CONTROVERSY AND REMINISCENCE.
The affair at Break o'Day caused more excitement than the murder of
Green, and was the most notable event which had happened in the
vicinity that season. Representatives of the Jackson and Ann Arbor
Press visited the hamlet, which in a few weeks acquired more
reputation than it had hitherto gained in half a century. From
Wingscheut a reporter obtained a sensational and valuable budget of
news. His paper stated that the valiant German had been fated
singularly often to meet the horse-thieves, that in the spring he had
an encounter with them when they were escaping with a horse at the
barn of a farmer named Spartus, that in the swamp near Break o'Day he
maintained, unarmed and unaided, a combat with four of them, and
that, had he been properly supported, the entire gang might have been
captured.
The Jackson "Goad," a sheet published with the avowed purpose of
prodding beyond endurance the party then in power, was especially
active in making inquiries about Wrengell. It gave a highly colored
account of the young man's sojourn at Ratke's. It dwelt minutely on
his reticence respecting his former residence and occupation. It
declared that a man unused to deeds of violence could never show such
nerve and determination as he had manifested. It related how he had
been detained by the order-loving citizens of Break o'Day, how he had
broken loose from their restraint, knocking them right and left, how
he had fearlessly charged upon and driven back a group of men at the
dock, how he had sought an encounter with the boats and had done some
phenomenally close shooting at Long range.
The major was wroth at the wrong done his hired man. He visited Rorus
and talked to him with such sternness that the doctor did not as
usual reply in a long series of co-ordinate terms capped by an
anti-climax. He told him that he should hold him responsible for the
injury which Wrengell received, and that if one of his men ever again
was subjected to so much as an affront at the drug-store, he would
administer a personal castigation to its proprietor. Directly after
the appearance of the exaggerated article in the "Goad" Ratke called
on the editor and demanded that retraction be made at once. The next
week the story was modified; but after it was shorn of its absolute
untruths, it still bore strong testimony against Wrengell.
The startling occurrences which agitated Ratke's neighbors did not
keep him from the contemplation of his inventions. He had engaged an
Oakville blacksmith to iron his Jerusalem wagon, which he decided to
take in pieces and put on another vehicle for transportation. As the
several parts were too heavy to be lifted easily by one man, he
ordered Jake to assist him.
"I expect to create a sensation with my wagon in a few weeks, Jake,"
said the philosopher. "If it becomes famous, you can boast that you
had a hand in preparing the first perfect model."
"Put this 'ere rattletrap in the hind end?" asked Jake, as he picked
up a pair of wheel-posts, seemingly unconscious of his honorable
function.
"Now, Jake," said the major, when he was ready to start to Oakville,
"you may haul the wood which you and John sawed. I would like to be
able to say that my inventions are used to a great extent on my farm.
You may draw the wood with the Old Jerusalem. I intend to go to
Jackson, and shall no doubt be gone until five o'clock."
Jake had a special aversion to the products of his employer's genius.
With rebellion in his heart he hitched a team to the Old Jerusalem.
He had driven but a few rods when the reach came unfastened and
letting one end of the box fall to the ground, slid him speedily down
the smooth bottom boards. Many minutes were occupied in readjusting
the detached parts. Impatient of delay, he climbed on the wagon and
spoke sharply to the team, but the tongue with the whiffletrees was
jerked loose, and he was nearly pulled from his position by the
lines. The last accident intensified his disgust, which he had before
restrained with difficulty. He hitched the horses to a pair of
trucks, and with this equipment hauled the wood in the forenoon some
hours sooner than the major thought the work would be completed.
Ratke, who drove no farther than Oakville, returned to the farm at
eleven o'clock. After caring for his team, he went to the field where
Montcalm was at work.
"Trace," said the major, "that article which you sent to the
Indianapolis "Standard" will greatly benefit me. You described my
wagon in fine terms. You could never I have obtained its insertion if
you had not once been a reporter for the paper. Such an account
coming from a distance will make me and my inventions respected more
at home. A great name, to be acquired in one's own neighborhood, must
be imported. We may call this the endosmose of reputation."
In passing the barns Ratke noticed that the trucks were not in their
accustomed place under a shed. His anger was kindled at sight of
Jake, who was throwing off his last load of wood from another vehicle
than the Old Jerusalem.
"Jake," said the displeased inventor, hurrying to the wood-pile, "I
told you expressly to use the Old Jerusalem. Why did you take the
trucks?"
