[Illustration]

 A CHOSEN FEW

 SHORT STORIES

 BY

 FRANK R. STOCKTON

 WITH AN ETCHED PORTRAIT BY W. H. W. BICKNELL

 NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1895

 Copyright, 1895, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

 THE DE VINNE PRESS. 

PREFACE

The stories contained in this little volume were chosen, by virtueof a sort of literary civil-service examination, in order that theymight be grouped together as a representative class of the author'sbest-known work in this line. 

Several of these stories have points of peculiar interest to theauthor. For instance, "Negative Gravity" was composed in Switzerlandwhen the author was temporarily confined to the house in full viewof unreachable Alps. 

"His Wife's Deceased Sister" was suggested by an editorialdisposition to compare all the author's work with one previousproduction, and to discard everything which did not accord exactlywith the particular story which had been selected as a standard ofmerit. 

"The Lady, or the Tiger?" was printed in the hope that the authormight receive the cheerful coöperation of some of his readers in asatisfactory solution of the problem contained in the little story;but although he has had much valuable assistance in this directionhe has also been the recipient of a great deal of scolding. 

After reading several stories by Clark Russell, the author's mindwas led to consider the possibility of inventing some sort ofshipwreck which had never yet been made the subject of a story. Hisefforts in this line resulted in "The Remarkable Wreck of the'Thomas Hyke. '"

"A Piece of Red Calico" is a description, with exaggerated points, of an actual experience. 

CONTENTS

 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY From "The Christmas Wreck"

 ASAPH From "The Watchmaker's Wife"

 "HIS WIFE'S DECEASED SISTER" From "The Lady, or the Tiger?"

 THE LADY, OR THE TIGER?

 THE REMARKABLE WRECK OF THE "THOMAS HYKE" From "The Christmas Wreck"

 OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD From "The Bee-man of Orn"

 THE TRANSFERRED GHOST From "The Lady, or the Tiger?"

 "THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES" From "The Watchmaker's Wife"

 A PIECE OF RED CALICO From "The Lady, or the Tiger?"

A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY

My wife and I were staying at a small town in northern Italy; and ona certain pleasant afternoon in spring we had taken a walk of six orseven miles to see the sun set behind some low mountains to the westof the town. Most of our walk had been along a hard, smooth highway, and then we turned into a series of narrower roads, sometimesbordered by walls, and sometimes by light fences of reed or cane. Nearing the mountain, to a low spur of which we intended to ascend, we easily scaled a wall about four feet high, and found ourselvesupon pasture-land, which led, sometimes by gradual ascents, andsometimes by bits of rough climbing, to the spot we wished to reach. We were afraid we were a little late, and therefore hurried on, running up the grassy hills, and bounding briskly over the rough androcky places. I carried a knapsack strapped firmly to my shoulders, and under my wife's arm was a large, soft basket of a kind much usedby tourists. Her arm was passed through the handles and around thebottom of the basket, which she pressed closely to her side. Thiswas the way she always carried it. The basket contained two bottlesof wine, one sweet for my wife, and another a little acid formyself. Sweet wines give me a headache. 

When we reached the grassy bluff, well known thereabouts to loversof sunset views, I stepped immediately to the edge to gaze upon thescene, but my wife sat down to take a sip of wine, for she was verythirsty; and then, leaving her basket, she came to my side. Thescene was indeed one of great beauty. Beneath us stretched a widevalley of many shades of green, with a little river running throughit, and red-tiled houses here and there. Beyond rose a range ofmountains, pink, pale green, and purple where their tips caught thereflection of the setting sun, and of a rich gray-green in shadows. Beyond all was the blue Italian sky, illumined by an especially finesunset. 

My wife and I are Americans, and at the time of this story weremiddle-aged people and very fond of seeing in each other's companywhatever there was of interest or beauty around us. We had a sonabout twenty-two years old, of whom we were also very fond; but hewas not with us, being at that time a student in Germany. Althoughwe had good health, we were not very robust people, and, underordinary circumstances, not much given to long country tramps. I wasof medium size, without much muscular development, while my wife wasquite stout, and growing stouter. 

The reader may, perhaps, be somewhat surprised that a middle-agedcouple, not very strong, or very good walkers, the lady loaded witha basket containing two bottles of wine and a metal drinking-cup, and the gentleman carrying a heavy knapsack, filled with all sortsof odds and ends, strapped to his shoulders, should set off on aseven-mile walk, jump over a wall, run up a hillside, and yet feelin very good trim to enjoy a sunset view. This peculiar state ofthings I will proceed to explain. 

I had been a professional man, but some years before had retiredupon a very comfortable income. I had always been very fond ofscientific pursuits, and now made these the occupation and pleasureof much of my leisure time. Our home was in a small town; and in acorner of my grounds I built a laboratory, where I carried on mywork and my experiments. I had long been anxious to discover themeans not only of producing, but of retaining and controlling, anatural force, really the same as centrifugal force, but which Icalled negative gravity. This name I adopted because it indicatedbetter than any other the action of the force in question, as Iproduced it. Positive gravity attracts everything toward the centreof the earth. Negative gravity, therefore, would be that power whichrepels everything from the centre of the earth, just as the negativepole of a magnet repels the needle, while the positive pole attractsit. My object was, in fact, to store centrifugal force and to renderit constant, controllable, and available for use. The advantages ofsuch a discovery could scarcely be described. In a word, it wouldlighten the burdens of the world. 

I will not touch upon the labors and disappointments of severalyears. It is enough to say that at last I discovered a method ofproducing, storing, and controlling negative gravity. 

The mechanism of my invention was rather complicated, but the methodof operating it was very simple. A strong metallic case, about eightinches long, and half as wide, contained the machinery for producingthe force; and this was put into action by means of the pressure ofa screw worked from the outside. As soon as this pressure wasproduced, negative gravity began to be evolved and stored, and thegreater the pressure the greater the force. As the screw was movedoutward, and the pressure diminished, the force decreased, and whenthe screw was withdrawn to its fullest extent, the action ofnegative gravity entirely ceased. Thus this force could be producedor dissipated at will to such degrees as might be desired, and itsaction, so long as the requisite pressure was maintained, wasconstant. 

When this little apparatus worked to my satisfaction I called mywife into my laboratory and explained to her my invention and itsvalue. She had known that I had been at work with an importantobject, but I had never told her what it was. I had said that if Isucceeded I would tell her all, but if I failed she need not betroubled with the matter at all. Being a very sensible woman, thissatisfied her perfectly. Now I explained everything to her--theconstruction of the machine, and the wonderful uses to which thisinvention could be applied. I told her that it could diminish, orentirely dissipate, the weight of objects of any kind. A heavilyloaded wagon, with two of these instruments fastened to its sides, and each screwed to a proper force, would be so lifted and supportedthat it would press upon the ground as lightly as an empty cart, anda small horse could draw it with ease. A bale of cotton, with one ofthese machines attached, could be handled and carried by a boy. Acar, with a number of these machines, could be made to rise in theair like a balloon. Everything, in fact, that was heavy could bemade light; and as a great part of labor, all over the world, iscaused by the attraction of gravitation, so this repellent force, wherever applied, would make weight less and work easier. I told herof many, many ways in which the invention might be used, and wouldhave told her of many more if she had not suddenly burst into tears. 

"The world has gained something wonderful, " she exclaimed, betweenher sobs, "but I have lost a husband!"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, in surprise. 

"I haven't minded it so far, " she said, "because it gave yousomething to do, and it pleased you, and it never interfered withour home pleasures and our home life. But now that is all over. Youwill never be your own master again. It will succeed, I am sure, andyou may make a great deal of money, but we don't need money. What weneed is the happiness which we have always had until now. Now therewill be companies, and patents, and lawsuits, and experiments, andpeople calling you a humbug, and other people saying they discoveredit long ago, and all sorts of persons coming to see you, and you'llbe obliged to go to all sorts of places, and you will be an alteredman, and we shall never be happy again. Millions of money will notrepay us for the happiness we have lost. "

These words of my wife struck me with much force. Before I hadcalled her my mind had begun to be filled and perplexed with ideasof what I ought to do now that the great invention was perfected. Until now the matter had not troubled me at all. Sometimes I hadgone backward and sometimes forward, but, on the whole, I had alwaysfelt encouraged. I had taken great pleasure in the work, but I hadnever allowed myself to be too much absorbed by it. But noweverything was different. I began to feel that it was due to myselfand to my fellow-beings that I should properly put this inventionbefore the world. And how should I set about it? What steps should Itake? I must make no mistakes. When the matter should become knownhundreds of scientific people might set themselves to work; howcould I tell but that they might discover other methods of producingthe same effect? I must guard myself against a great many things. Imust get patents in all parts of the world. Already, as I have said, my mind began to be troubled and perplexed with these things. Aturmoil of this sort did not suit my age or disposition. I could notbut agree with my wife that the joys of a quiet and contented lifewere now about to be broken into. 

"My dear, " said I, "I believe, with you, that the thing will do usmore harm than good. If it were not for depriving the world of theinvention I would throw the whole thing to the winds. And yet, " Iadded, regretfully, "I had expected a great deal of personalgratification from the use of this invention. "

"Now listen, " said my wife, eagerly; "don't you think it would bebest to do this: use the thing as much as you please for your ownamusement and satisfaction, but let the world wait? It has waited along time, and let it wait a little longer. When we are dead letHerbert have the invention. He will then be old enough to judge forhimself whether it will be better to take advantage of it for hisown profit, or simply to give it to the public for nothing. It wouldbe cheating him if we were to do the latter, but it would also bedoing him a great wrong if we were, at his age, to load him withsuch a heavy responsibility. Besides, if he took it up, you couldnot help going into it, too. "

I took my wife's advice. I wrote a careful and complete account ofthe invention, and, sealing it up, I gave it to my lawyers to behanded to my son after my death. If he died first, I would makeother arrangements. Then I determined to get all the good and funout of the thing that was possible without telling any one anythingabout it. Even Herbert, who was away from home, was not to be toldof the invention. 

The first thing I did was to buy a strong leathern knapsack, andinside of this I fastened my little machine, with a screw soarranged that it could be worked from the outside. Strapping thisfirmly to my shoulders, my wife gently turned the screw at the backuntil the upward tendency of the knapsack began to lift and sustainme. When I felt myself so gently supported and upheld that I seemedto weigh about thirty or forty pounds, I would set out for a walk. The knapsack did not raise me from the ground, but it gave me a verybuoyant step. It was no labor at all to walk; it was a delight, anecstasy. With the strength of a man and the weight of a child, Igayly strode along. The first day I walked half a dozen miles at avery brisk pace, and came back without feeling in the least degreetired. These walks now became one of the greatest joys of my life. When nobody was looking, I would bound over a fence, sometimes justtouching it with one hand, and sometimes not touching it at all. Idelighted in rough places. I sprang over streams. I jumped and Iran. I felt like Mercury himself. 

I now set about making another machine, so that my wife couldaccompany me in my walks; but when it was finished she positivelyrefused to use it. "I can't wear a knapsack, " she said, "and thereis no other good way of fastening it to me. Besides, everybody abouthere knows I am no walker, and it would only set them talking. "

I occasionally made use of this second machine, but I will give onlyone instance of its application. Some repairs were needed to thefoundation-walls of my barn, and a two-horse wagon, loaded withbuilding-stone, had been brought into my yard and left there. In theevening, when the men had gone away, I took my two machines andfastened them, with strong chains, one on each side of the loadedwagon. Then, gradually turning the screws, the wagon was so liftedthat its weight became very greatly diminished. We had an old donkeywhich used to belong to Herbert, and which was now occasionally usedwith a small cart to bring packages from the station. I went intothe barn and put the harness on the little fellow, and, bringing himout to the wagon, I attached him to it. In this position he lookedvery funny with a long pole sticking out in front of him and thegreat wagon behind him. When all was ready I touched him up; and, tomy great delight, he moved off with the two-horse load of stone aseasily as if he were drawing his own cart. I led him out into thepublic road, along which he proceeded without difficulty. He was anopinionated little beast, and sometimes stopped, not liking thepeculiar manner in which he was harnessed; but a touch of the switchmade him move on, and I soon turned him and brought the wagon backinto the yard. This determined the success of my invention in one ofits most important uses, and with a satisfied heart I put the donkeyinto the stable and went into the house. 

Our trip to Europe was made a few months after this, and was mainlyon our son Herbert's account. He, poor fellow, was in great trouble, and so, therefore, were we. He had become engaged, with our fullconsent, to a young lady in our town, the daughter of a gentlemanwhom we esteemed very highly. Herbert was young to be engaged to bemarried, but as we felt that he would never find a girl to make himso good a wife, we were entirely satisfied, especially as it wasagreed on all hands that the marriage was not to take place for sometime. It seemed to us that, in marrying Janet Gilbert, Herbert wouldsecure for himself, in the very beginning of his career, the mostimportant element of a happy life. But suddenly, without any reasonthat seemed to us justifiable, Mr. Gilbert, the only survivingparent of Janet, broke off the match; and he and his daughter soonafter left the town for a trip to the West. 

This blow nearly broke poor Herbert's heart. He gave up hisprofessional studies and came home to us, and for a time we thoughthe would be seriously ill. Then we took him to Europe, and after aContinental tour of a month or two we left him, at his own request, in Göttingen, where he thought it would do him good to go to workagain. Then we went down to the little town in Italy where my storyfirst finds us. My wife had suffered much in mind and body on herson's account, and for this reason I was anxious that she shouldtake outdoor exercise, and enjoy as much as possible the bracing airof the country. I had brought with me both my little machines. Onewas still in my knapsack, and the other I had fastened to the insideof an enormous family trunk. As one is obliged to pay for nearlyevery pound of his baggage on the Continent, this saved me a greatdeal of money. Everything heavy was packed into this greattrunk--books, papers, the bronze, iron, and marble relics we hadpicked up, and all the articles that usually weigh down a tourist'sbaggage. I screwed up the negative-gravity apparatus until the trunkcould be handled with great ease by an ordinary porter. I could havemade it weigh nothing at all, but this, of course, I did not wish todo. The lightness of my baggage, however, had occasioned somecomment, and I had overheard remarks which were not altogethercomplimentary about people travelling around with empty trunks; butthis only amused me. 

Desirous that my wife should have the advantage of negative gravitywhile taking our walks, I had removed the machine from the trunk andfastened it inside of the basket, which she could carry under herarm. This assisted her wonderfully. When one arm was tired she putthe basket under the other, and thus, with one hand on my arm, shecould easily keep up with the free and buoyant steps my knapsackenabled me to take. She did not object to long tramps here, becausenobody knew that she was not a walker, and she always carried somewine or other refreshment in the basket, not only because it waspleasant to have it with us, but because it seemed ridiculous to goabout carrying an empty basket. 

There were English-speaking people stopping at the hotel where wewere, but they seemed more fond of driving than walking, and none ofthem offered to accompany us on our rambles, for which we were veryglad. There was one man there, however, who was a great walker. Hewas an Englishman, a member of an Alpine Club, and generally wentabout dressed in a knickerbocker suit, with gray woollen stockingscovering an enormous pair of calves. One evening this gentleman wastalking to me and some others about the ascent of the Matterhorn, and I took occasion to deliver in pretty strong language my opinionupon such exploits. I declared them to be useless, foolhardy, and, if the climber had any one who loved him, wicked. 

"Even if the weather should permit a view, " I said, "what is thatcompared to the terrible risk to life? Under certain circumstances, "I added (thinking of a kind of waistcoat I had some idea of making, which, set about with little negative-gravity machines, allconnected with a conveniently handled screw, would enable the wearerat times to dispense with his weight altogether), "such ascentsmight be divested of danger, and be quite admissible; but ordinarilythey should be frowned upon by the intelligent public. "

The Alpine Club man looked at me, especially regarding my somewhatslight figure and thinnish legs. 

"It's all very well for you to talk that way, " he said, "because itis easy to see that you are not up to that sort of thing. "

"In conversations of this kind, " I replied, "I never make personalallusions; but since you have chosen to do so, I feel inclined toinvite you to walk with me to-morrow to the top of the mountain tothe north of this town. "

"I'll do it, " he said, "at any time you choose to name. " And as Ileft the room soon afterward I heard him laugh. 

The next afternoon, about two o'clock, the Alpine Club man andmyself set out for the mountain. 

"What have you got in your knapsack?" he said. 

"A hammer to use if I come across geological specimens, afield-glass, a flask of wine, and some other things. "

"I wouldn't carry any weight, if I were you, " he said. 

"Oh, I don't mind it, " I answered, and off we started. 

The mountain to which we were bound was about two miles from thetown. Its nearest side was steep, and in places almost precipitous, but it sloped away more gradually toward the north, and up that sidea road led by devious windings to a village near the summit. It wasnot a very high mountain, but it would do for an afternoon's climb. 

"I suppose you want to go up by the road, " said my companion. 

"Oh no, " I answered, "we won't go so far around as that. There is apath up this side, along which I have seen men driving their goats. I prefer to take that. "

"All right, if you say so, " he answered, with a smile; "but you'llfind it pretty tough. "

After a time he remarked:

"I wouldn't walk so fast, if I were you. "

"Oh, I like to step along briskly, " I said. And briskly on we went. 

My wife had screwed up the machine in the knapsack more than usual, and walking seemed scarcely any effort at all. I carried a longalpenstock, and when we reached the mountain and began the ascent, Ifound that with the help of this and my knapsack I could go uphillat a wonderful rate. My companion had taken the lead, so as to showme how to climb. Making a _détour_ over some rocks, I quickly passedhim and went ahead. After that it was impossible for him to keep upwith me. I ran up steep places, I cut off the windings of the pathby lightly clambering over rocks, and even when I followed thebeaten track my step was as rapid as if I had been walking on levelground. 

"Look here!" shouted the Alpine Club man from below, "you'll killyourself if you go at that rate! That's no way to climb mountains. "

"It's my way!" I cried. And on I skipped. 

Twenty minutes after I arrived at the summit my companion joined me, puffing, and wiping his red face with his handkerchief. 

"Confound it!" he cried, "I never came up a mountain so fast in mylife. "

"You need not have hurried, " I said, coolly. 

"I was afraid something would happen to you, " he growled, "and Iwanted to stop you. I never saw a person climb in such an utterlyabsurd way. "

"I don't see why you should call it absurd, " I said, smiling with anair of superiority. "I arrived here in a perfectly comfortablecondition, neither heated nor wearied. "

He made no answer, but walked off to a little distance, fanninghimself with his hat and growling words which I did not catch. Aftera time I proposed to descend. 

"You must be careful as you go down, " he said. "It is much moredangerous to go down steep places than to climb up. "

"I am always prudent, " I answered, and started in advance. I foundthe descent of the mountain much more pleasant than the ascent. Itwas positively exhilarating. I jumped from rocks and bluffs eightand ten feet in height, and touched the ground as gently as if I hadstepped down but two feet. I ran down steep paths, and, with the aidof my alpenstock, stopped myself in an instant. I was careful toavoid dangerous places, but the runs and jumps I made were such asno man had ever made before upon that mountain-side. Once only Iheard my companion's voice. 

"You'll break your ---- neck!" he yelled. 

"Never fear!" I called back, and soon left him far above. 

When I reached the bottom I would have waited for him, but myactivity had warmed me up, and as a cool evening breeze wasbeginning to blow I thought it better not to stop and take cold. Half an hour after my arrival at the hotel I came down to the court, cool, fresh, and dressed for dinner, and just in time to meet theAlpine man as he entered, hot, dusty, and growling. 

"Excuse me for not waiting for you, " I said; but without stopping tohear my reason, he muttered something about waiting in a place whereno one would care to stay, and passed into the house. 

There was no doubt that what I had done gratified my pique andtickled my vanity. 

"I think now, " I said, when I related the matter to my wife, "thathe will scarcely say that I am not up to that sort of thing. "

"I am not sure, " she answered, "that it was exactly fair. He did notknow how you were assisted. "

"It was fair enough, " I said. "He is enabled to climb well by theinherited vigor of his constitution and by his training. He did nottell me what methods of exercise he used to get those great musclesupon his legs. I am enabled to climb by the exercise of myintellect. My method is my business and his method is his business. It is all perfectly fair. "

Still she persisted:

"He _thought_ that you climbed with your legs, and not with yourhead. "

And now, after this long digression, necessary to explain how amiddle-aged couple of slight pedestrian ability, and loaded with aheavy knapsack and basket, should have started out on a rough walkand climb, fourteen miles in all, we will return to ourselves, standing on the little bluff and gazing out upon the sunset view. When the sky began to fade a little we turned from it and preparedto go back to the town. 

"Where is the basket?" I said. 

"I left it right here, " answered my wife. "I unscrewed the machineand it lay perfectly flat. "

"Did you afterward take out the bottles?" I asked, seeing them lyingon the grass. 

"Yes, I believe I did. I had to take out yours in order to get atmine. "

"Then, " said I, after looking all about the grassy patch on which westood, "I am afraid you did not entirely unscrew the instrument, andthat when the weight of the bottles was removed the basket gentlyrose into the air. "

"It may be so, " she said, lugubriously. "The basket was behind me asI drank my wine. "

"I believe that is just what has happened, " I said. "Look up there!I vow that is our basket!"

I pulled out my field-glass and directed it at a little speck highabove our heads. It was the basket floating high in the air. I gavethe glass to my wife to look, but she did not want to use it. 

"What shall I do?" she cried. "I can't walk home without thatbasket. It's perfectly dreadful!" And she looked as if she was goingto cry. 

"Do not distress yourself, " I said, although I was a good dealdisturbed myself. "We shall get home very well. You shall put yourhand on my shoulder, while I put my arm around you. Then you canscrew up my machine a good deal higher, and it will support us both. In this way I am sure that we shall get on very well. "

We carried out this plan, and managed to walk on with moderatecomfort. To be sure, with the knapsack pulling me upward, and theweight of my wife pulling me down, the straps hurt me somewhat, which they had not done before. We did not spring lightly over thewall into the road, but, still clinging to each other, we clamberedawkwardly over it. The road for the most part declined gently towardthe town, and with moderate ease we made our way along it. But wewalked much more slowly than we had done before, and it was quitedark when we reached our hotel. If it had not been for the lightinside the court it would have been difficult for us to find it. Atravelling-carriage was standing before the entrance, and againstthe light. It was necessary to pass around it, and my wife wentfirst. I attempted to follow her, but, strange to say, there wasnothing under my feet. I stepped vigorously, but only wagged my legsin the air. To my horror I found that I was rising in the air! Isoon saw, by the light below me, that I was some fifteen feet fromthe ground. The carriage drove away, and in the darkness I was notnoticed. Of course I knew what had happened. The instrument in myknapsack had been screwed up to such an intensity, in order tosupport both myself and my wife, that when her weight was removedthe force of the negative gravity was sufficient to raise me fromthe ground. But I was glad to find that when I had risen to theheight I have mentioned I did not go up any higher, but hung in theair, about on a level with the second tier of windows of the hotel. 

I now began to try to reach the screw in my knapsack in order toreduce the force of the negative gravity; but, do what I would, Icould not get my hand to it. The machine in the knapsack had beenplaced so as to support me in a well-balanced and comfortable way;and in doing this it had been impossible to set the screw so that Icould reach it. But in a temporary arrangement of the kind this hadnot been considered necessary, as my wife always turned the screwfor me until sufficient lifting power had been attained. I hadintended, as I have said before, to construct a negative-gravitywaistcoat, in which the screw should be in front, and entirely underthe wearer's control; but this was a thing of the future. 

When I found that I could not turn the screw I began to be muchalarmed. Here I was, dangling in the air, without any means ofreaching the ground. I could not expect my wife to return to lookfor me, as she would naturally suppose I had stopped to speak tosome one. I thought of loosening myself from the knapsack, but thiswould not do, for I should fall heavily, and either kill myself orbreak some of my bones. I did not dare to call for assistance, forif any of the simple-minded inhabitants of the town had discoveredme floating in the air they would have taken me for a demon, andwould probably have shot at me. A moderate breeze was blowing, andit wafted me gently down the street. If it had blown me against atree I would have seized it, and have endeavored, so to speak, toclimb down it; but there were no trees. There was a dim street-lamphere and there, but reflectors above them threw their light upon thepavement, and none up to me. On many accounts I was glad that thenight was so dark, for, much as I desired to get down, I wanted noone to see me in my strange position, which, to any one but myselfand wife, would be utterly unaccountable. If I could rise as high asthe roofs I might get on one of them, and, tearing off an armful oftiles, so load myself that I would be heavy enough to descend. But Idid not rise to the eaves of any of the houses. If there had been atelegraph-pole, or anything of the kind that I could have clung to, I would have taken off the knapsack, and would have endeavored toscramble down as well as I could. But there was nothing I couldcling to. Even the water-spouts, if I could have reached the face ofthe houses, were embedded in the walls. At an open window, nearwhich I was slowly blown, I saw two little boys going to bed by thelight of a dim candle. I was dreadfully afraid that they would seeme and raise an alarm. I actually came so near to the window that Ithrew out one foot and pushed against the wall with such force thatI went nearly across the street. I thought I caught sight of afrightened look on the face of one of the boys; but of this I am notsure, and I heard no cries. I still floated, dangling, down thestreet. What was to be done? Should I call out? In that case, if Iwere not shot or stoned, my strange predicament, and the secret ofmy invention, would be exposed to the world. If I did not do this, Imust either let myself drop and be killed or mangled, or hang thereand die. When, during the course of the night, the air became morerarefied, I might rise higher and higher, perhaps to an altitude ofone or two hundred feet. It would then be impossible for the peopleto reach me and get me down, even if they were convinced that I wasnot a demon. I should then expire, and when the birds of the air hadeaten all of me that they could devour, I should forever hang abovethe unlucky town, a dangling skeleton with a knapsack on its back. 

Such thoughts were not reassuring, and I determined that if I couldfind no means of getting down without assistance, I would call outand run all risks; but so long as I could endure the tension of thestraps I would hold out, and hope for a tree or a pole. Perhaps itmight rain, and my wet clothes would then become so heavy that Iwould descend as low as the top of a lamp-post. 

As this thought was passing through my mind I saw a spark of lightupon the street approaching me. I rightly imagined that it came froma tobacco-pipe, and presently I heard a voice. It was that of theAlpine Club man. Of all people in the world I did not want him todiscover me, and I hung as motionless as possible. The man wasspeaking to another person who was walking with him. 

"He is crazy beyond a doubt, " said the Alpine man. "Nobody but amaniac could have gone up and down that mountain as he did! Hehasn't any muscles, and one need only look at him to know that hecouldn't do any climbing in a natural way. It is only the excitementof insanity that gives him strength. "

The two now stopped almost under me, and the speaker continued:

"Such things are very common with maniacs. At times they acquire anunnatural strength which is perfectly wonderful. I have seen alittle fellow struggle and fight so that four strong men could nothold him. "

Then the other person spoke. 

"I am afraid what you say is too true, " he remarked. "Indeed, I haveknown it for some time. "

At these words my breath almost stopped. It was the voice of Mr. Gilbert, my townsman, and the father of Janet. It must have been hewho had arrived in the travelling-carriage. He was acquainted withthe Alpine Club man, and they were talking of me. Proper orimproper, I listened with all my ears. 

"It is a very sad case, " Mr. Gilbert continued. "My daughter wasengaged to marry his son, but I broke off the match. I could nothave her marry the son of a lunatic, and there could be no doubt ofhis condition. He has been seen--a man of his age, and the head of afamily--to load himself up with a heavy knapsack, which there was noearthly necessity for him to carry, and go skipping along the roadfor miles, vaulting over fences and jumping over rocks and ditcheslike a young calf or a colt. I myself saw a most heartrendinginstance of how a kindly man's nature can be changed by thederangement of his intellect. I was at some distance from his house, but I plainly saw him harness a little donkey which he owns to alarge two-horse wagon loaded with stone, and beat and lash the poorlittle beast until it drew the heavy load some distance along thepublic road. I would have remonstrated with him on this horriblecruelty, but he had the wagon back in his yard before I could reachhim. "

"Oh, there can be no doubt of his insanity, " said the Alpine Clubman, "and he oughtn't to be allowed to travel about in this way. Some day he will pitch his wife over a precipice just for the fun ofseeing her shoot through the air. "

"I am sorry he is here, " said Mr. Gilbert, "for it would be verypainful to meet him. My daughter and I will retire very soon, and goaway as early to-morrow morning as possible, so as to avoid seeinghim. "

And then they walked back to the hotel. 

For a few moments I hung, utterly forgetful of my condition, andabsorbed in the consideration of these revelations. One idea nowfilled my mind. Everything must be explained to Mr. Gilbert, even ifit should be necessary to have him called to me, and for me to speakto him from the upper air. 

