani. he felt his strength and courage equally increase. He 1 never thought to return to the cottage. He felt very sure that it would soon have a score of visitors. He had striven hard for dis- guise and concealment, but his instinct taught him that he would be suspected. The neighbourhood wouldbe quite too hot, in a few hours, for his safety. He gave it a wide berth, accordingly, and making a circuit, which carried him far above the -miserable -: hovel which his family occupied, hU proceeded -to descend I the country, making an oblique progress towards the Edisto.- Let us return to Porgy and his party. CHAPTER XXXV, HTOW MLLHOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORGY. THE poor woman, the wife of the Squatter, was half-scared to death when she saw the squad of our partisan approach her dwel- ?1. ling. She at once conjectured that the Squatter had been at his old tricks, and that the enemy was upon his footsteps. Cadave- rously pale, trembling in every limb, she staggered tc her bedside, :,I, and sank -ipon it, faintly exclaiming as they appproached the house- "Oh! Dory, they've come after him." : "Lie down, mother, and let me speak-to the gentlemen," said the little girl "You, Dory! oh, no! Youi remember he told me, you were not to speak at all. Come back from the door, I tell you. Don't you say a word." "But you musn't look so scared, mother. They'll think some- thing wrong if you're so pale and trembling. 'Don't be afraid.- 22 page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. We haven't done anything wrong, and we don't know any ;hing of father's doings." "Hush, child, you musn'the talking.; There they come. Oh! my God, what is to become of us " "Don't be afear'd mother! God wori't let them hurt rs." "Oh! how do you know, Dory?" "I believe, mother." "Believe! oh! yes, you'll believe anything, even though the soldiers kill us and carry us to prison. Come back from the door, I tell you. I'll open it. I'll answer all they ax." The child drew away, and rested her elbows upon the table, as the party approached the house. A rather heavy knock thrice repeated, threw the mother into a new passion of terror. She wrung her hands. "Lord have mercy! What shall we do " Open the door, mother, or let me do it. I'm sure these peo- ple aiii't going to hurt us. One of them is Mr. Fordham, and he's a good man;,iu know." "Mr. Fordham, isit?" in a whisper,' and, somewhat ressured, rising and smoothing her apron.' "To be sure, Mr. Fo!dham's always been our friend." , - , 1 Another knock, and the voice of Fordham- "It's me-it's a friend, Mrs. Bostlwick. The poor woman took courage. The door was'open d, and Fordham, without, stood in front of the party. He had slighted from his steed, and held him by the bridle. Porgy was; in the act of letting himself down; a performance, with him, ustally to be classed among his most deliberate acts. Millhouse kept his saddle. The negroes were grouped in the rear. It was a most formidable party, still, in the eyes of the Squatter's wife. The girl, Dory, looked on with some curiosity, but with the saddest possible look of resignation. Porgy and Fordham' threw -he bri- dies of their steeds to the negroes, and proceeded to en-er the W , HOW MLLHOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORGY. 255 dwelling at the invitation of the hostess, whoas tremulous with solicitude. "This is Captain Porgy, Mrs. Bostwick-perhaps you may re- ); member him before he went into the army." "I've seed the Captain," said she humbly, "but can't say that I should recollect him." "Very likely, my dear madam," responded the Captain cour- teously, taking off his cap, and entering. "In the last five years I've grown out of my own knowledge-one of the few men of the army, madam, who fattened on starvation. Your daughter, : Mrts. Bostwick." "Dory, sir, my oldest." "Dory! Is that her name?" "For short, Captain. Her given name is Dorothy." 'Porgy took the offered hand of the child, and looked to Ford- i ham significantly. Fordham nodded his apparent affirmation.- Porgy, still holding the child's hand, proceeded to seat himself on a chair which the officious hands of Mrs. .Btwick put beside him. Dory had already perused the lines of his countenance, which, not wanting in manly beauty, though with some defects, was at the same time benevolent and even tender in expression. His eyes, small, but full of life, were also distinguished by good nature, and his mouth was similarly marked. The child felt at ease as she surveyed his face. A single glance sufficed for this. He was no ruffian, that she feltsure that he was a gentleman by birth and education, her instincts at once assured her. The fact was sufficiently proved by the ease with which he inspired confi- H dence in both mother and daughter. Our Captain was quite as observant of Dory's features as she had been of his. The singular beauty of the child struck him at a glance, and compelled consid- eration. She resembled her mother very little. Who could she resemble? - Was her father's-face like hers? Could that ruffian and outlaw wear anything in his countenance, like the serene . page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. sweetness, the etherial loveliness that formed the life of tl at pale but glowing aspect? The thing was impossible. The co jecture was expelled from his thought the moment it sought to enter. Meanwhile, Fordham had broached the special object f their visitation to the anxious woman, by asking for the whereal outs of her husband. Her apprehensions wererenewed; her tremors Hecame visible. Dory struggled out of the hands of Porgy, and imme- diately placed herself beside her mother. The action and!ts mo- tive, so prompt and so instinctive, at once afforded to our Captain a clue to the strong moral courage and propriety of the child. The question of Fordham showed the visit to be one of quesi hos- tility. The party was to be confronted not embraced. The moth-' er, in her moment of danger, must have the full support of her children. They were not to give countenance to those who threatened a father's safety, however erring. Of course, such thoughts as these formed to argument for the unripened Mind of the child; butthe unerringinstincts of a rightly placed, and rightly sympathetic hea:Js*ufficed to bring about the instant corviction -just as certainly as if it had been produced by thought and reason. Porgy saw it all. '(Come back to me, Dory," said he mildly, extending hit hand. "You are not afraid of me a." She looked into his face, and immediately returned t? hilr. Con- fidence was reinspired in consequence of the sudden1 acti7vity of other instincts; and the Captain had her again, a moment afte?, seat- upnon his knee. In the meanwhile, it was apparent that fMrs. Bestwick either would not, or could not, give any account of her husband. She was evidently greatly frightened, answered ['ildly, and was seemingly so much distressed, that Porgy interposed for her relief. "It does not matter, Fordham. Mrs. Bostwick evidently Jnows nothing of her husband-and we know nothing, frs. Bos'wic-k; but we thought it possible that he might, from his knowledge of HOW MLLHOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORGY. 257 the people of the country, and the country itself, put us on the track of a band of outlaws who were guilty of a great outrage yesterday." "Yesterday, Captain?" asked the woman in renewed teror, and looking wildly to Dory. "Yes madam, yesterday! They waylaid that excellent lady, Mrs. Eveleigh, her son and Mr. Fordham; seized them; tied the lady to her carriage, captured her wagon, and no doubt would' have robbed and killed all the party, if I had not providentially come to their rescue, with a few friends, at the last moment." "Lord save us! and yesterday!" "We defeated She ruffians, and four of them were slain." "Oh! my God! Did I ever---'!" "We captured their horses; yet, such was the audacity of the surviving ruffians, that they ventured, one or more of them, even to my dwelling last night, and carried off one of the best of the captured horses." - "You don't say as "Yes, madam; a large raw boned black!" "A black r and the conscious mother grew paler, and looked to Dory. The child was pale also, but the features were motionless. They said nothing. Now, Mrs. Bostwick, we thought that your husband might possibly---" Oh! I'm sure, Captain, he don't know nothing about it. He's had no horse for a year, that I've seed, and where he is, there's no telling. It ain't often we sees him at home. He's away all the time, ontell his own children hardly knows him when he comes." Porgy looked into Dory's face with an expression that won the child's sympathies at once. His look, involuntarily seemed to say, 'can it be possible that he is indifferent to such a dear innocent, such a pure, bright bud of the wilderness as this.' But he said 22* page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 THE SWORDI AND THE DISTAFF. nothing, and suffered the mother to proceed in a series of tamb- ing denials and disclosures which only served to prove to both Porgy and Fordham, that the woman really knew more 6If the husband and )his recent operations than she so solemnly declared. Of course, neither of them suspected her of any share in hil pro- ceedings, or any sympathy with them. Fordham had alreac y put our partisan right in his estimate of the existing relations be ;ween husband and wife, and of the humble heart, and honest cha^acter of the latter. ' - ! The overseer, baffled in his effort to ascertain from the li other anything with regard to the recent visits of the Squatter, new ad- dressed himself to the daughter. "And when did you see your daddy last, Dory?" The child turned her eyes quietly to the querist, but befo'e she could reply, Porgy exclaimed- "No! not Fordham! 1That won't do! Enough! If Mrs; Bostwick don't know; anti hasn't seen, how should the littl -girl? - But I have some questions to ask you, Dory, and you must answer me." And he looked into her eyes with a look which taught he: that there-was no snare, no danger. You spin, I hear, Dory, and weave, and knit, and sew, a'ad do a great many clever things. Now I'm in great want of sowing, spinning, weaving and knitting. I want woollen cloth, and cotton cloth, and thread, Dolr, and- a great supply of stockings.! See what a big foot I've got-two feet, you see, and boh -of them are in great straits for want of clothing. Will you krit for me, Dory, and spin for me, when I beg you? I shall want both you and your mother's help in fitting up my poor establish ment. -I am no longer a soldier; and am about to become a planter again, and you know what a planter wants. -Now, my dear, to begin-I must have as many pair of stockings as mamma and your- self can knit for me between this and July, And you muist let HOW MLLHOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVA'GANCE OF PORGY. 259 me pay you for them in advance, that I may make sure that you will do the work. Here, take this, Dory," thrusting a guinea into her hand, " and here is a kiss by way of sea lto the contract." The little girl tcok the money without a wold, but her eyes in- stantly filled with tears, and she suffered her head to decline on Porgy's shoulder. d He kissed her again, and put her down, and she immediately walked across the room to her mother, and laid : ,f the guinea in her lap, and stood, during the rest of the visit, with :f her hand leaning on her mother's chair. The good woman was loud in her acknowledgements. ,: "AGod bless you, sir," sh said, " you're very good to us. Dory shall work for youi; she kin knit jest as well as I." -: "She must do my stockings," quoth Porgy, " only she. You t mus'nt touch them., I must have the satisfaction, when I wear ; them, of knowing that she made them. I shall find work for you, -:I too, Mrs. BostwickJ You shall hear from me when I want you. a;:! Good-bye, ma'am; you are a good woman, and ought to be more t: comfortable in the world. Good-bye, Dory; don't forget me." : jj The child came '.ip, and offered him her hand, which he took, ? :! then stooping, kissed her again, took a respectful leave of the mother, and led the way out of the house. Fordham followed, I but rot before the wife of the Squatter contrived to say- ; e @ "Oh! Mr. Fordham, tell Mrs. Eveleigh, that T'm so sorry she *^ was robbed and troubled on the road. I'm so very sorry." And she looked as if she felt that she herself was greatly to blame in the matter; thus satisfying the shrewd overseer that she was well aware of, or at least suspected, her husband's share in the transaction. When they had mounted their horses, and were out of hearing of the house, Fordham said to Porgy- "Ef you hadn't stopt me, Captain, I reckon we'd ha' got out o' Dory all about her father's coming, ef so be he had come there." "Yes ;'! answered Porgy, " or she/would have been made to lie about it, and wouild thus have spoiled the prettiest mouth in page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. the world. No! no! Fordham. We must not demand of the child the evidence against the parent. I was not unwillirg that you should ask the mother; though, after the thing was begun, I felt that there was a degree of eanness about it, which made me feel a little ashamed. Still it as desirable to have the truth, and the wife of such a husband, might be supposed to be some- what used to lying for him, and to be a little blunted in he- sensi- bilities. But that child. She isth very picture of innocence as well as loveliness. Isn't it a wonderful thing that such -a child should be born to such parents. How strangely will the perfect plant, the most beautiful flower, exquisite in excellence, . nd ad- mirable in hues, spring up on the common dunghill. She ought to be plucked friom it with all haste, and reared in a garden to herself. Fordham could not altogether perceive the propriety of Porgy's refinements. He thought his philosophy a little too strained for common use, but he was silenced by it. But Porgy was not to get off so easily. He was now grappled with by no less a person than his Sergeant, Millhouse, who, sitting on horseback, at the entrance, throughout the interview, had been a curious bu; silent spectator of the scene. He suddenly turned upon his superior, and said- "Cappin, you gin a guinea to the gal- to make you stockings!- a whole guinea!" "To be sure! Well! what of it, Millhouse ."- "Why, Lord love you, Cappin, that ought to buy st ckings enough for a rigiment. Why four shillings would git you as many for your own wear, as would last you from now to Christ- mas." "Very likely, Millhouse. But, in truth, I diL not give the guinea for the stockings. I gave it for the child to buy her own stockings, if need be, or whatever else she needs. -- gave Kt from my heart, Millhouse, and not from my pocket." HOW MLLHOUSE RERUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORGY. 261 "Oh! ay! I see! It was a sort of charity then, Cappin." "Well, I suppose you may call it so." "Of course, there's no eend to the, supply where that came from! Lord be marciful to them' who ain't; marciful to them selves! You'll want all of them guineas before long. But I reckon you've had jis- sich a dream as, poor 'Lisha Dayton, that s'arved with us at Georgetown, and was killed at that- blasted skrimmage, at Quinby, where we lost so many good felluws." j "And what sort of dream had Elisha?" "Why you see 'Lisha was always dreaming of good luck and finding fortunes, though, poor fellow, he had precious small chances of luck at any time that ever I heard tell of. But when we were at camp 'pon the High Hills, he somehow got hold of a pair of pretty good boots, only a leetle worn only, that he tuk from a British Ensign that he brought down with a bullet on a scout. The boots was too fine for 'Lisha to wear, so he agreed to sell them to Lieutenant Withers for nine shillings, in the raal sil ver. The boots were wo:th a great deal niore, but that was all the money the Lieutenant had, and there was nobody else about that had any. So 'Lisha 'greed to take the nine shillings; and with that money jingling in his pockets, the poor fellow thought he'd got the world itself in a string, and the two eends of the string both in his own fingers. He thought so much about it that he was constantly dreaming of buried money and all sorts:of great discoveries. One day he come to me; says he-- Millhouse, I've had the same dream three nights running. It must be true. I'm sure on it. It's of a great heap of money buried on the Block House Hill. I seed the hill in my dream, and the very trees, jest how: they stand, above the place where the money lies.' I wants you to go with me and git it.' Says H' I don't b'lieve in dreams.' Says he, 'but this is a true one. I'd take bible oath on it, I'm sure. And ef you'll go with me and help dig, and let nobody else know, I'll give you a whole quarter of the pile, and , * j page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. the pile is a mighty big one.' Says I' 'Lisha, them dreams is only-making a great fool' of you.' And then he swore, and he was so sart'in sure of it, and he begged so hard with me to go and help him, that I concluded to go; but says H' 'Zisha, as I tell you, I don't b'lieve in dreams, and if you'll agree to give me them nine shillings, in hand, that you're a jingling in your pocket : now, I'll give up the quarter that you offer me out of the buried pile.' When he heard that, he was a leettle slow to answer.- 'Then,' says I, y' ou don't b'lieve in your own dreams arler all." Then he swore a most outrageous big oath, and he said,;' it's a bargain.' So I made him give up the shillings, and I jingjed 'em in my pockets all the, way we went; and, he pushed fora'dM pretty fast ahead, for now he did'nt seem to like the sound the shfillings made when they were in my pocket and not his own. We had both of us pick and shovels, and sure enough he led 'zackl- to the i place as he seed it in his dream; and the 'tarnal fool had gone there before mid-day by his own self. 'Well,' says I, "Lisha, where shill we strike ' 'Thar,' said he, 'that's ;he 'zact place.' And into it/ I went withfthe pick. And into it he went like a strong man. And we picked the earth loose, and tl e roots, and we shovelled and threw out the naked yellow clay, jest as G )d had put it there, maybe, a million of hundred years before, u itil we be both sweated like an overseer's horse in fly time. At the wend of two of the longest hours I ever know'd in my life; 'Lisha jumped ? out of the hole, and says he with a laugh-' What a blasted fool I am to b'Veve in a d d dream! ' So you are,' says I 'It's no use,' saNs he, 'there's no pile to share. I see it now. - nd so, as there's no treasure, Millhouse,' says he-the bloody!ool!- 'you must give me back my shillings.' And as e saic, I jest dropped pick and spade, and put my fingers to the corner of my eyes, and I said-' Look here, 'Lisha, ef you sees goOseberr es any where in them two eyes.' 'Why,' says he, ' as we hai'nt found any money, you ain't guine to keep my shillings?' 'Ain't I then,' . HOW MLLHOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORGY. 263 says I. 'The speculation in the dream, was yourown,'Lisha anl I worked only for the sartainty of the thing. You kin keep the pile when you find it, but I'll keep the pile I've found already; and I confess to you, "Lisha, I'm better pleased to dig for my money in a fool's pocket, than in the side of a d---d hard clay hill like this!' Lord! how he did rip and tear, curse and swear; but 'twant no use. I had the shillings, and he soon 'arned that it would call for bigger curses than was in his body, to draw the shiners out of my pockets. He gin it up at last,. and then I said to him 'you ain't fit to keep money, 'Lisha, but I won't be hard upon you. Here's three of your shillings back, jest enough for you to jingle. They'll make all the music you desarves to hear." .- And, at the close, the recollection of his achievement prompted a glorious burst of cacchination from the throat of our military financier. "A good story, Millhouso, and excellently told," quoth Porgy; "and, pray, how will you apply it to our present purpose?" "Why, easy enough, Cappin! Don't you see, ef you've got a dream like 'Lishe Dayton, of a pile of treasure somewhar', to be got only for the diggin', t'wont be onreasonable or onrighteous, if you let me jingle in my pockets the rest of them guineas in your'n." "Humph!" muttered Porgy-"It would, perhaps, be just as well Millhouse, if I did; but, with your permission, I'll wait for the dream. Be sure of this, my good fellow, that while you wield pick and shovel, in getting in my treasure, you shall be quite wel- come to share my shillings, nor shall I envy you their jingle." "Don't I know that, Cappin? 'Taint for myself I'm a-speaking, but jest for you and your gettings. I'm afeard you'll want every guinea that you waste." "Don't mistake, Millhouse. I waste no guineas. When Igive money, it is only that I may get a good interest for it. The true man, Millhouse, does not live by money, nor by that which money page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. will always buy,--bread and meat. There is still better foe d than that for which I more hunger; and vet I know not the mar living who has a better appetite for. good living than myself." Fordham had been! a quiet listener to this cor-versation, and seemingly quite an interested one, but he now arrested it by recur- ! ling to what had been one of the objects of the expedition--O find, if possible, the route which the outlaw had taken who had :arried off the horse. I "-There's no tracks," said he, "about the cabin, only' thost! made by our own horses. I reckon he hain't been to see his farlily on horseback; though I'm thinking his old woman has seed bin sence the attack yisterday. She show'd it by the scare we gn her. He's not gone back after he got the horse. Hle's too 'cute for that. We shan't' see him back, in these parts, I'm a-thinking, 'til its all pretty much blowr over." Still the search was made. The party traversed the Region, along all the avenues which it was possible for the outlaw Pro pur- sue, assuming him to have steered for the cottage. But they found no traces. And this was no vague search. Nobody, who does not know the woodman of the South, can conceive the excel- lence of his eye, in- discovering the slightest-traces upon the ground, or through the forest, of the-objects which he pursues. Or, horse- ' back, at a smart canter; he will pull up, dismount, and she w you where the deer or turkey has gone by, pelrhaps the night before. tHe can, with very great approach to certainty, say what interval has elapsed since the passage of the prey. His instincts ar those of the Indian. Taught in the same school, his eve and- ear are wonderfully keen, quick and discriminating.. Knowing thy quali- ties of our woodmen, the report of Fordham, Frampton o. Mill- l house, on matters of this sort, would always be quite conclsive to our Captain of 'Partisans.- But it was sunset before the scouting was arrested. At that period, they reached the dwelling of Porgy, and Fordham was readily persuaded to stay to supper. PLAY' AND PAY. 265 CHAPTER XXXVI. -PLAY AND PAY. IT does not need that we should accompany the Squatter, Bost- wick, on his course to and along the Edisto, pursuing the down- ward route until it brought him within sight of the ocean. Enough that we find him there in safety after a little interval of time.-- But there was one adventure, however, which occurred to him on the road, and within seven or eight miles only of the spot where he had engaged to meet with McKewn, and to bring the negroes and the papers, should he prove successful in his attempt upon the cavalcade of the widow Eveleigh. Stopping at a hovel on the road-side, for refreshment, he was surprised to come upon the fel- low, Tony Hines, the only other surviving member of the gang which he led on that occasion. TOny, it will be remembered, had succeeded in saving himself, when pursued by Porgy and Corpo- ral Millhouse, by taking to the swamp fastnesses before the two Partisans had got within striking distance. His terrors in the flight had been such as to prompt him to such desperate efforts as to kill his horse; 'when he resumed farther flight on foot, never stopping on his downward route until it became-physically impos- sible to proceed farther. Flight, fatigue, the want of food, and perhaps an already diseased condition of the body, had resulted in a burning fever, and, in utter exhaustion, he had sought shelter and succour in a cabin whose inmates could afford but little of either. It was here that Bostwick found him stretched on a mis- erable pallet of straw in a state of extreme suffering. Physic and physicians were not to be had in that sparsely settled region. The patient died'or lived according to the strength of his constitution, or the decree of Providence. "Yairb (herb) Tea," was the only 2 1e page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 THE SWORD i ND THE DISTAFF. . remedy of the poor and, simple population, and of this sylvan remedy, the good woman of the hovel was willing to provide hny quantity, and did pour it down the throat of the sick ma i, till he turned from her with loathing; and he hailed the appeiravace of Bostwick with a yell of delight, as it seemed to promise lim what the old people had denied-a draught of cold water. S Bst- wick would have supplied him from the. bucket, but the ol1 wo- man interposed with hands and tongue. i "It'll be the death of him, stranger. It'll check the perspira- tion, and give him a chill .to kill him." "( Let my old woman alone," quoth the husband, " she Sknows how to doctor fever." And the Squatter withheld the beverage from the burnin Lips of the patient. "But what in the world's name brought you here, Tony. Bostwick curiously demanded, Rogues are natura:ly susp cious of each other, and, finding-the fugitive directly on tEe route ;o t;he secret place of meeting with McKewn, -and only a few miles fi'om it, the Squatter'began to conjecture that there had been some con- nexion between the two, which had been withheld from him.-- McKewn, so far as he knew, had never seen Tony. He hqd al- so been earnest in his injunctions to keep his creatures from all knowledge of the part: by whom he had been employed. the Squatter, fully assured of the dishonest and deceitful character/ of McKewn, now strove by a series of circuitous inquiries to probe the fugitive outlaw, and it was only after a long coss examiina- tion, carried on with very excellent skill, taat he arrived a- the conclusion, that, in taking the route which he had pursued, Pony had no other purpose than that. of throwing as much breacdth of swamp and forest between himself and his pursuers, as was p)ossi- ble, and that he really knew nothing- of the Scotchman. Satis- fied finally of this, the Squatter promised to do for-him whit he could; to try and procure physic and assistance; and, comnaiend- PLAY AND PAY. 267 ing him to nature and the old people who sheltered him, left him to the chapter of accidents. We must not suppose that he aban- doned him indifferently. It was not in his power, in fact, to give him either help or consolation. He knew of no reme- dies, being one of that class of persons who never had leisure for sickness. Nor, even if succour could have been bought, had he the means in money for the purchase. He -had left behind him, in his cypress hollow, the strong-box of Mrs. Eveleigh, with all his ill-gotten treasure, as well as the much valued paper. A few shil- lings sufficed him for the expenses of the route, and he looked for the replenishing of his purse to the meeting with McKewn. He left his comrade accordingly, but not without promising to bring him medicine and money on his return, which he told him would not be long'delayed. When he got to the place appointed for his meeting with McKewn, the latter had not yet made his appear- ance; but he was soon joined by Barton and Drummond, persons of the brotherhood, who acted as agents for McKewn, and who shared his spoils. They reported the transport sloop to be in r Waiting, standing off and on, and to be brought in, in a couple of hours, by a signal lwhich had been agreed on with the Captain. "But where's the niggers, Bostwick?" demanded Drummond. "Niggers " / "Yes; McKewn expected you to bring down fifteen or twenty." "McKewn expects other men to do things he kaint do him- self." "Why, that's pretty much the way with most people. But have you got any?" "Well, we must talk over them things another time. I must eat and drink now. I'm a'most famished. I haint had a decent mouthful of anything for three days." "The devil! Well, we can provide you. We're well off here. Plenty of the good stuff-raal Jamaica, and as much grub as : would feed a regiment. Let's be off to the castle." I x X! page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 THE SWORD' AND THE DISTAFF. "Castle!" \ "Ay, what you may call a castle, it's so hard to he got a; ut if you look for anything better than a canvass tent, in d deep swamp, you're dreaming to no-purpose. Come along. Larlton will stay here and meet McKewn, and/ bring him along. Ee'll be here after nightfall." Drummond, one of the confederates, was the speaker, .a-'dl he led the way, on foot, to his swamp castle, which lay deeply i nled- nlC: ded in tangled thickets near one of the mouths of the Edist.- i; Bostwick kept on horseback- as long as he could. A few m nutes . riding lost them the cool, fresh breezes of the seq. Soon, hey :- were buried in a dense region in which the air sebmed to sleep ;t like a lake in the hollows of the mountains. But tie chanae was , - not a disagreeable one at that season of'the year. In q little : while, ignorant of the locality, you would hate fancied y urself any where but near the ocean, all was so still, so utterly conifihed and shut in, and with the horizon within finger reach. A blind path showed the way imperfectly, winding circuitously through X lagune and thicket. At length, the two-ascended a slight 1leva- i tion, and, through the shrubbery, Bostwick caught glimpses of the % dingy canvass which formed the tent of the confederates. They were now within the walls of "the castle;" a castle, indeed ,f a magnificence such as the works of art, in the hands of mar, has - never yet displayed. The bank upon which the tent stood. was crowned with aged oaks, that spread themselves out like g--eat green canopies, covering all within their reach, their white Beards trailing to the earth, or sweeping in the wind, like those cqf the Druid Bards, howling their songs of hate and death in the ears of the tyrant Edward, as described in the much undervalued cde of e Gray-a production very far superior, in all poetic respects, o the over-lauded elegy of the same writer. Our live oaks are certainly patriarceal presences when we find them of an age beyond the memory {of man. These, in the castled keep of our confed -ates, -PLAY AND PAY. 269 almost within sight of the ocean, and within the influence of its salt atmosphere, would have thrown into comparative insignificance the ' castled crags of Drachenfell's,' placed in close neighbourhood with them. But they were not alone. If the oak is the Druid priest, the ancient patriarch, the Magnolia is the crowned king of the forest. There were three of these sovereign forms within thirty feet of each other, and alternating among the oaks, on the bank where the tent of the outlaws-for such, in fact, they were-- had been raised. Not one of these trees was less than an hundred and fifty feet in leight, their great shafts rising up lik columns, straight as an arrow, and bare of foliage for more than a hundred feet, then swelling into a mighty crown of green, darkly bright, which the hands of May would enliven, not enrich, with the purest of her great white flowers. Myrtle and cane, the honeysuckle and jessamine, and dog-wood, not yet in bloom, or1 even brighten- ing, grew, and were gladdened in the shadow of these protecting potentates; while the billows of the sea, at the height of the tide,l wound in among the creeks, and freshened -the hollows, even to the roots of these princes of the forest, whom they were insidious- ly to undermine in season. But the Squatter had no eye for these objects. With him, as with most of the ignorant, a tree is a tree only; and in a region which boasts of such a wilderness of trees, the most noble is but little valued-is cut down and cast into the fire without remorse on the smallest occasion. Bostwick regarded the natural aspects of the spot only with reference to their uses foi the shelter of the fugitive. he was not insensible to this feature of the ' castle'-- But the tent and what it contained more certainly appealed to his tastes. -Ie was conducted into it by Drummond. Here they found an old negro woman, a withered crone of sixty, who appear- ed to busy herself in cleaning pots and rinsing kettles. Of these utensils there may have been half-a-dozen strewled about. There was no, table, or chair, or bed in the tent, but one or two boxes, 23* ' , * /! (/ page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270- THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ; and a pile of cloakls and blankets, served to show how the inm aes garmented themselves for sleeping. A capacious ju was vis bie, :} standing on the ground, which Drummond I bade the old woman ! replenish with fiesh water. A neighbouri g spring enabled her to do this in a few seconds, for the woman was brisk thought old, i and moved about with very juvenile celerity Whether threuegh love or terror, her rulers had taught her equal docility and activi- ty. When she returned with the water, DrummonA threw open the box, and revealed several huge square bottles of Jamaica,L- the great liqumr of the low country during this period, and!C a goody time after. To drink, was a tiling of course. It wa; the initiatory process in those days of all society, higL and low, of the paace and the hovel. Bostwick enjoyed the double: acvan-. tage of an incorrigible head and an eager taste. He was one not easily. atisfied, and not easily suffering. Drummond was her no means a milk-sop either, and the draught was re'pated' not less than three times in the half hour which the two employed, cast ! upon the earth, and chatting together, we may suppose, ok ;he l joys of knavery, and the -luxury of sin. After a while, :-ron made his appearance, just about dark. He was followediby a . couple of sailors bringing in fish. Candles were lighted vthain the tent, and a fire was kindled without. Around this, the wc man proceeded to-prepare supper. u I wonder what keeps McKewn ." queried Bostvvick. % "Oh! he'll be here directly. -'Taint time for hia yet. But let's be doing something till supper is ready." "Well, I'm consenting ;" replied Bostwick, readily compree: ad- ing what the something meant. "Hev' you any books?" ' Books meant cards in the vernacular of the forest. "We'd be without our salvation if we had'nt," was the answer 'I of Barton. Drummond, meanwhile, pulled out from the fatl om- less bowels of the box, a paper containing several well-thurbed packs. [ i , ! ' Ed j PLAY AND PrAY. It is curious that all primitive periods, in all countries, are dis' tinguished by the passion for gaming and drinking, and by such a degree of invention as will enable men to gratify both. The fact illustrates the necessity of the race for mental exercise, and for the excitement of the nervous system. And this is in what we vulgarly and ignorantly call a state- of nature, as if man, who is a born creature of art, ever knew such a condition, in the sense in which nature is commonly understood. But we must not phii- losophize, having to deal with our present company. "What shall be the marls?" demanded Drummond, throwing himself down beside the two, and spreading the cards before them. "Ontell I see McIewn, and git some money, I shill have to run upon mighty small marks, I tell you," was Bostwick's answer, drawing forth the few shillings that remained in his pocket, and detaching a single one from the rest. "Well, it is a small p'int," quoth Barton. "But when a man kaint run, you must let him walk," answered Bostwick, taking up the cards and proceeding to shuffle. The other two put up their shillings. In those days tte moral and philo- sophical games of Brag and Poker, now the favourites where the shillings are forthcoming, were not known among the people.- It had not then been reduced to a science, tkl u g ne's moods at play-a study upon which success at Brag and Poker so much depends. The ordinary game with the "little dogs,' was one still known and still reasonably practised among this class uTnder the several names of Old Sledge, Seven Up, All Fours, &c.; ed on the! present occasion it was adopted tacitly, not a word be- ng said to decide the point on either hand. The Squatter, like host of his; class, was an adept at this play; not only knew the ame well, but had little adroitnesses Which increased the science, nd sometimes remedied the deficiencies of fortune. He could aake the triump, and cut the jack,-when not too impertinently i ratched-almost at his pleasure The only qualification to this page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] ;* A JiJtJ 'iT SWOURU ANDU 'T'HEc UDIS"A1'T? 1 merit, was in the fact that it was shared in pretty nearly the sme degree, by his associates. They were well matched, and, thsl be- ing the case, but little room was left to either to play the klave, out of his turn. They were in the midst of the play whet IMc- Kewn entered. "I'm mighty glad you've come, McKewn," was the abrupt and 2 somewhat irreverent address of the Squatter, " es I'm jest in wrant S of the shillings. These chaps here hev' pretty nigh dreanme me of all I had. - "And a small all at that," laughed Drummond. I "A man's all is enough for him to lose at any time;" multered : the Squatteri as Drummond took up his last shilling. "Ip' a- looking to you, McKewn?"--and he extended his open palm.- is His manner was such as to impress the Scotchman with the no- ; tion that his more important game had been successful;l and, though the familiarity of the Squatter had now began toj grate upon his sense of -the more dignified position to which hl was rising in the world, he yet, with a good-natured sarcasm, ha ding him some money as he spoke, replied- 1 I " Ishould like to know, Bostwick, when you'll cease to look to me " "Well, there's no knowing; when I've done with you, I relck- on.' o l "Or I with you," responded the other, sot to voce ; and the ook which spoke to the Squatter at the same time, seemed to say jhat there should be no long delay in cutting the connection, they pre- sent affairs being finally adjusted. Bostwick grinned. Thoi par- ties knew one another and were fairly matched. , "Why, what's this, McKewn?" growled the Squatter,: i he looked at the handful of coin, which the former had given him. "Nothing but silver, and pretty much shillings and sixpenceE all." "What would you have, man? You're betting shillings (clly." "That's only bekase I had nothing better, and I must mae up my losses by tall betting. Give us some gould, kain't you?" - I I PLAt AND PAY. 27 -The humour of the request did not seem favourably to impress McKewn; but it was one which he was not prepared to combat openly at present. Nay, the very confidence with which the apr plication was made, seemed to say--I know how largely you ow me for my services.-He handed the Squatter three guineas. "Twon't do, now, McKewn. Make it ten. Don't be splitting the hoecake too thin." "Wait till you lose them before you ask for more." "But I ain't a-guine to lose 'em; and its bekase I'm guine to win, now, that I want to go to tall betting.--There!" said he to Drummond and Barton, and clapping down the handful of small silver that he had received from McKewn, "plank down agin the heap, both on you." ' The money was counted, and each of the challenged parties faced it with a like sum. McKewn, gazing on the Squatter, could not keep from showing, in his face, the feeling of scorn and dis- gust which he entertained for him. The latter saw the expres- sion of his countenance, and read its full meaning. :His own glance, in reply, was one of mixed bitterness and derision. The play, meanwhile, went on. The parties played as unconcernedly as if nothing was at stake. Practice had indurated them. Bar- ton was drowsy, to all appearance, but keenly vigilant. Drum- mond was gay and garrulous, but not a point of the game escaped him; while the Squatter, seemingly reckless and indifferent at the same time, was saying to himself, these skunks would steal the !yes out of a body's head if he'd let. 'em. But I knows 'em." UlcKewn seated himself upon the chest, and gazed upon the three n silence. In a few minutes Drummond cried out- - "Seven up! That's into you, Bost!" and he raked up the two iles with the coolness of one spooning up his uncooled broth.-- :he action was-followed by the Squatter casting down the three :old pieces which he had just got from McKewn. The latter tarted up. page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 2 74 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. I "What!" cried he, "you don't mean to stake the three 'upon the game 2" I "Why not, Squar?" answered the Squatter. [ "T' he devil! And you expect my pockets to keep yoll sup- plied a "In course!' was the cool rejoinder. I The Scotchman jumped up, hurried to the entrance o! the tent, walked odt, was gone a moment, then returned and to his seat upon the chest. It was not long befoie Barton gatherdi up the stakes. i "Luck's ag'in me," quoth Bostwick, "but every road ever seed has a turn somewhere. I must hev' the guineas, MeKIwn." And, without looking round, he extended his open palm th the person he addressed. ' CHAP TER XXXVII . BREWAGE OF BITTER BEVERAGE AMONG THE BRETHREN. MoKEWN started to his feet. "What, the devil!" he exclaimed, " do you suppose I'm fiade out of gold?", "If you was, how I should like the k'ning of you," responieda the Squatter with a rare coolness. "Hark ye, Bostwick, do you mean that I'm to find you gu neas for you to stake by the handful on a rascally game of cards ]' i "In course! But Old Sledge ain't a rascally game, McEewn. It's a mighty fine game, I tell you, and takes a mighty smart sort of person to play it now. I reckon, ef so be luck wasn't always agin me, I could beat you from Monday morning to Sunday n-ght, AGE OF BITTER BEVERAGE AMONG THE BRETHREN. 7 ' and never stop once to pray. Fork over now, sensible, McKewn and don't keep the boys waiting. Five guineas will do." "I must see you first." "Oh! there's no seeing about it. I'm here. You see me, I reckon. I'm alive and kicking- prettysprigh too, all things con- siderent. I've been a-working in your business; that's enough. Hand up the gould, and shet up." McKewn seemed disposed to show obduracy. le rose and again sate down, and, all the while, the hand of the Squatter was stretched out before' him, the fingers working towards the palm. Bostwick was playing more games than one.- It was with the most desperate reluctance that McKewn conceded the demand, and flung? down five pieces of gold upon the ground between the players. "Let it lie thar'," quoth Bostwick, "and kiver it, boys, if you McKewn started up, almost furious. "Bostwick, I warn you." "Oh! warn be d--d! I know's what I'm about, McKewn. It's nay money now, and I've the right to use it jest as I chooses. Are you down, honies?" "Faced, full point, Bost," answered Drummond. And fifteen guineas formed the pile. McKewn tried to look on, but couldn't endure it long. lie darted up, and sallied out of the tent. When he returned, the whole pile belonged to the Squatter, and his op- ponents were compelled to plead for a mitigation of stakes. The stakes were now of silver. "It feels so mean!" quoth the Squatter, " to git back to white money, after ye've had sich a pleasant feel of the yallow. But I'm agreeable to anything." , , And he dealt out the cards, threw up a knave, and ran out the ame in jiffy, gathering up the sixpences with the air of a an who is half disposed to regard the act as more troublesome than page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 2 7 6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. t compensative. A stop was put to the game by a call to su er. A Suppose this performance to be achieved, and the parties sati ed, A and the things removed. li "Well, honies," said the Squatter, with still increasing audacity, ? "whenever the feeling of Old Sledge comes strong upon you I'm the man to say, h'ist away! I don't want to be carrying off your gould chickens, ef you're the men to call 'em back to th lold : roost." 'IJ "Work before play," interposed McKewnL. "We've got s-mne- thing to do, I think, and the sooner we set about it the bettedr" ^ "Well! I don't know what you've got to do, McKewn," cool- ly rejoined the Squatter, "but ef you hev' anything on haand to ; trouble you, the sooner you get at it, the better. But my Fork's :R done for this time, I reckon, and I'll play tell all splits,--onFel I I kin get another job that's profitable." IA "You forget, you have not made your report about th4 last job. You want your pay without performance. But you don't get another stiver from me Until I know what's been done. I must be satisfied." "And so you shill, soon enough, ef any thing kin satisfy you. But there's time enough. Let us play awhile. I'm in for luck . now, and I ain't guine to lose the chance." "Let him git rid of his guineas, McKewn," quoth Drummond. "They burn in his pocket, He won't be easy till he empties it." "And then he'll not be easy 'till he fills it again," answered McKewn angrily. "Dont I know him?" I "Ef you does, you knows a man that, when he's done his wor, s must hev' his rest," answered the Squatter, with an air of savage doggedness. "Look you, McKewn, when you knows all, you'll wonder I ain't a tiger, or, it mout be, some worser wild beast than that." "Eh!" exclaimed McKewn, with a stare. '"Yes! You may say 'eh 1!' and look wild. But I've seed sights to make a man think of hell, and worse places." -a BREWAGE OF BITTER BEVERAGE AMONG THE BRETHREN. 2" "Come out with me, Bostwick, and tell me all!" "I ain't guine to talk about it 'tell I'm ready. Wait awhile. Let's play,-all of us." "Play!"' said McKewn. "I'm in no humour for play." '; En I'm in no humour for work," retorted the Squatter. "We'll play awhile," said Drummond to McKewn, with an ap- pealing look; at the same time, turning to the chest, he motioned McKewn to rise, and drew from it a huge black bottle of Jamaica. "A drink all round before we play." "I'm agreeable to that!"i' answered the Squatter; and the cups were filled in a twinkling. Bostwick drained the fiery liquid in its native state, disdaining the qualifying aid of water. Alldrank, McKewn barelyv tasting the beverage. His one virtue of sobriety, by the way, served to increase greatly the potency of his-vices. He still refused to play, but sate down sullenly observing the othl- ers. - "I'm for small points," said Barton, putting up a single guinea. I ll not drain my pockets in one fling to pleasure any man." "Scared!" grinned the Squatter. "Well, a man might jest as well be, dealing- wi such a born devil for gambling as you, Bostwick." The Squatter's self-esteem was gratified. He gave a chuckle; and, hauling out all his guineas, raised them in a pile beside him. One of them was put up to suit the resources of his comrades.- They played. Luck still attended him; and he was the winner of game after game, until, at a significant glance from McKewn, Drummond and Barton both declared themselves penniless. "Git more!" roared the Squatter. ":Borrow! Thar's McKewn." " I don't lend a penny!" shouted the Scotchman. "And I won't borrow," said Drummond, governed by the evi- dent wishes of McKewn, rather than by any scruples of his own. "Nor I!" echoed Barton. "It's only to lose. You've sold your soul to the devil, Bostwick." i4; page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 THE SWtORD AND -THE DISTAFF. "And, a devilish bad bargain the devil has made of it;" mut- tered McKewn, " if he gave five shillings for the stuff." ' I reckon' that's jest the price you put on your own soul, Mc- Kewn," was the sarcasm of the Squatter; and, growing more au- dacious, he added, "and ef old satan be the cunning chap that people thinks him, he'd not be apt to buy it at any price. It'l ' come to him some day, of its own free will, at no cost at all." McKewn looked more and more savage. His face had actually grown livid as he listened to the increasing insolence of the Squat- ter. Hitherto, the creature, though apt sometimes to say an ium- pertinent thing, had never shown any such consistent purpose of doing so. McKewn could only account for it, by supposing suc-i a degree of success, on the part of the Squatter, in his late opera- tions, as had stimulated his amour proire to a degree even be- yond the control of his fears or judgment. This being the case, McKewn was willing to tolerate a great deal , but his pride chafe4 greatly at the necessity of doing so, and what was contempt before, in the feeling which he entertained for the miserable wretch whom his cupidity had employed, was rising absolutely in a sentimen6t of hatred. Unconsciously, vague purposes of resentment and re- ,venge were beginning to work into his mind, to ripen into per- formances as soon as occasion should offer opportunity for theii' due exercise. Either Bostwick did not suspect the feeling he in/ spired, or was regardless of it. He continued to play the reckless insolent; cool, savage, scornful and satirical in all that he-said, as far as it lay within his capacity to be so. And, with all his vul- garity, his educational inferiority, he was still capable of making himself felt. That he should presume at all, was a sufficient cause of offence to McKewn, whose social pride was growing in I due degree with the acquisition of wealth. Bostwick, stimulated by a sudden and unusual run of luck, wa$ ! vexed at being arrested in it. He was acute enough to couple the refusal of Drummond and Barton to play any longer, with the BREWAGE OF BITTER BEVERAGE AMONG THE BRETHREN. 279 peri obvious wish of McKewn, and he so expressed himself as to rr ake 1i! ' the parties understand that he saw through them all. He kiew , 'that Drummond and Barton had money enough for play, and felt :i ^sure that, if they had not, and desired it, they could command, with even more facility than himself, the requisite loans from ithe Scotchman. "Well," said he, looking round him with a scorn that mighti be really entertained-4 Well, I'm about as poor" a dog as over gnaw'd a bone; but, by Jiminy! I'm not so poor as to let any man say whether 1 should bark or not, jest as it pleased him L--i No! Ef I'n to hev' a master, I'll choose that one-that'll let me 1-* nrun or sleep when I wants to, and not rout me up because it suits him only, and set me to barking ag'in, when I've lost all tongue a'lready in a long day's hunt. In some things, I knows I'm worse i- than a nigger, but bad as I am, I reckon I'll never let any man 3put his collar round my neck." "And who does that?" demanded Barton and Drummond in a : J breath. "[ Why, you, both on you. You aint half a man between you. Here I knows you both wants to play, and will take- to cards las si an old sarpent to a young firog; but, jest because McKewn here i} has given you a look out of his gimblet eyes, you shet up, and ? put on a righteous face, and swear agin your very souls, that you're X tired and don't want to play, and hain't got any more money, and I don't-know what other 'scuses. That ain't being a man and a gentleman, any way, It's more like being a dog and Ia A: slave, I say!" :!!-, "Don't you call me a dog and a slave, Bostwick, or I'll hurt '{ 1ryou P" growled Barton. Drummond only laughed merrily. ;:d : "Hurt, will you? W5ho's afear'd? You're' barking up the wrong tree, Barton, if you thinks to scare me with your tongue. I could take the starch out of your jacket any day in tSree min- utes, ef you wants to try." f, as. page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, - Pshaw!" put in McKewn, " no luore of this! Be still, Bar- ton; and you, Bostwick, don't be a ool! If you're fool enough to play together, and gamble away your money when you ought both to be earning it, at least don't be such fools as to quarrel when your profits can only grow from your working together. You, Barton, set off, and see about the schooner, The tide serves, and she's either up or coming. See to her, and make stowage of what you've got. and that's a matter about which' we must talk together, Bostwick. You, Drummond, go with Barton, and see that every thing's right." The two rose without a word. The Squatter then- "Well, ef we're to hev' a talk of it, jest you put out the Ja- maica, Drummond, that we shant shan't hev' a dry time of it.- McKewn is mighty apt to git thirsty when he talks of business, and I work so hard to listen that it makes my throat mighty dry too. Heave out the liquor, will you!" "Plenty's, the word," answered Drummond, doing as he had been asked. The portly black bottle, square and capacious, was put within reach. The negro woman just then brought in a bucket of water from the spring. She was dismissed, and Drum- mond and Barton soon disappeared, leaving the Squatter and his employer in sole possession of the tent. CHAPTER XX VIII. BLOOD MONEY&' SCARCELY had the6other parties all disappeared, when McKewn began-- . "I don't know what to make of your conduct, Bostwick, to- 1!* - BLOOD MONEY. 281 I night. It's rather unusual, I must say, and quite different from what, I think, I have a right to expect. You have treated me pretty much as if I were one of those ruffians that you have some- times employed; and seemed to forget, my good fellow, that it is I I who am your employer; not you mine!" "Forgit it, you say! No i! by Jiminv! not a bit of forgitting -with me in that business, was the reply; " but before I begin, I'll try the Jamaica. It'll take more than you kin find for me, Mc- Kewn, to make me forgitful of you and your business." This was said in tones of. singular bitterness, and with such a look of scornful superiority as quite confounded the listener.- Meanwhile, the Squatter resorted to the bottle, and poured out the Jamaica, and dashed it with water, with as much deliberation, as if there were no other objects before him for consideration. At I all events, he showed no regard whatever to-the obvious impatience of his companion. At length, having drank, and struck down the cup upon the chest, he turned to McKewn, and confronted him. "And now for it," said he. "You wants to know about the business, and how we got on, and what we've got, and where's the il i niggers and the papers, eh! Well now, look you, McKewn, ef, before I told you the leetlest word in the world about the matter, I was jest to take this knife, and drive it up to the handle in that rotten heart of your'n, I'd make the right sort pf beginning for sich a story as I've got to tell!" He suitdd the action, in some degree, to the words; flourishing the blade of his couteau de chasse, in singular proximity to the eyes of his auditor. McKewn was no imbecile. He was a cool, firm man; not a hero, perhaps--possessed of none of that sort of bravery which springs tumultuously into appetite and action on the merest show of provocation-but he could -fight when need required, and could look calmly the ordinary danger in the face. But the proceeding of the Squatter was so entirely unexpected- the fellow had so uniformly shown himself the submissive crea- 24* page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282' THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ture, to be bought and used at pleasure, by the agency of drink or money--and there was now in his. face, such an expression of vindictive hate and ferocious phrenzy, that, if the Scotchman did not actually quail with terror, he was certainly most terribly con- founded. We do-not pretend to say from what sources sprang this new exhibition of conduct, on the part of the Squatter, to one who hitherto had been allowed to appear quite as much his mas- ter as employer. It may have been the dictate of a cunning poli- cy to inspire the emotion of-fear, the better to exercise future con- trol over the person from whlom he was otherwise to derive but little future service. The temper of thei Squatter, who had his pride and vanity also, may have been driven to this degree of des- peration by the unconcealed contempt, and the too frequently stu- died insolence of McKewn. The rum he hbd been drinking might have had something to do with his ebullition ;-or, it might be, that the scenes through which he had gone, his own narrow es- cape, the death of four of his associates, ;he necessity which he had felt of putting one of them to death with hi .own hand- these, together, may have combined to work upon his brain, so as utterly to deprive him, for the time, of all the restraints of judgment. It is very probatle that all the reasons above suggest- ed were, in degree, at the bottom of the novel demonstration which he had made; and that policylprompted him (for he had sufficient sagacity to fathom the charadter of his associates) to employ his natural and mixed emotions with a certain regard to his own -fu- ture interests. Whatever the source of his speech and conduct, they produced the effect of paralyzing, for a moment, the cold-blooded scoundrel, in whose hands, hitherto, had rested the reins of full authority over the creature who now seemed, to threaten him.- The picture appeared strangely to realize that German fancy which represents the devil as serving, for a long time, in perfect submission, the conceited mortal out of whose hands he one day wrenches the staff, only to break with it the head of his astonished 'ik " - BLOOD MONEY. 283 283 master.! McKewn absolutely gasped. He- could not summon words to answer; and the Squatter seemed to rise even into dig- ! mnity, as he certainly did into superiority, as, with a calm and steady eye, he wyatched scornfully the effect which he had produced upon the meagre, vacant countenance, and the trembling frame of his confederate. "Yes," said he, "McKewn, ef I was jest now to stick my knife into the softest part of your heart, and work it there with a heavy and, it t wold be only the right way to begin the telling of my- McKewn gathered strength to say--but still in gasping accents-- ?'L "Why, you wouldn't kill me, Bostwick." "I don't know but I ought to. 'Twould be a mighty good sar- vice done to good people. I ought to, McKewn, and ef I was a good maqryself, I'd do it soon as eat."'7 "Why, at have I done, to put you in such a fury?" "Done! Listen!- Of the five men that went with me on this ^infernal expedition, there's only one now living on this mortal' airth!" "What! Four?" recovering himself-his terror changing into j astonishment. "You don't say that four men have been killed?" "Every nan but two on us swallowed his bullet; Bill Sykes, Dick Norris, Rafe Burke and Jeff Brydges. Of all them good fellows, there's not one on 'em, but's a-lying in the woods, and all the ice' in nater couldn't make 'em feel cold. You, and you only, have been the death of them four fellows." b "Pshaw!" exclaimled McKewn, in husky and half-choking- ac- cents, "that's all nonesense! I had nothing to do with their liv- ing or dying. But how was the affair--how did it happen?- What was dobe?" "Oh! you're mighty curious to know ef we got the niggers and the papers! You don't mind much ef we was all killed and sculped, so that you had your eends sarved. I know you, McKewn' page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 THE .SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. and it's bekase I know how little you care what comes of us, that I feel it in my heart to find my way with -,his knife into your'n. ,But I ain't guine to killyou yit; 'kase you see, I'm wanting more of your money." The Scotchman laughed feebly, and with, effort. "You laughs, does you, and I'm telling you of four stout lads all convarted to carrion in your business." "But that's po fault of mine." "Whose, then? Wash't it your business?" "Yes; but I did not expect-I did no wish-that anybody should be kiJled on my account." "Ambushes, when men's got we'pons in their hands, is very likely to-hurt people,' and prehaps to kill 'qm. These fellows are 'killed, I tell you, four on 'em a-lying stark in the cold night, and looking up, and never once seeing the stairs. And we did our best. There's but one, of all of us six, al've now, beside myself, and the d---1 knows how long he's to be allowed to keep in the open daylight. I seed him not four hours ago, only seven miles from here, with a fever' on him hot enough to burn his brains to a cinder."' "Who is he?" , "Tony Hines." "And he has a fever, and but seven les from here? And what did you do for him?" "What could I do .? It's all in the ha ds of nater. I'm no doctor; I've got no physic; he must die ol live, es it happens." "We must do something for him. But seven miles. Where e does he lie 2" "At old Ephraim Smyzer's, the Dutchman. But we needn't talk of him. Ef you've got any plhysic to do him good, give it to me, and I'll carry it in the morning. Let's talk -of the other matter." . He filled himself another cup of the Jamaica, sipped a little, BLOOD MONEY. 28g and, while YcKewn tried to compose himself, and prepared to listen, the Squatter, though with evident dislike of the subject, proceeded to unfold his history, in his own manner. "We set the trap, and the widow walked fairly into it. The carriage was ahead of the wagon half a mile or more, and Ford- ham and the young fellow was on horseback. They rid ahead, and when the overseer stopped to water at the branch, with the young fellow on t'other side of him, Bill Sykes lent him the butt- eend of his rifle, and tumbled him into the branch. Onfortunate, Bill Sykes made no account of the lad, seeing he was more a child than a nj-an; but the chap's as quickla varmint as ever look- ed through a green bush, and the moment he seed Fordham down, and the man that down'd him, the little fellow, setting on his horse, let fly at Bill with his pistols, first one shot, then t'other, though the first bullet was enough. Bill hadn't a word to say arter that for any of his friends on airth. Then the young devil wheeled about, and went off like a streak. But a shot from one of our boys tumbled the lad's pony, and we captivated him and tied him down. Fordham tried to git up, and he had two pistols, but we put in, seasonable, and stunted him with another touch of the rifle-butt, and he lay quiet enough while we tied him down. The widow Ebleigh we took out of the carriage, and gave her a hitch too--" "Did you tie her i" "Yes, 'twas a needcessity, for the s'arch, and the rest of the bu- siness. Then we stopt the wagon, and made at the niggers. They scattered, and we caught only seven of them -" "You got seven, then?" said McKewn, feeling a little relieved. "Got h--11! We took 'em, but couldn't keep 'em. For, meantime, a nigger gal, name Jinny-I know her well-slipped out somehow from the carriage, and hid in the bushes, and, when we was a-runnirg down the niggers, what does she -do, but cuts her missis loose, and cuts Fordham and young Arthur loose, and page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 86 . THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. they gits possession of their- own we'pons, and the rifle of Bill Sykes, and-takes the woods on us. Now, Fordbam is a great fel- low in the woods, and where they harboured we could'nt say.- At last they got a crack at Dick Norris, and bark'd his limb with a bullet, but not to do much hurt. Then our work was to begin. It's a long story to tell how we snaked ana foxed through the bushes, to git upon their rear. At last, Rafe/Burke, like a bloody fool, got into a passion, and showed his teeth to the widow, and his fool head to her son, -and draw'd his bullet, I reckon from a rest, for it laid him out flat as a sarcAmstance. So you see, thar was two fine fellows tumbled by a brat! of -a boy. But he's a quick chap as ever lived, and ef he grbws to be a man, he'll make somebody see sights. But I reckon we'd ha' fixed 'em all at last, for we was marching off the seven niggers, we captivated under Tony Hines and Jeff Brydges, when, all of a sadden, who should bolt in upon them and us, but that bloody fat Cappin, Porgy, with hafe-a-dozen dragoors at his heels. They cut down Jeff Brydges in his tracks; they run Tony Hines into the swamps, where, what with cold, and scare, and hunger, he's got the fever; and they tuk Dick Norris in the wagon, and hitched him to a swinging limb, putting a knot in the rope jest under his left ear, that's made him careful never to speak a word sence," "Good God! is it possible! Did he confess ." "I reckon he didn't hev' a chance. 'Dick's a good fellow, and he disapp'inted them. He died too sudden to say much. They gin me a hard chase, so close that I had to throw away my rifle. I've lost rifle, horse, and every thing; and four fine fellows shet up forever; and one prehaps, a-dying nov, and the other here, as you sees, before you, purty desperate, Mckewn, and jest as wil- ling to knife himself, and you, and a'most anybody that crooks a finger at him, as to sup this Jamaica." "What a shocking affair! How your fellows must have bung- led!" A! ;BLOdOD MONEY. .287 "Bungled! By the Etarnal! don't say that agin. A man what pays for his bungling with his life, has a right to hev' the decent thing said about him. It was -no bungling, but a clever piece of business, mighty -well done; but a man's not able for every thing, and who was to know that them d---d hard-riding men of Marion was to come down sudden upon us." "But you-admit that the negro girl, Jenny, escaped your obser- vation, and it was she, you say, that cut Fordham and the young man loose." "Yes, 'twas she; but ef it hadn't been for your business, 'twouldn't hev' happened; but you was so set upon heving them bloody papers, that I made for s'arching the carriage arter them my own self. Ef I hadn'tdone so, but let them go to , and jest seen to the .captivating of the party, and not trusted to the other fellows, I reckon all would ha' goneilright. But 'twas the blasted papers that you talked so much about." "Did you get them at last-the papers?" demanded McKewn, eagerly. "Yes! 'twas all I got out of the affair."-The Squatter thought of the fifty guineas as he spoke, but without compunctions of any sort. - 'Yes! I got 'em; I got all the papers the widow had in the carriage, a good sized box full, and yours, I reckon, is among "'em. I seed two papers jest like what you show'd me, and teli'd me about." "Let me see them"--eagerly--"I can tell." "No! no! McKewn! that cock won't fight tell he's well fed. Them papers, ef they're so vallyable to you, are jest as vallyable to me. You've ,ot to pay for them papers afore you git 'em.-- They're worth a sight of money. They're worth them four fine fellows that got knock'd in the head to git 'em. They're worth my horse, my rifle, my trouble, my danger, and the orful fright, and hurry, and rln, and confusion I've had. Them papers must pay for all." I,\ ' ' 4 page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, "Well, but Bostwick, I have not refused to reward you for what you have done. I've pald you punctually for all your services." ":Paid me . And whars the pay? What am I the better for it? It come in- driblets and it couldn't last no time. Sich re- wardings! 'Twon't do to talk of what y ot've paid me, McKewn; it's now that I'm to show you what you've got to pay. I must hev' one hundred guineas in hand, bright and yallow here"- touching his palms-" before you gits them papers into your'n." "A hundred guineas Why man, you're mad. A hundred guineas for a sheet of paper t "It's a paper that kin hang you, McKewn." "And you, too, my good fellow." I'll be ready for the rope when they're a-stringing you. I jest don't care for nothing now except my comforts; and my comforts is to be bought with guineas; and ef the guineas ain't there to, buy the comforts, why I don't care how soon the eend of the rope. is worked into a slip knot for both our necks. Thar! Them's my principles. Make the most you kin out of them. A hundred guineas is' the least I'll take for them bloody papers, I tell you." McKewn changed his tactics. "But my good fellow, you don't expect me to pay a hundred guineas for the papers without seeing them. What evidence have I that you have really got them?' "The word of a rascal to a rascal, ef you please, and I ain't guine to give you better evidence; for I kain't. Take -that or none at all." The face of McKewn, naturally of a cadaverous cast, flushed in- stantly to crimson. The space between himself and the Squatter had diminished wonderfully in a single week. But he had no remedy. The man who weighs his own life at so small a value, has that of his enemy always at his girdle. He had only to tem- porize. 'But, as we know each other so well," said McKewn, "pray + KNAVES PAIRING orr. 289 what security shall I have, when I have paid this money, that you will then deliver the papers How do I know but you will still keep them, and still be calling upon me for more money." "Well, that sartainly would be a good way to do business. I hadn't thought of that. You're more cute than me, McKewn." "You see for yourself. My only security is in your delivering the papers, at least, when I am prepared to pay the money," "Kaint be did, McKewn, even ef I was willing, which I aint. The box of!papers is hid away, where all h-11 could'nt find 'them." "Ah!" "Yes! You might take a thousand rigiments and s'arch from Christmas to Christmas, and never once come within nosing dis- tance of their hiding place. It'll take me three days good riding to bring 'em here; and them guineas, one hundred on em, I must hev' before we part to-morrow." A cloud passed over the brow of McKewn. His forehead was contracted. He mused in silence for a moment, then said- "Well, I must think of it to-night. One hundred guineas!-I must think of it." With these words, he abruptly left the tent, while the Squatter proceeded to replenish his cup with the convenient Jamaica. CHAPTER XXXIX. KNAVES PAIRING OFF. MCKEWN had suddenly been enlightened by a new idea. He walked out into the woods, taking a blind path with which he ap- peared quite familiar, and which gradually conducted him to the 25 P* page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF.- near neighbourhood of the river, or rather that arm of the sea which afforded harbourage to the brigantines, orltransport vessels, to which, he and others, engaged in illicit trade, were about to furnish stolen cargo. But, though approaching this neighbour- hoold, he was not yet disposed to show himself to his coniderates. He had to solve his problems, in secret meditation, before he re- ,quired their cojperatio. Exercising our peculiar privilege, we, however, are enabled to report the subject of his thoughts and the conclusions to which they conducted him. As might be expected, his meditations all related to the Squatter, Bostwick, and the em- barrassments which threatened him from that quarter. "Either," he said to himself, " this fellow has the paper or he -has not. Whether he has, or not, his object is to impress me with the fact of his possessing it, and, through my fears, on that subject, to extort money from me. He will never surrender the paper as long as he can do this. He will hold it over me, in terrorem, for- ever. I must disarm him of this power. I doubt that he has this paper. If he has obtained it, he has secreted it, as he boasts, where I can never lay hands on it without his consent. I .know the scoundrel so well, that, supposing he has it, I could swear that it now lies hidden in some hollow tree, in some unfathomable swamp. He will- confide the secret to nobody else. What then? If I can keep him from it, it is secure from all other persons. 'It will moulder and rot in its burial place. It can never rise against me. But, even if he has not this paper, -his own evidence may trou- ble me hereafter. He will still want money--will always be full of wants-so long as he can threaten me. I must get rid" of him! I will do it. This very skirmish with Porgy and his followers in- creases the danger, and makes it doubly important that Bostwick should be out of the way. I see! I have it. Drummond can manage that! But, in- the meanwhile, I wi 1 see this associate of his- this fellow, Hines. It is possible that he has, the paper, and only awaits Bostwick's orders on the subject. He is sick with KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 291 fever-that may be true or not.: I must, at all events, find out what I can--all that he knows, and whether he knows more than is becoming for our safety. Eight miles! I can see him and re- turn in four hours. It must be done!" Having reached this conclusion, he emerged from the thicket, and moved rapidly towards the bluff which usually formed the landing place for the brigantine. The tide was making rapidly into the creek on which it-stood. Three persons were already there, who, on his approach, proved to be Drummond, Barton, and a burly, broad-shouldered, and excessively short person, parltly in the habit of a sailor. He! was in fact, the master of the brigan- tine. His name was Forbes. These three were- in waiting for the vessel. She was approaching under a fair breeze, cutting di- rectly across the inner bay, having been concealed, for several days already, against the opposite shore; her tall, rakish masts ming- ling naturally with the great trees of the forest, which, in that- quarter, hung directly over the river. She -was guided in her progress by signal lights just over the heads of our party-three lanterns, in a triangle, suspended from a cypress pole. By day- light she was signalled by three separate smokes. McKewn joined the group who awaited her, and they spoke together on the Subject of their affairs in general. Various matters were discussed among them which need not tax our attention, but scarcely a word was said of the Squatter; Forbes only remarked- Bostwick, it seems, came empty handed. It's not often that he fails." "He was probably drunk, or he would not have failed this time." "Is there any chance that he will mend the matter?" was the inquiry of Forbes.' Scarcely in season for you. You have a pretty fair cargo, however, and there's no policy in waiting upon him." "No) indeed! I shall try to be off by day-peep. We have a page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 iHE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. hundred and seventy one. I am prepared to take two hundred, if they were ready; but theres quite too much risk in waiting. Some ,French vessels of war wer t by yesterday, going rorth, and close in shore. Every day will add to their number, and they are eralugh now along the route, to keep us watching with all our eyes." "I want some physic out of your chest, Captain," said Mc- Kewn, somewhat suddenly changing the subject. "What's the matter? You're not going to take physic?" "It's not for myself." "We have a good supply. You can have what you please.- Fof my part I don't see the good of it, in our hands at least.- When a sailor's to die, it makes no sort of difference whether you physic him or not. Die he will, and the physic only keeps him from dying easily." "It's very different with a backwoodsman. He believes in phy- sic, and relishes large doses. He'll hardly think himself well, un- less he has taken physic. The old women, half of them, feed on it, and learn to like it as well as coffee and 'sugar." "That's if it's mixed with .alcohol," quoth Drummond. But who's it for, MeKewn?" "A fellow named Hines, a friend of Bostwick, who has been taken sick some eight miles above, at the cabin of an old man named Smyzer. Do you know anything about him?" What,- old Ephraim? To be sure, I do, and his old wife, too-a pair of turtles that might be owls for the good looks be tween 'em. But how are you to get the physic there?" "Carry it myself" "What! to-night" "Yes; as soon as possible. You can direct me as to the road." "Oh! that's plain enough. It's a short eight miles. Hardly more than seven, I think; good enourgh. for a man on horseback. I can tell you all about it. But you're getting wondrous chari- KNAVES PARtINlG- OF. i 293 table of late. Time was, the man m ht have died and gone to :the devil, and you'd never have crossd a creature to carry him physic though you had only a mile to travel. What's in the wind?" McKewn answered by a glance only, but that was sufficiently significant for all who saw it. They readily comprehended that their confederate was busy in the common cause. It was not ne- cessary to ask or answer questions where the parties were satisfied with each other. - Meanwhile, the rattling of bolt and cordage announced the ap- proach of the vessel. Soon she plunged ahead and shot into the little harbourage. A brief delay, and the confederates boarded her; the contents of the medicine chest were overhauled, and McKewn selected a small supply of such medicines as, in that day, were mostly resorted to in cases of fever. Provided with them, he wasted po time on matters not absolutely essential to the objects of the party. He quickly returned to the land, having first called Drummond aside. He led him into the wood, and at 'once proceed to unfold his farther designs. "I do not see that this fellos, Bostwick, can be of any farther use to us here, Drimmond. On the contrary. he may be trouble- some. Fe promises to be so, as you see. We must get rid of him. Hte has been a good woodman; he may become a good seaman. Forbes is short-handed, and will have no objection to a sharp, lithe active fellow who will soon learn to run up a rope, as he has run up a 'ree. You must get him employment in the d transport." , aBut, will Bo stlick be willing?" "Byno means .! These fellows rarely know what is best for them. We must :ielp him against himself. Give him a good berth whether he wishes it or not. - Get him on board to-night, on somne pretext, &nd take him off with/ you. Invite him to a inatch at cards. His love of money, and his passion for gaming I 25* ' C) ;! * - page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 294 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. will make it an easy matter to do this, particularly if he is well fuddled. If, however, you can't persuade him, hoist him on board and make sail. He will be reconciled to it after a while, and when you have given him a taste of your sea pleasuresl- nightly drinking and gaming. When ashore at Jamaica, leave him there. It is to him a sort of Rum arid Sugar Paradise, where he may be well content to say. At all events, there will be no policy in bringing him back. See to it. I shall ride at once to see this fellow, Hines. -l ry and have it all over before I return. I do not care to see him again. He is already half drunk. Go back to the tent, and resume the cards. Bet as highly as he may desire. Let him win for awhile. You can recover all your losses on the voyage. Above all, and- to effect all, keep him well soaked. The rum will make all easy." Drummond liked the project. He offered no objections. With- out having any motive so grave as that of McKewn,-without, in- deed, having any knowledge of the particular reason which the latter had for getting the Squatter out of the way-he yet saw that the proceeding, might, in some degree, contribute to the com- mon cause. Besides, Drummond haid a passion for fun, and the ab- duction of the Squatter promised ample store for merriment. "It will be comical," said he, " when the fellow wakes and finds himself out of sight of land. Won't he look wild?" The plan being properly understood, the parties separated, Mc- Kewn at once taking horse, without showing himself at the tent, and speeding, with all possible haste, towards the cabin of old Ephraim Smyzer. Two-hours, as he had calculated, brought him to the place. The family had retired for the night; but McKewn's business was urgent and he prepared to rout them up. His en- trance into the enclosure brought upon him the fierce assault of a couple of hounds, the attentions of which made him rather slow to dismount; but he kept them off with his whip, and made his way to the .steps of the house, which consisted of three huge pine , *i* KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 295 blocks leading to a low piazza, into which, as there was no railing around it, he alighted directly from the saddle. Fastening -his house to one of thie columns, he thundered at the door, keeping close watch upon the dogs, which had ascended to the piazza also, ,but hung about the steps, seeming, in some degree, to respect the house, if not the intruder. But they did not 'spare their tongues if they did their teeth. Their clamours were incessant, and be- tween their music, and the tune kept upon the door by McKewn's stick, the inmates of the hovel were soon aroused. "Who's thar ." was; the demand, in a female voice. "It's the Doctor ;" answered McKewn, promptly. His cue had been adopted long before, by which he included. himself among the faculty. "' You've got a sick man here, haven't you?" "Yes; I reckor; and I'm sick myself," answered the old wo man, opening the door, and displaying herself in her night dress -a very short one--with a ragged blanket over her shoulders, and a blazing torch of lightwood in her hand. "t Won't you come in, Doctor," she said. "I'm mighty glad to see you. The noor man's gotthe fever yit, and a mighty hot fev, r it is'." . "Where is he?'" was the eager inquiry which McKewn made, pushing in as he spoke. - W' Vell, now, jest set down a bit, Doctor, while I light the fire ;" -and the good woman squatted down to the occupation on the hearth. A grunt from bhe bed in one corner, drew McKewn's at- tention to that quarter. "Is it Doctor F3rney?" asked old Ephraim. "No; I'm Doc-,or Warley." "Yis! I hearn of you,-somewhar' about Dorchester, I'm a- thinkinrig. Well, Doctor, I'm mighty glad you're come to do some thing for the pool man what's sick here; and something for all on us. I'm sick myself with an awful bad turn ofl!rheumaliz-one whole side of me Is almost useless, Doctor; I kan't well straight- , page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. en myself these times. Kain't you give me something to do me good'". The fire by this time was kindled, and the old woman inter- posed with-her complaints which were chronic also, like those of her husband. We spare her narration. McKewn was not un- prepared for any emergency, He knew the people, their usual ailments, and the faith which they had in professional art. But he was too anxious about the patient he had come to see, to suffer any delays of the interview. "Well," said he, " as this poor fellow has a hot fever, his case is the most pressing. We'll see what his condition is first, and then attend to yours." - He was conducted accordingly to the shed-room where Hines lay. The patieniti was awake, and welcomed the supposed physi- cian with profound satisfaction. Dr. Warley-as he called him- self---sat down upon the pallet by the sick man, and grasped his wrist With a professional promptness that would have done honour to the regular' faculty-then shook his head slowly with a very deliberative nod. Mrs. Smyzer was disposed to linger and to mingle in the conference; bu this by,no means suited our medico. "Leave-us, my good woman! Tile secrets of the sick are to be respected. I will see to your ailments, and those of your old man, when I have gqt thl'ough with the case of Mr. Hines." l The good woman retired. 