back with a glass in his hand and a singing out, "Our noble guest, Lord
Morpeth," like all possessed. Every critter at the table, excepting Lord
Morpeth and I, jumped up with glasses in our hands, and begun to drink
like a patch of seed onions after a six weeks' dry spell; but Lord
Morpeth and I sot still and looked as if we didn't know what possessed
the critters; but the minit they sot down up he jumped like a house a
fire, and the way he cracked jokes and said smart things, made the fire
fly from every body's eyes round the table. I swanny, if he didn't take
me a'most off the handle with his consarned sweet voice and harnsome
manners. It raly was eenamost as good as a play, to hear him reel out
the common sense and soft sodder about this land of liberty and old
England. When he sot down, it was as much as I could du to keep from
going right up and giving him a hug, if he was a lord. Arter this we
mixed in the talk altogether, like lemon, and sugar, and brandy in a
punch bowl, as sociable as so many chickens in a coop, till by-am-by,
Jase he begun to swell up and talk to Lord Morpeth about the Slicks, and
the crouchants, and lions, that belonged to the family coat of arms as
he called it; he gin us all to understand that the Slick's warn't a
family to be sneezed at by any of the English Lords, and gin out some
purty broad hints about a barron-night, and a lord, that gin a start to
the name ever so long back in England; then the consarned shote branched
out into a sarmon about ancient birth, and pure blood, a running from
one generation to another, without being siled by anything low since the
Slick's cum to this country, jest arter the Pilgrims, and a hull lot of
the darndest stuff that ever a transmogrified hand-cartman thought on.
I'd topped off my cider with two or three glasses of hock, the feller
called it, and it made me feel dreadful smart, and I felt jest like
tackling Jase in his own camp.
"Look a here, cousin Jase," sez I, "what on arth do you want to make out
that we Slick's are anything but jest what we be, for aint it a darned
sight more to our credit, Yankees as we are, and Republicans as we ought
to be, to own it at once, that we had to hoe our own row up, and found
it a purty tough one? Now you know well enough, for all your crouchongs,
and lions, and roosters,--that you've picked up, lord-a-massey knows
where--that you begun life, or any how begun to save up chink, fust by a
horse cart on Peck Slip, and that wife of your'n went out a nussing
other folk's children till arter you married her, and that aint no
disgrace to her nor you neither, so long as you don't try to make out
that you're something more than you raly be. It is too bad you're trying
to make out that you're a English big bug, when you can prove yourself
as good a nobleman as ever lived, by going back to our grand-par, the
brave old shoemaker, that swung his lap-stone over his shoulder when
the Revolution broke out, and jined the patriots when their struggle was
dark as the grave. The old man never gave way once, but fought like a
lion when fighting was to be done. He clung to his companions in good
and bad luck, and though he fought, and marched, and suffered with the
toughest of 'em, never once gin out or got discouraged, but arter a long
day's march would unsling his lap-stone, take out his rusty tools, and
hammer and stitch away half the night long, to make up shoes for his
tired and sore footed feller soldiers, whenever he could find a scrap of
sole leather or a piece of cow skin to make up!"
I was a going on, but Lord Morpeth he got up, and sez he, "Let us drink
to the memory of Mr. Slick's ancestor, the 'brave Shoemaker.'"
Jase looked sort of ugly about what I'd said--but I couldn't help that,
and when Lord Morpeth jined in, the hull biling on us got up, and
another squad of wine glasses was put into action. When the rest had sot
down, I felt as if I couldn't break off so, but I thought it wouldn't do
no harm to give 'em a short specimen of Weathersfied chin music, seeing
as there was a lord to hear me.
"Now," sez I, "it's of no use denying that we Yankees do think a good
deal of noble birth and pure blood, and all of them ere things that the
English have boosted up their throne with so many hundred years; for my
part, I du feel a kind of love and reverence for a family of any kind,
whose blood has run pure from one generation to another, through brave
men and good women, till it beats full of warm ginerous human natur in
the heart of a true nobleman, whether he has a title or not. It gives a
man something to be proud of, something to guard and keep himself good
and honorable for. A man must be mean as pusley, and meaner yet, who
could do a small action while he knew that his blood had been kept, pure
as spring water, by a hull line of good men, all a sleeping in their
graves."