Just then I saw something white approaching me along the road. Myeyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and I perceived that itwas an upturned face. I recognized the hurried gait, the form; itwas my wife. As she came near me, I called her name, and in the samebreath entreated her not to scream. It must have been an effort forher to restrain herself, but she did it. 

"You must help me to get down, " I said, "without anybody seeing us. "

"What shall I do?" she whispered. 

"Try to catch hold of this string. "

Taking a piece of twine from my pocket, I lowered one end to her. But it was too short; she could not reach it. I then tied myhandkerchief to it, but still it was not long enough. 

"I can get more string, or handkerchiefs, " she whispered, hurriedly. 

"No, " I said; "you could not get them up to me. But, leaning againstthe hotel wall, on this side, in the corner, just inside of thegarden gate, are some fishing-poles. I have seen them there everyday. You can easily find them in the dark. Go, please, and bring meone of those. "

The hotel was not far away, and in a few minutes my wife returnedwith a fishing-pole. She stood on tiptoe, and reached it high inair; but all she could do was to strike my feet and legs with it. Mymost frantic exertions did not enable me to get my hands low enoughto touch it. 

"Wait a minute, " she said; and the rod was withdrawn. 

I knew what she was doing. There was a hook and line attached to thepole, and with womanly dexterity she was fastening the hook to theextreme end of the rod. Soon she reached up, and gently struck at mylegs. After a few attempts the hook caught in my trousers, a littlebelow my right knee. Then there was a slight pull, a long scratchdown my leg, and the hook was stopped by the top of my boot. Thencame a steady downward pull, and I felt myself descending. Gentlyand firmly the rod was drawn down; carefully the lower end was keptfree from the ground; and in a few moments my ankle was seized witha vigorous grasp. Then some one seemed to climb up me, my feettouched the ground, an arm was thrown around my neck, the hand ofanother arm was busy at the back of my knapsack, and I soon stoodfirmly in the road, entirely divested of negative gravity. 

"Oh that I should have forgotten, " sobbed my wife, "and that Ishould have dropped your arms and let you go up into the air! Atfirst I thought that you had stopped below, and it was only a littlewhile ago that the truth flashed upon me. Then I rushed out andbegan looking up for you. I knew that you had wax matches in yourpocket, and hoped that you would keep on striking them, so that youwould be seen. "

"But I did not wish to be seen, " I said, as we hurried to the hotel;"and I can never be sufficiently thankful that it was you who foundme and brought me down. Do you know that it is Mr. Gilbert and hisdaughter who have just arrived? I must see him instantly. I willexplain it all to you when I come upstairs. "

I took off my knapsack and gave it to my wife, who carried it to ourroom, while I went to look for Mr. Gilbert. Fortunately I found himjust as he was about to go up to his chamber. He took my offeredhand, but looked at me sadly and gravely. 

"Mr. Gilbert, " I said, "I must speak to you in private. Let us stepinto this room. There is no one here. "

"My friend, " said Mr. Gilbert, "it will be much better to avoiddiscussing this subject. It is very painful to both of us, and nogood can come from talking of it. "

"You cannot now comprehend what it is I want to say to you, " Ireplied. "Come in here, and in a few minutes you will be very gladthat you listened to me. "

My manner was so earnest and impressive that Mr. Gilbert wasconstrained to follow me, and we went into a small room called thesmoking-room, but in which people seldom smoked, and closed thedoor. I immediately began my statement. I told my old friend that Ihad discovered, by means that I need not explain at present, that hehad considered me crazy, and that now the most important object ofmy life was to set myself right in his eyes. I thereupon gave himthe whole history of my invention, and explained the reason of theactions that had appeared to him those of a lunatic. I said nothingabout the little incident of that evening. That was a mere accident, and I did not care now to speak of it. 

Mr. Gilbert listened to me very attentively. 

"Your wife is here?" he asked, when I had finished. 

"Yes, " I said; "and she will corroborate my story in every item, andno one could ever suspect her of being crazy. I will go and bringher to you. "

In a few minutes my wife was in the room, had shaken hands with Mr. Gilbert, and had been told of my suspected madness. She turned pale, but smiled. 

"He did act like a crazy man, " she said, "but I never supposed thatanybody would think him one. " And tears came into her eyes. 

"And now, my dear, " said I, "perhaps you will tell Mr. Gilbert how Idid all this. "

And then she told him the story that I had told. 

Mr. Gilbert looked from the one to the other of us with a troubledair. 

"Of course I do not doubt either of you, or rather I do not doubtthat you believe what you say. All would be right if I could bringmyself to credit that such a force as that you speak of can possiblyexist. "

"That is a matter, " said I, "which I can easily prove to you byactual demonstration. If you can wait a short time, until my wifeand I have had something to eat--for I am nearly famished, and I amsure she must be--I will set your mind at rest upon that point. "

"I will wait here, " said Mr. Gilbert, "and smoke a cigar. Don'thurry yourselves. I shall be glad to have some time to think aboutwhat you have told me. "

When we had finished the dinner, which had been set aside for us, Iwent upstairs and got my knapsack, and we both joined Mr. Gilbert inthe smoking-room. I showed him the little machine, and explained, very briefly, the principle of its construction. I did not give anypractical demonstration of its action, because there were peoplewalking about the corridor who might at any moment come into theroom; but, looking out of the window, I saw that the night was muchclearer. The wind had dissipated the clouds, and the stars wereshining brightly. 

"If you will come up the street with me, " said I to Mr. Gilbert, "Iwill show you how this thing works. "

"That is just what I want to see, " he answered. 

"I will go with you, " said my wife, throwing a shawl over her head. And we started up the street. 

When we were outside the little town I found the starlight was quitesufficient for my purpose. The white roadway, the low walls, andobjects about us, could easily be distinguished. 

"Now, " said I to Mr. Gilbert, "I want to put this knapsack on you, and let you see how it feels, and how it will help you to walk. " Tothis he assented with some eagerness, and I strapped it firmly onhim. "I will now turn this screw, " said I, "until you shall becomelighter and lighter. "

"Be very careful not to turn it too much, " said my wife, earnestly. 

"Oh, you may depend on me for that, " said I, turning the screw verygradually. 

Mr. Gilbert was a stout man, and I was obliged to give the screw agood many turns. 

"There seems to be considerable hoist in it, " he said, directly. Andthen I put my arms around him, and found that I could raise him fromthe ground. 

"Are you lifting me?" he exclaimed, in surprise. 

"Yes; I did it with ease, " I answered. 

"Upon--my--word!" ejaculated Mr. Gilbert. 

I then gave the screw a half-turn more, and told him to walk andrun. He started off, at first slowly, then he made long strides, then he began to run, and then to skip and jump. It had been manyyears since Mr. Gilbert had skipped and jumped. No one was in sight, and he was free to gambol as much as he pleased. "Could you give itanother turn?" said he, bounding up to me. "I want to try thatwall. " I put on a little more negative gravity, and he vaulted overa five-foot wall with great ease. In an instant he had leaped backinto the road, and in two bounds was at my side. "I came down aslight as a cat, " he said. "There was never anything like it. " Andaway he went up the road, taking steps at least eight feet long, leaving my wife and me laughing heartily at the preternaturalagility of our stout friend. In a few minutes he was with us again. "Take it off, " he said. "If I wear it any longer I shall want onemyself, and then I shall be taken for a crazy man, and perhapsclapped into an asylum. "

"Now, " said I, as I turned back the screw before unstrapping theknapsack, "do you understand how I took long walks, and leaped andjumped; how I ran uphill and downhill, and how the little donkeydrew the loaded wagon?"

"I understand it all, " cried he. "I take back all I ever said orthought about you, my friend. "

"And Herbert may marry Janet?" cried my wife. 

"_May_ marry her!" cried Mr. Gilbert. "Indeed, he _shall_ marry her, if I have anything to say about it! My poor girl has been droopingever since I told her it could not be. "

My wife rushed at him, but whether she embraced him or only shookhis hands I cannot say; for I had the knapsack in one hand and wasrubbing my eyes with the other. 

"But, my dear fellow, " said Mr. Gilbert, directly, "if you stillconsider it to your interest to keep your invention a secret, I wishyou had never made it. No one having a machine like that can helpusing it, and it is often quite as bad to be considered a maniac asto be one. "

"My friend, " I cried, with some excitement, "I have made up my mindon this subject. The little machine in this knapsack, which is theonly one I now possess, has been a great pleasure to me. But I nowknow it has also been of the greatest injury indirectly to me andmine, not to mention some direct inconvenience and danger, which Iwill speak of another time. The secret lies with us three, and wewill keep it. But the invention itself is too full of temptation anddanger for any of us. "

As I said this I held the knapsack with one hand while I quicklyturned the screw with the other. In a few moments it was high abovemy head, while I with difficulty held it down by the straps. "Look!"I cried. And then I released my hold, and the knapsack shot into theair and disappeared into the upper gloom. 

I was about to make a remark, but had no chance, for my wife threwherself upon my bosom, sobbing with joy. 

"Oh, I am so glad--so glad!" she said. "And you will never makeanother?"

"Never another!" I answered. 

"And now let us hurry in and see Janet, " said my wife. 

"You don't know how heavy and clumsy I feel, " said Mr. Gilbert, striving to keep up with us as we walked back. "If I had worn thatthing much longer, I should never have been willing to take it off!"

Janet had retired, but my wife went up to her room. 

"I think she has felt it as much as our boy, " she said, when sherejoined me. "But I tell you, my dear, I left a very happy girl inthat little bedchamber over the garden. "

And there were three very happy elderly people talking togetheruntil quite late that evening. "I shall write to Herbert to-night, "I said, when we separated, "and tell him to meet us all in Geneva. It will do the young man no harm if we interrupt his studies justnow. "

"You must let me add a postscript to the letter, " said Mr. Gilbert, "and I am sure it will require no knapsack with a screw in the backto bring him quickly to us. "

And it did not. 

There is a wonderful pleasure in tripping over the earth like awinged Mercury, and in feeling one's self relieved of much of thatattraction of gravitation which drags us down to earth and graduallymakes the movement of our bodies but weariness and labor. But thispleasure is not to be compared, I think, to that given by thebuoyancy and lightness of two young and loving hearts, reunitedafter a separation which they had supposed would last forever. 

What became of the basket and the knapsack, or whether they ever metin upper air, I do not know. If they but float away and stay awayfrom ken of mortal man, I shall be satisfied. 

And whether or not the world will ever know more of the power ofnegative gravity depends entirely upon the disposition of my sonHerbert, when--after a good many years, I hope--he shall open thepacket my lawyers have in keeping. 

 * * * * *

[NOTE. --It would be quite useless for any one to interview my wifeon this subject, for she has entirely forgotten how my machine wasmade. And as for Mr. Gilbert, he never knew. ]

ASAPH

About a hundred feet back from the main street of a village in NewJersey there stood a very good white house. Half-way between it andthe sidewalk was a large chestnut-tree, which had been the pride ofMr. Himes, who built the house, and was now the pride of Mrs. Himes, his widow, who lived there. 

Under the tree was a bench, and on the bench were two elderly men, both smoking pipes, and each one of them leaning forward with hiselbows on his knees. One of these, Thomas Rooper by name, was asmall man with gray side-whiskers, a rather thin face, and very goodclothes. His pipe was a meerschaum, handsomely colored, with a longamber tip. He had bought that pipe while on a visit to Philadelphiaduring the great Centennial Exposition; and if any one noticed itand happened to remark what a fine pipe it was, that person would belikely to receive a detailed account of the circumstances of itspurchase, with an appendix relating to the Main Building, the ArtBuilding, the Agricultural Building, and many other salient pointsof the great Exposition which commemorated the centennial of ournational independence. 

The other man, Asaph Scantle, was of a different type. He was alittle older than his companion, but if his hair were gray, it didnot show very much, as his rather long locks were of a sandy hue andhis full face was clean shaven, at least on Wednesdays and Sundays. He was tall, round-shouldered, and his clothes were not good, possessing very evident claims to a position on the retired list. His pipe consisted of a common clay bowl with a long reed stem. 

For some minutes the two men continued to puff together as if theywere playing a duet upon tobacco-pipes, and then Asaph, removing hisreed from his lips, remarked, "What you ought to do, Thomas, is tomarry money. "

"There's sense in that, " replied the other; "but you wasn't thefirst to think of it. "

Asaph, who knew very well that Mr. Rooper never allowed any one tosuppose that he received suggestions from without, took no notice ofthe last remark, but went on: "Lookin' at the matter in a friendlyway, it seems to me it stands to reason that when the shingles on aman's house is so rotten that the rain comes through into every roomon the top floor, and when the plaster on the ceilin' is tumblin'down more or less all the time, and the window-sashes is all loose, and things generally in a condition that he can't let that housewithout spendin' at least a year's rent on it to git it into decentorder, and when a man's got to the time of life--"

"There's nothin' the matter with the time of life, " said Thomas;"that's all right. "

"What I was goin' to say was, " continued Asaph, "that when a mangits to the time of life when he knows what it is to be comfortablein his mind as well as his body--and that time comes to sensiblepeople as soon as they git fairly growed up--he don't want to giveup his good room in the tavern and all the privileges of the house, and go to live on his own property and have the plaster come down onhis own head and the rain come down on the coverlet of his own bed. "

"No, he don't, " said Thomas; "and what is more, he isn't goin' to doit. But what I git from the rent of that house is what I have tolive on; there's no gittin' around that pint. "

"Well, then, " said Asaph, "if you don't marry money, what are yougoin' to do? You can't go back to your old business. "

"I never had but one business, " said Thomas. "I lived with my folksuntil I was a good deal more than growed up; and when the war brokeout I went as sutler to the rigiment from this place; and all themoney I made I put into my property in the village here. That's whatI've lived on ever since. There's no more war, so there's no moresutlers, except away out West where I wouldn't go; and there are nomore folks, for they are all dead; and if what Mrs. McJimsey says istrue, there'll be no more tenants in my house after the 1st of nextNovember. For when the McJimseys go on account of want of generalrepairs, it is not to be expected that anybody else will come there. There's nobody in this place that can stand as much as the McJimseyscan. "

"Consequently, " said Asaph, deliberately filling his pipe, "itstands to reason that there ain't nothin' for you to do but marrymoney. "

Thomas Rooper took his pipe from his mouth and sat up straight. Gazing steadfastly at his companion, he remarked, "If you think thatis such a good thing to do, why don't you do it yourself? Therecan't be anybody much harder up than you are. "

"The law's agin' my doin' it, " said Asaph. "A man can't marry hissister. "

"Are you thinkin' of Marietta Himes?" asked Mr. Rooper. 

"That's the one I'm thinkin' of, " said Asaph. "If you can think ofanybody better, I'd like you to mention her. "

Mr. Rooper did not immediately speak. He presently asked, "What doyou call money?"

"Well, " said Asaph, with a little hesitation, "considerin' thecircumstances, I should say that in a case like this about fifteenhundred a year, a first-rate house with not a loose shingle on itnor a crack anywhere, a good garden and an orchard, two cows, apiece of meadow-land on the other side of the creek, and all theclothes a woman need have, is money. "

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "Clothes!" he said. "If she marriesshe'll go out of black, and then she'll have to have new ones, andlots of 'em. That would make a big hole in her money, Asaph. "

The other smiled. "I always knowed you was a far-seein' feller, Thomas; but it stands to reason that Marietta's got a lot of clothesthat was on hand before she went into mournin', and she's not thekind of woman to waste 'em. She'll be twistin' 'em about and makin''em over to suit the fashions, and it won't be like her to be buyin'new colored goods when she's got plenty of 'em already. "

There was now another pause in the conversation, and then Mr. Rooperremarked, "Mrs. Himes must be gettin' on pretty well in years. "

"She's not a young woman, " said Asaph; "but if she was much youngershe wouldn't have you, and if she was much older you wouldn't haveher. So it strikes me she's just about the right pint. "

"How old was John Himes when he died?" asked Thomas. 

"I don't exactly know that; but he was a lot older than Marietta. "

Thomas shook his head. "It strikes me, " said he, "that John Himeshad a hearty constitution and hadn't ought to died as soon as hedid. He fell away a good deal in the last years of his life. "

"And considerin' that he died of consumption, he had a right to fallaway, " said Asaph. "If what you are drivin' at, Thomas, is thatMarietta isn't a good housekeeper and hasn't the right sort ofnotions of feedin', look at me. I've lived with Marietta just abouta year, and in that time I have gained forty-two pounds. Now, ofcourse, I ain't unreasonable, and don't mean to say that you wouldgain forty-two pounds in a year, 'cause you ain't got the frame andbone to put it on; but it wouldn't surprise me a bit if you was togain twenty, or even twenty-five, pounds in eighteen months, anyway;and more than that you ought not to ask, Thomas, considerin' yourheight and general build. "

"Isn't Marietta Himes a good deal of a freethinker?" asked Thomas. 

"A what?" cried Asaph. "You mean an infidel?"

"No, " said Thomas, "I don't charge nobody with nothin' more thanthere's reason for; but they do say that she goes sometimes to onechurch and sometimes to another, and that if there was a Catholicchurch in this village she would go to that. And who's goin' to saywhere a woman will turn up when she don't know her own mind betterthan that?"

Asaph colored a little. "The place where Marietta will turn up, "said he, warmly, "is on a front seat in the kingdom of heaven; andif the people that talk about her will mend their ways, they'll seethat I am right. You need not trouble yourself about that, Thomas. Marietta Himes is pious to the heel. "

Mr. Rooper now shifted himself a little on the bench and crossed oneleg over the other. "Now look here, Asaph, " he said, with a littlemore animation than he had yet shown, "supposin' all you say istrue, have you got any reason to think that Mrs. Himes ain'tsatisfied with things as they are?"

"Yes, I have, " said Asaph. "And I don't mind tellin' you that thething she's least satisfied with is me. She wants a man in thehouse; that is nateral. She wouldn't be Marietta Himes if shedidn't. When I come to live with her I thought the whole businesswas settled; but it isn't. I don't suit her. I don't say she'slookin' for another man, but if another man was to come along, andif he was the right kind of a man, it's my opinion she's ready forhim. I wouldn't say this to everybody, but I say it to you, ThomasRooper, 'cause I know what kind of a man you are. "

Mr. Rooper did not return the compliment. "I don't wonder yoursister ain't satisfied with you, " he said, "for you go ahead of allthe lazy men I ever saw yet. They was sayin' down at the tavernyesterday--only yesterday--that you could do less work in more timethan anybody they ever saw before. "

"There's two ways of workin', " said Asaph. "Some people work withtheir hands and some with their heads. "

Thomas grimly smiled. "It strikes me, " said he, "that the mosthead-work you do is with your jaws. "

Asaph was not the man to take offence readily, especially when heconsidered it against his interest to do so, and he showed noresentment at this remark. "'Tain't so much my not makin' myselfmore generally useful, " he said, "that Marietta objects to; though, of course, it could not be expected that a man that hasn't got anyinterest in property would keep workin' at it like a man that hasgot an interest in it, such as Marietta's husband would have; butit's my general appearance that she don't like. She's told me morethan once she didn't so much mind my bein' lazy as lookin' lazy. "

"I don't wonder she thinks that way, " said Thomas. "But look here, Asaph, do you suppose that if Marietta Himes was to marry a man, hewould really come into her property?"

"There ain't nobody that knows my sister better than I know her, andI can say, without any fear of bein' contradicted, that when shegives herself to a man the good-will and fixtures will be included. "

Thomas Rooper now leaned forward with his elbows on his kneeswithout smoking, and Asaph Scantle leaned forward with his elbows onhis knees without smoking. And thus they remained, saying nothing toeach other, for the space of some ten minutes. 

Asaph was a man who truly used his head a great deal more than heused his hands. He had always been a shiftless fellow, but he was nofool, and this his sister found out soon after she asked him to comeand make his home with her. She had not done this because she wanteda man in the house, for she had lived two or three years withoutthat convenience and had not felt the need of it. But she heard thatAsaph was in very uncomfortable circumstances, and she had sent forhim solely for his own good. The arrangement proved to be a verygood one for her brother, but not a good one for her. She had alwaysknown that Asaph's head was his main dependence, but she was justbeginning to discover that he liked to use his head so that otherpeople's hands should work for him. 

"There ain't nobody comin' to see your sister, is there?" askedThomas, suddenly. 

"Not a livin' soul, " said Asaph, "except women, married folk, andchildren. But it has always surprised me that nobody did come; butjust at this minute the field's clear and the gate's open. "

"Well, " said Mr. Rooper, "I'll think about it. "

"That's right, " said Asaph, rubbing his knees with his hands. "That's right. But now tell me, Thomas Rooper, supposin' you getMarietta, what are you goin' to do for me?"

"For you?" exclaimed the other. "What have you got to do with it?"

"A good deal, " said Asaph. "If you get Marietta with her fifteenhundred a year--and it wouldn't surprise me if it was eighteenhundred--and her house and her garden and her cattle and her fieldand her furniture, with not a leg loose nor a scratch, you will gether because I proposed her to you, and because I backed you upafterward. And now, then, I want to know what you are goin' to dofor me?"

"What do you want?" asked Thomas. 

"The first thing I want, " said Asaph, "is a suit of clothes. Theseclothes is disgraceful. "

"You are right there, " said Mr. Rooper. "I wonder your sister letsyou come around in front of the house. But what do you mean byclothes--winter clothes or summer clothes?"

"Winter, " said Asaph, without hesitation. "I don't count summerclothes. And when I say a suit of clothes, I mean shoes and hat andunderclothes. "

Mr. Rooper gave a sniff. "I wonder you don't say overcoat, " heremarked. 

"I do say overcoat, " replied Asaph. "A suit of winter clothes is asuit of clothes that you can go out into the weather in withoutmissin' nothin'. "

Mr. Rooper smiled sarcastically. "Is there anything else you want?"he asked. 

"Yes, " said Asaph, decidedly; "there is. I want a umbrella. "

"Cotton or silk?"

Asaph hesitated. He had never had a silk umbrella in his hand in hislife. He was afraid to strike too high, and he answered, "I want agood stout gingham. "

Mr. Rooper nodded his head. "Very good, " he said. "And is that all?"

"No, " said Asaph, "it ain't all. There is one more thing I want, andthat is a dictionary. "

The other man rose to his feet. "Upon my word, " he exclaimed, "Inever before saw a man that would sell his sister for a dictionary!And what you want with a dictionary is past my conceivin'. "

"Well, it ain't past mine, " said Asaph. "For more than ten years Ihave wanted a dictionary. If I had a dictionary I could make use ofmy head in a way that I can't now. There is books in this house, butamongst 'em there is no dictionary. If there had been one I'd been adifferent man by this time from what I am now, and like as notMarietta wouldn't have wanted any other man in the house but me. "

Mr. Rooper stood looking upon the ground; and Asaph, who had alsoarisen, waited for him to speak. "You are a graspin' man, Asaph, "said Thomas. "But there is another thing I'd like to know: if I giveyou them clothes, you don't want them before she's married?"

"Yes, I do, " said Asaph. "If I come to the weddin', I can't wearthese things. I have got to have them first. "

Mr. Rooper gave his head a little twist. "There's many a slip 'twixtthe cup and the lip, " said he. 

"Yes, " said Asaph; "and there's different cups and different lips. But what's more, if I was to be best man--which would be nateral, considerin' I'm your friend and her brother--you wouldn't want mestandin' up in this rig. And that's puttin' it in your own point ofview, Thomas. "

"It strikes me, " said the other, "that I could get a best man thatwould furnish his own clothes; but we will see about that. There'sanother thing, Asaph, " he said, abruptly; "what are Mrs. Himes'sviews concernin' pipes?"

This question startled and frightened Asaph. He knew that his sistercould not abide the smell of tobacco and that Mr. Rooper was aninveterate smoker. 

"That depends, " said he, "on the kind of tobacco. I don't mindsayin' that Marietta isn't partial to the kind of tobacco I smoke. But I ain't a moneyed man and I can't afford to buy nothin' butcheap stuff. But when it comes to a meerschaum pipe and the veryfinest Virginia or North Carolina smoking-tobacco, such as a moneyedman would be likely to use--"

At this moment there came from the house the sound of a woman'svoice, not loud, but clear and distinct, and it said "Asaph. "

This word sent through Mr. Rooper a gentle thrill such as he did notremember ever having felt before. There seemed to be in it asuggestion, a sort of prophecy, of what appeared to him as anundefined and chaotic bliss. He was not a fanciful man, but he couldnot help imagining himself standing alone under that chestnut-treeand that voice calling "Thomas. "

Upon Asaph the effect was different. The interruption was anagreeable one in one way, because it cut short his attemptedexplanation of the tobacco question; but in another way he knew thatit meant the swinging of an axe, and that was not pleasant. 

Mr. Rooper walked back to the tavern in a cogitative state of mind. "That Asaph Scantle, " he said to himself, "has got a head-piece, there's no denying it. If it had not been for him I do not believe Ishould have thought of his sister; at least not until the McJimseyshad left my house, and then it might have been too late. "

Marietta Himes was a woman with a gentle voice and an appearance anddemeanor indicative of a general softness of disposition; butbeneath this mild exterior there was a great deal of firmness ofpurpose. Asaph had not seen very much of his sister since she hadgrown up and married; and when he came to live with her he thoughtthat he was going to have things pretty much his own way. But it wasnot long before he entirely changed his mind. 

Mrs. Himes was of moderate height, pleasant countenance, and afigure inclined to plumpness. Her dark hair, in which there was nota line of gray, was brushed down smoothly on each side of her face, and her dress, while plain, was extremely neat. In fact, everythingin the house and on the place was extremely neat, except Asaph. 

She was in the bright little dining-room which looked out on theflower-garden, preparing the table for supper, placing every plate, dish, glass, and cup with as much care and exactness as if a civilengineer had drawn a plan on the table-cloth with places marked forthe position of each article. 

As she finished her work by placing a chair on each side of thetable, a quiet smile, the result of a train of thought in which shehad been indulging for the past half-hour, stole over her face. Shepassed through the kitchen, with a glance at the stove to see if thetea-kettle had begun to boil; and going out of the back door, shewalked over to the shed where her brother was splittingkindling-wood. 

"Asaph, " said Mrs. Himes, "if I were to give you a good suit ofclothes, would you promise me that you would never smoke whenwearing them?"

Her brother looked at her in amazement. "Clothes!" he repeated. 

"Mr. Himes was about your size, " said his sister, "and he left agood many clothes, which are most of them very good and carefullypacked away, so that I am sure there is not a moth-hole in any oneof them. I have several times thought, Asaph, that I might give yousome of his clothes; but it did seem to me a desecration to have theclothes of such a man, who was so particular and nice, filled andsaturated with horrible tobacco-smoke, which he detested. But nowyou are getting to be so awful shabby, I do not see how I can standit any longer. But one thing I will not do--I will not have Mr. Himes's clothes smelling of tobacco as yours do; and not only yourown tobacco, but Mr. Rooper's. "

"I think, " said Asaph, "that you are not exactly right just there. What you smell about me is my smoke. Thomas Rooper never usesanything but the finest-scented and delicatest brands. I think thatif you come to get used to his tobacco-smoke you would like it. Butas to my takin' off my clothes and puttin' on a different suit everytime I want to light my pipe, that's pretty hard lines, it seems tome. "

"It would be a good deal easier to give up the pipe, " said hissister. 

"I will do that, " said Asaph, "when you give up tea. But you know aswell as I do that there's no use of either of us a-tryin' to changeour comfortable habits at our time of life. "

"I kept on hoping, " said Mrs. Himes, "that you would feel yourselfthat you were not fit to be seen by decent people, and that youwould go to work and earn at least enough money to buy yourself someclothes. But as you don't seem inclined to do that, I thought Iwould make you this offer. But you must understand that I will nothave you smoke in Mr. Himes's clothes. "

Asaph stood thinking, the head of his axe resting upon the ground, aposition which suited him. He was in a little perplexity. Marietta'sproposition seemed to interfere somewhat with the one he had made toThomas Rooper. Here was a state of affairs which required mostcareful consideration. "I've been arrangin' about some clothes, " hesaid, presently; "for I know very well I need 'em; but I don't knowjust yet how it will turn out. "

"I hope, Asaph, " said Marietta, quickly, "that you are not thinkingof going into debt for clothing, and I know that you haven't beenworking to earn money. What arrangements have you been making?"