'i You knows me, then?" q loth Hines. "To be sure! Bostwick is an old patient of mine. He's done many a pretty turn for me, and I've saved -him many a time when he was on his back. He begged me ride here to-night. I'd have done it for no other man. But, in truth, .[ know all about his affairs and yours. He counsels with me about other things than physic." "Oh! ho!" said Hines,-and he straight began to-suspect that his worthy physician had been the employer of the party on its X KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 297 late expedition-a secret which Bostwick had studiously kept to himself. The next -bought with the sick outlaw, was to ascertain what had been the reward which had tempted the Squatter. His cupidity taught him to suspect that Bostwick hal monopolized the lion's share, as is too common in all such cases. 4 I'll pump him about it," was the almost spoken resolve of Tony. The two parties, it will thus be seen, had each a covert object to be gained, in each case demanding some exercise of in- genuity. As the ver 7 being a rogue always implies some degree of ingenuity, it is needless for us to say that the hopeful pair were quite equal to the objects entertained. We shall-be compelled, however, to omit many of the details, and much of the dialogue between them, and report results rather than the process by which they were reached. It was McKewn's object to appear quite fa- miliar with the Squatter's affairs. It was the policy of Tony to show the Doctor that he had a sufficient inkling df the relations existing between the parties. "You have a very hot fever, Tony; but you owe it as much as any thing else, to the scenes through which you oave gone.- You've had a hard time of it. But Bostwick don't spare his men. I warned him to be careful of what he was about." i'; He didn't mind you much, Doctor. Best is too quick a leetle. H don't look about him enough. But you pain him too well, Doctor, that was it! He. was so keen for -his pay, and he didn't watch both eends of the road close enough." "I paid him!--o! yes! as you say, he was too quick for his pay to do his work properly. And that's the reason of all the misfortune. He bungled badly, and lost all he came for. But b he got the box and papers, eh " , "Box and papers!" "Yes; didn't he He made sure of that? course, you know." l 'Know? Ireckon Ido. But about the box and papers----" page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 THE SWORD JAND THE DISTAFF. "He got them from the carriage!" "He did?"' "He says so; of course he did! Didn't you help search the earriage?", "No! dern his liver, I didn't! That was, what he was arter! We helped knock-down the driver, and tie the fellows and the woman, but 'twas him that s'arched the carriage." "Well, didn't you know what he found there--the box, the money, and the papers?" "Box of money! No, there was no money. I axed him, and Norris axed him, but he swore there wasn't no money." i "Oh! you surely forget. Bostwick's an honest fellow. He wouldn't cheat me-wouldn't tell me a lie, I'm sure. He found the box, I'm sure." "Honest, you say! Well, I reckon he is, and I reckon evert man's honest 'tell he's found out. Ef there was a box I never seed it, and ef be got any money out ot the carriage, then he told us all'a-most etarnal lie, for Le swore he couldn't find nothing." "All was in the box. Yo-i saw that!"' "No, I didn't." Is it possible? Why how could he have hidden it? Youiall helped to stop the carriage, to tie the' women and the men, and you must have seen." "Yes; we did help, but you see, the dern'd fox of a fellow- now I see it all--he s'arched the carriage first, by his one self, and kept us at a distance to see after the men -gone ahead and the 7 wagon behind, so that he had allthe chances." "But, if he got it, how could he hide it from you, so that you shouldn't see even the box?" "Easy enough! He kept us all busy, and he kept pretty much with the woman. Ef any body seed the box and -money besides himself, 'twas Rafe Burke, and he's not able to say anything about it now. Bostwick swore he found nothing." 4. ^ ' ' I - . i ,I JNAVES PAIRING OFF. 299 t Oh! he didn't think of the box at the time. But I'm sure he got itl He says so now. He's hid it somewhere he says ' '"In the swamp! iHe had chance enough for it, for we divided, you see, one set agini the carriage, one agi-n the overseer and boy, and another agin the wagon. He kept the carriage and the wo- man to himself, and was a long time about 'em. But he swore there was no money." "But did you believe the story? Did you sulpose that the widow, who is so rickd, would go to the country and take no money with her-even if it were only a stocling-full of shillings for chicken moriy. I shouldn't wonder if she had a hundred guin- t eas in that box!" "A hundred guineas! The etarnal cheat! And you paid him so well, too." - I!--oh! we wont say what hand I had in the matter, seeing that it's turned out nothing. The box might be worth something now, if we had it." .- "Dern the box, I ay; and dern that fox of a fe:low that kept his mouth shet all tae while about the box. XNow, look you, I kin jest show the chance he had for gutting the carriage and hiding a dozen boxes"--and he proceeded to give such a full ac- count of the whole -a venture, as served to confirm the story told by Bostwick, and to satisfy McKewn that the Squa-ter, in all pro- bability, had securer the papers. The sick ruffiar aroused him- self at the Squatter's appropriation of the spoil, allowed himself no reserve, and went into particulars which supplied manygaps in the narrative as given by the latter. MAcKewn listened coolly egging the fellow or by a word thrown in, now and then, at the right-moment. He now recalled certain studious efforts of Bost-. wick to send all his confederates out of sight, and, ir fact, account- ed for the failure to secure the negro girl, by the solicitude of the q: Squatter to put the mysterious box out of sight. "Well, I'm sorry I told you of the box and the hundred guin- ,. I page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] V. w aTs SyWORD AND THE DISTArFF. ' eas; but I really supposed you all knew what was -done. Bost- ^wik didn't speak of it as any secret, and I reckon he'll give you your share of the money. He only forgot." - "Forgot! D n him ! He forgot a-purpose! Now, of all S the money you- agn him in this business- " -, "Who? I -oh! no! I suppose somebody employed him and paid him well, butI am only his friend when he's in trouble.' "Hem! oh-! yes'! I onderstand! It's only right not to say toomuch. But I. reckon he got famous pay beforehand."! "Very likely. Hundreds, no doubt" " "Wat guinea!" "To be su .e-guineas. To do such a business as you went i on musthhave: alled for a round pocket full. Bostwick is not the -man to look a such work forless than a hundred for irnselt'. '"End you gin hinm YOu'think he got so much as that .'" "Not a shilling tess '!" The 'tarnal rascal! Look you, Doctor, give me the physic and i let .me get- ut o of this fodder. I longs to jest call the dernd fellow out into the bushes, and ax him for a showing of his pockets.' Oh! you musn't qarrel I'm sontrry T told you. He'll make it all right, Im sure." i The Doctor -ain felt thepulse of th patient, now some- what heightened, and proceeded to prescribe for him. An enor- mous dose of Glauber's Salts was poured into a tumbler, and the - old woman was called on for Virginia Snake-root. Of this root the country is everywhere full, and all the peasantry was well ac- quainted with it. A grain of tartar was deposited among the salts. "It will disquiet him to some purpose;" quoth McKewn, to himself, as he mixed the medicines, " and that is all;,perhaps, that 1 physic ought to be expected to do." \:ik? $.:4+ * ! i. - THE HAZARD OF THE DOES 80- There Bere otheb words between himself and patient, and when, he left him, he bestowed a reasonable time upon the old couple, for whose ailments he left other medicines, pos ibly as wisely chosen, with refereee to the intended objects, as the salts, tartar and snake-root. 'his dene, our soi disant Doctor did not unne- cessarily delay his departure. As he rode away, on his return, he stated his own onclusions to himself, thus-- He has got bo: and papers! But this fellow knows nothing of them, and he is the only other survivor. Bost ick has hidden them from his con ederates, which is pretty mlch like hiding them from all the iorld. What more do I want? If he hides them from all others, I am quite as well satisfied that he should- hide them from ml . Let them rot in their hiding place, and let him rtot in Jam=aic or in a hotter region!l He shall trouble me no more!" CHAPrTER AXL. THE HAZARDS OF THE DIE. "THLE McKewn was playing the physician, is confederates, Drummond and 3arton, had made their way 1ackto the tent where the Squatte had been left, prepared to p t in practice the policy which the- first mentioned person had- suggested. They found Bostwick stretched at length upon the ground, with his head and shoulder resting against the chest, the cup of Jamaica and bottle by his side, and a pipe in his mouth, from which an occasional puff only, betrayed the half drowsy state of the smoker, -Ie roused hitnsell up as they came in, lbut it was evident, from his flushed -face anld the wildess of his eyes, that he-had heen 26 page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] -302 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. . exceedingly frequent in his-potations, and was now, as Drummond phrased it, in 'a whisper to his associate. "rather the worse for w*eal." X This, was a condition that' promised them much. facility in performing the duty confided to their hands., That Bostwick suffered from the effects of the liquor was not, however, favoura- ble to this amiableness, and sweetness of temper. His natural sullenness had become savageness, and he a!bruptly asked- - "Where's McKewn 8" "He's about somewhere. He'll be in directly." "Well, he'd better.' I kain't wait too long. I wants money!" "Why,u you've got morey, man! Where's all that you won from us, arnd what you had before?" "::That! said he, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and drawing forth and displaying the contents--"What's that! I tell you I wants a hundred guineas from McKewn-not a guinea less and I must hev' it!" "A hundred guineas!" exclaimed Barton in unaffected aston- ishment. "Why, what the devil does he owe you a hundred guineas for 'l "What! But that's my bu iness! He owes me a great deal more, ef the right was known, and I'll make him know it afore I'm done with him. He's too mean a rascal, by thunder, to be a white man!" "Look you, Bostwiek, that's not the way to speak of a person that's finding you the grub you eat!" said Barton. Drummond nudged his companion, and in- a whisper said- "Don't answer- the drunken fool, or answer him according to the folly and the liquor.'" "Grub!!Find me! And who the h-11 tells, you that I owes gich a fellow as McKewn any thanks for any thing. It's he "owes - -'me: and he shall pay me, too, or-sweat for it. I say he's as dirty a-ddga: ever run without a- nose; and ef you don'tJike what I say, jest ty your hand to-make me speak moie agreeable; and Aft: THE HAZARD OF THE DIE. 303 see what'll come of that. I'm a man eeny day for my inches -ir- against the inches of eeny other man!" "Pshaw! whatare youboth mouthingabout You'rebothof -. you drunk, I reckon, or so near on the road to staggers that -you'll never reach it by yourselves. Shut up both of you, and let's have a drink all round. I'm as thirsty after work as a bull-frog i after a dry shower. Come, Bostwick, my boy. you don't mean to soak up all the Jamaica in your own sponge." "Thar it is;-I'm not onreasonable with eery man, and will jine you, ef drinking's the word and no offence meant. But that don't make me onsay what I've said of McKewn. He's as mean as gar-broth, and a rascal to boot!" "Well, that's just as you and he pleases. We shan't fight i for either of you. You're both of you able to do your own fight- , .... ing, I reckon." He' fight!" qloth the Squatter. "Never!"onless with your, . 5 we'pon or mine. He'll use our fingers for the skrimmage always, t!? yet always forgit to pile our hands when its done, I say he owes 'Y:5 me mnore than a hiundred guineas, ef I'm to git my rights; and I'd like to see the white man that says ' lie' to mie!" This was said r'sing, and with a fierce look at IBarton. IDrum- (?/i? mond again nudged his companion, in order to check any ebulli- tion of defiance which he might be disposed to offer; a necessary precaution, as Barton was one of that irritable race who too fre- 1: quently smelt the fire, when there was really notling to be found ^X but smoke. - "Psho!" interposed the peace-maker,'Drumm nd, Why the devil do you talk of fiht, when I talk of drink. None but a fool X fights so long as the liHuor lasts. Here, hand up the bottle, Bost, if you're sober enough for it, and empty your cup. I go for a iX full swallow all round, fresh from the fountain. Come, Barton, - ,smooth off your rough-dry visage, and suck. You shall drink first, if not too bashftil; and if you are that, llave it to me to page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] :04 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. :show you how the thing may be done. Quick .with the cup, Bostwick, there's no time to be lost. I want to get at the pic- tures. I want o win back some of my money." Or put a I etle more into the heap," answered the Squatter, as he carried- the cup to his lips, and emptied it. "Now fill," quoth Drummond. "After you first'." "Well, there's no use taking up precious time making faces; :here, boys, is good luck to all good fellows. The world's made up i of two sorts of people-those who live for other people, and those :who live by otier people. I'm one of the last, but I don't com- plain or quarrel with the frst, seeing that we can't exactly do -without 'em. I'm for live-and let live." "That's what I'm a thinking. It's only jest right and nateral,' responded the Squatter, warmly. "I aint, any how, an onreason- -able man. You first, Mr. Barton," he continued, with amiable tone, but with something ceremonious in his manner. "Drink yourself," said Barton, "I aint in a hurry." "And I aint in no hurry neither," answered the Squatter. "I aint such a dog when I'm a-tharsting, that I must jump right into the pond." This was said doggedly. He had not been sufficiently recon- ciled to the other, not to misconstrue every thing that he said. Barton saw his error. "Oh! I did'nt mean that, Bostwick; so don't be wolfish. I'll drink and have done with it; so, fill up for me, Drummond. Your health, men, and good profits always to good fellowship." "And righteous pay when the work is done," added Bostwick. "Amen!", quoth Drummond. ." That's good doctrine! And now, boys, as we've got no more to do to-night much, any of us, shal, we turn up the pictures. I'm ready to face you with the goldfinehes, Bostwick. I got a small supply from Forbes." ' Forbes! who's he 2" THE HAZARD OF THE DIE. T SO% "The captain of tfhe schooner, and a fellow you're born to like." "I does'nt know Sim." "But you will. And that reminds me. What say you to go- ing aboard a We can play there better than here, and there's one more man with morey in his pockets." :,-- "Who-the Captain?" "Yes; to be sure, Forbes; a fine fellow as ever tripped an anchor, and, I reckon, with guineas enough to buy and sell us all. He hasn't been sailing between Charlestown and Jamaica these five years not to have crammed more than one sea-chest to bursting." "Let him come here," said Bostwick. "He can't! Can'; leave the vessel. But he'll be infernal glad to see us aboard, and will give us the best of liquors, a good table, good lights, sand a supper after it,-all much better than we can get here. What say you?" "I'm willing," answered Barton. ! I air-t," was the reply of the Squatter; "I don't like the smell of the sea and the smell of the ship. It always hurts me, and makes me feel oneasy. Give me the feel of the. solid airth under my foot. It's a sort of tempting of Providence to try to ride or walk on a saifting thing like the water. The Jamaica is good endugh for me, jest here, and I've found it a good thing without any water at all." Barton would have argued the case with thei Squatter, but Drummond, the better politician, yielded the point at the proper moment, and before the victim should have suspected the hook concealed in the untaken bait. He made a mer't of necessity, and declared himself quite satisfied with any arrangement, parti- cularly if it called for no delay. "We are enough for fun," said he, " and have gold enough for a smart fight-till the small hours. Whether I lose or win, I shall sleep sound enough when the time comes for it. Square yourself round, Barton, and haul up your legs. Bost, throw a few light- page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. wood knots into the fire. Let's see what we're doing. And now put up your pennies. How do we begin-ssmall or large-white or yellow?" "When I've once had the feeling of the yallow, I don't like to touch the white" quoth Bostwick," "but we'll begin small, ef it pleases you.' And he put up a single guinea. The others did the same. The cut was made for the deal, which fell to Barton, and the hands were dealt round. "Let's liquor before we begin," cried Drummond, laying down his cards. "I'm agreeable," said Bostivick, reaching round for the cup and bottle. Again they drank; the sly Drummond barely dashing the water with the rum, and Barton imitating his forbearance. The Squatter always drank in good faith; his own tastes never allowing him to suppose that his associates, in order to ciicum- vent another, would ever deny themselves. He ,was further de- ceived by Drummond's eloquent declarations in favour of good liquor, It was his frequent topic, and he even volunteered a dithyrambic, of rude fashion-probably his own-the burden of which gave a most glowing picture of the glory of the bacchana- lian, and a most melancholy one of the sorrows of temperance,-- which was fiercely chorussed- "'Tis the milk-sop that withers in autumn, And shakes, in the winter. with chili, Not he who dives down in the bottle, And grows warm by the fire of the still 1" "A mighty good song that, Drummond; ef I could sing, I'd larn it. 'Twould be good to sing when a fellow had no liquor. 'Twould almost warm him of itself; jest as one feels warm if he only smells at the empty jug where the Jamaica, has been kept. Spade's trump,--and there's a lead for you." The devil! The ace!" cried Barton, throwing--down the ten of the same suit. . THE HAZARD 'OF THE DIE. 807 "H'en! I had you then!" cried the Squatter, with a chuckle. "I wonder ef there's no more purties in danger, standing without any company. I'll fish for 'em." And the ace was followed by the king. Diclins! why, you're a witch, Best!" was cry of Drum- mond, aa, he yielde1 his knave to the lead. "It's luck only--it's time I had some, I'm a-tlinking. Count up. I've one to go." In a few minute, more the Squatter gathered u the stakes. "We'll double!' said Barton, pushing up two guineas. "Ditto!" quoth Drummond, doing likewise. "I'm agreeable 1o any thing when the luck's with me," was-the response of the Scuatter, and the game was resimed with new interest. Other games followed, and the fortunes of the Squatter were rising. "Let' liquor, boys. It may change the luck,' was again the proposition of Drummond, carried nem. diss., nd the parties drank. I wonder where McKewn is!-d--n his splinters!" cried Bost- wick, as Barton now' gathered up the stakes. "Be here directly. He's at the vessel, I reckon. If you're tired, we'll go there. "Tired! I'd like to see the man what could tir me out at this business. Push on, Barton. We're a-4aiting." - "It'll come soon enough, Bostwick, for you; for I reckon luck's changing, and I mean to root you out to-night." "iKaint be -did, by any man of your timbers, I'm a-thinking. What's thhat 2" "A d amond.". Throw on more; lightwood-there's no seeing what one's got." "Thai's only beeause you've got so little, I sup ]ose. What do you do 1 . "Stand,by jingo! Play to that!" flinging down a card. page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, u SoIwill, and one you wont be liking much." "LiThe devil:! You heda the ace!" "Yes; and the deuce too!" "Jitnini! that's what I call mighty bad fortin. I stood on king 'and tray." "Cut on both ends, high and low; and look at that and that!" flinging down knave and ten. "Criki-Lord! what an etarnal hand!" "Scared, Best?" i' Skear'd, never!--see by that, if I'm skear'd!"Andlhe now thrust up five guineas, and demanded that they should be covered. "You're sworn to make a short night of it, Best!"' said Drum- mond. "At that rate, the time of some of us will be short, too!" "O cut loose?'-cried the Squatter--"i'm the old sarpent now. 'I'1 wind you up.'" "I must have another sup of Jamaica, boys, to give me heart to begin," said Drummond. "There's too much to lose, on an empty stomach. W-ho says for a sup?" "I'm consenting!" was the pliant answer of Bostwick. "But where the d 1 is McKewn?" "He's about! -He'll be here directly. And now, boys,-the bold better, the honest winner, and to him who can keep what he gits." "It's a wise man to be all three, I'm a-thinking, but I drinks it with-a whoop! Whoop-! whoop! hurrah! forthe first horse and the best shot! W;hoop! whoop! hurrah! and the devil take McKewn!" "Amen!" quoth Drum ond, echoing the pious adjuration- then, in a whisper to Barton--"The snake's bitten him fairly. It's time that we should win now. When his gold's all gone he'll I probably be willing to go too." "Whoop, old fellows, and at your p'inters! I'm the old sar- pent, I tell you, and am going into you with a horn. Whar's the gould! oh! thar! It's fifteen guineas I'm to take up." r:eTHE HAZARD OF THE DIE. 309 "If you can." !:! c "Ef - kin! Ef be hang'd! I'm the man to -ake ' ef' by the S.; collar, and make him work in my harness. 'Ef s' no master of ': mine, ar d never was! I kin send him to the right about with a lwhoop! whoop,! whoop! hurrah! aond into the shiners!" The cards were to be dealt by the Squatter; but he had so [7i"7 many eaculations o make, and a pause accompanying each, that ': the process was a slow one. "- Three to you, Drummopd!-whoop, old fellow, I likes you." And, thus speaking, he threw the arm, with the card hand, about the neck of -he preferred companion, and drew him lovingly over into his'lap. -i "I always thought you a good fellow, Bostwick, of a most tender heart." - "And who says I aint? rm as tender as a gal child. OhI ef you could only see my Dory." ; ' Your what!" asked Drummond. !$j ' s"I Cidn't say 'what!' I said Dory! Dory's my oldest gal H i child, and a beauty of the forest, and nobody shall say any thing it : onrespec'ful about her." As:;:"To be sure not. She is a beauty." "I kaow'd you'd say so. You're a man of sense and a gentle- ?- . man, Drummond. You shall see Dory some of these days. She's ?I a gal child to please a gentleman. Well!-bu; why don't you :,:. play . . (t Deal out the cards, then," said Barton, who was yearnin to ! a restore some of his lost gold to his pocket. t. "Deal H-well, swow! but I hev' the pictars :n my own hand. rib?. That's strange. How's that!' :: i ",Why, to be sure,-you're dealing, and you've given me three. ::: Go on to Barton." ' "Th-ee to you, Bcarton, and three to me." 's: :'1 'The, leal was finished after some further maudlin delay. Bost- Ah.! ' - i-"- page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. wick piked up his cards, and the ihabit of play contended success- fully fo0r awhile with his drunkenness. He absolutely won the game. Barton became captious, and was kept in check only by thee vigilance of Drummond. The latter, finding that the Squat- ter was still able to play his cards with habitual skill, proposed another draught of Jamaica; but Bostwick had undergone a new phase of drunkenness and feeling. He refused doggedly. The :^ maudlin had given place to the sullen. "No! I'm blister'd ef I do! I'll not d rink agin jest now IDrink yelself, ef you likes it. I don't. It don't do me no good. I'm a-thinking of my children. Jest now, I talked of Dory, and you didn't know what I meant. And when I wanted to deal, I forgot all about it. That makes me know I've had jest enough; for a sobler man. Jamaica aint a sensible liquor ef you takes too much of it. I've had my share for this drinking." "You're right!" quoth Drummond. "' I proposed as a matter of course, seeing I wanted a drink myself, but it's true, Best, I thought you had a dose large enough for your business half an hour ago." "You don't mean to say I'm drunk!" ' No! not exactly drunk, but a little in the fog, that's all!" "In the fog! It's a sign of for is it, when I've been doing all the winning." 'Psho!" said Barton. "That's all luck -luck don't ask if a man's drunk or sober when she turns on his side." "You think so! It's luck! well! we'll try luck a leetle more. You don't mind fattening the sheep ." ' How mu=ch " "Oh! it don't matter; put down your goezld, as much'as you l wants to see kivered. That's all I ax!" The, pile was soon raised.. The cards dealt; the game played and the prize won. Druinmond was the successful gamester. His success continued until the last guinea of the Squatter was E, . THE HAZARD OF THE DIE. 3" put up. It was lost also. Bostwick was once mre reduced to / his shillings, and p-etty well sobered by the reverse of fortune;' The shillings, in tu 'n, became the prize of his opponents and, starting to his feet, he seized the bottle, and swallowed a fearful X^t draught of the fiery liquor. "Whe 'e is that bloody satan, McKewn?" "Can you get irtore gold from him, think you?" demanded Drummond, with a pleasant sneer upon his counterance. "Kin Ii" he answered. "Ef I let him off w'Ath less than a hundred guineas, may I never taste a dlrop agin." "Let us seek him at the vessel. I have no doubt we shall find him there. I'll go with you as long as there's any hope of the guineas." "Come, then! Blast his liver, he's a-dodging me. But he don't know me-yit. I'll feel the bottom of his Pockets, or the bottom of his heart, this time, ef he's got any." "Another draught before we start!" cried Drummond, rising to his feet. The others joined him in his potations. Then they - all proceeded to the river bank, against which, almost touching it, lay the vessel. "You'l go with [us on board?" 'i:;:A "No! You go, Drummond, and bring him out. I'll wait for e. i:( you here." !:',7 Barton would have tried to persuade him, but Drummond again interposed. ; h ":; No," said he, " there's no use. If he gets more money, he'll : only want to go back to the tent to play." Andsthe two .went on board the vessel, which lay quiet, rocking " with the tide, nobody visible on her decks, and every thing silent around. They soon disappeared from the sight of the Squatter, who threw himself down upon the grass to awa't their return with McKawn. While he lay there, half stupid, yet full of secret rages, three men left the brigantine and approacked him. He page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] 312: THE' SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. , oted -their appearance, and concluded them to be the two persons Who hadcjust left him, returning with McKewn. They had reachedd him, when he discovered that they were strangers, and all sailors. "Where's McKewn," said he, rising to his feet. "In the cabin," was the reply of one of them, "and the cap- tain's spinning a long yarn. 'He says you must come to him." "I'll see him d-d first. Tell him to come to me." "Oh! -that's all gammon, my hearty. You must go to him." With these words the spokesman laid a hand on Bostwick's shoulder, lightly anLpithout any show of violence; but a some- thing in- the tone and manner of the felloe seemed to alarm the Squatter; he pushed him off, recoiled, and clapt his hand to his side for his knife. It was gone. He was disarmed. Not a mo- ment was allowed for parley. He was at once grappled by all the three, lifted off his legs in a moment, and, struggling all the while, was carried on board the 'essel. Suddenly, he was let down into the dark but open hold, and slid down and away, as he thought, into the bottomless depths of. the sea. But he soon en- countered a solid object. He rolled over a pile of rice barrels; and grasped at them with the hold of one in mortal dread of sinking. The stars, for a single instant, were visible overhead. But a single instant. The opening was then darkened by the figures of his captors. He strove to rise and shrieked to them in question, appeals and curses; but, with rude laughter, they clapt' down the hatches, and left him in unmitigated darkness. The hours went by wearily, and, in utter exhaustion, the captive slept. When he awakened, he almost swooned with the sickness which he felt. The billows were rocking beneath him. He was already out at sea. When suffered to appear on deck, the land was a mere riband along the verge of the ocean. He was flying, per- force, from his fadiliar swamps and fastnesses, -his woman and her children,: . : * PORGY'S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 813 "Oh! Doy Dory!" he cried, as this conviction forced itself upon him. 'I'm aguine from you, the Lord onlr knows wha'/, and maybe won't never see you no more!" "One danger disposed of," said McKewn, to himself, as he left the 'cabin-for he had been there at the moment When the Squat- ter was brought on board-" and if Forbes and Drummond can take a h'nt, the irrpudent scoundrel will give his secrets to the -: an sea rather than the air. His mouth is stopt forever!" Not so fast, McKewn. The sea has been known to give up its secrets as well as its dead. We shall see in due time what is to come of all this! CHAPTER 'XLI. PORGY'S lNOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. As we have no particular motive, just now at least, in following the fortunes of the Squatter upon the seas, let us return to the dry land, and, with all speed, to the ruined homestead of Glen- Eberley. We left Capt. Porgy and his two companions, Mill- house and Fordham, about to console themselves with supper, af- ter the fatigues of the fiuitless search after Bostwick. Lance Frampton had gone to see his sweetheart, and the party of three proved qlite adequate to the supper in his absence. Tom, the cook, hac recovered his good htmour; Pomp, the waiter, after a c frequent Lessoning from the flat br6ad hands of his senior, had im- proved in knowledge of his duties, and activity in their perform- ance; and the evening repast had been enjoyed with an equal de- gree of satisfaction by all parties. Fordham did not long remain 71/ after supper, but took his leave while Porgy and Millhouse were :I 255- 4 7', as page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 814 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Ihting tipes. While he remained, however, he was an amused 1I ener to the guardian councils of the latter, whose self-esteem found grateful exercise in suffering the guest to see how strictly he held the reins of authority in his grasp, and with what judg- ment he could rebuke the want of it in his superior. He had em- ployed himself in twitting the'Captain wi;h all the thoughtless, profligate and expensive performances of which he had been guilty, not only throughout his campaigns, but, as far as he had acquired a knowledge of them, during all his life previous. The subject had been brought up by a repeated allusion to the guinea bestowed upon the Squatter's child. "It's the weakness of the Captain, Mr. Fordham," quoth he,- "his wery worst infarmity. I'm a most thinking its the only one he's got,-but its a mighty bad one for a man that wants every thing on his plantation for the working of a crop. Sich a man has no right to be ginerous. It's a sort of cutting off one's own life to lengthen other peoples. Now, all through the war'twas jest the same thing. He'd be a giving, whenever he had it, and to all sorts of people. And he was always a giving to them persons from whom there was no sort of reason to ixpect to git any thing back again. , Now, yoou know, there's no sort of charity in doing for people who kain't do nothing for you. The proper sense of charity is always to git back for it a leetle more and a leetle bet- ter than you give. But Captain Porgy could never, so far as I see, git the right sense of charity and ginerosity. He was always a wasting himself on people who hadn't nothing, and warn't in the way to git any thing. Ef there was a poor camp woman that had lost her man in a skrimmage, the Cappin was the first to empty his pockets into her lap. I've seed him do it a dozen times. Now, that was all great foolishness. Ef he had given her a mat- ter of three or four English shillings, or we'll say five or ten or twenty pounds continental currency, after it had got so plentiful that one might work with a pack of it, and not aim his potatoes ?He -- PORGYo S NOTIONS OF THE USBflU.. 315 after all,-why there mout have been a justifying of his doings; but to f ing the guineas away, the raal grit, all yellow jackets, three, five, ten-jest as many as he had-when the shillings would have done as well,-that was the sin and the foolishness of the; business. And the Cappin has been very foolish and a great sin- ner in that way. Then he'd waste himself on the sort of com- pany he kept. Now, Cappin, what did you eier see in that blasted ongshanks, Oakenberg,-that called himself a doctor-a fellow that sickened and killed more good fellows with his yarbs and poultices than he'll ever meet in heaven,--what did you see in that skunk of a fellow to make you do for himl what you did? Why, Mr. Fordhar, would you believe it, the Cappin let that fellow, who was next door neighbor to a born eediot, set at his mess and feed daily, when Oakenberg couldn't r either bring in food nor game; cou d'nt work nor fight; was the skeariest chap you ever seed, and could only talk conceited about snakes, and how to be safe in fighting in the army. That fellow lied on the Cap- pin, and though the Cappin dispised the fellow, and poked all sorts of run at him, yet he gin him money, and clothes, and food, when he wanted them all himself. At a famousi scrimmage we had here with Fraser at Parker's Ferry, the Cappin mounted a British oficer, and told him to deliver, and wanted to make him prisoner; but the red coat was either mighty drunk or mighty sassy, and when there was no sense in it, for he coild'nt git off, he run his horse close agin the Cappin's and flashed his pistol in his face. Ef the dirty leetle we'pon hadn't a-missed fire I reckon ie'd ha' killed him. Well, the Cappin fired up frious, and cut down the poor fellow at a jerk-cut him clean through his skull to his chin. Tom run in-Tom 'members all-don't you Tom "' "To be sure I member,' quoth Tom, " wha' for Lender? Maus- sa owe me for dat ossifer coat, and breeches, and boots, he gee way to de Doctor; to dis day."' "That's it!" exclaimed Millhouse. "That's it! Tom ran in, ." page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] -. :3l:6. THE SWORD AND. THE DISTAFF. stript the officer, coat, breeches, boots and all, and ginerously ' offered 'em tO his master, the Cappin there, after all the fighting was over. What do you think? Jest at that moment he sees Dr. Oakenberg, -with his long shanks and high shoulders pretty nigh naked, and he kicks the whole pile over to Oakenberg."' "Das' true, mass copp'ral! Jes' I see dat, I make a krab at de close ;--de Doctor hab no right for take emn;-and maussa tu'n round short and kick- me over. Maussa promise for pay mle guinea for em, but I nebber see de shine of dat guinea face to dis day." "It's all true, Mr. Fordham, as Tom tells you; he kills the red coat with his own hands,--and when Tom strips him he gives his rigimentals,- first rate broadcloth coat, hat, boots and breeches to the meanest and most undesarving skunk in the whole army." "Oh! Millhouse," quoth Porgy, " had you seen the wistful eyes of poor Oakenberg, as he saw those breeches, and looked down at his own bare legs " i "D----n his bare legs! He had the meanest looking legs in the army----" "The very reason why they should be covered out of sight." quoth Porgy. "But not at your cost and ixpense!" '"Why, Millhouse, listen to Tom, and he will tell you that it was at his cost and expense. There was the double beauty of my proceedure; I not only clothed the naked, but compelled that selfish scoundrel, Tom, to become charitable." "Psho! don't I know that you'll pay Tom yit! Don't I know, and don't he know, that he'll git more than he bargained for I " "What! more kicks than coppers a" No! more goulden guineas than you promised. The truth is, Cappin, that you're never so foolish as when you've got me ney. :You don't know any decent way to git rid of it. There. yor was always for having that fellow, Dennison, about you, eating the 'lowance of other men, and drinking more than his share o:' the -\ ; PORGY'S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 3It - Jamaica always-and for what? What could he do? . e wart't ^;;s a reasomnale, useful man. He could'nt cook a steak, or bake a loaf, or sew his own breeches, or do nothing. He could only joke, :l' sing,' and tell redickilous stories, and make them foolish po'tries- tink-it-a-tank, tink-it-a-tank, t nk--one word knocking agin another at the eend of the line, as I may say, agpinnatur,--for where do you hear decent, sensible people talking with a bell ri!nging in their ears all tLe time? That fellow could'nt keep any thing-money, clothes, hat, shoes,- everly thing went, some how, and yit the fei- low was s ich a blasted fool that he never seemed tq care about it at all, and would jest keep on, laughing and singing, and making his tink-tanks, and think-thanks, with a sort of looseness that was vexatious." "Come! come! Millhouse! you must not be running down my poet. Dennison is a great fellow and has frequently saved me from suicide. More than once, when we were starving in the swamps, , should have cut my throat, or yours, Millhouse, but for - the consolation which Dennison brought me in his verses and songs; and Oakenberg, though as you say, a great fool, was yet a : } fool with a relish. He had the virtue of making himself laughed at, and that afforded relief to sensible people. He had his uses, It and you must think better of him. I should'nt be at all surprised !? to see bot'A Dennison and Oakenberg here before long. I asked them both to come and see me." i:^' "The d--1 you did! You don't say, Cappin." das." Ay, but I do you may look for them both some of these ;: -days." I -at 1The Co-poral threw up hands and eyes in horror. a.;: "Thar it is! The old way! There's no eend to the flinging away of some men's guineas. Why, Lord bless you, Cappin, ef once they git here, you'll never git shet of them. They're people to stick like a pitch plaster, and to draw like a mustard." "Well, they; must stick then! Poor devils, they must stick 25* page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] 818 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. somewhere. The world owes them a living, and they mutt have it. They were born to a certain amount of sunshine, and if they can find it at Glen-Eberly, while I'm master of it, they'ae wel- come." "Why, save you, Cappin They'll do nothing here for a living. They kaint work and they wont," "Well, if they can't work here, they can work no wheri, Cor- poral." "That's true! Let 'em starve then and be "No! no! You don't say that from your heart-onl7 from your head, Corporal, and your brains, just now, have got into a kink, in consequence of the care and anxiety which you feel about my fortunes. But don't be afflicted. Oakenberg and Del-nison, should they come-here, will both work for me, though p?rhaps not in the fields."' "I'd jest like to onderstand how, Cappin." "How!" quoth Porgy, emptying his pipe,-then looking up and around him, with a somewhat vacant gaze, silent the while, as if listening-after a few moments of pause he said- "Do I not hear a bird? a mock-bird, singing? Hark! to you not hear it now?" All parties appeared to listen; at length, says Millhouse- It's the singing of the fire, I reckon, Cappin. I don't hear nothing. It's too soon in the season for mocking birds to sing." "No! not when the weather is good. I have heard them, years ago, in all the trees around the house, singing through the winter, and frequently at night, and all night. They attach ;hem- selves to old and well settled habitations, and will rear their gene- rations for a thousand years in the same trees, if left undistiurbed. They belong to man. I am disposed to think they were cleated for him, and to do ths particular duty. You like their music, Mr. Fordham, do you not " " "Well, Cappin, I can't say that I ever hears 'em much, nless PORGY'S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 319 when somebody tells me to listen. As for liking their music, I confess, Cappin, I'd much rather hear a good fiddle." "And so would I," quoth Millhouse, "thouir I don't count fiddlb i music as much either. A good horn is my music, and I count a boat horn on the river as the sweetest of all kinds of music. I kin listen to that hafe a night, that is, when I aint too much tired and hungry." "I like that too, Millhouse, and I can relish a good fiddle in a crowd. But what would you think of a person who should .tell you that he did'nt relish the boat horn, Millhouse." "Wky, I'd say he might as well be stone deaf and blind too." "At least, you would'nt suppose he was any the better man for not having an ear for the music of the horn." "No! I'd be thinking he was rather the worse for it." t "' Precisely! well, you'll permit me to feel the music of a bird's song and not think me very foolish or wicked perhaps, if I say I like to hear it very much." "Well, I s'pose not! Every man to his own liking. I reckon there's a sort of natur in every man's liking." "Exactly! That's the very word. There is a nature in it; and it was to feed this nature, and to work upon it in a myste- rious w y, that God appointed the birds to build their nests in the trees thLt surround a man's dwelling. Now, you know, that it is a fact, however curious, that singing birds never harbour in unin- habited countries. In our great forests, you never hear birds. The smaller birds all perish from the larger ones, and they shelter themselves in places which are inhabited, in order to be safe. And they reward man for his protection, by their songs, and by the destruct'on of insects. Now, Millhouse, Dennison is one of my I song birds. He sings for me when I am sad. He makes music for me which I love. It is soul music which I owe to him, which '!s finds its way to the ear of the hear, and seems to fill it with sun- shine. Now, I call that being very useful to me." page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] 820 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "I could see how 'twas useful ef he was to eat up the gru-bs and insects, jest like the birds, but . " "And so he does, Millhouse. The grubs and insects of'the i heart are its cares, its anxieties, its sorrows, its bad feelings, &nd ! vexatious passions. He drives them away-he destroys them.! He is appointed for this very purpose, and if men were wise, tLey would rejoice when they could have such a bird of the soul undier their roof trees. It would prove that they had souls, if they co-ild. show that they have an ear for his music. Now, you are not E ny better, Corporal, because you want an ear for soul-music. It. is your misfortune, Corporal, and you ought to be sorry -for yours :lf, not angry with the musician, whose songs you can't understa! d. You should pray for the proper understanding, and work for' it, too; for you must know that an ear for music of all sorts is to be acquired; and the ear opens so as to correspond with the growtag I wishes of the heart; and the growing wisdom of the mind. Yfu hear a great deal said, perhaps, of education. Every body see:ns to wish for education. I have heard you deploring, very f e- quently, the fact that you had no schooling. Now, schooling adid I education are meant for this very purpose, to giv us an er t bor music,-the music of birds as well ;s men, the m sic of the so l, as well -as of the throat--music which fills the heart as w1ll as the ear-music which is not only sweet, but wise,--which rot only pleases but makes good ;--for, after all, the great secret of education is to open all the ears,--which we call senses-of a m? n, so that'he can drink in all the harmonies of that world of musc, which we commonly call life!-Do not, my dear Corporal, stp-1 pose you are any better because you do not comprehend such music as George Dennison makes; and do not suppose that George is any worse man because he is too apt to give away, ard perhaps waste, the things which he needs himself, quite as much as the person to whom he gives them. George finds it profitable - to give away-to waste! If you knew the satisfaction which PORGY'S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 321 he feels at making other people happy, you might be even more extraVagant. He may be wrong, sometimes, in his giving; but you are not altogether right in judging him so, ,arshy. He values certain things too little; you, perhaps, value the same things too fluch. You both may be forgiven your offences, which are due to a want of proper education, provided you are modest enough never to censure the .music which you do not understand." Porgy lighted his pipe after this long speech. Millhouse. scratched his head and looked dubious for a while; but after a brief pause, he resumed the subject in this fashion: "Well, Cappin, a-ll that may be very wise and sensible, though there's some of it I don't 'zackly onderstand; but I'm willing'to let it pass this time. But supposing all you say of George Den- nison is true, and I reckon there's some reason in it, I'd like to know what sort of music you gits out of Doctor Oakenberg." "Millhouse, do you remember a little Frenchman, named Pelot, that joinedj us when we were making the forced march after Gainey, towards the Great Pedee?" "In course I do." "Well, do you remember a reel in a bottle that he had, that amused half the soldiers, and was too much for all of them to get out of the bottle without breaking it." "Yes, I tried it many a time myself." "You knew that it was put into the bottle after the bottle was made, and that it could be taken out in the same manner." L"In course." "Well, lid you ever hear that reel sing, or speak, while in the bottle?" ' "Lord love you, no! How could it?" "' Did you ever see it come out of the bottle and dance ." "Diccance! no!" "And you never saw it hoe, or cut wood, or kill game, or cook food, or mrke clothes, or fight the enemy, or do any thingwhich you consider useful." page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 322 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF.' "Never!"' "Yet, you were curious about it. You tried many a tirne to find out the cret. It employed you-it interested you-it :nte- rested most of the soldiers; yet, in itself, it was perfectly worth- less. It could neither sow nor spin, it could not even grow--,it was of no sort of value to any body in camp." "That's true, Cappin, though I never thought about it." "Doctor Oakenberg is my reel in a bottle. His soul is my puzzle; how it got into his carcass-where it does nothing usefirl- where it does not even grow-is the problem which amuses me. Now, Millhouse, whatever interests a man is valuable, thoug a it neither works nor sings. Whatever may amuse a man is an im- portant agent in his education. Whatever exercises the ingenuity of man, though it be a fool's brains, or a reel in a bottle, is woi thy of his care and consideration. I assure you that should GeOrge Dennison, or Doctor Oakenberg pay me a visit, they shall botL be welcome. I shall find use in both of them." Co poral Millhouse muttered something which was inaudible closing with - "y"Well, Cappin, ef they once comes, they sticks. You will never git rid of them." l Be it so; the more helpless they are the more they pay for the shelter." , "How's that, when they've got nothing.", "God is good security for all the debts of the poor!" M) Millbouse fidgetted; Fordham rose to depart. -Porgy did not rise, but extended his hand from the fireside. "Excuse me, Mr. Fordham. Corporal"-in a whisper-" ahe Jamaica." -The hint was taken, and the two overseers hob-and-nobbed af:er the prescribed fashion. Our Captain of Partisans reminded Ford- ham of his intention to visit Mrs. Eveleigh next day, accompani ed by his subs, and sent a courteous message to the lady, to that effect. When Fordham withdrew, Millhouse accompanied h:m PORoGYS' NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 323 Pinto the piazza and down the steps, to his horse, which was fastened ' to a swinging limb in front. ( "You heat what redick'lous notions the Cappin's got about : these here things; and a most wasteful man would he be, ef there I wa'n't somebody to keep a tight rein over him ;" and he made the s motion, with his one hand, of pulling in the steed.--"I does it I where I kin, but it stands to reason I kaint go too far, seeing as how he was my commanding off'cer so long. But I gives it to i him pretty plain, and right for'ad sometimes. But I aint the ! pusson altoge;her for it. In fact, Mr. Fordham, ef any thing's to be done with the Cappin, it must be by a woman-some raal lady 1 that'll take his case in hand, and guide him right in his driving. Now, he's a raal good man, but a leetle shy of the womenkind. ] rm a thinking, though its strange it should be, seeing how long he's been a sodger, that he's sort o' bashful. Ef he could git a * fine woman now fol a wife, a raal -lady, I reckon it would be a wonderful fine thing for both on 'em. See what a fine plantation he's got here, agoin' to ruin headlong in his hands onless I kin save it-and I'll try my best,-but I'd be sure of saving him and it too, ef so be he had a wife to back me in the business. So long as he's got no wife, you see, he'll be run down by these idle rascals ax of the army, that air t fit to do nothing but eat double 'lowance of : grub, and swallow ary quantity of Jamaica. You hear what he says of this fellow Gakenberg, Who is a sort-of yarb Doctor, and a most extremelous fool,-and this George Dennison, who makes jingling stories,---tha keeps a sort of tinde with every now and , then, a tink-it-a-tank, tink-it-a-tank. Well, these chaps never / works; they'll come here and eat us out of house and home, and all bekaise the Cappin haint got a good sensible womanto back - X me when I wants her, and keep the Cappin in order. You see, X arter all, it's a good Woman and a wife that he wants to make all i things right ag'in on this plantation." ! Fordham admitted the wisdom of this opinion. page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] 3 24 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. C "As for these idle fellows, -they gits no incourageme it from me. Ef I have the leetlest chance, 1'll send both on 'em Aff, and all on 'em that comes, with a flea in their ears. I aint gwine to let the Cappin waste himself and his substance upon sich wagrints. I'll have to keep a strict line upon him, for ef he once gits the bit betwixt his teeth, there's no stopping him; and he'll smash and tear every thing to pieces. 'Taint bekase he's naterally vicious, but so long as he's been living in the world, he aint growr bridle wise; but Lord bless you, a woman could manage him to prefec- tion. It's the only saving of him and this fine property, f,nd I'm glad you 'gree with me about it, Mr. Fordham." Fordham shook himself free with difficulty. The Corpor-al had many last words, the burden of which invariably led to the repe- tition of the one opinion, that a wife was the one thing 4needful to the wants and safety of his superior. CHAPTER XLII. MLLHOUSE ON THE UTILITARIAN PHLOSOPHY. "CAPPIN," says the Corporal, returning to the hall, where Por- gy still sate, half drowsing, amidst voluminous wreaths of smoke which poured from his pipe,--"Cappin, you must 'scuse what I'm guine to say ef I speaks to you mighty free, for you see, I'rl your friend to sarve, and I reckon jest about as good a friend for hon- est, upright and downright sense and sarvice, that ever y, u had in all your born days. I don't mean to say that I lo e you better than some others,-say, the Ensign, and Tom, the cook, but I'm bold to detarmine, that I love you more sensible, and for --.^ MLLHOUS ON THE UTILITARIAN PHLOSOPHY. 325 sarvinog and helping sarvice, than a'most eeny other person, let 'em a be as wise as they please. That being the case,-I say you must 'scuse me, ef I make free to put you right in the way you've got to go, and show you how you've got to put your foot down for the rest of yonr journey in this life. You must 'scuse me, I say, ef I roughs a leetle too much along the tender places." "Excuse you, Millhouse? oh! surely, my good fellow. You are usually so very modest and forbearing, tender and scrupulous, that you may well be permitted a little occasional roughness in Af helping a friend through the world." "'Zackly, Cappin, you're -right; you takes the right look at the thing as it ought to be, sensible as I wants you.': "You are always tender, Millhouse, even in dealing with your enemies. I remember seeing you hew a fellow half in two with your sabre, then, as he was falling, drive the iron handle into his mouth, breaking every tooth in his head. Certainly, his teeth would only be a mortification to him, after he had lost all capacity to eat;-and yet, Millhouse, I should like to be buried in-posses- sion of a good mouthful of them. Your tenderness in my, case, is of a like fashion always; and if, as a good surgeon, you should occasionally be compelled to be a little rough-probing wounds already healed, or such as are absolutely incurable, in order to sat- isfy yourself that there are some sensibilities yet remaining to the patient-I am clearly of opinion that you should be allowed the privilege of doing so, if only that the humanities of your nature should be kept lively, and in becoming exercise." "Jest so; and I must say for you, Cappin, that sometimes you're quite sensible, and have a good onderstanding of what's 1 right and proper in affairs of business. Ef you didn't so much : love sich company as George Dennison and Oakenburger, there's no telling how knowing you'd be; and ef you'd only shet up, and not talk about things no common-sense pusson can onderstand, 'I it would be a great deal the better for you. Now, you don't think 26 - ,s . page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 326 , THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. that this good fellow, Fordblam, know'd what you. meart to say when you was a-going it about Deniiison's po'try, and soll music, and all sich fly away matters? I could onderstand it all, bekaise I've hair'n you at it, day and night, throughout the campiggns.- But how was he to l'arn it? You. might jest as well hev talked it to the. man in the moon. And what was the use of lt, ef he did onderstand? Why, he wouldn't valley it a continent I d-n, which every body knows won't buy a calabash of ski. n milk. Now, as you dont know nothing about farming, or rice lanting, and as you hev'nt any sober idee about any sort of business ex- cept fighting,-and I say it, myself, you're prime good ,a that- I'm a thinking that you'd better shet up quite, when goin it in company with men of business like Fordham and me, ind jest listen to what we're a saying. You'll l'arn something by it, I tell you." "Do you ideally think so, Corporal?" "I swow, but I does. It's the only way to l'arn." "It looks reasonable. Leave off talking myself and I sten to you and Fordham." "Jest so! and ef there was any other sensible white man, of business, you might listen to him too; for onderstand me, I'm not pretending that Fordham and me are the 'only people h ting a right sense of things in this world.-There's other people, Hreckon, that have larmed something of business; though they're rather scarce in these pairts." "It's possible! Well." "But there's a time when you might open, and hev' ycur say, Cappin; that's when you gits among people who has likirgs like yourself; young fellows who aint got ixperence in the w rld,- women folks,-and sich like." "You think I may venture to talk among the women, then?" "'Edzactly, Cappin; women are weak vessels that aint expected to be reasonable, and things will tickle their ears that are only ate MLLHOUSE ON THE UTILITARIAN PHLOSOPHY. 327 foolishness in the ears of a sensible man. They will listen to sich stuff as po'try and music, and all the time they're a losing the : profits. They're made to sing, and to dance, and to dress up, and make themselves sweet to please the men when the day's work's over; and Lord, Cappin, you kaint say hardly any thing amiss, in the way of wanity and foolishness, ef so be you says it lovingly, and with a sawt of fondness in your eyes all the' time. Now, I've hearn you talk to women, and you knows pretty much what the critters loves to hear. You kin talk it to them, by long stretches, and make it smooth travelling all the way. It's when you gits among them that I'm willing for you to open." "You are certainly indulgent, Corporal. I am to understand then, that, whenever there aie ladies in the presence, I have per. mission to speak." Premission aint the word, Cappin, for you see, you're your own master, and kin speak always, whenever you're a mind to, no matter whose in company." Oh! Ah!" "It's jest, you see, as I'm idvising you, for your own good. 'Taint bekase I've got any power to shet or open your mouth, but I wants you to see, for your own self, what's-.best for your own benefit. You see your ixperence is jest none at all in the way of business. You don't know what's useful in the world. You only know what's pleasant, and amusing, and ridickilous, and what be- longs to music, and poetry, and the soul; and not about the wis- dom that makes crops grow, and drives a keen bargain, and swells :i the money box, and keeps the kiver down. Now, I reckon, you'd always git the worst of it at a horse-swap. You'd be cheated with a blind horse, or a spavin'd, and you'd go off on three legs, ( though you come on four. Now, ef there's wisdom in this world- :j that is raal wisdom-it is in making a crop, driving a bargain, gitting the whip hand in a trade, and always falling, like a cat, on ;: one's legs. As for music and po'try and them things, it's all . ';; A',.; .'* page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] 328 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. flummery. They don't make the pot bile. I likes the fiddle when there's a crowd, and after the day's work's done, and the horses fed; beit ef there's one music in the world that's more swee- than another to the ears of a man of sense, its tho music that keeps tune tod the money coming in. I'm minded of what was skid by a man up on,the Edisto, not very far' from Orangeburg, wlp was jest about the most sensible white man of all that country He was one time-at a sort of ball, or party, in the village, and there was a lady who was playing on the ha'psichord and singing, and she said to him, "Squire, does you love music?" then he up and said-"Music, Ma'am! kaint say that I does. 'cept one rind." And says she, "What kind's that, Squire?" Says he--"Ra'am, that's the jmusic of my mills on the Edisto; they keeps a ,rind- ing and a sawing night and day, and all the time they seems to be a singing in my ears-' Dollar! dollar! dollar, oh! collar! dollar! dollar, oh!' That's the music for me, ma'am!" an sure enough, that was what I call useful, business, marcantile ' nusic. He made a fortin by it, and died worth, Lord knows how tnuch, but they did say, a'most four hundred thousand dollars! B it any other kind of music is apt to draw the money out; not b .ing it in; and that's the sin of it. 'It is, I say, a sinful practice that's always a dreaning the pockets, and never putting any thirg in." "It is clear, Millhouse, that you have studied the philosophy of music with great closeness. You are evidently well prepa-ed to be a teacher. You counsel me to speak as much about poet y and music to the ladies, as I please, but to avoiti it wholly among men of sense, unless, indeed, I have something to say abou;-mer- cantile music." "That's it! For, look you, Cappin, jest give a look round to the world--" and here the Corporal rose, and stretched hl's one arm out with measured movement, circling the hall, as ;if grr sping the poles--" look round at all the world, and wherever yot look you see that the great needcessity every where is the gittng- of ??H MLLHOUSE ON1 THE UTILITARIANq PHLOSOPHY. 329 /ribs ^ bread. Whrn I says, gitting of bread, I means, of course, gitting :f S of bread and meat, and drink, clothes to w'ar; and the tools to ,:: in work with. But bread and meat is the first and greatest need- -,:e: cessity; for without it, there .would be no world, nor no men, nor -;? no women. Now, then, what does I larn from that? Jest answer ' X me that." 5 "Y; Well, Corporal, what you would learn from it, it might be difficult for me to say; you have studied the subject so profoundly ,;::i that it is not easy to follow you." ,?:?! "Well, Cappin, it ought to be c'lar to you, but I'll show you. ::5 I larn from all that that the great business of men on this airth is eating-that is to. say, eating and drinking, and clothing- - fighting agin starvation and thirst and cold weather." ENi '"It is certainly a business that is done pretty extensively- universally I suppose, since I have never known a man or woman XD ^ refuse to eA at proper hours." X "And onproper hours too, and at all hours, Cappin; that is ef they hev' it. And the business of life is to hev' it. Now, ef that be the great business of life, it stands to reason that them occy- g pRations what don't bring in bread and meat and drink, or the money to buy it, is onreasonable, onnatural, and onrespectable occypations. Aint it cl'ar to you so?" "I'm afraid, Corporal, if I make any farther admissions you'll be for knocking George Dennison on the head." "' Accordin' to the argyment, he and Oakenberg,and all of them worthless sawt of people that only makes music and not bread, ought to be knock'd on the head; as Scriptul say$ of the tree that don't bling fruit, ' hew it down and cast it into the fire.' Well, the laws of the land donr't follow out the laws of od. Ef we was to cut down them icqle fellows that sing and make varses when they ought to be at the plough tail, we'd be hung almost 1 without jedge or jury, jist as ef we'd been doing agin the laws ,of Scriptur, instead of following them out rightly. The men that 26 page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 330 , THE- SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. makes the laws of man, Cappin, I'm jubous, are mighty pbor fol- lowers of the Jaws of God. Ef they wasn't, we'd git ri of a mighty great deal of rubbish." "Well, but, Corporal, when a man has earned a' the bread and meat, and drink, ard clothing, that he needs, is he to 'be sa- tisfied?" "Satisfied! no! He's to work on, and on, and what le's got over and above his wants, he's to send to market and sell, Ind git all the money for it he kin." "Ah! well, what is he to do with that money?" "Why, increase his force, and his land, to be sure." "Why, that will only increase his money!" "To be sure and that's what he's to aim at. He's to go on gitting, and gitting, and gitting, to the end of the seasor, ontill Death gits him. As he gits, he kin increase his comforts-git better bread, more meat, pass from apple and peach brandy to old Jamaica-ef ha likes it, git wine,-though I never seed the wine yet that could shine the same day in the face of gcod Ja- maica :-git better clothing; hev' his horse to ride; prehaps his carriage, and jist make himself a sort of king, in the way o' com- forts." "Well, these got,-should he spend his money on rothing else?" "Nothing, that I kin see. He's got all that's needful. Then he's for gitting as good bargains as he kin-then he's for gitting to be a ruler ef he kin-gitting to be a Colonel or a Gin-ral in the militia; gitting to be a Representative and a Senator in the Legislatur; gitting to be a Justus of the Peace; gitting ;o be a sawt of king over the people, and making them all feel that he's got the money to buy and sell 'em, every mother's son of 'em, ef he pleases." "Well, that must be a very delightful sensation. But would you not use some of this money for charity---would you not give I! . ... MLLHOUSE ON THE UTILITARIAN PHLOSOPHY. 331 Oakenberg his-living, if only to catch snakes and make a collection? Would you not help Dennison to his dinner?" -X "Not a copper on your singing birds and idlers. They should starve for me. Not a fellow that wouldn't work would I feed." ", "But, Millhouse, you would do something for religion, wouldn't you?" i "Why, to be sure. It's expected of a rich man that he'll go rigilar to church aid set a good example, and help pay for the preachier, and put something every month in the charity box, and :.', be decent and rigilar, jist that he may'nt lose by it, sence people respects religion, and it might be onprofitable, and hurtful to one's ' business, ef he didn't make good signs that people should see. To be sure, I go for religion that's right, and every right reli- gion's bound to ophold the man who is rich and helps to pay ixpenses." "You have admirably grasped the whole subject of profitable duty, Corporal. I should not have answered exactly as you have done, on the subject of charity and religion, but I have no doubt that you have answered as correctly and fully as the most pro- found utilitarian philosophers would have done. And now, what say you to a little Jamaica? It's a part of your system to drink as well as eat." "It's the needful, Cappin." The Jamaica and water were brought by Poml-ey, and when their cups were filled, quoth Porgy- "Well, Corporal, considering the lesson you've been giving me, suppose we drink to the man who is wise enough to open his mouth only in the proper company." "That's it, Cappin; jist you mind what I've been telling you, and you'll work upwards yit into cl'ar water. You're quick to 'arn, I see; and only you give up this foolish po'try and soul musick, 'cept when you're among the women-and listen with good will to what men of business and sense is a telling you, and there's I z . page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] 332 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. no saying how sensible you'll grow in time. Here's your h3alth- and the Lord presarve you, Cappin, and git you iLto a strong po- sition agin the approaches of the Sheriff." 1 I CHAPTER XLIII. MLLHOUSE' TREATETH TOUGELY OF THE TENDER GENDER. Suddenly the barking of a dog was heard without. It's a dog!" quoth Millhouse. "Some nigger dog, I reckon. I'll kill every nigger dog I see on the place. You hear tha ;, ,om! you hear Pomp! 'member it boys. I don't 'low nigger cogs on any place where I'm manager. I knows what's the nat ir of a nigger dog, Cappin, and what they're kept for." "But, wont that be rather hard, Corporal? a negro likes coon and possum.; Ask Tom there about possum." "Possum better dan pig, Maussa." "We almost learned to think so ourselves, Corporal, iA the army. How often should we have gone without meat bit from dogs bringing in coon and possum." "All coon dogs, on this place, Cappin, must be ownei by a white man; by you, by me, or by the Lieutenant. A nigge' dog is a hog-dog by nater; and where the nigger eats one possum, he veats five pigs. It's the infarmity of a nigger's dog and e nigger I too, that a fat pig makes his eyes run water. No nig;e:- dog here, Cappin, onless you says so." I "But, Corporal, even if it be, as you say, that a negro log is always a hog dog, and I'm perfectly prepared to believe the asser- tion, still there would be no harm in having suci an arinial at * . * * I MLLHOUSE TREATETH TOUGHLY OF THE TENDER GENDER. 333 A Glen-Eberly, since it will be wonderful if a solitary pig is to be found 'on the premises." There was no gainsaying this humiliating fact, and it took the :i Corporal all aback for a moment, but only for a moment. He lZ - was a man of resources and prompt reply. "But they'll come, Cappin; pigs will hev' to come! You'll X bhev' to git half a dozen brood sows with your first money, and -?iiX begin to stock the plantation." "' 7Well, Corporal, wont it be quite time enough then to get rid of the dogs?" "It's a shorter way not to let 'em begin to harbour here. Lay down the law at the beginning. That's my way wherever I manages, and then there's no mistake." The barking of the dog now became more audible without, the sounds alternating with sundry lively blasts of a bugle. "It's Lance Frampton," said the Captain; and the tread of horse's hoofs succeeded to the words. In a few moments the young Lieutenant entered the apartment, accompanied by a good looking dog of a somewhat mongrel aspect, a sort of cross of wolf, cur and beagle,-which shrunk back timidly towards the entrance, on finding himself confronted with so many strange faces,-or, he might possibly have seen something in the looks of the Corporal to inspire him with a proper caution. "Where did you get your dog, Lance?" "From Mrs. Griffin, Captain. She had two and only wants one, and she tells me this is a famous fine coon dog, which is no use to her as she can't hunt, so she gave it to me. We want fresh meat, Captain, and I'm for a hunt this very night, if I can get some of the boys to go." Pomp, who was in attendance, began to grow fidgetty. "There's a volunteer already," quoth'Porgy, pointing to Pomp; "he has shifted his carcass from one leg to the other a dozen times since the dog made his appearance. Do you want to take a coon to-night, Pomp " page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] 334 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "T'ank you, maussa, I berry happy, ef you please." "To be sure, old fellow. I'm quite pleased if you can make yourself happy byv theperformance." "I guine too," exclaimed Tom, the cook, who had jus' at that moment thrust his oily face into the apartment. " 1 too hungry arter coon. I usen to been know-all 'bout de coon and possum quarters on dis place; and I tell you, ef dore's any body yer wid sense to find de fattest warmints yer he am!-me, Tom." t' They'll all go ef you let 'em ;" growled the Corporal. ' They'll hunt- all nigoht and won't be worth a cuss to work to-morrow. Look you, Tom, don't carry off all the hands with you let 'em sleep. You and Pomp are quite enough, or you may ajce one other fellow with you. Three on you ought to empty the woods of all the possums in 'cem." "I yeddy, (sometimes yerry, otherwise ' hear you') m ss Cop- poral," answered Tom impatiently, and by no means seem'ng to relish the voice of authority from that quarter: "Tomn know berry well wha' for do in he maussa business. Coon andc possum mus' be ketch in de time when der's no' fresh meat for d 3ot.- So!-Pomp!-Look at me, boy!" "I da look, uncle Tom," said Pomp reverently "Tom berry quick for march, boy, but you hab for l'rr- some I ting fuss. You bin in cainp ebber, you'd ha' been l'arn at (.e rope's eend. Tak' dat bucket, boy, and run to de spring and gi de wa- ter. S'pose maussa want for -drink when you gone and der's no water. S'pose gemplemans, ossifers and ginerals, happen 'br come in when you gone, and maussa hab for ax 'em to swallow; de raw rum,-enty you'll feel mqan 'nough when you yer 'bout it. Git de water, boy; 'tir (stir) ou' stumps, and help Peter git (.e light- -wood. Der mus' be coon fight to-night, ef dem tory raca aint eat de country out." This was said pretty much in such an aside to Pom 3 as the. stage tolerates. Meanwhile, Frampton was making his rgport to the Captain, of his-day's visit, and of certain filendly messages of 1 :-a MLLHOUSE TREATETH TOUGHLY OF THE TENDER GENDER. 335 Mrs. Griffin and daughter, in response to those with which Porgy had commissioned his Lieutenant. The former appeared to take quite an interest in these particulars; a circumstance that seemed to produce some uneasiness in the Corporal. After a while he interposed Fwith- "You're making a mighty long story of it, Lieutenant, and I'm a thinking you're a burning daylight. Ef you are to hunt the coons, the sooner you're off the better-the sooner you'll be back, and the niggers git their sleep and be ready for a good day's work to-morrow." Frampton quietly took the counsel, whistled his dog down the steps of the piazza into the court where Tom was already busied in hewing lightwood for the necessary torches. So soon as he had disappeared, Porgy said- "Why what the d-1 sort of work can you put tAe negroes at- to-morrow., Corporal? What's to be done?" "A hundred things; rails to be split; fences to be made; poles to be got out for nigger houses; land to be broke up'for plant- ing; ditches to be cut; banks impaired ;-there's no saying how much is to be done!" "But where are the tools, my good fellow, the hoes, shovels, axes, ploughs,-- " "Don't you mind, Cappin. I'm overseer, aint I? Well, I've seed to all that. Onder the piazza is all them spades, and shovels we've been a using to-day; and Mr. Fordham told me, without my axing, that he could spare Ine a few ploughs and axes, and other little matters ontill you could lay in supplies in town. He said 'twas the orders of Madam Ev'leigh that I should have 'em." "Mrs. Eveleigh is certainly as provident as she is liberal!" re- mairked the Captain. . "And its them very valtues, Cappin, that you're a wanting here' to make the pot bile, and to see that it don't bile over. Ef you'll keep your'eyes right, Cappin, you won't let the chaince slip of page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] 336 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. getting yourself into good quarters. It's cl'ar to me that Mrs Ev'leigh's giving you the right sort of signs, and you 11 be th( blindest sawt of a sarcumstance of a white man, ef you don't take the right motion from what she shows. A nod's as good as s wink to a blind horse, and the man that wants I ore than the pull of a sleeve, from a fine woman, to onderstand what sh3 wants, why I'm a thinking he aint the valley of a dead dog w tA three buzzards pulling different ways at his carkiss. 'm consim Jrate o you, Cappin, and your sarcumstances, and I'm cl'ar to say thai the charitablest thing you kin do, when you see Low the cat want, to jump, is jest to open the window, and give Ler a cl'ir track Don't you be-a waiting upon, Providence 'tell some wser mar walks in' and takes the fat turkey off the nest. I'd be at her bright and airly, to-morrow, and I wouldn't wait a week ef she', willing, before I brought her home to your own rbost." "You're quick on tr'igger, Corporal. Does it rot sometimes oc. cur to you ithat you're a very rapid man?" "I reckon 'tis bekaise I was born in a hurry. I come into the world in a hurry, and never waited for the midwife. I g-ow'd ur in a hurry, and in all sawts of wickedness. I reckon no persot ever l'arned his vices so quick as me. I never seemed Ito wanl book or teacher. Lord love you, I charged irto 'em, jjist as charged among the enemy's baggage, and held on to 'em as lo ving as if they was so many army stores, with the morey chis in the middle. If'I had any vartues, they come slower, t ut I wa! pretty fast with them too; and fast motion is a vartue by itself when you've got to do with man or woman, friend or inemy For, what's the truth, Cappin? Lord love you, there airt mucd time 'lowed to a man in this life. What he's got to do, he's gol to do in a hurry, ef it's to be done at all. Ef he pokes ain saun ters, grim Death gobbles him up afore hetgits tohe eeri of hiU journey. Well, this courtin' of a woman is jist the sawt of busi ness that calls for fast usage. It's a sawt of race where tae hind MLLHOUSE TREATETII TOUGHLY OF THE TENDER GENDER. 337 most wins nothing but losses. You kaint stop to look behind you. You must go ahead, jist as if the d-1- had-you on an eend, and you had no cllaince togit on and off, but by bolting like a mad f bull, even thoulgh you should lose your skairts in the run. And " a woman of ixpelrance likes a man the better if he aives her no tinme for long thinr king Courtin' is like storming an inimy's bat- teries. Women expects naterally to be-taken by storm. They -: likes a good ixcuse for surrinderin'. You must go it with a rush, " swold in hlnd, looking mighty fierce, and ready to smite and tea'r ;Ii ^ every thing to splinters; and jist then she drops into your arms, ?^, and stops the massacree by an 11onest givin' in. ' You're too strong! for me, I see,' says she, when she surrl1enders,-'so' she goes on, 'only spare my life and take every thing I've got;' and she gives herself in into the bargain ;--what we sodgers calls a surrlinder at discretion. But you must jist show her that you are determined ':c to conquer; that you kain't be marciful; that you must hev' every- '3,: ^ thing or lose every thing; and that your name's 'master' fromr *o ^': the beginin^g. ' ':i#ll "uReally, Corporal, you must have enjoyed a wonderful expe- : rience among the sex." -::! "It's hard to say what I hev'nt seed in my time, among all sorts of people; an' it's hard to say where my ixperance eends in deal- -! 