[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
* * * * *
PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1897. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.
VOL. XVIII.--NO. 903. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
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[Illustration]
THE RINGGOLD ARCHERS.
A REMINISCENCE.
BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.
When I was a boy I belonged to a small company of young fellows, all
under fourteen, who had banded themselves together for the purpose of
practising archery. Our company owed its name to our great admiration
for Major Ringgold, about whose valiant exploits in the Mexican war we
had often read and talked. He was a romantic man, and romance always has
a charm for the young, even when they do not understand it. The Major
was a brave cavalryman, and we had seen pictures of him charging at the
head of his horsemen, with his long hair floating in the wind. In this
long hair lay his romance; for we had heard the story that, having been
crossed in love, he vowed he would never again cut his hair. The point
of this resolution we did not then understand, nor can I say that I
fully comprehend it now, but I am quite sure that each one of us would
have been perfectly willing to be crossed in love if the result should
be that we would charge at the head of some brave cavalrymen, with our
sword drawn and our long hair floating in the breeze.
When we had decided upon the name of our company, and had elected
officers, we considered that the next most important thing was to
provide ourselves with a uniform dress. This subject did not occasion
very much discussion. The color for an archer could be nothing else than
green; and as to the cut and general make-up of the dress, it would have
to be very simple, for none of us were able to afford an elaborate
uniform, so it was decided that a blouse long enough to cover our
ordinary coats and fasten around the waist with a belt would be quite
sufficient. As to our head-gear--we all wore straw hats, and if we chose
to put feathers in them we could do so, but this was left for future
consideration.
The material of our uniform was determined by the state of our finances.
When each one of us had put into the treasury all the money he could
afford, it was plain to see that our blouses must be made of some cheap
stuff.
One of our members had some family connection with the dry-goods
business, and he informed us that the best thing to do would be to buy a
whole piece of goods, for in that way we could get it cheaper, and he
was sure that our money would be sufficient to buy a piece of cotton
cloth good enough for our purposes.
It was early in the afternoon of a summer day that the meeting was held
at which the matter of the uniform was decided upon, and as it was still
light, we thought it well to go immediately and buy our material. If we
delayed, something might happen to our money.
Therefore in a body we repaired to a dry-goods store, and it was not
long before we found a piece of goods which we thought would suit us. It
was a little glittering upon one side, and it was rather stiffer than we
thought an archer's dress should be, but if we made our blouses with the
wrong side of the material out, they would look well enough, and we had
no doubt that the stiffness would come out after we had worn them for a
time, especially if we were obliged to encounter storms, which true
archers should never fear.
Triumphantly we carried our piece of goods to the house of one of the
members, and having found out how much of the material would be
necessary to make a blouse, we cut it up into suitable portions, one of
which was given to each member, and he was expected to take it home and
have some one of his family cut it out and make it for him.
There was a very early meeting the next morning at the house of our
Captain, and every boy brought with him his allotted portion of goods.
We were all horrified--the stuff was blue, and not green! The gas had
been lighted in the store when we bought it, and instead of Robin Hood
green we had picked out a piece of bright blue material! This mistake
would have been a matter of no importance had we not been in such haste
to divide the stuff among the members. If the piece had been left
entire, we could have easily exchanged it, but now this was impossible.
We had a long meeting and much discussion; but as we had bought our
material, and as we had no money to buy more, we at last regretfully
concluded that the best thing we could do would be to make up our
blouses of the blue, and try to forget that they ought to be green.
Vacation was passing, and there was no time to be lost if we expected to
make a successful summer campaign, and our uniforms were immediately put
into the hands of our mothers, sisters, and aunts. In most cases there
was but little trouble in inducing these good relatives to make the
blouses, although I think we were all of us told that it would have been
a great deal better if we had asked some lady to buy our goods for us.
But as this would have deprived us of a great and independent pleasure,
it should hardly have been expected.
There was an exception, however, to the ready consent of our families to
do our tailoring-work. The mother of one of our members objected to her
son's wearing a uniform of any sort, and although she did not actually
forbid his doing so, she would have nothing to do with the fabrication
of it. Therefore it was that the poor boy, in the seclusion of his
chamber, set to work to make it himself. Some of us found him at this
work just as he was about to cut it out; we took it from him, and one of
us carried it home, where it was properly made.
While work was going on upon our uniforms we thought it well to attend
to the armament of our company, and those who did not possess bows and
arrows were ordered to get them as soon as possible, no matter what
family assessments might be necessary. Our archery weapons were not of a
fancy sort. We had no bows of yew, nor arrows pointed with steel and
tipped with fine feathers; but we had good bows, made by a cooper of our
acquaintance, and our blunt-headed arrows often sped well to the mark,
although they did not stick there. We had discussed the propriety of
inserting pieces of sharpened iron into the heads of these arrows, but
this improvement having been made known to some of our parents had been
strictly forbidden.
As soon as our garments were finished we held a full meeting, in which
we all appeared in our new uniforms, and to say that the result was
satisfactory would be to make a misstatement. In the city in which we
lived there was a great deal of charcoal used, and this fuel was carried
about the streets in wagons with high sides, each accompanied by two
men, one of whom marched in front, ringing a bell and crying,
"Charcoal!" while the other attended to the horse, and shovelled out the
charcoal whenever a purchaser hailed him from a house. These men
invariably dressed in long blue gowns, and when we were gathered
together, attired in our uniforms, there was not one of us who was not
immediately reminded of the charcoal-men.
