Mind Amongst the Spindles Part 22

"Now, pa, I can't go any farther--I would as lieve travel through the deserts of Sahara, or run the gauntlet among the Seminoles, as to wade through this sloshy story. Miss Simpkins always has such names to her heroines; and they would do very well if they were placed anywhere but in the unromantic towns of our granite State. H., I suppose, stands for Hawke, or Hopkinton. Miss Simpkins is so soft that I do not believe Mr.

Baxter would publish her stories, if he were not engaged to her sister.

She makes me think of old 'deaf uncle Jeff,' in the story, who wanted somebody to love."

"And she does love--she loves everybody; and I am sorry to hear you talk so of this amiable and intellectual girl. But I do not wish to hear you read her story now--as for her names, she would not find one unappropriated by our towns-folks. What comes next?"

"The editorial, pa, and the caption is, 'Our Representatives.' I had ten times rather read about the antediluvians, and I wish sometimes they might go and keep them company. And now for the items: Our new bell got cracked, in its winding way to this 'ere town; and the meeting-house at the West Parish, has been fired by an incendiary; and the old elm, near the Central House, has been blown down; and Widow Frye has had a yoke of oxen struck by lightning; and old Col. Morton fell down dead, in a fit of apoplexy; and the bridge over the Branch needs repairing; and 'a friend of good order' wishes that our young men would not stand gaping around the meeting-house doors, before or after service; and 'a friend of equal rights' wishes that people might sell and drink as much rum as they please, without interference, &c., &c.; and all these things we knew before, as well as we did our A B C's. Next are the cards: The ladies have voted their thanks to Mr. K., for his lecture upon phrenology--the matrimonial part, I presume, included; and the Anti-Slavery Society is to have a fair, at which will be sold all sorts of abolition things, such as anti-slavery paper, wafers, and all such important articles. I declare I will make a n.i.g.g.e.r doll for it. And Mr.

P., of Boston, is to deliver a lecture upon temperance; and the trustees of the Academy have chosen Mr. Dalton for the Preceptor, and here is his long advertis.e.m.e.nt; and the Overseers of the Poor are ready to receive proposals for a new alms-house; and all these things, pa, which have been the town talk this long time. But here is something new. Our minister, dear Mr. Olden, has been very seriously injured by an accident upon the Boston and Salem Railroad. The news must be very recent, for we had not heard of it; and it is crowded into very fine type. Oh, how sorry I am for him!"

"Well, Lina, or Miss Angeline, there is something of sufficient importance to repay you for the trouble of reading it, and I am very glad that you have done so--for I will start upon my intended journey to Boston to-day, and can a.s.sist him to return home. Anything else?"

"Oh, yes, pa! a long list of those who have taken advantage of the Bankrupt Act, and the Deaths and Marriages; but all mentioned here, with whose names we were familiar, have been subjects for table-talk these several days."

"Well, is there no foreign news?"

"Yes, pa; Queen Victoria has given another ball at Buckingham Palace; and Prince Albert has accepted a very fine blood-hound, from Major Sharp, of Houston; and Sir Howard Douglas has been made a Civil Grand Cross of the Bath, &c., &c. Are not these fine things to fill up our republican papers with?"

"Well, my daughter, look at the doings in Congress--that will suit you."

"You know better, pa. They do nothing there but scold, and strike, and grumble--then pocket their money, and go home. See, here it begins, 'The proceedings of the House can hardly be said to have been _important_. An instructive and delightful _scene_ took place between Mr. Wise of Virginia, and Mr. Stanly, of South Carolina.' Yes, pa, that's the way they spend their time. In this _act_ of the farce, or tragedy, one called t' other a _bull-dog_, t' other called one a _coward_. Do you wish to hear any more?"

"You are somewhat out of humor, my child; but are there no new notices?"

"Yes, here is an 'a.s.sessors' Notice,' and an 'a.s.signee's Notice,' and a 'Contractors' Notice;' but you do not care anything about them. And here is an 'Auction Notice.'"

"What auction? Read it, my love."

"Why, the late old Mr. Gardner's farm-house, and all his furniture, are to be sold at auction. And here is a notice of a meeting of the Directors of the Pentucket Bank, to be held this very afternoon."

"I am very glad to have learned of it, for I must be there. Is that all?"

"All?--no, indeed! Here are some long articles, full of _Whereases_, and _Resolved's_, and _Be it enacted's_; but I know you will excuse me from reading them. And now for the advertis.e.m.e.nts: Here is a fine new lot of _Chenie-de-Laines_, 'just received' at Grosvenor's--oh, pa! do let me have a new dress, won't you?"

