IV

The last bright streamer had disappeared, but still there remained a

faint, chaste glow above the dark line of hills. An unseen Hand had sown

the sky thickly with stars, and more fell to their appointed places as

the moments passed. A bull-frog boomed out his guttural note, and Fido

began to whine and gnaw at the rail just below my feet. He was getting

hungry, and I acquiesced to his wordless plea to go home. Night had now

come, and the air was chilly, so I buttoned my coat close up to my chin,

and moved briskly. We were some distance from home, but the lights of

the city were reflected in the sky, and besides, it was not dark,

because of the stars, and the road over which we went had but one end.

I ate in quiet satisfaction the lunch which Mrs. Moss had saved for me,

but when I tried to interest myself in Emerson, a few minutes later, I

found that one of my favorites bored me. This sudden lack of

appreciation of the great essayist annoyed me, and I forced my eyes to

traverse line after line, hoping that the pleasing charm which they had

always held for me would return. But this policy proved futile, so at

length I quietly closed the book and put it down on the table, disgusted

with myself. Perhaps my mind required something in lighter vein, and

there was my bookcase, with its glass doors open, as they usually were.

But the delightful metre of the "Lady of the Lake" seemed halting and

tame to me that night, and this volume I did not close as gently as I

had the former one, but flung it carelessly on the table and walked

nervously to the window and raised the sash. For a moment--only a

moment--I stood there, trying to find a few stars through the curtain of

factory smoke which hung overhead, and letting the cool air blow about

me. Then I put the window down, and came back to my easy-chair,

satisfied, for I had solved the riddle of my unrest.

That afternoon's walk had showed me of what I was depriving myself. It

dawned upon me in that moment that the pastoral joys which I had known

that day were dearer to my soul than printed pages and the

mind-narrowing captivity of four walls. Out there were unbounded

possibilities for the mind and soul, lessons to be learned, pages to be

read, secrets to discover,--a message in each soft gurgle of the brook;

a whisper from each stirring leaf; a hidden story in the dreamy face of

each flower. All of these became voices in my ears; I could listen to

their singing and sighing for hours. What an awakening it was! I had

been dreaming for over half my life, and with a sigh I looked at the

well-worn tomes in my bookcase, which must now take second place in my

heart. They had served me well. True and tried friends, into whose faces

I had looked in both joy and sorrow, and never failed of consolation or

delight. I would never desert them--God forbid! They were grappled to my

soul with hooks which would neither bend nor break, and which could not

fall away. Still would I come to them and caress them with loving

fingers as I held them in my lap; still would I ask their advice and

store my mind of their knowledge, for they had lightened too many hours

of my life to be forsaken now,--it would be like giving up a friend of

twoscore years for one newly found. And I loved them none the less,--in

the full flush of the secret which I had discovered I knew this, and I

walked over to where the long rows stood like phalanxes, and ran my

hands lovingly over the sheepskin and vellum backs. And, 'pon my soul,

they seemed to respond to my fingers, as though I had touched hands with

a friend! They may have been dumb, but they were not lifeless; for the

spirits of their creators still lingered between the leaves, and made

them live--for me. Good friends, rest easy on your shelves; one by one

each of you shall come down, as you have always done, and commune with

me. When Nature sleeps, then we shall revel.

I sat down again, and stretched my feet out towards the low fire. With

pipe newly filled, I caressed it between my joined hands, and thought.

After a half hour of smoking and ruminating, I came to a conclusion. I

would move to the country for the summer! What a dolt I had been all

these years! The matter of board need not be considered, for that was

cheaper in the country than in town. When winter came again, I could

return to my present quarters, if I chose. What I wanted was a quiet old

farmhouse with as few people in it as possible, and located in the

blue-grass region of the State. Then life would be one endless

delight,--days afield, and peaceful, noiseless nights. To be awakened in

the morning by the matin song of the thrush; to breathe the intoxicating

odor of honeysuckle and jessamine; to step out into the dew-washed

grass, instead of upon the hard pavement, and to receive the countless

benedictions of the outstretched arms of the trees as I walked beneath

them. Where had my mind been a-wandering all of these years that I had

not thought of this before? But I was too sensible to mar my present joy

with useless regrets. The future was bright with anticipation and rich

with promise, and my heart grew light.

And Fido--poor Fido--would be glad of the change, too, for I am sure it

must have taxed his love for me to stay in the goods-box which I had

converted into a kennel and placed in the small backyard. Mrs.

Moss,--honest soul,--when giving her reluctant consent to this, consoled

herself by thinking that she was only yielding to another of my

vagaries.

There was no one else to consider, and so I put the thing down in my

mind as settled. I would leave this soul-dwarfing, cramped, smoke-hung

atmosphere, and take up my abode where the air was pure, and where the

sun could shine. Mrs. Moss would lose a good, quiet boarder, it is

true; but my consideration for Mrs. Moss's feelings would not cause me

to sacrifice myself. Some one else would come and take the room which

had been mine for ten years, and I would soon be forgotten.