Some were disgusted, and some laughed, but there was no remedy. There
were but two things we could do: we must wear our blue blouses, or we
must go out on our archery expeditious in our ordinary clothes. In the
latter case we would be a mere party of boys, whereas if we marched
forth in our uniforms--no matter what color they might be--we were the
Ringgold Archers. We chose to stand by our name, our purpose, and our
organization.
On the outskirts of our city there were open country, woods, and
streams, and it was here that we were to begin our life of "Merrie men
under the green-wood tree," and our first expedition was made without
delay. Early one afternoon we marched forth into the streets--seven of
us--each wearing his blue blouse, his arrows stuck in his belt, and his
unstrung bow in his hand. We attracted a good deal of attention. There
were people who looked at us and laughed, there were others who
wondered, and during our march through town we frequently met with
youngsters who cried "Charcoal!" and then ran away. Seven boys--no
matter how they might be dressed--were not to be trifled with.
When we reached the country we had a fine time. The birds did not laugh
at us, the wild flowers and bushes took no notice of us, except when
some sociable blackberry bush endeavored to detain us by seizing the
skirts of our flowing robes, and the trees which we used as targets did
not always refuse to be hit, whether they represented men or deer, or
even an on-coming bear--for there were bold fellows in our company, with
good imaginations.
But I cannot tell all the bloodless pleasures of our chase, for I must
hasten to relate how this first expedition of the Ringgold Archers was
its last. Toward the close of the day, well satisfied with our
afternoon's sport, we were returning along a quiet and almost deserted
country road, when we met two rough-looking young men.
These fellows, when they beheld the strange procession of blue-clad boys
appearing around a turn in the road, were greatly impressed, and they
burst into the most vociferous laughter. Of course we did not like this,
and we would have been content to pass on, treating the disrespectful
fellows with silent contempt; but this the young men did not permit.
They stopped us and wanted to know why we were dressed in these blue
shirts, and what we intended to do with our bows and arrows. When our
organization and our purposes had been explained, they were not
satisfied. They examined our arms, and ridiculed them, as they were
sure they would not kill anything. They laughed again at our uniform,
making those allusions to charcoal which had become familiar to us, and
in other ways treated our band with the discourtesy which, although
good-humored, was extremely disagreeable to us. When they had jeered at
us to their satisfaction, they went their way.
There were two members of our company whose proud souls could not brook
this treatment, and they determined that they would give these impudent
fellows a taste of their quality. They followed the young men a little
way, and then ran up a low bank on the side of the road. There they
fitted arrows to their bows, and prepared to shoot at the fellows who
had insulted them.
As soon as the rest of us saw what our companions proposed to do, we
hurried to them, and urged them to come down and let the young men
alone; it would not do to rouse the anger of such fellows, who looked as
if they might be very rough customers if they chose to be. But our bold
companions were not to be restrained; their souls chafed under their
injuries, and before we could stop them, each had drawn an arrow to its
head and let it fly at the young men, who were now barely within range.
One of the arrows struck its mark, and the other fell near by.
Instantly the enemy stopped and turned, and beholding the two boys
standing on the bank with their bows in their hands, had no reason to
ask who had shot at them. But instead of hurrying away to avoid another
discharge of arrows from these bold archers, the young men made use of
some very violent language, and without the slightest hesitation ran
towards the two boys, who turned and fled across a field.
The chase was short, for the young men were powerful runners. The
valiant archers were caught by the collars of their blue uniforms, their
bows were wrenched from their hands, and the next moment each one of
them was receiving a sound drubbing with his own weapons. The arrows
which they had in their belts were taken and broken, and they were told
in very strong language that if they did not get out of sight as fast as
they could they would have another whipping. This advice was taken, and
the disarmed archers fled.
All this happened so quickly that the other members of the Ringgold
Archers had no chance to do anything in defence of their comrades, even
if they had felt able. But now we perceived that we must do something to
defend ourselves, for the young men--still speaking angrily--advanced
towards us. We stood our ground, for we had seen that there was no use
in running; and, besides, why should we run? We had done no wrong to any
one.
The young men jumped down from the bank, and without delay or
explanation ordered all of us to surrender our arms. To this we
vehemently objected. We had committed no offence towards them; we had
even advised our comrades to refrain from their attack, and there was no
reason why we should give up our bows and arrows. But the young men were
in no mood to consider reasons. They seized our bows, forced them from
our hands, and jerked our arrows from our belts. I can remember now how
stoutly I held on to my bow, and how soon I became convinced of the
superiority of a man's strength over that of a boy.
Our disarmament was complete; not a bow or arrow was left to us. We
continued to expostulate against the injustice that had been done to us,
but the two fellows paid not the slightest attention to our words.
Pleased with their easy victory, they began to amuse themselves.
Standing at a little distance from us, they discharged our arrows at
various marks. They were miserable shots, and could not hit anything,
and so, on concluding that this was no fun, they shot our arrows far and
wide into the thickets, where it would be almost impossible to find them
again.
This exercise seemed to dissipate their anger, and when the arrows were
all gone they came to us and threw all our bows on the ground.
