The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 2
LETTER LIV.
ILLUSTRATING THE DISASTROUS EFFECTS OF STRATEGY UPON NATIONAL LITERATURE, AS EXEMPLIFIED IN THE ORIGINAL TALE READ BY OUR CORRESPONDENT BEFORE THE COSMOPOLITAN CLUB.
WASHINGTON, D. C., July 9th, 1862.
A few weeks ago, my boy, when national strategy seemed rapidly comingto a distinct understanding with the American Eagle, and the fall ofRichmond had resolved itself into a mere question of time--as slightlydistinguished from Eternity,--I became a member of the CosmopolitanClub.
This club, my boy, is a select draft from the host of clumsy butrespectable foreigners now assembled here to criticize the militaryperformances of our distracted country, and I have the honor torepresent my native land, _solus_, in it. Its members are, a civilizedRussian chap named Vitchisvitch, a Turk named N. E. Ottoman, anEnglishman named Smith-Brown, a Frenchman named Bonbon, a German namedTuyfeldock, a Spaniard and myself.
The object of this small international organization, which meets onceevery three weeks, is to advance the cause of free and easy literaturein the lulls of national strife, and preserve coherent ideality andtolerable grammar from falling into disuse. The foreign chaps, my boy,all speak much better English than a majority of our brigadiers; and inorder to give a system to our proceedings, it has been resolved, thateach of us, in turn, shall relate an old-fashioned story relating tohis own particular country; and that all shall take pains to contributemiscellaneous items for the general delectation of the club.
The privilege of producing the first story was voted to me, my boy, andat the meeting of the Cosmopolitan last evening, I produced from mypocket a manuscript already secured from me by a wealthy journal(VANITY FAIR.--ED.) for a fabulous sum, and proceeded to regaleassembled Europe with
A QUARTER OF TWELVE.
CHAPTER I.--F. F. VICISSITUDES.
The forces of the Southern Confederacy--so called because a majority ofthem were forced into the service--had just won another gloriousvictory over their disinclination to retreat, and were rapidlyfollowing it up, propelled by the National Army. The richest and bestblood of the South was profusely running for the cause to which it wasdevoted, accompanied by those notable possessors in whose cases itpoured in vein.
Seated at his breakfast-table in the city of Richmond, with his wifefor a _vis-a-vis_ at a board that might well have groaned for morethings than one, and his daughter at his right hand, was Mr. ORDETH, ascion of one of those Virginia Families very properly designated as"First" for the reason that no other Families on earth have ever feltinclined to second them in anything.
Mr. ORDETH was a personage of fiery and chivalrous visage, from thelower circumference of which depended iron-grey whiskers, so similar inshape to the caudal appendage of a mule, that one might suppose natureto have intended the construction of an _asinus domesticus_ when firstshe commenced to mould the mortal material, but, having inadvertentlyplanted the tail at the wrong end, was satisfied to finish him off as aman. His hair was too much of a brush in its own character to agreewell with an artificial brush in the objective case; he wore a _robe dechambre_ richly illustrated with impossible flowers growing onimprobable soil--let us say on holey ground; his nether continuationswere spotted here and there with diminutive banners of broadclothsecession, and it was noticeable as he stretched his feet under thetable that his slippers had once done duty as crochet watch-cases.
The table spread for the morning meal was peculiarly Virginiatic, beingvery rich in plate and poor in provender; for hoe-cake and friedCarolina potatoes were the only eatables visible, whilst the usualplaces of coffee-pot, bread-plate and salt-cellar were supplied withcards inscribed: "Coffee $20 per lb., in consequence ofBlockade."--"Flour $24 per bbl."--"Salt $25 per lb." If any member ofthe Family felt inclined to wish for any of these last articles, he, orshe, had but to glance at the card substitutes to lose instantaneouslyall appetite for said articles. There was philosophy in this idea, _monami_.
"LIBBY," said Mr. ORDETH, addressing his daughter, whose auburn curlsand pretty face were none the less attractive because they crowned whatseemed to be a troubled fountain of extremely loud calico with a dashof moonlight on top--"LIBBY," said he, "pass me the morning journal."
