JOEL SLOCUM.
In this chapter it may not be out of place to introduce an individual
who, though not a very important personage, is still in some degree
connected with our story. On the night when Durward and his father were
riding home from Frankfort, the family at Maple Grove, with the
exception of grandma, were as usual assembled in the parlor. John Jr.
had returned, and purposely telling his mother and Carrie whom he had
left with ’Lena, had succeeded in putting them both into an
uncomfortable humor, the latter secretly lamenting the mistake which
she had committed in suffering ’Lena to stay with Mabel. But it could
not be remedied now. There was no good reason for calling her home, and
the lady broke at least three cambric-needles in her vigorous jerks at
the handkerchief she was hemming.
A heavy tread upon the piazza, a loud ring of the bell, and Carrie
straightened up, thinking it might possibly be Durward, who had called
on his way home, but the voice was strange, and rather impatiently she
waited.
“Does Mr. John Livingstone live here?” asked the stranger of the negro
who answered the summons.
“Yes, sir,” answered the servant, eyeing the new comer askance.
“And is old Miss Nichols and Helleny to hum?”
The negro grinned, answering in the affirmative, and asking the young
man to walk in.
“Wall, guess I will,” said he, advancing a few steps toward the parlor
door. Then suddenly halting, he added, more to himself than to the
negro, “Darned if I don’t go the hull figger, and send in my card as
they do to Boston.”
So saying, he drew from his pocket an embossed card, and bending his
knee for a table, he wrote with sundry nourishes, “Mr. Joel Slocum,
Esq., Slocumville, Massachusetts.”
“There, hand that to your _boss_,” said he, “and tell him I’m out in
the entry.” At the same time he stepped before the hat-stand, rubbing
up his oily hair, and thinking “Mr. Joel Slocum would make an
impression anywhere.”
“Who is it, Ben ?” whispered Carrie.
“Dunno, miss,” said the negro, passing the card to his master, and
waiting in silence for his orders.
“Mr. Joel Slocum, Esq., Slocumville, Massachusetts,” slowly read Mr.
Livingstone, wondering where he had heard that name before.
“Who?” simultaneously asked Carrie and Anna, while their mother looked
wonderingly up.
Instantly John Jr. remembered ’Lena’s love-letter, and anticipating
fun, exclaimed, “Show him in, Ben—show him in.”
While Ben is showing him in, we will introduce him more fully to our
readers, promising that the picture is not overdrawn, but such as we
saw it in our native state. Joel belonged to that extreme class of
Yankees with which we sometimes, though not often meet. Brought up
among the New England mountains, he was almost wholly ignorant of what
really belonged to good manners, fancying that he knew everything, and
sneering at those of his acquaintance who, being of a more quiet turn
of mind, were content to settle down in the home of their fathers,
caring little or nothing for the world without. But as for him, “he was
bound,” he said, “to see the elephant, and if his brothers were green
enough to stay tied to their mother’s apron strings, they might do it,
but he wouldn’t. No, _sir_! he was going to make something of himself.”
To effect this, about two years before the time of which we are
speaking, he went to Boston to learn the art of daguerreotype-taking,
in which he really did seem to excel, returning home with some money, a
great deal of vanity, and a strong propensity to boast of what he had
seen. Recollections of ’Lena, his early, and, as he sentimentally
expressed it, “his undying, all-enduring” love, still haunted him, and
at last he determined upon a tour to Kentucky, purchasing for the
occasion a rather fantastic suit, consisting of greenish pants, blue
coat, red vest, and yellow neck-handkerchief. These he laid carefully
by in his trunk until he reached Lexington, where he intended stopping
for a time, hanging out a naming sign, which announced his presence and
capabilities.
After spending a few days in the city, endeavoring to impress its
inhabitants with a sense of his consequence, and mentally styling them
all “Know Nothings,” be-cause they did not seem to be more affected, he
one afternoon donned his best suit, and started for Mr. Livingstone’s,
thinking he should create a sensation there, for wasn’t he as good as
anybody? Didn’t he learn his trade in Boston, the very center and
source of all the _isms_ of the day, and ought not Mr. Livingstone to
feel proud of such a guest, and wouldn’t ’Lena stare when she saw him
so much improved from what he was when they picked _checkerberries_
together?
