Sleek-headed men who sleep o’ nights.
Yon’d Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.’
“Now, my young friends, the sequel proved that Cæsar was right in his dislike of the lean and hungry Cassius; give me friends who laugh and grow fat—men and women who can throw off the dull cares of life, and condescend to be pleasant and happy on occasions like this. There are times when man should be serious, but there are also times when he should be social and sportive. I have spent money and labor freely in order to complete the arrangements for the comfort and pleasure of my guests, and it will gratify me greatly to know that I have not made a failure. I was gratified when I heard of the admirable plans which your Majesty has adopted in order to amuse and entertain your loving subjects. Indeed, sir, I am delighted to know that our little scheme meets with your approbation; we thought it would afford innocent amusement, as well as profitable food for thought. The Barbarian Chief has kindly consented to entertain our party by the relation of a story which is to be the first of a series to be told during our trip.”
“I hope,” said Scottie, “that the noble Barbarian Chief will tell us all about Parthenia, the beauteous little captive whose irresistible charm subdued and tamed Ingomar, and led him with the rosy chain of love from the barbarian camp to the walks of civilization, converting a heartless savage into a fond and gentle lover. Oh, how I should like to capture such a hero! it would be such fun to tease him until he began to rave, and then to soothe him with sweet whispers from the soul. I would make him gather flowers for me, and then talk to him about ‘Two souls with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one;’ and I would enjoy such sport so much!”
“For my part,” said the queen of Sheba, “I would much prefer to listen to a patriotic story, such as the ‘Scottish Chiefs,’ or ‘Thaddæus of Warsaw;’ I admire those noble-hearted heroes who are always willing to die for their country, but manage somehow not to do it. The heroic Thaddæus of Warsaw was very anxious to sacrifice himself for his country, but finally took a more sensible view of it, and fled to England, and married Mary Buford, the great heiress.”
“I prefer love stories,” replied Scottie; “give us something like ‘Henrietta Temple,’ ‘Alonzo and Melissa,’ ‘Foul Play,’ or ‘Little Dorrit.’”
“I prefer ‘Gulliver’ or ‘Crusoe,’” said George III. “I do not think I could command sufficient patience to listen to such a love story as ‘Henrietta Temple.’”
“Give me something like the ‘Talisman,’ or the ‘Heart of Midlothian,’ and you may count on securing my undivided attention,” said Ivanhoe.
“Permit me to make a suggestion to my young friends,” observed Captain Quitman, “which I have no doubt will contribute greatly to your pleasure. We have a young gentleman aboard whom I consider an excellent Shakespearean reader. I had the exquisite pleasure of hearing his rendition of ‘Hamlet’ one evening at a social gathering in Memphis, and I have no doubt he would consent to gratify his friends by repeating it to-night.”
“We would be more than delighted if you could prevail on him to give us an entertainment of that sort this evening,” rejoined Queen Mary.
“If we can be so fortunate as to organize a troupe of poetical readers,” observed the Duke of Wellington, “it would instruct as well as amuse our friends. If such a scheme should be desirable (and I am pleased to think it would), I can produce a young lady who can repeat ‘Lalla Rookh’ from memory; and I have no doubt that there are many others aboard who could give us some excellent readings of poetry.”
“We commission the duke and Captain Quitman as our agents to organize a troupe,” rejoined Queen Mary; “and our programme will be to listen to Ingomar’s story this evening, and, at night, to assemble in the saloon and hear the recitations.”
“I shall not be able to complete the relation of my story this evening,” said Ingomar.
“That will make no difference,” replied the queen; “we will be entertained by our Barbarian Chief during the day, and the poetical readings during the night.”
“That will be a most excellent plan,” said Captain Quitman; “variety is the spice of life you know.”
“Yes, and I beg to remind your Majesty,” exclaimed the duke, “that the opportunity to shake the fantastic toe must be provided for.”
“Of course,” ejaculated Captain Quitman; “that is a consummation devoutly to be wished. We can find plenty of time for that. Dancing hours will be from seven till nine, and the literary exercises will commence at nine, and continue until Morpheus takes command.”
“I wonder what kind of a story the Barbarian Chief is going to dish out to us,” said George III. “Will it treat of war, love, or politics; will it tell of battles, and blood, or will it describe sweet birds, sweet flowers, and sweet love?”
“It would be better, perhaps, to tell the story first, and answer your questions afterward,” replied Ingomar. “I shall tell it under protest. The materials which are at my disposal, if skillfully handled, would construct an interesting novel; but I am not vain enough to imagine that I can weave them into anything like a good story. My life has been crowded with many thrilling incidents—I have tasted the bitterest dregs in fortune’s cup, and I have sailed on the smooth ocean of pleasure; and as her Majesty has commanded me to entertain her guests with a story, I shall confine myself to a truthful history of scenes in which I have been an actor. In order to save time, I shall group the most prominent incidents, and set them down in the city of Memphis and vicinity, taking the liberty to change the venue of an important criminal case from New York to the Bluff City. If you should ask me by what authority I venture to change the venue from one State to another, I would answer by referring you to the numerous instances where the United States Courts have exercised the arbitrary power to do such things. Shall I, as a champion story teller, regularly commissioned by a mighty and beauteous queen, be denied the privileges claimed by a little United States Court? I say the venue is changed to Memphis, and when I begin to describe the interesting trial, I trust no one will be so inquisitive as to examine the records, with a view to contradicting my truthful history. If I choose to introduce my dramatis personæ under nom de plumes, I hope my friends will raise no objections, because, while I claim that the acts of public men constitute public property, I am afraid to take too much liberty in that respect, lest I should endanger my valuable person.”
“We command you to cease your continuous talk about preliminaries,” observed Queen Mary, as she waved her hand impatiently toward Ingomar; “no one shall be compelled to listen to the tale. Tell the story, and let us judge for ourselves as to its merits.”
“I obey your Majesty’s commands,” replied Ingomar.
“Perhaps,” said Captain Quitman, as a quizzical smile played on his handsome countenance, “our friend Sancho Panza would contribute something of an intellectual character to our programme to-night.”
“Maybe he will do us the honor to become a member of our literary club,” said Scottie, as she courtesied to him.
“I beg to assure you, madame, that you honor me too highly, but at the same time permit me to say that I have no doubt I shall be able to render some assistance. If, as I understand, it is to be intellectual amusement you seek, I flatter myself with the opinion that my contribution will be invaluable.”
“What shall it be, Sancho?” inquired George III.
“I will repeat the multiplication table from beginning to end, and whistle ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
A perfect roar of laughter was produced by Sancho’s thrust, but the young people became convinced that nothing was to be made by poking wit at him. A couple of politicians, who occupied seats near the lower end of the table, were engaged in an animated discussion which was attracting considerable attention.
“For my part,” said General Camphollower, “I think that our Government dealt too leniently with rebels after the war.”
“I believe,” replied Colonel Confed, “that the views you express were those held by men who never smelled burned powder, or heard the whistle of a hostile bullet; but all brave soldiers who fought in the Union army, from General Grant down to the humblest private, were opposed to any harsh measures.”
“I perceive,” replied General Camphollower, “that you are not being much reconstructed.”
