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The Funny Philosophers, or Wags and Sweethearts. A Novel

by George Yellott · English · Gutenberg #35599 · 574,708 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Funny Philosophers, or Wags and Sweethearts.  A Novel

Author: George Yellott


        
Release date: March 17, 2011 [eBook #35599]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35599

Credits: Produced by Charlene Taylor, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe,
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FUNNY PHILOSOPHERS, OR WAGS AND SWEETHEARTS.  A NOVEL ***




Produced by Charlene Taylor, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe,
Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
produced by the Wright American Fiction Project.)






THE FUNNY PHILOSOPHERS,

OR

WAGS AND SWEETHEARTS.


A NOVEL.


BY GEORGE YELLOTT.


PHILADELPHIA:

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.

1872.


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.




THE FUNNY PHILOSOPHERS.




CHAPTER I.


"My great-grandfather was a philosopher, and why should not his
descendants be allowed the privilege of cogitating for themselves? I
tell you that Sir Isaac Newton was mistaken. There is no such thing as
the attraction of gravitation."

This was said by Toney Belton, a young lawyer, in reply to his friend
Tom Seddon, a junior member of the same profession.

They were seated on the veranda of a hotel in the town of Bella Vista,
gazing at the starry heavens; and Tom had made some remark about the
wonderful revelations of science.

"What a pity it is, Toney Belton, that you are not a subject of her
Majesty of England. Your extraordinary discovery would entitle you to
the honors of knighthood, and we might read of a Sir Anthony Belton as
well as of a Sir Isaac Newton. But how will you demonstrate to the world
that there is no such thing as the attraction of gravitation?"

"Demonstrate it, Tom Seddon! Why, I can make it as plain as the
proboscis on the countenance of an elephant."

"Do you mean to say that bodies do not fall to the earth by the power of
attraction?"

"That is precisely what I mean. I assert that a heavy body may fall
upward as well as downward."

"Ha, ha, ha!"

"As the old Greek said, Strike, but hear, so I say, Laugh, but listen.
Will you allow me to suppose a case?"

"That is the privilege of all philosophers. The cosmology of the
Oriental sage would have fallen into the vast vacuity of space had he
not brought to its support a hypothetical foundation. Proceed with your
demonstration."

"Suppose, then, that an immense well should be dug from the surface of
the American continent entirely through the earth. We will not stop to
inquire into the possibility of such an excavation, but will suppose
that the work has been accomplished."

"Be it so. Your well has been dug, and extends entirely through the
earth, from the United States of America to the Celestial Empire. What
then?"

"Suppose that Clarence Hastings should be walking home about twelve
o'clock at night. It would then be broad daylight in the dominions of
his Majesty the Brother of the Sun and the Cousin of the Moon, and the
Celestials would be picking tea-leaves or parboiling puppies. Suppose, I
say, that Clarence should be walking home after having spent the last
four or five hours in the delightful society of the lovely Claribel.
Now, it is highly probable that Clarence would be gazing upward at the
lunar orb and meditating a sonnet."

"Nay; Harry Vincent is the sonneteer. I verily believe that he has
dedicated a little poem of fourteen lines to nearly every visible star
in the heavens, and solemnly swears in the most mellifluous verses that
none of them are half so bright as the eyes of the bewitching Imogen."

"Let it be Harry Vincent, then, who is walking home and making his
astronomical observations with a view to the disparagement of the stars,
when brought in comparison with the optical orbs of his lady-love. We
will suppose that he is gazing at yonder star which is now winking at
us, as if it heard every word of our conversation. He would take but
little heed to his footsteps while his gaze was fixed upon the star and
his thoughts were wandering away to Imogen. As he exclaimed, 'Oh,
Imogen! thine eyes exceed in brightness all the glittering gems that
bespangle the garments of the glorious night,' he would tumble into the
well."

"Ha, ha, ha! Good-by, Harry."

"Would he not rapidly descend?"

"I should think that he would."

"Would he stop falling when there was no bottom to the well?"

"It is impossible to suppose that he would."

"Then he would fall entirely through the well and would be falling
upward when he issued from the other end, and our worthy antipodes, the
tea-pickers, would open their eyes in amazement, and their pig-tails
would stand erect when they beheld the handsome Harry Vincent falling
upward, and heard him loudly exclaiming, 'Oh, Imogen!' and he would
continue to fall upward until he was intercepted by the earth's
satellite and became the guest of the man in the moon."

"A most delightful abode for a romantic lover. But, as you do not
believe in the attraction of gravitation, what have you to say about the
attraction of love?"

"The attraction of love? Another of your delusions, Thomas. Now, if you
had ever seen my definition of love, in the dictionary which I have in
manuscript, and intend to publish some day when Noah Webster shall have
become obsolete, you would not talk of attraction in that connection."

"What is your definition of love?"

"Love is a state of hostility between two persons of opposite sexes."

"Of hostility?"

"Yes; in which each belligerent endeavors to subjugate the other,
regardless of the sufferings inflicted."

"This is as queer a paradox as that in relation to the possibility of a
man falling upward."

"No paradox at all, but a most obvious truth. There is Claribel
Carrington, who looks like an innocent and enchanting little fairy."

"She is superbly beautiful, and Clarence Hastings would barter his
existence for a soft, kindly glance from her deep blue eye. They are in
love with one another, that is evident."

"And being in love, hostilities have commenced; and, if I mistake not,
the war will be conducted by the lady with unexampled barbarity. When
we enter the ball-room to-night, you will perceive this angelic creature
inflicting more torture on poor Clarence than a pitiless savage inflicts
with his scalping-knife on his victim; and all because she is dead in
love with him, and he with her."

"Toney Belton, you deserve to have your eyes scratched out by a bevy of
beautiful damsels for your disparaging opinion of the last best gift."

"Let them scratch; for women are like cats."

"Like cats?"

"There is a striking similitude between them; and when a man with a
pulpy brain and a penetrable bosom falls into the hands of a beautiful
and fascinating woman, he is much in the condition of an unfortunate
mouse in the paws of a remorseless pussy. Indeed, nearly all truly
faithful and devoted lovers have to undergo an ordeal like that of the
helpless captive in feline clutches. The cruel cat will at one moment
pat her victim softly on the head, and fondle it with the utmost
affection, as if it were the most precious treasure she had in the
world; she will apparently repent of her intention to hold it in
captivity, and will permit it to escape and run half-way over the floor,
when, with a sudden spring, she will pounce upon it again and hold it
fast, regardless of its squeals for mercy. Just so with a pretty woman
and her lover. Next to a tabby cat, the most remorseless and cruel
creature in the world is a woman who has a man completely in her power.
Indeed, there is so great a congeniality of disposition between the
female sex and the feline species that maidens, when they become elderly
and are not otherwise occupied, almost invariably take to nursing
cats,--there being a mysterious affinity which draws them together."

"Do you want me to believe that a woman will not marry a man until she
has first tortured the soul out of him, and made him utterly miserable?
Why, they say that marriages are made in heaven."

"In heaven they may be made, Thomas; but, if so, they are caught on the
horns of the moon as they are coming down; for I tell you that hardly
any woman ever marries the right man, and hardly any man ever marries
the right woman. You have only to open your eyes and you will perceive
this without the aid of an opera-glass."

"My observations have led me to no such conclusions."

"Have you never observed, oh, most sagacious Thomas, that no pretty
woman ever had an adorer without wishing to torment him with a rival?
And is it not a singular fact that she usually selects some male animal
to occupy that position who is in every respect the inferior of the
worthy man whom she is endeavoring to drive to distraction? Does she not
take every occasion to inflate the vanity of him whom she cares nothing
about, and to humiliate the man whom she really loves? Now, there are
Claribel Carrington and Imogen Hazlewood,--they are both pretty women."

"Pretty! They are both surpassingly beautiful, though not at all
alike!--the former a blonde, with deep blue eyes and golden tresses; the
latter a brunette, with locks as dark as a feather fallen from the wings
of night, and black eyes, from which Cupid, who continually lurks under
the long lashes, borrows the barbs for the arrows with which he mortally
wounds multitudes of unlucky swains."

"Do not be poetical, Thomas. Pray take your foot from the stirrup and
dismount before Pegasus carries you to the clouds, and you lose an
opportunity of listening to plain, sensible prose. Each one of these
young ladies has a devoted lover."

"You may well say devoted; for if Claribel or Imogen were to wish for an
icicle from the end of the North Pole with which to cool a lemonade,
either Harry Vincent or Clarence Hastings would hurry thither and slip
off into the unfathomable abyss of space in a desperate attempt to
obtain it."

"Your imagination is both hyperborean and hyperbolical. But let us
return from the North Pole to the ladies. Claribel loves Clarence, and
Imogen Harry, and yet neither will marry the man she loves."

"And why not, oh, prophet?"

"Because no pretty woman ever does. Each lady will select some nonentity
of the masculine gender, and expect her lover to enter into a contest
of rivalry. Each gentleman will decline the contest."

"Why so?"

"I know them both. Each is a proud man, and has an abundance of
self-respect. No daughter of Eve can comprehend a proud man, though
every woman knows how to manage a vain one to perfection. Although
either Harry or Clarence would, as you say, go to the North Pole in
obedience to the wishes of the woman he adores, neither of them will
consent to humiliation for her sake. She will persist in her course, and
will ultimately find herself abandoned by her lover. Then, after a few
years----"

"Well, what after a few years?"

"You will behold the once fairy-like Claribel a matron of robust
proportions, married to a plain man, who made her an offer in a
business-like manner."

"And Clarence?"

"A bald-headed man, who, having worked like a beaver and made a large
fortune, is enjoying it with a wife who is as ugly as sin, but is a most
excellent manager of his domestic affairs."

"Toney, when do you intend to publish your book of prophecies?"

"A prophet has no honor in his own country. But, do you not hear the
sound of music in the ball-room? Let us go in,--


     On with the dance! let joy be unconfined,
     No sleep till morn when Youth and Pleasure meet
     To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."




CHAPTER II.


In one of the border States of the South, in the midst of a romantic
scenery, is situated the village of Bella Vista. Being connected by
railway with a number of populous towns, it had become a place of resort
during the season of summer for persons who desired to exchange the
sultry atmosphere of cities for the cool breezes, shady groves, and pure
fountains of this delightful retreat.

In the village had been erected a commodious hotel, which, during the
months of summer, was filled with guests. The proprietor, desirous of
contributing to the enjoyment of his patrons, had arranged for
semi-weekly hops, which were attended not only by the inmates of the
hotel, but by families from the village and from the surrounding
country.

The two young lawyers, Toney Belton and Tom Seddon, the former a
resident of the town of Mapleton, in an adjoining county of the State,
and the latter a citizen of Bella Vista, entered the ball-room soon
after the musicians had sounded a prelude to the poetry of motion. As
they moved through the crowd they were met by a handsome young man who
extended his hand to each.

"Why, Clarence, my dear fellow," said Toney, "I am glad to see you.
What! are you not dancing? Where is the lovely Miss Carrington? You will
be accused of----"

The young man turned hastily away before Toney could complete his
sentence; and the next moment he was seen standing in a corner of the
room gazing at a beautiful girl with an indescribable look of
indignation. The young lady was apparently listening to an ill-favored
man who was talking to her with immense volubility. She smiled very
pleasantly on her uncomely admirer and never once looked at Clarence
Hastings.

"Just as I told you," said Toney. "Hostilities have already commenced.
Look at Clarence Hastings yonder! He has a small thunder-cloud on his
brow, and is directing the lightning from his eyes in incessant flashes
at the cruel Claribel."

"I was observing him," said Seddon. "What is the matter with the man? He
looks as if he were meditating homicide, or suicide, or something of the
sort. What has Claribel done to him?"

"Declined to dance with him, I suppose. See! she has selected one of the
most fascinating men in the room to be his rival."

"The man she was just talking to, and with whom she is now dancing? He a
rival of the handsome Clarence Hastings? Why, he is as ugly as a Hindoo
idol! Who is he? What is his name?"

"Botts--Ned Botts. He lives in my town, whence he has just arrived in
company with Sam Perch, William Wiggins, and M. T. Pate, Esq., the
latter a distinguished lawyer of Mapleton. These four gentlemen are here
on a lady-killing expedition. General Taylor has recently disposed of a
multitude of Mexicans at Buena Vista, and my fellow-townsmen expect to
make great havoc at Bella Vista."

"That ungainly creature a lady-killer? And yet, by Jove! Claribel smiles
on him as if she really admired him. Who is this man Botts?

"He is the ugly man who once tried to run away from his own shadow. Did
you never hear the story?"

"No. How was it?"

"Botts had been with a number of boon-companions at a tavern in
Mapleton, and had put himself in an abnormal condition by the
consumption of a considerable quantity of fluids. As you see, he is no
Adonis when sober; but when inebriated, his ugly visage would endanger
the safety of a mirror at the distance of twelve paces. In the afternoon
he was standing in the street alone when he happened to see his own
shadow, and was so startled by its unexampled ugliness that he made a
tremendous leap to the right. The hideous apparition made a dart after
him. Botts jumped to the left; but the frightful spectre sprang at him
again."

"Ha, ha, ha! Toney, you will murder me!"

"Botts had often heard that drunken men would sometimes have _delirium
tremens_, and see devils. He thought _delirium_ was coming on him, and
that his ugly shadow was a fiend."

"No wonder! no wonder! What did he do?"

"He uttered a yell that set all the dogs in the town to barking, and
took to his heels up the street. Each time he looked around he beheld a
horrible devil following him, and at the sight he would give another
yell, and redouble his efforts to escape. Soon half the men and boys in
the town were after him. Away went Botts, and brought up at a doctor's
shop. He fell on the floor in a fit, and it was a long time before he
could be restored to consciousness. His ugly shadow had nearly been the
death of him."

"And you will be the death of me, if you tell any more such stories. But
who is that large man, with the bald head, who is jumping about among
the dancers with a bunch of flowers in his hand? He has no partner but
seems to be exercising his legs in sympathy with those who are really
dancing. No! I was mistaken,--he has a partner, but the lady's pretty
figure is so small that I could only see the top of her head, which is
covered with scarlet verbenas and a profusion of roses; and I was under
the illusion that the big man was going it alone with a magnificent
bouquet in his grasp. Toney, do tell me, who is that man? He seems to be
a great admirer of beauty, and has been flitting about among the ladies
like a large bumble-bee in search of the sweetest and most delicious
flowers."

"That is M. T. Pate, a distinguished lawyer, an eloquent orator, an able
writer, a profound thinker, and the prince of lady-killers. He is
possessed of a very original genius, and has recently written a
remarkable pamphlet, in which is demonstrated the possibility as well as
the immense importance of draining the Atlantic Ocean, and converting
its rich alluvial bottoms into cultivated corn-fields."

"How does he propose to accomplish this stupendous undertaking?"

"By constructing a number of enormous steam-pumps at the Isthmus of
Panama, and forcing the water into the Pacific. He says that when this
great work is once accomplished, the inexhaustible soil now lying
entirely useless under the water will afford a comfortable support for
countless millions of men; and that the incalculable amount of gold,
silver, and precious jewels which have gone down in the vast number of
vessels that have foundered at sea will more than defray the cost of
this magnificent enterprise. Pate has sent a copy of his pamphlet to the
learned professors of one of our universities, who now have it under
consideration. In the mean while he has abundant leisure to devote
himself to the ladies, by whom he is much admired. But, Tom, has not
Wiggins caused you to become acquainted with the green-eyed monster?"

"Who is Wiggins?"

"The man who is dancing with pretty Ida Somers. He has devoted himself
to her during the entire evening. Beware of jealousy, Tom! Let there not
be a demand for coffee and pistols in the morning."

"Pshaw! Nonsense, Toney! Ida and I are good friends--nothing more--when
old Crabstick, her uncle, will allow us to talk to one another--which is
but seldom. But is Wiggins the individual with the enormous red nose?"

"The same. You have a formidable rival, Tom. In my town he is admired
for his comeliness, and is known by the name of Rosebud."

"A curious name for one of the masculine gender! How did he acquire it?"

"Why, it seems that on a sultry day in June, this worthy citizen having
done ample honors to the god of the grape, was reposing under a tree on
a fragrant bed of clover, when an industrious bee, foraging among the
flowers, espied his crimson proboscis, and supposing it to be a Bourbon
rose, alighted upon it, in the vain expectation of extracting honey for
the hive. While the busy insect was endeavoring to distill sweets from
this extraordinary nose, the sleeper became conscious of a tickling
sensation, and shook his head in disapproval of the futile attempt;
whereat the irritable little creature darted out its sting, and Wiggins
leaped up with an outcry and vigorously rubbed his nasal protuberance.
This scene was witnessed by some wags, who were convulsed with laughter.
The nose soon began to swell, and, becoming more deeply crimson, it
looked like a rose about to burst into full bloom. Since his nap among
the clover, Wiggins has been called Rosebud by his boon-companions."

"By Jove! what a magnificent woman!"

This exclamation was uttered in a half whisper by Seddon as a tall,
dark-eyed woman, with a beauty that baffled description, moved across
the room, with fifty pair of eyes following her in admiration.

"Imogen Hazlewood?" said Belton.

"Poor Harry!" said Seddon.

"He is deserving of your sympathy," said Toney. "Look! he is now
approaching her with the awe and timidity of a man about to converse
with a goddess, such as we used to read of in the classic hexameters of
Ovid or Virgil. _Oh, dea certa!_ It won't do, Tom! it won't do!"

"What won't do?"

"For a man to let a woman see that he is dead in love with her. 'What
careth she for hearts when once possessed?' Not a fig, Tom! not a fig.
Carry your love about you like a concealed weapon. Don't let her know
anything about it until you pop the question. Pop it at her when she
don't expect it, and she will fall into your arms as if she had received
a pistol-shot,--


     Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes,
     But not too humbly, or she will despise
     Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes,


and, turning her back on you, as Imogen has done now on Harry Vincent,
will walk off on the arm of some fellow like Sam Perch."

"Sam Perch? Do you mean the tall youth with a freckled face and a head
of hair so fiery red that it looks like a small edition of a burning
bush? What a remarkable head!"

"It is a celebrated head. There was once a lawsuit about that head, and
I was counsel for the defendant."

"A lawsuit about the young man's head?"

"Yes, a very extraordinary forensic controversy, which attracted much
attention, and in which I established my professional reputation by
defeating my distinguished friend M. T. Pate, who appeared as the
plaintiff's counsel."

"Toney, do you pretend to tell me that anybody ever went to law about
that fellow's head? How did such a suit originate?"

"Why, you must know, Tom, that there is a curious tale attached to that
young man's head."

"So there is to the head of a Chinaman."

"No punning on people's cocoanuts, Mr. Seddon! But hear the history of
this very remarkable lawsuit. On a cold evening in December, Perch was
in a certain house in Mapleton, making himself agreeable to some young
ladies, when they commenced tittering to such a degree that he was at
first highly flattered, supposing that their merriment was produced by
his numerous attempts at witticisms. At length these demonstrations of
mirth became uncontrollable, and Perch, glancing at a large mirror
opposite, was suddenly struck dumb with confusion."

"At the image of his handsome self?"

"A mischief-loving young girl had taken her station behind him and was
holding her hands over his red head, and rubbing them, as if she were
enjoying the warmth of a blazing fire."

"It would hardly be necessary to invoke the aid of imagination for that
purpose. This room begins to feel hotter with that fellow's red head
carried about in it like a brasier of live coals. But go on."

"Perch was horrified at the revelations of the mirror. He rushed from
the house in a fit of desperation."

"To put his burning bush under a pump?"

"Thoroughly disgusted with his red hair, he consulted a barber, who
undertook, for an adequate pecuniary consideration, to impart to it a
sable hue, by the application of certain dyes. Perch left the shop with
a fine suit of black hair, as glossy as the plumage on the bosom of a
raven; but in the afternoon of the following day the color was suddenly
and mysteriously changed to a pea-green. He was on a promenade at the
time, and, not being aware of this sudden and remarkable metamorphosis,
he encountered the same young ladies and escorted them home. But when he
entered the house and laid aside his hat, his head looked very much like
an early York cabbage. Self-control was out of the question. The mirth
of the young maidens was so immoderate that they almost went into
convulsions, and the graceful and accomplished youth hurried away,
boiling with indignation. Upon consulting his mirror, he perceived his
dreadful condition. He passed a sleepless night in intense agony. Next
day he barricaded his door and was not to be seen. He remained for a
whole week in solitary confinement, brooding over his misfortune. The
unhappy youth finally became hypochondriacal, and you know that while in
this condition the mind is often under the dominion of sad and
unaccountable illusions."

"I am aware of that. Our housekeeper once imagined she was a teapot, and
sat for a whole day with one arm akimbo, as the handle, and the other
projected from her person to represent the spout. She gave a vast deal
of trouble, and was continually admonishing the servants not to come
near her lest they might upset her and break her to pieces. And only
last winter old Crabstick got a strange notion in his head that he was a
dog. One day, when I called to see Ida, he got down on all fours and
barked obstreperously, and bit Scipio, his negro man, on the calf of his
leg. I had to leave the house in a hurry to escape from his canine
ferocity."

"The illusion of Perch was equally as extraordinary. After brooding over
his misfortune for a whole week, he imagined he was a donkey."

"Imagined he was a donkey?"

"Yes; a monstrous donkey."

"Was it all imagination, Toney?"

