breast just as it had been placed there. His face wore the same look of
contentment that had come to it when he had said he wished “for nothing
in the world, sir,” and later, when he had added, “Good-night, sir!”
having, at the same time, bidden “good-night” to life and the world.
So, surrounded by the tender care of the family he adored--in
his bed--under the same roof that sheltered the horses he had
loved--beneath the great flag he reverenced--with his dog at his
feet--quiet, peaceful, dignified, such was the passing of John Hickey,
coachman.
We covered him with flowers. Nothing was too good to be offered in
this last gift to the man who had walked so far with us along life’s
highway. I had already ordered mass to be said for him. And then I paid
him my last visit. I went alone, and talked to him, as foolish women
will talk to their dead, and told him how and why I missed sending for
the priest, and while I looked at him, I noticed for the first time
what a fine head he had, the clearness of his profile, and above all,
the calm dignity of his expression. Slowly, like music, there rolled
through my memory certain words of Holy Writ: “He raiseth up the poor
out of the dust, and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill; that He may
set him with princes, even with the princes of his people.”
And I knelt at the coffin’s side and prayed for this good and faithful
servant and friend. A little later I stood on the porch, and through
blinding tears saw my husband a second time walk with bared head by
“Old John’s” side--a second time escorting him to a home.
So he passed out of my life, but never will he pass from my memory.
Though he left us without “warning,” and asked for no “recommendation,”
we cannot complain, since he “bettered” himself in following the
summons of the Great Master.
Black Watch
Black Watch
That old, black “Watch” believed himself the general superintendent
of John Tyler’s “back-wood” farm, as well as the guardian of his
family, no one could doubt who noticed his busy self-importance, from
the candle-light breakfast till the eight o’clock retirement of the
family. Then, only, he felt free to visit the secret repository of the
few bones he had acquired, or to take a run down the road, and through
the woods, to pick a fight with the only dog of his weight to be found
within a ten-mile radius.
I should not like to say, off-hand, just what breed “Watch”
represented, but he was black all over--was short-haired, heavy-built,
and mastiff-like in head and chest. One ear had been injured in a fight
with city dogs, and it lopped helplessly ever after, while the good ear
seemed doubly quick and perky by comparison.
Now, it was this faithful creature’s clear, brown eyes that were first
to discover something wrong about young Mrs. Tyler. I don’t suppose
he knew she had worked to the breaking point--that five babies, with
barely a year separating one birth-day from another, were enough to
break the high ambition with which she had begun her life, here in the
woods, helping in rough, out-door work, as well as trying to make a
comfortable home for her husband. And now, that another little one was
expected, her songs had ceased, and often, she would, in the midst of
her work, stop and stand, with eyes fixed on vacancy, a heavy frown on
her face that had always before been so bright and kindly in expression.
“Watch,” alone, noticed this. The children were too little, and John
Tyler too busy, and the brown eyes would study the clouded face until
he could bear his trouble in silence no longer, and he would whimper,
and push his cold, damp nose into her hand, but instead of the pat he
expected, he several times received a sharp rebuke that made him lower
head and tail and retire fully five feet from her, where he sat and
rapped out a faint, deprecating “tattoo” on the bare floor with his
tail.
Sometimes he would rush out and find his master, and climb up and put
his paws on his breast and whine, and look back at the house, and John
would say: “What the deuce is the matter, ‘Watch’? I don’t know what
you want!” and the man that “helped” would say: “Oh, he’s got something
tree’d, I s’pose, and wants you to go help him!”
Then the baby arrived, and John Tyler began to understand that an awful
thing had happened. His wife’s mind was certainly clouded--she was, in
country parlance, “not right,” and worst of all she had a mortal hatred
for the poor, little new-comer. She could hardly force herself to give
it the commonest care, and many a time its wails reached the father
beyond the house, and only when he entered would the mother sullenly
take the child and care for it. “Watch,” though he was the most active
of farm dogs, took in the situation at once, and calmly assumed the
position of nurse to the detested baby.
Never before had he been known to get on the bed, but now he jumped on
it every day and curled himself up beside the little unfortunate, and
many a time when she cried he would stand over her and gravely lick her
tiny face until she stopped, to stare at him in wonder.