“Gentlemen,” said Captain Quitman, “pardon me for interrupting your conversation, but I would beg to suggest the propriety of eschewing politics while on this excursion. Let the past bury the past—let us cultivate a feeling of friendship between the North and South. Both parties committed errors—let both parties get back to the right track. Let us try to profit by our sad experience—let us teach forgiveness and patriotism, and look forward to the time when the cruel war shall be forgotten. We have a great and glorious nation, of which we are very proud, and we will make it greater by our love and support. It was a family quarrel, and the family has settled it, and woe be to the outsider who shall dare to interfere!”
“Hurrah! hurrah for Uncle Sam!” was unanimously shouted by all the passengers.
“Uncle Sam shall live forever, and those unpatriotic politicians who have crippled him shall be driven into obscurity. Let peace and good will, brotherly love and good faith, exist between the North and South, and let Satan take those who wave the bloody shirt.”
“Good! good! hear! hear!” was shouted long and loud by all the guests, while the two politicians shook hands across the table, and bumped their glasses together.
By this time the table was cleared, and the waiters began to uncork innumerable bottles of champagne.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Captain Quitman as his tall, handsome form rose high above the crowd, “fill your glasses and hear my toast.” Some little confusion then ensued while each guest was having his glass filled, and then the captain’s voice rang out as he spoke: “Here is to the Union as it was in the days of its purity.” General Camphollower responded in an eloquent speech, and took his seat amid thundering applause. Then, reaching his hand across the table toward Colonel Confed, he exclaimed: “Here is my hand, colonel—let us shake across the table, and consider it the bloody chasm.”
George III. whispered to the duke: “Do you know that lady yonder in the black silk domino?”
“Indeed I do not; in fact, I had not noticed her.”
“There is a mystery about that woman, as sure as we stand here; just look at her, will you—she is weeping. I have been watching her for the last half hour, and there is a strangeness in all her movements hard to understand, and harder still to describe.”
“Come, come, my lord,” exclaimed the duke, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of the king, “you cannot deceive me—you are endeavoring to imitate Romeo; he fell in love with Juliet at a masquerade.”
“Upon honor, I have not said a word to that lady, and I have no intention or desire to do so; but I would like very much to know who she is. What can be the matter with the poor lady, I wonder; don’t you see how she is weeping?”
“I dare say that the song the queen sang a while ago has called up unpleasant reminiscences. She may have sung that song to a lover who was afterward killed in the late war. This unfortunate land is full of aching hearts and crushed hopes. Thousands of mothers, sisters and sweethearts are weeping and wailing for dear ones who silently sleep in bloody graves.”
“That is all very true, but that lady is distressed about something that has happened on this boat, because she was weeping before the queen sang the sweet song. She did not go to the table at lunch, and she has been continually passing among all the passengers and apparently searching for somebody.”
“Well, I hope she will succeed in finding the individual she is looking for, if, as you think, she is really shadowing some one.”
“My lord,” said the queen, as she approached the duke, “if you will be so good as to collect our friends on the hurricane deck, we will order the Barbarian Chief to commence the relation of his little story.” The duke courtesied to the queen and immediately began to execute her commands; and it was but a few minutes until the entire party were seated on the upper deck.
The party having arranged themselves in a circle, in the center of which sat the queen in a large arm-chair, Mary bowed to Ingomar, and requested him to commence his story. Ingomar took his seat facing the queen, in a comfortable low chair which had been provided for his especial use, and began to relate the following story:
INGOMAR’S STORY.
“I was born in Nashville, Tennessee, and was six years old when my mother died. I was her only child, and, as a matter of course, was much petted and greatly beloved by her. The memory of my dear mother is as indelibly fixed on my mind as the inscription on a marble monument, though I trust that my poor heart does not in any manner resemble the cold, unfeeling marble. My father was, at the time of my mother’s death, a prosperous merchant, but from that date he began to neglect his business, and, I regret to say, commenced to spend his time at hotels and liquor saloons. I was left at home, alone with the house-maid and another servant, except what time I spent at school. I was too young to understand or realize how rapidly my father was traveling the downward road, but I soon began to notice that he was unsteady in his walk, and that he was becoming cross, and hard to please. I did not know then that he was growing fond of brandy, nor did I imagine that one whom I loved so dearly could do anything wrong. But alas, how soon was this blissful ignorance displaced by a knowledge of the awful truth! My father had been born and bred a gentleman, and, when not under the influence of brandy, was as kind and tender with me as heart could wish. The exact amount of his fortune at the date of my mother’s death I never knew, though I have since learned that it was no insignificant sum; but, as a natural result of his neglect of business, the firm became involved more and more every year, until it finally collapsed at the end of the second year after my mother’s death. When I was eight years old the servants began to talk of leaving, on account of the bad treatment which my father gave them—complaining of a neglect on his part to pay them their wages. I also frequently heard them hint of a second marriage which my father was contemplating, which, as may be imagined, gave me great uneasiness, for I had imbibed the usual prejudice felt by children against step-mothers. But if I had known then what I do now, I should have entertained very different views. If there ever was an angel on earth, my step-mother was one. I shall never forget my feelings when the house-maid informed me that my new mother would be brought home that evening. My heart felt as if it would break, and my eyes were filled with tears, as I let my young mind wander back to the happy days when I had been fondly held to my own dear mother’s bosom. While I was dreaming of the happy days that were forever gone, and occasionally shuddering at the prospect before me, my step-mother, accompanied by her two children, entered the room where I was, and without ceremony caught me in her arms and kissed me. I have never ceased to love her from that moment. She was a frail, delicate, darling little woman, with dark brown hair and expressive blue eyes, and a voice as sweet as the music of the cooing dove; and her two children were very much like her as to beauty and gentleness of disposition. Harry Wallingford, her son, was one year younger than I, and his sister, Charlotte, was one year younger than her brother. She was the very image of her mother, having the same kind of deep blue eyes, only somewhat larger, and her hair, of a bright golden hue, floated in pretty curls about her well-shaped neck and shoulders. Her skin I thought was too white, as it had rather a bloodless appearance, amounting to transparency. The eye-lashes were long, the brows likewise, which gave to the countenance something of a dreamy, thoughtful appearance. I may have been rather extravagant in making my judgment as to her personal appearance, but I thought then, and I think now, that she was the most charming little creature that I had ever beheld. Harry was a spare-built, and as I thought, rather effeminate boy, but a more manly fellow than he proved to be I never knew. He and I became bosom friends from the start, and we were both in love with Lottie. He loved her as a brother, and I worshipped her, because I could not help it, and to be candid, I never tried to help it. How was it possible for any one to associate daily with such a darling child and not love her with all his heart? Lottie seemed to permit me to love her, as if such devotion was no more than her just dues, and without making any demonstrations of affection for me. I am at a loss to know how to begin to describe Harry Wallingford, for I must say that I never had met any one before or since who possessed such a combination of peculiar traits of character as he did. Sometimes you would think he was the most cold-natured, passionless boy that ever was created, and then, when anything happened to rouse him, he would show such signs of passion as to almost frighten me, or when any cause of real sorrow would come upon him, his heart would begin to melt at once, and he would weep like a woman. There was no such feeling as jealousy between Harry and me on account of my love for his sister; being then mere children, and all intensely in love with each other. We were all sent to the same school, situated about a mile from our home. We were kept at the same school for four years, and oh, what happy years were they to me! Not a ripple of sorrow ever crossed the smooth surface of our sea of pleasure, save when my father would come home intoxicated, and