AN EPISODE.
I fear the gentle reader, how much more the savage one, will accuse me of
having beguiled him with false pretenses. Here I have written XIV
chapters of this story, which claims to be a mystery, and there stand the
letters XV at the head of this chapter and I have not got to the mystery
yet, and my friend Miss Cormorant, who devours her dozen novels a week
for steady diet, and perhaps makes it a baker's dozen at this season of
the year, and who loves nothing so well as to be mystified by
labyrinthine plots and counterplots--Miss Cormorant is about to part
company with me at this point. She doesn't like this plain sailing. Now,
I will be honest with you, Miss Cormorant, all the more that I don't care
if you do quit. I will tell you plainly that to my mind the mystery lies
yet several chapters in advance, and that I shouldn't be surprised if I
have to pass out of my teens and begin to head with double X's before I
get to that mystery. Why don't I hurry up then? Ah! there's the rub. Miss
Cormorant and all the Cormorant family are wanting me to hurry up with
this history, and just so surely as I should skip over any part of the
tale, or slight my background, or show any eagerness, that other family,
the Critics--the recording angels of literature--take down their pens,
and with a sad face joyfully write: "This book is, so-so, but bears
evident marks of hurry in its execution. If the author shall ever learn
the self-possession of the true artist, and come to tell his stories with
leisurely dignity of manner--and so on--and so on--and so forth--he
will--well, he will--do middling well for a man who had the unhappiness
to be born in longitude west from Washington." Ah! well, I shrug my
shoulders, and bidding both Cormorant and Critic to get behind me, Satan,
I write my story in my own fashion for my gentle readers who are neither
Cormorants nor Critics, and of whom I am sincerely fond.
For instance, I find it convenient to turn aside at this point to mention
Dave Sawney, for how could I relate the events which are to follow to
readers who had not the happiness to know Katy's third lover--or
thirteenth--the aforesaid Dave? You are surprised, doubtless, that Katy
should have so many lovers as three; you have not then lived in a new
country where there are generally half-a-dozen marriageable men to every
marriageable woman, and where, since the law of demand and supply has no
application, every girl finds herself beset with more beaux than a
heartless flirt could wish for. Dave was large, lymphatic, and conceited;
he "come frum Southern Eelinoy," as he expressed it, and he had a
comfortable conviction that the fertile Illinois Egypt had produced
nothing more creditable than his own slouching figure and
self-complaisant soul. Dave Sawney had a certain vividness of imagination
that served to exalt everything pertaining to himself; he never in his
life made a bargain to do anything--he always cawntracked to do it. He
cawntracked to set out three trees, and then he cawntracked to dig six
post-holes, and-when he gave his occupation to the census-taker he set
himself down as a "cawntractor."
He had laid siege to Katy in his fashion, slouching in of an evening, and
boasting of his exploits until Smith Westcott would come and chirrup and
joke, and walk Katy right away from him to take a walk or a boat-ride.
Then he would finish the yarn which Westcott had broken in the middle, to
Mrs. Plausaby or Miss Marlay, and get up and remark that he thought maybe
he mout as well be a-gittin' on.
In the county-seat war, which had raged about the time Albert had left
for Glenfleld, Dave Sawney had come to be a man of importance. His own
claim lay equidistant from the two rival towns. He bad considerable
influence with a knot of a dozen settlers in his neighborhood, who were,
like himself, without any personal interest in the matter. It became
evident that a dozen or a half-dozen votes might tip the scale after
Plausaby, Esq., had turned the enemy's flank by getting some local
politician to persuade the citizens of Westville, who would naturally
have supported the claims of Perritaut, that their own village stood the
ghost of a chance, or at least that their interests would be served by
the notoriety which the contest would give, and perhaps also by defeating
Perritaut, which, from proximity, was more of a rival than
Metropolisville. After this diversion had weakened Perritaut, it became
of great consequence to secure even so small an influence as that of Dave
Sawney. Plausaby persuaded Dave to cawntrack for the delivery of his
influence, and Dave was not a little delighted to be flattered and paid
at the same time. He explained to the enlightened people in his
neighborhood that Squire Plausaby was a-goin' to do big things fer the
kyounty; that the village of Metropolisville would erect a brick
court-house and donate it; that Plausaby had already cawntracked to
donate it to the kyounty free gratis.