He did not wholly neglect his other duties. He saw to the proper
watering of the stock, night and morning, taking a few laps of the
water himself, as if he were testing it. He led the horses to the field
to plow, or to the woods “to haul,” as the case might be, running
anxiously ahead to see that the road was clear, and then ambling back
to bark at their heels a few times before making a circle about the
wagon and trotting underneath it a few minutes, to make quite sure the
running gear was all right.
Neither did the two eldest of the children succeed in getting to
the small creek flowing at the back of the house, without his
companionship, though he knew well he would be sent into the water
by them for about a peck of chips, after which they were absolutely
certain to try to ride him home. Still, it had been his habit to watch
the road closely for any traveling dog, at sight of whom he would rush
forth with waving tail, and after due investigation of his quality,
would either challenge him to mortal combat, or invite him inside the
gate to converse about the state of the roads and the scarcity of
rabbits, etc. But when the family trouble began, he gave such pleasures
up and turned all his attention to his people.
So the day came when John Tyler was compelled to go to town, a great
city now, but then a struggling, little town on the edge of a marsh.
He dared not leave his wife alone with the children, so, with great
difficulty, he secured the help of a young girl, for a couple of days,
and then with a big load to take and a long list of things to bring
back for the winter’s comfort, he started, and was greatly surprised
when old, black “Watch,” who always enjoyed his “city” trip so
thoroughly, after escorting him with leaps and barks and short rushes
at nothing in particular for a half mile, suddenly sat down by the
roadside and staid there, regardless of his master’s inviting whistle.
Back at the house, the morning work was no sooner done than the “girl”
was astonished to see Mrs. Tyler come from her room, dressed in her
Sunday gown--a work-basket hanging from her arm--and carrying the hated
baby. She briefly announced that she was going to visit her neighbor.
The “girl” told her she was not strong enough for such a tramp, but she
muttered something about “a shorter way,” which frightened the girl
into reminding her how many wild animals were still seen in the woods,
and Mrs. Tyler had turned such a white, angry face upon her, she had
not dared to speak again, but, looking after her, saw her twice drive
old “Watch” back, when he tried to follow her.
About one o’clock the Brockway family were surprised to see young Mrs.
Tyler at their door, and were amazed when they found the baby was
not with her! “Oh,” she lightly replied, “the girl was at home, she
would look after all the children.” In those days, unless the mother
died, all babes were reared by the simple rule devised by Mother
Nature--hence the pained surprise of these kindly womenfolk at the
all-day abandonment of so young a child.
As the day wore on, Mrs. Tyler grew more and more absent-minded, and
finally her work fell to her lap, and she sat in perfect silence.
Suddenly she clasped her head in her hands, she looked wildly from one
face to another, then down to her lap, when, with a shriek, she sprang
to her feet, and rushing into the next room began throwing on her
wraps, all the time moaning: “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! help me--help me!”
She paid no attention whatever to remonstrances or questions! They
begged her to wait--they would harness up and take her home! She seemed
not to hear them--only shivered and moaned: “Oh, God help me!” and tore
away from them, and out of the house, and one who followed a little saw
her break into a run as soon as she was out of sight of the windows.
The women were greatly frightened, and calling one of the men from
work, sent him after her. He took down a gun and easily and hastily
followed the tracks her feet had left in the soft earth on that damp
November day. Presently he came upon her work-basket, abandoned at
the point where, by climbing the fence, she could leave the regular
road and make a cross-cut through a strip of dense woodland. He frowned
blackly as he picked it up, saying to himself: “She must be clean crazy
to go through there alone! Why on earth didn’t she bring old, black
‘Watch’ with her? He could bluff four times his weight in wild-cat,
fox, snake, or even in bear-skin! But alone and sick! Good Lord!” and
so grumbling to himself, but with eye, ear and hand alert, he followed
the woman, who still kept ahead of him, until, as he was approaching a
sudden glen-like opening in the woods, he was startled by a piercing
scream, followed by the agonized cry of: “Oh, my God! help me! help
me!” and plunging forward, he came upon Mrs. Tyler, who, in hastily
trying to clamber over a fallen tree, had been caught and was held
firmly by her clothing, and though she fought madly to free herself,
he noticed she never took her eyes, for one instant, from some object
beyond him.