"But, arter all," sez I, "what is the nobility of Old England more than
that which we Yankees have a right to?"
"Was William the Conqueror, that they brag so much about, any thing to
be compared to our Washington? Was his conquest of Old England, half so
great, or so tough a job as the tussle we had to get New England into
our own native land? Now, the whole truth is, blood is like wine, the
older it is, the stronger and clearer it grows. If it warn't for that,
we Yankees, that had forefathers in the Revolutionary war, have as good
a right to brag about our pure blood, as the greatest and oldest line of
proud England." Here I stopped jest long enough to make a bow to Lord
Morpeth, and on I went agin. "I say," sez I, a stretching out my arm,
"there aint a true born American on arth, if he owns the truth, that
haint English grit and pride enough about him to feel a kind of respect
for an English nobleman, if he behaves himself like folks: but if he
don't," sez I, "we've got a right to dispise him more than we do one
another when we act mean; for he not only disgraces hisself, but all the
forefathers that he ought to be proud on, and a man that can do that
must be mean as git out and meaner tu, a darned sight. Now," sez I, a
looking at Lord Morpeth, "we Yankees and the English are purty much
alike, for all. If they've got their lords, and dukes, and princes,
haint we no military captins, and generals, and deacons, and
squires,--rather small potatoes compared to the English, but yet it
shows a sort of native notion we've got arter sich things, and don't du
no sort of harm one way nor t'other. Now," sez I, "in a few hundred
years from this, we Americans, shall have a sort of republican nobility
of our own. I aint sartin about the titles, but by-am-by, when the 'tea
party,' and the battle of Bunker Hill lies clear back in our history, as
William the Conquerer's does among the British, Cousin Jase there,
wouldn't have to make up a story about his British ancestors; for the
pure blood of this ere country will be that which goes right back to the
Revolutionary war. All Yankee noblemen will have to sarch for their
titles on the pension list of this ere very generation; and the old man
that now draws his twenty dollars a month, will be the founder of a
line, jest as noble as any that ever sprung up in the heart of old
England! That's my ginuine opinion. Now," sez I, "if we Slicks wanted to
make out that we are any great shakes, it aint no very hard job to du
it. It aint by no means sartin that we, any on us, ever had any
forefathers afore the old Shoemaker, that we've jest been a telling on;
but he was a hull team and horse to boot. When the ammunition gin out at
Bunker Hill, he flung away his gun, and went to storming a hull
regiment, tooth and nail, on his own hook, till in the eend he was shot
down dead with a piece of the old lap stun in his hand, that he gripped
like an Injun arter his teeth was sot, and his fingers stiff and stun
cold. Old England, I must own, has got a grist of noble families and
great men, that are an honor and etarnal glory to it, but the blood that
biled up in that old man's heart, was as red, as brave, yes, and as
noble tu, as ever poured itself out on the sile of old England, in the
time of William, or any other Conqueror; and if I ever set up for a big
bug, and put picters on my carriage door, I kinder think that I shan't
be much ashamed to have Jonathan Slick's coat of arms, a 'hand gripped
hard on a lap-stun;' for consarn me, if we, any on us, ever get to be
much, it will be through the old Shoemaker, and I aint ashamed to own
it."