"No, I can't--at least, I do not see how I can. But if you will promise to read my paper through patiently for the future, and will prepare my valise for my journey to Boston, I will see what I may do. Meantime I must be off to the directors' meeting. And now let me remind you that two items, at least, in this paper, have been of much importance to me; and one, it seems, somewhat interesting to you. So no more fretting about the Chronicle, if you want a _new gown_."

Mr. Wheeler left the room, and Angeline seated herself at the work-table, to repair his vest. She was sorry she had fretted so much about the Chronicle; but she did wish her father would take the "Ladies'

Companion," or something else, in its stead.

While seated there, her little brother came running into the room, all out of breath, and but just able to gasp out, "Oh, Lina! there is a man at the Central House, who has just stopped in the stage, and he is going right on to Kentucky, and straight through the town where Alfred lives, for I heard him say so; and I asked him if he would carry anything for us, and he said, 'Yes, willingly.' So I ran home as fast as I could come, to tell you to write a note, or do up a paper, or something, because he will be so sure to get it--and right from us, too, as fast as it can go. Now do be quick, or the stage will start off."

"Oh, dear me," exclaimed Angeline, "how I do wish we had a New York Mirror, or a Philadelphia Courier, or a Boston Gazette, or anything but this stupid Chronicle! Do look, Jimmy! is there nothing in this pile of papers?"

"No, nothing that will do--so fold up the Chronicle, quick, for the stage is starting."

Angeline, who had spent some moments in looking for another paper, now had barely time to scrawl the short word "Lina" on the paper, wrap it in an envelop, and direct it. Jimmy s.n.a.t.c.hed it as soon as it was ready, and ran out "_full tilt_," in knightly phrase, or, as he afterwards said, "_lickity split_."

The stage was coming on at full speed, and he wished to stop it. Many a time had he stood by the road-side, with his school companions, and, waving his cap, and stretching out his neck, had hallooed, "Hurrah for Jackson!" and he feared that, like the boy in the fable, who called "Wolves! wolves!" if he now shouted to them from the road-side, they would not heed him. So he ran into the middle of the road, threw up his arms, and stood still. The driver barely reined in his horses within a few feet of the daring boy.

"Where is the man who is going straight ahead to Kentucky?"

"Here, my lad," replied a voice, as a head popped out of the window, to see what was the matter.

"Well, here is a paper which I wish you to carry to my brother; and if you stop long enough where he is, you must go and see him, and tell him you saw me too."

"Well done, my lad! you are a keen one. I'll do your bidding--but don't you never run under stage-horses again."

He took the packet, while the driver cracked his whip; and the horses started as the little boy leaped upon the bank, shouting, "Hurra for Yankee Land and old Kentucky!"

CHAPTER II.

In a rude log hut of Western Kentucky was seated an animated and intelligent-looking young man. A bright moon was silvering the forest-tops, which were almost the only prospect from his window; but in that beauteous light the rough clearing around seemed changed to fairy land; and even his rude domicile partook of the transient renovation. His lone walls, his creviced roof, and ragged floor, were transformed beneath that silvery veil; and truly did it look as though it might well be the abode of peaceful happiness.

"I feel as though I could write poetry now," said Alfred to himself.

"Let me see--'The Spirit's Call to the Absent,' or something like that; but if I should strike my light, and really get pens, ink, and paper, it would all evaporate, vanish, abscond, make tracks, become scarce, be o.

p. h. Ah, yes! the poetry would go, but the feeling, the deep affection, which would find some other language than simple prose, can never depart.

"How I wish I could see them all! There is not a codger in my native town--not a crusty fusty old bachelor--not an envious tattling old maid--not a flirt, sot, pauper, idiot, or sainted hypocrite, but I could welcome with an embrace. But if I could only see my father, or Jimmy, or Lina, dear girl! how much better I should feel! It would make me ten years younger, to have a chat with Lina; and, to tell the truth, I should like to see any woman, just to see how it would seem. I'd go a quarter of a mile, now, to look at a row of ap.r.o.ns hung out to dry. But there! it's no use to talk.

"An evening like this is such an one as might entice me to my mother's grave, were I at home. Oh! if she were but alive--if I could only know that she was still somewhere on the wide earth, to think and pray for me--I might be better, as well as happier. Methinks it must be a blessed thing to be a mother, if all sons cherish that parent's memory as I have mine--and they do. It cheers and sustains the exile in a stranger's land; it invigorates him in trial, and lights him through adversity; it warns the felon, and haunts and harrows the convict; it strengthens the captive, and exhilarates the homeward-bound. Truly must it be a blessed thing to be a mother!"

He stopped--for in the moonlight was distinctly seen the figure of a horseman, emerging from the public road, and galloping across the clearing. He turned towards the office of the young surveyor, and in a few moments the carrier had related the incident by which he obtained the paper, and placed "The Village Chronicle" in Alfred's hand.