"Be that as it may; I know that he created much annoyance among the
neighbors; for he commenced braying in a most extraordinary manner. His
friends gathered around him and endeavored to reason him out of his
unhappy delusion, but all to no purpose, for he had got the idea in his
head that he was a prodigious jackass, and the more they talked to him
the more loudly he would bray. He refused his natural food, and demanded
to be led to the stable, that he might have a manger, and be fed on
provender suitable for animals of the asinine species. The doctors had
much trouble with him, and tried various remedies without any apparent
good result. They finally determined to drench him with strong brandy,
and the potency of this fluid soon restored him to a more happy
condition of body and mind. He recovered, and sent for the distinguished
lawyer, M. T. Pate, and by his advice brought suit against the barber,
laying the damages at one thousand dollars."

"For what?"

"For injury done to the young man's head. The barber was dreadfully
frightened at the prospect of a ruinous litigation, and solicited my
professional services. M. T. Pate exerted himself to the utmost, and, in
a carefully prepared and eloquent speech, endeavored to demonstrate to
the jury how great an injury had been done to his client's head; at the
same time denouncing the author of the outrage in terms of unmeasured
vituperation. But his efforts were of no avail, for I was prepared with
the proof, and had put more than a dozen witnesses on the stand, all of
whom swore that the young man looked much better with his head of a
pea-green color than he did when it was of a fiery red. In consequence
of this testimony the jury came to the conclusion that the plaintiff had
sustained no injury and was entitled to no damages. They rendered a
verdict in favor of the defendant, and M. T. Pate's client not only had
to pay the costs of the suit, but went by the name of the 'LONG GREEN
BOY' ever afterwards."

"Mr. Belton, I am exceedingly glad to see you," said a tall, raw-boned
man, with a keen, dark eye, a Roman nose, and a swarthy visage.

"Mr. Seddon," said Toney, "let me introduce you to Captain Bragg, a
famous traveler, who has seen more of this terrestrial globe than we
have ever read of."

Seddon shook hands with the distinguished cosmopolite, and remarked that
the weather was extremely hot.

"Hot!" said Bragg. "My dear sir, do you call it hot? You should have
been with me when I was once invited by her Majesty the Queen of
Madagascar to a royal feast. As we sat at table under an awning, huge
pieces of the most delicious beef were served up, which had been roasted
by being exposed to the vertical rays of a tropical sun. That was what I
would call hot weather, Mr. Seddon. But, by the powers of mud! what is
that?"

A loud noise and trampling of feet were heard in the hall. The door flew
open, and women shrieked and men stood aghast, as a horrible apparition
entered the ball-room. It seemed like an ugly demon with two heads. The
monster rushed among the dancers, howling and screeching, and creating
the most extraordinary confusion. Ladies, with loud cries, clung to
their partners for protection, as with unearthly yells the two-headed
monster rushed around. All seemed to lose presence of mind except Toney
Belton, who tripped up the heels of the hideous intruder, and it fell on
the floor. Then was witnessed a fearful conflict. While the women
scampered away, and ran screaming through the hall, the men gathered
around, and soon recognized the belligerents. It was Ned Botts, engaged
in a hand-to-hand encounter with a gigantic and ferocious monkey
belonging to Captain Bragg. The creature had escaped from confinement
and had perched itself on the stairway in the hall. As Botts, after
having enjoyed a mint-julep, was returning from the refreshment-room, it
sprang upon his shoulders and seized him by the hair. Terrible was the
combat between Botts and the monkey. Each made the most ugly grimaces
and exhibited the most deadly ferocity. Botts grappled his antagonist by
the throat, and the fight would have ended in a tragedy had not Bragg
interfered.

Maddened with passion, Botts sprang to his feet and put himself in a
boxing attitude, whereupon Bragg knocked him down. The gentlemen present
now interposed, and Botts was carried off, loudly vociferating, and
swearing vengeance against Bragg and his monkey.




CHAPTER III.


The excitement occasioned by the terrific combat in the ball-room was
intense. On the following morning groups of anxious persons were
discussing the probability of a duel between Bragg and Botts. There had
been an interchange not only of harsh language but of blows between
these gentlemen, and it was the general opinion that a hostile meeting
was inevitable. Toney and Tom were sitting in the room of the former,
puffing their cigars, and conversing about the events of the preceding
evening, when there was a knock at the door, followed by the entry of a
gentleman whose countenance indicated that he was troubled by very great
mental anxiety.

"Good-morning, Mr. Pate. Let me introduce you to my friend Mr. Seddon."

The two gentlemen shook hands, and Seddon made some meteorological
observation, which was unheeded by Pate, who nervously turned to Toney,
and said,--

"Mr. Belton, I have called to see you about a matter of great
importance,--I might say an affair of life or death."

"Indeed, Mr. Pate! To what have you reference?"

"I refer, sir, to the unfortunate affair between our friend Mr. Botts
and--and----"

"The monkey?"

"Just so, sir. I am afraid that the--the--the difficulty will end in--in
bloodshed, sir. I apprehend that Mr. Botts is about to send a challenge
to--to--to----"

"The monkey? Why, Mr. Pate, the animal will not accept it if he does."

"I don't mean to the monkey, sir; I mean to Captain Bragg."

"Oh, that alters the case. The captain is a fighting man."

"Yes, sir; and Mr. Botts is determined on a bloody issue. He has been
with Wiggins the whole morning, and I know that he has penned a
challenge."

"Well, my dear sir, what can I do to prevent the issue which you
apprehend?"

"Bragg will apply to you to act as his second. Could you not persuade
him to apologize?"

"Apologize! Apologize for knocking Botts down? Impossible, sir!"

"How impossible? Cannot a man apologize for what he has done?"

"Mr. Pate, you are well versed in legal lore, but you seem to be
profoundly ignorant of a very stringent article in the code of honor."

"And what is that, sir?"

"One of the thirty-nine articles of the code of dueling, compiled by 'A
Southron,' prohibits a gentleman, who has received a blow, from
accepting an apology until the party who has dealt the blow first allows
himself to be slapped on the face in the most public place in the town.
Now, do you suppose that Captain Bragg will consent to stand in the
street, in front of the hotel, before a crowd of spectators, male and
female, and allow Botts to knock him down, and then get up and apologize
for having knocked Botts down? Impossible, sir! impossible! There can be
no apology."

"No apology? If a man is sorry for what he has done, is he prohibited
from saying so? Monstrous, sir! monstrous! Is this a Christian country?"

"I believe it is; and dueling is a Christian practice."

"I deny it most emphatically, sir. It is a barbarous, a heathenish
practice!"

"Why, Mr. Pate, who ever heard of the code of honor among the heathen
Greeks or Romans, or among any other heathens, ancient or modern?
Christians are the only duelists. The custom originated with the knights
who fought for the Cross and against the Crescent. It has been the
favorite mode of settling difficulties, among gentlemen in Christian
countries, ever since. Yes, sir; and even churchmen have fought duels. A
parson, in one of our Southern States, once challenged a layman, and
shot him through the heart in accordance with the code of honor."[1]

"Horrible! Mr. Belton, what--what is to be done?"

"Why, I suppose, we must let the men fight, if they are determined to do
so."

"Can we not apply to a justice of the peace? Can we not have them
arrested?"

"Mr. Pate, if you were to do so, public opinion is such that you would
be mobbed, ridden on a rail, pelted with rotten eggs, and your life
might be in danger."

"My dear, dear sir, what--what is to be done? I cannot see poor Botts
shot down,--cut off in the flower of his days!"

Here Mr. Pate was so overcome by his feelings that the big tears began
to roll down his cheeks, and Tom Seddon's heart was softened.

"Why, Mr. Pate," said he, "there will be no duel if Botts does not send
the challenge. Could you not use your influence with him, and induce him
to heap coals of fire on Bragg's head by forgiving the injury?"

"And I promise you," said Belton, "that if the duel does come off, it
shall not have a tragical termination. I will not advise Bragg to fire
in the air; for a friend of mine once did so and shot a boy, who was
perched among the boughs of a cherry-tree, through the calf of the leg.
Since then I have always been opposed to the absurd and dangerous
practice of firing in the air. Seconds, however, can usually prevent
bloodshed, unless their principals are exceedingly savage and
sanguinary. But I think that the suggestion of my friend Seddon is a
good one. You should hurry back, and endeavor to prevent Botts from
sending the challenge."

"I will do so! I will do so! God bless you both!" And with this
benediction Pate hurried away in extreme agitation.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] This happened in Maryland many years ago.




CHAPTER IV.


"Your friend Mr. Pate seems to be a very humane and benevolent man,"
said Seddon, when the peacemaker had taken his departure.

"None more so," said Belton. "Pate is not more remarkable for his
extraordinary genius than for the vast quantity of the milk of human
kindness which he has in his composition. It was the activity and
originality of his mind, controlled by the benevolence of his
disposition, which caused him to become the founder of a secret order,
which will some day make his name illustrious in the annals of the
benefactors of the human race."

"To what order do you allude?"

"To the M. O. O. S. S."

"What do those letters signify?"

"The Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts."

"The Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts! Why, Toney, you are joking! Who
ever heard of such an organization?"

"No joke at all. You have heard of the Order of Seven Wise Men, have you
not?"

"Why, yes; but that is an organization founded on principles of
benevolence,--somewhat like the Masons, or Odd-Fellows, I suppose."

"And so is the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts. It is founded on
principles of benevolence. Its object is the welfare of woman."

"In what way do they propose to promote so desirable an object?"

"Pate is a keen observer and a profound and original thinker; and after
much meditation he arrived at the conclusion that single women are much
happier than those who are married, as is evident from the gayety of
young girls, and the sedate, subdued, and careworn appearance of the
majority of their wedded sisters. Could girls be persuaded that a state
of single blessedness is preferable, all would be well; but the giddy
things have their heads full of love and romance, and are but too eager
to run into the meshes of matrimony. In all ages, and in all countries,
this proclivity of the female sex has been apparent. Even in Crim
Tartary, where marriages are solemnized by the singular ceremony of a
horse-race, and where the maiden is mounted on a fleet courser, and has
the advantage of half a mile start of the man, who must catch her before
she reaches a certain designated point in the road, or there is no
marriage, what is usually the result? Why, as soon as the word 'Go!' is
given, the man makes a vigorous application of whip and spur, while the
silly jade, though admirably mounted, holds in her horse and allows
herself to be caught before she gets to the end of the course. From
extensive observation, Pate was convinced that women are the same all
over the world, and will either rush into matrimony, or, like the Tartar
maiden, let matrimony overtake them on the road. He plainly perceived
that no argument, admonition, or persuasion could prevent them from so
doing, and therefore determined on the adoption of a plan which, when
thoroughly perfected, will render it almost impossible for young maidens
to get married."

"How is that to be accomplished?"

"The Order of Seven Sweethearts is composed of men who cannot marry.
They are as strictly a brotherhood of bachelors as were the Fratres
Ignorantiae, or any other monkish order of the olden times. Their duties
are important and onerous. They are under an obligation to court all
young women, but must never propose marriage. They are especially
instructed to be vigilant and prevent gentlemen, who are evidently
premeditating matrimony, from paying any of those little delicate
attentions which are preliminary to such an event. In order that they
may do this, they are required to be in all houses inhabited by young
ladies at an early hour in the evening, and are forbidden to leave until
every hat and cane have disappeared from the hall. It was thus that
Simon Dobbs was prevented from enjoying the society of Susan."

"Pray who is Simon Dobbs?"

"A very worthy citizen of my town. Dobbs had a snug home, and knew a
sweet little angel who hadn't a pair of wings behind her shoulders and
couldn't fly away, and he longed for an opportunity to invite her to
take possession of his domicile. On a certain evening Dobbs was sitting
alone on his porch in the moonlight, and was indulging in a delicious
reverie, in which visions of future felicity became beautifully
apparent. In ten years after this angelic being had taken charge of his
domestic affairs he would have--here Dobbs began to count on his
fingers--one--two--three--four--five--six--yes, seven sweet little
cherubs fluttering around him,--three girls and four boys,--two of them
twins, and the finest fellows you ever saw in your life. Here Dobbs
snatched up his hat and hurried off to see Susan, fully determined on a
matrimonial proposal. But when the unlucky Dobbs entered the parlor he
found one of the mystic brotherhood seated by her side. Dobbs waited
until a late hour, and was compelled to go home without an opportunity
of saying a word on the important subject which occupied all his
thoughts. Dobbs dreamed of Susan and the seven sweet little cherubs
every night, and every evening, when he called to see her, he found one
of the order on duty in the parlor. Poor Dobbs wanted to ask Susan a
simple question, but doubted the propriety of doing so in the presence
of witnesses. On one occasion Dobbs lingered to a late hour, in the hope
that Perch, who was seated by the side of Susan, would leave. The clock
struck twelve and Perch still remained on duty. It was then that Dobbs
began to seriously apprehend his fate. Unless Azrael should interpose
and remove Perch and his brethren to another sphere of existence, his
house would never become the habitation of an angel and seven sweet
little cherubs. That night Dobbs went home in despair and wished he was
a ghost."

"A what?"

"A ghost. Now, Mr. Seddon, you need not open your eyes in wonder at such
a wish, for I tell you that those invisible gentlemen who perambulate
the air have a great advantage over us poor mortals, who have to waddle
about on two legs and carry a burden of one hundred and fifty or two
hundred pounds of flesh on our bones, which is a manifest inconvenience
to freedom of locomotion. A ghost can do pretty much as he sees fit. He
can get on a car and travel as long as he pleases, and the conductor
will not nudge him and ask him for his ticket. He can seat himself every
Sunday in the best pew of the most fashionable church, and nobody will
ever call upon him for pew rent; and he can go to theaters and all
places of amusement without apprehension of having his pockets picked or
his watch stolen. A ghost never hits his shins against anything in the
dark which will make a saint in the flesh swear, but can pass through a
stone wall like a current of electricity; and when he wants to be in any
distant place, all he has to do is to ride on his own wish and be
instantly conveyed to the spot. He can stand with his bare feet on the
tip of the North Pole without danger to his ten toes from the frost, and
he can then by mere volition instantaneously transfer himself to the
tropics, where, as Captain Bragg has informed me, the milk of the
cocoanut almost scalds a monkey's mouth at mid-day, and at either place
the temperature is just as agreeable to a ghost. A ghost can slip down
his neighbor's chimney and peep into his pot and see what he is going to
have for his dinner."

"That," said Seddon, "must be a great satisfaction to the ghosts of
those enterprising individuals who are given to minding other people's
business instead of attending to their own."

"Very true. But don't interrupt me, Tom, now I am on the subject of
ghosts. Among the manifest advantages of being a ghost is one which
above all others is deserving of especial consideration. A ghost can see
a person's thoughts. Being fond of sweet things, ghosts experience great
pleasure in watching the thoughts of ladies who are meditating upon
their absent lovers. When a young maiden is thinking about her lover who
is far away, her thoughts wander off to him and return, looking as sweet
as little bees with their legs laden with honey leaving a field of
fragrant clover and coming home to the hive. And if any poor fellow has
a sweetheart, and is not certain whether she cares a fig for him or
not, he should not be sitting all day in the dumps and looking as sulky
as a bear with a sore head. Just let him make a ghost of himself, and he
will be able to see down to the very bottom of her gizzard; and if she
cares anything about him, her thoughts will look like lumps of
candy-kisses, labeled with poetry and wrapped up in blue paper."

"I wouldn't mind being a ghost myself," said Seddon.

"In order that you might have a peep at the musings and meditations of
pretty Ida? But you blush, Tom."

"Nonsense, Toney. Go on with your story about Dobbs. I am much
interested in the poor fellow's fate."

"Well, Dobbs had an intuitive perception of the advantages which I have
mentioned; and so he ardently desired to be a ghost. But seeing no
chance of soon being promoted to a ghostship, and not being able to
ascertain the sentiments of Susan while he remained in the flesh, he was
finally compelled to leave her in the hands of the mystic brotherhood.
In his solitary home be now began to brood over his misfortune. He came
to the conclusion that a bachelor is much in the condition of an
ownerless dog,--nobody caring whether he is brought home dead or alive;
while if a Benedict even barks his shins, he has some one to sympathize
with him and soothe him with caresses, which check his inclination to
utter profane exclamations and enable him to endure the severe trial
with manly fortitude. So, after much meditation, Dobbs determined that
as he was not permitted to obtain an angel for love, he would see if he
could not get a woman for money. Immediately subsequent to the adoption
of this wise resolution he was on a visit to one of our metropolitan
towns, and while walking the street observed in large letters over a
door the words FAMILIES SUPPLIED HERE. Dobbs came to the conclusion that
it was the very place he was looking for. So he walked in and asked a
surly giant who seemed to have charge of the establishment, if he could
furnish him with----"

"An angel and seven sweet little cherubs?"

"Not so. Perhaps the state of his finances did not admit of so
extravagant a purchase. He simply asked if he could furnish him with a
wife and a couple of children, either girls or boys,--he was not
particular which they were."

"I suppose that his moderate demand was complied with?"

"I am sorry to say that it was not. Persons are liable to be
misunderstood. The big fellow was in an ill humor, and supposed that
Dobbs wanted to make game of him. He replied in rude and insulting
language, and aimed several imprecations at his customer's organs of
vision. Dobbs's blood began to boil, and he reciprocated the
shopkeeper's compliments in synonymous terms. Then he suddenly saw a
multitude of stars before his eyes and found himself in a recumbent
position on the floor. Dobbs went home looking very much like a man who
had inadvertently overturned a bee-hive and seriously irritated its
inhabitants. His sad experience caused him to abandon all hope of
obtaining a wife either for love or for money."

"And so the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts baffled poor Dobbs in his
efforts to adorn his domicile with an angel and seven sweet little
cherubs! But what became of Susan?"

"She is still in a state of single blessedness. Every evening some one
of the Order of Seven Sweethearts may be seen seated by her side. They
ride with her, and walk with her, and talk love to her, but never
propose matrimony. Of course, the rules of the order forbid them to do
that; and never but once was a brother known to be unfaithful to his
vows. William Wiggins was the recreant member, and he was severely
punished for his want of fidelity."

"In what way?"

"He was tried and convicted of the grave offense of falling in love with
the land and negroes of a certain widow and proposing marriage. M. T.
Pate delivered the sentence of expulsion in a very feeling speech, which
drew tears from the eyes of every member of the brotherhood."

"What did Wiggins do?"

"Ostracized by his brethren, he proceeded to lay siege to the widow
with great activity, and with such success that she soon capitulated."

"And I suppose that they were married and----"

"You are too fast, Tom. They encountered a stumbling-block on their road
to the altar. Through the culpable negligence of his parents, Wiggins
had never been baptized, and the widow, being a strict member of the
church, would not consent to marry a man whose spiritual condition
approximated to that of a poor benighted heathen. She insisted that he
should either be sprinkled or immersed before the solemnization of the
nuptial ceremony. Wiggins, who was willing to undergo any ordeal for the
sake of the real and personal property of the bewitching widow, agreed
to be sprinkled; and it was arranged that the consecrated fluid should
be applied on the morning of an appointed day, and that they should be
married in the afternoon and immediately proceed on their wedding tour.
In the mean while Wiggins, in order to be fully prepared, procured a
book containing the usual questions and answers, and labored hard in
committing to memory the responses which would be required of him in
each ceremony. When the eventful day arrived, he flattered himself that
his preparation had been thorough; and in the first ceremony be
acquitted himself admirably. But when he stood before the altar with the
blushing widow be got strangely confused, and upon being asked, 'Wilt
thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?' to the utter astonishment of
the worthy clergyman he replied, in a decided tone, 'I renounce them
all, and pray God that I may not be led nor governed by them.' The widow
screamed as if a mouse had run over the tips of her toes, and was
carried out of the church in a fainting fit. Wiggins followed, and when
she was restored to consciousness wanted to explain; but she vehemently
denounced him as a villain who had decoyed her to the church by false
pretenses in order that he might insult her before the very altar and in
the presence of her venerable pastor. From that day she would have
nothing more to say to him, and he was compelled to abandon all hope of
ever obtaining possession of her real and personal estate. The reply
which Wiggins made to the minister who wanted to marry him to the widow
having been reported to M. T. Pate, he immediately expressed an opinion
that it afforded satisfactory proof of the sincere repentance of their
unfortunate and erring brother. By Pate's advice, Wiggins was again
received into the order, and is now here in Bella Vista for the purpose
of performing his duty as a faithful and efficient member of the mystic
brotherhood."

"I would really like to hear more of this man M. T. Pate," said Seddon.
"My curiosity has been aroused, and I desire to know something of his
previous history."

"Your desire can be easily gratified. I have already commenced writing
his biography."

"Writing his biography?"

"Yes. It is perfectly apparent to me that M. T. Pate is destined to
become a very distinguished personage. Somebody will write his
biography, and why not I? One chapter has been completed, which, with
your permission, I will read."

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Captain Bragg entered
the room.




CHAPTER V.


"It has been said that the worst use you can make of a man is to hang
him. I think, Captain Bragg, that the next worst is to shoot him."

This remark was made by Toney after Bragg, having first shown him the
challenge which he had received from Botts and requested him to act as
his second, had emphatically expressed a truculent determination to put
the challenger to death with powder and ball.

"And," said Seddon, "some men are not worth the ammunition expended on
them."

"By the powers of mud! what do you mean, Mr. Seddon?" exclaimed Bragg.
"Is not Mr. Botts a gentleman? Do I not find him in the very best
society?"

"Not certainly in the very best society when he is found quarreling
with a monkey," said Seddon.

"With a monkey! Mr. Seddon? Gentlemen, I would have you know that it was
no ordinary monkey that Botts so brutally assaulted in the ball-room. He
was a royal present from her Majesty the Queen of Madagascar. I would
defend that monkey with my blood; and had not Botts challenged me, I
would have challenged him for the insult offered to my monkey. Monkeys
have emotions and sensibilities in their bosoms as well as we have, Mr.
Seddon."

"Then, they have souls as well as tails?" said Seddon.

