SEQUEL TO THE ORPHAN'S TALE.--WHO CAN HE BE?--ELEMENTS.--THE
ASTROLOGERS.
On Monday morning, our merry party at the Grange breakfasted rather
earlier than usual, and Mr. Wyndham and Alice Bolton set off for
Philadelphia, full of eagerness to hunt up an uncle for little Margaret
Roscoe. Charlie told him, laughingly, that he was sure he would persuade
some one to be her uncle, if rich Mr. Roscoe did not prove to be the
right man: he could pick one up somewhere along the streets. But Mr.
Wyndham replied, with an offended air, that he was sorry he had not yet
learned his worth: good uncles, like him, were not to be met with every
day--they should be valued accordingly.
"Do you remember the anecdote about Frederic the Great, of Prussia?"
asked his wife.
"There are many funny stories told of him," answered Mr. Wyndham; "which
is the one you refer to?"
"One Sunday, a young minister preached an admirable sermon before him,
showing uncommon talent and erudition. Frederic afterwards sent for him,
and asked where he was settled. 'Unfortunately, Sire, I have had no
opportunity of being installed anywhere: I have never had a living
presented to me.' 'But what is the reason?--you preach an excellent
discourse, and appear to be an active young man.' 'Alas! Sire, I have no
uncle.' 'Then I'll be your uncle, said Frederic. And he kept his word:
the next vacancy in the ecclesiastical appointments was filled up with
the name of his adopted nephew."
"But, Aunt," said Harry, "I can't see what his having no uncle had to do
with it."
"You know that in most other parts of Christendom, where the stars and
the stripes do not float in the breeze, what we call the voluntary
principle in church maintenance and government is not the rule at all.
Here, people choose their own clergymen, and of course it is their
business to support them. But in nearly the whole of Europe, rulers are
so very paternal as to take that trouble and responsibility off the
shoulders of the people: they are kind enough to do all their thinking
for them. The subjects pay very heavy taxes; and from these, and from
old endowments, all the expenses of the national establishments are
discharged. They look at it in the same light as your parents do, when
they pay your school-bills--it's a duty they owe you to see that you are
properly taught; but it would be very weak in them to consult you as to
which teacher you preferred, and what school you chose to go to--they're
the best judges, of course."
"But, Aunt Lucy! you surely don't mean to say that the governments are
the best judges as to what church the people shall attend, and what
ministers they shall have?"
"I do not mean to say that is my opinion, of course--that would be
rather anti-American, and not at all Aunty-Lucyish. No, no; I stand up
for the rights of conscience, and approve of treating grown men, and
children too, as if they had reason and common sense; and then they will
be far more likely to possess it, than if they are always kept under an
iron rule. But, on the other side of the water, they have not so exalted
an opinion of the mass of the people as we have; and the government, in
some form--either through ecclesiastical boards, or inspectors of
churches, or members of the aristocracy--exercises the power of filling
vacant churches. This is the reason why it is important to have an
uncle; in other words, some influential person to aid you in rising."
"Even the _memory_ of an illustrious uncle is sometimes a
stepping-stone," remarked Charlie Bolton. "The late Emperor Louis
Napoleon is an example--lucky fellow; his uncle's name and fame got him
a throne--with the help of considerable cheating."
"Not so lucky, if you look at his end," said John. "But from other and
quite disinterested motives, I intend to keep as close to _my_ uncle as
he. I shall very soon begin to subscribe myself John Wyndham, Junior,
and I am determined to be like you, uncle--as like as your own shadow."
"Then you will be an illustrious example of failure, my boy--for my
shadow, although always near me, is generally cast down, which I never
am--and it always looks away from the sunny side, you know, which I
don't do. Besides, a shadow has no particular character: any one's
shadow would suit me as well as my own."
"I intend to be an original, for my part!" cried Cornelia, laughing. "I
won't be cast in anybody's mould, as if I were a bullet--not I!"
"That's right, my dear original!" said her uncle, pinching her rosy,
dimpled, laughter-loving cheek. "The grave world always wants a pert
little Cornelia to tease it out of its peculiarities: people in old
times kept their jesters, and you're nearly as good!"
"Why, uncle! you insult me! you've quite mistaken my character; I intend
to be the dignified Miss Wyndham!"
"Oh, pray, spare us that infliction!" replied her uncle, laughingly,
jumping into the carriage.
Mr. Wyndham met with good success. He arrived at Mr. Roscoe's door at
the moment that gentleman was about to leave home. Alice Bolton, who was
an especial favorite of his, introduced her uncle; and when he
understood that they had private business with him, he led them up to
his library, where, hanging over the mantle-piece, Mr. Wyndham
immediately saw a portrait, the counterpart of the one in his
possession, although evidently taken some years before the miniature.
Involuntarily, he stopped before it, and gazed earnestly. Mr. Roscoe
sighed. "Here is all that remains," said he, "of a dear and only
brother. I value this picture more than any thing else in my house,
except its living furniture." "Had your brother no family, sir? no wife
or child?" rejoined Mr. Wyndham. "That is rather a tender subject, my
dear sir," answered Mr. Roscoe: "one that has caused me much sorrow, and
some self-reproach. He left a wife and child, indeed, who were to join
me in America. I have reason to think they sailed; but from that day to
this, I have heard no tidings from them. Would to God I knew their fate!
whether the unknown ship in which they took passage went down at sea, or
what else may have happened, I know not. All my efforts to unravel the
mystery have been in vain." "Perhaps I can help you," said Mr. Wyndham,
with that peculiarly benevolent smile, which opened all hearts to him,
as if by magic. "You recognize this countenance?" continued he, holding
up to him little Maggie's medallion. "My brother Malcom! tell me, sir,
tell me where you got this; it was his wife's!" "His sweet little
daughter--your niece, Margaret Roscoe--handed it to my wife a few days
ago. She knows not she has an uncle living: her mother is dead, and she
is dwelling in comparative poverty near my house." "I cannot doubt it,
from this picture--although it is all a mystery still. But I must see
her--my dear brother's child. I will order up my carriage immediately,
and beg you to take seats in it. I must see her as soon as possible."
"On that very account I have made arrangements for you to come out to
The Grange in mine," replied Mr. Wyndham. "We can explain all things by
the way; and you can return whenever you say the word. You will find Old
Cæsar quite at your disposal."
"I gratefully accept your offer, my dear sir, and can never be
sufficiently thankful to you, if you indeed restore to me my brother's
child. I will order my carriage to follow us to The Grange."
Accordingly, he acquainted his family, in few words and great haste,
with the discovery that had been made, and left Carrie, Alan, and Malcom
in an intense state of excitement, at the idea of regaining the
long-lost cousin. The three then drove immediately to Mrs. Norton's
little cottage, where the gentle and womanly child was busily engaged at
her work--
"Stitch, stitch, stitch,
Band, gusset, and seam--"
striving, by her small, but active fingers, to aid in the support of
that family which had sheltered her in adversity. As the door opened,
she raised her deep blue eyes--the very reflection of her father's. The
work fell from her hands; that face reminded her of home, of her
grandfather, of her unknown uncle. They have recognized each other; the
ties of blood speak out in their hearts; the long-severed are now
united.
I will not attempt to raise the veil which hides from the world the
strongest and purest affections of our nature: they were never intended
for the common eye. But now, after the first rapture of meeting had
subsided, there arose a tumult within the soul of our affectionate and
grateful little Maggie: her heart urged her in two opposite directions.