4 ingo with people-man and woman. I'm showing you Cappin, :;I;' by the teachin' I'm a-(giving you.'" mt - "You ire a sage, grave counseller, Millhouse, and I am bound , " to suppose-being myself inexperienced, particularly among wo- i men-that you counsel wisely. But have you only a single rule i for your operations? Is it possible that you recognize no differ- ,: ence among women, and that you use the same policy with all?" - - ("Lord love you, no! In course, you're to onderstand that man 4 is the born master; but every master knows that you manage 1 hands differently, each one accordin' to his natur. But woman is : born with a knowing that some day she's got to find a master. page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] ,338 THE $WORD AND THE DISTAFF. That makes her ready for him when he comes. But it sker s some them in perticklar that haint got no ixperence. With a woman of ixperence, storming's the way ;--and a fort, you knoW, that's been once storimed knows all about it, and kill be easily :;tormed agin. But the fort that's never been taken, is to be drlfnaged different., You don't let sich a fort see all your striength ;a; once. You don't show all your sodgers in fiont. You manceuvres, and marches and countermarches. You don't let 1te garrison see where you're guine to make the attack. You approaclhes caltious, Cappin, and you works by sap. But I I eed'nt t 1 yout of whalt's needful in works of war. I only mean to show by a sawt of picter which you onderstand, how you're to work with women. The young'gayouou captures by insinivations, ut the widov E'leih's no young gal. She's had ixperence of thing ; apd you're to con- quer her jest by storming and 'scalade. Put on your biggest thunder now, Cappin, anJ go to ;he attack. withl a shouj and a rush, and dang my peepers ef shel dont surrender at the fi:st sum- mons." : "Certainly, you hold forth a vely enicoura ging prospect. But, Corporal, marriage is a very serious business. To a man who has been free all his life, has had no body to restrain his conduct, out- goings and incomincgs, there is something positively frightful in the kind of bondage which it makes. It sometimes happens that instead of the woman getting a master, the man gets, a mis- tress. There's a great part of this in most marriages. To recon- cile one to the danger, I suppose, the passion of love was in- vented " , "Love! Oh! Lord, dont talk of sich child's play as tha;, I beg you! Marriage is business; 'taint love. It's airnest work ; 'taint sport! No body, I reckon, marries for the sport of the tiling, ef he's once cut his eye-teeth. Your boy and gal marriages is a sort of baby house lqusiness. When we talks to grown men and women about the thing, we means an argyment, and a reas3n, and ; ' t t MLLHOUSE TREATETH TOUGHLY OF THE TENDER GENDER. 339 a senso, an a a needee sity. YoT aint surely guine to tell me of likes and dislikes in the business. No body ixpects you at your time o' life, to have any sich child feeling( of love, sich as work, upon nflnt young fellows, that's just be;gun to l'arn the run of the woods." "But I confess. Corporal, if I am to marry, I should like to consult my tastes in the matter. I confess that 1 believe myself not a bit too old to hlave an affection."- T " 'Fections mustn't stand in the way of business. How's the. case? You're bad off in plantation sarcumstances. You want every t!;ing, and kaint, by your own self, keep what you've got. Vell, jist beside you there stands a richlwidow. She's well off in plantation sarlcumstances. She kin save every tl!ng for you. -In't the case cl'ar enough to a person with only ha/fe an onder- standing." "Still, I am for having a certain feeling satisfied-call it taste, or affection, love or what y7ou will, Corporal, if I'm to marry and lose my liberty, I must know that my jailor is a lovely on6e." "Oh! Lord, Cappin, don't be foolish and ridickilous. I've no patience with such etarDnal throat-cutting' sentiments. Don't you resk the best chance in the country on sich foolish idees. What- , right hev' you, at your time of jday, and in your sarcumstances, to talli about sich boy and gal sentiments. Here you're at forty-five, :with your head gitting as grey as ef 'twas rolled over in a meal bang;-with your body all of a heap in the middle, and the pins milghty slender for sich a weight to go upon; and your sarcum- stances all in a kink, and knotted upon with the fingers of that etarnal warmint, the Sheliff;--and yet you're a-talking of love, ,i , and sentiments, and defections, ji't as ef you knowd no more of ^': human natur than a lad of sevehteen, who's jist beginning to stpre'ad sail for a breeze. I kaint let you talk sich foolish idees, J! CCaplpin! 'Twont do, I tell you. I wont hev' it! You shan't j throw away the' good fortin', jist as it's a-tumbling, ripe into your j? page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 340 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. mouth, ef I kin help it. 'Twould be a sort of right tha; your : friends would have to give you a good choking first." "Ah!" said Porgy, drily,-" such friendship as you describe - is somewhat-rare, Corporal." E i "As I'm a living man, Cappin, I'd be the man to do the. thing ef 'twas for your good and to save you; and I'd do it jist as free and bold as your own self when you surgined my arm, to the j saving of my life-I would!" ' "Thank you, Corporal, thank you!' I acknowledge the pecu- F: -liar frankness of your friendship, but trulst never to make iti neces- sary for my friends to choke me, in orler to make me taike my ; medicine." "Fruit, not physick, ,Cappin." 1 "Well, firuit!-But suppose there are other firuits that I hap- pen to like better than that which you offer me. Suppose, to speak more to the point; there should happen to be anotLer wo- man whom I happen to like better than Mrs. Eveleigh?" r "Ha! is it that? Well, the only thing to ax is the othe-. wo- man in the same sarcumstances as Mrs. Ev'leigh,-ready aidc able to help you out of the halter of the Sheriff?"' i "Don't, name the animal quite so often, Corporal, Af you j; please.," - "Well, I wont; but Iax a agin-is the other woman as well off as the widdow Ev'leigh? EHas she as many goulden guineas, as many niggers?-" "Not a stiver that I know of-not the hair of a negro." "'Can't be, Cappin, you're thinking of the widow Griffin'?" ex- claimed the Corporal, rising to his feet and confronting Porgy with a look of blank astonishment- - "Griffin is a prettier woman than Mrs. Eveleigh." i a "Diccance! Cappin! what hev' you got to do with purty wo men. What's a putyv woman to a man in your sarcumstances?" "Why, Corporal, do you suppose because a main wants money, he must also want good taste." I MLLHOUSE TREATETH TOUGHLY OF THE TENDER GENDER. 341 "Ta ste!-that's another of them foolish idees! I thought I had given you a rigllht notion of all sich things. A man what's poor and in danger of the Sheriff has no right to hev' a taste." "But suppose he can't help it, Corporal-suppose he has the taste whether he wills or no?" , "Then the Lord have marcy on his S'rcumstances. But, Cap- pin, you kaint afford to hev' a taste for the widow Griffin. She's a mighty comely woman, I confess; but comely in a woman is as comely blings. It's not what a woman looks, but what she owns, that makes tihe comely; and you kaint afford to encourage her ixpectations, ef she's got any. Your business is with widow Ev'- leigh,rand you kaint git over the needcessity afore you, try it as you may. It's a law of natur, in your sarcumstances, that you marries her, and nobody else!" Porgy was silent, looking thoughtfiully into the fire, his pipe halnging over his knee, forgotten in his grasp. Millhouse rose, at the close of the last speech, in which he had uttered his 4decree as emphatically as if it had been that of the Medes and Pdrsians, and motioned with his one arm to the Jamaica. "Aint you thirsty, Cappin?" "No, Corporal, but I am sure that you are very dry. Help yourself,/and don't, wait on me." "It'sla bad sign when a travelling horse won't drinkl;, Cappin." "Trde, Colporal, but though one man may carry a horse to water, ten can't makebhirn drink, when he's not willing." i "Why, Lord love you Cappin, there ougolt'nt to be any great onwillingness for you to marry the widow Ev'leigh. She's got a mighty sweet face." "True." "And a mighty plump figure." "True." "And the whitest skin' cl'ar red and white; and sich a soft blue eye, and sich sweet lips, so red and ripe like;" and the Cor- 27* page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] 342 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. poral swallowed half the contents of the cup, and smacl:ed his lips as heartily as if in the actual encounter with those of the widow. "And she's young for her age, and with sich a nice, full .gei; not a bit too. stout, not over fat, but'jist right. Why, Cap pin, ef taste; as you call it, was to decide, and the taste was a dol ,nright a honest, good sodger taste, why it would choose the wi&ow t v'leigh ! a thousand times before the widow Griffin."' "I will dlink, Corporal,' I said Porgy, rising and approaching ;I the barrel, on the head of which the water jug, the Janmaica and Ji the cup, found a temporary asylum. He filled, and when about to drink, he said: X "You are a philosopher, Corporal, such as the world every where respects. But though your philosophy succeeds pretty generally, in the wolld, you never would." "En' why not, Ca)pin?" "Because tl le chief secret of the success of such a philbsophy as yours is that it never vaunteth itself. It's professors nevt r pub- lish their virtues as you do. They are content to practice in secret what you mistakenly praise. They do what you preael, and i preach against what they themselves do. Pride thus disco rIseth of humility with moist lips; selfishness thus becomes eloqtlent in its exhortations to self-sacrifice; and the good preacl-her will 1 qssess himself of the fattest ewe lamb of the flock while insisti on A the beauties of a perpetual lent. But what say you to bed i It will be some hours, I fancy, before the Lieutenant and the boys get back from their coon hunt, and we may enjoy a good sleep meanwhile. We must also rise soon in the morning, that w? may see what we are to wear to-morrow. -There must be some L])tch- ing of my garments, before'I shall be able perfectly to app ger at the'widow's table; and you too, in all probability, will need some t adhesive plasters, front and rear." - "I'm glad you're a-thinking of that, Cappin. You must gut on THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL, 343 your best front, and put your best foot for'ad, for, jist hev' what I tastes and idees you think proper, you kaint git off from marrying i Xthat widow." CHAPTRR XLIV.- THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL vi et armis. When Porgy had retired, Millhouse mixed for himself another cup of Jamaica with water, laid it down before the fire, drew a blanket up to the hearlth, squatted upon it, pulled off his shoes, and exposed his naked feet to the blaze. He repleinished his pipe, drew a-keg near his back, leaned against it with the air of a man who, was about to enjoy life philosophically, and, with- a few vigo- rous puffs, encircled Ihis head with a becoming atmosphere of cloud and vapour. With the momentary removal of the pipe from his jaws, he moistened his lips with the Jamaica. He again dried them with a puff, and again moistened them with the provided beverage. The philosophic mood thus properly stimulated, he began, sotto, voce, to soliloquize upon affairs and things around him, his reflections prompted -by the conviction that he had been gratefully opening the eyes of his superior to truths and a wis- dom which the other was slow to arrive at. "I e's down in the mouth! He aint in good sperrits. .It's a needcessity to make him see how the matter stands, and what he's got to do in his pericaments. Well, to say truth, for a wise man, and a smart man, and a man what's seen sarvice, the Cappin is jist about as foolish as a young person of'sixteen. And it's mighty page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] 844 THE SWORD AND THE' DISTAFFF,. strange at his age, he should be so bashful. Here, it's cl ar to ? every man what's got an eye to any thing, that this helre rich widow is ready with the bridal garmints. She's to be had ijfr the . ,axing. I watched her mighty close when they was a-talkipg to- gether, and ef ever a woman's eye said, ' look at me, I'm atl your parvice, stranger,' her eye said that same thing to the Ctippin. , Yet, tor all that, his cussed bashfulness won't see and belidve it. But he shan't want for the iicpuragings to make him come up to the rack and taste the'fodder. It's good fodder, well cured fod- der, and a plentiful armful of it too; and there's good corn where the fodder comes from, and he shall-crack that corn, ef he's tot a tooth in his head, and ef he haint, I'll hev' it ground forl him. But eat it he shill! Don't I,see the woman likes him tol kill. And he aint an unlikely pusson in-any woman's sight. Ef 'tvarnt for his almighty gairth, he'd be a figure to go' through an army of women, and take his pick as he went. I'll take a hand ait git- ting her to-morrow, and I'll see that Tom takes in his belt few i holes closer. He, must be made to look his best. Ef he had some new clothes now! IIis old buffs are mightv full of stains. 'Twont do to wash buff breeches in swamp water no how, and to dust 'em with swamp mud hurts their complexion more than the i water. But with good brushing we kin make 'em pass. A-most every thing in the way of clothes will pass where a woman's eye's ! already quite full of the pusson himself." Putting the pipe, into his mouth, he drew it fiercely, and, sent forth several enormous jets of-smoke, which kept up the due phi- losophic consistency in the atmosphere, -hen taking anothe!r sup of the Jamaica in order to maintain his own mental consistency, he proceeded, still in under tones, to so'iloquize in respect to his superior. II Talk of Mrs. Gr ffin! What kin Mrs. Griffin do for ihm? What kin he do for Mrs. Griffin? Why it's jist the same as ef we tied both of 'em in a poke together, and, gin em to the Sheriff ] ' ' I' 1. THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. 345 to sell At public cry! And who'd buy? The price they'd bring wouldn't pay for the cost of selling. The woman's good looking enou gh--migltyodg lood king I'd say, and jist the sort of wo- man to suit nofef there was any sense in my marrying at all. Whether I'd oe wanting a wife would a-most altogether depend on the sort of encome I could git out of it. She's got a small place, nic-fm enough, and a good comfortable house upon-it, with a horse and a cow, and a few pigs and chickens; and ef there was nobody but her one,-why it might be no bad sense for me to be 'greeable and take her; but there's her marriageable da'ter, guine to be married too, to the Lieutenant, and leetle enough there'll be for the three to feed' on. 'Twont do! a sensible marriage, for a man, means the bettering of his sarcumstances, and there's no bettering in sich a business. When one marries, it's the. sarcumstances that he's got to consider, and not the wo- men that hangs on to 'em. It's neither for me nor the Cappin to think of the widow Griffin, though ef it's to be done by either on us, why it's for me to do it. It's the t'other woman's sarcum- stances that he's got to consider, and he'll hev' to come to the scratch whether he wants to or no.' A renewed puffing at the pipe was followed by another sip of the Jamaica, and the utilitarian philosopher proceeded, still sotto voce, to consider L the sarcunstances." "Every thing 'pends on what he does and says to-morrow. I'll be thar, and I'll push him for'ad. I'll make the chance for him and the argyment too, ef so he I sees him playing shilly-shally. It's mighty fortinit for the Cappin that she axed me to go too. I reckon she seed for herself, that I know'd something that aint to be larnedlin books, and it's fortinit for the Cappin that I'm his friend, that aint guine to see him lose a good game without telling him when it's the right time to fling down trumps! I must put the Lieutenant up to help me, and Torn kin throw in a word, sea- sonable, to, strengthen the' argyment. And may I be etarnally page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] 346 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. squashed under a mountain of swamp, fenced in with alligators, ef we don't git possession of that widow and all she's got." Another succession of fierce puffs at the pipe, and then a re- newed moistening of the lips with the Jamaica. The soliloquy was then resumed: "She's got more than a hundred niggers, I reckon. That's Tom's thinking. She aint got no debts to pay, and aint afeared of no Sheriff. She must divide them niggers betwixt the two places, hafe here and hafe there; and then we'll see which makes the best crops, Fordham or me! Fordham's a good enough chap I'm a-thinking; but he aint had the benefit of seeing the worldc in the' army. I made good rice, I reckon, 'fore ever Fordham seed [ backwater. When a man lives always in one place he don't know much and kaint l'arn nothing. I'll show him the good of army life for bringing sense into a family. As for the drill among the niggers, I reckon I'll make him open his eyes wider than ever any tarrap;n lying on the flat of his back, and the watar biling fast for him to thicken.. - Ef I don't beat him at a crap, then my daddy had no right to his own son!" " Tile Corporal continued to muse and speculate, for two goodly hours after his worldly fashion. Porgy's chamber wassilent. He probably slept. So thought Millhouse. Frampton was still ab- sent on his coon and possom hunt; on which enterprise he had i been accompanied by Tom, Pomp, and several other negroes, all eager to procure a supply of fresh meat, and to renew sports which always brought them pleasure. It might be hours still ,beforel they would return, since it requires, sometimes, a large circuit of woodland and swamp before the dog scents his prey. Millhouse, in the meantime, had ceased to soliloquize. He had been kept wakeful a long time, in consequence of the singular variety and activity of his scheming fancies; but he was beginning to suc- cumb to drowsiness. He had emptied his pipe of its ashes, swallowed the last drop of the Jamaica, and pushing away the r- THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. -347 keg from his back, prepared to roll himself up in his blankets, when he fancied he heard a footfall in theS back piazza. In half listless mood he listened. The step ceased, and he drowsed. Thlen he was awakened by what he thought a rustling against the door. He raised himself up, threw a brand on the fire, which was be- gining to sink, and saw it kindle and blaze up brightly. Remem- bering the robbery of the previous night,i he kept his eyes keenly fixed upon the door. He was afraid to rise for his pistols, wlich lay in the opposite corner, lest he'should fiighten off the intruder, and he was too anxious to get at him to& suffer this, if possible. He resolved, accordingly, to wait till the last moment. All on a sudden, while he looked and listened, the door was pushed open, and a tall female figure stood before him in the dusky opening. There was evidently female drapery- that he could distinguish- but all else was unciscernable. He remembered, for the first time, that the Captain had told him, the night previous, that the house was haunted; and the thought now seized him that this was the gnost. The Corporal was brave enough, as the world goes, but he could not prevent a strange uncomfortable shudder froml pass- ing through him. He did not will to believe in ghosts, but what else could be the intruder? "'Who's it!" he cried out, after a pause, in accents somewhat less confident and formidable than those in which he had discoursed to Porgy of the proper philosophy. "Who's thati!" he demanded; and the stranger advanced into the room,-a tall, slender form in a sort of loose, dingy white garment, the draping of which seemed somewhat to confine its movements. It happened, vexatiously enough, that the fire upon the hearth, which had blazed up brightly enough but a moment before, seemed almost to expire ;a circumstance so aptly associa- ted with the presence of the stranger as somewhat to confirm the fancy of the Corporal that she was certainly the household ghost. He remembered, in an instant, what he had heard in his young page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] 348 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. days, of the lights burning dimly and blue, in the presence of the spectre, and he could conceive of no less influence which could so effectually, and in an instant, deprive 'fat lightwood' of its proper inflammable virtues. He began to feel moreand more disquieted while the silence of the intrtder added to his doubts. Again he cried out, this time raising his head, if not his voice,-and speak- ing with prodigious effort-- "Who's it thar, I say-?" The answer dispelled his apprehensions immediately. "Da you, my chile?" The voice was that of a negro as well as a female. "Who's afraid of a nigger ghost!" exclaimed the Corporal 0 aloud-and rising to a sitting posture. I t Who's you! I say! and what hev' you come for." "It's me, my chile! It's you own ole woman-Sappho! Enty you member de ole woman-you own nuss,-de same Sappho wha' bin mind you a tousand times. De Lord be praise for bring you back-dat de ole woman kin hug her chile once more, 'fore he dead for ebber." i With these words the speaker darted forwards, and, falling upon' her knees upon the blankets of the Coi'poral, seized him in her firm embrace, and before he could recover from his surprise, and extricate himself, hugged him closely to her bosom, and bestowed upon his cheeks, a flood of kisses from a toothless mouth! "Git out! Oh! thunder-and!-Hello! I say! iWhat the i splinters are you after! Whoo,! D--!" ' Thus, half suffocated for a moment, the Corporal vented his horror and surprise. He struggled fiercely, with his one arm, to push her away; but she had him at great advantage. He was in a sitting posture, swathed half in blankets; and, kneeling be- side him, the ghost had grappled lim about the neck, and in e the ardour of her kisses had almost succeeded in pressing him over upon the floor. -i - '\ Ii THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. 349 "My own ch;le!"' she sobbed ever as she kissed. "But I aint! Git out, I say! Lord, old woman, who the h-l kin you be, and what's you after! Child be d--d! Me a child!" "My belubbed infant! I hab you in my arms agin, afore I dead! De Lord be praise!" "Infant, be !" "Oh, my chile!" "Child! you old fool! What's you thinking about 1" - "Dat old Sappho should ebbeYlib for see dis day! I kin dead happy now; de Lord be praise!" "Dead! I wish you was, and the old d-1 had you!" "My chile-my bes' belubbed son!" and she blubbered aloud. "D-n my splinters, old woman, ef I dont be the death of you for sartain. I'll knock you into the leetle eend oqf a sarpumstance ef you don't let go." ", It's you own ole Sappho, my chile! You no know you own nuss; you own good ole woman, old Sappho, my son! Wha' you push me 'way for? I bin nuss you in dese arms' a tousand times, and I lub you better dan all de worl'. Don't push me 'way!-I lub you too much for leff you; I wunt le' you go!" "We'll see that! Lord! that I should live to be squeezed to death by a nigger, and suffickated in the arms of a raw-head and bloody bones like this-! You old scout of satan, you-I'l11--!" The Corporal, swearing, and almost shouting in his rage, at length succeeded in extricating himself from the blankets; then, throwing off the loving intruder who had evidently mistaken her man, he managed to gain his feet, and to stand erect, with his one arm extended, the fist being now doubled until it wore the ap- pearance of an awful maul, such as the rail splitter employs in driving home his wedges. The strange womansingularly named after the tender-hearted wanton who flung herself away for-love of the phlegmatio Phaon, had by this time arisen also; and, re- 28 page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] 350 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. coiling from the person she had so closely grappled but a moment r before, she stood some five paces cff, curiously regarding him, now satisfied of her error, and quite as much confounded as he was wrothy. It was at this moment, when the Coiporal, fully' persuaded that, if a ghost, the person before him was sufficiently substantial to feel the force of arguments such as it was in his power i to deliver from his knuckles, was preparing to fall upon the intru- der, tooth and nail, that the Captain of Partisans, aroused by the i voices and .the struggle, made his appearance in his night clotles, but with a blanket over his shoulde:s, and interposed between the parties. Who's this, Millhouse? What's the matter " Before the Corporal could answer, the woman pushed beside him with a cry. * "Dis dah him! Dis dah my own chile!" and with sobs of joy she threw her arms about the necx of Porgy as she had ajne about that-of M jIlhouse. "Why, hello! my good woman! Who do you take me for? You are, quite too free in your affect ons." Porgy endeavoured to extricate hinself, but the effort was as difficult in his case as in that of Millhouse. Millhouse witnessed the effort, and chuckled outlight.; It's your turn row, Cappin, and your right by nater 1" "My chile! my elhile! You no know you mudder nuss,--you k own Sappho, wha' bin min' you when you bin leetle baby, only big like my han'." "Sappho!" cried Porgy-" what Sappho, is it you, my poor old mauma!-my good old woman!" "Dah him! I)ah me! my chile . my chile!" "And a pretty sizeable sarcumstance of a child he is!" cried the Corporal, laughing at the spectacle. "There, Sappho, my good old woman, that ^ill do now," said Porgy--" come into my room and let us sit down where I can hear you." THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. 351 "Da's it, my son! Oh! how I wants for tellyou ebbry ting what's pass and gone;" and clinging to his arm the old woman accompanied the Captain to his chamber. "1'll bring you some lightwood, Cappin," quoth the Corporal, "you'll be wanting to see, I reckon, the sawt of pusson you're a-talking to" The-lightwood was brought, the fire soon put into a blaze, and seating himself on one corner of his blankets, the Captain, with some difficulty, persuaded the old woman to deposit herself on another. The Corporal, with his blanket wrapped about his shoulders, took -is stand beside the mantlepiece, his stump arm resting upon it, while he looked curiously upon the group, and listened with interest to what was said. The spectacle was, indeed, a sufficiently curious one. Porgy, as we already know, is some- what of a spectacle himself, particularly with a toilet incomplete. But his compan on, now, is one in admirable contrast with him- self. She was equally tall and thin-a, mere skeleton, in fact-her garments loose and light, rather hanging about than fastened to her person. She was about seventy five years old, or more. The successive wrink es of her face, drooping together at last, hung about her cheeks and chin, like a once well filled, but long emptied purse. Her teeth were entirely gone; the lips, unusually thin, finding no resistance upon pressure, had sunk in, makingr a deep valley across the face, the nose on one hand and the cliin on the other, both prominent and sharp, rising up like peaks of Tene- riffe.. The scant hairs which thinly covered her head, and escaped beneath the old handkerchief which wrapt it, were gray as the moss upon the old oak, and not much unlike it in texture and curl. But her eyes were as bright, shining out in the general blackness, as two fiery little stars, preparing for battle. They were small and deeply set, but as intense in their gaze as if the pro- prietor were fifteen only. Toothless wholly, the old woman was not tongueless. The tongue, indeed, seemed to find it necessary page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] 352 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to do double duty in consequence of the deficiency of the teeth; M and eager, yet mumbling the-words the while, the ancient woman ran on, all the while,)with little or no pause, ejaculating her thanks to heaven which had vouchsafed thgt she should see "her chile agin - , "But you no know me, my chile. You bin fo'git old Sappho! Enty-I know. You kaint tell me. Hah! das de way wid de world. You back tu'n, you gone, you in de ground, de berry E chile you bin carry-in you' arms, he r'Vgit all 'bout you!" "But I didn't forget you, mauma! As soon as I saw you M faily, I knew you; and I only wonder I didn't know you by your H voice." - "It's de teet', my chile! De teet' gone! De old snag drop E] out,-de berry las' ob 'em drop oit de beginning ob dis winter.! Nary one (never a one) left now for me chaw 'pon. Al! de ole i woman is -gwine fas', my chile. Iv's de preticklar blessing ob de l:1 Lord dat I ff for see you git back to you own home and people. i De Lord be praise for all he massies!" ' Well, rauma, I'm trluly happy to see you once more ali've. It reminds me so much of every thing-of my mother-of the old wagon--of the little bay ponies, and the rides we had together down to uncle Dick's. Why, how could you think, Sappho, that I should ever forget you?" "It's de way ob de worl', my chi-e! an' I was afear'd dat when you git our in de worl' fair, an' see de people,-an' git mix up wid : de sodgers, you would shame for 'tins 'bout poor ole woman, da's a i nigger, too." - "Never, Sappho! I have thought of you a thousand times, and I'm more glad to see you now, still living, and still able to see I and to speak, thanI 'should be at meeting with the best white fiiiend I haye. But, Sappho, you mr ust tell me-about every thing. s I want to know how you escaped in the general sack and confu- r sion. When I sent Tom out here once to see how things went on, j' THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. 853 e could find nothing of you, and hear nothing. He-only gath- red that the British and Tories had been here, had gutted the lantation and carried off all the people. You were believed to e dead, Sappho, and though not much given to weeping, I shed ome tears for you, manma. You may believe me, old woman, )r I remembered you not only for yourself, but for others who 'ere very precious to me." "Enty I blieb's you, my chile. It does de ole woman heart ood to blieb you. I knows you got a good heart, yourself, my nile, and dough, I knows, you lub much better to lauoh dan to y, I knows too you kin cry when dare's 'casion for it. Baut, n'ry, (hear ye) my chile. I gwine tell you all about wha' hap- in sence you bin gone." And the old woman smoothed her garments in fiont, laid her nds crosswise in her lap, then beginning a regular swinring, or e-saw motion of the body, to and fro, proceeded with a longand mewhat tediqus, but clear and intelliaible account of plantation air:s up,to the moment when the negroes were dispersed or car- d off by the enemy. We will not afflict the reader with this r atio-, but preserve only such portions of it as particularly ar- ted the attertion of Corporal Millhouse. As he stands some- at in the relation of a third party, it is possible that what pressed his regards, will not be unworthy of the attention of c er persons, the more particularly, indeed, as the matter was of ne importance to the pecuniary affairs of Captain Porgy. I 'Soon as I yerry, my chile, dat de red coats bin 'pon Gillon l ce, an' bin ca-ry off de people, dat berry time I scale. Den I to meself-- wha' for hender 'em come yer, an' carry off we pie too? Je's I bin tink dat ting, I begin gedder (gatlher) up de swamp. Pot, kettle, pan; I tie 'em up in de blanket. I to Caesar,-boy, clap 'em on you back; den I say to Cha'lot, biggest da'ter;--he marry Cromanty Ben, my chile, you tuber--". page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] 354 THE SWORD ANp TEE DISTAFF. "Yes! yes!" - "Well, I say to him, pick up you tings. Do like you see me do. I tell de sa ting to Betty, my second da'ter. He bin marry Eli,Jyou 'member."' "Yes! yes' " "Ie hab he four' chillen (children) tree gal chile an' one boy; Cha' ot-only hab two chillen; he loss -wo wid 'fection ob de bow- els ;--well, I say to Betty, pick up you chillen and tings, chile, we hab for hide, T see. An' I make him go right off to lie husban' wha' bin a-work down in de big pine el', and tell 'em for dlop he hoe, and pull foot dis way. My t'ird da'ter, Cinda, (Lucinda) you 'member, I 'tir him up too and make 'em gedder up he clllen. He hab tree, but he husband dead dis two year. Den we tell Edisto Jennv, ant seal' arm Sally, and leetle Jupe,-de boy wha' hab de. bow leg, you 'member,--and 'ie two sister-all ob 'en hab bow leg--we tell' 'em wha's de troub-e coming,-an' We would ha' bin tell all our people, but, you seie, day was scatter, sore in de cowpen fiel', some in de long tate- potato) fiel', wha jin 'pon lliss Ebleigh;--some one way, some :udder, (t'other) an' dere's (there's) no time 1 for loss, an' we k-int see dem. 'So we people start by our own se'f, (selves) me, an' my tree da'ters, Cha']ot, and Betty, and Cinda, wid my gran' chilAen, Liz and Mart'a, Cha'lot' chile; an' Bob, an' Rachel, an' Clough, Betty chillen; an' Scip, an' Andra, an' ltarry, Cinda cllillen; dem's all my ginerations wha' I bin carry in de swamp; but C omanty Ben, Cha'lot' hus- ban', an' Eli, Betty husban,-da gone wid us too, and four udder women, Edisto Jennv, an' scal' arm Sally, an' Sukey and Pussy, sisteren of Jupe,-an d Jupe he se'f-all ob dem wid de bow legs- all ob dem gone wid ug,- an' dem's a I de ginerations ob de: chil- len ob Adam, my chile, dat git off wid us in de swamp, when we yerry de red coat. is a-cominrg. An' we carry ebbry ting we kin lay hands 'pon, ani' carry 'em safe an' easy--de pot an' de pan, an' de blanket, an' de clo'es, an' de axe, an' de hatchet, an' de knife,- ! ",Sk t ar - " THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. 355 wha' eDber t ngs we kin picl up in de hurry, -we carry dem off-vid us clean. An', time for us do so, my chile, for when we peep out de swamp, de whole nigger quarter da buL'n, an' wha' ebber dem udder people bin lefft dere, he bu'n to cinders an' ashes 'fore you kin say t'ree prayer to de Lord for all he massies." The Corporal had shown himself very restless during all this narration. He shifted his position from side to side of the man- tilepiece; crossed over; now stood behind the Captain; now beside the old woman, and, at moments, had his eyes and hand lifted up as if in meditation; orl, as the fingers of his one hand were crooked and elevated successively, it might be in computation. 'When the old lady had reached what seemed a natural pause in her relation, the Corporal, as if unable to contain himself, cried out, over Por- gy's shoulders- "Wlhy, old lady, you don't mean to say that you've got all these niggers in the swamp now?" "De Lord be praise, sah, day's all libbing, 'cept little Jupe.- de bow-leg, wha' dead by break he neck; he fall from tree he- bin climb one nigat for catch possum, and nebber kick arter he touch de 'airth." "All living but leetle Jupe!" quoth the Corporal, lifting- his surviving hand, and separately displaying the fingers sundry times before his own eyes, muttering all the while the tale tp himself, with eager rapidity. "Ef that's -he case, old woman, 'cording to my count, you've got in the swamp, not counting you, jist eighteen niggers. There's your da'ter Clarlotte, and her two children--that's three--her husband makes four; Betty and her husband, and four children, that's six, in all ten; then Cinda, her three children and her hus- band--" , ' Cinda husban' dead, sgh! b Ah! yes! that's true ;well, Cinda and her three ildren, ma- king four, ,put to the othel ten, is fourteen, by all counts; then page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] 356 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. there's two other iomen, that's sixteen, and two, bow-legged gals, is eighteen! Eig'teen niggwrs and nlost of 'em women! Alnd you mean to say, old lady, that all these people are jist now in the swamp a-hidirg . "As de Lord is massiful to me, sal, day's all dere, 'cept Jupe, as 1 bin tell, wha' break he neck, by fall from de tree when he hunt possumn!" ,1 "Jimini! that's great intelligence, Cappin. And how many of these. is grown, niggers, old lady--how many of 'emr good to take up thethoe now, atld--" "No matter, Corporal," said Captain Porgy; who lad been sitting silent, rather sad, indeed, listering to his ancient nurse,-- "there ,are other more necessary questions-- "Sappho, have these people any clo)thing? Your own garments, mauma, are thin enough :" "Ah! my chile, we bin see berry ha.-d times; de cloding (cloth- ing) is moss an' rag; an' we try for keep warm by de fire; an' we aint feed so well, my son; an' when Crbmanty Ben come into de swamp last night An' say to me, "l Mammy, dare's a smoke coming out ob maussa house windows; I wonder who day in maussa house?' I say de Lord be praise ef mny chile is come home to git his people clot' and blanket.' Den day all 'gree dat I must come out and see; dey all 'fear'd for come, -%r fear de tories an' de red coats grab 'em, .Day knows dat day nebber gwine carry off poor wort'less old woman like Sappho. So I come, maussa, an' dis de trute ob all my gin6eration's in de swamp." "Jiminy! Captain! But that mt kes the, force quite expectable! We'll do. But we'll be a-wanting more hoes and axes; more supplies; you must make a bigger list, Cappin; we must make a main fine crop this year, in spite of sarcumstances." And the Corporal strode the room to and fro; his one hand waving at- intervals; his fingers still crooking and? extending in occasional computations; and his forn rising up into unusual THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE CORPORAL. 357 erectness, while, though walking in his stockings only, he made the floor,ql iver with the solemnity of his tread. The old woman had more to say, and Porgy nore to ask, but, the interruptions of the Corporal were too fiequent to suffer other parties much liberty, and these interruptions were the more fieq'uent and more impatient as the Corporal fancied that Porgy dealt in much very irrelevant r'atter. The latter, accordingly, put a very sudden close to all fulrther talk that night, by saying': "Well, old lady, it's time now that we should sleep. We are very weary, and you, at your time of life, must not sit up too late. Let me give you something to make you strong. Corporal, we must take a sup of Jamaica, with my old nurse." "Won't I Cappin! Slie's a sensible old woman, and I like her. The way she dodged them tories and red coats, and saved them niggers for cs. is desal:ing of a drink. And I took you for a ghost, old lady, would you believe it. and ef you hadn't a-hugled and kissed so close, I'd mouthe ha' 'blieved it to the very last." ' Scuse me, sah; but I t'ought it was my own chile, all de time." "Oh! you 're 'scuseable enough, under the sarcumstances. But let's have thy drink all round." The Jama:ca wa. broached, and the cup which Porgy poured out he handed to the old wonam. "Driink teat, Sappho, it'll help to strengthen your old limbs." "T'ank ye, my chile. De Lord is good. God bress you for ebber, a t'ousand times, my son! may you nebber see trouble in de house ag'in!" And she drank. "Ha! it nrakes me feel warm to de heart. It's a good physic for ole people, my chile." "And for young ones too, old lady," quoth Millhouse, emptyinog the cup at a swallow. Porgy drank, then giving Sappho a blanket, he conducted her into the shed room which had been assigned to Tom., page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] 358 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Here, mauma, you will sleep to-night. To-morrow we'll see what's to be done fpr the people in the swamp. Lie down now, old lady, and take your sleep. Good night." When the Captaitn returned to the hall, the Corporal seized his armr- "By the powers, Cappin, luck's witl us. Wd'll do. We have a force now that begins to tell,-twenty-five niggers, and all, I: reckon, able to hoe a task." "Let us sleep ,now, Corporal!" said IPorgy. :- "Sleep i May I be squashed uncopvartibly forever, ef I shall ^ be able to shut anI eye to-night: I'll have to think over every H' thing what's to be done with thesb othbr niggers." ! "As you please, J Colporal; but you will suffer me to sleep if you please." AnndlPorgy disapp4ared. Millhouse threw himself down by the fire- -i "Sich a man! he's got no more ambition than a dirt eater with agy (agfue) onf him.1 He kaint wen shake, he's so wanting in the 4 proper sperrit!" v , i , Let us drop the curtain for the pres nt. ' . CHAPTER XLV I T tE CORPORAL IN A MAZE. HE RET RTS UPON THE GHOST. SOMETIME after iidnidght, Lance Frampton. and his sooty com- panions returned from their nocturnal hlunt. They had been tole- rably successful, having bagged three 0possums and a coon. The dog had proved his +imerits, having had a severe fight with the coon, who was a well grown monster, and gave in only after a long con- ij ^ ' *' THE CORPORAL IN A MAZE; 339 test; yieldi' g without a cry,--to the great disappointment of, Pompey, wh1o was particularly anxious to extolt this sot of ac- knowledglment frnom the victim. Frampton soon folded himself up for sleep iln his blankets, not disturbing Millhouse, who slept soundly in spite of his Own convictions to the contrary. He mut- tered and tulned in his sleep, evidently dreamin earnestly; Framp- tnn being able to distinguish a few broken sentences, in which the Corporal seemed to be still busy in a difficult but interesting arith- metic- " Eighteen and seven-twenty-five;-seven women,--no, nine-- and--two--and the boys-and-boo !-boo !-boo!-" The speechi was swallowed in the snore. Our friiend Tom, the cook, accoil.panied by Pomp, was somewhat surprised to find his chamber par ly occupied, and by a woman; but Sappho awalened at his enty-indaed, the old woman had scarcely slept--age never sleeps very solundly---and she made herself known to irim in few words, and soon put him in possession of all the history as it is already known to us. This was done in low tones so as not to disturb the houselhold. I'omp was soon as oblivious of the outer world as a stone, and Tom finally entreated the ancient lady to iorbea, all further revelations for the n ght. Kaise, you sees, aunt Sappho, dis 'ee boy, you humb le sar- sa;bant wid me, and I in yer X*' bin dead. But you aint dead, 1 see, and I Iopea be r" y m lch you aint gwine fo, dead lon, time, and o, aunost breappho. I bin id-a- tire-ho-. e-yo lu binme know all a' he bnigwi h open jaws, wide a tere oon unt the g reat ce o sayKentcy)I m ust ilab sohe -eteps hn !e and d he Lod b'ess you aunt Saloho,- n' ly t.ak o set 'kaisep now u ole felo Tek'you sleeps, my son; I sees you waint 'em. Iterra page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 THE SWORD AND TH DISTAFF. ; (tell-a) you ebbry 'ting nudder time. You kin sleep now. I done!" : i ' "Da's a good aunty! nudder time will do!" And Tom had followed the example of Pompey, and, save for an occasional growl from Frampton's dog, and a more regular succession of noises, scarcely so pleasant, from sundry nasal eminences growing upright, d in several parts of the household, all would have been entirely quiet. There was no farther disturbance during the night., Bright and early, Corporal Millhouse was afoot. His dreaming and waking thoughts had greatly contributed to his power and -importance. He scarcely gave himself time to get his clothes on, before he presented himself at the entrance of the little shed room : to which Sappho had been consigned. "Hello! old lady-Sapphy, in there-come out, and let's have a good look at you by daylight." There was no answer. He repeated the summons. It was still unnoticed. He grew impatient, and, with a single kick at the door, sent it open, and penetrated the chamber. It was dark. He' threw open the window ;,-the room was empty. There was no sleeper, male o. female, in the apartment, and--which surprised our Corporal still more--no signs of 'ed or blanket. "WIy, what the d--l! Who'd ha' thougliht an old skiliton of a woman like that would ha' bin out and off so airly! I reckon she's down stairs among the niggers.'I Down he goes- to see. The negroes were just turning out, only half wakened. : "Hello! there i where's the old woman, old Sapphy " "Sapphy! Ole woman! Dar's- no ole woman yer, mass Cop- pral." , "No old woman! Why where k n she be Ah! she's gone to see her chile, the Capt! Mighty fine child, rm a-thinn g. A leetle too large for his petticoats, by reason that he grows so fast.' pt ' l! THR CORPORAL IN A MAZE. 361 And with a; glorious chuckle at his own wit, the Corporal as- clnded to the!Captair.'s chamber and broke in without ceremonr. Porgy was already up and at the window shaving. He had been up for some tihne, had heard the Corporal's inquiries below, and knowing thoroughly the sort of person with whom he dwelt, could very well understand the motive of his anxiety. Porgy had seen old Sappho already that morning, and spoken with her at the window. The'old woman, with her blanket around her by way of a cloak, was already moving off to join, and make her report to her " ginerations" ir the swamp. She had but few words with her foster child,--for sach Porgy had been-and they were such as the reader can readily conceive from what has been shown already. As the Corporal thundered up the steps and entered the piazza, our Capitair- of Paitisans readily conjectured that the next visit of Millhouse would be to himself. He prepared to disquiet him. "t Hello! Cappin; would you think it, that old skillyton of a woman's'off a'ready?" - " What woman do you mean, Corporal " - "What woman.-! Why old Sapphy, to be sure, that I tuk for a ghost-that come in 'upon me last night, and gin me such a huggin', and a-kissin', and all on yvour account." "' I really don't know what you're talking about, Corporal." , "Don't know wlwhat 'm a-talking about!" quoth Millhouse, in amazement--"Don't krow, Cappin! Why, Lordlove you, the old woman, your nuss, hat calls you her child, that hugged and kissed both of us till we was a-most choked and smothnered-the one that's got the niggers in the swamp, seven giner,tions and more, making in all eighteen good hoe hands. Lord save us, how kin you forgit sich a matter!" "Forget! How should I remember a matter which I never heard of before. You're certainly dreaming, Corporal." "Dreaming, Cappin! Ef I thought so, I'd be mighty apt to 29 page: 362-363[View Page 362-363] 362 - THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. bust my brains out agin the fire-place; but you're a-joking only. Sartainly, you kaint forgit the skin-dried old skillyton of a woman that slept in here last night; and we kim into your room, both on us; and you was a-setting thar, jist on the edge of the blalket, and she was setting thar' jist on t'other edge; and I stood up thar jist agin the fire-place ; and how she told us of her gitting away from the red coats and the tories; she and her three da'ters- I 'member all their names parfectly;-there was Charlotte, and Betty, and Cinda-I kaint forget-and Charlotte had two chil- dren, and Betty four, and Cinda three, and two on 'em had hus- bands living, though I kaint be sartain which, all on 'em in the swamp, and there were two bow-legged gals, and there was a bow- legged boy, and his name was Jupe,-and, you kaint forgit that!- Jupe fell from a tree, climbing a'teri coon, and jist broke his neck outright; and there was other niggers, making eighteen in all, not counting old skillyton, Sapphy herself;-I counted 'em all up last night, and. ranged 'em off for working, soon as they come in, so far as I could, not having seed any on 'em. You must 'member all that matter, Cappin." "Not a syllable! It's all news to me, Corporal!" And Porgy gazed on him with a well affected amazement of stare that pro- voked the most natural consternation in the world in the features of the other.' "The d-1 you say! But, Lord, Cappin, you kaint be forgit- ting your own ole nuss, Sapphy.'" "I never to my knowledge, Corporal, had a nurse with such a name, which seems to be that of a Heathen Goddess." "Heathen h--lI-Cappin; she set thar, I tell you." "Impossible, Corporal." "And she warnt in your room last night?" "Not that I know of." "Lord help me, ef I shan't go crazy! Aid I warnt in your room last night?" THE CORPORAL IN A MAZE. 36 363 "It maywee You be that. you were. Yo know b it was while I slept." "Slept! By the powers, Cappin, you was wide awake as a black fish; and whbn the talk was over, we all kim out, and swallowed a little Jamiaiky by way of medicine. And we gin the old nigger a cup for the good news she brought, and then you gin her a blanket, and you showed her yourself wlar to sleep in Tom's room, and thar we left her." "This is a strange delusion of your's, Corporal. But why not go to te room and find her there, if ou say you saw hergo there to sleep?" "Lord save me, btt you put her thar yourself." "There you are mistaken! But, if sich is your notion, go and seek her there." "I've been thar, and she's not thar!" cried the Corporal, in a state of approaching -erspiration. "I thought so!"I uttered the Captain of Partisans, in sub- dued tones, but sufficintly loud to be heard, and he touched his head significantly-- ' Millhose, your suppers are too heavy. I would counsel you against much meat at 2ight. A single-bit of that broiled ham- the slices thin--s quits enough for any decent white man. And in eating your hoe cake, take my counsel to reject the softer parts; confine yourself entirely to the crisp portions, the crus. Besides, Coffee is a wonderful stimulant of the brain. Don't go over a pint hereafter at night; and, perhaps, it will be well to deny your- self the freedom of the Jamaica after a certain hour. Say, a sin- gle glass after smoking your last pipe, and then to slee-. Believe me, my good fellow, by observing these simple forbearances, you will escape the visitation of the nightmare. She has evidently given you a fearful hug last night." "'Twas the old skilliton naggeer I tell you-'twas Sapphy, your nuss, and not any nightmar'. Lord, Cappin, ef you wouldn't g page: 364-365[View Page 364-365] drive me 'stracted, don't you go on so. MWSarnt that old nigger here, that nuss of yourn,' as skinny as a dry peach skin-all skin and bone,-warnt she setting thar for a good hour, a-telling us of her da'ters in the swamp, and their children and their hus- bands, and'of the boy Jupe, that broke his neck a'ter the coon, and them two bow-legged gals, his sisters. Now, jist be sensible, i Cappin, and tell all about it, as I seed and heard it my uwn self." 1' " I can tell you nothing more, Corporal. You've certainly had ia very lively,dream last night, which I should greatly like to see realized." "A dream! Lord! Lord! I shill go crazy and outright re- stracted! And you haCn't a nuss named Sapphy 2" "Never " "Oh! Lord, what shill I be thinking! "Don't eat so much at night again, Corporal." "It kaint be $ dream!--" "Leave off the Coffee in particular!" "I swow! it aarnt no dream!" - One drink otly of Jamaica, after your last pipe." - Ef 'twas a dream it was as as mch like the raal and living life as I,ever seed it.' I "That's always the case with pleasant dreams, Corporal; but they always-lead to disappointment. 'What a glorious crop you could makeif your dream of those eighteen negroes were true?" "Lord, yes! and I had jist set my heart on beating Fordham out of sight. But O! stairs, Cappin, it ought to be true and it must be true." Just then Tom was heard below, calling to Pomp. "Thar's Tom! He must ha' seed her ef she was thar. I'll ax him." "Do so," says Porgy,-v,' and satisfy yourself. It will do yo'u some good and' make you less certain of your dreams hereafter." Millhouse sallied out, and Porgy darting to the window, caught V-V-KUAL IN A MAZE. 365 865 the eye of Tom, ascending the stairs tothe piazza and mot ,ith his hands to lL. It thaan f az8ands otioned rith his hands toe im At that moment Millhouse from the hall "Look you, Tom:, where's the old nigger woman what slept in oulr room last niglt?' Porgy shook his head negatively to the cook. Tom was quick *?onceive, and knew thoroughly the habits of the Captain of f artisans, as a practical joker. He immediately cnjectured ofhat as required of , i , and his answer was as prompt as if dictated. the very mother of the truth. "Wha' womans you talk 'bout, mass Coppral; I aint see nary I nor young woman 'pon dis place!" "The h---11 you aint! The Lord be: marciful to my poor ' Someting seem foi trouble you, mass Copp ral ; may be youy elry much hungr; for you breakus." D-n the breakf! Oh! tha's Pomp I kenhe must seed the old woman." 'reken he ust Olp was begrinning to ascend the steps leadin- g. to the back za, at the head of hich Tom stood. . .om repliedfor Pomp, in . lu enough fr t t he arh. Pomp, i h ha, Pop ! o w kin h e see le oman in y roomef Tom, no bin see'a In? eh I Pomp , 2.ef ee no ole woman in de room whay w e sleeps las,' n-ig m s tone, and the fierce scowl which he put on while speak- the boy, effect uglly taught the latter, what so0 t of answer ebuire d friom him t and he responded without hesitation ebbea see ole woman in de room, uncle Tom." X )d s w ha' I say, mass Coppral. Y ou muss. ha' bin dream 'ream aLord! Lord! and here am I a I oser of eighteen S mu s rate el' hands, a nd nobody seems to case about it. ' m ercy o'pont y ou, Cappin" ,returning, as e spoke , to 29* t o page: 366-367[View Page 366-367] 366i- THE SWORD AND THE DIlSTAFF. Porgy's room--" but you don't seem as ief- you had any feeling for your own losses. Now, I 'member-lef twas a dream I had a of that skilliton nig er wench,--I thought it mighty strange you g showed so little consa n when I told you about putting the eighteen niggers to work, and what they'd hev' to do. I thought it mighty onnatural, of you st night; but I f ee I its mighty onnatural, I now, as it looks to me this morning. Eighteen able bodied nig- ners gone, as I may say, in the snapping of a finger. I does feel so mean. Tom, old fellow, do let's have breakfas' mighty soon. We are gwine to see Mrs. Ev'leigh to-day, anrd must fix up for it. Lord! Lord! ef I cOuld only ha' told her 'bout .them eighteen niggers out of the swamp, added on to the poor seven we've got now. How could Ibha' dreamed a thing so nateral, and seed the old woman so cl'ar il the firelight, and felt her a-hugging me, and a-kissing me, with hkr nose and chin poking into my face all the time. 'Twarn't no dream, I swow, Cappin-'twarn't no dream. 'Twas too nateral fori a dream! I kaint help but 'blieve it all, try the best I kin!" - At that'moment, a strange voice was heard without. Millhouse started and pricked ip his ears.' In the next moment, Porgw him dart forwards, with a shriek of delight. The Cati s f Partisans looked onu of the window upon the piazza, and there the spectacle of the night was reversed. It was old Sappho, who was, this time,: early suffocated in the embrace of the Corporal! NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS OULOTTE:SM.67 CHAPTER XLVI. NEAR APPROACHES TO Sans Culotteism. "GOD bless you, any beautiful old nigger. I'll love you tell my heart drops out of my body, for this visit. You're jist as beauti- fill now, to my eyes, as ef you'd dropt out of heave n, and brought a scare you've given me. I thought you had ruined me forever. To lose eiggteen nio ers, without a minnute's warning, aint so eas to be stood, I tells you; and I began mirhtly to feel as ef you had done me that same dissarvice; made me a rich man first, only to make me poorer than ga' broth arterwards! Lorl! with what an etarnal honest face, the Cappin kin lie; and lie so bodily;- lying through the whole melon, and never choking at the rine. (rind.) But I forgive him! The Lord be praised! old lady, I must give you another hug. I'm so spontinaciously happy. " ", Tank ye, maussa," answered old Sappho, quietly, and without any struggling to extricate herself-" but I tinks you wasn't so glad to'hug the old woman las' night!" "Thar'L you hev' me, old lady. That was kaise I didn't know you then. 'Member, you kim in like a sperrit, and you tuk me by supprise a leetle.!Twas onawares you tuk me. I ,varnt scaled but I felt as ef Hdidn't know you, and to be squeezed up lovingly by a body one dent know, and pretty much in the dark as we was, is mighty apt to make a pusson feel jubous and onsartin what to say or do. But now that I knows you, and what you come for, I'm your well-wisher, and friend, and off'cer, and I takes you continentally, as I may say, into the ranks." '"Are you still dreaming, Corporal?" cried Porgy, emerging From his chamber, and coming out into the piazza. page: 368-369[View Page 368-369] 368 TH\TE WORD AND THE DISTAFF. "You're eist about the fattest sinner living, Cappin, and can fist now eas e ef s conscience warn't no sort of trouble to you aow E, as s la ouI ebedstan Tom, thereay atall t-nhe din ptio f Btt' hu..aLord -owh n ateraln thea th handto back you I n fol y I the .i ' i and. did d, As sure asOh ss the r n ,not one soul of you need thi romult the . hea g scc hoo that etion have gCorporal, yo-ill be folnn . ing the roprn t an e ll, Sapphol my good old womany olo ew a. t l, '.. dof owhan ixtefen he hadpoe athe in anll of us to gethe aer I g ased ao the, andoor eo cha. Bety and Ci,n I remember; and Ben-7' dr4 the ali, ultin of Betty's cotuband wo ow ascende he sho ita . o se afollowed aby all thr ans n e , ie to dnie rloa" d "Ibu ausa Come. ...... foa ead ter ,ut we nee not-multiply the phomses, samples rpo. the frlorngue ay be su--cieoy goodject e ofom you oalr Bchool--one of a" 'tcient I ttlement -where father an al eo us togeher .fo a hundesed years, may pople . and Bhettyogreas, a and repint the nicturen-- Wyes of all the slaverru ton o if he had spok n asended the eyes an up the steps, and laJnga Bor eachother,'he men, ith their ssve and thui . dr" hand t Dh L gr rs, m a ounting ,ith ty, -fingers of" is solitaryhand. andn,hepaused th pakeitureforh m e orgy ha NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS CULOTTEISM. 369 some one girl or boy by the shoulder, according as the develop- m ient showed a desirable strength. , Eighteen, by the powers, and every one of ;hem a fuss rate for the field. Dream, indeed! Did I dream! Lord, how some people will lie. Cappin, I'l never forgive you that trick. I b'lieve it's made some of ihy hairs turn grey." Porgy, meanwhile, gave the negroes a brief talk. He should soon visit the city and find them in clothes and blankets, hats and shoes. In truth, these were all greatly needed. Nothing but the abundant stores of ightwood, which the country affolded. could possibly have kept the poor wretches from freezing, even in a Carolina winter. A ffectionately welcomed, and assured of proper provisions, they were all dismissed to the basemen; rooms for the present, except old Sappho, for whom the Captain was resolved to provide elsewhere. "And now," said he, "here is Pomp signalling us for breakfast. I trust, Millhouse, that your dreams have not spoiled your ap- petite." "No thanks to you, that it haint. Ef the dream hadn't ha' come true, I'd ha' hardly eaten to-day. But ef I don't eat now, W it's only bekaise Im still busy a-dreaming." Breakfast was soon despatched, when Sappho was called in to take her portion frorm the table. This duty over, another of much more embarrassing c aracter was to be attended to--the exami- proper exhibition at the dinner party of the widow Eveleigh. The entire stock of clothing possessed by Captain Porgy (that portion excepted whb:ch he wore in common,) was carried in a rude deer skin portminteau or valise, of camp manufacture,-the workmanship of a common soldier. Beyond a single dress suit, that is for dress parade, our partisan had but--very little to boast. There may have bedn a change of small clothes,-two pair, in briefi one of buff ant one of blue,-that which he wore belong- ' j -- page: 370-371[View Page 370-371] 30 THE 0WORD? D THE DISTAFF. intoneithe colour. Itight have been blue once, possibly gry,but time, and sun, and rain, and wind, and frequent inter- tonable, an, timo be se, a we w'lur ane 1 que"- course with the soil, ha ba When the port- manteau, which had never known the safe virtues of a lock, was unstrapped, and the contents displayed, uppermost appeared the two articles already mentioned. The blue was first examined. A at first opened, they suggested the idea of an enormous sack, -such as might now serve to take in a bale of long cottons. Ca- suach as they seered, however, the experience of the Captain had determined that ishey ere y no means sufficiently ample to afford determined the degre f feed which he required when dining afford him the degre e 'least questionbeo out. To the eye, the blues were the least questioable of his small clothes, in consequence of the fact that they had been, on several occasions,-a they seemed to need it-redipped in a de- coction of the native indigo. Bt even these worehunting frock, whiteness inhe wore his huntig frocks by which they were cov ered, were apt to obtrude themseles rather bdldly upon the sight of the spectators. Though faded, hereand there, however,. the blues were intact-there were no awkward rents or patches; and no pla6es somuch w . porgyn with wearer in constants aprehension of an explosion Porgy with the help of Tom and Pomp, subjected them to a severe scrutiny, and they were then laid aside for a moment. ;"They're the best," quoth Porgy , y "if they ' alwe not so atrociously contracted about the hips and iast. imawas indread lest I should burst them." 'Day strong, massa." tingand th "Yes, Tom But not strong enh for every thing, and the widow will, no doubt, give us a first rate dinner, and I anin honour bound to do justice to T er ire fis , must drink,---i will drink, andty every vaethatf By Bacchus! the er idea of wine iishires me. NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS-CULOTTEISM. 371 I've smacked my lips upon the tears of the vineyard. Lift up the buffs, Pomp." IThe garment thus described dangled in the air from the ex- tending finger of Pompey. "They would do well, in respect to size; but..these d-d patch- es, Tom." "Day mighty broad in de face, maussa." , '"As the full moon, Tom, though less bright of complexion." "Et you puts on dese, maussa, you hab for wear de shirt. De pigeon tail nebber guine to cubber (cover) 'em." The hurts of the garment were chiefly in the realr. Porgy always seated himself with emphasis. Sometimes, indeed, he came to the ground, though letting himself down never so easily, with something of a shozk. The results always told fearfully on his I small clothes. The buffs had particularly suffered, and in this special region. Th, consequence had been that it had become necessary, on more than one occasion, to " put a plaister on them," using Millhouse's descriptive phraseology. Now, -his plaister or patch, or pair of patches-for Porgy wore his clo:hes with some uniformity-at least in wearing them out,--were, for two suffi- cient reasons, supplied with buckskin, dressed in camp, and with sufficient rudeness. Nothing but buckskin, itswas thought, could possibly endure the constant strain and pressure in the alling re- gion. But, besides this, the buff was not to 'be found in camp. The art which was -vailable in that region, was not of a sort to make the boundary line of patch assimilate naturally with the original continent of cloth; and though, from use, the buff and buck- skin had gradually g own to look alike, as loving wifa and husband are said to do after certain seasons,-yet it needed no critical eye to discover that then were ridges, rising almost into promontories, by which the lines o union, or demarcation, were at once distin- guished. A frequent renewal of the thread had increased the deformity, and upon present inspection it was found that the craft page: 372-373[View Page 372-373] 372 THE SWOMRD AND THE DISTAF. I of the tailor was even now 'necessary to reunite the parts, and re- new the integrity of the bonds that held them together. "He tear but yer, maussa.", "Torn!" with some horror. "Yes, he breck, out, and der's leetle hole working yer, in de middle ob de leadder. deather.) Lor, a mighty, massa, you's too l hard 'pon you breeches! 'Taint decent and like gemplemans, de way you weai you clothes." "Get out, you rascal, and get ready to sew them up at once. Get your needle and thread; or see Sapplio, and see if some of ; these young grand-daughters of hers can't do the work less clum- sily. I reckon she's taught some of them to sew." The girl was found, and, squat upon the floor, provided with all Tom's stock in trade as a tailor, she was soon busy with the gar-' ment. "Ef you wears de buffs, maussa, you hab for wear de shirt." "Yes! yet' the dress coat is more in style," said Porgy, with something of a sigh, lifting both, coats upat the same moment, and holding them apart for survey, in separate hands. The hunt- ing shirt was a blue homespun; the dress coat was .a faint ap- proach to-the proper army uniform of a Captain in those days. It was of broadcloth, originally red, but thrice died in blue.- The latter colour, however, had somewhat' faded, and the red, or a most unnatural imitation of it, was about to reappear through the subsequent dye. . "Ef we had some indigo to gee dat coat- dip now," quoth Tom, himself rather preferring the garment on account of its tex- ture and brighter buttons. "Still I couldn't wear it with the buffs. No-! no! I must wear the shirt. It helps to cover the territory requiring to be con- cealed, and to hide those worn out acres." He's acre for true," growled Tom, looking at thee patches which the-negro girl was ,repairing. "He big like de skairt ob saddle." o NEAR fPPROACHES TO SANS CULOTTEISM. 373 "They must do, i evertheless," muttered Porgy with a doleful visage. 'Examine the coat, Tom, the hunting hirt, and see if it's sound., . if "/ab breck und, r de arm, maussa." "'Thro it to Pusy, and let her sew it up. Nw, Pomp, un- roll me ttat homespan bundle. We must see for slirts and stock- ings." "ffa! ISbirt and tockinl'. I 'speek dem guine ge you trouble Pomp unrolled he bundle. The stockings appeared--well saved--the dress p ir,-used bythe Captain only on state cca- sions-of thick whi cott I . y on t 6cca- snions-ofhi whi cotton. They had been a pnsent from the widow Gri ffin. ? - the "IHe all gone at d3 heel and toes, maussa." "Fortutately thlos parts are buried in the shoes. What of the shirt, 3omp ?' o Pomp proceeded to unfold it. There was but on . "TendeJlyv, you ra, cal; do you think you're ban I ng a sideof leather. Lre your h nds clean, you. monkey, Look at the fellow, Tomn; take it from hin. e willhave it in rags without a warn- ing." a wan "Ha! 1aussa, onlj le' urn 'lone, he tumble into r as he se'f." "But w mus't le it alone, you rascal, and we mst be careful that it doe not tlmbte into rags until this day's buliness is over. It was oncf thhe 1 est of Irish linen. It is the last fsix dozen. Six d oze n w [ wen as I indeed the owner of six dozen shirts at one time! " "Ha! ef dat was te only 'stravagance and foolishs', maussa You le' de loppral know you bin once hab six dozenl shu't, all de same time, e gee you h--ll11 ob a sarmon 'bout you 'travagane! But, de Lor sabe us, aussa, de shu't aint all t! All de skairt ob de back is gon e." And Tom displayed tie ill-con-itionedgar- aent outri cht. . 30 , page: 374-375[View Page 374-375] 874 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "The skirt gone! How! Where!-True, by Jupiter. That infernal savage. It was Indian Betty that- washed it last. The catamount. She has torn it out and carried off the fragment. Look in the portmanteau for the piece!'" "Ingin Bet nebber bin carry 'em off in dis worl'. Wha, he carry 'em for. He too rotten. Ingin Bet good hand for tief, but he nebber guine tief rotten shu't. Look, Pomp, I 'speck he must be in de bottom day!" The search was, vain. And Porgy stood aghast at the spec- tacle. "-What's to be done, Tom?" "Is de buzzum good in de front" . "Yes." "Well! easy 'nuff. De coat cubber de back, you know. See yer! yer's de hole for put you head through. When you guine dress, I 'tan behin' you and slip de shu't ober, and when you hab 'em on, I get t'read (thread) and make Pussy 'tich (stitch) two, t'ree, sebben, five 'tich cross de back for hold de two side togedder. Da's de way for do 'em; I see. I guine fix em." 7. 7 A white vest was found in the valise ; a leather stock, a pair of yellow buckskin gloves; and, after a fashion, Porgy succeeded, in dplaying, ready for use, the entire habit which he was to wear that day. This done, he proceeded, with the help of Tom and Prmp, to put himself in harness. Talk of the iron garments of ancient chivalry! iNever did the closing of rivets on the part ot the knights of the English Harries and Edwards, require more time and painstaking, or' cause more anxiety to pages and squires, and armour bearers and armourers, than did the costuming of theil master, that day, occasion to his two sable attendants. Such gin. gerly handling of coat, and vest, and shirt, and small clothes, was, perhaps, scarcely ever beheld before. The adjustment of the Cap. tain's linen, was especially a subject of some solicitude. While he sate upon a keg, Tom, standing on one side, and Pomp on the ArEAR APPROACHES TO SAINS-CULOTTEISM. 3'7 other, quietly dropped the garment, shorn of its fLir proportions, ver his neck; whi Porgy buttoned it at the t roat, andslipt his arms nto the sleeves, the two attendants seized the skirts at a signal, and drawing the sundered sides as nearly together as they dared,?ssy, the girl, drew nigh, and, with a dozen successive stitches, nited the reluctant skirts, but not so as to cover a large waste of ;erritory between, which, until Porgy cou d get his vest and coat on, remained as bare as a Pict in full armour. Porgy sat erect during the operation, never daring even o -move, until tom ygave him permission by telling him-- "Yo in feel you se'f a leetle, maussa; but tek kear how yot ben' you ack, and ';retch out you' arm, tell you git on you coat and weckqet. Dis here shu't nebber .ine tan' pull and jerk, mek' 'em 3asy as you kin." . "Feel myself a little, indeed! I certainly should like to feel myself les3!-Hand :me those shoes, Pomp!" "Ha! ]ello! BoJr!-Wha' dis? You nebber tin brush you maussa sh es ebber sence he bin trabble in all dat n ud wid 'em." "I no se any bru,;h, uncle Tom!" "EHa! you no see any bresh, you bull eye nigger! Itek' hole' ob ycu, I show you blush on de back wid sights ob hick'ry. Git out, and fin' piee ob clot', and see you rub oft de mud from dem boot fore I kin crook my elbow. Clot' is bresh. you war- mint, ef you use 'em so." ' Pomp wzis off, and Porgy resign'd himself patientl on the keg, which sufficed him for a chair, until his inexperience d valley de sham" could re-appear. Meanwhile, Tom handed him his hunt- ing shirt. ,. "Look you, maussa," said the cook, as he helped his master on ith the coat- " ou hab for walk 'traight in d s coat. He aint so 'trorg arter all You mus' tak' care and no t'row youse'f 'bout when you at MisSEbleigh's. Ef you forgit, sometime, and t'row out you arm too wide, you'll breck somewhere, I ] now; in de page: 376-377[View Page 376-377] 376 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. sleeb, or under de arm, orl mout be in de back; an' ef once he be- gin for go, dere's no stopping 'em. You'll breck all side, I tell you, and de breeches will be for busting out too; and dat won't do no how, when you da stan' 'fore de ladies. Min' wha' I tell you, maussa, and walk 'traight track. Be berry preticklar, jis' when you gitting off de boss; and, when you's a-walking up de steps, don't you 'tretch out for hol' de bannister; and. when you's a-talking big wid de lady, you mustn't tink for raise up you arm to de heabens, as ef you was a-calling de sun to be witness for wha' you say. 'Twoh't do:-you'll be breck out ebbry side ef you guine try for do all dem mighty t'ings. Set down easy in de chair, and don't you go for 'traddle you legs too wide. I no 'pen' (depend) 'pon dese breeches 't all.' "It's come to a pretty pass, indeed, when such a sooty scamp as you are, Tom, undertakes to teach- me how to carry myself in a lady's presence." "Enty I know " "So, you think I had better not lift my leg unadvisedly so---" "Top, maussa; you sure for bu'st dem breeches." "Or throw out my- arms, rigiat or left,-so!" "Lawd! maussa, don't you, now. De coat ready for pop eb- bry way." "I feel it, Tom! I shall be cautious for my own sake, not less than for decency's. But, be off; send Pomp to me with the shoes,' ild fellow, and see what you can do towards fixing up the Lieu-l tenant and the Corporal. They'll need quite as much help as myself,I fancy, in fitting themselves for this visit." Tom disappeared. The shoes were soon brought by Pomp, and drawn on with a degree of care and deliberation which showed that our Captain of Partisans was as duly sensible as Tom of the danger which might follow any extraordinary efforts of muscle on his part. He felt himself, at length, completed for his visit, all but cap and sword. The sword, however absurd it might seem, NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS CULOTT3ISM. 3" was still an cssent'al in hIis present habit, which was wholly mili- tary. It was still justified, in use, by the unsettled condition of the country, and we must not be surprised to see him, on his de- parture for the city, not only wearing his sabre, but carrying his holsters and pistols; and this, chiefly, with due regard to pro- priety of costume. But we must not anticipate. , To buckle-sn his sabre, and don his well-worn coon skin cap, was the work of a moment. The horses had been already saddled, and were in wait- g ing in the court be'ow. The voice of Millhouse was heard calling, j and the heavy tread of himself and Frampton were echoing loudly in the hsh. They were evidently ready, and Porgy joined them. "Let's look at you, Cappin," quoth! Millhouse, " and see how you're a-: ooking." And he walked round his superior, scrutinizing him at every point. "Your skairt's rether short ;" quoth he. Ia ",Do you see the blisters-the leather patches, Corporal?" de- rmanded Porgy, quickly. D "N-o!" answered the Corporal slowly, peering about curiously " the while; " but as you love your life, Cappin, you mustn't bend J for'ad the leetlest, for you aint got any skairts to spare. Your I gairth is so mighty big that it draws up the gairments monstrous g high." , ; ' X "To horse!" cried Porgy, with something very emphatic in his tones, leading the way. ' "Stop a bit!" said the Corporal, " while I take in another hole -in your belt. It'll b3tter your igger a leetle; though 'taint easy j to help it much." "D--n the figure!" exclaimed the indignant Captain, breaking away, without suffering the irLtended service. "Look you, (Cappin, ef you splurges about in that sort of style you'll resk mightily the security of all your fixins." We shall say noth'ngr about 'the costume of the Captain's sub- ordinates. Enough that they partook of the deficiencies, and pro- I 30'* page: 378-379[View Page 378-379] 378 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ?oked the same sort of embarrassments, which we have seen trou- bling their superior; They had done their best to prepare for the eyes of the ladyf and they, at least, had no misgivings, as troubled with no expectations. A word to Tom, and another word to old Sappho,- who could not ufficiently admire the wonderful dimen- sions, the great sword, ad the fearful looking pistols of her child, and the three cantered dff, at a free pace, in the direction of the widow Eveleigh's. When approaching the avenue, the Corporal suddenly drew up, and entreated the attention of the Captain for a moment. "Cappin," says he, "1 now's the time. Head's up! Off'cers to the fropt. Cappini! It all impends upon you now! One thing vye got to say: a widow aint like a young gal. She's got ixperence. 'Taint any needcessity, when you 'tacks a widow, to be guine all about it, and about it. They dont aix that of you. They onder- stands. 'Taint any use to ride round to the gate; jest pull down the fence and, ride in. What did I say to you afore A widow's jest like a forts that's used to surrenderin'. It's only to summon it and say here We are to make a breach, or run over the walls. Jest show yourself-ready to scale and storm, and what does the comn- mander of the garrison say? Why, says\ he--lets make good tarms and that's all we're axing - and that's what the widow'll say; but I wouldn't make the tarms too easy, Cappin. You're needing a mighty deal of assistance. Hold her to it. Give her no chaince, and when she finds you ready to seize, she'll give in. She kain't help herself. Only, don't you be mealy-mouthed, Cap- pin Go it, like a charge!" Porgy surveyed the speaker for a moment in the most perfect silence. Then quietly, with a smile, he said, clapping spurs to his horse- . "Corporal, you were surely born to be a general! - In another moment the party was pacing up the noble avenue of ancient oaks conducting to the mansion of the wealthy widow." THE CORPORAL N UTS THE CAPTAIN FAVO URABLY FORWARD. 379 CHAPTER XLV II. THE CORPORAL PUTS THE CAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FORWARD. - THE lantation of Mrs. Eveleigh was one of the finest and best kept along the Ashepoo. The widow had been fortunate in the if. circumstances which secured her equally against the hostility .of T both par-ies during the late war. She had friends at court, no matter who was sovereign for the season. Her husband had been IA, a popular officer in his Majesty's army, and, when not on service, had been a favourite among his neighbours. The widow shared his popularity, possessing, in eminent degree, those qualities of character by which he had secured it. Her estate, accordingly, had escaped that harrying process, by which so many of those around her had been devastated; and the excellence of the land, tl the skill, sobriety and integrity of her overseer; good seasons, I plrofitable staple (rice) and her own judicious economy, had resulted in a constant increase, by which she had become one of the wealthiest persons of this region of country. She lived, during the greater portion of the year, upon her estate, and this had been an additional secret of her prosperity. Her presence had served, not only to promote the success, but the cha' m and beauty of her plantation. Her fields were well distributed, always kept clean and under good fences; the grounds were wel laid out; the undergrowth kept cown:; the woods trimmed up; the groves, whether of oak or other forest trees, such as wooed .he wandering footstep, and appealed sweetly to the musing fancies. Long shadowy avenues, on three sides, conducted to her dwelling which stood among sheltering clumps of a growth extending far beyond all human memory; while the house itself, of ample dimensions, and built in a style at once tasteful and simple, was furnished with page: 380-381[View Page 380-381] 380 THE SWORD AND'THE DISTAFF. all the attractions which, in that day, distinguished the mansions of American refinement. The morning was a mild and bright one. As Captain Porgy 'and his two companions cantered up the- avenue, Mrs. Eveleigh might be seen, with her son, sitting in the open piazza. "They're on the look out for us, Cappin," said the Corporal, with an air of triumph. "She's mighty airnest to see you, I tell you. Now, Cappin, 'member what I've said. Now's the time. All the signs is favorable. Don't you let the chaince slip through your fingers. No man gits a widow by being bashful about it. It's the bold heart, a'ter all, that gits the good things of this life. When the fruit's ripe it's only to shake the tree. You needn't climb, but jest take hold, like a man, with a detarmination like, never to let go, 'till your eend's answered. That's all. Now go ahead." With the air of- a man who has given the last words of coun- sel to a y-ung beginner, when sending him forward to the fight, our Corporal waved his one hand, and suffered his superior to ride ahead. Porgy answered only with a-faint smile. He seemed uneasy, if not chafed at the Plertinacious conceit of his follower; while Lance Frampton, when Millhousehjad fallen back and joined him, took occasion to school the veteran in unexpected style, and with some warmth. "Look you, Corporal, 'twont do for you to be talking to the Captain as if he was a boy, and you was his teacher. You'd bet- ter be quiet now before you make him angry. HeIt knows you're his friend, and that makes him stand a good deal from you; but what can you teach him about fine people, and high life, and the sort of behaviour he's to behave when he's in company With rich ladies in their own houses. He knows more of such people than you and I ever saw, and don't want 'any education how to do when he gets among 'em. You'd better shut up mnow in all these matters. I seehe don't like it, and you'll some day go jest one step too far, and you'll rouse him." t THE CORPORAL PUTS TiE CAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FORWARD. 381 Millhouse glared upon the Lieutenant with mixed looks of sur- prise and indignation. When he recovered himself, he said. "And don't I know what's good for him, and dcn't I see what's needful to save him from the cussed sheriff. He nmust marry this rich widow, I tell you; that's his only chaince." "W ell, he won't, I'm thinking."'- "Why won't he . She's eager enough, I see, o ax him her- self." "I don't believe a word of it; I don't believe she'll have him, and you're just do'ng wrong now, to put such ideas into his head." "She wont!