worked hard in de brush all de day, and been a strung up in de ole cabin
for to be whipped, she come to me wid her baby in her arms, all a-faint
and a-tired, and her pore heart clean broke, and she say dat she'm jess
ready to drop down and die. Den I tries to comfut her, massa; I takes
her up from de floor, and I say to har dat de good Lord he pity her--dat
he doan't bruise de broken reed, and woan't put no more on har dan she
kin b'ar--dat he'd touch you' heart, massa--and I toled har you's a
good, kine heart at de bottom--and I knows it, 'case I toted you 'fore
you could gwo, and when you's a bery little chile, not no great sight
bigger'n her'n, you'd put your little arms round ole Pomp's neck, and
say dat when you war grow'd up, you'd be bery kine to de pore brack
folks, and not leff 'em be 'bused like dey war in dem days.'
'Never mind what _you_ said,' interrupted the Colonel, a little
impatiently, but showing no displeasure; 'what did _she_ say?'
'Wal, massa, she took on bery hard 'bout Sam, and axed me ef I raily
reckoned de Lord had forgib'n him, and took'n him to heseff, and gib'n
him one of dem hous'n up dar in de sky. I toled har dat I _know'd_ it;
but she say it didn't 'pear so to har, 'case Sam had a been wid har out
dar in de woods, all fru de day; dat she'd a _seed_ him, massa, and
dough he hadn't a said nuffin', he'd looked at har wid sech a sorry,
grebed look, dat it went clean fru har heart, till she'd no strength
leff, and fell down on de ground a'most dead. Den she say big Sam come
'long and fine har dar, and struck har great, heaby blows wid de big
whip!'
'The brute!' exclaimed the Colonel, rising from his chair, and pacing
rapidly up and down the room.
'But p'raps he warn't so much ter blame, massa,' continued the old
negro, in a deprecatory tone; 'may be he s'pose she war shirking de
work. Wal, den she say, she know'd nuffin' more, till byme-by, when she
come to, and fine big Sam dar, and he struck har agin, and make her gwo
to de work; and she did gwo, but she feel like as ef she'd die. I toled
her de good ma'am wudn't leff big Sam 'buse har no more 'fore you cum
hum, and dat you'd hab 'passion on har, and not leff har out in de
woods, but put har 'mong de nusses, like as she war afore.
'Den she say it 'twarn't de work dat trubble har--dat she orter work,
and orter be 'bused, 'case she'd been bad, bery bad. All she axed was
dat Sam would forgib har, and cum to har in de oder worle, and tell har
so. Den she cried, and took on awful; but de good Lord, massa, dat am so
bery kine to de bery wuss sinners, he put de words inter my mouf, and I
tink dey gabe har comfut, fur she say it sort o' 'peared to har den dat
Sam _would_ forgib har, and take har inter his house up dar, and she
warn't afeard ter die no more.
'Den she takes up de chile and gwoes 'way, 'pearin' sort o' happy, and
more cheerful like dan I'd a seed har eber sense pore Sam war shot.'
My host was sensibly affected by the old man's simple tale, but
continued pacing up and down the room, and said nothing.
'It's plain to me, Colonel,' I remarked, as Pompey concluded, 'she has
drowned herself and the child--the dog lost the scent at the creek.'
'Oh! no,' he replied, 'I think not. I never heard of a negro committing
suicide--they've not the courage to do it.'
'I fear she _has_, David,' said the lady. 'The thought of going to Sam
has led her to it; yet we dragged the run, and found nothing. What do
you think about it, Pompey?'
'I dunno, ma'am; but I'se afeard ob dat. And now dat I tinks on it, I'se
afeard dat what I tole har put har up to it,' replied the old preacher,
bursting into tears. 'She 'peared so happy like, when I say she'd be
'long wid Sam in de oder worle, dat I'se afeard she's a gone and done it
wid har own hands. I tole har, too, dat de good Lord oberlooked many
tings dat pore sinners does when dey can't help 'emseffs, and it make
har do it, oh! it make har do it!' and the old black buried his face in
his hands, and wept bitterly.
'Don't feel so, Pomp,' said his master _very_ kindly. 'You did the best
you could; no one blames you.'
'I knows _you_ doan't, massa--I knows you doan't, and you's bery good
notter; but oh!' and his body swayed to and fro with the great grief; 'I
fears de Lord do, massa, for I'se sent har to him wid har own blood and
de blood of dat pore, innercent chile on har hands. Oh! I fears de Lord
neber'll forgib me--neber'll forgib me fur _dat_.'
