"He'll never die for love, I know,
He'll never die for love, nor wear
Upon his brow the marks of care."
This is a true story, written for this work, but published, by permission
of the author, in the "American Union."
"So you believe me totally incapable of truly loving _any_ girl, do you?"
"I most assuredly do," was my positive answer.
My friend, George Brown, turned and walked away a few paces, looking
thoughtfully to the ground. He was a splendid looking man, about twenty
years of age; my late school-fellow, my present friend and confidant. He
was, what I did not flatter myself as being, a great favorite with the
ladies. Handsome, tall, manly, of easy address, a fine singer and dancer,
the only impediment to his physical perfection was, when the least
excited, a hesitancy of speech--almost a stammer. Finally he turned and
walked back to me, saying,--
"Now, Ad, if you will agree to a proposition I have to offer, I will
disprove your assertion, so oft repeated, that I never loved--not even
that dear girl, Jenny Kingsbury."
"First let me hear your proposition."
"You have long desired to visit Bangor?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Let us harness 'Simon' early some fine morning for that delightful city;
go by the way of B. and O., stop and see Jenny, who I have learned by
roundabout inquiry resides with her aunt in the latter place. And," he
added, triumphantly, "see for yourself if she isn't a girl to be loved."
"O, no doubt Jenny Kingsbury 'is a girl to be loved;' so was Addie, and so
was 'Ria, and a dozen others, whom you have sworn you loved so devotedly.
O George, out upon your affections."
"Will--will--you go? That's the question."
"Yes--I will go--because I wish to visit Bangor very much," was my reply;
and the time was at once set for the journey, which was to occupy two
days.
Mrs. Brown, the mother of my friend George, was a devout Christian. She
believed in her Bible. Moreover, she was an excellent _nurse_, and next to
her Bible, believed in _thoroughwort_. Thoroughwort tea, or thoroughwort
syrup, was her panacea for all the ills, physical or moral, that ever was,
or could be, detailed upon poor humanity.
"Before you start, boys--"
"Boys! Where are your _men_?" interrupted George.
"Hear me!" continued Mrs. Brown. "Before you start for Bangor to-morrow
morning, do you take a good drink of that thoroughwort syrup in the large
jar on the first shelf in the pantry. It'll keep out the cold; for
there'll be frost to-night, I think, and at five o'clock in the morning
the air will be sharp. O, there is nothing equal to _thoroughwort_ for
keeping out the cold."
"Anything to eat in that pantry?" asked George, with a wink tipped to me.
You see I was to sleep with him that night, preparatory to an early start
for Bangor.
"Yes, some cold meat, bread, and a pie. But don't forget to first take a
dose of the thoroughwort syrup. Addison, you bear it in mind, for George
is awful forgetful, especially about taking his thoroughwort." And Mrs.
Brown detained us fully fifteen minutes, as she rehearsed the remarkable
qualities of her favorite remedy,--"particularly for keeping out cold."
"Mother thinks that condemnable stuff is meat, drink, and clothing,"
remarked George, as we sought the pantry at an early hour on the following
morning, not for the thoroughwort, but for sandwiches, pies, and the like.
"Let me take a taste of the 'stuff,'" I said, as I noticed the jar so
conveniently at hand.
"O, no; not on an empty stomach. It will make you throw up Jonah if you
do," exclaimed George, with an expression of disgust distorting his
features. "Eat something first, and then, if you want to taste the
condemned 'stuff,' do so, and the Lord be with you," he added, pitching
into the eatables.
Having made away with the pie, and much of the sandwiches, we turned our
attention for a moment to the thoroughwort syrup. I took a taste, and
George spilled a quantity on the shelf, "that mother may know we have been
to the jar," he remarked, as we left the pantry.
It was not yet five o'clock when we drove noiselessly away from the door.
If I remember rightly, we were not _noiseless_ after that. The morning was
delightful, slightly cool,--but that was no impediment to our warm blood,
owing to the thoroughwort,--and we sped on in an exuberant flow of
spirits. "Simon" was in excellent travelling order, and went without whip
or spur. We should have reached the village of B., where we were to
breakfast, and bait Simon, by eight o'clock, but George would insist on
making the acquaintance, _nolens volens_, of half the farmers on the road,
ostensibly to inquire the way to B.
"Hallo!" he shouted, reining up Simon before a small farm-house. Up flew a
window, and out popped a nightcapped head.
"What d'ye want?" called a feminine voice. It was now hardly daylight, and
the person could not distinguish us.
"Excuse me, madam, for disturbing your slumbers; but can you inform a
stranger if this is the right road to B.?" asked George, in his most
pleasing manner.
"O, yes; keep right on; take the first left hand road to the top o' the
hill; then go on till yer--"
We drove away, not waiting for the rest.
"Do you suppose that old woman is talking there now, with her nightcapped
head poked out of the window?" asked George, as we reached the hotel at B.