"I have no doubt," said Bragg, "that a high-bred monkey, like mine,
brought up in a royal palace and tenderly cared for, can feel an insult
as keenly as a man."

"Then, Captain Bragg," said Seddon, "why not refer Botts for
satisfaction to the monkey?"

"Because, sir, monkeys are not yet sufficiently advanced in civilization
to understand the code of honor. But the time may come when they will."

"What!" exclaimed Seddon, "do you mean to say that the time may come
when monkeys will challenge one another to single combat, and fight with
hair-trigger pistols like civilized men?"

"Yes, sir," said Bragg.

"I suppose that will be after they have dropped their tails," said
Seddon.

"Of course," said Bragg. "Man is but an improved species of monkey. Our
ancestors were once monkeys, and carried long tails behind them."[2]

Here Tom Seddon fell back on a sofa and roared with laughter. Toney
Belton reproved his friend for this unbecoming levity, and gravely
remarked that learned men coincided with Captain Bragg in opinion, and
that Lord Monboddo confidently asserted there was a race of men in
Africa who still had tails.

"That is true, sir," said Bragg. "I have seen them myself;--have eaten
and drank with them, and----" Here Tom Seddon exploded with laughter;
while Toney remarked that Monboddo said that these long-tailed
individuals were horrible cannibals, and were particularly fond of
Dutchmen.

"I don't know about their fondness for Dutchmen," said Bragg. "I am an
Anglo-Saxon, and I know that they treated me with great kindness; I
remained with them for months; and many of them shed tears when I took
my departure."

"Your discovery of this race of men in Africa seems to confirm the
rabbinical theory," said Toney.

"What is that?" inquired Bragg.

"The learned rabbinical doctors, in whose wisdom we should have great
confidence, assert that man was originally created with a long tail."

"Just as I said!" exclaimed Bragg. "Did I not tell you so?"

"If such was his original conformation," said Toney, "we must suppose
that it was afterwards observed that this appendage was of no use to him
at all, and, indeed, would often be a serious incumbrance; for when in
battle a hero was hard pressed and compelled to retreat, his enemy might
seize him by the tail, and hold him fast until he had cut off his head."

"That is a fact," said Bragg. "So he might."

"And when in the progress of civilization the toilet became of
importance in the estimation of mankind, the decoration of the tail
would be exceedingly troublesome and expensive."

"I should think so," said Seddon. "I should think that it could hardly
be managed even by the most experienced and scientific _tailors_."

"Tom Seddon," said Toney, "Dr. Johnson was of opinion that when a man
attempted a pun in company he ought to be knocked down. But let me
proceed in pointing out the obvious disadvantages of wearing tails. For
instance, fashionable gentlemen, after having spent large sums of money
in the elaborate adornment of their tails, might have them trodden upon
as they walked the streets, and numerous assaults and batteries might
thus be occasioned."

"No doubt of it! no doubt of it!" said Bragg. "I witnessed many fierce
encounters among my friends in Africa, caused by men inadvertently
treading on their neighbors' tails."

"Yes," said Toney, "some irascible editor or orator might have his tail
crushed by the foot of his adversary on the hard pavement, and a mortal
combat would be the lamentable consequence. Indeed, I would not answer
for the patience and fortitude of a pious parson if, as he walked along
the aisle of his church, one of the congregation should carelessly tread
on his caudal extremity. I seriously apprehend that the reverend man
would exhibit the irritability of a ferocious animal of the feline
species under similar circumstances. Therefore, such being the great and
manifest disadvantages of wearing tails, we must suppose that this
useless appendage was severed from the body of the man."

"What was done with it?" inquired Seddon.

"It was fashioned into a woman," said Bragg.

"A what?" exclaimed Seddon, too astounded to laugh.

"Into a woman," reiterated Bragg.

"Why, I thought that woman was formed from a rib."

"That is an error of the translators," said Bragg. "I was so informed by
a learned Hebrew whom I found living on the top of Mount Ararat, in a
comfortable house constructed from the imperishable materials of Noah's
Ark. He told me that the word should have been translated tail instead
of rib."

"This important fact in anthropology," said Toney, "would seem to
militate against the claims of those learned, eloquent, and
distinguished ladies who are the leaders of the movement for women's
rights."

"Do you mean," said Bragg, "those babbling females who leave their
hen-pecked husbands at home to nurse their unclean babies, and go
gadding about holding their conventions? Well, sir, give them every
right which they claim. Give them every right which we have----"

"Except," said Seddon, "the privilege of shaving their chins. I hardly
suppose that they will ever get that."

"No," exclaimed Bragg, "that inestimable privilege they never can
obtain, let them clamor for it as much as they please! I reiterate, give
them all they demand, let them vote, elect them to office, put a bale of
dry-goods and crinoline in the Presidential chair, and what would be the
result? Would the head govern?"

"I should think not," said Seddon, "If there is such an error in the
translation as you have pointed out. Captain Bragg, I am afraid that you
are a misogynist. But what becomes of your royal friend the Queen of
Madagascar? She is a woman, and she governs a great nation."

"Mr. Seddon, the Queen of Madagascar is no ordinary woman. The poets of
that great country say that the royal line is descended from their
gods."

"That opinion may be orthodox in the island of Madagascar," said Seddon.
"In the United States of America her Majesty's poets-laureate would find
a multitude of skeptics. But were those long-tailed African gentlemen,
with whom you once resided, a race of negroes?"

"Their faces were black but comely," said Bragg.

"Then," said Seddon, "It is easy to foresee what will be the ultimate
consequences of emancipation in this country."

"In what respect?" asked Bragg.

"Why, it is well known that the negro race, when emancipated, goes back,
by degrees, to its original barbarism. Emancipate the negroes, and, at
same future day, we will have a horrible race of savages and cannibals
among us. They will run wild in our forests, and, after a time, tails
will grow out from their persons. They will jump into our windows at
night and carry off our babies and devour them; and no Dutchman will be
safe from their cannibal ferocity. People will have to hunt them with
dogs, and catch them, and cut off their tails, and civilize them again."

"Never!" exclaimed Bragg, "never! Man once civilized never goes back to
his original condition. Emancipate the negroes and you need not
apprehend that they will return to their tails."

"Are you in favor of emancipation, Captain Bragg?" inquired Seddon.

"My dear sir, we will not discuss that question at present. By the
powers of mud! Mr. Belton," exclaimed Bragg, looking at his watch, "we
have forgotten all about Botts and the challenge."

"I was about to remind you, captain," said Toney, "that as you have the
choice of weapons, as well as of time and place, it is necessary that I
should receive your instructions in relation to these preliminary
arrangements."

"I leave time and place to you, Mr. Belton; and as to weapons, I am
equally familiar with all the weapons employed in private or public
warfare. I once fought a native of New Zealand with a boomerang, Mr.
Seddon."

"What sort of a weapon is that, Captain Bragg?"

"It is a missile which if it fails to hit the object at which it is
aimed comes bounding back to the hand that hurls it. But, by the powers
of mud! at the first throw my boomerang came bounding back with the New
Zealander impaled on its point and howling for mercy."

"Then," said Toney, "I am to understand that you leave the selection to
me, and will not refuse to fight with any weapon I may designate?"

"Refuse! certainly not. I will fight with a harpoon if you so choose, or
a gun loaded with Greek fire."

"Or hot water," suggested Seddon.

"To be sure," said Bragg.

"Captain Bragg, would you really fight with a gun loaded with hot
water?" inquired Toney.

"Mr. Belton," said Bragg, "he is a poor workman who finds fault with his
tools. I will face my antagonist with any weapon which he is not afraid
to hold in his own hand."

"Very good," said Belton. "And now I must leave you with Mr. Seddon,
while I have an interview with Wiggins, who, it seems, is Botts's
second."

Toney took up his hat and left the room, as Bragg was in the act of
poising a cane for the purpose of showing Seddon how to hurl a
boomerang.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] The theory of an eloquent lecturer in a discourse recently delivered
in Boston.




CHAPTER VI.


Toney found Wiggins in his apartment in the hotel. The latter received
the representative of Captain Bragg with the formal politeness befitting
the occasion. After some conversation in relation to the business which
had brought them together, Toney proceeded to say,--

"Mr. Wiggins, my principal has, as you know, the selection of time and
place, as well as of weapons."

"Undoubtedly, Mr. Belton. You will be so good as to name the time."

"To-morrow, between daybreak and sunrise," said Belton.

"Very good," said Wiggins. "And the place?"

"The cluster of trees which stand on the east side of the town."

"An excellent selection," said Wiggins.

"And the weapons, Mr. Belton?"

"Broad-axes," said Toney.

"What?" exclaimed Wiggins.

"Broad-axes," reiterated Toney.

"What?" said Wiggins, in a tremulous tone.

"Broad-axes!" shouted Toney, with the lungs of a Stentor.

"Broad-axes!" repeated Wiggins, with a pallid cheek. "Mr. Belton, you do
not mean to say that Captain Bragg expects Mr. Botts to fight him with a
broad-axe!"

"Why not, sir? Why not? When a man fights a duel is it not his object to
kill his antagonist? And are not broad-axes as efficient as any weapon
for the purpose?"

"But, Mr. Belton, a broad-axe is an unusual, a barbarous weapon."

"Sir, it is neither an unusual nor a barbarous weapon. It is a military
weapon. Examine Webster's Dictionary and you will find that such is the
definition of broad-axe. It has been often used by gentlemen in affairs
of honor."

"I never heard of its use among men of honor," said Wiggins.

"Why, Sir, who originated the practice of dueling? Were not the
chivalrous knights of the Middle Ages the first to adopt this mode of
settling disputes?"

"Certainly," said the representative of Botts.

"And were not those knights gentlemen and men of honor?"

"Of course they were," said Wiggins. "Who can doubt that?"

"And did they not fight with battle-axes?"

"Oh, certainly," said Wiggins. "We read of that in Froissart and the
other chroniclers of those days."

"Well, sir, will you be so good as to show me the difference between a
battle-axe and a broad-axe? Can you point it out?"

"I confess that I cannot," said Wiggins.

"There is no difference; except that our carpenters, in the peaceful
occupation of hewing timber, have found a short handle more convenient
than the long ones used in the days of chivalry by honorable knights and
gentlemen. I propose to lengthen the handles and let our men fight like
gallant paladins with the legitimate weapons of the duello."

"Mr. Belton, I cannot consent that my principal shall fight with such a
weapon. Mr. Botts is not accustomed to the use of a broad-axe."

"Nor is Captain Bragg, sir. So neither party will have an advantage from
skill or practice."

"Did Captain Bragg select broad-axes?"

"The captain has expressed no preference; he has left the choice of
weapons to his second."

"Then, Mr. Belton, can we not, as the friends of the parties, make
arrangements for a meeting in which each gentleman may vindicate his
honor without the tragical results which must ensue from the use of such
barbarous weapons as broad-axes?"

"As I have said, and now repeat, a broad-axe is not a barbarous weapon.
Its use is legitimate in the duello. Unless you agree to the terms which
I am now about to propose, I shall adhere to my original selection."

"What are your terms, Mr. Belton?" eagerly inquired Wiggins.

"That I select the weapons, and that neither yourself nor our principals
shall know what they are until I produce them on the field."

"I agree to your terms, Mr. Belton; anything but broad-axes."

"The weapons which I shall select will test the coolness and courage of
both gentlemen. They will not be broad-axes. Are you satisfied?"

"Perfectly."

"Then, sir, as we have agreed upon the preliminary arrangement, I must
bid you good-morning."

In the corridor of the hotel Toney encountered M. T. Pate.

"Mr. Belton--Mr. Belton," said Pate, "I--I could not prevail on Mr.
Botts. He has sent a--a--a challenge, and there will be bloodshed, sir,
and--and all about a--a--a monkey, sir."

"Mr. Pate, I have the matter in hand, and I assure you, on the honor of
a gentleman, that not a drop of blood will be spilt."

"God bless you, Mr. Belton!"

"Good-morning, Mr. Pate." And Toney hurried away, leaving Pate repeating
his benediction with great fervor.




CHAPTER VII.


Hardly had Toney Belton's footsteps ceased to sound in the corridor
before Wiggins snatched up his hat and hurried into the presence of his
principal in extreme agitation.

"Mr. Botts," he exclaimed, "I have just had an interview with Mr.
Belton, the friend of Captain Bragg."

"Captain Bragg then accepts the challenge?" said Botts.

"Of course he does," said Wiggins, "and we have agreed upon the terms."

"What time does Bragg propose for the meeting?"

"Between daybreak and sunrise to-morrow."

"A very excellent arrangement," said Botts. "The early hour will insure
us against the chance of interruption. And the place?"

Wiggins named the place designated by Belton, and the selection met with
the approval of his principal, who inquired,--

"Did the captain choose fire-arms, or small swords? I am equally expert
in the use of either."

"Fire-arms or small swords!" exclaimed Wiggins,--"no, sir, he did not."

"What weapon did he then select? I am at a loss to imagine."

Wiggins hesitated and was silent. His features became strangely and
alarmingly distorted.

"Did you not agree upon the weapons? What did Mr. Belton propose?"

"Broad-axes!" said Wiggins.

"What did you say, Mr. Wiggins? I did not distinctly hear you."

"Broad-axes! Mr. Botts, I say broad-axes!"

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Botts, rising from his seat.

"Broad-axes!" said Wiggins, also rising and moving nearer to Botts.
"Broad-axes, I say broad-axes!"

Botts's ugly countenance now assumed a very peculiar expression. One of
those ideas which suddenly rush into a man's mind and master it in a
moment presented itself, and immediately became dominant. He supposed
that Wiggins had become demented, and that he was in the presence of a
maniac. Botts had as much of the common quality of physical courage as
most of the male gender, but, like many a brave man, he had an intense
horror of crazy people. He retreated. Wiggins advanced towards him,
anxious to explain, and lifting his hand in the act of gesticulation.

"Stand back!" shouted Botts, grasping a chair, and elevating it over his
head,--"stand back, or I will knock you down!"

"Botts! Botts!" exclaimed Wiggins, lifting up both hands in violent
agitation, being utterly astounded at this hostile demonstration on the
part of his principal,--"Botts! Botts! I--I--said--broad-axes!"

"Help! help! murder! murder!" shouted Botts; and he aimed a blow at
Wiggins, who dodged it, and, tumbling over a table, fell sprawling on
the carpet, while the chair flew from Botts's hands and went with a
crash against the door. In an instant there was a rush of people from
the adjoining apartments and the room was filled with spectators.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed M. T. Pate, addressing himself to Botts, who
had armed himself with another chair, and stood brandishing it in a
corner of the room with an air of desperate determination,--"good
heavens! Mr. Botts, what does this mean?"

"Gentlemen, such scenes cannot be allowed in my house," said the
landlord. "Mr. Botts, this is the second time you have raised an uproar
in this establishment."

"Botts, you shall answer for this outrage!" exclaimed Wiggins, rising on
his feet and looking Botts in the face with a most truculent aspect.

"Are you not crazy?" said Botts.

"Crazy!" vociferated Wiggins, advancing towards Botts, who dodged behind
Pate. "_You_ are crazy, sir! You are as mad as a March hare, sir! You
are a dangerous man! I will have you in a lunatic asylum before you are
a day older, sir! Gentlemen, I call upon you to assist me in securing
this madman."

"By Jupiter! I think you are both lunatics," said the landlord.

"Mr. Wiggins, there most he some mistake," said Pate. "Botts is not
crazy."

"No madder man ever broke out of bedlam!" said Wiggins. "He will kill
somebody if he is not put in a strait-jacket."

"What was all this about?" asked Pate.

"About?" said Wiggins. "Why, sir, I was merely repeating something which
Mr. Belton had said to me, when up jumped Botts and aimed a blow at my
head with chair; and had I out dodged as quickly as I did, he would
have knocked my brains out. Is such a man fit to run at large through
this house? Do you call him sane, Mr. Pate? Sane!--if he's sane, you
might as well pull down all the lunatic asylums in the land and let
their inmates out to----"

"Stop! Wiggins, stop! I begin to see," said Botts. "You are not crazy,
after all! Did you say you were merely repeating what Belton had said to
you?"

"Nothing more," said Wiggins. "And was that any reason why I should
be----"

"My dear, dear fellow!" said Botts. "It was a mistake! I see! Give me
your hand. I ask ten thousand pardons!"

Botts advanced towards Wiggins, who retreated a step, and then stood his
ground and took the proffered hand.

"Thank God," said Pate, "there will be no duel!"

"Crazy men are not allowed to fight duels," said the landlord.

"Gentlemen," said Botts, "I call you to witness that it was all my
fault. I beg Mr. Wiggins's pardon."

"It is granted," said Wiggins.

"And now, gentlemen," said Botts, "be so good as to leave us to
ourselves. You see it is all made up, and we are the best friends in the
world."

At this request all left the room. M. T. Pate, however, lingered at the
door for a moment, and said, in an admonitory tone,--

"For Heaven's sake, Botts, do not quarrel with Wiggins again!"

"No fear of that, Mr. Pate." And with this assurance Pate closed the
door.

Botts being alone with his second, there was a repetition of apologies
and mutual explanations; after which each became assured of the sanity
of the other, and was more at his ease.

"But," asked Botts, "did Belton really say anything about broad-axes?"

Wiggins hesitated. He seemed to be afraid to again give utterance to a
word which had just put him in such imminent peril. At length he said,
in a low tone,--

"He did, indeed."

"What connection had this with the duel?"

"As the representative of Captain Bragg, he proposed that you should
fight with broad-axes."

Botts sprang from the chair and overturned the table; and Wiggins,
apprehensive of another assault, jumped up and put himself in an
attitude of defense.

M. T. Pate, who was lingering in the corridor in trembling expectation
of another quarrel, rushed to the door, but it was bolted.

"Mr. Botts! Mr. Botts!" cried Pate.

"Go to the devil!" shouted Botts.

"Good heavens! what is to be done?" said Pate. "He has Wiggins locked in
the room, and will beat out his brains with a chair!"

"I'll break down the door and put strait-jackets on both of them!" said
the landlord, who had hurried back at the alarm given by Pate.

Botts now opened the door and assured the people in the corridor that
they were not fighting, but were as amicable as men could be. Having
received a similar assurance from Wiggins, Pate and the landlord had no
excuse for further interruption, and reluctantly retired; the landlord
shaking his head rather dubiously as he did so, and muttering something
about strait-jackets and lunatic asylums.

Botts closed and bolted the door, and then earnestly asked,--

"You certainly did not agree that I should fight Captain Bragg with a
broad-axe?"

"No, indeed!" said Wiggins. "With much difficulty I obtained from Mr.
Belton a compromise."

"What sort of a compromise?" asked Botts.

"You are to fight with just such weapons as Belton produces on the
ground."

"And not to know what they are to be until I get on the field?"

"Such is the agreement," said the second.

"Wiggins, what sort of terms are these?" exclaimed Botts.

"They were the best I could obtain. My opinion is, that this Captain
Bragg, although he associates with gentlemen, is little better than a
desperado. He has lived among savages the greater part of his life, and,
as I am told, has been boasting of having fought a duel with a
boomerang, or a harpoon, or something of the sort. He is a reckless and
desperate man, and cares not for consequences. Had I not agreed to the
compromise proposed by his second, I am confident that he would have
posted you as a coward."

"These are hard terms," said Botts; "but I suppose they must be
accepted."

"They have been accepted," said Wiggins. "And now I must leave you, Mr.
Botts, for I have an engagement with a fair lady. At an hour before
daybreak I will be at your room; and we will, of course, proceed in
company to the ground."

In the solitude of his chamber, Botts began to give way to gloomy
reflections. It was evident that his antagonist was a most desperate and
determined man. He had lived among savages and cannibals, and the
proposal to fight with broad-axes was ample proof of the barbarity of
his disposition. And Wiggins had consented that Botts should come on the
ground in entire ignorance of the weapons to be used. Could it be
doubted that his adversary would select some barbarous implement of
butchery, familiar to himself but unknown to civilized duelists? When
the challenger took his position, a harpoon or a boomerang might be
thrust into his hand; or Bragg might enter the field armed with a
tomahawk and scalping-knife, and raising the war-whoop. Botts was a
brave man, but he shuddered and shivered as if an icicle had been thrust
down his back. He saw that death was inevitable, and he resolved to die
with decency. Having procured writing materials, he carefully prepared
his last will and testament, and proceeded to execute it with the proper
formalities. He then wrote a number of letters to absent friends,
bidding them a final and affectionate farewell. Those documents he
carefully sealed with black wax, and left lying on his table.

Much time was consumed in these preparations, and before the business
was concluded the sun had sunk behind the horizon and the stars had
appeared in the heavens. Botts took his seat at a window; but he could
not remain quiescent. The agitation of his mind impelled him to physical
locomotion. He seized his hat and rushed into the street. He hurried
along until he had reached the outskirts of the town, where he would not
be molested by crowds of gay and happy mortals, talking and laughing in
the full enjoyment of an existence of which he was so soon to be
deprived. The doomed man now stood alone in a deserted common. He gazed
upward at the heavens. From the innumerable multitude of shining orbs
over his head, he selected a star in which his spirit was to dwell after
its departure from these sublunary scenes. Botts did not return to his
room. He thought not of his comfortable bed at the hotel. During the
long hours of the silent night he continued to walk to and fro on the
outskirts of the town, a melancholy man, meditating on his latter end
and gazing upward at the celestial dwelling-place which he had selected
for his residence after his immolation on the field of honor.




CHAPTER VIII.


