Produced by Charles Franks
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER FOLKS
By Charles Felton Pidgin
Author of “Quincy Adams Sawyer,” “Blennerhassett,” “Stephen Holton,”
etc.
Illustrated by Henry Roth
[Illustration: “HE LOOKED UP, SUDDENLY, AND SAW A PRETTY GIRL, DRESSED
IN PICTURESQUE ITALIAN COSTUME.”]
1909
To My Daughter Dora
PREFACE
Eight years ago, “Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks” was
published, being heralded, truthfully, as the work of an “unknown
author.” It met with favour from reviewers and the reading public. My
pleasantest souvenirs are hundreds of letters, from personally unknown
correspondents, wishing to know more about “Quincy” and the other
characters in my first story.
I know that few, if any, “sequels” are considered as interesting as
the original work, and an author, to a certain extent, tempts fate in
writing one. But if we visit friends and have a pleasant time there
seems to be no reason why another invitation should not be accepted. So,
if a book pleases its readers, and the characters therein become
their friends, why should not these readers be invited to renew their
acquaintance?
They may not enjoy themselves as much as at their first visit, but that
is the unavoidable result of repetition. The human mind craves novelty,
and, perhaps, the reader will find it, after all, within these pages.
C. F. P.
WIDEVIEW FARM, BELMONT, MASS. August, 1908.
CONTENTS
PREFACE
I. THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH
II. A DAY WITH THE GOVERNOR
III. A VACATION AT FERNBOROUGH
IV. THE HAWKINS HOUSE
V. 'ZEKE PETTINGILL'S FARM
VI. “JUST LIKE OLD TIMES”
VII. STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY
VIII. UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS
IX. A “STORY” SERMON
X. THE RAISED CHECK
XL. THE WRECK OF THE _ALTONIA_
XII. FERNBOROUGH HALL
XIII. “HORNABY HOOK”
XIV. AN AMERICAN HEIRESS
XV. AN ELOPEMENT
XVI. YOUNG QUINCY
XVII. HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS
XVIII. AN OLD STRIFE RENEWED
XIX. BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD
XX. MARY DANA
XXI. AT HARVARD
XXII. ALICE'S DREAM
XXIII. “BY THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE DANUBE”
XXIV. “WE THREE”
XXV. A PERIOD OF TWENTY-THREE YEARS
XXVI. “CATESSA”
XXVII. O. STROUT. FINE GROCIERIES
XXVIII. THE HOME COMING XXIX. THE FINAL CONFLICT
XXX. TOM, JACK AND NED
XXXI. THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY
XXXII. “IT WAS SO SUDDEN”
The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks
CHAPTER I
THE GOVERNOR'S SPEECH
When the applause had subsided, Governor Sawyer began to speak.
“My Friends and Fellow Citizens: When I stood before the representatives
chosen by the people, and an audience composed of the most eminent men
and women in the State, and took the oath to support the constitution of
my native State and that of my country, my heart was filled with what
I deemed an honest pride. My fellow citizens had chosen me to fill the
most exalted position in their power to bestow, and when the Secretary
of the Commonwealth uttered the well-known words which your toastmaster
has just repeated--God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts--I felt in
every fibre of my body that I would be true to my oath and to the people
who had shown their confidence in me.
“But the satisfaction I felt on that occasion was no greater than that
which I experience to-night. I came among you entirely unknown. I have
heard that some wondered whether I was a city swell, what my business
was, what led me to choose your town for a vacation, and how long that
vacation was to be, especially as I came in the winter when country life
is popularly, but erroneously, supposed to be dull.
“By some I was welcomed,--others--I don't blame them--refused to extend
to me the hand of fellowship. But, I liked some of your people so
well--and one in particular”--all eyes were turned towards his wife, who
bore the scrutiny bravely--“that I determined to stay--and I did.”
Hiram Maxwell could not forget past events in which he had figured
prominently and cried, “Three cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer,” which
were given with a will, and accompanied by many expressions of approval
in the shape of clapping of hands, pounding of canes, and stamping of
thick-soled boots. The Governor continued his remarks.