The revelation which I had experienced put me in such high spirits at

the glorious prospects before me that I could not think of going to bed

when eleven o'clock sounded from the mantel-tree. Instead, I believe I

actually chuckled, as I slipped my hand into the pocket of my

dressing-gown for my tobacco-pouch, and proceeded to fill my pipe again.

Method had always been the rule of my life, but that night I put it by

for a space. The question paramount was--where should I go? Certainly

most any farm housewife would give me a room upstairs for a small money

consideration a month, but I was a little particular, and wanted to

live and move among _folks_, for which I was fitted by birth and

education. I knew that blood as blue and as genteel flowed through

country veins as through city arteries; but how was I to find these

people out? I didn't know a dozen persons in Louisville outside of my

boarding-house. The hands of the clock were getting dangerously near

together at the top of the dial before a solution came.

Suddenly I bethought me of Reuben Walker, that staid, long-headed fellow

who had graduated with me back in forty. The nearest approach I ever had

to a friend. He had gone to practise law in Springfield, down there in

Washington County, and had made something of a name for himself, too. I

hadn't seen him since forty-five, hadn't written to him since fifty, but

he was the only man living I knew who could help me. So I forthwith

indited a note to Reuben Walker, Esq., Attorney-at-Law, reminding him of

our former intimacy, regretting that we had allowed ourselves to drift

apart, and asking if he knew of a quiet country home where I might spend

the summer. I reasoned that it was a country lawyer's business to know

everybody in his county, and I hoped that Reuben remembered me well

enough to refer me only to the kind with whom I would care to affiliate.

I did not write letters often, my correspondence averaging perhaps a

half dozen epistles a year, and so I signed my name to this one before

reading it over. Then I recollected one of the earliest injunctions of

my father: "Be very careful what you sign your name to," so I

deliberately reread the missive before me. It was all right; I had said

all that was necessary, but just as I was bending the sheet to fold it

I stopped, spread it out again, and, taking up my quill, wrote as a

postscript:

"I much prefer a home where there are _no_ young ladies."

V

In due time an answer came. It was with considerable anxiety that I

broke the seal, but there was a smile upon my face when I finished

reading the short, friendly letter which he had sent me. He knew a place

that would suit me exactly. Mr. and Mrs. Grundy were an elderly couple

who lived about eight miles north of Springfield. They belonged to the

aristocracy of the county, and lived in a two-story brick house on a

magnificent farm. They were warm friends of Reuben's, and he felt no

hesitancy in declaring that they would board me throughout the summer

and fall. So positive was he of this fact that he wrote me to come

whenever I pleased, and he would have everything arranged by the time I

got there. He added a postscript, in answer to mine, stating that his

friends were childless, and he did not think I would be bothered by any

young ladies.

My elation at the success of my plans thus far was so apparent that it

was openly remarked upon at the tea-table that evening. And so I told

them all then and there of the change I was about to make. Of course

there was a chorus of regrets that I was to leave, which I could not

believe genuine, since I was so unsociable. But meeting Mrs. Moss in the

hall as I started to my room, I explained to her that my health demanded

an immediate change of air, and that for no other reason would I have

gone. This the good lady accepted smilingly, and wished me much

happiness in my new home.

There were not many preparations for me to make. My books and my

wardrobe packed, my landlady paid, a modest demand on my bankers, and I

was ready. It was in the latter part of April, in the midst of a steady

downpour of rain, that I took my seat in the four-horse coach, with Fido

between my feet. I remember the feeling which came to me when the huge

vehicle started. I felt that I was almost leaving the earth, despite the

rumbling and the jolting, when I thought of my destination. The heavy

clouds and the swishing rain held no gloom for me. For above the clouds

was the broad, blue sky, with the sun somewhere in it, and somewhere

beyond the curtain of the rain was light and warmth and blooming fields.

My heart was beating riotously, for this trip was really an adventure to

me, who had not been anywhere for nearly twenty years. The coach was

empty but for us, Fido and me, and it will seem queer to some when I

say that I was very thankful for this. But I did not care to talk to

people who were nothing to me, and who I might never see again. I much

preferred to be in solitude, and muse upon all that my new life would

hold for me. The rain stopped all at once, so suddenly that I would have

been surprised had it not been April, and through the soiled glass of

the coach door, now thickly streaked where the raindrops had run down

it, came a blunted arrow of sunshine.

