THE NEW COMERS.
That portion of the letter which Don read was as follows:--
“And now I come to the matter about which I sat down to write to you.
It relates to my two boys, Clarence and Marshall--more particularly to
the first. I am very anxious to remove them both from the temptations
to which they are exposed in this big city. Since we returned from
Europe they have been a source of constant anxiety to their mother and
myself. The first thing they did was to make acquaintances and friends
among those I should not have chosen for their companions, if I had had
the power of selection in my own hands. Being completely engrossed in
the cares of business, I could not give the attention to their training
that I ought to have done; and the first thing that brought me to a
sense of my duty and my neglect in this matter, was the visit of a
police officer, who called at my office, and informed me that Clarence
had been arrested in a saloon for engaging in a brawl over a game of
cards----”
“Gracious!” gasped Bert.
“O, he’s a nice bird,” said Don, in great disgust. “And that isn’t the
worst of it. He is untruthful and dishonest. His father doesn’t say so,
but you can gain that idea from the language he uses. Listen to this:--
“‘For engaging in a brawl over a game of cards, and that he would
be held until his examination came off, unless I was willing to go
his bail.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that if his father did not give bonds for his appearance
when he was wanted, he would be put into a cell and locked up.”
“I got him out of the scrape,” the letter went on, “and when I
came to inquire into his past life I found that his record was not
such an one as a father could be proud of. I took him out of school
and placed him in my office where he still is; but I fear I have
thrown him directly in the way of temptation instead of taking him
out of it. He has begun to develop traits which I did not suppose
he possessed, and which lead me to distrust his every word and act.
I cannot put the least faith in him. He cares for nothing in the
world but money, and when he gets it, it goes for cigars, lager
beer and clothes. Marshall is not very badly contaminated as yet,
but he is so easily influenced that I fear for his future, unless
he is speedily removed from these surroundings. Now, can you take
these two boys and take care of them for the winter, or until I can
make some permanent arrangements for them? If I had had my way,
I should have sent Clarence to sea six months ago, for I believe
that a little wholesome discipline would make a great change in
him; but his mother will not listen to it. Something, however,
must be done at once. They are both worth saving, and I hope that
an acquaintance with Don and Bert, who, I am told, are all that
sons should be (Don blushed when he read this, for he could not
forget that wrong act that had resulted in his expulsion from the
academy), and daily intercourse with them will show my boys that
there is something attractive in an upright, honorable life.”
This was all. The general’s brother was a man of few words, and as this
was a subject he did not like to dwell upon, he hurried through with it
as quickly as possible. He evidently wanted that the general should
know just what sort of boys he would open his doors to, if he agreed
to accept the responsibility urged upon him, but, at the same time, he
was anxious that the delinquents should appear in as favorable a light
as possible, and so did not say more than he thought to be absolutely
necessary.
“Well, I am sorry they are coming,” said Bert, as Don folded the letter
and placed it in the envelope.
“So am I,” said Don.
“The idea of a great big, hulking, beer-drinking, tobacco-smoking, and
card-playing boy loafing about our house,” continued Bert, betrayed by
his excitement into using stronger language than he generally employed,
and thinking of Godfrey Evans as he spoke. “I wonder how he became so
far gone before his parents found it out!”
“So did I--but father explained it to me--or rather to mother, and I
overheard it. He says Uncle Robert sees but little of his family on any
day except Sundays. He leaves home early in the morning, and does not
return again until nine or ten o’clock at night. The management of the
boys is left entirely to their mother, who doesn’t care what they do,
so long as they keep out of the way and don’t trouble her. As one can’t
see to them, and the other won’t, they have been entirely neglected.”
“And this letter has been here a week and we never knew it,” said Bert.
“Yes, and a good deal longer than that,” said Don; “long enough for
the matter to be considered, a favorable answer to be returned, and a
second letter to be received from Uncle Bob. That letter states that
the boys left Cincinnati on the Emma Deane; and father has just learned
from Mr. Jones that she is due at our landing some time to-night or
early to-morrow morning.”
Bert was sorry that the new-comers were expected so soon. He had hoped
to have a week or two in which to think about them, and make up his
mind how he would act after they arrived. Although these cousins were
the sons of their father’s only brother, they were utter strangers to
Don and Bert. Their parents said they had seen them once, but as they
were only three years old at the time, they could not be expected to
remember much about them. Since then Clarence and Marshall had lived
altogether in Europe, and Don and Bert had not heard from them on an
average of once a year.
“I too am sorry that they are coming so soon,” said Don, who could tell
by the expression of Bert’s face what was passing in his mind. “You see
now why your idea of a trip to Coldwater must be given up, at least
until we know more about our expected friends. At first father thought
he would not say anything to us about the contents of this letter, for
he did not want to prejudice us against Clarence and Marshall; but
afterward he decided that we ought to know what sort of fellows they
are, so that we may be on our guard. We are going to have a long talk
about it this evening.”
