proceedings from a distance. It was snow, and that black, ragged hole
would look strange in the midst of the swelling, spotless cushion of
white. James looked after everything; then rather suddenly fell ill,
and took to bed; was insensible when the doctor came, and soon died.
A sort of low fever was prevailing in the village, and his want of
sleep, his exhaustion, and his misery made him apt to take it. The
grave was not difficult to reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made
all things white and smooth; Rab once more looked on, and slunk home
to the stable.
And what of Rab? I asked for him next week at the new carrier who got
the good-will of James's business and was now master of Jess and her
cart. "How's Rab?" He put me off, and said, rather rudely, "What's
_your_ business wi' the dowg?" I was not to be so put off. "Where's
Rab?" He, getting confused and red, and intermeddling with his hair,
said, "'Deed, sir, Rab's deid." "Dead! What did he die of?" "Weel,
sir," said he, getting redder, "he didna' exactly dee; he was killed.
I had to brain him wi' a rack-pin; there was nae doin' wi' him. He lay
in the treviss wi' the mear, and wadna come oot. I tempit him wi' kail
and meat, but he wad tak naething, and keepit me frae feeding the
beast, and he was aye gurrin', and grup, gruppin' me by the legs. I
was laith to mak' awa' wi' the auld dowg, his like wasna atween this
and Thornhill--but, 'deed, sir, I could do naething else." I believed
him. Fit end for Rab, quick and complete. His teeth and his friends
gone, why should he keep the peace and be civil?
He was buried in the braeface, near the burn, the children of the
village, his companions, who used to make very free with him and sit
on his ample stomach as he lay half asleep at the door in the sun,
watching the solemnity.
THE BOOTS AT THE HOLLY-TREE INN
_Charles Dickens_ (1812-1870)
Where had he been in his time? he repeated, when I asked him the
question, Lord, he had been everywhere! And what had he been? Bless
you, he had been everything you could mention, a'most!
Seen a good deal? Why, of course he had. I should say so, he could
assure me, if I only knew about a twentieth part of what had come in
_his_ way. Why, it would be easier for him, he expected, to tell what
he hadn't seen than what he had. Ah! a deal, it would.
What was the curiousest thing he had seen? Well! He didn't know.
He couldn't momently name what was the curiousest thing he had
seen--unless it was a Unicorn--and he see _him_ once at a fair. But
supposing a young gentleman not eight year old was to run away with
a fine young woman of seven, might I think _that_ a queer start?
Certainly. Then that was a start as he himself had had his blessed
eyes on, and he had cleaned the shoes they run away in--and they was
so little he couldn't get his hand into 'em.
Master Harry Walmers' father, you see, he lived at the Elmses, down
away by Shooter's Hill there, six or seven miles from Lunnon. He was
a gentleman of spirit, and good-looking, and held his head up when he
walked, and had what you call Fire about him. He wrote poetry, and he
rode, and he ran, and he cricketed, and he danced, and he acted, and
he done it all equally beautiful. He was uncommon proud of Master
Harry as was his only child; but he didn't spoil him neither. He was
a gentleman that had a will of his own and a eye of his own, and that
would be minded. Consequently, though he made quite a companion of the
fine bright boy, and was delighted to see him so fond of reading his
fairy-books, and was never tired of hearing him say my name is Norval,
or hearing him sing his songs about Young May Moons is beaming love,
and When he as adores thee has left but the name, and that; still he
kept the command over the child, and the child _was_ a child, and it's
to be wished more of 'em was.
How did Boots happen to know all this? Why, through being
under-gardener. Of course he couldn't be under-gardener, and he always
about, in the summer-time, near the windows on the lawn, a-mowing, and
sweeping, and weeding, and pruning, and this and that, without getting
acquainted with the ways of the family. Even supposing Master Harry
hadn't come to him one morning early, and said, "Cobbs, how should you
spell Norah, if you was asked?" and then began cutting it in print all
over the fence.
He couldn't say that he had taken particular notice of children before
that; but really it was pretty to see them two mites a-going about the
place together, deep in love. And the courage of the boy! Bless your
soul, he'd have throwed off his little hat, and tucked up his little
sleeves, and gone in at a lion, he would, if they had happened to meet
one, and she had been frightened of him. One day he stops, along with
her, where Boots was hoeing weeds in the gravel, and says, speaking
up, "Cobbs," he says, "I like _you." "Do_ you, sir? I'm proud to hear
it." "Yes, I do, Cobbs. Why do I like you, do you think, Cobbs?"