"There!" said one of them. "You can take them and go home with them, and
the best thing you can do is to give up coming out here with your bows
and arrows and stick to your charcoal!"
Sadly the Ringgold Archers resumed their homeward march, and it was not
long before they were joined by their two comrades, who had been hiding
in the bushes. Some of us were inclined to give the young scamps another
whipping for getting us into such a scrape, and we were the more angry
because they did not seem in the least sorry for what they had done; but
finally the matter was smoothed over, and we marched peaceably on
together.
Before they reached the outskirts of the city the Ringgold Archers
halted and took off their uniforms. Most of these were sadly bedraggled
and torn in the struggles with the young men, and, furthermore, they
seemed more like the gowns of the charcoal-men than they had done
before. Each of us rolled his uniform around his bow and carried them
home under his arm, and such of us as had feathers in our hats took them
out and threw them away.
That was the last expedition of the Ringgold Archers. Although we gave
up the idea of emulating the deeds of Robin Hood, Little John, and Friar
Tuck, some of us became very good amateur archers.
As to Major Ringgold, his blighted affections and his flowing hair, they
faded out of our minds with the memory of our torn and discarded
uniforms of blue.
A CONSTABULARY SLIP.
BY H. G. PAINE.
When the snow falls in the city,
Oh, it seems a dreadful pity!
And it costs a lot to cart it all away;
But the boys who on the side-
Walk make the dangerous slide
Would like to have the snow come every day.
Oh, it's fun to hear them shout,
As they slip and slide about,
Like some eerie, cheery spirits of the storm;
But just call out, "Cheese the cop!"
And how suddenly they stop!
For the "copper" has a duty to perform.
"Now yous fellies git a gait,"
He exclaims, and, if they wait,
"Come, now, yous, jus' chase yourselves right off de block!"
But I should not be surprised
If he often sympathized
With his victims, and his heart were _not_ a rock.
For 'twas but the other night,
When no roundsman was in sight,
That I saw a "copper" running down the street.
Was he chasing of a thief?
Don't you err in that belief--
He was sliding on each slide along his beat.
* * * * *
ONE-LEGGED DUCKS.
Once a gentleman reproved his negro servant for serving a duck for dinner
to which there was only one leg. He suspected Sam of having eaten the
missing limb.
"Oh, no, sir," replied Sam; "these ducks have only one leg!"
"Indeed!" said the master. "I must see them."
So the next morning he told Sam to show him the one-legged ducks. Sam
conducted his master to the poultry-yard, and pointed to half a dozen
ducks, each standing on one leg near the pond.
"There, sah!" he exclaimed.
The master waved his arms, and cried out, "Shoo! shoo!" and the ducks
scampered away.
"How about that?" he said, turning to Sam.
"That's right, sah," returned Sam, calmly; "but why didn't yo' shoo de
oder duck, las' night?"
A VALENTINE PARTY.
BY MARY B. SLEIGHT.
The Chadwick girls, one February morning, were deep in consultation as to
the best way in which to entertain their friend Dorothy Adams, who was
coming the next week to make them a two days' visit.
"Why not have a valentine party instead of a tea?" suggested Catharine.
"Teas are so stiff and poky when one is not acquainted with any of the
other guests, and Dorothy is one that likes a thoroughly good time."
"A valentine party would be much more lively, of course," said Helen;
"but where in the world could we find enough valentines to go round?"
"Write them, the same as the girls did in Grandmother Livingston's day,"
answered Catharine. "Even if we haven't any especial gift for
verse-making, we can string some passable rhymes together, I hope."
"How would it do," asked stately Elizabeth, beginning to be interested,
"to have bows or rosettes of ribbon--two of each color--distributed, and
let each person take for a partner the one that wears the corresponding
badge? Then, of course, there would have to be two sets of Valentines.
For example-- Here, give me your pencil, Catharine, please, and that
empty envelope. How would this do?
"Blue No. 1, fastening her badge to the lapel of her partner's coat:
"As ladies fair, in days of old,
To chosen knights their colors gave,
This ribbon blue
I give to you;
And this, dear Valentine, I crave,
That you the little badge will take,
And bravely wear it for my sake.
"And something like this for an answer:
"Blue No. 2 (fastening his own badge on his lady's gown):
"Of all the merry throng to-night,
With colors rich and rare bedight,
Believe me, none will prove more true
Than he who wears this bonny blue."
"Bravo, Beth!" cried the others.
"Verily I believe it's catching," exclaimed Helen. "I too have an idea.
Quick, give me a pencil!" And straightway all three fell to scribbling,
each taking a different color for her subject.
And when they had made an end of cudgelling their brains, the following
rhymes were ready to be copied:
Red, No. 1--
Red as my own is the badge I seek,
And red as a rose is the wearer's cheek.
Why art thou thrilling, heart of mine?
Ah, if I knew they were both for me,
The badge and the blush, on bended knee
I would sue for the love of my Valentine.
No. 2.--
This ruddy bow for thee I bind.
Be true, and thou wilt ever find
Warm is the heart that wears the red;
No scorn nor coldness needst thou dread.
Pink, No. 1--
My lady fair doth wear the tint
That deep within the sea-shell glows,
But, like the shell beneath the pink,
Her heart is white as Alpine snows.
