There was no moon, but the stars were brightly twinkling, when Toney,
Tom, and the Professor started, in company with Wiggins and M. T. Pate,
on a pedestrian excursion to the mansion of Samuel Crabstick, situated
at a distance of about two miles from the town of Bella Vista. They had
proceeded some distance when they came to a rustic stile which had been
erected over a fence on the side of the main road, and from which a path
led through a field into a forest. Toney seated himself on the stile and
proposed that they should diverge from the main road and follow the path
across the field; saying that it was the most direct route to their
place of destination.
"I would prefer the main road," said Pate. "It is more circuitous; but
there is no moon, and it will be very dark in yonder forest. We will
have difficulty in finding our way through it."
"Not at all," said Toney, "I know every foot of the path, which runs in
a straight line to the place we are going."
"Then, let us take the path," said the Professor. "When beauty is the
attraction I always want to make a bee-line for her abode."
"That is in accordance with natural laws," said Toney. "Who ever saw
pyrites of iron taking a circuitous route to the magnet? Ida is the
magnet. Is it not so, Tom?"
Tom nodded assent.
"And we are the pyrites," said the Professor. "Let us go straight to the
attraction, and not be acting contrary to the laws of nature."
Pate was overcome by these arguments, and, ascending the stile, was
about to pursue that path, when Toney called out,--
"Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Pate. We have plenty of time."
"In fact, it is too early yet for a serenade," said the Professor. "We
should wait until the young lady has put on her nightcap. If we wake her
out of her first nap, when she has been wandering in the fairy-land of
dreams, her impression will be that angels are singing around her
window."
"That is so," said Toney. "Let us wait. I have a proposition to make."
"What is that?" asked the Professor.
"Here we are going on a serenade," said Toney. "Now, I move that each
man furnish evidence of his musical accomplishments by singing a song.
Let Mr. Pate lead off."
"A song from Mr. Pate!" cried the Professor.
"A song from Mr. Pate!" shouted Seddon.
"Mr. Pate will now sing," said Toney.
Thus urged, Pate seated himself, and in loud if not mellifluous tones
sang as follows:
The summer day's faded and starlight is streaming
In beautiful showers from heaven above;
And welcome sweet midnight! for then in its dreaming
My spirit is wafted away to my love.
Let others rejoicing, then welcome Aurora,
As fann'd by zephyrs she blushes so bright;
But midnight! sweet midnight! I'll ever adore her,
And mourn when the morning returns with its light.
"Mr. Pate," said the Professor, "if you wake the young lady up by
warbling that melody under her window, she will think that you are an
angel of magnificent proportions and tremendous vocal powers. Now, Mr.
Wiggins, it is your turn."
Wiggins cleared his throat and sang the following ditty:
Oh, maiden fair,
With raven hair,
And lips so sweetly pouting,
I do avow,
That until now,
I've in my mind been doubting
If 'twere not sin
To rank you in
The race of us poor mortals;
Thinking you might,
By some fair sprite,
Escaped from heaven's own portals.
But as I now
Gaze on that brow
So fondly and so madly,
I am afraid,
My lovely maid,
My fancy's lowered sadly;
For while 'mid bliss
So sweet as this
My soul's to rapture given,
Alas! my mind
Is more inclined
To earth than 'tis to heaven.
"Indeed, Mr. Wiggins, you must not warble that song under the young
lady's window," said the Professor.
"I do not intend to do so," said Wiggins.
"I am glad of that," said the Professor, "for if you did she would
imagine that you were some fallen angel on a midnight peregrination. And
now, Toney, let us hear from you."
Toney sang:
Come to the green grove! where wild vines are clinging
Around the tall elms, whose broad boughs are flinging
Their shade o'er the roof of the cottage so near
To the banks of the streamlet meandering clear.
There we'll recline 'neath the shade of the willow,
Where roses and lilies have wreathed a sweet pillow,
And the goldfinch concealed in the green boughs above
Is warbling all day to his beautiful love.
There we will watch the blithe humming-bird roving,
And purple-winged butterflies fairy-like moving
Among the blue violets that bloom at our feet,
And throw all around us their fragrance so sweet.
There thou shalt sing, love, and then as I hear thee,
Drink in thy soft tones, and know that I'm near thee,
I'll fancy 'tis Eden around me I see,
And thou art an angel to share it with me.
"Toney," said the Professor, "when the young lady hears that she will
suppose that the spirit of a troubadour is warbling under her window.
And now, Mr. Seddon."
Tom sang:
The green wood is ringing with mocking-birds' notes,
And melody springing from turtle-doves' throats,
And wild flowers growing so beautiful there,
Their fragrance are throwing all over the air.