"Don't know, Master Harry, I am sure." "Because Norah likes you,
Cobbs." "Indeed, sir? That's very gratifying." "Gratifying, Cobbs?
It's better than millions of the brightest diamonds to be liked by
Norah." "Certainly, sir." "Would you like another situation, Cobbs?"
"Well, sir, I shouldn't object if it was a good 'un." "Then, Cobbs,"
says he, "you shall be our Head Gardener when we are married." And he
tucks her, in her little sky-blue mantle, under his arm, and walks
away.
Boots could assure me that it was better than a picter, and equal to a
play, to see them babies, with their long, bright, curling hair, their
sparkling eyes, and their beautiful light tread, a-rambling about the
garden, deep in love. Boots was of opinion that the birds believed
they was birds, and kept up with 'em, singing to please 'em. Sometimes
they would creep under the tulip-tree, and would sit there with their
arms round one another's necks, and their soft cheeks touching,
a-reading about the Prince and the Dragon, and the good and bad
enchanters, and the king's fair daughter. Sometimes he would hear them
planning about a house in a forest, keeping bees and a cow, and living
entirely on milk and honey. Once he came upon them by the pond, and
heard Master Harry say, "Adorable Norah, kiss me, and say you love
me to distraction, or I'll jump in head foremost." And Boots made no
question he would have done it if she hadn't complied. On the
whole, Boots said it had a tendency to make him feel he was in love
himself--only he didn't exactly know who with.
"Cobbs," said Master Harry, one evening, when Cobbs was watering
the flowers, "I am going on a visit, this present midsummer, to my
grandmamma's at York."
"Are you, indeed, sir? I hope you'll have a pleasant time. I am going
into Yorkshire, myself, when I leave here."
"Are you going to your grandmamma's, Cobbs?"
"No, sir. I haven't got such a thing."
"Not as a grandmamma, Cobbs?"
"No, sir."
The boy looked on at the watering of the flowers for a little while,
and then said, "I shall be very glad indeed to go, Cobbs--Norah's
going."
"You'll be all right, then, sir," says Cobbs, "with your beautiful
sweetheart by your side."
"Cobbs," returned the boy, flushing, "I never let anybody joke about
it when I can prevent them."
"It wasn't a joke, sir," says Cobbs, with humility--"wasn't so meant."
"I am glad of that, Cobbs, because I like you, you know, and you're
going to live with us. Cobbs!"
"Sir."
"What do you think my grandmamma gives me when I go down there?"
"I couldn't so much as make a guess, sir."
"A Bank-of-England five-pound note, Cobbs."
"Whew!" says Cobbs, "that's a spanking sum of money, Master Harry."
"A person could do a great deal with such a sum of money as
that--couldn't a person, Cobbs?"
"I believe you, sir!"
"Cobbs," said the boy, "I'll tell you a secret. At Norah's house they
have been joking her about me, and pretending to laugh at our being
engaged--pretending to make game of it, Cobbs!"
"Such, sir," says Cobbs, "is the depravity of human natur'."
The boy, looking exactly like his father, stood for a few minutes
with his glowing face toward the sunset, and then departed with,
"Good-night, Cobbs. I'm going in."
If I was to ask Boots how it happened that he was a-going to leave
that place just at that present time, well, he couldn't rightly answer
me. He did suppose he might have stayed there till now if he had been
anyways inclined. But you see, he was younger then, and he wanted
change. That's what he wanted--change. Mr. Walmers, he said to him
when he gave him notice of his intentions to leave, "Cobbs," he says,
"have you anythink to complain of? I make the inquiry, because if I
find that any of my people really has anythink to complain of, I wish
to make it right if I can." "No, sir," says Cobbs; "thanking you, sir,
I find myself as well sitiwated here as I could hope to be anywheres.
The truth is, sir, that I'm a-going to seek my fortun'." "Oh, indeed,
Cobbs!" he says; "I hope you may find it." And Boots could assure
me--which he did, touching his hair with his bootjack, as a salute in
the way of his present calling--that he hadn't found it yet.
Well, sir! Boots left the Elmses when his time was up, and Master
Harry, he went down to the old lady's at York, which old lady would
have given that child the teeth out of her head (if she had had any),
she was so wrapped up in him. What does that Infant do--for Infant
you may call him, and be within the mark--but cut away from that old
lady's with his Norah, on a expedition to go to Gretna Green and be
married!
Sir, Boots was at this identical Holly-Tree Inn (having left it
several times to better himself, but always come back through one
thing or another), when, one summer afternoon, the coach drives up,
and out of the coach gets them two children. The Guard says to our
Governor, "I don't quite make out these little passengers, but the
young gentleman's words was, that they was to be brought here."
