A VERY DISAGREEABLE PREDICAMENT--WILD EXULTATION OF PARKER--HE
MAKES AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT--AN INTERVIEW WITH THE OLD MAN--THE
EMBARRASSMENT OF MR. SPARKS, AND HOW HE OVERCAME IT--A STORY OF
BISHOP POTTS--THE MISERIES OF TOO MUCH MARRIAGE--HOW POTTS SUFFERED,
AND WHAT HIS END WAS.
[Illustration]
Last evening, after waiting until eleven o'clock for Mr. Parker to come
home, I went to bed. I had hardly composed myself for slumber when I
thought I heard the door-bell ring; and supposing Bob had forgotten his
latch-key, I descended for the purpose of letting him in. When I opened
the door, no one was upon the porch; and although I was dressed simply
in a night-shirt, I stepped out just beyond the doorway for the purpose
of ascertaining if I could see any one who might have pulled the bell.
Just as I did so the wind banged the door shut, and as it closed it
caught a portion of my raiment which was fluttering about, and held it
fast. I was somewhat amused at first, and I laughed as I tried to pull
the muslin from the door; but after making very violent exertion for
that purpose, I discovered that the material would not slip through.
The garment was held so firmly that it could not possibly be removed.
Then I determined to reach over to the other side of the doorway and
pull the bell, in the hope that some one would hear it and come to my
assistance. But to my dismay I found that the doorway was so wide that
even with the most desperate effort I could not succeed in touching the
bell-knob with the tips of my fingers.
[Illustration]
Meantime, I was beginning to freeze, for the night was very cold, and my
legs and feet were wholly unprotected.
[Illustration]
At last a happy thought struck me. I might very easily creep out of the
shirt and leave it hanging in the door until I rang the bell, and then I
could slip back again and await the result. Accordingly, I began to
withdraw from the garment, and I had just freed myself from it and was
about to pull the bell when I heard some one coming down the street. As
the moon was shining brightly, I became panic-stricken, and hurried into
the garment again. In my confusion I got it on backward, and found
myself with my face to the wall; and then the person who was coming
turned down the street just above my house, and didn't pass, after all.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
I was afraid to try the experiment again, and I determined to shout for
help. I uttered one cry, and waited for a response. It was a desperately
cold night. I think the air must have been colder than it ever was
before in the history of this continent. I stamped my feet in order to
keep the blood in circulation, and then I shouted again for assistance.
The river lay white and glistening in the light of the moon, and so
clear was the atmosphere, so lustrous the radiance of the orb above,
that I could plainly distinguish the dark line of the Jersey shore. It
was a magnificent spectacle, and I should have enjoyed it intensely if I
had had my clothing on. Then I began to think how very odd it was that a
man's appreciation of the glorious majesty of nature should be dependent
upon his trousers! how strange it was that cold legs should prevent an
immortal soul from having felicity! Man is always prosaic when he is
uncomfortable. Even a slight indigestion is utterly destructive of
sentiment. I defy any man to enjoy the fruitiest poetry while his corns
hurt him, or to feel a genuine impulse of affection while he has a
severe cold in his head.
[Illustration]
Then I cried aloud again for help, and an immediate response came from
Cooley's new dog, which leaped over the fence and behaved as if it
meditated an assault upon my defenceless calves. I was relieved from
this dreadful situation by Bob, who came up the street whistling and
singing in an especially joyous manner. He was a little frightened, I
think, when he saw a figure in white upon the porch, and he paused for a
moment before opening the gate, but he entered when I called to him; and
unlocking the door with his key, he released me, and went up stairs
laughing heartily at my mishap.
[Illustration]
I was about to retire when I heard a series of extraordinary sounds in
Bob's room overhead, and I thought it worth while to go up and ascertain
what was going on. Standing outside the door, I could hear Bob chuckling
and making use of such exclamations as,
"Bul-l-_e-e-e_! Ha! ha! All right, my boy! All right! You've fixed that,
I guess! Bul-l-_e-e-e-e-e_!"