But see! in yon bower, that wild vines inclose,
A lovelier flower than lily or rose;
Your beauties have vanished, ye lilies so fair,
To her cheeks are banished; go seek for them there!
Your sweetness, ye roses, which butterflies sip,
Hath gone--it reposes upon her soft lip;
Thy music, sweet dove, now no more thou'lt prolong!
Oh, list to my love now! she's stolen thy song.
"Mr. Seddon, the young lady will be persuaded that you are a twin
brother to the troubadour," said the Professor.
"And now, Charley," said Toney, "we are waiting to hear you warble."
The Professor sang:
Come hasten with me, love,
Come hasten away!
Come haste to yon lea, love,
Where flow'rets so gay
Their beauties have blended,
As richly as though
'Twere fragments all splendid
Of yonder bright bow,
By fairy hands riven
In moments of mirth,
And flung from yon heaven
T' embellish the earth.
Come haste to yon lea, love,
Come hasten with me!
And then thou shalt see, love,
Naught fairer than thee.
"How do you expect her to see in the dark?" said Toney.
"Oh, she must have patience and wait until morning," said the Professor.
The serenaders now arose from their seats, and, proceeding across the
field, soon entered the forest, which was traversed in various
directions by paths made by the cattle that were accustomed to browse on
the bushes. The path pursued by the party soon led them to a spot where
the foliage was dense, and, entirely excluding the starlight, enveloped
them in gloomy darkness. Tom Seddon now exclaimed,----
"Toney, why did you select this road? Let us go back. This is the very
spot where a man was found, not long ago, with his throat cut, and three
bullet-holes through his head."
"Horrible!" exclaimed Pate.
"Let us go back!" cried Wiggins.
"Numerous robberies and murders have been committed in this forest,"
said Tom. "In fact, it is infested by a gang of desperadoes. If we go
on, none of us may ever return to Bella Vista alive."
"Oh! oh!" groaned Pate.
"Let us go back!" exclaimed Wiggins,--"I will not--ugh!"
There was a sudden flash from the bushes, followed by a loud report, and
poor Tom dropped dead at the feet of M. T. Pate. Before a word could be
uttered, another shot was fired, and Toney staggered against a tree and
then fell to the ground with a groan.
"Run!--run!" exclaimed Pate.
"Run!--run!--run!" cried Wiggins.
"Run!--run!--run!--run!" said the Professor, when there was another
report, and he exclaimed, falling to the earth, "Oh!--oh!--oh!--I am
shot!--help!--help!--murder! murder!"
Pate and Wiggins fled through the forest with the murderers shouting and
firing in their rear. As it happened, they soon became separated, and
each got into a path which led him away from the other. After running
with unexampled speed for some time, Pate suddenly found himself on the
back of some huge horned monster, which rose from the earth with a loud
roar and galloped off with him. How far he rode on the back of his
terrible courser he never could tell; but at last the creature leaped
over the trunk of a fallen tree, and Pate rolled off and sank to the
earth in a comatose condition, induced by extreme terror.
When he became conscious, he got up and wandered for hours, through the
forest, lost and bewildered, and in the utmost dread of falling into the
hands of the desperadoes, who had slain poor Toney, Tom, and the
Professor. At length the day broke; and as he wandered on he espied some
one coming towards him who had a most hideous appearance. Pate was about
to turn and fly, when the man called to him, and he recognized the voice
of William Wiggins.
Wiggins had fled in headlong haste until he had emerged from the forest,
and entered an inclosure surrounding a farm-house. Here he was so
unfortunate as to overturn a bee-hive and was so badly stung by the
infuriated insects that he rushed blindly around, and got among the
poultry. Hearing the commotion among his fowls, the farmer came out with
a club, and vigorously belabored the supposed thief, until the latter
escaped, and fled back to the forest, with his face shockingly swollen
by the stings of the bees, and his body terribly bruised by the blows
from the farmer's cudgel.
When Wiggins had told his doleful story, Pate proceeded to relate how he
had been carried off on the back of some horned monster, which had
suddenly risen out of the earth, and must have been the devil. It now
being broad daylight, they succeeded in finding the way to the town,
where they told a tale of horror to the landlord at the hotel. But while
they were describing the bloody murder in the forest, the landlord, with
a smile, pointed out Toney, Tom, and the Professor standing on the
opposite side of the street, in the midst of a group of young men, who
were laughing immoderately at something which was being told. Pate and
Wiggins were now informed that they had been made the victims of a
singular custom, which was peculiar to that locality, and was termed,
"running a greenhorn." Apprehensive of the ridicule which would be
heaped upon them, they immediately took their departure from the
beautiful town of Bella Vista.