With this comfortable opinion of himself, it is not at all probable
that he felt any misgivings when Ben ushered him at once into the
presence of Mr. Livingstone’s family, who stared at him in unfeigned
astonishment. Nothing daunted, he went through with the five changes of
a bow, which he had learned at a dancing-school, bringing himself up
finally in front of Mr. Livingstone, and exclaiming,
“How-dy-do?—Mr. Livingstone, I s’pose, it comes more natural to say
cousin John, I’ve heard Miss Nichols and Aunt Nancy talk of you since I
was knee high, and seems as how you must be related. How is the old
lady, and Helleny, too? I don’t see ’em here, though I thought, at
fust, this might be her,” nodding to Anna.
Mr. Livingstone was confounded, while his wife had strong intentions of
ordering the intruder from the room, but John Jr. had no such idea. He
liked the fun, and now coming forward, said, “Mr. Slocum, as your card
indicates, allow me the pleasure of presenting you to my mother—and
sisters,” at the same time ringing the bell, he ordered a servant to go
for his grandmother.
“Ah, ladies, how-dy-do? Hope you are well till we are better
acquainted,” said Joel, bowing low, and shaking out the folds of his
red silk handkerchief, strongly perfumed with peppermint.
Mrs. Livingstone did not even nod, Carrie but slightly, while Anna
said, “Good-evening, Mr. Slocum.”
Quickly observing Mrs. Livingstone’s silence, Joel turned to John Jr.,
saying, “Don’t believe she heard you—deaf, mebby?”
John Jr. nodded, and at that moment grandma appeared, in a great flurry
to know who wanted to see her.
Instantly seizing her hand, Joel exclaimed, “Now Aunt Martha, if this
ain’t good for sore eyes. How _do_ you do ?”
“Pretty well, pretty well,” she returned, “but you’ve got the better of
me, for I don’t know more’n the dead who you be.”
“Now how you talk,” said Joel. “If this don’t beat all my fust wife’s
relations. Why, I should have known you if I’d met you in a
porridge-pot. But then, I s’pose I’ve altered for the better since I
see you. Don’t you remember Joel Slocum, that used to have kind of a
snickerin’ notion after Helleny?”
“Why-ee, I guess I do,” answered grandma, again seizing his hand.
“Where did you come from, and why didn’t your Aunt Nancy come with you?
“’Tilda, this is Nancy Scovandyke’s sister’s boy. Caroline and Anny,
this is Joel; you’ve heard tell of him.”
“I’ve been introduced, thank you,” said Joel, taking a seat near
Carrie, who haughtily gathered up the ample folds of her dress, lest it
should be polluted.
“Bashful critter, but she’ll get over it by the time she’s seen as much
of the world as I have,” soliloquized Joel; at the same time thinking
to make some advances, he hitched a little nearer, and taking hold of a
strip of embroidery on which she was engaged, he said, “Now, du tell,
if they’ve got to workin’ with floss way down here. Waste of time, I
tell ’em, this makin’ holes for the sake of sewin’ ’em up. But law!” he
added, as he saw the deepening scowl on Carrie’s face, “wimmin may jest
as well by putterin’ about that as anything else, for their time ain’t
nothin’ moren’ an old settin’ hen’s.”
This speech called forth the first loud roar in which John Jr. had
indulged since Nellie went away, and now settling back in his chair, he
gave vent to his feelings in peals of laughter, in which Joel also
joined, thinking he’d said something smart. When at last he’d finished
laughing, he thought again of ’Lena, and turning to Mrs. Livingstone,
asked where she was, raising his voice to a high key on account of her
supposed deafness.
“Did you speak to me?” asked the lady, with a look which she meant
should annihilate him, and in a still louder tone Joel repeated his
question, asking Anna, aside, if her mother had ever tried
“McAllister’s All-Healing Ointment,” for her deafness, saying it had
“nighly cured his grandmother when she was several years older than
Mrs. Livingstone.”
“Much obliged for your prescription, which, fortunately, I do not
need,” said Mrs. Livingstone, angrily, while Joel thought, “how strange
it was that deaf people would always hear in the wrong time!”
“Mother don’t seem inclined to answer your question concerning ’Lena,”
said John Jr., “so I will do it for her. She is in Frankfort, taking
music lessons. You used to know her, I believe.”
“Lud, yes! I chased her once with a streaked snake, and if she didn’t
put ’er through, then I’m no ‘Judge. Takin’ music lessons, is she? I’d
give a fo’ pence to hear her play.”
“Are you fond of music?” asked John Jr., in hopes of what followed.
“Wall, I wouldn’t wonder much if I was,” answered Joel, taking a
tuning-fork from his pocket and striking it upon the table. “I’ve kep’
singin’ school one term, besides leadin’ the Methodis’ choir in
Slocumville: so I orto know a little somethin’ about it.”