then, for a time, we would collect in the garden and speak in whispers, lest he should find us. He was very kind to us when sober, but when his reason was clouded with brandy, he seemed to be jealous of the love which our mother manifested toward us, and often gave way to his passion, and abused her in a most shocking manner. Poverty began at length to make its unwelcome presence at our home, but we were too young to realize or feel its influences as our poor mother did. The servants had all left us, because my father had no money to pay their wages, and our mother was compelled to do her own work; but Lottie was as industrious as a honey bee, and assisted her mother all she could, while Harry and I did all we could to make her work light. We cultivated the garden, made the fires, and assisted Lottie to milk the cow. In fact, we made ourselves useful in every way we could, and in spite of our poverty we were very happy. I don’t think my step-mother would have married my father if she had known of his bad habits; but after the fatal step had been taken, she seemed to have made up her mind to make the best of her bad bargain. No matter how thick and heavy were the troubles that crowded on her, she always met us on our return from school with a pleasant smile; and the same love and tenderness which she bestowed on her own children were at all times extended to me. When our wardrobe began to grow scant, and our garments to become seedy and sometimes full of rents, our dear mother would work till midnight, with Lottie by her side, mending them. I would often drop my book and gaze at Lottie as she sat by the dim lamp, the golden curls falling about her shoulders, while her little fingers made the needle bob up and down with lightning speed, as she mended a rent in my old coat, and wonder if the angels in Heaven were like her. My father spent but little of his time at home, which circumstance enabled us to snatch happiness from the very bottom pit of poverty. I was deeply grieved to notice that my mother’s health was gradually declining, but I did not know then that it was the result of overwork and scanty food, coupled with the cruel treatment from my father. Neither Harry nor I had a suspicion of the true state of affairs, else we would have quit school, and gone to work in order to help support the family. When our little basket would be filled with provisions every morning by our mother before we started for school, we did not know that she was left frequently to work hard all day without a morsel for dinner. I would have worked night and day as a slave to have made her comfortable, and so would Harry; but the secret of her real condition was concealed from us until we had been at school four years, when we began to realize the situation. We at once left the school and began to seek employment, but in this attempt we were often doomed to disappointment, because we were too young to expect to get situations as clerks, and not strong enough to do much at manual labor. Harry was one of those persevering, tenacious kind of boys that never abandon anything they undertake, and, although he was younger than I, he was the leader in all our enterprises. He was self-reliant, energetic and hopeful. I was the reverse of that, and I could not accomplish anything except when I was encouraged and led by him. I therefore submitted to his leadership, and followed him from place to place seeking employment. Sometimes we would manage to secure several little profitable jobs during the day, and every cent we got was handed over to our mother. Then some days we would traverse the streets from early morning until night without finding any work to do, and when this would happen our scanty supply of provisions would grow more scant, until we found the wolf at our very door. I do not know how my father managed to obtain his meals, for he scarcely ever came home, and when he did come he was so much overcome with brandy that he would fall down on a bed and sleep for many hours, then rise and go straight to the nearest whisky shop. It was about six months after we were compelled to quit school that a strange-looking man, with red nose, and bloated face, and very shabbily dressed, staggered into our house, and informed my mother that her husband had fallen from a second-story window and broken his neck. I learned that my father had been carousing with a gang of disreputable men in the second story of a drinking and gambling house, and had staggered through the window, falling head-foremost on the stone pavement below. His neck was dislocated, his head and face mangled, and he was quite dead when his drunken companions went to him. This dreadful ending of my poor father’s life gave my mother such a shock that she was compelled to take to her bed, from which she never rose again. It was not quite a month after my father’s remains were deposited in the grave when my darling step-mother’s gentle spirit went to its eternal home. The last days of her life were not days of suffering, as is usual in such cases, for she informed her weeping children that she was perfectly free from pain.
“‘Come here, my son, and sit near me,’ she said to Harry one day a short time before her death. ‘I wish to speak to you about what you shall do when I am gone.’
“Poor boy! he was weeping as if his heart would break. No one ever loved a darling mother more than Harry loved his; and no mother ever had a more noble, dutiful son than Harry.
“‘You must not grieve about me after I am taken from you, my darling boy; but you will live such a life as will enable you to come to meet me when it is ended. I need not advise you to be good, noble, honorable, all through life, because I feel assured that you will be all that. But few mothers have been blessed with such children as I have, and therefore I can depart from them with a loving faith and hope of meeting them again. One promise I shall ask you to make, though, and that is that you will devote your life to the protection of your sister, Lottie. The pitfalls and dangers which lie in the path of human life are much more numerous and much greater in the road of a young girl than are to be found in the one of a young man.’
“‘Dear mother,’ said I, as I knelt by the bedside and seized her little pale hand, ‘I now solemnly promise to join Harry in this sacred duty. I will follow him through life to aid in protecting my darling sister; for I love her with all my heart, and do here now swear to devote my life to her service!’
“‘God bless you, Edward!’ she said as she placed her hand on my head; ‘this is very good in you, and will be remembered to your credit where good and bad deeds are recorded.’
“Harry was unable to make a promise of any kind, being so overcome with grief that he could not utter a word, but had fallen on the bed by his mother’s side, clinging to her neck, and pressing his lips to her pale brow. He appeared to lose control of his feelings—an unusual thing for him to do, for he was generally more self-possessed than other boys. His mother whispered to me, directing me to take him away. I lifted him in my arms and carried him to another room and laid him on the bed, and remained with him until he became somewhat calm.
“‘Oh, Edward,’ said he, while his eyes were full of tears, ‘how can we live without her? Shall that darling, sweet face be forever hidden from us? What will become of poor Lottie when our mother is gone?’
“‘Can we not work for her? Can we not take care of her? I will help you, Harry. I will never forsake you and Lottie. I will go with you to the end of the world, to help work for Lottie. You are my brother, she is my sister, and nothing shall ever part us but death.’
“‘Thank you, Eddie, you are very good; and we shall stay together.’
“Lottie was soundly sleeping, unconscious of the fact that she was soon to be motherless. We had so far kept her in ignorance of the situation, but I afterward was convinced of the great error we committed in doing so, for when the time came in which concealment was no longer possible, she was wholly unprepared for the blow. She had not suspected that her mother was on her death-bed, but had been continually chatting cheerfully about the new blooming flowers, telling her mother how pretty they would be by the time she should be able to walk in the garden. Every morning she placed a fresh bouquet of fragrant flowers on a little table by her mother’s bedside, and would sit for hours talking to her, while she was busy mending garments for Harry and me.
“It was a beautiful day in early spring when the gentle spirit of our darling mother took its leave of this world. The sweet songs of many little birds loaded the air with their delightful music. The fresh, cool breeze came stealing through the open windows, sweetened with the fragrance of spring flowers, and all nature seemed to exert her energies to make our mother’s last moments happy.
“‘When I am gone’ she said to Harry, ‘you will take Lottie to my brother who resides in Memphis. He will give her a home, and you and Edward can find employment there. I leave you in the hands of Him who promised to be a father to the orphan. “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”’
“These were her last words, and without a struggle or symptom of suffering, she fell asleep in the arms of death like one dropping off in usual slumber. Her arms, which had been twined about Harry’s neck, were gently removed, and he was carried away in a swoon, while poor Lottie sank down on the lifeless body, totally prostrated with her great sorrow.”
CHAPTER IV.