"'Cause," replied Sheppard, "I wanted to git done some time to-day. I
didn't like to fuss."
"I pay you for your time," returned Ratke. "When you do as I tell
you, it is my lookout if your service is unprofitable. After this you
use the tool I give you to work with."
"I don't like no such 'rangement as the Jerus'lem," rejoined Jake.
"The ole thingumbob ain't good for nothin', an' never was."
"Jake," said the major, "it is not your place to question the wisdom
of my plans. I am quite capable of directing my own affairs. Whenever
you are unwilling to obey my instructions you may quit my employ."
"I guess I better quit now," said Jake. "We never had no words till
to-day, an' we never want none."
"How much do I owe you?" inquired the major.
"You ain't paid me nothin' for two years," answered Sheppard, "an'
there's some back that I earnt afore that."
"Is that so?" ejaculated the major, ashamed that he was unable to pay
his discharged hired man. "I will get it for you as soon as I can,
Jake."
"They gener'ly make reckonin' on payin' a man when they ship him,"
said Jake, "but you needn't be in no hurry about it. I'll let you
know when I want it."
"Never mind throwing off the wood," said the major. "Come in to
dinner. I will have Mark take care of the team."
"I'm much obliged," returned Jake. "I'll take care of 'em myself and
finish up my job at the wood. I don't care for no dinner. I've et in
that house for nine years, but 'tain't likely I'll ever eat there
agin."
The major found visitors awaiting him in the house, Senator Mallard
and Mrs. Baldwin, a sister of the statesman's deceased wife.
Mallard's whole aspect was one of strength, both physical and mental.
He was heavily built, though not corpulent. His face was
smooth-shaven. His mouth was peculiarly expressive, indicating
according to his mood, pleasure, approbation, sarcasm, disdain or
wrath. His eyes were large and dark, and over them rose a brow which
was broad and steep. While he was yet a young man, he had been
prominent in state politics. Very soon after he had entered the
United States Senate, he was ranked as a power in debate; and in a
few years he was a recognized party leader. The idol of his friends,
he was hated by many of his opponents whose opinions had been roughly
handled by his aggressive speeches.
The greeting between the old men was cordial. They had many questions
to ask, answers to return and experiences to relate. Since their last
meeting one had increased in wealth and influence, one had virtually
lost his property, each had been bereft of a wife, and each had grown
gray, though he had retained his bodily vigor. Mrs. Grippin had to
repeat her summons to dinner several times before it was responded to
by the major and his guest. Ratke quite forgot everything except his
friend and the scenes through which they had mutually passed. He
talked with such abstraction, as he waited on the visitors, that he
was unfitted for his duty. He placed potatoes on the plate intended
for Mrs. Baldwin, one at about every four words. He had the dish well
rounded when he was stopped by Mrs. Grippin, and the second
interference of his sister alone saved the vegetables from being
deluged with a profuse quantity of gravy. After dinner he and Mallard
went back of the house, where they seated themselves on the wood-pile
and talked for half the afternoon.
"Well, George," said the major, "I suppose you are confident of being
re-elected in January."
"I am confident that I shall not again be re-elected," replied
Mallard. "For nearly forty years, with scarcely an intermission I
have been a public servant. Now I have a right to demand that my
condition shall be changed from serfdom to independence."
"There are many who aspire to be tied with the bonds of national
servitude," said the major. "The official has too much authority
properly to be called a slave. He dictates to those whom you term his
masters."
"Neither all nor the greater part of political power," returned
Mallard, "is wielded by officials acting in an official capacity.
Behind the officer is the will of the public, and behind that is the
moulding influence of the Press and of those thinkers who study and
expound matters of government. When the honest legislator finds that
his conscience and popular sentiment are antagonistic, it is his duty
to yield to the former; but he who habitually disregards the wishes
of his constituents will soon destroy his political career."
"The responsibility to constituents," said Ratke, "is our great
safeguard against usurpation. Were it not for that, the Republican
party would be wholly unscrupulous in its disregard of precedent. The
organization of which you are a leader has repeatedly violated the
constitution and is advocating principles which, if carried out, will
eventually lead to monarchy."
This provoked a spirited reply from Mallard, which in turn elicited a
long answer from Ratke.
"James," called Mrs Grippin, "I'll have to have some wood now."
"All right, Maria," said the major. "There is no warrant in the
constitution for such dictatorial laws as have been enacted. Quote,
if you can, a single passage which justifies them."