"That's my private affair, " said Asaph, "but there's no debt in it. It is all fair and square--cash down, so to speak; though, ofcourse, it's not cash, but work. But, as I said before, that isn'tsettled. "

"I am afraid, Asaph, " said his sister, "that if you have to do thework first you will never get the clothes, and so you might as wellcome back to my offer. "

Asaph came back to it and thought about it very earnestly. If by anychance he could get two suits of clothes, he would then feel that hehad a head worth having. "What would you say, " he said, presently, "if when I wanted to smoke I was to put on a long duster--I guessMr. Himes had dusters--and a nightcap and rubbers? I'd agree to hangthe duster and the cap in the shed here and never smoke withoutputting 'em on. " There was a deep purpose in this proposition, for, enveloped in the long duster, he might sit with Thomas Rooper underthe chestnut-tree and smoke and talk and plan as long as he pleased, and his companion would not know that he did not need a new suit ofclothes. 

"Nonsense, " said Mrs. Himes; "you must make up your mind to actperfectly fairly, Asaph, or else say you will not accept my offer. But if you don't accept it, I can't see how you can keep on livingwith me. "

"What do you mean by clothes, Marietta?" he asked. 

"Well, I mean a complete suit, of course, " said she. 

"Winter or summer?"

"I hadn't thought of that, " Mrs. Himes replied; "but that can be asyou choose. "

"Overcoat?" asked Asaph. 

"Yes, " said she, "and cane and umbrella, if you like, andpocket-handkerchiefs, too. I will fit you out completely, and shallbe glad to have you looking like a decent man. "

At the mention of the umbrella another line of perplexity showeditself upon Asaph's brow. The idea came to him that if she would adda dictionary he would strike a bargain. Thomas Rooper was certainlya very undecided and uncertain sort of man. But then there came upthe thought of his pipe, and he was all at sea again. Giving upsmoking was almost the same as giving up eating. "Marietta, " saidhe, "I will think about this. "

"Very well, " she answered; "but it's my opinion, Asaph, that youought not to take more than one minute to think about it. However, Iwill give you until to-morrow morning, and then if you decide thatyou don't care to look like a respectable citizen, I must have somefurther talk with you about our future arrangements. "

"Make it to-morrow night, " said Asaph. And his sister consented. 

The next day Asaph was unusually brisk and active; and very soonafter breakfast he walked over to the village tavern to see Mr. Rooper. 

"Hello!" exclaimed that individual, surprised at his visitor's earlyappearance at the business centre of the village. "What's startedyou out? Have you come after them clothes?"

A happy thought struck Asaph. He had made this visit with theintention of feeling his way toward some decision on the importantsubject of his sister's proposition, and here a way seemed to beopened to him. "Thomas, " said he, taking his friend aside, "I am inan awful fix. Marietta can't stand my clothes any longer. If shecan't stand them she can't stand me, and when it comes to that, youcan see for yourself that I can't help you. "

A shade settled upon Mr. Rooper's face. During the past evening hehad been thinking and puffing, and puffing and thinking, untileverybody else in the tavern had gone to bed; and he had finallymade up his mind that, if he could do it, he would marry MariettaHimes. He had never been very intimate with her or her husband, buthe had been to meals in the house, and he remembered the fragrantcoffee and the light, puffy, well-baked rolls made by Marietta's ownhands; and he thought of the many differences between living in thatvery good house with that gentle, pleasant-voiced lady and hispresent life in the village tavern. 

And so, having determined that without delay he would, with theadvice and assistance of Asaph, begin his courtship, it was naturalthat he should feel a shock of discouragement when he heard Asaph'sannouncement that his sister could not endure him in the house anylonger. To attack that house and its owner without the friendlyoffices upon which he depended was an undertaking for which he wasnot at all prepared. 

"I don't wonder at her, " he said, sharply--"not a bit. But this putsa mighty different face on the thing what we talked aboutyesterday. "

"It needn't, " said Asaph, quietly. "The clothes you was goin' togive me wouldn't cost a cent more to-day than they would in a coupleof months, say; and when I've got 'em on Marietta will be glad tohave me around. Everything can go on just as we bargained for. "

Thomas shook his head. "That would be a mighty resky piece ofbusiness, " he said. "You would be all right, but that's not sayin'that I would; for it strikes me that your sister is about as much abird in the bush as any flyin' critter. "

Asaph smiled. "If the bush was in the middle of a field, " said he, "and there was only one boy after the bird, it would be a pretty toughjob. But if the bush is in the corner of two high walls, and there'stwo boys, and one of 'em's got a fishnet what he can throw cleanover the bush, why, then the chances is a good deal better. Butdroppin' figgers, Thomas, and speakin' plain and straightforward, asI always do--"

"About things you want to git, " interrupted Thomas. 

"--about everything, " resumed Asaph. "I'll just tell you this: if Idon't git decent clothes now to-day, or perhaps to-morrow, I havegot to travel out of Marietta's house. I can do it and she knows it. I can go back to Drummondville and git my board for keepin' books inthe store, and nobody there cares what sort of clothes I wear. Butwhen that happens, your chance of gittin' Marietta goes up higherthan a kite. "

To the mind of Mr. Rooper this was most conclusive reasoning; but hewould not admit it and he did not like it. "Why don't your sistergive you clothes?" he said. "Old Himes must have left some. "

A thin chill like a needleful of frozen thread ran down Asaph'sback. "Mr. Himes's clothes!" he exclaimed. "What in the world areyou talkin' about, Thomas Rooper? 'Tain't likely he had many, 'ceptwhat he was buried in; and what's left, if there is any, Mariettawould no more think of givin' away than she would of hangin' up hisfuneral wreath for the canary-bird to perch on. There's a room up inthe garret where she keeps his special things--for she's awfulparticular--and if there is any of his clothes up there I expectshe's got 'em framed. "

"If she thinks as much of him as that, " muttered Mr. Rooper. 

"Now don't git any sech ideas as them into your head, Thomas, " saidAsaph, quickly. "Marietta ain't a woman to rake up the past, and younever need be afraid of her rakin' up Mr. Himes. All of the premiseswill be hern and yourn except that room in the garret, and it ain'tlikely she'll ever ask you to go in there. "

"The Lord knows I don't want to!" ejaculated Mr. Rooper. 

The two men walked slowly to the end of a line of well-used, or, rather, badly used, wooden arm-chairs which stood upon the tavernpiazza, and seated themselves. Mr. Rooper's mind was in a highlyperturbed condition. If he accepted Asaph's present proposition hewould have to make a considerable outlay with a very shadowyprospect of return. 

"If you haven't got the ready money for the clothes, " said Asaph, after having given his companion some minutes for silentconsideration, "there ain't a man in this village what they wouldtrust sooner at the store for clothes, " and then after a pause headded, "or books, which, of course, they can order from town. "

At this Mr. Rooper simply shrugged his shoulders. The question ofready money or credit did not trouble him. 

At this moment a man in a low phaeton, drawn by a stout gray horse, passed the tavern. 

"Who's that?" asked Asaph, who knew everybody in the village. 

"That's Doctor Wicker, " said Thomas. "He lives over at Timberley. He'tended John Himes in his last sickness. "

"He don't practise here, does he?" said Asaph. "I never see him. "

"No; but he was called in to consult. " And then the speaker droppedagain into cogitation. 

After a few minutes Asaph rose. He knew that Thomas Rooper had aslow-working mind, and thought it would be well to leave him tohimself for a while. "I'll go home, " said he, "and 'tend to mychores, and by the time you feel like comin' up and takin' a smokewith me under the chestnut-tree, I reckon you will have made up yourmind, and we'll settle this thing. Fer if I have got to go back toDrummondville, I s'pose I'll have to pack up this afternoon. "

"If you'd say pack off instead of pack up, " remarked the other, "you'd come nearer the facts, considerin' the amount of yourpersonal property. But I'll be up there in an hour or two. "

When Asaph came within sight of his sister's house he was amazed tosee a phaeton and a gray horse standing in front of the gate. Fromthis it was easy to infer that the doctor was in the house. What onearth could have happened? Was anything the matter with Marietta?And if so, why did she send for a physician who lived at a distance, instead of Doctor McIlvaine, the village doctor? In a very anxiousstate of mind Asaph reached the gate, and irresolutely went into theyard. His impulse was to go to the house and see what had happened;but he hesitated. He felt that Marietta might object to having acomparative stranger know that such an exceedingly shabby fellow washer brother. And, besides, his sister could not have been overtakenby any sudden illness. She had always appeared perfectly well, andthere would have been no time during his brief absence from thehouse to send over to Timberley for a doctor. 

So he sat down under the chestnut-tree to consider this strangecondition of affairs. "Whatever it is, " he said to himself, "it'snothin' suddint, and it's bound to be chronic, and that'll skeerThomas. I wish I hadn't asked him to come up here. The best thingfor me to do will be to pretend that I have been sent to gitsomethin' at the store, and go straight back and keep him fromcomin' up. "

But Asaph was a good deal quicker to think than to move, and hestill sat with brows wrinkled and mind beset by doubts. For a momenthe thought that it might be well to accept Marietta's propositionand let Thomas go; but then he remembered the conditions, and heshut his mental eyes at the prospect. 

At that moment the gate opened and in walked Thomas Rooper. He hadmade up his mind and had come to say so; but the sight of thephaeton and gray horse caused him to postpone his intendedannouncement. "What's Doctor Wicker doin' here?" he asked, abruptly. 

"Dunno, " said Asaph, as carelessly as he could speak. "I don'tmeddle with household matters of that kind. I expect it's somethin'the matter with that gal Betsey, that Marietta hires to help her. She's always wrong some way or other so that she can't do her ownproper work, which I know, havin' to do a good deal of it myself. Iexpect it's rickets, like as not. Gals do have that sort of thing, don't they?"

"Never had anything to do with sick gals, " said Thomas, "or sickpeople of any sort, and don't want to. But it must be somethin'pretty deep-seated for your sister to send all the way to Timberleyfor a doctor. "

Asaph knew very well that Mrs. Himes was too economical a person tothink of doing such a thing as that, and he knew also that Betseywas as good a specimen of rustic health as could be found in thecounty. And therefore his companion's statement that he wanted tohave nothing to do with sick people had for him a saddening import. 

"I settled that business of yourn, " said Mr. Rooper, "pretty soonafter you left me. I thought I might as well come straight aroundand tell you about it. I'll make you a fair and square offer. I'llgive you them clothes, though it strikes me that winter goods willbe pretty heavy for this time of year; but it will be on thiscondition: if I don't get Marietta, you have got to give 'em back. "

Asaph smiled. 

"I know what you are grinnin' at, " said Thomas; "but you needn'tthink that you are goin' to have the wearin' of them clothes for twoor three months and then give 'em back. I don't go in for any longcourtships. What I do in that line will be short and sharp. "

"How short?" asked Asaph. 

"Well, this is Thursday, " replied the other, "and I calculate to askher on Monday. "

Asaph looked at his companion in amazement. "By George!" heexclaimed, "that won't work. Why, it took Marietta more'n five daysto make up her mind whether she would have the chicken-house paintedgreen or red, and you can't expect her to be quicker than that intakin' a new husband. She'd say No just as certain as she would nowif you was to go in and ask her right before the doctor and Betsey. And I'll just tell you plain that it wouldn't pay me to do all thehustlin' around and talkin' and argyin' and recommendin' that I'dhave to do just for the pleasure of wearin' a suit of warm clothesfor four July days. I tell you what it is, it won't do to springthat sort of thing on a woman, especially when she's what you mightcall a trained widder. You got to give 'em time to think over thematter and to look up your references. There's no use talkin' aboutit; you must give 'em time, especially when the offer comes from aperson that nobody but me has ever thought of as a marryin' man. "

"Humph!" said Thomas. "That's all you know about it. "

"Facts is facts, and you can't git around 'em. There isn't a womanin this village what wouldn't take at least two weeks to git it intoher head that you was really courtin' her. She would be just aslikely to think that you was tryin' to git a tenant in place of theMcJimseys. But a month of your courtin' and a month of my workin'would just about make the matter all right with Marietta, and thenyou could sail in and settle it. "

"Very good, " said Mr. Rooper, rising suddenly. "I will court yoursister for one month; and if, on the 17th day of August, she takesme, you can go up to the store and git them clothes; but you can'tdo it one minute afore. Good-mornin'. "

Asaph, left alone, heaved a sigh. He did not despair; but truly, fate was heaping a great many obstacles in his path. He thought itwas a very hard thing for a man to get his rights in this world. 

Mrs. Himes sat on one end of a black hair-covered sofa in theparlor, and Doctor Wicker sat on a black hair-covered chair oppositeto her and not far away. The blinds of the window opening upon thegarden were drawn up; but those on the front window, which commandeda view of the chestnut-tree, were down. Doctor Wicker had just madea proposal of marriage to Mrs. Himes, and at that moment they wereboth sitting in silence. 

The doctor, a bluff, hearty-looking man of about forty-five, hadbeen very favorably impressed by Mrs. Himes when he first made heracquaintance, during her husband's sickness, and since that time hehad seen her occasionally and had thought about her a great deal. Latterly letters had passed between them, and now he had come tomake his declaration in person. 

It was true, as her brother had said, that Marietta was not quick inmaking up her mind. But in this case she was able to act morepromptly than usual, because she had in a great measure settled thismatter before the arrival of the doctor. She knew he was going topropose, and she was very much inclined to accept him. This it waswhich had made her smile when she was setting the table theafternoon before, and this it was which had prompted her to make herproposition to her brother in regard to his better personalappearance. 

But now she was in a condition of nervous trepidation, and made noanswer. The doctor thought this was natural enough under thecircumstances, but he had no idea of the cause of it. The cause ofit was sitting under the chestnut-tree, the bright sunlight, streaming through a break in the branches above, illuminating andemphasizing and exaggerating his extreme shabbiness. The doctor hadnever seen Asaph, and it would have been a great shock to Marietta'sself-respect to have him see her brother in his present aspect. 

Through a crack in the blind of the front window she had seen Asaphcome in and sit down, and she had seen Mr. Rooper arrive and hadnoticed his departure. And now, with an anxiety which made her chintremble, she sat and hoped that Asaph would get up and go away. Forshe knew that if she should say to the doctor what she was perfectlywilling to say then and there, he would very soon depart, being aman of practical mind and pressing business; and that, going to thefront door with him, she would be obliged to introduce him to aprospective brother-in-law whose appearance, she truly believed, would make him sick. For the doctor was a man, she well knew, whowas quite as nice and particular about dress and personal appearanceas the late Mr. Himes had been. 

Doctor Wicker, aware that the lady's perturbation was increasinginstead of diminishing, thought it wise not to press the matter atthis moment. He felt that he had been, perhaps, a little over-promptin making his proposition. "Madam, " said he, rising, "I will not askyou to give me an answer now. I will go away and let you think aboutit, and will come again to-morrow. "

Through the crack in the window-blind Marietta saw that Asaph wasstill under the tree. What could she do to delay the doctor? She didnot offer to take leave of him, but stood looking upon the floor. Itseemed a shame to make so good a man go all the way back toTimberley and come again next day, just because that ragged, dirtyAsaph was sitting under the chestnut-tree. 

The doctor moved toward the door, and as she followed him sheglanced once more through the crack in the window-blind, and, to herintense delight, she saw Asaph jump up from the bench and run aroundto the side of the house. He had heard the doctor's footsteps in thehallway and had not wished to meet him. The unsatisfactory conditionof his outward appearance had been so strongly impressed upon him oflate that he had become a little sensitive in regard to it whenstrangers were concerned. But if he had only known that hisexceedingly unattractive garments had prevented his sister frommaking a compact which would have totally ruined his plans in regardto her matrimonial disposition and his own advantage, he would havefelt for those old clothes the respect and gratitude with which aRoman soldier regarded the shield and sword which had won him abattle. 

Down the middle of the garden, at the back of the house, there ran apath, and along this path Asaph walked meditatively, with his handsin his trousers pockets. It was a discouraging place for him towalk, for the beds on each side of him were full of weeds, which hehad intended to pull out as soon as he should find time for thework, but which had now grown so tall and strong that they could notbe rooted up without injuring the plants, which were the legitimateoccupants of the garden. 

Asaph did not know it, but at this moment there was not one personin the whole world who thought kindly of him. His sister was somortified by him that she was in tears in the house. His crony, Thomas, had gone away almost angry with him, and even Betsey, whomhe had falsely accused of rickets, and who had often shown a pityfor him simply because he looked so forlorn, had steeled her heartagainst him that morning when she found he had gone away withoutproviding her with any fuel for the kitchen fire. 

But he had not made a dozen turns up and down the path before hebecame aware of the feeling of Marietta. She looked out of the backdoor and then walked rapidly toward him. "Asaph, " said she, "I hopeyou are considering what I said to you yesterday, for I mean tostick to my word. If you don't choose to accept my offer, I want youto go back to Drummondville early to-morrow morning. And I don'tfeel in the least as if I were turning you out of the house, for Ihave given you a chance to stay here, and have only asked you to actlike a decent Christian. I will not have you here disgracing myhome. When Doctor Wicker came to-day, and I looked out and saw youwith that miserable little coat with the sleeves half-way up to theelbows and great holes in it which you will not let anybody patchbecause you are too proud to wear patches, and those wretched fadedtrousers, out at the knees, and which have been turned up and hemmedat the bottom so often that they are six inches above your shoes, and your whole scarecrow appearance, I was so ashamed of you that Icould not keep the tears out of my eyes. To tell a respectablegentleman like Doctor Wicker that you were my brother was more thanI could bear; and I was glad when I saw you get up and sneak out ofthe way. I hate to talk to you in this way, Asaph, but you havebrought it on yourself. "

Her brother looked at her a moment. "Do you want me to go awaybefore breakfast?" he said. 

"No, " answered Marietta, "but immediately afterward. " And in hermind she resolved that breakfast should be very early the nextmorning. 

If Asaph had any idea of yielding, he did not intend to show ituntil the last moment, and so he changed the subject. "What's thematter with Betsey?" said he. "If she's out of health you'd betterget rid of her. "

"There's nothing the matter with Betsey, " answered his sister. "Doctor Wicker came to see me. "

"Came to see you!" exclaimed her brother. "What in the world did hedo that for? You never told me that you were ailin'. Is it thatsprain in your ankle?"

"Nonsense, " said Marietta. "I had almost recovered from that sprainwhen you came here. There's nothing the matter with my ankle; thetrouble is probably with my heart. "

The moment she said this she regretted it, for Asaph had so good ahead, and could catch meanings so quickly. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Marietta, " said Asaph. "That's a good dealmore serious. "

"Yes, " said she. And she turned and went back to the house. 

Asaph continued to walk up and down the path. He had not done astroke of work that morning, but he did not think of that. Hissister's communication saddened him. He liked Marietta, and itgrieved him to hear that she had anything the matter with her heart. He knew that that often happened to people who looked perfectlywell, and there was no reason why he should have suspected anydisorder in her. Of course, in this case, there was good reason forher sending for the very best doctor to be had. It was all plainenough to him now. 

But as he walked and walked and walked, and looked at the garden, and looked at the little orchard, and looked at the house and thetop of the big chestnut-tree, which showed itself above the roof, athought came into his mind which had never been there before--he wasMarietta's heir. It was a dreadful thing to think of his sister'spossible early departure from this world; but, after all, life islife, reality is reality, and business is business. He wasMarietta's only legal heir. 

Of course he had known this before, but it had never seemed to be ofany importance. He was a good deal older than she was, and he hadalways looked upon her as a marrying woman. When he made hisproposition to Mr. Rooper the thought of his own heirship never cameinto his mind. In fact, if any one had offered him ten dollars forsaid heirship, he would have asked fifteen, and would have afterwardagreed to split the difference and take twelve and a half. 

But now everything had changed. If Marietta had anything the matterwith her heart there was no knowing when all that he saw might behis own. No sooner had he walked and thought long enough for hismind to fully appreciate the altered aspects of his future than hedetermined to instantly thrust out Mr. Rooper from all connectionwith that future. He would go and tell him so at once. 

To the dismay of Betsey, who had been watching him, expecting thathe would soon stop walking about and go and saw some wood with whichto cook the dinner, he went out of the front gate and strode rapidlyinto the village. He had some trouble in finding Mr. Rooper, who hadgone off to take a walk and arrange a conversation with which tobegin his courtship of Mrs. Himes; but he overtook him under a treeby the side of the creek. "Thomas, " said he, "I have changed my mindabout that business between us. You have been very hard on me, andI'm not goin' to stand it. I can get the clothes and things I needwithout makin' myself your slave and workin' myself to death, and, perhaps, settin' my sister agin me for life by tryin' to make herbelieve that black's white, that you are the kind of husband sheought to have, and that you hate pipes and never touch spirits. Itwould be a mean thing for me to do, and I won't do it. I did thinkyou were a generous-minded man, with the right sort of feeling forthem as wanted to be your friends; but I have found out that I wasmistook, and I'm not goin' to sacrifice my sister to any suchperson. Now that's my state of mind plain and square. "

Thomas Rooper shrunk two inches in height. "Asaph Scantle, " he said, in a voice which seemed also to have shrunk, "I don't understandyou. I wasn't hard on you. I only wanted to make a fair bargain. IfI'd got her, I'd paid up cash on delivery. You couldn't expect a manto do more than that. But I tell you, Asaph, that I am mightyserious about this. The more I have thought about your sister themore I want her. And when I tell you that I've been a-thinkin' abouther pretty much all night, you may know that I want her a good deal. And I was intendin' to go to-morrow and begin to court her. "

"Well, you needn't, " said Asaph. "It won't do no good. If you don'thave me to back you up you might as well try to twist that tree asto move her. You can't do it. "

"But you don't mean to go agin me, do you, Asaph?" asked Thomas, ruefully. 

"'Tain't necessary, " replied the other. "You will go agin yourself. "

For a few moments Mr. Rooper remained silent. He was greatlydiscouraged and dismayed by what had been said to him, but he couldnot yet give up what had become the great object of his life. "Asaph, " said he, presently, "it cuts me to the in'ards to thinkthat you have gone back on me; but I tell you what I'll do: if youwill promise not to say anything agin me to Mrs. Himes, and not toset yourself in any way between me and her, I'll go along with youto the store now, and you can git that suit of clothes and theumbrella, and I'll tell 'em to order the dictionary and hand it overto you as soon as it comes. I'd like you to help me, but if you willonly promise to stand out of the way and not hinder, I'll do thefair thing by you and pay in advance. "

"Humph!" said Asaph. "I do believe you think you are the only manthat wants Marietta. "

A pang passed through the heart of Mr. Rooper. He had been thinkinga great deal of Mrs. Himes and everything connected with her, and hehad even thought of that visit of Doctor Wicker's. That gentlemanwas a widower and a well-to-do and well-appearing man; and it wouldhave been a long way for him to come just for some trifling ricketsin a servant-girl. Being really in love, his imagination was in avery capering mood, and he began to fear that the doctor had come tocourt Mrs. Himes. "Asaph, " he said, quickly, "that's a good offer Imake you. If you take it, in less than an hour you can walk homelooking like a gentleman. "

Asaph had taken his reed pipe from his coat pocket and was fillingit. As he pushed the coarse tobacco into the bowl, he considered. "Thomas, " said he, "that ain't enough. Things have changed, and itwouldn't pay me. But I won't be hard on you. I'm a good friend ofyourn, and I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will give me now allthe things we spoke of between us--and I forgot to mention a caneand pocket-handkerchiefs--and give me, besides, that meerschaum pipeof yourn, I'll promise not to hinder you, but let you go ahead andgit Marietta if you kin. I must say it's a good deal for me to do, knowin' how much you'll git and how little you'll give, and knowin', too, the other chances she's got if she wanted 'em; but I'll do itfor the sake of friendship. "

"My meerschaum pipe!" groaned Mr. Rooper. "My Centennial Exhibitionpipe!" His tones were so plaintive that for a moment Asaph felt alittle touch of remorse. But then he reflected that if Thomas reallydid get Marietta the pipe would be of no use to him, for she wouldnot allow him to smoke it. And, besides, realities were realitiesand business was business. "That pipe may be very dear to you, " hesaid, "Thomas, but I want you to remember that Marietta's very dearto me. "

This touched Mr. Rooper, whose heart was sensitive as it had neverbeen before. "Come along, Asaph, " he said. "You shall haveeverything, meerschaum pipe included. If anybody but me is goin' tosmoke that pipe, I'd like it to be my brother-in-law. " Thus, withamber-tipped guile, Mr. Rooper hoped to win over his friend to notonly not hinder, but to help him. 

As the two men walked away, Asaph thought that he was not acting anunfraternal part toward Marietta, for it would not be necessary forhim to say or do anything to induce her to refuse so unsuitable asuitor as Thomas Rooper. 

About fifteen minutes before dinner--which had been cooked with bitsof wood which Betsey had picked up here and there--was ready, Asaphwalked into the front yard of his sister's house attired in acomplete suit of new clothes, thick and substantial in texture, pepper-and-salt in color, and as long in the legs and arms as themost fastidious could desire. He had on a new shirt and a cleancollar, with a handsome black silk cravat tied in a great bow; and anew felt hat was on his head. On his left arm he carried anovercoat, carefully folded, with the lining outside, and in hisright hand an umbrella and a cane. In his pockets were half a dozennew handkerchiefs and the case containing Mr. Rooper's Centennialmeerschaum. 

Marietta, who was in the hallway when he opened the front door, scarcely knew him as he approached. 

"Asaph!" she exclaimed. "What has happened to you? Why, you actuallylook like a gentleman!"

Asaph grinned. "Do you want me to go to Drummondville right afterbreakfast to-morrow?" he asked. 

"My dear brother, " said Marietta, "don't crush me by talking aboutthat. But if you could have seen yourself as I saw you, and couldhave felt as I felt, you would not wonder at me. You must forget allthat. I should be proud now to introduce you as my brother to anydoctor or king or president. But tell me how you got those beautifulclothes. "

Asaph was sometimes beset by an absurd regard for truth, which muchannoyed him. He could not say that he had worked for the clothes, and he did not wish his sister to think that he had run in debt forthem. "They're paid for, every thread of 'em, " he said. "I got 'emin trade. These things is mine, and I don't owe no man a cent for'em; and it seems to me that dinner must be ready. "

"And proud I am, " said Marietta, who never before had shown suchenthusiastic affection for her brother, "to sit down to the tablewith such a nice-looking fellow as you are. "

The next morning Mr. Rooper came into Mrs. Himes's yard, and therebeheld Asaph, in all the glory of his new clothes, sitting under thechestnut-tree smoking the Centennial meerschaum pipe. Mr. Rooperhimself was dressed in his very best clothes, but he carried withhim no pipe. 

"Sit down, " said Asaph, "and have a smoke. "

"No, " replied the other; "I am goin' in the house. I have come tosee your sister. "

"Goin' to begin already?" said Asaph. 

"Yes, " said the other; "I told you I was goin' to begin to-day. "

"Very good, " said his friend, crossing his pepper-and-salt legs;"and you will finish the 17th of August. That's a good, reasonabletime. "

But Mr. Rooper had no intention of courting Mrs. Himes for a month. He intended to propose to her that very morning. He had been turningover the matter in his mind, and for several reasons had come tothis conclusion. In the first place, he did not believe that hecould trust Asaph, even for a single day, not to oppose him. Furthermore, his mind was in such a turmoil from the combined effectof the constantly present thought that Asaph was wearing hisclothes, his hat, and his shoes, and smoking his beloved pipe, andof the perplexities and agitations consequent upon his sentimentstoward Mrs. Himes, that he did not believe he could bear the mentalstrain during another night. 

Five minutes later Marietta Himes was sitting on the horsehair sofain the parlor, with Mr. Rooper on the horsehair chair opposite toher, and not very far away, and he was delivering the address whichhe had prepared. 

"Madam, " said he, "I am a man that takes things in this world asthey comes, and is content to wait until the time comes for them tocome. I was well acquainted with John Himes. I knowed him in life, and I helped lay him out. As long as there was reason to supposethat the late Mr. Himes--I mean that the grass over the grave of Mr. Himes had remained unwithered, I am not the man to take one step inthe direction of his shoes, nor even to consider the size of 'em inconnection with the measure of my own feet. But time will pass on innater as well as in real life; and while I know very well, Mrs. Himes, that certain feelin's toward them that was is like the leavesof the oak-tree and can't be blowed off even by the fiercesttempests of affliction, still them leaves will wither in the falland turn brown and curl up at the edges, though they don't depart, but stick on tight as wax all winter until in the springtime they ispushed off gently without knowin' it by the green leaves which comeout in real life as well as nater. "

When he had finished this opening Mr. Rooper breathed a little sighof relief. He had not forgotten any of it, and it pleased him. 

Marietta sat and looked at him. She had a good sense of humor, and, while she was naturally surprised at what had been said to her, shewas greatly amused by it, and really wished to hear what else ThomasRooper had to say to her. 

