THE JOURNEY.
Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view?
The fountains fall, the rivers flow,
The woody valleys, warm and low,
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!
The pleasant seat, the chapel tower,
The naked rock, the shady bower,
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each gave each a double charm,
As pearls upon a woman's arm.
--_Dyer._
Ishmael and his aged retainer rode on, down the elm-shaded avenue
and out upon the turnpike road. There seemed to be a special fitness
in the relations between these two. Ishmael, you are aware, was a
very handsome, stately, and gracious young man. And the professor
was the tallest, gravest, and most respectable of servants. Ah,
their relative positions were changed since twelve years before,
when they used to travel that same road on foot, as "boss" and
"boy."
Many men in Ishmael's position would have shrunk from all that would
have reminded them of the poverty from which they had sprung; and
would have avoided as much as possible all persons who were familiar
with their early struggles.
But Ishmael did not so. While pressing forward to the duties and
distinctions of the future, with burning aspiration and untiring
energy, he held the places and persons of the past in most
affectionate remembrance.
To a vain or haughty man in Ishmael's situation there could scarcely
have occurred a more humiliating circumstance than the constant
presence of the poor, old odd-jobber, whose "boy" he had once been.
But Ishmael was neither the one nor the other; he was intellectual
and affectionate. His breadth of mind took in his past memories, his
present position, and his future prospects, and saw them all in
perfect harmony. And his depth of heart found room for the humblest
friends of his wretched infancy, as well as for the higher loves of
his manhood's prime.
Ishmael was at ease with the old odd-job man, and he would have been
at ease with his imperial majesty, had circumstances brought him
into the immediate circle of the Czar; because from the depths of
his soul he was intensely conscious of the innate majesty of man.
Ishmael had no more need of a servant than a coach has of a fifth
wheel. He took the professor into his service for no other purpose
than to take care of the poor old man and make him happy, never
foreseeing how really useful and important this gray-haired retainer
would eventually become to him. He was planning only the professor's
happiness, not his own convenience. But he found both.
As they rode along that pleasant September morning he was pleasing
himself with thinking how that intelligent old man, starved all his
life for mental food, would delight himself amid the intellectual
wealth of his new life.
They were approaching the turn-stile at the cross-roads, memorable
for the weary watchings of Lady Hurstmonceux.
As they reached the spot and took the road leading to Baymouth
Ishmael looked back to the professor, who, as he felt in duty bound
to do, rode in the rear of his master, and, as was natural, looked a
little serious.
"Do you remember, professor, how often you and I have traveled afoot
up and down this road in the exercise of our useful calling of odd-
jobbing? Your great shoulders bowed under an enormous load of pots,
pans, kettles, umbrellas, and everything that required your surgical
skill; and my little back bent beneath the basket of tools?"
inquired Ishmael, by way of diverting him.
"Ah, do I not, sir! But why recall those days? You have left them
far behind, sir," said the professor, in grave consideration of his
master's dignity.
"Because I like to recall them, professor. It quickens my gratitude
to the Lord for all his marvelous mercies, and it deepens my love
for my friends for their goodness to me then," said Ishmael
fervently.
"The Lord knows I don't know who was good to you then! Of course,
now, sir, there are multitudes of people who would be proud to be
numbered among your friends. But then, of all the abandoned children
that ever I saw, you were about the most friendless," said the
professor, with much feeling.
"You, for one, were good to me, professor; and I do not forget it."
"Ah, the Lord knows it was but little I could do."
"What you did do was vital to me, professor. My life was but a
little flame, in danger of dying out. You fed it with little chips,
and kept it alive."
"And it burns great hickory logs now, and warms the world," said the
professor, looking proudly and fondly upon the fine young man before
him.
"It shall at least warm and shelter your age, professor. And
whatever of prosperity the Lord accords me, you shall share."
As he said these words he turned an affectionate look on his
retainer, and saw the tears rolling down the old man's cheeks.
"It was but a few, poor crumbs I cast upon the waters, that all this
bread should come back to me after many days," he muttered in a
broken voice.
"We were really very happy, professor, when we used to trudge the
road together, plying our profession; but we are going to be much
happier now, because our lives will be enlarged."
The professor smiled assent and they rode on.