Then he seemed to be executing a hornpipe in his stockings upon the
carpet; and when this exercise was concluded, he continued the
conversation with himself in such tones as these:
"How _are_ YOU, Smiley! No chance, hadn't I? Couldn't make it, couldn't
I? I know a thing or two, I reckon. How _are_ YOU, Lieutenant
Smil-_e-e-e-e_! Ha! ha! I've settled your case, I guess, my boy! Bully
for you, Parker! You've straightened that out, anyhow. Yes, sir! Ha! ha!
Fol de rol de rol de rol," etc., etc. (second performance of the
hornpipe, accompanied by whistling and new expressions of intense
satisfaction).
[Illustration]
I went down stairs with a solemn conviction that Mr. Parker had
explained himself to Miss Magruder, and had received an answer from her
that was wholly satisfactory. I did not reveal the secret to Mrs.
Adeler, concluding that it would be better to permit Bob to do that
himself in the morning.
[Illustration]
Parker rose about two hours earlier than usual, and I entertain a
suspicion that he expended a portion of the time in going down the
street to examine the exterior of Mr. Magruder's house. It probably gave
him some satisfaction merely to view the tenement wherein his fair
enslaver reposed. He came to the breakfast-table with a radiant
countenance, and it was evident that he would be unable to contain the
news for many moments longer. In order to prepare the way for him, I
asked him:
[Illustration]
"Why were you so late last night, Bob?"
"Oh, I had some important business on hand. Big things have been
happening; I have some news to tell you."
"Another railroad accident?" I asked, carelessly, "or a riot in
Philadelphia?"
"Riot? no! Thunder!" exclaimed Bob; "nothing of that kind. It's
something more important. You know old Smiley--Fiji Island Smiley? Well,
I've floored him; I've laid him out flat; I've knocked him into
diminutive smithereens."
"Had a personal encounter with the lieutenant?" I asked, gravely.
"No, _sir_! better than that. I've cut him out down at Magruder's.
Bessie and I are engaged! What do you think of that, Max?"
"Think of it? Why, I congratulate you heartily. You have secured a
treasure."
"And I congratulate you, too," said Mrs. A. "Bessie is a very fine girl,
and will make you a good wife."
"That's what I think about it," observed Mr. Parker.
"I am very glad Lieutenant Smiley didn't succeed there," said Mrs. A.
"Smiley! Smiley!" exclaimed Bob, scornfully. "Why, he never had the
ghost of a chance. Bessie told me last night she despised him. She
wouldn't look at such a man as he is."
"Not while such men as you are around, at any rate, I suppose?"
"When are you going to speak to Bessie's father?" asked Mrs. Adeler.
A cloud suddenly passed over Bob's face, and he said:
"I don't know. I have to do it, I s'pose, but I hate it worse than I can
tell you. I believe I'd rather propose to a woman a dozen times than to
broach the matter to a stern parent once. It's all well enough to
express your feelings to a woman who loves you; but when you come to
explain the matter to a cold-blooded, matter-of-fact old man who is as
prosy as a boiled turnip, it seems kind of ridiculous."
"Why don't you speak to Mrs. Dr. Magruder, then? She is a power in that
family."
"No; I'll talk to Mr. Magruder. It's hard, but it has to be done. And
see here, Max, don't you poke fun at Mrs. Magruder. She's a first-rate
woman, and those things Dr. Jones told about her are the most rascally
kind of lies. If you'll excuse me, I'll go down and see the old man now.
I might as well settle the thing at once."
This evening, while we were waiting for tea, Bob made a report. The
paternal Magruder, it seems, had already considered the subject
carefully, and was not by any means as much surprised by Mr. Parker's
statement as the latter expected he would be. Bob was amazed to find
that although the old gentleman during the courtship had appeared wholly
unconscious of the fact that his daughter was particularly intimate with
the youth, yet somehow he seemed now to have had all the time a very
clear perception of the state of the case.
"I thought he would get excited and, maybe, show a little emotion," said
Bob, "but blame me if he didn't sit there and take it as coolly as if
such things happened to him every day. And you know, when I began to
tell him how much I thought of Bessie, he soused down on me and brought
me back to prose with a question about the size of my income. But it's
all right. He said he would be glad to have me a member of his family,
and then he called in Bessie, and gave us a kind of a blessing and
advised us not to be in a hurry about getting married."