No. 2--
I would this little knot of pink
Might be, dear Valentine, the link,
Where'er the lines for us be cast,
To hold our friendship firm and fast.
Yellow, No. 1--
Dear Valentine, one boon I ask--
Pray make it not a loveless task,
Nor think me somewhat overbold--
When you this yellow knot espy,
Ask not to-night the reason why,
Within your own my hand enfold.
No. 2--
Oh, maiden fair, whose badge is yellow,
Let heart and hand
Together band,
And find in me your happy fellow.
Green, No. 1--
Green as the larch's bursting buds
When spring is everywhere afield,
This pledge of all my heart's desire
To thee, sweet Valentine, I yield.
No. 2--
Leal throbs the heart beneath the sheen
That mates thy knot of tender green.
If thou, dear knight, that heart wouldst woo,
Be this thy motto, "Brave and true."
A badge of two colors, violet and orange, No. 1--
Who wears to-night
The colors bright
That in this radiant badge entwine,
I single from the lovely ranks,
And claim her for my Valentine.
No. 2--
A happy Valentine is she
Whose fortune in this badge is told,
For violet for heart's ease stands,
And orange for the heart of gold.
Brown, No. 1--
Ah me! no golden gift have I
To offer to my lady fair,
And much I fear she will not deign
This tawny gift of mine to wear.
Accepting his and fastening hers to his lapel.
No. 2--
Though sombre-hued this badge may seem,
Disdain it not, for oft, I deem,
Those forced to wear life's thrifty brown
Are worthy of love's brightest crown.
A white satin star, No. 1--
The bravest knight in Arthur's train
Was he who wore with ne'er a stain
The shining badge of purity;
And since I know that thou art true,
And that my trust I ne'er shall rue,
This token white I yield to thee.
No. 2--
Thy gift, as pure as thy radiant brow,
I take, dear heart, with the reverent vow
That whether the way be near or far,
I'll follow the lead of my lady's star.
"There!" said Helen. "Counting in the first two, we have sixteen, and
the two sets must be put in separate baskets and drawn for. The next
question is, what are the people to do after they find their partners?"
"We must seat each couple at a table and give them some puzzle or
problem to work out together," said Catharine, promptly. "How would 'An
Astronomical Wedding-Journey' answer? You can get that up, Beth--you are
so fond of star-gazing; but don't make it too prosy."
"I'll attempt it only on one condition," answered Elizabeth: "neither of
you must see it until it is given to the rest."
"Very well, Beth; we'll leave you to yourself while we copy the
valentines."
And this is what Elizabeth set them to pondering over on St. Valentine's
eve:
AN ASTRONOMICAL WEDDING-JOURNEY.
Once upon a time it chanced that the ---- in the ---- (satellite of
the earth) fell desperately in love with a certain fair ---- (sixth
sign of the zodiac), and the latter, having first dutifully asked
her ----' (one of the primary planets) permission, readily
consented to marry him. For bridemaids they chose ---- (one of the
Northern constellations who was noted for her shining hair), and
---- (a Northern constellation, a princess who had once been
chained to a rock on the sea-shore); while for groomsmen they had
the twin brothers ---- and ---- (third sign of the zodiac).
At the wedding-breakfast the bride sat in ----'s chair (a Northern
constellation), and as they were fond of sea-food, they had on the
menu deviled ---- (fourth sign of the zodiac) and broiled
---- (twelfth sign of the zodiac), with ---- (eleventh sign of the
zodiac) for their water-carrier.
After breakfast they had a game of ---- and ---- (Northern
constellation) with their guests; and the bride, being a fine
musician, entertained them by playing the ---- (Northern
constellation).
As there were no railroads in the country, they harnessed
---- (Northern constellation) to Charles's ---- (Northern
constellation), and took the route known as 'The ---- ----.'
"It seems very selfish to be seeking only our own pleasure,"
suggested the bride, who, like every truly happy bride, wanted all
the world to share her joy; and the groom, being a sworn knight,
decided that they would go in search of the lost ----. Becoming
thirsty on the journey, they stopped at a farm-house well.
"You can drink from the little ----," said the groom, "and I from
the big ----."
But a great ---- (a Southern constellation) began barking at them,
and before they could get back to the wagon they were butted by a
vicious ---- (first sign of the zodiac), and came near being tossed
by an angry ---- (second sign of the zodiac). A little later, in
passing through a thicket, they met a roaring ---- (fifth sign of
the zodiac). But the groom, being a fine ---- (ninth sign of the
zodiac), slew him with an ---- (Northern constellation), and when
shortly afterward they encountered a great grizzly ---- and a little
one (Northern constellations), he made an end of the old one in the
same way. But the little one was too bright for him, and chasing
the tip of his tail, they presently reached that long-sought ----
around which the ---- are the only dancers on May-day. For the
remainder of the journey there was nothing to mar their pleasure;
but after they reached the groom's palace, the trail of the ----
(Northern constellation) soon made a change, for the groom in his
own house, like many another husband, was as eccentric as a ----,
flying off in a ---- on the slightest provocation, and though he
had always been reputed to be made of gold, he proved so poor that
he could afford no ---- except what he borrowed from his generous
father, the ----, whom he disrespectfully called "Old ----."