“I staid so long that I might have become a voter. I did not, but
besides my native city of Boston, I shall always render my allegiance to
this town, which turned the current of my life into such happy channels.
“I will not weary you with a long speech.”
Cries of “Go on,” “We can stand it,” came from all parts of the hall,
and Mrs. Hawkins said to Olive Green, “He's a beautiful speaker. I
could listen to him all night if it wa'n't for gettin' breakfast for my
boarders. My bread didn't ris worth a cent, and I've got to git up airly
and make biscuits.”
His Excellency went on, “I want you to make Fernborough, the Mason's
Corner of five years ago, a beautiful town--more beautiful than it is
now.” Make good, wide roads, don't call them streets, and have wide
tires on your wagons to preserve them. Plant trees both for grateful
shade and natural beauty. Support your Village Improvement Society
by suggestions and contributions. Attend town meeting regularly, be
economical but not stingy in your appropriations, pay good salaries
and wages for honest service. Be partisans if you wish, in State and
National elections, but in choosing your town servants, get the best men
regardless of politics.
“Support and constantly aim to elevate the standard of education in your
schools, and remember that the mother and the teacher are the makers of
those who are to rule in the future.
“Do these things, and you will make Fernborough a worthy member of
that galaxy of communities which represents the civic virtues and
possibilities in the highest degree--our New England towns, in which the
government is by the people, of the people, and for the people, and may
God grant that these bulwarks of our freedom may ever be preserved.”
It was decided by the committee to have a reception in the Selectmen's
room. It was conveniently arranged for such a purpose, having a door at
either end, besides the double one near the middle. At the request of
Selectman and Toastmaster Strout, the Governor and his wife and the
Countess of Sussex, formerly Lindy Putnam, stood in line to greet the
citizens of Fernborough.
First came Benoni Hill, who had increased in rotundity since selling his
grocery store and giving up an active life.
“How much is flour a barrel?” asked Quincy as he shook hands with him.
“When I kept the store myself everything I wanted I got at wholesale,
but now your partners charge me full price.”
“That's right,” said Quincy. “You got a good price for the store, and
now we're trying to get some of it back,” and he laughed heartily as he
extended his hand to young Samuel Hill. His wife, the former Miss Tilly
James, was with him.
“I am pleased to meet a lion-tamer,” said Tilly.
“I never saw a live one,” said Quincy, somewhat puzzled by the remark.
“Oh, yes, you have. Our local lion, Obadiah Strout, is as tame as a
dove, and we owe it to you.”
“If I remember aright, a certain Miss Tilly James aided me when I gave
the first lesson.”
“Oh! you mean the time you whistled 'Listen to the Mocking Bird.' I wish
you had repeated it to-night.”
Cobb's Twins, William and James, with their wives, were next in line.
“How's farming?” asked Quincy.
“Bill and I,” said James, “spend most of our time on our own places, but
we help 'Zeke and Hiram out on their hayin' an' potato diggin'.”
“Samantha,” said Quincy, addressing Mrs. James Cobb, “do you remember
the first time I came to see Miss Putnam?”
“Oh, yes, I'd heard about you goin' round with Huldy Mason. Didn't I
laugh when I showed you into Aunt Heppy's room? She did the hearin' for
both of 'em, for you remember her husband, Silas, was as deaf as a stone
post.”
“Mrs. Putnam found out all about me before I got away. I shall never
forget what she told me about her husband sitting on the ridge pole of
the barn, blowing his horn, and waiting for Gabriel to come for him.”
As Robert Wood came up, Quincy stepped from the line to greet him.
“Your hand ain't quite as hard as it was five years ago,” said Robert.
“No, I'm out of practice. You could handle me now.”
“It cost me two dollars to get my watch fixed,” said Robert,
irrelevantly.
“I was on time in that affair,” said Quincy, conscious, when too
late, that he had wasted a pun on an obtuse individual. “Are you still
carpentering?”