"Very well," answered Mallard, "'Congress shall have power to make
all laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into
execution the foregoing powers, and all other powers vested by this
constitution in the government of the United States, or in any
department or officer thereof.' The specification in an instrument
like the constitution of every power of a legislative body is quite
impracticable, on account of the limited space in the instrument and
the inability of its framers to tell with any certainty what
exigencies may arise. This provision, had it not been inserted, would
have to be assumed, for no government could long prosper without the
ability to enact special laws."
"James," said Mrs. Grippin, who was kept by the presence of her
visitors from an outburst of passion, "I'm waiting for that wood."
"You shall have it," answered Ratke, methodically picking up two
sticks and advancing to the kitchen, "'To make all laws which shall
be necessary and proper.' The Republican party ignores that word
proper. It interprets the clause thus! 'To make such laws as best
serve our partisan purposes,' An undue concentration of national
authority," he continued, elevating his voice as he entered the
kitchen, "is incompatible with good government. There should be a
diffusion of power."
"Oh, dear! What a man!" exclaimed Mrs. Grippin. "Two sticks of wood
to do a baking. Now you go right back and get me some wood."
"I can carry the larger load," said Mallard, laughing, as Ratke
descended the back steps. "In our younger days we tried feats of
strength, but I am not used to them now."
Each man took in a huge armful of wood, and Mrs. Grippin was
satisfied both with the quality and quantity of the supply. The
housekeeper took pains to find several tasks for her brother, that
the discussion might be, broken off and he might not be worsted by
Mallard, for, though she professed great dislike of his argumentative
habits, she was secretly proud of his proficiency.
"George," said the major, when they had left the house, "a great
career is sometimes late in its commencement, is it not?"
"Certainly," responded Mallard, "history furnishes many such
instances."
"I believe," said Ratke, "that mine is about to begin. Did I tell you
that I have turned a part of my attention to literature?"
"No, indeed," answered the senator with some surprise. "Which one of
the muses has captivated you? Are you pondering over the massive
tomes of Themis, are you under the spell of Polyhymnia's rhetoric, or
are you following the voice of Calliope as she leads you over fields,
through forests and across lakes, by ancient earth works and mounds,
in which are the relics of extinct races. This locality, I think,
would furnish to a string imagination material for a grand epic."
"Your guess is incorrect," said Ratke. "The title of the work which I
am writing is 'Nature Concordia Philosophiae Animi.' In two volumes I
am undertaking to prove that every phenomenon of nature has a
corresponding one in the human mind or soul. Volume one treats of the
relativity of physics and metaphysics, volume two, of the relation of
physical laws to the will and higher emotions. The moral treatise I
finished first, more than a year ago, in fact.
"In its preparation I was obliged to refer to no modern language
except our own. English is rich in dissertations of the soul, but it
furnishes little to the science of mental phenomena. In order to
master the metaphysical part I was obliged to read a great deal in
German. You know I am deficient in that language. I was helped in my
reading by Manie and by Wrengell, the young fellow who made such a
stir at Break o' Day."
That night the old men sat up until after twelve o' clock talking of
experiences which stretched through fifty years, of college days, of
books which were but half remembered, of sports long unpracticed, but
still unforgotten, of acquaintances, some of whom were living, some
dead, some honored, some disgraced. Their faces kindled with fervor
of youth, their tones and gestures were animated; they were no longer
old. They laughed at ludicrous circumstances with greater zest than
when they witnessed the incidents. Unrealized ambitions, triumphs in
the lyceum and in class-room, petty dissensions with their fellows,
they reviewed with minuteness which they could not have used in
describing later events. At every visit since their graduation, they
had gone over these same experiences. Each recital had exceeded its
predecessor in the pleasure which it had imparted and the earnestness
with which it had been delivered. Only three days before, Mallard had
made in Chicago a great speech, which was destined to be published in
the papers throughout the entire country and to be repeated in
substance on the platform by the minor satellites of his party. Now
his dignity was laid aside, he was mirthful, even boyish, in his
actions.
"George," said Ratke, "you remember that we confided our aspirations
to each other. Mine have promised much, but yielded nothing. You have
accomplished what you set out to accomplish. You must be a happy
man."