The description of the death-bed scene was given by Ingomar in a low, tremulous voice, which showed that he was struggling hard to smother his grief, while Queen Mary was seen to brush a tear from her cheek quickly, as if she were trying to appear unmoved. A long silence ensued, and the maskers sat motionless and anxious to hear more of the story. Why the queen should be so deeply moved by the story was a mystery to many of the listeners. Who is she, anyway? was the question that many of the maskers mentally asked themselves.
“Please to proceed with your story,” said the queen, bowing to Ingomar.
Bending low in acknowledgment of her courtesy, Ingomar proceeded as follows:
“The county undertaker was sent for by some of our neighbors, and was about to take charge of our dead mother’s remains, in order to give it a pauper’s interment, and we never, perhaps, would have understood the deep degradation, but when the plain, pine-board coffin was brought to the house I saw Harry gaze at it for a moment; and such a strange look, too, it was. A deathly paleness overspread his face, as he directed the man to carry the rough box away; and although he spoke low and gently, there was a firmness in his tone that convinced the man that he had better obey.
“‘Come with me, Eddie’ he said, as he gently plucked at my sleeve. ‘She sha’n’t be buried in such a box as that.’
“I, of course, followed him to the nearest undertaker’s shop. No words passed between us as we walked side by side, but I noticed that he had ceased to weep, and that there was an expression on his features evincing indescribable suffering. His face still retained its extreme paleness, while his thin lips were firmly compressed.
“‘My mother is dead, sir,’ said he to a middle-aged gentleman of benevolent appearance, who met us at the door of the shop. ‘I want her remains put away in a nice rosewood case. I want her buried in a nice grassy lot in the north-east corner of the cemetery. I have no money to give you, sir, but we have some household furniture, some of which is very valuable; there are some beds and bedclothing, a cow and calf; give my dear mother’s remains a decent burial. Take all we have, and let me know what is lacking to compensate you, and I give you my word of honor that you shall never be the loser thereby.’
“The kind-hearted gentleman fixed his gaze on Harry’s pale face, and continued to stare at him for several seconds, as if he were trying to pierce him through with the fierceness of the look; then, abruptly turning on his heel, he went behind the counter, placed both elbows on it, resting his cheeks on his hands, then commenced a renewal of the strange gaze. Harry never for a moment turned his eyes from the man’s face. At last the man rose up and struck the counter a heavy blow with his fist, as if he were endeavoring to murder some enemy.
“‘You’ll do! I’ll take your word of honor; there’s no falsehood hidden behind that face—your mother shall have the most cozy spot in the cemetery, and the finest rosewood coffin in the house; there, now, go home, and I’ll attend to everything.’
“Right well indeed did the generous man keep his word, for I don’t think I ever saw a prettier burial case, and the grave was dug in a green shady spot where the turf was very thick and fresh.
“‘What shall we do now, Harry?’ said I.
“‘Do as we promised our dying mother, of course. You know she made us promise to take Lottie to our uncle at Memphis; we must prepare to go at once. You stay here with Lottie, while I go to see Mr. Fogg, the undertaker, and arrange with him about the furniture.’
“He soon returned and informed me that the business had been settled, and that Mr. Fogg would take possession of the effects on the next day. We at once began to make arrangements for commencing our journey to Memphis, as soon as Mr. Fogg should take possession of the furniture. That gentleman kindly offered to let us keep the furniture, and allow us to pay him the funeral expenses when fortune should be disposed to deal more kindly with us. But when Harry informed him that in pursuance of his mother’s wishes we were going to Memphis, he agreed to take the furniture, saying that it would amply suffice to pay the debt which we owed him. Accordingly, early the next morning the keys were delivered to Mr. Fogg, and we set out on the road toward Memphis. We had not the most remote idea as to the nature of the journey that lay before us. We were as ignorant regarding the distance as we were about the means necessary to take us there. We had often heard and read about Memphis as a young and thriving city on the banks of the great river, and when I now look back to that time, I can scarcely realize the extreme simplicity of our minds, and the extravagant ideas we had as to our ability to accomplish the journey. We were too deeply plunged in sorrow to ever think of making inquiries as to the distance or the best route to travel. We might have saved money enough by the sale of our effects to pay the funeral expenses, and then had enough left to pay our fare on a boat to Memphis. But we considered nothing—thought of nothing but misery. Kind people there were plenty, who would have gladly aided or advised us, but we sought no aid, nor did we speak of our intentions to any one. The greatest trouble that presented itself to our young and thoughtless minds was the sad leave-taking of the poor but dear home where so many happy days had been spent. There was the little garden, with its neat beds of new flowers that had flourished under the constant care bestowed on them by Lottie; there were the jolly little birds, singing so sweetly in the blooming apple-tree near the window; a thousand things of a trifling sort, but dear to the memory, were now to be looked at for the last time. How could it be expected that under the circumstances we should make the necessary preparations for such a journey? How could we think of bread and meat, clothes or cash, when our poor hearts were melting with the very bitterness of sorrow? The wonder is that we should have started with anything at all. We hastily packed a few extra garments into a couple of sacks, snatched up a few articles of food, and with eyes swimming in tears, bade adieu to our home forever. Harry moved on in front, Lottie and I following. Not a word was spoken; no one bade us good-by; no one consoled us in our desolation; and we neither asked nor sought it. As we passed through the streets, a strange look would occasionally be cast on us by the pedestrians as we passed them. We saw but little, and were moving on in silence, when I perceived that Harry had turned his course and was going toward the cemetery. I knew his object, and was pleased to know that we should once more be near our dear mother. We entered the city of the dead, approached the sacred spot in silence, and fell upon the little mound of fresh earth that rose above our mother, and moistened it with our tears. Harry had brought a little basket of fresh flowers which I had not noticed until I saw him placing it on the grave. Mr. Fogg had promised to have a plain marble slab erected with the proper inscription, to mark the spot where our mother rested. He complied with his promise. But a beautiful monument now rises high over the grave which we afterward had erected. We remained nearly an hour bathing the cold earth with our tears. No words were spoken, no passionate outbursts of grief were heard; but in solemn silence we knelt side by side and paid the last tribute of love to the memory of the dead one who slept below. At length Harry turned away; I took Lottie by the hand and followed him, and soon we were moving along the road outside of the city limits. We traveled about ten miles the first day, and I was surprised to see that Lottie had not appeared to be fatigued at all. She had walked by my side all the time, her beautiful eyes fixed on the ground, and I noticed ever and anon a fresh shower of tears would fall from her eyes. She was a heroine in the strongest sense of the term—never complaining, unselfish, confiding, hopeful, and when not thinking of her great loss, she always smiled sweetly when speaking to Harry and me.
“‘Are you tired, Lottie?’ inquired Harry after we had marched about five miles from the city. ‘If you are, we will stop and rest awhile.’
“With her usual smile lighting up her sweet face, she answered in the negative, shaking her head till the golden curls danced about her shoulders. ‘Go on, brother, pray don’t mind me; I am not the least tired.’
“As the sun began to disappear behind the steep hill that rose on the west side of the road, and the shadows of the tall trees on the hill-top were growing very long, we began to think of the manner in which we should pass the night.
“‘Shall we stop at a way-side inn?’ said Harry; ‘or shall we camp in the woods?’
“‘We had better camp out,’ I replied; ‘because we will soon be out of money if we undertake to secure lodging at a way-side inn.’