The young gentleman gets out; hands his lady out; gives the Guard
something for himself; says to our Governor, "We're to stop here
to-night, please. Sitting-room and two bedrooms will be required.
Chops and cherry-pudding for two!" and tucks her in her little
sky-blue mantle, under his arm, and walks into the house much bolder
than Brass.
Boots leaves me to judge what the amazement of that establishment was,
when these two tiny creatures all alone by themselves was marched
into the Angel--much more so when he, who had seen them without their
seeing him, give the Governor his views upon the expedition they was
upon. "Cobbs," says the Governor, "if this is so, I must set off
myself to York, and quiet their friends' minds. In which case you must
keep your eye upon 'em, and humor 'em till I come back. But before I
take these measures, Cobbs, I should wish you to find from themselves
whether your opinions is correct." "Sir, to you," says Cobbs, "that
shall be done directly."
So Boots goes up-stairs to the Angel, and there he finds Master Harry,
on a e'normous sofa--immense at any time, but looking like the Great
Bed of Ware, compared with him--a-drying the eyes of Miss Norah with
his pocket-hankecher. Their little legs was entirely off the ground,
of course, and it really is not possible for Boots to express to me
how small them children looked.
"It's Cobbs! It's Cobbs!" cries Master Harry, and comes running to him
on t'other side, and catching hold of his t'other hand, and they both
jump for joy.
"I see you a-getting out, sir," says Cobbs. "I thought it was you. I
thought I couldn't be mistaken in your height and figure. What's the
object of your journey, sir? Matrimonial?"
"We're going to be married, Cobbs, at Gretna Green," returned the boy.
"We have run away on purpose. Norah has been in rather low spirits,
Cobbs; but she'll be happy, now we have found you to be our friend."
"Thank you, sir, and thank _you_, miss," says Cobbs, "for your good
opinion. _Did_ you bring any luggage with you, sir?"
If I will believe Boots when he gives me his word and honor upon
it, the lady had got a parasol, a smelling-bottle, a round and a
half of cold buttered toast, eight peppermint drops, and a
hair-brush--seemingly a doll's. The gentleman had got about half a
dozen yards of string, a knife, three or four sheets of writing-paper,
folded up surprising small, a orange, and a Chaney mug with his name
upon it.
"What may be the exact nature of your plans, sir?" says Cobbs.
"To go on," replied the boy--which the courage of that boy was
something wonderful!--"in the morning, and be married to-morrow."
"Just so, sir," says Cobbs. "Would it meet your views, sir, if I was
to accompany you?"
When Cobbs said this, they both jumped for joy again, and cried out,
"Oh yes, yes, Cobbs! Yes!"
"Well, sir!" says Cobbs. "If you will excuse me having the freedom
to give an opinion, what I should recommend would be this. I am
acquainted with a pony, sir, which, put in a pheayton that I could
borrow, would take you and Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior (myself driving,
if you approved), to the end of your journey in a very short space of
time. I am not altogether sure, sir, that this pony will be at liberty
to-morrow, but even if you had to wait over to-morrow for him, it
might be worth your while. As to the small account here, sir, in case
you was to find yourself running at all short, that don't signify;
because I am a part proprietor of this inn, and it could stand over."
Boots assures me that when they clapped their hands, and jumped for
joy again, and called him "Good Cobbs!" and "Dear Cobbs!" and bent
across him to kiss one another in the delight of their confiding
hearts, he felt himself the meanest rascal for deceiving 'em that ever
was born.
"Is there anything you want just at present, sir?" says Cobbs,
mortally ashamed of himself.
"We should like some cakes after dinner," answered Master Harry,
folding his arms, putting out one leg, and looking straight at him,
"and two apples and jam. With dinner we should like to have toast and
water. But Norah has always been accustomed to half a glass of currant
wine at dessert. And so have I."
"It shall be ordered at the bar, sir," says Cobbs; and away he went.
Boots has the feeling as fresh upon him this moment of speaking as he
had then, that he would far rather have had it out in half a dozen
rounds with the Governor than have combined with him; and that he
wished with all his heart there was any impossible place where two
babies could make an impossible marriage, and live impossibly
happy ever afterward. However, as it couldn't be, he went into the
Governor's plans, and the Governor set off for York in half an hour.
