One morning at breakfast there came an unexpected interruption, the
arrival of Old Master's half brother. I knew that he existed, for on
occasions at least a year apart, I had posted letters addressed to him
and directed to some town away off in Illinois; but a sense of his
unreality was so strong with me that I often smiled to think that Old
Master would send a letter to find a shadow. But in came the man that
morning at breakfast, strikingly real, brown-bearded, tall, loud of
voice, and I thought rather roughly dressed for a gentleman. He was
much younger than Old Master. Some one, I don't know who, had told me
that years ago he had wandered away in consequence of a disappointment
in love, though to look at him now I could not believe that he had ever
given entertainment to so tender a sentiment. No part of the landed
estate fell to him, so, with a small settlement of ready money, he set
forth, swearing that never again would he put foot upon that accursed
blue-grass spot. He had never been a drag upon Old Master; indeed, he
had been a man of exceeding thrift, had made fortunes but had lost
them. I well recall his first words upon stepping into the room. Amid
the surprise and the bustle caused by his sudden appearance, his loud
voice arose:
"Don't want anybody to get scared. Sit down, Guilford, and you, too,
Hanna, (nodding at Old Miss). Ah, and this is the one you call Bob? All
right, got no objections to that, either. Dropped my baggage out there
on the porch. Have someone take it up. Not now, plenty of time. Don't
want anybody to get scared; I'm not a pauper. Shall insist upon paying
my way. Here, girl, bring another plate; I'm as hungry as a prairie
wolf. Look here! (and now he turned to me). Don't want you to call me
master. Won't have it; call me Mr. Clem. Long time since I went away,
but nothing has changed. Hurry up, there, with that plate. Confound it,
don't be put out so, everybody. How are you getting along, Guilford?"
All this was rattled off before anyone else had a chance to say a word.
Old Master was glad to see him and the tears ran down his wrinkled
cheeks. He tried to tell him much but could tell him nothing except
that he was welcome to make his home there.
"What's board worth?" Mr. Clem asked, and Old Master cried out, "Good
Lord! Did I ever hear anything like that? Clem, is it possible that
you--"
"Mean to pay my board as long as I stay here. You'll have to take the
money, Hanna. If you don't agree, I'll grab my saddle-bags and put out.
I'm from a place where every man is expected to pay his way. Wish you'd
all quit your everlasting sniffling. What are you doing, Bob?" Old
Master was now helping his plate. "Another slab of that meat, Guilford.
What are you doing, young feller?"
"Preparing myself for the law," Young Master answered proudly.
"All right, no particular harm in it. Good job for a lazy man. Hanna,
you hold your own pretty well. Not as old as I expected to find you;
and Guilford is a marvel of youthfulness. Don't know how I happened to
come back--Just took the notion one night and I was on the road before
daylight the next morning. That's the way we do things in Illinois.
Pass me some more of that egg-bread. Hanged, if that ain't Kentucky
up and down. Old aristocracy still on its mouldering throne, eh? Good
thing for some people while it lasts, but it will tumble over pretty
soon."
"Clem, you musn't talk that way," Old Miss interposed.
"All right, I'll shut it off; thousands of things to talk about. What's
board worth in this neighborhood?"
"Clem," said Old Master, leaning upon the table and looking at him,
"I don't know that I ever heard of a gentleman paying board in this
neighborhood."
"Hah! By the hoofs, I never heard of a gentleman refusing to pay board
in any neighborhood," Mr. Clem replied. "Come, how much am I expected
to pay? Can't get board here, board somewhere else."
"Oh, that would be a scandal," Old Miss cried.
"Then let us avoid scandal. Find out what is customary and let me know.
Guilford, devilish glad to see you. Wish I had come before. Bob, got
a horse you want to trade for a better one? I've got a nag out there
that's a beauty. Let's go and look at him?" he added, throwing down his
knife and fork and shoving his chair back.
"Not now, uncle Clem," the young man replied, laughing.
"Uncle! That's good--like to hear it; gives me a sort of anchor. I
think you and I will get along all right. Guilford told me, I don't
know how long ago--got the letter somewhere--that it was your ambition
to become an orator. And I can give you a few points, for I have lived
for years in a hot bed of free speech, and without free speech, there
is no real oratory. Round here they think that Marshall and Clay were
great orators, and they were in a way, but you ought to hear Abe
Lincoln."
"I never heard of him," Old Master spoke up.
"Oh, no; but you will. He can squeeze mirth and tears out of the heart
all at once. When he arises to speak, and even before he has uttered a
word, every man in the audience says to himself, 'there is my brother.'
Guilford, your polished Kentuckians speak out of the book, by note, and
they may work themselves into a fine heat, but this man Lincoln cries
from the fullness of a soul that the Lord has given him."
"Clem," said Old Master, bending a hard look upon his brother and
rolling his pill of bread, "you tempt me to say that you are a
blasphemer against the majestic voice of my State, sir. Never was the
voice of man truer than among these graceful hills, and never did the
heart of man beat warmer for freedom and justice."