“This was the first time that the money question had been mentioned or thought of by either of us. Harry and I both instinctively commenced to examine our pockets to see how much money we could command, and found that the sum total, when put together, amounted to two dollars and seventy-five cents.
“‘I have got twenty-five cents,’ exclaimed Lottie, as she produced the shining coin from her pocket, and handed it to Harry, looking as if she thought it sufficient for all expenses.
“Harry was unanimously chosen cashier, and the funds all handed over to him, the grand total amounting to three dollars; and this little sum was all we had to depend on for our subsistence. Harry sighed as he held the money in his hand, evidently beginning to reflect seriously now (when it was too late) as to the folly of undertaking such a journey with so small a sum of money. This was perhaps the first time that either of us had given a thought to the question of finance, and those who are inclined to sneer at our ignorance must not lose sight of the fact that we had a double excuse for it. In the first place we were mere children—I being then in my thirteenth year, Harry in his twelfth, and Lottie not quite eleven. Besides this, we had been so suddenly deprived of both our parents that our great sorrow absorbed all our thoughts; but now, when the situation began to be disclosed, it was too late to mend the matter.
“‘We will not stop in a house,’ observed Harry sadly. ‘We can’t afford to incur the expense. We must economize in every way we can.’
“So it was agreed that we would depend on grass and leaves for a bed, and the blue sky for our shelter. As the sun finally disappeared we came to a halt near a bubbling spring that gushed from a little bluff near the edge of a thick patch of timber, depositing our little effects at the root of a beech tree, whose branches were thickly covered with leaves, which would protect us from the falling dew; and soon a blazing fire shot its cheerful flames forth, as the blue smoke curled gracefully up among the branches of the tree. Our household and kitchen furniture (if I may be permitted to use a facetious remark), including table-ware and all, consisted of three little tin cups, three pure silver tea-spoons, and one little tin coffee-pot; while our stock of provisions consisted of one pound of pulverized coffee, four pounds of salt pork, three pounds of raw ham, and six pounds of baker’s bread, one box of matches, and one pound of brown sugar. With her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, her round white arms looking very pretty, a clean white apron tied with a pink ribbon about her waist, Lottie was busy broiling some slices of ham on the coals, while Harry was trying to make the water in the coffee-pot boil. As I sat on the turf leaning against the tree, watching the operation with intense interest, my eyes followed Lottie in all her movements; and I am not now ashamed to confess it—I mentally asked myself, whose wife will she be when she becomes a grown lady? ‘Mine, mine!’ The last words seemed to force themselves from my lips in much louder tones than was intended, for Harry asked me whom I was speaking to?
“‘Is the water boiling yet?’ I asked, by way of hiding my confusion.
“‘I think it is,’ was the reply.
“It is a true maxim that ‘necessity is the mother of invention,’ which was practically demonstrated on that occasion by Lottie’s ingenuity in arranging our supper table. She went to the edge of a little brook near by, selected a smooth, flat rock some fifteen inches square, washed it very clean, and placed it on the turf; then she went back, selected three other rocks of the same kind, only not so large; and, after she had scrubbed them till they were very clean, she placed them on the ground near the large rock; then with a little forked stick she lifted the slices of ham, and placed them on what she was pleased to call a table. When the broiled ham had been placed on the table, she sliced the bread and placed it by the ham, then arranging the three little tin cups in a row on the table, she poured out the strong, black coffee.
“‘Supper is ready now,’ she said with as much dignity as if she had been inviting us to a costly banquet. We accordingly gathered round the table, seating ourselves on the grass and Lottie held a spoonful of sugar toward me.
“‘Have sugar in your coffee, Eddie?’ she said softly as I held my cup toward her to receive it.
“‘You are a capital cook, Lottie, and a real genius in the way of inventive faculties,’ said I.
“‘I am truly glad you are pleased with my cooking; but you know I have had but little chance to show you what I can do. I shall improve very much too when I have a chance.’
“‘I dare say you will, and I mean to see that you shall have a fair chance one of these days.’
“I can truly say that I enjoyed that meal as much as any one I ever ate. Notwithstanding its lack of variety, it was enough for me to know that it was prepared by the one I loved so dearly. Supper being over, I began to erect an edifice to be used as a sleeping apartment by Lottie; and having watched the display of inventive genius which she had exhibited in procuring table furniture, I felt it to be my duty to exert all my mechanical skill in the erection of a sleeping chamber for her. I stuck four little forked sticks in the ground, then laid several small straight sticks across the top, and covered the building with branches cut from the green trees. I put them on so thick that it would have kept out the rain. Then I took a great number of the same kind of branches and set them round the sides, leaving a little opening at the end next to the fire; then I gathered up a large quantity of dry leaves and spread them on the turf, in this quaint little house, took my coat, spread it on the leaves, placed my little sack of clothes at the back end for her pillow, and crossing my hands behind my back, inspected the entire building, and was satisfied.
“‘There it is, Lottie,’ said I. ‘When you wish to retire your bed-chamber is ready.’
“‘You are very kind, Eddie, and I thank you very much; but where will you and Harry sleep?’
“‘O, never mind about that; we’ll make us a nice bed of leaves on the other side of the fire.’
“‘You had better lie down, Lottie,’ said Harry. ‘I dare say you are very tired, and then, you know, we must go a long way to-morrow.’
“Lottie took a little Testament from her satchel, and read a chapter as she stooped near the fire so as to get the benefit of the light, replaced the book in the satchel, then went into her cozy little bedroom. Harry and I sat gazing silently at the fire, watching the columns of smoke as they went winding up through the green leaves above our heads. A mocking-bird every now and then would make the night air ring with a song, as he sat on the top of the tree. The gentle murmur of the little brook, as its sparkling waters went dancing among the rocks, had a soothing effect on my mind. No words were spoken by either of us. We were not asleep, but both were dreaming. My body was still, but my mind was at work. The architectural skill of my mind was being taxed to its utmost capacity. The castle which I was preparing to build was one of indescribable beauty and symmetry; the foundation had been laid, materials for the edifice collected, and the magnificent structure began to assume a finished appearance. But, alas, just as I was rounding off the beautiful dome and giving it a finishing touch, the whole building came tumbling topsy-turvy down.
“‘I’ll die first!’ Those words came gushing forth, and I was as much startled by them as Harry was.
“‘What are you talking about?’ said he.