She felt, in an ardent and uncommon degree, that instinctive love of
kindred which is implanted in our nature, and manifested so strongly by
the natives of Scotland; but, on the other hand, gratitude and duty
appeared to bid her stay with her benefactors. Mr. Roscoe perceived the
struggle, and it raised his little niece highly in his estimation. He
told her that it was not his wish to separate her entirely from the
family to which she was so warmly attached; that she should come very
frequently to see them, and that, as his niece, she would find it was in
her power to aid them more effectually than she could do as their
adopted daughter. Mrs. Norton, although with tears in her eyes, told her
that she could not now dare to detain her; her duty was clear, to follow
her uncle, who filled her father's place. Having made the arrangement to
call for her in the afternoon, Mr. Roscoe accompanied Mr. Wyndham and
Alice to the Grange, where he dined, and spent the intermediate time;
greatly to the pleasure of our young party, who could not have felt sure
of Maggie's future happiness, had they not themselves experienced the
attractive influence of his kind, gentlemanly, and paternal manner.
After dinner, the two gentlemen had a little private conversation about
Mrs. Norton. They wished to place her above poverty, and yet to do so in
a way which should not mortify her feelings of independence. Mr. Roscoe
remarked that "he had it in his power to bring Frederic forward in
business; and that, if he were an industrious and intelligent lad, he
should enjoy as good an opportunity of rising in the world as the son
of the richest merchant in the land. He would see to it that the girls
had the best advantages of education; and if they showed sufficient
talent, they should be trained for teachers. But, meantime, what was to
be done for Mrs. Norton? Would she accept from him an annuity, which,
after all, was only a small return for her kindness to his brother's
child?"
Mr. Wyndham thought that it would be a better plan to establish her in a
neat dwelling and well-furnished shop, either in the country or in the
city, where Frederic could board with her. He knew, from his wife's
account, that she had an acquaintance with business, and had thought of
setting her up, himself, in a small way: he should be happy to aid in
the good work. But Mr. Roscoe insisted that the debt was all his own,
and that no one should share with him the privilege of helping her; and,
accordingly, this plan was determined upon as combining the most
efficient assistance to the widow, with a regard to her self-respect.
In the evening, after the excitement produced by the unexpected turn in
the fortunes of little Maggie and of her generous protectors had
somewhat subsided, our happy party drew up to the fire, which crackled
and blazed as if conscious of the animation it imparted to the group
around it.
"What game shall we play to-night?" said Cornelia, who possessed such an
active mind as to think it stupid and "poking," unless some visible fun
was in progress. She never could think the fire was burning, unless the
sparks flew right and left.
"What do you say to 'Who can he be?" asked Mary. "'Tis a game, partly of
my own invention, that I think may prove entertaining. I've seen a set
of historical cards, in which a description is read of a general, king,
or other illustrious character; and any one having the card on which
the corresponding name is printed, calls it out, and gains the other
one. But if a beautiful Queen of Egypt, who lived a short time before
the Christian era, is portrayed, it's quite as well for boys who own a
Moses or a Mary of Scotland, not to be in too great a hurry to speak."
"We wouldn't be such dunces, I hope," cried Harry. "But, Cousin Mary,
what's your improvement? I don't see any cards here at all."
"Oh no: I think when people have brains, they can play much better
without them. My plan is, for a person to describe the individual,
naming the country and age in which he lived, what gained him
distinction, and every thing else that is interesting; and then any one
of the circle can guess who the hero is, having the privilege of asking
one question previously. If the conjecture be correct, the guesser
describes another character, and so the game proceeds. Or, if you prefer
it, you can narrate one well-known anecdote of your hero, and then three
questions are allowed previous to a guess. I call it 'Who can he be?'"
"I think I shall like it," said Ellen. "If you please, I'll begin. Once
there lived a Roman Emperor--he was a nephew, like Louis Napoleon and
Cousin John. We often say people lived in the year one: he certainly
did. He was a great patron of literature and the fine arts, and was a
munificent friend to Virgil. Who can he be?"
"I can tell you, without asking my question," cried Tom. "Augustus was
eminently the nephew, and succeeded his uncle, Julius Cæsar, in the
Empire. He was reigning at the time of our Saviour's birth, and of
course lived in the year one: every thing fits--he's the man."
"You are right. Now 'tis your turn, brother Tom."
"The first of the English poets--who wrote splendid poetry, if only one
could read it. 'Tis such hard, tough, jaw-breaking English, that it is
little wonder his very name shows we must use the muscles of our mouths
when we attempt it. He lived soon after the time of Wickliffe, and
imbibed some of his ideas. Who can he be?"
"Who but Chaucer?" said Cornelia. "Now who is the hero who was almost
elected King of Poland, but who lost that honor through the interference
of a queen of England, unwilling to lose the brightest jewel of her
crown by parting with him? He is mortally wounded on the battle-field,
and thirsting for water. His soldiers procure some, with great
difficulty, and he is about to raise it to his lips, when he sees the
longing eye of a dying man, at his side, fixed upon it. 'He wants it
more than I,' said he, and gave it to the poor fellow. Who can he be?"
"We are allowed three questions to an anecdote," said Alice, "but none
are required here. There is only one Sir Philip Sydney. But who was the
selfish queen, unwilling to have her noblest subject exalted beyond her
control?"
"None other than good Queen Bess," answered Cornelia.
"And who is the poet that has immortalized Sydney's sister, in the
following lines?
"'Underneath this marble hearse
Lies the subject of all verse:
Sydney's sister, Pembroke's mother--
Death, ere thou hast slain another
Good, and fair, and wise as she,
Time shall throw his dart at thee!'"
"Was it 'rare Ben Jonson?'" cried Charlie Bolton.
"Even so, Charlie: now, what have you got to say for yourself?"
"I intend to disprove the assertion of Alice, that there is only one
Sir Philip Sydney. Who was that other equally valiant knight, and much
sweeter poet, who used to sing his own verses, accompanying himself upon
the harp; and could thereby soothe the most troubled spirit? On one
occasion, this brilliant genius, whose romantic adventures might fill a
volume, and who subsequently became a king, was in exile, and was
hidden, with some devoted followers, in a large cave. The enemies of his
country were encamped around, and lay, in strong force, between his
hiding-place and the small town where he had spent his childish years,
which they also garrisoned. While in this situation, cut off from all
intercourse with his home and friends, his heart turned to them with an
intense longing; and in a moment of thoughtlessness, he said before
three of his captains, 'Oh, what would I not give, could I once more
drink water from the well, outside the gate of my native town!' At the
peril of their lives, the gallant men fought their way through the hosts
of the enemy, and returned with the water. But the poet-warrior would
not drink: he poured it out as a libation to God, saying, 'Can I indeed
drink the blood of these noble friends, who have risked their lives to
gratify my idle whim? I cannot do it.' Now, who can be this poet,
warrior, and king?"
"Did he live about a thousand years before the Christian era?" said Amy.
"He did."
"It was the sweet Psalmist of Israel, David, son of Jesse, the
Bethlehemite. Now, who is the man that long ago published a book of
jests, said to be greatly studied now-a-days by diners-out and professed
wits, and endlessly copied into other works of a similar character. His
reputation is so high, that many anecdotes are called by his name. Who
can he be?"
"Is it Punch?" said Lewis.