With that I took another swig at the hock, and was a going on agin, but
all tu once my head began to whirl round like a top. The table began to
spread itself into half a dozen, and it seemed as if the glass consarn
over head had got a hull family of leetle ones around it, dancing jigs
and pouring out the shine all over the room--and then the wine bottles,
and the decanters, and the grapes, and apples, and raisins, seemed to
get onsteady, and more on 'em kept a starting up. Then the waiters in
regimentals grew taller and taller, and I'm consarned if Lord Morpeth
hadn't half a dozen chaps a looking like so many twin brothers a dodging
up and down all around him, awful onsteady though, for Lords. Then,
arter all, the floor begun to rise and pitch up and down till I was
obliged to give up, and so I sot down, and held onto my chair with both
hands, and called out 'Whoa' like a house afire, for it seemed as if
everything was a getting upsot; and between you and I and the post, Par,
my ginuine opinion is, that all the chaps in the room had got about half
seas over, except me. I was as steddy as a judge, and sot up
parpendicular and independent, jest as a true born Republican ought tu,
determined to set that English Lord and the rest on 'em a good example.
It wasn't no wonder, though, that they got a leetle how come-you-so,
for they all drank wine, but I only took that sparkling white cider and
hock, for I was detarmined not to make a shote of myself. Yet it made me
feel so bad to see how they went on, that I got a'most sick thinking
about it.
Arter a while we all went back into the keeping-room, and there the
wimmen folks sot on them red benches, all in pimlico order, drinking
coffee out of some leetle finefied cups, but I'm afeared they didn't set
up so straight as young ladies ought tu in company--their heads did seem
to set rather unsartin on their shoulders every time I looked at 'em.
I drunk off a cup of coffee jest to oblige Jase, and then I begun to be
kinder sociable with a young gal that sot by Jemima, while Jase took
Lord Morpeth round to look at his marble head, and the two whopping
picters of himself and wife.
Arter he had gone the rounds--as we Editors say of a prime article--Lord
Morpeth made his bow and went out, I begun to feel kinder as if I'd like
to take a snooze, and so I jest gin one smashing bow at the door for
all, and arter getting my hat, I follered Lord Morpeth out. It was
tarnal cold, and I begun to chirk up a leetle, when I see that Jase's
carriage stood there. Lord Morpeth stepped back when he see me close to
him, and moved his hand as much as to say--Git in; but I stepped back,
and sez I, "I guess I've been taught better manners than to help myself
fust,"--so with that he got in, and I arter.
We had a good deal of talk in the carriage; and when we both got out,
Lord Morpeth shook hands with me as if I'd been his twin brother, and
asked me to come and see him to his room, for he wanted to talk with me
about picters and the fine arts, and things in general.
I gin his hand an allfired grip, and sez I, "Lord Morpeth, you can
depend on this chap, for he'll tell you the truth and no soft sodder. I
didn't take much of a notion to you at fust, for I aint a chap to run
arter you because you're a lord, but I like you in _spite_ of that, for
you're a darned good hearted, smart critter, and lord or no lord, that's
enough."
With that I shook hands agin, and went up stairs to bed. Fanny Elssler
didn't keep me awake that night I reckon. That hock is tarnal sleepy
stuff, Par.
Your loving son,
JONATHAN SLICK.
* * * * *
LETTER XXV.
Jonathan rides to Mill--The Millerite Excitement--His Marm waits for the
World to come to an End--Letter from New York--The old White Horse.
_To the Editors of the New York Express, a darned great Newspaper down
in York._
DEAR GENTLEMEN SIRS:
I s'pose your letter came down from York like a streak of chalk, but
I've got kinder out of the literary world since I cum back hum here, and
I didn't hear a word about it till the 22d of April, jest as all
Weathersfield had got their robes made and their caps sot for t'other
world.
I'd been out to work all day in the onion patch, and toward night I
thought it wouldn't do no harm to take a ride and git the kinks out of
my back. So I jest went to the barn, and arter saddling the old horse,
and measuring out some rye from the bin I went into the house for some
bags, and concluded I'd go to mill, and take the way back by old
White's, jest to see how Judy got along arter the last singing school.