-Lord, Lance? as ef you had-any ixperence to know. Vhyv, look what she's done for him a'ready; and lcck at her ax:ng you and me to come and spend the day and take dinner. Don't you :now as well as me, that these people never yet axed people of our sort into their houses, or let'em set at their table. It's only bekaise we're friends of the Cappin that she axes us." "It's because we helped to save her son's life and her own. It's because she's grateful; and if you're right minded, you'll just be quiet all to-day while in her house, and-be respect'ul, and listen only, and answer when you're spoken to, and just say as little as you can in' civility; for we aint asked to be heard; it's only be- cause she wants to be grateful. Now, I must say, Ccrporal, you've too great an ambition to be a-talking. Thle less you talk, the bet- -ter; for though you':e a sensible man enough, in actual service, yet you're not the person to speak the sort of things that the great people likes to hear." "Well, I must say, there's no eend to the conceitec ness of young people. Here, Lance, you, only a brat of a boy, as I may say,- though a very good one,-you're a-teaching me; and mpe old- enough to be your gran' fayther. I wonder ef-yoL won't, some day, show me how to work my way into my egg, by telling me page: 382-383[View Page 382-383] 382 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to crack it at the butt, and on the eend of the table. Jest you don't consarn yourself, my boy, in this business of the Cappin, and ef I don't help him to git this rich widow, then poke your finger at my eyes whenever I goes to talk." I "Take care! That's all, Corporal. You'll be burning your fingers, some day, by a fire that you wont see till you're in it and can't back out." i The warningwas in low tones. The party was quite too nigh the house to admit of more. Captain Porgy was already dis- mounting-a performance executed with less deliberation than- usual, and more effort." Let us add that it was successful; what- ever the peril to his garments, they survived it; and he proceeded to ascend the steps of. the dwelling, conducting to the piazza. Young Arthur Eveleigh descended to meet him, catching his hand and welcoming him with a warm and hearty grasp, which declared the impulsive and generous nature of the boy. Mrs. Eveleigh stood at the head of the steps with her hand extended in welcome also. Her manner, simple -and unaffected, genial and friendly, was that of the accomplished lady, well versed in the proper graces of society. Arthur Eveleigh remained on the stelps to re- ceive the followers if the Partisan. These were welcomed up also; and a gracious bow was accorded them by the-widow, when they reached the piazza. Here, they all seated themselves, following the example of the lady and the Captain. "The day is so mild and genial," said the widow, "that we have suffered the fire to go out. But you soldiers scarcely need a fire; and Arthur and myself, since breakfast, have not felt the want of one. We have been talking of you and your brave fol- lowers, Captain, all the morning, Going, for the twentieth time over all the details of that fearful day, from the perils of which you rescued us." "Too happy you will believe, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, in being of the slightest service to you," was the gallant answer of the Captain. THE CORPORAL PUTS THE qAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FO RWWARD. 383 "That was a most bloody leetle skrimage," put in the Corpo6l. "Them rascals gin you a most awful hitch, ma'am ; and ef twarnt for the Cappin thar, there's no telling what might have happen'd in the lorg run. It's the Cappin, ma'am, that's about the best man, I ever seed, to fight for the women folk. "He was born, I may say, to be their sav'our and purtector!"X' Porgy glared sternly at the speaker, who, fancying he had been making a highly profitable, yet delicate suggestion, leered first at the widow, then at -,he Captain while he spoke, wi-h the manner of one who seems t: say, "t I have set the ball in motion-see that it dont come to the ground between you." Mrs. Eveleigh answered the Corporal with a .kind manner, saying - "We owe him a great deal, certainly, sir, but we owe equally our gratitude to yourself and your young companion. My son, I am sure, will always regard you both as his frienc-s, and if I do not adequately acknowledge your help, it is only because all lan- guage must fail to do so. I feel that, but for your arrival and timely and judicious succour, my son and all of us would have been murcdered. "That you would, ma'am! Them villains warn't a bit too good to sc lp you in the bargin; but they've got their sass and dressing, and some on 'em will never trouble the high roads of this airth &gin. For Jthem that got off, it's jist enough to know that the Cappin's in tese quarters, and-they'll be mighty cur'ous how they keeps out of them. I don't think they'll be the pur- sons to break into any hen roosts in this part of the country. Ef there was any man ihl this world born to be the nateral protector of a plantation, it's the Captain thar." Porgy twitched uneasily in his chair, while the Corperal pro- ceeded- "Lawd, ma'am, to think that a pusson that can cut his way through an inimy's bloody bagnets, a whole ,rigimeirt, should be' page: 384-385[View Page 384-385] 384 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF, so tender at the same time, and sich a purtector of poor, trem- bling, dangerous wimmin! To think how a pusson that shputs so furious when he's at a charge,-how soft he kin make his voice when it's to a woman he's got to speak! It's a-most wonder'ful, and not to be calkilated, the difference 'twixt the same man, when he's at them different dealings!" Porgy could stand it no longer. He broke out- "Why, Corporal, Mrs. Eveleigh will suppose that I have em- ployed you especially as my trumpeter, and not as my overseer. Shut up! my good fellow, or speak of your own valour and your own tenderness, if you please. As I have no apprehensions that I shall be suspected of any deficiency when either is needed, it is no policy to insist upon them now, lest both of them becomes sus- pected." The widow saw the Captain's uneasiness and smiled pleasantly, as she said- "The problem seems to puzzle Corporal Miller-" "Millhouse, ma'am, ef you please." "Millhouse,-Corporal Millhouse-" "There was a Corporal Miller, ma'am, that b'longed to the Pennsylvany rigiment, and he went over to the innimy on that bloody affair when they wanted to sell Gineral Greene,---yu re- member, I reckon; that time when the Gineral sent off full speed to call the old Fox, and we poor malitia men to keep his conti- nentallers in order." "I remember, Corporal. I am glad you corrected my error. It must be an unpleasant thing to be confounded, even by mistake, with a traitor." "That's it, ma'am; you're sensible on the subject." "Was there ever such a bullheaded monster!" quoth Porgy sotto voce. "You were remarking, M's. Eveleigh-- "Upon the problem that seemed to puzzle Corporal MillLouse." emphasizing the last syllable duly. Yet, it seems to hav been O THE CORPORAL PUTS THE-CAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FORWARD. 385 proverbial that the most brave-hearted are also the most tender- hearted, always, Captain." "The effect has commonly shown itself in the number of wars which have been occasioned by the sex, Mrs. Eveleigh. It is pro- verbial, also, that, when all other arguments fail to 'nspire the man with the proper courage, you have only to goad him in the pres- enci of the lady whom he most admires." "Ef any thing will make him fight, ma'am, that will. It's jest what you sees daily with these common dunghil- fowls. They haint go; much heart for fighting at any time, yet, jest let the hen be nigh, when one's a-coming, and the other, though he run before, will dash up, and Lord, how he will make, the feathers fly!-It's natur! and it shows the valley of the women in keep- ing up a good breed of sodgers in a country. And I do say that the women folks had as much to do in making our people fight the innimy as any thing beside, and all besides. I 'member well, when I went out with Gineral Middleton agin the Cherokees. Well, you know thar was Grant, with- his BritisE rig'lars, along with us; and no great shakes they was, I tell you, in an Ingin skrimmage. Well, it used to make ny very blood bile in my body, to see how them red coats made free with lour young wo- men at the farm houses. Why, ma'am, they made no more ado of chucking the gals under-the chin, and smacking at their lips, jist wherever they found 'em, than I would at kissing my own wife-ef 'taint ondecent for me to speak of my wife when I aint got one, and never ixpect to have. But that aint to pervent oth- er people, what's more personable and better off, from getting a wife, I'rr thinking." And here the Corporal looked, with a leer the most significant and cor placent, to the Captain of Partisans, whose disquiet was duly increasing. Mrs. Eveleigh, too, began to comprehend that there was something latent in the Corporal's speeches; but she had no notion of his real purpose, and ascrib whatever was 31 page: 386-387[View Page 386-387] 386 - -THE. SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. queer in his manner and words, to some eccentricity of character. Meanwhile, Arthur Eveleigh had attached himself to Lance Frmnp- ton, and the two young men had gone out to the stables. JThe widow felt the call to be elsewhere, but could not leave the par- ties at the moment; and the conversation proceeded, the -ady opening upon another topic which was necessarily addressed wi oily to the Captain. You find every thing in disorder, Captain Porgy. You -lave been a special sufferer, I know. You are probably not aware that I am in possession of some of your property." "Indeed!" Yes. :As an old friend of your family and self, when I heard of certain bands of loyalists abbut, knowing the practices of which they were guilty, I sent over several of my hands, and, with the aid of your servants, brought over to my house such of youi fur- niture as had been left after their first foray. One Grainger had been bef6re me, and had destroyed the family pictures, and rade a fire, I was told, of certain pieces of furniture. As soon as he disappeared, with his band, I secured your sideboard, a couple of chests of drawers, a few chairs and tables, a pair of fine old steel mirrors, and a variety of other articles, including knife case, with knives and forks, decanters, glasses, and sundry small th ngs, such as you will find useful. There was no plate that we could find-" "It was all melted down in camp, Mrs. Eveleigh. We aave been living on it in part-" "Ah! I conjectured that; though, by the way, the report is that your own overseer, Halford, helped to spoil you, and would have effectually done so, but tha he was accidentally killed at a great muster of the loyalists, ear Coosawhatchie." "He turned out to be a geat-scoundrel; went over to the Brit- ish after serving a campaign with us. I suspected him before that event, and my discoveries probably led to his treachery. But THE CORPORAL PUTS THE CAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FORWARD. 387 I had not supposed that any thing had been saved from the wreck of my furniture. My debt to you increases every hour, Mrs. Eve- leigh." "' By no means, Captain. I shall owe you a debt which my whole life could not repay." "Taat's it!" cried Millhouse, slapping his thigh with his one hand. "That's it! I know'd it." Porgy gave him a single stern look,-then turning to the widow, said- :* "Do not talk of any debt to me, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh you owe me none. What was done for your rescue, by myself and my companions, would have been done in behalf of the poorest creature of the country-" "Let me interrupt you, Captain, by saying t! at, in like manner, what I have done for the saving of your chattels, in your absence, would have been done for any other neighbour. But, the better course would be to say nothing of these mutual services, however much we feel them." "Edzactly--but the feeling!-" and the Corporal closed. The widow proceeded- "I am rejoiced that I shall have you again for a neighbour!" 't "And nara (never a) a better purtector of wimmen could be found!" quoth the Corporal, with an emphatic slap of his one hand upon his thigh. The lady did not seem to observe him, but proceeded.- "And if in any respects I can be of service to you, particularly at the present moment, you have only to let me know, and-" "There's a want of every thing. I may say, ma'am, from plough to shovel. You see, ma'am, I'm to manage for the Cappin, who's got some of the finest rice lands on this river." "Hle has, indeed. I know them," said the widow. "That's it, ma'am! You're right! It's so! I seed 'em; and they've had a long rest. They'll bring allfired fine crops; and I'll ^ * . page: 388-389[View Page 388-389] 388 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF1 make 'em do it. Ef we had your force on them lands, n;w, Madam Ev'leigh, there's no telling what I could do! No, ma' m! There's no telling, 'twould be so magnisifent! But we've got cnld: a mighty small force of twenty-five niggers!-" . "'This was said with a wave of the one hand and a twitcl'ng of the mouth, and a turning up of the nose, as if nothing cuild be more contemptible in the sight of the speaker. -The air vas that of one, who, born to command armies, was reduced to the necessity of expending his genius upon a Corporal's guard. 3ut the widow's surprise was at the number, not at their insigifi- cance. "Twenty-five!" "A second instance of good fortune, my dear Mrs. Evelegh. When I encountered you, I knew not that. 1 had a negro in the world, besides Tom. You restored me seven; last night, my old nurse, Sappho, who has survived the wars and starvationfor three years in the swamp,. came in, and reported all her children :,nd grand children as with her. She brought them in this morning, eighteen in number-" . "And who knows, ma'am but there may be a hundred more where them come from," interposed Millhouse, dilating again into great dignity. "Not likely! I fancy these are all I possess, Mrs. Eveleigh; they are more than I expected, and much more, perhaps, than I deserve." "It's not onpossible, ma'am, that there's a hundred. How should the Cappin know . He's quite onkhowing of all his sar- cumstances, and for that matter, aint altogether the best pus on in the world to be looking a'ter them. That's what I tells h m. Leave it all to me, Cappin. He knows I'm right. He ecknowl- edges I'nm his sense keeper; and I am, in all business that b'lo-gs to the making of a crop--" "'In all other matters too, it would appear. But, for the p:es- ent, Corporal Millhouse, suffer me to be my own sensekeeper."' 9 THE CORPORAL PUTS THE CAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FORWARD. 389 "You kaint, Cappin; 'taint in you. Why, Madam Ev'leigh, he's the most wasteful and perfligit pusson in this heathen world. pith, prehaps, not more than a hundred giuneas in his pocket, he don't stop to throw one or two on 'em away, at a single lift upon a beggar child, in charity like." "A hundred guineas, Corporal? Why what are you talking about?" said Porgy, indignantly. "He has certainly the most overwhe ming imagination! He has converted these eight or ten pieces into a treasure!"-With the words, Porgy drew forth the few gold pieces which he had, from his pocket, and exposed them in his palm to view. ' This is all that I possess in the shape of money." The Coirporal wheeled about, indignant at the exposure, draw- ing up every feature in vexation, and tossing his one hand in air as if every thing were lost. The widow saw the action, and be- gan to understand his character. She looked to Porgy with a smile. He strove to smile in reply, but the effort was a feeble one, and the result only a:faint and counterfeit presentment. He was disquieted the more, as he began to fear from the widow's looks thet she not only saw into Millhouse's character, but sus- pected hs desires. It was, accordingly, something of a relief to both the parties when Arthur Eveleigh, just at this moment, reap- peared with the Lieutenant. Mrs. Eveleigh seized the occasion to invite her guests to take refreshment, and led the way for 'them into the dwelling. As Porgy followed, Millhouse nudged him with his- elbow. "How could you do it?" he murmured-"Show jist that lee- tie heap when I was a-spreading you out?" "Pshaw, fool!" was the muttered thunder which saluted the Corporal in reply, the Captain fiercely pressing forward, and coim- pletely covering the entrance as he did so. "Fool!" growled the Corporal, to himself. "Well, that's for sarving a pusson what don't desarve it." 31* page: 390-391[View Page 390-391] 890 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Here is sone old madeira, Captain, and some Jamaica. Pl ase show the way t your friends ;-my son does not drink." ihy, ma'am," quoth Millhouse, possessing himself of a brake? er, and approaching the widow,-"you don't mean to let the young man go without a sodger's edication." "His father was a soldier, sir, yet it was his dying injunceion that Arthur should never drink." "Well, that's mighty s ange, I swow! 'Twouldn't ha' cone in our sarvice, where the ly way to forgit that you had notting to eat, was to git r'yal drunk on what you had. Here's your health, ma'am, and my sarvice to you, ma'am, forever." \The lady bowed; and Porgy, having refreshed himself vith su6h a glass of Madeira as he had not often enjoyed for yaars, withdrew, at a motion from Mrs. Eveleigh, to an adjoining rc m. 'Why, whar's the Cappin " cried Millhouse, who had teen lingering over his liquor. "And whar's the widow, too?" looking around him. Yo ing Arthur stared at this familiarity, but his glance was not remaried by the speaker. "Ah.! I see!" he continied, with a cluc de., "All's right! Lawd, eftpeople only had the sense to see the thing what's afore 'em." "What did you say, sir?" said young Arthur, addressing I ur soliloquist-and evidently somewhat dubious that there was sope- thing offensive in what he had spoked; forming this conject ire rather from the, expression of Millhouse's face than from any thing in his words. "Oh! it's you, young master I So, you're not to drink w, ile you live? Well, to a man whose nater is usen'd to the. thing, like mine, that would be mighty hard! But you don't feel fle hardship yit; and you're young. But it's a darn'd sight better, let me tell you, never to l'arn to like it, than to long for it arler- wards when it's not to be got. That's a feeling,- et'me tell you, for I've had it, jist as much like the devil having you on an e nd v ' "' ^ THE CORPORAL PUTS THE CAPTAIN FAVOURABLY FORWARD. 891 and no help for it, as any thing on this etarrl airth. But, Lawd, to know as how you kaint drink makes me a legtle thairsty, and ef it's your pleasure, I'll score me down'two." "If you please, sir," answered the young man; an assent for which the veteran did not wait. He had already prepared the Jamaica. Lifting the draught which he had mixed, he pointed to Lance Frampton-"Now," said he-" thar's one that makes his own law agin l'quor. He won't taste a bit, but only to pleasure company, and then he takes it most like as ef 'twas physic. There's something wrong in one's natur, when you see that. It's a sign he aint got nateral good taste and good sense. And he aint. He's good at a jcout, and he kin shoot like blazes, rifle or Ingin bow; and he's not a-fear'd of Sanson and Zebeedee, the Philis- tians; but, Lawd, that's all; he aitt the sense; he kaint see; kaint see some taings when they're jist onder his nose, and a' axing him to look and be satisfied." Frampton laughed, and Arthur Ereleigh followed his example. The latter now began narrowly to consider Millhouse as a study. The Corporal, finding that he had secured attention, strode the floor, glass in hand, sipping and dilating as he went. At last, finishing his glas, he said to Arthur: "Your ma! she's out with the Cappin somewhere, eh! They've got some sly talking to do together?" There was a grin on his face as he spoke, which young Eveklh could not comprehend, and which he did not by any means relish. He simply bowed affirmatively. 4 Ha!" said the Corporal, laying his one hand on the youth's shoulder,-" the Cappin's the man to show you fine things. He's a most wonderful man, and you'll l'arn to like him famous,-to love him I may say-to love him as ef he was a born friend, and brother, an uncle, and a son,-as ef he was your own born father. Eeny young man on this airth might be happy to have him for a father!" I - page: 392-393[View Page 392-393] 392 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF,. "Is he drunk?" queried Arthur, when he and Lance agair got out-together, which they did soon after. "o!" said the other-- it's only a strange way he's gt of talki pg foolish things-he don't know much what." CHAPTER XLVIII. PORGY FINDS A BANKER. THE widow motioned the Captain to a seat, and took one r ear him. Her manner was full of the sweetest frankness, anc an easy familiarity. With a smile, as soon as he had seated himself, she said- Captain Porgy, I am about to take a li erty with you, wl ich you must excuse on the score of old acquaintance, near neighb)ur- hood, the interest I feel in your prosperity, and the gratitude which I owe you for the great service which you have so lalely rendered me." i "Do not speak of that, Mrs. Eveleigh-" "Oh! but I must speak of it, Captain, in some degree to j, sti- fy myself, if only to myself, for the freedom which I take With you." "Ah! madam," with a courtly bow and expressive smile," 7ou can have no sufficient idea of the extent of your own privile yes, where I am concerned." "Thank you;" answered the lady, quietly; "I am disposed to presume, upon them, and will say what I have to deliver without farther apologies." "Pray do so, nydear madam." \ . ' PORGY FINDS A BANKER. 393 Brieflr, then, Captain; am not ignorant of the embarrass- ments which environ you, and the difficulties in the way of your success. I know how much you have been a loser by the war, I - and how great were your obligations before the war began." "Ah! madam, do not, I pray, remind me how greatly I have been the profligate." "I will not, unnecessarily. You have only committed a too common error of our people in these parishes; allowing hospitali- ty and good fellowship to fling prudence out of the windows. Of course, you have to pay the usual penalties; but it is due to you by that your friends should see that you do not suffer too greatly. At this moment, what is left to you of your property can only be made of profit to you, by the help of a little ready money; and of this commodity I suspect, you have not been able to find enough in the army chest of General Marion to pay up your account against the country. You have got but little pay at the close of the war." ' Not a copper, ma'am! A few guineas, the loan of a friend, enough to pay my way for a week in the city---" "I thought so. 'Now you will want supplies for the plantation; clothes for the negroes; provisions, utensils;'a thousand things which it should be your policy to buy for cash, -at this moment when money is scarce, and the stock in the city is necessarily large. With provisions, I can supply you on an easy credit; im- plements and utensils for working the crop, I can lend you for present use; I have a wagon to spare you for a season; and-" "Ah! my dear madam, you overwhelm me!" "Hear me out, Captain! With all these things I can supply you without the slightest inconvenience myself; nay, driving a good bargain with you all the while. Oh! you will see that I am sufficiently selfish. True, I can lend you second-hand ploughs 4 and shovels, hoes and axes, cart and wagon; but I mean to sell you corn and bacon at a good price-" page: 394-395[View Page 394-395] 2384 THE SWORD 'AND THE pISTAFF. "But the pay!" Oh! I know you have no money, but you have credit-" "I don't know-" "Yes, you have; with me, at least, Captain, and you muirt use it. You shall have corn and fodder, rice and bacon, on loan, or on a credit, as you think proper. If ytu make a good crob this season, return me what you borrow, if you can; if not, you shall pay me, when able, at the present rates for these articles." i "You are very indulgent, my dear madam, but--" . "Hear me a little farther. I must have no ' buts." Yo. will need money in the city. You imight borrow it there, possibly; "i though that is very doubtful at this moment. But it is fortinate that I can help you to a sum adequate to your necessities and wants." "My dear Mrs. Eveleigh-" . "Stop, Captain, let me do the talking for awhile, if only in the assertion of my feminine privilege. Wait till I confess to the' ex- haustion of my budget, and you can then proceed to sho' the contents of yours. I have some money not only to spare, but some that I desire to lend. I wish it out at interest. I w'sh it - safely invested. It is no great deal, yet I should not like to lose e it. It will be safe in your hands.' I can let you have five hun- dred guineas." Porgy's face saddened. His head drooped into his palms. For a moment he was silent. Then raising his head, he said- "This is a great kindness, Mrs. Eveleigh, which is more pre- cious to me by far than the possession of all your wealth. It touches me, 'my dear madam, to the soul. It takes from m the power to answer. How shall I answer-how declare my thoughts, my thanks, my gratitude-" - "It is my turn now to employ your own language. N-ot a !H word of gratitude. Let us speak of this only in the way of bu- siness. It is a business transaction simply. I have money to put "Y- "' i- I -PORGY FINDS A BANKER. 395 out at interest, and you would borrow tmoney. You shall have mine-" "Here, again, my dear madam, Imust falter. I certainly do need money, but it will be at the lender's peril that he lends. I have no security to offer." "What! With one-of the best rice plantations along the river, and twenty-five negroes." (Ah! madam, you know not half of my ill-fortune. You do not know that my plantation is mortgaged to a voracious credi- tor, for thrice its value, and that this mortgage pressed, at this juncture, will swallow every negro that I own." "I know the whole-the worst! I know that you are at the *-;' mercy of one McKewn, a person who is supposed to show no mercy if a selfish policy prompts the other way; I know that he has a lien upon your plantation, to a far greater amount than the place will sell for; but I also understand, Captain, that he has no lien upon your negroes-- "Ah! madam, how is that?" "These are not mortgaged. They will become liable .for your debt to McKewn should he obtain a judgment against you, and a part of my scheme is to make you indebted .to me, that we may save these negroes from him. You shall borrow my money, buy my corn and bacon, and give me a mortgage upon the negroes, which shall at all events secure ithem from him." "You are my saving angel. By Jove, my dear madam, you take me out of the depths. I have been desponding, in the very slough of despair, for a week past. You hold me up by th-locks while drowning. I accept your offer. Now that I can give you security, I will take your loan. God bless you, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, you have made my heart of a sudden very light." The Captain caught the widow's hand, carried it to his lips, and kissed it fervently. At that moment, he thought it the prettiest and whitest hand he had ever seen. When he looked up, the page: 396-397[View Page 396-397] 396 - THE SWORD AND, THE DISTAFF. widow saw the moisture in his eyes, but, like a considerate lady, I took no heed of it. She proceeded without seemihg conscious of his raptures'. : "This understood, Captain, let us see bow the arrangemr!nt can be carried out. In anticipation of your acceptance of my'propo- sition, I had prepared these letters. Here is one for Saundlers & Dart, which will procure for you five hundred guineas, ,r even more. should you need .it; on your giving a mortgage upon a suffi- cient -number of your slaves, their value to be es-imated ,at the present market prices." - , ' "You shall have a mortgage upon them all, my dear mi'dam." 'i The widow smiled. i "Not so, Captain. You forget t wenty-five negrces are worth a great deal more." 'True; but I prefer that they should be secured to you, lest they fall into worse hands." t "But, my dear sir, suppose I were to die, what would ba your security? My lien would be a valid one." "My security is in your son. You have only to confide ;o Lim the transaction. I have every confidence that a son, trai ed by you, must be a youth of honour." I The widow looked at the speaker with affectionate gravitly. "Be it so," she said; "I will, however, see that there shall be a legal security which shall prote t you, even from my son. Here is another letter which I should suppose scarcely necessary, since you, yourself, must know the party to whom it is addressed." Porgy read the address-- "'Charles Cotesworth Pinckney!'-surely, I know hire well. We have served together! I knew- him well before the war " - "t Nevertheless, take the letter, and confide vour legal diffculties to him. lHe must save you from MCKewn, if possible. mwe can do so, if any body can. I have already spoken to him cf your! affairs; do you get him to revise your accounts with McKewn, There PORGiY FINDS A BANKER. 397 are some particulars, in respect to this man, which move me to suspect him of great frauds in your case and that of other per- sons. At present, I will say nothing of what I know or suspect; but if:I could recover the box whic] was stolen from me the other, r I day by these outlaws, I could show you a paper which, I think, A?:: would give us a hold upon this person, McKewn, by which we should compel him to come to reasonable terms. But it is need- less that we should speak of ths now. Here are the letters. I have said all that I have to say." ' "You have saved me, Mrs. Eveleigh. What woman would have done for me what you have done?" , -, "Many, I trust; knowing the circumstances, and in the sam condition to-serve you." The Captain shook his head, and, taking her hand, said-- "You are a wonder of a widow! You have the soul of a Man!" " - She smiled. Ad "' I suppose I must take such a speech as a compliment, com- & -ing from one of the masculine gender." iS^- "Ah!" said he, " you know what I mean! You are not a girl -not a child-not frivolous, or feeble. You have a soul! You Jl have earnestness ald simplicity, and these make sincerity of char- acter. You have faith, too, and--" "Which, by the way, Captain, is not often a manly virtue.-- There, I fancy, is where our sex has the advantage of yours. You, - perhaps, are an exception. Here, for example, you are willing to 1ig! trust me and my boy, with all your property, without any secu- Iat- . rity" "Ah, madam, I could cheerfully give it to you both, did you irli need it. The pleasurable feeling of sweet faith and confidence, (are and generous unreserve, and liberal sympathy, which you have this day shown me, is more grateful to me than any amount of ": ; wealth or money. I now know where I can confide. I feel, too, r \ 32 I page: 398-399[View Page 398-399] 838 THE SWORD ANI THE DISTAFF. that there is one, at leaIt, who can confide in me. We do not watcli each other- as victims,- or as birds of prey; seeki ig to de- vour, fearing to be devoured. Madam, if you will pern it me, I will be your friend-your friend." She gave him her hand. "No more now, Captain; let us go to the hall. I near the dinner signal." They rose; she led the way out, but paused at the door. "4' By the way, Captain, your one-armed soldi r seems a very queer- creature. j ;If-- The Captain seemed annoyed, and peered into the eyes of the i w idow, as if to fathom the extent of her discoveries or Ler suspi- cions. "Yes," said he, " a very queer creature. He will Asy many things to surprise you. Army life sometimes spoils a' gooi fellow, who, if he remained humble, might be a favourIte. Ddn't heed him, I pray you. He is good enough in his way--devoted to me-imprudently devoted, I may say; -and sometimes officious enough to save me against my will." "Surely, you should not complain of such officiousness," "I don't know! One would have a vote in these matters. The Corporal's friendship is not sufficiently induluent. Still, Be is d'e- voted to me-would die for me, without a murmur, and -ight for me to the last; but the scoundrel wants to think for are, also; and that is an offence-if the thing were not so ridiculous-that I should not much tolerate. His misfortune is not to kn w how much a simpleton he is." . 'a Simpleton! I should suppose him rather shrewd than sim- ple," said the widow, with a smile. "' Yes; he is shrewd after a fashion-shrewd in all those re- spects which belong to his mode of life, and the narrow ,ange of his intellect. He is shrewd, like the bea/er or the possum: knows how to find a shelter for his hide, and can find, by ,nstinct, knows how to find a shelter f an PORGY FINDS A BANKER 3989 -: where the corn and acorn may be gathered. He will house and : hive, while I should freeze and starve, perhaps. It is his misfor- tune that his sharpness has stimulated his self-esteem, as is usual- : ly the case with persons of his class who prove successful. If, for example, he should drive a great bargain in rice or butter, he would just as lief explain the law to Cotesworth Pinckney, as to Tom, my cook. Ten to one, should he see you at the harpsi- chord, he will give you a lesson in music." "I shall be careful how I afford him the- chance." "He is only a grub, a human grub, with a monstrous instinct for acquisition and saving; no more; but withal useful, and to be cherished-at a distance. I have suffered him to come too : near, and familiarity has somewhat blunted me to his obtrusive- ness. I see the evil of it only when he comes in contact with others. He has been faithful, however, and I cannot cast him off. As long as I have a home, he must share it." 2:.,: "Fordham tells me that he is to be your overseer." H "iHe volunteered,; insists that he knows all about it; and has set his heart so completely upon it, that, even if I wished it oth- erwise, I could not well deny him. At all events, I will give him f: a fair trial this season." "Fordham will cheerfully assist bim." '"Oh I bless you, he fancies he can teach Fordham his business. is I tell you he is a simpleton." " ut he must not be suffered to ruin your crop." "Fordham shall assist me, with a hint, should there be any rea- son to suspect this danger. Meantime, dear madam, please give the fellow no heed. He will say many things that will startle, if not offend. But the blockhead means no evil.-Will you take my arm?" ... %, page: 400-401[View Page 400-401] 400 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER XLIX. THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPOKE IN THE CAPTA-N'S WHEEL. As the Captain and the widow emerged from the in e- room into the hall, they discovered the Corporal pacing, to aLd fro, around the apartment. As soon as he saw them, he exclaimed, dlmost loud enough for every body to hear- ? a' Arm in arm, by the pipers. Lawd! how the world moves!" :: And he advanced to them, bowing, with the most cofplacent grin. "Dinner is a-waiting, I'm a-thinking; but Lavd! there's some business that mus'nt be hurried. A man must take .iis time, ma'am, in some things, even though the roast beef is a-ccolEng on the dish. -Eh, Captain! And, wheeling to leeward of the Captain, as he spoke, I e thrust the stump of his game-arm into the ribs of his superior. Porgy turned quickly, and gave the subordinate a look speaking c aggers; but the other only grinned. "All right, I see!" said he, "thar's the track. Go a'lead!- Dinner below! I've been down a'ready to see how it's 'aid out. Things look mighty nice. Good management in this I oise.- t Roast-beef for dinner;-a round of corn beef-also! Tongute cAbbage! potatoes! Seen 'em all in the kitchen. Woman cook! Had- a talk with her. Good cook enough; but scolds like thunder, and lays on with a double fist when the boy don't fly.-Hem!- How she kin laugh! It's a sensible woman that laughs cut free. Sign. there aidft no vinegar in the nater." Such-as the widow and Capt. Porgy led, the way into ti:e base- ment-was the running fire of speech whichthe orporal kept up audible to all. The widow laughed outright as she listened, and, !1 * 1 THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN'S WHEEL. 401 though somewhat startled by the merry peal which he heard, we yet see that the reflections which it provoked in the mind of the old soldier were not of a disagreeable nature. Lance Frampton and young Eveleigh followed; the latter wondering, as well he might, at the speech and conduct of 'Millhouse; but satisfied to think, with Frampton, that he was simply silly and with no harm in him. The dinner table was spread as the parties entered the saloon. The Corporal has already given us a notion of the viands put before them. The widow took her seat at one end of the ta- ble; her son at the other; Porgy occupied a side to himself, while the Lieutenant and Corporal took the other. A-couple of liveried servants were in waiting. The lady herself pronounced a grace, and the proceedings began. Porgy was in good spirits. His mind was somewhat relieved of its troubles, and the sight of din- ner was calculated always to give it animation. The return to well-known aspects of civilization, so different from his camp expe- rience, was also a source of unspeakable satisfaction. "Ah! madam!" said he, "I feel, as I look around me, that I may once more become a gentleman. I have been little more than a savage for the last five years. The camp makes sad havoc in the tastes of a gentleman. Rough fare, rough usage, the bare earth for a table, lean beef, bad soup, no bread, frequently no salt, and bad cooking-these are enough to endanger any man's hu- manity. Talk of patriotism as you will, but, truth to speak, we pay a monstrous high price for it in such conditions as we have have been subjected to in this warfare." "But it does so sweeten the heart, Cappin, when we gits a good dinner like this here, at the last. Now, this is what I calls a raal good dinner, Madam Ev'leigh. That roast is done jest to a right brownness; though I was beginning to git mighty jubous that it would be overdone, a-waiting for you and the Cappin. I was be- ginning to think that you was a-sarving the cook with onjustice. Now, you've got a mighty good cook, for a woman. She aint ed- 32* page: 402-403[View Page 402-403] 402 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. zactly up to our Tom, I'm a-thinking; but then Tom's a merracle of a cook, and at stew, roast, brile or bake, he ain't got his match, I've a notion, in the whole country. But your cook 'll do. She's monstrous cross and ugly; 1 hed a talk with her in the kitchen afore dinner-but she knows how to do a thing, and the way she makes the leetle niggers fly, is a sensible sight fo any m&n that wants to know-how a nigger ought to be managed Now, ef she was about six months under our Ton, he'd make her fuss-i ate." The Corporal made this long speech while waiting upon Framp- ton, who, on public occasions, like the present, officiated as his carver. This duty was not often needful in camp where one grasped his bannock in one hand and his slice of bacon in the other; where the carver was as frequently the broad-sworc as the knife, and the fingers supplied all deficiency of forks. Mip. Eve- leigh-Qmiled as she answered- "Old Peggy would scarcely. tolerate being sent to school at this time of 'day; even to'such a proficient as the Captain's Toni. She has as rare an opinion of her-own merits as a cook, as if sle had graduated with all the honours fifty years ago. But I have no doubt of Tom's superior merits. Colonel Singleton has be r fre- quent in hispraises, and Cotesworth Pinckney insists upon aim as beyond all comparison in a terrapin stew." "Pinckney knows," said Porgy, "if any man. He has a pro- per taste for the creature comforts, and has done me the onour, frequently, to discuss with me Tom's performances in thisp -epa- ration. But 'old Peggy' need'nt fear comparison with any body. This beef is excellent. Pray, Mrs. Eveleigh, how did ycu save your cattle from the marauders." "As I saved every thing else, Captain, by hav:ng frietds on both sides of the question. The leading whigs were personally friendly; while the rank and position of my husband, in tLe Bri- tish army, secured me protection on that quarter. He wts inti- mate, besides, with General Leslie, and this was of great 'mpor- - , / ! I . ' x ' L i THE CORPORAiL PUTS A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN'S WHEEL. 403 tance to my interests. Since the General has been in command, I have lost nothing. The result, I confess, has made me somewhat unpatriotic. I supplied the enemy with aid and comfort, but al- ways, in the phrase of the tradesmen, for a consideration. I sold cattle and rice to the Commissaries, and always got the first prices. I thought it better wisdom to do this, than make ene- mies by refusing, and have my cattle driven off, and my houses burnt. The war, accordingly, which has ruined so many, has made my fortune." "Well, ma'am, ef you'll jest listen to me, you'll be axing how you're to keep the fortin! It's a mighty deal easier to make a fortin' than to keep it. I reckon thar's few women that kin keep what they makes. It's for them to find out the right sort of hands to put it in. Ef they trusts themselves, it's a-most always sure to slip through their fingers. All women ought to have a guardeen by law and natur'. And the guardeen, in course, ought to be a man-body. Now the nateral needcessity of a woman, I may say, jest so soon as she gits old enough, is to git a husband. A hus- band is the only nateral guardeen of a grown woman; and when she's so foolish that she bems and haws about it, the law, or, if thar's no law, the Gov'nor, the Gineral, or whatever's the off'cer in command, he ought to look through the ranks, and pick her out the right sawt of a man.- That's what I say ought to be the way in every well rigilated family or country." Having made this significant and philosophical speech, the Cor- poral plied his fork in his plate and gave his tongue a brief re- spite. The lady looked at the Captain, whose consternation and chagrin, apparent in his face, gave it the most lugubrious expres- sion; she smiled, and her blue eyes twinkled merrily; and he, un- able to control the sudden impulse, laid down knife and fork, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The widow felt the contagious influence and yielded to it. She laughed with the frank, hearty, impulsive spirit of girlhood. Arthur Eveleigh look- page: 404-405[View Page 404-405] 404 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ed at both bewildered; but Lance Frampton, catching faint glimpses of the Corporal's impudent absurdities, and takirng his cue from his superiors, chuckled in under tones, as in due reswect for the company. The Corporal looked up with astonishment, fork in hand, prongs upward, and a huge gobbet of roast beef hanging from them-at the opening doorways of his jaws. "Well, I'd jest like to know what's the fui about! I -ain't see edzactly; but I reckon, now, it's something I've been a-sqying, and I don't see what I'e said so cur'ous. What's it? I only said that a grown woman, with a fortin' ought to hev' a guaideen, and I says that it's only Lateral she should; and who's to be her guardeen, but a man-bodr, what kin take care of her and he pro- perty; and what man-body but her husband. An' what's to :a-gh at in all that, is what I don't edzactly see." "That's good logic, Corporal, whatever we may say for the Ahi- losophy," quoth Porgy. - t "Well, I don't mean it for any logic or philos'phy; jbt I mean it for the nateral law in the case; the straight fora'd, uj and down, sense, and the religion and the reason of the thing; End if it ain't all them, why I ain't fit to know nothing about man and woman in this breathing world, that's so full of them. I've sarved, Madam Ev'leigl, in many sitiwations, and that's why I've l'arnedY to know more things than other pussons; and what I say to you that's strange to your way of feeling and thinking, is, prehaps, on- ly bekase you hain't seed so much of this' airth, and the p ople x in it, as I've seed and know'd. But what I says, I don't meanl for no offence, ma'am, though, mouthe, the wisdom of the thi g is what you hain't quite come upto, being a woman body, and not having an equal chance with we men pussons." "Oh! no offence, Corporal; on the contrary, I am very n-uch pleased at the novelty of your suggestions. They are, certainly, rather new to me-" "I reckon'd as how they would be, ma'am. I hain't often found ! I THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPORE IN THE CAPTAIN'S WHEEL. 405 the pusson, man or woman, that know'd quite as much as me, and that's maybe, bekase they hain't had the chaince. You ladies hain't much chaince in this world to l'arn much about it, seeing as how you lives pretty much to yourselves; and bekase when men talks to you, they us'ally talks about foolish things ; music and dancing, and dress, and how people looks and talks, and what they says of one another and themselves. But, I don't improve, no how, of that way of talking. I don't see bekaise a woman's a woman that she should'nt l'arn to be sensible like us men. But ef what I says is onpleasant to you, I'll stop. I don't mean no offence, no how, as I'm a free white pusson, and a sodger of liberty." "Surely,-no offence, Corporal; I beg that you will go on. I like to hear your views of these sul ects." Porgy gave the widow an appealing look, but her eyes twinkled back witl glances of mischievous merriment. The worthy Cap- tain, by way of a diversion, seized the decanter. "Mrs. Eveleigh, may I take wine with you?" The widow graciously accorded the desired permission, and the parties bowed and sipped. 'Help yourself with wine, Lieutenant Frampton, Corporal Miller, perhaps-" "Mill-house, ma'am, ef you please." "Pardon me, Corporal-" "Oh! no offence, ma'am; only you see, there was one Miller, of the Pennsylvany Line, that was hung up for lying and steal- ing and sichj like treasonable offences. He was a sort of Gineral Arnold for rapscalities, and 1 don't like to have my name called after him." "I'm very sorry, Corporal Millhouse; but, perhaps, you will join Lieutenant Frampton." "Thank you, ma'am; but ef you please, I'd much prefer to hev' you for a partner; and, ef you'd let me, I'd rether try my liquor ,out of this here diccanter"-touching the Jamaica. "This old o page: 406-407[View Page 406-407] 406 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. rum seems the nateral drink of a sodger. The wine is a t"ifling sort of liquor that's made, I'm a-thinking, most for the use of wo- men." "As you please, Corporal. Your good health, sir, an. much Lappiness." "The same to you, ma'am. A lady of your fortin' desa-ves all sorts of happiness, but, as I've been saying, thar's no sae-;y for the fortin', and I may say thar's but leetle chaince for ha piness, to any grown woman, onless she has a nateral guardeen, a ld that guardeen ought to be a good husband; and ef i was the woman, Madam Ev'leigh, to choose, I'd be for taking my husband out of the army. A sodger, who is an officer, is about the best o' guar- deens for a woman. He's naterally used to command, you see, and he'll keep all things straight. Ef so be you was iJvaded, why, here he is on the spot to defend the post, and rigilkte the garrison, and train the troops, even though they be only n'gger troops; and to carry 'em into battle with a hollering and a whoop- ing that'll make the inimy trimble. Lawd, ma'am, thars nb tel- ling the vartues of such a guardeen in a family. He'll fight the enemy till all smokes: ag'in, and, same time, he'll keep the giari- son in right order, ready, at the word of command, whetlhe it's to fight or run. I wish you, ma'am, a nateral guardeen, frc n the line of the army, for the purtection of your family and fortin'!" Thus speaking, the Corporal waved his glass to the lady, and swallowed the contents of the tumbler at one gu ph.- His eyes next sought the countenance of his Captain, and le was taken aback by the mixed look of horror and anger which he there beheld. He could not understand the expression at all. He fan- cied he had been doing the thing most handsomely, and tLa; he should thereby secure the Captain's eternal gratitude. He had somehow received the impression that Porgy was rather a bashful person among women, and he felt that it was-a becoming dkty on his part, to help him forward, and make the way clear before laim. *In ' - ' - - ' - I ' ' i THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPOIK IN THE CAPTAIN'S -WniihL. 407, That he should have only annoyed and mortified hi-m, never oc- curred to himn for a single moment; aid he did not even now, while he watched the looks of his superior, fancy for a second that he had given any cause for the expression of countenance which he saw him wear. He rather thought that the Captain laloured under some sudden indisposition. "Air you sick, Cappin You look so. Somethin's disagreed with you; I reckon.' "I should think so!" answered Porgy, with an audible groan. "Take some of that, Jamaica," cried the veteran, pushing the decanter across the table. "It's that Frenchified stuff you've been a-drinking. I never did hev' any opinion of that sort of wash lliquor. Try the Jamaica." "Not a drop, sir!" answered the Captain, sternly, pushing the bottle from him. "Not a drop. You, cannot know what's the matter, sir; if you could-- " Porgy arrested himself. Speech and look were equally tending to an explosion. Millhouse very complacently responded- "Well, thar's mighty few cases of trouble in the body, that I kain't know what to do for. There's the stomach and the liver, and the witals,-why, Cappin, for any trouble in either of them, there's no physic like Jamaica. Sometimes it's an inside, some- times it's an outside, epplication; but every way its a-most al- ways good. I don't mean to say, Madam Ev'leigh, that it's so good as Madery for troubles of woman as for the troubles of men; but I'd rether resk my chainces on Jamaica, than on eeny other physic I ever seed. It's most powerful vartious in curing me of my troubles, Why, ma'am, when it's;the bowels, we'll say-" "Corporal Millhouse!" cried Porgy, in a voice of thunder. "Cappin!" Silence in the ranks, sir!" "I'm shet up!" responded, sotto voce, the military martinet, now satisfied that the Captain had misconceived some of those sugges- *1, * * ' K page: 408-409[View Page 408-409] : 408 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. tions which he had put forth for his good. He pitied his inexpe- rience, looked at him with a respectful sort of sorrow, thenl dashed his fork into the meats of his plate, and proceeded to!give his teeth double exercise for the rigorous inactivity imposed Jipon his tongue. - Meanwhile Porgy groaned again aloud, in utter vexa- tion of spirit. He could eat no more. His appetite ws utterly gone, and as he gazed upon! the untasted good things be ore him, which he had no longer the disposition to touch, he felt -,hat he could never forgive the offender. "You dnot eat, Captain;" said the widow, with inte-est, the pleasant light still in her eye, in which the worthy Cpatain of Partisans read enough for his discomfture. He fancied that the widow comprehended the whole game of the Corporal, End natu- rally dreaded lest she should suspect how greatly she :lad been the subject of their conferences and calculations. Her late gene- rous treatment of him and sympathy in his affairs, rendered the doubt trebly oppressive and painful. At all events, Millhouse was silenced, though the result was reached by a process whichh, suffi- ciently'legitimate in camp, was -hardly: to be justified ati thedin- ner-table, and in the presence of a lady. The widow fteltvery much like protesting against the assertion of military ru ie at her board, and by one of her guests; and was half tempted!, by the spirit of mischief, to set the Corporal again free, by provotiing him to farther revelations of his peculiar philosophy. But, she felt that the annoyance of Porgy had been sufficient, and was rather apprehensive that, with so blunt a speaker as the Corporal, whose experience was so various, and whose knowledge was so -Eriversl, she, herself, might come in for a share of the disquiet wlhich op- pressed the Captain. But she employed her art, successfully, in dissipating the cloud about her company, and Porgy recovered af- Bter awhile, sufficiently to unite with her in theleffort. It was of no small importance to the object, that Millhouse did not. lose his appetite, and a full enjoyment of the feast, made him soon for- ,getful of the tempest he had provoked. I i- THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAINtS WHEEL. 409 "I hain't eat such a dinner, Madam Ev'leigh, sence I don't know when!" was his grateful acknowledgment, as he pushed away his emptied plate, and proceeded to replenish his tumbler from the portly decanter of Jamaica. "I'm glad that you've the appetite, Corporal, which rarely al-; lows any sort of dinner to be unsatisfactory." "Thank, ye, ma'am; but ef you think I'd lay in as I've been a-doing, with nothing better afore me, than the or'nary rations of the camp-kettle, even with our Tom's cooking, you're very much out. It's te good things you've gin us, ma'am, that's made me dewour enough to sarve seventeen red-skins on a scout. I'm a-most ashamed to see what I've been a-doing; pretickilarly as it don't seem to me that other people have been a-doing anything to speak of in the same way. The Cappin thar' has a-most eaten nothin'." Thq Captain eyed him with such a glance as the hyena might be supposed to bestow upon the beast which had some how de- prived him of his prey; but he said nothing. We need not show how the rest of the day was spent. The widow was cordial to the close. Millhouse was invited to see Fordham for what he wanted, in his capacity as overseer; and the details were fully ex- plained and understood, by which the implements for working, the hoes, shovels, ploughs and wagon, were to be transferred, and when, from the one plantation to the other. Porgy -had again some words in private with the widow, a fact which again extorted shows of undisguised delight and exultation on the part of the Corporal. Lance Frampton made engagements for a deer hunt with Arthur Eveleigh, the two youths seeming equally well pleased with each other; and after friendly adieus, the guests rode away; Porgy clapping spurs to his steed, and going, ahead with a haste which declared for tire continued irritation of his mood, and which l disquieted the Corporal a little to keep up with; as he declared that, "efter sich a dinner, one don't like to hurry about nother!) page: 410-411[View Page 410-411] "O THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. :!? When the two followers did reach their leader, he did nol seem in the humour to notice either; but Millhouse was not satisfied that r his exertions should go without acknowledgment. "Well, Cappin," says he, "it s a good beginning of kLe war. -;- We've broke ground fairly in the inimy's country, and we've come off well after the first skrimmage. What a dinner she gL us!-- - And then how lib'ral she offered every thing. Ef ever If seed a : better chaince for a straight up and down courtship than this I kaint jist now call it to mind. She gin you a mighty fine chaince, Cappin, them two times when you bed her all alone by Ler one: ;'", self; and the first time you was with her, I reckon mnore'n an ;! hour. I'm only hoping you warn't meally-mouthed, seeing you had to deal with a widow. The cards was in your hang, apd a famous game you bed to play, Cappin, ef you know'd Whlat you . was about." It was with singular deliberation, drawing up his horse, and looking at the speaker with a savage sort of smile, that P'cgy an- swered- I "I suppose, Corporal Millhouse, thatyou fancy you have helped this game wonderfully." "Reckon I hev'! I show'd you whar the trump cards laid.-- , - I've put a good spoke into your wheels." l "A spoke indeed! Hereafter, Corporal, let,me put in ry own spokes, will you. Let me play my own game, if you please; I - need no assistance." i And the splenetic Captain, driving spurs into his horse, went off at a pace, that left the two followers far behind him. . A "The Cappin's mighty snappish to-daI, quoth Millh use to J? 'his companion. - ' And a right to be so. If he had snapped off your held, he'd ; have served you right. What busineis have you to be meddling ' - with his courtings, if so be it's that he's after." : : u Why, Lord, that was to help him only." i i .' * ) ', ,' . . THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN'S WHEEL. 4" ( He don't want your help, I reckon. He's a full grown man, I uppose. Besides, it's enough to ruin a man, seeing the way you ;o to work. I don't know much about women folks, but'I'm pretty sure, any woman of sense, will be mighty apt to sicken of , man if she sees he gits his courting done by another." " "Teach your grandmother how to suck eggs. As ef I didn't :now about the matter. But that's your foolishness. There's no ich thing as a woman of sense, you see; they ain't made for it.. t's nater that man is to find them all the sense they've got any ile for. Talk to me about woman! Why, Lance, I've kissed nore purty gals than you ever seed, and never seed the woman fit that I could'nt hev' had for the axing." "Oh! that's your conceit only. You think so because you're i0 conceited." "I know so, my lad; and that's prehaps, the reason jist why I never married eeny, 'Twould ha' seemed like a surrenderin' to the nimy at the first summons, and I'm not that sort of sodger." "Well, Corporal," quoth the Lieutenant, "I'm just willing to say that you're about the conceitedest person that ever- served in the army; and, moreover, I'm'a-thinking from all you say, that a woman is, just of all animals, the hardest for you to understand. You haven't begun to know them; and the way you talked to Madam Eveleigh to-day-you thought it mighty fine--was just such foolishness as ought to hang a man, Even her son; Arthur, thought you was insulting to his mother, and I had .to tell him that you was a very foolish sort of person, and that it was a fool way you had of talking about things you don't understand; and he mus'nt mind you." "You told him I was a fool, did you?" "That I did" - "You did!"' "Yes, indeed!" "Me a fool! That I should be called a fool by such a hop-o'-my- * . page: 412-413[View Page 412-413] "2 TH1E SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. thumb, as you-, you long-bodied snipe-you snake without a : head--you leetle eend of a sarcuinsta ce! Lord! how I could thump you now. I jest feel like tumbling you from yourl critter. Me a fool! Well, Ill tell that to the Cappin. Ef I don't, p'int . , your finger at me and say (squash!' Me, a fool! Mighty good, indeed! Mighty good!"' Frampton rode on coolly, never heeding him and never answer- ing. :When they reached Glen-Eberley, Captain Porgy was al- -;, ready there, alighted, and seated, pipe in his mouth, in his piazza. Millhouse knew quite enough of his superior to take care not to disturb him in his mood. Though obtuse andpresumptuous, he had been taught to observe the features and deportment of the Captain, so as to time his approaches. His recent blunderings were the result of an unusual condition of elevation, which! blind- k ed his ordinary faculties. But the Captain's manner and Framp- ton's suggestions had opened his eyes. Accordingly, specially avoiding speech, he entered the house, filled his pipe, and going down to the basement story, seated himself beneath the piazza where Porgy was giving voluminous breath to his chiIbouque.-- With no offences to atone for, Lance Frampton forebore, in like manner, to obtrude upon the sultan. He busied himself about the horses and the negroes, and found employment out of doors for the rest of the evening. Meanwhile, the clouds gradually cleaed"away, and, by the time supper was ready, Porgy had re- ' covered his good humour. His bowl of coffee was enjoyed with ' satisfaction and composure, and his irritation being subdued, he -: had leisure to reflect upon the improved prospects in his affairs, :: - which were due to the widow's liberality. 'It was not in his ha- ture to suppress or conceal his good tidings from his companions, and' when the supper things had been removed, Millhouse, some- -what humbled, Frampton, as usual, quiet, Tom and Pomp rather ME loitering about than in attendance, the Captain proceeded to: un- fold his budget, and put his followers in possession of the facts in o" S THE CORPORAL PUTg AX SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN S WHEEL. 413i Igood fortune. They were all overjoyed. Tom was the first . speak. "Hah'! enty I bin know. Da's good woman, Miss Eb'leigh. e hab,sense. He no like dem, fool woman wha' don't know how i 'habe (behave) to gemplemans. He hab-spect (respect) for , mplemans. He hab 'spect for me, Tom. He shak' han' wid )m. He say 'Tom, I yer (hear) 'bout you. You. maussa is my en.', He's a lady, ebbry inch ob 'em. You mus' tak' he onriey, maussa, ef it's only to 'blige (oblige) 'em, and mak' 'em el easy. 'Da's it!" Frampton said not a word, but he rose during the Captain's re- tal, came closer to him, and when he had finished his statement, :asped his hand and wrung it warmly. Millhouse, once more - t free to speak, launched out into the most superb eulogium on Le virtues of the lady, which we need not report, concluding ith the opinion that '" sich a good woman, with sich a fortin, aght to have a guardeen out of the line of the army." Porgy only looked at him, with half closed but flashing eye, len, as if speaking rather to himself than to his companions, he ld musingly- - "And it is such a noble woman that I was to select as the sub- ct of a matrimonial speculation!" "And who better," quoth Millhouse. "She's the very sawt of usson. There's no speckilating upon a poor pusson. Whar's the rofit in it? And ef the pusson's rich, but happens to be mean ad stingy, why, Lawd! even the money aint guine to make it greeable to hev' transactions with her. But when the woman as the good heart and the good fortin together, then it's a good peckilation! By thunder, Cappin, now's the time to make a ush into that market, and buy out the business. But I reckon ou hev'nt been sleeping all the time you two was together." "Corporal Millhouse," said Porgy, with great composure, "you re no doubt, in some things, as shrewa and sensible a person as 833 - page: 414-415[View Page 414-415] "4 '-" THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. any I know, but I think there are a few subjects upon which you had better not expend your time and labour." "Which on 'em, Cappin? I'd like to know." "I think, for example, that when you go to heaven, which I trust you will do some day- "Arter a time, Cappin; but Lord love you, I aint in any hurry to leave this airth." "In your own time. Corporal; but when you do go, I think it will not be altogether roper to undertake to show the angels, Gabriel, Michael, haelapael, or any others with whom you may be- come familiar, in what way they ought to use their wings. I have no doubt you have some very wise notions as to how birds and beasts may fly; but the angels, perhaps, have more experience than you, if not more wisdom, and it will require that you should see much flying among them, before you can venture to giv them any lessons." "Why, Cappin, I reckon you're jist a-laughing at me now, out of the corner of your eye. I aint sich a bloody fool as to do them things." "Perhaps not! But when a man is so wise as you'are on so many subjects, he is apt to think himself wise in all" "Well, tiat's nateral and reasonable too, I'm a-thinking," "Natural enough, no doubt, but not so certainly reasonable, my good fellow. If you were suddenly to find yourself among bears and buffaloes, you might reasonably undertake to show them how to find their food or prey; if among snakes, I have no doubt you could teach them superior modes of beguiling young frogs into their jaws; as a dweller among hawks and owls, or minks and weasels, you might open new views to them of the processes by which they might empty all the hen-houses in the country; arid, teaching squirrels, they might be grateful to you for new les- sons in the art of gathering corn out of the fields, and cracking hickory nuts ;-but I dolbt if these capacities of yours should 1l- - , THE CORPORAL PUTS A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN'S WHEEL. 415 entitle you to think yourself appointed to teach young oysters how to swim, or young angels how to fly; and I am even doubt- ful how far they should justify you in an endeavour to set yourself up as a teacher of love and courtship. Of one thing let me assure you, before I stop, that if ever you undertake to make love to ay woman on my account, again, and in my presence, by the Lord that liveth, Corporal, I will fling you from the windows, though the house were as high as the tower of Babel. Be warned in season;--and now let us have a sup of Jamaica, before sleeping for the night." "I told you so,-" said Frampton, brushing by the Corporal as he stood up, in silence, to drink with his superior. "Well, thar's no onderstanding it," muttered the Corporal, after the Captain had retired. "Thar's some people so cross-grained il the world, they won't let you make 'em smooth." Tom, the cook, had his comment also. "Hah 1nass Coppral, you yer! Look out! when maussa tall so, he's in dead airnest! Ef he tell you he-guine fling you out de window, he do 'em for true. And you know, for all you see 'em look and walk so lazy, he strong as a harricane when he git in a passion. He will, sure as a gun, brek' you neck out de win- dow, ef he promise!" "Thar's no onderstanding it!" was the only response of the Corporal to those suggestions. "And all the time I was a-doing the best,-jist a-making his wheel run smooth!" *: f \, . . page: 416-417[View Page 416-417] "86 THE SWORD AND T1FE DISTArF. /: CHAPTER L. THE BACHELOR'S EMBARRASSMENTS. WE must suppose an interval of several weeks since the occur- rences of the last chapter. Meanwhile, Captain Porgy, charged with his letters of credit and introduction, has visited Charleston; has obtained the five hundred guineas of the widow; has executed to her a mortgage of all his negroes, with the exception of Tom; has procured and sent to the plantation all necessary supplies; has conferred upon the state of his affairs with Charles Cotesworth Pinckney; has received his counsel; has endeavoured, but in vain, to see his creditor, McKewn, who was absent from the city, no one knew where; and has returned to his plantation, where he has ever since remained. During this period his subordinates have not been idle; but have proceeded, with proper energy, to the prosecution of affairs at home.. Corporal Millhouse, in his capacity as overseer, and Lance Frampton, as a temporary assistant, have stripped to their tasks and done wonders. ;The lands have been broken up for planting; the negro houses have been run up as if by magic; rails have been split, id fences raised ; and the usual labours of several months have been compressed into as many weeks. The negroes, glad once more to find themselves in pos- session of a homestead, certain provisions and the protection of a white man, have worked with a hearty will and cheerfulness which have amply made up for lost time. If Millhouse was vain of his prowess as an overseer, he was not without good reasons for his vanity. He himself thought it a merit to be boastful. "I likes to hear a man brag," said he, " f what he kin do; for then, ef he aint about the meanest slunk in all creation, he must be a-doing, and a-doing well, to carry a decent face among \ , . THE BACHELOR'S EMBARRASSMENTS. 417 white people. Wanity, says he, is a wartue when it makes a fellow work." And this philosophy Captain Porgy did not dispute, Lance Frampton took special charge of the buildings,-saw to, and assisted at the erection of, the stables; did all the birding and squirrel shooting; prepared lines for fishing; and, with so much success did he pursue his field sports, that it was very rare'indeed' that the family went without fresh meat for dinner. In these pur- suits, Captain Porgy took sufficient part. Squirrels were bagged in abundance; once or twice, hunting with Arthur Eveleigh's hounds, a stout buck was tumbled in his track, and, on one- occa- sion, a brown bear was badgered in the swamps with so much in- genuity, that he fiaally rendered up his hide in return for a few charges of rifle bullets and gunpowder. Young Eveleigh found his new associates at Glen-Eberley particularly good company, and was hunting, or birding, with Porgy or Frampton, or both, every other day in the week. At his coming, always, the Corporal could be heard to whistle with exultation; be seen to loll out his tongue as if in the enjoyment of a sweet morsel, and to wave his one arm abroad, as if grasping some very enviable possession. Sometimes he ventured to mutter, in Porgy's hearing, the hopes which were still active in him, in phrases peculiar to himself;-as for ex- ample- "The poor young fellow feels the want of a pappy! It's a sad needcessity, ef so be he kaint find the right one. But his nose p'ints out the right way. He looks straight to the line of the army. Well! I wont jay much;-but what's to be will be. The Lawd's over all, and h'll bring all things straight in time." Porgy, at such speeches, would give him a look of warning, which usually arrested his eloquence before it broke-bounds. Meanwhile, the visits were not all on one side. Porgy rode over to the wi'Wss, on an average twice a week, dining there usually when he ent. He did not ask the companionship of his , , page: 418-419[View Page 418-419] "8 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. followers, on such occasions, nor did they receive any more invita- tions from the lady. Millhouse was content. If he was not to be permitted to assist in the courtship, he was quite willing to be absent from the scene of it. He would sometimes mutter his ap- prehensions to Frampton, that things did not advance with suffi- cient rapidity, and that his services would yet be needed. On which occasions, the Lieutenant, reilttering what had been said by Porgy, would suggest to the overseer, the propriety of his making an early call upon the arch-angels, Gabriel, Michael and Raphael, to see how they were getting on :-a suggestion that usually sent Millbouse to the right-about. At the widow Eveleigh's, Porgy was received on the most friend- ly and familiar footing. He was'well read, of contemplative mind, had been trained in good society, and, though somewhat wanting in the precision of the courtier, in consequence of the loose, free and easy manner which he had acquired in camp, he was yet capable of curbing himself, when the impu'se strove within him; and this done, he could minister to the scial tastes of his fair com- panion, with an ease, grace and vivacity, that made him always a very grateful visiter. Mrs. Eveleigh was almost wholly free from affectations; was frank and ever gay of mood; always cheerful; always ingenuous, and never laboured at the concealment of her sympathies. She laughed at the good things of the Captain and freely pardoned his familiarities. There was a freshness and a saliency about his peculiar humour which pleased her, and when he chose to be serious, he could rise into provinces of thought, generalizing from the abstract to the familiar, and thus coupling the most remote affinities and associations, in a strain of expres- sion at once graceful and expressive. He quickly discovered in : what respects he could most success-lly address her ear, and he naturally availed himself of his discovery. Porgy, before entering the army, was well read in Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden, and the best of the then current English writers. It must be admitted, X ,' ' u? THE BACHELOR'S EMBARRASSMENTS. 419 we fear, that he had also' drank freely of fountains less undefiled; had dipped largely into the subsequent pages of the Wycherly's the Vanbrugh's, the Congreves, the Wilmot's, Etherege's and Ro- chester's, of a far less intellectual, and therefore less moral, period. But the taste of the latter had not spoiled him for-the just ap- preciation of the former; had perhaps heightened his estimate of them by force of contrast; and the fruit of his familiarity with both classes of writers, was a knowledge, not then commonly pos- sessed-scarcely now, indeed,-of materials for graceful conver- sation, illustrated with frequent happy quotations, which particu- larly commended him to a woman who was, herself, at once re- fined and intelectual. We can readily understand how interesting was the intercourse between the parties, in a region which, sparsely settled, and wanting in books, left so many wearisome hours, and wanting moods, which no plantation employments could satisfy or supply. We do not mean to say that the widow regarded Porgy in any other aspect than that of a very agreeable companion. But we are constrained to admit, on behalf of the Captain, that he soon became seriously interested in the widow. That he should respect her heart, and love it, because of the liberality she had shown him, was natural enough ;-but when he came to know her mind; the sweet graces of her intellect; her quiet, gentle, always just and wholesome habit of thought; the pleasant animation of her fancies; tie liveliness of her conversation, enriched by the anecdotes of a very large and varied experience, as well in En- gland as America, he began to admire her on other grounds, so that frequent association with her became almost a'necessity. Still, there was a something wanting to the perfect sway of the widow over her admirer; something which he felt, but could not explain, or account for, to himself. She was a fine looking wo- man, "fair, fat, and forty,"-but he found himself occasionally objecting to "the fat." The very fact that he was, himself, too much so, was enough to make him quarrel with her possessions page: 420-421[View Page 420-421] 420 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. of the same sort. He asked hi nelf repeatedly the question: "Do Hcan I love this woman?--s a woman ought to be loved; as a man ought to love ;-as she deserves to be loved by any hus- band, and especially by me 8" ' Millhouse, c uld he have heard this question, would have an- swered it witho tt a moment's hesita tion; but Porgy never broached the subject in is ears, and now, s udiously since the memorable dinner, checke every approach to it which te former mnde. "Yet," quo th esoliloquizing Captain, " m I not shaping this passion of love into a bug-bear for my own fright and diappoint- ment? Does i ,need that either t e widow or myself should ex- perience all the paroxysms and fancies of eighteen, in order to feel secure of the force of our att chment. Is it natural or rea- sonable, that, a forty-five, I atlea , should need, or expect, to recall my youthful phrenzies, befoie venturing upon the married condition? I hot the sort of love which we require now, that which belongs rather to the deliberate consent of the mind than the warm impulses of the blood an i fancy? Is it necessary with us, that, in addition to the. coo conviction of the thought, in favor of the propriety of this unon, there should be a nervous and,excitable upsnringing in the eart, of tumultuous emotions, indefinable, intense passionate, eagel,-which reject reason, which baffle thought, whch seem to be uided rather by dreams than by right reason,-nd which ask none of the securities, by which ^ thought would shelter faith--whic is, in fact, a faith itself, be- yond any of the help or the convictions of the understanding? I My judgment is perfectly satisfied wth the widow Eveleigh. She is vastly superior, as aady,--as a wman of sense and sweetness,- grace and intelligence-to any that I know. She thinks well and kindly of me ;- that is evident. We harmonize admirably to- i gether. She listens with pleasure tc myspeech, and I am willing to listen gladly when she speaks in turn. , She is a noble looking woman--a little too stout, I admit -but of fine figure neverthe- THE BACHELORS EMBARRASSMENTS. 421 less, and a face that is at once sweet and commanding. She has wealth; but, by Jupiter, I reject that as a consideration. Her money shall not enter into the estimate., Her other attractions are surely quite sufficient. Yet, are they sufficient? Am I satis- fled? Why do I ask myself so doubtingly whether I can bind myself to her, for life, and feel no lack, no deficiency, no weight in the bonds I carry? . " The Captain ended t ie soliloquy with a sigh. He strode the chamber impatiently, aid paused finally before the fire place, in 'which the fire smouldered rather than gave forth light and heat. At that moment, the fo m of the widow Griffin rose vividlv before his eyes. "Why is it?" he m uttered to himself, "that, whenever I try to meditate this question of the widow Eveleigh, the image of Mrs. Griffin starts up before me. She is a fine woman undoubt- edly; good, gentle, humble, affectionate; and has no doubt been very beautiful ;-is still very sweet to look upon;-but she cannot compare with the widow Eveleigh! She is not wise; not learned; is really very ignorant; has no manners, no eloquence; is simply humble and adhesive;-she is rather thin than stout, that is tlue, her figure is good ;-she has still a face of exquisite sweetness, but she is no associate for me ;-she has no-resources, no thoughts, no information; has seen nothing, knows nothing! They are not to be spoken of in the same moment. The widow Eveleigh is far superior in all but simply personal respects! Yet, Griffin does n ove about with a delightful grace so soft, so modest. In house old affairs she is admirable. I don't know that I ever saw Mrs. Eveleigh attending to household affairs'at all. Her servants are nu merous and well trained. She has only to command. Yet, on a small scale, considering her inadequate resources, it is won- derful with what skill Griffin manages; with how little noise, how little effort. Poor woman, what a lonesome life she leads It is 34. . . ;- . * . x page: 422-423[View Page 422-423] 422 THE SWORD AND HE DISTAFF. abominable thai I have only been to see her once since I have been from town. I will certainly ride over to-morrow." And he dild so; and he dined with Mrs. Griffin; and a very nice extempore -dinner did she give him. There were some cold baked meats; there was a beautifully broiled steak, a ,stripe from a quarter of beef which she had received as a present the day be- fore from Mrs. l]veleigh; ;the breacstuffs of Mrs. Griffin were in- . imitable; her butter was the best in-the parish, and a cool draught of her buttermilk, fresh from the churn, was welcomed by Porgy -with all the enthusiasm of a citizen escaping, for the first time, from dusty walks and walls, to the elysium of green fields and ! forest shelter. Notions Of arcadian felicity crept into Porgy's mind. Every thing seemed perfect, and perfectly delightful about ] the humble cottage of the widow Griffin. The trees had a fresher look; the grounds seemed to shelter the most seductive recesses; even the dog lying: down in the piazza, and the cowl ruminating : under the old Pride of Inia before the door, seemed to enjoy dreams of a happier sort tan usually come to dog and cow in a ordinary life. The skies above the cottage appeared to wear looks of" superior mildness and beauty, and to impart a something kin- A dred to the looks of the beings who dwelt under their favouring X auspices. Whatl a sweet, smiling, modest creature was Ellen Grif- . fin, whom our Lieutenant Framptoi was shortly to take to his X bosom. And how like her still; how nearly as youthful; how I; quite as meek, ad gentle, and devoted; was the mother. Porgy A was delighted with the part of the day spent with this little family. His incertitude, i? matrimonial respects, increased the more he :i surveyed her. -Griffin made her impressions, differing much from those of the widow Eveleigh, but ir their way not less strong; 1 perhaps, stronger, since it was certain that Captain Porgy showed himself much more at ease with the one lady than the other. i There was no doubt, indeed, that the superior social position of Mrs. Eveleigh, her equal grace and dignity of bearing, the calm, ". THE BACHELORS EMBARRASSMENTS. 