_GENERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA_.
The principal warrior in our community is General Trumps, the
commander of the militia of the district. The general has seen service
in the South and West, and is a pretty good soldier. In these happy
days of peace, however, he does not often have an opportunity to
display his fighting qualities, but sometimes even now, when he is
provoked to wrath, he becomes bloodthirsty and ferocious. Last summer
the general went to Cape May. Previous to his arrival two young men,
whom I will call Brown and Jones, occupied adjoining rooms at a
certain hotel. One day Brown fixed a string to the covers on Jones'
bed and ran the cord through the door into his own room. His purpose
was to pull the covers off as soon as Jones got comfortably fixed for
the night. But that afternoon General Trumps came down; and as the
hotel was crowded, the landlord put Jones in the room with Brown and
gave Jones' apartment to the general. Brown forgot about the string,
and he and Jones went to bed. About midnight Jones' dog, while
prowling around the room, got the string tangled about his leg, and in
struggling to reach the window he slowly dragged the bed-clothes off
of the soldier, next door. That gentleman awoke, and after scolding
his wife for removing the blankets went to sleep again. Presently
Jones' dog saw a rat and darted after it. Off came the covers again.
Then the man of war was angry. He roused his wife and scolded her
vigorously. She protested her innocence, and while she was speaking
Jones' dog heard another dog outside, and hurried to the window to
bark. The covers were again removed. Then the general fumbled about
until he found the cord. Then he loaded up his revolver, drew his
sword and dared Jones and Brown to open their door and come out into
the entry. They peeped at him over the transom, observed his warlike
preparations, glanced at the string and the dog, packed their
carpet-bags, slid down the water-spout outside, and went home in the
five-o'clock train. The manner in which that battle-scarred veteran
roared around the hotel during the day was said to have been
frightful; and when rumors came that Brown and Jones had gone to
another place in the neighborhood, he spent the day hunting for them
with a purpose to commit violence. He gradually became calmer, and as
his anger subsided the humorous aspect of the matter appeared, and he
felt rather glad that he had not encountered the two young men.
[Illustration: THE GENERAL IN A RAGE]
Several years ago the general was out upon the plains fighting the
Indians. One of the men who accompanied his command was a Major
Bing. It happened that the major was captured by the savages, and it
devolved upon the general to bear the melancholy tidings to Mrs. Bing.
It appears that while the general was on his way home Mrs. Bing
moved into another house; and when the general returned with the sad
intelligence, he did not know of the fact, but went to the old house,
which was now occupied by Mrs. Wood. He told the servant-girl to tell
her mistress to come into the parlor, and then he took a seat on the
sofa and thought how he could break the news of the major's death to
her so as not to give her too violent a shock. When Mrs. Wood entered,
the general greeted her mournfully; and when they had taken seats, the
following conversation ensued:
"Madam, I have been the major's friend ever since our childhood. I
played with him when we were boys together. I grew up to manhood with
him; I watched with pride his noble and successful career; I rejoiced
when he married the lovely woman before me; and I went to the West
with him. Need I tell you that I loved him? I loved him only less than
you did."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Mrs. Wood. "Whom are you referring
to?"
"Why, to the major. I say that your love for him alone was greater
than mine; and I am--"
"Your remarks are a mystery to me. I have no attachment of that kind."
"Call it what you will, madam. I know how strong the tie was between
you--how deep the devotion which kept two loving souls in perfect
unison. And knowing this, of course I feel deeply that to wound either
heart by telling of misfortune to the other is a task from which a man
like me might very properly shrink. But I have a duty to perform--a
solemn duty. What would you say, my dear madam, if I should tell you
that the major had lost a leg? What would you say to that?"
"I don't know. If I knew a major who had lost a leg, I should probably
advise him to buy a wooden one."
"Light-hearted as ever," said the general. "Just as he told me you
were. Poor woman! you will need your buoyant spirits yet. But, dear
madam, suppose the major had lost not only one leg, but two; both
gone; no legs at all; not a pin to stand on; now, how would that
strike you?"
"Really, sir, this is getting to be absurd. I don't care whether your
major has as many legs as a centipede or none at all. If you have any
business with me, please transact it as quickly as possible."
"Madam, this is too serious a subject for jest The major has lost not
only his legs, but his arms. He is absolutely without limbs of any
kind at this moment. That's as true as I'm sitting here. Now, don't
scream, please."
"I haven't the slightest idea of screaming."
"Well, you take it mighty cool, I must say. But that's not the worst
of it. All his ribs are gone, his nose has departed, and he only has
one eye and a part of one shoulder-blade. I pledge you my word that's
the truth. I hardly think he will recover."
"I shouldn't think he would, in that condition; but, upon my life, I
cannot see that the fact interests me at all."
"Not interest you! Well, that is amazing! Not int--Why, my goodness,
woman, that's not half of it. The major's scalp's all gone; he hasn't
enough fuzz on his head to make a camel's-hair pencil; he has a stake
through his body, and he's been burnt until he is all doubled up in a
hard knot; and, in my private opinion, it's mighty unlikely he'll ever
be untied and straightened out again. If that doesn't fetch you, you
must have a heart of stone."
"I don't care anything about it, sir. It's none of my business."
"Well, then, as long as you're so indifferent, let me tell you, plump
and plain, that the major's dead as Julius Cæsar! The Indians killed
him, burnt him and minced him up! Now, that's the solemn truth, and
his last words to me were, 'Break the news gently to Maria.' You see
the man loved you. He cared more for you than you seemed to do for
him. He would have welcomed death if he had known you had ceased to
love him."
"What did you say his last words were?"
"Why, just before his soul took its eternal flight he whispered
something in my ear. Then I made a sudden dash and escaped from the
savages, to bring his message back to you. That message was: 'Break
the news gently to Maria.' That's what the major said with his dying
lips."