They passed through Baymouth, where the professor directed his
master's attention to the new signs of the mechanics who had taken
his custom from him,
"But it is a true saying, sir, that there never was one door closed
but what there was another opened. Many doors were closed against me
at once; but just see what a broad, beautiful door you have opened
to me, letting me into a glorious new life!"
"Life is what we make of it, professor. To you, who will appreciate
and enjoy every good thing in it, no doubt your new life will be
very happy," replied Ishmael.
And so conversing they passed through the town and entered the deep
forest that lay along the shores of the river between Baymouth and
Shelton.
They rode all the morning through the pleasant woods and stopped an
hour at noon to rest and refresh themselves and their horses; and
then resumed their journey and rode all the afternoon and arrived at
Woodside just as the sun was setting.
As before, Reuben, Hannah, Sam, Sally, the children, and the dog,
all rushed out to welcome Ishmael.
Much astonished was Hannah to see her old friend, the professor, and
much delighted to hear that he was going up to Washington to fill
the place of major-domo to Ishmael. For Hannah shared the old
woman's superstition, that the young man is never able to take care
of himself; and notwithstanding all that had come and gone--
notwithstanding that Ishmael had taken care of himself and her too,
from the time he was eight years old, for years more, still she
thought that he would be all the safer for having "an old head to
look after him."
There was plenty of news to tell, too.
As soon as the bounteous supper that Reuben and Hannah always
provided for favored guests was over, and they were all gathered
around the bright little wood fire that the capricious autumn
weather rendered desirable, the budget was opened.
Lord and Lady Vincent were to have an evening reception, at
Tanglewood.
And on the first of October they were to sail for Europe.
Lady Vincent was going to take three of the servants with her--old
Aunt Katie, Jim, and Sally.
Jim was to go as lady's footman; Sally as lady's maid; and old Aunt
Katie in no particular capacity, but because she refused to be
separated from the two beings she loved the most of all in the
world.
She had nursed Miss Claudia, and she was bound to nurse Miss
Claudia's children, she said.
Lady Vincent had decided to take her, and was rather glad to do it.
Lord Vincent, it was supposed, did not like the arrangement, and
stigmatized the black servants as "gorillas," but Lady Vincent, it
was confidently asserted, never deigned to consult his lordship, or
pay the slightest attention to his prejudices. And so matters stood
for the present.
All this was communicated to Ishmael by Reuben and Hannah. And in
the midst of their talk, in walked one of the subjects of their
conversation--Aunt Katie.
She was immediately welcomed and provided with a seat in the
chimney-corner. She was inflated with the subject of her expected
voyage and glowing with the importance of her anticipated office.
She expatiated on the preparations in progress.
"But don't you feel sorry to leave your native home, Aunt Katie?"
inquired Hannah.
"Who, me? No, 'deed! I takes my native home along with me when I
takes Miss Claudia and Jim and Sally! For what says the catechism?--
'tis home where'er de heart is!' And my heart is 'long o' de
chillun. 'Sides which I don't want to be allus stuck down in one
place like an old tree as can't be moved without killing of it. I'm
a living soul, I am, and I wants to go and see somethin' of this
here world afore I goes hence and bees no more," said Katie briskly.
Evidently Katie was a progressive spirit, and would not have
hesitated to emigrate to Liberia or any other new colony where she
could better herself or her children, and begin life afresh at
fifty.
At last Katie got up to go, and bade them all a patronizing
farewell.
Sally, and Jim, who as usual was spending his evening with her,
arose to accompany Katie.
And Ishmael took his hat and walked out after them.
Very much embarrassed they were at this unusual honor, which they
could in no wise understand, until at length when they had gone some
little way into the woods Ishmael said:
"I have something to say to you three."
"Yes, sir," said Katie, speaking for the rest.
"Katie, you are acquainted with that psychological mystery called
presentiment, for I have heard you speak of it," said Ishmael,
smiling half in doubt, half in derision of his present feelings.
"Ye-es, sir," answered Katie hesitatingly, "I believe in
persentiments; though what you mean by sigh-what's-its-name, I don't
know."
"Never mind, Katie, you believe in presentiments?"
"Indeed do I! and got reason to, too! Why, law! the month before
Mrs. Merlin, as was Miss Claudia's mother, died. I sperienced the
most 'stonishing--"
"Yes, I know. You told me all about that before, Katie."
"Why, so I did, to be sure, sir, when you were lying wounded at the
house!"