423 natural manner with which she met his approaches, all joined, in some degree, to restrain our hero,--to lessen, somewhat, his own ease; to make him less assured on the subject of his own dignity Ie was sometimes warned by the lady, that the brusquerie of his army habits, would not altogether answer;-that he must be on- the watch against himself, to check his involuntary escapades; and never to be forgetful of the fact that the time had comae when, to play somewhat with the language of the poet-" arms must give way to the gown /"It was this feeling of constraint which chiefly qualified the pleasure of his intercourse-with the wildow Eveleigh; which made him hesitate to give her the preference; and which, on the other hand, assisted to increase the favourable impressions which a previous association had given him of the fair widow Griffin. With her, easily awed, conscious of social inferiority, looking up witlh great reverence to the Captain of Partisans, as her late husband's superior, hb' felt under few restraints of mere language and deportment. He did not dare to swear' iil*e pres- ence of Mrs. Eveleigh; that would have been a terrible:violation of the rules of good society in that day. Yet our Captain had an infirmity of this sort, and so inveterate was his habit, that he had only been able to check himself, at times, when in the widow's presence, by arresting the unlucky oath upon his lips by a manual operation; by clapping his broad palm entirely over his own mouth. Now, he did ndt feel the same sort of necessity when in the pres- ence of the widow Griffin. Her social standards were less exact- ing. Her social experiences were more adapted to his own later habits, and the feeling of ease which he enjoyed'in her presence, was such, that, without deliberately weighing the claims of the two ladies against each other, -he rated it as a something almost compensative for the surrender of the graceful, intellectual attrac- tions of the wealthy widow. He could smoke his pipe in the presence of the widow Griffin, which he had not dared'to do at Mrs. Eveleigh's, The former, whenhe had dined with her, filled page: 424-425[View Page 424-425] 244 ;THE SWORD AND -THE DISTAFF. his pipe, himself, from a store of tobacco which might have been a hoard of her late husband, and dropped, with- hr own hands, the little coal of fire, fipm the tongs, into it. It was like a coal from!the altars of Cupid, upon the heart of the Partisan; and while he sate in the piazza, after dinner, his chair resting solely on its hind legs, his own thrown over the bannisters, his head thrown back, at a declination almost the proper one for sleep, and sent up cloud after cloud, by way of tribute to the heavens, his half shut eyes watched with a growing sense of the grace and beauties of the widow, her ^gliding and unobtrusive figure, as she busied her- self about the hall and- table; assisted Ellen to move the table back, brushed up her hearth witL a fairy-like besom of broom straw, and finally drew her knitting to the door way, and sate down in silent arid submissive companionship. Porgy mused and said to himself- ' ' One does not want an equal, but an ally in marriage. A man ought to be wised enough for his wife and himself. To get a wo- man who, shall best comprehend onre is the sufficient secret; and no woman can properly comprehend her husband, who is not pre- pared to recognize his full superiority. When it is 'otherwise, there are constant disputes. The woman is forever setting up for herself. She is not oAy unwilling that you should be her'master, but she sets up to be your mistress I Why, if she has the mind, should she not use it; and if she has mind enough for the house- hold, what's the use of yours? Clearly, there cannot be peace in any planet which acknowledges two masters." How long the pleasant surveys and soliloquies of the Captain might have continued, it is not possible to say. They were inter- ; rupted by the sudden riding up of Mr. Fordham, the overseer of " Mrs. Eveleigh. He made a respectful bow to the Captain, taking . off his hat, and offering his hand as he did so; and entered the :! house, shaking hands with the widow and daughter with all the : frankness of an old acquaintance. After a while, the Captain's DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. 425 horse was brought out, Fordham volunteering to do the service. Porgy left the overseer behind him. As he rode off, the thought suddenly occurred to him. "Can it be possible that this fellow, Fordham, is thinking of the widow?-Humph!" And the suggestion led to a prolonged fit of musing which was only arrested when he found himself within his own avenue. CHAPTER LI. DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. THE next day Porgy rode over to see the wife of the squatter, from whom he had received a supply of stockings, and some cloth of her own and daughters weaving. It was fortunate that he did not suffer Millhouse to know that he dropt three guineas into the hands of little Dory when one would have sufficed for payment. He gave other commissions to the humble family, and noted with pleasure the improvements and acquisitions in the little household, the fruits of his own liberality and that of Mrs. Eveleigh. While sitting in the porch of the hovel, with Dory quietly nestling, in his lap, he was surprised to see the widow and her son ride up on horseback. Of course, the interview was a pleasant one all round, though our Captain felt alittle awkward, at the first blush, when caught in his paterna'l relation with the little girl. She, too, by some strange instinct, started up at the coming of the new visit- ors and retreated to fle side of her mother. "I had a call yesterday, Captain," said Mrs. Eveleigh, "from Mr. McIKewn. You have heard that he is now a resident at the 34 page: 426-427[View Page 426-427] 426 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. plantation adjoining me, which he owns. He is making the rounds of the neighborhood, and you may soon look to see him, I suppose." , "Too soon, I fear ;" answered the Captain looking disquieted. "Well," said she, " we must hope for the best.-If I could re- cover that box-" she added, half to herself, but here she stopt, and the Captain could only look curious. "You have heard nothing of your husband yet, Mrs. Bostwick?" asked the widow of the poor woman. "Not a word, ma'am, and I doi't know what to think. I'm dub'ous something's happened to him." To this the widow said nothing. After a pause, however, she proceeded to give a commission for a quantity of homespun cloth, and concluded with asking that Dory might go home and spend a week with her. Dory looked earnestly towards her mother, and the latter, with eyes filling, and with some reluctance in her man- ner, gave her consent that she should go over the next day. Por- gy accompanied the widow and her son, when they took their de- parture, though he did not attend them home. He was quite too full of serious thoughts, which naturally came up with the state- ment made, respecting McKewn. He had heard of that person's arrival in the neighborhood; but the sympathising manner of the widow was calculated to impress him more seriously than his own thoughts, in respect to the legal relations in which he stood with the Scotchman, and the danger with which he might expect very soon to be threatened. This danger he well knew could not long i be evaded. The trial of strength must soon come on, and when he reflected, upon those suspicions in regard to McKewn, which the remarks of Mrs. Eveleigh had imparted to his mind, upon the ( fcts in connection with the abduction of his slaves, and her con- jectures in respect to the share which McKewn had taken in the a affair, he felt very much like making the conflict a personal one. Our Partisan would greatly have relished any circumstances which i A.' ' ' ' y - * j ' 11t DEBTOR AND ,CREDITOR. 427 would authorize t mnsfer of the proceedings from the Courts of Law to those of arms. But we need not anticipate his reflections, particularly as we shall soon hear from his own lips, what are his feelings and resolves in the matter. The very next day McKewn made his appearance at Glen-Eberley. Porgy was alone in kis piazza, as the former rode up the avenue. Millhouse was some- where in the rice fiel s; Lance Frampton had ridden over to see Ellen Griffin, his m rriage with whom was very shortly to take place; and, except Tom, the cook, and Pomp, the fiddler, there was no one present to witness the interview between the parties. Porgy had been smoking, and the pipe was still in his mouth as McKewn came in sig t. As soon as he was recognized by our Partisan, the latter betrayed his emotions by a single movement, which, taking the pi e from his mouth, shivered it over the rail- ing of the piazza. 'his done, he remained comparatively cool; at all events he preserved his external composure. Pomp took the horse of the visitr, who, at once, in a fiee and easy way, as* cended to where Porgy still maintained his seat. As he reached the floor, the latter r se, and with calm and courtly gravity, said: "Mr. McKewn, I )elieve." "At your service, Captain. I'm very glad to see you safe, sir, after the-war. It's a long time since I've had the pleasure of see- ing you." "Pleasure!" quoth Porgy,-then motioning to a chair,-" take a seat, sir."i The Scotchman a cepted the reluctant invitation, laid his hat down beside him, drew off his gloves, rubbed his hands, and looked about him with the air of a manresolved on putting himself on the easiest possible terms with his host. Porgy looked on with the stern calmness o one who compels himself to submit, with as much composure as )ossible, to an unpleasant necessity which he sees not well how to escape. His visitor, meanwhile, began with a repetition of his congratulations; that the war was over, that * 1 '" page: 428-429[View Page 428-429] 428 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. the country had achieved its independence, that old friends were i safe, that old associations were to be renewed, and so forth. Por- i: gy heard him for a while in silence and great gravity of aspect, 3 until getting weary an4 impatient of the commonplace prelimina-. ries which the other had employed, he himself broke ground in -: relation to the only subject of real interest between the parties. "To make a long story short, Mr. McKewn, I owe you a con- siderable amount of money, which, no doubt, you desire should be paid." "Very true, Captain, a very considerable amount indeed, out of which I have been lying for several years, and which I certainly am very much in need of." "You are secured I think, sir, however, by bond and mort- gage?" "'Secured; sir? No, indeed! My mortgage covers the lands of Glen-Eberley, but if these were all sold to-morrow, at present prices, they wouldn't pay one half of the debt for which they are bound. And you; know, sir, there is a considerable unliquidated debt besides, sir; some thousand pounds, sir--" X "Ah! yes! Well, Mr. McKewn, you certainly do not expect that I should have any money so soon after the war. You sufli- ciently appreciate the patriotism which called us into the field and X kept us in the ranks for so many years, without any compensa- tion." "True, sir, true! No body honours more than I do the patriot- ism that achieved our independence; but, sir, it is not for a single peson like myself to do more than his share in such a conflict. I have made a great many sacrifices, and lost a great deal myself in the cause; and you will admit: that a credit of more than five years,-, "Is no credit at all, sir, under the present circumstances, unless, perhaps, continued for as many years more." "Oh! that is quite impossible, Captain Porgy. I am greatly EBTOR AND CREDITOR. 429 in want of money, no'v. Buying this plantation and negroes, it has stript me quite and left me considerably in debt myself." "I don't see how I am to help you. You cannot possibly sup- pose that I have any money." "Well, Captain, I (on't know," was the answer, with a signifi- cant smile. Report says that you have money and in conside- rable amount. You lave been purchasing largely in the city,- and the rumour is--" here a pause, and an increased signifi- cance of smile. "Well, sir, what of 'rumour?" "Why, sir, the runour goes, that Captain Porgy, returning from the fields of Mars with laurels, has been welcomed to those of Love, and-" "Stop, sir! -Mr. cKewn, I am willing that you should repeat what rumour may have reported, but I must -warn you by no means to attempt any inventions of your own." "Inventions, sir." And McKewn looked a little angrily-"I have no inventions, Captain Porgy. I only state what others have said to me, or in my hearing." "Well, sir; confine yourself to that, if you pleas." "It is briefly said, Captain Porgy. The rumour Is, that a cer- tain wealthy widow o this neighbourhood is prepa ed to honour the laurels of the soldier, and supply all his deficiencies of for- tune,-" "Enough, Mr. Mc .ewn," said Porgy, arresting im,-with a stern aspect, and warning finger uplifted-"You have said what you'have heard, I suppose, and now hear what I say.' If, hereaf- ter, I hear any man r peating this story, I shall slit lis tongue for him. The lady in question is one whom I greatly h nour, and of whom I will not heai any body speak in disparagement. There was that in your tone and manner, Mr. McKewn, just now, which I did not relish. Be pleased to take warning." McKewn was some what taken aback, but recove!ring himself he said- ':" , page: 430-431[View Page 430-431] 430 . THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. - "I do not know, Captain Porgy, why I should take warning in L particular. I am-hardly apprehensive that any body will slit my X tongue for any thing I say, though I am not the man to give any provocation to violence on the part of any body. Let me add, X sir, that I see no harim in the report which I mentioned-no harm i I certainly, in saying that a certain brave officer of our armies has -, been distinguished by the favour of a certain lovely and wealthy widow of our county." . "There is harm, sir, because there is great indelicacy and great injustice in it. I am the proper authority in this matter, and II - tell you, sil; in answe -to this rumour, that the intercourse be- X tween Mrs. Eveleigh ahd myself is that simply of friendship, oc- iX casioned perhaps, wholly, by a service which I had the good for- tune to render." ..X "Well, but Captain, there is no good reason why friendship, X in such a case, should not ripen into-" "No more, sir! The subject is one upon which I can suffer - no jesting. That upon which we have to speak simply concerns money. I owe you money;-you want your money you say," "I do, sir; I have been kept- out of it long enough, Captain Porgy. ' ' "Do you mean to intimate, sir, that I have perversely and wil- lingly kept you out of your money a l" "I state nothing, sir, but the absolute fact, that the money is due me, has been due too long, and that I certainly expect it to I be paid, and paid very soon." "Very good, sir! Such then is your expectation. Now, sir, hear, me. Hshall expect from you a full statement of our accounts, with all items of charge particularly stated." Why, sir, you've had the accounts rendered you in full, six r years ago." , "No, sir; such is not the case. It is true, Hwas improvident- enough not to demand them, and to take your summary state- EL ii DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. 431 cents when I should have had a full bill of particulars. I require lem now,.sir." "In the case of the bond and mortgage, sir, the requisition need )t be answered. That is a liquidated claim, acknowledged un- er seal, and, sir, according to law--" "You are something of a lawyer, I perceive, Mr. McKewn, and claim to know nothing about law. Still, I have some hope of stice, and, in the cake of bond given and mortgage sealed and gned, under circumstances of error or fraud---" "Do you mean to mean to impute fiaud to me, Captain Porgy?" emanded McKewn with some fierceness of aspect. "And if I did, sir, do you suppose I should valuje a fig your ectoring looks? Keep your temper within bounds, Mr. Mc- ewn; for you would try to bully me in vain; armd to let you iderstand this more fully, let me tell you that I do impute fraud you--" "Ha!" rising from his seat. a Yes, sir! I think you at once a great and a little rascal. Since )u demand my opinion, you shall have it. I believe you have leated me in these accounts, for the satisfaction of which, in my ind confidence and folly, I gave you a lien upon my property. shall require a thorough overhauling of your accounts, from the -ginning, sir, and fancy that I shall be able to find, in some pro- ss of the law, a means by which to arrive at the awards of stice!" "Very well, sir; very well, sir," gathering up hat and gloves- id shaking them in 'oth hands with nervous fury-"If it's law )u want, sir, you shall have it. You shall have enough to re- ember it all your life." And he wheeled ablout to descend the steps. Here he encoun- red Millhouse, at whose back stood Tom, the cook,and Pomp, e fiddler. uSay the word, C&ppin, quoth Millhouse, and I'll give the llow a h'ist.' # . I page: 432-433[View Page 432-433] 4'32 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Say de wud, maussa; da's all;" echoed Tom, his sleeves already rolled up; while Pomp threw himself into an attitude, claws extended as if about to grapple with a bear. McKewn looked at the enemies in his path, and drew. up with recovering i dignity. "Am I to be assaulted in your house, Captain Porgy?" " Let him go, Millhouse! Let him pass." The three made way for him, reluctantly, Millhouse mutter-! ing-- , ,I - I feel miglty onpleasant at parting with the critter, without giving him jist-one squeeze!-I reckon that's the fellow they calls McKewn." iThe creditor, by this time, was on horseback. He looked back a with gleaming eyes upon the group, then dashed'up the avenue at full gallop. . "It's cl'ar, Cappin, that the war's declared atween you!", "Yes, Corporal, and the army chest nearly empty." - "Well, we'll do -the fighting all for love; eh, Tom!" "tah! da's jist de way for fight, kaise you lubs it! But how you guine fight . Da' Buckrah aint 'de sawt of pusson to lub yer (hear) de bullet whistle." "'Ah! Tom! that's not the sort of fighting that he intends. He makes the Sheriff do his fighting. Do you remember what I told you about the Sheriff'?" "Enty, I member, maussa8 He's a warmint, you bin tell l me!" "Yes, indeed, and now, how to keep you all from falling into his clutches." A long consultation followed between the Captain and Corporal, to which Tom occasionally contributed a characteristic suggestion. Lance Frampton returned at night to share in the discussion. Neither of the parties, however, could throw much light upon the difficulty which embarrassed them, and Captain Porgy, while he reflected, felt that he had perhaps brought on the conflict of ' THE RANDOM SHAFT. 433 strength rather prematurely, and that prudence should have prompted more forbearance; but whenever he recalled the refer- ences made by Mcliewn to the widow Eveleigh, he became re-, conciled to his own rashness. No! d-n the fellow! whatever happens I shall never regret lwhat I said to him. Better break at once with such a scoundrel, than have him perpetually about you; now fawning, now threat- ning, always vexing your soul, and, whatever the delay, destroying you at last. I can face all the evil that he threatens with a stout heart, butcan't, with any heart of contentment, suffer him to face ) me with his scoundrel Icountenance!" CHAPTER LIL . THE RANDOM SHAFT. '- The news soon got abroad of what had taken place at Glen- Eberley, between its proprietor and creditor. McKewn's own rage forced him to tell the story to various persons, and Millhouse con- veyed the substance of it to Fordham, the very night that it took place. The two overseers had met Ithat night, in the basement of the dwelling at Glen-Eberley; Millhouse having taken one of the lower rooms to himself, while that adjoining had been assigned to Frampton. Porgy was suffered to live in loftier state, above stainrs, to himself. The parties met always at the same table in the dining room, and would sit together usually of an evening; but Mill- house had his own cirele, of whom Fordham was one, whom he re- ceived only in his own domain. The two overseers went over to- gether the whole history of the relations of our Partisan with 35 t0 page: 434-435[View Page 434-435] 434 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. McKewn, as far as they knew it, and discussed with some9 anxiety the modes of escape for their superior from so voracious a person. It need not be stated here,-that the united wisdom of the two was scarcely of a so:'t to help them very greatly in the encounter with the difficulty. The substance of all Fordham learned was con- veyed the next day to Mrs. Eveleigh, whose interest in the affairs of Captain Porgy was no secret to him. He, himself, felt a great sympathy for orvr Partisan, and found it impossible to avoid talk- ing over the matter, and meditating the modes of escape. Of course, the widow saw, at a glance, that none of the suggestions of her overseer or of the Captain's, could avail for any useful pur- pose. The next day she wrote a note to Porgy, requesting him to visit her ;, a summons which he promptly obeyed. . Her son, Arthur, brought the invitation and the Captain accompanied him on his return. The two, however widely remioved by years and X experience, had become pretty close intimates, and Arthur had learned to relish the eccentricities of his senior; particularly as, he always found something in his conversation which sensibly corn- pelied his thoughts in a novel direction. Porgy loved the society of the young and framed his conversation to suit their tastes and impulses. He was playful as well as thoughtful, could happily unite the playful with the thoughtful, as is the case usually with the contemplative mind; and, what with narratives of the stirring events of the arimy, anecdotes of persons and performances, a lively satirical vein, and a fiank humour, he contrived, without much effort, to make himself highly attractive to the youth, who frequently rode over to Glen-Eberley to sit, as well as bird with him, and who, for a time, became quite enthusiastic in his admi- ration of the Par isan. He firequently amused his' mother with a re- cital of the subject matter of conversation between them, and learned to repeat the good things of the Captain as if they were his own. Porgy, who liked the grace and spirit of the youth, was pleased with the admiration which he: displayed,c and was at some pains THE RANDOM SHAFT. 435 to secure it. Arthur possessed a pair of foils, left by his father; Porgy gave him lessons in fencing, and was equally delighted with his rapidity of improvement, and the grace and ease of his address in swordmanshnip. In brief, the veteran and the youth were on terms of the most cordial intimacy; and -.he latter, as soon as he heard the particulars, became; of course, deeply con- cerned in the legal embarrassments of the former. We need not say that he could give no help-by his counsels in the matter, tlhough he rather inclined to the opinion of Millhouse that the better method was to contrive some way of fighting through the difficulty, and it was with a modest earnestness that :e whispered to the overseer his perfect willingness to serve as a volunteer int any expedition which should contemplate this method of squaring accounts with Porgv's creditor. He listened with curious interest, and possibly some dissatisfac- tion, when he heard his mother gravely rebuke the Captain for suffering himself to get angry with McKewn. "You ought to have conciliated him as far as possible. Your policy should be to gain time. There is none in precipitating the event. Doubtless, you had provocation, but--" "Very- great!" mvAttered-Porgy, but he could not venture to tell her that she herself had been the subject. "We must still gain time, Captain-gain as much as possible. There are now no courts in session. There will be none till the fall. I don't know much of business, but I suppose lcKewn can scarcely proceed till then--" "I don't know that,"' said Porgy. "- Hknow very little of the law, but I believe tlere are certain processes which, even before judgment, will enable a. creditor to bind or seize a debtor's pro- perty." "We must consult with Pinckney. In the meantime, there is a matter which concerns this person McKewn, in connection with both of us, which, perhaps, ought to be known to you, though, as $- page: 436-437[View Page 436-437] 4368 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. affairs at present show themselves, I do not see that the posses- sion of my statement merely, will'be of any avail to your relief." She proceeded to tell of the papers which she had appropriated from the desk of Moncrieff, but suddenly arrested herself to say to her son- "Arthur, remem!er, this matter must not be whispered by you to any body. It may do mischief if repeated, particularly under impulse or excitement, and without the means to prove what I say," She then went or to speak of the missing box, and manuscripts, and to describe the, contents of the latter, giving particulars, of which we are already in possession. Porgy saw at once the im- . portance? of the statement could the writings be recovered. ":m dear widow," said he, " could we recover the papers, and prove this fellow's hand-writing, which I could do easily, we should have him at our mdrcy." "This was'the opinionof Mr. Parsons; it is also the opinion of Colonel Pinckney. I have consulted both; and but foi the un- fortunate loss of that box-" ' "It must be found. I will find it," cried Porgy.--"That fel- low Bostwick must be forthcoming." "Has nothing been heard- of him?" "Nothing for tw6 months. I have sworn to hang him to the first tree, should I .lay hands on him, if only for the benefit of his wife and children." "Stay!" said Mr&s. Eveleigh, putting her finger on her lips, "here comes little Dory." And the little girl came into the piazza: at the moment, and en- tered the hall, passing promptly forward to the Captain, and put- ting her little white hand into his. He looked at'her with surprise. Such a change as a few days had wrought in her appearance. She was newly clad, in better quality of clothes, made in better style. It was Cinderella, the' drudge, converted by fairy hands, THE RANDOM SHAFT. 437 into Cinderella the rincess. The little thing, beautiful in all her obscurity, was singularly so, emerged from the cloud. She smiled consciously, as she saw the Captain perusing the change. He kissed her between the eyes, and with a bound she darted away. Scarcely had she gone when Arthur Eveleigh showed him- self a little restive. In a few moments he disappeared also, leaving the Captain and his mother to conclude their conference without witnesses. It is not our cue to pursue it further. Enough that Porgy left the widow with the increasing conlliction that he was destined, in some way, to owe his safety and relief to her. They had aglreed upon certain matters together. They Were both to write to Colonel Pinckney, while Porgy was to renew his efforts at recovering the missing box. When Arthur Eve:eigh returned to the house which le had left, on some pretext of looking after dogs and birds, he seemed a little disappointed that Porgy was gone, and at once resolved to ride after him. But h gave up the resolution in a moment after, and contented himself with taking up his rifle, calling up one of his squirrel dogs, anc, setting forth on a tramp into the pine woods. His route led him directly Cown the avenue leading to the high road. He had scarcely emerged into this, before he encountered, on horseback, the very p:erson of whose secret scoundrelism he had heard so much said only an hour before. AMcKewn, the Scotchman, was making his way directly towards the widow's. Arthur, would have avoided him, by burying himself in the woods, but it was too late to es- cape unseen, and McKewn seemed determined to prevent it. He saw, in the aspect of the young man, the prejudices and suspi- cions of the mother. His policy was to disarm them both. We have seen that he hac already called upon the widow. The rifle on the lad's shoulder, and the dog beside him, at once afforded him a clue by which ;o conciliate the son. "Good morning, master Arthur," said he, as he approached; "good morning. Yo-i are for a squirrel hunt, I perceive. Well, 3,5* page: 438-439[View Page 438-439] 4: 8 -THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. if you will take my woods you will find them in greater abund- ance than in any other part of the country. I do believe my fox squirrels are the most magnificent of size that can be found any where. One of them can easily eat up half a dozen ears of corn at a sitting. Do me the favour to hunt them up and make as familiar acquaintance with them as, possible. My grounds are always free to you, and you will find them full of other game. If you want a deer hunt at any time, let me hear the night before, - and I will secure you a shot; and, as for doves and partridges, you can scarcely skirt the fields any where without stumbling over them." Arthur thanked him, but received the overture with coldness. "Your mother's at home, I suppose. I see she has recently had a visitor." Here he smiled significantly, looking up the road. The youth bowed. "Captain Porgy is a frequent visitor at your house." "Yes, sir; he comes sometimes, and we are always glad to see him." "I suppose so,-I suppose so; the Captain is no doubt a great gallant-most military men are. The ladies usually find them invincible. But the wars are now over, master Arthur, and the gown they tell us, when that is the case, soon gets the better of the sword. It is the Captain's misfortune that he does not suffi- ciently credit this fact. I barely reminded him of the fact that he owed me a certain and very considerable debt, and he was for fighting me on the spot. Ha! Ha! what do you think of such a mode of settling a debt?" Arthur only looked at his rifle but said nothing. "You say your mother's at home, master Arthur." "Yes, sir." "Well, I am about to visit her. I will not carry you back with me, knowing you had miuch rather be at better sport. But j -' * \ THE RANDOM SHAFT. 439 see to my fox squirrels, will you, and remember, whenever you would have a crack at a buck, I can certainly give you one always." The youth again thanked him, and hurried into the woods. McKewn looked after him as he disappeared, and muttered- The cub has had h's warning. They are all against me. But!-" and he gave his horse the spur, and was soon cantering up the avenue to the widow's dwelling. She received him very civilly, and after a few preliminary flourishes, he began- "I have called to see you, Mrs. Eveleigh, as a neighbour whom I very m-uch respect, in order that. your mind may not be abused by any thing that you may have heard respecting a late affair with Captain Porgy. I believe, my dear madam, I have as much desire to keep on good terms with my neighbours, as any bo- dy in the country, and, I am sure, if there be any difference be- tween us, the fault is not likely to be mine. You must know, Mrs. Eveleigh, that I am, and for years have been, a large creditor of the Captain, and I hold a mortgage upon his lands. But this mortgage does not half secure me, and I called upon the Captain, intending only to ask him for additional securities, when he fell into a passion with me, without any sort of provocation, imputed fraud to me, and I know not what, and so we parted. Now, as you may hear of this matter, from other sources, I wish to put you in the right as to the particulars. I have too much desire of your good opinion to be willing that you should hear of the affair from any body but myself, and I am anxious to assure you that, as a new comer into the neighbourhood, it is neither my policy nor my wish to have any quarrel with any body." He said a great deal more than this, all in the most conciliatory vein. He had his own objects in keeping on good terms, espe- cially with the widow, and in fact he was glad of any occasion which would justify his frequent visits. He was a Bachelor and she was a fine woman, having a fine fortune. But, apart from this, page: 440-441[View Page 440-441] "O. THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. , he stillentertained some lurking apprehensions that he might be somewhat in her power. Thinking that she had possessed herself of the missing papers between himself and Moncrieff, yet not quite sure that Bostwick had obtained them, there was lurking anxiety which troubled him and made him quite solicit us to make the most favorable impression upon her. McKewn was a hard but not ill-looking man, and he had seen enough of good society to carry himself fairly in the presence of the sex. We must not for- get to mention that every thing about him was in the first style of fashion. He wore the best clothes, and did not stint himself in decorations of his person. His fingers shone with rings. A large jewel blazed in the pin which 'secured the ruffles of his shirt. The frills at his wrist were of the finest lace. His boots would have satisfied the Bond or Broad street dandy; the equipment of his horse would have won admiration on the race-course; and all his domestic arrangements contemplated the best defined standards of the existing fashions. McKewn was emulous of the best social position, and, so far as money might be expected to secure it for him, it was used without stint or limit. 'The lady heard him with quiet composure to the end. "I thank you for your complimentary wishes in regard to my- self, but I should prefer not to be required to sit in judgment on this difficulty between yourself and Captain Porgy." "Ah! madam, but that I have reason to know that the Captain has been before-hand with me in his revelations, and the fear that you might be'prejudiced in the matter-' "Even if this were the case," said the lady, "I do not see, Mr. McKewn, hot the matter will effect the interests of either of you." "Ah! madam, I am not unaware of the interest which you have taken in the. Captain's affairs. I am not ignorant that it is to you, and your friendly lIans, that he owes the restoration of his establishment,--ind--" THE RANDOM SHAFT. 441 "This, Mr. McKewn, it appears to me, is a business which need not provoke the concern of any third person." "I beg pardon, madam ;-you are right-I simply stated what was the notorious fact." "It is one of those facts, sir, in respect to which ;here has been no privacy. Captain Porgy was in want' of money, and I had money to lend. I lent him money on good security. I have a mortgage on all his negroes." "But," with a smile, " that mortgage will scarce:y cover them all. At present prices, five hundred guineas will scarcely buy twenty-five negroes, or the half of them." McKewai had evidently been a shrewd inquirer into the affairs of the parties. "Perhaps not, 'sir, and 'that is not the idea I mean to convey. It is enough that my loan is quite secure in order to justify me in making it, though I am not aware that my conduct in the transaction needs any justification." ' By no means, madam; do not suppose me guilty of any in- tention to convey such an idea." The lady proceeded. One word, Mr. McKewn. Captain Porgy is a gentleman by , birth and education, who has been doing good service to his coun- try, for several years, without pay or reward, and to the grievous injury of his own fortune. It seems to me that he deserves every indulgence that can be accorded him by those who are grateful to heaven for ;hose blessings of independence which he has helped to win. I am at a loss to see what motive there can be for urging him to a satisfaction of these debts which can only be paid now by the entire sacrifice of his property." " I understand you, madam; and I may say that I should have been pleased to indulge Captain Porgy, but he is a person who won't let you serve him; and when he insolently called my hon- our in question, he determined me to give him no indulgence. In page: 442-443[View Page 442-443] "2 THE SWORD -AND AXPE DISTAFF. brief, Mrs. Eveleigh, Captain Porgy is, with all his education, a mere ruffian, a, coarse brutal soldier, who thinks to carry it with violence and a high hand against the laws. But he shall see. His personal insolence to me, madam, is beyond forgiveness." "Really, Mr. McKewn, I do not understand you. Am I toaun- derstand that $our mode of resenting a personal indignity is to clothe yourself with the terrors of the creditor, instead of--" The lady palised. She felt that, in uttering ithis sarcasm, she had gone too far; she was doing mischief to the cause which she wished to help; and that her policy, on the part of Porgy, and as she had been counselling him,' ought to be conciliatory only. She was conscious of error on other grounds. She had suffered local associations, and the current practice of the times to usurp place in her judgment, at the expense -of her religion. She was tacitly exhorting or goading the creditor to resort for his re- dress to the -duello. She stopt herself suddenly, and apolo- gised- "Pardon me, Mr. McKewn, I am wrong. 'I did not mean this. Perhaps you are quite right in the assertion of your claims by es- tablished legal methods. That I should have thought, or sug- gested otherwise, only shows that the subject is one that should not properly concern me. Let me simply repeat the wish, that you should accord as much favour to a brave man,--not a rtiffians sir,--one whom, perhaps, you have somewhat ruffled,--as may be consistent with'your interests. It will do you no hurt, but rather much good in the' neighbourhood, if you forbear as long as pos- sible towards one who is such a general favorite." u "Nay, madam. One who is evidently a particular favorite," he answered with a sneering smile. Te cheek of the lady flushed and her eyes flashed fiercely. I am hardly prepared to understand you, Mr. McKewn, though it is evident from your looks and manner, that you designed some- thing very sarcastic and offensive--" - THE RANDOM SHAFT. 443 "By no means, Mrs. Eveleigh.-" - "Let me say, sir, by way of protecting myself, that I have been a soldiers wife; and I have learned some lessons from his feelings ard opinions, which I may not advocate, or argue, or de- fend in any way, but the force of which?lacknowledge, and the laws of which I obey. I am a womaan, sir, it is true; but if it needs, for ;he assertion of -my womanly dignity, that I should lift the weapon of the r an, I shall feel no woman'ly feai s in doing so. If you have any scruples, sir, in resenting personal indignities as men are apt to do, I have none; and though I have many friends, sir, who would cheer-ully do battle in my cause; I would not suf- fer one of them to incur: any peril of life or limb, while I am able to stand an I confiront the insolent, myself. I trust you understand me. Here, if you please, our conference must end." She had risen when these things were to be said, and McKewn had risen'also. Her tall and portly form, her commanding atti- tude, her sharp, clear voice, the indignant fires in her eye, breath- ing equal scorn and nobleness, were a study for the dramatic paint- er; She was Boadicea at the head of her Britons. She was Ze- nobia at the moment of her greatest confidence, when she defied all the strerngth of Rome. Mceewn was awed. He stammered some inconsequential apologies, which only caused her lip to curl with increasing scorn. "Go, sir," she said, "no more i-and yet, one wore, sir. There. was a person, one Bostwick, a Squatter for many years on my hands, whom I had the fortune to encounter at Colonel Moncrieff's when you and he-were in conference together. Do you know, sir, what has become of that man, Bostwick?'" . It was a mere instinct-a somewhat savage one-that prompt- ed the widow to send that shaft at random, seeking the proper victim. It struck him. McKewn, awed before, was now shocked, almost paralyzed. His face grew pale as ideath, his lips parted but not for speech. He stood for a moment vacantly gazing up- page: 444-445[View Page 444-445] "4 THE SWORD ANDi T-HE DISTAFF. on the inquirer, as still erect, with finger pointing directly to him, she seemed to await his answer. With a prodigious effort he at length gave it-only a single sentence, uttered with a gasp. "I know nothing of the man." "Ah!-well!-enough!" She said no more, and, with a faint "good morning, madam," he hurried from the apartment. CHAPTER LIII. "ANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. Mo-KEWN rode home with scarcely a consciousness of his pro- gress. It was some time befores he recovered from the Parthian - haft of the widow. He saw at a glance whither her suspicions tended, and it was only after a long interval, that he reflected that hers were suspicions only; and so long as the missing papers were not forthcoming, no matter what suspicions were entertained, they could in no respect avail against him. But were the papers mis- - sing? Had not Bostwick deceived him? Was there not some reason for supposing, from the course taken by the widow, that she was still in possession of her proofs a But a little calm re- flection satisfied him to the contrary. "If she had them, she never, with such a feeling towards me, and with such a passionate nature, could have kept quiet so long. It is her passion that speaks now. Had I not provoked her, she never would have let out so much. I'm glad that I stung her in- to showing of her secret. It is now clear to me that Bostwick got the papers; and he-I trust that he is in the sea, or in , it "ANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. 445 matters not where, so he keeps away from this! Yet, she saw the rascal ir that one glimpse at Moncrieff's! She has the eye of a hawk! She would fight' too! Sword or pistols, five paces even, and never wink an eye! She should have been a man! She would have been a famous one! As a woman she would never suit me. She might undertake to horsewhip me in my own household. Will she marry this mammoth Porgy? No, indeed! She has been too long free to seek or suffer another master, now.! D-- n him, unless she marries, she shall not save him! I will strip and beggar him, if there be law or lawyer in the land." - Leaving him in this amiable determination, which underwent no modification with the progress of time, it is proper that we should glance at the affairs of other and subordinate parties in our true life-history. The appointed period had arrived when Lance Frampton should be united to Ellen Griffin. TLe wedding was to take place the very night of the day when Captain Porgy made his last visit, as briefly described, to Mrs. Eveleigh. When he re- turned Lome, not Laving remained to dine as usual with the widow, he founa the Lieutenant -already making his preparations. His wedding clothes were spread out; Pomp was brushing his boots; one of the negro girls was mending his suspenders; and the youth himself, busy about a dozen different things, was in such a state of nervous excitement that he really knew not what he was doirg. Somewhat forgetting his own aftairs, the Captain jested with him merrily, after his style of humour, upon'the event which was approaching. Porgy, of course,rhad heen invited to attend; so was Millihouse; Tom, the cook, without being asked, notified -he young man that he would be present. "You's one ob de family, Mass Lance, an' I m-is' see how you guine tkrough de exaction. It's wuss to some people, dis get ting married, dan guine into de fight. Dey feels all ober wid a sawt ob cold sweat; and dey trimbles jest as ef dey was a-feelin' de push of de inimy's bagnets. Now, Mass Lance, le' me tell you 36 , O page: 446-447[View Page 446-447] ,446 THE SWOIRD AND THE DISTAFF. -wha' for- do. Jes' before you hab for 'tan up before de Passon, tek' a Stiff pull at de Jamaica. He will help mek' you 'trong.- Ef you skear, nebber le' Miss Ellen see you skear;-for womans always will tak' de vantage of man wha' dey see is skear. You mus. 'tan up 'traight, hole up your head, and jes' youlkeep t'ink- ing all de time, ef you no kill de inimy, he guine to kill you.- Da's it! and when you t'ink dat, you will shet your teet' close, an' fling out wid ail you 'stren'th as ef you yer de cry all 'bout you, ' Ta'lton Quarters!' Ef you no feel 'trong dat time, when vou t'ink youy'er dat cry, you loss de battle, and de woman will be you maussa for ebber arter, for t'ree t'ousan' yers, (years,) an' all de season's guine to be winter! Yerry wha' I say, and feel youse'f 'strong, 'fore de time. for de fight come on. , The Corporal contented himself with saying thlat, "Marriage is g-ood for some people. 'Twould do for the Cappin, ef so be he got hold of the right pusson; but what sich a fellow as you, should git a wife for, thar's no seeing You've got nothing, and she's got nothing, and two nothings put together, make a house- , full of ixpenses, and not a shilling of profit. 'Twouldnt ha' done you eeny harm, Lance, ef you'd waited tell you was forty-five, like the Cappin, and then died abachelor, onlessyou could git the right sort of pusson,--one that had something to put to your nothing, my lad. But tnat's not saying that Ellen ain't a mighty nice gal, Lance; she is, and a purty, and I reckon it's thatmostly what hlas taken you. But to be purty ain't en6ugh, and -when you marries so soon, $ou don't give yourself hafe a chaince." But these cold-water speeches did not discourage our Lieuten- ant. They only servd to increase his anxiety to have the affair over. An hour before sunset found the whole cavalcade ready 'for departure and in the saddle, Porgy taking the lead, Lance and Millhouse riding together, just behind him, andtTom and Pomp I bringing up the rear. Pomp had his violin slung about his neck. In his blue jacket, -with red facings, his glazed cap, and white "ANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. 44, homespun breecies, Pomp felt that he had made a large stride in dignity since the period of his rescue from theBritish hulks. We owe it to the Captain not to omit stating that hie had sent off a cart a couple of hours before, with a demijohn of Jamaica, a gal- lon of wine, and some other-small creature comforts, designed to help out the merry-making. He had also some presents for the bride in the shape of dresses and ornament, an(c a box and barrel, also conveyed by the cart, contained a pretty lit le contribution to the future housekeeping of the young couple. Millhouse- saw these ;hings put up to be sent, with no cordial feelings, though the subject was one upon which he dared not openly say a single word. But, in secret soliloquy, he deplored the Captain's profli- gacy. "They .doesn't stand in need of all them things, and it's jestf nothing better than waste. Waste breeds want; and Lawd knows how soon he'll be a-wanting every thing himself. Then what's the look out? 'It runs from him; when he's got it, jest like water from tae mill, when the dam's broke down ir- a fiesh. Lawd! how he does want a strick master over him!" It was sunset when the party reached Mrs. Griffin's, and the company was already beginning to assemble. There were several young people of Both sexes whom the Captain did not know, and one of the girls, 11 of whom had walked, had got a tub of water in front of the house and was coolly washing her feet. ' Fordham, the overseer, was already present, and it struck Porgy that he seemed very: Tuch at hoene. He was assisting Mrs. Griffin in spreading' and arranging tables. The Captain thought he appeared offi- cious rather than polite, particularly as he sfw him disposing - the tippet upon the widow's shoulders, which had been disordered by her exertions. There wyas much good-hurnoured talk, and some mirth, in under tones between them, which put the overseer - in a mre obtrusive and less agreeable point of view than he had hitherto shown himself to Porgy's eyes. But the affair-was one page: 448-449[View Page 448-449] "8 , THE SWORD AND THE DISTA[F e of a sort to render all parties free and easy, and Porgy was per- suaded that the customs, of the country, and the class, with which he did not claim to be very familiar, might possibly justify all these freedoms. He was the more readily disposed to think thus when the widow Griffin, approaching him with the profoundest deference, and full of smiles, entreated him to come and take a seat which she had placed and prepared entirely for him, where be could be at ease, in one of the best positions for witnessing the. ceremony, and on a capacious cushion which she herself had made especially for his use, and of which she entreated his acceptance. Thee Captain was easily persuaded. The seat was a good one.- The cushion gave him the notion of a new luxury. He forgot very soon all his misgivings, while she sate beside him, listening with the most deferential manner to all he had to say, and Ford- ham civilly contented himself with making merry with the young people in the porch. C andles and torches were lighted. The Parson had arrived; the guests crowded inthe he hall, and pretty soon filled it. A de- centlinterval, and-the Parson asked after the young lady. And soon she appeared attended by one bridesmaid. Ellen Griffin cer- tainly looked very pretty in her!simple white muslin frock, with one bright flower stuck in her silken ringlets, contrasting not more with them than with the delicate paleness of her cheeks. At her approach, Millhouse clapt Frampton on his shoulder, and murmur- ed pretty loudly in his ears- - * "Now, don't be skear'd. Jest you think you're a-charging the inimy, and stand up stout forthe crossing of -bag'nets. Don't you forgit the Cappin is a-looking on you." And the youth stood up, and his fingers met and twined in with those of the damsel, and the Parson confronted them, and the ceremony was begun. Millhouse stood up-in the rear of the Lieutenant. But the occasional push in the ribs, and-hispers which he gave him, did not seem to inspirit the youth, whose head con- "ANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. 449 tinued to hang down bashfully, until, in the mids- of the ceremo- ny, the voice of the Corporal became audible-"Heads up, and. the Lawd be with you!P'-to the consternation of the parson and half of the assembly. The youth was more prompt and decided I in his demonstrations when he was instructed to salute the bride, which he did with a resounding smack that gave satisfactory tes- timony. to the'ears of the Corporal, who exclaimed- " Well, that's doing it something like. Nobody kin say now it is'nt done!" The Parson followed thd example of the bridegoonm, and Capt. Porgy followed him. The Captain did not rest content until le bestowed a similar compliment, very suddenly, iUpon the widw- Griffin herself, who stood provokingly nigh to Ellen; but he was confounded, a moryent after, to find the-overseel, Fordham, taking a similarly extempore liberty. "He's surely been tasting th amaica! muttered Porgy, sotto voce; but Millhouse, who overheard the speeck, promptly re- joined-- . I . "He's after the sperrit and'the flesh, both! Lewd! I swow! but I should like to eat a leetle off the same plate! The widow looks like a mighty nice .eatable!" Porgy turned avray from the speaker as in some displeasure, and resumed his seat upon the cushioned chair. The ceremony was fairly over; it had not been a long one; .and merry was the uproar tLat followec. The company adjourned to the piazza, to dance, leaving the Lall mostly vacant, and to the fee use of those - who were to' arrange the supper. Porgy had his chair wheeled out to the porch. In those days, the Parson, like any person of flesh and blood, waited for the frolic and the feast; and he and Porgy, while the fiddle of Pomp began to speak up, engaged in a warm controversy as to the merits of matrimony; both being u1pon the same side throughout, but differing in the philoso- phies by which the subject was approached, The :iddle of Pomp 36a gis-. page: 450-451[View Page 450-451] 450 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. called up many guests who had not been invited. The negroes of a dozen plantations filled the yard in front, already practising in "Juba" and "double shuffle." Suddenly, Millhouse discovered that the whole regiment of Glen-Eberley was among the crowd. Here was a palpable infraction of the laws. Here was treachery and insubordination. The Corporal was in great commotion. "I won't stand it, Cappin, I'll be into 'em like a troop of dra- goons. They must pack, every rascal among 'em, man and wo- man, or hickories don't grow in this country." Psho!? growled Tom, the cook, wha' for you make so much bodderation, Mass Copp'ral, when der's no use? De nigger done he wuk (work,) he mus' hab he play! Enty you see dis dah wedding time, when ebb'ry body, wha' aint git marry hese'f, kin hab he fun?" "Tom's right;" quoth Porgy, "let the negroes stay, Millhouse, and enjoy themselves." They won't be worth a copper for work to-mtw, Cappin." "Then we must give them holiday. But thats all a mistake. They will work better for a little play to-night." "Das a trute, maussa;" said Tom. "De Copp'ral is too fool- ish preticklar. I don't t'ink he want nigger for sleep as much. Sleeping and dance is de t'ing for mek' nigger wuk like a gem- pieman, and keep him from,tief. When he dance, he sweat out all he badness. Den he good, lub he maussa, an' 'tan' up to he wuk, like a sodger 'g'in de inimy. I wonder, Mass Copp'ral, ef you:nebber 'lows youse'f any pleasure?" Do you ever see me at it, Tom 2 Do you ever see me danc- ing?" 'Da's kaise you kain't. You got only one arm for swing, when you shakes you leg, an' you goes over de wrong side. But nigger wha' got he two arm, and he two leg, him kin dance an'. fetelhe sperrit joyful! Look a' dem two boy, yonder, wha' dance Juba! Enty he do 'em great. Dem fellows is de most righteous "ANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. 451 young fellows, in Juba, I bin see, for t'ousand ye'rs! See how de leetle onie shuffle he right leg, while t'udder one dey sleep. See how he's a-slapping he t'ighs (thighs) wid bot' he band, jes' in time wid de fiddle, He' de fiddle jump about in what tune he please. And de fellow look, all de time, as ef he bin sleep; he eyes shut, and he face wid no more 'spression in 'em, dan a greasy pinkin. And de udder fellow, wha' keep he eye so open bright, and look so keen 'pon de leetle fellow, see how he manage 'em! Eow he mek' um do jest de berry t'ing Le want. Now he go quick, now he go slow, now he go quick and slow togedder, till de berry bones seem a-guine to fall out ob he breeches. Ha! de t'ing is a most extonishing, won'ersome t'ing, Mass Copp'ral. Dem two boys is mak' for not'ng in dis worl' but to dance Juba." "Ef they were mine, Tom, I'd find out, at the eend of a hick- ory, ef they was'nt good for something besides Juba. I'd tickle 'em to another sort of music in the corn-field, I tell you." "Psho!" muttered Tom, turning away, and giving the benefit of his relponse to his master. "De Copp'ral is too 3ussed foolish! He don't comperhend nigger nater 't all - He's always a-talking 'bout wul, as ef der's no play in de worl'; and always a-talking 'bout hici'ries, as ef de airth was nebber mek' to raise any better t'ings! Da's always de way. wid dem poor buck-ah, wha's got no nigger ob he own. He's always a-wanting to vuk de niggers ob udder gempleman's tell he bones come out ob he skin. lah! he hab leetle touch on he own shoulder, ebbry 'rorning, from hard maussa, jes' for tek de stiffness out ob em, he hab better comperhension ob nigger nater." This taste may suffice; white and black danced till midnight. The former in the piazza and hall, the latter in the open grounds beneath the-trees. Solid was the supper that followed, and strong sr the drink; and wild enough the scampering, great the shouting, hard the tiding, when each party took its way homewards, some where ab ut the dawn. Lance Frampton's wedding was 'an event which is Still remembered upon the Ashepoo! A , page: 452-453[View Page 452-453] 452 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER LIV. SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. THE summer was passing rapidly. Captain Porgy lived p etty much after the old fashion. He spent a day, occasionally, at Mrs. Eveleigh's; sometimes 'took his dinner at the widow Grifin's, where Lance Frampton had taken up his abode with his y ung wife. The time passed without much excitement, and witl: no absolute embarrassments. It was in the future that the clouds lowered threateningly, and the philosophy of Porgy was nlt to look in their direction. Whenever the subject of McKewn and his claims-was forced upon him by the pertinacious Millhouse, he thundered and lightened for awhile, andfinally thought upor the widow Eveleigh. She was his one particular bright star of hopes and one whom the policy of the Corporal forever sought to place beforf his sight, as far as -he dared'do so after the stern warnings vhich he had received. The Captain's own musings brought up her image with sufficient frequency to his eyes. He found himself perpetually arguing her virtues, her excellencies, her charms; all of which he acknowledged freely to himself. But a sigh vould usually close these meditations. There was still a something wanting to her perfections-he could not well say what; or a something in excess; which left him always unwilling to puirsue the subject to any definite result. It was through the medilm of his own infirmity that he saw this deficiency, or excess, in the idow Eveleigh; and it was because he looked through this mediumi nly, that he failed to determine in what it consisted.. We are etter- prepared to see, and to resolve it, than himself. His infi:mity was self-esteem; and the veneration of the widow had been qual- ified and moderated by a long intercourse with those higher walks j . , X SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 453 of society in which Faith is not apt to flourish. Convention is very much the foe to hero worship. When dissatisfied with his meditations in respect to the wi- dow Eveleigh, Porgy found, invariably, that his thoughts turned for relief in the direction of the simpler widow, driffin. There was something so meek, and artless about this lady -something so little imposing and yet so grateful-that his mood became soothed while he contemplated her. She rose before his mind's eye in an always graceful attitude, and with a most gracious aspect. He re meimbered her slight form with pleasure, and contrasted it with that of the widow Eveleigh. The latter, in all such comparisons, appeared to him to be quite too masculine. The former seemed the very embodiment of feminine perfection. His ideas of wo- man were those of a period when the sex had not yet determined to set up for itself; though wielding a most potent sway in socie- ty, and even in politics, particularly in Carolina. His models, ac- cordingly, required absolute dependence in the woman, though without meaning to abridge any of her claims as a woman, or to subjugate, unjustly, her individuality. He never dreamed of de- nying her any of her rights, when he required that she should re- cognize the lordbhip in the hands of the man. There was some- thing assured in the position and the endowments of Mrs. Eveleigh, that startled his sense of authority. Her very virties had a man- ly air which girded his pride; her very wealth, and its importance to his own case, seemed to humble him in his relations with her; and, when he admitted to himself, as he was forced to do, that this wealth Was really a consideration ini the case, the effect was to lessen the attractions of the lady, which were yst intrinsically very great in his eyes. Had she been poor, arid were there no 'Mrs. Griffin in the field, we venture the opinion that Porgy would never have fancied any other woman. As the case stood, there were times when he decidedly gave her the preference, and fan- cied that his heart was absorbed' wholly with her attractions;- page: 454-455[View Page 454-455] 454 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF.- when he believed that his affections demanded her sympa hies, and would be satisfied with nothing less; and, so feeling and thinking, he would resolve to ride over, after an early beafast, or to an early breakfast, the next morning, and bring his c-gita- tions to the final issue, and his doubts along with them. Iut a sound night's rest, with, probably, some faint, shadowy vision of the widow Griffin in his dreams, seemed to act as a: sudden 13eda- tive to his passion for the wealthier widow, and the purpose v ould dissipate into thin air, while his meditations would become nore dubious, yet more intense than ever. His admiration of, or attachment to, Mrs. Griffin, was not with- out its qualifications also. He could nqt fail to be disquieted as he reviewed her intellectual inferiority. In this respect, sh was the weakest vessel in the world. She had no intelligent chover- sation; no education; no experience ; no natural endowment; no mother wit; and, though her sweet temper, gentle bearing, and implicit deference were all agreable to his self-esteem, he could not but ask himself whether something more was not requis te to the one whom he should choose' as a companion in life. V Thile the war lasted, and when the life of the camp rendered mdst of the desires sensual, he would not have vexed himself witL any such inquiry. He then thought only of the excellent manlage- ment of the housekeeper; her skill in soups and stews; the culi- nary art which would convert a vegetable into a meat, a wi ig of chicken into a fish; and at such like magical and charming trailsmu- tation, viewed through this medium only, Mrs. Griffin was incom- parable. To a certain extent, Porgy still examined his bject through these endowments. But his media of study had become multiplied. Released from the camp, and its necessities, old -astes had been resumed; ancient refinements were recalled; long ban- ished, or subdued tastes, had been once more lifting their h:,ads; and his sensual nature had been gradually taking some. gplden and amber hues and tints from the recovering vigour of his Binid , , . s , . SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 455 and fancy. Griffin, was, in certain respects, therefore, as difficult a case as Eveleigh; and the Captain of Partisans, sitting, pipe in mouth, at Glen-Eberly, and looking alternately to the fair widows on either hand, might be likened 'to that sagacious animal (whose length of ears has been unkindly made his reproach) who sees, on each side of him, a goodly bundle of sweet, fresh hay which, drawing both ways with equal strength, will suffer him honestly to approach neither. The struggle, occasioned by this barrassment of taste and need, was such as sometimes to affect the appetite of the. Captain. He evidently grew thinker as the summer and his meditations grew together. There was Ino such amplitude of waist to be girded in, as formerly, when he toiled, and travelled, and fought, daily and nightly, in the army. He now took in several more inches in his belt, and, not unfrequently, the Corporal drew his attention, with great concern, to his dimin- ishing dimensions. "It's the heat of this infernal summer, said Porgy. "It's the want of a fondelsome wife, Cappin, as I've been a-tel- ling you all along-a woman of substance, that'll help you drive off that d---d sheriff, and put the idee that troubles you out of your head." "How the devil should I get the sheriff out of my head when you are constantly thrusting the monster in at my ears?" This outhreak usually terminated such a discussion. Mean- "i while, McKewn, like some great political spider, sate in the centre of his web of meshes, and waited for the moment when, in the exhausted state of the victim, he should fall an'easy prey. le was not altogether quiet, though seemingly so. The lawyers were at work in the city. Documents, with great seals, were in preparation. Vile inventions, vulgarly denominated writs and declarations, were getting in readiness. Malice was kee4 in its wwork, and Law, with solemn brow and sable gown, was pliant- read-y to give the Demon all necessary help. Stately and serious \ . \- page: 456-457[View Page 456-457] 456 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Ietters had been 'brought to Porgy, from dignitaries yclept attor- Aies at law. He, too, had written solemn, serious, stately letters, to-the same class of persons. These parties had benevolently ar- rayedthemselves on both sides of the question, in order, perhaps, that Jutice, like any other fat body trying two stools, hoiUld fall equally between; and Porgy, on the one hand, and McKlew"n on the other, were looking to what was termed, "The Fall 'ern," for results more serious than any fall of the leaves knqwn o either. :McKewn confidently calculated on having his claiams: - cash andjcharacter, equally satisfied; but he had moments (f mnis- givingand apprehension, Vhich were usually -betrayed b? brief and expressive oaths, and adjurations, at the expeni oi arsons of both the sexes. "That d- d prying idow! If I only knew! That lascal- ly ruffian, Bostwick--w re I sure that he is feeding the shirks at the bottom of the sea!" Unfortunately, thke-sS ' refused thus far to give up its slecrets, and the prying widow w7p quite as close as sherwas curious i She seemed quite able to keep hers! Jhe S otchman got nothing by his curses. Whether, like chickens, tey were destined to Return home for roosting, is yet to be seen. In certain respects, the summer was auspicious to all the parties. 4 McKewn's -overseer made him a good crop;'Fordham d'd the same thing for the widow Eveleigh; while Millhouse, as i.' Fate had studied to justify all his boasts, succeeded in beating Ploth of them, in proportion to the force he managed. Never had iuch a crop been seen at Glen-Eberley. The season had been a v,ry fa- vourable one, I and -Millhouse had shown indefatigable industry, and a very cor ect judgment; but he probably owed a good deal to the fact that the lands of Glen-Eberley had been so long tested. 3Harvest time came on under good auspices, and the sheaveS; were heavy -with the golden grain. Great was the swangering o-' Cor- poral Millhouse, as, with his brother overseers, he reviewed the ,- ! SUMMARY. OF THE EVENTS O1 THE SUMMER. 457 result. He had engaged in a friendly contest with Fordham and Blythewood, (the overseer of McKewn,) and they yielded the palm of victory to the Corporal, with good humour, and literally "acknowledged the corn." Porgy was pleased, of course; and Millhouse required him to acknowledge his satisfaction, and do justice to his particular genius, almost nightly. But, even the Cor- poral's pride and pleasure bore no sort of proportion to the same feelings in the bosoms of his negroes. They showed their triumph in greater degree than any other parties. It was their labour that had brought out the genius of Millhouse--it was their crop that had put to shame the negroes of the rival plantations. Por- gy gave them a great pork supper after the harvesting, while the bets of the Corporal, with his opponents, resulted in his obtaining one also, at their expense, in whichh Jamaica occupied a place as distinguished as- pork, and which kept busy the party of a dozen- the number present-through the hours of a goodly Saturday night; the dawn of Sunday looking in upon them at their feast, before they were quite satisfied to think it finished. The profits of Captain Porgy afforded no satisfaction to Me. Kewn, except so far as they promised better spoils when they should fall into his clutches. - If he rejoiced in the result, it was with no benevolent feeling; but rather with the vindictive thought i of the deeper disappointment and mortification of his victim, whom he should thus topple and overthrow from a greater height and hope, which this good fortune should encourage. He felt se- cure of his prey, unless in one event, and this he laboured in a secret way to defeat. This subject of his apprehension was the marriage of Porgy with the widow Eveleigh. He was quite aware of the frequent visits of the Captain to the widow, and he conjectured the object of these visits with much more certainty than Porgy could determine it. He, himself, would have had no objection to taking the widow to wife; but he had common sense enough to see that, with her present prejudices against him, the ' 37 page: 458-459[View Page 458-459] 458 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. thing was impossible. But he was a hopeful person, and d d not despair, if time were allowed him, of removing these prejudices. At all events, it was his policy to prevent the success of the Cap- tain. To this he addressed himself in sundry ways, one of which, and the most likely to be successful, was through ler son, A rthur. We have seen that his first approaches to the young ma had been unsuccessful. For a time they continued so; but pepsever- ance will remove mountains quite as certainly as faith; youith is flexible, indulgent and easily persuaded, where much solicitude is shown to gain it; and gradually McKewn found his way ;o the ears of Arthur. He contrived, without seeming effort, to meet the lad frequently, when he rode out or rambled in the woods, He was always particularly deferential to him, and thus adroitly ap- pealed to the vanities of youth. Gradually, the slight b&rrieys which the mother's prejudices had raised up in his mind, a gainst his neighbour, were broken down. Finally, McKetn pers laded- him to accept a beautiful English pointer. The widow was great- ly chagrined that he did so, and Arthur himself was disposed to regret it, when he found his mother so much fretted; b it the thing was done; and the result was, that the son, after al rhile, began to combat the prejudices of his-mother againt the Sotch- man, and to declare that he always found him a marvellous pro- per man. The widow became a little ahgry, and the young man a little insubordinate. Unfortunately, she could not ventLre to convey all her suspicions to him, of McKewn's agency with th 3 out- laws, and with the robbery of her negroes, so that all she ;ould exhibit was her naked and, seemingly, unreasoning hostility, which Arthur was old enough to see lacked obvious justific tion. It was additionally unlucky that, recently, the cares and anxieties of Porgy had rendered him a somewhat cloudy companion for the young man, while the marriage and withdrawal of Lance Fiamp- ton, had taken from him one of the chief inducements for h's vis- its to Glen-Eberly. Under these circumstances, McKewn enloyed SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 459 favourable opportunities which he never allowed to escape Lim. Gradually, and when in some measure he had won the ears of the youth, he suffered himself to speak of the affairs of Porgy-of his recklessness of character, and his associates; his debts; and went so far as to indulge in some sneers at his mammoth dimen- sions, his amplitude of abdomen, and the enormous appetite in which he was supposed to indulge. When he found, after awhile, that these jests and sneers provoked the young, man's smiles, he felt encouraged. His next labour-a more delicate one, but which he pursued with as much art as diligence-was to convey to the youth a notion of what he supposed to be the object of Por- gy in his visits to his mother. He insinuated the idea, so formida- ble to a young man of self-esteem, of a despotic father-in-law; then hinted at the waste of property to supply the appetite, or repair the ruined fortunes of a profligate; and then, in immediate sequence, he would turn to Porgy and make a ludicrous p6rtrait of his unwieldy figure. The youth was slow to receive the revela- tion so gradually made; but, at length, it unfolded itself fully be- fore the eyes of his hind, and, then, a great many things, hither- to strange in his past experience, became clear to his understand- ing. He could now comprehend the impudent language and manner of Corporal Millhouse, when the party dined with his mother, already described, and which then provoked his wonder. As a matter of course, his indignation was aroused, and the chief force of it fell upon the Captain. But the suggestions of McKewn, as they were designed, led him farther-led him to think some- what harshy of his mother, and suspiciously of her motives in aiding the Captain. That she should sympathize with Porgy, en- courage his visits, aid him with loans of money, receive him with so much welcome, show herself so solicitous of his comforts, were all ascribed to her own secret attachment to thp man, and argued the probability that she would finally lift, him into the lordship of the household; an idea which Arthur Eveleigh found quite insup- I page: 460-461[View Page 460-461] "O THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. portable.., The moment that this apprehension was forced upon him, he hurried home full of aroused feelings which he neither could, nor desired to, suppress. This happened at a moment of some importance. He found Captain Porgy closeted wit:i his mother, and evidently discussing some matter which seemed of mu- tual interest. Perhaps it may be well to account for the present interview. ' As we have shown, the time was ripening fast for the consum- mation of McKewn's legaTprojects for the ruin of his debtor. The summer had past: the fatal "Fall Term" had come; the courts were in session; and at length there were decrees, and judgments. Porgy was advised by his lawyers that danger was at hand;, and that he might soon reasonably look to see hawks abroad. He had been warned also that his case could not be helped, that uudg- ment could not long be averted., He, accordingly, prepared him- self, as-well as he could, to fold his robes about him and die with decency. 'There were some preliminary performances whic'l he felt to be absolutely necessary to hispeace of mind. In orcar to attend to one of these, he summoned Tom to his presence. Tom," said e, puton your best clotes. I want you to ride over with me to Mrs. Eveleigh." Tom was soon becomingly equipped. The master and man were- soon mounted; and, on the way, the Captain opened the bu- siness upon which he was bent, to his favourite cuisineur. "Tom." "Sah!' "You are still a tolerably young fellow." "Ha! maussa, enty I bin know dat.:' "You have no wife, but you will be thinking of one somr e of these days." "Lawd ha' massy; we does we bes', but ho kin tell wha' guine happen to 'em next day and to-morrow?" "True, Tom, who knows I You will get a wife, you will pxoba- SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 461 bly have a family, and you might be happy for a great many years, if your life were spared so long." "Da's true, maussa." "I don't wish to shorten your life, Tom--" "Wha', maussa!" "I wish to see you live as long as God will let you-" "To be sure; t'ank you, maussa!" "But, Tom, if I am to see you live as the slave of that scoun- drel McKewn, I should rather you were dead. Now, Tom, I must either sell you to Mrs. Eveleigh, or shoot you." "Shoot me, Tom! Oh! git out, maussa, da's all only you' ole foolish talk. Tom ain't for shoot."- "Then I must sell you, Tom, or McKewn will have you." "Ha! I tek' de swamp fuss! I nebber guine lib wid dat crook-eye Scotchman." "'Better live with Mrs. Eveleigh." "I no so much lub for lib wid woman, noder, maussa. Wo- man, maussa, is a-most too hard 'pon nigger. Wha' for I must [be] sell?" I owe McKewn money--the sheriff will seize you if you be- long to me. I wish Mrs. Eveleigh to buy you, to keep you out of his clutches; and if I am, ever able to buy you back from her, I will do so. Meanwhile, I will hire you from Mrs. Eveleigh." Such was Porgy's scheme, by which to save his favourite. Tom, for a long time, failed to see the merits of it; but, silenced, at length, if not satisfied, he followed'his master, with a very gloomy aspect, to the residence and the presence of the widow. There, our Captain of Partisans made a frank showing of his fears, his wishes-Tom being in the presence all -he while. "Pinckney writes that nothing can be done to avert this judg- ment-that it must take effect-that the lien upon the lands is perfect-that judgment upon the unliquidated accounts, once entered, will bind all the slave property and moveables, subject page: 462-463[View Page 462-463] "2 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. only to your mortgage, and that that mortgage will not p'revent the sale. Tom, Mrs. Eveleigh, is the only one of my negroes not covered by your mortgage. I hesitated to forego my ent:re con- trol over his destinies, as it was my purpbse always th it Tom should never be the slave of any man but myself. I should free him this hour, if this were possible; but Pinckney writes that such grant of freedom would not avail against existing de)ts and creditors. But I may make a bond fide sale of him, Mrs. Eve- leigh, and I propose to do so to you. You will give me a hun- dred guineas for him, with the understanding between us that I am to hire him from you at fair wages, and that you will sa]l him back to me, on the same terms, whenever I shall feel able to re- purchase him. Should I never do this, my deal madam, - shall still feel some consolation that I have kept my vow--to sell him to no other man--and, in selling him to a woman, I sell iim to one whom I esteem the very first among her sex." Here Tom put in. "You buy me, Miss Eb'leigh, I good sarbant to yer. Yours a lady. Yer wha' maussa say. He's berry much trouble dese times, and don't know wha' for do! You kin help 'em. Help 'em, an' I berry much 'blige to you, ma'am. Ef you buy me, I p:omise you I guine tekV care ob you, same as I tek' care ob mall ssa.