The morning journal, which had recently augmented its value as a familyand commercial sheet by coming out on superior wrapping paper, waspassed to her father by LIBBY, she having first satisfied herself, witha sigh of disappointment, that the list of deaths did not contain thename of a single one of her friends.
Woman, _mon ami_, does not regard death as you and I do. To her it is asleep in which the slumberer himself becomes a dream for the rest ofthe world; and its announcement is to her the mere evening breeze thatsoftly lifts another leaf in the sacred Volume of Memory, and lets thestarlight, falling through a shower of tears, rest on a name henceforthto live immortal in the heart. I was told this by a young lady whowears spectacles and writes for the Boston press.
As Mr. ORDETH perused the latest news from the seat of war, his bosomheaved to such an extent that one or two of the pins confining thefront of his dressing-gown to his throat gave out. "HONORIA," said he,addressing his quiet little wife, who was spasmodically eating andrepairing a rent in her dress simultaneously,--"we have again defeatedthe hordes of LINCOLN, and I think, my dear, that we had better getready to leave Richmond. The _Enquirer_ says: 'Yesterday a half ahundred of our troops were attacked near Fredericksburg by nearly fortythousand Yankees, whom they compelled to retreat after them toward thiscity. We took four hundred prisoners who will be demanded of the enemyimmediately, and all of our men, save the messenger bringing the news,are now briskly pushing forward in the direction of Fort Lafayette.'You see, my dear, we always whip them inland. The Yankees gain alltheir victories on water."
Which is very true; for it is as much a fact that the national troopswin their triumphs on water, as it is that the rebels do _their_ beston whiskey.
Mrs. ORDETH made no verbal reply to her husband's exultations, butassumed that simpering expression of countenance by which ladies areaccustomed to denote their amiable willingness to swallow withoutquestion whatever the speaker may say.
"Providence is evidently favorable to the South," continued the head ofthe Family, impressively, "and has thus far treated us in a gentlemanlymanner; but should it happen, HONORIA, that the Hessian vandals ofLINCOLN _should_ reach this city, I myself will be the first to fireall I hold dear, rather than let it fall into the hands of the invader.Yes!" exclaimed Mr. ORDETH with enthusiasm, rising from his chair andmoving excitedly toward the door of the apartment,--"with my own handswould I apply the torch to you and to my child."
"O VICTOR," said Mrs. ORDETH, with tears springing to her eyes, "Ireckon you would."
"Aside from the wrongs of the South," continued the inspired ORDETH,pushing his bowie-knife a little further round behind his back, that itmight not hurt his hip,--"we have Family losses to avenge. Onlyyesterday, my uncle was struck at Yorktown with a shell that completelytore his head from his body."
"How perfectly absurd!" ejaculated the hitherto silent LIBBY.
"Why it's actually ridiculous," said Mrs. ORDETH.
And so it was. The sex have a keen perception of the ludicrous.
"How I wish that our vigilants had caught that low-minded Abolitionwhelp, PETERS," continued the Virginian, grinding his teeth; "but hedisappeared so suddenly that day, that I was entirely bewildered. Tothink that the hound--my cousin's son as he is--should dare to demandpayment of a bill from a Southern gentleman! He will find congenialsouls among LINCOLN'S hordes, I reckon."
The speaker evidently recognized the fact that a man with a bill tocollect would derive very little benefit from Southern hoards, at anyrate.
A close observer might have noticed that Miss LIBBY'S cheeks betrayedthe faintest tint of virgin wine at this last speech of her father's;but as it is not my business to inquire the
wine wherefore ofeverything, I shall say no more about that at present.
While speaking, the paternal ORDETH had placed his hand unconsciouslyas it were on the knob of the door; and now, with a sudden movement, heopened the door. Or rather, he simply turned the knob; for the doorfairly forced itself open against him, and there unexpectedly tumbledhalf way into the room a somewhat venerable person from Afric's sunnyfountains. From the manner in which this colored person fell across thesill, it was evident that he had been upon his knees the instant before.