"Now, madam, " he continued, "I am not the man to thrash a tree witha pole to knock the leaves off before their time. But when the youngleaves is pushin' and the old leaves is droppin' (not to make anyallusion, of course, to any shrivellin' of proper respect), then Icome forward, madam, not to take the place of anybody else, but jestas the nateral consequence of the seasons, which everybody ought toexpect; even such as you, madam, which I may liken to ahemlock-spruce which keeps straight on in the same general line ofappearance without no reference to the fall of the year, nor winternor summer. And so, Mrs. Himes, I come here to-day to offer to leadyou agin to the altar. I have never been there myself, and thereain't no woman in the world that I'd go with but you. I'm astraightforward person, and when I've got a thing to say I say it, and now I have said it. And so I set here awaitin' your answer. "

At this moment the shutters of the front window, which had beenclosed, were opened, and Asaph put in his head. "Look here, ThomasRooper, " he said, "these shoes is pegged. I didn't bargain for nopegged shoes; I wanted 'em sewed; everything was to be first-class. "

Mr. Rooper, who had been leaning forward in his chair, his handsupon his knees, and his face glistening with his expressed feelingsas brightly as the old-fashioned but shining silk hat which stood onthe floor by his side, turned his head, grew red to the ears, andthen sprang to his feet. "Asaph Scantle, " he cried, with extendedfist, "you have broke your word; you hindered. "

"No, I didn't, " said Asaph, sulkily; "but pegged shoes is too muchfor any man to stand. " And he withdrew from the window, closing theshutters again. 

"What does this mean?" asked Mrs. Himes, who had also risen. 

"It means, " said Thomas, speaking with difficulty, his indignationwas so great, "that your brother is a person of tricks and meandersbeyond the reach of common human calculation. I don't like to saythis of a man who is more or less likely to be my brother-in-law, but I can't help sayin' it, so entirely upset am I at his goin' backon me at such a minute. "

"Going back on you?" asked Mrs. Himes. "What do you mean? What hashe promised?"

Thomas hesitated. He did not wish to interrupt his courtship by thediscussion of any new question, especially this question. "If wecould settle what we have been talkin' about, Mrs. Himes, " he said, "and if you would give me my answer, then I could git my mind downto commoner things. But swingin' on a hook as I am, I don't knowwhether my head or my heels is uppermost, or what's revolvin' aroundme. "

"Oh, I can give you your answer quickly enough, " she said. "It isimpossible for me to marry you, so that's all settled. "

"Impossible is a big word, " said Mr. Rooper. "Has anybody else gotafore me?"

"I am not bound to answer that question, " said Marietta, slightlycoloring; "but I cannot accept you, Mr. Rooper. "

"Then there's somebody else, of course, " said Thomas, gazing darklyupon the floor. "And what's more, Asaph knew it; that's just asclear as daylight. That's what made him come to me yesterday and goback on his first bargain. "

"Now then, " said Mrs. Himes, speaking very decidedly, "I want toknow what you mean by this talk about bargains. "

Mr. Rooper knit his brows. "This is mighty different talk, " he said, "from the kind I expected when I come here. But you have answered myquestion, now I'll answer yours. Asaph Scantle, no longer ago thanday before yesterday, after hearin' that things wasn't goin' verywell with me, recommended me to marry you, and agreed that he woulddo his level best, by day and by night, to help me git you, if Iwould give him a suit of clothes, an umbrella, and a dictionary. "

At this Mrs. Himes gave a little gasp and sat down. 

"Now, I hadn't no thoughts of tradin' for a wife, " continued Thomas, "especially in woollen goods and books; but when I considered andturned the matter over in my mind, and thought what a woman you was, and what a life there was afore me if I got you, I agreed to do it. Then he wanted pay aforehand, and that I wouldn't agree to, notbecause I thought you wasn't wuth it, but because I couldn't trusthim if anybody offered him more before I got you. But that ain't thewust of it; yesterday he come down to see me and went back on hisbargain, and that after I had spent the whole night thinkin' of youand what I was goin' to say. And he put on such high-cockalorum airsthat I, bein' as soft as mush around the heart, jest wilted andagreed to give him everything he bargained for if he would promisenot to hinder. But he wasn't satisfied with that and wouldn't cometo no terms until I'd give him my Centennial pipe, what's been likea child to me this many a year. And when he saw how disgruntled Iwas at sich a loss, he said that my pipe might be very dear to me, but his sister was jest as dear to him. And then, on top of thewhole thing, he pokes his head through the shutters and hinders jestat the most ticklish moment. "

"A dictionary and a pipe!" ejaculated poor Marietta, her eyes fixedupon the floor. 

"But I'm goin' to make him give 'em all back, " exclaimed Thomas. "They was the price of not hinderin', and he hindered. "

"He shall give them back, " said Marietta, rising, "but you mustunderstand, Mr. Rooper, that in no way did Asaph interfere with yourmarrying me. That was a matter with which he did have and could havenothing to do. And now I wish you could get away without speaking tohim. I do not want any quarrelling or high words here, and I willsee him and arrange the matter better than you can do it. "

"Oh, I can git away without speakin' to him, " said Mr. Rooper, withreddened face. And so saying, he strode out of the house, throughthe front yard, and out of the gate, without turning his head towardAsaph, still sitting under the tree. 

"Oh, ho!" said the latter to himself; "she's bounced him short andsharp; and it serves him right, too, after playin' that trick on me. Pegged shoes, indeed!"

At this moment the word "Asaph" came from the house in tonesshriller and sharper and higher than any in which he had ever heardit pronounced before. He sprang to his feet and went to the house. His sister took him into the parlor and shut the door. Her eyes werered and her face was pale. "Asaph, " said she, "Mr. Rooper has toldme the whole of your infamous conduct. Now I know what you meantwhen you said that you were making arrangements to get clothes. Youwere going to sell me for them. And when you found out that I waslikely to marry Doctor Wicker, you put up your price and wanted adictionary and a pipe. "

"No, Marietta, " said Asaph, "the dictionary belonged to the firstbargain. If you knew how I need a dictionary--"

"Be still!" she cried. "I do not want you to say a word. You haveacted most shamefully toward me, and I want you to go away this veryday. And before you go you must give back to Mr. Rooper everythingthat you got from him. I will fit you out with some of Mr. Himes'sclothes and make no conditions at all, only that you shall go away. Come upstairs with me, and I will get the clothes. "

The room in the garret was opened, and various garments which hadbelonged to the late Mr. Himes were brought out. 

"This is pretty hard on me, Marietta, " said Asaph, as he held up acoat, "to give up new all-wool goods for things what has been wornand is part cotton, if I am a judge. "

Marietta said very little. She gave him what clothes he needed, andinsisted on his putting them on, making a package of the things hehad received from Mr. Rooper, and returning them to that gentleman. Asaph at first grumbled, but he finally obeyed with a willingnesswhich might have excited the suspicions of Marietta had she not beenso angry. 

With an enormous package wrapped in brown paper in one hand, and acane, an umbrella, and a very small hand-bag in the other, Asaphapproached the tavern. Mr. Rooper was sitting on the piazza alone. He was smoking a very common-looking clay pipe and gazing intentlyinto the air in front of him. When his old crony came and stoodbefore the piazza he did not turn his head nor his eyes. 

"Thomas Rooper, " said Asaph, "you have got me into a very badscrape. I have been turned out of doors on account of what you saidabout me. And where I am goin' I don't know, for I can't walk toDrummondville. And what's more, I kept my word and you didn't. Ididn't hinder you; for how could I suppose that you was goin' to popthe question the very minute you got inside the door? And thatdictionary you promised I've not got. "

Thomas Rooper answered not a word, but looked steadily in front ofhim. "And there's another thing, " said Asaph. "What are you goin' toallow me for that suit of clothes what I've been wearin', what Itook off in your room and left there?"

At this Mr. Rooper sprang to his feet with such violence that thefire danced out of the bowl of his pipe. "What is the fare toDrummondville?" he cried. 

Asaph reflected a moment. "Three dollars and fifty cents, includin'supper. "

"I'll give you that for them clothes, " said the other, and countedout the money. 

Asaph took it and sighed. "You've been hard on me, Thomas, " said he, "but I bear you no grudge. Good-by. "

As he walked slowly toward the station Mr. Scantle stopped at thestore. "Has that dictionary come that was ordered for me?" he said;and when told that it could not be expected for several days he didnot despair, for it was possible that Thomas Rooper might be soangry that he would forget to countermand the order; in that case hemight yet hope to obtain the coveted book. 

The package containing the Rooper winter suit was heavy, and Asaphwalked slowly. He did not want to go to Drummondville, for he hatedbookkeeping, and his year of leisure and good living had spoiled himfor work and poor fare. In this moody state he was very glad to stopand have a little chat with Mrs. McJimsey, who was sitting at herfront window. 

This good lady was the principal dressmaker of the village; and byhard work and attention to business she made a very comfortableliving. She was a widow, small of stature, thin of feature, veryneatly dressed and pleasant to look at. Asaph entered the littlefront yard, put his package on the door-step, and stood under thewindow to talk to her. Dressed in the clothes of the late Mr. Himes, her visitor presented such a respectable appearance that Mrs. McJimsey was not in the least ashamed to have people see himstanding there, which she would have been a few days ago. Indeed, she felt complimented that he should want to stop. The conversationsoon turned upon her removal from her present abode. 

"I'm awfully sorry to have to go, " she said; "for my time is up justin the middle of my busy season, and that's goin' to throw me backdreadfully. He hasn't done right by me, that Mr. Rooper, in lettin'things go to rack and ruin in this way, and me payin' his rent soregular. "

"That's true, " said Asaph. "Thomas Rooper is a hard man--a hard man, Mrs. McJimsey. I can see how he would be overbearin' with a lonewoman like you, neither your son nor your daughter bein' of age yetto take your part. "

"Yes, Mr. Scantle, it's very hard. "

Asaph stood for a moment looking at a little bed of zinnias by theside of the door-step. "What you want, Mrs. McJimsey, " said he, "isa man in the house. "

In an instant Mrs. McJimsey flushed pink. It was such a strangething for a gentleman to say to her. 

Asaph saw the flush. He had not expected that result from hisremark, but he was quick to take advantage of it. "Mrs. McJimsey, "said he, "you are a widow, and you are imposed upon, and you needsomebody to take care of you. If you will put that job into my handsI will do it. I am a man what works with his head, and if you willlet me I'll work for you. To put it square, I ask you to marry me. My sister's goin' to be married, and I'm on the pint of goin' away;for I could not abear to stay in her house when strangers come intoit. But if you say the word, I'll stay here and be yours for everand ever more. "

Mrs. McJimsey said not a word, but her head drooped and wildthoughts ran through her brain. Thoughts not wild, but well trainedand broken, ran through Asaph's brain. The idea of going toDrummondville and spending for the journey thither a dollar andseventy-five cents of the money he had received from Mr. Rooper nowbecame absolutely repulsive to him. 

"Mrs. McJimsey, " said he, "I will say more. Not only do I ask you tomarry me, but I ask you to do it now. The evenin' sun is settin', the evenin' birds is singin', and it seems to me, Mrs. McJimsey, that all nater pints to this softenin' hour as a marryin' moment. You say your son won't be home from his work until supper-time, andyour daughter has gone out for a walk. Come with me to Mr. Parker's, the Methodist minister, and let us join hands at the altar there. The gardener and his wife is always ready to stand up as witnesses. And when your son and your daughter comes home to supper, they canfind their mother here afore 'em married and settled. "

"But, Mr. Scantle, " exclaimed Mrs. McJimsey, "it's so suddint. Whatwill the neighbors say?"

"As for bein' suddint, Mrs. McJimsey, I've knowed you for nearly ayear, and now, bein' on the way to leave what's been my happy home, I couldn't keep the truth from you no longer. And as for theneighbors, they needn't know that we hain't been engaged formonths. "

"It's so queer, so very queer, " said the little dressmaker. And herface flushed again, and there were tears, not at all sorrowful ones, in her eyes; and her somewhat needle-pricked left hand accidentallylaid itself upon the window-sill in easy reach of any one outside. 

The next morning Mr. Rooper, being of a practical way of thinking, turned his thoughts from love and resentment to the subject of hisincome. And he soon became convinced that it would be better to keepthe McJimseys in his house, if it could be done without too great anoutlay for repairs. So he walked over to his property. When hereached the house he was almost stupefied to see Asaph in a chair inthe front yard, dressed in the new suit of clothes which he, ThomasRooper, had paid for, and smoking the Centennial pipe. 

"Good-morning, Mr. Rooper, " said Asaph, in a loud and cheery voice. "I suppose you've come to talk to Mrs. McJimsey about the workyou've got to do here to make this house fit to live in. But thereain't no Mrs. McJimsey. She's Mrs. Scantle now, and I'm your tenant. You can talk to me. "

Doctor Wicker came to see Mrs. Himes in the afternoon of the day hehad promised to come, and early in the autumn they were married. Since Asaph Scantle had married and settled he had not seen hissister nor spoken to her; but he determined that on so joyful anoccasion as this he would show no resentment. So he attended thewedding in the village church dressed in the suit of clothes whichhad belonged to the late Mr. Himes. 

"HIS WIFE'S DECEASED SISTER"

It is now five years since an event occurred which so colored mylife, or rather so changed some of its original colors, that I havethought it well to write an account of it, deeming that its lessonsmay be of advantage to persons whose situations in life are similarto my own. 

When I was quite a young man I adopted literature as a profession;and having passed through the necessary preparatory grades, I foundmyself, after a good many years of hard and often unremunerativework, in possession of what might be called a fair literarypractice. My articles, grave, gay, practical, or fanciful, had cometo be considered with a favor by the editors of the variousperiodicals for which I wrote, on which I found in time I could relywith a very comfortable certainty. My productions created noenthusiasm in the reading public; they gave me no great reputationor very valuable pecuniary return; but they were always accepted, and my receipts from them, at the time to which I have referred, were as regular and reliable as a salary, and quite sufficient togive me more than a comfortable support. 

It was at this time I married. I had been engaged for more than ayear, but had not been willing to assume the support of a wife untilI felt that my pecuniary position was so assured that I could do sowith full satisfaction to my own conscience. There was now no doubtin regard to this position, either in my mind or in that of my wife. I worked with great steadiness and regularity; I knew exactly whereto place the productions of my pen, and could calculate, with a fairdegree of accuracy, the sums I should receive for them. We were byno means rich; but we had enough, and were thoroughly satisfied andcontent. 

Those of my readers who are married will have no difficulty inremembering the peculiar ecstasy of the first weeks of their weddedlife. It is then that the flowers of this world bloom brightest;that its sun is the most genial; that its clouds are the scarcest;that its fruit is the most delicious; that the air is the mostbalmy; that its cigars are of the highest flavor; that the warmthand radiance of early matrimonial felicity so rarefies theintellectual atmosphere that the soul mounts higher, and enjoys awider prospect, than ever before. 

These experiences were mine. The plain claret of my mind was changedto sparkling champagne, and at the very height of its effervescenceI wrote a story. The happy thought that then struck me for a talewas of a very peculiar character; and it interested me so much thatI went to work at it with great delight and enthusiasm, and finishedit in a comparatively short time. The title of the story was "HisWife's Deceased Sister"; and when I read it to Hypatia she wasdelighted with it, and at times was so affected by its pathos thather uncontrollable emotion caused a sympathetic dimness in my eyes, which prevented my seeing the words I had written. When the readingwas ended, and my wife had dried her eyes, she turned to me andsaid, "This story will make your fortune. There has been nothing sopathetic since Lamartine's 'History of a Servant-girl. '"

As soon as possible the next day I sent my story to the editor ofthe periodical for which I wrote most frequently, and in which mybest productions generally appeared. In a few days I had a letterfrom the editor, in which he praised my story as he had never beforepraised anything from my pen. It had interested and charmed, hesaid, not only himself, but all his associates in the office. Evenold Gibson, who never cared to read anything until it was in proof, and who never praised anything which had not a joke in it, wasinduced by the example of the others to read this manuscript, andshed, as he asserted, the first tears that had come from his eyessince his final paternal castigation some forty years before. Thestory would appear, the editor assured me, as soon as he couldpossibly find room for it. 

If anything could make our skies more genial, our flowers brighter, and the flavor of our fruit and cigars more delicious, it was aletter like this. And when, in a very short time, the story waspublished, we found that the reading public was inclined to receiveit with as much sympathetic interest and favor as had been shown toit by the editors. My personal friends soon began to expressenthusiastic opinions upon it. It was highly praised in many of theleading newspapers; and, altogether, it was a great literarysuccess. I am not inclined to be vain of my writings, and, ingeneral, my wife tells me, think too little of them; but I did feela good deal of pride and satisfaction in the success of "His Wife'sDeceased Sister. " If it did not make my fortune, as my wife assertedthat it would, it certainly would help me very much in my literarycareer. 

In less than a month from the writing of this story, something veryunusual and unexpected happened to me. A manuscript was returned bythe editor of the periodical in which "His Wife's Deceased Sister"had appeared. "It is a good story, " he wrote, "but not equal to whatyou have just done. You have made a great hit; and it would not doto interfere with the reputation you have gained by publishinganything inferior to 'His Wife's Deceased Sister, ' which has hadsuch a deserved success. "

I was so unaccustomed to having my work thrown back on my hands thatI think I must have turned a little pale when I read the letter. Isaid nothing of the matter to my wife, for it would be foolish todrop such grains of sand as this into the smoothly oiled machineryof our domestic felicity; but I immediately sent the story toanother editor. I am not able to express the astonishment I feltwhen, in the course of a week, it was sent back to me. The tone ofthe note accompanying it indicated a somewhat injured feeling on thepart of the editor. "I am reluctant, " he said, "to decline amanuscript from you; but you know very well that if you sent meanything like 'His Wife's Deceased Sister' it would be most promptlyaccepted. "

I now felt obliged to speak of the affair to my wife, who was quiteas much surprised, though, perhaps, not quite as much shocked, as Ihad been. 

"Let us read the story again, " she said, "and see what is the matterwith it. " When we had finished its perusal, Hypatia remarked, "It isquite as good as many of the stories you have had printed, and Ithink it very interesting; although, of course, it is not equal to'His Wife's Deceased Sister. '"

"Of course not, " said I; "that was an inspiration that I cannotexpect every day. But there must be something wrong about this laststory which we do not perceive. Perhaps my recent success may havemade me a little careless in writing it. "

"I don't believe that, " said Hypatia. 

"At any rate, " I continued, "I will lay it aside, and will go towork on a new one. "

In due course of time I had another manuscript finished, and I sentit to my favorite periodical. It was retained some weeks, and thencame back to me. "It will never do, " the editor wrote, quite warmly, "for you to go backward. The demand for the number containing 'HisWife's Deceased Sister' still continues, and we do not intend to letyou disappoint that great body of readers who would be so eager tosee another number containing one of your stories. "

I sent this manuscript to four other periodicals, and from each ofthem was it returned with remarks to the effect that, although itwas not a bad story in itself, it was not what they would expectfrom the author of "His Wife's Deceased Sister. "

The editor of a Western magazine wrote to me for a story to bepublished in a special number which he would issue for the holidays. I wrote him one of the character and length he asked for, and sentit to him. By return mail it came back to me. "I had hoped, " theeditor wrote, "when I asked for a story from your pen, to receivesomething like 'His Wife's Deceased Sister, ' and I must own that Iam very much disappointed. "

I was so filled with anger when I read this note that I openlyobjurgated "His Wife's Deceased Sister. " "You must excuse me, " Isaid to my astonished wife, "for expressing myself thus in yourpresence; but that confounded story will be the ruin of me yet. Until it is forgotten nobody will ever take anything I write. "

"And you cannot expect it ever to be forgotten, " said Hypatia, withtears in her eyes. 

It is needless for me to detail my literary efforts in the course ofthe next few months. The ideas of the editors with whom my principalbusiness had been done, in regard to my literary ability, had beenso raised by my unfortunate story of "His Wife's Deceased Sister"that I found it was of no use to send them anything of lesser merit. And as to the other journals which I tried, they evidentlyconsidered it an insult for me to send them matter inferior to thatby which my reputation had lately risen. The fact was that mysuccessful story had ruined me. My income was at end, and wantactually stared me in the face; and I must admit that I did not likethe expression of its countenance. It was of no use for me to try towrite another story like "His Wife's Deceased Sister. " I could notget married every time I began a new manuscript, and it was theexaltation of mind caused by my wedded felicity which produced thatstory. 

"It's perfectly dreadful!" said my wife. "If I had had a sister, andshe had died, I would have thought it was my fault. "

"It could not be your fault, " I answered, "and I do not think it wasmine. I had no intention of deceiving anybody into the belief that Icould do that sort of thing every time, and it ought not to beexpected of me. Suppose Raphael's patrons had tried to keep himscrewed up to the pitch of the Sistine Madonna, and had refused tobuy anything which was not as good as that. In that case I think hewould have occupied a much earlier and narrower grave than that onwhich Mr. Morris Moore hangs his funeral decorations. "

"But, my dear, " said Hypatia, who was posted on such subjects, "theSistine Madonna was one of his latest paintings. "

"Very true, " said I; "but if he had married, as I did, he would havepainted it earlier. "

I was walking homeward one afternoon about this time, when I metBarbel--a man I had known well in my early literary career. He wasnow about fifty years of age, but looked older. His hair and beardwere quite gray; and his clothes, which were of the same generalhue, gave me the idea that they, like his hair, had originally beenblack. Age is very hard on a man's external appointments. Barbel hadan air of having been to let for a long time, and quite out ofrepair. But there was a kindly gleam in his eye, and he welcomed mecordially. 

"Why, what is the matter, old fellow?" said he. "I never saw youlook so woebegone. "

I had no reason to conceal anything from Barbel. In my younger dayshe had been of great use to me, and he had a right to know the stateof my affairs. I laid the whole case plainly before him. 

"Look here, " he said, when I had finished, "come with me to my room:I have something I would like to say to you there. "

I followed Barbel to his room. It was at the top of a very dirty andwell-worn house which stood in a narrow and lumpy street, into whichfew vehicles ever penetrated, except the ash and garbage carts, andthe rickety wagons of the venders of stale vegetables. 

"This is not exactly a fashionable promenade, " said Barbel, as weapproached the house; "but in some respects it reminds me of thestreets in Italian towns, where the palaces lean over toward eachother in such a friendly way. "

Barbel's room was, to my mind, rather more doleful than the street. It was dark, it was dusty, and cobwebs hung from every corner. Thefew chairs upon the floor and the books upon a greasy table seemedto be afflicted with some dorsal epidemic, for their backs wereeither gone or broken. A little bedstead in the corner was coveredwith a spread made of New York _Heralds_, with their edges pastedtogether. 

"There is nothing better, " said Barbel, noticing my glance towardthis novel counterpane, "for a bed-covering than newspapers: theykeep you as warm as a blanket, and are much lighter. I used to use_Tribunes_, but they rattled too much. "

The only part of the room which was well lighted was at one end nearthe solitary window. Here, upon a table with a spliced leg, stood alittle grindstone. 

"At the other end of the room, " said Barbel, "is my cook-stove, which you can't see unless I light the candle in the bottle whichstands by it; but if you don't care particularly to examine it, Iwon't go to the expense of lighting up. You might pick up a goodmany odd pieces of bric-à-brac around here, if you chose to strike amatch and investigate; but I would not advise you to do so. It wouldpay better to throw the things out of the window than to carry themdownstairs. The particular piece of indoor decoration to which Iwish to call your attention is this. " And he led me to a littlewooden frame which hung against the wall near the window. Behind adusty piece of glass it held what appeared to be a leaf from a smallmagazine or journal. "There, " said he, "you see a page from the_Grasshopper_, a humorous paper which flourished in this city somehalf-dozen years ago. I used to write regularly for that paper, asyou may remember. "

"Oh yes, indeed!" I exclaimed. "And I shall never forget your'Conundrum of the Anvil' which appeared in it. How often have Ilaughed at that most wonderful conceit, and how often have I put itto my friends!"

Barbel gazed at me silently for a moment, and then he pointed to theframe. "That printed page, " he said, solemnly, "contains the'Conundrum of the Anvil. ' I hang it there so that I can see it whileI work. That conundrum ruined me. It was the last thing I wrote forthe _Grasshopper_. How I ever came to imagine it I cannot tell. Itis one of those things which occur to a man but once in a lifetime. After the wild shout of delight with which the public greeted thatconundrum, my subsequent efforts met with hoots of derision. The_Grasshopper_ turned its hind legs upon me. I sank from bad toworse--much worse--until at last I found myself reduced to mypresent occupation, which is that of grinding points to pins. Bythis I procure my bread, coffee, and tobacco, and sometimes potatoesand meat. One day while I was hard at work an organ-grinder cameinto the street below. He played the serenade from "Trovatore"; andthe familiar notes brought back visions of old days and olddelights, when the successful writer wore good clothes and sat atoperas, when he looked into sweet eyes and talked of Italian airs, when his future appeared all a succession of bright scenery andjoyous acts, without any provision for a drop-curtain. And as my earlistened, and my mind wandered in this happy retrospect, my everyfaculty seemed exalted, and, without any thought upon the matter, Iground points upon my pins so fine, so regular and smooth, that theywould have pierced with ease the leather of a boot, or slippedamong, without abrasion, the finest threads of rare old lace. Whenthe organ stopped, and I fell back into my real world of cobwebs andmustiness, I gazed upon the pins I had just ground, and, without amoment's hesitation, I threw them into the street, and reported thelot as spoiled. This cost me a little money, but it saved me mylivelihood. "

After a few moments of silence, Barbel resumed:

"I have no more to say to you, my young friend. All I want you to dois to look upon that framed conundrum, then upon this grindstone, and then to go home and reflect. As for me, I have a gross of pinsto grind before the sun goes down. "

I cannot say that my depression of mind was at all relieved by whatI had seen and heard. I had lost sight of Barbel for some years, andI had supposed him still floating on the sun-sparkling stream ofprosperity where I had last seen him. It was a great shock to me tofind him in such a condition of poverty and squalor, and to see aman who had originated the "Conundrum of the Anvil" reduced to thesoul-depressing occupation of grinding pin-points. As I walked andthought, the dreadful picture of a totally eclipsed future arosebefore my mind. The moral of Barbel sank deep into my heart. 

When I reached home I told my wife the story of my friend Barbel. She listened with a sad and eager interest. 

"I am afraid, " she said, "if our fortunes do not quickly mend, thatwe shall have to buy two little grindstones. You know I could helpyou at that sort of thing. "

For a long time we sat together and talked, and devised many plansfor the future. I did not think it necessary yet for me to look outfor a pin-contract; but I must find some way of making money, or weshould starve to death. Of course the first thing that suggesteditself was the possibility of finding some other business; but, apart from the difficulty of immediately obtaining remunerative workin occupations to which I had not been trained, I felt a great andnatural reluctance to give up a profession for which I had carefullyprepared myself, and which I had adopted as my life-work. It wouldbe very hard for me to lay down my pen forever, and to close the topof my inkstand upon all the bright and happy fancies which I hadseen mirrored in its tranquil pool. We talked and pondered the restof that day and a good deal of the night, but we came to noconclusion as to what it would be best for us to do. 

The next day I determined to go and call upon the editor of thejournal for which, in happier days, before the blight of "His Wife'sDeceased Sister" rested upon me, I used most frequently to write, and, having frankly explained my condition to him, to ask hisadvice. The editor was a good man, and had always been my friend. Helistened with great attention to what I told him, and evidentlysympathized with me in my trouble. 

"As we have written to you, " he said, "the only reason why we didnot accept the manuscripts you sent us was that they would havedisappointed the high hopes that the public had formed in regard toyou. We have had letter after letter asking when we were going topublish another story like 'His Wife's Deceased Sister. ' We felt, and we still feel, that it would be wrong to allow you to destroythe fair fabric which yourself has raised. But, " he added, with akind smile, "I see very plainly that your well-deserved reputationwill be of little advantage to you if you should starve at themoment that its genial beams are, so to speak, lighting you up. "

"Its beams are not genial, " I answered. "They have scorched andwithered me. "

"How would you like, " said the editor, after a short reflection, "toallow us to publish the stories you have recently written under someother name than your own? That would satisfy us and the public, would put money in your pocket, and would not interfere with yourreputation. "

Joyfully I seized that noble fellow by the hand, and instantlyaccepted his proposition. "Of course, " said I, "a reputation is avery good thing; but no reputation can take the place of food, clothes, and a house to live in; and I gladly agree to sink myover-illumined name into oblivion, and to appear before the publicas a new and unknown writer. "

"I hope that need not be for long, " he said, "for I feel sure thatyou will yet write stories as good as 'His Wife's Deceased Sister. '"

All the manuscripts I had on hand I now sent to my good friend theeditor, and in due and proper order they appeared in his journalunder the name of John Darmstadt, which I had selected as asubstitute for my own, permanently disabled. I made a similararrangement with other editors, and John Darmstadt received thecredit of everything that proceeded from my pen. Our circumstancesnow became very comfortable, and occasionally we even allowedourselves to indulge in little dreams of prosperity. 

