_The Broken Sabbath._
As soon as Arthur's rapid walking had taken him out of sight of the
church, he slackened his pace, and walked moodily on along the almost
deserted banquette, towards the Levee. Still smarting from the wound his
pride had received, his cheeks burning with the flush of anger, and his
heart heavy at the remembrance of his unkind words to Guly, the youth
looked anxiously about for something to divert his thoughts, and while
away the hours till church was out, when he hoped to rejoin his brother,
and with him return to their apartment.
At this moment, however, he received a hearty slap upon his shoulder;
and turning quickly, saw one of the clerks of the store, well known to
be of low and dissolute habits, but who managed to retain his place by
steady application to business during business hours.
Hitherto, Arthur had never had anything to say to him, beyond what was
necessary in the store, having intuitively shunned him as an unfit
associate. Now, however, he felt that any companion was better than
solitude, for the unoccupied Sabbath hours; and although a sense of
shame filled his breast, that he should ever have given the opportunity
to such a man to approach him thus familiarly, he crushed it with an
effort, and extending his hand, exclaimed, in a hearty tone:
"Glad to see you, Quirk; whither bound?"
"Anywhere that I can get company," returned the other, giving Arthur's
hand a close grasp. "This is the only day, you know, that a clerk has to
himself, and I always make it a point to have a deuce of a time to begin
the week with."
And the fellow burst into a loud laugh.
Arthur withdrew his hand hastily, and an expression of disgust swept
over his fine features. The quick eye of the other did not fail to
detect it, and, eager to retain the vantage he had gained, he said:
"You musn't mind my easy expressions, Pratt; they come to me somehow
like second nature, and I can't help them; just let 'em pass; and tell
me what you'd like to visit to-day, and what you'd like to see, and I'll
show it to you; for there's no sight in this city that I ain't as used
to as measuring tape."
"I've never been accustomed to go sight-seeing on Sunday," said Arthur,
in a hesitating tone.
"That was because you were never accustomed to working every week-day
before."
"No, it was because I was strictly taught to 'Remember the Sabbath-day,
and keep it holy.'"
"Fiddlesticks! all that'll do in the North, where folks put on their
long faces every Sunday, and go to church, rain or shine, and don't cook
any dinners, and don't read anything but pious books, but such things
ain't expected here of anybody. Why, this is always a holiday here--the
military companies are always drilled on Sunday, the best races are
reserved for Sunday, the best plays at the theatre are on Sunday nights,
and so are the best balls. Ha! ha! to talk of keeping this day holy
here."
"You shock me!" said Arthur, with a shudder.
"Just what every young prig from the North is sure to say at first, but
they get to be one of the 'fast ones' at last. I was quite sober myself
when I first came here. I was from the land of steady habits, ye
see--the only son of my mother, and she was a widder; but she died, and
nobody cared for me here, so I just joined the b'hoys, and learned how
to enjoy myself."
"I'll tell you what we'll do!" exclaimed Quirk, after another short
pause, "we'll just take the cars, and go to Carrolton. That's a fine
place, and it can't hurt your conscience any to visit it. Even the
ministers ride up there on Sundays sometimes."
"How soon could we return? By the time church is out?"
"Oh, we can come back any minute we like. Hurrah! Now hop in, or we'll
be left."
The cars were just on the point of leaving, and they were obliged to run
in order to catch their chance. The moment of reflection did not come to
Arthur till he had taken his seat, and was rapidly moving away. If there
came any pangs of conscience then, they were, from a dread of ridicule,
studiously concealed from his companion, and consoling himself with the
thought that it now was too late to repent, he gave himself up to the
full enjoyment of his ride.
After leaving the city, as the charming suburban retreats, one by one,
came out upon his view, Arthur eagerly regarded each one, appreciating
its brightness and freshness all the more from his recent confinement in
the city. The clear sloping meadows, the rural cottages, the fresh air,
all served to enliven and cheer him; and, as the cars were crowded with
pleasure-seekers, like himself, he forgot it was Sunday, and was happy
in his forgetfulness.
Near Carrolton a beautiful wood burst upon his sight, skirting either
side of the track, and casting soft deep shadows on the bright green
sward beneath the branches. The trees were of noble growth, and from
every limb hung pendant the tattered sheets of long gray moss, so common
in the South, and so solemn and sombre in their effect.