"You judge too hastily," returned Mallard. "I have money, I have a
fair reputation, but I have been unfortunate in my family affairs. I
had a wife, a perfect companion, one of the best helpmeets whom God
ever gave to man. She is dead. I had a son, gifted and promising. I
kept him at school and gave him every advantage. He excelled in his
studies. He had a special liking for rhetoric and argument. I meant
to train him to be a statesman. I believed that he would exceed me in
fame and power as Alexander exceeded Philip. But he took to drink. He
died a disgraceful death, and the world knows my shame. I had a
daughter who was as amiable as she was beautiful and accomplished.
After the death of my wife and son, she was my idol. For a year she
took music lessons at Detroit. When she came home, she told me about
some attentions which had been paid her by a young foreigner, a
German. I cautioned her to accept no more of his addresses until I
had seen him. One day I was discussing the slavery question with some
gentlemen in a hotel. You know before the war I was not in favor of
immediate abolition, I was advocating the principles of the
Republican party, when a young abolitionist commenced to talk in the
most fanatical manner. I answered him, and he returned a torrent of
abuse. Saying that I had no wish to discuss a question with one who
substituted invective for argument, I left him. A few days after this
occurrence I opened the door of my house and found in the parlor the
young man who had treated me so rudely in the hotel. I bade him go
and never enter my dwelling again. I asked Eliza if this impudent
German was her suitor. She said he was. I told her to hold no
communication with him, that if she did, she could no longer stay
under the protection of my roof. A week after that they eloped. I
made no attempt to follow them, but Eliza wrote me that they had gone
to Detroit, and the newspapers, of course, tracked them up and put in
every mouth the story of my new disgrace. I would have welcomed them
back had it not been for my positive declaration that I would not do
so. I heard nothing more of them until my sister-in-law found an item
in a paper which stated that they had been killed two months
previously in a railroad accident at Chicago. An enterprising
reporter had had his attention riveted by the names of the victims,
as they appeared in an old paper and had discovered that they were
the same which had been borne by my son-in-law and daughter. The
surmise of the reporter was correct. I took up the bodies, which are
now in the Lansing cemetery. Never measure happiness by fame or
apparent success."
The next morning the major to no avail urged his guests to prolong
their visit. He did, however, extract a promise that Mallard would
make a more extended stay the succeeding summer. As the senator and
Mrs. Baldwin were at the gate taking leave of the Ratkes, Panicky
came trudging up with his satchels.
"Good morning, Senator," was the peddler's familiar salutation. "How
do you come on?"
"Very well," answered Mallard. "How is your health, Mr. Dabney?"
"Extra," said Panicky. "I am exposed enough to kill three common men,
but I know what to take to keep me healthy. What's the reason I can't
ride with you?"
"You can as well as not," replied Mallard, "if you can sit in the
back of the buggy and let your feet hang behind. It is an
uncomfortable way of riding, but it is the best I can provide for
you, Mr. Dabney."
"James," said the senator, "we are old men. We can not tell when we
shall next meet. It may be in another world."
"I hope you will come back again soon," said Ratke as they shook
hands at parting. "If you do not of your own accord, I hope
circumstances will bring you back."
"I wish I had such a team as that," remarked Panicky, when they were
on their way. "I wouldn't be ramping through the country as I am now.
I know what to give 'em to keep 'em in good trim."
"You sold me some panacea for them, Dabney," said Mallard with a
smile. "I have at home all the medicine I can possibly use."
"You hauled 'em over the coals good at Chicago," said Panicky. "That
speech ought to be in the house of every Republican, and every
Democrat, for that matter. If If could hear you get off the same
thing at Lansing, I'd give all there is in my satchels to some
hospital. The Democratic papers make as big a fuss about that as the
doctors do about the Great American Panacea."
"Why did you not stop at Ratke's?" inquired the senator. "I should
think you would try to make a sale at every house."
"Oh, yes, I do," said Panicky, "but I was over this road just a
little while ago. I'm going to turn off up hovered past Takum's. I
don't have to peddle the panacea much. It sells itself."
Mallard's team was young and spirited. Constantly on the alert for
objects by which they might be frightened, the horses lifted their
heads high and drew the buggy along at a sharp pace. In the road near
Takum's house were playing some children, some of whom were so nearly
of a size that there was no perceptible difference in their ages.