The way in which the women of that house--without exception--every one
of 'em--married _and_ single--took to that boy when they heard the
story, Boots considers surprising. It was as much as he could do to
keep 'em from dashing into the room and kissing him. They climbed
up all sorts of places, at the risk of their lives, to look at him
through a pane of glass. They was seven deep at the keyhole. They was
out of their minds about him and his bold spirit.
In the evening, Boots went into the room to see how the runaway couple
was getting on. The gentleman was on the window-seat, supporting the
lady in his arms. She had tears upon her face, and was lying, very
tired and half asleep, with her head upon his shoulder.
"Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, fatigued, sir?" says Cobbs.
"Yes, she is tired, Cobbs; but she is not used to be away from home,
and she has been in low spirits again. Cobbs, do you think you could
bring a biffin, please?"
"I ask your pardon, sir," says Cobbs. "What was it you--"
"I think a Norfolk biffin would rouse her, Cobbs. She is very fond of
them."
Boots withdrew in search of the required restorative, and, when he
brought it in, the gentleman handed it to the lady, and fed her with a
spoon, and took a little himself; the lady being heavy with sleep, and
rather cross. "What should you think, sir," says Cobbs, "of a chamber
candlestick?" The gentleman approved; the chambermaid went first,
up the great staircase; the lady, in her sky-blue mantle, followed,
gallantly escorted by the gentleman; the gentleman embraced her at her
door, and retired to his own apartment, where Boots softly locked him
in.
Boots couldn't but feel with increased acuteness what a base deceiver
he was, when they consulted him at breakfast (they had ordered sweet
milk-and-water, and toast and currant jelly, over-night) about the
pony. It really was as much as he could do, he don't mind confessing
to me, to look them two young things in the face, and think what a
wicked old father of lies he had grown up to be. Howsomever, he went
on a-lying like a Trojan about the pony. He told 'em that it did so
unfortunately happen that the pony was half clipped, you see, and that
he couldn't be taken out in that state, for fear it should strike to
his inside. But that he'd be finished clipping in the course of the
day, and that to-morrow morning at eight o'clock the pheayton would be
ready. Boots' view of the whole case, looking back on it in my room,
is, that Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, was beginning to give in. She
hadn't had her hair curled when she went to bed, and she didn't seem
quite up to brushing it herself, and its getting in her eyes put
her out. But nothing put out Master Harry. He sat behind his
breakfast-cup, a-tearing away at the jelly, as if he had been his own
father.
After breakfast Boots is inclined to consider they drawed soldiers--at
least he knows that many such was found in the fireplace, all on
horseback. In the course of the morning Master Harry rang the bell--it
was surprising how that there boy did carry on--and said, in a
sprightly way, "Cobbs, is there any good walks in this neighborhood?"
"Yes, sir," says Cobbs. "There's Love Lane."
"Get out with you, Cobbs!"--that was that there boy's
expression--"you're joking."
"Begging your pardon, sir," says Cobbs, "there _really is_ Love Lane.
And a pleasant walk it is, and proud shall I be to show it to yourself
and Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior."
"Norah, dear," says Master Harry, "this is curious. We really ought to
see Love Lane. Put on your bonnet, my sweetest darling, and we will go
there with Cobbs."
Boots leaves me to judge what a Beast he felt himself to be, when that
young pair told him, as they all three jogged along together, that
they had made up their minds to give him two thousand guineas a year
as Head Gardener, on account of his being so true a friend to 'em.
Boots could have wished at the moment that the earth would have
opened and swallowed him up, he felt so mean, with their beaming
eyes a-looking at him, and believing him. Well, sir, he turned the
conversation as well as he could, and he took 'em down Love Lane to
the water-meadows, and there Master Harry would have drowned himself
in half a moment more, a-getting out a water-lily for her--but nothing
daunted that boy. Well, sir, they was tired out. All being so new and
strange to 'em, they was tired as tired could be. And they laid
down on a bank of daisies, like the children in the wood, leastways
meadows, and fell asleep.
Boots don't know--perhaps I do--but never mind, it don't signify
either way--why it made a man fit to make a fool of himself to see
them two pretty babies a-lying there in the clear, still day, not
dreaming half so hard when they was asleep as they done when they was
awake. But, Lord! when you come to think of yourself, you know, and
what a game you have been up to ever since you was in your own cradle,
and what a poor sort of chap you are, and how it's always either
Yesterday with you, or To-morrow, and never To-day, that's where it
is!
Well, sir, they woke up at last, and then one thing was getting pretty
clear to Boots--namely, that Mrs. Harry Walmerses, Junior's, temper
was on the move. When Master Harry took her round the waist, she said
he "teased her so"; and when he says, "Norah, my young May Moon, your
Harry tease you?" she tells him, "Yes; and I want to go home."