“Yes. Lots of new houses going up, and Ben Bates and me have all we can
handle. Here, Ben, come here. The Governor's askin' 'bout you.”
Benjamin Bates was rather diffident, and had been holding back, but at
Bob's invitation came forward.
“How d'ye do, Governor?” was his salutation. Diffidence when forced to
action often verges on forwardness.
“Glad to meet you again,” said Quincy. “Robert says they keep you busy.”
“Yes, we don't have so many resting spells now they use donkey engines
as we did when Pat or Mike had to climb the ladder.”
“The march of improvement forces us all into line,” said Quincy as he
greeted Miss Seraphina Cotton.
“Teaching school, now, Miss Cotton?”
“No, your Excellency, I am fortunately relieved from what became, near
the end of my long years of service, an intolerable drudgery. Teaching
American children to talk English is one thing, but teaching French
Canadians, Poles, Germans, Russians, Italians, and Greeks was quite a
different proposition.”
“And yet it is a most important work,” said Quincy--“making good
citizens from these various nationalities. America, to-day, is like a
large garden, with a great variety of flowers from foreign stalks.”
Miss Cotton smiled somewhat satirically. “I'm afraid, your Excellency,
if you'd ever been a school teacher, you'd have found many weeds in the
garden.”
“But how did you gain your freedom?” asked Quincy. “Did they pension
you?”
“Oh, no. An uncle died out West and left me enough with which to buy an
annuity. I board with the Reverend Mr. Howe. You remember him?”
“Why, certainly, I do. And here's his son, Emmanuel--have I got the name
right?”
“Yes, Governor, just right as to sound. I spell it with an 'E' and two
M's,” said young Mr. Howe, as Miss Cotton moved on to tell of her good
fortune to Alice and Linda.
“How's your father, now? Does he preach every Sunday?”
“Reg'lar as clock work. Of course I couldn't tell everybody, but I
reckon he's using some old sermons that he wrote forty years ago, but
the young ones never heard them, and the old ones have forgotten.”
Quincy laughed. Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways and,
quite often, adopt them.
“This is Arthur Scates,” said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young
man with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. “He ain't
enjoyin' the best of health.”
“Ah, I remember,” said Quincy. “You are the young man who was to sing
at the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that act
turned out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of my
present happiness to you. What is your trouble?”
“My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had
counted on becoming an opera singer.”
“Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?”
The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent.
“Pardon me,” said Quincy. “I understand. Come to Boston next week, to
the State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment.”
“Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again. This
is Olive Green,--you remember her sister Betsey worked for me when you
was one of my boarders.” The woman's voice was loud and strident, and
filled the room.
“Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and how
you both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one.”
“You've put on consid'rable flesh since I saw yer last. Guess you've
been taking your meals reg'lar, which you never did when you lived with
me. But your market's made now, and that makes the difference. They say
folks in love have poor appetites.” She laughed loudly, and stopped only
when Olive put a restraining hand on her arm. “I hope Alice is a good
cook, but she never had much chance to learn.”
Quincy thought it was time to change the subject. “How's Mr. Hawkins?”
“I tell him he's just as lazy as ever. He's kalkerlatin' on getting
three good broods of chickens. He's gone on chickens. He wanted to come
tonight, but we've lots of boarders, and they're allus wantin' ice water
or somethin' else, and so I told him he'd got to stay to home. You'll
have plenty of time to see him to-morrer.”
Many others greeted the Governor and his right hand felt the effect of
so many hearty grips, some of them of the horny-handed variety.
The Cottonton Brass Band was now stationed in the hall, and a short
concert closed the evening's entertainment, which was allowed, by all,
to be the most high-toned affair ever given in the town.
As Quincy laid his head upon his pillow that night, his mind reverted to
his first arrival at Mason's Corner, and the events that had taken place
since.
“Alice, five years ago, could your wildest imagination have conjured up
such an evening as this?”
“No, Quincy. What has taken place in our lives is truly wonderful. My
daily prayer is that these happy days may last.”