Time passed on very pleasantly; one year, another, and then a littleson was born to us. It is often difficult, I believe, for thoughtfulpersons to decide whether the beginning of their conjugal career, orthe earliest weeks in the life of their first-born, be the happiestand proudest period of their existence. For myself I can only saythat the same exaltation of mind, the same rarefication of idea andinvention, which succeeded upon my wedding-day came upon me now. Asthen, my ecstatic emotions crystallized themselves into a motive fora story, and without delay I set myself to work upon it. My boy wasabout six weeks old when the manuscript was finished; and oneevening, as we sat before a comfortable fire in our sitting-room, with the curtains drawn, and the soft lamp lighted, and the babysleeping soundly in the adjoining chamber, I read the story to mywife. 

When I had finished, my wife arose and threw herself into my arms. "I was never so proud of you, " she said, her glad eyes sparkling, "as I am at this moment. That is a wonderful story! It is--indeed Iam sure it is--just as good as 'His Wife's Deceased Sister. '"

As she spoke these words a sudden and chilling sensation crept overus both. All her warmth and fervor, and the proud and happy glowengendered within me by this praise and appreciation from one Iloved, vanished in an instant. We stepped apart, and gazed upon eachother with pallid faces. In the same moment the terrible truth hadflashed upon us both. 

This story _was_ as good as "His Wife's Deceased Sister"!

We stood silent. The exceptional lot of Barbel's superpointed pinsseemed to pierce our very souls. A dreadful vision rose before me ofan impending fall and crash, in which our domestic happiness shouldvanish, and our prospects for our boy be wrecked, just as we hadbegun to build them up. 

My wife approached me and took my hand in hers, which was as cold asice. "Be strong and firm, " she said. "A great danger threatens us, but you must brace yourself against it. Be strong and firm. "

I pressed her hand, and we said no more that night. 

The next day I took the manuscript I had just written, and carefullyinfolded it in stout wrapping-paper. Then I went to a neighboringgrocery-store and bought a small, strong tin box, originallyintended for biscuit, with a cover that fitted tightly. In this Iplaced my manuscript; and then I took the box to a tinsmith and hadthe top fastened on with hard solder. When I went home I ascendedinto the garret, and brought down to my study a ship's cash-box, which had once belonged to one of my family who was a sea-captain. This box was very heavy, and firmly bound with iron, and was securedby two massive locks. Calling my wife, I told her of the contents ofthe tin case, which I then placed in the box, and, having shut downthe heavy lid, I doubly locked it. 

"This key, " said I, putting it in my pocket, "I shall throw into theriver when I go out this afternoon. "

My wife watched me eagerly, with a pallid and firm, set countenance, but upon which I could see the faint glimmer of returning happiness. 

"Wouldn't it be well, " she said, "to secure it still further bysealing-wax and pieces of tape?"

"No, " said I. "I do not believe that any one will attempt to tamperwith our prosperity. And now, my dear, " I continued, in animpressive voice, "no one but you, and, in the course of time, ourson, shall know that this manuscript exists. When I am dead, thosewho survive me may, if they see fit, cause this box to be split openand the story published. The reputation it may give my name cannotharm me then. "

THE LADY, OR THE TIGER?

In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whoseideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressivenessof distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, anduntrammelled, as became the half of him which was barbaric. He was aman of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistiblethat, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He wasgreatly given to self-communing; and when he and himself agreed uponanything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic andpolitical systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his naturewas bland and genial; but whenever there was a little hitch, andsome of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and moregenial still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crookedstraight, and crush down uneven places. 

Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had becomesemified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions ofmanly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined andcultured. 

But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. Thearena of the king was built not to give the people an opportunity ofhearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them toview the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religiousopinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted towiden and develop the mental energies of the people. This vastamphitheatre, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in whichcrime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of animpartial and incorruptible chance. 

When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance tointerest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed daythe fate of the accused person would be decided in the king'sarena--a structure which well deserved its name; for, although itsform and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solelyfrom the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew notradition to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and actionthe rich growth of his barbaric idealism. 

When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king, surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state onone side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheatre. Directlyopposite him, on the other side of the enclosed space, were twodoors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and theprivilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these doors andopen one of them. He could open either door he pleased: he wassubject to no guidance or influence but that of the afore-mentionedimpartial and incorruptible chance. If he opened the one, there cameout of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could beprocured, which immediately sprang upon him and tore him to pieces, as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the case of thecriminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells were clanged, greatwails went up from the hired mourners posted on the outer rim of thearena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so youngand fair, or so old and respected, should have merited so dire afate. 

But if the accused person opened the other door, there came forthfrom it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that hisMajesty could select among his fair subjects; and to this lady hewas immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It matterednot that he might already possess a wife and family, or that hisaffections might be engaged upon an object of his own selection: theking allowed no such subordinate arrangements to interfere with hisgreat scheme of retribution and reward. The exercises, as in theother instance, took place immediately, and in the arena. Anotherdoor opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a band ofchoristers, and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on golden hornsand treading an epithalamic measure, advanced to where the pairstood side by side; and the wedding was promptly and cheerilysolemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the innocent man, preceded bychildren strewing flowers on his path, led his bride to his home. 

This was the king's semibarbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out ofwhich door would come the lady: he opened either he pleased, withouthaving the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to bedevoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came out of onedoor, and on some out of the other. The decisions of this tribunalwere not only fair, they were positively determinate: the accusedperson was instantly punished if he found himself guilty; and ifinnocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena. 

The institution was a very popular one. When the people gatheredtogether on one of the great trial-days, they never knew whetherthey were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. Thiselement of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which itcould not otherwise have attained. Thus the masses were entertainedand pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring nocharge of unfairness against this plan; for did not the accusedperson have the whole matter in his own hands?

This semibarbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most floridfancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As isusual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved byhim above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of thatfineness of blood and lowness of station common to the conventionalheroes of romance who love royal maidens. This royal maiden was wellsatisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to a degreeunsurpassed in all this kingdom; and she loved him with an ardorthat had enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm andstrong. This love-affair moved on happily for many months, until oneday the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitatenor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth wasimmediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trialin the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially importantoccasion; and his Majesty, as well as all the people, was greatlyinterested in the workings and development of this trial. Neverbefore had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared tolove the daughter of a king. In after-years such things becamecommonplace enough; but then they were, in no slight degree, noveland startling. 

The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage andrelentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selectedfor the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughoutthe land were carefully surveyed by competent judges, in order thatthe young man might have a fitting bride in case fate did notdetermine for him a different destiny. Of course everybody knew thatthe deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He hadloved the princess, and neither he, she, nor any one else thought ofdenying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing any factof this kind to interfere with the workings of the tribunal, inwhich he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how theaffair turned out, the youth would be disposed of; and the kingwould take an æsthetic pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong inallowing himself to love the princess. 

The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, and thronged the great galleries of the arena; and crowds, unable togain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. Theking and his court were in their places, opposite the twindoors--those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity. 

All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal partyopened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum ofadmiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand ayouth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What aterrible thing for him to be there!

As the youth advanced into the arena, he turned, as the custom was, to bow to the king: but he did not think at all of that royalpersonage; his eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to theright of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism inher nature it is probable that lady would not have been there; buther intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent on anoccasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the momentthat the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide his fatein the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, butthis great event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than anyone who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had donewhat no other person had done--she had possessed herself of thesecret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms that laybehind those doors stood the cage of the tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick doors, heavilycurtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noiseor suggestion should come from within to the person who shouldapproach to raise the latch of one of them; but gold, and the powerof a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess. 

And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready toemerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but sheknew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest ofthe damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of theaccused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiringto one so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had sheseen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwingglances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and sometimesshe thought these glances were perceived and even returned. Now andthen she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment ortwo, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on mostunimportant topics, but how could she know that? The girl waslovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of theprincess; and, with all the intensity of the savage bloodtransmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silentdoor. 

When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as shesat there paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxiousfaces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which isgiven to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which doorcrouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expectedher to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assuredthat she would never rest until she had made plain to herself thisthing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The onlyhope for the youth in which there was any element of certainty wasbased upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery;and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as inhis soul he knew she would succeed. 

Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question, "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where hestood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was askedin a flash; it must be answered in another. 

Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raisedher hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No onebut her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in thearena. 

He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the emptyspace. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eyewas fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it. 

 * * * * *

Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of thatdoor, or did the lady?

The more we reflect upon this question the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us throughdevious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find ourway. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of thequestion depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, semibarbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combinedfires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should havehim?

How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started inwild horror and covered her face with her hands as she thought ofher lover opening the door on the other side of which waited thecruel fangs of the tiger!

But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in hergrievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth and torn her hair whenshe saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of thelady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush tomeet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eye oftriumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole framekindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard the gladshouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells;when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance tothe couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; andwhen she had seen them walk away together upon their path offlowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilariousmultitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned!

Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait forher in the blessed regions of semibarbaric futurity?

And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood!

Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been madeafter days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known shewould be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, withoutthe slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right. 

The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one personable to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came outof the opened door--the lady, or the tiger?

THE REMARKABLE WRECK OF THE "THOMAS HYKE"

It was half-past one by the clock in the office of the Registrar ofWoes. The room was empty, for it was Wednesday, and the Registraralways went home early on Wednesday afternoons. He had made thatarrangement when he accepted the office. He was willing to serve hisfellow-citizens in any suitable position to which he might becalled, but he had private interests which could not be neglected. He belonged to his country, but there was a house in the countrywhich belonged to him; and there were a great many thingsappertaining to that house which needed attention, especially inpleasant summer weather. It is true he was often absent onafternoons which did not fall on the Wednesday, but the fact of hishaving appointed a particular time for the furtherance of hisoutside interests so emphasized their importance that his associatesin the office had no difficulty in understanding that affairs ofsuch moment could not always be attended to in a single afternoon ofthe week. 

But although the large room devoted to the especial use of theRegistrar was unoccupied, there were other rooms connected with itwhich were not in that condition. With the suite of offices to theleft we have nothing to do, but will confine our attention to amoderate-sized room to the right of the Registrar's office, andconnected by a door, now closed, with that large and handsomelyfurnished chamber. This was the office of the Clerk of Shipwrecks, and it was at present occupied by five persons. One of these was theclerk himself, a man of goodly appearance, somewhere betweentwenty-five and forty-five years of age, and of a demeanor such asmight be supposed to belong to one who had occupied a high positionin state affairs, but who, by the cabals of his enemies, had beenforced to resign the great operations of statesmanship which he hadbeen directing, and who now stood, with a quite resigned air, pointing out to the populace the futile and disastrous efforts ofthe incompetent one who was endeavoring to fill his place. The Clerkof Shipwrecks had never fallen from such a position, having neveroccupied one, but he had acquired the demeanor referred to withoutgoing through the preliminary exercises. 

Another occupant was a very young man, the personal clerk of theRegistrar of Woes, who always closed all the doors of the office ofthat functionary on Wednesday afternoons, and at other times whenoutside interests demanded his principal's absence, after which hebetook himself to the room of his friend the Shipwreck Clerk. 

Then there was a middle-aged man named Mathers, also a friend of theclerk, and who was one of the eight who had made application for asubposition in this department, which was now filled by a man whowas expected to resign when a friend of his, a gentleman ofinfluence in an interior county, should succeed in procuring thenomination as congressional Representative of his district of aninfluential politician, whose election was considered assured incase certain expected action on the part of the administrationshould bring his party into power. The person now occupying thesubposition hoped then to get something better, and Mathers, consequently, was very willing, while waiting for the place, tovisit the offices of the department and acquaint himself with itsduties. 

A fourth person was J. George Watts, a juryman by profession, whohad brought with him his brother-in-law, a stranger in the city. 

The Shipwreck Clerk had taken off his good coat, which he had wornto luncheon, and had replaced it by a lighter garment of linen, muchbespattered with ink; and he now produced a cigar-box, containingsix cigars. 

"Gents, " said he, "here is the fag end of a box of cigars. It's notlike having the pick of a box, but they are all I have left. "

Mr. Mathers, J. George Watts, and the brother-in-law each took acigar with that careless yet deferential manner which alwaysdistinguishes the treatee from the treator; and then the box wasprotruded in an offhand way toward Harry Covare, the personal clerkof the Registrar; but this young man declined, saying that hepreferred cigarettes, a package of which he drew from his pocket. Hehad very often seen that cigar-box with a Havana brand, which hehimself had brought from the other room after the Registrar hademptied it, passed around with six cigars, no more nor less, and hewas wise enough to know that the Shipwreck Clerk did not expect tosupply him with smoking-material. If that gentleman had offered tothe friends who generally dropped in on him on Wednesday afternoonthe paper bag of cigars sold at five cents each when bought singly, but half a dozen for a quarter of a dollar, they would have beenquite as thankfully received; but it better pleased his deprecativesoul to put them in an empty cigar-box, and thus throw around themthe halo of the presumption that ninety-four of their importedcompanions had been smoked. 

The Shipwreck Clerk, having lighted a cigar for himself, sat down inhis revolving chair, turned his back to his desk, and threw himselfinto an easy cross-legged attitude, which showed that he wasperfectly at home in that office. Harry Covare mounted a high stool, while the visitors seated themselves in three wooden arm-chairs. Butfew words had been said, and each man had scarcely tossed his firsttobacco-ashes on the floor, when some one wearing heavy boots washeard opening an outside door and entering the Registrar's room. Harry Covare jumped down from his stool, laid his half-smokedcigarette thereon, and bounced into the next room, closing the doorafter him. In about a minute he returned, and the Shipwreck Clerklooked at him inquiringly. 

"An old cock in a pea-jacket, " said Mr. Covare, taking up hiscigarette and mounting his stool. "I told him the Registrar would behere in the morning. He said he had something to report about ashipwreck, and I told him the Registrar would be here in themorning. Had to tell him that three times, and then he went. "

"School don't keep Wednesday afternoons, " said Mr. J. George Watts, with a knowing smile. 

"No, sir, " said the Shipwreck Clerk, emphatically, changing thecrossing of his legs. "A man can't keep grinding on day in and outwithout breaking down. Outsiders may say what they please about it, but it can't be done. We've got to let up sometimes. People who dothe work need the rest just as much as those who do the looking on. "

"And more too, I should say, " observed Mr. Mathers. 

"Our little let-up on Wednesday afternoons, " modestly observed HarryCovare, "is like death--it is sure to come; while the let-ups we getother days are more like the diseases which prevail in certainareas--you can't be sure whether you're going to get them or not. "

The Shipwreck Clerk smiled benignantly at this remark, and the restlaughed. Mr. Mathers had heard it before, but he would not impairthe pleasantness of his relations with a future colleague by hintingthat he remembered it. 

"He gets such ideas from his beastly statistics, " said the ShipwreckClerk. 

"Which come pretty heavy on him sometimes, I expect, " observed Mr. Mathers. 

"They needn't, " said the Shipwreck Clerk, "if things were managedhere as they ought to be. If John J. Laylor"--meaning thereby theRegistrar--"was the right kind of a man you'd see things verydifferent here from what they are now. There'd be a larger force. "

"That's so, " said Mr. Mathers. 

"And not only that, but there'd be better buildings and moreaccommodations. Were any of you ever up to Anster? Well, take a runup there some day, and see what sort of buildings the department hasthere. William Q. Green is a very different man from John J. Laylor. You don't see him sitting in his chair and picking his teeth thewhole winter, while the Representative from his district never saysa word about his department from one end of a session of Congress tothe other. Now if I had charge of things here, I'd make such changesthat you wouldn't know the place. I'd throw two rooms off here, anda corridor and entrance-door at that end of the building. I'd closeup this door"--pointing toward the Registrar's room--"and if John J. Laylor wanted to come in here he might go round to the end door likeother people. "

The thought struck Harry Covare that in that case there would be noJohn J. Laylor, but he would not interrupt. 

"And what is more, " continued the Shipwreck Clerk, "I'd close upthis whole department at twelve o'clock on Saturdays. The way thingsare managed now, a man has no time to attend to his own privatebusiness. Suppose I think of buying a piece of land, and want to goout and look at it, or suppose any one of you gentlemen were hereand thought of buying a piece of land and wanted to go out and lookat it, what are you going to do about it? You don't want to go onSunday, and when are you going to go?"

Not one of the other gentlemen had ever thought of buying a piece ofland, nor had they any reason to suppose that they ever wouldpurchase an inch of soil unless they bought it in a flower-pot; butthey all agreed that the way things were managed now there was notime for a man to attend to his own business. 

"But you can't expect John J. Laylor to do anything, " said theShipwreck Clerk. 

However, there was one thing which that gentleman always expectedJohn J. Laylor to do. When the clerk was surrounded by a number ofpersons in hours of business, and when he had succeeded inimpressing them with the importance of his functions and thenecessity of paying deferential attention to himself if they wishedtheir business attended to, John J. Laylor would be sure to walkinto the office and address the Shipwreck Clerk in such a manner asto let the people present know that he was a clerk and nothing else, and that he, the Registrar, was the head of that department. Thesehumiliations the Shipwreck Clerk never forgot. 

There was a little pause here, and then Mr. Mathers remarked:

"I should think you'd be awfully bored with the long stories ofshipwrecks that the people come and tell you. "

He hoped to change the conversation, because, although he wished toremain on good terms with the subordinate officers, it was notdesirable that he should be led to say much against John J. Laylor. 

"No, sir, " said the Shipwreck Clerk, "I am not bored. I did not comehere to be bored, and as long as I have charge of this office Idon't intend to be. The long-winded old salts who come here toreport their wrecks never spin out their prosy yarns to me. Thefirst thing I do is to let them know just what I want of them; andnot an inch beyond that does a man of them go, at least while I ammanaging the business. There are times when John J. Laylor comes in, and puts in his oar, and wants to hear the whole story; which ispure stuff and nonsense, for John J. Laylor doesn't know anythingmore about a shipwreck than he does about--"

"The endemies in the Lake George area, " suggested Harry Covare. 

"Yes; or any other part of his business, " said the Shipwreck Clerk;"and when he takes it into his head to interfere, all business stopstill some second mate of a coal-schooner has told his whole storyfrom his sighting land on the morning of one day to his gettingashore on it on the afternoon of the next. Now I don't put up withany such nonsense. There's no man living that can tell me anythingabout shipwrecks. I've never been to sea myself, but that's notnecessary; and if I had gone, it's not likely I'd been wrecked. ButI've read about every kind of shipwreck that ever happened. When Ifirst came here I took care to post myself upon these matters, because I knew it would save trouble. I have read 'Robinson Crusoe, ''The Wreck of the "Grosvenor, "' 'The Sinking of the "Royal George, "'and wrecks by water-spouts, tidal waves, and every other thing whichwould knock a ship into a cocked hat, and I've classified every sortof wreck under its proper head; and when I've found out to whatclass a wreck belongs, I know all about it. Now, when a man comeshere to report a wreck, the first thing he has to do is just to shutdown on his story, and to stand up square and answer a few questionsthat I put to him. In two minutes I know just what kind of shipwreckhe's had; and then, when he gives me the name of his vessel, and oneor two other points, he may go. I know all about that wreck, and Imake a much better report of the business than he could have done ifhe'd stood here talking three days and three nights. The amount ofmoney that's been saved to our taxpayers by the way I'vesystematized the business of this office is not to be calculated infigures. "

The brother-in-law of J. George Watts knocked the ashes from theremnant of his cigar, looked contemplatively at the coal for amoment, and then remarked:

"I think you said there's no kind of shipwreck you don't knowabout?"

"That's what I said, " replied the Shipwreck Clerk. 

"I think, " said the other, "I could tell you of a shipwreck, inwhich I was concerned, that wouldn't go into any of your classes. "

The Shipwreck Clerk threw away the end of his cigar, put both hishands into his trousers pockets, stretched out his legs, and lookedsteadfastly at the man who had made this unwarrantable remark. Thena pitying smile stole over his countenance, and he said: "Well, sir, I'd like to hear your account of it; and before you get a quarterthrough I can stop you just where you are, and go ahead and tell therest of the story myself. "

"That's so, " said Harry Covare. "You'll see him do it just as surepop as a spread rail bounces the engine. "

"Well, then, " said the brother-in-law of J. George Watts, "I'll tellit. " And he began:

 * * * * *

"It was just two years ago the 1st of this month that I sailed forSouth America in the 'Thomas Hyke. '"

At this point the Shipwreck Clerk turned and opened a large book atthe letter T. 

"That wreck wasn't reported here, " said the other, "and you won'tfind it in your book. "

"At Anster, perhaps?" said the Shipwreck Clerk, closing the volumeand turning round again. 

"Can't say about that, " replied the other. "I've never been toAnster, and haven't looked over their books. "

"Well, you needn't want to, " said the clerk. "They've got goodaccommodations at Anster, and the Registrar has some ideas of theduties of his post, but they have no such system of wreck reports aswe have here. "

"Very like, " said the brother-in-law. And he went on with his story. "The 'Thomas Hyke' was a small iron steamer of six hundred tons, andshe sailed from Ulford for Valparaiso with a cargo principally ofpig-iron. "

"Pig-iron for Valparaiso?" remarked the Shipwreck Clerk. And then heknitted his brows thoughtfully, and said, "Go on. "