The ladies uttered little shrieks and then went on with their hoe-cake;but Mr. ORDETH viewed the intruder with a glance of suspicion.
"JOCKO, you black reskel!" said he, in a suppressed manner, "what areyou doing here?"
The oppressed African, who, like most slaves was pious, rose to hisfeet with touching humility, and said he:
"Ise watchin', Mars'r, for de Angel of de Lor'."
"Oh," returned the haughty Virginian, scorning to show how deeply hewas affected, "you're watchin' for that, are you?"
"Yes, Mars'r," said the attached slave; "and I hab pray dat my goodMars'r may gib up drinkin' and be one of the good angels too. Oh,Mars'r ORDETH, I hab wrastle much for you in prayer."
I know not how that slaveholder's heart was affected by this beautifulinstance of his humble bondman's devotion; but I do know, _mon ami_,that he reached forth his right hand, seized the chattel by the collar,and was heard to carry on a blasphemous conversation with him for thespace of fifteen minutes thereafter, in the hall.
CHAPTER II.--"ROBERT, ROBERT TOI QUE J'AIME."
In a room directly over the one last mentioned--a room whose onlyfurniture was a rude bedstead, a looking-glass with a writing-tableunder it and a gas-bracket extending half way across it, and a loungeextemporized from three tea-boxes and a quilt--stood Mr. BOB PETERS,aged twenty-three, a bachelor and a fellow man. The time was justtwenty-four hours after the scene depicted in my first chapter, and asthe rays of the sunny Southern sun poured through a window upon thefigure of Mr. BOB PETERS, they revealed an individual who was evidentlyunable, just then, to make a raise himself.
ROBERT was a tall, smooth-faced, good-natured-looking youth, wearing acoat that buttoned up to his very chin and was painfully shiney at itsvarious angles, corners, and button-holes; a pair of inexpressiblesvery roomy and equally glossy about the knees; a brace of carpetslippers, and (although indoors) a hat in a "Marie Stuart" condition.That is to say, the style of hat worn thus inappropriately by Mr. BOBPETERS, corresponded to a fashion in vogue with the ladies not longago, when the latter imagined that a bonnet very much mashed down infront caused each and all of them to present a touching and life-likeresemblance to the unfortunate Queen of Scots. In fact, this bonnet didreally give them just about such a frightened look as they might besupposed to wear should some modern ELIZABETH TUDOR order them all toinstant execution.
Adding to the consideration of Mr. BOB PETERS' severely straitenedcostume the fact that he was smoking an incredibly cheap segar, it isreasonable to infer that he was rather hard-up when awake and not muchtroubled with soft down when asleep.
Viewing Mr. BOB PETERS financially and judging him by a golden rule,one could see about him considerable that was due unto others, as eachof the others was likely to be dun unto him.
"Bless my soul!" soliloquized Mr. BOB PETERS, hastily turning from along and profound contemplation of himself in the mirror and commencingto pace noiselessly up and down the room,--"here's misery! Shut up inthe garret of one of the First Families, with a chap thirsting for myblood at the head of the domestic circle down stairs, and the wholeConfederacy ready to bolt me without salt--which is very dear here justnow. Here's a situation for an unmarried man!" exclaimed Mr. BOBPETERS, insanely tearing his "Marie Stuart" from his head and bitterlycrunching it in his hand--"confined here as a prisoner by the youngwoman of my affections to save my life from her own father's sanguinarydesigns. Upon my soul!" groaned Mr. BOB PETERS, drearily slapping hisleft leg, "it's enough to make me take to drinking, and I--"
"Dear BOB!"
Were you ever awakened from a horrid nightmare dream of capitalpunishment and sudden death, _mon ami_, by the soft, persuasive voiceof woman calling you to a breakfast of etherial rolls and new-borneggs? If so, you can understand the feelings of Mr. PETERS when thesefond words roused him from his terrible reverie.