My trip would have been a tiresome one under ordinary circumstances, but

I did not feel the least fatigue during all the long journey. I shall

never forget the morning we rolled into Springfield, and drew up before

a small frame building opposite the court square. A plain board

suspended above the doorway of this building bore the simple

inscription, "Reuben Walker, Attorney-at-Law." Here was the place where

my friend gave legal counsel in exchange for legal money. I caught sight

of his broad, humorous face ere the coach had given its final jolt as it

came to a standstill. Directly in front of the office before which we

stopped were two large locust-trees, and under these trees that bright

spring morning quite a little company had gathered. There was a sudden

explosion of laughter as the stage-driver descended from his perch and

opened the door for me to alight, and a quick glance showed me that some

joker had reached the climax of his narrative just at that moment.

Before I could rise from my seat, the coach door was darkened by a

figure, a strong hand was thrust into mine, and I was fairly dragged

into the arms of Reuben Walker, who gave me hearty greeting. To this I

responded quite as heartily. Fido had whisked out of his narrow

quarters, and had begun to stretch himself in many wild contortions. I

proceeded to reckon with my stage-driver, then Reuben took me by the

hand, and leading me up to the men whom he had just left, he made me

acquainted with each and every one. Most of them I have forgotten, for

they went out of my life as speedily as they entered it; but one I

remember yet, for he was afterwards governor of our beloved

commonwealth. This was Proctor Knott, and he it was who had exploded the

joke just as I arrived. I quietly joined the company, and listened to

some more of this gifted young lawyer's yarns. The ringing of the

court-house bell soon after caused a dispersion of the crowd. Some of

them went with the lawyers to the court-room, others strolled down town,

and Reuben and I were left alone.

"Come in, come in, Abner," he said, bluffly, and he led the way into his

office.

A square table covered with green baize stood in the centre of the room.

A box filled with sawdust sat upon the floor to serve as a cuspidor;

three or four splint-bottomed chairs completed the office furniture. One

of these I occupied, placing my hat upon the table, and Reuben took

another, stretching out his short, fat legs, and crossing his hands over

his bulging front.

"I'm glad to see you, Abner, 'pon my honor," he began, smiling so that

his rubicund visage glowed with good feeling. "How did you take a notion

to come to the woods?"

"I was cramped," I answered truthfully. "The city's smoke was stifling

me, and I wanted a breath of fresh air."

"You'll get enough of that down at Henry Grundy's. That's the only cool

place in the county in midsummer. And if you'll take my advice and

straddle one of his thoroughbreds once a day, you'll get some color in

your face. I've fixed everything for you. You're to have a front room on

the ground floor, and pay twelve dollars a month. That's cheaper than

stealing it. But you don't want to make a hermit of yourself when you

get down there. Come up and spend a week or two with me. Miss 'Pheme

[his wife] will be mighty glad to see you. She makes me walk chalk, but

she'll be easy on you. You're going to be with mighty fine folks,--the

cream of the county. They were very particular at first, but I vouched

for you, and that settled it. Henry said he'd be in this morning after

you. He's a Presbyterian and a Democrat, and talks to you as though you

were deaf, but he's harmless. Why don't you tell me 'bout yourself?"

I saw at once that my good friend still insisted on doing all the

talking,--one of the traits of his young manhood,--and when I told him

that he hadn't drawn breath for five minutes, he seemed surprised.

"There's not much to tell about myself, Reuben," I replied. "I've been

living alone,--reading, smoking, and thinking a little. Then I fancied

that I'd like the country, and here I am."

"Where'd you get that?" He jerked one squat thumb toward my crippled

retainer.

"Picked him up out of the street several months ago, after he'd been run

over by a carriage."

"Same soft heart as ever, Abner. Remember when one of the boys at school

poked that nest of damned little English sparrows out of the gutter?

There was about sixteen of 'em, and you gathered the ugly little devils

up into your new hat and tried to raise 'em. Don't--you--re-member,

Abner?"

His fat sides shook, as he ejaculated the last sentence with difficulty.

"Yes," I answered, smiling. "My efforts were useless, for the little

fellows all died. I felt sorry for them."

"I wish they were all in--hello! yonder's Henry, by jolly!"

I looked out of the window, and saw an old-fashioned rockaway draw up

beside the curbing. The horse which drew it was a high-headed bay; the

harness and the vehicle were spotless. A negro lad of near twenty, black

as the night before creation, sat on the front seat, and on the rear

seat was a man worth looking at twice. As the negro hastily scrambled

down and opened the door, this gentleman alighted. He was a trifle over

six feet tall; his face was wrinkled and kindly; his brows were gray and

shaggy, and his eyes were gray. A patriarchal white beard flowed down

over his breast, and his suit was of black broadcloth. Such an evident

air of gentility sat upon him, that I mentally congratulated myself that

I was to be associated with him. An instant later I heard his stentorian

voice in the hall.

"Walker! Walker! Is that fellow Stone here yet? I can't wait all morning

for him, for there's plenty of ploughin', and plenty of lazy niggers

back at the farm! Hello! Why, is this Stone?"

And the hand that closed over mine was strong with the strength of the

soil.