"Yes. Well, Katie, some such feeling as that of which you speak,
vague, but very strong, impels me to say what I am about to say to
you all."
"Yes, sir. Listen, chillun!" said Katie, in a voice of such awful
solemnity that Ishmael again smiled at what he was inclined to
characterize as the absurdity of believing in presentiments.
"You three are going to Europe in attendance upon Lady Vincent."
"Yes, sir. Listen, chillun!" again said Katie, keeping her eyes
fixed upon Ishmael and nudging her companions right and left with
her elbows.
"You will be all of her friends, all of her native country, all of
her past life that she will take with her."
"Yes, sir. Listen, chillun!" and another elbow dig, right and left.
"She is going among strangers, foreigners, possibly rivals and
enemies."
"Yes, sir. Listen, chillun--now it's a-comin'!"
"She may need all your devotion. Be vigilant, therefore. Watch over
her, care for her, think for her, pray for her; let her honor and
happiness be the one charge and object of your lives."
"Yes, sir. Listen, chillun! you hears, don't you?"
A sharp reminder right and left brought out the responses "yes" and
"yes" from Jim and Sally.
"And when you are far away you will remember all this that I have
said to you; for, as I told you before, I feel, deep in my spirit,
that your lady will need your utmost devotion," said Ishmael
earnestly.
"You may count on me, for one, Mr. Ishmael, sir; not only to devote
myself to my lady's sarvice, but to keep the ole 'oman and Sally in
mind to go and do likewise," said Jim, with an air of earnest good
faith that could not be doubted.
"That is right. I will take leave of you now. Good-by! God bless
you!"
And Ishmael shook hands with them all around, and left them and
walked back to the cottage.
The next day, being the Sabbath, he went with Hannah and Reuben and
the professor to church. He had almost shrunk from this duty, in his
dread of meeting Claudia there; but she was not present. Judge
Merlin's pew was empty when they entered, and remained empty during
the whole of the morning service.
When the benediction had been pronounced, and the congregation were
going out, Ishmael was about to leave his pew when he saw that the
minister had come down from the pulpit and was advancing straight
towards him to speak to him. He therefore stopped and waited for Mr.
Wynne's approach.
There was a shaking of hands and mutual inquiries as to each other's
health, and then Mr. Wynne invited Ishmael to accompany him home and
dine with him.
Ishmael thanked him and declined the invitation, saying that he was
with friends.
Mr. Wynne then smilingly shook hands with Hannah and Reuben and the
professor, claiming them all as old friends and parishioners, and
extending the invitation to them.
But Hannah pleaded the children left at home, and, with many thanks,
declined the honor.
And the friends shook hands and separated.
Very early on Monday morning Ishmael and his gray-haired retainer
prepared for their departure for Washington.
Ishmael left two commissions for Reuben. The first was to make his
apologies and adieus to Judge Merlin. And the second was to send
back the horse, borrowed for the use of the professor, to Mr.
Brudenell at Brudenell Hall. Both of which Reuben promised to
execute.
After an early breakfast Ishmael and his venerable dependent took
leave of Hannah, the children and the dog, and seated themselves in
the light wagon that had been geared up for their accommodation, and
were driven by Reuben to Shelton, where they arrived in time to
catch the "Errand Boy" on its up trip. Reuben took leave of them
only half a minute before the boat started.
They had a pleasant run up the river, and reached the Washington
wharf early on Wednesday morning, where Ishmael took a carriage to
convey himself, servant, and his luggage to his lodgings.
As they drove through the streets the professor, seated on the front
seat, bobbed about from right to left, looking out at the windows
and gazing at the houses, the shops, and the crowds of people.
Nothing could exceed the surprise and delight of the intellectual
but childlike old man, who now for the first time in his life looked
upon a large city. His enthusiasm at the sight of the Capitol was
delicious.
"You shall go all through it some day, as soon as we get settled,"
said Ishmael.
"There is only one thing that I am doubtful about," said the
professor.
"And what is that?"
"That I have not years enough left to live to see all the wonders of
the world."
"None of us--not the youngest of us have, professor. But you will
live to see a great many. And by the time that you have seen
everything that is to be found in Washington, I shall be ready to go
to Europe; for I expect to see Europe some time or other, professor,
and you shall see it with me."