"She was a new vessel, " continued the narrator, "and built withwater-tight compartments; rather uncommon for a vessel of her class, but so she was. I am not a sailor, and don't know anything aboutships. I went as passenger, and there was another one named WilliamAnderson, and his son Sam, a boy about fifteen years old. We wereall going to Valparaiso on business. I don't remember just how manydays we were out, nor do I know just where we were, but it wassomewhere off the coast of South America, when, one dark night--witha fog besides, for aught I know, for I was asleep--we ran into asteamer coming north. How we managed to do this, with room enough onboth sides for all the ships in the world to pass, I don't know; butso it was. When I got on deck the other vessel had gone on, and wenever saw anything more of her. Whether she sunk or got home issomething I can't tell. But we pretty soon found that the 'ThomasHyke' had some of the plates in her bow badly smashed, and she tookin water like a thirsty dog. The captain had the forward water-tightbulkhead shut tight, and the pumps set to work, but it was no use. That forward compartment just filled up with water, and the 'ThomasHyke' settled down with her bow clean under. Her deck was slantingforward like the side of a hill, and the propeller was lifted up sothat it wouldn't have worked even if the engine had been kept going. The captain had the masts cut away, thinking this might bring her upsome, but it didn't help much. There was a pretty heavy sea on, andthe waves came rolling up the slant of the deck like the surf on thesea-shore. The captain gave orders to have all the hatches batteneddown so that water couldn't get in, and the only way by whichanybody could go below was by the cabin door, which was far aft. This work of stopping up all openings in the deck was a dangerousbusiness, for the decks sloped right down into the water, and ifanybody had slipped, away he'd have gone into the ocean, withnothing to stop him; but the men made a line fast to themselves, andworked away with a good will, and soon got the deck and the houseover the engine as tight as a bottle. The smoke-stack, which waswell forward, had been broken down by a spar when the masts had beencut, and as the waves washed into the hole that it left, the captainhad this plugged up with old sails, well fastened down. It was adreadful thing to see the ship a-lying with her bows clean underwater and her stern sticking up. If it hadn't been for herwater-tight compartments that were left uninjured, she would havegone down to the bottom as slick as a whistle. On the afternoon ofthe day after the collision the wind fell, and the sea soon becamepretty smooth. The captain was quite sure that there would be notrouble about keeping afloat until some ship came along and took usoff. Our flag was flying, upside down, from a pole in the stern; andif anybody saw a ship making such a guy of herself as the 'ThomasHyke' was then doing, they'd be sure to come to see what was thematter with her, even if she had no flag of distress flying. Wetried to make ourselves as comfortable as we could, but this wasn'teasy with everything on such a dreadful slant. But that night weheard a rumbling and grinding noise down in the hold, and the slantseemed to get worse. Pretty soon the captain roused all hands andtold us that the cargo of pig-iron was shifting and sliding down tothe bow, and that it wouldn't be long before it would break throughall the bulkheads, and then we'd fill and go to the bottom like ashot. He said we must all take to the boats and get away as quick aswe could. It was an easy matter launching the boats. They didn'tlower them outside from the davits, but they just let 'em down ondeck and slid 'em along forward into the water, and then held 'emthere with a rope till everything was ready to start. They launchedthree boats, put plenty of provisions and water in 'em, and theneverybody began to get aboard. But William Anderson and me and hisson Sam couldn't make up our minds to get into those boats and rowout on the dark, wide ocean. They were the biggest boats we had, butstill they were little things enough. The ship seemed to us to be agood deal safer, and more likely to be seen when day broke, thanthose three boats, which might be blown off, if the wind rose, nobody knew where. It seemed to us that the cargo had done all theshifting it intended to, for the noise below had stopped; and, altogether, we agreed that we'd rather stick to the ship than go offin those boats. The captain he tried to make us go, but we wouldn'tdo it; and he told us if we chose to stay behind and be drowned itwas our affair and he couldn't help it; and then he said there was asmall boat aft, and we'd better launch her, and have her ready incase things should get worse and we should make up our minds toleave the vessel. He and the rest then rowed off so as not to becaught in the vortex if the steamer went down, and we three stayedaboard. We launched the small boat in the way we'd seen the otherslaunched, being careful to have ropes tied to us while we were doingit; and we put things aboard that we thought we should want. Then wewent into the cabin and waited for morning. It was a queer kind of acabin, with a floor inclined like the roof of a house; but we satdown in the corners, and were glad to be there. The swinging lampwas burning, and it was a good deal more cheerful in there than itwas outside. But, about daybreak, the grinding and rumbling downbelow began again, and the bow of the 'Thomas Hyke' kept going downmore and more; and it wasn't long before the forward bulkhead of thecabin, which was what you might call its front wall when everythingwas all right, was under our feet, as level as a floor, and the lampwas lying close against the ceiling that it was hanging from. Youmay be sure that we thought it was time to get out of that. Therewere benches with arms to them fastened to the floor, and by thesewe climbed up to the foot of the cabin stairs, which, being turnedbottom upward, we went down in order to get out. When we reached thecabin door we saw part of the deck below us, standing up like theside of a house that is built in the water, as they say the housesin Venice are. We had made our boat fast to the cabin door by a longline, and now we saw her floating quietly on the water, which wasvery smooth and about twenty feet below us. We drew her up as closeunder us as we could, and then we let the boy Sam down by a rope, and after some kicking and swinging he got into her; and then hetook the oars and kept her right under us while we scrambled down bythe ropes which we had used in getting her ready. As soon as we werein the boat we cut her rope and pulled away as hard as we could; andwhen we got to what we thought was a safe distance we stopped tolook at the 'Thomas Hyke. ' You never saw such a ship in all yourborn days. Two thirds of the hull was sunk in the water, and she wasstanding straight up and down with the stern in the air, her rudderup as high as the topsail ought to be, and the screw propellerlooking like the wheel on the top of one of these windmills thatthey have in the country for pumping up water. Her cargo had shiftedso far forward that it had turned her right upon end, but shecouldn't sink, owing to the air in the compartments that the waterhadn't got into; and on the top of the whole thing was the distressflag flying from the pole which stuck out over the stern. It wasbroad daylight, but not a thing did we see of the other boats. We'dsupposed that they wouldn't row very far, but would lay off at asafe distance until daylight; but they must have been scared androwed farther than they intended. Well, sir, we stayed in that boatall day and watched the 'Thomas Hyke'; but she just kept as she wasand didn't seem to sink an inch. There was no use of rowing away, for we had no place to row to; and besides, we thought that passingships would be much more likely to see that stern sticking high inthe air than our little boat. We had enough to eat, and at night twoof us slept while the other watched, dividing off the time andtaking turns to this. In the morning there was the 'Thomas Hyke'standing stern up just as before. There was a long swell on theocean now, and she'd rise and lean over a little on each wave, butshe'd come up again just as straight as before. That night passed asthe last one had, and in the morning we found we'd drifted a gooddeal farther from the 'Thomas Hyke'; but she was floating just asshe had been, like a big buoy that's moored over a sandbar. Wecouldn't see a sign of the boats, and we about gave them up. We hadour breakfast, which was a pretty poor meal, being nothing buthardtack and what was left of a piece of boiled beef. After we'd satfor a while doing nothing, but feeling mighty uncomfortable, WilliamAnderson said, 'Look here, do you know that I think we would bethree fools to keep on shivering all night, and living on hardtackin the daytime, when there's plenty on that vessel for us to eat andto keep us warm. If she's floated that way for two days and twonights, there's no knowing how much longer she'll float, and wemight as well go on board and get the things we want as not. ' 'Allright, ' said I, for I was tired doing nothing; and Sam was aswilling as anybody. So we rowed up to the steamer, and stopped closeto the deck, which, as I said before, was standing straight up outof the water like the wall of a house. The cabin door, which was theonly opening into her, was about twenty feet above us, and the ropeswhich we had tied to the rails of the stairs inside were stillhanging down. Sam was an active youngster, and he managed to climbup one of these ropes; but when he got to the door he drew it up andtied knots in it about a foot apart, and then he let it down to us, for neither William Anderson nor me could go up a rope hand overhand without knots or something to hold on to. As it was, we had alot of bother getting up, but we did it at last; and then we walkedup the stairs, treading on the front part of each step instead ofthe top of it, as we would have done if the stairs had been in theirproper position. When we got to the floor of the cabin, which wasnow perpendicular like a wall, we had to clamber down by means ofthe furniture, which was screwed fast, until we reached thebulkhead, which was now the floor of the cabin. Close to thisbulkhead was a small room which was the steward's pantry, and herewe found lots of things to eat, but all jumbled up in a way thatmade us laugh. The boxes of biscuits and the tin cans and a lot ofbottles in wicker covers were piled up on one end of the room, andeverything in the lockers and drawers was jumbled together. WilliamAnderson and me set to work to get out what we thought we'd want, and we told Sam to climb up into some of the state-rooms--of whichthere were four on each side of the cabin--and get some blankets tokeep us warm, as well as a few sheets, which we thought we could rigup for an awning to the boat; for the days were just as hot as thenights were cool. When we'd collected what we wanted, WilliamAnderson and me climbed into our own rooms, thinking we'd each packa valise with what we most wanted to save of our clothes and things;and while we were doing this Sam called out to us that it wasraining. He was sitting at the cabin door looking out. I firstthought to tell him to shut the door so's to keep the rain fromcoming in; but when I thought how things really were, I laughed atthe idea. There was a sort of little house built over the entranceto the cabin, and in one end of it was the door; and in the way theship now was the open doorway was underneath the little house, andof course no rain could come in. Pretty soon we heard the rainpouring down, beating on the stern of the vessel like hail. We gotto the stairs and looked out. The rain was falling in perfectsheets, in a way you never see except round about the tropics. 'It'sa good thing we're inside, ' said William Anderson, 'for if we'd beenout in this rain we'd been drowned in the boat. ' I agreed with him, and we made up our minds to stay where we were until the rain wasover. Well, it rained about four hours; and when it stopped, and welooked out, we saw our little boat nearly full of water, and sunk sodeep that if one of us had stepped on her she'd have gone down, sure. 'Here's a pretty kittle of fish, ' said William Anderson;'there's nothing for us to do now but to stay where we are. ' Ibelieve in his heart he was glad of that, for if ever a man wastired of a little boat, William Anderson was tired of that one we'dbeen in for two days and two nights. At any rate, there was no usetalking about it, and we set to work to make ourselves comfortable. We got some mattresses and pillows out of the state-rooms, and whenit began to get dark we lighted the lamp--which we had filled withsweet-oil from a flask in the pantry, not finding any otherkind--and we hung it from the railing of the stairs. We had a goodnight's rest, and the only thing that disturbed me was WilliamAnderson lifting up his head every time he turned over and sayinghow much better this was than that blasted little boat. The nextmorning we had a good breakfast, even making some tea with aspirit-lamp we found, using brandy instead of alcohol. WilliamAnderson and I wanted to get into the captain's room--which was nearthe stern and pretty high up--so as to see if there was anythingthere that we ought to get ready to save when a vessel should comealong and pick us up; but we were not good at climbing, like Sam, and we didn't see how we could get up there. Sam said he was sure hehad once seen a ladder in the compartment just forward of thebulkhead, and as William was very anxious to get up to the captain'sroom, we let the boy go and look for it. There was a sliding door inthe bulkhead under our feet, and we opened this far enough to letSam get through; and he scrambled down like a monkey into the nextcompartment, which was light enough, although the lower half of it, which was next to the engine-room, was under the water-line. Samactually found a ladder with hooks at one end of it, and while hewas handing it up to us--which was very hard to do, for he had toclimb up on all sorts of things--he let it topple over, and the endwith the iron hooks fell against the round glass of one of theport-holes. The glass was very thick and strong, but the ladder camedown very heavy and shivered it. As bad luck would have it, thiswindow was below the water-line, and the water came rushing in in abig spout. We chucked blankets down to Sam for him to stop up thehole, but 'twas of no use; for it was hard for him to get at thewindow, and when he did the water came in with such force that hecouldn't get a blanket into the hole. We were afraid he'd be drowneddown there, and told him to come out as quick as he could. He put upthe ladder again, and hooked it on to the door in the bulkhead, andwe held it while he climbed up. Looking down through the doorway, wesaw, by the way the water was pouring in at the opening, that itwouldn't be long before that compartment was filled up; so we shovedthe door to and made it all tight, and then said William Anderson, 'The ship'll sink deeper and deeper as that fills up, and the watermay get up to the cabin door, and we must go and make that as tightas we can. ' Sam had pulled the ladder up after him, and this wefound of great use in getting to the foot of the cabin stairs. Weshut the cabin door, and locked and bolted it; and as it fittedpretty tight, we didn't think it would let in much water if the shipsunk that far. But over the top of the cabin stairs were a couple offolding doors, which shut down horizontally when the ship was in itsproper position, and which were only used in very bad, cold weather. These we pulled to and fastened tight, thus having a doubleprotection against the water. Well, we didn't get this done any toosoon, for the water did come up to the cabin door, and a littletrickled in from the outside door and through the cracks in theinner one. But we went to work and stopped these up with strips fromthe sheets, which we crammed well in with our pocket-knives. Then wesat down on the steps and waited to see what would happen next. Thedoors of all the state-rooms were open, and we could see through thethick plate-glass windows in them, which were all shut tight, thatthe ship was sinking more and more as the water came in. Sam climbedup into one of the after state-rooms, and said the outside water wasnearly up to the stern; and pretty soon we looked up to the twoportholes in the stern, and saw that they were covered with water;and as more and more water could be seen there, and as the lightcame through less easily, we knew that we were sinking under thesurface of the ocean. 'It's a mighty good thing, ' said WilliamAnderson, 'that no water can get in here. ' William had a hopefulkind of mind, and always looked on the bright side of things; but Imust say that I was dreadfully scared when I looked through thosestern windows and saw water instead of sky. It began to get duskierand duskier as we sank lower and lower; but still we could seepretty well, for it's astonishing how much light comes down throughwater. After a little while we noticed that the light remained aboutthe same; and then William Anderson he sings out, 'Hooray, we'vestopped sinking!' 'What difference does that make?' says I. 'We mustbe thirty or forty feet under water, and more yet, for aught Iknow. ' 'Yes, that may be, ' said he; 'but it is clear that all thewater has got into that compartment that can get in, and we havesunk just as far down as we are going. ' 'But that don't helpmatters, ' said I; 'thirty or forty feet under water is just as badas a thousand as to drowning a man. ' 'Drowning!' said William; 'howare you going to be drowned? No water can get in here. ' 'Nor no air, either, ' said I; 'and people are drowned for want of air, as I takeit. ' 'It would be a queer sort of thing, ' said William, 'to bedrowned in the ocean and yet stay as dry as a chip. But it's no usebeing worried about air. We've got air enough here to last us forever so long. This stern compartment is the biggest in the ship, andit's got lots of air in it. Just think of that hold! It must benearly full of air. The stern compartment of the hold has gotnothing in it but sewing-machines. I saw 'em loading her. Thepig-iron was mostly amidships, or at least forward of thiscompartment. Now, there's no kind of a cargo that'll accommodate asmuch air as sewing-machines. They're packed in wooden frames, notboxes, and don't fill up half the room they take. There's air allthrough and around 'em. It's a very comforting thing to think thehold isn't filled up solid with bales of cotton or wheat in bulk. 'It might be comforting, but I couldn't get much good out of it. Andnow Sam, who'd been scrambling all over the cabin to see how thingswere going on, sung out that the water was leaking in a little againat the cabin door and around some of the iron frames of the windows. 'It's a lucky thing, ' said William Anderson, 'that we didn't sinkany deeper, or the pressure of the water would have burst in thoseheavy glasses. And what we've got to do now is to stop up all thecracks. The more we work the livelier we'll feel. ' We tore off morestrips of sheets and went all round, stopping up cracks wherever wefound them. 'It's fortunate, ' said William Anderson, 'that Sam foundthat ladder, for we would have had hard work getting to the windowsof the stern state-rooms without it; but by resting it on the bottomstep of the stairs, which now happens to be the top one, we can getto any part of the cabin. ' I couldn't help thinking that if Samhadn't found the ladder it would have been a good deal better forus; but I didn't want to damp William's spirits, and I said nothing. 

"And now I beg your pardon, sir, " said the narrator, addressing theShipwreck Clerk, "but I forgot that you said you'd finish this storyyourself. Perhaps you'd like to take it up just here?"

The Shipwreck Clerk seemed surprised, and had apparently forgottenhis previous offer. "Oh no, " said he, "tell your own story. This isnot a matter of business. "

"Very well, then, " said the brother-in-law of J. George Watts, "I'llgo on. We made everything as tight as we could, and then we got oursupper, having forgotten all about dinner, and being very hungry. Wedidn't make any tea and we didn't light the lamp, for we knew thatwould use up air; but we made a better meal than three people sunkout of sight in the ocean had a right to expect. 'What troubles memost, ' said William Anderson, as he turned in, 'is the fact that ifwe are forty feet under water our flagpole must be covered up. Now, if the flag was sticking out, upside down, a ship sailing by wouldsee it and would know there was something wrong. ' 'If that's allthat troubles you, ' said I, 'I guess you'll sleep easy. And if aship was to see the flag, I wonder how they'd know we were downhere, and how they'd get us out if they did!' 'Oh, they'd manageit, ' said William Anderson; 'trust those sea-captains for that. ' Andthen he went to sleep. The next morning the air began to get mightydisagreeable in the part of the cabin where we were, and thenWilliam Anderson he says, 'What we've got to do is to climb up intothe stern state-rooms, where the air is purer. We can come down hereto get our meals, and then go up again to breathe comfortable. ' 'Andwhat are we going to do when the air up there gets foul?' says I toWilliam, who seemed to be making arrangements for spending thesummer in our present quarters. 'Oh, that'll be all right, ' said he. 'It don't do to be extravagant with air any more than with anythingelse. When we've used up all there is in this cabin, we can boreholes through the floor into the hold and let in air from there. Ifwe're economical, there'll be enough to last for dear knows howlong. ' We passed the night each in a state-room, sleeping on the endwall instead of the berth, and it wasn't till the afternoon of thenext day that the air of the cabin got so bad we thought we'd havesome fresh; so we went down on the bulkhead, and with an auger thatwe found in the pantry we bored three holes, about a yard apart, inthe cabin floor, which was now one of the walls of the room, just asthe bulkhead was the floor, and the stern end, where the two roundwindows were, was the ceiling or roof. We each took a hole, and Itell you it was pleasant to breathe the air which came in from thehold. 'Isn't this jolly?' said William Anderson. 'And we ought to bemighty glad that that hold wasn't loaded with codfish or soap. Butthere's nothing that smells better than new sewing-machines thathaven't ever been used, and this air is pleasant enough foranybody. ' By William's advice we made three plugs, by which westopped up the holes when we thought we'd had air enough for thepresent. 'And now, ' says he, 'we needn't climb up into those awkwardstate-rooms any more. We can just stay down here and be comfortable, and let in air when we want it. ' 'And how long do you suppose thatair in the hold is going to last?' said I. 'Oh, ever so long, ' saidhe, 'using it so economically as we do; and when it stops coming outlively through these little holes, as I suppose it will after awhile, we can saw a big hole in this flooring and go into the holdand do our breathing, if we want to. ' That evening we did saw a holeabout a foot square, so as to have plenty of air while we wereasleep; but we didn't go into the hold, it being pretty well filledup with machines; though the next day Sam and I sometimes stuck ourheads in for a good sniff of air, though William Anderson wasopposed to this, being of the opinion that we ought to put ourselveson short rations of breathing so as to make the supply of air holdout as long as possible. 'But what's the good, ' said I to William, 'of trying to make the air hold out if we've got to be suffocated inthis place after all?' 'What's the good?' says he. 'Haven't youenough biscuits and canned meats and plenty of other things to eat, and a barrel of water in that room opposite the pantry, not to speakof wine and brandy if you want to cheer yourself up a bit, andhaven't we good mattresses to sleep on, and why shouldn't we try tolive and be comfortable as long as we can?' 'What I want, ' said I, 'is to get out of this box. The idea of being shut up in here downunder the water is more than I can stand. I'd rather take my chancesgoing up to the surface and swimming about till I found a piece ofthe wreck, or something to float on. ' 'You needn't think of anythingof that sort, ' said William, 'for if we were to open a door or awindow to get out, the water'd rush in and drive us back and fill upthis place in no time; and then the whole concern would go to thebottom. And what would you do if you did get to the top of thewater? It's not likely you'd find anything there to get on, and ifyou did you wouldn't live very long floating about with nothing toeat. No, sir, ' says he, 'what we've got to do is to be content withthe comforts we have around us, and something will turn up to get usout of this; you see if it don't. ' There was no use talking againstWilliam Anderson, and I didn't say any more about getting out. Asfor Sam, he spent his time at the windows of the state-roomsa-looking out. We could see a good way into the water--farther thanyou would think--and we sometimes saw fishes, especially porpoises, swimming about, most likely trying to find out what a ship was doinghanging bows down under the water. What troubled Sam was that aswordfish might come along and jab his sword through one of thewindows. In that case it would be all up, or rather down, with us. Every now and then he'd sing out, 'Here comes one!' And then, justas I'd give a jump, he'd say, 'No, it isn't; it's a porpoise. ' Ithought from the first, and I think now, that it would have been agreat deal better for us if that boy hadn't been along. That nightthere was a good deal of motion to the ship, and she swung about androse up and down more than she had done since we'd been left in her. 'There must be a big sea running on top, ' said William Anderson, 'and if we were up there we'd be tossed about dreadful. Now themotion down here is just as easy as a cradle; and, what's more, wecan't be sunk very deep, for if we were there wouldn't be any motionat all. ' About noon the next day we felt a sudden tremble and shakerun through the whole ship, and far down under us we heard arumbling and grinding that nearly scared me out of my wits. I firstthought we'd struck bottom; but William he said that couldn't be, for it was just as light in the cabin as it had been, and if we'dgone down it would have grown much darker, of course. The rumblingstopped after a little while, and then it seemed to grow lighterinstead of darker; and Sam, who was looking up at the stern windowsover our heads, he sung out, 'Sky!' And, sure enough, we could seethe blue sky, as clear as daylight, through those windows! And thenthe ship she turned herself on the slant, pretty much as she hadbeen when her forward compartment first took in water, and we foundourselves standing on the cabin floor instead of the bulkhead. I wasnear one of the open state-rooms, and as I looked in there was thesunlight coming through the wet glass in the window, and morecheerful than anything I ever saw before in this world. WilliamAnderson he just made one jump, and, unscrewing one of thestate-room windows, he jerked it open. We had thought the air insidewas good enough to last some time longer; but when that window wasopen and the fresh air came rushing in, it was a different sort ofthing, I can tell you. William put his head out and looked up anddown and all around. 'She's nearly all out of water, ' he shouted, 'and we can open the cabin door!' Then we all three rushed at thosestairs, which were nearly right side up now, and we had the cabindoors open in no time. When we looked out we saw that the ship wastruly floating pretty much as she had been when the captain and crewleft her, though we all agreed that her deck didn't slant as muchforward as it did then. 'Do you know what's happened?' sung outWilliam Anderson, after he'd stood still for a minute to look aroundand think. 'That bobbing up and down that the vessel got last nightshook up and settled down the pig-iron inside of her, and the ironplates in the bow, that were smashed and loosened by the collision, have given way under the weight, and the whole cargo of pig-iron hasburst through and gone to the bottom. Then, of course, up we came. Didn't I tell you something would happen to make us all right?'

"Well, I won't make this story any longer than I can help. The nextday after that we were taken off by a sugar-ship bound north, and wewere carried safe back to Ulford, where we found our captain and thecrew, who had been picked up by a ship after they'd been three orfour days in their boats. This ship had sailed our way to find us, which, of course, she couldn't do, as at that time we were underwater and out of sight. 

"And now, sir, " said the brother-in-law of J. George Watts to theShipwreck Clerk, "to which of your classes does this wreck of minebelong?"

"Gents, " said the Shipwreck Clerk, rising from his seat, "it's fouro'clock, and at that hour this office closes. "

OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD

A mountain brook ran through a little village. Over the brook therewas a narrow bridge, and from the bridge a foot-path led out fromthe village and up the hillside to the cottage of Old Pipes and hismother. For many, many years Old Pipes had been employed by thevillagers to pipe the cattle down from the hills. Every afternoon, an hour before sunset, he would sit on a rock in front of hiscottage and play on his pipes. Then all the flocks and herds thatwere grazing on the mountains would hear him, wherever they mighthappen to be, and would come down to the village--the cows by theeasiest paths, the sheep by those not quite so easy, and the goatsby the steep and rocky ways that were hardest of all. 

But now, for a year or more, Old Pipes had not piped the cattlehome. It is true that every afternoon he sat upon the rock andplayed upon his familiar instrument; but the cattle did not hearhim. He had grown old and his breath was feeble. The echoes of hischeerful notes, which used to come from the rocky hill on the otherside of the valley, were heard no more; and twenty yards from OldPipes one could scarcely tell what tune he was playing. He hadbecome somewhat deaf, and did not know that the sound of his pipeswas so thin and weak, and that the cattle did not hear him. Thecows, the sheep, and the goats came down every afternoon as before, but this was because two boys and a girl were sent up after them. The villagers did not wish the good old man to know that his pipingwas no longer of any use, so they paid him his little salary everymonth, and said nothing about the two boys and the girl. 

Old Pipes's mother was, of course, a great deal older than he was, and was as deaf as a gate--posts, latch, hinges, and all--and shenever knew that the sound of her son's pipe did not spread over allthe mountain-side and echo back strong and clear from the oppositehills. She was very fond of Old Pipes, and proud of his piping; andas he was so much younger than she was, she never thought of him asbeing very old. She cooked for him, and made his bed, and mended hisclothes; and they lived very comfortably on his little salary. 

One afternoon, at the end of the month, when Old Pipes had finishedhis piping, he took his stout staff and went down the hill to thevillage to receive the money for his month's work. The path seemed agreat deal steeper and more difficult than it used to be; and OldPipes thought that it must have been washed by the rains and greatlydamaged. He remembered it as a path that was quite easy to traverseeither up or down. But Old Pipes had been a very active man, and ashis mother was so much older than he was, he never thought ofhimself as aged and infirm. 

When the Chief Villager had paid him, and he had talked a littlewith some of his friends, Old Pipes started to go home. But when hehad crossed the bridge over the brook and gone a short distance upthe hillside, he became very tired and sat down upon a stone. He hadnot been sitting there half a minute when along came two boys and agirl. 

"Children, " said Old Pipes, "I'm very tired to-night, and I don'tbelieve I can climb up this steep path to my home. I think I shallhave to ask you to help me. "

"We will do that, " said the boys and the girl, quite cheerfully; andone boy took him by the right hand and the other by the left, whilethe girl pushed him in the back. In this way he went up the hillquite easily, and soon reached his cottage door. Old Pipes gave eachof the three children a copper coin, and then they sat down for afew minutes' rest before starting back to the village. 

"I'm sorry that I tired you so much, " said Old Pipes. 

"Oh, that would not have tired us, " said one of the boys, "if we hadnot been so far to-day after the cows, the sheep, and the goats. They rambled high up on the mountain, and we never before had such atime in finding them. "

"Had to go after the cows, the sheep, and the goats!" exclaimed OldPipes. "What do you mean by that?"

The girl, who stood behind the old man, shook her head, put her handon her mouth, and made all sorts of signs to the boy to stop talkingon this subject; but he did not notice her and promptly answered OldPipes. 

"Why, you see, good sir, " said he, "that as the cattle can't hearyour pipes now, somebody has to go after them every evening to drivethem down from the mountain, and the Chief Villager has hired usthree to do it. Generally it is not very hard work, but to-night thecattle had wandered far. "

"How long have you been doing this?" asked the old man. 

The girl shook her head and clapped her hand on her mouth morevigorously than before, but the boy went on. 

"I think it is about a year now, " he said, "since the people firstfelt sure that the cattle could not hear your pipes; and from thattime we've been driving them down. But we are rested now and will gohome. Good-night, sir. "

The three children then went down the hill, the girl scolding theboy all the way home. Old Pipes stood silent a few moments and thenhe went into his cottage. 

"Mother, " he shouted, "did you hear what those children said?"

"Children!" exclaimed the old woman; "I did not hear them. I did notknow there were any children here. "

Then Old Pipes told his mother--shouting very loudly to make herhear--how the two boys and the girl had helped him up the hill, andwhat he had heard about his piping and the cattle. 

"They can't hear you?" cried his mother. "Why, what's the matterwith the cattle?"

"Ah me!" said Old Pipes, "I don't believe there's anything thematter with the cattle. It must be with me and my pipes that thereis something the matter. But one thing is certain: if I do not earnthe wages the Chief Villager pays me, I shall not take them. I shallgo straight down to the village and give back the money I receivedto-day. "

"Nonsense!" cried his mother. "I'm sure you've piped as well as youcould, and no more can be expected. And what are we to do withoutthe money?"

"I don't know, " said Old Pipes; "but I'm going down to the villageto pay it back. "

The sun had now set; but the moon was shining very brightly on thehillside, and Old Pipes could see his way very well. He did not takethe same path by which he had gone before, but followed another, which led among the trees upon the hillside, and, though longer, wasnot so steep. 

When he had gone about half-way the old man sat down to rest, leaning his back against a great oak-tree. As he did so he heard asound like knocking inside the tree, and then a voice distinctlysaid:

"Let me out! let me out!"

Old Pipes instantly forgot that he was tired, and sprang to hisfeet. "This must be a Dryad-tree!" he exclaimed. "If it is, I'll lether out. "

Old Pipes had never, to his knowledge, seen a Dryad-tree, but heknew there were such trees on the hillsides and the mountains, andthat Dryads lived in them. He knew, too, that in the summer-time, onthose days when the moon rose before the sun went down, a Dryadcould come out of her tree if any one could find the key whichlocked her in, and turn it. Old Pipes closely examined the trunk ofthe tree, which stood in the full moonlight. "If I see that key, " hesaid, "I shall surely turn it. " Before long he perceived a piece ofbark standing out from the tree, which appeared to him very muchlike the handle of a key. He took hold of it, and found he couldturn it quite around. As he did so a large part of the side of thetree was pushed open, and a beautiful Dryad stepped quickly out. 

For a moment she stood motionless, gazing on the scene beforeher--the tranquil valley, the hills, the forest, and themountain-side, all lying in the soft clear light of the moon. "Oh, lovely! lovely!" she exclaimed. "How long it is since I have seenanything like this!" And then, turning to Old Pipes, she said, "Howgood of you to let me out! I am so happy and so thankful that I mustkiss you, you dear old man!" And she threw her arms around the neckof Old Pipes and kissed him on both cheeks. "You don't know, " shethen went on to say, "how doleful it is to be shut up so long in atree. I don't mind it in the winter, for then I am glad to besheltered; but in summer it is a rueful thing not to be able to seeall the beauties of the world. And it's ever so long since I've beenlet out. People so seldom come this way; and when they do come atthe right time they either don't hear me, or they are frightened andrun away. But you, you dear old man, you were not frightened, andyou looked and looked for the key, and you let me out, and now Ishall not have to go back till winter has come and the air growscold. Oh, it is glorious! What can I do for you to show you howgrateful I am?"

"I am very glad, " said Old Pipes, "that I let you out, since I seethat it makes you so happy; but I must admit that I tried to findthe key because I had a great desire to see a Dryad. But if you wishto do something for me, you can, if you happen to be going downtoward the village. "

"To the village!" exclaimed the Dryad. "I will go anywhere for you, my kind old benefactor. "

"Well, then, " said Old Pipes, "I wish you would take this little bagof money to the Chief Villager and tell him that Old Pipes cannotreceive pay for the services which he does not perform. It is nowmore than a year that I have not been able to make the cattle hearme when I piped to call them home. I did not know this untilto-night; but now that I know it I cannot keep the money, and so Isend it back. " And, handing the little bag to the Dryad, he bade hergood-night and turned toward his cottage. 

"Good-night, " said the Dryad. "And I thank you over and over andover again, you good old man!"

Old Pipes walked toward his home, very glad to be saved the fatigueof going all the way down to the village and back again. "To besure, " he said to himself, "this path does not seem at all steep, and I can walk along it very easily; but it would have tired medreadfully to come up all the way from the village, especially as Icould not have expected those children to help me again. " When hereached home his mother was surprised to see him returning so soon. 

"What!" she exclaimed, "have you already come back? What did theChief Villager say? Did he take the money?"

Old Pipes was just about to tell her that he had sent the money tothe village by a Dryad when he suddenly reflected that his motherwould be sure to disapprove such a proceeding, and so he merely saidhe had sent it by a person whom he had met. 

"And how do you know that the person will ever take it to the ChiefVillager?" cried his mother. "You will lose it, and the villagerswill never get it. Oh, Pipes! Pipes! when will you be old enough tohave ordinary common sense?"

Old Pipes considered that as he was already seventy years of age hecould scarcely expect to grow any wiser, but he made no remark onthis subject; and, saying that he doubted not that the money wouldgo safely to its destination, he sat down to his supper. His motherscolded him roundly, but he did not mind it; and after supper hewent out and sat on a rustic chair in front of the cottage to lookat the moon-lit village, and to wonder whether or not the ChiefVillager really received the money. While he was doing these twothings he went fast asleep. 

When Old Pipes left the Dryad, she did not go down to the villagewith the little bag of money. She held it in her hand and thoughtabout what she had heard. "This is a good and honest old man, " shesaid, "and it is a shame that he should lose this money. He lookedas if he needed it, and I don't believe the people in the villagewill take it from one who has served them so long. Often, when in mytree, have I heard the sweet notes of his pipes. I am going to takethe money back to him. " She did not start immediately, because therewere so many beautiful things to look at; but after a while she wentup to the cottage, and, finding Old Pipes asleep in his chair, sheslipped the little bag into his coat pocket and silently sped away. 

The next day Old Pipes told his mother that he would go up themountain and cut some wood. He had a right to get wood from themountain, but for a long time he had been content to pick up thedead branches which lay about his cottage. To-day, however, he feltso strong and vigorous that he thought he would go and cut some fuelthat would be better than this. He worked all the morning, and whenhe came back he did not feel at all tired, and he had a very goodappetite for his dinner. 

Now, Old Pipes knew a good deal about Dryads, but there was onething which, although he had heard, he had forgotten. This was thata kiss from a Dryad made a person ten years younger. The people ofthe village knew this, and they were very careful not to let anychild of ten years or younger go into the woods where the Dryadswere supposed to be; for if they should chance to be kissed by oneof these tree-nymphs, they would be set back so far that they wouldcease to exist. A story was told in the village that a very bad boyof eleven once ran away into the woods and had an adventure of thiskind; and when his mother found him he was a little baby of one yearold. Taking advantage of her opportunity, she brought him up morecarefully than she had done before; and he grew to be a very goodboy indeed. 

Now, Old Pipes had been kissed twice by the Dryad, once on eachcheek, and he therefore felt as vigorous and active as when he was ahale man of fifty. His mother noticed how much work he was doing, and told him that he need not try in that way to make up for theloss of his piping wages; for he would only tire himself out and getsick. But her son answered that he had not felt so well for years, and that he was quite able to work. In the course of the afternoon, Old Pipes, for the first time that day, put his hand in his coatpocket, and there, to his amazement, he found the little bag ofmoney. "Well, well!" he exclaimed, "I am stupid indeed! I reallythought that I had seen a Dryad; but when I sat down by that bigoak-tree I must have gone to sleep and dreamed it all; and then Icame home thinking I had given the money to a Dryad, when it was inmy pocket all the time. But the Chief Villager shall have the money. I shall not take it to him to-day; but to-morrow I wish to go to thevillage to see some of my old friends, and then I shall give up themoney. "

Toward the close of the afternoon, Old Pipes, as had been his customfor so many years, took his pipes from the shelf on which they lay, and went out to the rock in front of the cottage. 