He spun blithely round on his dexter heel, absorbed the faithful LIBBYto his manly breast, and incontinently kissed for his lips a coating oflustrous bandoline from the head of the fashionable maiden.
"Oh bliss!" ejaculated Mr. BOB PETERS, standing on one foot by way ofintensifying the sensation, "my angel visits me in my dungeon, asangels visited other good men in the Scriptures."
"Oh BOB, how you do smell of smoke," said the devoted LIBBY.
"And thanks to your thoughtfulness for the regalias which have solightened my lonely hours, since the day when you brought me up to thisroom and then told a virtuous and unsuspecting police that I had fledin the direction of the _aurora borealis_. By the way LIBBY," said Mr.BOB PETERS, thoughtfully, "my segar-lighters are all out, and if you_could_ make me a few more out of the rest of those ConfederateTreasury Notes--"
"I will, I will," responded Miss ORDETH, lifting first one whiteshoulder and then the other, as though she would thereby work down herwaist more firmly into the belt formed by Mr. BOB PETERS' right arm;"but now, dear BOB, we must think of how you are to be got safely awayfrom this house and out of the city. If my pa should find out that youhave been here all this time, when he thought you were running for dearlife, he would--I really believe"--said Miss LIBBY ORDETH, withincreasing eyes, "that he would actually apply the torch to me withoutwaiting for the Yankees!"
Mr. BOB PETERS shuddered and turned pale, barely saving himself fromfainting by clasping his companion more tightly and leaning heavilyagainst her lips.
The infatuated girl did not see the face peering in through the halfopen door behind her, as she continued:--
"_Quarter-past twelve is the hour_, BOB, though I can't say on whatnight it shall be, yet. You must be already to start on any night, andin the meantime our meetings are, if possible, to be continued."
"You say that quarter-past twelve is the hour?" observed Mr. PETERS,reflectively, patting the head against his shoulder in a somewhatpaternal manner.
"Yes, dear BOB; and I wish I could be sure of pa's going to bed earlierthan that; for I know it will be hard for you to go out into the streetat that time of night. You are not accustomed to such late hours athome."
And, indeed, he was not; for Mr. BOB PETERS' "hours" at home were aptto be considerably later, especially when he went into morning for somedear friend.
"Sweet innocence!" exclaimed the young man, much affected by thisevidence of thoughtfulness in his behalf, "your kindness almost makesme forget the treatment I have experienced at the hands of your being'sauthor."
"I think you can get off next Sunday night," continued LIBBY, "ifbrother is sergeant of the guard; for he promised to see that you gotacross the bridge and past the patrol. JOCKO will open the street doorfor you when you start: and I want you to send me word, if you can,after you get to New-York, what kind of bonnets they're going to wearthis summer."
"Dear girl!" murmured BOB, fondly, "I'll find out the style and mentionit to one of our Generals, who will let you know by note, as soon as hearrives here."
"Dear BOB!--but I must go now. Is there anything I can send you to makeyou more comfortable?"
As they stood there facing each other, Mr. BOB PETERS closed his righteye for an instant, and suffered the muscles of his month to relax,thereby expressing some want too deep for words.
"You shall have it," said the young girl, turning to leave the room. Atthe door she was met by JOCKO, who entered as she passed out, for theostensible purpose of removing the remains of the captive's recentsurreptitious breakfast.
The sound of the maiden's light footsteps soon died away in thep
assage, like the vibrations of a high-strung instrument in a passageof music, and the two men stood alone together.
There they were--the White and the Black; the one a freeman in all savebeing deprived of his liberty; the other a slave in all save beingunrestricted of his freedom. Who could tell what was working in themind of each? Who should draw the line between those men, when all wasdark for the white and a luckless wight was the black? Who should saythat the white man was anything better than the black man, that thelatter should bear the bonds of slavery--bonds as hard to bear even asConfederate bonds? Look at inanimate nature. Is it not the _White_ ofan egg that bears the yolk? Then why should the white man turn the yokealtogether over to the black man? But I must refuse to follow out thisgreat metaphysical question any further. The weather is too warm. Iwill leave it to the Awful and Unfathomable German Mind, which delightsto toy heavily with the elephants of Thought.