"Oh!" ejaculated the odd-job man, who seemed to think that the
millennium was not far off.
And at that moment the carriage drew up before Ishmael's lodgings.
And the driver and the professor carried the luggage into the front
hall. And when the carriage was paid and dismissed Ishmael conducted
the professor to the inner office where the two clerks that were in
charge of it arose to welcome their principal.
When he had shaken hands with them, he led his retainer into the
bedroom, and showed him a small vacant chamber adjoining that, and
told him that the latter should be his--the professor's own
sanctuary. Then he showed the old man the pleasant garden, all
blooming now with late roses, chrysanthemums, dahlias, and other
gorgeous autumn flowers, and told him that there he might walk or
sit, and smoke his pipe in pleasant weather. And finally he brought
the professor back to the front office, where he found his
hostesses, Miss Jenny and Miss Nelly Downey, waiting to welcome him.
Nice, delicate, refined-looking old maiden ladies they were--tall,
thin, and fair complexioned, with fine, gray hair, and cobweb lace
caps and pale gray dresses, and having pleasant smiles and soft
voices.
After they had shaken hands with their lodger they turned looks of
inquiry upon the tall, gray-haired old man that stood behind him.
"This is a very old friend of mine; I have engaged him to take care
of my rooms, his name is Morris, but upon account of his skill in
many arts he has received from the public the title of professor,"
said Ishmael, turning an affectionate look upon the old odd-job man.
"How do you do, Professor Morris? We are very glad to see you, I am
sure; and we hope you will find yourself comfortable, and also that
you will be a comfort to Mr. Worth, who is a very estimable young
gentleman indeed," said Miss Jenny, speaking for herself and sister.
"I cannot fail to be both comfortable and happy under this honored
roof, my ladies!" said the professor, in a most reverential tone,
laying his hand upon his heart and making a profound bow that would
have done credit to the most accomplished courtier of the grave and
stately old school.
"A nice, gentlemanly old person," said Miss Jenny, nodding her head
to her sister. And Miss Nelly said "Yes," and nodded her head also.
"If you can fit up the little chamber adjoining my bedroom for the
professor, I will arrange with you for his board," said Ishmael,
aside to Miss Jenny.
"Oh, certainly; it shall be done immediately," replied the old lady.
And she left the room, followed by her sister, to give orders to
that effect.
And before night the professor was comfortably installed in his
neatly furnished and well-warmed little room, and Ishmael's
apartments were restored to order, and he himself in full career
going over the office business of the last two weeks with his
clerks.
He found a plenty of work cut out for him to do, and he resolved to
be very busy to make up for his idleness during his holiday.
Ishmael did not really wish to tax his old servant with any labor at
all. He wished his office to be as much of a sinecure as possible.
And he continually urged the professor to go abroad and see the city
sights, or to walk in the garden and enjoy his pipe, or rest himself
in his own room, or visit his daughter, the hackman's wife.
The professor obediently did all this for a time; but as the days
passed Ishmael saw that the old man's greatest happiness consisted
in staying with and serving his master; and so he at length
permitted the professor to relieve the chamber-maid of her duties in
his rooms, and take quiet possession and complete charge of them.
And never were rooms kept in more perfect order. And, best of all,
love taught the professor the mystic art of dusting without
deranging papers and dementing their owner.
Ishmael's present position was certainly a very pleasant one. He not
only found a real home in his boarding-house, and a faithful friend
in his servant, but a pair of aunties in his landladies. Every good
heart brought in contact with Ishmael Worth was sure to love him.
And these old ladies were no exception to the rule. They had no
relatives to bestow their affections upon, and so, seeing every day
more of their young lodger's worth, they grew to love him with
maternal ardor. It is not too much to say that they doted on him.
And in private they nodded their heads at each other and talked of
its being time to make their wills, and spoke of young Mr. Worth as
their heir and executor.
Ishmael for his part treated the old ladies with all the reverential
tenderness that their age and womanhood had a right to expect from
his youth and manhood. He never dreamed that the "sweet, small
courtesies," which it was his happiness to bestow alike on rich and
poor, had won for him such signal favor in the eyes of the old
ladies. He knew and was happy to know that they loved him. That was
all. He never dreamed of being their heir; he never even imagined
that they had any property to bequeath. He devoted himself with
conscientious zeal to his profession, and went on, as he deserved to
go on, from success to success.