"How silly!" cried Harry, with the knowing look of a boy two years
older: "Punch is a newspaper. Was it Hood?"
"No: do you all give it up?"
"Yes: we can't imagine who he can be."
"Joe Miller, of jesting memory."
"Now let us try another game," said Gertrude. "Of course, Cousin Mary
has an endless store at her disposal."
"Let us try 'Elements,'" Mary answered. "I will throw my handkerchief at
some one, calling out water, air, or earth; and the person who catches
it must immediately name an animal living in or upon the element. But if
I say _fire_, you must be silent. The answer should be given before I
count ten; and then the one in possession of the handkerchief must throw
it to another, carrying on the game. Any one who repeats an animal that
has been already mentioned, pays a forfeit--except that I think forfeits
are stupid things."
"Instead of that," said Charlie, "let the unlucky wight who makes the
greatest number of blunders, have the privilege of proposing the first
game to-morrow."
"Very well," said Mary, throwing her handkerchief at Tom. "Water."
"Codfish," answered he, tossing it to Cornelia. "Earth."
"Elephant," replied Cornelia, sending the missive to Charlie. "Fire."
"Water," rejoined Charlie, flinging it to Amy.
"Eel," responded Amy, casting it into Anna's lap. "Air."
"Eagle," cried the latter, hurling the embroidered cambric at George's
face. "Earth."
"Have pity upon my poor little handkerchief!" said Mary. And so the
game proceeded; and simple though it was, it caused diversion.
"Who shall be appointed to tell the story to-night?" asked Ellen. "It
seems to me that Tom or Charlie, George or John should be selected; as
it generally happens, 'the softer sex' has done the chief talking. Isn't
it right and proper for the boys to take their equal share?"
"Oh, by no means!" answered Charlie. "It is the ladies' privilege--it
would be very ungallant to deprive them of it. Besides, my trade is that
of a critic, not an author: you must be aware that it is a higher
branch, giving larger scope to my superior judgment and exquisite powers
of fault-finding. Yes, criticism is my forte: do you tell stories,
Ellen, and I'm the chap to slash them up."
"You are only too kind," replied his cousin, laughing. "After such a
generous offer, who wouldn't be tempted?"
"I know you are right, sister Ellen," said Tom, "and that it is our duty
to help in the entertainment of the company; but, for my part, I throw
myself upon your mercy. I wouldn't, for the world, hint that we are more
solid than the girls, but 'tis very certain that we are more lumbering.
If I were to begin a tale, I'd flounder through it, like a whale with a
harpoon in its body; while any of the girls, even down to little Anna,
would glide along, like a graceful, snow-white swan upon a silver
lake--happy in her element, and giving pleasure to all who witnessed her
undulating motions."
"Very pretty that, Tom!" cried Cornelia. "After such a well-turned
compliment, our hearts would be flinty indeed, if we didn't excuse you.
But what do George and John say?"
"As for me," responded George, "it appears to be my vocation, at
present, to eat hearty dinners, grumble over my lessons, skate, and
now-and-then, by way of a frolic, fall into a pond. You may be thankful
if I don't get into all sorts of mischief. You need not expect me to
make myself agreeable till I arrive at the 'digging-up' age, that
Cornelia spoke of."
"For my part," added John, "you know that I couldn't invent a story, to
save my life. I've no fancy at all; and have made up my mind, as I can't
be agreeable, that I'll at least be useful. Everybody ought to be one or
the other."
"We should aim to be both," said Mr. Wyndham.
"But, indeed, uncle, 'tis hard work for a fellow, when he's plain-spoken
and rather dull, like me. I'd prefer sawing wood, any day, to
entertaining a parcel of girls!"
"That being the case," answered Mrs. Wyndham, smiling, "we couldn't be
hard-hearted enough to impose such an arduous duty upon you. I appoint
Cornelia to the honorable office of story-teller this evening."
"Then I bargain that I make my tale as short as I like, and that I am
not compelled to lug in a moral by the hair of its head, as the Germans
express it," said Cornelia. "I approve of every one following the bent
of his genius, and mine is not of the didactic order."
"We certainly should not expect a moral essay or an instructive treatise
from our wild little girl," replied Mr. Wyndham. "I suppose there is no
danger of its being immoral."
"I don't know, indeed," answered she, tossing her black curls, and
looking archly at her uncle, whom she dearly loved to tease. "I'll leave
you to judge of that: I don't answer for the injurious effect it may
have upon these unformed minds around me. I call my story
The Astrologers.
William Forsythe and Edward Barrington were lively young fellows of
twenty, who had left their homes in the South to complete their
education at one of our northern colleges. I don't think my strict uncle
would call them "immoral" young men, but they certainly did not carry
gray heads upon their green shoulders: they loved fun and mischief about
as well as I do. They did not neglect study, and were up to the mark in
their recitations; and they never perpetrated any thing really bad. They
would not have intentionally hurt any one's feelings for the world; but
yet, were any frolic to be carried into execution, these two were "the
head and front of the offending." The grave professors, while they
entertained their families at home with some of their exploits, were
obliged to put on a very sober face in public, and even to hint at
expulsion from the "Alma Mater," if the merry and thoughtless youngsters
persevered in their course.
I must relate one or two instances which caused considerable laughter at
the time, and have added to the stock of traditionary stories that may
be found in every boarding college throughout our land. Contraband
turkeys or geese, roasted in their room for supper, and intended for a
jolly party of friends who would collect together, were, of course,
quite common affairs. On one occasion, just as the odor had become very
exciting to their gastric organs, and the skin had assumed that tempting
brown hue betokening a near approach to perfection in their culinary
operations, the watchful tutor scented out either the supper or some
mischief, and rap-rap-rap was heard at the door. Every sound was
instantly hushed, and the offending bird was quickly transferred to a
hiding-place in the room. After some little delay, the door was opened,
with many apologies; and the tutor, looking suspiciously through his
spectacles, entered the apartment. "Very studious, gentlemen! very
studious, I see!" he said, glancing at the array of learned volumes open
before them. "Let me beg you not to injure your health by too close
application to books. But what a very curious smell! one would think you
had been carrying out the classical lessons contained in Apicius. Allow
me to examine: ah, Mr. Forsythe, I see that you grease your boots to
keep out the wet--a good precaution." So saying, he pulled out the nice
little goose from a new boot in the corner, to the mingled mortification
and amusement of the young men. "Suppers are doubtless agreeable things
at night," added the tutor; "but the worst is, that they often leave
unpleasant consequences the next morning: of course, you are aware that
you meet the faculty, to-morrow, gentlemen."
On another occasion, our two heroes were out all night, exerting
themselves strenuously for the public good. I suppose they thought that
if some of the impediments to familiar intercourse in the neighborhood
were removed, the state of society would be greatly benefited. Some such
grave purpose they must have had in view; for, in the morning, when the
inhabitants of the town awoke, they found to their surprise that all the
gates, small and great, had been removed from their hinges, and
collected in one large pile, in the middle of the Campus! To complain to
the faculty would do no good: it would only raise the laugh against
them. So, when any of the townspeople, or the farmers in the
neighborhood, came to select their gates from the pile, the cry was
given, "Heads out!" and from all the windows surrounding the Campus,
roguish eyes peeped forth, to watch the proceedings; and frequently the
property-owner returned, feeling very much as if he had been the
culprit.