The bride in her disappointment declared that he had been weighed
in the ---- (seventh sign of the zodiac) and found wanting, and
also charged him with having become so infatuated with ---- (the
most beautiful of the planets), that she herself was totally ----.
And though he protested that she was still his morning and his
evening ----, and that he would willingly endure for her the labors
of ---- (Northern constellation), she refused to be reconciled.
Whereupon he made way with himself by taking an overdose of ----
(one of the planets), and the bride in a fit of remorse hid a ----
(eighth sign of the zodiac) in her bosom, and suffered the fate of
---- (Egyptian queen).
A copy of this puzzle having been given to each couple, half an hour was
allowed for the filling of the blank spaces, after which prizes were
awarded to those who had made out the papers correctly.
[Illustration: EACH COUPLE HAD A COPY OF THE PUZZLE.]
THE MIDDLETON BOWL[1]
[1] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 898.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.
CHAPTER VI.
It was four o'clock in the morning before the household began to settle
down into its accustomed quiet. Miss Joanna was at last sleeping
quietly, and the doctor assured the sisters that they need fear no
further danger. He begged them to go to their rooms and try to get some
rest, for he saw that the four ladies were in a state of nervous
excitement which was almost alarming. Miss Middleton declared that she
should not leave her sister Joanna, but she begged the others to follow
the doctor's advice. Miss Thomasine, as she passed Theodora's room,
opened the door quietly and looked in. She intended to tell her niece,
if she were awake, that her aunt Joanna was decidedly better.
But when Miss Thomasine peeped into the room, which was but dimly
lighted, she was astonished to find that Theodora was not there. She
stepped inside and looked again. The bed was empty, as was also the
lounge. The room was not large, and one could see at a glance that it
was not occupied.
Miss Thomasine felt a shock similar to the one which she had experienced
when she was told that Joanna "had one of her attacks." Where could the
child be?
In the hall she met Miss Dorcas and Miss Melissa.
"Theodora is not in her room," she whispered. "Where do you suppose she
is, sisters? And what had we better do?"
The three stood and looked at one another. Without their two ruling
spirits Adaline and Joanna, whose words were always law, the three
younger sisters felt much as if they were a ship deprived of both
captain and pilot in a stormy sea.
They drew a step nearer to one another.
"Perhaps," said Miss Melissa--"perhaps--there's no knowing; she might do
anything!--she went again--"
"Went where?" asked Miss Dorcas. "Do you mean on the--the--"
"Do you mean the bicycle?" asked Miss Thomasine, courageously uttering
the obnoxious word.
Miss Melissa nodded.
"Oh, it could not be!" said Miss Dorcas.
"Certainly not!" exclaimed Miss Thomasine. "The child is somewhere in
the house, and we must look for her."
They investigated the rooms on the second floor with no success, and
then they descended the broad stairs, one behind the other, each clad in
a flowered dressing-gown and enveloped in a worsted shawl, and each one
carrying a lighted candle in a tall silver candlestick.
Over their heads, shorn of the additional braids which adorned them by
day, and in no state to be seen by the doctor or even by the servants,
each sister had tied a white knit "cloud." Even Miss Melissa, when she
removed her bonnet after her futile attempt to summon the doctor, had
again adjusted her cloud.
And now they crept down their own staircase feeling strangely ill at
ease. Never before had they been downstairs at this hour and in this
costume, but Theodora must be found.
[Illustration: THEODORA LAY ON THE SOFA ASLEEP.]
The parlor door stood open at the foot of the stairs. It was dark there
now, for the moon had set and it was not yet dawn. The three ladies
gathered at the threshold, and holding their candles on high, peered
into the room. There, on the sofa, lay Theodora, one arm hanging over
the side, the other tossed above her head. As the aunts drew nearer she
moved a little, and murmured in her sleep: "Of course I believe you.
It's dreadful not to be believed."
Then the gleam of the three candles shone full in her face and she
wakened, her eyes blinking in the light.
"Why, what is it?" she cried, starting up in terror and gazing at the
three odd figures. "Where am I, and who are you? Who _are_ you, I say?"
"My dear Teddy," said Miss Thomasine, "do not be alarmed! Do you not
know us?"
"Why, it's Aunt Tom," said their niece, wonderingly, "and Aunt Dorcas,
and Aunt Melissa! You don't know how funny you look! Have you been out
to walk?"
"Out to walk!" repeated Miss Dorcas, severely. "Do you know that it is
the middle of the night?"
"Is it, really? Then how did I get here? Oh, I remember! Aunt Joanna was
ill, and I went on Arthur's wheel, and then I came down here and found
Andy Morse. Oh, it has been _such_ an exciting night! I gave him
something to eat in the kitchen. I hope you won't mind, but he was so
hungry. And he has promised to be good after this."
The three aunts looked at one another and then at Teddy's flushed face.
Miss Thomasine felt her pulse and asked to see her tongue.
"You have been dreaming, I suppose. Come up stairs and go to bed, my
dear."
"But I didn't dream that, Aunt Tom. Andy Morse was really here, and I
gave him some money to go away with. I had some in my bank, you know, so
I could do what I liked with it."
"She grows more and more incoherent," said Miss Dorcas.