And they did, and the whole family was present. It was a kind of
council in which the matter was thoroughly discussed, and plans laid
for the reception of the expected visitors. The general explained why
he did not feel at liberty to refuse his brother’s request--this being
a private matter is something in which we have no interest--and urged
upon his boys the necessity of regulating their own conduct, so that
Clarence and his brother might see that there was more happiness,
and much more respectability in a sober, well-regulated course of
life, than in the career upon which they seemed to have entered. The
new-comers, he was sorry to say, had a great many bad habits, and
their father hoped that by sending them into the country for a season
they might forget some of them, and by being brought under better
influences, be finally led to see the folly of them and induced to
abandon them altogether. One thing was certain, the general said: there
was no dram-shop in the neighborhood, not even at the landing, and
beer-drinking and card-playing were two practices that Clarence would
have to forego so long as he remained in that part of the country.
Tobacco was plenty, but it was not at all likely that a boy who had
been in the habit of buying cigars worth ten and perhaps twenty-five
cents apiece, would stoop to a cob-pipe and plug “Varginy.” Besides he
was to have no money, so his father said, not a cent; and taking it
altogether, it seemed as if Clarence must turn over a new leaf while he
was under his uncle’s roof, whether he wanted to do so or not.
In regard to Marshall, the younger brother, the general had not much to
say, for his father had scarcely mentioned him in his letters. But he
inferred that he was following in the footsteps of Clarence, and that,
being easily led in any direction, there might be some hope for him if
he were taken in hand at once.
The unlooked-for intrusion of these discordant elements upon their
quiet, happy family circle, afforded the boys something to talk
about that night, and kept them awake long after they ought to have
been asleep. Bert did not take it quite so much to heart after the
first surprise was over. Indeed he hoped that the visit might prove
both pleasant and profitable to all concerned. Clarence and Marshall
were his cousins, and Bert had a warm place in his heart for them,
even if they were not just such boys as he would have chosen for his
companions. Don, on the other hand, took but little pains to conceal
the annoyance he felt. Cousin or no cousin, he did not want such a
companion as he knew Clarence would prove to be, and he hoped his uncle
Robert would hurry and make up his mind to something, so that his
visit might be brought to an end as speedily as possible. The expected
visitors broke in on his arrangements in a way he did not like. It
brought his school term to an end a week sooner than it ought to have
been ended. Of course it would not be polite to leave Clarence and
Marshall to themselves when they arrived, and in order to give Don
and Bert an opportunity to make things pleasant for them, the general
decided that the school should close at once.
Morning came at last, and immediately after breakfast the heavy,
old-fashioned family carriage was drawn to the door by a span of
splendid iron-gray horses, the tutor’s trunk was strapped on behind,
and he, in company with the general and his two boys, stepped in, and
the carriage was driven to the landing. Just as they arrived there,
a steamer appeared in the bend, heading up the river. The general
signalled to her with his handkerchief, and she landed, took the tutor
and his luggage aboard, and continued on her way. The boys watched
her in silence until she disappeared around the point. They had grown
to like their tutor, and were sorry to see him go; but it was some
consolation to them to know that the separation would not be a long one.
The Gray Eagle--that was the name of the steamer that took the tutor
away--having disappeared, the boys turned their attention to a thick
cloud of smoke farther up the river, and behind a point which jutted
out from the right bank. Silas Jones, who was at the landing and
expecting goods by the first steamer from Memphis, told the general
that the Gray Eagle was the only packet that had gone up the river
since midnight, so the boys knew that the smoke they were looking at
must come from the chimneys of some steamer bound to New Orleans. They
watched the cloud as it moved slowly along above the trees, and finally
at the end of an hour a side-wheel steamer suddenly made her appearance
in the bend.
“That’s the Emmy Deane,” said a well-known voice.
The boys turned and saw Godfrey Evans standing close behind them. He
was barefooted as usual, and carried his rifle on his shoulder.
“How do you know it is the Emma Deane?” asked Don.
“Ah! mornin’, Mr. Don,” exclaimed Godfrey. “Proud to see ye, sar. How’s
all the folks? Mine is only jest tol’able, thank ye, ’ceptin’ the ole
woman, an’ she’s poorly. How do I know that’s the Emmy Deane? Kase I
know it is, an’ I can tell a’most every boat on the river that stops
here, too. When she whistles, ye’ll see she’s got four--two high up an’
two low down. Mr. Don,” added Godfrey, lowering his voice, “can I see
ye jest a minute, please, sar?”