'He will, my good Pomp, he will!' said the Colonel, laying his hand
tenderly on the old man's shoulder. 'The Lord will forgive you, for the
sake of the Christian example you've set your master, if for nothing
else;' and then the proud, strong man's feelings overpowering him, his
tears fell in great drops on the breast of the old slave, as they had
fallen there when he was a child.
Such scenes are not for the eye of a stranger, and turning away, I left
the room.
The family met at the breakfast-table at the customary hour on the
following morning; but I noticed that Jim was not in his accustomed
place behind the Colonel's chair. That gentleman exhibited his usual
good spirits, but Madam P---- looked sad and anxious, and I had not
forgotten the scene of the previous evening.
While we were seated at the meal, the negro Junius hastily entered the
room, and in an excited manner exclaimed:
'O massa, massa! you muss cum ter de cabin--Jim hab draw'd his knife,
and he swar he'll kill de fuss un dat touch him!'
'He does, does he!' said his master, springing from his seat, and
abruptly leaving the apartment.
Remembering the fierce burst of passion I had seen in the negro, and
fearing there was danger a-foot, I rose to follow, saying as I did so:
'Madam, can not you prevent this?'
'I can not, sir; I have already done all I can. Go and try to pacify the
Colonel. Jim will die before he'll be whipped.'
Jim was standing at the farther end of the old cabin, with his back to
the wall, and the large spring-knife in his hand. Some half-dozen
negroes were in the centre of the room, apparently cowed by his fierce
and desperate looks, and his master stood within a few feet of him.
'I tell you, Cunnel,' cried the negro, as I entered, 'you touch me at
your peril.'
'You d--d nigger, do you dare to speak so to me?' said his master,
taking a step toward him.
The knife rose in the air, and the black, in a cool, sneering tone,
replied: 'Say your prayers 'fore you come ony nigher, for, so help me
God, you're a dead man!'
I laid my hand on the Colonel's arm, to draw him back, saying as I did
so: 'There's danger in him! I _know_ it Let him go, and he shall ask
your pardon.'
'I shan't ax his pardon,' cried the black, 'leff him and me be, sar;
we'll fix dis ourselfs.'
'Don't interfere, Mr. K----,' said my host, with perfect coolness, but
with a face pallid with rage. 'Let me govern my own plantation.'
'As you say, sir,' I replied, stepping back a few paces; 'but I warn
you--there is danger in him!'
Taking no notice of my remark, the Colonel turned to the trembling
negroes, and said: 'One of you go to the house and bring my pistols.'
'You kin shoot me, ef you likes,' said Jim, with a fierce, grim smile;
'but I'll take you to h--l wid me, _shore_. You knows WE won't stand a
blow!'
The Colonel, at the allusion to their relationship, started as if shot,
and turning furiously on the negro, yelled out: 'I'll shoot you for
that, you d--d nigger, by----.'
'It 'pears ter me, Cunnel, ye've hed 'bout nuff shootin' 'round har,
lately; better stop thet sort o' bis'ness; it moight give ye a sore
throat,' said the long, lean, loose-jointed stump-speaker of the
previous Sunday, as he entered the cabin and strode directly up to my
host.
'What brought you here, you d--d insolent hound?' cried the Colonel,
turning fiercely on the new-comer.
'Wal, I cum to du ye a naboorly turn--I've kotched two on yer niggers
down ter my still, an' I want ye ter take 'em 'way,' returned the
corn-cracker, with the utmost coolness.
'Two of my niggers!' exclaimed the Colonel, perceptibly moderating his
tone, 'which ones?'
'A yaller gal, and a child.'
'I thank you, Barnes; excuse my hard words--I was excited.'
'All right, Cunnel; say no more 'bout thet. Will ye send fur 'em? I'd
hev fotched 'em 'long, but my waggin's off jest now.'
'Yes, I'll send at once. Have you got them safe?'
'Safe? I reckon so! Kotched 'em las' night, arter dark, and they've kept
right still ever sense, I 'sure ye--but th' gal holes on ter th' young
'un ter kill--we couldn't get it 'way no how.'
'How did you catch them?'
'The' got 'gainst my turpentime raft--th' current driv 'em down, I
s'pose.'
'What! are they dead?' exclaimed the Colonel.
'Dead? Deader'n drownded rats!' was the native's reply.
WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?
'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one _lives_
it--to not many is it _known_; and seize it where you will, it is
interesting.'--_Goethe_.