"Very good advice, too. There is no need of haste. You ought to have
plenty of time to think the matter over."
"Think it over!" exclaimed Bob, indignantly. "Why, I _have_ thought it
over. You don't suppose I'd be such a fool as to engage myself to a girl
without thinking seriously about it?"
"Certainly not; but marriage is a very solemn thing, and it should be
undertaken advisedly. It is probable, I suppose, that you would never,
under any circumstances, marry any woman but Bessie Magruder?"
"Nev-er; no, never!"
"You don't believe in second marriages, then?"
"Certainly not."
"They _do_ get a man into trouble very often. Did I ever tell you about
old Sparks, of Pencadder Hundred?"
[Illustration]
"I think not," said Bob.
[Illustration]
"Well, old Sparks was married four times; and several years after the
death of his last wife they started a new cemetery up there at
Pencadder. Sparks bought a lot, and determined to remove his sacred dust
from the old graveyard. Somehow or other, in taking the remains over to
the cemetery in the wagon, they were hopelessly mixed together, so that
it was utterly impossible to tell which was which. Any other man than
Sparks would simply have taken the chances of having the reinterments
properly made. But he was an extremely conscientious man; and when the
sepulture was completed, he had a lot of new headstones set in, bearing
such inscriptions as these: 'Here lies Jane (and probably part of Susan)
Sparks;' 'Sacred to the memory of Maria (to say nothing of Jane and
Hannah) Sparks.'
"'Stranger, pause and drop a tear,
For Susan Sparks lies buried here;
Mingled, in some perplexing manner,
With Jane, Maria and portions of Hannah.'"
"Don't it seem a little bit rough," said Bob, "to bring in such a story
as that in connection with my engagement? I don't like it."
"Pardon me, Bob. Perhaps it was neither gracious nor in good taste, but
somehow I just happened to think of old Sparks at that moment, I am
sure, though, you won't object to another narrative which I am going to
read to you upon the subject of too frequent marriage. It is the story
of Bishop Potts. Do you feel like hearing it?"
"Well, no," said Bob, gloomily, "to tell you the truth, I don't; but I
suppose I will have to hear it, so go ahead."
"Yes, I am going to inflict it upon you whether you want it or not. A
man who is meditating matrimony, and is in a hurry, needs the influence
of a few 'awful examples' to induce him to proceed slowly. Here is the
story. The hero was a dignitary in the Mormon Church, and his sufferings
were the result of excessive marriage. The tale is entitled
"BISHOP POTTS.
"Bishop Potts, of Salt Lake City, was the husband of three wives and the
father of fifteen interesting children. Early in the winter the bishop
determined that his little ones should have a good time on Christmas, so
he concluded to take a trip down to San Francisco to see what he could
find in the shape of toys with which to gratify and amuse them. The good
bishop packed his carpet-bag, embraced Mrs. Potts one by one and kissed
each of her affectionately, and started upon his journey.
[Illustration]
"He was gone a little more than a week, when he came back with fifteen
brass trumpets in his valise for his darlings. He got out of the train
at Salt Lake, thinking how joyous it would be at home on Christmas
morning when the fifteen trumpets should be in operation upon different
tunes at the same moment. But just as he entered the dépôt he saw a
group of women standing in the ladies' room apparently waiting for him.
As soon as he approached, the whole twenty of them rushed up, threw
their arms about his neck and kissed him, exclaiming:
[Illustration]
"'Oh, Theodore, we are so, _so_ glad you have come back! Welcome home!
Welcome, dear Theodore, to the bosom of your family!' and then the
entire score of them fell upon his neck and cried over his shirt front
and mussed him.
"The bishop seemed surprised and embarrassed. Struggling to disengage
himself, he blushed and said:
"'Really, ladies, this kind of thing is well enough--it is interesting
and all that; but there must be some kind of a--that is, an awkward sort
of a--excuse me, ladies, but there seems to be, as it were, a slight
misunderstanding about the--I am Bishop Potts.'
"'We know it, we know it, dear,' they exclaimed, in chorus, 'and we are
glad to see you safe at home. We have all been very well while you were
away, love.'