Following the direction of her glance--he stood stupefied. Almost in
the center of an opening stood one noble, hickory tree, and on the damp
earth at its foot lay a small, white bundle from which there came, now
and then, faint, hoarse wails of utter exhaustion, while, with sturdy
legs planted stiffly astride of the abandoned baby, stood old, black
“Watch”--a dog on guard!
From the base of his skull to the root of his tail every separate hair
bristled fiercely up. His forehead wrinkled wickedly! His eyes glowed
with a hot, red fire, while he drew his lips back savagely, laying bare
every tooth he owned in the world.
Just as young Brockway was about to speak, “Watch” half-wheeled about
and gave tongue, for the first time, in one snarling, half-strangled
bark, and, following the movement of the dog with his eyes, the young
fellow, for the first time, realized the true horror of the situation,
when in the dense undergrowth opposite he saw a lumbering shape--caught
a glimpse of pig-like eyes--a flash of white, sharp tushes, and heard
a faint grunt from the brownish-black mass, as its clumsy half-trot
carried it into the depths of the forest.
There was one shot sent wild by a trembling hand, and, almost in the
same moment, a loud, long r--r--rip, r--r--rip, r--r--ripping of
clothing and stitches was heard, and a woman’s slender figure went
flying across the opening, and Mrs. Tyler flung herself upon her knees,
crying: “Give her to me, ‘Watch’! Oh, give her to me!”
Yet, before her hand could touch the child, the dog turned upon her
savagely, while she, seemingly beyond all personal fear, threw her
arms about his rigid neck, pressing her agonized, white face against
his black head and fiercely opened, slavering jaws, while she pleaded
humbly: “Forgive me, ‘Watch’! I know I do not deserve it--and you know
just what I meant should happen! But, forgive me, ‘Watch,’ for her
sake! Give her to me, honest, brave, old ‘Watch’! I promise you I
will love her all my life long!”
He held himself very stiff within her circling arms for a moment,
looking hard into her eyes, then suddenly he brightened visibly--gave
her one all-comprehensive caress reaching from chin to brow--and
gently, cautiously stepping backward, left the piteous bundle within
the reach of her hungry hands. ‘Watch’ first looked across at Brockway
and wagged a courteous greeting to him, then he stretched himself, both
fore and aft, and yawned great, loud, throat-revealing yawns that went
far to show how long a time his muscles and his nerves had been kept
taut and on the strain.
Meantime, the first loving kiss, the first sweet mother-kiss that
blesses where it rests, had been given, and under cover of the
all-concealing, matronly shawl of that period, the baby had established
communication with the quick-lunch-counter Dame Nature superintended.
Mrs. Tyler needed young Brockway’s help in getting home, after the
shock she had received, and at the beginning of their long walk his
horror of her was so evident that, in self defence, she told him
part of her story, and with such effect that there were tears in the
lad’s eyes when he tried to realize what those dreadful months must
have been--during which she could not recall ever to have seen the
sun--could not remember any act of her own doing, all that time--save
that one awful act!--was only conscious of one desire--to destroy this
child, because its coming would prevent her husband from making the
regular payment on the farm, and he might lose it and be ruined--so
she watched and waited for a chance to abandon the baby to the wild
animals--that she might thus save the farm and family--and he rejoiced
with her, as she told of how, suddenly at his home, she had had a loud,
rushing sound in her ears, the sunlight had become visible to her, she
had looked at her lap for her baby, and then remembered she had left it
in the woods to be devoured! How she had run--how she had prayed, and
God had been merciful!--and he, Brockway, would not hate and fear her
now--would he? and he would not speak of this any more than he could
help?--and oh, was not black “Watch” a hero to save her darling’s life?
But the boy thought she owed a good deal to the condition of the bear.