'SUCCESSFUL.--Terminating in accomplishing what is wished or
intended.'--_Webster's Dictionary._
CHAPTER III.
The people are anxious for the _detail_ of sentiments, not for
general results.'--_Lamartine._
Hiram exhibited almost from his boyhood a fondness for female society.
Even when at the district-school, he preferred spending 'noon-time'
among the girls to racing around with the boys, pitching quoits,
wrestling at 'arm's-end,' 'back-hold,' or playing base-ball and goal.
His mother was careful to encourage Hiram's predilections. She remarked
that nothing was so well calculated to keep a young man from going
astray as for him to frequent the society of virtuous females.
Before Hiram had got into his teens, he appeared to be smitten with at
least half a score of little girls of his own age. As he grew older, his
fondness for the sex increased. I do not record this, as any thing
extraordinary, except that in his case a characteristic selfishness
seemed to be at the bottom even of these manifestations. Hiram was not
influenced by those natural emotions and impulses which belong to youth,
and which, unless kept under proper restraint, are apt frequently to
lead to indiscretions. For there ran a vein of calculation through all
he did, whose prudent office it was to minister to his safety.
After Hiram joined the church he was regular in his attendance on the
evening meetings. He always went to these meetings with some young girl,
whom, of course, he accompanied home after the services were over. As I
have said, he was a handsome fellow, and bestowed particular care on his
dress and his appearance generally. He was good-natured and obliging,
and withal sensible, so that the young men who envied him and might be
inclined to call him a fop or a dandy, could not prefix 'brainless' to
these epithets and thus ridicule on him. The fact is, he was shrewder
than any of them, and he knew it. They soon discovered it, and so did
the girls, to the utter discomfiture of his rivals.
At all the village gatherings, including the sewing-societies, and the
lectures, the prayer-meetings, and meetings of Sunday-school teachers,
and so forth, Hiram was not only a favorite, but _the_ favorite with the
other sex. He had a winning, confidential manner, when addressing a
young lady even for the first time, which said very plainly, 'We know
all about and appreciate each other,' and which was very taking. He
assumed various little privileges, such as calling the girls by their
first name, giving notice that a curl was about to fall, and offering to
fix it properly, picking up a bow which had been brushed off, and
pinning it securely on again, holding the hand with a kind and amiable
smile for a brief space after he had shaken it, and sometimes, when he
had occasion to see one of his friends home, keeping her hand in his all
the way after it was placed within his arm.
You may ask why such liberties were permitted. Simply because they were
so very equally distributed they had come to be regarded as a matter of
course. In fact, Hiram was a privileged person. He was so polite, so
attentive, so considerate, what if he did have his peculiarities--how
ridiculous to make a fuss about such trifles! So the 'trifles' were
acquiesced in. Besides, I am inclined to think each fair one supposed
she was the especial object of Hiram's regard, and that his attentions
to others were mere civilities. I do not say Hiram so announced it. I
know he did not; for he was not a person, even when a youth, to commit
himself foolishly. Yet if they _would_ mistake general politeness for
particular attentions, surely it was not his fault--oh! no.
There were those who refused to give their adherence to Hiram's almost
unlimited sway. And as parties generally proceed to extremes, the girls
who formed the opposition generally declared him to be a pusillanimous,
mean-spirited fellow; they detested the very sight of his smooth,
hypocritical face; he had better not come fooling around them--no,
indeed! Let him attempt it once, they would soon teach him manners. It
is to be observed that these remarks did not emanate from the prettiest
or most attractive girls of the village--all of whom were decidedly and
emphatically on Hiram's side. They seemed to enjoy the excitement under
which their adversaries were laboring, and retorted by exclaiming, 'Sour
grapes!' asserting that those who so shamefully vilified Hiram, would be
glad enough to accept his attentions if--they only had the opportunity.
Hiram, meantime, pursued the even tenor of his way, secure in his
position, enjoying to the full extent of his selfish nature all his
'blessings and privileges,' for which he thanked God twice daily,
wondering how men could be so blind and misguided as to turn their backs
on religion when there was such happiness and peace in giving up all to
God!
CHAPTER IV.
Mr. Bennett was correct in his surmise that there were two stores in the
little village of Hampton. Of one of these Thaddeus Smith was
proprietor. He was one of the solid men of the place, and had 'kept
store' there for the last forty years, succeeding his father, who was
one of the early settlers in the town. He had continued on with his
customers in the good old fashion, extending liberal credits and
charging a regular, undeviating profit of thirty-three and a third per
cent. About five years previous to Hiram Meeker's leaving school, Mr.