One day, a countryman drove up with a load of wood. As he disappeared
around an angle of the building in search of the purveyor, our heroes
approached, with a select party of classmates, weary of recitations, and
longing for a change. Forsythe, whose genius for military tactics was so
striking that he was dubbed, by universal consent, "the general,"
instantly formed his plan of attack; and, being nobly seconded by his
quick-witted aids, he carried it into execution with the rapidity and
decision characteristic of a great commander. In five minutes, the
farmer returned, having concluded his bargain; but where was his cart,
and horse, and load of wood? Nothing of the kind was to be seen; and it
was very evident that patient Dobbin had, for once in his life, resolved
to take a frolic, and see a little of life; or else that some rogue had
gotten possession of him and his appurtenances without the formality of
a purchase. The town was searched, and all the adjacent roads. The
neighbors, ever ready, from a principle of pure benevolence, to take a
lively interest in all that was going on, gave advice in rich profusion,
and sent the poor man flying hither and thither, in vain. But, at last,
the contradictory reports appeared to settle down into the following
facts: that many persons had seen the cart enter the town, but that none
had witnessed its departure--wherein might be traced a strange likeness
to the old fable of the sick lion and his visitors. The suspicion at
last became general, that the students were somehow at the bottom of it;
so just an appreciation did the townspeople possess of their
capabilities for mischief, that no tricks of diablerie seemed too much
to ascribe to them. As the weary countryman and his sympathizing
companions approached those academic shades, where earnest study and
severe meditation filled up all the hours, a stir was apparent within
the building; and the tramping of feet upon the stone staircase, and the
laughter of many voices, told that something unusual had occurred.
With ill-disguised merriment, the worthy rustic was escorted up three
flights of stairs, until, uneasily stamping upon the brick pavement of
the hall, his wondering eyes fell upon his horse, looking decidedly out
of his element. How came he there? Behind him was the cart, loaded with
wood--not a buckle of his tackling was amiss--it looked as if old Dobbin
had marched up the stairway, load and all. No one knew any thing of the
prodigy--no one ever does, in such cases. The horse looked indignant, as
if he had a tale to tell; but the words wouldn't come. No other witness
could be produced in court; and the end of it was, that all, except the
unfortunate animal himself, indulged in a hearty horse-laugh.
In what way they drove the cart down stairs, history does not mention.
That was the concern of the owner and of the college authorities, and
not mine nor my heroes--it may be in the hall to this day, for aught I
know. But how they got up so high in the world is another matter, and I
will let you into my secret, merely to convince my incredulous hearers
that the thing was possible. Each of the fellows shouldered as many logs
as he could carry, conveyed them to the appointed place, and returned
swiftly to the charge. The wheels were now off, and ready for four of
them, and the body of the cart for eight more. Forsythe and Barrington
reserved for themselves the honor and glory of managing the live-stock.
Slipping woollen socks over his feet, they somehow got him up-stairs
with marvellous celerity; and whilst his owner was gazing up and down
for his vanished property, the astonished horse was again tackled to the
loaded cart, his hose were taken off, and he was left to his
meditations, in solitary possession of the hall. So quietly was all this
done, that, although students and tutors were in the rooms adjoining,
nothing was suspected, until the horse, who felt himself to be placed,
without any fault of his own, in a false position, made known his
sentiments by his impatient movements.
The worst trick our heroes ever played, and one of a somewhat kindred
character, consisted in ornamenting Professor X's horse. At midnight,
when the authorities were sound asleep, they took the poor animal out of
his comfortable stable, and shoeing him with an extra quantity of felt,
to prevent any noise, they conveyed him, with great difficulty, up the
staircase, to the hall in the third floor. That might have satisfied
them; but no, they were not pleased with his color. He was of pure
white, and the scapegraces wished a variegated hue. So, after a
preliminary shaving, they painted him in green stripes, and when they
had arranged it to their satisfaction, they went to their own rooms. The
unfortunate victim was not well contented, either with his quarters or
his condition, and stamped about at a great rate, being quite unable to
get down stairs. In the morning, when the Professor was ready for his
usual ride, where was his horse? It had vanished, and the stable-door
was open: thieves must have been prowling about in the night. At last,
the trick was discovered; and then, as Will Forsythe said, "I could
paint that horse, which was rather restive, but I would not undertake to
paint the wrath of the Professor." Of course, no one did it--it was
impossible to discover the guilty individuals. But the poor animal did
not enjoy the frolic as much as the wild youngsters, for he died in
consequence; and this unfortunate termination of the exploit put a stop
to any practical jokes for the enormous period of several months. To
make up the unexpected loss to the Professor, the two friends sent him,
anonymously, a sum of money equal to the value of the horse.
But the moral discipline inflicted by the luckless death of the green
and white horse, did not endure forever. They say, that when a
subterranean fire exists, and old craters are abandoned, new ones are
thrown up: the inward, irresistible power must have a vent. Perhaps it's
somewhat so with us, lovers of fun. I see uncle shake his head at me,
and know that he thinks I'm inculcating bad morality: but indeed, nature
will out, as well as murder. You must know that the excellent President,
who had a great deal of dry humor in his composition, had procured a
nice new vehicle. Every one liked the old gentleman, and yet, so great
is the love of frolic inherent in some reprobate minds, that when the
idea of carrying off his carriage was first broached at one of their
little private suppers, by that wicked imp Will Forsythe, it was met
with shouts of applause. It was resolved to convey it away, in the dead
of the night, to a little piece of woods belonging to the Doctor, at a
distance of about three miles from the college, and there to leave it.
The plan was to be carried into execution that very night.
Accordingly, at midnight, eight forms might have been seen carefully
descending from eight windows, and skulking along in the shade, for the
moon was shining brilliantly, until they got beyond the college limits.
They drew out the carriage, and proceeded slowly along the road: no one
was astir except themselves. When they had passed all the houses, they
no longer felt the need of keeping the strict silence they had at first
thought necessary, and the merry laugh and the gay repartee went round.
"Hallo, Forsythe!" exclaimed Barrington, "how do you stand it? I think
this concern is as ponderous as if the old fat Doctor were inside it
himself!" "I conceive this joke to be rather a heavy one," replied his
friend, laughing. "I begin to wonder if we are not fools for our pains:
Dr. Franklin would say that we paid too dear for our whistle." "Never
give up the ship, my boy!" cried the other. "Only think how the old
Doctor will stare about him to-morrow, when he misses it! It will be a
second edition of the Professor's horse." "Now, 'an thou lovest me,
Hal,' don't say a word about the Professor's horse, or I'll turn back
with the carriage. That cost me to the tune of a hundred dollars, and
more, not to speak of the remorse I felt when the poor creature died.
But didn't he look comical when I had put on the green!" Thus, with
jocund peals of laughter, they shortened the way, until they reached the
little piece of woods in which they intended to deposit the coach. Had
they been obliged to toil as much to gain their daily bread, they would
probably have thought it hard work.
They took down the bars, drew in the carriage, and placed it in a snug
position, out of sight. "And now for home!" said Forsythe. "Won't we get
there a little sooner than we came?" At that moment the carriage window
was thrown up, a large white head was put forth into the moonlight, and,
to the horror of all concerned, they beheld the Doctor! Whether to run,
or what to do, they did not know. The old President enjoyed their
confusion for a few moments, and then said, "Much obliged to you for a
pleasant ride, young gentlemen: now, suppose we go home again." Putting
in his head, and shutting the window and blind, he left them to their
dismay. Completely taken in! they had been betrayed, somehow. They might
look for an expulsion, after that; and, what was worse, would be
heartily laughed at besides.