“‘Nothing,’ was the reply, for I was ashamed to have been caught muttering to myself. I had fallen into a habit of muttering to myself, especially when my mind was very busy with some sort of castle building, which was by no means seldom. The materials out of which my castle had been built were very good, and the workmanship not at all inferior, but the main part of the foundation had been laid on sand, which proved to be too weak or soft to support such a weight; hence the destruction of one of the most beautiful castles ever built. The materials used in the building were composed of pure love. The dome was made of sweet prospects of a cottage in a shady grove near Memphis, with Lottie as my wife. The magnificent fluted columns that were to adorn the portico of my castle were made of long years of true service, which I had vowed to devote to Lottie’s happiness. The polished cornice, that was to make such a charming finish to the four fronts, was made of an imagination, or golden dreams of a long and happy life to be spent with dear Lottie as my wife. But suppose she should fall in love with and marry some other fellow. This supposition was the sand that brought my castle down. As the castle came crumbling down, it was the fall that startled me, and I exclaimed in my bitter anguish: ‘I’ll die first.’ If I had uttered the entire sentence aloud, it would have read thus: ‘No other man shall ever be Lottie’s husband. No, never! I’ll die first!’ Let it not be inferred that I was at all disposed to abandon my occupation of castle building, for I set about the work again with a more determined resolution to finish the grand enterprise; but before I got it finished my eyelids began to feel very heavy and I soon was compelled to lay aside my tools for that time, and was directly sleeping soundly on my bed of leaves by the side of my dear brother. I imagine that I must have slept very soundly during the night, for if I was at all disturbed by dreams, they could not have been of an unpleasant kind, else I should have remembered them when I awoke. Only one dream came to interfere with my repose, and that occurred after sunrise next morning. I dreamed that Lottie and I were on the banks of a beautiful little river, whose deep blue water glided smoothly along, filled with innumerable tiny fishes, and that I was holding my hook in the water to catch them. Just as a beautiful little trout began to nibble at my hook, and when I was expecting to fasten him, a huge mosquito, with long, sharp bill, alighted on my nose and began to partake of his breakfast. I struck at the impudent intruder, and hit Lottie’s hand, who was tickling my nose with a blade of grass.
“‘Get up, brother sluggard, breakfast is ready,’ said she, as she pointed toward the smoking ham which she proceeded to place on the table.
“‘How did you rest last night, Lottie?’
“‘O, very well, indeed; thanks for the nice, comfortable bed you made for me.’
“‘Did you not get cold during the night?’
“‘No, I don’t think I did, for I slept very soundly, and probably should have been sleeping yet, but brother Harry called me at daylight to help him get breakfast. I feel so much refreshed that I shall be able to walk a long way to-day.’
“We arranged ourselves round the table, and soon dispatched our breakfast, and began to prepare for a renewal of our journey. Harry and I carried all the household and kitchen furniture in the two little sacks which swung on our shoulders; while Lottie was not permitted to carry anything but her little satchel. The road we traveled on the second day of our journey traversed a part of the country that was thickly inhabited by thrifty farmers; rich green clover fields spread out on our left, while large numbers of fat cattle were grazing on the rich pasturage. Many beautiful residences, with well-cultivated gardens in front of them, appeared on each side of the road. Happy children frolicked on the green turf, honey bees sucked the sweet clover blossoms, busily collecting their winter store of food. Hundreds of little birds made charming music among the green trees that lined the roadside. The scenery was altogether delightful, but we stopped not to enjoy it, but moved steadily on, with minds bent on the accomplishment of the task before us. I marched as usual by Lottie, Harry moving steadily in the lead. I would occasionally drop behind, for no other purpose than to watch Lottie’s pretty little feet as they rose and fell with fairy-like tread, making such nice little tracks in the dust. Notwithstanding the many eventful years that have passed since then, I remember well how I almost worshipped the dust that kissed her feet. Toward noon I noticed from her movements that she was becoming very tired, but in answer to my questions on that subject, she tried to make me believe differently. I whispered to Harry, calling his attention to the fact, and suggested that we had better stop to let her rest. We halted near a running stream, and selecting a cool shady spot, we threw ourselves on the grass. We had traveled about eight miles, and I began to feel somewhat fatigued myself, and when I was comfortably stretched on the ground I soon fell asleep. We rested about three hours, eating a cold snack of bread and ham, and then resumed our journey, moving steadily on until the sun went down, when we halted, having marched about fifteen miles in all that day. And I was deeply pained to see that Lottie began to limp with her left foot, which I learned was caused by a painful blister which appeared on her instep. I took my knife and cut a little hole in the shoe, so that the blister would not be rubbed by the leather, and the grateful look that she cast on me would have been compensation for any amount of trouble. A description of our second encampment is unnecessary, as it was nearly similar to the first, the only difference being the lack of cold spring water, which we of course regretted; but we managed to make out with the water from a clear running brook near by. Having finished our frugal repast, I set about preparing Lottie’s sleeping apartment, which I soon completed, pretty much on the same plan as the one I had made for her the night before, though I think I made a much better job of it this time. We had finished our preparations for the night, and were seated near the fire, when a strange, hungry-looking dog came up, deliberately seating himself by Lottie, and began to whine and lick her hand. He would in all probability have wagged his tail, but he had none; and it seemed that his misfortunes had not stopped with the loss of his tail, for he had only one eye and one and a half ears, the half of his left ear being painfully missing. Lottie was a little startled and perhaps frightened at first, but when she saw how anxious the poor dog was to make friends with her, she held out her hand and patted his back. The mournful expression of his countenance, and the dilapidated condition of his body, at once enlisted her sympathies, and she gathered up all the scraps of bread and meat and gave them to him, which he devoured quickly, and like Oliver Twist, ‘wanted more.’ When Lottie went to bed the poor tailless old dog laid himself down at her feet with dignity and composure, doubtless thinking that he had found a friend at last. I watched the dignified movements of the strange animal with some degree of interest. He paid no attention to Harry and me, but appeared to consider it his duty to guard Lottie. It was a clear case to my mind of love at first sight. How could the poor dog help loving her? Birds, dogs and men all loved her. The fact is, it seemed that she was made to be worshipped by men, animals and birds. I suppose that with his one eye the old dog could see her kind, beautiful face, and that he knew she was good. Judging from appearances, one might safely conclude that the dog had been an inhabitant of the earth for a great number of years, and that he could form a correct opinion as to the character of those whom he chose to serve. When we started on our journey next morning old Bob (as we had named the dog—the name being suggested to our minds by his lack of a tail) began to walk with strange dignity by the side of Lottie. He was the first dog I ever saw that couldn’t trot; but his principal gait was a walk, though he could strike a gallop when occasion required, and was often seen pacing. Trouble began to crowd on us the third day of our journey—our little stock of provisions was exhausted. Lottie, though she would not complain, was beginning to fail; her feet were covered with blisters, and it was distressing to see her struggling to conceal her sufferings. She took off her shoes and attempted to walk barefooted, but the road was covered with innumerable flinty rocks, the sharp points lacerating her tender feet in a shocking manner. It made my heart ache to see the stones stained with the blood from the wounds on her feet, and I told Harry that we would be forced to stop, as it was cruel to keep her on the road in the condition that she was. I saw the tears trembling in his eyes when he examined his sister’s feet. We came to a little creek, and I took Lottie down to the water’s edge and bathed her feet in the cold water, and wiped them with my handkerchief. I then procured some slippery-elm bark, and made a kind of soft plaster of it and covered her feet with it, then bound cloth over the salve, and was gratified to hear her say that the pain was greatly relieved. It was but a few moments after I had completed my doctoring operations, when a farmer came along the road driving a team of four horses; he invited us to get in his wagon, as he was going on our road as much as ten miles. This invitation was of course gladly accepted, and we were soon seated in the wagon, moving on leisurely, but much faster than we had been in the habit of traveling. I enjoyed the ride more on Lottie’s account than on any other, knowing as I did that it was giving her a chance to rest.”
“There’s the gong sounding for supper,” cried Scottie; “let Lottie ride in the wagon till we eat.”
The party rose and went down to the table.
CHAPTER V.
Queen Mary took Ingomar’s arm, and Ivanhoe offered his to Scottie, and as they went toward the saloon, Scottie said to Ingomar, “Do pray tell us what became of Lottie. I am dying with curiosity to know whether you married her or not.”