"Mars'r," said JOCKO, handing a folded paper to the fugitive prisoner,"dis was gub to me for you by my chile EFRUM, dat b'longs to MissusADAMS; and I hope, Mas'r, dat you will read um with fear an' trem'lin,for the Lor' is very good to let you lib in your great sins, Mars'r."
How beautiful, _mon ami_, is that strong spirit of piety we often finddeveloped in the uncultivated, like the rich oyster found on the barrensea-shore. Taken in connection with the children of HAM, it is asmustard to a sandwich, for moving us to occasional tears.
Mr. BOB PETERS waved the faithful black from his presence, and read thenote, which ran thus:
"MR. PETERS,--SIR:--Though, as a daughter of the Sonny South, I cannotbut regard you as a traitor to our country, the memory of past hours inmy soul-life induces me to act toward you as a heart-friend. I haveheard, through those faithful beings of which your friends would roband murder us, that you are a prisoner, and will save you. Contrive toget out of the house in some way on Sunday (to-morrow) evening, at _aquarter of twelve_, and you will find those waiting for you who willdeliver you for a time from our vengeance. It is the impulsiveheart-throb of a weak woman that bids me do this--not thespirit-aspiration of the Southern daughter.
"EVE ADAMS."
Mr. BOB PETERS lowered the hand holding the note until it restedheavily on his right knee, and gazed before him, as he sat on hiscouch, with a puzzled expression of countenance. He had been sitting inthis way, perfectly motionless, for five minutes perhaps, when the doorwas gently pushed open a few inches, a dainty white hand came throughthe aperture, deposited a mysterious black bottle on the floor verysoftly, and disappeared as it came. In an instant, Mr. PETERS sprang tohis feet, dashed the note to the ground, seized the bottle, andimmediately applied it to his lips with great enthusiasm.
His Mistress had understood that last subtle glance he gave her. Withthe wonderful insight of man's deeper nature peculiar to girls abouteighteen years old, she had divined the one thing required to make thecaptive comfortable.
Oh, woman, woman! In the language of a revised poet--
"Without the smile from partial beauty won, Ah, what were man!--a world without a son!"
CHAPTER III.--THE WIDOW'S MITE.
The ADAMSES resided in one of the aristocratic by ways crossing MainStreet, and were directly descended from those distinguished andchivalric _anciens pauvres_ of the Old Dominion, who boasted the bloodof the English cavaliers, and were a terror to their foes andcreditors. ADAMS, the husband and father, was a fine specimen of theSouthern gentleman in his day, possessing an estate in Louisa County,so completely covered with mortgages that no heir could get to it, andhaving won great fame by inventing an entirely new and singularlyhumorous oath for the benefit of a Yankee governess, when that despisedhireling presumed to ask for a portion of her last year's salary. Hemight have lived to a green old age, but for the extraordinary joy heexperienced at having negotiated a second mortgage on some property notworth quite half the first, which filled this worthy man with suchexceeding great joy, that he drank rather more at a sitting than wouldstart an ordinary hotel-bar, and died soon after of _delirium tremens_,as such noble and chivalric souls are very apt to do. The family leftby the lamented ADAMS, consisting of a wife and one child--a daughter,at once assumed the most becoming style of mourning, moved in a funeralprocession through society for six months, and then resigned themselvesto the will of Providence with that beautiful cheerfulness which mayeither denote a high order of Christianity, or a low order of memory,as the case may be.
At the period of which the present veracious history treats, thebereaved mother and daughter were living in subdued style in thelocality designated above. Among their most intimate associates werethe ORDETHS, between whose family and theirs there existed thatpleasing and kindly familiarity which permits the most open recognitionof mutual virtues in society and the most searching criticism ofindividual weaknesses at home. The ADAMSES and ORDETHS met at eachother's houses with gushes of endearment that edified all beholders;and if Miss EVE said to her mother on their way home from church thatLIBBY ORDETH looked like a perfect fright in that ridiculous new bonnetof hers, it was only because her affectionate heart felt a pang atseeing her bosom-friend appear to less advantage than her ownself-sacrificing self.