He struck a light, tore off the wrapper, and the only written word which met his eye was "Lina." "Dear name!" said he, "I could almost kiss it, especially as there is none to see me. She must have been in a prodigious hurry! and how funny that little rascal, Jimmy, must have looked! Well, 'when he next doth run a race, may I be there to see.'"

He took the paper to read. It was a very late one--he had never before received one so near the date; and even that line of dates was now so pleasing. First was Miss Helena Carroll's poetry. "Dear girl!" said he, "what a beautiful writer she is! Really, this is poetry! This is something which carries us away from ourselves, and more closely connects us with the enduring, high, and beautiful. Methinks I see her now--more thin, pale, and ethereal in her appearance than when we were gay school-mates; but I wonder that, with all her treasures of heart and intellect, she is still Helena Carroll.

"And now here is Miss Simpkin's story of 'The injured One'--beautiful, interesting, and instructive, I am confident; and I will read it, every word; but she italicises too much; she throws too lavishly the bright robes of her prolific fancy upon the forms she conjures up from New-England hills and vales. I wonder if she remembers now the time when she made me shake the old-apple tree, near the pound, for her, and in jumping down, I nearly broke my leg. Well, if I read her story, I will try that it does not break my heart.

"And here is an excellent editorial about 'Our Representatives'--I will read it again, and now for the ITEMS."

These were all highly interesting to the _absentee_, and on each did he expatiate to himself. How different were his feelings from his sister's, as he read of the cracked bell, the burned meeting-house, the dead oxen, the apoplectic old Colonel, the decayed bridge, the hints of the friends of "good order" and "equal rights." Then there was a little scene suggested by every card; he wondered who had their heads examined at the Phrenological lecture; and if the West Parish old farmers were now as stiffly opposed to the science. And how he would like to see Lina's chart, and to know if Jimmy had brains--he was sure he had legs, and a big heart for a little boy; and he wondered what girls ran up to have their heads felt of in public; and what the man said about matrimony--an affair which in old times was thought to have more to do with the heart than the head.

Then his imagination went forward to the fair of the Anti-Slavery Society, and he wondered where it would be, and who would go, and what Lina would make, and whether so much fuss about slavery was right or wrong, and if "father" approved of it. Then the temperance lecture was the theme for another self-disquisition. He wondered who had joined the society, and how the Was.h.i.+ngtonians held out, and if Mr. Hawkins was ever coming to the West.

Then he was glad the trustees were determined to resuscitate the old academy. What grand times he had enjoyed there, especially at the exhibitions! and he wondered where all the pretty girls were who used to go to school with his bachelors.h.i.+p. Then they were to have a new alms-house; and forty more things were mentioned, of equal interest--not forgetting Mr. Olden's accident, for which "father would be so sorry."

Then there were the Marriages and Deaths--each a subject of deep interest, as was also the list of Bankrupts. The foreign news was news to him; and Congress matters were not pa.s.sed unheeded by.

Then he read with deep interest every "a.s.sessor's Notice," also those of "a.s.signees," "Contractors," and "Auctioneers." There was not a single "Whereas" or "Resolved," but was most carefully perused; and every "Be it enacted" stared him in the face like an old familiar friend.

Then there were the advertis.e.m.e.nts; and Grosvenor's first attracted his attention from its _big_ letters. "CHENIE-DE-LAINES!" said he, "What in the name of common sense are they? Something for gal's gowns, _I guess_; and what will they next invent for a name?"

But each advertis.e.m.e.nt told its little history. Some of the old "_pillars_" of the town were still in their accustomed places. The same signatures, places, and almost the same goods--nothing much changed but the dates. Another advertis.e.m.e.nt informed him of the dissolution of an old copartners.h.i.+p, and another showed the formation of a new one. Some old acquaintances had changed their location or business, and others were about to retire from it. Those whom he remembered as almost boys, were now just entering into active life, and those who should now be preparing for another world were still laying up treasures on earth.

One, who had been a farmer, was now advertising himself as a _doctor_.

A lawyer had changed into a miller, and old Capt Prouty was post-master.

The former cobler now kept the bookstore, and the young major had turned printer. The old printer was endeavoring to collect his debts--for he said his devil had gone to Oregon, and he wished to go to the devil.

Not a single puff did Alfred omit; he noticed every new book, and swallowed every new nostrum. "Old rags," "Buffalo Oil," "Bear's Grease,"

"Corn Plaster," "Lip Salve," "Accordions," "Feather Renovators," "Silk Dye-Houses," "Worm Lozenges," "Ready-made Clothing," "Ladies' Slips,"