"I think, sisters," murmured Miss Melissa, "that--that--it would be as
well--the doctor right here--"
"I agree with you," said Miss Thomasine; "she most certainly is not
well, and the doctor had better see her. Teddy dear, come up stairs.
Lean on me if you feel at all giddy."
"I'm not a bit giddy," cried Theodora, springing to her feet, "and I
don't know what you are talking about. Why must I see the doctor? I am
not sick, and oh, I do want to tell you about Andy Morse!"
Again the sisters looked significantly at one another. Then Miss
Thomasine took one of Teddy's hands and Miss Dorcas possessed herself of
the other, while Miss Melissa walked in front with two of the candles.
"We must get her to bed as quietly as possible," said Miss Thomasine.
"Oh, what a night this has been!"
"I was sure that ride would be too much for her," said Miss Dorcas.
"Is it--do you think it can be? I have heard of it--brain fever?"
whispered Miss Melissa, turning in affright.
"What do you all mean?" exclaimed Teddy, wrenching her hands away from
her aunts. "I tell you I'm not a bit sick, and I do wish you would let
me go up stairs alone! And I don't see why you won't believe what I say.
Are you never going to believe me again? I wish you would let me tell
you about Andy Morse. He hid behind the big sofa, and I heard him there,
and asked him to come out. Do you know, that poor boy hadn't had a thing
to eat for two days! Just think of it! And he was so desperate he came
here to steal something. I don't wonder--do you?"
The sisters had again looked at one another meaningly, and during this
speech Miss Dorcas had left the room. Presently she returned with the
doctor.
"What's all this?" he asked. "Teddy ill, after saving her aunt's life,
as she did? She doesn't look very ill."
"Of course I'm not ill, Dr. Morton! They won't believe me when I say
that Andy Morse was hiding here and I gave him something to eat and the
money out of my bank. If you go into the kitchen you will see the plates
and things on the table, and if you go up to my room you will see the
empty bank. I do wish my father and mother were here!" she added. "I'm
just tired of not being believed."
The doctor felt her pulse and looked at her.
"I believe you, my child," he said. "You are as well as I am, and I have
no doubt Andy Morse was here. He is quite capable of anything. I am
sorry you gave him your money, for he doesn't deserve it, but I quite
believe you."
Theodora glanced at him gratefully, and from that moment she considered
Dr. Morton one of her best friends. He asked her more particularly
about the occurrences of the night, and she gave him a detailed history
of it from the time when she returned from her ride.
"Well, well," he said, when he heard how she had stood in the moonlight
and invited the intruder to come forth--"well, well! you're the girl for
my mind. And didn't you feel afraid?"
"Why, yes, I suppose I was afraid," said she. "But there was nothing
else to be done that I could think of, and so I had to do it."
At which the doctor chuckled more appreciatively than ever.
Miss Joanna was much better in the morning, and in a few days was quite
convalescent. The sisters were all more or less prostrated by this
thrilling night, and it was a week before the household affairs were
running with their accustomed smoothness, and before the Misses
Middleton could turn their thoughts and their conversation to the
ordinary concerns of life.
A new idea and a very startling one had been presented to them, too. Dr.
Morton, upon each of his visits to Miss Joanna, had made some remark
upon Theodora's courage, upon her presence of mind, upon her general
excellence. He declared that she, and she alone, had been the means of
saving her aunt's life, and in his opinion she should be rewarded not
only for that, but for having prevented a bold and startling robbery.
Undoubtedly Andy Morse, if left to himself, would have carried away the
greater part of the Misses Middleton's treasures. According to Dr.
Morton, if it had not been for Teddy, her aunts, when they descended in
the morning, would have found their large drawing-room absolutely bare
and empty. The girl should certainly be rewarded, and no better token of
her aunts' gratitude and regard could be found than a bicycle. Not only
would it give her pleasure, but it would also be of benefit to her
health.
Never before did Dr. Morton discourse so long and so earnestly, and the
result was that he gained his point. The ladies held out as long as they
could, but he was too much for them.
As Miss Joanna remarked, "When we feel that Theodora really did us such
a service, it seems as if we should waive our prejudices."
And for Miss Joanna to acknowledge this, and to call "prejudices" the
feelings which had hitherto been designated as "principles" meant a
great deal. Miss Thomasine had from the first been in favor of buying
the wheel, and had strongly urged it; but not until Miss Joanna thus
expressed herself did Miss Middleton actually give her consent.
John, the old coachman, now fortunately recovered from his attack of
rheumatism, could scarcely believe his ears when Miss Middleton ordered
him to drive to the large bicycle-shop on Main Street.
The carriage with its four occupants reached the shop in due time, and
the ladies entered. They looked about in some bewilderment at the vast
number of bicycles that were stacked in the place, and the thought that
they could all whirl, as wheels will, made them positively dizzy. Miss
Melissa was glad that she had brought her salts, and she held them first
to one nostril, then to the other.
"What can I do for you, ladies?" asked the salesman, as he came forward.
"We wish to look at bi-cy-cles," said Miss Middleton, wondering if it
could be really she who was making this request, and wishing more than
ever that Miss Joanna were there to take the lead.
"Ah, indeed? Something for yourselves, no doubt?"
"Not by any means," said Miss Middleton, coldly, and with all the
"Middleton manner" that she could summon to her aid. "We are about to
purchase a bi-cy-cle for our niece."