Smith's peace was greatly disturbed by the advent of a rival, in the
person of Benjamin Jessup, who took possession of an advantageous
locality, and after a week's bustle with teams and workmen transporting,
unpacking, and arranging, displayed his name, one fine morning, in large
gilt letters to the wondering inhabitants of Hampton, and under it the
cabalistic words: 'CHEAP CASH STORE.' A large number of handbills were
posted about the village, informing the good people of the opening of
the aforesaid 'cash store,' and that the proprietor was prepared to sell
every variety of goods and merchandise 'cheap for cash or ready pay,' by
which last expression was meant acceptable barter. Of course, the whole
town flocked to inspect Mr. Jessup's stock and price his goods. The
cunning fellow had valued them only at about cost, while he declared he
was making a living profit at the rates charged, and a living profit was
all he wanted. Furthermore, he allowed the highest prices for the
commodities brought in by the farmers, and gave them great bargains in
return. He was especially accommodating to the ladies, permitting them
to tumble his whole stock of dry goods for the sake of selecting a
pretty pattern for an apron, or finding a remnant which they were
'welcome to.'
Mr. Smith was sadly grieved. Although some very old-fashioned people
stuck sternly to him, refusing to be allured by the bait of great
bargains, and so forth and so forth, yet his store was nearly deserted.
Thaddeus Smith was a perfectly upright man. It is true, he charged a
large profit on his goods--this was because it had always been his
habit, and that of his father before him. But he was accommodating in
his credit and lenient to debtors in default. His word could be relied
on implicitly, and his dealings were marked by scrupulous honesty.
On this trying occasion he called his son, who was supposed to be his
partner, into consultation, and asked him what he thought of the state
of things.
'I think this, father,' was the reply, 'that we can not expect to go on
longer in the old style. We must reduce our profits one half, and to do
this, we must be more particular in our credits, and buy with more care
and of different people. In this way I will engage--by pursuing a
straightforward, energetic course, we shall hold our own against the
cash-man over the way.'
It was some time before Mr. Smith, Senior, could be persuaded. It was
not just the thing, taking advice from a 'boy,' although the boy was
past thirty, and had a family of his own. He yielded, however, and
Thaddeus, Junior, was permitted to carry out his plan. He made a trip to
New-York and purchased goods, instead of sending an order for them as
had been their habit, where he could find the best bargains at least ten
per cent cheaper than his father was in the habit of buying, came home,
got out handbills in his turn, requesting the people to call at the 'old
stand,' look at the fresh stock, selected personally with great care,
and bought cheap _for_ cash, but which would be sold as usual on
approved credit. This gave the tide a turn in the old direction, and Mr.
Jessup had to set to work anew. He was not a bad man in his way, but
neither was he a good one. He was not over-scrupulous nor severely
honest. His prices varied, so the folks discovered, and he, or rather
his clerks, sometimes made mistakes in the quality of articles sold.
After a while the cash system sensibly relaxed, and at last both
establishments settled down into a severe and uncompromising opposition.
There was a pretty large back country which received its supplies from
Hampton, and so both stores managed to do a thriving trade. The Smiths
retaining as customers the large portion of the staid and respectable
population, while Mr. Jessup's business depended more on his dealings
with the people from the surrounding country. There was a very different
atmosphere around the stores of these two village merchants. The Smiths
were religious people, father and son, not merely so in name, but in
reality. A child could have purchased half their stock on as favorable
terms as the shrewdest man in the place. Mr. Jessup, on the contrary,
varied as he could light of chaps, that is, according to circumstances.
He was, however, an off-hand, free-and-easy fellow, with many generous
qualities, which made him popular with most who knew him. He did not
hesitate to declare that his views on religious subjects were liberal--a
bold announcement for a man to make in Hampton. Indeed, his enemies put
him down for a Universalist, or at best a Unitarian, for which they
claimed to have some reason, since he seldom went to church, although
his wife was a communicant, and very regular in her attendance.
I have been thus particular in describing the two rival establishments
because Hiram Meeker is to enter one of them. The reader will naturally
suppose there can be little doubt which, and he has a right to exhibit
surprise on learning that Hiram decided in favor of Mr. Jessup. I say
HIRAM decided. His father preferred that he should go with the Smiths.