"What are you going to do?" cried his mother. "If you will notconsent to be paid, why do you pipe?"

"I am going to pipe for my own pleasure, " said her son. "I am usedto it, and I do not wish to give it up. It does not matter nowwhether the cattle hear me or not, and I am sure that my piping willinjure no one. "

When the good man began to play upon his favorite instrument he wasastonished at the sound that came from it. The beautiful notes ofthe pipes sounded clear and strong down into the valley, and spreadover the hills and up the sides of the mountain beyond, while, aftera little interval, an echo came back from the rocky hill on theother side of the valley. 

"Ha! ha!" he cried, "what has happened to my pipes? They must havebeen stopped up of late, but now they are as clear and good asever. "

Again the merry notes went sounding far and wide. The cattle on themountain heard them, and those that were old enough remembered howthese notes had called them from their pastures every evening, andso they started down the mountain-side, the others following. 

The merry notes were heard in the village below, and the people weremuch astonished thereby. "Why, who can be blowing the pipes of OldPipes?" they said. But, as they were all very busy, no one went upto see. One thing, however, was plain enough: the cattle were comingdown the mountain. And so the two boys and the girl did not have togo after them, and had an hour for play, for which they were veryglad. 

The next morning Old Pipes started down to the village with hismoney, and on the way he met the Dryad. "Oh, ho!" he cried, "is thatyou? Why, I thought my letting you out of the tree was nothing but adream. "

"A dream!" cried the Dryad; "if you only knew how happy you havemade me you would not think it merely a dream. And has it notbenefited you? Do you not feel happier? Yesterday I heard youplaying beautifully on your pipes. "

"Yes, yes, " cried he. "I did not understand it before, but I see itall now. I have really grown younger. I thank you, I thank you, goodDryad, from the bottom of my heart. It was the finding of the moneyin my pocket that made me think it was a dream. "

"Oh, I put it in when you were asleep, " she said, laughing, "becauseI thought you ought to keep it. Good-by, kind, honest man. May youlive long and be as happy as I am now. "

Old Pipes was greatly delighted when he understood that he was reallya younger man; but that made no difference about the money, and hekept on his way to the village. As soon as he reached it he waseagerly questioned as to who had been playing his pipes the eveningbefore; and when the people heard that it was himself, they werevery much surprised. Thereupon Old Pipes told what had happened tohim, and then there was greater wonder, with hearty congratulationsand hand-shakes; for Old Pipes was liked by every one. The ChiefVillager refused to take his money, and, although Old Pipes saidthat he had not earned it, every one present insisted that, as hewould now play on his pipes as before, he should lose nothingbecause, for a time, he was unable to perform his duty. 

So Old Pipes was obliged to keep his money, and after an hour or twospent in conversation with his friends, he returned to his cottage. 

There was one individual, however, who was not at all pleased withwhat had happened to Old Pipes. This was an Echo-dwarf, who lived onthe hills on the other side of the valley, and whose duty it was toecho back the notes of the pipes whenever they could be heard. Therewere a great many other Echo-dwarfs on these hills, some of whomechoed back the songs of maidens, some the shouts of children, andothers the music that was often heard in the village. But there wasonly one who could send back the strong notes of the pipes of OldPipes, and this had been his sole duty for many years. But when theold man grew feeble, and the notes of his pipes could not be heardon the opposite hills, this Echo-dwarf had nothing to do, and hespent his time in delightful idleness; and he slept so much and grewso fat that it made his companions laugh to see him walk. 

On the afternoon on which, after so long an interval, the sound ofthe pipes was heard on the echo-hills, this dwarf was fast asleepbehind a rock. As soon as the first notes reached them, some of hiscompanions ran to wake him. Rolling to his feet, he echoed back themerry tune of Old Pipes. Naturally he was very much annoyed andindignant at being thus obliged to give up his life of comfortableleisure, and he hoped very much that this pipe-playing would notoccur again. The next afternoon he was awake and listening, and, sure enough, at the usual hour, along came the notes of the pipes asclear and strong as they ever had been; and he was obliged to workas long as Old Pipes played. The Echo-dwarf was very angry. He hadsupposed, of course, that the pipe-playing had ceased forever, andhe felt that he had a right to be indignant at being thus deceived. He was so much disturbed that he made up his mind to go and try tofind out whether this was to be a temporary matter or not. He hadplenty of time, as the pipes were played but once a day, and he setoff early in the morning for the hill on which Old Pipes lived. Itwas hard work for the fat little fellow, and when he had crossed thevalley and had gone some distance into the woods on the hillside, hestopped to rest, and in a few minutes the Dryad came tripping along. 

"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the dwarf; "what are you doing here? and how didyou get out of your tree?"

"Doing!" cried the Dryad, "I am being happy; that's what I am doing. And I was let out of my tree by a good old man who plays the pipesto call the cattle down from the mountain. And it makes me happierto think that I have been of service to him. I gave him two kissesof gratitude, and now he is young enough to play his pipes as wellas ever. "

The Echo-dwarf stepped forward, his face pale with passion. "Am I tobelieve, " he said, "that you are the cause of this great evil thathas come upon me? and that you are the wicked creature who has againstarted this old man upon his career of pipe-playing? What have Iever done to you that you should have condemned me for years andyears to echo back the notes of those wretched pipes?"

At this the Dryad laughed loudly. 

"What a funny little fellow you are!" she said. "Any one would thinkyou had been condemned to toil from morning till night; while whatyou really have to do is merely to imitate for half an hour everyday the merry notes of Old Pipes's piping. Fie upon you, Echo-dwarf!You are lazy and selfish; and that is what is the matter with you. Instead of grumbling at being obliged to do a little wholesomework--which is less, I am sure, than that of any other Echo-dwarfupon the rocky hillside--you should rejoice at the good fortune ofthe old man who has regained so much of his strength and vigor. Gohome and learn to be just and generous; and then, perhaps, you maybe happy. Good-by. "

"Insolent creature!" shouted the dwarf, as he shook his fat littlefist at her. "I'll make you suffer for this. You shall find out whatit is to heap injury and insult upon one like me, and to snatch fromhim the repose that he has earned by long years of toil. " And, shaking his head savagely, he hurried back to the rocky hillside. 

Every afternoon the merry notes of the pipes of Old Pipes soundeddown into the valley and over the hills and up the mountain-side;and every afternoon when he had echoed them back, the little dwarfgrew more and more angry with the Dryad. Each day, from earlymorning till it was time for him to go back to his duties upon therocky hillside, he searched the woods for her. He intended, if hemet her, to pretend to be very sorry for what he had said, and hethought he might be able to play a trick upon her which would avengehim well. One day, while thus wandering among the trees, he met OldPipes. The Echo-dwarf did not generally care to see or speak toordinary people; but now he was so anxious to find the object of hissearch that he stopped and asked Old Pipes if he had seen the Dryad. The piper had not noticed the little fellow, and he looked down onhim with some surprise. 

"No, " he said, "I have not seen her, and I have been lookingeverywhere for her. "

"You!" cried the dwarf; "what do you wish with her?"

Old Pipes then sat down on a stone, so that he should be nearer theear of his small companion, and he told what the Dryad had done forhim. 

When the Echo-dwarf heard that this was the man whose pipes he wasobliged to echo back every day, he would have slain him on the spothad he been able; but, as he was not able, he merely ground histeeth and listened to the rest of the story. 

"I am looking for the Dryad now, " Old Pipes continued, "on accountof my aged mother. When I was old myself, I did not notice how veryold my mother was; but now it shocks me to see how feeble anddecrepit her years have caused her to become; and I am looking forthe Dryad to ask her to make my mother younger, as she made me. "

The eyes of the Echo-dwarf glistened. Here was a man who might helphim in his plans. 

"Your idea is a good one, " he said to Old Pipes, "and it does youhonor. But you should know that a Dryad can make no person youngerbut one who lets her out of her tree. However, you can manage theaffair very easily. All you need do is to find the Dryad, tell herwhat you want, and request her to step into her tree and be shut upfor a short time. Then you will go and bring your mother to thetree; she will open it, and everything will be as you wish. Is notthis a good plan?"

"Excellent!" cried Old Pipes; "and I will go instantly and searchmore diligently for the Dryad. "

"Take me with you, " said the Echo-dwarf. "You can easily carry me onyour strong shoulders; and I shall be glad to help you in any waythat I can. "

"Now, then, " said the little fellow to himself, as Old Pipes carriedhim rapidly along, "if he persuades the Dryad to get into atree--and she is quite foolish enough to do it--and then goes awayto bring his mother, I shall take a stone or a club and I will breakoff the key of that tree, so that nobody can ever turn it again. Then Mistress Dryad will see what she has brought upon herself byher behavior to me. "

Before long they came to the great oak-tree in which the Dryad hadlived, and, at a distance, they saw that beautiful creature herselfcoming toward them. 

"How excellently well everything happens!" said the dwarf. "Put medown, and I will go. Your business with the Dryad is more importantthan mine; and you need not say anything about my having suggestedyour plan to you. I am willing that you should have all the creditof it yourself. "

Old Pipes put the Echo-dwarf upon the ground, but the little roguedid not go away. He concealed himself between some low, mossy rocks, and he was so much of their color that you would not have noticedhim if you had been looking straight at him. 

When the Dryad came up, Old Pipes lost no time in telling her abouthis mother, and what he wished her to do. At first the Dryadanswered nothing, but stood looking very sadly at Old Pipes. 

"Do you really wish me to go into my tree again?" she said. "Ishould dreadfully dislike to do it, for I don't know what mighthappen. It is not at all necessary, for I could make your motheryounger at any time if she would give me the opportunity. I hadalready thought of making you still happier in this way, and severaltimes I have waited about your cottage, hoping to meet your agedmother; but she never comes outside, and you know a Dryad cannotenter a house. I cannot imagine what put this idea into your head. Did you think of it yourself?"

"No, I cannot say that I did, " answered Old Pipes. "A little dwarfwhom I met in the woods proposed it to me. "

"Oh!" cried the Dryad, "now I see through it all. It is the schemeof that vile Echo-dwarf--your enemy and mine. Where is he? I shouldlike to see him. "

"I think he has gone away, " said Old Pipes. 

"No, he has not, " said the Dryad, whose quick eyes perceived theEcho-dwarf among the rocks. "There he is. Seize him and drag himout, I beg of you. "

Old Pipes perceived the dwarf as soon as he was pointed out to him, and, running to the rocks, he caught the little fellow by the armand pulled him out. 

"Now, then, " cried the Dryad, who had opened the door of the greatoak, "just stick him in there and we will shut him up. Then I shallbe safe from his mischief for the rest of the time I am free. "

Old Pipes thrust the Echo-dwarf into the tree; the Dryad pushed thedoor shut; there was a clicking sound of bark and wood, and no onewould have noticed that the big oak had ever had an opening in it. 

"There!" said the Dryad; "now we need not be afraid of him. And Iassure you, my good piper, that I shall be very glad to make yourmother younger as soon as I can. Will you not ask her to come outand meet me?"

"Of course I will, " cried Old Pipes; "and I will do it withoutdelay. "

And then, the Dryad by his side, he hurried to his cottage. But whenhe mentioned the matter to his mother, the old woman became veryangry indeed. She did not believe in Dryads; and, if they really didexist, she knew they must be witches and sorceresses, and she wouldhave nothing to do with them. If her son had ever allowed himself tobe kissed by one of them, he ought to be ashamed of himself. As toits doing him the least bit of good, she did not believe a word ofit. He felt better than he used to feel, but that was very common;she had sometimes felt that way herself. And she forbade him ever tomention a Dryad to her again. 

That afternoon Old Pipes, feeling very sad that his plan in regardto his mother had failed, sat down upon the rock and played upon hispipes. The pleasant sounds went down the valley and up the hills andmountain, but, to the great surprise of some persons who happened tonotice the fact, the notes were not echoed back from the rockyhillside, but from the woods on the side of the valley on which OldPipes lived. The next day many of the villagers stopped in theirwork to listen to the echo of the pipes coming from the woods. Thesound was not as clear and strong as it used to be when it was sentback from the rocky hillside, but it certainly came from among thetrees. Such a thing as an echo changing its place in this way hadnever been heard of before, and nobody was able to explain how itcould have happened. Old Pipes, however, knew very well that thesound came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great oak-tree. Thesides of the tree were thin, and the sound of the pipes could beheard through them, and the dwarf was obliged by the laws of hisbeing to echo back those notes whenever they came to him. But OldPipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble if he let any oneknow that the Echo-dwarf was shut up in the tree, and so he wiselysaid nothing about it. 

One day the two boys and the girl who had helped Old Pipes up thehill were playing in the woods. Stopping near the great oak-tree, they heard a sound of knocking within it, and then a voice plainlysaid:

"Let me out! let me out!"

For a moment the children stood still in astonishment, and then oneof the boys exclaimed:

"Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found! Let's let herout!"

"What are you thinking of?" cried the girl. "I am the oldest of all, and I am only thirteen. Do you wish to be turned into crawlingbabies? Run! run! run!"

And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the valley as fast astheir legs could carry them. There was no desire in their youthfulhearts to be made younger than they were. And for fear that theirparents might think it well that they should commence their careersanew, they never said a word about finding the Dryad-tree. 

As the summer days went on Old Pipes's mother grew feebler andfeebler. One day when her son was away--for he now frequently wentinto the woods to hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work--shearose from her knitting to prepare the simple dinner. But she feltso weak and tired that she was not able to do the work to which shehad been so long accustomed. "Alas! alas!" she said, "the time hascome when I am too old to work. My son will have to hire some one tocome here and cook his meals, make his bed, and mend his clothes. Alas! alas! I had hoped that as long as I lived I should be able todo these things. But it is not so. I have grown utterly worthless, and some one else must prepare the dinner for my son. I wonder wherehe is. " And tottering to the door, she went outside to look for him. She did not feel able to stand, and reaching the rustic chair, shesank into it, quite exhausted, and soon fell asleep. 

The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage to see if she couldfind an opportunity of carrying out Old Pipes's affectionate design, now happened by; and seeing that the much-desired occasion had come, she stepped up quietly behind the old woman and gently kissed her oneach cheek, and then as quietly disappeared. 

In a few minutes the mother of Old Pipes awoke, and looking up atthe sun, she exclaimed, "Why, it is almost dinner-time! My son willbe here directly, and I am not ready for him. " And rising to herfeet, she hurried into the house, made the fire, set the meat andvegetables to cook, laid the cloth, and by the time her son arrivedthe meal was on the table. 

"How a little sleep does refresh one!" she said to herself, as shewas bustling about. She was a woman of very vigorous constitution, and at seventy had been a great deal stronger and more active thanher son was at that age. The moment Old Pipes saw his mother, heknew that the Dryad had been there; but, while he felt as happy as aking, he was too wise to say anything about her. 

"It is astonishing how well I feel to-day, " said his mother; "andeither my hearing has improved or you speak much more plainly thanyou have done of late. "

The summer days went on and passed away, the leaves were fallingfrom the trees, and the air was becoming cold. 

"Nature has ceased to be lovely, " said the Dryad, "and the nightwinds chill me. It is time for me to go back into my comfortablequarters in the great oak. But first I must pay another visit to thecottage of Old Pipes. "

She found the piper and his mother sitting side by side on the rockin front of the door. The cattle were not to go to the mountain anymore that season, and he was piping them down for the last time. Loud and merrily sounded the pipes of Old Pipes, and down themountain-side came the cattle, the cows by the easiest paths, thesheep by those not quite so easy, and the goats by the mostdifficult ones among the rocks; while from the great oak-tree wereheard the echoes of the cheerful music. 

"How happy they look, sitting there together!" said the Dryad; "andI don't believe it will do them a bit of harm to be still younger. "And moving quietly up behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on hischeek and then his mother. 

Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it was, but he did notmove, and said nothing. His mother, thinking that her son had kissedher, turned to him with a smile and kissed him in return. And thenshe arose and went into the cottage, a vigorous woman of sixty, followed by her son, erect and happy, and twenty years younger thanherself. 

The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her shoulders as shefelt the cool evening wind. 

When she reached the great oak, she turned the key and opened thedoor. "Come out, " she said to the Echo-dwarf, who sat blinkingwithin. "Winter is coming on, and I want the comfortable shelter ofmy tree for myself. The cattle have come down from the mountain forthe last time this year, the pipes will no longer sound, and you cango to your rocks and have a holiday until next spring. "

Upon hearing these words the dwarf skipped quickly out, and theDryad entered the tree and pulled the door shut after her. "Now, then, " she said to herself, "he can break off the key if he likes. It does not matter to me. Another will grow out next spring. Andalthough the good piper made me no promise, I know that when thewarm days arrive next year he will come and let me out again. "

The Echo-dwarf did not stop to break the key of the tree. He was toohappy to be released to think of anything else, and he hastened asfast as he could to his home on the rocky hillside. 

 * * * * *

The Dryad was not mistaken when she trusted in the piper. When thewarm days came again he went to the oak-tree to let her out. But, tohis sorrow and surprise, he found the great tree lying upon theground. A winter storm had blown it down, and it lay with its trunkshattered and split. And what became of the Dryad no one ever knew. 

THE TRANSFERRED GHOST

The country residence of Mr. John Hinckman was a delightful place tome, for many reasons. It was the abode of a genial, though somewhatimpulsive, hospitality. It had broad, smooth-shaven lawns andtowering oaks and elms; there were bosky shades at several points, and not far from the house there was a little rill spanned by arustic bridge with the bark on; there were fruits and flowers, pleasant people, chess, billiards, rides, walks, and fishing. Thesewere great attractions; but none of them, nor all of them together, would have been sufficient to hold me to the place very long. I hadbeen invited for the trout season, but should probably have finishedmy visit early in the summer had it not been that upon fair days, when the grass was dry, and the sun was not too hot, and there wasbut little wind, there strolled beneath the lofty elms, or passedlightly through the bosky shades, the form of my Madeline. 

This lady was not, in very truth, my Madeline. She had never givenherself to me, nor had I, in any way, acquired possession of her. But as I considered her possession the only sufficient reason forthe continuance of my existence, I called her, in my reveries, mine. It may have been that I would not have been obliged to confine theuse of this possessive pronoun to my reveries had I confessed thestate of my feelings to the lady. 

But this was an unusually difficult thing to do. Not only did Idread, as almost all lovers dread, taking the step which would in aninstant put an end to that delightful season which may be termed theante-interrogatory period of love, and which might at the same timeterminate all intercourse or connection with the object of mypassion, but I was also dreadfully afraid of John Hinckman. Thisgentleman was a good friend of mine, but it would have required abolder man than I was at that time to ask him for the gift of hisniece, who was the head of his household, and, according to his ownfrequent statement, the main prop of his declining years. HadMadeline acquiesced in my general views on the subject, I might havefelt encouraged to open the matter to Mr. Hinckman; but, as I saidbefore, I had never asked her whether or not she would be mine. Ithought of these things at all hours of the day and night, particularly the latter. 

I was lying awake one night, in the great bed in my spaciouschamber, when, by the dim light of the new moon, which partiallyfilled the room, I saw John Hinckman standing by a large chair nearthe door. I was very much surprised at this, for two reasons. In thefirst place, my host had never before come into my room; and, in thesecond place, he had gone from home that morning, and had notexpected to return for several days. It was for this reason that Ihad been able that evening to sit much later than usual withMadeline on the moon-lit porch. The figure was certainly that ofJohn Hinckman in his ordinary dress, but there was a vagueness andindistinctness about it which presently assured me that it was aghost. Had the good old man been murdered? and had his spirit cometo tell me of the deed, and to confide to me the protection of hisdear--? My heart fluttered at what I was about to think, but at thisinstant the figure spoke. 

"Do you know, " he said, with a countenance that indicated anxiety, "if Mr. Hinckman will return to-night?"

I thought it well to maintain a calm exterior, and I answered:

"We do not expect him. "

"I am glad of that, " said he, sinking into the chair by which hestood. "During the two years and a half that I have inhabited thishouse, that man has never before been away for a single night. Youcan't imagine the relief it gives me. "

And as he spoke he stretched out his legs and leaned back in thechair. His form became less vague, and the colors of his garmentsmore distinct and evident, while an expression of gratified reliefsucceeded to the anxiety of his countenance. 

"Two years and a half!" I exclaimed. "I don't understand you. "

"It is fully that length of time, " said the ghost, "since I firstcame here. Mine is not an ordinary case. But before I say anythingmore about it, let me ask you again if you are sure Mr. Hinckmanwill not return to-night?"

"I am as sure of it as I can be of anything, " I answered. "He leftto-day for Bristol, two hundred miles away. "

"Then I will go on, " said the ghost, "for I am glad to have theopportunity of talking to some one who will listen to me; but ifJohn Hinckman should come in and catch me here I should befrightened out of my wits. "

"This is all very strange, " I said, greatly puzzled by what I hadheard. "Are you the ghost of Mr. Hinckman?"

This was a bold question, but my mind was so full of other emotionsthat there seemed to be no room for that of fear. 

"Yes, I am his ghost, " my companion replied, "and yet I have noright to be. And this is what makes me so uneasy, and so much afraidof him. It is a strange story, and, I truly believe, withoutprecedent. Two years and a half ago John Hinckman was dangerouslyill in this very room. At one time he was so far gone that he wasreally believed to be dead. It was in consequence of too precipitatea report in regard to this matter that I was, at that time, appointed to be his ghost. Imagine my surprise and horror, sir, when, after I had accepted the position and assumed itsresponsibilities, that old man revived, became convalescent, andeventually regained his usual health. My situation was now one ofextreme delicacy and embarrassment. I had no power to return to myoriginal unembodiment, and I had no right to be the ghost of a manwho was not dead. I was advised by my friends to quietly maintain myposition, and was assured that, as John Hinckman was an elderly man, it could not be long before I could rightfully assume the positionfor which I had been selected. But I tell you, sir, " he continued, with animation, "the old fellow seems as vigorous as ever, and Ihave no idea how much longer this annoying state of things willcontinue. I spend my time trying to get out of that old man's way. Imust not leave this house, and he seems to follow me everywhere. Itell you, sir, he haunts me. "

"That is truly a queer state of things, " I remarked. "But why areyou afraid of him? He couldn't hurt you. "

"Of course he couldn't, " said the ghost. "But his very presence is ashock and terror to me. Imagine, sir, how you would feel if my casewere yours. "

I could not imagine such a thing at all. I simply shuddered. 

"And if one must be a wrongful ghost at all, " the apparitioncontinued, "it would be much pleasanter to be the ghost of some manother than John Hinckman. There is in him an irascibility of temper, accompanied by a facility of invective, which is seldom met with. And what would happen if he were to see me, and find out, as I amsure he would, how long and why I had inhabited his house, I canscarcely conceive. I have seen him in his bursts of passion; and, although he did not hurt the people he stormed at any more than hewould hurt me, they seemed to shrink before him. "

All this I knew to be very true. Had it not been for thispeculiarity of Mr. Hinckman I might have been more willing to talkto him about his niece. 

"I feel sorry for you, " I said, for I really began to have asympathetic feeling toward this unfortunate apparition. "Your caseis indeed a hard one. It reminds me of those persons who have haddoubles, and I suppose a man would often be very angry indeed whenhe found that there was another being who was personating himself. "

"Oh, the cases are not similar at all, " said the ghost. "A double ordoppelgänger lives on the earth with a man, and, being exactly likehim, he makes all sorts of trouble, of course. It is very differentwith me. I am not here to live with Mr. Hinckman. I am here to takehis place. Now, it would make John Hinckman very angry if he knewthat. Don't you know it would?"

I assented promptly. 

"Now that he is away I can be easy for a little while, " continuedthe ghost; "and I am so glad to have an opportunity of talking toyou. I have frequently come into your room and watched you while youslept, but did not dare to speak to you for fear that if you talkedwith me Mr. Hinckman would hear you and come into the room to knowwhy you were talking to yourself. "

"But would he not hear you?" I asked. 

"Oh no!" said the other; "there are times when any one may see me, but no one hears me except the person to whom I address myself. "

"But why did you wish to speak to me?" I asked. 

"Because, " replied the ghost, "I like occasionally to talk topeople, and especially to some one like yourself, whose mind is sotroubled and perturbed that you are not likely to be frightened by avisit from one of us. But I particularly wanted to ask you to do mea favor. There is every probability, so far as I can see, that JohnHinckman will live a long time, and my situation is becominginsupportable. My great object at present is to get myselftransferred, and I think that you may, perhaps, be of use to me. "

"Transferred!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean, " said the other, "is this: now that I have started onmy career I have got to be the ghost of somebody, and I want to bethe ghost of a man who is really dead. "

"I should think that would be easy enough, " I said. "Opportunitiesmust continually occur. "

"Not at all! not at all!" said my companion, quickly. "You have noidea what a rush and pressure there is for situations of this kind. Whenever a vacancy occurs, if I may express myself in that way, there are crowds of applications for the ghostship. "

"I had no idea that such a state of things existed, " I said, becoming quite interested in the matter. "There ought to be someregular system, or order of precedence, by which you could all takeyour turns like customers in a barber's shop. "

"Oh dear, that would never do at all!" said the other. "Some of uswould have to wait forever. There is always a great rush whenever agood ghostship offers itself--while, as you know, there are somepositions that no one would care for. And it was in consequence ofmy being in too great a hurry on an occasion of the kind that I gotmyself into my present disagreeable predicament, and I have thoughtthat it might be possible that you would help me out of it. Youmight know of a case where an opportunity for a ghostship was notgenerally expected, but which might present itself at any moment. Ifyou would give me a short notice I know I could arrange for atransfer. "

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed. "Do you want me to commit suicide?or to undertake a murder for your benefit?"

"Oh no, no, no!" said the other, with a vapory smile. "I meannothing of that kind. To be sure, there are lovers who are watchedwith considerable interest, such persons having been known, inmoments of depression, to offer very desirable ghostships; but I didnot think of anything of that kind in connection with you. You werethe only person I cared to speak to, and I hoped that you might giveme some information that would be of use; and, in return, I shall bevery glad to help you in your love-affair. "

"You seem to know that I have such an affair, " I said. 

"Oh yes!" replied the other, with a little yawn. "I could not behere so much as I have been without knowing all about that. "

There was something horrible in the idea of Madeline and myselfhaving been watched by a ghost, even, perhaps, when we wanderedtogether in the most delightful and bosky places. But then this wasquite an exceptional ghost, and I could not have the objections tohim which would ordinarily arise in regard to beings of his class. 

"I must go now, " said the ghost, rising, "but I will see yousomewhere to-morrow night. And remember--you help me and I'll helpyou. "

I had doubts the next morning as to the propriety of tellingMadeline anything about this interview, and soon convinced myselfthat I must keep silent on the subject. If she knew there was aghost about the house she would probably leave the place instantly. I did not mention the matter, and so regulated my demeanor that I amquite sure Madeline never suspected what had taken place. For sometime I had wished that Mr. Hinckman would absent himself, for a dayat least, from the premises. In such case I thought I might moreeasily nerve myself up to the point of speaking to Madeline on thesubject of our future collateral existence; and, now that theopportunity for such speech had really occurred, I did not feelready to avail myself of it. What would become of me if she refusedme?

I had an idea, however, that the lady thought that, if I were goingto speak at all, this was the time. She must have known that certainsentiments were afloat within me, and she was not unreasonable inher wish to see the matter settled one way or the other. But I didnot feel like taking a bold step in the dark. If she wished me toask her to give herself to me she ought to offer me some reason tosuppose that she would make the gift. If I saw no probability ofsuch generosity I would prefer that things should remain as theywere. 

 * * * * *

That evening I was sitting with Madeline in the moon-lit porch. Itwas nearly ten o'clock, and ever since supper-time I had beenworking myself up to the point of making an avowal of my sentiments. I had not positively determined to do this, but wished gradually toreach the proper point, when, if the prospect looked bright, I mightspeak. My companion appeared to understand the situation--at least Iimagined that the nearer I came to a proposal the more she seemed toexpect it. It was certainly a very critical and important epoch inmy life. If I spoke I should make myself happy or miserable forever;and if I did not speak I had every reason to believe that the ladywould not give me another chance to do so. 