"'It gratifies me,' remarked the bishop, 'to learn that none of you have
been a prey to disease. I am filled with serenity when I contemplate the
fact; but really, I do not understand why you should rush into this
railway station and hug me because your livers are active and your
digestion good. The precedent is bad; it is dangerous!'
"'Oh, but we didn't!' they exclaimed, in chorus. 'We came here to
welcome you because you are our husband.'
"'Pardon me, but there must be some little--that is to say, as it were,
I should think not. Women, you have mistaken your man!'
[Illustration]
"'Oh no!' they shouted; 'we were married to you while you were away!'
"'What!' exclaimed the bishop; 'you don't mean to say that--'
"'Yes, love. Our husband, William Brown, died on Monday, and on
Thursday, Brigham had a vision in which he was directed to seal us to
you; and so he performed the ceremony at once by proxy.'
"'Th-th-th-th-under!' observed the bishop.
"'And we are all living with you now--we and the dear children.'
"'Children! children!' exclaimed Bishop Potts, turning pale; 'you don't
mean to say that there is a pack of children, too?'
"'Yes, love, but only one hundred and twenty-five, not counting the
eight twins and the triplet.'
"'Wha-wha-wha-what d'you say?' gasped the bishop, in a cold
perspiration; 'one hundred and twenty-five! One hundred and twenty-five
children and twenty more wives! It is too much--it is awful!' and the
bishop sat down and groaned, while the late Mrs. Brown, the bride, stood
around in a semicircle and fanned him with her bonnets, all except the
red-haired one, and she in her trepidation made a futile effort to fan
him with the coal-scuttle.
[Illustration]
"But after a while the bishop became reconciled to his new alliance,
knowing well that protests would be unavailing, so he walked home,
holding several of the little hands of the bride, while the red-haired
woman carried his umbrella and marched in front of the parade to remove
obstructions and to scare off small boys.
"When the bishop reached the house, he went around among the cradles
which filled the back parlor and the two second-story rooms, and
attempted with such earnestness to become acquainted with his new sons
and daughters that he set the whole one hundred and twenty-five and the
twins to crying, while his own original fifteen stood around and swelled
the volume of sound. Then the bishop went out and sat on the garden
fence to whittle a stick and solemnly think, while Mrs. Potts
distributed herself around and soothed the children. It occurred to the
bishop while he mused, out there on the fence, that he had not enough
trumpets to go around among the children as the family now stood; and
so, rather than seem to be partial, he determined to go back to San
Francisco for one hundred and forty-four more.
[Illustration]
"So the bishop repacked his carpet-bag, and began again to bid farewell
to his family. He tenderly kissed all of the Mrs. Potts who were at
home, and started for the dépôt, while Mrs. Potts stood at the various
windows and waved her handkerchiefs at him--all except the woman with
the warm hair, and she, in a fit of absent-mindedness, held one of the
twins by the leg and brandished it at Potts as he fled down the street
toward the railway station.
[Illustration]
"The bishop reached San Francisco, completed his purchases, and was just
about to get on the train with his one hundred and forty-four trumpets,
when a telegram was handed him. It contained information to the effect
that the auburn-haired Mrs. Potts had just had a daughter. This induced
the bishop to return to the city for the purpose of purchasing an
additional trumpet.
"On the following Saturday he returned home. As he approached his house
a swarm of young children flew out of the front gate and ran toward him,
shouting, 'There's pa! Here comes pa! Oh, pa, but we're glad to see
you! Hurrah for pa!' etc., etc.
"The bishop looked at the children as they flocked around him and clung
to his legs and coat, and was astonished to perceive that they were
neither his nor the late Brown's. He said, 'You youngsters have made a
mistake; I am not your father;' and the bishop smiled good-naturedly.
"'Oh yes, you are, though!' screamed the little ones, in chorus.
[Illustration]
"'But I say I am not,' said the bishop, severely, and frowning; 'you
ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Don't you know where little
story-tellers go? It is scandalous for you to violate the truth in this
manner. My name is Potts.'
"'Yes, we know it is,' exclaimed the children--'we know it is, and so is
ours; that is our name now, too, since the wedding.'
"'Since what wedding?' demanded the bishop, turning pale.
"'Why, ma's wedding, of course. She was married yesterday to you by Mr.