His mother was of the same opinion, but she permitted her son, who now
was very capable of acting for himself, to persuade her that Jessup's
was the place for him: 'More going on--greater variety of business--much
more enterprise,' and consequently more to be learned. It would be
difficult to follow closely the train of reasoning which led Hiram to
insist so perseveringly in favor of Mr. Jessup. For the reasons he gave
were on the surface, while those which really decided him were keen and
subtle, based on a shrewd appreciation of the position of the two
merchants, and his probable relation to one or the other. With the
Smiths, Hiram saw no room for any fresh exhibition of talent or
enterprise; in the other place he saw a great deal.
Once decided on, he was speedily settled in his new abode, where he
formed a part of the household of the proprietor, together with the
head-clerk, a 'cute fellow of five and twenty, who was reported to be as
'keen as a razor.' It was evident Mr. Jessup valued him highly, from the
respect he always paid to his advice and from his giving up so much of
the management of the business to him. Besides, it was rumored he was
engaged to Mr. Jessup's oldest daughter, a handsome, black-eyed girl of
eighteen, a little too old for the 'meridian' of Hiram; but who, with
her mother, was on excellent terms with the Meeker family. The name of
the head-clerk was Pease--Jonathan Pease; but he always wrote his name
J. Pease. There was also a boy, fourteen years old, called Charley, who
boarded at home. This, with Mr. Benjamin Jessup, constituted the force
at the 'cash store.'
Hiram had taken the place of a pale, milk-and-water-looking youth, with
weak lungs, who had been obliged to quit on account of poor health. This
youth had been entirely under the control of Pease, so much so that he
dared not venture an opinion about his own soul or body till he was
satisfied Pease thought just so. All this helped add to the importance
of the head-clerk, so that even Mr. Jessup unconsciously felt rather
nervous about differing with him. Indeed, Pease was fast becoming master
of the establishment. This Hiram Meeker knew perfectly well before he
entered it.
When Pease ascertained that Hiram was about to come there as clerk,
without his advice being asked, he regarded it as an invasion of his
rights. He did not hesitate to speak his mind on the subject to Mr.
Jessup. He tried strongly to dissuade him from taking a gentleman-clerk,
and declared it would require an extra boy to wait on him and another to
correct his blunders. It was of no use; Mr. Jessup had not the slightest
idea of the peculiar qualities of Hiram, but he knew if he received him,
it would be the means of making an inroad into the conservative quarter,
and he should secure the trade and influence of the Meekers beside. He
went so far as to explain this to Pease, in the most confidential and
friendly manner; but the latter was not to be persuaded or mollified. As
he could not prevent the advent of Hiram, he resolved to make his
position just as uncomfortable as he possibly could. But he little knew
the stuff he had to deal with.
The first morning after he had taken possession of his new quarters--his
sleeping-room was over the store--Hiram rose early, and was looking
carefully about the place, when Pease came in and asked him why he did
not sweep out.
'I have not yet learned the regulations, Mr. Pease, but am ready to
begin any time,' was Hiram's quiet reply.
Now, Pease had purposely sent Charley away on an early errand, so as to
be able to put this work on the new-comer. He simply replied, in an
arrogant tone, that it was his business every morning to sweep out the
store, and then sand the floors, adding, in order to preserve a
semblance of truth: 'When the boy happens to be here, he will help you.'
Pease was a little astonished to see how readily Hiram set to work. The
store was not only carefully swept, and the floors sanded, but many
articles which were scattered about were put in their place, and
carefully arranged, so that after breakfast, when Mr. Jessup came in, he
remarked on the neat appearance of the store, without knowing to what it
was owing. Thus was the first attempt of J. Pease to annoy Hiram
completely foiled. Furthermore, Hiram kept on sweeping and sanding,
although Charley was present; indeed, he declined his assistance
altogether, and once, when Mr. Jessup remarked (he had observed to whom
the change in the appearance of the store was due) that it was quite
unnecessary for him to do the boy's work, Hiram quietly answered, that
he much preferred to do it to seeing the store look as it did when he
first came there.
It took our hero but a short time to familiarize himself with the
minutiæ of Mr. Jessup's business. It was not long before Pease began to
feel that there was a person every way his superior who was fast
acquiring a more thorough insight into affairs than he had himself. He
began to fear that certain private transactions of his own would not
escape Hiram's observation. He felt magnetically that instead of
bullying and domineering over the new-comer, Hiram's eyes were on _him_
whatever he did. This was insupportable; but how could he help it? The
more work he imposed on Hiram, the better the latter seemed to like it,
and the more he accomplished.