It is a touching peculiarity of this modern friendship, _mon ami_, thata majority of the errors its fairest votaries detect in each other, arethose of the head--not of the heart. EVE ADAMS, whose diminutive sizehad given occasion to the _mot_ by which she was denominated the"Widow's Mite," was calling at the ORDETHS when Mr. BOB PETERS firstcame in under a flag of truce from Fortress Monroe, and was witness tothe chivalric reception accorded to that gentleman by his relatives,before his pecuniary mission was known. In the exuberance of hisnature, Mr. PETERS had kissed her with the rest of the family, and fromthe moment of receiving that chaste salutation, EVE had selected theNorthern stranger as her hero in that ideal novel of spiritualyellow-covers in which all maidens live, and move and have their beingsuntil stern reality bursts upon them in the shape of a husband or asnub.
From thenceforth she was a frequent visitor at the ORDETHS, and laidclose siege to the gay ROBERT'S heart with all the languishment deemednecessary in such cases, and a tremendous flirtation was going onbefore the maiden discovered that the affections of the youth werealready given to another. Then came a revulsion of feeling, opening theeyes of the Widow's Mite to the fact that Mr. BOB PETERS was a thievingabolitionist, unworthy the toleration of any true daughter of theSouth. After this overpowering revelation, it was the first thought ofEVE ADAMS to at once inform the festive PETERS of the utter detestationin which she held him, and a favorable opportunity soon offered. At asocial gathering at the ORDETH'S, she had withdrawn for a moment to anante-room, for the purpose of drawing from her bosom an elegant silversnuff-box, dipping therein a small brush, and subsequently applying thesame to her pearly teeth, when Mr. BOB PETERS entered unannounced, andagreeably demanded a "pinch." The situation was favorable to an avowalof enmity, and a suitable expression was rising to the lips of themaiden, when the thought of a still keener revenge kept her silent, andshe contented herself with a temporary sneer and a majestic exit fromthe apartment.
It was soon after this incident that Mr. BOB PETERS' presentation toMr. ORDETH of the bill for furniture which he had been empowered tocollect by a New York house, reminded the latter that it was his duty,as a patriot, to sacrifice even his cousin's son for the good of theConfederacy. With the stern self-devotion of an ancient Roman, Mr.ORDETH not only accused his hapless relative of flagrant Abolitionism,but at once made arrangements with the military authorities for thatrelative's immediate incarceration as an enemy to the Commonwealth. Anenemy to the Commonwealth of Virginia must be indeed an unnaturalwretch; for no such wealth is known to be in existence just now, andenmity to the dead is a thing inexcusable. It was a crime of which Mr.BOB PETERS was incapable; yet would he have suffered for it, had notthe devoted LIBBY concealed him in the hour of danger.
Of this concea
lment, Miss EVE had learned from EFRUM, the son of JOCKO,though she knew not how long it was to be continued.
CHAPTER IV.--"TWO HEARTS THAT BEAT AS ONE."
Several of the Richmond churches were opened that Sunday night, andthither repaired many of the Cottonocracy, devotional children of Bale,to implore Providence in behalf of an army whose heroes have generallyappeared, in the eyes of the Federal troops, to be wholly Leave-ites.The recent intelligence of "another confederate victory," atWilliamsburg, had added a finishing touch to the panic created byreports of the triumphal retreat from Yorktown previously received, andthe fervor of Richmond's piety on that evening was eminently worthy ofa city liable at any moment to be cannonized. The reverend clergy ofthe rebel capital selected their texts from Exodus by instinct, as itwere, and proved so conclusively that the Yankee invader was no man,that the listening congregations were impressed with an instructive andrepentant sense of their own wickedness, (for they are the wicked whoinvariably flee when "no man" pursueth,) and several members evincedtheir new-born disgust at this sinful world by resolutely closing theireyes upon it at once.