Between their mortification and the unwonted hard work, the perspiration
rolled off their faces in large drops by the time they got home--that is
to say, to the coach-house. Forsythe humbly opened the coach-door and
let down the steps. "Many thanks," said the Doctor, with a grave face:
"I have seldom enjoyed a more agreeable ride. I don't know when I have
had horses I liked so well." Every day for a fortnight "the horses" were
trembling, in expectation of a notice to canter off from the college, in
disgrace; but no such intimation came. The worthy old Doctor was
contented with the punishment he had already inflicted, but reminded
them occasionally of their midnight frolic, and brought blushes up to
their cheeks, by some sly allusion.
College days are now over: our heroes have graduated with some
distinction, notwithstanding their many peccadilloes, and have bid
farewell forever to the "academic shades," figuratively speaking, of
their Alma Mater. They have amazed, delighted, and edified the ladies
present at the Commencement by the eloquence of their Greek and Latin
orations: the pretty creatures listened with rapt attention, and most
intelligent countenances, to the whole. Had it been Cherokee, it would
have proved the same thing. They did not enlighten the audience, as a
learned old Scotchman, who, some fifty years ago, was President of one
of our northern colleges, actually did at a commencement speech. He had
a board of trustees, whom he looked upon with great contempt, as
illiterate men; and not being on the best terms with them, he
determined upon a characteristic revenge. Turning round to one side of
the stage, where some of them were seated, whenever he quoted Latin, he
gave the explanation, "That's _Latin_, gentlemen;" and again, when he
introduced any Greek, bowing to the other side, "That's _Greek_,
gentlemen." But one incident occurred, showing equal respect to the
classical acquirements of those around him: Will Forsythe, whose memory
was none of the best, feeling a sudden lapse of it in the very middle of
his speech, with imperturbable impudence, recommenced from his
starting-point, and made an admirable impression. Thunders of applause
rewarded him when he made his parting bow.
The two friends still kept together. They visited the Falls of Niagara,
Canada, Saratoga, and Newport; and yet, strange to say, their purses
were not exhausted. What shall they do next? they are ready for any
frolic that presents itself. They have money in their pockets, young
blood in their veins, unlimited time at their disposal, and, of course,
they must be in some mischief, as neither of them has lost his heart,
and become sentimental. While in New York, Forsythe accidentally took up
a newspaper, and that determined the especial kind of wickedness in
which they should engage. He noticed a number of pompous advertisements
of fortune-tellers under the head of astrology, which gave him an idea.
He showed them to Barrington, who observed that "it was astonishing how
many fools and ignoramuses there were still in the nineteenth century,
when the schoolmaster was abroad." "A very sage remark," answered his
friend. "If the schoolmaster would stay at home, and mind his own
business, instead of being abroad so much, perhaps the world would be
better taught. I notice that he is always going to an education
convention. But I didn't show you that for the purpose of eliciting
wisdom: quite the contrary--folly is what I'm after, just now. What do
you think of our turning astrologers?" "Grand! you're a genius, Will!
that's the very thing to wake us up! Here are you and I, dashing blades,
who have been doing penance by trying to be fine gentlemen at
watering-places, when it wasn't at all in our line. I began to think we
looked as much like fops as the rest of the scented and bearded
dress-coats, who strut about, and imagine the world is looking at them.
This would throw us into quite another rank of life, and give us new
ideas. How shall we manage it though, my fine fellow?" "Nothing easier
in the world. Let us rent a small house, somewhere near the
Bowery--that's the right neighborhood; and when we have fitted it up
suitably to our trade, I'll engage to put an advertisement in the papers
that shall draw us customers. How do you think I could pass for a Jew?"
"Pretty well, with your coal-black eyes and hooked nose: but what is
that notion?" "I think it would cause a great sensation if the Wandering
Jew were to appear again in real life. What between Croly and Eugene
Sue, he has been kept very extensively before the public in books: but I
believe no one has had the audacity as yet to represent him in an
every-day, money-getting capacity, at least in America. How do you like
my plan?" "Superb! the only objection is that you are rather youthful in
appearance for one who has wandered over the earth for more than
eighteen hundred years. Could you alter that, Will?" "Somewhat, with the
aid of a snow-white wig and yellow dye; and you know I always possessed
the accomplishment of furrowing up my face with wrinkles when I chose. I
don't doubt I could look the character pretty well, in a rich, flowing
Oriental dress. And the little Hebrew we picked up at college from our
good friend the learned young Rabbi, will also stand us in hand. Have
you any objection to being my servant, Ned?" "None at all; I shall feel
quite honored by the position. I don't consider myself competent to play
the first fiddle in this amusing duet, but can follow your lead very
well." "Remember, then, that our English is rather broken, and that we
communicate our meaning to one another in French, Spanish, scraps of
Hebrew, or Latin and Greek. I have not quite yet forgotten all I learned
at college, though I suppose I shall do so in another month." "You
remember your speech, at least--eh, Will?" "The first half; if it is
necessary to make a great sensation, I can come out with that."
Full of the new plan of diversion, the boys, for they were boys at
heart, although men in stature, set out to hunt a house; and were
successful in finding one that suited their notions. Very soon it was
furnished in Oriental style, and an inner room was fitted up with
various occult instruments, calculated to inspire the minds of the
vulgar with a wholesome dread. It was agreed that Barrington should make
very little change in his wardrobe, and merely dye his hair and
whiskers, and add a richer brown to his complexion, to give a more
travelled look, and, as he said, to hinder any of the Saratoga belles
from finding him out, if they came to have their fortunes told. But
Forsythe took infinite pains to alter his appearance, and was so
successful, that his friend assured him his own mother could not detect
his identity, and that Garrick himself, who could look any character and
any age he pleased, would have been jealous had he seen how successfully
he had hidden his youth and beauty. When all preparations were made, the
advertisement was written. It stated that "The Wandering Jew, having
reached New York in his peregrinations, would stay for the space of one
fortnight only, it being then indispensably necessary that his travels
should recommence, and highly probable that he might not revisit the
city for a century. Being now the sole depository of the mysterious
knowledge acquired in Egypt in ancient times, some scraps of which had
been picked up by the astrologers of the middle ages, and especially by
Merlin, Michael Scott, Cornelius Agrippa, and Friar Bacon, he was ready,
during the short period of his stay, to lift the veil which separates
the present from the future. Not being actuated in the slightest degree
by a lust for gain, the illustrious exile would not consent to gratify
mere idle curiosity, and to afford amusement to the gay and frivolous;
but where an earnest, inquiring mind was intent upon discovering the
hidden things of life, upon investigating the secrets of the past, or
searching into futurity, the Wanderer would give his mighty assistance.
By books and science, by spells and conjurations, the POWERS were
compelled to reveal their arcana, and FATE itself whispered its dark
mysteries into his ear. The SPIRITS being subjects of the Great
Magician, their aid would be called in when desired. Where this mode was
preferred to the ordinary methods of consulting the stars, the Cabala,
and black-letter volumes, these intelligences answered all questions by
significant RAPS, or in writing, guiding the hand of the Wanderer, who
acted as their medium."