Wal, I took a short cut through the orchard, and it made me feel kinder
chirk to hear the robins a singing in the apple trees, and to see the
young buds busting out all over my head, and the grass a sprouting under
my feet, all on it a looking fresh as a gal's lip, and greener than a
hull meetin-house full of Millerites. The peach trees in the back yard
had jest begun to blow out; they warn't in full blow yet, but seemed to
be kinder blushing all over at their own back'ardness; and that are old
pear tree by the well, looked as if natur had shook a flour bag all
over it, and yit, the old critter wasn't in full blow more than the
rest on 'em. I wasn't dry, but the air smelt so tarnal sweet, and the
water in the bucket, that was a leetle leaky, kept a falling drop, drop,
drop, down the well, so kinder tempting, that I couldn't help ketching
hold of the well-pole as I went by, and after tilting the bucket on the
curb, I tipt it down and took a drink that raly did me good.
Wal, I went through the yard, and opened the back kitchen door to ask
marm for the bags, and there she sot, close by the table, with her
linsey woolsey apron on yit, jest as she'd washed the morning dishes.
Her old gray hair was sort a rumpled up under her cap, and her steel
spectacles had slid half way down her nose, she was bending so arnest
over the big Bible, and reading the Prophecies of Daniel. Poor old marm,
she looked dreadfully wamblecropped, as if she'd jest made the discovery
of a new mare's egg in the Bible, and was waiting to see what sort of a
critter it would hatch out.
"Marm," sez I, "if you'll give me the bags I'll go to the mill, the last
grist must be purty nearly out by this time."
Marm sot still, looking at the Bible, and didn't seem to know as I was
talking. She shook her head kinder awful, till the specs rattled on her
nose, and then she groaned out something consarning fire and brimstone
and the eend of all things; and she wiped her eyes with her apron, as if
she felt dreadfully and couldn't help it.
"Marm," sez I, "what on arth ails you? you'll make me boo-hoo right out,
if you look so melancholy and take on so."
Marm give a jump, and looked up sort a skeery, and sez she, "Oh,
dreadful suz! Jonathan, is it only you?"
"Wal, I reckon so," sez I; "where's the bags?"
"Oh, Jonathan!" sez she, "are you ready for the eend?"
"Yes," sez I, "I guess I be; I ruther calculate these two strings are
tough enough to tie up the eend of any bag on these ere premises."
Marm shook her head agin, and her face was as solemncholy as a gal
that's got the mitten, and sez she, "Jonathan," sez she, "have you ever
calculated on the beast with the horns?"
"Wal," sez I, a putting my hands in my pockets, "I can't say that I
ever calculated much on them critters; if you and par want me to take
'em, I don't object to the old oxen, but I'd a leetle ruther have the
black steers, if you'd jest as lives."
Marm shook her head worse than ever.
"Wal," sez I, "the old oxen will do, so chirk up and tell me where the
bags are."
With that I went up the back stairs and found the things myself, and was
a going out when she called arter me, and, sez she, "Jonathan, Jonathan,
don't go on so--oh dear me, poor unregenerate critter, what do we want
of another grist; have you forgot Miller and his promise?"
"Goodness gracious, no," sez I, a swinging my bags over the old horse,
"how could I forget him--he's as clever a critter as ever lived, and he
promised to give this grist a tarnation bolting: I told him how mad you
was about t'other."
With that I got out the horse, hitched up the bags to make 'em lie even
under me, give the bridle a shake and jogged on, wondering what on arth
had sot marm up so. Jest as I was a turning down the lane toward Squire
White's, I looked back and there she was a standing by the winder, with
both hands up, and her cap knocked a one side like a crazy critter. Jest
then par come across the corn lot, where he and old uncle White had been
a ploughing, and I told him what a tantrum marm was in about the oxen
and the grist.
Par shook his head, and sez he, "Consarn that Miller! she's been a
brooding over the varmint's nonsense this ever so long, till she
couldn't sleep a nights, and now as it's jest coming on to the 23d of
April, I s'pose she's broke out in a new spot."
"Darn the old scamp to darnation!" sez I, "it's jest got through my head
what ails marm; the sneaking old varmint, he ought to be sung to death
by screech owls, and knocked into the middle of next week by crippled
grasshoppers!" With that I rode along, and par went hum, a looking jest
as if he was ready to bust out a crying or a swearing, he didn't care
which.