"Was there ever anything more beautiful, even on the banks of my own
Hudson!" exclaimed Arthur, enraptured at the scene. "Can we not persuade
the conductor to stop, and let us down? I would enjoy a stroll there."
"Nonsense!" returned his companion. "I can't go with you if you go
there. I have a horror of that swinging moss, and can't bear to be near
it. Those trees always make me think of ghosts, with rotten shrouds on
'em."
"That's a fine comparison, Charley," said a clear, sarcastic voice near
them; and a young man, bearing the unmistakable stamp of the genteel
loafer about him, stretched out a small white hand, with a large diamond
glittering on the little finger, and shook Charley's over the back of
the seat.
He was quite a youth, apparently not over twenty years of age; but there
was an expression in his eye which would lead one to believe him older.
It was an eye old in cunning, old in craft, and old in sin. It was
small, deep-set, and of piercing blackness. His hair was of a soft
chestnut, and curled slightly at the ends. His lips were thin, and his
complexion sallow. His dress, in every article, was of the finest
material, but arranged with a decidedly foppish taste; and, somehow or
other, his whole appearance reminded one of those large bills, stuck up
in depots, with "Beware of Pickpockets" on them.
Charley leaned back, after shaking hands with him, and whispered
something in his ear; then, nodding to Arthur, said:
"Mr. Pratt, I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Clinton. Mr. Clinton, Mr.
Pratt."
Arthur bowed, and accepted the hand cordially extended to him, and
politely expressed his pleasure at the acquaintance.
"Well, just consider me one of you from this hour," said Clinton,
rising, and turning his seat so that he might face his friends. "Just
confide to me your intentions for to-day, and you'll find I'm with you,
heart and hand."
Charley tipped a sly wink at him, unperceived by Arthur, and answered:
"We're only going to Carrolton, to stroll through the gardens; that's
all."
"Ah, yes; going to contemplate the beauties of nature. I understand.
Just so. Glad to hear it; for, of all things in the world, it's just
what will suit me best. Just consider me one of you."
Arthur eyed his new friend with considerable curiosity, as he let off
these little explosive sentences, and withdrew his eyes with an
unsatisfied look, as the other ceased speaking.
"He evidently," thought he, "wants to seem a gentleman, and don't know
how."
"Here we are!" cried Clinton, as the train stopped. "Now, my dear
friends, let's hasten to leave these clattering cars, where I scarcely
can breathe. Ah! you perceive this beautiful scenery has already
inspired me. I s'pose, Mr. Pratt, you didn't know I was a poet before,
did you?"
"I was certainly not previously aware of your poetical talents, Mr.
Clinton," returned Arthur, laughing, "but I shall never doubt it again."
"That's right, my boy. Like your candor. You're excusable for not
noticing before that I was a genius. It was no doubt merely because you
didn't look closely in my face. Any one can see it who does. There's the
pretty Miss Julia Tippet, she declares she'd know me for one through a
pair of green spectacles."
So saying, Mr. Clinton sprang to the ground, and being a little taller
than the other two, he familiarly passed an arm over their shoulders as
he stepped between them, and so passed on through the garden gate.
As they trod the neat shell walks, and inhaled the fragrance of the many
blooming flowers, Arthur enthusiastically expressed his delight; and Mr.
Clinton, suddenly drew in a long breath through his nostrils, and
exclaimed, at the same time striking an attitude:--
"Delightful spot! I know not what could e'er draw hence my willing feet,
Unless it be a chance I see, for some kind friend to stand a treat."
"There!" bringing down his right hand, with a hearty whack upon his
knee, "if I haven't been off again into one of my spontaneous bursts of
poetical effusion! Who ever saw that beat?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Charley. "I take the hint; what'll you have;
mint-juleps for three, or three for old Cogniac?"
"Thank you," said Arthur, as he met Charley's inquiring glance. "Nothing
for me. I never indulge."
"Oh, you must have something, if it's nothing more than lemonade with a
stick in it," returned Charley.
"Hurry up your pegs there, Charley!" cried Clinton, at the top of his
voice. "Pratt's getting faint, and wants something to strengthen him!"
This was said in such a good humored hope-I-don't-offend manner, that
Arthur could not repress a smile; and while the smile was on his lips
the drinks arrived, and he received his with a bow. That he considered
it good, was very evident from the manner in which he drank it, an act
which Quirk and Clinton watched narrowly, over the brims of their
glasses.