The first day that the advertisement appeared, no visitors of any
distinction came to see the Wanderer, who yawned, and smoked cigars, and
read through the last novel, declaring that it was intolerable to be
dressed up for a show, and to have nobody come to see them. But in the
evening, they were rewarded for their trouble. There was a quick,
nervous ring, and Barrington opened the door: a timid little man walked
in, looking back over his shoulder to see if he were observed. When he
found himself alone with Barrington, he asked, with some surprise, if he
were the Great Magician. "I! oh, no, my lord: far be it from me. I am
the humblest of his slaves. I will see if my venerable master can now
receive you." Opening the door leading into a back apartment, he made a
low salam to the Wanderer, who was seated in state upon a divan,
immersed in his studies. Addressing him in Hebrew, with a few words of
Greek to make out the sense, he received a response which he interpreted
to the newcomer as a permission to approach the august presence. The
little man went in, feeling at every step an increase of reverential
awe. The Oriental, costumed with all magnificence, his hoary head bent
with age, his brow, from beneath which black eyes flashed brightly,
furrowed with years and care, filled him with admiration. Every thing
around heightened the impression. A curious-carved cabinet, whose doors
looked as if they concealed a mystery, was surmounted by folio volumes
filled, of course, with potent spells: and above these again, a skull
and cross-bones made him shudder. In one corner was a globe, covered
with strange figures, dragons, scorpions, distressed damsels fastened to
a rock, etc. Scattered about the room were singular instruments of
various kinds, jars with hideous snakes preserved in spirits, books in
unknown tongues, and parchments upon which cabalistic diagrams were
portrayed, which no doubt had power to command the spirits and to reveal
futurity.
The Wanderer waved his hand, to invite his visitor to a seat: the humble
slave stood, with head meekly bowed down, near the door. With some
difficulty the little man, who was frightened nearly out of his small
stock of wits, explained his errand. It seems that he had fallen heir to
a property, the deed of which had been lost. He had tried every method
he could think of to discover it: he had rummaged over all the drawers
and chests in his relative's house; he had said his prayers backwards,
so that a dream might be sent him in the night; and he had been to three
fortune-tellers, but strange to say, had returned no wiser than he was
when he went. And now, this was his last hope: if the Wandering Jew, of
whom he had heard so much, could not help him, he knew that no one
could. He was asked in which way he wished to receive the desired
information: should the answer appear in flames before him, should it be
discovered by the magic books, or should the spirit of his deceased
friend signify his presence to him by a rap, and then respond to the
question? The stranger evidently preferred the last mode of operating,
and let out the fact, in the course of conversation, that his relative
had been lost at sea. The Wanderer then performed various evolutions,
burning incense, bowing to unseen visitors, who were admitted into the
room by the slave upon a rap being heard at the door, and muttering,
meanwhile, mysterious words in an unknown tongue, to which his attendant
occasionally responded. The poor little man began to quake all over: he
felt as if surrounded by charms, and spells, and wicked spirits. He
wished himself heartily out of the house: but there was no retreat
now--some ghosts it is easier to raise than to lay. When the room was
filled with fragrant smoke, and the subject of the conjuration was
completely mystified and frightened, Selim, for so the Wanderer called
his assistant, brought in a circular table, around which the three
seated themselves in profound silence; but the venerable Oriental, who
acted as the medium of communication, alone placed his hand upon it. A
rap, which caused the little man nearly to jump off his chair, announced
that the spirit was ready to be consulted. The medium asked, "Whether
the inquirer should recover his rights, and obtain a copy of the deed?"
Three impressive, decided raps gave an affirmative reply. "Will he be
satisfied upon this point to-morrow?" Again three raps. "Will the spirit
condescend to signify, in writing, in what way he shall act to obtain
this end?" Three raps again testified that the amiable spirit was
willing to oblige. Accordingly, Selim having produced an antique
ink-stand and an eagle's quill--a goose quill and steel pens would have
been quite too common--the hand of the medium was guided in tracing
strange characters, which looked like a jumble of the Greek, Arabic, and
cuneiform alphabets. This "spirit dialect" was translated to the
inquirer: it contained a direction to call early the next morning,
between the hours of eight and nine--for during that hour the fates were
propitious to him--at the office of a lawyer named Warren, No. 354
Broadway. Upon seeing him, he was to lay down a $20 gold piece, and to
say that he wanted him to procure a copy of the missing will. He must
answer all questions Mr. Warren might ask, and, above all, must feel
implicit faith in him, as the agent appointed by the spirits to restore
to him his property.
Full of awe as he was, the little man still wished to gratify his
curiosity as to the manner of his kinsman's death: could that be done?
"Oh, yes," answered the mysterious one, "nothing is easier." As he was
speaking, the table began to creak, as a ship would do in a storm. It
was excessively agitated; the noise of the rudder was heard, and at
last, after a series of agonizing movements, the whole concern fell
over, with a sudden crash. And yet no one appeared to touch it--the
passive hand of the venerable exile could scarcely have affected it so
strangely. "You see the fate of the ship," said the Wanderer; "it has
gone to the bottom in a storm." "How very odd!" replied the
simple-hearted little man; "when it came home, the Captain said he had
fallen overboard." "He did," answered the magician, in a solemn manner,
avoiding, however, to look in the direction of Selim. "Did you not hear
the plunge into the sea? this describes the ultimate fate of the
vessel." The good, easy man was perfectly satisfied.
He was directed to come on the morrow, when the deed had been found, and
the correctness of the spirit's directions was fully proved: and payment
was indignantly' refused. The next day, various sentimental chambermaids
visited them, desiring to be shown the likeness of their future
husbands. This was done, greatly to their satisfaction, by exhibiting to
them one and the same hyalotype, magnified by the magic lantern, so that
the life-like countenance appeared to approach them from the opposite
wall in the darkened room. It was observed, that the more ignorant they
were, the more were they affected with horror by the sight of the
cross-bones, skull, and chemical apparatus. Still, this was rather tame
work; and both the Aged One and Selim were relieved when they saw their
dupe of the preceding night reappear, with happiness beaming in every
feature of his countenance. "The lawyer," he said, "had not appeared at
all surprised at being told to get him a copy of the will: he said
something about the Recorder's office. He was a young-looking man to be
chosen by the spirits: and he wanted to know who had sent him to
himself. Of course I told him, and then he laughed, and said it was a
great humbug. I was very much afraid that the spirits would be offended,
and refuse to discover to him the will: but he told me to return towards
evening, and lo! here it is."
The poor little man was full of the warmest gratitude, and wanted to
force a purse upon the unwilling astrologers: but they finally overcame
his importunities by representing that the spirits would not obey their
summons, if made a subject of bargain and sale, and that he should best
please them by distributing it among the sick and poor.
This circumstance, which found its way into one of the daily papers,
with many embellishments, brought crowds of believers in "the night side
of nature" to our mischievous youngsters, who were ready to humor the
credulous public to the top of its bent. Very many people looked sage,
and quoted the passage--
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Select circles of intelligent people insisted upon it, that although
they could not give in their adhesion to such mysteries, yet they
greatly disapproved of the spirit of skepticism which had been so
prevalent for the last fifty years. The new discoveries in science
plainly showed that nature had many secrets yet unrevealed to man: and
no one should audaciously set a limit to his powers. Did not animal
magnetism, containing so many things which could not be explained away,
plainly prove it? Could they have seen our merry graduates, when the
door was locked for the night, and the venerable wig was thrown aside,
jollifying over their supper! could they have heard the peals of
laughter caused by the unlooked-for success of the frolic, how would
their cheeks have been covered with blushes!