- When Tom say he guine be good sarbant, you kin do no better dan to buy 'em." V I believe you, Tom," said thh lady, kindly, "and It link I may safely promise you to be an indulgent mistress. Yo I may go home now, Tom, and consider yourself as belonging to lme. I shall arrange all with your master." "T'ank you, missis, -and de Lord pour down he blessing 'pon you 'tell you beg 'em for stop, you own se'f. God bres; you, missis, an' a berry good mornin' to you." ' Thank you, Tom. Good-bye to ye." And with a grasp of the hand of his late master, and a bow to J:iil 3 THE WID OW AND HER SOXN 463 his new mistress, Tom disappeared, and proceeded to canter back to Glen-Eberly. Porgy had prepared and brought with him the necessary bill of sale. He had signed it in the presence of Lance Frampton, the night before. The widow asked if he did not desire any writ- ten engagement, from her, to resell the negro to him, according to their private understanding; but, with his usual indifference to his own securities, the Captain declined it. The lady gave him an order upon the city for a hundred guineas, and received, and put away, the Bill of Sale. The wages of Tom, while he remain- ed in the service of his former owner were then easily adjusted; and the parties were still engaged in conversation, the Cap- tain very low in spirits, and the lady, with a judicious delicacy, striving to soothe and conciliate him, when Arthur Eveleigh bounced into the room. CHAPTER"LV. THE WIDOW AND HER SON. A SINGLE glance at the young man sufficed to show that he was greatly out of humour. He spoke with bare civility, and no cordiality, to his ancient firiend, the Captain. The widow regard- ed her son with anxious and reproachful eyes, which he retorted with such looks of evident suspicion and bad feeling as to con-- found and disquiet her. Porgy saw that something was wrong, but had no notion that - he was a party to the provocation. He spoke to Arthur in the old language of familiarity and affection, but without perceiving any very grateful effect from it. The young page: 464-465[View Page 464-465] "4/ ' THE SWORD AND HE DISTAFF. man had come in with his fowling piece and birding equipments, which suggested to Porgy the proper subject for talking wjth him. "Why do you not look for your birds at Glen-Elerley, Arthur? It is a full month since you have paid me a visit. The partlidges are in abundance. You can scarcely walk any where without flushing them." t "I need not go off the place here, sir, to seek for birds; when I do, I find them in as much abundance, at Mr. McKewr's, as I desire." "McKewn!" said Porgy, and was silent. i "I wish, my son," remarked the lady, "that you wou d seek your birds in any other quarter." And I don't see why, mother, Mr. McKewn is very civil to lme" "' There are some civilities which I am half inclined to regard as injuries!" said the lady gravely, " but it should be enough for you, my son, that I have expressed my wishes. My objections to this man-" - "' Unless there be good reasons for them, mother-" "Of the goodness of my reasons, my son, you should a]low me to be the judge, without requiring me to show what they are. It ought to be sufficient for you that I have expressed my wis' es--" "Your, wishes! Ah! but have you expressed t'em?"VPas the pert response, and something of a sneer upon his lIps. "I do not understand you, Arthur. You certainly have heard from me the repeated wish that you should have as little commu- nion with this man, as was not absolutely unavoidable." : "'And I don't see why, mother. Mr. McKewn seems q ite as much of the gentleman as most men I've seen," replied the! youth petulantly, and looking at Porgy. - "You have been unfortunate, my son; or, which is more likely, you are scarcely yet a sufficient judge of the subject, or i, suffi- cient discriminator of persons." ;',) .THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 465 "Perhaps not," said the fiery youth, his face reddening; 'but mother-!" Here he paused abruptly and with evident effort restrained him- self. Porgy at this moment rose. His manner was mild, calm, and dignified; a little touched with sorrow. He felt that he was in at the beginning of something like a scene, and he had no taste for it, or curiosity to witness its close. "Mrs. Eveleigh, suffer me once more to thank you for your kindness. I shall remember with gratitude what you have done for me. I will trespass no longer. Good-bye, ma'am-good- bye ;" and he shook her hand walrmly. "Arthur, I am half tempt- ed to regret that you can find your birds at any other point than Glen-Eberley. We can aiford you friends there as well as birds; and such friends as will never desert you when the battle's coming on." To this the youth had no answer.' He gave his hand sullenly to the Captain, who looked at him kindly and curiously, but with a smile that seemed to say, "I understand all your difficulty, my boy," but, beyond his farewell, he had no more words to say. The widow would have persuaded him to stay to dinner, but, glancing significantly from her to her son, he declined the invitation. He did instinctively understand the case of Arthur Eveleigh. Riding out of the avenue, he muttered to himself-" the foolish boy; that scoundrel, McKewn, has- been poisoning his ears. I should not be surprised if the rascal has been telling him that I was courting his mother." He meditated sadly as he rode. "( What a pitfall, what a thing of snares, of serpents, and sorrows, is this miserable life. How the devil hangs upon the footsteps of inno- cence, turn whither it will, ready to delude, to defraud, to degrade, to destroy. Here is this youth, just as he begins to drink of the better and purer sweets of life, the fiend drops his malignant poi- son into the bowl; embittering the taste as well as the draught- and shaping the whole futuie career for sin and sorrow. I had page: 466-467[View Page 466-467] "6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. taken a great liking to that boy. i He could have made a noble fallow. But, he looks upon me as an enemy. He looks upon his own mother with suspicion. It has needed but a mean cunning on the part of this miserable wretch, McKewn, to' make aim turn upon ;his natural and best allie,. Heaven help uis, for with the devil at our elbow, with foes among those who surround us, and the vices and vanities at our own hearts to help their lab Burs, un- less Heaven help us in season, and with all its angels, hope and hu- manity stand but a poor chance for happiness." Tie subject offered a fruitful matter for reflection after he got home, which a draught of Jamaica with the Corporal, and a long disser-ation firom that person, de omnibus rebus, &c., failed wholly to arrest or ( issipate. We must leave him to its indulgence while we return to ,;he wid- ow's, curious to see that issue between herself and son, which Por- gy preferred to escape. She was not slow to approach ;heo sub- ject. . "My son, you have behaved very strangely, very coldly, almost rudely, to Captain Porgy. May I know what he Ias done to occa- sion this treatment?" / ! "I don't see that he deserves any other," was the dogged re- ply. "Indeed, Arthur, this is a very singular change of feel ng and opinion. A month or two ago, you were so perpetually over at Glen-Eberley, that I feared you might wear out the welcome you received; now--" "I went then to hunt with Lieutenant Frampton." "But you also hunted with the Captain, and your report was always singularly favourable in respect to him. You have evi- dently nothing kind or cordial in your feelings towards him, now; and, as I trust you will never allow yourself to be guilty of any mean evasion of the truth, I hope that you will frankly inform me as to what has caused that change in your conduct, which]is suffi- ciently apparent to him as well as to me." \ ' j , .: THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 467 "But I want to know, mother;, why it is that you are so anxious that I should be on good terms with this Captain Porgy." "I am anxious that you should be just and honourable, my son; not mean, or captious ; not capricious and unprincipled," "I don't see how I should be either, only because I do not like him.". "Unless you' have a good reason to justify your dislike, you must be all of these, Arthur. We owe Captain Porgy a great and vital service-" "We owe just as much to Lieutenant Frampton, and the one- fisted Corporal, mother." "That may be, but that does'nt lessen our obligations to him." "At least, they do not presume upon their services." I am yet to know that he does." "What does he come here so frequently for, then?" "I suppose he finds some pleasure in doing so." "Ah! and you find pleasure in it, too, mother?" There was an increasing colour in the widow's cheeks, as she met the gaze and heard the significant inquiry of the forward boy, but she answered him very quietly- "Certainly; I find Captain Porgy a very pleasant associate. I know few gentlemen whose conversation is so sensible and inter- esting." 'Gentleman! he looks very much like-a gentleman with that great paunch of his, large as a rice barrel." "t Stop, Arthur; I must not suffer-this sort of language in my hearing. You forget yourself, my son; you forget what is due to me, and to this worthy, but unfortunate man. I shall say no more of what we owe him for saving your mother from indignity, and possibly from death, since you do not seem sufficiently to comprehend the extent or value of this service. It is enough that I require you to forbear such rude language of one whom I am pleased to honour as my friend and neighbour." "s he going to be content, mother, with being friend and page: 468-469[View Page 468-469] "8 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. neighbour? Does he aim at Nothing farther? Is he not borrow- ing all your Inoney to pay for his extravagances? Is he' rot-" ' Stop, once more, my son! Am I to understand, Art:ur, that you suppose yourself likely to lose the money which I lend to Captain Porgy?' ' I don't see what else will follow, living as he does, anml having to pay off his old debts." "You have been listening to an enemy, Arthur. But let me disabuse you. It is not possible that you or I shall lose a ly thing by the loans made to Captain Porgy. These a:e all sufficiently secured by fnortgage; the papers drawn up by Colonel P'.nckney, who assureslme that the debt is perfectly secure. mre get legal interest on tie money, and, so far, Captain Porgy is, perhaps, less under obligations to me than I am to him. If your causes of dis- quiet contemplates nothing beyond this, you may reasont by dis- miss it from your mind; but there is something farther, Arthur. The evil spirit who has found his way to your ear, has neve- been content with so meagre a scheme of doing mischief. Let me hear all that disturbs you. my son; keep nothing back; I would rather you should pain me directly to the core, than leave me to appre- hend that you entertain thoughts and'feelings in secret, wnich you dare not unfold to your mother." 'The youth seemed for a moment uneasy. He strode h irriedly off to a window, and seemed to look out. The widow calmly awaited him, without seeming to observe his motions. After a pause, he wheeled about suddenly, approached her, and, as if he had -brought himself to the proper point of determina-ion, he said- - l "I ask you, mother, if you think that Captain Porgy comes here only when he wants company or money? I want youl Jo tell me if you think he has not some other purpose? Speak candid- ly, mother, as you ought to speak to me, and as Z have a right to expect that you will speak." ; '{TH 'rHE WIDOW AND HER SON, 469 The mother almost sternly surveyed the youth; then, with rigid lips, she answered- "We may think differently, Arthur, about our mutual rights. I certainly ought not to be required to account for the secret mo- tives of action of Capt. Porgy or of any other man. Your chal- lenge of my candour, unless you have some imputation upon it, is only a gratuitous offence, my son./ At your agre and mine, there may be cases when it would not be proper to unfold to you all my thoughts or opinions. Where these contemplate the charac- ter motives of other persons, I should be wrong in doing so. If you have anyparticular question to put to me, Arthur Eve- leigh, which would seem to be the case from what you do say, let me hear it, and if it is proper for me to answer, and if my son has a right to make the question, let him be assured that I shall answer with the utmost readiness." The youth hastily strode the chamber. He was evidently re- luctant, half-ashamed, to betray the lurking suspicions in his mind. But, at length, as if vexed at his own weakness, he paused, stood erect, and pointing to a splendid, full length of Major Eveleigh, which hung agdoainst the wall-a noble figure, in the plrime of man- hood, and garbed in the rich military costume of Britain,-he cried out with a burst of passion-- "That is my father, mother, as he looked, as he lived. Can it be possible that you mean to fill his place with such a person as this Captain Porgy?" And the boy looked noble, erect, manly, almost magnificent, like his father, as he uttered the passionate inquiry. Had there been sufficient cause for his question,-had the widow shown her- self weak, frivolous, wanton, easily accessible, and inclining to fling herself away upon a wolrthless person-there would have been something very admirable in his bearing' and position. The mothl- er looked at him a moment, her face pale with indignation, and page: 470-471[View Page 470-471] 47:0 THE SmWORD AND THE DISTAFF. the tears gushed, all at once, in a flood from her eyes. Through them she spoke, with impetuous anger. "Arthur Eveleigh, you have been listening to that devil of mischief, McKewn. You have suffered this vile Scotchiran to filli your ears with venomous discourse. You have meanly permitted him to whisper to you a scandal of your own mother. You have basely suffered him to fill your heart with evilthoughts of one to whom your mother owes her life and honour. , And you have suffered this wittingly. You were warned against this evil-mind-l ed wretch. You were taught to regard him as an object of sus-i picion and dislike. You have preferred his counsels to tlose of your mother-to those of your friend. You have been ised by him as a despicable tool against friend and mother. Leave me for the present, Arthur Eveleigh. I can neither speak to you, nor ok on you, with a proper calm of temper. Leave me." *"But mother-" The young man was aghast. He ad never seen his mother so fearfully aroused-had never so aroused her himself,--:ind now began to feel that he had unwisely and unbecomingly trespassed. "Yet stay," she said, "a and hear farther, Arthur Eve e'gli..-- While I acknowledge my responsibilities to you, as your mother, and the representative of your father, I still hold an independent relation to you in all matters which concern myself. OnL these,! will submit to no dictation. I shall be the mistress of viy own i thoughts, feelings, and sympathies, as far as it lies in my power to I be so. I shall account to you in no respect, unless I am pleased and prefer to do so. TWhile I shall neve-. feel the relations oetween your late father and myself to be other than sacred and very pre- cious, if it should seem to me wise, and right, and grateful to take another husband, it shall be my own will that I shall consult in the matter. It may be that your owr conduct shall cormpel me to this, where I would not choose. I must have affections and \ t :4 THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 4'71 sympathies-I must have devotion and society-I must love, Ar- thur, and must be beloved-at all events, I must be confided in. If my own son abandons me for the stranger-if he prefers the counsel of the serpent against which I have warned him, -and of- fends me with the rude insolence of his suspicions, I must seek succour elsewhere. You have heard me. It is for you to deter- mine. Go now; yet hear me: go not to this man, McKewn. I tell you, Arthur Eveleigh, that you must make your choice be- tween this evil genius and your mother. I must cease to trust you, if I find you put any trust in him." "Mother, dear mother!" He rushed, with a cry, and threw his arms around her. "Forgive me, dear mother, forgive me!" He clung to her, sobbing- his regrets and repentance aloud.-' She folded him fondly to her arms. "Oh! Arthur, you know not how rude a blow yDu have struck my heart." Just then, the little Dory came in, and with looks of equal ter- ror and sympathy, darted to them both. The widow laid one hand upon the head of the child, kissed her son, and freeing her- self firom his grasp, hurried out of -the chamber. "Oh! Arthur, what is the matter?" "Only I have been very foolish, Dory, and have made my mother vexed." "But you are sorry, Arthur?" "Very sorry, very." "Then God will forgive you, Arthur." "Ah! if I could only forgive myself, Dory." "But you will, Arthur, for my sake." "For your sake, Dory?--well, for your sake, I will try,-but I have been very, very foolish. I have made my mother very an- gry." "She will forgive you, Arthur. Go to her now, and beg her." page: 472-473[View Page 472-473] 7\2 472 THE SWORD AND HE, DISTAFF. i"Not now."' "Oh! yes, now! I want her to forgive you before I go. I am going home this evening, you know. Mother wants me."n "What can she want you for? You are better here, Dory. I can't do without you, you know. You must stay with mre." "No, Arthur, I must go and work for mother." "Work! Well, I will go home with you and help y) u. I'd, rather go away fdr a week, Dory; I'm so ashamed to n eet my mother!" CHAPTER LVI. THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. EVENTS continuedto ripen fast. Porgy's voomier with their progress, and a stern expression settled upon his fea- tures. He smoked and drank more freely than ever. Itis con-; versation grew more and more brief daily. He lheard thd Corpo- ral without heed, and seldom responded, except by a brief sarcasm, to his prolix exhortations. He was apprised from the cty that his danger could not be any longer averted; that t tere was no longer any barrier between him and the sheriff. C l. Pinckney wrote him an affectionate letter, full of sympathy, but cutting him off from all other'farther hope. of escape. Pinckney dida t stop at this. He sought the sheriff, who was awell-known ard y man, of good nature, something of a humourist, indeed, and with quite a friiendly regard fo- Porgy, whom he had- met more thiar once ,during the war, and whom he very well kneW. The object of much indulgence as Possible. To "do his spiriting gently.' To 4 s s S * X }!THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO.- 473 this the latter was naturally inclined, But, on the other hand, i there was the impatient creditor, McKewn, urging the rapid exe- cution of the proceedings. The law! The law! He claimed the benefit of the law in its utmost rigour, and waited, with in- tense appetite for the hews of the execution of his processes, the sale of the lands of Porgy, and the seizure of the negroes. Pinck- ney wrote the Captain all these particulars. He had tried the in- flexible creditor in vain. He was resolved on his pound of flesh, and as much blood as he could draw along with it. Porgy read the letter to Millhouse. The latter, by a private despatch, sum- moned Lance Frampton to the council. He came over to Glen, Eberley armed to the teeth, with rifle on his shoulder, sabre at his side, pistols in holster, just as he had gone through the wars. The requisitions of the Corporal had been to this effect. He had expressly enjoined the Lieutenant to come in. war fashion. He met him at the entrance, armed in like manner, though not on horseback; and, with an ominous shaking of the head and the hand, in answer to Frampton's inquiries, he said- The inimy is in motion, Lieutenant; we've got to stand an assault, maybe a siege, and I know'd you warn't aguine to stand by and see the Cappin bombarded and inwaded, without being ready to jine at the first sound of the trumpet. You'll see' the Cappi4's mightily changed in the last week. 'He's more down in the-mouth than I ever seed him. He kain't talk, and when a man kain't talk, that's been so used to it, it's about the worst sign in his sarcumstances. But, don't you- say nothing of what you sees. Jest you listen to me, and when I pushes on one p'int, be ready to follow up the push. We must purtect the property from the inimy. Ef they gits the place, thar's not much use for the niggers, and ef they gits the niggers, thar's not much use for the place.- The two stands together pretty much like gun and gunpowder. What's the use of the gunpowder-if thar's no gun, and' what's the use of the gun'if thar's no powder? You sees! page: 474-475[View Page 474-475] 474 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Now, we must purtect the niggers and plantation against siege and storm. That's the first needcessity; the next is to o-en the Cappin's eyes to the needcessity of marrying the widow. His sar- cumstances ain't to be put off any longer.' We must, both on us, argufy him into the sense of this needcessity." Having, as he thought, sufficiently given the Lieutenart his cue, the latter was allow-e to enter the dwelling, and to see his old commander. He found. Porgy sombre enough, but glai to see him. He put on a cheerful countenance whnn he beleid 'the youth, gave him his hand, and, for a little while, seemed t ) recover his spirits. But Frampton remarked that, though le ente-ed the room, armed cap-a-pie, the Captain never seemed to observe it; and that, even while he spoke to him of familiar things, fird with i a smile upon his face, his mind yet seemed to wander, After a while, he lapsed into moody silence, never once taking the pipe from his mouth in the course of half an hour, even thiIgh its fires had gone out. The Lieutenant took his place in the house- hold quietly, as if he had never left it. He had his bAd there that night. After supper, Tom being warned to be in attendance as an auxiliary, the Corporal opened by degrees upon the subject of embarrassment before them. "Ef you has no dejection, Cappin, I wish you'd read to the Lieutenant that 'ere letter of Col. Pinckney." I "Oh! to be sure. You've not heard, Lance, that th Philis- tines are about to descend upon us. Writs are out; and execu- tions, levies, and arrests, Ca aa's aind Fi Fa's, and I suppose nze ex- eats, and whatever other diabolical inventions of the law can be brought to bear upon a man whom the devil has determried to destroy. I told you of my fears before we got home. I was then better prepared for the disaster than I am now. The ras ite I have had, the restoration of my negroes, and the help in money afforded me by Mrs. Eveleigh, have helped to spoil me for vicissi- tudes; and, in getting a new taste of my old mode of lifl, I am i -I "i THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 475 much more reluctant than ever to give it up. But the thing seems inevitable now. This letter of Colonel Pinckney, which I will read to you, will show you how the land lies, and from what quarter, and in what force, the enemy will probably make his ap- proaches." And he read the letter. "i The case, you see, is hopeless. The wolves will have their victim. Nothing can be done." "Well, Cappin, I doesn't edzactly see that. Here's Lance, and me both, and Tom, all ready to have a fight on it, and beat off the inimy, ef they don't come on us too many at once. We three, and you, Cappin-" ; Pooh, pooh, Corporal! That's all nonsense. There's no fight- ing to be done in the matter, and no flying, that I can see. All that is left to me now, or is likely toi be left to me, is my philoso- phy, and that of my little Frenchman. I am trying to school myself to the trial with the best grace in the world, though, by the powers, if a good fight would help the matter, I'd be pretty quick to man the fortress; but that's out of the question. The notion of the Corporal is simply absurd. The case, look which- ever way you please, is absolutely hopeless." "You're clean wrong; jest bekaise you refuses to look the right way. Now, I've been seeing, a mighty long while past, that thar' was a way of saving all, and blocking the game on the 'nimy, and that, you see, was jes' by coming down upon-the widow Ev'leigh, and storming her primises. I show'd you, long ago, how a widow was a sort of post which had been afore taken by the inimy, and so was to be taken ag'in; and where the storming was Iconducted by a good off'cer, from the line of the army, that the tl ing mout be done easily. This widow Ev'leigh, now--" "Hush up, Corporal. No more of that. It must not be thought of. How will it look for me-I who have been borrowing the page: 476-477[View Page 476-477] 47'-6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. widow's money-to propose to pay my debts to her, by making her my wife?" "And the most ixcellentest way for settling a debt tla4t ever was invented on this airth." "Why, man, I've gone to her as a beggar. I owe her six hun- dred guineas. Shall I go to her and offer her payment in a bank- rupt husband?" "But ef she likes you, Cappin, won't she jump at it." ' Ah! but that is all very doubtful." X "A man what's doubtful, I may say, is a'most d- d ,'ready. Thar' must not be no doubt when you're arguine to storm a I fortress. Now, I see that this here widow is a'most ready to sur- I render at the first blow of the bugle. I knows it, Cappin I sees i it in every thing she does for you, and in every look she gives you; and the best thing you kin do is jest to make a tria of the sarcumstances of the case." i Porgy shook his head. "Now, don't you-be a-shaking of your head as ef thsr' was nothing in it. But jest you hear what I'm guine to ax y3u.- S'pose, now, the thing is jest as I'm a-saying it. S'pos.' she's ready to give in the moment you are ready to make the 4ttack? Won't you be a most bloody fool-pardon me, Cappin; I -loesn't mean to be onrespectful-but I ax, won't you be a bloody fool, not to give her a chaince to surrender handsome, and save her feelin's, and save this fine property, and save your niggers only bekaise you are so mealy-mouthed. Won't you feel most, mean and vicious, and onhappy, ef so be you keeps hanging o f, and she has to come and pop the question to you? I declar', Cappin, it seems a most pitiful and cruel thing for you not to he p her out a leetle, by jest axing her in time to save her fe9lin's." "Ha! ha! ha! Delightful! 'Pon my soul, Corporal, y,u put the case in quite anew and striking point of view. You taink I * ' I 31: . rTHE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 47 - should speak in time to prevent the widow from addressing me, ; and so spare her blushes." "In course, I does! That's jest the thing-spar' her blushes!" "But, suppose she were to propose to me, and I were to-re- fuse her?" "Lawd love you, Cappin, and be marciful to your onderstand- ing; but you would'nt be so onkind and outright rediclilous, asto- do that-and after all that's she's been a-doing for you." "It would be rather hard-hearted, I confess." "'Twould be most monstrous ridickilous! But, Cappin, you musn't wait for her-to do the axing, It mout-be she'd come arter awhile, and when she couldn't stan' keepin' in her feelin's any longer; but then it mout-be-it would be-too late, then, to help your sarcumstances. Ef the property was to be sold by the she- riff, what would it bring, I want to know, now, when thar's so lit- tle money guine about. Not enough, by half, to pay this war- mint, McKewn. But, ef 'twas only on account of the lady, it's your business to speak quick. The man has no right to keep the poor woman a-waiting on him. He has no right to keep a-thinking, with pipe in his mouth, while she's a weeping and pining away a-most to nothin'." "But I don't see that Mrs. Eveleigh shows any such signs of suffering, Corporal." "It's all innard, Cappin. She's got too proud a stomach, to show outside, in her flesh and sperrits, how much she suffers in- nardly. Many's the woman that'slooked fat and hearty, while her heart's been a-breaking in her buzzum. I don't mean to say that the widow Ev'leigh is so far gone, Cappin, 'kaise, you see, she's had ixper'ence in heart affairs, being a widow; but she's got her feelin's and sufferin's, Cappin, in the heart, that keeps it sore and bleedin' all over, though it's too strong to break. She ought'nt to hev' any sufferin's and bleedin's at all, ef so be you kin help her; and I say, and I'm sure on it, that you kin help her, ,f t page: 478-479[View Page 478-479] 478 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. jes' by the same thing that help's you'self. I'll leave it to the Lieutenant here, and to Tom, ef they don't 'gree with be, that : the widow Ev'leigh-has a nateral right tIo marry you, coisiderin' your sarcumstances." i Tom nodded his head affirmatively. \ "You hab for marry 'em, maussa. He bin too much good to you, maussa, You can't 'scuse 'em-you can't 'fuse (refUse) 'em. i You hab for do it, den we all t'ree b'long to one anuddep, maus- sa." t Frampton was of opinion that the proceeding would certainly - relieve the^ Captain of all his present difficulties, and was tor this j reason quite advisable. 5 "That's it, Cappin! considerin' the sarcumstances! iTt'she sarcumstances you've got to consider; and I say it againonsicl- erin' them, and the -sarcumstances of the widow, she's got. a nate- ral right to marry you." "But have I any natural right to marry her?" i "In course! Ef she's got a right to you, thar's no hel! for it, and you must jine your right to her'n. You've gut no right to refuse to hev' hey; seein' it's her needcessity to hev' you; apd the true way for an honest man, and a gentleman, and a good lsdger, is to put it to, her manful, at once, and not keep her a-waiting, and a longing and a sorrowin' till the poor woman gits silk from her needcessity." "Really, Corporal, you make a new case of it. You are mak- ing it clearly a duty and a charity that I should marry a ady of fortune, and so save myself from the skeriff." "That's the how! That's the very thing." "Now, Corporal, if I could only be sure that the excellent lady whom you so freely discuss, laboured Lnder any such feelings as you describe--" ' "Ax Lance-ax Tom!" responded the Corporal, appe alg to E each of them in turn. ", I r. It THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 479 ; - Lance ceitainly had seen the very favourable glances which the : widow had cast upon the Captain. "Sheep's eyes, they calls 'em, Cappin," quoth the Corporal. Tom gave his opinion with solemnity and confidence. "Miss Eb'leigh hab eyes,- enty, for see, maussa? Well, who dat say maussa ain't man'nough for please any woman? Da's it! I; see 'em how he look at maussa. He fire up, he mouth 'tan' open and sweet, and when he talk to 'em, it's jest like any bud (bird) dah sing to 'nudderd bud, and axing 'em wha' for we kain't -buil' nest togedder dis spring?" "Well," said the more literal Corporal, "'twould be all mighty great nonsense to talk of building nests in spring, when here we are jest on the edge, as I may say, of winter. But what Tom says I would be quite right, ef he'd make the nest buildin' together about Christmas. I like a marriage, Christmas time, better than any other; and ef the Cappin does the right thing, like a man, we'll have a raal blow-out this coming Christmas. You've hairn, Cappin. :Me, and the Lieutenant; and Tom, all agrees that the widow looks on you with mighty sweet eyes; and I say she's got j a nateral right to you, and you've got a nateral right to her; and you must jine your rights, and give us a blow-out this Christmas ; and ef the sheriff, or McKewn, or any other warmint, comes shark-e ing about these primises, I've got a nateral right to give him a h-11 of a licking, and I'll hev' my rights, by blazes, whenever I gits a chaince!" We are not prepared to say that the Captain was convinced by this argument, which was continued for some time after this, and was wound up by a stoup of Jamaica, when the parties all retired for. the night. Millhouse congratulated himself and companions that a favourable impression had been made, but Frampton was E doubtful. His sympathies had taught him better how to see into jlI the Captain's heart, and to comprehend his mysteries. The Cor- page: 480-481[View Page 480-481] 480 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. poral judged only of what should be tie effect of arguments, and an eloquence, so potent as his own. The next morning, at sunrise, found the two subordinates astir. Frampton and Millhouse went forth together in consultation, the latter looking exceedingly ominous, like some great bull-jog on duty, and having a keen scent in his nostrils of some intruder. At I breakfast, the subject of the last night was resumed by the Cor- poral, but the Captain made no response. He expressed no sur- i prise to see Frampton linger away from his young wife. The Lieutenant said nothing of the object of his visit, or of the sum- mons which. induced it, but quietly assumed the air and attitude of one on duty. The good youth, accustomed to military author- ity, and trained up in great measure by Porgy, was prepared to obey at every peril. Of law, he had only vague/ notions. So far as his experience went, civil authority had been only a name-a venerable thing, perhaps--but which men every where plucked by the beard, without fear, and with impunity. He had yet to learn I that it could'prove more potent now than during the seven years previous; when each man did the thing that was best in his own sight, and when there were no judges in the land, however nume- rous might be the executioners.' He had come to stand up beside, and for, his feudal lord-such was really the sort of relation be- tween the parties-and to break spear for him, and per I life, against all comers. It is possible that Porgy understood t e pur- port of his visit, but he forebore all remark upon it. The youth was simply welcomed, as of old; and, as of old, he went a- once on duty. The Corporal soon showed him that the' duty was to be a vigilant one, and was quite necessary. The two mounted guard alternately. Certain favourite negroes were selected as scou;s and videttes, who watched all the approaches to the plantation. One was chosen to ascend through the scuttle to the housetop, and keep his eyes at once on every point of the compass. And thus . e:, '!e - *- ,/ THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 481 matters stood, without any event to excite alarm, until the third day after Frampton's arrival. On this day, some little after noon, and just when Porgy was beginning to think of dinner, the scouts came in bringing intelligence of the approach, in the direo- tion of Glen-Eberley, of a very stylish looking gentleman, in-black habit, driving the vehicle, then in fashionable' use for one or two persons, called the " chaise," a heavy lumbering sort of gig, with a capacious top to it. This was the sheriff, the well-known, amia- ble, graceful and accomplished, Colonel , whose solicitude to do an unpleasant duty pleasantly, had prompted him to undertake a task which is now-a-days commonly confided to a deputy. At the gate of the avenue of Glen-Eberley, the sheriff found himself suddenly arrested by a person in military habit. Before he knew where he was, a huge horseman's pistol was clapped to his head, and he was required to give an account of himself. The sheriff was confounded. "Why, young man," said he, "what does allthis mean? Why are you armed to the teeth, and why am I arrested with violence on the peaceful highway? Who are you, and what do you take me for?" "For a person that's after no good, stranger!" was the answer of Lance Frampton. "We hear that there's some enemies of Captain Porgy after him, who want to seize him and his negroes,. and we are jest here to see that they do no such thing!" "Why, who is there to take his property?" "Who! I don't know.; but they are enemies, and varmints, sheriffs, and such like tory people!" "Frampton's mode of catalogueing, showed considerable inex- perience, by which the sheriff was amused rather than annoyed. "You do not mean to say, my friend, that you would resist a sheriff in the execution of his lawful duties?" "Let him only try it here!" was the indignant answer. 39 9 i i [ page: 482-483[View Page 482-483] 482 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ! "Well, my good friend, my business here is to see Captain Porgy." ' "But you're not the sheriff?" "Sheriff, indeed! I'm Col. --, formerly of the army. I know Captain Porgy well. He'll be glad to see me, I've no doubt." "And you're not one of the sheriff's fellows, then?" demanded Frampton, doubtfully. "Do I look like any one's fellow?" asked the sheriff, laughing. "I don't know! I'm on duty here to see that no sheriff; or any of his fellows, get into the place; and I'm bound to examine close- ly. But I'll take you in, where you can see another person that's on duty, and that knows better what's to be done than I do. Get out boy"-to the sheriff's driver'" get up behind." i In a moment, Frampton had changed places with the ndgro.-- This done, he took the reins, saying as he drove-- "If you were to' drive up this avenue, stranger, except under my charge, you'd be most liket to have a bullet through your I jacket." - "The devil! You have then converted Glen-Eberley iinto a fortified place " "Yes, indeed! Aed we can make a pretty stiff fight against a good troop of sherifs." I "Humph! The COptain's at home; I suppose " i "Yes, indeed! But it's a chance you won't get a sight of him. It all depends upon Corporal Millhouse. He's the officer on duty. You must make it all clear to him, that you don't come for any evil, before he'll let you 'light." ' "Indeed i" and, with his secret meditations, the sheriff smiled pleasantly enough; but his smiles were arrested as suddenly as he himself had been before; as, almost in the middle of the avenue, Frampton drew up the horses. * ' "IHere's the Corporal!" said he. ,p ; THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 483 The sheriff, at the same moment, saw approaching, from the head of the horses, a stalw'art figure, with pistols in belt, and sabre waving in his left hand. A cap made of the skins of a pair of grey squirrels, with the tails flapping on both sides, covered his head. His uniform was of strange military mixture, altogether indescribable, but propriety requires that we should describe it as a uniform. His eye was fiercely suspicious, and his mouth was compressed with most rigid determination. "Who's he?" was the stern demand of the Corporal, as the ve- hicle was stopped, and he presented himself, waving his sabre, in front of the visitor. "He calls himself Col ----, of the army; says he's not the sheriff, or any of his fellows, and wants to see the Captain." The Corporal glared at him with eyes of piercing inquiry; and, after a moment's pause, said- "Take off your hat, stranger, that I may see what sort of a head you've got of your own!" The sheriff, smilingly civil, complied with the requisition. "He looks onharmful enough, Lance, but there's no knowing. I never haird of any. Col. in the army; I'vebhearn of a Cap- pin with some sich name, but I never haird that he did any thing much. He warn't no great shakes. You say, stranger, that our Cappin knows you?" "Yes!" said the sheriff, meekly, beginning to feel somewhat dubious of his securities. "Well, hev' you any way to let him hear from you, by any writing or letter. For, as for seeing him afore he hears all about you, that's onpossible!" The sheriff produced a pencil, tore off- a bit of paper from a let- ter, wrote his name upon it, and offered it to the Corporal. "Stick it on the eend of my sabre ;" said the wary soldier, not knowing how such a talisman, taken into his hands, might com- promise his relations with the Captain or the enemy. page: 484-485[View Page 484-485] 484 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "Now, Lance, git out, and take out the horse; then you carry this paper, jest as it stands, to the Cappin; I'll keep gfard on this pusson, in the meantime, when you're gone." . A few moments sufficed for this performance, and Frampton set g off, bearing the missive at the point of the sword, and leaving Millhouse, pistol in hand, confronting the visitor. The latter made a movement as if to git out; but the Corporal, with a horrid voice of war, cried out- - "Don't you stir a peg, onless you wants me to blow a winder through your buzzum! Jes' keep quiet whar' you air, ef you wants an easy time of it!" And he followed up the terrible threat by a wilful obtrusion of the huge pistol, jaws wide open, full into the gaping jaws of the doubtful visitor. The sheriff recoiled, as well he might. He was half afraid now to move a limb, although, just then, it occurred to him that the ends of certain legal documents, of considerable size, j were peering too conspicuously from a breast pocket; and he feared, if remarked, it would scarcely be possible for hitn to es- cape the imputation of being the much hated officer, for the hos- i tile reception of whom these men were in arms. He finally at- d tempted the thing once, but; as he lifted his hand to his bosom, Millhouse mistook it for an attempt -o get at his weapons, and he instantly applied his own. Again was the huge muzzle of the { pistol clapped to the sheriff's head with an awful injunction-- "Ef you lifts a hand, or stirs a peg, stranger, you swallows a bullet that no white man can chaw. I've been in the army, too long, my friend, to let the inimy git his hand fairly into his buzzum. Jest you try it, ef you wants to see Low I manages in sich a case. Jest you try it, ef you'd see blazes to shet up bothyour e$es." The sheriff resigned himself submissively to the necessity. The Corporal, clearly, was not a sentinel to- be trifled with; and the prisoner, beginning honestly to wish himself well out of Ithe pre- sent predicament, was now afraid Jo relax the stiffened limb, to i-; COUP DE THEATRE. 45 ease out leg or arm, knee or elbow, lest he should incur the sud- den penalty of, blow or bullet. He remained thus in a most un- easy state of rest, which was any thing but repose, waiting, with anxiety, for the return of the more civil of his two captors. CHAPTER LVII. COUP DE THEATRE. WHEN Lance Frampton entered the house with the paper of the sheriff, addressed to Porgy, and which contained only th6 name of the former, the Captain of Partisans was preparing him- self for dinner which Tom, the cook, was himself about toplace upon the table. "Where's Pomp, Tom?" demanded the Captain. "Pomp dey somewhere; dey tak' care oh hese'f, I 'speck." re- plied Tom, with a significant jerk of the head. "Somewhere! Taking care of himself! Why, what the d-1 is he after, and why don't you call him in to his duty? You should see, Tom, that the scamp does not skulk too frequently.- Hle has too much taste for it, as is, perhaps, the case with all fd- diers. Halloo for the scamp, and see that he is at his post. Take care of himself, indeed! I'll see that he takes care of me." "He no gaine ye'r holler dis time, maussa!" answeredTom. Nebber you min' maussa; he will come jis' when we wants 'em; only jis' now, he sca'ce (scarce)!" "But we want him now /" "Can't come now, mausa! Pomp in de swamp, safe shet up. Nobody for sh'um (see him)!" 39* page: 486-487[View Page 486-487] 486 THE SWORD AND TEE DISTAFF. - "In the swamp! What the d-- is he after in the swamp" " But the farther dialogue was arrested by the appearance of ; Frampton, very much to Tom's relief, since he could not much i longer have evaded the direct demands of his master, while Mill- - house had enjoined upon him silence. To let the, reader into a secret, all the negroes had taken to the swamp, except Tom, from the moment when the sheriff's chaise had been arrested at the en- trance of the avenue! "Well, Lance ;in armour, still? What's the matter?" "We've captured a man here, Captain, who calls himself Col. ,and says you know him. He sends you this." Porgy iead the slip. "'Col. ; and you've captu-ed him, you say? How?- Why '" Frampton told his story briefly. "Why, you see, we're on duty; and we thought he was the i sheriff, and so we took him into captivity. The Corporal's stand- M ing guard over him, while I brought you the paper." 'I "Captured him! And where is Le? "In the avenue. You can see him through the window, where the Corporal has him under guard." L Porgy looked out, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laugh- ter. ' "Ha! ha! ha! Good, i'faith! excellent! The captor in cap- tivity! Ha! ha! ha! Wel, this-s promising! The game be- gins well. We shall have the laugh on our side, at least, wheth- er we lose or not in the long run. Ia! ha! ha!" The Captain made the Lieutenant repeat the details-the dia- logue-every particular; and the merriment of the Captain was renewed. The whole thing struck him amusingly. It appealed to his leading passion for practical okles. He determined to hu- mour it to the end. "So, you thought Col. the sheriff, did you? Ha! ha! y OUP DE THEATRE. 48"7 ha! admirable! What a story to tell! But, I will go out to him. I nast only put a few extra dishes on the table. Here, Tom!-And nqw, Lance, step out to the Corporal; tell him watcri his prisoner closely. I will come out and see if he is really th6 Colonel, whom I know very well! We must not be imposed upor, Lance! By no means! Ha! ha! ha! The captor in captivity! Very good, by Mercury, very good!" Lance Frampton disappeared; perfectly satisfied that the Cap- tain approved of all his proceedings; a matter of which he had not been quite sure previously. When he was gone, Porgy, with Tom's assistance, proceeded to put himself in caparison of war. His uniform was hastily hustled on, his belt girded about his waist, sword slung at his side, pistols stuck in his belt, and in his hand he carried a long rifle. This done, he proceeded to arrange cer- certain mysteriously covered dishes upon the table. Tom was all so made to equip himself in armour-that is, with a light toma4 hawk over his shoulder, a huge couteau de chasse in one side of his belt, and a great horseman's pistol in the other. Porgy gavd him some firal directions, and then sallied forth to examine the prisoner. Before he appeared, the sheriff had begun to meditate' the propriety of declaring his indignation, in very strong language, at the treatm nt he received; but, at the approach of Porgy, look- ing swords, bayonets and blunderbusses, his purpose changed.- Was the Captain crazy? Could he really mean to defy the laws? The Colonel began to have his doubts.' He had heard of the mad fieaks of which Porgy had been occasionally guilty; he had heard that he was very free in his. potations; he saw nothing but savage defiance in the features of Millhouse, and nothing but sober soldier pjrslujion, and dogged adherence to authority, in the aspect of Frampton. The gown began to tremble in the presence of the sword. "I must temporize!" was the unspoken decision of the sheriff, L I must see how-the land lies first! Who knows what desperate actions these mad fellows may not commit." Porgy ' * \ ' / g page: 488-489[View Page 488-489] 488 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF.: / A came on slowly, as became his size and state. As he approached, - : the sheriff made a movement as if to rise. ,i "Not a step, stranger!" cried the vigilant Millhouse, holding up -i the yawning pistols. "Wait 'tell tLe Cappin gives the word." 7 /s The Captain seemed slow to give the word. He drew nigh with the air of a man who felt that he might, at any moment, be required to pull trigger. His rifle was held in readiness, his finger near the trigger. He walked up to Millhouse, and looked suspi- X ciously at the vehicle. "Who have you got here, Corporal 2" : The Corporal saluted, in military style, flourishing the pistol in- stead of the sword, as he answered-- "A fellow who calls himself Col..---- , but I don't know. He mout-be, and mout-be not, the Colonel. But he says he knows you, and you knows him." Porgy advanced a pace, and peered suspiciously into the vehicle, still keeping a very deliberate step, and a severe, suspicious aspect. The sheriff cried out- ' "What, Capt. Porgy, don't you know me " "Bless me, so it is! It is- Col. -- . My dear Colonel, I I am truly rejoice, to see you, and g eatly regret that my fellows should have subjected you to 'durarce vile' for a single moment. It was all a mistke. Get out, if you please. They took you for JI some d---d hai y of the law- the sheriff or some one -of his i vile myrmidons. Get out, my dear fellow, and let us hurry in to. dinner. You arei just in pudding timne."j "He evidently does not know that I have been made sheriff," was the silent whisper of the Colonel to himself; as, accepting. the invitation, he destended from the velicle, which Porgy immediate- ly told Framptonljto drive up to the house. We have but one single negro on the place," said Porgy; " at sight of you, supposing you the heriE, every two legged animhal, of dark complexion, took to the swamp. You gave them a scare, I I . COUP DE THEATRE.! 48 assure you. But come, I am really glad to see you at Glen-Eber- ley, and jus' at this moment." And he shook hands with the sheriff, with the cordial army * shake, which threatened to dislocate a member in order to com- pel rememberance. The sheriff felt a little relieved, even while the usage woos so rough. They walked towards the house arm in arm. I "Let me carry your rifle, Captain,"' said the sheriff. "My rifle., No, indeed, Colonel, no! I never part with it. I know not at what moment I may have to use it. There is a skunk of a Scotchman, in my neighbourhood, who may cross my path some day, and, as I tell you, I am in momentary expectation of the visits of the sheriff, or some of his satellite harpies." "But you certainly would not draw trigger upon an officer of the law?" "Would I not!" exclaimed the Captain, suddenly stopping in his march, withdrawing his own arm from that of the other,! ad confionting him with a stern expression. "Would I not?-- ' Will I consent, after fighting the battles of my country for seven years, to be driven from my estates by a d---d civilian-a fel- low, probably, who never smelt gunpowder in his life. No! in- deed! I will die in harness and in possession / They may con- quer me-I suppose they will, in time; but I will hold on while, I can, do battle to the last, and when they do take possession, they shall walk into it only over my dead body." "And here's the man to baick you, Cappin, by the Lord Har-i ry!" , Such was the speech, delivered with stentor-lungs, from the rear; the Corporal at the same moment amusing himself with thrusting baci his sabre into the steel sheath, with such an em- phasis, as to make it ring again. The sheriff was startled firom his propriety, for a moment, by the sudden illustration which fol- lowed the Captain's fierce determination. page: 490-491[View Page 490-491] "O' THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "They are all mad together," he again whispered to himself; and it might be observed that his ceportment became more con- ciliatory than ever. ".Come, Colornel, let us in, nowi and see what dinner we shall i find awaiting us I A stoup of Janma'ca will refresh you after your ride, and me after my scare. The very idea of a sheriff makes me thirst; and to be relieved of this idea, I must drink. Come! In!" - g And the Captain seized his guest good-naturedly by the arm, and the two ascended to the piazza,/f Corporal thundering with heavy tread behind, his saet i iattling against the steps at every stride, and reminding the sheriff, momently, of the military nature of the escprt. W ien in the house, he threw off his hat, and Porgy discarded his mlitary cap ;- the squirrel skin covering of Millhouse was doffed also, and the three joined in a devout draught of Jamaica. But neither of the two latter laid aside his'weapons. The swords still swinging at their sides, and the pistols at their belts. Meanwhile, dinner was announced, and the Captain of Partisans motioned the sheriff to a seat at one. end of * the table, he preparing to take the place opposite. The Corporal sank into a seat dn one side. Once seated, the Captain unsheath- ed his sabre, whibh he laid across the table, the hilt convenient to his grasp. The corporal followed the example, only substituting his lap for the tatlee. Lance Frampton came in at this moment, took a place opposite the Corporal, ar-d, seeing what the latter had i done with his weapon, made a similar disposition of his own.-- The sheriff saw these proceedings, which seemed habitual, with in- creasing surprise. "Certainly," he again whispered himself "these people are all mad!" The reflection increased his observances, and made him studious to maintain the utmost propriety of de- -meanour. He lo6ked about him, and curiously surveyed all that came within the range, of his vision. We have not hitherto thought it necessary to mention that, with the borrowed money of i . ,^ COUP DE THEATRE. 491 Mrs. Eveleig'h, the Captain had succeeded in furnishing his house with some regard equilly to comfort and display. The want of money in the city whln he entered the market, and the number of families Twho were I selling out, had enabled him to procure a complete ou;fit at small cost. He no longer dined upon the floor, carpetted with blanket. he had now ample supplies of chairs and tables; there were mirrors against his walls, and fine linen upon his table. There was no display of plate, it is true, beyond the necessary allowance of spoons, but his china was quite impo- sing, and would be considered so now. Iis decanters and tum- blers were of cut-glass, and the covers to his dishes -ere of very handsome plating. When the dishes wre uincovered, it was with increasing sur- prise that the sheriff beheld one, within reach of Porgy, contain-- ing a pair of highly polished pistols. He attempted something of a jest when he saw them. "Really, Captain, you cannot design that dish for the digestion of any visitor." "The digestion must depend upon himself," was the cool reply; "but there are parties, who might sometimes intrude upon me, for whose special feeding they are provided." "What! the sheriff, eh " with a. faint chuckle. "Exactly! Shall I help you to soup, Colonel?" "If you please." "Bouillion?" "Thank you-a little." "You will find it more manageable than bullet." "Yes, indeed!" "Try a little of that Madeira with your soup. It improves r it wonderfully to my taste. Tom!"- tasting-" you have not put quite enorgh salt in your soup?" "Who say so? Enty I know? 'Tas'e 'em 'gen, maussa! I 'speck you fin' salt 'nough in 'em next time. Heu! Ef I ain't page: 492-493[View Page 492-493] 92 , THE StORD AND THE DISTAFF, know, by dis time, how for salt de soup, I t'row 'way heap of my : life for not'ing.' "Hear the rascal. He knows that he doesn't belong to me, or he would never be so impudont. How are negroes selling now, Colonel? I got a hundred guineas for that fellow." "You were well paid, Captain. At his time of life, unless a fellow had some rare qualities, he could scareely- command more ,than half that money." d "Tom has rare qualities. He can cook a good dinner; can ,make and season soup to perfectior-, and would have done so to- day-would certainly never have ;hrown in too little salt--but that he heard some talk of the sheriff, and in his agitation and the hurry with which he armed himself witlh his favourite wea- pons-see the knife and the hatchet-he has been careless with his salt--has probably spilt half of that in the fire which he in- tended for the soup. How does it taste to you, Colonel V" '"Right, sir; very good soup, and well seasoned. I should say that your cook lias salted it sufficiently." T'ank you, s'ah," quoth Tom. "I mos' bin'fear'd I spill some ob de salt, when I yer 'bout dem wVarmint, de sheriff; but ef you tas'e 'em, da's 'nough. Salt musn't be too sharp in soup for he good seas'ning." From the soups they passed to the solids. There was a round of beef. There was a pair of wild ducks. The sheriff began to recover his confidence with his appetite, and to praise Tom's cook- M ing. Porgy watched and listened to him with a grim pleasure. Occasionally, thee Corporal put in, with some of his philosophies, whenever anything particularly provocative had been said, but it I may be stated that he was particularly taciturn that day. The fact i is, the conduct of the Captain was somewhat mysterious. The guest was inoffensive-was clearly not the sheriff-yet he saw that; Porgy was playing out a game upon him-whether for the pur- pose of alarming the strangers fear, or amusing himself, he could '* ' i1 Al ' 1 - . COUP DE THEATRE. 49 not determine; but the doubt kept him fierlcely suspicious, and watchful of every look and movement of the guest. The sheriff noted the man's air and manner, and was impressed according- ly. The conduct of Lance Frampton, who was singularly quiet, was yet of a sort to fix his attention. In this young man he be- held a fixed confidence in his superior, and a readiness to obey orders, which showed t!lat, at a wink, he would be prepared to act, and without any rega'd to responsibilities. After awhile the wine began to circulate, though the Corporal still confined -himself to the Jamaica. Even when, at the summons of the Captain, he emptied his glass of Madeira, he was sure to swallow a good mouthful of the rum Iafter it, as if to prevent any evil conse- quences from the more aristocratic liquor.--The dishes were clear- ed away, and Tom gave the party a rice pudding, which was voted good on all hands. Its removal was followed by the in- troduction" of raisins, rround-nuts, (peanuts or pindars,) and black walnuts. Over the wine and walnuts, the chat grew more and more lively. It pa sed from topic to topic; the town and country; the camp andt court; civil life and that of the soldier; but there was one lurking trouble in the mind of the sheriff which invariably brought him back to the peculiar condition in which he found the household. "Really," said he, " Captain, I find it impossible to realize the assurance that you make me, that you are all armed and equipped here to resist the operations of the law.", "Indeed !" said Porgy, looking grave. "You find it difficult: to understand, and why ? Is it so strange that I should be un- willing to surrender all my possessions, at the first demand, and without a struggle." "But you could scarcely expect to make resistance to the laws of the land. The sheriff is armed with a sovereign power for the time. How would you hope to hold out against him ?' 40i page: 494-495[View Page 494-495] "4 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "You mean to say that he would overwhelm me with the pos- se comilatus?" . "Ay, and if need, call out the military!" "To be sure he may, and certainly lhere is a power to which my own must succumb. What then? If I am to yield up all ii the goods of life, why not life also? What is life to me?. You i know my tastes and habits. You know how I have lived and : how I. still live. Some men will tell you that I am a glutton, oth- ers, that I imbue my appetites equally with my tastes and philo- sophies; all ag ee that I am, essentially, a good deal of an ani- mal-that I was profligate in youth that I might enjoy life, and that in the good things of this life, I find life itself. I won't deny the charge. Be it so. Am I to survive the good things, and yet cherish the life .i Wherefore? What does Shylock say,-whom, by the way, I take to be a very shrewd and sensible fellow, and a greatly ill-used 'ascal-- c-"You take my life When you do take the means wLereby I live!" And, when I have perilled my life a thousand times for the benefit of other people's goods, shall I not venture it for the protection of' my own?" "But, my dear Captain, there is a material difference between doing a thing with the sanction of -he law, and in defiance of it." "None to me! Don't yoi see, my dear Colonel, that I am iK prepared to sacrifice my life with my property, and that law can, in no way, exact a higher forfeit? But d--n the law! We've had enough of it for the present. Fill up your glass. You will find that Madeira prime. It is firo an ancient cellar!" "Thank you I [Fills.] Well, ny dear Captain, suffer me to hope for you an escape from the lutches of the law by legiti- mate means!" ' "I'm obliged to you, mydear Colonel; butwe army men don't . .' '-' ' J? COUP DE THEATRE. 495 care much about the mreans, so that?-we effect the escape. I am for stratagem or fight, sap or storm, just as the best policy coun- cils. Life, after all, is a constant warfare. Rogues are only ene- mies in lambskins, o" ermine. They do not care to cut my throat so long as I have a purse to cut; they will not care to drive me to desperation, so long as it is profitable to them that I should live. I know them. I defy them! I can die without a grunt to-morrow. [ have neither wife, nor child, nor mother, nor sister, to deplore my fate, or to profit by my departure. I am, with the exception of these two faithful comrades of mine, utterly alone in the world. They shall live with me while I live. They would die for me to-morrow. Were a man but to lift a finger against me, to assail my life, or my meanest fortunes, they would be into him with bulet and bayonet, and need not a signal from me." "That's a rightious truth, by the Hokies!" exclaimed the Cor- poral, with his one fist thundering down upon the table. The Lieutenant's eyes brightened keenly, and he looked to the Captain, but he said nothing. "I have no doubt they are true and faithful friends, Captain," said the sheriff; " but suppose now, only suppose, I say, the she- riff was suddenly to appear among you, just as I am here now, and were to-" He was stopt! S-opt in an instant as by a thunderbolt, by the prompt reply and action of Porgy. "Suppose the sheriff in you! fia! Suppose the rest for your- self.-See!" And with the wild but determined look and action of a despe- rate man, he seized both pistols lying in the dish before him, stood up, reached as far over the table as he could, and covered the figure of the amiable but indiscreet Sheriff with both muzzles cocking the weapons .s he did so. The sheriff involuntarily dodged and threw up his hands. At the same instant, and as soon as the purpose of the superior had been understood by Mill- page: 496-497[View Page 496-497] "6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. house and the Lieutenant, they were both upon their feet-the Corporal swinging his sabre over the head of the supposed offender; while Frampton, more silent, but quite as decided, while he swung his sword aloft'with one hand, grasped with the other the well- powdered shocklof the Sheriff, in an attitude very like that which we see employed by the ferocious Blue Beards in the opera, when the poor wife is Itremblingly crying out for her brother. Here was E an unpremeditated coup de theatre! Two swords crossed in air above the victim,-two pistols, with each broad muzzle almost jammed against his own; every eye savagely fixed upon him, and all parties seeming to await only the farther word of provocation from his lips. Nothing had been more instantaneous. The sub- ordinates were machines, to whom Porgy furnished all the im- pulse. Their action followed his will, as soon as it was expressed. There was no questioning it, and the amiable Sheriff was so much paralyzed by the display, that it was only with much effort that he could cry out-"But, my dear Captain, don't suppose me the enemy-the assailant-the d-- d Sheriff or any of his myr- midons." \ "By no means, Colonel; but you supposed IEcase in order to see whether, and how, we were prepared for it; and it was essen- tial that you should have a proper demonstration.. You have seen; be easy; fill up your glass, my dear sir, and forgive my merry men here for the earnestness with which they performed their parts. They had no reason, indeed, to suppose that I was not serious. You see what chance a bona fide Sheriff would stand, if he aimed at any showing here!" Porgy had resumed his seat, and restored the pistols to the dish as coolly as the actor, who takes his brandy and water, equal parts, after strangling his wife, stabbing the traitor, and dying famously in the person of Othello. It was not so easy for Millhouse to throw off his tragic aspect. He resumed his seat slowly, never once taking his eyes from the Colonel's face, as he did so; and "EgAL, REGIMEN. 491 during the whole progress of the feast, he continued to regard him with only half reconciled senses. CHAPTER LVIII. LEGAL REGIMEN. THE excellent Sheriff no longer felt any call to trespass in ex- periments upon the legal antipathies of the Captain of PartiLans and his observant follower. He steered wide of all allusions from thenceforth to the offcer of the law, and his possible appearance in the precincts. He fe t really impressed with the danger of any one who should, with malice prepense, do so, in the evidently dis- eased condition of mind and mood prevailing at Glen-Eberley. That he should thus 2orbear, however, was by no means agreeable to his self-esteem or his -sense of duty. He was uncomfortable when he thought of Lis official station, and the sealed documents in his pockets. He had come there to make a levy on land and negroes, without dreaming that he should encounter any opposi- tion. Resistance, with force of arms, was entirely beyond his imaginings; and to depart, having done nothing, was at once a 'aciesse of duty and a personal mortification. More than once he felt like ing up is drowning courage, and perilling his life upon his Is od-boldly challenging the danger, and facing it with folded "ams of defance; but, on all such occasions, as if Porgy and ihis followers knew, by instinct, his emotions, there would occur sofie expl sion, or some symptom of explosion, which would remind him viy-dly of the smouldering volcano upon which he sate. For example he once made an allusion, deliberately de- 40* I page: 498-499[View Page 498-499] "8 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. signed, to McKewn; and Millhouse flared up, and fumbled his sabre, and gnashed his teeth, even as the Frenchman when he cries, "Sacre!" through his moustache, or the Spaniard when he growls "Demonios!" and flourishes his dagger. Frampton showed similar signs of impatience-while Porgy exclaimed aloud, striking his fist down upon the table :- "Dont mention that scoundrel's name in my hearing, Colonel! I feel wolfish when I hear of him. Let him but cross my path; X let any of his myrmidons but put themselves in my way, and if i I do-not crop their ears, close to the head, then there's no edge to any weapon in my household." But is he not a neighbour, Captain?" , '"Neighbour! Well, sir, I suppose you may c"Ihim a neigh- i bour, even as the devil is a neighbour, and is said to take free lodgings in every Juan's dwelling; but such neighbourhood does not prevent us from flinging the wretch out of the windows, whenever our good saints give us the necessary succour. Don't speak of such a scoundrel to my ears, or I may do you the injus- tice to suppose you are his friend." The Sheriff took the warning, and McKewn was- dropped, and all subjects were dropped which were likely to stir up the bile and -black blood in the bosoms of the host and his companions. The- Sheriff resigned himself to his fate, and to the policy of doing nothing with as much grace as -possible. He was not only fright- ened from the purpose'for which he came, but thfeeling of good s fellowship momently grew stronger Edith the circulation of the wine, and the excellent spirits 'of the Captain. T ier, in all respects, except the one, was on his best behavio i nd in most amiable temper. He never showed himself more really humo- rous and delightful as a companion int all his life. The Sheriff was charmed and listened. He was-soothed and satisfied. His philosophy came into the support of his necessity 'RHe reasoned thus, accordingly: "EGAL REGIMEN. 499 "There is no need ;o push the matter-! Porgy's estate is good, at any moment, for tdis debt. Every day increases the value of both lands and negroes. Were I to seize and sell now, the pro- perty would be sacrificed, It would pay the debt, but leave noth- ing over to the good -ellow, who has been serving his country in a long and honourabla warfare. D-n the fellow! I like him, and he shall have indtlgence as long as I can grant -t " As soon as he had r'eached .this conclusion, and resolved that' his visit should no longer have a professional object, the play was easy. He yielded himself up to the society in which he found himself. He felt the charm of his host's fun and philosophy; and -he, too, had good things in his keeping. When he had once resolved to sink the S-eriff, he gave himself free scope, let him- self out, and became, what he was known to be in the army, a really good fellow, of no savage inclinations, fond of a jovial cir- cle, and capable: of making himself the life of it. The day passed and the party of four lad not left the table. They 'had raised their clouds around it; all being smokers except the Lieutenant. Coffee was served by Tom, in the midst of the cloud. When the coffee disappeared, the -Jamaica and the Madeira were restored. Cards followed, and at Twelve o'clock at night, the Sheriff rose a loser of some thirty shillings to Corporal Millhouse, who played through the hands of-F lampton, and who became more and more reconciled to the suspicious guest with every shilling which the lat- ter yielded. When, next morning, after the Colonel's departure,- 'which took place soon a'ter an early breakfast-he was discoursing of his good qualities, his companionable virtues, and so forth, the Captain of Partisans lail his hand on his shoulder- Ah! Millhouse, but you dont know the man." "What! he's Col. -- , aint he?" "Yes.7 . I "And a main good fe low, I say." "Well enough ;--well enough; but-your ear, Corporal." page: 500-501[View Page 500-501] 500 . THE SWORD: AND THE DISTAFF. i The latter yielded it; the Captain stooped as if to whisper- then in deep, solemn accents, as if drawn up from immeasurable depths, he cried out-A ' THE COLONEL IS, THE SHERIFF!" The Corporal made but one bounce, and was across the room; his Countenance wo-begone with surprise amounting to terror. His involuntary utterance, occasioned equally by what he had heard, and the tone of voice employed in telling it, was charac- ^ teristic of his early attention when at church service. "Hark from the tombs! The Sheriff, Cappin i' "The Sheriff : "What! our Sheriff, what's a-coming a'ter our goods and : chattels."' "The same!"i - - : Oh! ef I'd -la' knowed it! I'll be a'ter him!-Lance!" Noo! Do nothing of the kind! We've got off, thus far, very well. The joke is a good one, upon which I can feed, fat with S laughter for a month. I must ride over and tell the widow. How her'sides will shake!" "The Sheriff! It's onpossible, Cappin! And he 'haved him- self so civil and sensible, and never said a thing about the d-d execution!" "No, indeed! the pistols looked too full of executions of a more serious sort, to say nothing of your two foot sabre, and your mon- strous ferocity of visage, Corporal." "Ha!a ha! ha!-ho! ho!ho!-haw!haw!haw!" The whole story became very slowly apparent to Millhouse; but when he did receive it 'fully, the house was made to shake with his -wild yells of laughter. Lance Frampton was perhaps more keenly sersible to the force of the jest, but he permitted himself, at best, a quiet chuckle only in a corner. It was in the midst of a torrent of Millhouse's yells, that Porgy had his horse saddled, and roce over to&the -widow Eveleigh, to whom he re- "EGAL REGIMEN. 501 counted the little drama, from the first scene to the last, with in- imitable effect. The widow did laugh; dignity, in those days, did not deny the privileges of an honest cacchination even to nobility; and, we are constrained to admit, as had been predicted by Porgy, that her sides did shake; but not vulgarly, or with too ostentatious a display of the commotion within and without. It was a lady-like show of shaking which did not discredit, in the least, the social claims and bearing of the fair widow. But when she recovered herself from the shaking of the sides, she sho6k her head, and, with becoming gravity, said-- "But, Captain, is no- this flying in the face of the 'aw? Will this not compromise you seriously?" "By no means, my dear widow;" he answered merrily, "the law never showed its face to us for a moment. We have treated it with no discourtesy." "But its messenger, the Sheriff!" "He never showed h mself in that character." "But that was due to your course-" "Perhaps; but that course was not illegal. There is nothing penal in the case. If he allowed his apprehensions to get the better of his sense of cuty, the more fool he. He has no right to complain and will be ashamed to do so. As for the law, we have done nothing against which the law can shake a inger." "But the matter does not end here. 'The Sheriff will, of course come again, and--" "I shall play out the play, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, as it has be- gun. I must have the :un in full; and for the rest,--hy, I will content myself with the proverb of the patriarch-' Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.' It will be time enough to look out for the bolt when we hear the thunder." "Too late-the flash!" "Precisely, my dear widow, precisely that! It is because the case is one against which no precautions can avail, that I choose page: 502-503[View Page 502-503] 502 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to look out for the bolt after it strikes and not before. But, good- I bye, I must rice back and write to Pinckney all about this mat- ter. He must share the fun. He will relish it, I know. I would he had been a spectator! The thing is indescribable ;-only to A be seen in the visages of Millhouse, Lance, and the Sheriff, as the two crossed weapons over his head, and I faced him out of coun- tenance with my unmuzzled bull dogs. My dear widow, would ! you believe:it, -he innocent pups that looked so fiercely in the eyes 1 of the Sheriff, were toothless. There was no load in either. But, good bye; Goc bless you! I must get back in a hurry. I rode over only that you should enjoy the story." The story, indeed, was quite too good a one to be quiet in any a bosom. That very night Millhouse gave an entertainment to ; Fordham and the overseer of McKewn himself, when the narra- i: tive was given at length. McKewn's man relished it quite as i much as did Fordham; and the next day, when McKewn saun- :i tered out to his stables, he was duly enlightened upon the events : occurring in his neighbourhood. He had expected the Sheriff at g his house after or before-the levy, and had he made it, the proba- j bility is that the nights would have been spent with McKewn in- stead of Porgy. The former listened to his overseer without corn- men;. He saw that the latter watched him furtively, to see what effect would be produced by the revelation. But he was disap- pointed. McKewn maintained the utmost immobility of coun- tenance. He said nothing, spent the day as usual, but the very next, he had his carriage got and started off on a visit to the offi- cer of the law. The Sheriff was by no means surprised to see him enter his office; but the visit disquieted him. "Have you proceeded in that business, Colonel?-McKewn versus Porgy. i "Not yet, Mr. McKewn."' "But did you not visit Glen-Eberley for the express purpose, Colonel?" -,: r r t "EGAL REGIMEN. 503 "No-not exactly! I wished to look about me, and judge of the securities. As I saw that the property would bring the mo- ney at any moment, I did not see the necessity of forcing it into the market, where it would be only sacrificed." McKewn smiled sigr ifcantly. The Sheriff saw the smile. He understood it, and blushed to the ears. He saw that the secret of his reception had go; abroad. He, at once, felt all the, mortifi- cation to which it woull expose him. He longed for McKewn to give him occasion of q arrel. He needed some body on whom to expend his anger and vexation. But the Scotchman was too wary for this. He quietly id-- "I cannot leave this matter to the discretion of any body, Co- lonel, however excellent his judgment. I must have my money; and I must require you to realize it as soon as it is practicable." "But, Mr. McKewn, it will be the ruin of Captain Porgy!" "That is his look-out, not mine ;-not to realize my rnorey, may be my ruin, Colonel; must require you to do your cuty, sir. From this moment I shall look to you." "Be it so, sir. There is a Deputy. He shall be despatched at once upon the business." McKewn looked round upon the person designated, and nodded his head approvingly. Heknew Cro6ks-Absalom Crooks-of old, and respected him as one of the-very best bull-terriers of the law- abroad shouldered, stoLt, short; little fellow, with no crook about him except in his legs, which were bowed, so as to render the 'pace between a very happy oval; while his arms hung out from lis body at large range. He had a red head, red face, red whis- :ers, red waistcoat, and as - tolerably well read in the law. Mc- iewn knew his man anc. approved him. "Crooks," said he-taking the Deputy aside-" see well to this usiness ;-get the neg 'oes into your custody, and ring them ght away with you. I; shall be worth to you five guineas extra, s soon as the money is realized." page: 504-505[View Page 504-505] 604 , THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Crooks crooked the pregnant hinges of the knee, at these preg- nant words, anid promised solemnly. ' "Hark you, Crooks; you are dealing with cunning fellows, who will try all ways to scare you out of your duties; but don't allow M: yourself to be frightened," "Frightenec!'" exclaimed Q'ooks,-" don't know how to be frightened, sir,-never learnt, sir-couldn't take that sort of edu- l cation. Frightened! I'd like to see." And Crooks looked his fiercest. In truth, he was not the man to be very easily made'afraid. He was a fiery little fellow, all : combustibles as ready to fight as ea t any time, and though con- tinually getting drubbed, as continually forgetting the event in the : encounter with a new assailant. He' readily undertook the mis- : sion, and felt a sprt of persona pique against Porgy and his men, i as they were supposed capable of inspiring such a person as him- : self with fear. The Sheriff saw the Deputy depart under secret :: instructions from McKewn, with well founded apprehensions. But he could do nothing to avert the danger. He had only to look i anxiously for the progress of events. Of course, he was somehow I curious todsee Low Crooks would fare at Glen-Ebrley. He knew that the fellow had no fear, and his mind was distracted betwixt two points-- "Either he will succeed by ldress, here I failed through timidity, or Po-gy and his fellows will do him serious harm.-ILn- either case, should the facts about my visit be blown, what the d-l -will be sa'd of me 2" We must leaxe him to these annoying reflections, and accom- pany our depu-y to Glen-Eberley. Mounted on a stout hackney i accustomed to official dignity, Crooks made his way, with all dili- A gence, to the. scene of his anticipated labours. The documents were in his pocket, and, once armed with a formidable parchment, well scored with gothic characters, and made terrific with seals of! State, Crooks felt no sort of doubt of the uniform reverence which - h . "EGAL REGIMEN. 505 he should every where command. Crooks had never served in the wars, though pugnaci us enough for all sorts of struggle; and he had no notion of any power which, for a moment, could gainsay or run counter to that of the law. The Courts of Law were, to his mind, scenes of fa- more imposing grandeur than any he had conceived of in earth Drin heaven-a judge, in gowned black, was a more potent personage to him than was Rhadama-ithus to the superstitious among th3 ancients; and, for a Sheriff, (the ambition of a Deputy, or a Constable, in' those days, never dared look so high as this office for himself; it was a stretch quite beyond the vulgar imagination in the first days of the Republic,) Crooks held him in as much veneration, or more, than he could hold any General of the army-unless, indeed, General Washington. He was yet to be- come familiar with a feudal Baron, and to comprehend the extent of his authority. He was encountered at the entrance of the avenue, precisely as his principal had been, by a man in armour. His first salutation was a seizure. He, who had done the seizing hitherto, was, in turn, seized upon. His hackney was suddenly brought up, by a short jerk, from a man springing out of the covert bes:de the gate of the avenue. "Who are you?" was the unexpected demand, as the horse was backed upon his haunches, and a pistol held towards the head of the rider. "Who am I?-I'll let you know before you like -t. Let go my horse!" "No fooling!- Who are you? What are you after here? What's your business!" "My business is my business, and you'll know it soon enough. By what right do you stop me. Do you want to rob me, you rascal." The words were scarcsly out of his mouth before a blow of the fist tumbled him out of the saddle. The horse bounced; the " page: 506-507[View Page 506-507] 506 THE SWORD AID THE DISTAFF .- Deputy rolled I over for a moment; and Lance Frampton, for it!j ' was he, seized the opportunity to turn the steed into th enclosure. f: He thus obeyed the instinct of the partisan. He had captured a horse, and his first measure was to secure it. The next moment : hq looked after' his prisoner. It was time; Crooks was already on X his feet and making towards him. Frampton confronted him : with his pistols Crooks had nothing bu4 his riding whip. This,!? he shook at his, assailant, at a moderate distance. :: 'You shall sweat for this, you- rascal. I am an officer of the i- law. I represent the county. I stand herein the Sheriff's shoes, }ji and resistance to an officer--an assault upon' an officer--vi et ar- j mis,-with swords, pistols, dagger, knife, rifle, blunderbuss and ; gun, you rascal-is outlawry,-and you shall sweat for t. I tell you I stand here in the shoes of the Sheriff." "' You do, do you? and if you stood in the jacket of the Sheriff : it wouldn't help you much. Turn in to the avenue, or I'll put a E bullet into you' You're my prisoner." "Your prisoner Was ever the like? and mea Deputyr Sheriff'!" : "Get in, I tell you; you shall have a fair trial." "Trial! Try me! Who the h-ll are you, sir." 1 i Never you imiind. Get in, and ask your questions of the Cap- ; tain." a The Captain! What! you mean Captain Porgy." 1 "Yes! Who else here .? 'The very man I want to see. I'll go in. It's not -because S I'm afraid of your pistols, young fellow; I don't care that for 'em, i? (snapping his fingers,) and. you shall sweat for showing 'em to me; but I go in to see Captain Porgy. He's my man." i "Get in! Ii don't care what you go for, so that you go!" Lance Frampton sounded his bugle, as the Deputy entered the gate. Crooks went forward, venting his indignation at every step. il He was suddenly stopped, midway i the avenue, by another man i " i, "EGAL REGIMEN. . 507 in armour. Lance and the new comer saluted, and the prisoner was formally transfer ed from the former to the latter. Framp- ton proceeded towards the house. Crooks staring at the gigantic figure, and frowning aspect of the new comer, and greatly be- wildered at the odd accumulation of uniform and armour about him, was, however, about to press forward, following his late as- sailant, when the Cor. oral suddenly arrested him. "Stand where you are, fellow, or I'll be into you with some- thing sharper than a Daggonet." And he flourished his sabre directly in front of the person of the Deputy. "The devil! WhEt do you stop me for? Do you know who I am and what I've come for." "I've a notion," answered the Corporal, looking more fierce than ever. "Do you know I am here for the Sheriff; sent here to make a levy of all the lands, rights, titles, hereditaments, goods and chat- tels, niggers and stock, ,urniture and apparel, carts, wagons, ploughs, hoes, shovels, and all And every the implements of; th-s plantation, to take and hold thereof, and make sale thereof, in satisfaction of the judgment in the base of McKewn v. Porgy. Do you hear? Do you understand? And do you dare to arrest and stop me in the prosecution of thisl, my lawful duty." "I thought as mucl!" said Millhouse, with an awful lowering of the brows, and a lurid smile in his eyes.