Wal, I was purty much womblecropped all the way to the mill, for somehow
it made me feel sort of all-overish to think how near the time had come.
I wasn't raly a skeered, but every thing looked pokerish all around. The
mill was shet up, so I stood up my grist at the door, and got on to the
old horse agin, detarmined to ride into town and see if I could find any
thing to chirk me up. Jest as I got agin the post office, a chap
hollered out that they'd got a letter for me from York, post paid and
all. I turned up and laid the bridle on the old horse's neck, while I
broke open the letter and read it. By gauley! didn't it make my heart
jump right up into my mouth! But yet I felt a leetle uneasy about it. I
wanted to come like all natur, but par hain't been willing to hear a
word about York never since I took sich a shine to Miss Elssler, at the
Astor House, and I was afeard that he'd say no to it. Then there was
marm and Judy White both on 'em sot agin York, and hating Miss Elssler
like rank pison; howsomever, I'm purty good grit when I sot out in
arnest, and I rode along thinking the matter over till I got to old Mr.
White's. Judy come out with her calico sun bonnet on, looking good
enough to eat.
"Come, Judy," sez I, "jump on behind, and go hum with me; marm has got a
fit of the dreadful suz, about that tarnal old Miller's bisness, and I
want you to chirk her up a leetle, if you can."
Judy run up to the fence, so I made the old horse side up while she took
off her check apron and spread it on behind. "Come up," sez I agin to
the old critter; he got so close to the fence that he a'most smashed my
leg agin the boards, and then shied agin; but Judy White is clear grit
and no mistake--she give a jump and cum down square right on the crooper
with one arm round me. The horse shied agin; Judy kinder slipped a
leetle, and she hung on to me closer yit, and larfed till you couldn't
tell which made the sweetest noise, she or the robins in old White's
orchard. When I turned to ketch her, them pesky red lips of her'n were
poked right agin my face; the harnsome varmint hung on to me with both
arms like all natur, and every time she larfed out, that tempting breath
of her'n come right over my mouth. Consarn the critter, I eenamost gin
her a buss afore I knew it, and when the tee-hee bust out through them
lips agin, I had to stop her mouth for fear she'd scare the horse.
"Now you git out, Jonathan!" sez she, a righting herself agin in no
time; "aint you ashamed?"
That stubborn old varmint begun another double shuffle, right there in
the street, and it was all I could du to hold him in, so I hadn't no
time to mollify Judy with another buss. The critter wouldn't speak a
word all the way hum, but there she sot, with one arm round me kinder
loose, as if she'd a kept herself on some other way if she could, and a
holding on her sun bonnet with t'other hand, till one couldn't git the
leastest peep at her face. It was purty near dark when we got hum. The
cows stood by the gate a lowing to be milked. The old hens, setting ones
and all, come round us hilter-skilter, as if they were eenamost starved
to death, and when we got into the kitchen, there stood the table jest
as it was left arter breakfast, covered with dirty dishes; the strainer
lay in a leetle wad in one of the sarsers, and the cat was a licking off
the cream from a pan of milk that stood on a chair by the cheese-room
door. Marm had gone off and shut herself up in the out room, with the
Bible and a hull heap of the "Midnight Cry" newspapers.
I swanny, it eenamost made me boo-hoo right out to see how the things
lay about the house. There never was a neater critter on arth than marm;
but the hull premises raly looked more like a hog pen than any thing
else. Judy and I went to work like good fellers--she forgot to be mad
and tackled to, washing dishes and gitting supper, while I went out to
milk. Marm wouldn't come to supper, and par eenamost choked with every
mouthful he eat, and yit he looked more than half wrathy, as if he'd
about as much trouble to keep his dander down as to hold up the tears
that every once in a while kept a dropping from under his eyes down the
side of his nose.