“Perhaps you play, and if so, we’d like to hear you,” continued John
Jr., in spite of the deprecating glance cast upon him by Carrie.
“Not such a dreadful sight,” answered Joel, sauntering toward the piano
and drumming a part of “Auld Lang Syne.” “Not such a dreadful sight,
but I guess these girls do. Come, girls, play us a jig, won’t you?”
“Go, Cad, it won’t hurt you,” whispered John, but Carrie was immovable,
and at last, Anna, who entered more into her brother’s spirit, took her
seat at the instrument, asking what he would have.
“Oh, give us ‘Money Musk,’ ‘Hail Columby,’ ‘Old Zip Coon,’ or anything
to raise a feller’s ideas.”
Fortunately, Anna’s forte lay in playing old music, which she preferred
to more modern pieces, and, Joel was soon beating time to the lively
strains of “Money Musk.”
“Wall, I declare,” said he, when it was ended, “I don’t see but what
you Kentucky gals play most as well as they do to hum. I didn’t s’pose
many on you ever seen a pianner. Come,” turning to Carrie, “less see
what you can do. Mebby you’ll beat her all holler,” and he offered his
hand to Carrie, who rather petulantly said she “must be excused.”
“Oh, get out,” he continued. “You needn’t feel so bashful, for I shan’t
criticise you very hard. I know how to feel fer new beginners.”
“Have you been to supper, Mr. Slocum ?” asked Mr. Livingstone, pitying
Carrie, and wishing to put an end to the performance.
“No, I hain’t, and I’m hungrier than a bear,” answered Joel, whereupon
Mrs. Nichols, thinking he was her guest, arose, saying she would see
that he had some.
When both were gone to the dining-room, Mrs. Livingstone’s wrath boiled
over.
“That’s what comes of harboring your relatives,” said she, looking
indignantly upon her husband, and adding that she hoped “the insolent
fellow did not intend staying all night, for if he did he couldn’t.”
“Do you propose turning him into the street?” asked Mr. Livingstone,
looking up from his paper.
“I don’t propose anything, except that he won’t stay in my house, and
you needn’t ask him.”
“I hardly think an invitation is necessary, for I presume he expects to
stay,” returned Mr. Livingstone; while John Jr. rejoined, “Of course he
does, and if mother doesn’t find him a room, I shall take him in with
me, besides going to Frankfort with him to-morrow.”
This was enough, for Mrs. Livingstone would do almost anything rather
than have her son seen in the city with that specimen. Accordingly,
when the hour for retiring arrived, she ordered Corinda to show him
into the “east chamber,” a room used for her common kind of visitors,
but which Joel pronounced “as neat as a fiddle.”
The next morning he announced his intention of visiting Frankfort,
proposing to grandma that she should accompany him, and she was about
making up her mind to do so, when ’Lena and Mabel both appeared in the
yard. They had come out for a ride, they said, and finding the morning
so fine, had extended their excursion as far as Maple Grove, sending
their servant back to tell where they were going. With his usual
assurance, Joel advanced toward ’Lena, greeting her tenderly, and
whispering in her ear that “he found she was greatly improved as well
as himself,” while ’Lena wondered in what the improvement consisted.
She had formerly known him as a great, overgrown, good-natured boy, and
now she saw him a “conceited gawky.” Still, her manner was friendly
toward him, for he had come from her old home, had breathed the air of
her native hills, and she well remembered how, years ago, he had with
her planted and watered the flowers which he told her were still
growing at her mother’s grave.
And yet there was something about her which puzzled Joel, who felt that
the difference between them was great. He was disappointed, and the
declaration which he had fully intended making was left until another
time, when, as he thought, “he shouldn’t be so confounded shy of her.”
His quarters, too, at Maple Grove were not the most pleasant, for no
one noticed him except grandma and John Jr., and with the conviction
that “the Kentuckians didn’t know what politeness meant,” he ordered
his horse after dinner, and started back to Lexington, inviting all the
family to call and “set for their picters,” saying that “seein’ ’twas
them, he’d take ’em for half price.”
As he was leaving the piazza, he turned back, and drawing a large,
square case from his pocket, passed it to ’Lena, saying it was a
daguerreotype of her mountain home, which he had taken on purpose for
her, forgetting to give it to her until that minute. The look of joy
which lighted up ’Lena’s face made Joel almost repent of not having
said to her what he intended to, but thinking he would wait till next
time, he started off, his heart considerably lightened by her warm
thanks for his thoughtfulness.