“You had better allow me to tell the story in my own way,” he replied dryly.
“I think so, too,” observed the queen. “It would spoil the story to skip from one part to another. Let us re-assemble after supper and hear more of it.”
“I think the queen has had something to do with the story,” whispered Scottie to Ivanhoe. “She has been constantly wiping the tears from her eyes, and she always turned her face another way, endeavoring to conceal her emotion; and I could see her hand tremble distinctly.”
“Very true; I noticed it, and I dare say that she knows more of the story than she is willing to tell. By the by, have you noticed those two seedy-looking men who have been watching us all the time?”
“No; pray tell me about it.”
“I have a suspicion that they are detectives, looking for some one who has committed some great crime. I accidentally overheard a part of their conversation this morning. One of them pointed at one of our party and said, ‘He is the man.’”
“Which one of our party did he point at?”
“Ingomar.”
“What further did you hear?”
“The other man replied that there was no doubt about it.”
“Are you sure they were speaking about Ingomar?”
“They pointed at him, and I therefore concluded that the conversation referred to him. I fear that our amusements will be broken up ere long.”
“I hope they will not interfere with Ingomar until he finishes his story.”
“Yes, it would be vexatious to have it cut short by his arrest. It may be a false alarm, but something strange is going on. The movements of the queen have excited my curiosity more than anything else. Look here; those are the men I was telling you about. See how they are eying Ingomar. Don’t let them see you looking at them. I mean to try to unravel the mystery.”
“I can’t think that Ingomar is a criminal; he speaks so kindly to every one, and then he is so eloquent when telling his story.”
After supper the party re-assembled on deck, and after a few moments spent in conversation, the queen ascended her throne (the large arm-chair being used for that purpose), and commanded Ingomar to proceed with his story. In obedience to the queen’s command, he proceeded as follows:
“It was near night when we reached the point where the farmer informed us that we must get out of the wagon, as he was not going any farther on our road. There was an old, dilapidated, vacant house near the point where we parted with the farmer, which would protect us from a thunder-storm, that was then threatening to burst on us. Lottie’s feet were so much swollen and so badly lacerated that she was unable to walk at all, and I lifted her from the wagon and carried her into the old house. I was grieved beyond measure to witness her sufferings; for, in addition to the pain she was suffering on account of her wounded feet, I noticed that she had some fever. Our condition was by no means pleasant; in fact, it was becoming serious. Our provisions were exhausted, Lottie about to fall ill, the weather prospects gloomy, only forty miles of our journey completed, and only three dollars in our purse; the prospects were of a nature to make my heart sink within me. While I was making a fire, Harry went to a farmhouse hard by to purchase provisions. He bought a chicken and a few pounds of bread from a widow lady for twenty-five cents. He also bought a little tea for Lottie. It devolved on Harry to prepare supper, which he commenced as soon as he had returned with the provisions. I was busily engaged in making a bed for Lottie, working very fast, so as to get it finished, before the rain should begin to fall. The lady who resided at the farm-house permitted me to take some dry straw from a pen near by, which I spread out on the floor near the fire, placing my coat on the straw, and requested Lottie to lie down and rest until we could make her some tea. I took the bandages from her feet, bathed them in cold water, then replaced the bandages, and was greatly pleased to hear her say that she was much better, and felt as if she could sleep very comfortably.
“‘You must not go to sleep,’ said Harry, ‘before your tea is ready. We shall soon have some nice broiled chicken and good tea ready for you.’
“‘I shall try to keep awake, but my eyelids begin to feel very heavy, I assure you.’
“It did not take Harry many minutes to cook supper, and it made me very happy to notice that Lottie partook of it with a good relish.
“‘Well,’ said she, ‘brother Harry, you must permit me to thank you for making such good tea. I am going to sleep now, and I bid you and Eddie good-night;’ and it was but a short time till she was sound asleep.
“Dark, angry-looking clouds began to collect overhead; the ominous sounds of distant thunder gave warning of the approaching storm; heavy drops of rain began to rattle on the dry boards on the house-top, increasing rapidly until it fell in torrents. The wind dashed with great force against the tottering walls, and whistled mournfully among the trees, while Harry and I sat gazing vacantly into the fire, our minds busy, as usual, castle building. Old Bob had managed to make a pretty fair supper off the bones of the chicken and such other scraps as he could find, and was licking his nose with apparent satisfaction, as he coiled himself down by Lottie’s feet. It was after midnight; the rain continued to fall steadily, the wind blew more violently, the fire had ceased to blaze, and darkness pervaded the room. Harry had been asleep several hours, and I was dozing near the hearth, when I was startled by a loud, shrill scream, uttered by Lottie. In an instant Harry and I were by her side. Scream followed scream, while old Bob was leaping and jumping about the room in every direction. Such confusion as appeared was beyond my comprehension. A most singular noise rang through the darkness—slap, slap, crack, crack, and old Bob seemed to be in a deadly struggle with something. What it was we knew not. Lottie kept on screaming, and I knew that something awful had happened, because she was no coward. On the contrary, she was a real heroine.
“‘For Heaven’s sake make a light,’ said I to Harry, as I took Lottie in my arms. He obeyed me at once, and it was but a few minutes till the fire began to blaze so as to light up the room, though it seemed to me it was a very long time.
“‘What in Heaven’s name has happened?’ cried Harry, while he was throwing fuel on the fire, and trying to make it blaze.
“I made no answer, of course, for I was busy with Lottie, and knew as little of the cause of the confusion as he did. I was endeavoring to compose Lottie, who was trembling like one with an ague fit. Every now and then I felt some strange substance slap against my legs, while Bob threw himself first one way, then another, struggling as if he was fighting for life.
“‘What is it, darling?’ said I. ‘Tell me what has happened?’
“No answer, but I felt her head drop heavily on my shoulder as the weight of her body came against my breast, and I knew she had either fainted or was dead.
“‘Be quick, Harry, she is dead! do pray make a light!’