Arthur experienced no more pangs of conscience that day; neither did he
recall his intended return by the time church was out. After drinking,
his companions used every effort to make themselves agreeable, and
showed him over the extensive grounds, strolled through the shady avenue
on the Levee with him, and then, as the day was warm, declared
themselves thirsty, and proposed that Arthur should treat them.
He eagerly assented, and for the first time in his life marched boldly
into the bar-room, and ordered three strong drinks, all of the same
description.
Then a military company arrived, and the excitement of the drill, the
sound of the martial music, and the fresh uniform of the soldiers,
combined with the noise and bustle of railroad travel, and the crowd of
lookers on, seemed to dispel all remembrance of Sunday, and the whole
afternoon passed in this way, in what then seemed real enjoyment.
It was eleven o'clock in the evening when, heated and dizzy from the
wine they had drunk, Arthur and Charley took their seats in the cars for
home; with Mr. Clinton heavily reclining between them. They were a noisy
trio, though an experienced eye might have detected readily that Clinton
pretended to be much more intoxicated than he really was. When the cars
arrived at St. Joseph-street he alighted, bidding his two friends a
hearty good night, and saying, as he shook Arthur's hand:
"Hope to see you soon again, Pratt, [hic]--from this day for [hic] ward,
consider me one of you."
And, with a stagger which threatened a fall, he left the cars, and
disappeared round the corner. As he did so, he drew a ponderous key from
his pocket, and holding it up between his eye and an adjacent lamp,
regarded it closely, then burst into a laugh: "I'll have some fun with
this yet, I reckon; I'll teach the governor to forbid my having any of
the keys. By the gods! I'll bring him round with this, or die in the
attempt," soliloquized Mr. Clinton, swinging the key between his thumb
and finger.
"By-the-by," he added, suddenly thrusting it deep into a side-pocket,
"I'll just stroll down Chartres-street, and see what the boys'll do when
they find it out."
Mr. Clinton was evidently perfectly sober.
Whistling a tune thoughtfully, as he went, he reached Camp-street; when,
taking the shady side, he struck into a run, which pace he kept up until
he had crossed Canal, then he assumed a slow, careless walk; and as the
moon had now risen, the lamps had been put out, and one side of
Chartres-street lay in deep shadow.
To this side he kept, and when he had arrived nearly opposite Delancey's
store, he stepped back into an archway, and remained quiet.
In a few moments he heard the voices of his late companions, and saw
them coming down the other side of the street, leaning upon each other,
and both evidently fully affected by the liquor they had imbibed.
As Charley gained the door, he sustained himself by holding with his
left hand upon the door-post, while with the right he applied a small
steel key to the key-hole.
"Why the devil don't it fit? Lend a hand here, Pratt, and see what you
can do."
Arthur had seated himself upon the step, and sat with his head leaning
on his hand, but he rose at Charley's bidding, and took the key.
"Why don't it fit?" said he, after looking at it a moment, intently.
"Well, the reason is my trunk key don't fit this door, and I'd like to
know how you came by it."
"Your trunk key! well, where's the other? _Your_ trunk key! _I_ guess
so! Well, here's one that will fit," and he drew out a brass house-door
key, and shufflingly applied it to the lock.
"Devil! wrong again. Pratt, stand up here, and help me."
"We'll never get in at this rate, Charley."
"I'll give you a lodging, if that's what you're after," said a voice
near them, and a hand fell heavily on a shoulder of each.
"Nabbed, by gripes!" cried Quirk, suddenly turning round.
"But just look here, old feller, I'd like to know [hic] what for you
arrest a couple--of gen'l'men for--as is decently [hic] to go home to
bed."
"Breaking into a store is a new way of going to bed. You're my
prisoners; so march along with you."
"Do you take us for thieves," said Arthur, startled into soberness; "we
belong there, and were trying to use our pass-key."
"Let's see your pass-key, then."
"It's lost! I can find it neither in my own nor my companion's pockets."
"Good story, but won't go down, so trot along."
And the watchman, stepping between them, seized an arm of each, and
hurried them off to the guard-house.
"Phew! that's more than I bargained for," said Clinton, stepping out of
the archway, and looking after the retreating figures. "However, that's
Grey that's got 'em, and I can make it straight by morning." So saying,
he pressed his hand hard upon the ponderous key he held, and muttering,
"Ah, a good time's coming," turned his steps toward the First
Municipality.