"Ah," Mr. Clem cried, "for freedom, did you say? For slavery, you mean."
"Sir," said Old Master, "Henry Clay has spoken for the bondman."
"But was he honored for it?" Mr. Clem asked. "Do you honor him for it?"
"Clem, if you have come to sow the seeds of abolition, to disgrace my
household with the mud brought from your free soil--your sink hole of
iniquity--I must request you to go away."
"It is easier to drop a subject than to ride a long distance," Mr. Clem
replied with a broad smile. "Got any good horses?"
"Horses native to this land and therefore the best," said Old Master.
"Got one you can't manage? If you have, I'll make him get down on his
knees and beg for mercy."
Old Master looked at Bob and laughed. "We've got a great black horse we
call Zeb, and our sick quarter is sometimes filled with his victims.
Dan here, can break almost any piece of horse-flesh, but he's afraid of
Zeb. The negroes don't call him Zeb--they call him the Devil, sir."
"And I would advise you not to have anything to do with him, Uncle
Clem," said Young Master. "He cut a great gash on Andrew's head, broke
Tony's arm not long ago, and laid Dan up for a week. We keep him merely
for show, for he is the most graceful thing you ever saw."
"And I will drive him to town this morning," Mr. Clem declared. And
getting up, he added: "Come, show him to me?"
We could but laugh at the self-confidence shown by this rugged man
from the West; we felt that he had brought with him the breezy brag
so characteristic of his boundless territory. But I felt a pinch of
regret, for I had conceived a liking for the man and did not wish to
see him humbled.
"Come on," said Old Master, leading the way, but Old Miss interposed.
"You must not go near that vicious creature," she said to Mr. Clem.
"Nothing would delight him more than to plant a hoof between your eyes,
and I declare, General, it's a shame that you encourage such a thing."
"Come out and take a drive with me," Mr. Clem cried, gently putting
Old Miss out of the way. But she shuddered at the thought and closed
the door upon us as we passed out. "In one respect I am not a true
Kentuckian," said my Young Master to Mr. Clem as we walked along toward
the stable. "I could never find it in my heart to worship a horse."
Mr. Clem stepped in front of the young man, halted and looked at him
and then at Old Master. "Guilford," said he, "can it be possible that
this is your son?"
"Wait until you see the Devil, and you will deny that you are my
brother," Old Master laughed, rubbing his thin hands in a sort of
mischievous glee. Bob took Mr. Clem by the arm and as they walked along
I heard him say: "If I had known you, I should have wished for your
coming. There is something so unexpected about you that I must call
you the new man--you are the very opposite of the books I have been
reading."
"Yes, Bub, I am the opposite of all your teaching."
"I don't know that I like the word Bub."
"But you'll have to stand it; I'm going to pay my way, and the world,
the flesh and the devil are willing to put up with much from that sort
of a man."
We had now come to the stable. Through a small window we saw the fiery
horse's black eyes shining. "Bring him out," Mr. Clem commanded.
"That is easy enough," Old Master replied. "It is only when you attempt
to put leather on him that he shows his mettle."
"Bring him out," said Mr. Clem. "Here, boy, bring me a bridle and a set
of buggy harness."
There was a great commotion in the barn-yard, and the negroes went
running to and fro, amid whisperings and the suppressed excitement
of expected sport. The horse was led out by the halter, a picture of
devilish majesty, head high in contempt, nostrils broad, eyes afire.
The harness lay in a heap upon the ground. Mr. Clem took up the bridle.
In an instant the horse had jerked the halter from the negro's grasp,
was standing almost erect on his hind feet, and he came toward Mr.
Clem, cutting the air with his fore hoofs. The rest of us fell back,
one over the other, but Mr. Clem did not move. Old Master shouted
at him, but paying no heed he stood, with his eyes fixed upon the
advancing beast. I was off to one side and could see his face, hard-set
and with steady eyes. "Ho!" he said, low in his breast, and the horse's
feet fell to the ground. I don't think I ever saw so complete a picture
of astonishment. The horse, cowed by that one low word, stood there
trembling, with the coming sweat glistening upon his flanks. Mr. Clem
stepped forward and touched his neck and he squatted and trembled. A
loud murmur arose among the negroes. The Devil had been conquered with
a word. He took the bit and suffered the harness to be put upon him;
he was put between the shafts and with but one protest he was driven
about the grounds. That one protest was a convulsive kick. Mr. Clem got
out of the buggy, walked round, caught him in the nostrils, and with a
violent torsion cried, "Ho!"
That was a great day on the plantation, and before nightfall the news
had spread about the neighborhood, and at evening a number of people
came to welcome Mr. Clem's return to the home of his youth. The degree
of fawning shown on that occasion was of great amusement to my Young
Master, for he knew that had his uncle come back a great scholar, an
authority upon some scientific discovery, he would have been suffered
to poke about almost unobserved; but appearing as the conqueror of a
vicious horse, he laid a strong hold upon the admiration of his fellows.