Just before the peep of day Captain Bragg, accompanied by his second,
repaired to the spot selected for the duel. Toney had informed his
principal of the terms agreed upon by Wiggins and himself, and the old
warrior forbore to make any inquiry in relation to the weapons to be
used on the occasion; Tom Seddon having kindly undertaken to convey them
to the ground during the night, so as to avoid observation. Bragg
expressed his satisfaction with the arrangement, and reiterated his
readiness to fight with any weapon, even with a gun loaded with Greek
fire, or with hot water, as Seddon again suggested.

As they came in sight of the dueling-ground, Bragg suddenly halted and
said, in a tone of vexation,--

"Mr. Belton, we will be interrupted."

"Why so?" inquired Toney.

"There is a gypsy camp in the grove. I perceive their fires among the
trees."

"You are mistaken, Captain Bragg. There are no gypsies within a hundred
miles of us. No doubt Seddon has kindled a fire with dry sticks. Let us
go on."

They now entered the grove, and Bragg stood still with a look of
amazement. At twelve paces apart were two fires, each kept alive by a
negro, who was busily employed in piling on fuel. Over each fire was an
iron pot filled with water, in a state of active ebullition. In the
space between the two fires was Tom Seddon, walking to and fro with his
hands behind his back, giving directions to his sable assistants who had
charge of the pots.

"By the powers of mud!" exclaimed Bragg, "what does this mean?"

"It means," said Toney, "that everything is prepared, and that we are
only waiting for the arrival of Botts. Tom, have you got the guns
ready?"

"Here they are," said Tom, producing two tin tubes painted black and
about the size of a musket-barrel. Each had a rod projecting from one
end and a nozzle on the other. Seddon handed one of them to Bragg,
saying, "Here is your weapon, captain."

"What is this?" inquired Bragg.

"It is your gun," said Seddon.

"Gun--gun! Do you call this a gun?" said Bragg.

"I most certainly do," said Seddon.

"You had better load the gun, Tom," said Belton, "and show the captain
how it is to be used."

Tom took the tube, and, putting the nozzle in the pot of boiling water
nearest to him, drew back the rod. He then brought the tube up
horizontally, and called out to the negro having charge of the other
pot, "Stand out of the way there, Hannibal!" Hannibal dodged to one
side, and Seddon, with a vigorous thrust of the rod, threw a stream of
scalding water from the nozzle to a distance of more than forty feet.
"There, captain," said Tom, "if Botts stands before such a discharge as
that, he is as brave a man as ever wore breeches."

"What devil's work is this?" said Bragg. "Do you suppose that I am
going to stand over a witch's caldron and have a man squirt hot water at
me until he has put out my eyes and scalded all the hair off my head?"

"You will have an opportunity to show your coolness in the midst of
danger," said Seddon; "you will, undoubtedly, put your adversary to
flight. I'll bet that Botts don't stand before a single discharge. If he
does, he should have license to beat any man's monkey when he is in a
belligerent humor. And, captain, did you not express your willingness to
fight with a gun loaded with hot water? Now, here are the guns, and
there are Caesar and Hannibal with an abundant supply of ammunition."

"And it is too late to make other arrangements," said Belton. "It is
broad daylight, and Botts will be on the ground in a moment. I hope you
are not going to back down, Captain Bragg."

"Back down!" exclaimed Bragg. "I would have you know that I never back
down. I would have fought with a harpoon, or a boomerang, or anything of
the sort; but who ever heard of hot water employed in combats between
man and man? It is devil's work!"

"Captain Bragg, you are mistaken," said Seddon. "Hot water has often
been used in wars between civilized nations. Did you never hear of the
fighting aeolipile?"

"What is that?" inquired Bragg.

"A tube filled with scalding fluid, which was projected in the face of
the enemy. The Egyptians, the Assyrians, and the Greeks were accustomed
to use these weapons, and to put their enemies to flight with them, as I
am certain that you will put Botts to flight."

"Hot water was used on one occasion in modern warfare with great
efficiency," said Belton. "The bravest troops in the army of Napoleon
the Great were baffled and held at bay by it."

"Where was that?" asked Bragg.

"In Spain,"[3] said Toney. "The Spanish troops were routed. They dropped
their arms on the field and fled into a nunnery. The French had no
artillery, and attempted to take the place by a _coup de main_. But the
petticoats were prepared for them. From every window pails of hot water
were poured down upon them. The French troops could stand anything but
that. They fell back. They gave way; whole platoons cutting the most
prodigious capers; patting the posterior parts of their persons with
their open palms and performing sundry difficult and extraordinary
evolutions."

"Beaten by hot water!" said Seddon.

"Yes," said Toney. "Their brave general, who bore on his person the
scars of scores of battles, attempted to rally them; but they refused to
advance. Maddened by the apparent poltroonery of his troops, he seized a
musket, and, rushing forward, commenced battering at the door with its
butt. The door gave way, and the brave general was suddenly precipitated
forward. Before he could recover himself the petticoats were upon him.
With loud cries they seized him by the locks, while their nails made
frightful ravages in his face. Blinded, and baffled, and breathless, and
faint, he retreated without the door. A shower of hot water descended
from above, and, with a loud outcry, the old hero advanced backward with
amazing celerity, until, striking his foot against a stone, he fell,
'with his back to the field and his feet to the foe.' The door was
closed, the petticoats stood ready at the windows with their pails full
of hot water, and the besiegers were utterly disheartened."

"Did the French retreat? Did they abandon the contest?" asked Seddon.

"No," said Toney. "Napoleon rode on the field. He was enraged at the
timidity of his troops. He ordered up a battalion of the Old Guard. It
was all over with the garrison then. Their fires had gone out, and their
water was cold. They prayed to every saint in the calendar, and made an
especial appeal to Joshua, the son of Nun, to save them. It was of no
avail. The door was battered down, the Imperial Guard marched in, and
the captured petticoats were led away as the musicians struck up the
tone, 'I won't be a Nun.'"

"So you see, Captain Bragg, that hot water has been employed in both
ancient and modern warfare," said Seddon. "And brave men have fled
before it. If you stand firmly before the shower discharged by Botts
from yonder tube, nobody will ever dare to dispute your courage."

"If Botts can stand it, I can," said Bragg, doggedly. "But," said
he,--and his face brightened up as he looked at his watch,--"I will
remain here no longer. The sun is up, Mr. Belton, and where is the
challenger?"

"Yonder comes his second," said Seddon.

Bragg's countenance was instantly beclouded.

"Good-morning, Mr. Wiggins," said Belton. "I do not see your principal.
Where is Mr. Botts?"

"He has fled," said Wiggins.

"Fled?" said Belton.

"Fled!" exclaimed Bragg; and his face became as radiant as the morning
just then illuminated by the sun which had appeared above the eastern
horizon.

"Yes," said Wiggins, "Botts has run off like an arrant poltroon."

"I will post him for cowardice!" exclaimed Bragg.

"As you please," said Wiggins. "I want nothing more to do with Mr.
Botts. He attempted to assassinate me."

"Assassinate you!" exclaimed Toney.

"Yes, sir; when I informed him of the terms proposed by you, he
attempted to take my life."

"Attempted to kill his second!" said Seddon.

"The assassin! the ruffian! the poltroon! I'll post him!" said Bragg.

"He jumped up and aimed a blow at my head with a chair," said Wiggins.

"An assault and battery," said Tom. "Liable in a suit for damages."

"He afterwards became calm, apologized for the outrage, and agreed to
meet Captain Bragg at the hour named. But when I called for him this
morning he had disappeared."

"Disappeared!" said Toney.

"Yes, sir,--absconded,--fled to parts unknown."

"I will publish him," said Bragg. "I will prepare placards with the
words BOTTS and COWARD in letters as big as my hand! Come, Mr. Belton;
come, gentlemen."

"Put out the fires, Caesar. Take care of the pots, Hannibal," said
Seddon. And with these instructions to those two distinguished
personages, Tom shouldered the tin tubes and followed after Bragg, who,
with Belton and Wiggins, was proceeding with rapid strides towards the
town.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] We have not been to find any account of this combat in Napier's
History of the Peninsular War. The historian overlooked it.




CHAPTER IX.


Captain Bragg, with an appetite rendered voracious by his exercise in
the open air at so early an hour, made a hearty breakfast on an abundant
supply of ham and eggs, which Lord Byron has said is a dish good enough
for an emperor. Having finished his repast, he arose from the table, and
going to his apartment, proceeded to prepare the placard in which he
intended to make known the poltroonery of Botts to the public. When a
man's mind is full of his subject, composition is performed with ease
and rapidity. The words roll off from the end of the pen as naturally as
water flows from a perennial fountain. Bragg's writing instrument
galloped across the paper and soon covered the foolscap with a terrible
denunciation of the unfortunate Botts.

The indignant duelist hurried off to a printing-office, and said to the
proprietor, "I want you to print this immediately."

"Will you be so good as to furnish me with your name?" said the
proprietor.

"Of what consequence is my name to you?" said Bragg. "I want you to
print the advertisement, and here is the money."

"Can't do it," said the proprietor. "Can't put anything in my paper
without the name of the party who furnishes it; advertisement or no
advertisement,--paid for or not,--I can't print it."

"Why not?" said Bragg.

"Because we can't afford to keep a fighting editor in this office; and I
don't want to get into difficulties."

"What difficulties will you get into?" said Bragg.

"Plenty of them. I don't want my head broken with a cudgel, sir."

"Who is going to break your head?" said Bragg.

"There are plenty of people in these parts to do it, sir, and on slight
provocation. Last winter a fellow came into this office just before we
went to press, and left an advertisement which he paid for, saying that
he wanted it to appear in our issue of that day. It was a certificate
that Samuel Crabstick, who is a bald-headed man, had bought a bottle of
Dr. Bamboozle's celebrated hair ointment, and applied it to his bare
scalp, and that in forty-eight hours after the first application a fine
suit of hair had grown all over his head, seven inches in length. Well,
what were the consequences, sir? Why, the whole town was talking and
laughing about this wonderful growth of hair. And next morning old
Crabstick walked into the office, and, after much profanity, assaulted
me with a heavy bludgeon. Had it not been for my devil, who come behind
him and put him _hors de combat_ with the hot poker, he would have
broken my bones, sir. So your advertisement cannot go in my paper unless
you leave your name for reference."

"I don't want it in your paper," said Bragg. "I want it printed like a
hand-bill."

"Oh, that alters the case. You take the responsibility."

"Here! I want these three words,--look, will
you?--BOTTS--POLTROON--COWARD,--printed in your largest letters."

"We have type big enough," said the printer, producing some wooden
blocks about three inches long.

"Those will do," said Bragg. "Now, go to work--quick--hurry!"

In a very brief space of time Bragg had a dozen documents in his
possession, for which he paid the printer and hastened away.

In a few moments after he had left the printing-office, Bragg's tall
form was seen elevated on a stool; and he was in the act of pasting a
hand-bill against the side of the hotel when he was interrupted by the
landlord, who said,--

"Captain Bragg, I do not allow any bills for monkey shows to be pasted
against my house."

"This is no bill for a monkey show," said Bragg.

"Nor advertisements for quack medicines, neither," said the landlord.

"This is no advertisement for quack medicines," said Bragg, with a look
of indignation.

"Well, whatever it be, you can't paste it there. I will not have my
walls plastered over with advertisements."

Bragg scowled at the landlord, and, getting down from the stool with a
profane expression, he went across the street to an apothecary's shop.
Here he was about to put up a placard when he perceived in large letters
on the corner, PASTE NO PILLS HERE; some ingenious urchins having
altered the original B to a P. Bragg was puzzled, and scratched his
head; and, as he did so, an idea entered his cranium, and he understood
that this inscription was a prohibition as imperative as that which he
had just received from the landlord.

Bragg was in a dilemma. He did not know what to do with his documents.
He had made two or three attempts on other houses, and had been warned
off by the proprietors. A chambermaid had discharged a quantity of foul
water at him from an upper window as he was in the act of defacing the
dwelling with a hand-bill; and a burly Hibernian, in his emphatic
brogue, had cursed him for an itinerant vender of nostrums; for there
was a violent prejudice in the town of Bella Vista against all venders
of quack medicines ever since a wandering empiric, having promised to
cure an old gentleman of some hepatic disorder, had given him an emetic,
and afterwards told him that he had puked up a piece of his liver and
would soon get well; when, in fact, the patient was soon in the hands of
the undertaker.

Toney and Tom now came to the assistance of Bragg; and Seddon, being a
citizen of the town, and acquainted with its localities, conducted the
captain to a small tenement which was used by a Dutchman as a stable for
his donkey. Bragg produced his documents, and was about to apply the
paste when the Dutchman came forth leading his donkey, and exclaimed,
"Donner und blitzen! what for you do dat?" Tom whispered to Bragg to
offer the Dutchman a dollar. This suggestion had its effect, and the
silver coin obtained from the proprietor of the stable a place for the
duelist's placard.

Having made his donation to the Dutchman, Bragg was spreading his paste
on the side of the donkey's dwelling when a loud shout was heard in the
street. A crowd of men and boys were seen advancing, and in their midst,
covered with mud and filth from head to foot, and led along by two
sturdy Irishmen, was a most pitiable and disgusting object. His face had
received a coating of wet clay, which was gradually getting dry, and
made his visage as ugly as an idol in a Hindoo temple. His clothing was
befouled with slime; and the two men held him at arm's length, so as to
avoid the defilement of actual contact.

"By the powers of mud! what is that?" exclaimed Bragg.

"One of the powers aforesaid coming in answer to your invocation, I
suppose," said Seddon.

"It is mud, sure enough," said Toney.

"Walking abroad and endeavoring to dry itself in the sun," said Seddon.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the boys.

"Here he is--by jabers! we found him!" said an Irishman.

"Who is he?" said Toney.

"Do you not know me?" said a dolorous voice issuing from the mass of
mud.

"No, I do not. Who are you?"

"I am Botts."

"Botts!" said Toney.

"Botts!" exclaimed Seddon.

"Botts!" shouted Bragg.

"Yes, gentlemen, I am Botts."




CHAPTER X.


It would require the perfection of language to describe the amazement of
Captain Bragg when he beheld a slimy figure, looking like one of the
powers by whom he continually swore, and heard a voice issuing from its
ugly lips, and saying "I am Botts." The placards, in which he was about
to doom his absconding adversary to eternal infamy, dropped from his
hand, and were picked up by a boy, and converted into the tail for a
kite. Toney and Tom were also astonished at the sudden and strange
appearance of the missing man. After a moment of silence, Belton said,--

"Where did you come from?"

"From the bottom of a well," said an Irishman.

"Good heavens!" said Pate, who had just arrived in company with Wiggins
and Perch,--"good heavens! did Botts fall into a well?"

"And shure it's not for me to say how he got there. We found him in the
well on his knees in the wather, and praying to the blessed Vargin and
all the saints."

"I'm almost dead! I'll never get over it!" said Botts.

"Run for a doctor! run, Perch! run!" said Pate.

Perch went off at the double-quick in search of medical aid, while Pate
and Wiggins conducted their friend to the hotel.

"Don't bring that man in here. I can't have my house covered with mud
and filth. Take him to the bath-house and wash him," said the landlord.

Pate pleaded and implored, but the landlord was inexorable; and they
were compelled to conduct the miserable man to the bath-house. With some
difficulty he was divested of his clothing; and, while Wiggins assisted
him in performing his ablutions, Pate proceeded to his apartment and
procured a change of raiment. His two friends then led him to his room,
where they found Perch with the doctor. The physician examined his
patient, and discovered that no bones were broken, and that there was
no internal injury of any sort. He ordered Botts a strong tonic, and,
telling him to keep quiet in bed and he would be well in the morning,
took his departure. Perch soon after left the room, saying that he had
an engagement to walk with Miss Imogen Hazlewood. Pate and Wiggins sat
by the bedside of their afflicted friend, who, with many a moan and
dolorous ejaculation, told the story of his misfortune, which we will
endeavor to abbreviate and relate in more intelligible language.

It will be recollected that after Botts had executed his last will and
testament, and addressed letters of farewell to his friends, he had
proceeded to the outskirts of the town, and walked to and fro over the
common, meditating on his approaching end. About the middle of the
night, as he continued to walk with his gaze fixed on the star which he
had selected for his future abode, he tumbled into an unfinished well,
about twelve feet deep, with six inches of water at the bottom. It being
night, and he being under the earth, his loud cries for assistance were
unheard, and he remained in the well until a late hour in the morning,
when the Irish laborers discovered him on his knees in the water praying
fervently; he having experienced a change of heart, and repented of the
great crime he had intended to commit.

While Pate and Wiggins were consoling their friend, they were startled
by loud shrieks from a female voice in an adjacent apartment.

"Good heavens!" said Pate.

"What's that?" exclaimed Wiggins.

"There's murder in the house!" bawled out Botts; and he jumped from his
bed and ran to the door.

"Come back, Botts! you haven't got your breeches on," said Wiggins; and
he seized Botts by the caudal extremity of his under-garment and held
him with a firm grasp.

Shrieks after shrieks were heard, and then the heavy tread of feet
hurrying along the corridor. Pate and Wiggins rushed to the scene of
action, and beheld the landlord, with loud and violent imprecations,
kicking Captain Bragg's monkey out of a room. The creature had got
loose, and climbing over the transom of a door, had leaped down on a
bed where a lady was taking her siesta. The hideous apparition had
nearly thrown the fair inmate of the room into convulsions.

"Get out of here, you infernal imp!" said the landlord, giving the
monkey a kick which sent it rolling over and over along the corridor.
The agile creature gathered itself up, and with an active bound sprang
on the railing of the stairway, where it sat making ugly grimaces, and
shaking both fists at Boniface in intense indignation.

"Get me a gun!" shouted the landlord, in a towering passion.

"Don't shoot!" exclaimed Pate; and a dozen female voices shrieked in
apprehension of the report of fire-arms.

"What are you doing to my monkey?" said Bragg, hurrying to the spot.

"Get out of my house with that incarnate devil of yours!" said the
landlord. The monkey grinned and shook its fists, and the landlord
stamped his foot and swore with vim and vehemence.

"I'll have satisfaction for this outrage offered to my monkey," said
Bragg.

"I'll give you satisfaction, sir! I'm no Botts, to be bullied by you,
sir! If you don't get out of this house, I'll take you by the neck and
heels and throw you out, and your monkey after you!"

The landlord was a powerful and determined man. He had fought under Old
Hickory at New Orleans. He stood six feet three in his stockings, and
could easily have executed his threat.

"Do you not keep a house for the accommodation of travelers?" said
Bragg. "For the entertainment of man and beast?"

"But not for the entertainment of man and devil! That monkey is a born
devil, sir!"

"He was a royal present from her Majesty the Queen of Madagascar," said
Bragg.

"A royal present from his Majesty the Old Boy!" said Boniface. "He gets
loose just when he pleases. He chased the cooks out of the kitchen, and
ate up the eggs they had got for breakfast. He stole a negro baby out of
its cradle and hid it in the wood-house."

"He is a cannibal!" said Seddon.

"One of the captain's long-tailed African friends," said Toney.

"Dines on babies," said Tom. "He'll be after a Dutchman next."

"Out of this house he goes, and you, too!" said the landlord. "Here,
Caesar, Scipio! carry Captain Bragg's baggage down and set it on the
pavement." The negroes proceeded to obey orders. "And now be off!" said
Boniface. "I don't ask you to settle your bill; I want no money from
you. I want you to leave, and take that monkey with you!"

"You had better go," said Seddon to Bragg, "or he will call on the
sheriff to summon a _posse comitatus_ and put you out."

"I want no comitatus, Mr. Seddon," said the landlord, overhearing the
remark; "I can manage him and his monkey both."

The sagacity of Bragg enabled him to comprehend the situation. He
perceived that the indignant Boniface was not to be intimidated even by
a harpoon or a boomerang. Toney Belton had whispered to the cosmopolite
that the landlord was the very man who had shot General Packenham from
his horse, and thereby gained for Old Hickory his glorious victory on
the banks of the Mississippi; and Tom Seddon asseverated that he had
decapitated three Indians with a bowie-knife, in a hand-to-hand
encounter, in the Everglades of Florida. Upon calm consideration Bragg
determined to leave the hotel. His baggage was conveyed to a
boarding-house which Seddon had found for him in the suburbs of the
town. Here he secured comfortable quarters for himself and an asylum for
his monkey.

At night, after smoking their cigars, Belton proposed to his friend that
they should call on Botts. They were sitting in his room, with Wiggins,
talking to the unfortunate man, and getting him in a cheerful mood by
pleasant conversation, when Pate rushed in with horror depicted in his
countenance.

"What's the matter, Mr. Pate?" said Belton.

"Oh!--oh!--oh!"

"What's the matter?" said Wiggins.

"Help--help--help!"

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" exclaimed everybody at once.

"Perch--Perch!"

"What has he done?" said Wiggins.

"Has committed suicide!"

And Pate rushed from the room like one bereft of his reason. Toney, Tom,
and Wiggins ran after him, while Botts jumped from his bed and hurried
through the door; and several affrighted females loudly screamed as they
beheld him swiftly gliding along the corridor, in his white garments,
and looking like a ghost.




CHAPTER XI.