They were seated, or squatted, exactly in the track, and they moved
aside reluctantly to make way for the travelers. One little girl, who
used her apron as a receptacle of sand, pulled the garment over her
face and suddenly rising, jerked it down, throwing a cloud of dust
almost against the fractious team. The horses jumped forward,
determined to flee from the unwonted spectacle. They were in a fair
way to be quieted when the whole troop of Takum's dogs, large and
small, came bounding toward them with yelps and barks. They still
would have been manageable by Mallard's strong arm had not accident
aided them in their insubordination. The left-line snapped in twain,
the unbalanced right pulled them to one side, a front wheel struck a
large stone, and the buggy was overturned.
Panicky was whirled over in a summersault, his satchels, bumping and
jingling, rolled down an incline, where one of them flew open; his
knee struck a small stump which was inconveniently near. He groaned
dismally for a moment; then, raising himself, began to wail: "Oh,
dear! Oh, gosh! Oh, Jerusha! Oh, I'm dying! I'm dying! I'm dying!"
Mrs. Baldwin was unhurt. She turned at once to the assistance of her
brother-in-law, whose form was stretched at full length, motionless
and apparently lifeless. She lifted his head, she rubbed his hands,
she called his name. His closed eyes did not open, he gave no sign of
realizing her attentions. The Ratke family and Brown ran as soon as
possible to the scene of the accident, Nora in advance of them all.
They carried the senseless statesman back to the house which he had
thought he might not again visit.
Bitterly did Ratke regret his expressed wish that, with or against
his will. Mallard would soon return. The stalwart frame, the hands he
had pressed in farewell, the features, the changes of which he had
watched in controversy and shared in the revival of memories had,
indeed, come back; but tied in the bonds of inertness, they could not
return his words or feelings. He found, however, that his friend was
not dead. In the course of an hour he had the satisfaction of seeing
him sit up and of hearing him announce that he felt better.
Daggett was in the tamaracks by the road cutting poles when his
attention was drawn by the sound of rapidly approaching hoofs.
Dropping his ax, he rushed to the highway just in time to catch the
runaway team. With some trouble he allayed their excitement and drove
them back toward Ratke's. The overturned buggy and the groaning
peddler were sufficient to explain the catastrophe.
"Helloa! What's up?" he exclaimed, as he neared Panicky, who was
seated on the ground, holding his knee and rocking back and forth.
"Oh, I'm about dead!" moaned Panicky. "I'm fixed! My leg's broke! I
know it is! Oh, that's awful! You don't know how I suffer! Oh, I'm
laid up for life! Oh, I won't do another tap of work for six months!"
"I am agent for the Great American Panacea," said Daggett, advancing
with a broken bottle, which had been left with the fractured part
upward, so that it still retained a portion of its contents. "This
medicine is compounded of pine, hemlock, tamarack, cedar and spruce,
besides sovereign roots and herbs known to the medical fraternity. It
cures cuts, bruises, sprains, wounds, incisions and all injuries to
the flesh. It is also a sovereign remedy for asthma, bronchitis,
tonsilitis, laryngitis and all throat diseases, besides being an
excellent tonic for consumption, dyspepsia, liver-complaint,
rheumatism, malaria, fever and ague."
"If your knee was like mine, you wouldn't make fun of it," returned
Panicky. "Oh, the whole top of my knee's smashed! Oh, I won't do
another tap of work for two months!"
"Oh, yes, you will," assured Daggett, "I'll have you on your feet in
no time, I know a fellow over in Ingham, a log rolled over his leg,
smashed the whole business fine, bones, skin, flesh and all. The
doctor, he come to amputate it, but I got him to try a bottle of the
panacea. Well, the next week was the Fourth of July, and he took the
first prize for running at Lansing, and just a little while afterward
he beat the best mile record by three seconds. Have a bottle, Mister.
It isn't panicky. Panacea, sir, panacea. Panicky is where they get in
a battle, you know."
"I guess I will rub some of the panacea on my knee," said the
peddler, taking the broken bottle with a grin. "That feels a good
deal better," he acknowledged, as he arose after applying his
medicine. "It beats all how quickly it helps it," he said, limping to
his satchels and beginning to gather up the uninjured portion of his
wares. "You'll know just what to do for lameness," he concluded, when
with the strap over his shoulder connecting the two burdens, he was
limping around the corner.
Before the arrival of doctor Rorus, for whom the major had sent.
Mallard declared that he was able to recommence his journey. Ratke
protested, but to no avail. He did, however, induce the senator to
take the cars at Barton Junction and allow Daggett, whom he
considered a fair horseman, to drive the team to Lansing.