-"I thoug;t as mpuch. And it is sich a little mean copper-headed son of a skunk, that has the impuden3e to come here and to seize ;he rightful property of a gentleman-and one too,- who is a rigilar off'cer in the line of the army. I've most a mind to take 1old of) you and lace your jacket w th hickories-I hev'!" [ "Lace my jacket! Hickories! I dare you. Do your best. But you shall sweat for it. You shall, if there's any law in this land." page: 508-509[View Page 508-509] 508 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ' "Don't provoke me with your law!" was the reply-" the very :g word ' law' makes me feel wolfish-the hair all growing innardly. Law, indeed! Sheot up, you little polecat, or I'll mount you With ^ sich a spur as will take all the red blood out of your hide in no time." "I dare you! I defy you! You can't scare me with your big words and your bullets. Give me one of your pistols, and rm / willing to try a crack with you on the spot." --"You aint! Well, ef you warn't a prisoner, I'd let you; but L X thar's no sense: in granting we'pons to a prisoner." ' (? i By what right do you make me a prisoner? By what right , do you deprive me of my liberty, and stop me in the prosecution MAX of my duty? ' Answer me?" } . ; "Oh! shet up! When did you ever hear that the prisoner g was to ax the questions It's you that's to answer, and here ^ comes the Lieutenant.- He'll tell you what the Cappin says and X what's to be done with you." X "Very well! I'll hear;" ^ "You'll hev' a fair trial, I promise you." "Trial! Who's to try me? I won't go I'll not submit to - any but a lawful court." l- ("And who's to ax you! Well, Lieutenant 2" sib "The Captain says bring the fellow before him." - "Come, copper head! march!" and Millhouse, planting himself ij on one side of the captive, Frampton took his place on the other. ii "I'll not march! Ill not go I Let the Captain come here to, : me, if he wants me. I'm far enough on this place for what I've X got to execute, and I charge and command you both, and all who da hear me, as good citizens----" "Shet up, you bowling warmint!" cried the Corporal, and!he M accompanied the wrBrds by thrusting, the rough handle ot his ba- i bre quite across the jaws of the Deputy. The other turned upon him fiercely, but was brought back, with a jerk, by the hand of X L ECTAL REGIAMEN3 609 Frampton, who, with a shove, forcibly bade him--" go ahead- on!" A- the same moment, he was pricked keenly in the flanks by the tip of Millho ise's sword, and, looking to the Lieutenant, he saw that of the latter ready to enforce- his progress by similar ar-' guments. This was sharp practice, and quite new to Crooks. The sweat stood full on the face of the little fellow; but he still cried out, with a tough spirit,-burning with fury: " Oh! you shall both sweat for all this." "Oh! very well!! That's as it happens. Eve'y man must hev' his turn. -But it's for you to sweat first;"End a renewed pricking o-? the Corporal's sabre threatened something worse than sweating. . i "Oh!' groaned the Deputy, as he obeyed the impulse and went forwrxd. Sever:al times he paused, making a new endeavour to hold his ground, and as often was he made to :eel the spun'. When he :eached thi house, he was forced up the steps, through the piazza, into the iall, then thrust down into a chair, with a hand of each of his attendants upon his shoulder. "We've got him, Cappin!" cried out Millhouse, to Porgy in his chamber. The Captain of Partisans had beer: reaping the stubble field, the autumnal harvests of his chin, which were quite too griesly to be suffered to offend his own or other eyes. He came forth with coat Off, sleeves rolled up, neck bare, and'razor in his grasp. The rmolrent he beheld the Deputy. he cried out- "HeaveLs! What a monster! What a horrible looking crea- ture! WEat a beard. Coppery-red;-a perfect. jungle, and full, no doubt, of all sorts! of diminutive beasts. Corpo-2al, we must have that fellow's beanid off." Millhouse absolutelyl shouted at the idea. "Tom!" roared the Captain. Tom appeared at the door. Qtuick, Tom, soap ard napkin; and take off that horrid beard." Crooks would have bounded from his seat. He prided himself on his beard. It's coppery red, apparently so offensive to all about "! page: 510-511[View Page 510-511] 510 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. :: him, was to him the perfection of beauty. It's red he held to be that of roses, and as for the amplitude of it, its wild, wide-spread bushy dimensions, these he stroked a thousand times a day with an affection which may be imagined. To lose his beard, even in jest, was almost as bad as -to lose his scalp. He now began fe- verishy to apprehend, that with such companions, he should lose both. He leaped up, but was immediately thrust back into his seat by the ready hands of his attendants. "I won't submit to this. I tell you-I warn you-I am an offi- cer of justice. I'm here under the great seal of the State. I'm on official duties. I'm under the sacred protection of the law." "How horridly he shouts!. But, with such a beard, what mor- tal man can talk like a human being. You don't understand a word he says, Corporal ." " "Not a word! I reckon it's a sort of nigger speech from Africa." . X "Do you understand the savage creature, Lance." "I reckon's he's crazy, Captain," answered Lance. i "Truly I think so. He will need a straight jacket. But there's no judging rightly his condition till we take off that brush." "Let's burn it off, Cappin." "' No! no! he may be human, and that might hurt him. We'll shave it off, and then see what he really is. I suspect he belongs to the monkey species-he's an ouran outang;--you know. what that is, Corporal." "Hafe man, hafe horse, and two parts alligator, I reckin." "You're very nigh the mark. .Hurrah, Tom! make haste." Tom made his appearance with basin, towel, soap, &c. The Deputy seeing his danger, and that tl e affair was looking serious, made another effort to escape from the clutches in which he was held, and' accompanied the effort by a fearful outcry, touching the terrors of the law. But in vain. i' Tie him down. 'Handkerchief, there, Tom. Secure him, so t 'I -, "EGAL REGIMEN. IT that he may not do himself harm. He is certainly very wild. lIe must have been only lately caught. Some body must have put these clothes on him by force." While the Captain thus dilated, his assistants busied themselves. in securing the Deputy to his seat. His arms were tethered to the back of the chair, which was one of those massive mahogany receptacles so common at that period, and representing a much earlier period in the history of English civilization. The chair was, in fact, modelled upon the times of Elizabeth. Thus secured, with his head held back, the napkin tucked beneath his chin, Tom approached ant proceeded to lay on the lather. The thick soapy mass was thrust ad libitum into mouth and nostrils. The Deputy yelled, but as the soap made fearful progress into his jaws at every opening, he was, per force, content to sputter, and sneeze and kick and writhe. All efforts were unavailing. His captors were resolute in their fun. "Law!" he cried. "Lather!" cried Porgy; ard Tom obeyed. Half suffocated, though more fiurious than ever, Drooks finally yielded, and Tom proceeded to apply the razor. Tom had acquired, in camp, the arts of the barber, as well as the cook. Hle was not so dextrous as determined. Crooks saw that it was at his own peril that he writhed, or twisted, or reared his head, or stuck out his chin, unnecessarily. Tom would say quietly- "You only guine to wussen yourse'f, buckrah,-ef you is a buckrah-wid you' kickings and cawortings. Better you keep you'self easy, ef you dont want me for slice off you rose' Here was a new p ril. Slice off his nose! The loss of the petted beard was a great evil-but to lose his nose a so, was such as it made him doubly, sweat to meditate. "Don't cut off his nose, Tom;" cried Porgy, with a great air )f concern. This class of animals seldom have much to spare; md the loss of such a member would really disfigure the face ter- ibly" page: 512-513[View Page 512-513] '1 1 512 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. . "Lord, Cappin, nothing could make such a critter more ugly ji than he is," answered Millhouse; "but he could lose an inch of ? snout and never miss it. Why, Lord, he's got a nose like a bagg- ' onet ahnd a-most hafe as long!" Tom, meanwhile, prosecuted his labour with diligence. He was a bold cutter. It was all army practice with .him,-swift, slashing, reckless, not easily stopt by trifling impediments. At every swoop, Crooks found a wide waste of forest growth remove d huge tracts of warm furze disappeared, as the prairie grass X autumn, under the fire. Soon, the entire wilderness of brush was cleaned up. The territory was now. smooth, and the light let in S upon a region that had not seen the day for half a dozen years. Crooks was no longer the same man; he felt cold' about the chin; but his chill greatly increased when he heard Tom ask- r "Must tek' off he hair now, maussa? He look berry bad and ugly. I reckin he must be full of warmints." Porgy seemed for a moment to meditate the matter; but he waived Tom off. "No! that's enough, Tom, for the present. I think we may X now make out the species of the animal." "I'm the Deputy Sheriff-my name's Crooks." "A well known warmint, Cappin. I reckon you mout as well skin him altogether. Jest you take off the scalp now, and we'll be sure to know him nextStime." "No-! no! It is not so much that we may know him, as that he may know us hereafter. I see, what he is. Let him gobnow. I reckon he's tame enough for the present. Now, let him have a swallow of Jamaica." "I drink nothing in this house!" cried the Deputy rising to his feet. ' ' "Then you lose the taste of a mighty good dram of liquor"." L And I warn you all-all three of you-that you shall answer for this assault and battery. You, Captain Porgy,-I know you,'-- % ' oN I "EGAL REGIMEN. 513 and you,-and you,-I will have it all out of youtthree, if thlere's any law ir the land " "You won't drink," said Porgy. "Not a drop with you, or in this house." "Will you eat 8" "Not a mouthful ." "Then we've done all at we can do for you, unless you desire that Tom should take off that shock. It is unnecessarily thick and long.' Can that be hair?" "Look you, Capta n Porgy, I've submitted to your assaults and batteries because I could not help myself." "A mighty good reason too!" . "But I will have redress. INow, sir, -I will do my duty, and here I give you notice, that, ir the character of 'the Sheriff of--" "Boo! woo! woo! woo! Shall I muzzle him, Cappin?" "No! let him go. Depart, my good fellow, while your bones are whole. We have done fob you the best we could." "I'll not go until - have- made a levy upon all tChe lands and negroes,.the goods and chattels of this estate of Glen-Eberley, under the authority of the papers which I now carryv, and which I will read for the benefit--" By this 5ime he had drawn the documents out dof his pocket. "Beware how you attempt to read any of those vile heathen documents here," said Porgy, assuming an air of great stern- ness. 4 "State of South Cfrolina!" began the Deputy. "As surely as you attempt to read that paper, I will make you eat it!" ' "Eat it! I'll eat nothing in this house!" a, We'll see to that." "State o' South Carolina-" resumed the Deputy. "Seize hill," cried Porgy--" seize him!" And, in the twinkling of an eye, Frampton caught Crooks in his page: 514-515[View Page 514-515] 514 THE SWOBRD AND THE DISTAFF... embrace, and Millhouse set his enormous thumb and forefinger about his neck, and the Deputy was forced back into his chair. ,l The paper was snatched by the Lieutenant'from his hand. 'i "In the name of the State!" screamed, the Deputy. (' Feed him with it!' shouted Porgy. "I levy and seize, distrein and take possession-" began the Deputy at a rapid rate, but his mouth was suddenly filled with his documents. The execution was crammed into his jaws,-a ; part of it at least; and the voice of the Corporal, in accents too A clear and loud to-be misunderstood, advised him what to do with it. . ' I "Feed or sufficate, you skunk." "You're chokin(g me to death!" "Feed, then! Chaw! Swallow!"And, at every word, the Cor- poral plied the unhappy Deputy with a fragment of the execu- tion. It was in vain that he flounced and floundered, strove, a -kicked, and scuffled with his persecutor. The iron arms of Mill- house were seconded withan equally iron will, and, per force, the- victim was compelled to chew and mouth the musty document. "My God! do you mean to kill me?" "Not if good feeding will do it. You love the law, you live on it, and ought to be able to digest it. Give him another mnouth- ful, Corporal. It must all be eaten. It is not too much for one meal." With every bit offered, and finally forced upon tte Deputy, the same struggle followed, the same unavailing resistance. He was compelled to eat. Nothing but the seal remained. This was not then the fiction which it is in recent times. It was not then thought quite sufficient to write ' locus sigilli,' and withhold the seal itself. In the present case, this was a goodly circular plate i of red wax, of some dimensions. It was now offered to the un- willing feeder. At the sight of it the fellow .cried out with hor- "EGAL REGIMEN. 515 ror- I can't eat that! It'll be the death of me. t's got poison in it." l "Ah! Ha! is it so? An do you bring p'ison into a gentle- man's family, and try to sarve it on him. Well, i:'s only your own medicine, my honey; you must eat it with, the rest. The physic of a law pape- kaint be good onless the sea- goes with it. Bite! Eat! or I'll----" But for the interposition of the Captain, the Corporal would have persisted in testing to 'the utmost the capacities of Crooks's stomach. Fortunately, the former was. disposed to more indul- gence. ! i "Let him off," said he, " he's had enough. Now give him some Jamaica ;--or, perhaps, you'll prefer an emetic, my good fellow, to produce reaction. I can have you a little tartar in a second." * "No! no!" cried Crooks, with choking accents-"The rum! the rum!" The liquor was poured out for him, and the glass put into hi hands; as he was abort to drink, Millhouse exclaimed- "Ha! ha! I know'd -you'd hev' to come to it at last. You swore you wouldn't eat or d 'ink in this house. You've doLe both!" The ,taunt was enough. The Deputy dashed down the untasted liquor, smashing the glass updn the floor. "Curse the house!" he cried, " and all that's in it!" and sha. king his hand in fury, he broke through all restrain;, and disap- peared fiorn the apartment. "After him, boys, and see that he clears out. Attend him to the outposts, Lance! He will hardly venture back with other documents." page: 516-517[View Page 516-517] 516 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER LIX. M7KEWN AT HOME, AND THE SPECTRE THAT SIPPED HS PUNCI, TIE Captain had not fairly lost sight of the Deputy before he began to reflect upon the enormity of the offence which he had d sanctioned and committed' It was not so much that he had out- raged the laws of the land, as that he had violated those of hu- X manity.. He began to feel ashamed of this, -for, when not carried away by impulse, he would have revolted at every thing like bru- tality unless, as in the case of Actual conflict in war, it took the form of a necessity. His successful jest with the Sheriff, which had proved harmless, had prompted a renewal of the experiment; and, once committed to the joke, he had been hurried on by his first impulse, long after the matter had ceased to be mirthful. Though he said nothing of his misgivings to his companions, he yet felt very much ashamed of the affair, when the time had come for reflection. We may add that he did not, on this occasion, ride over to report the adventure to the fair widow. He would rather, indeed, that it should not reach her ears from any lips. But it got abroad nevertheless. Crooks, as soon as he could mount his horse, hurried at full speed over to McKewn's, to whom, boiling with fury, he described the whole affair. It did not need the ex- aggerations of language to render it hideous. McKewn was se- cretly pleased at the occurrence. It fastened an odium upon our Partisan. whose patriotic services had otherwise made him popu- lar. It lefthim more at the mercy of his creditor, by depriving him of those sympathies which his distresses would certainly have secured for him. But, McKewn did not suffer his secretthoughts, on this head, to reach the ears of the Deputy. His indignation at the treatment which he had suffered, was expressed in language I M KEWN AT HOME. 517 as warm and violent almost as his own, and, giving him a douceur of five guineas, he despatched him, the next day, with a letter to the Sheriff, renewing his demand upon him for the immediate compliance with his duties. The Sheriff was naturally angry at the ill usage of his deputy. There was a great sensation in the city. Pinckney and Parsons, the friends and lawyers of Porgy, were in much confusion. They endeavoured all they could at the arts of soothing. T-he shaving of the Deputy they made very light of. Indeed, tLey affirmed it to be an abt of kindness. The procedure, they insisted, had greatly improved Crooks's appearance; but the matter was quite too se- rious to be laughed out of court; and such a suggestion made Crooks, hiinself, more angry than ever. They found it politic, ac- cordingly, to forbear this mode of treating the affair. The compul- sory feedirg to which the Deputy had been subjdcted-the utter scorn and defiance of the law which had been shown by Porgy and his followers-were serious offences against th peace and dignity of the country, which most persons were inclined to resent. The Sheriff talked of immediate-processes of arrest-of the posse chmitatus, of a military force, -nd of terrible penalties, forfeitures, and im-' prisonments! To ga'n time was now the object with Porgy's friends, until the public indignation should subside; and they brought every possible influence to bear, which migh;,.in any way, effect their purpose. It happened, fortunately, that Marion and Colonel Singleton were both in the city, and both anxiously bu- sied themselves to rescue an old favourite and follower from his difficulties. They appealed to the Sheriff for delay, at least untii the affair could be inquired into peaceably. McKewn's debt must be satisfied, of course -for this several parties were prepared to pledge themselves ;-Lnd it was supposed that the hurts of Crooks might all be cured by a sufficient salve in the guise of hush-mo- iey. These matters arranged, the irritated self-esteem of the Sheriff might be soothed, and the damage done to tie dignity of 42 page: 518-519[View Page 518-519] 518 THE SWORD AND TIE DISTAFF. , X - the laws might be repaired-as is commonly the case in a good : democracy-by taking no sort of notice of it. With us, you may H ' pull the nose of the law, at pleasure, but you' must be prepared to pay well for any such liberty tafken with the nose of its officer. Crooks, as yet, was quite unapproacihale on the subject of his wron3s and injuries. It lwas supposed by Pinckney that he would continue unapproachable,t until beard and whiskers had once more grown out to their formrei ravishing dimensions. Aeanwhile, all proper efforts should be made to mollify him; and, to effect this, Pinckney prepared himself to run up to Asheepoo, and see the Captain, in order to bring him' to reasonable apodogies. These negotiations necessarily occupied some time, during which Glen-Eberley was left free of molestation. The Corporal con- gratulated himself that a victory had beeh obtained. Porgy was less sure and satisfied. -te had sobered down from his late ex- citement, and could see the state of affairs through the proper 'medium. EHe saw that the time would coml e when he should pay ' for his fiolic; but, like most persons of his temperament, he pre- ferred to postpone the consideration of the affair till the last mo- ment-until, indeed it was forced upon him. WMinter, meanwhile, ' was advancing rapidly. The nights of November were becoming very cold. Our Captain of Partisans was now in the -fill enjoy- ment of field sports, and was proving himsellf quite a Nimrod. Iis corpulence did not seem to lessen his appetite, ol his vigour in the chase. Arthur Eveleigh, sensible of his fault, had become measurably -reconciled to the Captain, and he and Lance Framp- ton met at Glen-Eberley, once a week at least, to hunt. Porgy's sports, however, in the field; did not lessen the number of his visits to the two widows. He was still, as before -not to speak disparagingly of the sex in our comparisons-betwixt hawk and buzzard. This homely figure was one frequently in the mouth of the Corporal, in reference to the attitude of his superior, though he did not venture to obtrude it upon the ears of the Captain. . . M'KEWN AT' HQOE. 519 Both widows still seemed very gracious, and their looks of favour increased the impatience of Millhouse to effect his long cherished object. "You might have either on em, T reelkon, for the axi g ;" quoth the Corporal; " though it's cl'ar that the widow Ev'leigh is the most loving critter of the two. It's a needcessity, Cappin, that she should hev' you." The frequent iteration of this assurance, finally made its im- pression upon ou1r Captain;--but, though half persuaded only, that Mrs.,Eveleigh laboured under thet '" needeessity" aforesaid, he felt, as a man of honour, that he, could not approach her as a suitor, untill'he had paid her his, debt-at 1all events, hbve extrica- ted himself from the meshes of the law. "Then,"-he thought;- but it is proper we should not anticipate! Meaiwhile, what of the inexorable creditor, McKewr? Housed at his plantation like the great black spider, to whichi we have already likened him, surrounded by subtle snares of policy, and sly devices, and meshes of cunnin(g,-for tali'lg in and securing the thoughtless flies of humanity-for making' prey of all he could,- he crouched in seeming quiet, most of the time unbeheld, in se- cret crevice, and when seen, seeming only to drowse, in the central circle of his innocent encampment. HEe was pleasantly satisfied with his progresses. What, with his owif art, and -Pcrgy's rash impulses, he felt that he had fairly involved that greatest of all his flies in a mesh fi'om which' there was no escape. All of his schemes appeared to prosper. Other victims were in hs snares. His money bred as if undel the direct managemnent of Mam- mon,--as if Mammon had become his private banker, and deter- mined his loans and enterprises. He had made a good crop, and rice was rising in the market. He had bought, at moderate prices, a 10ot of new negroes, from the coast of-Guinea, from a virtuous Puritan Captain, of Rhode Island, who had gleaned wonderfully from the gold coast, and whose great grand son, by the way, has 1 , .- . page: 520-521[View Page 520-521] 520 THE SW0RD AND THE DISTAFF. : ! since shown himself a virtuous abolitionist in the Senate of the i 0 United States, breathing hate and horror towards the descendants - of the very people to whom his philanthropic grand sire sold the stolen negroes. All McKewn's speculations seemed to bo prospe- rous. All his-apprehensions of Mrs. Eveleigh were relax d in her continued silence. Hte had got over his fears of her, in the con- ] viction which he felt that the seas rolled forever between himself u and the Squatter, Bostwick-perhaps,' rolled over him; a fate :i which he preferred for his enemy, and which he rather thought he must have suffered, since he had no reason to doubt o' the sa- gacity and fidelity of his creatures, Forbes, Drummond 4;nd Bar- ton. Thus, with all his fears at rest, all his fortunes prosperous, all his victims in his meshes, all-his enemies h ors de combat, Me- Kewn yielded himself up to his pleasures. Shall not his soul take its peace at-last; shall he not reward himself -for lor g absti- i nence and self-denial; shall he not feel himself in his prace and power, in due self-atonement for a long and tedious career of sy- cophancy, and base submission to the moods of others? M-:Kewn's i best mode ofi reasoning taught him no higher aim or nojler pLi- losophy than this. He was prepared now to take his easea at his ; Inn! He w-as preparing-to look about him for a wife, sich as a fortune, great as his, might reasonably command. He wod;lcl have been pleased to lift the widow Eveleigh into that honoured station; but the last interview which he had enjoyed with that lady, taught him the utter hopelessness of that object-taught him farther, that, though she, could by no means establish the truth legally against him,\ she was yet morally possessed of evidence the most conclusive of his guilt. He kept heedfully from her sight accord- ,' ingly; while, under a new impulse, young Arthur, whorm he had laboured industriously to corrupt, kept as heedfully from' 'lis. Thus, apparently secure, thus measurably happy-satisfiId with himself and his successes, or striving to be so,--McKewn ',ook his ease at his plantation, or wore, to other eyes; the appearance of one MKIEWlN AT HOME.' 521 who did so. He lived well, souoht the neighbouring planters, emulated their hospitality, was frequently a visitor abroad, and as fiequently entertained his -guests at home. He gave good din- nets, indulged in choice wines, and, being a man of the world, who had enjoyed a considerable experience, and was naturally in-' telligent, he proved, in most cases, a very excellent companion among the persons whom he was pleased to seek. It was a cold and cloudy day, late in November, when a party dined with him. They were all good fellows, the dinner was served up 'n excellent style, the wines weie fine, the dessert in good taste, and the enjoy- ment of all parties extreme. They sate late, they drank freely. It was a bachelor's establishment, and song and story spelled the intervals between the several pledges. Soon, the wines gave way to stronger liquors. Old rum and fiery French brandy, and genu- ine Scotch whiskey took the place, upon the board, of r ore courtly spirits. McKewn was famous at hot -whiskey punclh, and felt a sort of national pride and pleasure, presiding, with an antique Scottish bowl before him, of immense, size, and the wooden ladle of curious carving in his grasp, and the little silver tankard smo- king before each gue stj w*hile their lips smacked with, delight, and their tongues grew thick with the language of unintelligible com- pliment-tle more grateful as unintelligible. The ccmpany dis- persed at a tolerably late hour, going home with no consciousness of dark or danger, shouting as they went, and fortunate in drivers, or horses, who had enjoyed no such pleasant privileges of punch as themselves. MqKewn was left alone to his own fancies. He summoned the servants, ordered that the remains of tie vessel of punch should be taken into his chamber, and, a fire having been already kindled there, repaired thither himself. The night was dark and cold, but the room was bright and warm. Too bright, was the thought of McIKewn, since he extin- guished the -wax candles both, which the negro had left burning, satisfied with the sufficient blaze of the lightwood brands cast 42* - page: 522-523[View Page 522-523] 522. 'THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. upon the fire. and of which an adequate supply stood rea, y always in a box upon the hearth. McKewn sate in front of the lire, his slippeied feet presented to the blaze. His sensations ,ere deci- dedly comfortable. He was in affluence; his health m as. good; he was yet comparatively a young man; at least on the s'nny side of fifty. He might reasonably calculate, according td existing probabilities, upon a long term of enjoyment. In spike of the awkward doubts in certain quarters, he was able to comlr and good society. If he could not claim entrance into one circlel, he had a very tolerable refuge in another. He had wealth, and wealth can always buy society, though it may command neither re'l respect, nor affection, for its possessor. The people who had spent; the day with im were all people of excellent standing. Good fellowship made them flexible. They sneered at McKewn himself; but they entertained a very genuine respect for his dinners. There were some of them who aimed at something beyond his dinne 's-who perhaps, would scarcely have permitted themselves to dine with hiri but fortheir occultobjects. These persons had maiden sisters, or daughters, of a rare and virtuous antiquity, whom, for tf eir espe- cial claims to admiration, they desired to see framed in si:ttings of gold. They patronized McKewn to this end,-no moI'e. The Scotchman readily saw through their schemes, grinned'in secret over their absurdities, but did not discourage those lopes by which he secured himself in good society. Sitting by ihis now solitary hearth, he mused with great complacency, thinking upon these and other matters. The affair of Porgy and the Deputy Sheriff had been brought upon the tapis during the day, and had -been discussed with great frankness on both sides of the question, as is the way commonly with our impulsive planters of the Parish country. Some of them, most desirous of conciliating MAcKewn. were loud in their denunciation of the violent and illeal pro- ceedings of the Captain of PartisansJ' Others chuckled over it as a rare and admirable jest which furnished quite an excellent ex- MKHEWN AT HOME, 523 ample to all future creditors. Others went further, and, moved by very earnest sympathies with the debtor, professed to regard any innovation of a man's household; on the part of a creditor, or his legal representative, to be a most impertinent intrusion, justifying any severity of treatment. McKewn heard all, and smiled in all directions, satisfied, at the close, to say, in a costive manner- "Let him settle with the Sheriff as he may,- gentlemen; he will have to settle with me! He may struggle, but can't escape me. In three months, at least, there will be'an end of him, and the jest will be on the other side. They always laugh who win; and if the loser las the mood to laugh, why, we may safely suffer him to indulge it." And it was with this conviction of ultimate conquest,-the final overthrow of his insolent debtor-that McKewn would chuckle to himself, sipping at his whiskey punch the while. Of this popu- lar beverage, whose virtues lie always below the surface, and pene- trate much more thani skin deep, McKewn had a snug silver pitcher, long necked, of vase fashion, and silver lidded, standing conveniently beside him on a table ;-moderate measures were poured out as he wanted it, into the tumbler beside him. He stirred and sipped, and, tumbler still in hand, drew nigher to the blaze; and, after a little while, and as his feet began too much to warm before the fire, he threw them up against the mantelpiece, throwing them wide apart, so that the whole panorama of the fire, the smouldering ruins, the blazing piles, were all present to his eye through the frame work of his parted thighs. His head was cast back, the lids of his eyes drawn down; he watched the fire as through a microscope, taking in its small details. His chair, a heavy one of mahogany, with a great back, was nicely balanced on its hind legs. The tumbler, half filled with the grate- ful beverage, was as nicely balanced in his hands. His mind had reached that condition of repose which brings about pleasant reve- ries. McKewn saw his future through a magic medium. His x page: 524-525[View Page 524-525] 524 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFT, . enemies were overthrown, his course was triumphant, his wealth underwent hourly increase, the magnates of the land were sub- servient, he himself had become a magnate; and his eye had only to determine which of the several beauties at his service, Le should choose, to make his world an Eden. Happy McKegn! The Fates are busy always to beguile with pleasant augur'es those whom they would involve beyond their depths. Sorretimes, a speck would appear suddenly on the face of his magic mirror, a slight cloud pass over it, a lurid flash, and he could fancy distant thunder--in other words, images of Porgy and the wi low Eve- leigh, and the hateful Bostwick, and other persons, woulh. recall to him suddenly a train of subjects suggestive of fear or! ifficulty; but McKewn found it easy to disperse these obtrusive shadows, simply by a renewed appeal to the warm whiskey punch beside him. It was surprising how soon after this application, :he speck and cloud would disappear from the magic mirror which his fancy had polished so well for his contemplation. Thus sitting, musing, D dreaming, in that doubtful sort of consciousnes which seems to be equally distant from absolute sleep or waking, cKew! thought he beheld the waving of an arm and hand befre his half shut eye. He fancied that some one had taken up th beakel of punch which, having sipped a little of the contents, he had just, set down. But his energies were fast yielding beneath the sluggish halppi- ness of his dreamy mood, and, though somewhat conscious of a movement, and even of a sound, he dismissed it as a natur al sugges- tion of his reverie itself, and never turned his head. A moment may have elapsed, or more, when, suddenly, a hand was laid hea- vily upon his shoulder. He unclosed his eyes, and stored. He was paralyzed. Was ittrue-was it a dream? Did hei reallybe- hold the infernal squattei, Bostwick, once more?-or was it his drowned, thrice damned, and ever haunted and haunti Ig ghost, emerging from the depths of the green sea, and followin g him on the mission of the furies! Was it the hand of a sp ctre or a HOW THE SQUATTER MADE THE VOYAGE TO THE W. INDIES. 525 living man that still rested upon his shoulder. Was there mol'tal speculation in those fiery red eyes that now stared terrifically down into his? -CHAPTER LX. HOW TIE SQUATTER MADE THE VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIES. IN the sight of McKewn nothing could be more distinct more life-like than the spectre. He looked just as he had seen him a thousand times before ; the same great red staring eyes, the same expression in the face, of a mixed savage and cunning nature, sly at once and desperate; the same small but sinewy figure; the same lounging, slovenly carriage; the same person altogether, except, perhaps, th t each vicious quality of his face was exagge- rated; the grin ttpon his mouth was more satyr-like; his eyes were blood-shot; his cheeks mottled with the long continued habit of intemperance: his skin bronzed to a copper, yet flushed as with the hues of a warm sunset. Was he indeed a spectre? Had the grave given up the dead? Had the seas thrown up their victim? Did the spectator really dream or not? McKewn closed his eyes, and again opened them, thinking the fearful pre- sence might then be gone. There it stood, and he could no long- er doubt the solid pressure of its grasp upon his shoulder. The Scotchman was paralyzed. Dead or living, the appearance of Bostwick was now a telror. McKewn was almost in a state of collapse. The cold' sweat had silently streamed out upon his face, his neck. his yreast, his whole body. His feet, thrown up against the mantle-piece, sank down to the floor nerveless; is lips parted, but not for speech; only in silent consternation. page: 526-527[View Page 526-527] 526 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. But his frozen gaze never once fell from that of his fearf il visitor. There, in utter silence, the one stood, the other sate, gazing full upon each other. Bostwick seemed to take a malignant pleasure in fixing and, fastening the other's eyes, as if with a serment's fas- cination. After a little while he slowly withdrew his land, and coolly turning to the table, filled himself a stoup of the whiskey punch from the silver vessel, into the tumbler which McKewn had used,-and swallowed the contents at a single gulph He, laid the tumbler down, then extended his open palm- "That hundred guineas, McKewn!" The spell was broken as he spoke. McKewn began to recover. "Why, where have you been all this time, Bostwick i" "Where did you reckon I was? In the bottom of the sea?- In h-ll's blazes, didn't you, and warn' you mighty glad to think so? But h-11 ain't hot enough for eitler on us yit, and when I had my last talk with the devil, he promised me, as how, when he did come for me, he'd take you at the same time, But he don't want us yit. He's got more work for both of us, on this airth. You was intirely wrong, McKewn, in trying to git rid of me. You kaint do without me, no more than I kin d) without you. We're born for each other, and we've got to worl together a long time to come." "But where have you been?" "Better not aix! Not edzactly whar you wanted me tp go, but jest on the edge, as I may say. I looked in at the de or, didn't like the looks of it, the 'commydations they offered me, aid turned short round. It was a question whether I should go in or your friends, Drummond, and Barton, and Foib, the Cappnn, or me. I reckon'd the lodgin's would better suii thehrt an me, so I let them take my place. They're gone with the despatches you made out for me." "What do you mean? What despatches?" "Oh! you knows jestas well as me, what it was y u meant " HOW THE SQUATTER MADE THE VOYAGE TO THE W. INDIES. 52i them to do for me. But the devil, he come to my help, and made the sarvice cl'ar. They got the preference, and I gin up my place to 'em." "What place? Where are' they?"' "In h-l11, ef you wants to know; they'll never trouble you nor me no more. The devil put the ch'ice afore me-either them to burn or me to drown/ and I didn't want three minutes to con- sider. I know'd they'd have to git usen to fire in time to come, so I thought the sooner they began to l'arn the feel of it, the bet- ter for them." "In the name of God, Bostwick, what do you mean? What have you done?" "You're mighty slow to onderstand, these times. That's from heving such a world of money. What should I mean? Your friends took me out to sea-" "Is it possible! Took you to sea!" "Shet up, and don't lie to me. 'Tain't no use, McKewn. I know you like a book. We knows one another. 'Twarn't on sea that they were the good fellows they was on land. When we was in the 'castle,' and under the green trees, we was friends, and all on equal tairms. We played cards together, and sometimes they dreaned me, and sometimes I dreaned them. At sea, the natur' changed. I was a man of the woods; they made me a man of the sea. I could climb trees; they made me climb ropes. It was no play thar'; all work; they didn't wait to win my money, by a fair seven up. They tuk'it from me by main strength of hand.- Then I got the cat! The cat! You knows, I reckon, what they calls the cat"? 7 McKewn professed to be ignorant. "You've got to 'arn. it. I've promised Old Nickto do his work, on the very condition that, when he gits us both, he lets me treat you to the cat every night; so that you may lie down with a sartain softness in your feelin's, that ain't altogether sweet- o page: 528-529[View Page 528-529] s5-28 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. esss. That cat which they gin to me has left its claw-marks on every inch of my back and body But that warn't enough for Y 'emi. 7When they got right off the place called Barbsdoes, they holds a counciltation over me. What's 'to be done with me-- what's to be done for you-and they 'grees 'mong their three selves, that the best thing for both on us, is to send me over into the sea, to look after the great whale that swallowed Jony, the Philistian prophet-" "Impossible! Did they really mean to-" Oh! shet upt Lying won't do 'twixt us, 'kaise, you see, we knows one another, McKewn, and we've got to work together, bj solemn contractings, for the old horned satan. Well, that' was the land, jest off thar'; and the night was a-comin' on, and the sea was deep, and the shirks was a-playing about, and lookini upwards to the ship with all-fired hungry noses. And the cour- Siltation of Forbes, and Drummond, and Barton went on; and they-said these poor shirks must be fed; and this poor Bos;- s wick will give 'em mighty good feeding for a time; and when l he's gone, we'll get the hundred guineas from McKeiwn, in place of him, and we must git shet of him to-night: and so the courn- ciltation went on. But the devil stood my friend, and he hid me where I could hear all the counciltation; and when they had dose he said to me-' Now, Bost, whether you're to drown. or they to burn. It's for you to choose. Thar's the sea, and -hem's the shirks a-waiting for your supper; and the moon goes down aboet midnight, and then it's for you to try the cold feel of the water, and see how deep it is, and find out ef thar's any big whale to take you in, like Jony, the Philistian prophet, and save you fron the shirks. Ef you waits to choose ontell the midnight, the wer ter's your portion, and the bottom of the sea, whar' th r's no bo- tom. And when the brigantine goes up to the town iL the mornt ing, they'll report one Bostwick, fell overboard last niglit and losl, from taking too much liquor.' It's a blessing that t ieygin wJ * I 5 THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 529 none, and I was sharp as a bag'net. Says the devil-' thar's one ( - way to git out of the danger.' And he showed me three kegs of gunpowder where they were stowedaway; and he told me, what was mighty cur'ous to me to l'arn; that ef that gunpowder only happen'd to git the leetlest taste of the fire, it would fly like old' blazes, and carry every body up into heaven. That was mighty cur'ous, I thought; and he show'd me further, how a thing mout be managed, called 'a train,' and how a man, setting in a boat outside of the ship, might jest touch the fire to the train, push off, and see the ship sail up in the air, much quicker than she ever sailed through the water. Well, you see, I thought that was better sport than to take the water myself, and s'arch after Jony's whale; and, with the help of Old Horny, I tried it; and, sure enough, off she went, ship and all, and the three counsulters, and a small chaince of pussons more; and the people found me on the beach, and who knows how I got thar'? *They said I was blowed thar' by the gunpowder;-and now, McKewn, that ere hundred guin- eas!" CHAPTER LXI. THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS! IT was easy for McKewn, even with tlis hurried and imperfect statement of the Squatter, to gather the whole history of his en- forced voyage, and the horrible catastrophe by which it was termi- nated. The cold and savage deliberation with which it was de- livered, did not, however, produce any of those revolting and crush- ing sensations in the mind of the hearer, which might have arisen in that of any person of sensibility. McKewn, like his compan- 43 page: 530-531[View Page 530-531] 530 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFf. i ion, was callous and cold-blooded; of so rank a selfishness, that k sensibility had long since ceased to oppose any barriers to cupidi ty; and whose shows of humanity-shows only-were simply el- ployed in deference to society, and with the view the better to l promote the objects in his desire. Instead of shuddering and shrinking at what he heard, he was employed in recovering the subdued and scattered forces of his mind, in order to encounte the struggle which the reappearance of the Squatter necessarily threatened. He knew the fellow too well to suppose that he should get off without a conflict, and felt that he was too well Understood by him, to render available any of the ordinary arts of i nposition. The terms upon which-they stood, in regard to each o;her, were such that neither found it of any use to affect virtues which he did not possess. They had only to treat of crime and its reward, as of any matter of legitimate business. Any declarations of sur- prise, any avowals of good faith, or sympathy, woulc, he wel knew, be utterly wasted on the ears of a person who :new binM quite too well to be imposed upon any longer. Accordi ugly, with a manner the most unconcerned, McKewn, after a brief pause, re- marked- "And that was the way you got rid of them?" j Y' yes; jest so. It was short and quick, and we had ro quarrel It was a private counciltation on oboth sides, them thlre on one side, and Old Horny and me on t'other. They were th'ee to two, but we were a little too much of a match for 'em. It turr ed out fa- mous well for me. The people of Barbadoes raised a s a'scription for me, and that filled my pockets, and I got home with 2 free pas- sage, and did'nt hev' any much work to do; though I did a leetle to please the Cappin. 'Tain't quite four days sence I got t Charles- ton, and I pushed up here knowing you'd be m'ghty glid to hear of your friends, and how you wouldn't hev' to fill their pouches any more. I reckon it's a great gain to you, the loss of them men." ' !si THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 531 "Gain! It's a loss to me of thousands. I owned one third of that vessel and cargo. I owned sixty-nine of the negroesin her." "Diccance! I'll hev' to 'low their valley out of the amount you owes me, then. It's only fair! Let me see: thar's what you owed me afore I went to sea; we'll reckon that at a thousand guineas; thar's the carrying me to sea, ag'in my will, and only to pleasure you; that I allies at five thousand guineas more, and cheap at that, I tell you; but we'll say five thousand-that's six thousand. Then, thar's the scare I had from the shirks and the drowning, all on your account; that ought to be a thousand guin- eas more; then, thar's the selling my soul to the Old Horny, to get out of the hands of them fellows. A free white man's soul ought to be worth something, and we'll call it a thousand guineas more; that makes eight thousand; then, thar's the onhappiness I had to skyrocket them three good fellows to heaven; that was a great onhappiness, and I valley my sufferin's mighty high; but we'll say two thousand guineas more; and that, in round numbers, will be ten thousand guineas; and, out of that, I'm to 'low for them sixty-nine niggers of your'n that went up in the skyrocketting.. I reckon they mout be vallied at fifty guineas apiece:-how much is that in all? Count up, Mceewn, I'm guine to 'low you for all." "Pshaw! What are you talking about?" "What em I talking about? I'll tell you, and you may jest pick your ears that you may hear it plain. Thar's an account of life and death to settle atween us, McKewn, that may be settled up with money, ef you've the sense to onderstand what's best for you. You'll pay it out of your pocket, ef youre Sensible; ef you're a fool, it comes out of your heart. To pay for it in money, won't drean your pocket; to pay for it in blood, will go nigh to drean your body of all it's got. rI knows what I says. I knows that I kin hang you jest when I pleases, and I don't owe you any love that I should keep my hands off. But I kin sell my hate and my love together. Everything I've got is to sell, ef so be I'm page: 532-533[View Page 532-533] 532 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Well paid for it; and you must buy from ma at my orices, ot '1l bankcorrupt you, as they calls it. You'll hev' to. Hed me anll find me, me and mny fam'ly, my wife and my ch'ldren, j(st so long :j as you lives and we lives; and you'll hev' to feed us wel; and to : begin, I'm a-wanting jest one hundred guineas to-night, and nex-, week, I'll be a-wanting, prehaps, a hundred move. I'm 'guine to buy property; I'm guine into a speckilation for the giod of mny fam'ly. Youn hear it all. I put it plain before you. i;,'s jest for you to sayv whether it's peace or war; fair terms or fo l; money or blood!" , This was all plain enough, delivered in a mlanner the most doywnright and direct, the Squatter confronting the Sco chman at the distance of a single pace, and his hand flourishing at moments } in the very face of the latter. When he had finishedi speakingj he again turned to the whiskey punch, unasked, and repeated his X draught. McKewn listened with chilled sensations. He understood but I too well the existing terms between himself andc his enemy. He saw that nothing had been exaggerated in tfe speech of the X Squatter. The latter truly had him at his msrcy; aid he felt that he was destined to continued exactions, so long as Bostwick or himself should live. There was no evasion of the inct mbrance, and the time -was gone by, utterly, when the employee could bej put off or deceived. Hie had no remaining subterfuges against a foe so wily, and so well-informed in respect to his character.-- Meanwhile, the Squatter seemed to amuse himself surveying the apartment, which was large, lofty, highly finished, riclly hung with drapery, and with fine pictures hanging against the walls.-- A sabre, between a pair of silver mounted pistols, was among these decorations. The Sque eye took in all." i "You're a-living like a fi ock McKewn," said Le. with a degagee air that was quite distressing to the Scotciman, ard served to increase his irritation. "Now I'm a-wanting to live 3asy and I THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 533 like a fighting cock, too, but don't you think I'm a-wanting to hev' sich fine things in my cabin. They doesn't suit sich as me, and ag'in, I doesn't care to hev' 'em. What I wants is a sartainty for myself, and for Dory. That's all; and the sartainty must be a respectable one. A nice little house and farm, and, prehaps, two or three niggers to work in the field, and an old woman to cook, and a gal to be a sort. of waiting-maid to little Dory." To this, McKewn only answered with ail "Ah!-Well!-Yes!" but his eyes followed the movements of the Squatter with an in- tensity of interest which gave them a wild expression. Mean- while, though stalking about, with an air of inebriate hardihood and indifference, that seemed .to be heedful of nothing, the Squat- ter might be seen to keep a furtive watch on the Scotchman, which never suffered the slightest movement to escape him; but this was not perceptible to McKewn. Highly excited by his own reflections upon the desperate bondage in. which he felt himself placed, the usual vigilance of this cool and subtle strategist w-as greatly lessened. His passions served to blind him 'somewhat at the very moment when every faculty slould have been most acute- ly sharpened and observant. His thoughts, under the influence of these passions, were of a sort to madden him. Was there no es- cape fro'm the arrogance of this enemy? Was he to be plagued perpetually without any hope of relief? Was he forever to be made to fear for his secret, particularly now, when, this danger quieted, his position in life was so grateful, and might become al- together triumphant. It was past midnight. The house was quiet. The servants were all retired and asleep. Nobody had. seen the Squatter enter. Nobody knew of his visit. The rain was falling heavily; the winds beat sullenly against the shutter. Night and storim were auxiliaries to a deed of blood. Why should he not quiet the foe forever, by a single blow? Why not, by one sudden, desperate deed, relieve himself forever fioom this haunting, harrowing arrogance; this perpetual danger, which promised never 43* page: 534-535[View Page 534-535] 534 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. to suffer him to repose in security? His eye rested upoQl the pis- tols which hung upon the wall. They were both londdd, he 'knew-charged with a brace of bullets. They were s'ich as he could well rely on. The suggestion coursed rapidly thr mugh his mind. It grew in force; it ripened to conclusion; it bee ime are- solution. In a moment, he sprang to his feet, whirled iside the great chair upon which he had been sitting, and darted towards the pistols. But, resolute as was his determination, secret and sudden of pur- pose, and prompt' of execution, he was too late. The Squatter knew his man, had suffered none of his movements to esape him, and when McKewn stretched out his hand to grasp the weapons upon the wall, he encountered the avenger. Bostwick stood be- tween, and, instead of arming himself, McKewn found a pistol at his own breast. "Keep quiet, now, McKewn, and git back to your essy chair. It is not your time yit, nor is it mine. I don't want to luirt you, but Hknows you, and will jest keep a p'inter upon your motions, 'tell I has my axings." "Devil? Would you murder me Would you drie ime to madness' ." "Well, twarn't good sense in me to be doing either one, Io long as I gits what I wants by easy means. But, rether than n t git it, I'd kill you soon enough, and drive you to the devil, and to mad- ness, and eny whar' you choose, and not sp'ile my appeti e 'n do- ing it. Set you down, I tell you, and don't be making yourself a ridickilous figger!" "What is it you want " was the demand of 'McKewn. half- moved to rush upon the fellow in defiance of the pistol. \ "Well, that's a foolish question arter all I've been a-telling you. I wants a leetle of my rights. To begin-a hundred guineas, which I must hev' this very night." , "That's impossible. I don't keep money in the country r - . ^ ' ' 1. ;' THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 535 "That's nothing to me. You must find it. I don't quit you, McKewn,. till I gits the gould guineas, one hundred on 'em, in this very hand. Set you down quiet, and think over the different draws, or holes, whar' you hides away your yallow birds. As for gitting at the pistols, while I has a pair on 'em myself, ciamined4 to the muzzle with bullets, that's; onpossible, and you knows it.- Set down quiet, and think over what you hev' to do. I'll give you time for the thinking." McKewn drew back submissively, and sank into the seat again. As he did so, the Squatter took down the pistols from the wall and stuck them into his belt. "It's only a removing the temptation from your eyes." This done, he began to pace the room languidly as before, at times humming the words and air of a song of vulgar independ- ence, then quite popular among the whigs, but the words of which have only in part descended to our times. "I've no money. I've no lands, Yet I carry honest hands, And I fear no Lord's commands. Let him thunder as he muay, I've the strength to do my part, Strong of arm, and stout of heart, And I do not care--". fHerie McKewn's voice broke in upon that of the singer. "And if I give you this hundred guineas, Bostwick, are you prepared to deliver up those papers in the box of Mrs. Eveleigh?" "Not edzactly'! You don't git them delivered, McKewn, tell you plank down one hundred more guineas, on the nail, and I'll ixpect you to do that very thing by the middle of next week." The Scotchman again started up in a fury. "Easy, McKewn; take it easy, and it'll be so much the better for your narves. You're flurried and thar's no use for it. Don't you see, now, that you hev' to come to it. Thar's no gitting off." page: 536-537[View Page 536-537] 536 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. McKewn groaned aloud; then turning to the silv-r flagon ( -which had held the punch, he proceeded, with tremblirg hands,' to pour its contents into a tumbler. "That's right! It'll steady your narves. I'm only afea 'd I've left you too small a sup!" "Yes!". quoth McKewn, quickly. "I'll step down s ;airs and get a fresh supply, You'll be wanting more also." "Quiet, McKewn. You doesn't leave this room onell I gits my guineas." And, with the words, the Squatter coolly locked the CoOr, and put the key into his pocket. "Damnation, man! Do you mean to make me a prisoner in my own house?" "Oh! psho! shet up! What made it your house any more than mine? Only bekaise you had better skill in rogueiy. Ef I goes out here onsatisfied, McKewn, your house goes to ;he devil and you 'long with it! Dont you onderstand yi;, that I k:n tear 'you out of it, by the hands of Johnny Ketch, the born rope- stretcher. Be sensible, and git the guineas; ard then you may git the drink." McKewn resumed his seat, and sternly regarded his persecutor, no longer concealing, or seeking to conceal, the venomo s' hatred of his heart, betraying itself, without disguise, in every feature of i his face. ' Well," said Bostwick, "you're looking now more honest-like than I've seed you for many a day. You'll be letting me hev' those guineas, I see. That's the right sense. Y-o- hev' nC. ciaince, McKewn. I'm a-top of you this time!" The words were those of truth and soberness, h6wever strange; coming from such lips. McKewn felt them to be so. He had been put-in check at eveiry point of the game, and to avoid check- mate it was necessary to sacrifice afew pawns. However reluc- j tant to receive this conviction, it came to him at last. THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 537 "You shall have the guineas; but I must have the box of pa- pers." "All in good time! It'll take a hundred guineas more, I itell you, McKewn, afore you gets them papers." "And when am I to have them?" "Next week, when I wants the other hundred guineas." "And then?", - "W Vell! What then?" "Am I then to be rid of you forever?" . " "Forever's a long time, McKiewn, and I kain't quite answer; but I rether think you'll never be rid of me; for, as I tell'd you, Old Horny has promised that we shall keep together all the time, work together on this airth, and go to him together; and when thar "--pointing downwards--"I'm to give you a leetle taste of that same cat that has left its claw marks all over my mortal body." "Pshaw!' ' "You may 'pshaw ' as much as you please, but I tell you,- whether I seed or haird, or only dreamed it, I kaint say,--but as I'm a living sinner,' Ithink, I seed the devil in his own nateral shape; something more than a human, something less than a beast--a mighty fearsome sort of cross between- abig man and a wild animal, nara one nor t'other edzactly, and looking a heap like both, and talking like-a man, so that I could onderstand; and he tell'd me the same words I tell you, which was--' Bost- wick, when I comes for you, I'll call for McKewn at the same time. You're bound to come together.' Thar! believe it as you choose, only git me the guineas!" "And if I now give you a hundred guineas--" "Next week another hundred." "You will then give me up the papers, 'and rid me forever of your presence ." page: 538-539[View Page 538-539] 538 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. ;r "That last thing, McKewn, you see, ef the devil speaks truth at all, is quite -onpossible; and I ain't the man to fly in tie face of the devil, and say I won't see any of his friends. I reckon I'll hev' to see you whenever I wants money; bu; after them two hundred guineas, I'll give you a long rest-may be for six months or more." McKewn reflected, and determined to leave the promised seen- rity, for the present, to the chapter of chances. To gai:l time is the great object with every politician whom a stubborn necessity threatens to gravel McKewn had a faith in a sort of devil pro- vidence. He meditated to himself-- "If I can get the papers out of him, and be suire of sik months forbearance, m may be done-much may happen in t it time. I shall not always be locked up and weaponless, in a clhse room. The pistols need not always be upon the wall. He may be found napping in turn. In that is my hope." Aloud- "You shall have your hundred guineas Bostwick, n)w; and next week, when you bring me the papers, you shall hare anoth- er hundred."' "That's being sensible, I say." "But I must then be rid of you. Remember that!" '"Well! That's jest as it happens, McKewn. I'm sure 't's not you I wants to see any time, and ef you kin find out th way to fill my hand with the gould chickens when I waits 'em, X.{ never darken your door in a hundred years of Sundays. Brt quick, McKewn; I've got a stretch of bad riding to do yit be ore day- peep.' "The money is in that chest," said the Scotchman ass if to himself. He crossed the'room towards the chest which stood in the opposite corner, stooped, and prepared to open it. The Squat- ter's vigilance did not desert him. His ieflections were of this sort-unuttered, of course. ] i ' r ' "E THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 539 "Hle's got other we'pons in that chist, prehaps; other pistols, loaded with double bullets. 'He don't catch this weasel asleep this time i" McKewn opened the chest, which contained a variety of things. There was money--gold and silver in an open box;-there were trinkets of value, several large pieces of plate,-and, sure enough, conspicuous over all, a splendid pair of pistols, easy at hand, ready for use. The hand of McKewn hung indecisively over the open chest. There was the gold on one side, there the pistols on the other. The fingers clutched one of the pistols. He raised his head cautiously, and cast his eyes upward. The Sqiatter stood' immediately over him, with the muzzle of his own formidable pistol staring him in the face. Bostwick, stealthy as a wild cat, had crept behind him, weapon in hand, and was peering down into the-chest, ready for any evdnt, He laughed aloud, as he saw the action of the Scotchman. "T'wont do, McKewn! This weasel never sleeps when he's in the fowl-house." McKewn quietly laid down the weapon he had grasped, and gathered up the gold. The signs in his horoscope were not then friendly. He must wait events-have patience, and look to another shuffle of the cards. The money was counted out, paid and received. "Look for me next week, McKewn, and be ready with the other hund red. "And see that you bring the papers ;-for I tell you, Bostwick, if I die for it, you get not another shilling till I have the papers." "You shill hev 'em, and the account will then be squared be- tween us, of all that happened before you shipped me for the shirks. But after that, we must have new reckonings." "D---n his reckonings!" exclaimed MeKewn, after he was gone. "Once deprived of those papers, and I do not fear him. -is evidence will not be worth a straw in any court." page: 540-541[View Page 540-541] 540 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. The Squatter again popt his head suddenly into the chamber- "' ll leave your pistols for you, McKewn, outside -be door, down stairs. But shan't we hev a sup of that same liquur togeth- er afore I leave you." "Begone,-no!" The Squatter grinned only- . "Well, good night, McKewn; what's left of it!" CHAPTER LXII. THE SQUATTER IN HS CABIN. THE Squatter did not show himself to any other ayes that night. He did not proceed to the cabin where his wife and chil- dren dwelt. He housed himself in the swamp with. lis secret treasure. He found this safe. His fastnesses had not been found out; his box of guineas and papers had been undisturbed, in the same condition as when he left it. Crouched in the hollow of the cypress, he slept over it, and did not emerge the next dry till the sun was high in the heavens. Then he issued forth, ind stood still, in the shelter of the woods, but upon the dry hlnd. He made his: way to the spring which, about a quarter of a Ainle from his dwelling, supplied his family with water. This waf one of those sweet, secret, unobtrusive basins, issuing modestly fiLom the earth just on the edges of the swamp, such as form a peculiar feature id our forest country; a little hollow, with clea' white sand at the bottom, and a grassy fiinge all about it, with the waters gushing out silently from a couple of small e e9 in the bankside. Shaded by great trees of the forest, it wss always cool, and with a tolerably rapid c6urse to the swam , it was always clear and pure. The Squatter knew where to look .for , , ,r I* I TIE SQUATTER IN HS CABIN. 541 the calabash, the cup of gourd, hanging from a bough of the tree just over it. He dipped and drank,-drank deeply of the deli- cious waters,-then stooping, bathed his head and neck in the running stream. This done, he threw himself down among the. trees beside it, with an air of exhaustion and languor quite un- wonted in his usual habit. In truth, his appearance was that of a diseased and almost deranged man. His face burned with fever, his eyes were bloodshot and prominent, almost seeming to start from his head; his mouth lay open, and he panted with the least exertion. As he walked, his motion was unsteady, dand his limbs tottered beneath him. He rose, after a little while, again drank, and again dipped his head into the waters. Scarcely had he left them, once more retiring among the trees, when his keen ear detected the sound of approaching voices. His instincts at once prompted him to hide'himself; which he did without effort, among the shrubs near at hand. Very soon he beheld the persons of the intruders. These were no other than young- Arthur Eveleigh attending his own pretty daughter. Dory, whom he had not seen before now, since his return, was wonder- fully improved. She had grown evidently taller in six months. She was now at that interesting period of life when the girl may be said to glide into the woman. She was precocious, and her air and manner were in advaiine of her years. She had caught up quickly, in her occasional visits to Mrs. Eveleigh, the graces of a'higher sphere of life that that to which she belonged, and it was with a natural pride that the eye of the Squatter beheld the mixed ease, simplicity and' animation of her movements. Her features were as beautiful as ever; her form showed to more ad- vantage in the better costume which the widow had provided her; the lively flashing of her eye, and the clear, silvery, flute like accents of her voice, declared pure happiness of the heart, such as she had seldom before betrayed in the sight of her father. At the first sight of his child,: the heart of the Squatter bounded " - i [ ^ ' I page: 542-543[View Page 542-543] 542 THE. SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. within him, with a pleasurable and exulting sensation. She was his! Sle was the only one, perhaps, of all his house I old, who had somehow found the way to his rugged and spasrrodic affec- tions. But, aftel a few moments, the natural selfishness of a bad heart suggested that the gill had improved in graje, beauty, health, and showed improved fortunes, and joy, and llope, and animation, though hle the father had been a wandererl ttlouogh he had been tossed about wearily in distant lands, in cIltead, and strife, and danger,--and, for all she knew, mighlt be dekl, drown- ed, or sacrificed with brutal ferocity to the vengeance oi his ene- mies.. For a while the bitter feeling inspired by, thi 'eflection predominated over all others. But this disappearedl when he looked upon Arthur Eveleigh, and witnessed the livel interlest which that young man seemed to take in his beaut tiul child. Dory carried a bucket, with which she designed to bli g water [ from the spring. It was not a large or weighty vessel, but Ar- thur would have snatched it fi'om her, and carried it hitrpself, but she refused and jerked it away, and, lauohing sporti,ely at his attempts, darted firomn him, flyinig like a fawn, and, re chng the sprling before him. He, of course, pursued, and a pla full strug- } gle took pllace at the spring as to who should fill the butket. '"Not you, Arthur!" said the child, keeping always in mind the sulerior social position of her companion. '"But why not, Dory? I'm: the ablest, the strongesti and it's not right th at a girl like you should do such things. I 0Till fill it." "Well, you may help me. I'll fill it half, and you sl all fill the other." "Very well; but I want some to- dlink, Dory. Yu fill the calabash for me, and I'll fill it then for you. You wantF io drink, I suppose?" "Yes! I'll do that! There!" and she handed him t}1 simple gourd filied with the sweet and spa-dling, waters. t He insisted that she. should drink, but she refused rsolutcly, A I, THE SQUATTER IN HS CABIN. 543 and he did not press it, but satisfied his thirst, threw away the water remaining in the cup, stooped, rinsed it in the running strearn, then dipped up a fi'esh supply of water. His carriage was gently solicitous, fond and playful, but studiously considerate and respectful. Betweent them the bucket was filled finally, but not in the shortest possible time. They prattled, the girl and boy, over every gourd of water which they lifted up; and when they were done, Arthur seized upon the bucket and proceeded to bear it off. ' "Oh! you must'nt, Arthur; mother will be vexed if she sees you doing such work." "Work, indeed! why it's nothing to me, Dory, to ca'l' it." "Yes, but I can't let you; mother will thiink it's unworthy of you." And she seized upon the handle, but. Arthur refused to yield it. In pulling opposite ways, the water began to spill; thbn, as by mutual consent, the two set the vessel down, and suddenly, before Dory could suspect his purpose, Arthur hald seized her about the waist, and bestowed a sudden kiss upon her burning lips. "Oh Arthur, you promised me you wouldn't do so again." "Well, why did you fight with me for the bucket, Dory," was the pert reply of the boy. "I didn't fight with you. You know I ought to carry it. Mo- the r-" "Oh! don't tell mie about your mother. You are always talk- ing as if she was the greatest scold in the world. N3ow I know she never scolds you at all. So, no more of that, Dory. You take one side'of the handle, and I'll take the other, and we'll carry the bucket so 'together." The compromise was acceptable, and the two disappeared with their burden, prattling away all the secrets of their young hearts, never once dreaming who had been the listener. When they were gone, the Squatter fell into a fit of musing, in spite of his page: 544-545[View Page 544-545] 544 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. I feverish and suffering condition, for he -now, liimself, felt that he was really ill. "Ef he would marry her now, she'd desarve it. S: 's a most beautiful and blessed looking child as I ever did see. She's beau- tiful and sweet enough to be the wife of any man. i 3ut 'tain't possible that sich a thing could happen. Iis mother would be agin it. When he grow'd a little older and more knoving, hel'd be agin it. People would talk. He'd hear 'em speak of the Squatter Bostwick. He'd hear 'em tell of how she was the child of a poor man, that lived in a cabin; and'who was, al Tgether, a most bad man and a rascal. And how could he 'tand that? i No! he couldn't stand it. He couldn't marry her: a il so there must be no love doings betwixt 'em. I must take car! of that! Dory is too blessed a child to hev a man fooling aboum her when he can't never marry her: and I must take care of lr ; and I must take care of him; and ef I finds him at eny mir-ichief, I'll put a knife into him jest as soon as I would stick a pig, ind a great deal sooner too." Again the Squatter moved down to the spring, and drank. lHe was really suffering. He lounged or lay about in the woods for some hours. Why he still kept away from his cabii and his family, it would be difficult to conjecture. But he bily drew nigh to it at night; and then, under a sense of suffeing which rendered him inaccessible to the sense of fear. He fouijid his way in at last,and immediately took to his bed. His illness increased. His wife gate him some simple medicines, but they aqfrded him no relief. For several days he lay upon a couch of pain, without succour, the excitement of his mind increasing with the iicrease of fever. At length he called Dory to his bedside. "Dory, you must go to McKewn for me. You knox McKewn. You know where he lives?" "Yes, father! I saw him when I was staying with Mrs. Eve- leigh." THE $QUATTER IN 1"S OABIN. S545 "What! you staying with Mrs. Ev'legh? But never mind that now. You must go to McKewn, and tell him to come to me to-night; I wants him. I must see him here; and don't you take any 'scuses, you hear! He must come. Tell him I'll fix the thing for him. lie shall hev the papers, but tell him be sure to bring the gould. And look you, Dory, don't you let anybody see you. Take the short cut through the woods; and don't you be guine now to the widow's; and don't you let anybody know no- thing of who sent you, and whar you're a guine. Now, you onderstand?" "Yes, father." "Well, let me hear what you've got to do and say." She repeated his instructions.- "Very well; and now be off as soon as you kin. I'm in a hur- ry, you see." The girl obeyed. Of what nature was the hurry of which the Squatter spoke, he, perhaps, had no certain consciousness; but he soon made it apparent to his wife that his mind was unsettled. He called her uD, as soon as Dory was gone, and said: "When McKewn comes here to-night, you must cl'ar out with the children. You kin hev a fire made up in the woods, and keep warm while we're a talking together. We've got a long talk to do together. We've got a heap of business. I'm a guine to buy a farm for Dory, and you and the children can live with her when she's married. I'm guine to buy her some niggers, and fix her up handsome in the world. She shan't be a beggar child eny longer. You hear to that, and ef you takes the right care of her it'll be all the better for you. Do you hear to that? Give me some water to drink. I'm consuming thairsty." She gave him the water. He drank, and rose from the bed; but staggered from weakness. The wife urged him to lie down again, but he replied sharply- "Git out, and don't meddle whar you don't onderstand. Go "* page: 546-547[View Page 546-547] 546 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. along now, and put yourself on the road leading to the pinelands, ' and see'ef thar's nobody about, and come and tell me c uick." She did so, and during her absence he proceeded tc lress him- self, which hle did with evident effort. Hie was feeble had taken little or no nourishment, and was sustained only by the excite- ment of fever, and a will that would not suffer him to .Ldmit, even to himself, the extent of h's sufferings. By the time thjat he had finished dressing hitmcelf,-his wife returned. The road glas clear; there was nobody to be seen. He prepared to go fort "You're not going out?" she asked. I -- What's it to you ef I does. Mind your own busi ess." He disappeared, and was absent a full lbour. When he return- ed, he brought with him, wrapped up in the folds o' his cloak, the box of Mrs. Eveleigh, containing the papers and the stolen treasure, with the hundred guineas additional he had received from McKewn. The wife saw that he carried sometl ing with him, but she was not permitted to }know what. He co cealed it beneath the bed clothes where he lay, sinking upon tlel couch in utter exhaustion as he did so. The day passed. In lue season Dory returned, bringing a message from McKewn, who promised to come as required. , Good!" said the Squatter, languidly smiling uponl the child. "You're a beauty of the forest, Doly, and I love you, and you shill hev a farm of vour own, Dory, and niggers to work for you, and a nice little waiting-maid servant of your own-all of vour own." ' - "Thank ye, father; and, father, I want you to let me read to you now, out of this book." "The Bible! no, none -of that now; for I've got dealings with the devil to-night, or one that's a burn brother of the devil, and I don't want any good lessons when I've got to deal with synch sorts" of persons. Shet it up, Dory, and-jest you sit by me npw, and sing for nihe some soft sweet little bit of a song. But, fist, give me some water." * ' - - * I ^ j THE SQUATTER IN' IIS CABIN. 547 "Father, ought'nt you to take physic ." "Well, ef 1 know'd what physic to take, Dory; but I don't." "There's a Doctor " "Jest stop, now, and don't you tell me of Doctors, now. I hev'nlt got money to give to Doctors. I'll- want all to buy your farm and niagers." "Oh! don't mind that, father, but send for Doctor ." "Shet up! You don't know what you're a saying. I must mind that. I've got nothing else but that to mind. I'm aguine to make you a lady, Dory, so that you shill be able to marry a fine great gentleman some day." "But, father-" * "Sliet up, and jest sing, that's all." The child obeyed), and she sang for him a well known rustic ditty. He shut his eyes, and seemed to slumber ; and sometimes watching him, sometimes singing to him, and answering his calls for water, the day sped away, and the still watches of the night came on. As the wife lighted her dipt candles-in the chamber, the Squatter started up. a' It's night, and that devil McKewn's not come." "It's just dark, father, I reckon he'll be here." As she spoke, the hoofs of a horse were heard. "That's him, I knows ;" said the Squatter. "And-now," he continued, addressing I is wife, " do you cl'ar out, as I told you, and take Dory and the children with you, and make u-p a fire in the woods, and don't be poking about here to listen, for when a man's got to talk with the devil and his angels, he don't want eny body to hear the bargain he makes." In a few minutes McKewn tapped at the door, was admitted, and the wife, with her children, disappeared. The door was care- fully fastened, and, the two criminals, colleagues no longer, were alone together. page: 548-549[View Page 548-549] 548 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTEi LXII. THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBEPLEY, AND HOW IT ENDED. FROM the cabin of the Squatter to the mansion of the planter is, with us now, as it frequently is in fact, only a stone's throw. Let us pass from one to the other. The bolt has descendedl Cap- tain Porgy is in tribulation. The Sheriff, with the posse cpnmita- tus, is at Glen-Eberley. There is great confusion in the garrison. It is a garrison, however, well defended. The doors are all barred and bolted. From the upper windows, Corporal Millhouse and X Tom, the cook, are keeping watch, armed to the teeth. Thle Cap- l tain is moving from chamber to chamber, breathing defiance, There is a warrant out for his ariest. He swears that his person shall never be dishonoured by the touch of the Sheriff. Mean- while, that officer, with his myrmidons, has environed the dwel- ling. They have, failed to capture the negroes, who are all off. Tom, and ithat antique mother of many ginerations," old Sap- pho, only excepted. Apprized of the approach of the enemy, Lance Frampton was deputed by Millhouse to take charge of the negroes, and house them in the swamp. This duty done, he was to act as a scouting party, making proper efforts to relieve the garrison, by throwing in provisions, whenever opportunity should offer. The Sheriff, meanwhile, sustained by Crooks, the lmuch stffering deputy, who tenaciously sought his own revenge, with some half dozen auxiliary bull dogs of the courts, was yet be- wildered with the difficulties of his situation; provoked by the perverse and utterly useless obstinacy of Porgy, yet half )augh- ing at the military resolve toconvert his house into a castle at a period when the mailed coat of the soldier was in duty bound to give place to the gown of the civilian. The Sheriff's ratural I . ! THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 549 good humour and love of good fellowship, were in conflict with his official dignities and duties. And, now, under the trees in the avenue, he sat in consultation with his forces. They did not dare to venture within a hundred yards. They had already tried the defences and were warned off; sullen looking rifle muzzles pro- truding from port holes cut in the shuttered windows, and pistols swaying out significantly through broken pains of glass in the upper story. While thus they sat, in front of the strong and well manned garrison which they had summoned in vain to surrender, they were threatened by unexpected dangers in the rear. Lance Frampton, having securely housed the fugitive negroes, was making the circuit of the plantation, when he beheld two strange looking persons approaching. One was an exceeding tall man, something over fifty, lean, lank, long; of dry, withered as- pect; simple as skinny of visage, but with something in his face that pronounced him a character His companion was altogether a different person, of middle size, well built without being stout, of a full, frank, fair countenance, fine complexion, light blue eye, which twinkled merrily when he spoke, and a joyous laugh, like the ringing of a bird note, that you could hear a mile off. Both of them carried rifles, and, with their arms, equipments and dress, were altogether just such persons in appearance as were Captain Porgy and his comrades, as we beheld them when, homeward bound, they first left be camp of Marion. It was Frampton's present duty to overhaul these strangers. They might be addi- tional forces of the Sheriff whom he was bound to cut off. He resumed all the strategic practice that he had acquired in the war; tied his horse in the woods, and stole under cover towards the strangers, who were both on foot. One of them, by the way, the tall man, carried an enormous sack upon his shoulders, which stuck out in every direction; the other bore a little wallet, of leather, which hung out upon the end of his rifle. When they page: 550-551[View Page 550-551] 550 THE 'SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. approached sufficiently nigh, Frampton leapt out withlal joyful cry to meet them. He knew them at a glance. i "What, George?" he cried, to the younger of the tw ,--"Is it you .t and, "Doctor, I am really glad to see you." The parties have been, more than once, subjects of renmark. in our narrative. They were old followers of Porgy;-tlhie one, Doctor Oakenburg, a culler of simples and catcher of snakes, of both of which his sack was now full; tumbled in, in odd corifusion, with shirts and breeches, and other body-gear;--thel other was no less a person than George Dennison, the poet lof the partisans, of whom Porgy had been always very fond, and whom, he was required to defend very fiequently again'st the utilitarian philosophies of Millhouse. The meeting on both Sides was very : joyous; the welcome of Frampton was delivered in earnest.. These were auxiliaries, allies, whom he took for granted, would readily side with him against the Sheriff. Upon Dennison he cotld put reliance. Oakenburg was one who had no relish for danger; and now, when told of the predicament in which- Porgy ,too:l, and asked if he would not cooperate for his relief, he avowed his rea- diness to do so only on condition that he was required to ' act in a situation which should- be one of pearfect security." The 1phrase was one to which all his associates had been accustonmed for years; and yet, though stipulating thus always, he had gone through several campaigns without a osAitely skulking froin any fight. His professional role was something of alprotectiqn, it is true; but it was notorious that a patient was never in more dan- ger than when Oakenburg promised to save him. I Dennison was delighted with the notion of circumventing the Sheriff, alid rea- dily fell into all the plans which Lance presented. His scheme was suddenly to fall upon the party of the Sheriff in the reer, and by giving a proper signal to the- garrison, effect a simultaneous movement, by which the two parties, pushing forward at the same moment, might utterly surprise and capture the myrmidons of the . THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 551 law together, at one single swoop. It was calculated that'a mere demonstration from front and rear, at the same moment, would enable them to succeed in their object without shedding a drop of blood. Our partisans, it will be seen from this, had but very lit- tile notion of the valour of those who had served only in the cham- bers of the law. Frampton's plans were soon completed. His companions were both armed, as we have said. They submitted to his directions. He blought them down, under cover all the way, until they lay perdu, each with the bead of his rifle prepared to tell upon an enemy's button. To establissh a comnmunication with the garrison was the next object. To effect this--having given Denison full instructions as to what he and Oakenburg should do, and at what momenlt-he stole away, and they lost sight of him for half an hour. In this time, he made his way, unseen by those without, to the dwelling, and by signals previously agreed upon with Mill- house, found admittance. His scheme was duly reported, rapidly considered, and eagarly resIlved upon. Porgy was now in such a state of excitement, that he never stopt to reason upon any por- tion of the affair but the probability of its success. An enter- prise of this nature carried hiln back to the ftmiliar stimulants of several exciting years. He thought of the sortie, its beauties, its modus operarndi; the sally, the shout, the triumph;-never once of THE LAW; the sacred character of the Sheriff,-the awful pow- ers of the courts ;--the State and its enraged dignities! Framp- ton had now disappeared, and the garrison beat to arms. Porgy appeared in the hall in full armour; Millbouse was there, with his sabre wa-ving in air; Tom carried a sabre also; a rifle was slung upon his shoulder, as upon his -master's; and there were pistols in every body's belt.