The astrologers became decidedly the rage: had it been their object to
gain wealth, they could have charged any price they pleased for their
conjurations, and would have obtained it. But their popularity was of
course increased by the fact that the mysterious Wanderer uniformly
refused to accept any compensation, and majestically commanded those who
sought his aid, to apply the sum of money offered him to the relief of
the first poor widow, orphan, or aged person they met. This peculiarity
induced many young persons, of a rank in life and a style of education
who do not commonly patronize fortune-telling, to visit the great
unknown, partly in fun, partly in earnest; for there is a vast deal of
superstition hidden in the recesses of most characters, and ready to
start forth at the first call. Bright eyes, obscured by thick veils,
excited the curiosity even of the venerable Wanderer; and white,
jewelled hands were extended, that his searching glance might decipher
the lines of life. Several interesting love-tales were poured into the
sympathizing ear of benign old age, and the recollections of centuries
were called up, to furnish suitable counsel and to encourage the
despairing heart to hope. Forsythe assured his friend that he would not
exchange the knowledge of human nature, and especially of woman nature,
which he had acquired in this fortnight, for the experience of ten years
of ordinary life.
The joke was very consistently carried out. Our youngsters were both
possessed of ready mother wit, and the world was charmingly mystified.
The answers furnished to inquirers partook much of the dimness and
ambiguity of the ancient oracular responses, when Delphi was yet in its
glory, and the oaks of Dodona reflected some of their own rich green
tint upon those who consulted its priestesses. On one occasion, "Selim"
found it very difficult to retain the gravity of his sad, Oriental
countenance. A sharp, quick-witted young fellow, Frank Warren, their
former college chum, to whom they had sent his first fee, had
accompanied the grateful little man who had made their reputation,
ostensibly for the purpose of consulting the spirit of Milton, but
really, as they plainly perceived, to detect their tricks. They were on
their guard: they had not seen Warren for some time, but their former
habits of intimacy made the danger of discovery imminent. It was
Warren's wish that the spirit should guide the pen of his medium, and
accordingly our Ancient sat down, and tried to indite Miltonic lines.
"Very blank verse, indeed, it was," as he subsequently confessed to his
familiar, at their midnight conference. The face of the visitor twitched
convulsively as he read the so-called poetry, and the young fellows,
ever ready to enjoy a joke, would have dearly loved to join him in a
loud and merry peal of laughter. By a great effort, all three restrained
themselves; but the inquirer remarked, with a grave countenance, that
"it appeared as if the genius of Milton had not expanded in the upper
world--he certainly never wrote such trash when he was upon the earth.
It reminded him of the saying of the wits of Athens: that although
Apollo was the god and patron of poetry, any common rhymster would be
ashamed of the lines which emanated from the deity at Delphos." When
Selim escorted the gentleman into the outer apartment, the skeptic
slipped some gold into his palm, which the former at first pretended to
receive; and by cunning cross-examination, strove to make him confess
that his master was not so old as he assumed to be. "How long have you
been in his service?" "Not very long, myself." "But do you think him as
ancient as he pretends to be?" "That is a delicate question: I hardly
like to answer it. To be frank, I have sometimes had doubts about the
great length of his life, although I cannot feel any hesitation on the
subject of his wonderful powers." "But how long have you known him?"
"Let me see. It was Friar Bacon who first introduced me to His
Eminence, and advised me to enlist in his service. He did not look so
very old at that time, and it was only six centuries ago. This occurred
at Oxford, on the magic eve of St. John's day, in 1250 A.D.--I remember
the date distinctly. No, between ourselves, I have some suspicions that
he is not quite so old as he says he is." Very soon after that, the
investigator left. One thing was certain, that he had not recognized
them.
On the last day of their intended stay, an incident occurred which
furnished a proper termination to their frolic. A rough, boorish fellow
came to visit them, who evidently "hailed" from remote country
districts, into which the civilizing influences of education had not
penetrated. All his utterances, for his words should scarcely be
dignified with the name of conversation, showed him to be ignorant in
the extreme, and to be credulous in proportion. He had come to New York,
hoping, in that centre of light and science, medical and theological, to
find relief from a certain demon which possessed him. This wicked spirit
made him often do things he didn't wish to do--caused him to foam at the
mouth, tear his clothes, etc., and he wanted to know whether the
Wanderer was not possessed of a spell to quiet the tormentor.
"Certainly; follow our directions, and you never shall be troubled with
him again."
Accordingly, the patient was brought into the back room, which had been
darkened up purposely. A circle was described, within which incense was
burnt, and in the centre stood the Awful One in his flowing robe, with
his magical wand in his hand, uttering terrible conjurations. "Do you
feel any thing?" he would occasionally ask the countryman, who was
gaping with wonder and admiration. "N--no, I dunna that I do," the man
would reply. "Then it has not left you yet: you'll be sure to know when
it does. You'll feel a sort of shock go all through you, and will see
sparks: then open your mouth wide, and the spirit will jump out." As it
was some time before the sufferer obtained relief, Selim was called to
his aid; and the way in which their Latin and Greek orations were tossed
about at one another, would have astonished the Professors. At last the
Wanderer placed the patient upon a stool, and proceeded with his
incantations. Suddenly the countryman uttered a shriek, and jumping into
the air, cut a pigeon-wing. "He's gone! I felt him go!" He had touched
the electrical machine, which had been fully charged, and was put there,
as it were, in ambush. "Do you feel much better?" "Yes; I'm another
man."
The poor fellow went away, declaring himself a perfect cure. And
Forsythe and Barrington agreed, that after such a brilliant finale it
was as well to beat a retreat: just as some gentlemen, at the close of
an evening visit, relate a witty anecdote, or sparkle out a brilliant
repartee, snatch up their hats, make their bows, and leave you in the
middle of a laugh. But another adventure was in store for them, which
had not entered into their calculations at all. The play-bills show us
that after a tragedy there generally comes a farce: the case was
reversed with them, for they had enjoyed their farce, and had laughed
over it heartily--and now there was danger of its ending in a tragedy.
When their preparations were nearly complete for a sudden and
inexplicable disappearance, our astrologers were horrified by the
apparition, in the day time, of stars they had never consulted--stars of
this gross, lower world--stars which, in case of resistance, become
shooting stars, and which revolve, in very eccentric orbits, around the
central police station. What these portended, it needed no wisdom of
Chaldean sage to decipher--exposure, ridicule, disgrace, and the
prison. They had enjoyed their laugh at the world--now the tables would
be turned, and the world's dread laugh be raised against them.
Resistance was utterly in vain. Attired as they were, in flowing
Oriental garb, the distressed Wanderer and his faithful Selim were
hurried into a cab, which no conjuration, not even that of "the golden
eagle," could prevent from driving to the Mayor's office. Here they
beheld their former friend, Warren, evidently the "very head and front
of the offending:" he was talking to the little man of the famous will
case, who appeared to be on the verge of a violent nervous fever. The
latter wished to escape, but the lawyer was too resolute and
pertinacious to be conquered by his weak irritability, and he was
obliged to resign himself into his hands.
The exile had time allowed him to reflect upon his course of action. A
multitude of petty cases were up for examination, and the patience of
his Honor, the Mayor, was heavily taxed, especially as he knew that a
very capital dinner and excellent company were waiting for him at home.