I guess you never sot eyes on so melancholy a set of critters as sot
round our kitchen till midnight, for marm wouldn't go to bed, and we
were afeard to leave her up alone in the out room with that pictur of
the horned beast a staring her right in the eyes. When the old clock
struck twelve, we heard the out door room shut to, and by-am-by marm
come where we sot in the kitchen, dressed out in a great long consarn
like an overgrown night-gown, with white shoes on her old feet, and
that gray hair of her'n a hanging down her back; I swow, it made me
ketch my breath to see her!
I haint got the heart to write all the shines marm cut up that night and
all day the Sunday arter--it seems like pokin fun at one's own marm--as
she went from one room to t'other, a ringing her hands and a crying her
eyes out, because we wouldn't put on the robes she'd made for us, and go
right up to heaven without making a fuss about it. I thought it wouldn't
do no harm to try and rile her up to thinking of something besides the
horned beast.
"Marm," sez I, all tu once, "I can't think of fixing up for t'other
world yit, no how. I've jest got a letter from York, and if you're so
detarmined on going to heaven, I ruther guess York's the place for me."
Marm jumped right up from her knees, and sez she, "Jonathan what _du_
you mean?"
My heart riz; it was the only sign of gumption she had made for a hull
day. Par looked up, and his chin kinder quivered, for he thought I was
poking fun at the old woman, and Judy White, she sidled up to me, and
sez she, all in a twitter, "Jonathan you aint in arnest now?"
"If I was, would you give up and let me go?" sez I.
Darn the harnsome critter, how mad she looked! "No I won't nor touch
tu!" sez she, and afore I knew it, she bust right out a crying and went
out of the room.
I didn't foller her, for marm had got down on her knees agin, and was a
looking through her specs at a tarnal big thunder cloud that cum a
rolling its blackness in knolls and furrows all over the sky, as if the
world had raly cum to an eend, and all the niggers in creation was a
going up fust.
Marm's face was as white as a taller candle, she was enough to scare
anybody out of a week's growth, a kneeling there in that white gown, and
her old hands a wrenching away at each other, like a crazy critter.
Thinks I, I'll try and rile her up agin, but it wasn't of the leastest
use, she wouldn't git up from the winder, but knelt there stock
still--with her head flung back'ards, and the lightning a blazing over
her steel specs, and the grizzley hair that hung away down her back. I
swan to man, it made my hair stand on eend to look at her. By-am-by the
thunder come a rolling and tumbling through the clouds, as if somebody
was a blasting rocks up above: and the lightning come a streaming out
agin in great blazes of fire, till it seemed as if all natur was turned
wrong eend up, and all the brick kilns, coal mines, and founderies on
arth were a playing away in the clouds, and a groaning and hissing
through the rain that came down in pailsfull, and a scaring folks to
death.
"There!--look a there!" sez marm all tu once, a jumping up, and a
stretching her arm through the winder. "I'm ready--I'm a coming!--Look a
there, Deacon Zephaniah Slick--look there, my unregenerated son--look!"
Sure as a gun, there was something all dressed out in white a standing
in the orchard, right agin the winder. Par and Judy White--for the
critter ran back from the out room when she see that I wasn't a going to
foller her--riz right up, and they wur about the streakedest looking
critters that ever you sot eyes on. Jest then cum a loud noise--snort,
snort, snort--from the orchard. "Oh gracious me!" sez marm--"the
trumpet! the trumpet!"--and down she slumped on her knees agin.
"By gracious," think sez I, "I'll see what the matter is, any how;" so I
gin a dive to the winder, and I hollored out, "shew--stuboy--git out!"
but I kinder think I didn't yell over loud, the words stuck like
wax-eends in my throat, and afore I could git 'em untangled, out cum the
noise agin, louder, and twice as scary as it was before.
Think sez I, "Gracious knows, I'm afeard we're gone suckers, but I'll
try agin anyhow;" so sez I, a clapping my hands, "git away, you varmint,
tramp--scoot--stuboy--y--y--"