It was fat and sleek--well fed, and therefore good-natured. Had it
been rough-coated, thin, hungry, “Watch” would have probably given his
life--and in vain! And then, at her gasping cry at such a suggestion,
he had, with rustic, bashful awkwardness, “reckon’d he was a plumb fool
at talkin’, and would she please just not count that in at all?” and
so had left her safely at her kitchen-door, while “Watch,” dropping
the work-basket he had carried home, escorted the young man a short
distance down the road, then, taking a jaunty farewell of him, gave
himself up to a careful and thorough smelling of apparently the entire
farm and all its implements. Of course it was troublesome, but it was
the only trustworthy way of finding exactly what had been done during
his absence and that of his master.
Late that night, John Tyler, tired, chilled and anxious, drove home,
and was met some distance down the road by old, black “Watch,” carrying
a lighted lantern, and prancing and plunging about so joyously that the
lantern light seemed like some small animal running along the road,
gliding under bushes, even darting up tree trunks occasionally in its
efforts to escape the pursuing dog. The man was surprised, for he
felt that only his wife would have given “Watch” that light, and the
surprise was pleasant to him.
Then he unharnessed, watered, fed and bedded down the weary horses,
eagerly assisted by “Watch,” who seemed to be in absolutely puppyish
high spirits. Why, even when he had with such frantic violence declared
the presence of a burglar in the far corner where the harness hung and
Mr. Tyler was compelled to pull down and show to him the old blanket he
was mistaking for a burglar (a thing he had never seen in his life and
only heard of from a city dog following his master’s buggy the summer
before)--even then he was neither humiliated nor cast down, but had, as
was his wont, slid into the stall of gray “Billy” (the oldest and best
horse on the place), and, standing up by the manger, proceeded, with
both paws, to dig for some sort of small game in “Billy’s” shoulder.
Then the horse laid back his ears, opened his mouth and bit at “Watch,”
who bit back at him--their teeth sometimes clicking sharply together,
to their seeming great delight. And this continued until the low
whistle of the man separated the friends and play-fellows, and master
and dog went to the house together, leaving the closed stable filled
with humble rustic music, the rhythmic, melodious expression of utter
content, of comfort won, that is produced by the crunch--crunch--crunch
of great, white teeth grinding silvery-yellow oats or crushing the
brittle sweetness of the orange-colored corn. Listen! Count! One,
two, three, crunch--crunch--crunch, now a long, deep, soft sigh, then
crunch--crunch--crunch!
At the house John met another surprise. He had expected to hunt about
in semi-darkness for the bread-crock and the butter or molasses, or
anything almost, and take a “cold bite,” and go to bed, but here was
as good a supper ready for him as the limited contents of their very
primitive larder would allow, and oh!--crowning grace of an American
farmer’s meal--it was hot!
Only pork, white, firm, sweet as a nut, crisply and amiably sharing the
same small frying pan with the sliced potatoes! Hot “corn-dodger” and
hotter coffee! But oh, beyond these comforts there was a look in the
wife’s hazel eyes, a clear, bright, straight look that shook his very
heart--it was so like the good days of the past!
When supper was over, and “Watch” was carefully separating his bits
of corn-bread with gravy on them from those bits which had none, and
after the manner of his race, eating the best portions first, Mrs.
Tyler came to her husband and put one arm about his neck, while with
the other she closely cuddled the baby to her side. As John stood
looking down on them, he felt it was for him a blessed sight, and bent
to kiss her; but she avoided the caress, and hiding her face on his
breast, she made a full confession.
Perhaps it was as well that she could not see the pallor of his face
as she told of the hours the baby lay abandoned in the woods, nor the
drops of perspiration on his brow as she described the bear in the
thicket and old, black “Watch’s” furious defence of the helpless little
one. The silence that followed her plea for forgiveness was for a few
moments broken only by “Watch.” He had sat bolt upright before them,
watching their faces closely with his honest, brown eyes, and now he
sniffed and snuffled, as though on the verge of tears, while with
persuasive tail he rapped on the bare floor so loudly that one might
have mistaken the noise for the nailing down of a carpet.
John raised his big, rough hand and smoothed his wife’s hair. The
clumsy strokes were given the wrong way, and each one pulled harder and
tangled worse, until her brown locks were full of what the children
would have called “rats’ nests.” But the awkward caress was sweet to
her, as precious as it was rare. Then he said slowly: “Never do it
again, Betsey! No! no! I don’t mean that! I mean never worry all alone
again. If you are anxious and troubled about the farm, money, or
anything else, for God’s sake, tell me all about it, and let me share
the worry!” and he kissed her, and then looking down on “Watch,” he
said, gently: “Thank you, old man.”