This ardent support of Dave, who saw not only the price which the squire
had cawntracked to pay him, but a furtherance of his suit with little
Katy, as rewards of his zeal, would have turned the balance at once in
favor of Metropolisville, had it not been for a woman. Was there ever a
war, since the days of the Greek hobby-horse, since the days of Rahab's
basket indeed, in which a woman did not have some part? It is said that a
woman should not vote, because she can not make war; but that is just
what a woman can do; she can make war, and she can often decide it. There
came into this contest between Metropolisville and its rival, not a Helen
certainly, but a woman. Perritaut was named for an old French trader, who
had made his fortune by selling goods to the Indians on its site, and who
had taken him an Indian wife--it helped trade to wed an Indian--and
reared a family of children who were dusky, and spoke both the Dakota and
the French _à la Canadien_. M. Perritaut had become rich, and yet his
riches could not remove a particle of the maternal complexion from those
who were to inherit the name and wealth of the old trader. If they should
marry other half-breeds, the line of dusky Perritauts might stretch out
the memory of a savage maternity to the crack of doom. _Que voulez-vous?_
They must not many half-breeds. Each generation must make advancement
toward a Caucasian whiteness, in a geometric ratio, until the Indian
element should be reduced by an infinite progression toward nothing. But
how? It did not take long for Perritaut _père_ to settle that question.
_Voilà tout._ The young men should seek white wives. They had money.
They might marry poor girls, but white ones. But the girls? _Eh bien_!
Money should wash them also, or at least money should bleach their
descendants. For money is the Great Stain-eraser, the Mighty Detergent,
the Magic Cleanser. And the stain of race is not the only one that money
makes white as snow. So the old gentleman one day remarked to some
friends who drank wine with him, that he would geeve one ten tousant
tollare, begare, to te man tat maree his oltest daughtare, Mathilde. _Eh
bien_, te man must vary surelee pe w'ite and _re_-spect-_ah_-ble. Of
course this confidential remark soon spread abroad, as it was meant to
spread abroad. It came to many ears. The most utterly worthless white
men, on hearing it, generally drew themselves up in pride and vowed
they'd see the ole frog-eatin' Frenchman hung afore they'd many his
Injin. They'd druther marry a Injin than a nigger, but they couldn' be
bought with no money to trust their skelp with a Injin.
Not so our friend Dave. He wurn't afeared of no Injin, he said; sartainly
not of one what had been weakened down to half the strength. Ef any man
dared him to marry a Injin and backed the dare by ten thousand dollars,
blamed ef he wouldn't take the dare. He wouldn' be dared by no Frenchman
to marry his daughter. He wouldn't. He wa'n't afeard to marry a Injin.
He'd cawntrack to do it fer ten thousand.
The first effect of this thought on Dave's mind was to change his view of
the county-seat question. He shook his head now when Plausaby's brick
court-house was spoken of. The squire was awful 'cute; too 'cute to live,
he said ominously.
Dave concluded that ten thousand dollars could be made much more easily
by foregoing his preferences for a white wife in favor of a red one, than
by cawntracting to set out shade-trees, dig post-holes, or drive oxen.
So he lost no time in visiting the old trader.
[Illustration: A PINCH OF SNUFF.]
He walked in, in his slouching fashion, shook hands with M. Perritaut,
gave his name as David Sawney, cawntracter, and after talking a little
about the county-seat question, he broached the question of marriage with
Mathilde Perritaut.
"I hearn tell that you are willin' to do somethin' han'some fer a
son-in-law."
"Varee good, Mistare Sonee. You air a man of bisnees, perhaps, maybe. You
undairstand tese tings. Eh? _Très bien_--I mean vary well, you see. I
want that my daughtare zhould maree one re-spect-_ah_-ble man. Vare good.
You air one, maybe. I weel find out. _Très bien, you_ see, my daughtare
weel marree the man that I zay. You weel come ovare here next week. Eef I
find you air respect-_ah_-ble, I weel then get my lawyare to make a
marriage contract."
"A cawntrack?" said Dave, starting at the sound of his favorite word.
"Very well, musheer, I sign a cawntrack and live up to it."
"Vare good. Weel you have one leetle peench of snuff?" said the old man,
politely opening his box.
"Yes, I'm obleeged, musheer," said Dave. "Don't keer ef I do." And by way
of showing his good-will and ingratiating himself with the Frenchman,
Dave helped himself to an amazingly large pinch. Indeed, not being
accustomed to take snuff, he helped himself, as he did to chewing tobacco
when it was offered free, with the utmost liberality. The result did not
add to the dignity of his bearing, for he was seized with a succession of
convulsions of sneezing. Dave habitually did everything in the noisiest
way possible, and he wound up each successive fit of sneezing with a
whoop that gave him the semblance of practicing an Indian war-song, by
way of fitting himself to wed a half-breed wife.