Young, and we are all living at your house now with our new little
brothers and sisters.'
"The bishop sat down on the nearest front-door step and wiped away a
tear. Then he asked,
"'Who was your father?'
"'Mr. Simpson,' said the crowd, 'and he died on Tuesday.'
"'And how many of his infernal old widows--I mean how many of your
mother--are there?'
"'Only twenty-seven,' replied the children, 'and there are only
sixty-four of us, and we are awful glad you have come home.'
"The bishop did not seem to be unusually glad; somehow, he failed to
share the enthusiasm of the occasion. There appeared to be, in a certain
sense, too much sameness about these surprises; so he sat there with his
hat pulled over his eyes and considered the situation. Finally, seeing
there was no help for it, he went up to the house, and forty-eight of
Mrs. Potts rushed up to him and told him how the prophet had another
vision, in which he was commanded to seal Simpson's widow to Potts.
"Then the bishop stumbled around among the cradles to his writing-desk.
He felt among the gum rings and rattles for his letter-paper, and then
he addressed a note to Brigham, asking him as a personal favor to keep
awake until after Christmas. 'The man must take me for a foundling
hospital,' he said. Then the bishop saw clearly enough that if he gave
presents to the other children, and not to the late Simpson's, the bride
would make things warm for him. So he started again for San Francisco
for sixty-four more trumpets, while Mrs. Potts gradually took leave of
him in the entry--all but the red-haired woman, who was up stairs, and
who had to be satisfied with screeching good-bye at the top of her
voice.
[Illustration]
"On his way home, after his last visit to San Francisco, the bishop sat
in the car by the side of a man who had left Salt Lake the day before.
The stranger was communicative. In the course of the conversation he
remarked to the bishop:
"'That was a mighty pretty little affair up there at the city on
Monday.'
"'What affair?' asked Potts.
"'Why, that wedding; McGrath's widow, you know--married by proxy.'
"'You don't say?' replied the bishop. 'I didn't know McGrath was dead.'
"'Yes; died on Sunday, and that night Brigham had a vision in which he
was ordered to seal her to the bishop.'
"'Bishop!' exclaimed Potts. 'Bishop! What bishop?'
"'Well, you see, there were fifteen of Mrs. McGrath and eighty-two
children, and they shoved the whole lot off on old Potts. Perhaps you
don't know him?'
"The bishop gave a wild shriek and writhed upon the floor as if he had a
fit. When he recovered, he leaped from the train and walked back to San
Francisco. He afterward took the first steamer for Peru, where he
entered a monastery and became a celibate.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
"His carpet-bag was sent on to his family. It contained the balance of
the trumpets. On Christmas morning they were distributed, and in less
than an hour the entire two hundred and eight children were sick from
sucking the brass upon them. A doctor was called, and he seemed so much
interested in the family that Brigham divorced the whole concern from
old Potts and annexed it to the doctor, who immediately lost his reason,
and would have butchered the entire family if the red-haired woman and
the oldest boy had not marched him off to a lunatic asylum, where he
spent his time trying to arrive at an estimate of the number of his
children by ciphering with an impossible combination of the
multiplication table and algebra."
* * * * *
"And now that that's over," said Bob, as I folded up the manuscript,
"will you please to tell me what the suffering of old Potts has to do
with my engagement?"
"Well, to tell the truth, nothing in particular. I thought perhaps you
might feel a sort of general interest in the mere subject of matrimony
just now; and at any rate, I wanted your opinion of the merit of the
story."
[Illustration]
"Well, I think it is a pretty poor story. The humor of the Mormon
business is stale, anyhow, and in your hands it becomes absolutely
dismal. I can write a better Mormon story than that myself, and I don't
even profess to be a scribbler."
Then Mr. Parker swaggered out with the air of a man whose opinions have
the weight of a judicial decision. I think he has acquired, since his
engagement, a much greater notion of his importance than he had before.
It is remarkable how a youth who has succeeded in a love affair
immediately begins to cherish the idea that his victory is attributable
to the fact that he possesses particularly brilliant qualities of some
kind. Bob was the humblest man in Delaware a week ago; to-day he walks
about with such an air as he might have had if he had just won the
battle of Waterloo.
[Illustration]