At last this case of deception, imposture, and swindling came up in
turn; but not before the aged, wrinkled, care-worn man had whispered a
few words into the ears of the young lawyer, which made him start, and
give the other an admiring glance of surprise, as if he recognized in
him a genius of the highest order.
His Honor was angry and tired, and gave rather a savage look at the
culprits. "A case like this needs very little proof--they are arrant
swindlers, evidently--with all that foolery of dress about them! Remove
that wig and beard." The red blood rushed up to the cheeks and forehead
of poor Will Forsythe, and showed itself through the yellow dye of his
skin, as he was obliged to submit to this indignity; and he mentally
exclaimed: "If ever I pretend again to be any thing I am not, may my
head come off too!" "You appear in this case, Mr. Warren," said the
Mayor. "Let me hear what can be urged against these men, and produce
your witnesses." "I find that I have very little to say on the subject,
your Honor. It is true, I can prove that this gentleman went to consult
the prisoner as to a missing will, and that he is under the impression
that spirits were consulted on the occasion. But I can also prove that
very sensible advice was given to my client--to consult a lawyer of
great respectability and high promise; and accordingly he came to me.
And further, I can prove that the astrologers did not receive one
farthing in payment for their counsel, and, indeed, positively refused
the offer of a handsome gratuity from my grateful client. And I can
challenge any one in the city of New York to prove that, in any one
case, the prisoners received money in return for advice or assistance
given to any visitor. This fact takes from the case the appearance of a
swindling transaction, according to the well-known law of George III.,
which doubtless your Honor thoroughly remembers." "There appears, then,
to be no prosecution in this case? I find that, like a true lawyer, you
can argue on one side as well as the other." "There is none, your Honor:
my client withdraws the prosecution. May I be allowed a word in
private?" After a whispered consultation of some minutes, during which
our unmasked jesters observed his Honor cast very highly-amused glances
in their direction, and heard occasional snatches of the
conversation,--"Ha, indeed? sons of *** and ****, do you say? the first
families in the South! I knew their fathers well! tell them to come to
dinner just as they are--the ladies will make allowances."
But that degree of impudence was too much for the brass of even
Forsythe and Barrington. They respectfully declined, and hastened
homeward, accompanied by Frank Warren. One more merry supper did they
eat in that house which had been the theatre for the display of so many
strange adventures, and then they vanished. When morning came, no trace
of the astrologers was to be found. The furniture had gone, the house
was shut up, the birds had flown. Had there been a storm in the night,
the believers in Gotham would have thought they had been claimed by
their Dread Master, and had been snatched away in a blaze of lightning.
As it was, there was nothing to reveal the mystery. The good little man,
who never quite understood the scene in the Mayor's office, is
gratefully enjoying his property, and thinks that the Wandering Jew may
now be in the centre of Africa, or climbing the heights of the Himalaya
Mountains. But as I happen to be better informed, I know that both he
and his faithful Selim slipped out of New York as quietly as possible,
and returned to their homes in the sunny South. They have since then
married, have settled down into quiet orderly citizens, and have given
up all practical jokes; but they frequently amuse their wives with some
of their varied experience, obtained when playing the rôle of
astrologers in New York.
"But you do not really think people could be so cheated now-a-days,
uncle!" cried George.
"I certainly do not consider the world too wise to be fooled in almost
any way," answered his uncle. "Look at the various _isms_ which have
sprung up, even in our own day. Think of the imposture of Mormonism,--it
has fairly peopled a territory. Think of the pretensions of
clairvoyance, claiming almost omniscience and omnipresence for the human
spirit. Think of Matthias and his followers. But remarkable as that
delusion was, it is almost forgotten now, so many extravagancies tread
upon one another's heels, and hustle each its predecessor off the stage.
Spirit-rapping is the last, and is spreading like wildfire throughout
the land: some characters have so much tinder in their composition, that
they catch in a moment. But it will soon go out--'tis like the crackling
of thorns under the pot--a quick blaze for a moment, and then it
expires."
"The alarm about witchcraft, both in England and America, was, I think,
one of the most noticeable delusions of modern times," said Mrs.
Wyndham. "How many eminent and excellent men were deceived by it! The
learned, judicious, and pious Sir Matthew Hale condemned at least one
witch to be burnt alive--although, I believe, it cost him some remorse
afterwards. And in New England, Cotton Mather was prominent in hunting
out those who were supposed by their neighbors to be on too familiar
terms with a certain nameless individual. I am glad I did not live in
those days! If a poor old woman was ugly, and cross, and mumbled to
herself, as we old women will do sometimes, and above all, if she kept a
large black cat, woe betide her! her fate was well-nigh sealed."
"I don't think you would have been in any danger, Aunt Lucy," said Amy,
laughing.
"I don't know, indeed--probably not, while I had such an array of young
people around me. But if I were left desolate and alone in the world,
and became peevish and odd from the mere fact of having no one to love
me, I would not have answered for the consequences at all."
"I had to laugh," added Ellen, "at the marvellous cure effected by the
electrical machine. It reminded me of a well-attested anecdote I have
read of the beneficial effects wrought by a thermometer, through the
medium of the imagination. The physician intended to try whether the
galvanic battery could not be usefully employed in a case of paralysis,
but before commencing operations, he applied a small thermometer to the
tongue of the patient. Upon removing it, he was told by the latter that
it gave him very curious feelings, and that he thought himself a little
better. Seeing the mistake he had made, the doctor resolved not to
undeceive him, but to persevere in the application of the thermometer.
He did so, and the man was soon a complete cure."
"I have heard of instances of sudden joy or fright restoring the vital
energies to poor bed-ridden mortals," said Cornelia, "but to be cured by
a thermometer is too comical!"
"It was that powerful principle, faith," answered Mrs. Wyndham. "I
remember very well the time when certain metallic tractors were all the
fashion, to draw away pain from the parts affected, by magnetic
influence. Well-authenticated cures were wrought; but at last a
physician applied a test, which proved the beneficial results to be
entirely the work of the imagination. He had wooden tractors made,
painted so as to resemble the metal ones, and they exerted equal powers.
When this fact was published, of course the cures ceased, and metallic
tractors became things that were."
"Another fact is told to show how the imagination can kill or cure,"
said Mr. Wyndham. "A criminal was condemned to death for some atrocious
deed, and it was resolved to try an experiment upon him, as he would
have to die at any rate. He was informed that he would be bled to death;
and when the appointed time had arrived, his eyes were effectually
bandaged, his arm bared, and the surgeon pretended to cut the artery.
Luke-warm water was poured, in a steady current, upon his arm, and
trickled down into a basin below: and the physician held his hand,
feeling the pulse. The wretched criminal became paler and paler, his
pulse beat more faintly, and at last he died, a victim to his own
imagination."
"Poor creature!" added Mary. "And I have repeatedly heard of cases,
uncle, in which persons fancied themselves about to die at a certain
hour, from having had a dream to that effect, or some other supernatural
indication of the will of Heaven. And sometimes they actually expired,
from sheer fright. But when the clock was put back an hour or two, the
time passed without any fatal result ensuing."
"Those chaps were wilder than we are, Charlie!" cried George, with an
air of triumph.
"Yes," answered his cousin. "But I very much fear that does not prove
our innocence, but only their depravity. It reminds me of that line in
Milton--
'And in the lowest deep, a lower deep.'"