- We must not forget to mention one fact, however, that, wild as was our Captain of Partisans, he took special care that none of the weapons should be charged with ball. Good heavy charges of powder, well wadded, were thrust ; page: 552-553[View Page 552-553] 552 TEE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. into the guns and istols; but nothing more heavy. OUr Cap- tain's aim was to surprise, to scare, and to capture or disperse his enemy. He made Lance Frampton and Millhouse understand this -matter clearly ; and was particularly heedful that they should see, that, however willing to violate the laws in some' respects, h'e was yet scrupulous that no blood should be shed. We are not [ prepared to say that he felt no anxieties on this head, since any encounter -of the sort must necessarily, even with the best purpos- es of forbearance, on the side of one of the parties, be of doubt- ful accidents; but, in truth, his own excited temper did not suffer him very profoundly to meditate the possibilities of the experiment. The watch'above stairs, meanwhile, duly reported progress. Sig- nals were momently expected, and our garrison stole down the inner stairs to the- basement, prepared to rush from under the porch upon the Sheriff's party, as soon as Frampton could be A heard from. He, meanwhile, made his way to his new allies, 'Dennison and Oakenburg. The better to encourage the latter to I audacity, the Lieutenant described the affair as a furious jest only. The withdrawal of the bullets- from all their weapons seemed to confirm this. "But," says the Lieutenant--' you must look as if in earnest, arid behave just as if it was all real and serious fight- ing. M That's the only way to scare o-f these fellows. They aint used to fighting, and a few random shots, and a good big shout- i-ng, will be pretty sure to do their business, particularly when they see us, on one side, and the Cap;ain and his men on!t'other; rushing on like mad, and flourishing pistols and broad-swords. That's all we shall -have to do." Dennison was eager for the fun, and, now that it seemed so in- nocent, Oakenburg was not unready. Quietly, the three stole- towards the Sheriff's party, in silence the most profound, as long as they could possibly approach without discovery. YFramp- ton, on this progress, had separatec, from the two, and taken another direction, which enabled hirr- to act between the several f THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 553 parties. He was to give the. signal, discharging a pistol, and rushing into sight, though at a greater distance from the enemy than either of the other parties: This, after a little interval, he did. His pistol shot, his fierce halloo, and his rush, from out the covert, was followed in a few seconds by a terrible uproar from the court of the dwelling; and, directly after, from Dennison and his companion Oakenburg had famous lungs, if his courage was wanting in firmness. He could roar like an alligator, and his bellowings shook the wood. The Sheriff and his party were at once on their feet. They were environed with dangers. They knew not which way to turn. Their consternation was evident at a glance. The Sheriff was firm, but surprised ; his immediate ally, Crooks, whose own revenges were ever uppermost in his mind, was ready for battle, so far as appetite was concerned; but. he was divided between three fires. The one great bully, whom they had brought with them, and who had never in his. life shrunk from fist or bludgeon, now showed a very different spirit, when pistols and rifles were introduced into the discussion. He had a very wholesome reluctance to an atmosphere about to be impregnated with gun-powder. .At the very first shout and shot, (which came together,) he started off at a run, and was knocked down by the furious Crooks, as he was making off. He scarcely stirred again until the affair was over-until the firing had fairly ceased. Meanwhile, ;he several parties performed their separate duties with admirable concert. On a sudden, the corpulent might of Captain Porgy, like a young buffalo, might be seen emerging from the cover of his piazza. He came forward, swelling and splurging -to employ the phrase by which Millhouse frequently described his assault afterwards-his eyes glaring like meteors, his voice yelling a terrific slogan; his broad-sword waving like the broad tail of a fiery comet, at the advent of an earthquake. Porgy could not exactly rush or run, but he could roll forward 45 , [ page: 554-555[View Page 554-555] 554 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. with wonderful effect, and his lungs were good. His strength was great when he once set hands upon his victim. He looked in terrible earnest as he came. While his right grasped the broad-sword, his left carried a pistol. As he advanced, he fired with deliberate aim at the enemy, then dropping the one pistol drew another, still advanced, still took deadly aim, fired and hur- ried onwards with a shout.. Millhouse did likewise. So Framp- ton from his quarter; so Dennison '.nd, Oakenburg from theirs; so Tom, the cook, following close in the wake of his master; and finally, so Sappho, the ancient, whose screams from toothless jaws were absolutely most awful of all to hear. Can you wonder at the result. Can you doubt that the Sheriff s party was discom- fited, even before a blow was struck. His men fled incontinently from the field, all but Crooks, who stood bravely beside his chief, iff, with bludgeon in hand, and looked the danger in the face with tolerable composure. The Sheriff drew his small-sword with the air of a nobleman!n a conflict with a crowd of canaille, who sees that he must peris, and takes the proper attitude at once to die with grace and dignity, ahd do something wicked while falling. But he was allowed no chance. Half a dozen pistols, flashed pretty near his face and that of Crooks, utterly blinded them. They both concluded themselves sla'n, though doubtful at the moment where to locate their hurts; and while the Sheriff, with the despair of a dying man, darted forward and thrust out his sword in the direction of Porgy's abdominal demonstration, Tom, the cook, rushed upon him from behind, dexterously dived be- tween his parted legs, lifted him fairly from the ground, and, while his sword furiously but fruitlessly slslsed away in air, hurried him off to the house, a prisoner. Crooks was captured-nay, ridden down-by Oakenburg, who, with immensely long legs, seeing a terrier-like little man before him, with his back turned, delibe- rately cast his leg over his shoulder, curled the limb completely about his neck, and thus brought him down to earth; when Mill- THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 555 house took hi-n into keeping, by leisurely letting himself down upon the captive, whose bristles of chin and cheek he curiously examined; feeling them with his one hand, while commenting upon the wonderful rapidity with which red or copper coloured beards shoot out. Crooks struggled fiercely, but it required the slightest effort in the world on the part of the Corporal, to suffer his fingers to slip from the chin to the throat of his captive. A gripe of the weasand, by such steely prongs as the Corporal wore by way of fingers, soon subdued all the bristles of the Deputy, whether of wrath or whisker. While this was going on, Porgy was engaged in rescuing the Sheriff from Tom's clutches; a not easy matter. Our excellent cook, assuming that he should certainly be permitted to strip, if not to slay his prisoner,-as had been his custom in battle,-was not willing to deliver the captive until his master promised to ac- count to him for his garments; when he suffered the discomfitted Sheriff to feel the solid earth once more. Porgy came up and clapt the knight of the shire upon his shoulder- "Shall there be peace between us, Colonel a" "Peace!-Captain Porgy, you have dishonoured me! You have still your sword in hand, and I have mine. I appeal to your sense of honour, that we cross blades." "Pooh! pooh! my dear fellow, there's no need of that. You are already conquered; don't you see." "You will pay dreadfully for this! You have killed several of my people." "Not a man of them, unless the scare shall have done so. For, look you, my cear Colonel, we went into-the fight with' powder only. Not a pistol or gun was shoted!" This made tae Sheriff furious. He cried- "Bic. your fellows stand off, while' we fight. There, is no sham in steel." "And no shame to you, my dear Colonel, in being shot at with page: 556-557[View Page 556-557] 5S6 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. empty pis+ols. Pooh! pooh! man, c n't you relish a good army.- joke, now that ybu're a peace officer. Put up your sword, and let us all in and hasve a stoup of Jamaica. I am in a lather of per- spiration." But the Sheriff was not so easily appeased, and the dispute went on, and, in spite of Porgy's gooe humour-which, now that he had gained the victory and enjoyed his jest-was of the most genial description, there is no saying what Imight have been the upshot of the business ; when suddenly the tread of horses, and the wheels of a carriage were heard rumbling towards them. And soon the cumbrous vehicle drew nigh, drawn, as was frequently the fashion in those days, by, four horses. Then a voice, well known to both of the parties, clied out from the carriage-- "Halloo! There! My brave fellows, what have you been about " / v 'The new comer was the gallant and highly popular Charles Cotesworth Pinckney--a man, who, ,but for the curse of party, would have been subsequently made President of the United States. I Ha! my dear Pinckney," answe-ed Porgy, " you have come in the nick of time' to keep the peace., I have won a victory, but because I have been merciful, I cannot quiet those whom I should have slain." . .. Pinckney got out of the carriage, I stept between the parties, and heard the story. He e'had sped, by the way, with all haste after the Sheriff, to prevent difficulties. The latter, goaded by McKewn, and somewhat mortified -by the stories spread about at his expense, touching his-former-fortune-stories ve-ry much exag- gerated--had evaded the friends of FPorgy, and set out for his ar- rest, and to effect the levy, without their knowledge. As soon, however, as the 'fact was known, Pinckney started in pursuit. -Ie came too late; and the difficulties of his mission were increased. But he was not the perqson to despair. He had l l THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBRLEY. 557 that two-fold capacity, at once of persuasion and command, I which rarely suffered him to fail in influencing the minds of men. "What, Colonel," he said to the Sheriff,-"Angry still, after what you hear. This must not be. We must, reconcile you to our friend, who, as we all know, will have his jest though he dies for it." "Not at mv expense-at least." "Surely no," said Pinckney, " and he will atone for every hurt of honour thatL he has inflicted. I promise you this, my dear fel- low, on my honour; and now let us into his dwelling, and see with what soIt of hospitality he will receive us." "In with you all,--good friends, all!" cried Porgy; "and if ; nothing short of Glen-Eberley will suffice to satisfy you, Mr. Sheriff, why, it is at your service. There's my hand on it,- and a now in!" The Sheriff was somewhat reluctant still; but Porgy seized his hand and'shook it with vehemence, and Pinckney repeated his assurance that every atonement should be made. The knight of the shire was forced to yield. Crooks, the deputy, now re- lieved from the incumbent weight of Millhouse's body, was not so easily pacified,--but, when Pinckney, becoming impatient, told the Corporal to resume his captive, and the seat which he had oc- cupied with sucth effect, the little fellow cooled off, and followed the rest into the house. Here, for the first time, Porgy was en- abled to welcome his old associates, George Dennison and Oak- enburg, which he did with a hearty satisfaction that quite dis- turbed the Corroral. He muttered sotto voce- ' "Lawd ha' marcy! now, they're here, they'll stick, and nara one of 'em able to ailn the salt to his hominy!" Let us suppose the efforts of Pinckney to be successful in re- conciling the conflicting parties, and persuading the Sheriff to re- ceive the apologies of Porgy, for all that had been -personally of- 45* , page: 558-559[View Page 558-559] 558 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. fensive between them; apologies which Porgy gave without a moment's scruple. But Crooks was to be hushed with other coin. His hurts of honour were to be se;tled by some regard to his pocket; and, after a little while, an exact estimate was made, in money, of the amount of injury done to his self esteem and hon- our. These affairs once adjusted, the question next was confined , wholly to the satisfaction of the judgment in the case of McKewn v. Porgy-a matter of more difficult arrangement. We will leave the, three prominent persons, Pinckney, the Sheriff, and Por- gy, engaged in this discussion, in the parlour, after,supper was over; while Corporal Millhouse, well supplied with pipes and Ja- maica, did the honours below stairs to the other guests. Framp- ton haa suddenly disappeared after the "skrimmage.'" He ex- cused himself only to George Dennison, and by no other parties did his absence occasion any surprise. It was probably two hours after nightfall when he re-appearec, and, suddenly miking his 'way into the parlour where the three principal persons were yet engaged in the discussion, he called Porgy out to the piazza, and said- i "'Beg pardon, Captain, for troubling you just now, but you see the matter is important. There's the squatter, Bostwick, he's got back to his family. Pomp saw him in the swamp, and when he told me, I put Pomp and another to watch the Squatter's house. They saw little Dory go out, and one of them watched her all the way to McKewn's; and to-night, a little after dark, McKewn went in to the Squatter's cabin. He's with him now, and they both may be caught together. I'm a-thinking that if you was to seize upon the Squatter, right away, and give him a good scare with the-rope or the hickories, you would get back that mahoga- ny box of the widow Eveleigh, and find out all about your miss- ing property, and the attack on the widow." Lance Frampton was a brief, comprehensive speaker. He-hardly employed more words than these in making this revelation. THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 559 Porgy felt its vast importance, and rightly estimated the utility of prompt proceedings. He at once, took Lance into the par- lour and communicated his intelligence to his associates. Pinck- ney was at opce upon his feet. "We must act instanter. The Squatter must be seized; but legally. lHere's the proper officer. I can take your Lieutenant's affidavit and yours, embodying your suspicions, and issue the warrants, which will suffice to get one or both these parties into custody-the rest may follow; but rope or hickory, unless by the proper hands, must not be thought of. Call your deputies,-a couple of them, Mr. Sheriff,-while I prepare the papers." Five minutes sufficed for this. The parties, Pinckney at their head, prepared to set forth; Porgy was about to accompany them, but Pinckney objected. "Better nJt you, Sorgy. Your entanglements are quite suffi- cient already, and you'll be for grappling this fellow McKewn on the spot, and pulling his nose, or doing some outrageous thing. Besides, you :debt to him makes your appearance, at the time of his answer to such charges, a rather delicate proceeding." "If I don't go with you, may I be !" was the reply of the doughty CapJain, putting his pistols in his belt. "Obstinate as ever! But, as you will. How far is it? Do we ride!" "The horses are ready now, sir," was the reply of the prompt Lieutenant-"' Better ride to Cattle Branch, Captain, and then get down and walk." "Right, Lance, right! we must take the rascals by surprise. Gentlemen, to saddle." page: 560-561[View Page 560-561] 560 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. CHAPTER LXIV. THE BOX OF PAPERS, AND HOW PAID FOR. UNDER the guidance of Lance Frampton, the party proceeded to the Cattle Branch. Here, they alighted, fastened their horses in the shelter of a bit of wood, and went forward on foot. At- tracted by the gleam of fire in the forest, Lance Frampton stole away to see by what it was occasioned, and, without allowing him- self to be seen, he found the wife of the Squatter, little. Dory, and the two other children, cowering about the blaze of a fire which, they had kindled about two hundred yards from the house of the Squatter. Here, wrapped in blankets, and housing themselves as well as they could against the night wind, they waited the conclu- sion of the conference between the confederates in the cabin.- Having ascertained, scout-fashion, all the necessary particulars in the case, Fra mpton rejoined his party and made his report. They went forward, stealthily, towards the house, and, imitating the\ precautions of their guide,- succeeded in approaching it without disturbing the inmates. Through chinks between the logs, from which the clay-plastering had fallen out, and by the light of a couplte of tallow candles which burned in the chamber of the Squatter, they could see pretty much all that took place within. Using our privilege, we can witness the proceedings on easier terms, and are able to report them from the beginning. Once in the chamber, the family shut out, and secure, as be thought, against surveillance,.McKewn approached the bedside of the Squatter, who raised himself up in the bed to receive him. "What's made you sick, Bostwick?" said the visitor. ' Sick! O! I aint much sick; aint too sick to do business. Bu- siness always make me well ag'in. T:e sight of the gould. a-com- TEE BOX OF PAPERS, AND HOW PAID FOR. 561 ing in, is always a cure for me, no matter what's the sort of ail- ment a troubling me. Hev' you brought the gould, McKewn?" "But you are sick, Bostwick, and very sick too," said McKewn, seeing the fiery eyes, the blotched features, and feeling the burning hand of the patient. "You ha;e a scorching fever, and look ill out of the eyes." "Oh! dorn't you mind about the eyes. I tell you, ef they once sees the guineas, and a smart chaince of 'em, they'll git well, and I'll git well directly. Hev' you brought them guineas . I must hev' 'em, and a great count of 'em too, McKewn." "Guineas. Why, man, you need physick now, rather than guineas. I must send you some to cure this fever." "You! Send me physick! You! Never! I'll not take any physic of your mixing, McKewn. You're not the one that I'll ap- p'int to bile my gruel." "Why, you don't think I'd poison you, do you?" "That's jest what I'd be afear'd of, McKewn. You see, I knows you, and you knows me, and I tell you, there's only one sort of physic I'm willing to take out of your hands, and that's gould physic, McKewn. Hev' you brought them guineas.?" "I have! There are a hundred guineas here, in this bag; but I'll. not give you one of them, Bpstwick, until I see that box of papers-until I get it delivered into my own hands." "You wor't, you say?" "No! I will not!" "Then, you -don't git 'em, that's all '" and the sick man hustled the pillow, and a portion of the bed-clothes, in a heap beneath his head, with at appea ance of care which did not escape the obser- vation of his visitor. "Look you, McKewn," continued the Squat- ter; " you don't hev' them papers onless I gits five hundred guin- eas." i ' Five hurdred g fineas! Why, you're mad." page: 562-563[View Page 562-563] 562 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. "No I ain't; I'm only sensible. I'm in want of a heap of gould. I'm) a-guine to buy a farm &nd seven niggers for Dory.- I'm aguine to set her up, and make a lady of her. And she shill be fine; and shill hev' fine clothes, silk and velvet: and shill hev niggers to work for her in the corn-field, and a maid-sarvant to wait upon her, and hdlp put on her c othes; and you're to pay for all." "The devil, I -am!" "Yes! The devil you. air! and bekaise you aii a born devil, and bekaise, jest now, I'm your mas;er, and kin make you woirk for me, I'll make my child a lady of fortin'. So you'll hev' to fork up the money, and do it han'solre. Ef IF kain't git her settled, han'some, out of my airnings, I'd like to know what's the} use of all my rapscalities. Five hundred guineas is little enough to aix you;-- that is, after the hundred guineas you've got in the bag.-- Them you must leave with me,-and to -and git jest five hundred -more, and when I sees them counted out, fair before me, ten piles and fifty in every one on them, then you shill hev' the box of pa- pers; and not a minute before." An 1 here the ,quatter grasped the 'eap beneath his pillow, with the air of a man making sure of his possessions. The keen eye "of McKewn again observed the act'on, and his mind drew in- stantly the proper inference from it. Ite observed, also, that the excitement of the Squatter was increasing. His eyes,l now molre accustomed to the degree of light in ;he chamber, McKewn was enabled to see that Bostwick was really much more an invalid than he had thought him at first; though, even the first glance had shown him that the man. was very ill. He now began to sus- pect that his mind was wandering. This conjecture was reached, not so much because of the extravagance of his demands, as from the wild and glittering -terror of his eyes. which were dilating, as if, about to burst out of their sockets, and shone like coals of fire; THE BOX OF PAPERS, AND HOW PAID FOR. 563 from the fitfulness of his voice, and the spasmodic action which accompanied }is utterance. To temporize with such a patient was his present policy. "Well, but Bostwick, you surely can't expect me to pay this money until I see the box of papers." "It's that vely thing you hev' to do! You hev' to trust me to the eend of the business. I knows what I've got, and knows its valley to you. I knows you kain't do without them papers; and I knows what'll happen ef them papers gits away from my hands to another pusson's. Kin you guess what would happen ef the widow Ev'leigh got 'em, or Cappin Porgy, or eeny other honest white man-that knows you, and how you stands? What's the valley to them? Ef taint five hundred guineas, I'll give 'em for nothin'. You shan't have 'em for a shilling less!" "Well, Bostwick, I don't say that they will not be worth the money, but I say that you must let me see them first, that. I may be sure of it. "You don't see 'em, McKewn. 'tell the money's on the nail.- You shill trust me, aud I won't trust you ; for I knows you, and you're a born rascal, and I'll hang you, McKewn, for the pleasure of the thing, ef so be you don't fork out." "How long will it take you to get the papers, after I bring the money?" "How long? How short, rether-! You kin hev' 'em arter that, as quick as you lin cry Jack Robinson." "Ah! and if I bring you five-hundred guineas this very night ." "Then you kin git the papers this very night!! And you better bring 'em, McKewn, for you see, Dory must be a lady. I must make her rich as a Qu en; she must be able to carry as high a head as the widow Ev'eigh, and then she kin marry young Arthur, the widow's son; and he likes her, and is guine to marry her, jest so soon as I makes a' lady of her, and gives her a fortin' of niggers and a farm; and you shall be at the wedding, McKewn, page: 564-565[View Page 564-565] 564 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. though, by blisters, I should like to see you hanging up, with your feet upon nothing, only the minute arter. But, bring the guineas, and make haste about it. Lord! How my head aches and jumps. How my eyes burn! Bring the guineas; I'm a-longing to git shet of you, and to call in Dory, and make her a lady. Be quick, and you shill hev' the cussed papers, and ef you ain't quick, I'll be a hanging you like a brute warmint. Oh! the head, how it's a-busting!' He sank upon the pillow as he ended, with an evident show of increased suffering. "If I were quite sure, Bostwick, that you could produce the papers as soon as I brought the money! But you told me that they were hid away in the swamp where nobody could find them." "Swamp-h-ll! So they were, hid in the swamp once upon a time; but, hain't I been thar' sence I got back; and hain't I got 'em here, in this very house, whar' I kin put Ahands on 'em jest when I wants them? Git the guineas, I aj, and don't be foolish with your questions; and when I sees Drya lady of fortin', with her farm and niggers, then you shill hev' the box, and much good may it do you." Again the Squatter sank back upon the pillow, with his hands feebly and nervously feeling about it, as if to make himself secure of his possession. McKewn now varied his game. "I don't believe a word you say, Bostwick, and now, let me tell you, I saw the fellow, Tony Hines, at Smyzer's, he told me that you had got no box, no papers-" "Ha! yes! Don't I know that you saw Tony Hines, at Smy- zer's; and don't I know that you gin him physic, and called your- self a doctor; and you p'isoned him with your physic, and killed him. Don't I know? - oes anything you do hide itself from me? I tracked you, like a sarpent, sence I gothack; and I knows all your doings, since I've been gone, as well as before. That's another thing agin you ;-your p'isoning of Tony Hines!" THE BOX OF PAPERS, AND HOW -PAID FOR. 565 "He's not dead, i he?" "Sure as you har died him! I seed old Smyzer, and hairn all about you. But don't be aggravatin' me, I tell you, for I kain't stand it. AMy head is jest a busting now. Ef you aggravates me I'll hang you! I'll git my gould from another pusson. I'll sell you in the market; I'll send off for Captain Porgy to come to me. You hear, do you?"-almost screaming. "And now fork out the money, and let me see Dory a lady, with a fortin'. It's as much- as your neck's worth ef she don't git it right away." "You shall have the money, Bostwick. There are five hundred guineas, not one, in -'his bag." "Let me feel it-it don't look big enough for so much. You're a lying to me, now;. I knows you." "No! let me see your box of papers. Hold it 'n your own hands, while I count out the money." Well! I'll do taat." And-the sick Squatter ade an effort to rise and turn about, while one of his hands began to remove the bed-clotLes from about the pillow. McKewn eagerly watched him, the bag suspended in his hand. The Squatter suddenly paused, looked round at this moment, anc caught the glance of the Scotcliman's eye. "You're a great scamp, McKewn. I knows you. Oh! you're a warmint! You don't see the box till I sees the money counted out. It's here, you born thief, and rapscallion, but I won't trust you so much as to let you see it, ontell the money's put down here, the yallow birl s, all a-flying about me, on the white bed- clothes, where I kin count 'em. Plank 'em down, and when I sees 'em, then you sLill see the papers." Once more the Squatter sank back exhausted, -muttering spas- modically- "Plank 'em down-all for Dory-lady, fine fortin'-Arthur Ev'leigh. Ha! ha! ha! Don't I see? Don't I know it'll be? Dora Ev'leigh, Mrs Dorothy Ev'leigh." " page: 566-567[View Page 566-567] 5866 - v THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. McKewn was apparently disposed to do as he was required- to open his bag of guineas, and to count them out upon the bed; and the Squatter, though sinking back exhausted, was yet keenly observant of all the movements of his associate. But,; either the demonstration was not seriously begun by the Scotchman, or his purpose'suddenly underwent a change. While he looked upon the seemingly faint and feeble condition of the Squatter, other purposes, which he had already contemplated, rapidly ripened for perforrmance in his braiu. The thoughts occurred to him- "Shall I continue at the mercy of this miserable wretch, when a little determination is all that is needful to extricate myself from his power. He has the box of papers beneath his pillow. Of his possession of it, no one knows but myself. He can give no evidence of its contents. NQ one sees us. The family is all away. Why should I not possess myself of this testimony and destroy it He cannot oppose me. He has not strength for it. - In a moment it is mine. In another moment I give it to the flames. I were a fool to hesitate-to -suffer this auspicious moment to es- cape me!" The stillness of the scene-the loneliness of the neighbour- hood--night and silence--the feebleness of the Squatter--his own necessities aad apprehensions-all conspired to persuade McKewn to-seize upon the desired possession. He saw directly where it lay, and, though: the, head of the Squatter rested upon it, no great'effort would be required, he thought, to tear it from un- der him. 'The temptation was irresistible; and while Bostwick was looking to see the bag of gold laid bare before him, McKewn suddenly thrust it back ir-to the pocket of the great overcoat he wore, -anl, s in the same instant, seized upon the pile of bed- clothes which covered the box, beneath the pillow, and, with a violent grasp, tore it away u' on the floor. The head of the Squat- ser, in consequence of the jerk, was thrown off, with the pillow, from the box. The desired treasure was exposed, fairly, before THE BOX OF PAPERS, AND HOW PAID FOR. 567 the eyes of the Scotchman. He seized it eagerly; but before he could drag it from its place, the Squatter had grappled with it al- so; screaming out Ais fury, at the same time, in the wildest accents, "Ha! you born thief, end that's your game, is it? But two kin play at that game, my honey; and we'll see who's the best man." The Squatter was now up in bed. Even in ths situation, and sick, McKewn found him no easy customer. Li;he, active, and accustomed to every sort of toil and encounter, his strength was really surprising. For awhile the parties struggled for the box; but soon the Squa;ter, more accustomed to the emergencies of such a strife, suddenly relaxed his hold upon the object of conten- tion, and caught hebld of McKewn himself. His fingers were soon about the throat of the Scotchman. The latter found it no slight matter to break away from the tenacious grasp o' his opponent. But, still grasping the box, he finally succeeded in doing so. But he was not thus to escape in triumph. Bostwick bounded after him, out of the bed and fastened upon him again with the claws of a young tiger. The fearful conflict was renewed. After awhile McKewn bore him back successfully, and thrust lim again upon the bed; but even t en he failed to throw him off. The Squatter clung to him with a spasmodic energy, which seemed to increase his powers; and, desperate by the opposition he encountered, McKewn fiercely sr ote him upon the head with ;he box, twice, thrice,-holding it in both hands,-the blows coming down with a heavy, dull sound, as if upon a bank of earth. With a howl, rather than a cry, Bostwick seized his assailant with a new hold; taking him now with both arms, about the neck, and drawinghim down upon him, where he lay. Here, while almost fainting from his hurts, and the exhaustion of such a struggle, he strove, with his last wolfish instincts, to bite and rend, with his teeth, the ene- my whom he could no longer injure with his hands. At this stage of the proceedings, and before either of the combatants page: 568-569[View Page 568-569] 568 T HE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. could conjecture the proximity of other persons, Porgy burst open the door of the hovel with a single stroke of his feet, and rushed into the room, followed closely by Pinckney, the sheriff, and the rest of the party. Theyi did not appear a moment too soon. The head of the Squatter was bleeding freely from several hurts; his teeth were already sunl, with the ferocious passion of the wild beast, into the throat of his assailant. So fast was the hold which he had taken, that it was difficult. to tear McKewn from his grasp. The effort to do so dragged the Squatter from his bed upon the floor, where he kly like a baffled and wounded panther, writhing and shirieking in his agony and disappointment. McKewn lost all presence of mind, all strength, the moment he found himself in the presence of other parties. He had been fearfully breathed in- the violent struggle through which he had gone; but it was mental paralysis from which he now suffered. A complete collapse of all the energies followed the exposure. The box fell from his nerveless grasp, and was instantly picked up by Lance Frampton. He staggered back towards the bed, upon which he sank ; his jaws fell; and his strength seemed blrely to allow him to cover his face with his hands. In a single instant he became conscious that all was list; and that he was self-deliv- ered into the hands of his most po erful enemies. "You are my -risoner!" said the sheriff to McKewn, laying his hand on his shoulder. He had not a word to answer; thoroughly overwhelmed by the circumstances of his situation, and the fact that he had been'caught - flagrant delicto. "That's it! that's right!' cried the Squatter, whose loss of blood had brought him fairly to his senses, and who now, quite as promptly as the Scotchman, appreciated all the difficulties of 'his situation. " ake him prisoner," lie cried--"I'm the witness agin him, the infernal thief and tory, and murderer and villain; that stole your niggers, Cappin Porgy; I carried him forty-three THE BOX OF PAPERS, AND HOW PAID FOR. 569' on 'em that never kin git back,-all off your place--and he sold' 'em to Moncreiff; and many more besides; but here's the box; it's got the pretickilar papers to convict him and to hang him, the villain, and the nigger thief, and murderer. You seed him how he wanted to murder me in my own bed, and all to git the pa- pers, and to hush un my evidence; but he'll hev the justice done to him at last, and I'll be a witness agin him ef they'll let me go free, and pardon me for what I did for him. I did it only for him." "You are not forced to speak," said the sheriff. "It is just as you please-to be silent, or tell\ll that you know." "I'll tell all I knw! I'm ready and willing, of my own free consent." Stop!" said Pinckney; "let him be sworn. I have a reason for it. Is there a bi ole in the house?" Porgy was able to find one. He knew where Dory kept it. It was produced. Pinckney administered the oath ;and the Squat- ter, in the hearing of the man lie accused, made a -olerably clean breast of it. He fu nished a long and fearful histo'y, the charac- ter of which we can well conjecture from the portions already put into our possession. The statements were all taken down as deliv- ered. McKevn sank upon the bed utterly prostrate, and incapa- ble even of denial. The miserable criminal absolutely swooned under the prospect of discovery and conviction. "And now," cried the Squatter, when he was done, " you'll git me my pardon, won't you I've told all! Them papers in the box will tell you something, too. He set me on to do what I did, and he's got all the profit, the etarnal villain, that wanted to mur- der me in my own bed, and me a sick man. Yo'll git me off, Cappin; and you, Colonel Pinckney,-I knows you, Colonel! You'll git me my pardon, from the Gov'nor, when I tells all afore the court?" "You must seek your pardon 6f heaven, my poor fellow," was "* t page: 570-571[View Page 570-571] sOt ' s TiHE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. the answer of PiNckney, made with proper solemnity. "The only court which you will now be summoned before, is that of the Eternal Judge of the world. Humble yourself before him with all the haste you can, and repent your sins, and pray for the media- tion of Christ in your behalf. I deem it only proper to tell you that you are even now a dying man! Gentlemen, the sooner the most of you leave this room, the better; this unhappy man is dying of the Small Pox!" CHAPTER LXV. ATASTROPHE. THOSE only who know )the terrors inspiied by the Small Pox, at the period of which we write, can properly appreciate the panic which was occasioned by the speech of Pinckney. Among the people of the country, in particular, this scourge of humanity was held a worse danger than the plague of the East. Men who would fearlessly brave the field of battle, fled, from the mention of this pest, without- once looking behind them. It was so on this occasion. Our excellent Captain of Partisans was among the first to find his;way out of the hovel. He was followed by all but Pinckney, the sheriff, his deputy, and the prisoner McKewn. These, as citizens, were more accustomed to the pest, and had, we suppose, been all inoculated. They remained in the farther prose- cution of the work before them. At the door, Pinckney proceed- ed to suggest to Porgy the course to be pursued in respect to co- incident matters. "You must see to this man's family, Captain. . Have them be- stowed in safety, in some place where they cannot come in contact l7 ac CATASTROPHE. 571 with persons not inoculated. If you or Mrs. Evele'gh have any servants who have hal the disease, send them here to attend upon this wretched creature. He will scarcely live another day; but send for Dr. Warley, and, in the meantime, let him have some cooling medicines, and proper food. But see that you keep his wife away, unless she has been inoculated-which I suppose very unlikely." Porgy undertook al the necessary commissions. We will leave him to execute them, which, we may add in this place, he did with equal diligence and effect. Retu, ing to the chamber of the Squatter, Pinckney fo nd him raving. "The Small Pox!" he cried. "Don't you tell me sich d-- d foolishness. 'Taint no Small Pox, I tellyou! It's only lever- it's a mighty hot fever, I know, and this fight with that etarnal villain thar, has only made it worser and hotter;--but 'taint no Small Pox. Whar was I to git the Small Pox, I wants to know; me living in the swamps and here. 'Spose I was in town! was that to give me Small Pox, when I was thar a day only? I know better! I know 'taint Small Pox, and I've got the strength of a horse; yet you tell me I'm a dying man-me a dying man, and sich a mortal sinner! L -- d G---d! ef I'm so sick as all that, send for the docto. Tlar's gould to pay him-thar, in that box. Thar's a hundred and fifty guineas in that box. Mind you, it's Dory's money; and thar's a bag of guineas in that bloody vil- lain's pocket, and by rights that's Dory's money too. Remember Dory! L--d, whar's Dory? Don't you let her come nigh to me, ef it's Small Pox PI'e got; but send for my wife to nuss me. She's somewhar about ih the woods. You'll see by the fire.: Send her here? What's she doing in the woods when I'm a wanting her here. Oh! Lord, that I should come to this; and thar you stand, and a doing nothing for me, and yet you says I'm a dying of the Small Pox. Yet, don't I know it's a lie. It's only done to skear me! And what does you want to skear me for eny more8 ; page: 572-573[View Page 572-573] 5172 L'HE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Iev'nt I told you all I know about that'bloody scamp. Ef you wants me to tell about the skrimmage, and how I had to shoot Dick Norlis' you' e clean mistaken. I won't say a word ; 'll1 shet up; and you sh ill never pry betwixt my teeth to see what's under my' tongue. No! no' you shaint know about the blowing up of the vessel. She blox'd up, and what hed I to do with it. Thar was a train-I knows that-and it ended in the three kags of gunpow- der; but who seed me put fire to it, I wants to know? Whar's the pusson here kin say he seed it, I'd like to khow! No! thar's no pusson; and xvhy should I hev the Small Pox ontell you prove agin me all these things. The Small Pox, indeed! That's mighty foolish. What should give me, a strong man, usen to the city, the blasted Small Pox? I laughs at it, I tell you! I laughs! Ha! ha! ha! and I snaps my fingers at it. Does that look like a dying nman. A dying man! L d G - d, hev marey, ef so be its true what these men says! Oh! my God, hev marcy upon me a sinne. I know I'm a black sinner, and blasted through and through witl the p'ison of sin; but ef I am, air you guine to let me die without a doctor, and arter I tel'd you every thing I know'd about that murdering villain thar? Oh! Lord, send for the doctor. Don't leave me to die. I kaint die! I won't die. I hev a heat to Xdo, to buy the niggers and the farm, and to see Dory a lad- of fortin! Small Pox be d d! 'Taint no Small Pox! It's a hot-fever only. Give me some'water. Oh! how it burns. I'm a burning up. I'm all blisters, and nobody to help me. Take him away, that bloody villain thar; rm all afire so long as I sees hir. Take him away and hitch him up. Ef 'm to die, I knov who's to hang. We goes together. The old Iorny swore it should be so, and 1 teld him! Oh! the black villain, he's got to hang, and that's the satisfaction I'll hev at the last. I knows it, and he knows it too! He shall hang, like Dick Norris, and'nobody to save his neck from cracking, by a bullet through the head. He don't desarve a friend. He don't. But, oh! Lord,- \, 'i CATASTROPHE. 513 the fire in my witals. [Whar's that woman-whar's my wife-to give me drink? The Small Pox! But don't you let Dory come. Even ef I dies, she's to be a lady of fortin. Thar's the money. It's all for her!" We need not listen farther to these ravings, though they were still, for some time longer, poured into the ears of Pinckney and the sheriff, with unceasing volume, and wonderful rapidity. The fever was rapidly increasing in the brain. The disease was doing its work with fearful speed and vigour. The terrible secrets of a life of crime were delivered without a consciousness, and the strong men shuddered as they heard, hardly deeming it possible, from thein previous experience, that society should possess an indi- vidual capable of such a revelation of evil deeds, the performance of his own hands. After a brief consultation with the sheriff, the latter, with a couple off his assistants, took-MKcewn away. The latter was passive in thb hands of his guards. They conducted him to his own house, and securing him in his chamber they put watches upon the apartment, so that he could not escape. Porgy, meanwhile, conveyed the wife of the Squatter, with Dory and the two other children, to his own dwelling, in which he as- sigied them the best apartments. Lance Frampton went after Dottor Warley, the abl lst and nearest physician upon the river, wh'le a couple of elderly slaves, both of whom had passed through the fearful disease which was consuming the life of the Squatter, were sent by Mrs. Eveleigh to attend upon him. Cooling medi- cines, beverages, and delicacies, such as might be thought calcu- lua;ed to a!leviate the s-iferings, or meet the wants of the patient, weie all provided, and, by dawn the next day, he was in as good har ds, and as carefully attended, as was possible under the circum- stances. Doctor Warley was soon with hinm; but, the frst glance at the patient showed that all efforts ,would be made in vain. The type of the disease was singularly malignant; and exposure in the swamps, violent passions, and vexing strifes and anxieties, had . page: 574-575[View Page 574-575] ' 574 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. added fearfully to its virulence. Within the time predicted by Pinckney, he was a corpse. A conference ensued betwee Pinckney, the Sheriff and Mc- Kewn, at the house of the latter. He was still in close keeping. The charges against him were of a sufficiently serious character, involving not simply his fortune but his life. He felt all the dan- gers of his situation. In the first feeling of utter hopelessness, he humbly entreated the mercy and forbearance of the prosecutors. The better to secure this, he produced the bond and mortgage of Porgy-he entered satisfaction upon them, and upon the judgments which he also held against the rest of his debtor's property. He confessed to a participation in the sale of the forty-three slaves ab- ducted from the Captain's plantation, as charged by the Squatter, and as confirmed by the documents, now open before them, from the box of the widow. There was, perhaps, no confession neces- sary. The conviction would be quite complete without it. But; McKewn's policy was to make a merit of necessity. As he began to recover his confidence-removed from the fearful sights and scenes in the cottage of the Squatter-he ventured to urge upon Pinckney and the Sheriff, the concessions he had voluntarily made, as a plea for some indulgence. He tendered bail, but neither of them was authorized to receive it. Hle pleaded for a mitigation -of the rigours of his confinement; but, on this point, Pinckney re- ferred the matter! wholly to the Sheriff, who, thereupon, instead of lessening-the sharpness of his watch, increased it, leaving one of his most trusty deputies within the chamber of the criminal. This 'man, McKewn attempted to bribe with a large amount of money in gold. But the deputy was invincible. The criminal opened 'the chest within his chamber,-the contents of which we have al- ready seen, when the Squatter was permitted the same privilege, CATASTROPHE. 575 -and drew forth a' pile of the glittering treasure, so dazzling to greedy eyes and drowsy consciences. "You shall have it all,' said he, in a husky whisper, " only secure the fellow in the passage un- til I can get off. You can both make off with it-wit: all that you can carry,-and you need not then dread exposure." The amount thus proffered was a severe' temptation for a poor man; but this one,-who, by the way, had not the courage to stand the threatened lead of Captain Porgy aid his veterans,-had yet the firmness to say to the tempter-"Get thee be:hind me." It might be that his virtue was governed by his fears, and by the knowledge that there were other watchers besides himself, but we prefer, for the sake of humanity, to believe in the fellow's virtue. We continually do mischief to morals, by assuming a too low standard of virtue for the poor. Deceived and baffled, McKewn grew morose. Food was brought him at the proper hour. He refused to eat. The dinner Lour pass- ed. Night came on. He would take no supper. But he drank, if he did not eat. He drank till his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes wore a ferocious and glazed expression, which the deputy dreaded very ruuch to behold. About an hour after night, the Sheriff entered the chamber, and said- "This man Bostwick, is evidently dying. Dr. Warley thinks he cannot live through the night." The teeth of McKewn gnashed fiercely. "Wha t is that to me! Let him die and--" The sentence remained unfinished. The Sheriff readily guessed the words with which he would have supplied the blank. He turned away and left the prisoner; but, seeing his condition, and suspecting in some degree the cause, he removed the decanter of. Jamaica which stood upon the table. McKewn saw the act but said nothing. He rossibly felt that it would be useless to expostulate. At twelve that night, the Squatter died, howling, in the wildest agonies, physical and mental, with horrible curses on his l-ps. An page: 576-577[View Page 576-577] 6576 THE SWORD AND THi DISTAFF. imprecation upon the head of McKewn, while his fingers seemed to grapple and rend something in air before him, finished the awful scene, which Pinckney witnessed with the Physician. - Glad to es- cape into fresh air, he mounted his horse, the moment the scene was over, and galloped off to Glen-Eberley. Here supper awaited him, and the Partizan, and Sheriff, with their companions. They had scarcely seated themselves and begun to partake, when they heard the tramljings of a horse at full speed, and, a moment after, one of the- deputies, left in charge of McIiewn, bounded into the room, his cheeks pale, and his eyes wild with fiight. "How now, my good fellow, what's the matter?" demanded the Sheriff. "What has scared you!" "Oh! Sir, the prisonel's blowed his brains out." All the party started to their feet. "Have the horses got, Lance!" said Porgy promptly. "How was it?" demanded the Sheriff. The deputy's story ran as follows : - It, appears that the moody sullenness of McKewn continued. He demanded more drink. It wai denied him, according to the in- structions of the Sheriff. He suddenly supplied himself with more firom a closet, and his keeper did not think himself authorized to take it from him by force. As theQ\ night advanced his potations increased in frequency, and his sullenness and ferocity were suc- ceeded lby a fit of extreme nervous susceptibility. He would start up and exclaim passionately, then sink down in his chair and cover his face with his hands; but he could not continue long in this or any other position. At length, he suddenly confioWited the keep- er. "Let me out ;" said he, "I must go and see lostwick. He has sent for me to come. He-calls for me. I hleat him." The keeper refused. "Will you go to him then for mei? I will pay you. See. Lookl here. You shall have all this, if you w-,ill go to him with a mes- sage.? . - X CATASTROPHE. 5. And he opened the chest and, kneeling by it, took up several pieces of gold, which he counted from one palm to the other. The keeper still refusing, he flung the gold back into the chest,--and seemed about to rise, when he suddenly exclaimed- - "Don't you hear him? Heis there! He is here! He:;hales me to him. I must go!" And he seemed to follow with his eyes the motion of a person unseen. Then he threw himself into an attitude, still over the chest, as if about to struggle with a foe. "I will never go," he cried. '"To the gallows, yourseif, wretch; but you do rotcarry me. No! No! I defy you. The devil, you say! The devil! 2shaw! I am not to be frightened -in that way." Then, as i-' suddenly filled with terror, he crouched and buried his head in tie, chest-crying out- "He hales me away--he is too strong! Help! Herp! I can- not stand it!" and, risirg, with a crv, from the chest, the deputy, for the-first time, saw that he had a pistol in each haid. With these he seemed to confironti some unseen enemy. He made no demonstrations upon the guard, who did not dare to approach him, thus weaponed. At length, as if about to be overcome, he re- treated to the opposite s'de of the room, crying out- "Do not press me to the wall. If you do,-if you care-Oh! my God-my God! He will come!" With these words, he discharged one of the pistols at the ima- ginary object, then cried, while every limb trembled with horror- "It went tkrough him, and he does not fall. He comes still. Oh!" with a choking cry--"His fingers are upon my th-oat! .Oh! God, have mercy!" Thus speaking, he clapped the other pistol to his own head, and, with the crash of the report, sank down in a heap upon the floor, utterly lifeless, with his fc rehead entirely blown away. 47 page: 578-579[View Page 578-579] 5'78 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. Such was the story told by the guard. According to the state- ment of time, there could not have been five minutes between the death of the two miserable crininals. Enough! Draw the curtain close, AiAnd let us in to meditation." CHAPTER LXVI. THE GRAPEIS ARE SOUR! IT was a remarkable proof of providential interposition-so thought in those days at leat--that not one of the persons Nwho came in contact with the Squatter in his last illness, caught the small-pox from him. Yet his wife, little Dory, and the two other children, had been, for three days at least, constantly in the sick man's chamber. This was held a wonderfll proof of God's gra- cious. avour; and to those who knew the contagious character of that malignant pest, it was certainly a very remarkable circum- stance,. After a proper interval, the humble family was again per- mitted to com-mune with its former patrAns. Mrs. Eveleigh took Dory into her house, and the united applopriations of the widow and our Captain, made ample provision for the future comfort of the mother and the other children, in a little farm of her ownl, where she dwelt forever after, in a condition of humble comfort' which left her little to desire. Porgy gave her an old negro, and the widow Eveleigh a young one. Little Dory had a teacher pro- vided' for her, and, in a superior society, and with proper educa- tion, the native talents and graces of the child, daily .exhibited new blooms, and the sweetest developments. In process of time, THE GRAPES ARE SOUR! 579 when she grew to womanhood, her charms mnade themselves felt in every heax-t with which her own came in contact, ur-til-but let us not anticipate. Let us return, to our principal part'es. Glen-Eberley, by the events recorded in our last chapter, was made secure to its proprietor. Our Captain of Partisans was re- lieved of all his embarrassments. His debt to Mins. Eveleigh was not of this order. The profits of the plantation were quite ade- @F quate, with a-few years of iindulgence, to liquidate this, and all other obligations of a pecuniary nature. Porgy, at last, found shelter beneath his fig-;,ree, with none to make him afraid. He had his friends about him, his silging' bird, and his puzzle in a bottle. George Dennison and Doctor Oakenburger, much to the disquiet of Millhouse, became portions of the establishment. The one furnished the ballads for the evening fireside; the other was content to provoke teL it of others, without possessing a spark of it, himself. The C )2loral still delivered the law from his self-es- tablished tripod. He was still an oracle, who sufferec. no dog to bark. Lance Framptorr was a frequent visitor, and so, once more, was Arthur, Eveleigh, satisfied to seek good fellowship, and piquant matter of reinark, though still occasionally suspicious of the Cap- talin's inclinirgs to his Inother. On this subject, however, he no longer ventured to exhibit his boyish petulance. The one stern rebuke of his otherwise gentle and affectionate mother, had proved quite sufficient to curb, at least for the present, the young tiger stri\ving within him; and, to sum up in a word, Glen-Eberley pre- sented to the eye the condition of a well-managed household, in which the parties were all at peace with themselves and one an- other. The same -,ing migt be said of the neighlbourhood. The ge- nial moods p evailing in the one household radiated ir. all dire.- tions. Glen-Eberley became a sort of centre for the parish ciyli- zation. The charm was great--a sort of salient attraction--which drew the gentry, all around, within the sphere of its genial yet page: 580-581[View Page 580-581] 580 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. provocative influences. 'Freed of anxietv, Porgy resumed his an- cient spirit. The piquancy of his society was every where ac- knowledged; and, with the Corporal and Doctor Oakenburger as his foils, the humour of our Captain of Partisans was irresistible. Fun and philosophy were strangely mingled in him, and they. wrought together-in unison. To rise from a practical jest into fields of fanciful speculation, was an habitual exercise with our camp philosopher. To narrate the experiences through which he had gone, delivering history and biography, anecdote and opinion, with the ease of a well-bred gentleman over his wine and walnuts, was to him an art familiar as the adjustment of his neck-cloth.- And these things were all delivered with a spirit and a quaintness, giving them wonderful relish, and which was peculiarly his own. Thus the days glided by as if all were winged with sunshine.- Thus the nights escaped all efforts to delay them, too brief for the enjoyment which they brought. It may be that we shallsome day depict these happy times, the "tHumours of Glen-Eberley," even as they were well remembered by many, thirty years ago, in all that cluster of palrishes which lie, between the Ashey and the eastern margin of-the Savannahh; but, at present, we can refer to them only. Enoughi that peace reigned in the household, under the strong will, and the happy temperament of its chief;- that the dangers which threatened from without, were all overcome, in con- sequence of the events already recorded; the Sheriff had been soothed by ample apologies from Porgy, to which Pinckney easi- ly persuaded him; and Crooks, the -Deputy, seasonably sauced with good words and hush-money, was easily persuaded to believe that his digestion was totally unhurt by the unnatural sort of re- past which he had been made to swallow by the lawless partisans. Tom, we may here mention, was bought back from the widow Eveleigh, and, received a gift of himself, from Porgy, which he cunningly rejected. "'No! no! maussa," he cried, with a sly shake of the head, "I "No! no,! maussa," be cried, wl Y- n-IE GRAPES ARE SOUR! SS1 kain't t'ink ob letting you off dis way. Ef I doesn't b'long to you, you b'longs to me! You hab for keep dis nigger long as he lib; and him for keep you. -You hab for fin' he dinner, and Tom hab for cook 'em. Free nigger no habl any body for fin' 'em he bittle (victuals); and de -mall wha' hab sense and good manssa, at de same time, he's a d - n pretickilar great big fool, for let he maussa off from keep 'em and fin' 'em. I no guine to be free no way you kin fix it; so, maussa, don't you bodder me wid dis nonsense tf ng 'bout fiee paper any more. I's well off whar' I is, I tell you; and I much rudder (rather) b'long to. good maussa, wha' I lub, dan be my own maussa and quarrel wid mese'f ebbry day. Da's it! You yerry now? I say de wud for all! You b'longs to mze, Tom, jes' as much as me, Tom, b'longs to you ; . and you nebber guine git-yoit free paper from me long as you lib.'" Thus the matter was settled, and Tom continued to the end of the chapter, the cook and proprietor of his master. It was probably three months after these events, that Captain Porgy, one morning, mace his appearance at breakfast in full dress. His toilet had been prepared with a much nicer care than usual. His beard, which, we shame to confess, was sometimes allowed to grow'wild for a week, was now carefully pruned down, leaving the, smoothest possibl1 surface of chin and cheek. He wore his buff small c-othes, and his new blue coat, with great shining buttons. His neck-cloth was a slAy blue silk, which had before been worn. His silk [stockings were of the most irre- proachable flesh colour, and?mpey had done his best, to polish his shoes, so as to make them emulate, in some degiee; the glit- tering shine of the fine patent leather of the present dfy. The whole appearance of olr Captain was so fresh and so unique, that 47* page: 582-583[View Page 582-583] 582 TIE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. his presence caused an immediate sensation. The improvement in his toilet struck all parties. Millhouse could not forbear an ex- clamation, and even Oakenburger opened his eyes as he might have done at the discovery of a new and hitherto unsuspected species of rattlesnake or viper. Denison only smiled, and said something touching the premature coming of the spring. "We shall soon be looking for the swallows, Captain." "One would think that we had them here already," replied the Captain, glancing obliquely at the enormous bowls of cofiee which Pomp was pouring out at the moment. No more was said. But when, after breakfast, Porgy ordered his liorse, the Corporal im- mediately became enlightened on the subject. The disappearance of the Captain, opened the fountains of his speech. "I knowed it," quoth the overseer-"It's to happen at last. Well, its all right. -It mout ha' been done, a year ago, and 'twould ha' saved some trouble.' But it's never too late. I see I'll- have to open new lands."' "What's to happen?" demanded Denison. "Don't you see. He's gone a-courting." "A courting?"' "Yes! he's gone off now, I'm main sartin, to pop the question to the widow. Well, she's got a smart chaince of niggers, and when they gits hitched fairly, my force will be something worth counting. I'll begin to l'ar up my gum land to-morrow. I'll put in a hundred more acres this season. Lawd! what we mout ha' done a year ago, ef the Cappin hadn't been so mealy mouthed." "And you think he's gone to be married!" demanded- Oaken- burger-" a wife." "To. be sur'! What else! I knows it-a wife it is! and sich a wife. She's got more than a hundred niggers, and I'll hev' to manag} 'em all. But, I'll tell you -what,-she'll manage you. She'll not hev' you idle fellers about the premises. A wife that's been a wife before, and's had the managing of her own af- , , THE GRAPES ARE SOUR! 683 fairs so long, she aint gwine to hev' her house filled up with war- min. She'll hev' a clearing, I tell you both. Singing birds and snake catchers aint gwine to eat her out of house and home. She'll find out what's the wartues of work in you, or she'll make you pack. Sich a broom as sle'll bring with her, when she comes, will sweep away all the rubbish." The corrmunication caused Oakenburger to look blank: Den- nison, with that rare disregard of to-morrow, whicL is supposed to-mark the poetical nature, only laughed, and went off, hum- ming an old English ditty-about stirring housewives and fairy be- soms. Meanwhile, Porgy purisued his way, as the Corporal had truly conjectured, to the dwelling of the widow Eveleigh. The Corporal had no less truly divined his object in the visit. For some time past, the Captain had been meditating the obligations which he owed the widow. He reflected upon what the Corporal had repeatedly suggested to him, in respect to the-tender sort of interest which she was supposed to feel for himself: This might be a well, founded suggestion. Repeated examinations of the matter, in his own mind, had not persuaded him tha; the interest of the widow was any thing more than that of a friend. Still, it was possible; and if 't were really the case that she entertained any stronger sentiment in his favour, it would certainly, as the Corporal I ad said,--" be 'a most cruelsome thing that she shouldn't hev' the man she wanted, pretickilarly then she had done so much for his sarcumstances," ^Porgy felt the ingratitude of any such neglect, on his part, supposing any such feeling on hers, and gratitude furnished a crutch where love might iave faltered lamely and failed in his approaches. Repeated meditations had brought the Captain to a definite conclusion; and he had armed himself to " come to the sticking point," in other wo ds, to make her a formal offer, of hand and heart, and household. Fortu- nately for his purposes he found her at home and alone. Dory had gone on a visit to her mother,-Arthur had set forth on a J page: 584-585[View Page 584-585] 584 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. d3er hunt with Frampton and some other young men. This was probably known to Porgy when he chose this day for his demon- 'strations. He found the widow as kind, and fiank, lively and agreeable as ever; and, after chatting on a variety of topics, he gradually brought the one subject in particular to bear. He was very nice, and as he thought, very judicious in his preliminaries. He discoursed of marriage in the abstract as a beautiful and ad- mirably conceived condition for human beings; he discoursed of his wants in particular. Of course, he forbore any allusion to what might be supposed her wants also. He was pleading,-and hipnble and solicitous, and reasonable and reverential, and touch- ing and truthful;-and, in short, without throwing himself abso- , lutely at her feet, he declared himself so, and without actually ta- king her in his arms, he avowed his great anxiety to dp so;-and this, we are bound to say, in the best possible style, with proper modesty and mnisgiving. The widow, with a sweet smile, laid her hand upon his own, and said as gently and tenderly, but as calmly, as possible;- My dear Captain, why is it that men and women cannbt main- tain an intercourse, as friends, without seeking any other relation. Is it not astonishing that such a thing should seem impossible to every body? Now, why should not you and I be true friends, loving friends, trusting each other with the utmost confidence, coming and going when we please--welcomed when we come, regretted when we have to depart,-and neverperilling the inti- macy of friendship by the fetters of matrimony. Can't it be so with us, my dear Captain,-and why not? I confess I think-I feel-that we may be very dear friends, Captain, for all our lives; glad in each others society, doing each other kindly and affection- ate offices,-faithful always and always confiding, as friends, and nothing more." The Captain answered confusedly. The widow proceeded. "The fact is, Captain, if you look at the matter properly, you T1IE GRAPES ARE. SOUR! 585 will see that itis quite impossible that we should marry. We should risk much and gain little by such a tie. I confess to you that were I again to marry, I know no person to whom I should be more willing to trust my happiness than yourself." The Captain squeezed her hand. "But, Captain, I am willing to trust myself to no body again. I have been too long my own mistress to submit to authority. I have a certain spice of independence in my temper, which would argue no security for the rulb which seeks to restrain me; and you, if I am any judge of men, have a certain imperative mood which would make you very despotic, should you mleet with re- sistance. There would be peace and friendship between us, my dear Captain-nay love-so long as we maintain our separate in- dependence; and, in this faith, I am unwilling to risk any thing by any change in our relations. Let there be peace, and friend- ship, and loye betweer us,--b't never a word more of marriage. There is my hand, Captain, in pledge of my good faith, my friend- ship, my affectionate interest in yourself and fortunes,-my plea- sure in vouil society-and you must be content with that. Will you, Captain? For my sake, let me ehtreat, and p'ease say no more of other matters." Porgy took her hand and carried it to his lips. "God bless you, my dear widow, and believe me grateful for what you are willing to bestow. I must be content-will be- assured of s!ych a friendship as your heart is capable of.. You are right, perhaps, and yet-" "No doubtt! I am -ight. We know each other, and there' shall be no misunderstanding between us. You must stay to din- ner with me today, that I may be sure you feel no impatience with me,." And he staid. ' ! page: 586-587[View Page 586-587] 586 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. But the idea of marriage had, for the time, taken particular possession of the brain of our Captain. Three days after, he rode over to see the widow Griffin; but, on this occasion, lie did not take the same pains with his costume as when he visited the oth- er widow. His dress was less pretending, and more sombre of hue. The 'Captain knew, before he started, that the widow was alone. Lance Frampton had gone on a visit withl his wife to Dorchester, the scene of some of his own exploits during the war, and where he had some relatives. Porgy found the widow in good health and trim, and especially in good spirits. Her wel- come was always genial, and she looked particularly charming, though in ordinary- household gear. She was at her spinning wheel when he came. A basket of carded cotton stood beside her, and as she drew off the threads from the, wheel, approached -it and retired, he thought her as graceful as a young damsel of sixteen. For the first time in his life, he fancied that spinning was a particularly picturesque performance, and wondered that he had rot seen it more frequently delineated in pictures. Mrs. Grif- fin was very lively and good humored, and the Captain gradually became more and more gallant. After awhile, he officiated some- what in her operations. Now, he drew the basket of cotton to lier side. Anon, when she desired to move the wheel, he caught up one end of it, while she took the other. It' was thus borne into the piazza, the better to afford room for her proceedings. In the obscure situation of the cottage, off the public road, and sur- rounded by great shady evergreens, the piazza was scarcely less private than the hall. The feeling of privacy had its effect on Porgy. Soon, he became more frequent in the little helps he gave the widow, arid, at length, when putting aside her spinning, she proceeded to reel off a pile of yarn, the Captain forced away the reel, and gallantly thrust his own, arms through the hanks. It was,in vain that the good, simple Griffin, wondering in discomn fiture at this self-humiliation on the part of the Captain, strove THE GRAPES ARE SOUR. 587 against it. He gave her a dferce smack upon the lips with his - own, and thus put an end to ll her efforts to re-possess herself of the thread-. Then he placed himself before her in a great chair, his arms egtended to the uttermost, his eyes surveying her ten- derly, while she, witH downcast looks, proceeded, as the Sultan ruled, to reel off the threads as well as she might from the digits ,of her awkward auxiliary. The picture was a sufficiently ludi- crous one, but it may be better fancied than described. Griffin might have seen-probably did see,-the grotesque absurdity of the scene; but Porgy was in his Arcadian mood, and certain feel- ings wlhich he had in reserve, made him obtuse in respect to the queer figure which he cut in this novel employment. He was startled into a full consciousness of his ridiculous situation, by the sudden appearanilce, in fiont .f ,the house, on horseback, of the widow Eveleigh and her son Arthur. In the chat which the Cap- tain had kept up, tender and sentimental, and perhaps a little saucy, neither Grifiin nor himself had heard the sound of the horses, until escape was im)Possible. The parties were fairly caught. The first thought of the Captain, when he ooked up at the sudden noise and saw who were the visitors, was to fling. the yarn bver Griffin's head; at 11l events to fling it fion his arms; but the mischievous threads adhered tenaciously to the broad- cloth, and caught upon the buttons at his wrist, and tangled itself about his fingers, as if each thread were a spirit of disorder, sent especially for his discomfort anId defeat. When he sought to rise, it fell in a mass upon his feet, and when he strove to kick it off, the feet got involved within the meshes, so that he dared not take - a step forward lest he should lay himself out, at full length, along the piazza. As for the yarn' before he got out of i-s meshes, it was one inextricable mass of disorder, which filled the eyes -of Grifn i with consternation to ibehold. The pair were really in most pitiable plight; an awkward consciousness of tLe ludicrous- ness of the picture they afforded to the new comers, striking them page: 588-589[View Page 588-589] 588 .8 . THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. both irresistibly for the first time. But Porgy's consciousness was particularly vexing upon other grounds. To be seen in such a relation to the one widow, after seeking such a relation with the other! As the poor Captain meditated upon the matter, which he did in a single instant of time, his face streamed with pe 'spira- tion, though the month of March, when the event happened, is considered a tlerably cool one, even in a Carolina climate i Porgy hardly dared encounter the eye of the widow Eveleigh, who had alighted with her son, and now entered. But he strove to pluck up courage, and, in seeking to appear lively, he Limply showed. himself nervous. When he did catch the eyes of the widow, he saw them filled with a significantly smiling s eech, which added to his confusion. She gave him her hand, however, very frankly observing, as she did so- "What, in our times, Hercules subdued to the Distaff!" "Ah! my dear widow, it is only woman that finds the hero weak. That you should have seen me at this folly!" This was said in something of a whisper. "Do not count it folly," answered the widow. "It is through the weaknesses of the man that we know his proper strength. That one is able to forget his dignities, only shows that his hea:t has not been forgotten. But, truth to speak, my dear Captain, the picture was an amusing one." "Funny! very! It must have been." This was said Wvith a ludicrous attempt to smile, which resulted in a grin.' Porges plan of courtship was exploded for that day, and for a goodly week afterwards. But the purpose was not abandoned. It was about ten days after, when the Captain took occasion to revisit the widow Griffin. Frampton and his wife were sti. ab- sent. Millhouse, Arthur Eveleigh and George Dennison, we:e off THE GRAPES ARE SOUR. 589 on a deer hunt somewhere down the river; and Porgy having smoked his after dinner pipe, and feeling dull, if not drowsy, hav- ing dined alone, resolved briefly the desolateness of his state, and, under a sudden call to change it, ordered his horse, determined to woo the widow Griffin after the most lion-like fashion. To, cpnfess another of our Captain's weaknesses, he had but little doubt of success. Griffin had been so docile, so gentle, so solicitous of his ease and comfort, that he really persuaded himself he had but to seek to secure. And so he rode. A pretty smart canter soon brought him to her door, where the spectacle that confound- ed him was even more astonishing to his sioht, than the situation could have been to the widow Eveleigh, when she caught himself. He could scarce believe his eyes. There, in the piazza, stood the, fair Griffin, clasped close in the arms of the overse, Fordham, and that audacious personage was actually engegd in tasting of her lips, as a sort of dessert after dinner. The situation was appa- rent as the noonday sun. Thle facts were beyond all question or denial. The parties were fairly caught, and so conscious was the wicked widow of the sinfulness of suffering herself to be caught, that, not able to face the Captain, she broke away from the arms of Fordham, and rushed headlong into the house. Porgy was swallowed up in astonishment. He was about to wheel his horse around, and ride .off, at greater speed than than that which brought him, when Fordham sallied out, and asked him to alight, and with the coolest manner in the world, said- "Well, Cappin, you've caught us at it; but no harm done, I hope.'The widow and me struck hands on a bargain, and I reckon we'll be mighty soon man and wife; and I hope, Cappin, to see you at the wedding." "The d-1 you do!" was the only response of the Captain, as, looking fiercely indignant at such cold blooded audacity, he wheel- ed his horse, clapt spurs to his sides, and sent him homewards at full gallop. 48 page: 590-591[View Page 590-591] - . .. 590 THE SWORD AND THE DISTAFF. / "Mighty strange!" quoth Fordham. "The Cappin loesn't seem to like it!?' Simple minded Fordham, to suppose that a man should like to see his neighbour feeding on the very fruit he had tho ghit to gather-for himself. With the- defeat of these attempts, Captain Porgy gave up all notion of marriage. '"Woman!" quoth he, "woman!" and there his soloquy ended ; but the one word, repeated, was full of significance. When at length his comrades were again assembled about the bohali , and the cheerful fires-were blazing. in the hearth, and the philosophic cloud wreaths floated about the apartment, and the tankard, were filled with potent floods of sunny liquor, Porgy said suddenly to his companions- "My good fellows, there have been moments when I tl} ught of deserting you,-that is, I sometimes meditated bringing ini upon you a fearful influence, which might have lessened your happiness, and destroyed the harmony which prevails among us. I have had various notions of taking a wife-" "A wife!" cried Dennison. "Oh! hush, Captain, andi don't frighten a body so! A wife! What madness prompted siech a thought." "A wife! cried Oakenburger,--" the Lord deliver us!"! "Ef she'd ha' come, she'd ha' delivered you mighty soon," quoth Millhouse; "I don't see what's to skear a body in a wife, peeiided she's in proper sarcumstanees, and is kept strick, by a maeg usen to army rigilations." "' Maussa better widout 'em," quoth Tom; "I nebber kix 'tan for be happy in house whar woman's is de maussa." '( Well, you will all be pleased to hear, then, that I ha,3 de- . THE GRAPES ARE SOUR. 591 . termined to live a bachelor for your sakes. I sacrifice my happi- ness for your own. I renounce the temptations of the flesh. It has been a pang to me, gentlemen, for beauty is precious in my sight. There are women whom I could love. There are charms which persuade my very eyes to sin. - There are sweets which make my y mouth water. But, for your sakes, I renounce them all. I shall live for you only. You could not well do without me; I will not suffer myself to do without you. You shall be mine always--I shall be yours. To woman, except as friend or companion, I say depart! I renounce ye! Avoid, ye sweet tempters to mortal weakness,-ye beguile me with your charms no more! For your sakes, dear comrades, there shall- be no mistress, while I live, at Glen-Eberley." "And may you live for ever!" was the cry from all but Mill- house. He only muttered in the ears of Dennison- - "I sees it all! He disowns the women bekaise he kaint help himself.' The grapes is sour!" THE END.