Sitting thus with Madeline, talking a little, and thinking very hardover these momentous matters, I looked up and saw the ghost not adozen feet away from us. He was sitting on the railing of the porch, one leg thrown up before him, the other dangling down as he leanedagainst a post. He was behind Madeline, but almost in front of me, as I sat facing the lady. It was fortunate that Madeline was lookingout over the landscape, for I must have appeared very much startled. The ghost had told me that he would see me sometime this night, butI did not think he would make his appearance when I was in thecompany of Madeline. If she should see the spirit of her uncle Icould not answer for the consequences. I made no exclamation, butthe ghost evidently saw that I was troubled. 

"Don't be afraid, " he said. "I shall not let her see me; and shecannot hear me speak unless I address myself to her, which I do notintend to do. "

I suppose I looked grateful. 

"So you need not trouble yourself about that, " the ghost continued;"but it seems to me that you are not getting along very well withyour affair. If I were you I should speak out without waiting anylonger. You will never have a better chance. You are not likely tobe interrupted; and, so far as I can judge, the lady seems disposedto listen to you favorably; that is, if she ever intends to do so. There is no knowing when John Hinckman will go away again; certainlynot this summer. If I were in your place I should never dare to makelove to Hinckman's niece if he were anywhere about the place. If heshould catch any one offering himself to Miss Madeline he would thenbe a terrible man to encounter. "

I agreed perfectly to all this. 

"I cannot bear to think of him!" I ejaculated aloud. 

"Think of whom?" asked Madeline, turning quickly toward me. 

Here was an awkward situation. The long speech of the ghost, towhich Madeline paid no attention, but which I heard with perfectdistinctness, had made me forget myself. 

It was necessary to explain quickly. Of course it would not do toadmit that it was of her dear uncle that I was speaking; and so Imentioned hastily the first name I thought of. 

"Mr. Vilars, " I said. 

This statement was entirely correct; for I never could bear to thinkof Mr. Vilars, who was a gentleman who had at various times paidmuch attention to Madeline. 

"It is wrong for you to speak in that way of Mr. Vilars, " she said. "He is a remarkably well-educated and sensible young man, and hasvery pleasant manners. He expects to be elected to the legislaturethis fall, and I should not be surprised if he made his mark. Hewill do well in a legislative body, for whenever Mr. Vilars hasanything to say he knows just how and when to say it. "

This was spoken very quietly and without any show of resentment, which was all very natural; for if Madeline thought at all favorablyof me she could not feel displeased that I should have disagreeableemotions in regard to a possible rival. The concluding wordscontained a hint which I was not slow to understand. I felt verysure that if Mr. Vilars were in my present position he would speakquickly enough. 

"I know it is wrong to have such ideas about a person, " I said, "butI cannot help it. "

The lady did not chide me, and after this she seemed even in asofter mood. As for me, I felt considerably annoyed, for I had notwished to admit that any thought of Mr. Vilars had ever occupied mymind. 

"You should not speak aloud that way, " said the ghost, "or you mayget yourself into trouble. I want to see everything go well withyou, because then you may be disposed to help me, especially if Ishould chance to be of any assistance to you, which I hope I shallbe. "

I longed to tell him that there was no way in which he could help meso much as by taking his instant departure. To make love to a younglady with a ghost sitting on the railing near by, and that ghost theapparition of a much-dreaded uncle, the very idea of whom in such aposition and at such a time made me tremble, was a difficult, if notan impossible, thing to do; but I forbore to speak, although I mayhave looked, my mind. 

"I suppose, " continued the ghost, "that you have not heard anythingthat might be of advantage to me. Of course I am very anxious tohear; but if you have anything to tell me I can wait until you arealone. I will come to you to-night in your room, or I will stay hereuntil the lady goes away. "

"You need not wait here, " I said; "I have nothing at all to say toyou. "

Madeline sprang to her feet, her face flushed and her eyes ablaze. 

"Wait here!" she cried. "What do you suppose I am waiting for?Nothing to say to me indeed!--I should think so! What should youhave to say to me?"

"Madeline, " I exclaimed, stepping toward her, "let me explain. "

But she had gone. 

Here was the end of the world for me! I turned fiercely to theghost. 

"Wretched existence!" I cried. "You have ruined everything. You haveblackened my whole life. Had it not been for you--"

But here my voice faltered. I could say no more. 

"You wrong me, " said the ghost. "I have not injured you. I havetried only to encourage and assist you, and it is your own follythat has done this mischief. But do not despair. Such mistakes asthese can be explained. Keep up a brave heart. Good-by. "

And he vanished from the railing like a bursting soap-bubble. 

I went gloomily to bed, but I saw no apparitions that night exceptthose of despair and misery which my wretched thoughts called up. The words I had uttered had sounded to Madeline like the basestinsult. Of course there was only one interpretation she could putupon them. 

As to explaining my ejaculations, that was impossible. I thought thematter over and over again as I lay awake that night, and Idetermined that I would never tell Madeline the facts of the case. It would be better for me to suffer all my life than for her to knowthat the ghost of her uncle haunted the house. Mr. Hinckman wasaway, and if she knew of his ghost she could not be made to believethat he was not dead. She might not survive the shock! No, my heartcould bleed, but I would never tell her. 

The next day was fine, neither too cool nor too warm; the breezeswere gentle, and Nature smiled. But there were no walks or rideswith Madeline. She seemed to be much engaged during the day, and Isaw but little of her. When we met at meals she was polite, but veryquiet and reserved. She had evidently determined on a course ofconduct, and had resolved to assume that, although I had been veryrude to her, she did not understand the import of my words. It wouldbe quite proper, of course, for her not to know what I meant by myexpressions of the night before. 

I was downcast and wretched and said but little, and the only brightstreak across the black horizon of my woe was the fact that she didnot appear to be happy, although she affected an air of unconcern. The moon-lit porch was deserted that evening, but wandering aboutthe house, I found Madeline in the library alone. She was reading, but I went in and sat down near her. I felt that, although I couldnot do so fully, I must in a measure explain my conduct of the nightbefore. She listened quietly to a somewhat labored apology I madefor the words I had used. 

"I have not the slightest idea what you meant, " she said, "but youwere very rude. "

I earnestly disclaimed any intention of rudeness, and assured her, with a warmth of speech that must have made some impression uponher, that rudeness to her would be an action impossible to me. Isaid a great deal upon the subject, and implored her to believe thatif it were not for a certain obstacle I could speak to her soplainly that she would understand everything. 

She was silent for a time, and then she said, rather more kindly, Ithought, than she had spoken before:

"Is that obstacle in any way connected with my uncle?"

"Yes, " I answered, after a little hesitation, "it is, in a measure, connected with him. "

She made no answer to this, and sat looking at her book, but notreading. From the expression of her face I thought she was somewhatsoftened toward me. She knew her uncle as well as I did, and she mayhave been thinking that, if he were the obstacle that prevented myspeaking (and there were many ways in which he might be thatobstacle), my position would be such a hard one that it would excusesome wildness of speech and eccentricity of manner. I saw, too, thatthe warmth of my partial explanations had had some effect on her, and I began to believe that it might be a good thing for me to speakmy mind without delay. No matter how she should receive myproposition, my relations with her could not be worse than they hadbeen the previous night and day, and there was something in her facewhich encouraged me to hope that she might forget my foolishexclamations of the evening before if I began to tell her my tale oflove. 

I drew my chair a little nearer to her, and as I did so the ghostburst into the room from the doorway behind her. I say burst, although no door flew open and he made no noise. He was wildlyexcited, and waved his arms above his head. The moment I saw him myheart fell within me. With the entrance of that impertinentapparition every hope fled from me. I could not speak while he wasin the room. 

I must have turned pale; and I gazed steadfastly at the ghost, almost without seeing Madeline, who sat between us. 

"Do you know, " he cried, "that John Hinckman is coming up the hill?He will be here in fifteen minutes; and if you are doing anything inthe way of love-making you had better hurry it up. But this is notwhat I came to tell you. I have glorious news! At last I amtransferred! Not forty minutes ago a Russian nobleman was murderedby the Nihilists. Nobody ever thought of him in connection with animmediate ghostship. My friends instantly applied for the situationfor me, and obtained my transfer. I am off before that horridHinckman comes up the hill. The moment I reach my new position Ishall put off this hated semblance. Good-by. You can't imagine howglad I am to be, at last, the real ghost of somebody. "

"Oh!" I cried, rising to my feet, and stretching out my arms inutter wretchedness, "I would to Heaven you were mine!"

"I _am_ yours, " said Madeline, raising to me her tearful eyes. 

"THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE EXISTENCES"

In a certain summer, not long gone, my friend Bentley and I foundourselves in a little hamlet which overlooked a placid valley, through which a river gently moved, winding its way through greenstretches until it turned the end of a line of low hills and waslost to view. Beyond this river, far away, but visible from the doorof the cottage where we dwelt, there lay a city. Through the mistswhich floated over the valley we could see the outlines of steeplesand tall roofs; and buildings of a character which indicated thriftand business stretched themselves down to the opposite edge of theriver. The more distant parts of the city, evidently a small one, lost themselves in the hazy summer atmosphere. 

Bentley was young, fair-haired, and a poet; I was a philosopher, ortrying to be one. We were good friends, and had come down into thispeaceful region to work together. Although we had fled from thebustle and distractions of the town, the appearance in this ruralregion of a city, which, so far as we could observe, exerted noinfluence on the quiet character of the valley in which it lay, aroused our interest. No craft plied up and down the river; therewere no bridges from shore to shore; there were none of thosescattered and half-squalid habitations which generally are found onthe outskirts of a city; there came to us no distant sound of bells;and not the smallest wreath of smoke rose from any of the buildings. 

In answer to our inquiries our landlord told us that the city overthe river had been built by one man, who was a visionary, and whohad a great deal more money than common sense. "It is not as big atown as you would think, sirs, " he said, "because the generalmistiness of things in this valley makes them look larger than theyare. Those hills, for instance, when you get to them are not as highas they look to be from here. But the town is big enough, and a gooddeal too big; for it ruined its builder and owner, who when he cameto die had not money enough left to put up a decent tombstone at thehead of his grave. He had a queer idea that he would like to havehis town all finished before anybody lived in it, and so he kept onworking and spending money year after year and year after year untilthe city was done and he had not a cent left. During all the timethat the place was building hundreds of people came to him to buyhouses, or to hire them, but he would not listen to anything of thekind. No one must live in his town until it was all done. Even hisworkmen were obliged to go away at night to lodge. It is a town, sirs, I am told, in which nobody has slept for even a night. Thereare streets there, and places of business, and churches, and publichalls, and everything that a town full of inhabitants could need;but it is all empty and deserted, and has been so as far back as Ican remember, and I came to this region when I was a little boy. "

"And is there no one to guard the place?" we asked; "no one toprotect it from wandering vagrants who might choose to takepossession of the buildings?"

"There are not many vagrants in this part of the country, " he said, "and if there were they would not go over to that city. It ishaunted. "

"By what?" we asked. 

"Well, sirs, I scarcely can tell you; queer beings that are notflesh and blood, and that is all I know about it. A good many peopleliving hereabouts have visited that place once in their lives, but Iknow of no one who has gone there a second time. "

"And travellers, " I said, "are they not excited by curiosity toexplore that strange uninhabited city?"

"Oh yes, " our host replied; "almost all visitors to the valley goover to that queer city--generally in small parties, for it is not aplace in which one wishes to walk about alone. Sometimes they seethings and sometimes they don't. But I never knew any man or womanto show a fancy for living there, although it is a very good town. "

This was said at supper-time, and, as it was the period of fullmoon, Bentley and I decided that we would visit the haunted citythat evening. Our host endeavored to dissuade us, saying that no oneever went over there at night; but as we were not to be deterred hetold us where we would find his small boat tied to a stake on theriver-bank. We soon crossed the river, and landed at a broad but lowstone pier, at the land end of which a line of tall grasses waved inthe gentle night wind as if they were sentinels warning us fromentering the silent city. We pushed through these, and walked up astreet fairly wide, and so well paved that we noticed none of theweeds and other growths which generally denote desertion or littleuse. By the bright light of the moon we could see that thearchitecture was simple, and of a character highly gratifying to theeye. All the buildings were of stone, and of good size. We weregreatly excited and interested, and proposed to continue our walksuntil the moon should set, and to return on the followingmorning--"to live here, perhaps, " said Bentley. "What could be soromantic and yet so real? What could conduce better to the marriageof verse and philosophy?" But as he said this we saw around thecorner of a cross-street some forms as of people hurrying away. 

"The spectres, " said my companion, laying his hand on my arm. 

"Vagrants, more likely, " I answered, "who have taken advantage ofthe superstition of the region to appropriate this comfort andbeauty to themselves. "

"If that be so, " said Bentley, "we must have a care for our lives. "

We proceeded cautiously, and soon saw other forms fleeing before usand disappearing, as we supposed, around corners and into houses. And now suddenly finding ourselves upon the edge of a wide, openpublic square, we saw in the dim light--for a tall steeple obscuredthe moon--the forms of vehicles, horses, and men moving here andthere. But before, in our astonishment, we could say a word one tothe other, the moon moved past the steeple, and in its bright lightwe could see none of the signs of life and traffic which had justastonished us. 

Timidly, with hearts beating fast, but with not one thought ofturning back, nor any fear of vagrants--for we were now sure thatwhat we had seen was not flesh and blood, and therefore harmless--wecrossed the open space and entered a street down which the moonshone clearly. Here and there we saw dim figures, which quicklydisappeared; but, approaching a low stone balcony in front of one ofthe houses, we were surprised to see, sitting thereon and leaningover a book which lay open upon the top of the carved parapet, thefigure of a woman who did not appear to notice us. 

"That is a real person, " whispered Bentley, "and she does not seeus. "

"No, " I replied; "it is like the others. Let us go near it. "

We drew near to the balcony and stood before it. At this the figureraised its head and looked at us. It was beautiful, it was young;but its substance seemed to be of an ethereal quality which we hadnever seen or known of. With its full, soft eyes fixed upon us, itspoke. 

"Why are you here?" it asked. "I have said to myself that the nexttime I saw any of you I would ask you why you come to trouble us. Cannot you live content in your own realms and spheres, knowing, asyou must know, how timid we are, and how you frighten us and make usunhappy? In all this city there is, I believe, not one of us exceptmyself who does not flee and hide from you whenever you cruelly comehere. Even I would do that, had not I declared to myself that Iwould see you and speak to you, and endeavor to prevail upon you toleave us in peace. "

The clear, frank tones of the speaker gave me courage. "We are twomen, " I answered, "strangers in this region, and living for the timein the beautiful country on the other side of the river. Havingheard of this quiet city, we have come to see it for ourselves. Wehad supposed it to be uninhabited, but now that we find that this isnot the case, we would assure you from our hearts that we do notwish to disturb or annoy any one who lives here. We simply came ashonest travellers to view the city. "

The figure now seated herself again, and as her countenance wasnearer to us, we could see that it was filled with pensive thought. For a moment she looked at us without speaking. "Men!" she said. "And so I have been right. For a long time I have believed that thebeings who sometimes come here, filling us with dread and awe, aremen. "

"And you, " I exclaimed--"who are you, and who are these forms thatwe have seen, these strange inhabitants of this city?"

She gently smiled as she answered, "We are the ghosts of the future. We are the people who are to live in this city generations hence. But all of us do not know that, principally because we do not thinkabout it and study about it enough to know it. And it is generallybelieved that the men and women who sometimes come here are ghostswho haunt the place. "

"And that is why you are terrified and flee from us?" I exclaimed. "You think we are ghosts from another world?"

"Yes, " she replied; "that is what is thought, and what I used tothink. "

"And you, " I asked, "are spirits of human beings yet to be?"

"Yes, " she answered; "but not for a long time. Generations of men--Iknow not how many--must pass away before we are men and women. "

"Heavens!" exclaimed Bentley, clasping his hands and raising hiseyes to the sky, "I shall be a spirit before you are a woman. "

"Perhaps, " she said again, with a sweet smile upon her face, "youmay live to be very, very old. "

But Bentley shook his head. This did not console him. For someminutes I stood in contemplation, gazing upon the stone pavementbeneath my feet. "And this, " I ejaculated, "is a city inhabited bythe ghosts of the future, who believe men and women to be phantomsand spectres?"

She bowed her head. 

"But how is it, " I asked, "that you discovered that you are spiritsand we mortal men?"

"There are so few of us who think of such things, " she answered, "sofew who study, ponder, and reflect. I am fond of study, and I lovephilosophy; and from the reading of many books I have learned much. From the book which I have here I have learned most; and from itsteachings I have gradually come to the belief, which you tell me isthe true one, that we are spirits and you men. "

"And what book is that?" I asked. 

"It is 'The Philosophy of Relative Existences, ' by Rupert Vance. "

"Ye gods!" I exclaimed, springing upon the balcony, "that is mybook, and I am Rupert Vance. " I stepped toward the volume to seizeit, but she raised her hand. 

"You cannot touch it, " she said. "It is the ghost of a book. And didyou write it?"

"Write it? No, " I said; "I am writing it. It is not yet finished. "

"But here it is, " she said, turning over the last pages. "As aspirit book it is finished. It is very successful; it is held inhigh estimation by intelligent thinkers; it is a standard work. "

I stood trembling with emotion. "High estimation!" I said. "Astandard work!"

"Oh yes, " she replied, with animation; "and it well deserves itsgreat success, especially in its conclusion. I have read it twice. "

"But let me see these concluding pages, " I exclaimed. "Let me lookupon what I am to write. "

She smiled, and shook her head, and closed the book. "I would liketo do that, " she said, "but if you are really a man you must notknow what you are going to do. "

"Oh, tell me, tell me, " cried Bentley from below, "do you know abook called 'Stellar Studies, ' by Arthur Bentley? It is a book ofpoems. "

The figure gazed at him. "No, " it said, presently, "I never heard ofit. "

I stood trembling. Had the youthful figure before me been flesh andblood, had the book been a real one, I would have torn it from her. 

"O wise and lovely being!" I exclaimed, falling on my knees beforeher, "be also benign and generous. Let me but see the last page ofmy book. If I have been of benefit to your world; more than all, ifI have been of benefit to you, let me see, I implore you--let me seehow it is that I have done it. "

She rose with the book in her hand. "You have only to wait until youhave done it, " she said, "and then you will know all that you couldsee here. " I started to my feet and stood alone upon the balcony. 

"I am sorry, " said Bentley, as we walked toward the pier where wehad left our boat, "that we talked only to that ghost girl, and thatthe other spirits were all afraid of us. Persons whose souls arechoked up with philosophy are not apt to care much for poetry; andeven if my book is to be widely known, it is easy to see that shemay not have heard of it. "

I walked triumphant. The moon, almost touching the horizon, beamedlike red gold. "My dear friend, " said I, "I have always told youthat you should put more philosophy into your poetry. That wouldmake it live. "

"And I have always told you, " said he, "that you should not put somuch poetry into your philosophy. It misleads people. "

"It didn't mislead that ghost girl, " said I. 

"How do you know?" said Bentley. "Perhaps she is wrong, and theother inhabitants of the city are right, and we may be the ghostsafter all. Such things, you know, are only relative. Anyway, " hecontinued, after a little pause, "I wish I knew that those ghostswere now reading the poem which I am going to begin to-morrow. "

A PIECE OF RED CALICO

I was going into town one morning from my suburban residence, whenmy wife handed me a little piece of red calico, and asked me if Iwould have time, during the day, to buy her two yards and a half ofcalico like that. I assured her that it would be no trouble at all;and putting the sample in my pocket, I took the train for the city. 

At lunch-time I stopped in at a large dry-goods store to attend tomy wife's commission. I saw a well-dressed man walking the floorbetween the counters, where long lines of girls were waiting on muchlonger lines of customers, and asked him where I could see some redcalico. 

"This way, sir. " And he led me up the store. "Miss Stone, " said heto a young lady, "show this gentleman some red calico. "

"What shade do you want?" asked Miss Stone. 

I showed her the little piece of calico that my wife had given me. She looked at it and handed it back to me. Then she took down agreat roll of red calico and spread it out on the counter. 

"Why, that isn't the shade!" said I. 

"No, not exactly, " said she; "but it is prettier than your sample. "

"That may be, " said I; "but, you see, I want to match this piece. There is something already made of this kind of calico which needsto be enlarged or mended or something. I want some calico of thesame shade. "

The girl made no answer, but took down another roll. 

"That's the shade, " said she. 

"Yes, " I replied, "but it's striped. "

"Stripes are more worn than anything else in calicoes, " said she. 

"Yes, but this isn't to be worn. It's for furniture, I think. At anyrate, I want perfectly plain stuff, to match something already inuse. "

"Well, I don't think you can find it perfectly plain unless you getTurkey red. "

"What is Turkey red?" I asked. 

"Turkey red is perfectly plain in calicoes, " she answered. 

"Well, let me see some. "

"We haven't any Turkey-red calico left, " she said, "but we have somevery nice plain calicoes in other colors. "

"I don't want any other color. I want stuff to match this. "

"It's hard to match cheap calico like that, " she said. And so I lefther. 

I next went into a store a few doors farther up the street. When Ientered I approached the "floor-walker, " and handing him my sample, said:

"Have you any calico like this?"

"Yes, sir, " said he. "Third counter to the right. "

I went to the third counter to the right, and showed my sample tothe salesman in attendance there. He looked at it on both sides. Then he said:

"We haven't any of this. "

"I was told you had, " said I. 

"We had it, but we're out of it now. You'll get that goods at anupholsterer's. "

I went across the street to an upholsterer's. 

"Have you any stuff like this?" I asked. 

"No, " said the salesman, "we haven't. Is it for furniture?"

"Yes, " I replied. 

"Then Turkey red is what you want. "

"Is Turkey red just like this?" I asked. 

"No, " said he; "but it's much better. "

"That makes no difference to me, " I replied. "I want something justlike this. "

"But they don't use that for furniture, " he said. 

"I should think people could use anything they wanted forfurniture, " I remarked, somewhat sharply. 

"They can, but they don't, " he said, quite calmly. "They don't usered like that. They use Turkey red. "

I said no more, but left. The next place I visited was a very largedry-goods store. Of the first salesman I saw I inquired if they keptred calico like my sample. 

"You'll find that on the second story, " said he. 

I went upstairs. There I asked a man:

"Where will I find red calico?"

"In the far room to the left. Over there. " And he pointed to adistant corner. 

I walked through the crowds of purchasers and salespeople, andaround the counters and tables filled with goods, to the far room tothe left. When I got there I asked for red calico. 

"The second counter down this side, " said the man. 

I went there and produced my sample. "Calicoes downstairs, " said theman. 

"They told me they were up here, " I said. 

"Not these plain goods. You'll find 'em downstairs at the back ofthe store, over on that side. "

I went downstairs to the back of the store. 

"Where will I find red calico like this?" I asked. 

"Next counter but one, " said the man addressed, walking with me inthe direction pointed out. 

"Dunn, show red calicoes. "

Mr. Dunn took my sample and looked at it. 

"We haven't this shade in that quality of goods, " he said. 

"Well, have you it in any quality of goods?" I asked. 

"Yes; we've got it finer. " And he took down a piece of calico, andunrolled a yard or two of it on the counter. 

"That's not this shade, " I said. 

"No, " said he. "The goods is finer and the color's better. "

"I want it to match this, " I said. 

"I thought you weren't particular about the match, " said thesalesman. "You said you didn't care for the quality of the goods, and you know you can't match goods without you take intoconsideration quality and color both. If you want that quality ofgoods in red, you ought to get Turkey red. "

I did not think it necessary to answer this remark, but said:

"Then you've got nothing to match this?"

"No, sir. But perhaps they may have it in the upholstery department, in the sixth story. "

So I got in the elevator and went up to the top of the house. 

"Have you any red stuff like this?" I said to a young man. 

"Red stuff? Upholstery department--other end of this floor. "

I went to the other end of the floor. 

"I want some red calico, " I said to a man. 

"Furniture goods?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said I. 

"Fourth counter to the left. "

I went to the fourth counter to the left, and showed my sample to asalesman. He looked at it, and said:

"You'll get this down on the first floor--calico department. "

I turned on my heel, descended in the elevator, and went out on thestreet. I was thoroughly sick of red calico. But I determined tomake one more trial. My wife had bought her red calico not longbefore, and there must be some to be had somewhere. I ought to haveasked her where she obtained it, but I thought a simple little thinglike that could be bought anywhere. 

I went into another large dry-goods store. As I entered the door asudden tremor seized me. I could not bear to take out that piece ofred calico. If I had had any other kind of a rag about me--apen-wiper or anything of the sort--I think I would have asked themif they could match that. 

But I stepped up to a young woman and presented my sample, with theusual question. 

"Back room, counter on the left, " she said. 

I went there. 

"Have you any red calico like this?" I asked of the saleswomanbehind the counter. 

"No, sir, " she said, "but we have it in Turkey red. "

Turkey red again! I surrendered. 

"All right, " I said, "give me Turkey red. "

"How much, sir?" she asked. 

"I don't know--say five yards. "

She looked at me rather strangely, but measured off five yards ofTurkey-red calico. Then she rapped on the counter and called out"Cash!" A little girl, with yellow hair in two long plaits, cameslowly up. The lady wrote the number of yards, the name of thegoods, her own number, the price, the amount of the bank-note Ihanded her, and some other matters, probably the color of my eyesand the direction and velocity of the wind, on a slip of paper. Shethen copied all this into a little book which she kept by her. Thenshe handed the slip of paper, the money, and the Turkey red to theyellow-haired girl. This young person copied the slip into a littlebook she carried, and then she went away with the calico, the paperslip, and the money. 

After a very long time--during which the little girl probably tookthe goods, the money, and the slip to some central desk, where thenote was received, its amount and number entered in a book, changegiven to the girl, a copy of the slip made and entered, girl's entryexamined and approved, goods wrapped up, girl registered, plaitscounted and entered on a slip of paper and copied by the girl in herbook, girl taken to a hydrant and washed, number of towel entered ona paper slip and copied by the girl in her book, value of my noteand amount of change branded somewhere on the child, and saidprocess noted on a slip of paper and copied in her book--the girlcame to me, bringing my change and the package of Turkey-red calico. 

I had time for but very little work at the office that afternoon, and when I reached home I handed the package of calico to my wife. She unrolled it and exclaimed:

"Why, this don't match the piece I gave you!"

"Match it!" I cried. "Oh no! it don't match it. You didn't want thatmatched. You were mistaken. What you wanted was Turkey red--thirdcounter to the left. I mean, Turkey red is what they use. "

My wife looked at me in amazement, and then I detailed to her mytroubles. 

"Well, " said she, "this Turkey red is a great deal prettier thanwhat I had, and you've got so much of it that I needn't use theother at all. I wish I had thought of Turkey red before. "

"I wish from the bottom of my heart you had, " said I. 

CAMEO EDITION. 

REVERIES OF A BACHELOR; or, a Book of the Heart. By Donald G. Mitchell. With an Etching by Percy Moran. 

DREAM LIFE. A Fable of the Seasons. With an Etching by Percy Moran. 

OLD CREOLE DAYS. By George W Cable. With an Etching by Percy Moran. 

IN OLE VIRGINIA. By Thomas Nelson Page. With an Etching by W. L. Sheppard. 

BITTER-SWEET. A Poem. By J. G. Holland. With an Etching by OttoBacher. 

KATHRINA. A Poem. By J. G. Holland. With an Etching by Otto Bacher. 

LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS. By Andrew Lang. With an Etched Portrait byS. J. Ferris. 

"VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE. " By Robert Louis Stevenson With an EtchedPortrait by S. J. Ferris. 

A CHOSEN FEW. Short Stories. By Frank R. Stockton. With an EtchedPortrait by W. H. W. Bicknell. 

A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES. By Eugene Field. With an EtchedPortrait by W. H. W. Bicknell. 

THE REFLECTIONS OF A MARRIED MAN. By Robert Grant. With an Etchingby W. H. Hyde. 

THE OPINIONS OF A PHILOSOPHER. By Robert Grant. With an Etching byW. H. Hyde. 

Each, one volume, 16mo. 

Half Calf, g. T. , $2. 75; half levant, $3. 50; cloth, $1. 25

Transcriber's Notes

Four typographic errors have been corrected: Donald G. Mitchell. With an Etching by Percy Moran. [period inserted] and then she'll have to have new ones, and lots[was: lot's] standing on the cabin floor instead[was: intead] of the bulkhead. Him in there and we will shut him up[was: no]. Then I

Three structural changes have been made: The half-title text (A CHOSEN FEW) was removed. The booklist "Cameo Edition" was moved from before the frontispiece to the end of the book. The original had the story names alone on a page before the story, as well as on the page where the story started. These duplicate titles have been removed.