Don, wondering what business Godfrey could have with him, which was
of so private a nature that it could not be spoken of in the hearing
of his father and brother, drew off on one side, and the man, after
clearing his throat, continued:
“We’re powerful poor folks, Mr. Don, an’ the ole woman she was tuk down
with the fever ’n’ ager last night, an’ done shook the roof clean off’n
the house; an’ Dave, he hain’t got a shoe to bless hisself with.”
“Well,” said Don, when Godfrey paused and looked at him.
“Wal, Dave, he wants me to ax ye, Mr. Don, please sar, would ye mind
givin’ him five dollars this mornin’, sar, kase ye know ye promised him
ten fur breakin’ that pinter pup, an’ we’re powerful poor folks, ye
know.”
“Certainly I’ll give it to him,” replied Don, quickly. “He can have it
at any time for the asking. I would have given it to him yesterday if I
had known that he wanted it.”
“Wal, he didn’t want it yesterday, an’ he wouldn’t a wanted it to-day,
only the ole woman’s got the fever ’n’ ager, an’ we’s so poor. He told
me to ax ye would ye give it to me, an’ I’ll give it to him, please,
sar.”
Don readily consented to this. He produced his pocket-book and handed
the five dollars to Godfrey, who clutched the money and made off with
it in such haste that Don looked at him in great surprise.
“What did he want of you?” asked Bert, when his brother came back to
the carriage.
“He wanted some of the money I promised David for breaking that
pointer,” was the reply.
“O, that reminds me,” said Bert. “How much did you give him?”
“I gave him half of it.”
“And I gave him the other half yesterday, so David is paid up in full,
and you owe mother five dollars. Dan dunned me, and I borrowed the
money to give him. He came over to see you, but as you were not at
home, I acted in your place. Was that right?”
“Perfectly. I told David he could have the money whenever he wanted it.
I am somewhat surprised, though, for I understood him to say that he
intended to keep some of it to send off those quails with.”
All this while the steamer had been approaching the landing, and the
nearer she came, the more certain did the people, who were standing
around, declare themselves to be that it was the Emma Deane. At last
she whistled, and there proved to be “two high up and two low down;” in
other words, there were four whistles, and being attached to the same
steam-pipe, of course they all sounded at once--two uttering notes high
up on the musical scale, and the others emitting a deep bass. Then all
doubts, if any remained, were cleared away. She was the Emma Deane, and
she was going to land. This she did a few minutes afterward. The moment
her bow touched the shore, a deck-hand sprang out with a line which
he made fast to a convenient tree; a staging was pushed ashore, and
the crew began bringing out the goods Silas Jones was expecting from
Memphis. The boys ran their eyes over the passengers who were crowded
on her boiler-deck, while the general at once made his way on board to
hunt up his nephews. He returned about five minutes later, followed by
two gentlemanly-looking youths, and these in turn were followed by a
negro porter who carried a heavy trunk on his shoulder.
It is hard to tell just what sort of fellows Don expected to see, but
it was plain from the expression on his face, and the manner in which
he passed through the ceremony of introduction, that he was surprised,
to say the least; while Bert’s bewilderment was too palpable to escape
notice. The latter knew but little of the world, and had somehow got it
into his head that vices of every description came in shapes so easy
to be recognised, that any one would know them. When he heard that his
cousin Clarence was in the habit of using tobacco and playing cards,
he put him down as a lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, much of the same
stamp as Godfrey Evans; but here was a dashing youth, dressed in the
latest fashion, who looked as though he might know a thing or two, and
who conducted himself in an easy, off-hand manner, that, to diffident
little Bert, was perfectly charming. He resembled Godfrey Evans in
about the same degree that his own father did. He appeared to be as
much at ease as though he had come among friends with whom he had long
been acquainted, and his younger brother, Marshall, was not a whit
behind him in this respect; while Bert could not say a word in response
to their polite and cordial greeting, and even Don, who was usually
self-possessed, hesitated and blushed and looked as embarrassed as
though he had been caught in some act of mischief.
The introduction being over, the trunk was strapped in its place behind
the carriage, our party all got in, and Don picked up the reins and
drove homeward. On the way Don and Bert had leisure to collect their
wits a little, and while doing their part toward maintaining the
conversation that followed, devoted themselves principally to making a
mental estimate of their visitors--a proceeding on their part which was
closely imitated by Clarence and Marshall. What results they arrived at
perhaps we shall see by and by.
Clarence would have attracted attention almost anywhere. He was a
handsome fellow, and the ease and readiness with which he expressed
himself in conversation, astonished Don, who was himself blessed
with more than an ordinary command of language. He described with
great fluency and animation several interesting and amusing incidents
that had fallen under his notice during the journey from Cincinnati,
and seemed to be so well posted in every subject that came up for
discussion, and yet so modest, that Don began to accuse himself of
having been guilty of a very ungenerous act, in that he had allowed
himself to become prejudiced against his cousin before he saw him. He
told himself that he would have in him a most agreeable companion, and
one from whom he could learn something.