"Well, then, why don't you break the news to Maria?"
"Madam, such levity is untimely. I have broken it--broken it gently.
You have heard it all."
"Do you suppose I am Major Bing's wife?"
"Certainly."
"Well, she moved around into Market street last December. Maybe you'd
better hunt her up."
The general looked at Mrs. Wood solemnly for a minute, and then he
said he would. Then he bade Mrs. Wood good-morning, bowed himself out
and walked around to look for the widow. When the real widow heard the
news, she was deeply affected, and she sobbed in a most distressing
manner. Subsequently she went into mourning. The life insurance
company paid her the money due upon the major's policy. The major's
lodge passed resolutions of regret, his family divided up his
property, and the community settled down comfortably in the conviction
that the major was finally and hopelessly dead.
About a year afterward, however, Major Bing suddenly arrived in town
without announcing his coming. He had been held as a prisoner by the
Indians, and had escaped. As he stepped from the cars a policeman
looked at him a minute, then seized him by the collar and hurried
him around to the coroner's office. Before he could recover from
his amazement the coroner empaneled a jury, put the action of the
insurance company in evidence and promptly got from the jury a verdict
that "the said Bing came to his death at the hands of the Indians."
Then the major went to his house and found his widow sitting on the
front porch talking to Myers, the man to whom she was engaged to be
married. As he entered the gate his widow gave one little start of
surprise, and then, regaining her composure, she said to Myers,
"Isn't this a new kind of an idea--dead people coming around when
common decency requires them to keep quiet?"
"It's altogether wrong," said Myers. "If I was dead, I'd lie still and
quit wandering about over the face of the earth."
"Maria, don't you know me?" asked the major, indignantly.
"I used to know you when you were alive; but now that you're gone, I
don't expect to recognize you until we meet in a better world."
"But, Maria, I am not dead. You certainly see that I am alive."
"Not dead! Didn't you send word to me that you were? Am I to refuse
to believe my own husband? The life insurance company says you are
deceased; the lodge says so; the coroner officially asserts the fact.
What am I to do? The evidence is all one way."
"But you _shall_ accept me as alive!" shouted the major, in a rage.
"Mr. Myers," said the widow, calmly, "hadn't we better send for the
undertaker to come and bury these remains?"
"Look here!" said Myers. "I'm the last man to do a dead friend an
injury, but I ain't going to have any departed spirit coming in here
and giving this lady hysterics. You pack up and go back, and stay
there, or I'll have you hustled into a tomb quicker'n lightning. Hurry
up now; don't stop to think about it!"
"This beats the very old Harry!" said the major, in astonishment.
"No answering back, now," said Myers. "When I want communications
from the other world, I'll hunt up a spiritualist medium and get my
information out of knocks on a table. All you've got to do is to creep
off into the tomb somewhere and behave."
"You're perfectly certain I'm dead, are you?" said the major, getting
calmer.
"Why, of course."
"Can a dead man violate the laws?"
"Certainly not."
"Well, then, I'm going to hammer you with this club, and I reckon
you'll find me the most energetic corpse in the county."
They say that the fight was terrific. First the major was on top, then
Myers; and as they rolled over and over in the porch the widow sat by
and surveyed the scene. Finally, Myers explained that upon the whole
he believed he had enough; and when the major had given him a few
supplementary thumps, he got up, and gazing at the prostrate Myers and
at the widow, he said,
"Take her; take her, young man. You're welcome to her. I wouldn't have
her if she was the only woman in the temperate zone. But let me tell
you, before you get her, that when you are married to her you'll wish
something'd happen to send you down to the bottom of the ocean and
anchor you there."
[Illustration: "TAKE HER, YOUNG MAN!"]
Then the major slammed the gate and left; and he started life afresh
in New York. Myers has written to him since to say that the only
grudge that he has against him is that he didn't kill him in that
fight in the porch, for the widow has made death seem blissful to him;
and the major's answer was that the reason why he spared his life was
that he wanted to make his revenge fiendish.
Of course I do not vouch for this part of the story which tells of the
major's return. General Trumps is responsible for that; and I know
that sometimes, when his imagination is unduly warmed, he is prone
to exaggeration. The general's own domestic matters are in the most
charming condition. According to his own story, he never had any
unpleasant feeling in his family but once. Several years ago he was in
Williamsport attending to his business. While there he had a strong
premonition that something was the matter at home; so, in order to
satisfy himself, he determined to run down to Philadelphia in the next
train. In the mean time, his mother-in-law sent him a despatch to this
effect: "Another daughter has just arrived. Hannah is poorly; come
home at once." The lines were down, however, and the despatch was held
over; and meanwhile the general reached home, and found his wife doing
pretty well and the nurse walking around with an infant a day old.
After staying twenty-four hours, and finding that everybody was
tolerably comfortable, he returned to Williamsport without anything
having been said about the despatch, his mother-in-law supposing of
course that he had received it. The day after his arrival the lines
were fixed, and that night he received a despatch from the telegraph
office dated that very day, and conveying the following intelligence:
"Another daughter has just arrived. Hannah is poorly; come home at
once."
The general was amazed and bewildered. He couldn't understand it. He
walked the floor of his room all night trying to get the hang of the
thing; and the more he considered the subject, the more he became
alarmed at the extraordinary occurrence. He took the early train
for the city, and during the journey was in a condition of frantic
bewilderment. When he arrived, he jumped in a cab, drove furiously to
the house, and scared his mother-in-law into convulsions by rushing in
in a frenzy and demanding what on earth had happened. He was greatly
relieved to find that there was but one infant in the nursery, and to
learn how the mistake occurred. But he felt as if he would like to
see the telegraph operator who changed the date of that despatch. He
wanted to remonstrate with him.