"Oh, certainly! I didn't see her at first. So many ladies do ride, that
I thought-- However, here is one that I am sure your niece will
like--light weight, not more than twenty pounds; improved chain and
skirt guards; made in such a way that there is a minimum degree of
weight with a maximum amount of safety; small narrow sweep of
handle-bar; latest invention in pedals; small adjustable saddle--most
comfortable that is made--though if your niece prefers one of the new
anatomical saddles, that can easily be arranged; bell, brake, lantern,
and cyclometer thrown in if you pay cash down, together with a full
supply of cement, patches, plugs, twine, and needle for a punctured
tire, also oil-can, pump, and wrench. Or, if you don't fancy this model,
here is another--twenty-one pounds, self-mending tires in case of
punctures--"
"Oh, please stop a moment!" cried Miss Middleton. "My dear sisters, I
scarcely know what to think. If only Joanna were here! I never dreamed
that there were so many accessories to a bi-cy-cle. It seems as if we
were getting a great deal for the money."
"A great deal, madam, I do assure you, and at the same time very light
weight. To be sure, the tendency this year is to make heavier machines,
but this being a miss's wheel, it is absolutely strong, while being at
the same time exceedingly light. Just lift it yourself, madam, and you
will see."
And before she realized what she was doing, Miss Middleton had laid
aside her little satchel and her sunshade, and was actually lifting a
bicycle. Each sister in turn, not to be outdone, went through the same
form.
One wheel after another was brought forward, and each one seemed to
possess more virtues than its predecessor. The three Misses Middleton
grew more and more bewildered, while Theodora began to think that the
matter would never be settled. She had no opportunity for stating her
preference, if she had any, for her aunts appeared to think that she
knew nothing at all on the subject.
Their interest increased with their bewilderment, and they soon found
themselves conversing with ease about gear and ball-bearings, and the
salesman did not allow himself even to smile when Miss Thomasine
examined the chain-guard, and said it seemed like an excellent brake. He
had begun to hope that he might dispose of four wheels instead of one,
so enthusiastic were his customers becoming.
So it might have gone on for some time longer, and there is no knowing
what might have transpired, had not Paul Hoyt, greatly to Teddy's
relief, appeared in the doorway. He had heard rumors of the intended
purchase, and he had at once mounted his own wheel and ridden in search
of his neighbors, knowing that it would be an entertaining sight, to say
the least, and thinking that he might find an opportunity for giving his
opinion and lending the weight of his experience.
The Misses Middleton paid more attention to him than they did to
Theodora, and at last a wheel was chosen and paid for, and the three
ladies, with their niece, left the shop.
They drove away still full of their subject, and when the new bicycle
came home it was brought directly to them. The three Misses Middleton
who had made the purchase explained to the two who were still in
ignorance of its merits the great advantages which this bi-cy-cle
possessed over every other make of machine, while Teddy looked on,
wondering when the happy moment would arrive that she could take the
beloved object and go forth for a ride upon her own, own wheel. Indeed
she could scarcely express her gratitude to her aunts, so engrossed were
they in all the technicalities of the subject.
About ten days after this, Mrs. Hoyt, accompanied by Arthur, called upon
the Misses Middleton. The ladies came down to the drawing-room and
greeted their guests with their usual formal courtesy. There was a
moment's pause after all had seated themselves, and then Mrs. Hoyt began
the conversation.
"I have come," she said, "to speak once more on the subject of the bowl.
Have you found yet any clew to the person who broke it?"
"No," said Miss Middleton, "we have not."
"But we still have our suspicious," interposed Miss Joanna.
"And what are they?"
"We did think that it was either Arthur or Theodora. Now we are
convinced that it was Arthur, and that our niece, from a mistaken
feeling of honor, helped him to hide it. Nothing can change us in this
opinion."
"I have come to tell you," said Mrs. Hoyt, quietly but with great
firmness, "that Mr. Hoyt and I are perfectly convinced that Arthur did
_not_ do it. The evidence is very strong against him, we admit, but he
has always been a truthful boy, and we feel very sure that he is so
still. The child has been made so unhappy by the affair that I felt it
necessary to bring him here, and let him hear me tell you that his
father and I do not think he did it."
She rose to go in the pause that followed this speech. The sisters were
silent until they also had risen, and then Miss Joanna spoke.
"Our opinion is unchanged," said she, "and always will be."
At this moment the parlor door flew open and Theodora ran into the room.
"I have just met the postman," she cried, "and he gave me this letter!
Look at it!" and she held it up for her aunts' inspection.
The envelope was exceedingly soiled, and the stamp was placed upside
down on the lower left-hand corner. It was addressed to "miss tedy
middleton."
"It is from Andy Morse," she continued; "and--oh, Arthur, he tells it
all!" And this was what she read aloud:
"'miss tedy middleton, dear miss.
"'i Rite you theese few lines Hopping thay will find you in Good
helth i want too tell you ive got work ime goin on a Ship i wont
make mutch yet butt its Better nor nothin and i Hopp ile make more
soon its all Bekorse you gave me That Monny and sum day ime goin to
pay it Back.