Claribel Carrington and Imogen Hazlewood were cousins. The former was an
orphan whose father had died in affluence, leaving his only child a
large estate. Her home was the magnificent mansion of her uncle, Colonel
Hazlewood, a wealthy citizen of Bella Vista, and her constant companion
was the beautiful Imogen. Each of these young ladies had a devoted
lover, who, as Tom Seddon had remarked, would have gone on a pilgrimage
to the North Pole in search of an icicle in obedience to her wishes.
Clarence Hastings adored the lovely Claribel, and Imogen was worshiped
by the handsome Harry Vincent. The young men were only sons of two
wealthy gentlemen, and consequently each would inherit an ample fortune.
They were highly educated and accomplished. Clarence had devoted himself
to the study of medicine; while Harry was a man of leisure and had
become a votary of the Muses, having already published a small volume of
poems, which were admired by the general reader, and had even been
commended by critics. But Clarence, although he had made great progress
in anatomy and was satisfied that a man could not exist without a
heart, was inclined to believe that a woman sometimes managed to get
along without that important organ. He arrived at this conclusion from
pursuing his studies in the society of the lovely Claribel. Harry
Vincent had discovered that the poets in all ages had used the word in
their verses, and supposed that most women had a heart, but was afraid
that Imogen had grown up in magnificent beauty without ever having had
one deposited by nature in her bosom. After much meditation, he
determined to ascertain if he was not mistaken, and in the afternoon of
the very day on which the valiant Captain Bragg had been expelled from
the hotel by the indignant landlord, he proceeded to the mansion of
Colonel Hazlewood and inquired for Imogen. He was told that she was
walking in the garden. Thither he went, and in an arbor beheld a sight
which convinced him that the beautiful Imogen had a heart. He hastily
retired, and determined to go to the Mexican war, and march for the
Halls of the Montezumas.

What spectacle was it that caused such warlike emotions in the bosom of
Harry Vincent? Why was he so suddenly impelled to march under the
star-spangled banner against Santa Anna and his legions, in the valley
of Mexico?


     Oh, women! women! pretty doves or pigeons!
       How many men for you their weapons clutch!
     For you the Grecians murdered all the Phrygians.


And it was on account of one of the most beautiful of womankind that
poor Harry Vincent determined to shoulder his musket and shed his blood
on the field of battle.

He rushed frantically from the garden, looking as pale as a ghost. But
what had he seen? On his knees in the arbor he beheld Sam Perch, whom
Toney Belton called the Long Green Boy, with his head resting on the lap
of the beautiful Imogen. The young lady was dipping her handkerchief in
a vase of water and tenderly bathing his brow. Now, what had brought the
poor Long Green Boy down on his knees before Imogen? What had he said
to Imogen, and what had she said to him, that had caused him to faint?
Oh, ladies, how do you manage to get a stout young fellow down on his
knees before you, when a strong man could not bring him to that position
except by a powerful blow from a ponderous fist? The whole thing was a
mystery, but the fact was apparent. Perch had gone down on his knees
before the lovely Imogen, and she had spoken words which had caused such
strong emotions that he had fainted. The Long Green Boy revived, after
the young lady, with womanly tenderness, had bathed his brow with water
from a fountain. He told her that his heart was broken. She murmured
something in reply and glided from the garden, while the poor youth
arose from his knees and with his fractured heart proceeded to his room
at the hotel.

When the unfortunate Long Green Boy entered his room at the hotel, he
seated himself on a trunk in a corner, with a multitude of darts, which
had emanated from the eyes of the beautiful Imogen, sticking in his
heart and causing him intense agony. The poor youth had been carried
away into the regions of rapture, and then suddenly and unexpectedly
plunged into the pit of despair. He was convinced that his misery was
more than he could bear, and after meditating profoundly upon the most
eligible methods of escaping from the troubles of this sublunary state
of existence, he arose, and going to an apothecary's shop, asked for a
pint of laudanum.

"How much?" inquired the apothecary.

"A pint," said Perch.

"Do you want a whole pint?"

"Yes," said Perch, with a look of despair in his face,--"it will take a
whole pint to cure me."

"What is the matter with you?" asked the apothecary.

"I have got the--the toothache," said Perch.

"Humph!" said the apothecary. And he went into a back room to get a
bottle.

"Father," said a blue-eyed young lady in the back room, "do not give
that young man any laudanum."

"Why not?"

"Because I have been watching him through the door, and I am certain he
is crossed in love. He will kill himself."

"Pooh! pooh! the young man has got the toothache. That's worse than
being crossed in love a hundred times."

"Oh, father!" said the young lady, and she resumed her reading of "The
Sorrows of Werther."

The apothecary filled the bottle and handed it to his customer. Perch
returned to his room and proceeded to make preparations for his
departure from earth. He sat down and wrote a letter to the cruel
Imogen, in which he accused her of being the sole cause of his untimely
end. He directed another letter to his distinguished friend, M. T. Pate,
telling him that his sufferings were unendurable, and that he had been
driven by despair to the commission of the deed.

With a trembling hand the Long Green Boy then poured about half the
contents of the bottle into a goblet and hastily drank it off. He then
laid himself down on the bed, crossed his legs and folded his arms, and
prepared to die with decency. Instead of the lethal effects of the
laudanum which he had expected, he soon experienced a wonderful
exhilaration. The washstand in the corner of the room seemed to be
dancing a jig; there were now two lamps on the table instead of one; and
at last the room itself was in motion, and the Long Green Boy supposed
that the house was being moved about by an earthquake. In great
excitement he arose from the bed, and with the floor rocking and rolling
so that he could hardly stand on his feet, he staggered to the table,
and, seizing the bottle, swallowed its contents. With a revolving motion
he then reached the bed, sank down, and was soon in a state of profound
insensibility.

While the Long Green Boy thus lay in a stupor, M. T. Pate entered the
apartment. He endeavored to awaken the sleeper, but found it impossible
to do so, and seeing a letter on the table addressed to himself, he
opened it, and then, with a loud exclamation of horror, rushed from the
room.




CHAPTER XII.


The unhappy victim of unrequited love lay on his back, with his face
turned to the ceiling, and his arms folded over his bosom, as if waiting
for the undertaker to come and ascertain his measurement, when M. T.
Pate again entered the room, and, rushing to the side of the bed,
exclaimed, "Oh! oh! oh!"

Wiggins now burst into the room, and, looking at the recumbent and
motionless form on the bed, also exclaimed, "Oh! oh! oh!"

"What's the matter?" said Toney.

"He has killed himself!" said Wiggins.

"Great thunder!" said Tom.

"Has taken poison!" said Pate.

"Poison!" exclaimed Toney. "Run for a doctor, Tom! Tell him to bring a
stomach-pump! Run!"

Tom Seddon rushed from the room in headlong haste, and running against
Botts in the corridor, hurled him down a stairway. The unlucky Botts, in
his night-garments, rolled over and over until he reached the bottom,
when he found himself among a number of females, who loudly shrieked and
fled in terror from the hideous apparition. Tom stopped not to inquire
if any bones were broken, but went off as fast as his legs could carry
him after a doctor to pump out the poison, while Botts rushed up the
stairway in his night-clothes, and put another party of females to
flight on the upper landing. He was followed into the apartment, where
poor Perch lay on the bed, by the landlord, who was in a towering rage.

"Mr. Botts!" shouted the landlord, shaking his ponderous fist at Botts,
who was leaning over the unfortunate Perch,--"Mr. Botts! what do you
mean by running about my house with no clothes on your----"

"Hush!" said Botts.

"Hush!" said Wiggins.

"For Heaven's sake, hush!" exclaimed Pate.

The landlord glared like an enraged lion at each of the speakers in
succession, and then advancing on Botts, seized him by the collar and
hurled him around until his fragile clothing was torn from his person,
and Botts fell over a trunk and sat in a corner of the room almost in a
state of complete nudity.

"You shameless, impudent, outrageous, ugly beast! do you think that I
will allow you to be running and racing about among the ladies in my
house like a naked savage?"

"Hold!" cried Wiggins.

"Respect the dead!" exclaimed Pate, pointing to poor Perch lying on the
bed.

"Who's dead?" said the landlord, looking aghast.

"Look there!" said Pate.

The landlord stepped forward and leaned over Perch.

"Who says he is dead?" asked Boniface.

"He has taken poison?" said Pate.

"A whole pint--enough to kill fifty men!" said Wiggins.

"He is drunk!" said the landlord.

"Shame! shame!" cried Pate.

"Insult the dead!" exclaimed Wiggins.

"He is drunk! I'll bet my hat on it!" said the landlord.

Here Tom Seddon rushed into the room, followed by a doctor carrying a
stomach-pump in his hand.

"Here, doctor! here!" exclaimed Pate. "Quick! quick!"

"Open his month," said the doctor.

Pate proceeded to obey instructions, and succeeded in opening the Long
Green Boy's mouth, but he unfortunately got his fingers in the orifice,
and the jaws closed firmly on them.

"Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed Pate, with his forefinger between the teeth of
the dying man.

"Force his jaws open," said the doctor, holding the tube ready for
insertion.

"Oh! oh! oh! oh! gracious heavens!" exclaimed Pate.

Toney Belton, by an adroit use of his thumb, succeeded in opening the
jaws and releasing Pate, who danced about the room, exclaiming, "Oh!
oh! oh!" while the doctor hastily thrust the tube down his patient's
throat.

A quantity of fluid was pumped into a basin.

"What did you say he had taken?" inquired the doctor, examining the
contents of the basin.

"Laudanum!" said Wiggins. "A whole pint of it."

"Enough to kill a team of horses!" said Tom Seddon.

"This is not laudanum," said the doctor, with a look of intense disgust
at his patient.

"What is it?" asked Wiggins.

"Brandy," said the doctor.

"Just as I said," exclaimed the landlord. "I can tell a drunken man from
a dead man any day."

The diagnosis of the landlord was correct. The wily apothecary had given
the despairing swain a bottle of brandy, and instead of romantically
dying for love, he had become stupidly drunk.




CHAPTER XIII.


In the morning Botts, who had been so rudely accosted and so roughly
handled by the landlord in the apartment of the unfortunate Long Green
Boy, was in close and earnest consultation with Wiggins. The question
for solution was whether the landlord was a gentleman, and as such
amenable for the insult offered to Botts by his language and the assault
on his person. The Thirty-nine Articles of the Code of Honor were
carefully consulted, and the question was finally determined in the
affirmative. The social status of the offender being settled, Wiggins
undertook to carry a cartel from Botts to Boniface.

Wiggins found the landlord in his office making out bills and handed him
Botts's invitation to the field of honor.

"What's this?" asked the landlord.

"It is a note from Mr. Botts," said Wiggins. "Be so good as to read it
and then refer me to your friend, so that there may be arrangements
made for a speedy meeting."

The landlord looked over the paper and then picked up a big cudgel,
which leaned against the wall, and advanced towards Wiggins, who began
to retreat.

"Oh, you need not run," said Boniface,--"I am not going to thrash you.
But where is Botts?"

"In his room," said Wiggins.

"I'll break every bone in his body!" said the landlord.

"What?" said Wiggins.

"I'll pound his worthless carcass to a jelly!" And he started toward the
door.

"Hold!" cried Wiggins. "Are you not a gentleman? If not, in behalf of my
principal I now withdraw the challenge."

"Who is your principal?" exclaimed the landlord. "A man who comes into
my house to turn it upside down! Gets into a muss with a monkey as soon
as he arrives! Pretends he wants to fight Captain Bragg and then hides
himself like a white-livered poltroon in the bottom of a well! Amuses
himself by running and racing among the ladies like a naked Caliban and
frightening my female boarders out of their wits! I'll give him
satisfaction,--the ugly brute!"

The landlord began to ascend the stairway, breathing vengeance against
Botts. Wiggins caught him by the tail of his coat and called out, "Hold!
hold! I command the peace!"

"Are you a magistrate?" said the landlord.

"No; but I am a good citizen, and in the name of the law I command the
peace!"

"Let me go!" said the landlord, flourishing his cudgel. "Let me go! If
you tear my coat-tail off, I will----"

Here a number of ladies appeared on the upper landing and opposed a
barrier of beauty between the landlord and Botts, whose ugly visage was
seen in their rear. Several gentlemen were in the corridor at the foot
of the stairway, and among them a fat and funny little fellow, who stood
gazing at the scene with a most comical expression of countenance. The
landlord struggled to get free, but Wiggins held on to the tail of his
coat with the tenacity of a terrier.

"Let me go, I say!" shouted Boniface, shaking his cudgel at Botts.

The ladies screamed and Botts looked amazed. Suddenly a voice was heard
issuing from the mouth of the challenger, exclaiming, "Save me, ladies!
oh, save me! save me!"

"What! begging, you ugly beast!" exclaimed the landlord. "Yes, you had
better beg!"

"Oh, ladies!" exclaimed Botts, in piteous tones. "Don't let him murder
me! I put myself under your protection!"

"Who ever heard the like?" said a gentleman standing at the foot of the
stairway. "The pitiful poltroon! Come away, landlord! You wouldn't beat
a man who has put himself under the protection of the women!"

The ladies gathered round Botts, and vowed that they would protect him.
Botts was amazed at their tender solicitude in his behalf. The landlord
was puzzled. He dropped his cudgel and walked back to his office,
followed by Wiggins, who was intensely disgusted at the poltroonery of
his principal.

"Look here, Wiggins," said Boniface, "I can't thrash a man who begs for
mercy and puts himself under the protection of petticoats, but tell him
to get out of my house. There has been nothing but confusion in it since
he came. Let him be off, and tell him to take that drunken fellow Perch
with him."

Wiggins undertook to convey the message of the landlord to Botts and the
Long Green Boy. Just then Toney and Tom entered, and the former espying
the fat little fellow standing in the corridor, exclaimed, "Why,
Charley! how are you? where did you come from?"

"Toney, my boy, glad to see you! I've just arrived."

"Let me introduce you to my friend Tom Seddon," said Toney. "Tom, this
is Charley Tickle, an old college friend."

Seddon and Tickle shook hands, and looked as if they intended to be most
excellent friends.

"Charley," said Toney, "we have not met since we parted at college.
Where have you been?"

"All over the world, Toney. I have traveled extensively, I can tell you.
I have been a lecturer, a biologist, an artist, and am now a professor.
Mind that you always give me my title when we go into company together."

"Where is your local habitation at present?"

"I am studying phrenology under the learned Professor Boneskull."

"Who is he?"

"A celebrated phrenologist. A few days ago he arrived in your town of
Mapleton, and has there rented a house. You will find him flourishing
when you go back. The room in which he receives visitors will cause you
to open your eyes with wonder and awe."

"Why so?" said Toney.

"When you enter, you will see opposite the door a bust of Socrates, and
on its head is perched a prodigious owl. If I am with you, the owl will
speak to us and say. 'How do you do, gentlemen?--I am glad to see you.'"

"It must be a parrot," said Seddon.

"No, Mr. Seddon, it is an owl. He never speaks except when I am present,
and then he sometimes becomes quite eloquent. There is evidently
something supernatural about the bird, and I have suggested to Boneskull
that it may be a fairy. He has consulted it on several occasions, and
has received most excellent advice."

"No doubt of it," said Toney. "The owl is the bird of wisdom."

"Boneskull has a number of animals, birds, and reptiles stuffed, and
arranged around his room in glass cases. To show you how implicitly the
learned man relies upon what is uttered by the bird of wisdom, I will
relate one or two incidents. One morning I met a young fellow who had a
rat which he had skinned and stuffed, and having ingeniously fastened
bristles to its tail, was persuading people that it was a squirrel. I
told him to take it to Boneskull. When I entered his study, the learned
man was examining this curious specimen, and shaking his head rather
dubiously. But on my entrance, the owl spoke and assured him it was a
genuine squirrel, and of a very rare species; whereupon he purchased it,
and it now forms a part of his collection."

"But how happens it," said Seddon, "that the bird never speaks except
when you are present?"

"Oh, that is easily accounted for," said Tickle. "The bird of wisdom has
a vast deal of discretion. He will not commit himself by any utterance
except in the presence of a reliable witness. In me he has confidence,
and in no other living man. I one day told a man to take a skull, which
he had found, to the phrenologist, and that he would get a good price
for it. When I entered, Boneskull had it in his hand and was carefully
examining it. The owl now spoke, and said that it was the skull of a
distinguished negro lawyer of Timbuctoo, which a missionary had brought
home with him on his return from Africa. Boneskull was delighted with
this information. He purchased the skull, and always has it before him
on his table. It affords him great pleasure to point out its
intellectual developments as indicated by the bumps. He says that an
intellect once resided in that cranium equal to that of Clay, Webster,
or Calhoun, and that its bumps clearly demonstrate that the negro is the
equal of the white man in mental capacity. The vender of this valuable
specimen of craniology afterwards told me that it was the skull of an
idiot who had died in the almshouse; but I did not believe him, for how
could I doubt the veracity and intelligence of the bird of wisdom?"

Here the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Botts and
Perch, accompanied by Pate and Wiggins, and followed by Scipio,
Hannibal, and Caesar carrying the baggage of the two former gentlemen.
Toney and his friends walked with them to the cars. On the way Wiggins
and Botts got into a warm altercation, and the latter became much
excited as Wiggins upbraided him with having shown the white feather
when menaced by the landlord's cudgel.

"I tell you," exclaimed Botts, "I never uttered a word."

"You did," said Scipio, who was walking behind with a trunk on his
shoulder.

"What's that you say?" shouted Botts, turning round and looking at
Scipio with a most malignant aspect.

"Indeed, Massa Botts," exclaimed Scipio, "I didn't say nothing."

"Botts begged!" said Hannibal. "Yaw! haw! haw!"

"Asked the women to save him from a beating!" said Caesar. "Yaw! haw!
haw!"

Botts stood glaring at the negroes like a ferocious wild beast. His ugly
visage became absolutely frightful. Lifting up his cane, he suddenly
charged on Caesar, who dropped the trunk he was carrying and fled with
precipitation, followed by Scipio and Hannibal. Botts followed the
fugitives, bellowing out oaths and brandishing his cane until they
reached the hotel, when they darted into the basement-story, and hid
themselves in some place of refuge.

The landlord was standing on the veranda of the hotel, and behold Scipio
and his comrades flying before the infuriated Botts. He turned white
with rage and roared out, in a tone of thunder, "Making another muss,
are you? Can't you be off without raising a row with my negroes? I'll
settle with you, now there are no petticoats to protect you." And the
landlord rushed into the house for his cudgel. Botts, having put Scipio,
Hannibal, and Caesar to flight, had glory enough for one day, and without
waiting to encounter another antagonist, hastily returned to his
companions. Pate and Perch were in great agitation, while Toney and Tom
were convulsed with laughter. The Professor stood quietly looking on
with a grave and serious aspect. After relieving himself by the
discharge of a quantity of profanity, Botts was somewhat pacified by
Pate. The trunks were loaded on a wheelbarrow by a sturdy Hibernian, and
conveyed to their place of destination; and Perch and his companion,
bidding their friends an affectionate farewell, entered a car and were
soon wafted away from the beautiful town of Bella Vista.

Pate and Wiggins returned to the hotel, while Toney, Tom, and the
Professor sauntered around until a train of cars stopped, and three
daintily dressed young men got out. These gentlemen all recognized Toney
Belton, and were introduced by him to his friends as Messrs. Love, Dove,
and Bliss.




CHAPTER XIV.


After an interchange of salutations, Dove, who was a little man, about
five feet three inches in height, most elaborately dressed, tapped the
toe of his highly polished French boot with an elegant cane, so fragile
that it seemed to have been constructed for the purpose of beating off
butterflies and other annoying insects, and then asked after M. T. Pate,
and inquired the way to the hotel. Having received satisfactory
information from Toney in response to his inquiries, he took Love by the
arm, and, followed by Bliss, proceeded up the street.

"Those are pretty little men," said the Professor, looking after them
with a peculiar expression of fun lurking around the corner of his mouth
and twinkling in his eye. "What did you say their names were?"

"Love, Dove, and Bliss," said Toney.

"Love and Dove are the two who have their wings locked together?" asked
the Professor.

"Yes," said Toney. "And Bliss is walking behind."

"That is a proper programme," said the Professor.

"When Love and Dove go together, Bliss should always accompany them."

"Now, Tom," said Toney, "you have seen the whole seven."

"The whole seven!" said the Professor. "Who are they?"

"The Seven Sweethearts," said Toney.

"The Seven Sweethearts!" exclaimed the Professor.

"An organization," said Toney, "which originated in Mapleton, and now
has numerous ramifications all over the country."

"Indeed!" said the Professor. "I have traveled much but never heard of
such an organization until now."

"Then you would like to know something about the Mystic Order of Seven
Sweethearts?" said Seddon.

"Very much," said the Professor. "I am compiling a new work on zoology,
and will devote a chapter to the species of animal you have mentioned."

"Toney will give you a history of the origin and objects of the
organization," said Tom.

"With the greatest pleasure," said Toney. "But come, let us light our
cigars and take seats on yonder bench under the trees and make ourselves
comfortable."

The three friends proceeded to the spot designated, and while the
fragrant smoke was rolling off from their cigars, Toney gave an account
of the Mystic Brotherhood, such as Seddon had already been made
acquainted with; following it up with a recital of the events which had
recently transpired in the town of Bella Vista; including a graphic
description of the combat between Botts and the monkey in the ball-room;
the contemplated duel between Botts and Bragg, and its singular
termination; the terrible quarrel between the latter and the landlord,
and the expulsion of the valiant captain from the hotel; the abortive
attempt of Perch to commit suicide, and the scenes that ensued up to the
time of the arrival of Tickle. The Professor listened with grave
interest, and occasionally made a note in a little book which he drew
from his pocket and held in his hand. When Toney had concluded, he
exclaimed,--

"Well, Toney, I thought that I knew something, but you are a long way
ahead of me, my boy, in useful knowledge. Let me see." And he looked
over his notes. "The Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts. An order founded
on principles of benevolence. Its object the welfare of women. To
prevent marriages. Single women much happier than those who are married.
A grand idea of M. T. Pate. Toney, this organization must flourish. It
will soon get far ahead of the Order of Seven Wise Men. But it must have
leaders. Who are its officers?"

"I have a list of them here," said Toney, drawing a paper from his
pocket-book.