"I declare," he said, when the sneezing had subsided, "I never did see no
sech snuff."
"Vare good," resumed M. Perritaut. "I weel promees in the contract to
geeve you one ten tousant tollars--_deux mille_--two tousant avery yare
for fife yare. _Très bien_. My daughtare is edu_cate_; she stoody fife,
seex yare in te convent at Montreal. Zhe play on piano evare so many
tune. _Bien_. You come Monday. We weel zee. Adieu. I mean good-by,
Mistare Sonee."
"Adoo, musheer," said Dave, taking his hat and leaving. He boasted
afterwards that he had spoke to the ole man in French when he was comin'
away. Thought it mout kinder tickle him, you know. And he said he didn'
mind a brown complexion a bit. Fer his part, seemed to him 'twas kinder
purty fer variety. Wouldn' want all women reddish, but fer variety 'twas
sorter nice, you know. He always did like sompin' odd.
And he now threw all his energy into the advocacy of Perritaut. It
was the natural location of a county-seat. Metropolisville never
would be nawthin'.
Monday morning found him at Perritaut's house, ready to sell himself in
marriage. As for the girl, she, poor brown lamb--or wolf, as the case may
be--was ready, with true Indian stolidity, to be disposed of as her
father chose. The parties who were interested in the town of Perritaut
had got wind of Dave's proposition; and as they saw how important his
influence might be in the coming election, they took pains to satisfy
Monsieur Perritaut that Mr. Sawney was a very proper person to marry his
tawny daughter and pocket his yellow gold-pieces. The lawyer was just
finishing the necessary documents when Dave entered.
"_Eh bien_! How you do, Mistare Sonee? Is eet dat you weel have a peench
of snuff?" For the Frenchman had quite forgotten Dave's mishap in
snuff-taking, and offered the snuff out of habitual complaisance.
"No, musheer," said Dave, "I can't use no snuff of late yeers. 'Fection
of the nose; makes me sneeze dreffle."
"Oh! _Eh blen! C'est comme il faut_. I mean dat is all right, vare good,
mistare. Now, den, Monsieur _l'Avocat_, I mean ze lawyare, he is ready to
read ze contract."
"Cawntrack? Oh! yes, that's right. We Americans marry without a
cawntrack, you see. But I like cawntracks myself. It's my business,
cawntracking is, you know. Fire away whenever you're ready, mister." This
last to the lawyer, who was waiting to read.
Dave sat, with a knowing air, listening to the legal phraseology as
though he had been used to marriage contracts from infancy. He was
pleased with the notion of being betrothed in this awful diplomatic
fashion. It accorded with his feelings to think that he was worth ten
thousand dollars and the exhaustive verbiage of this formidable
cawntrack.
But at last the lawyer read a part which made him open his eyes.
Something about its being further stipulated that the said David Sawney,
of the first part, in and for the consideration named, "hereby binds
himself to have the children which shall issue from this marriage
educated in the Roman Catholic faith," caught his ears.
"Hold on, mister, I can't sign that! I a'n't over-pertikeler about who I
marry, but I can't go that."
"What part do you object to?"
"Well, ef I understand them words you've got kiled up there--an' I'm
purty middlin' smart at big words, you see--I'm to eddicate the children
in the Catholic faith, as you call it."
"Yes, that is it."
"_Oui_! vare good. Dat I must inseest on," said Perritaut.
"Well, I a'n't nothin' in a religious way, but I can't stan' that air.
I'm too well raised. I kin marry a Injin, but to sell out my children
afore they're born to Catholic priests, I couldn't do that air ef you
planked down two ten thousands."
And upon this point Dave stuck. There is a sentiment down somewhere in
almost any man, and there was this one point of conscience with Dave. And
there was likewise this one scruple with Perritaut. And these opposing
scruples in two men who had not many, certainly, turned the scale and
gave the county-seat to Metropolisville, for Dave told all his Southern
Illinois friends that if the county-seat should remain at Perritaut, the
Catholics would build a nunnery an' a caythedral there, and then none of
their daughters would be safe. These priests was a-lookin' arter the
comin' generation. And besides, Catholics and Injins wouldn' have a good
influence on the moral and religious kerecter of the kyounty. The
influence of half-breeds was a bad thing fer civilization. Ef a man was
half-Injin, he was half-Injin, and you couldn't make him white noways.
And Dave distributed freely deeds to some valueless outlots, which
Plausaby had given him for the purpose.