A biled fowl and baked bread-and-butter pudding brought Mrs. Walmers
up a little; but Boots could have wished, he must privately own to
me, to have seen her more sensible of the woice of love, and less
abandoning of herself to currants. However, Master Harry, he kept up,
and his noble heart was as fond as ever. Mrs. Walmers turned very
sleepy about dusk, and began to cry. Therefore, Mrs. Walmers went off
to bed as per yesterday; and Master Harry ditto repeated.
About eleven or twelve at night comes back the Governor in a chaise,
along with Mr. Walmers and a elderly lady. Mr. Walmers looks amused
and very serious, both at once, and says to our Missis: "We are much
indebted to you, ma'am; for your kind care of our little children,
which we can never sufficiently acknowledge. Pray, ma'am, where is
my boy?" Our Missis says: "Cobbs has the dear child in charge, sir.
Cobbs, show Forty!" Then he says to Cobbs: "Ah, Cobbs, I am glad to
see _you_! I understood you was here!" And Cobbs says: "Yes, sir. Your
most obedient, sir."
I may be surprised to hear Boots say it, perhaps; but Boots assures
me that his heart beat like a hammer, going up-stairs. "I beg your
pardon, sir," says he, while unlocking the door; "I do hope you are
not angry with Master Harry. For Master Harry is a fine boy, sir, and
will do you credit and honor." And Boots signifies to me that, if the
fine boy's father had contradicted him in the daring state of mind in
which he then was, he thinks he should have "fetched him a crack," and
taken the consequences.
But Mr. Walmers only says: "No, Cobbs. No, my good fellow. Thank you!"
And, the door being opened, goes in.
Boots goes in, too, holding the light, and he sees Mr. Walmers go up
to the bedside, bend gently down, and kiss the little sleeping face.
Then he stands looking at it for a minute, looking wonderfully like it
(they do say he ran away with Mrs. Walmers); and then he gently shakes
the little shoulder.
"Harry, my dear boy! Harry!"
Master Harry starts up and looks at him. Looks at Cobbs, too. Such is
the honor of that mite, that he looks at Cobbs, to see whether he has
brought him into trouble.
"I'm not angry, my child. I only want you to dress yourself and come
home."
"Yes, pa."
Master Harry dresses himself quickly. His breast begins to swell when
he has nearly finished, and it swells more and more as he stands, at
last, a-looking at his father; his father standing a-looking at him,
the quiet image of him.
"Please may I"--the spirit of that little creatur', and the way he
kept his rising tears down!--"please, dear pa--may I--kiss Norah
before I go?"
"You may, my child."
So he takes Master Harry in his hand, and Boots leads the way with the
candle, and they come to that other bedroom, where the elderly lady is
seated by the bed, and poor little Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, is fast
asleep. There the father lifts the child up to the pillow, and he lays
his little face down for an instant by the little warm face of poor
unconscious little Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, and gently draws it to
him--a sight so touching to the chambermaids, who are peeping through
the door, that one of them called out, "It's a shame to part 'em!" But
this chambermaid was always, as Boots informs us, a softhearted one.
Not that there was any harm in that girl. Far from it.
Finally, Boots says, that's all about it. Mr. Walmers drove away in
the chaise, having hold of Master Harry's hand. The elderly lady and
Mrs. Walmers, Junior, that was never to be (she married a Captain long
afterward, and died in India), went off next day. In conclusion, Boots
puts it to me whether I hold with him in two opinions: firstly, that
there are not many couples on their way to be married who are half as
innocent of guile as those two children; secondly, that it would be a
jolly good thing for a great many couples on their way to be married,
if they could only be stopped in time, and brought back separately.
A STORY OF SEVEN DEVILS[1]
[Footnote 1: From _Amos Kilbright and Other Stories_. 1888.]
_Frank R. Stockton_ (1834-1902)
The negro church which stood in the pine woods near the little village
of Oxford Cross Roads, in one of the lower counties of Virginia, was
presided over by an elderly individual, known to the community in
general as Uncle Pete; but on Sundays the members of his congregation
addressed him as Brudder Pete. He was an earnest and energetic man,
and, although he could neither read nor write, he had for many years
expounded the Scriptures to the satisfaction of his hearers. His
memory was good, and those portions of the Bible, which from time to
time he had heard read, were used by him, and frequently with powerful
effect, in his sermons. His interpretations of the Scriptures were
generally entirely original, and were made to suit the needs, or what
he supposed to be the needs, of his congregation.