"What is this?" said the Professor, taking the paper in his hand and
glancing over it. It read as follows:


                     M. O. O. S. S.
     N. G. G.  .  .  .  .  .  .  M. T. Pate.
     M. W. D.  .  .  .  .  .  .  Wm. Wiggins.
     P. O. P. F.  .  .  .  .  .  Edward Botts.
     G. G. G.  .  .  .  .  .  .  Samuel Perch.
     D. A.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  Lucius Love.
     N. N.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  Altamont Dove.
     W. W.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  Marmaduke Bliss.


"What do those letters signify?" said the Professor.

"I have been puzzling my held over them for a long while," said Toney.
"Suppose you and Tom Seddon now aid me in deciphering them."

"Agreed!" said Tom.

"N. G. G.," said the Professor. "What does that mean?"

"I can't make it out," said Toney.

"Noble Grand Gander," suggested Tom.

"Good!" said Toney. "Tom, you are an Oedipus!"

"M. T. Pate is the Noble Grand Gander of the organization," said the
Professor, making an entry in his book. "M. W. D. What does that
signify?"

"You are too hard for me," said Toney.

"Most Worthy Donkey," said Tom.

"Hurrah!" said Toney,--"that's it, I am certain. Tom, you should open a
guessing school,--you would make your fortune."

"P. O. P. F.," said the Professor. "What's that?"

"Can't you guess, Tom?" said Toney.

"I am balked," said Tom.

"Botts?" said the Professor. "Is he the handsome man who was chasing the
negroes?"

"The same," said Toney.

"Prince Of Pretty Fellows," suggested the Professor.

"That's it! excellent!" exclaimed Toney.

"G. G. G.?" said the Professor.

"Great Green Gosling," said Tom.

"Perch is the Great Green Gosling," said the Professor, making an entry
in his book. "And now for Love. What is the signification of D. A.?"

"Dainty Adorer," said Toney; and the Professor made a note, and then
inquired the meaning of N. N.

"Noble Nonentity," said Tom.

"That hits Dove exactly," said Toney.

"There is one more," said the Professor.

"What is that?" asked Toney.

"W. W.," said the Professor.

"Winsome Wooer," suggested Seddon.

"That completes the list," said the Professor, looking over his
note-book and making another entry.

"Bliss is the Winsome Wooer. Toney, how did you procure this curious
document?"

"It came into my possession under very extraordinary circumstances,"
said Toney. "Would you like to hear the story?"

"I would, indeed," said the Professor.

"Let us have it," said Tom.

"You have heard me speak of the Widow Wild, who lives in the vicinity of
Mapleton?" said Toney.

"Frequently," said Tom.

"The widow has a very handsome residence, and in it dwells a very pretty
daughter."

"The lovely Rosabel Wild?" said Tom.

"How did you learn her name?" inquired Toney.

"Oh, I have learned that and much more in addition," said Tom.

"What more?" said Toney.

"I have been credibly informed that a certain young lawyer, who answers
to the name of Toney Belton, and who seldom deigns to look at any other
woman, is wonderfully enchanted and woefully bewitched by the lovely
Rosabel Wild. Is it not so? Come, make a clean breast of it, Toney. An
honest confession is good for the soul?"

"Well, Tom, I will be candid with you, and say, in sailor's phraseology,
that if I were about to embark on a voyage of matrimony, as captain of
the craft I would like to have Rosabel Wild for my mate. But the widow
is very eccentric, and has often declared, in the most emphatic terms,
that no man can marry her daughter unless he is worth a hundred thousand
dollars. Now, you know that I have not got a hundred thousand dollars."

"But your bachelor uncle, Colonel Abraham Belton, has, and you will be
his heir."

"That is by no means so certain as you seem to suppose. Colonel Abraham
Belton, although he has lived longer than yourself by some twenty years,
is really as young a man as either of us, for nature has given him a
constitution of iron. He is so tough that time has never been able to
plow a furrow in his face, nor has he a gray hair in his whiskers. He
may marry a wife."

"Very true," said the Professor; "and she may raise up children unto
Abraham."

"And," said Toney, "the children of Abraham may deprive me of the
hundred thousand dollars."

"Toney, you are a man of sense," said the Professor; "and the French
maxim-maker says that a wise man may sometimes love like a madman, but
never like a fool. But let us hear your story."

"Well, you must know that I am really a very great favorite with the
Widow Wild, although I have not the requisite sum for a son-in-law. I
believe that Rosabel would be willing to wait until I get the hundred
thousand dollars. Indeed, to be candid, I have consulted her, and she
has expressed a decided determination to do so. This, however, is a
profound secret between the young lady and myself, which we have never
confided to the widow. I am often at the house."

"I should suppose so," said Tom.

"On a certain evening I was there, and the clock striking eleven, I rose
and was about to take my leave, when the widow urged me to remain,
saying that she had received an intimation that Love, Dove, and Bliss,
who, you must know, sing as sweetly as nightingales, were coming to
entertain Rosabel with a serenade. Now, the widow has a singular
antipathy to the Seven Sweethearts, and not one of them can gain
admission to her mansion; but Love, Dove, and Bliss had met Rosabel a
few nights before at a party, where Dove kept fluttering around her
until the widow, who was also present, expressed a desire to take him
home and put him in a cage with her canary-bird. It was a fine moonlight
night, and we sat conversing in the parlor until about twelve o'clock,
when we heard the voice of Dove under Rosabel's window, singing, in
mellifluous notes,--


     'Wake, fairest, awake! at thy window now be;
       The moon on the midnight her splendor is pouring.
     Wake, fairest, awake! from thy window now see,
       Like a saint at his shrine, thy lover adoring.

     'Come, beautiful, forth on thy balcony high,
       While silver-toned music around thee is floating;
     And yon shooting-star shall come down from the sky,
       Like a slave at thy feet his homage devoting.

     'Nay, venture not, dearest! lest over the air
       Some spirits should chance to be wand'ring this even;
     And, deeming thee some truant angel now there,
       Might steal thee away to their home in the heaven.'


"'Rosabel,' said I, 'how can you refrain from jumping out the window
when a pretty little man like Dove invites you to come forth and behold
"thy lover adoring"?'

"'But,' said Rosabel, 'in the last verse he warns me not to venture.'

"'That is true,' said I; 'the little man manifests a wonderful
solicitude for your safety. He is apprehensive lest you might be
arrested as a runaway angel,--a fugitive from service.'

"'Hist! hist!' said Rosabel.

"'That is Love,' said I; and the voice of the serenader was heard
singing,--


     'The silvery cloudlets now are weeping, love,
       Sweet dewdrops on the flowers,
     And mellow moonlight now is creeping, love,
       Under the ivy bowers.
     And thou hast heard the vesper hymn
       That stirred the balmy air,
     When, as the shadows grew more dim,
       The pious met in prayer.

     'Their sacred rosaries they were counting, love,
       Unto their saints in heaven,
     And telling them to what a mountain, love,
       Their sins had grown this even.
     While thus to saints on high they pour
       Their prayers at evening bland,
     I am contented to adore
       An angel near at hand.'


"'Oh, Rosabel!' I exclaimed, 'I always thought you were an angel, and
now I know it, for both Love and Dove have testified to the fact. Out of
the mouths of two witnesses has the truth been established. You are an
angel, Rosabel, but please don't fly away.'

"'Nonsense, Toney! Don't go crazy. Be quiet--hush! Listen!'

"'That is Bliss,' said I; and we heard him singing,--


     'My little, lovely, laughing maid!
       So great a thief thou art,
     I do declare, I am afraid
       Thou'st stolen all my heart.

     'Thou'st stolen the lily's purest white,
       Thou'st stolen the rose's hue,
     Thou'st stolen each flow'ret's beauties bright,
       And stolen my poor heart too.

     'Well, little rogue, come help yourself,
       Your robberies repeat,
     And take the rest of the poor elf
       Who's sighing at your feet.'


"'He accuses you of felony,' said I. 'Oh, Rosabel! why did you, after
having perpetrated so many larcenies among the flower-beds, steal the
poor little man's heart?'

"'What would I want with his heart?' said Rosabel, pouting.

"'He tells you to keep it, and makes an offer of himself. He offers you
Bliss.'

"'The impudent little scamp!' said the widow. 'Tell Juba and Jugurtha to
come here.'

"'Yes, ma'am,' said a colored girl, who stood grinning behind the
widow's chair.

"Two gigantic negro men soon made their appearance.

"'Are the dogs in the kennel?' said the widow.

"'Yes, ma'am,' said Juba.

"'Oh, mother!' exclaimed Rosabel, 'you won't do that! It is a pity!'

"'Indeed I will,' said the widow. 'Let them loose!'

"'Yes, ma'am;' and Juba and Jugurtha grinned, and each uttered a low
chuckle as they hurried from the room.

"The voice of Dove was warbling another melody. It stopped suddenly, for
the baying of hounds was heard on the opposite side of the house. I
looked out the window, and in the moonlight could see Love and Bliss
leaping over the paling fence. Dove was climbing an apple-tree, when a
dog seized him behind and tore away his tail----"

"What!" said the Professor.

"The tail of his coat," said Toney. "Dove took refuge among the branches
of the tree.

"After awhile Juba entered the room showing his ivory and exhibiting a
piece of broadcloth, which he held in his hand as a trophy.

"'What is that?' asked the widow.

"'Dunno, ma'am,--I tuk it from Trouncer.'

"'Let me look,' said I. 'Why, it's Dove's tail!'

"The widow shrieked with laughter, and Rosabel hid her face on the
cushion of the sofa and shook as if she had an ague. I put my hand in
the pocket and drew out a number of papers.

"'What are those?' said the widow.

"'Love-letters,' said I. 'Here, Rosabel, you can read them.'

"'And those?' said the widow.

"'Verses,' said I,--'songs and sonnets. Rosabel, you can copy them into
your album.'

"'And that?' said the widow.

"'Why,' said I,'this puzzles me.'

"'What does M. O. O. S. S. mean?' asked the widow.

"'Oh, I know what that means,' said I.

"'What?' said Rosabel.

"'It signifies Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts.' And I gave Rosabel
and her mother an account of the Sweethearts, which excited much
merriment.

"'But these letters, N. G. G. and M. W. D.,--what do they mean?' asked
the widow.

"'That I cannot tell,' said I.

"'Do try to find out,' said Rosabel.

"I promised to do so, and have ever since retained the paper in my
possession for the purpose of deciphering it."

"But what became of Dove?" asked the Professor.

"I must tell you," said Toney. "When I retired I could not sleep. I
thought about Rosabel, and then about Dove in the apple-tree, and then I
would roar with laughter; and Rosabel and her mother must have heard me,
for I could hear explosions of mirth in an adjoining apartment. Towards
morning I got into a doze and was dreaming that I had a hundred thousand
dollars, and had purchased a diamond ring for Rosabel, who had ordered
her bridal attire, when I was awakened by hearing voices in the garden.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the window. It was daylight, and under
the apple-tree I beheld Juba walking to and fro with the steady pace of
a Roman sentinel. Dove was perched on a bough over his head, and I could
hear him in piteous tones begging the negro to tie up the dogs. For a
long while his supplications made no impression on the obdurate African.
Finally he drew a coin of glittering gold from the pocket of his vest,
and the tempting bribe produced the desired effect. The dogs were tied
up, and Dove dropped from the tree, and leaped over the fence and
vanished."

Just then the loud sound of a gong, announcing the arrival of the hour
for dinner, was heard, and Toney and his friends arose from their seats
and walked toward the hotel.




CHAPTER XV.


In the afternoon, as the sun was descending towards the western horizon,
and the balmy breezes were gently stirring the leaves of the silver
maples which shaded the main avenue leading from the hotel, Toney, in
company with Tom and the Professor, proceeded on a promenade. They had
not gone far before they perceived Harry Vincent and Clarence Hastings
just in advance of them, walking slowly and apparently engaged in
earnest conversation. They overheard Harry say, "I tell you my mind is
made up. I am off for Mexico, and I want you to go with me."

Clarence shook his head. His mind was not yet made up.

"Did you hear that?" said Toney.

"Yes," said Tom. "Harry is going to Mexico."

"Do you mean the tall, handsome young man walking on the left?" said the
Professor.

"The same," said Toney.

"I thought he had military glory in his mind as soon as I saw him," said
the Professor.

"Why so?" asked Toney.

"A close observer can sometimes tell what is in a man's mind by his
walk," said the Professor. "From the erect manner in which the young man
carried his head and the determined tread with which he brought down his
foot, I was certain that he had resolved on a march for the Halls of the
Montezumas."

The Professor and his two friends had now halted under a tree and were
engaged in conversation, when Claribel and Wiggins came by, and as they
passed Harry and Clarence, Wiggins bowed, but the lovely Claribel never
turned her head.

"Did you observe that?" said Seddon.

"I did," said Tony.

"Military glory is getting into the mind of the other young gentleman, I
think," said the Professor. "He seems to be half a head taller than he
was a moment ago, and his foot comes down with a determination that
indicates no benevolent intentions towards Santa Anna and his myrmidons.
But, look! yonder comes our three pretty little men."

Love now passed them, followed by Dove and Bliss, each escorting a very
beautiful young lady. Love seemed to be supremely happy, and in terms of
rapture was directing the attention of the smiling beauty to the
magnificent sunset.


     "Yon sun that sets upon the sea
       We follow in his flight;
     Farewell, awhile, to him and thee----


Ugh! ugh! ugh!" exclaimed Love; and the lady loudly shrieked as he was
lifted from his feet and rudely carried away from her side.

A mischievous dog had assaulted an aged sow of monstrous proportions,
which was quietly rooting in the street, and the affrighted porker
frantically rushed between the legs of the beau and galloped off with
him on her back. Love was half paralyzed with terror. He fell forward on
the back of the sow and convulsively grasped her by the ears. The ladies
fled screaming toward the hotel, while Dove and Bliss stood petrified
with astonishment. Toney, Tom, and the Professor ran at full speed after
Love, who was rapidly galloping away on the back of his courser. The
dog, delighted with the sport, kept pinching the hams of the sow, and in
the hope of escaping from her ruthless tormentor, she diverged from the
main avenue and ran across a common to a pond of mud and water. Into the
pond plunged the sow with the unfortunate beau on her back, scattering a
flock of ducks, that with loud quacks fluttered up the banks, where
stood the dog barking and bobbing his head in the full enjoyment of the
fun.

In a few moments groups of men and boys were assembled on the margin of
the pond. Love sat on the back of the sow bespattered with mud, and
still tenaciously holding on by her long, pendant ears. Suddenly a voice
was heard, apparently issuing from the mouth of the porker, and
exclaiming, "Let go my ears!"

"Golly! did you hear that?" exclaimed Caesar, with his eyes dilating in
amazement.

"The hog's talking," said Hannibal.

"That beats Balaam's ass!" said Tom Seddon.

"Get off my back!" shrieked the sow, and Love, in the utmost terror,
rolled off into the mud. The sow slowly waded towards the bank and gazed
up at the dog with a look of indignation. Her canine persecutor was put
to flight by a stone hurled from the hand of Hannibal, when she ascended
the bank, and, shaking the mud from her sides, with a grunt trotted off,
and was soon seen industriously digging with her nose in a sward of
clover.

"Jehosophat! that hog talked," said Hannibal.

"Nonsense!" said Toney.

"'Deed, Massa Belton, that old sow talked. I heerd her talkin' myself,"
said Caesar.

"The devil's in the swine," said Seddon.

"I b'lieves that old sow's the debbil," said Hannibal.

"Pshaw!" said Toney, "it was some boy you heard talking. Do you suppose
that the hogs in this town have the gift of gab? Here, help Mr. Love out
of the pond."

The unfortunate beau sat helplessly in the midst of the mud and water,
and was turning his eyes imploringly towards Dove and Bliss, who stood
on the bank.

"Wade in and help him out," said Toney to the negroes.

Caesar and Hannibal both shook their heads.

"Here, take this," said Toney, handing each a silver coin. "Now, wade
in."

Caesar and Hannibal commenced slowly rolling up the legs of their
trousers until they had gathered them in bundles above their knees. They
then with much deliberation waded to the middle of the pond, and each
taking Love by an arm, lifted him up, and bringing him ashore, laid him
down on the bank.

"Get that wheelbarrow," said Toney, pointing to a vehicle of the sort
which had been left on the common.

Caesar brought the barrow, and Hannibal lifted Love up and deposited him
in the bottom of the vehicle, and, followed by a procession of people,
carried the luckless beau back to the hotel.

"Take him to the bath-house," said the landlord.

The negroes obeyed orders, and left Love in the care of Dove and Bliss.

"That hog talked," said Caesar.

"Sartingly!" said Hannibal. "Golly! who ever heerd a hog talk afore
dat?"

"Those African gentlemen are fully persuaded that the sow spoke," said
Seddon to the Professor.

"It may be so," said the Professor. "She was under the influence of
Love, and that has been known to produce miraculous results."

In the mean while, Wiggins and the lovely Claribel, in utter ignorance
of the melancholy catastrophe just related, had continued their walk
until they entered a delightful grove on the outskirts of the town. Here
was a beautiful fountain and rustic bench, around which hung a canopy of
clustering vines. Claribel was about to seat herself on the bench when a
hideous head was thrust out from among the vines. The lady uttered a
faint scream and swooned in terror. Wiggins was dreadfully startled, and
drawing back a cane with a leaden bullet enveloped in gutta-percha on
its end, dealt a blow on the head of the apparition which would have
cracked the skull of an ox. The monster fell back dead in the bushes.
Wiggins now turned his attention to his fair companion. She was
unconscious. He lifted her up, and, with the lovely Claribel in his
arms, seated himself on the rustic bench. Her head rested against his
bosom, and Wiggins bent down until his mouth accidentally came in
contact with her ruby lips. It was an accident, and Wiggins did not
intend to commit a trespass, but he could not help it. Wiggins kissed
Claribel on her delicious little mouth. Now, who ever kissed a lovely
young lady once without wanting to kiss her again? Wiggins kissed her
again, and then several times in rapid succession. Just then Harry
Vincent and Clarence Hastings, unperceived by Wiggins, entered the
grove. They stood still in astonishment. An expression of horror was
depicted on the countenance of Clarence. For a moment he stood as if
rooted to the earth. Then pulling Harry by the arm, he said, in a hoarse
whisper, "Come!" The young men walked on in silence for about five
minutes, when Clarence said, "Harry, I will go with you to the Mexican
war."




CHAPTER XVI.


On the morning after the events related in the preceding chapter, the
ladies at the hotel could talk of nothing but Love. Love seemed to
occupy all their thoughts, and at breakfast many a pair of beautiful
eyes were directed towards the door of the saloon each time it opened,
in eager expectation of his appearance. But he did not appear, and many
young damsels retired from the table sadly disappointed by his
invisibility. At about ten o'clock in the morning a rumor became
prevalent that Love was about to appear, and many a pretty face might be
seen peeping from a half-opened door, evidently for the purpose of
getting a glimpse of the Dainty Adorer when he came forth. Soon the
heavy tramp of feet was heard in the corridor, as Scipio, Caesar, and
Hannibal marched along carrying trunks with the names of Love, Dove, and
Bliss in large letters on their lids. The Dainty Adorer now came form
with the Noble Nonentity on his right and the Winsome Wooer on his left.
The three little men had their arms locked, and were followed by Wiggins
and M. T. Pate, who seemed to be exceedingly sad. As the melancholy
procession descended the stairway, from numerous doors opening into the
corridor issued lovely young ladies, who hurried to the upper landing,
where was soon assembled a galaxy of beauty gazing after Love, Dove, and
Bliss, who were taking their departure. As the daintily-dressed little
beaus went forth into the street, the bevy of beauties descended the
stairway and assembled on the veranda, where they continued to gaze down
the avenue until Hannibal, who led the advance, turned a corner, and
then, in a moment, Love, Dove, and Bliss were hidden from their view.
One might have imagined that the departure of Bliss would have produced
a feeling of melancholy among the beauties who had been deserted; but
such was not the case. Peals of laughter were heard, and, regardless of
the flight of Dove and the departure of Bliss, the young ladies talked
merrily of Love during the entire day.

Toney, Tom, and the Professor were at the railway and witnessed the
departure of Love, Dove, and Bliss with manifest regret. They turned
away and walked for some moments in profound silence, when Seddon
exclaimed,--

"Yonder comes Captain Bragg!"

The cosmopolite approached them at a hurried pace, and apparently in
much excitement. He was introduced to the Professor, and then Toney
inquired about the condition of his health.

"I am physically well, Mr. Belton," said Bragg, "but am mentally
afflicted."

"Indeed!" said Toney. "I trust that there has been no serious cause for
this disturbance of your usual equanimity."

"I have met with a great, I fear an irreparable, loss," said Bragg.

"A ship foundered at sea without any insurance on her?" inquired the
Professor.

"My monkey," said Bragg.

"Alas!" exclaimed Tom Seddon in pathetic tones, "is the monkey no more?"

"Is he dead?" said Toney, apparently in great anxiety to learn its fate.

"I know not," said Bragg. "He is missing. I have searched for him in
vain."

"He may have run away and escaped over Mason and Dixon's line," said the
Professor. "Could you not reclaim him under the fugitive slave law?"

"That monkey would never have run away, Mr. Tickle. I have fed him and
protected him, and he could never have been guilty of such gross folly
and base ingratitude."

"A negro, who is clothed and fed and protected, will occasionally run
off from a comfortable home, and why not a monkey?" said Seddon.

"A negro may run away from the mush-pot of his master because he is a
slave, and is impelled by a natural and laudable desire for liberty. But
my monkey was not a slave, Mr. Seddon. He was a friend and a companion.
Monkeys and apes, Mr. Tickle, have emotions and sentiments. All they
lack is the power of speech to give expression to their thoughts and
feelings."