And then I think he did a curious thing, for you must remember “Watch”
was simply a farm dog who had never been taught one single trick in
all his life. Yet now, when he thanked him, John Tyler offered him
his hand. “Watch,” embarrassed and confused, lifted and lowered his
good ear rapidly, glanced at the hand, then at his master’s face,
half-lifted his left foot, dropped it again, and suddenly raising his
right, laid the black paw firmly in the extended hand, and gravely,
unsmilingly, John Tyler held it a moment and repeated: “Thank you, old
man.”
Ten minutes later the wooden bar was across the door, the candle was
extinguished, and darkness, silence and peace descended upon the
little, back-wood home.
When I, the writer was a little girl, a very, very old lady used on
bright, fair days to lead me down the country road, past many white
houses amid their orchards, and point out a great, old hickory tree,
and tell me that was the spot where she had, in her madness, left her
baby, “who is now Mrs. B----,” she would say.
But I always had to hear over again about “Watch,” whom, the old lady
said, “had scratched and fit, and killed ’chucks and snakes, and taken
the children to and from school for eight years after that! And then,
one night, he had got up from his mat and come into the bed-room and
stood by the bed, and had licked the hand of his master, and had gone
back to his mat, and in the morning he was quite dead. Just as if Death
knew he could only get him away from us by taking him in his sleep!”
And I would lean against the kind, old lady, and say gravely: “What a
pity he had to die before I was born--I would have loved ‘Watch’!”
And I love his memory to-day--brave, old, black “Watch”!
Dinah
Dinah
Dinah was not “all things to all men,” but she was everything to one
small girl, and a good many things to other members of the family. I
think I had better say a few words right here about the aforesaid small
girl. She was an only child, and so far beyond mere prettiness as to
be really beautiful. Quick, clever, and high spirited, the slavish
idolatry of her mother had worked her ruin. _Enfant terrible_, she was
a burden to herself, a terror to all those about her; except during
the rare absence of that mother, when, oh! the pity, the shame of it!
the little Marie became obedient, gracious, and charming; as sweetly
angelic as she was beautiful.
To the friends of the family she was generally known as “Tyler’s
vixen,” “Tyler’s malicious imp,” or that “pretty little devil of
Tyler’s,” which seems to throw considerable light upon her every-day
manners and behavior. Now, it’s almost needless to say that this
child’s path through life had been simply clogged with toys, foreign
and domestic, elaborate and simple, with a strong leaning toward the
most expensive in the market. Even from that early period when she
had but two desires on earth, one to drink long and deep at nature’s
fountain, and the other to sleep profoundly, they had forced her to
keep awake long enough to choose between a rattle of solid silver, with
which she could easily have broken her own wee head, or one of gold
and silver and coral; and her anger being great, she rejected both,
and clutched at a soft rubber affair with a ring handle, offered by
the nurse and positively declined by the mother as too awfully common.
And it was at that point I made the small Marie’s acquaintance, being
led in to look at a baby that was so wise that it had selected a
ring-handle rattle, because it knew it would be cutting teeth by and by
and would need the ring; at least that’s what the nurse said. One can
imagine, then, what a veritable army of dolls must have fallen to the
share of this so cruelly spoiled child. Creatures whose waxen beauty
almost broke the hearts of less favored lookers-on; wardrobes complete
and exquisitely perfect--packed in real for true trunks; tiny sets of
jewelry--toilet-sets--parasols--fans--charming carriages for these
gorgeous beings to ride in; blond, brown, and black-haired dreams of
bisque, china, and wax beauty; families--yes, whole families of tiny,
Swiss dolls, China dolls--from one scant inch to ten in height! It was
maddening, and Marie would, as a wee tot, push away the great, prize
doll, so heavy for her little arms, and bury her weary face in the
pillow and whimper for--she knew not what! Poor, little, _blasé_ baby!
Always deprived of the keen delight of wishing for a thing, of the
hope and fear in waiting, of the thrill of seeing possibility become
probability, and then the rapture of possession!