"For shame!" said I. "Waking up all the people on the road, to inquire the
way, with which you were perfectly familiar!"
From B. our route lay along the western bank of the beautiful Penobscot. I
need not detain you while I rehearse the delightful scenery _en route_ to
Bangor; the variegated and gorgeous splendors of the autumnal leaves; the
bending boughs, from the abundant ripened fruit, in colors of red, orange,
and yellow on one hand, and on the other the bright, glassy waters of the
broad river, dotted here and there by the white sails of boats and vessels
lying becalmed in the morning sunshine.
We reached the village of O., and George made inquiry for the residence of
Mr. Kingsbury.
"The large white house just across the bridge."
"Thank you." And we drove up to the front yard.
"Ne-ne-now, Ad, you go up and knock, and call for Miss Kingsbury;
ye-ye-you know I st-stutter when I get ex-ex-cited," said George, hitching
Simon to the horse-post.
"What shall I say to her? and how shall I know Miss Kingsbury from any
other lady?"
"O, ask for her. I'll compose myself, and follow ri-right up. You'll know
her from the description I have given you. Black eyes and hair, full
form--O, there is nobody else like her. Come, go up and call for her."
"Well, I'll go; and if I get stuck, come quickly to my rescue," I said,
turning to the house. "Is _Miss_ Kingsbury at home?" I asked of the young
lady who answered my knock. "This person is surely not Miss Jenny," I said
to myself; "cross-eyed, blue at that, and light, almost red hair." She
smiled, took a second look at me, and said,--
"Who?"
"Miss Jenny Kingsbury," I repeated.
"Well--yes--I guess she is. Will you walk in?"
"No, thank you. Will you please call her out?" And so saying, I beckoned
to George.
The girl closed the door, and I called to George "to make haste and change
places with me." He came up just as the door reopened, and a beautiful
dark-eyed woman appeared, whom he greeted as Miss Kingsbury.
"I'll see to the horse," I said; and having taken a hurried glance at
the young lady, I withdrew. For a full half hour I walked up and down
beneath the maples in front of the house, watched the steamer Penobscot,
as she came up the river, and from thence turned my attention to a
schooner that was endeavoring to enter the cove, not far from the house. A
light breeze had sprung up from the westward, and the channel being
narrow, there seemed much difficulty in gaining the harbor.
Finally George came to the door and beckoned me. I went in, and received
an introduction to Mrs. Kingsbury and to Jenny.
"O, but she is beautiful," I whispered to George.
He was flushed and excited, consequently stammered some, and I was
compelled to keep up a conversation, but I did not feel easy. Something
was wrong. I detected more than one sly wink between aunt and niece, and
when the cross-eyed miss came into the room, I could not tell whom she was
glancing at, as her eyes "looked forty ways for Sunday," but she leered
perceptibly towards first one, then the other of the ladies. I hinted to
George that we must not delay longer. Still he tarried. Mrs. Kingsbury
seemed interested in the movements of the schooner in the mouth of the
cove. Miss Jenny was interested in George. I was interested in getting
away from them all. Finally the schooner was moored to the wharf, and,
standing at the window, I noticed a sailor, with a bundle on a stick over
his shoulder, approaching the house. A whisper passed between aunt and
niece, and the latter asked George to accompany her into an adjoining
room.
It was now past noon. A pleasant, savory smell came up from the kitchen,
but no one asked me to put up the horse, and stay to dinner.
The man with the bundle came familiarly into the yard. Soon George
returned alone to the room, and seizing his hat, he stammered, "C-c-come,
Ad," and rushed from the house.
Mrs. Kingsbury attended me to the door, and wished me a pleasant ride to
Bangor. George jumped into the buggy, seized the reins, and giving a cut
upon the horse, bawled, "Go on, Simon."
"Hold on. First let me unhitch him," I cried, seizing the spirited beast
by the bridle. I unfastened the halter, and jumped into the carriage; and
away flew Simon, snorting and irritated under the unnecessary cuts he had
received from the whip. At the first corner George took the back road
towards B.
"Not that way! Hold on, and turn about," I exclaimed, catching at the
reins. "Now stop and tell me all about it. Did you propose to Jenny? Has
she accepted, and are you beside yourself with ecstatic joy? Come, tell
me."
"Ho! Simon." And laying down the reins, George drew out his wallet, and
taking therefrom a bit of silk goods, he turned upon my astonished gaze a
woe-begone look, and said,--
"Ad, she's mum-mum-married--"
"Married!"
"Yes, married; and there's a piece of her wedding gown. The fellow you saw
come in while there, with the bundle on a stick,--the
land-lubberish-looking fellow,--was her husband. O my God! Did you ever?"
And so relieving his mind, he caught the reins and whip, and away darted
Simon at a fearful rate of speed.