"They sometimes, though rarely, have that faculty," said the Professor.
"On one occasion I heard a venerable baboon express himself in emphatic
and excellent English."

"Indeed!" said Bragg.

"It was in Kentucky," said the Professor, "There was a traveling
menagerie exhibiting in a small village. A number of negroes were
examining the baboon with much curiosity, and one of them insisted that
he could talk but would not, because if he did the white people would
put him to work, and he was too lazy to work. I was present and heard
the baboon indignantly exclaim, 'You lie, you ugly, nasty nigger! I am
not as lazy as you are! Begone! or I'll bite your nose off!' The
Africans tore a hole in the tent in their efforts to get out."

Here there was heard an uproar in the street and a crowd of boys was
seen approaching. One of them was carrying an animal, which he grasped
by the tail and held with its head hanging down.

"What is that?" asked Seddon.

"A dead monkey," said the boy. "We found him in the grove by the
fountain lying on his back in the bushes."

Bragg rushed forward and the boy dropped the monkey, which lay on the
ground with its hideous face turned upward.

"My monkey! my monkey!" exclaimed Bragg. He stooped down and examined
the dead body. Its skull had been cracked by a terrible blow which must
have produced instant death. "This monkey has been foully murdered! Oh,
that I knew the villain who perpetrated the bloody deed! Who killed my
monkey? I say who killed my monkey?" said Bragg.

"Botts!" said a voice apparently issuing from the mouth of the monkey.
Bragg started back with a look of amazement. The crowd of boys opened
and they fell back in awe and terror.

"Bill," said a boy to his companion, "that monkey spoke."

"True as preaching!" said Bill. "I heard it."

Bragg stood speechless for some minutes. Then, in solemn tones, he
exclaimed,--

"Gentlemen, did you not hear that?"

"What?" said Toney, who with Tom stood at a distance of some paces. "I
heard nothing."

"Did you not hear a voice issuing from the mouth of the corpse and
proclaiming the name of the murderer?" exclaimed Bragg.

"Impossible!" said Seddon.

"By no means impossible," said the Professor. "Shakspeare, who is good
authority on all such subjects, tells us that


     Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
     Auguries and understood relations have,
     By magot-pies and choughs and rooks, brought forth
     The secret'st man of blood."


"True, Mr. Tickle," said Bragg. "And as sure as yonder sun is shining in
the heavens I heard a voice issuing from that monkey's mouth and
proclaiming Botts to be the murderer!"

"Botts could prove an alibi," said Toney. "He has gone back to
Mapleton."

"The conscience-stricken villain!" exclaimed Bragg. "He has imbrued his
hands in innocent blood and then fled. I will follow him to the ends of
the earth!" And Bragg started off as if in pursuit of the murderer.

"Captain!" shouted Seddon, "What will you do with the corpse?"

"Bury it," said Bragg, coming back,--"and then I will seek out that
villain Botts."

Accompanied by the boys, Bragg proceeded to bury his monkey.

"That man is insane," said the Professor.

"All excitable people are insane at times," said Toney.

"Bragg has monkey-mania," said Tom.

"And pseudomania," said Toney.

"His lies are harmless," said Seddon.

"And amusing," said Toney. "Bragg can beat Baron Munchausen."

"That was an amusing story he told about his residence in Africa among
those long-tailed gentlemen," said Seddon.

"What was that?" asked the Professor.

Here Tom gave an account of Bragg's residence in Africa as related by
himself.

"The man is demented," said the Professor. "But do you think he will go
after Botts?"

"As sure as his name is Bragg," said Toney. "Yonder he comes now."

Bragg was seen walking towards them rapidly, carrying a carpet-bag.

"Good-by, gentlemen!" said he, hurrying along.

"Are you going, captain?" said Toney. "When will you return?"

"As soon as I have settled with that villain Botts. Good-by!"

Bragg hurried to the railway. A train of cars was just ready to start.
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor, and the train moved off. Bragg
seated himself with an ominous frown on his brow, for he was thinking of
Botts. Immediately in front of him sat a man who had a large bundle by
his side. The cars soon stopped at another station. The man got up and
went out, leaving his bundle behind.

"Here, my man, you have left your bundle!" exclaimed Bragg.

The man made no answer, but had disappeared. The whistle sounded and the
train was moving off, Bragg jumped up and threw the bundle out the
window. It was picked up by a ragged loafer, who ran off with it. Just
then the man re-entered the car.

"Where is my bundle?" exclaimed he.

"That man threw it out the window," said a passenger, pointing to Bragg.

"What!" exclaimed the man, and he looked out the window and saw the
loafer running of with his bundle. "You infernal thief!--threw my bundle
out the window for one of your gang to carry off!"

Bragg protested his innocence and endeavored to explain.

"Oh, that's a pretty story!" said the man. "You are a sharp rogue! If
you don't pay me for my bundle I will have you arrested at the next
station and carried back to jail."

"How much was your bundle worth?" asked Bragg.

"Twenty dollars," said the man.

"Here's the money," said Bragg.

The man took the twenty dollars and resumed his seat. The train now
stopped at another station and two constables rushed on board. They
looked around with keen and searching glances.

"Jim," said one of them to the other, "that's the man. Arrest him!"

"I arrest you in the name of the law," said Jim, laying his hand on
Bragg's shoulder.

"Arrest me!" exclaimed the astonished captain. "For what?"

"Burglary!" said the constable.

"By the powers of mud, stand back!" shouted the indignant Bragg.

"Come along, my lad!" said the constable. And Bragg, struggling with the
officers and uttering volleys of oaths, was dragged from the car and had
handcuffs put on his wrists.

"I knew that fellow was a thief," said the man who had lost his bundle.

A daring burglary had been committed in the neighborhood of Bella Vista.
At about twelve o'clock on the preceding night the store-room which
adjoined the dwelling-house of a country merchant had been broken open.
The merchant was aroused and entered the store-room, but was knocked
down and gagged by the burglars, and his goods carried off before his
eyes. He had described the leader of the gang as a tall, raw-boned man,
with a Roman nose. The appearance of Captain Bragg corresponded to the
description, and hence he was arrested by the vigilant constables.

Great was the astonishment of Toney and his two friends when the train
stopped, and they beheld Bragg led from the cars by the officers, with
handcuffs on his wrists.

"Good heavens!" said Toney, "Bragg has encountered Botts and murdered
him, and has been arrested for the crime."

"That is just what has happened!" exclaimed Seddon, with a look of
horror.

"It is shocking to think of!" said Toney.

"Murder a man on account of a monkey!" said Seddon.

The constables kept off the crowd, and would allow no one to speak to
the prisoner.

"Mr. Belton!" exclaimed Bragg, "I want you to be my attorney."

"Very good," said Jim, "you can talk to your lawyer."

Toney was permitted to converse with Bragg, who explained to him the
nature of the charge which had caused his arrest.

"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Toney.

"Thank Heaven for what?" asked Bragg, in astonishment.

"That it is no worse," said Toney.

"What could be worse? Arrested as a burglar!" said Bragg.

"Where were you at twelve o'clock last night?" inquired Toney.

"At my boarding-house," said Bragg.

"Can you prove that?" said Toney.

"Yes," said Bragg.

"By whom?" inquired Toney.

"By my landlady and a dozen of her boarders. I was playing cards, and
won a hundred dollars," said Bragg.

"Tom Seddon," shouted Toney, "run to Captain Bragg's boarding-house, and
tell the landlady and her boarders to come immediately to the
magistrate's office."

Captain Bragg was brought into the office.

"Take off the handcuffs," said the justice. "A party accused should be
unmanacled when he has a hearing."

Jim took off the handcuffs, and then stationed himself at the door with
his hand on his revolver, ready to shoot down the desperate burglar if
he should attempt to escape.

"Now, Mr. Belton," said the justice, "we will proceed with the
examination."

The landlady swore that Captain Bragg was in her house at twelve
o'clock on the preceding night. Her testimony was fully corroborated by
that of a dozen of her boarders. An alibi had already been clearly
established by the evidence, when the merchant who had been robbed
walked into the room. He approached Bragg and scrutinized his
countenance.

"This is not the man," said he. "The robber was a much handsomer man
than the ugly old fellow you have got here."

In consequence of this testimony Captain Bragg was discharged from
custody; but he was so mortified and humiliated at having been
handcuffed and charged with burglary that he immediately took his
departure from Bella Vista; telling Toney that he intended to leave the
United States, and seek an asylum among the islands of the Pacific
Ocean.




CHAPTER XVII.


"It is too bad! it is too bad!" exclaimed Tom Seddon, rushing into the
room which Toney and the Professor were quietly fumigating with a couple
of havanas. "It is terrible to think of!"

"What's the matter, Tom?" said Toney. "Has old Crabstick been afflicted
with another fit of canine rabies, and bit you on the calf of the leg?"

"Harry Vincent and Clarence Hastings have gone to Mexico!" said Tom.

"Well, what of that?" said Toney. "Thousands of young men have gone
thither, and many have won distinction; and from my knowledge of Harry
and Clarence, I am certain that both of them will soon gather luxuriant
crops of laurel on the field of battle."

"But Claribel Carrington is dying," said Seddon.

"What?" exclaimed Toney.

"Dying?" said the Professor.

"I fear it is so," said Tom. "I was at Colonel Hazlewood's house this
morning when the newspaper was brought in. Claribel took it in her hand
and was glancing over it when she suddenly let it drop; sat speechless
for a moment; put her hand to her brow, and then, with a faint cry, sank
senseless on the floor. She had seen the paragraph announcing the
departure of Clarence and Harry. We lifted her up and her lips were
discolored with blood. I fear that the sudden shock produced the rupture
of a blood-vessel. She was carried to her room, and two doctors are in
attendance."

"But what of Imogen?" asked Toney.

"She hastily snatched up the paper and glanced at the paragraph, and
then it fell from her hand. She never uttered a word. I do not know
whether that stately beauty is possessed of feeling," said Seddon.

"As much perhaps as the other," said the Professor. "Some women are like
the Laconian boy, with the fox eating away his life. With them agony has
no outward expression. They suffer and are silent."

"Women are enigmas," said Toney.

"They are like pigs," said the Professor.

"How so?" asked Toney.

"If you want them to go to Cork you must make them suppose you desire
them to go to Kilkenny."

"I believe you are right," said Toney. "Now, here are Claribel and
Imogen who have been bestowing their smiles on everybody but Clarence
and Harry. For those two gentlemen, who are handsome, educated, and
accomplished, neither of these young ladies has had a kindly look or
friendly word for a whole week. One who was unacquainted with the secret
workings of a woman's heart would have supposed that Claribel was deeply
in love with Rosebud's purple proboscis."

"Who is Rosebud?" asked the Professor.

"Wiggins," said Toney.

"The fellow with the long rubicund nasal protuberance?" asked the
Professor. "He who is supposed to be the Most Worthy Donkey of the
Mystic Brotherhood?"

"The same," said Toney. "And Imogen appeared to be equally infatuated
with the Long Green Boy."

"Who is he?" inquired the Professor.

"Sam Perch," said Toney.

"Oh, you mean the Great Green Gosling," said the Professor. "The
interesting young gentleman who was so unsuccessful in his elaborate
attempt at suicide."

"That's the youth," said Toney. "And now, when Clarence and Harry,
worried and maddened by the caprice of these two young ladies, have gone
off to Mexico, you see what has happened."

"It was all the doings of your Seven Sweethearts, as you call them,"
exclaimed Tom Seddon. "They must be made to leave the town."

"They have all gone but two," said Toney. "The exodus of Love, Dove, and
Bliss leaves Pate and Wiggins alone to conduct the operations of
lady-killing and making havoc among hearts."

"And Wiggins has killed Claribel, if I am not mistaken," said Seddon.
"They must be made to leave," said he, with emphasis. "Pate has been
bobbing his big bald head about in the mansion of old Crabstick, and has
been gallanting Ida all around. He has magnetized her eccentric
guardian, who is under the impression that Pate is wealthy, and
cordially welcomes him to his house; while he will hardly allow me to
exchange a word with Ida, and sometimes when I am in the parlor he will
have one of his fits of hypochondria, or whatever you may call it, and
will come bounding in on all fours, barking and pretending to bite. It
is all put on; for the old Cerberus is polite enough in the presence of
M. T. Pate."

"Well, Tom, how do you propose to effect the expulsion of the Noble
Grand Gander and the Most Worthy Donkey?" asked Toney.

"They met me on the street about an hour ago," said Seddon, "and
proposed that we three should accompany them on a serenade, intended for
the entertainment of Ida."

"How far does Crabstick live from the town?" inquired Toney.

"About two miles," said Tom.

"Let us go," said Toney.

"I will arrange with some young men in Bella Vista, who will eagerly
participate in the performance. We will have fun," said Seddon.

"There is nothing like fun," said the Professor. "I am about to
originate a sect to be called the Funny Philosophers. Let's organize it
at once. We three,--Toney, Tom, and Tickle."

"Agreed," said Toney.

"And now we will commence operations by going on the proposed serenade,"
said the Professor.

"And Pate and Wiggins shall leave this town!" said Tom Seddon.




CHAPTER XVIII.


There was no moon, but the stars were brightly twinkling, when Toney,
Tom, and the Professor started, in company with Wiggins and M. T. Pate,
on a pedestrian excursion to the mansion of Samuel Crabstick, situated
at a distance of about two miles from the town of Bella Vista. They had
proceeded some distance when they came to a rustic stile which had been
erected over a fence on the side of the main road, and from which a path
led through a field into a forest. Toney seated himself on the stile and
proposed that they should diverge from the main road and follow the path
across the field; saying that it was the most direct route to their
place of destination.

"I would prefer the main road," said Pate. "It is more circuitous; but
there is no moon, and it will be very dark in yonder forest. We will
have difficulty in finding our way through it."

"Not at all," said Toney, "I know every foot of the path, which runs in
a straight line to the place we are going."

"Then, let us take the path," said the Professor. "When beauty is the
attraction I always want to make a bee-line for her abode."

"That is in accordance with natural laws," said Toney. "Who ever saw
pyrites of iron taking a circuitous route to the magnet? Ida is the
magnet. Is it not so, Tom?"

Tom nodded assent.

"And we are the pyrites," said the Professor. "Let us go straight to the
attraction, and not be acting contrary to the laws of nature."

Pate was overcome by these arguments, and, ascending the stile, was
about to pursue that path, when Toney called out,--

"Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Pate. We have plenty of time."

"In fact, it is too early yet for a serenade," said the Professor. "We
should wait until the young lady has put on her nightcap. If we wake her
out of her first nap, when she has been wandering in the fairy-land of
dreams, her impression will be that angels are singing around her
window."

"That is so," said Toney. "Let us wait. I have a proposition to make."

"What is that?" asked the Professor.

"Here we are going on a serenade," said Toney. "Now, I move that each
man furnish evidence of his musical accomplishments by singing a song.
Let Mr. Pate lead off."

"A song from Mr. Pate!" cried the Professor.

"A song from Mr. Pate!" shouted Seddon.

"Mr. Pate will now sing," said Toney.

Thus urged, Pate seated himself, and in loud if not mellifluous tones
sang as follows:


     The summer day's faded and starlight is streaming
       In beautiful showers from heaven above;
     And welcome sweet midnight! for then in its dreaming
       My spirit is wafted away to my love.

     Let others rejoicing, then welcome Aurora,
       As fann'd by zephyrs she blushes so bright;
     But midnight! sweet midnight! I'll ever adore her,
       And mourn when the morning returns with its light.


"Mr. Pate," said the Professor, "if you wake the young lady up by
warbling that melody under her window, she will think that you are an
angel of magnificent proportions and tremendous vocal powers. Now, Mr.
Wiggins, it is your turn."

Wiggins cleared his throat and sang the following ditty:


       Oh, maiden fair,
       With raven hair,
     And lips so sweetly pouting,
       I do avow,
       That until now,
     I've in my mind been doubting
       If 'twere not sin
       To rank you in
     The race of us poor mortals;
       Thinking you might,
       By some fair sprite,
     Escaped from heaven's own portals.

       But as I now
       Gaze on that brow
     So fondly and so madly,
       I am afraid,
       My lovely maid,
     My fancy's lowered sadly;
       For while 'mid bliss
       So sweet as this
     My soul's to rapture given,
       Alas! my mind
       Is more inclined
     To earth than 'tis to heaven.


"Indeed, Mr. Wiggins, you must not warble that song under the young
lady's window," said the Professor.

"I do not intend to do so," said Wiggins.

"I am glad of that," said the Professor, "for if you did she would
imagine that you were some fallen angel on a midnight peregrination. And
now, Toney, let us hear from you."

Toney sang:


     Come to the green grove! where wild vines are clinging
     Around the tall elms, whose broad boughs are flinging
     Their shade o'er the roof of the cottage so near
     To the banks of the streamlet meandering clear.

     There we'll recline 'neath the shade of the willow,
     Where roses and lilies have wreathed a sweet pillow,
     And the goldfinch concealed in the green boughs above
     Is warbling all day to his beautiful love.

     There we will watch the blithe humming-bird roving,
     And purple-winged butterflies fairy-like moving
     Among the blue violets that bloom at our feet,
     And throw all around us their fragrance so sweet.

     There thou shalt sing, love, and then as I hear thee,
     Drink in thy soft tones, and know that I'm near thee,
     I'll fancy 'tis Eden around me I see,
     And thou art an angel to share it with me.


"Toney," said the Professor, "when the young lady hears that she will
suppose that the spirit of a troubadour is warbling under her window.
And now, Mr. Seddon."

Tom sang:


     The green wood is ringing with mocking-birds' notes,
     And melody springing from turtle-doves' throats,
     And wild flowers growing so beautiful there,
     Their fragrance are throwing all over the air.

     But see! in yon bower, that wild vines inclose,
     A lovelier flower than lily or rose;
     Your beauties have vanished, ye lilies so fair,
     To her cheeks are banished; go seek for them there!

     Your sweetness, ye roses, which butterflies sip,
     Hath gone--it reposes upon her soft lip;
     Thy music, sweet dove, now no more thou'lt prolong!
     Oh, list to my love now! she's stolen thy song.


"Mr. Seddon, the young lady will be persuaded that you are a twin
brother to the troubadour," said the Professor.

"And now, Charley," said Toney, "we are waiting to hear you warble."

The Professor sang:


     Come hasten with me, love,
       Come hasten away!
     Come haste to yon lea, love,
       Where flow'rets so gay

     Their beauties have blended,
       As richly as though
     'Twere fragments all splendid
       Of yonder bright bow,

     By fairy hands riven
       In moments of mirth,
     And flung from yon heaven
       T' embellish the earth.

     Come haste to yon lea, love,
       Come hasten with me!
     And then thou shalt see, love,
       Naught fairer than thee.


"How do you expect her to see in the dark?" said Toney.

"Oh, she must have patience and wait until morning," said the Professor.

The serenaders now arose from their seats, and, proceeding across the
field, soon entered the forest, which was traversed in various
directions by paths made by the cattle that were accustomed to browse on
the bushes. The path pursued by the party soon led them to a spot where
the foliage was dense, and, entirely excluding the starlight, enveloped
them in gloomy darkness. Tom Seddon now exclaimed,----

"Toney, why did you select this road? Let us go back. This is the very
spot where a man was found, not long ago, with his throat cut, and three
bullet-holes through his head."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Pate.

"Let us go back!" cried Wiggins.

"Numerous robberies and murders have been committed in this forest,"
said Tom. "In fact, it is infested by a gang of desperadoes. If we go
on, none of us may ever return to Bella Vista alive."

"Oh! oh!" groaned Pate.

"Let us go back!" exclaimed Wiggins,--"I will not--ugh!"

There was a sudden flash from the bushes, followed by a loud report, and
poor Tom dropped dead at the feet of M. T. Pate. Before a word could be
uttered, another shot was fired, and Toney staggered against a tree and
then fell to the ground with a groan.

"Run!--run!" exclaimed Pate.

"Run!--run!--run!" cried Wiggins.

"Run!--run!--run!--run!" said the Professor, when there was another
report, and he exclaimed, falling to the earth, "Oh!--oh!--oh!--I am
shot!--help!--help!--murder! murder!"

Pate and Wiggins fled through the forest with the murderers shouting and
firing in their rear. As it happened, they soon became separated, and
each got into a path which led him away from the other. After running
with unexampled speed for some time, Pate suddenly found himself on the
back of some huge horned monster, which rose from the earth with a loud
roar and galloped off with him. How far he rode on the back of his
terrible courser he never could tell; but at last the creature leaped
over the trunk of a fallen tree, and Pate rolled off and sank to the
earth in a comatose condition, induced by extreme terror.

When he became conscious, he got up and wandered for hours, through the
forest, lost and bewildered, and in the utmost dread of falling into the
hands of the desperadoes, who had slain poor Toney, Tom, and the
Professor. At length the day broke; and as he wandered on he espied some
one coming towards him who had a most hideous appearance. Pate was about
to turn and fly, when the man called to him, and he recognized the voice
of William Wiggins.

Wiggins had fled in headlong haste until he had emerged from the forest,
and entered an inclosure surrounding a farm-house. Here he was so
unfortunate as to overturn a bee-hive and was so badly stung by the
infuriated insects that he rushed blindly around, and got among the
poultry. Hearing the commotion among his fowls, the farmer came out with
a club, and vigorously belabored the supposed thief, until the latter
escaped, and fled back to the forest, with his face shockingly swollen
by the stings of the bees, and his body terribly bruised by the blows
from the farmer's cudgel.