“It is a well-known fact that when one gets in a very great hurry to accomplish anything the anxiety to do it quickly very often prevents him from doing it at all, or operates greatly to delay its accomplishment. I was conjecturing a thousand kinds of awful things that had happened, and, as usual in such cases, never hit near the real one. The first thing that suggested itself to my mind was that some savage wild animal had come into the room, and had frightened Lottie. There were at that time many bears, and some few panthers, and large numbers of wolves, existing in that part of the State, and I thought one of those animals had ventured in the house. I heard the continuous snapping of teeth, and the strangest sounds—not like anything I had ever heard before. I spoke sharply to Harry, and accused him of a want of feeling for his sister, for which I was very sorry as soon as the words had passed my lips; he was so frightened that he hardly knew what he was doing. At last the fire blazed up, casting a bright light over the floor, when I was almost paralyzed with horror at the spectacle before me. One large rattlesnake lay dead at my feet, while old Bob was shaking the life out of another of equal size. It was the noise made by the rattles on the tails of the snakes that had sounded so strangely. I had never seen a rattlesnake until that moment, and therefore did not know what was making such a singular noise. Lottie lay in my arms as pale as death, and I saw that she had been bitten on the wrist by one of the snakes. There were two small holes made through the skin, and two little drops of blood had come out through the wounds. The flesh had already begun to turn a yellowish color. The poisonous fangs had been driven deep into the flesh and the deadly venom was beginning to take effect. I suppose the snakes had come up through the crack in the floor, and had perhaps coiled themselves in the straw near Lottie; and that, in her restless slumbers, she had struck the serpent with her arm, and thus provoked it to strike, because the rattlesnake never bites unless provoked in some way. I have heard it said, too, that they always go in pairs, and I had also heard experienced persons say that the safest remedy for snake bites was to cut out the flesh in which the fangs had struck, and then for some one to suck the wound with the lips so as to extract the poison as soon as possible. Fortunately I happened to have in my pocket a knife with a very sharp blade. Without a moment’s reflection or hesitation I seized the flesh of the wrist between my finger and thumb and cut out a piece large enough to include the entire wounds made by the poisonous fangs of the serpent, then placed my lips over the wound and began to suck with all my strength. The wound bled freely, and I continued to suck it for over an hour. Lottie had immediately regained consciousness after the cutting of her wrist, and held her wound to my mouth, while the grateful glance which she cast on me was ample compensation for the risk I was taking. We could not then tell whether she was suffering much or not, for one of her peculiar traits was never to complain of anything; but she declared in most positive terms that the only pain she experienced was the slight suffering caused by the wound I had made with my knife on her wrist. After sucking the wound for an hour, I began to feel deathly sick—a strange dizziness seized upon me—the house appeared to be turning round with great rapidity, and a blindness fixed itself on my eyes; I gasped for breath, and felt as if I was being smothered. My blood seemed to be boiling hot in my veins; I sank insensible on the floor; and when I regained consciousness I was on a clean nice bed, in a cozy little room, with Lottie’s golden curls dangling about my face, for she was kissing me when I came to my senses, and my face was moist with the tears that had fallen from her dear eyes.
“‘Where am I? What has happened?’ were the questions I put to her.
“‘Hush, Eddie dear, you must not talk; you have been dangerously ill; and oh! how I hate myself for being the cause of your illness. Why did you not let me suffer from the poison, instead of trying to kill yourself?’
“Then a dim recollection of what had happened began to come to me. ‘How long have I been ill?’
“‘Five days, and oh! such long, miserable days were they, too! We thought you were going to die, and that made us so very unhappy; but when the doctor left here this morning he said that all danger was over; and then I knew that God had answered my prayers; because I have prayed constantly and fervently to Him, asking Him not to let you die. If you had died, I should have looked upon myself as your murderer. I never should have seen another happy day. There now, don’t talk.’ And she placed her hand on my mouth just as I was going to ask more questions.
“I noticed that she had her hand in a sling, and was about to question her about it when she covered my mouth with her hand. I afterward ascertained that she had not been entirely relieved from pain, that her wrist and arm had been very much swollen, and had caused intense suffering, but that she had watched by my bedside day and night, never sleeping any, except such short naps as she could take by leaning her head on the edge of my bed. If I had loved her before this, and I assert that I did, what do you imagine my feelings toward her were then? It would require a more expressive term to describe them than I am able to command.
“‘Tell me, Lottie, all that has happened; it appears like a dream.’
“‘I will, if you promise to lie still, and keep quiet.’
“I made the promise reluctantly.
“‘When you fell insensible on the floor, from the effects of the poison which you had sucked from my wrist, I began to scream so loud that Mrs. Holly heard it, and she and her son came to see what the matter was. I thought that you were dead, and I, of course, couldn’t help screaming. We had you brought to this house, and Harry went after Dr. Dodson, who lives five miles away. When he came he made you drunk with strong brandy, then gave you an emetic, then made you drunk again, then gave you another emetic. He kept on repeating this treatment until he thought all the poison had been thrown off. Then he bled you until you fainted; then he gave you more brandy, mixed with opiates, and you slept a long time; but you kept talking all the time in your sleep about me and the snakes. The good doctor remained with you all that day, and all the next night; then he went away, telling us that all danger was past, and that you would be sure to get well, which of course made us very happy, because we had all been so frightened when we thought you were going to die. Doctor Dodson said that there was a slight cut or wound on your lip, and that when sucking my wrist the poison managed to make its way through that little wound and got into your blood, thereby causing all the trouble. There would have been no danger, he said, but for the wound on your lip. He said you were the greatest little hero he had ever heard of; those were his very words, because he said that I would have died in ten minutes from the poison if you had not sucked it out of my veins. Harry, poor fellow, has been working all the time in the field to pay Mrs. Holly for our board, and when we get done paying her, and you get well, we are going to go over to Doctor Dodson’s and work for him, to pay him for saving your dear life; and when we have finished paying the doctor, we will then start on our journey to Memphis. There, now, I have told you everything; take this beautiful bouquet in your hand, and lie perfectly quiet, while I go and make your soup.’
“My eyes followed the lovely form till she disappeared through the door. Then I began to count the minutes by the stroke of the old clock on the mantel, and the wheels of time seemed to stop while she was away from me. She returned at last.
“‘Here is a nice bowl of soup, and you must drink it, for you have eaten scarcely anything since you have been ill.’
“I had no appetite at all, but I drank the soup to please her; and I dare say it did me much good, for I was very weak.
“On the morning of the eighth day of my illness I was able to leave my bed, and, with Lottie’s assistance, could walk across the room. Then the next morning she took me into the flower garden, while I leaned on her shoulder for support. I was very much gratified to see that all the wounds on Lottie’s feet had disappeared, and that she could wear her shoes again without pain; and I determined to invent some plan to protect her feet when we should again begin our journey. I procured some strong cloth and made a pair of shoes, sewing leather soles on the bottom, so as to prevent the stones from cutting her feet. The cloth uppers would keep her feet from blistering, while the thick leather soles would protect them from the gravel. She watched me intently while the work progressed, and when it was finished she expressed great wonder at my skill. The truth is, it was a very clumsy job, and the shoes were ugly, but they answered the purpose for which they were intended, for she never was troubled any more with blisters or sore feet. We had been at Mrs. Holly’s two weeks, when I entirely recovered; then we went to work for Doctor Dodson, to pay his bill. He was very kind to us; his bill was moderate; in fact, he was willing to let us go without paying anything, but Harry would not hear to it. He vowed he never would leave until the last cent was paid. I always thought he had very strange views on such subjects. He was too sensitive, I imagined, because he abhorred the idea of accepting anything like charity. I do believe he would have starved rather than to eat bread for which he was unable to pay. We remained with the doctor ten days, during which time Harry and I plowed a large field of corn, and cleaned out all the grass. Lottie insisted on being permitted to help us, but Harry would not allow it; therefore she went to work in the garden, and I mean what I say, when I assert that it is my candid opinion that garden never before had been in such a splendid fix. She destroyed every weed and blade of grass—cultivated the vegetables, trimmed the shrubbery, transplanted the flowers; in fact, she made an Eden out of a wilderness. When the work was finished the kind-hearted old doctor was profuse in his praise.
“‘I declare,’ said he, as he gently stroked Lottie’s hair, ‘I have been amply rewarded for my attendance on your brother, by your services, to say nothing of the valuable work done on my farm by Harry and Edward. I wish all my patients would pay me as well as I have been paid in this instance; if they did, I should soon grow very rich. I will not allow you to work another lick, and when you wish to start on your journey, you shall have as much provisions as your two brothers can carry.’
“The morning after this conversation we parted from our kind host, and set out on our journey toward Memphis, loaded down with nicely cooked provisions.