"And i want to tell you i broke that bole'" (Teddy paused in the
reading and looked about upon her audience. Her five aunts sank
into their chairs, and Miss Melissa vigorously applied her salts,
while, much to Arthur's amazement, his mother began to cry. Teddy
continued) "'i was that Mad the day you give me the Black i that i
ran to your house and the dore was open and i went in and sore the
bole and i herd of that bole and that hoite Boy was in the parler
and i skeered him most to deth and i asked him if that was the
middleton bole and he said yes and i smashed it and made him
promise not to tell on me and if he did ide kill him i fritened him
orful bad and i have ever since.
"'i was going to tell you about it that nite i was thare only you
Was so good to me i diddent Like to and you sed it Cost so mutch i
was afraid, butt i remember you sed thay Thort you did it and you
beleeved me wen i sed i was going to be onnest so thats the Reeson
ive rote this,
"yours truly andy morse
"'thay cant ketch me About the bole bekorse ile be to see wen you
read this.'"
When Teddy had finished the letter, Miss Joanna settled her spectacles
more firmly upon her aristocratic, aquiline nose. Then she held out her
hand for the paper, which she took and examined with care. It was passed
from one sister to another as they sat in an impressive silence, which
was broken as usual by Miss Joanna.
She rose from her chair, and going to Mrs. Hoyt, she took her by the
hand.
"We beg your pardon, Ellen Hoyt," said she, "and we beg your son's
pardon. He is a truthful boy, after all, as Theodora is a truthful girl.
Is it not so, sisters?"
"It is indeed so," replied they all, as they also rose and gathered
about their guests.
Thus Arthur was at last cleared from suspicion and relieved from the
state of dread and anxiety in which he had lived since the accident, for
Morse had not only threatened him at the time, should he give any
information as to what he had done, but had constantly found means since
then of frightening the boy, which accounted for his nervous condition.
And the Misses Middleton were at last convinced that neither Arthur nor
Theodora had broken the Middleton bowl.
THE END.
A LOYAL TRAITOR.
A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.
BY JAMES BARNES.
CHAPTER XVII.
WHEREIN I BECOME AN OFFICER.
I suppose if I were writing a tale of invention, I could imagine no
stranger happenings than those I have recorded in the last few pages of
this old ledger. But as almost everything has an explanation and can be
sifted down to the why and wherefore, when we keep off the subject of
religion and beliefs, I can make plain in a few words the situation. If
"a ship without a captain is a man without a soul," truly a ship without
a compass is a man without an eye. And that was what was the matter with
the topsail schooner _Yankee_, of New Bedford. Four days before I had
come on board she had had an encounter with an English ship that had
offered resistance. During the course of the action the binnacle of the
_Yankee_ had been shot away, and the compass smashed to flinders. But
the English ship had been taken, and was the _Yankee_'s seventh prize in
a cruise of less than four months. Captain Gorham had manned her and
sent her home. The only compass left on board the _Yankee_ was a
small-boat's needle in a wooden box. But, as Plummer told me, it was all
out of kilter, and as useless to steer by as a twirled sheath-knife. Now
for three days after the last capture there had been such thick weather
that they had not been able to get a sight of the sun, moon, or stars,
and had sailed not by dead-reckoning, as the wind had blown from all
quarters, but by sheer guesswork and the lead.
How it came about that Captain Gorham knew the French cockswain was
simple. Although the Captain was an American born and raised, only a few
years previous to the outbreak of the war he had done a little smuggling
on his own account between Dunquerque and the coast of England. So what
appeared at first to be most mysterious is really simple when we come to
look at it.
But now to tell of what we did. It had been Captain Gorham's intention,
I take it, to run into Dunquerque Harbor, but owing to the
representations of Pierre Burron, who stated that he might never leave
it if we did so, this idea was given up; and keeping the lead going, we
took the wind on our quarter, and made off to the southward, the Captain
promising to put the little Frenchman on board the first vessel hound
for his country, and pay him well for his services.
While we had been coming about, I, to show my willingness, had hauled
lustily on the mainsheet and pitched in with the crew, and as soon as
everything was going well, Plummer and I sat down against the bowsprit
and began to spin our respective yarns. Of course there was much to
tell. Mine is known already, and Plummer's was but the recounting of
the most unusual good luck that had ever attended the career of a
cruiser in any service, I suppose.
It seems that finding the _Young Eagle_ had sailed before he expected
she would be ready, Plummer had delayed a long time before he had found
a berth to suit his fancy, and then he had shipped in the _Yankee_ from
New Bedford. From the day of their sailing they had had fair winds and
good fortune, capturing two English vessels off the American coast,
laden with supplies for the English army in Canada, two more on the high
seas, and three, of all places in the world but almost under the nose of
the British Admiralty, at the entrance to their own private Channel. In
all these encounters they had lost but two men killed and three slightly
wounded.
The manning of so many prizes had reduced the crew of one hundred and
twenty men to twenty-six all told. Being a fore-and-aft vessel, this was
more than sufficient to run her properly, and, although it was
considered foolhardiness in the forecastle, old Smiley, or Smiler, as
they called Gorham, had determined to make one more attempt before he
started for the States. Besides, the necessity of speaking some vessel
and securing a compass had now become imperative.
"Tell me something of your skipper, Plummer," I asked. "He is of a
certainty the strangest-looking man I ever met."