When Wiggins had told his doleful story, Pate proceeded to relate how he
had been carried off on the back of some horned monster, which had
suddenly risen out of the earth, and must have been the devil. It now
being broad daylight, they succeeded in finding the way to the town,
where they told a tale of horror to the landlord at the hotel. But while
they were describing the bloody murder in the forest, the landlord, with
a smile, pointed out Toney, Tom, and the Professor standing on the
opposite side of the street, in the midst of a group of young men, who
were laughing immoderately at something which was being told. Pate and
Wiggins were now informed that they had been made the victims of a
singular custom, which was peculiar to that locality, and was termed,
"running a greenhorn." Apprehensive of the ridicule which would be
heaped upon them, they immediately took their departure from the
beautiful town of Bella Vista.




CHAPTER XIX.


"The Funny Philosophers have caused the exodus of the Seven
Sweethearts," said the Professor, as the three friends sat in Toney's
room in the hotel the morning subsequent to the departure of Pate and
Wiggins.

"Our sect must flourish," said Toney.

"And Pate's big bald head will not be seen bobbing about in Bella
Vista," said Tom.

"Mr. Seddon, you should not speak irreverently of bald heads," said the
Professor. "Remember the forty irreverent young lads and the she-bears,
and learn that bald-headed people are under the especial protection of
Providence. I am partially bald myself, and am under the impression that
this calamity came upon me in consequence of my having once deprived an
unfortunate individual of his hair."

"Did what?" exclaimed Toney.

"On one occasion I helped to scalp a man," said the Professor, gravely
and mournfully.

"Helped to scalp a man!" exclaimed Seddon.

"I am sorry to say that I did, Mr. Seddon," said the Professor.

"How was it?" asked Toney.

"It is a strange story," said the Professor.

"Let us have it," said Seddon.

"Some years ago," said the Professor, "I was on a steamboat going down
one of the large rivers in the South-west. The boat stopped at a landing
and a big fellow came on board. He was a rough, unpolished individual,
with long hair reaching down to his shoulders. He appeared to be in a
bad humor with himself and with all mankind; being one of those peculiar
specimens of humanity who believe that the whole duty of man is to
fight. As soon as he came on board it was apparent to the passengers
that he was a bully in quest of a quarrel. But everybody avoided him,
and for a long while he was unsuccessful in finding what he was seeking
for. Finally, however, his perseverance was amply rewarded. The bell
rang for dinner, and there was a rush for the saloon. The bully seated
himself at the head of the table. At intervals, among the dishes, were a
number of apple-pies. 'Waiter,' exclaimed the bully, 'bring me that
pie.' It was placed before him. 'And that one,' said he. The waiter
obeyed, and the bully reiterated his order until he had every apple-pie
on the table directly under his nose."

"The glutton!" said Toney.

"Did he eat all the pies?" asked Tom.

"No, Mr. Seddon, he did not," said the Professor. "Having collected all
the pies before him, he sternly glanced at the two rows of indignant
faces along the table. He saw anger in every eye; a frown upon every
brow; but not a word had been spoken. There was a dead silence, when the
bully brought down his fist on the table with tremendous force, and
fiercely shouted, 'I say that any man who don't like good apple-pie is a
d--d rascal!' This was more than human nature could endure. In an
instant every man was on his feet. The table was overturned, and hams,
and turkeys, and roast-pigs rolled on the floor. There was a general
fight. Pistols exploded, bowie-knives were brandished, and fists
flourished!"

"All endeavoring to get at the daring monopolizer of the apple-pies, I
suppose?" said Tom.

"By no means, Mr. Seddon," said the Professor. "There was promiscuous
fighting. Many who had no opportunity of dealing a blow at the bully,
fought and pommeled one another. I retreated to a corner."

"But what became of the bully?" asked Toney.

"I was about to tell you. As I stood on the defensive, warding off the
blows which were occasionally aimed at me, I saw a huge head coming
towards me like a battering-ram, the body to which it belonged being
propelled by kicks in the rear. The head was about to come in contact
with this portion of my anatomy--what do you call it?" said the
Professor, placing his hand on the part designated.

"The bread-basket," said Toney.

"No, that is not it," said the Professor.

"The abdomen," said Tom.

"That's the scientific term," said the Professor. "In order to protect
my abdomen from injury, I involuntarily reached out and convulsively
grasped the head by its long hair. As I did so, a bowie-knife descended
and shaved off the scalp, leaving it, with its long locks, in my grasp."

"What did you do with your trophy?" asked Toney.

"I rushed from the saloon, yelling like an Indian, with the scalp in my
hand. It belonged to the bully. He soon came upon deck howling for his
hair."

"Did you restore it to the owner?" asked Tom.

"No," said the Professor. "To the victor belong the spoils. I escaped
into the cook's galley, and carefully wrapped the scalp in some loose
sheets of the Terrific Register, and put it in my pocket, and afterwards
transferred it to my trunk. It is now in the possession of the learned
Professor Boneskull, who has been informed by his oracle that it was one
of the trophies found by the Kentuckians in the possession of the
celebrated Tecumseh when he was slain in battle."

"But the bully?" said Toney. "I am interested in his fate."

"He was like Samson. The loss of his hair seemed to deprive him of
strength and courage. His belligerency departed from him. He became
quiet and orderly, and during the rest of the passage never meddled with
the apple-pies, but behaved with perfect decorum. He was soon afterwards
seen on the anxious bench at a camp-meeting, and he is now a bald-headed
Methodist preacher, remarkable for his piety and mild and dovelike
disposition."

"The loss of his locks seems to have been of essential service to him,"
said Seddon.

"I wish, however, that I had given him back his hair," said the
Professor. "I suffered severely in consequence of depriving him of it."

"In what way?" inquired Tom.

"It was retribution, I suppose," said the Professor. "As soon as I had
pocketed the fellow's hair I began to lose my own. It fell out by
handfuls, and in a few months I had a bald patch on the top of my head
of ample area. It made me melancholy and poetical."

"I must confess that I cannot perceive any necessary connection between
a bald head and poetry," said Toney.

"Why, Toney, my dear fellow," said the Professor, "you must know that
when a man gets a bald pate he naturally begins to think of domestic
bliss and connubial felicity, which are poetical subjects. If he
meditates long on these subjects, versification will be the inevitable
result. It was so in my case. As I titillated the top of my bald head
with my forefinger, I plainly perceived that the time had come for me to
marry. So, like a bird on Saint Valentine's day, I began to look around
for a mate."

"You were like Dobbs, seeking for an angel and seven sweet little
cherubs," said Tom.

"No, Mr. Seddon, I was seeking for a dovelike little woman, and I
thought I had found one. In my imagination Dora was like a gentle white
dove. I cooed around her, and courted for weeks, and wrote some verses
in her album. I remember them well."

"I would like to hear them," said Toney.

"They can be produced from the archives of my memory," said the
Professor; and he recited the following verses:


     When morn had sown her orient gems among the golden flowers
     That blushed upon their purple stalks in fairy-haunted bowers,
     Among the glowing throng around, a tender bud I spied,
     That meekly held its humble place the verdant walk beside.

     No gaudy beauties decked its crest with variegated dyes,
     Like blinding splendors blazing o'er the summer's evening skies;
     With simple moss encircled round, it hung its head to earth,
     And yet in Flora's language it denotes superior worth.

     And--what from poet's eye is hid, by others though unseen?--
     It was the favorite palace of the lovely Fairy Queen;
     Adown its tender petals oft her tiny chariot rolled,
     And she within its fragrant folds her Elfin court did hold.

     'Twas then I thought of one who blooms 'mid beauty's living flowers,
     Like this sweet bud among its mates within the garden's bowers,
     With unassuming, modest grace--her charms she never knew--
     Superior worth her brightest charm. And, lady, is it you?


"I read these verses to Dora, and then I asked her the question
propounded in the last line."

"What did she say?" inquired Tom.

"She said no!"

"Perhaps she was offended by the comparison to so humble a flower," said
Seddon.

"It may have been so," said the Professor. "I then asked her a question
in relation to the annexation of our destinies."

"What did she say?" asked Toney.

"She said no! I then asked her again in more unequivocal terms. I told
her that I was seeking for domestic bliss and connubial felicity, and
earnestly inquired if she would not assist me in the search."

"What was her reply?" asked Tom.

"She said no! And this time the dovelike Dora laughed in my face."

"After having answered no three times?" said Tom.

"Three negatives do not make an affirmative, Mr. Seddon, especially when
the final negation to your very serious and sentimental proposal is
accompanied by laughter. I was mortified and angry, and so I hurried
home----"

"To do like Perch--procure a pint of laudanum?" inquired Toney.

"Not at all," said the Professor. "Upon arriving at my homestead I ate a
very hearty dinner; for I was hungry and had a wolfish appetite; after
which I immediately went into the arms of Morpheus. I did not wake until
next morning, when, as I stood before a mirror making my toilet, I
perceived that the bald patch on my head was considerably enlarged. A
fit of melancholy and poetry came upon me, and resulted in the
production of some verses, which, with your permission, I will repeat."

"Do so," said Toney.

"By all means!" said Seddon.

"It is a simple little ballad," said the Professor, "in which I
endeavored to mingle as much pathos as did Goldsmith in his Hermit. Its
recitation has often drawn tears from very obdurate individuals, and,
gentlemen, I now notify you to produce your pocket-handkerchiefs."

The Professor then recited the following stanzas:


     The gentle spring is breathing
       Its fragrance all around,
     Rich with the scent of flow'rets
       That blossom o'er the ground;
     As if the glorious rainbow,
       When thunders rolled on high,
     Had parted into fragments
       And fallen from the sky,

     And scattered o'er the meadows,
       And through the orchards green,
     Its variegated colors
       To beautify the scene;
     The while, on golden winglets,
       The humming-bird so gay,
     Moves with a fairy motion,
       And rifles sweets away:

     So rich his purple plumage,
       So beautiful his crest,
     'Tis to the eye of fancy
       As if some amethyst,
     Carved into a bright jewel
       All gloriously to deck,
     With its surpassing splendors,
       Some lovely lady's neck,

     Hath felt the life-blood flowing
       From a mysterious spring,
     And fled a gaudy truant
       Upon a golden wing,
     Filled with a fairy spirit
       To sport upon the air,
     With never-tiring pinions
       Among the flow'rets fair.

     Adown the sloping mountain,
       Where wave the ceders green,
     And ever-verdant laurel
       In blooming clusters seen,
     Leaps the wild, flashing streamlet
       With a loud shout of mirth,
     As though some mine of silver,
       Deep buried in the earth,

     By hidden fires were melted
       Within its gloomy caves,
     And from its dark cell bursting,
       With its translucent waves,
     Now sparkles in the sunbeam,
       Now hid by ivy's shade,
     Till o'er a steep ledge pouring,
       It forms a wild cascade,

     Where, dashed into bright fragments,
       It glitters in the beam,
     And with its brilliant colors
       Unto the eye doth seem,
     That showers of liquid rubies,
       And molten gems of gold,
     With sapphire and with amber,
       In mingling waves are rolled

     O'er these high rocks in torrents
       Unto the vale below,
     Then gain a course of smoothness,
       And gently on do flow
     'Mid banks of blooming roses
       And snow-white lilies fair,
     Where butterflies are floating
       Upon the balmy air,

     With many-colored winglets,
       O'er fragrant violets blue,
     And gayly sip their nectar
       Mixed with the honey'd dew;
     To gaze upon their beauties
       'Twould seem as if some fay,
     When roving through some garden
       Upon a sunny day,

     Had waved his wand of magic
       O'er rose and tulip bright,
     That filled with life had started
       Upon a joyous flight,
     And down the grassy meadows,
       And 'mid the blooming trees,
     To visit now their kindred,
       Are floating on the breeze:

     While from the woodland's thickets
       At intervals are heard
     The soft, melodious music
       Of the sweet mocking-bird;
     Which from those green recesses
       Echoes the merry notes,
     The little feathered songsters
       Pour from their warbling throats.

     Thus nature ever smiling,
       Each living creature gay
     Seems filled with sunny gladness
       Throughout the cloudless day;
     While I, a lonely bachelor,
       Do bear a bleeding heart,
     Just like a wounded wild goat
       When stricken by a dart.

     I've seen each tie dissolving
       Of love and friendship sweet,
     Like lumps of sugar-candy
       When held unto the heat:
     My friends they all proved traitors,--
       I'm told it's always so,--
     Fidelity's a stranger
       In this rude world below.

     They smoked my best havanas
       And drank my best champagne,
     And borrowed many a dollar
       They ne'er returned again:
     But soon as fortune left me,
       They all deserted too--
     They made me half a Timon--
       The sycophantic crew!

     I turned from man to woman--
       Sweet woman to admire!
     But from the pan 'twas leaping
       Into the blazing fire!
     I met a lovely maiden,
       Who looked so very kind,
     I thought she was an angel,
       But I was very blind!

     Like a deceitful siren,
       She led me far astray;
     I wandered in love's mazes
       Until I lost my way;
     But when I knelt to worship,
       Why, then she laughed outright--
     I told her I was dying,
       And Dora said I might.

     At that I grew quite angry,
       And feeling partly cured,
     Went home and ate my dinner,
       And then was quite restored:
     I ate six apple-dumplings,
       Then laid me down to sleep,
     Nor woke until next morning,
       Then from my couch did creep,

     And gazing in the mirror,
       The sight my soul appall'd,
     For I beheld with horror
       That I was growing bald:
     Since then I've known no pleasure!
       Man's treachery I could bear,
     And the deceits of woman,
       But not the loss of hair!


"Goldsmith never wrote anything like that," said Seddon.

"Nor Tennyson, neither," said Toney.

"Tennyson be hanged!" exclaimed Tom. "I'll match Tickle against him any
day."

"The composition of this poem fully developed my poetical genius," said
the Professor. "I discovered that I could be a bard; and so I composed a
whole book of poems."

"What did you do with it?" asked Toney.

"I published it," said the Professor. "Did you never hear of it?"

"I must candidly admit that I never did," said Toney.

"The critics cut and slashed away at my little book for about a month;
and then they let it alone. It was not until several years after its
publication that I heard a word in its praise; and that was under
peculiar circumstances. I was looking over a lot of second-hand books on
a stall at the corner of a street, when I discovered my own poems. I
asked the price. The man said it was a work of rare genius and very
scarce, but that as a favor I could have it for a dollar. This sounded
like posthumous praise, and was very flattering. So I bought the book,
and you can read it at your leisure."

"Now we are on literary subjects," said Seddon, "I must remind Toney of
his promise to read his biography of Pate."

"Of whom?" asked the Professor.

"Of M. T. Pate, the illustrious founder of the Mystic Order of Seven
Sweethearts," said Seddon. "Toney has written his biography."

"Only one chapter," said Toney. "I can clearly foresee that Pate is
destined to become a very distinguished man. As he makes materials for
his biography the work will progress. The first chapter has been
written."

"Read it," said Tom.

"Read it! read it!" exclaimed the Professor.




CHAPTER XX.


In compliance with the wishes of his two friends, Toney drew from a
trunk his manuscript, and laying it on a table before him, said, "You
will perceive, gentlemen, that in my first chapter of this biography I
speak of Pate as an eminent personage. This requires a word of
explanation. Pate may not yet be considered as a very eminent man, but
before the completion and publication of the work I am confident that he
will rank among the most distinguished personages of the age; and that
the adjective which I have used will then be recognized as strictly
appropriate."

With these prefatory remarks, Toney proceeded to read as follows:

"We have been baffled in our efforts to obtain satisfactory information
in relation to the birthplace of the eminent personage whose biography
we have undertaken to write. It is known that he was born somewhere in
the South; but whether among the cotton-plantations of the Carolinas or
the tobacco-fields on the borders of the Chesapeake, we have never been
able to ascertain. It is said that the honor of having been the natal
place of the immortal Maeonides was claimed by seven famous cities of
ancient Greece; and it may be that, in future ages, at least seven
States of the South will contend for the great glory of having produced
the illustrious M. T. Pate. It is perhaps fortunate that at the period
of his birth the number of those States did not exceed seven; otherwise
a satisfactory adjustment of the apprehended difficulty would be even
more hopeless than it is at present.

"It is equally out of our power to designate the particular period when
this eminent man entered the world in which he was destined to make so
remarkable a figure. There is a tradition that he was born in the year
of the embargo; and the inability of the administration of that day to
prohibit all kinds of importations, seems to have been a fortunate
circumstance at the very commencement of his career. It is said that he
was a very big baby at his advent, and grew prodigiously, but was
remarkable for his gravity, to such a degree that the wise women who
assembled in frequent consultations around the cradle used to
asseverate, with much emphasis of expression, that he looked as grave as
a judge. One of his parents was pious, and both were respectable; and at
the proper period he was brought to the baptismal font and Christianized
with the usual solemnities. Some difficulty was encountered in the
selection of a name. An elderly maiden lady, a friend of the family, had
predicted that he would be a bishop, and now insisted that he should
have a scriptural name, as most appropriate for one who was destined to
occupy the very highest position in the church. The male head of the
family had been perusing an odd volume of the History of Greece, in
which he was much interested, and was desirous of naming his heir after
one of the heroes of that classic land. These opposite views led to many
warm discussions, which eventually resulted in a judicious compromise,
it being agreed that the wonderful baby should have two names, and that
each party should select one of them. So the good old lady seated
herself, and putting on her spectacles, opened the Bible at the Book of
Daniel where the King of Babylon was put into the pasture-fields. She
was much struck with the passage, and proposed the name of
Nebuchadnezzar, as exceedingly sonorous and quite uncommon. To this a
serious objection was urged by the old gentleman, who sagaciously
remarked that the name was so long that nobody would ever give the boy
the whole of it, and he would be nicknamed Nebby or Neb. This suggestion
had its effect, and the pious old lady proceeded to search the
Scriptures again, and finally selected the name of Matthew, saying that,
in her opinion, he was about the best of all the apostles, although he
had once been a publican, for he was the first one of them who had ever
thought of writing a gospel. So the boy was named Matthew Themistocles,
after an evangelist and a heathen; as if he were destined to combine in
his character the opposite qualities of a saint and a sinner.

"It is believed that even in the cradle this robust and remarkable baby
gave evidence of superior intelligence; and it is much to be regretted
that he had no admiring Boswell at that early period of his existence to
describe his extraordinary doings. But no historian ever makes a record
of the wisdom which proceeds from the mouths of babes and sucklings; and
when we behold the learned and illustrious man swaying mighty masses by
his eloquence, or dignifying and adorning the bench, imagination finds
it difficult to travel back and discover him in the cradle, so puny and
insignificant that the portly old crier of the court could have
enveloped him in his handkerchief, like a bit of bread or cheese, and
stowed him in the capacious pocket of his overcoat.

"When the moon stood still in the valley of Ajalon, the people on the
other side of the hills knew not that a great luminary was in their
immediate neighborhood. But when she got in motion and slowly arose,
until her silvery edges were seen above the surfaces of the surrounding
eminences, the crowds began to collect and watch with absorbing interest
the increasing proportions of the magnificent phenomenon. And when, in
full effulgence, she was over the tops of the trees, all admired her
splendor, and many began to dispute about her apparent size: some saying
that she seemed to them as big as an ordinary platter; others, that she
was equal in dimensions to a fine large cheese; while a few affirmed
that her circumference was as great as that of the wheel of the
war-chariot of Joshua, the son of Nun. Thus has it been with each
intellectual light which has shone on the world; at one time hid in the
vale of obscurity,--in the valley of Ajalon,--then surmounting the
intervening obstacles, the first rays of the rising luminary are seen,
and people begin to talk and admire, until finally it becomes visible in
full-orbed splendor, when a variety of opinions are heard in reference
to its actual magnitude. We once heard an old lawyer, who was _laudator
temporis acti_, assert with savage emphasis that a certain occupant of
the bench was 'a picayune judge,' thus intimating that this splendid
luminary of the law did not seem to him bigger than an insignificant
five-penny bit. But the eyes of old men are weak and watery, and not to
be trusted. Some of the junior members of the legal fraternity said that
he was as large as a dinner plate; others were of opinion that he had
attained the size of an ordinary cheese; while many of the
non-professional multitude loudly asserted that he was fully equal in
magnitude to the hindmost wheel of an omnibus.

"During several years after he had emerged from babyhood, M. T. Pate was
hidden from public observation, and hoed corn in the valley of Ajalon.
Here he laid a permanent foundation for that powerful constitution which
has enabled him to perform the Herculean labors of his later years. His
constant exercise in the open air gave him the extraordinary appetite
which clung to him so faithfully amidst all the misfortunes of life. It
also strengthened his digestion, and enabled him to consume enormous
quantities of food without the slightest inconvenience. It is said that
he was extremely fond of buttermilk, and would loiter around the dairy
on churning days to obtain a supply. When he could not get buttermilk,
he was contented with bonny-clabber and cottage-cheese. Many a sickly
youth in our large cities would be benefited by such a system of diet,
and might become a stout, athletic man, instead of looking like a puny
exotic, soon to wither and fade away. Vigorous constitutions are
necessary to enable men to conquer in the great battle of life; and
nearly every distinguished personage in this country, from George
Washington to Daniel Webster, was born and reared amidst rural scenery.

"Nourished on buttermilk and bonny-clabber, M. T. Pate grew rapidly, and
becoming quite a big boy, began to exercise the privilege of thinking
for himself. His sagacious intuition, even at that early age, enabled
him to perceive that although the cultivation of the soil was an
honorable, useful, and healthful occupation, its tendency to increase
his pecuniary resources was exceedingly doubtful, as there was no
probability that he would ever become the owner of a farm, either by
descent or purchase. So he determined to engage in mercantile pursuits,
as offering greater facilities for the speedy acquisition of wealth.
With this end in view, he went into a store in which crockery was sold;
and here he remained during three entire years, first in the capacity of
shop-boy and afterwards as sales

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