Bert formed nearly the same opinion of Marshall. These two sat on the
back seat while the rest of the party occupied the one in front, and
being left in a great measure to themselves, imagined by the time they
reached home, that they had had opportunity to become well acquainted.
They found out not a few of each other’s likes and dislikes, and were
both pleased to learn that they had many ideas in common. Marshall
liked to fish and hunt occasionally, but he liked a game of chess or
checkers better, and cards and billiards better than anything. He
opened his eyes when he learned that Bert had never seen a billiard
table, and that he did not know one card from another. He, Marshall,
had been accustomed to these things all his life, he said, but he
thought he could get on very well without them. His mother wanted him
to give them up, and he was going to do it to please her. He seemed to
think a good deal of his mother, and Bert told himself that that was a
redeeming trait, and would do much toward bringing him out all right in
the end.
The party reached home in due time, and found Mrs. Gordon and her
daughters waiting to receive them. The visitors were cordially
welcomed, and after a short visit in the parlor, were shown to their
room and left to themselves. As soon as Clarence had closed and locked
the door, he threw himself into the nearest chair with the air of one
who was badly bored and utterly disgusted.
“How do you like it as far as you have gone?” asked Marshall.
“I don’t like it at all,” was the reply; “and it has gone about as far
as it will with me, too. If the old man thinks I am going to vegetate
down here for the next six months, he is badly mistaken. I won’t do it
to please anybody.”
“You can’t help yourself,” said his brother.
“I can’t! I’ll show you that I can. I’ll write a letter to mother this
very night, and tell her that I want money enough to take me home.”
“O, of course that will bring it,” said Marshall, with a laugh which
said that he thought it would not. “You know what father said the last
thing before we left, don’t you--that we need not write for money,
because we couldn’t have a cent?”
“Yes, I know, but I’ll get it, all the same. See there,” said Clarence,
exhibiting almost a handful of small change.
“Where did you get that?” demanded his brother.
“Mother gave it to me just before we left home. She said that I might
want some spending money, and hinted that when this was gone, I knew
where I could get more. I’ll ask for more at once; and if it doesn’t
come, I’ll drop a line to mother telling her that if she wants to see
me again, she had better be doing something. That always wakes her up!”
“It has had the desired effect so far, I admit,” said Marshall. “But
suppose father should get hold of one of those threatening letters, and
should write back to you: ‘My dear Clarence: You have talked this way
often enough. You shan’t have a cent.’ What would you do then?”
“Well, in the first place, there is no danger that my letters will ever
fall into his hands, for mother takes precious good care to put them in
the grate as soon as she reads them; and in the next place, I’d make
the old man repent such an act the longest day he lived. I’d clear out,
and he’d never see me again!”
“O, nonsense!” exclaimed Marshall, tucking up his sleeves preparatory
to plunging his hands into the wash-bowl. “You are not the one to cut
loose from a comfortable home and go out into the world to make your
own living, as long as you can avoid it. You like your ease altogether
too well for that. Tell us some other funny story, please.”
“There is no funny story about this. I am in earnest, and you’ll see
if I don’t get the money in less than two weeks. I can’t live down
here in this wilderness--no billiards, no theatres, no nothing that’s
interesting. How is one to kill time, I wonder?”
“You must read, and hunt, and fish, and ride on horseback,” replied
Marshall, in a tone of voice that would have made Bert open his eyes
if he could have heard it. “That is the way our worthy cousins put in
their leisure moments.”
“They must find it highly entertaining. I should expect it of them.
Did you ever see two such country bumpkins? Wouldn’t they cut a pretty
figure in the city? Why, when we were introduced to them they were as
dumb as clams.”
“Yes; but you’d better take advice now for once in your life, and
be very careful of your language and your behavior when you are in
the presence of those same country bumpkins. That Don is pretty
broad-shouldered, and I notice he’s got a grip like a young blacksmith.
I found that out when I shook hands with him. If you are as tyrannical
and overbearing with him as you are with me sometimes, you may get
yourself into business.”
Just then the ringing of a bell in the hall brought Clarence to his
feet. “What’s that for, I wonder?” he exclaimed.
“Dinner, most likely.”
“Dinner at twelve!” said Clarence, glancing at his watch. “And supper
at six and bed at half-past eight, I suppose!”
“Probably; and what will trouble you still more, breakfast at six every
morning,” said Marshall. “You can’t lie in bed here till ten or eleven
o’clock and then have breakfast sent up to you.”
Clarence said something more about “country bumpkins,” repeated the
resolution he had so suddenly formed that his sojourn under his uncle’s
roof should be a very short one, and then made all haste to get ready
for dinner.