In his pew sat Mr. VICTOR E. ORDETH, with his wife and son, the lattera member of the Richmond Home Guard. Stiff and erect he sat, like asolemn note of admiration in a printer's case, ready to be used at theend of any sounding passages, suffering an expression of weightyapproval to cross his countenance when the preacher hoped the sameplanets might not thereafter be destined to shine on the North and theSouth.
And well he might; for there had been something in the late capture ofNew Orleans and other ports by the Union fleets to impress the Southernmind with no small dread of the North's tar.
LIBBY remained at home under plea of sick-headache; but no sooner wereher parents fairly out of the house, than said plea proved to beentirely invalid. At least, the young lady darted to her own privateroom in a very sprightly manner, brought out from thence a smallpackage, and finally repaired to the apartment wherein Mr. BOB PETERSkept solitary vigils and a bright lookout. Before passing in, however,she paused to have a few words with the faithful JOCKO, whom shediscovered on his knees before the door of the captive's cell, with hisright eye slightly to the left of the knob.
"JOCKO!" she exclaimed, reproachfully, "what are you doing here, youridiculous thing?"
"Miss LIBBY," said the humble servitor, looming dimly in the shadow ofthe hall as he slowly arose from his feet, "Ise ben prayin' dat youmight become a christian, and one ob these days, when de greatHallelugerum come, hab wings and a harp."
Scarcely were these affecting words uttered, when Mr. PETERS tore openthe door rather disrespectfully, so greatly discomposing the devotedblack that the latter incontinently fled.
"My dear girl," said BOB, leading his fair visitor into the room, "I'mdelighted to see you. The shutters are up, the gas is lit, and I'mprepared to do the sentimental. Oh-um-m--Lubin's Extracts!" ejaculatedMr. BOB PETERS. For he had kissed her.
"There, dear ROBERT, don't be so absurd. You know you are going toleave us to-night, and I have brought you--" here LIBBY blushed withthat exquisitely ingenuous emotion which is excited by theconsciousness of benefiting one we love--"I have brought you somethings that may be of use on your journey. You won't be angry with mefor it, will you, dear BOB? There's a smoking cap, and a pair ofcrochet slippers, and some drawing pencils, and a volume of TUPPER."
"My darling LIBBY!" remarked the deeply affected ROBERT, alighting onthose tempting lips once more. "But did you think, love--did you thinkto put a quart of ice-cream and a few hair-pins in the package?"
"Why, no."
"Ah, well," said Mr. BOB PETERS, abstractedly, "I suppose I can buythem on the road."
Silence, disturbed only by the beating of those two hearts, reigned fora few seconds, then--
"BOB," said LIBBY, looking shyly up to him, "we shall be very happywhen we are married and live North?"
"Yes, indeed," said BOB.
"We'll live in such a beautiful house on Fifth Avenue, dear, and havesuch nice things. Because, you know, you can make so much money by yourwritings."
"Millions! my love," said Mr. BOB PETERS, with sudden and wonderfulquietude of tone. "When I left New York prose was bringing two dollarsfor seven pounds in the heavy dailies, and philosophical poetry quotedat six shillings a yard, and no hexameters allowed except for EMERSONand HOMER. Ah!" said Mr. PETERS, his melancholy deepening rapidly tobitterness, "my last poem sickened me. It was called 'Dirge: addressedto a lady after witnessing the Drama of the "Toodles,"' and commencedin this way:
'Not all the artist's pow'r can limn, Nor poet's grander verse disclose, The plaintive charm that ev'ning dim, Imparts unto the dying rose.'"
"How pretty!" said LIBBY.
"Yes, my dear," responded Mr. PETERS, somewhat gloomily; "but because Iused 'dim' to rhyme with 'limn,' all the papers credited it to GENERALMORRIS."
Recollections of this flagrant piece of injustice so affected Mr. BOBPETERS, that he smote his breast and called himself a miserable man. "Ireally don't know but I'd better stay here and be hung like arespectable patriot," murmured the desolated young man.
"How absurd!" exclaimed the young lady, "you will be glad enough to getaway to-night. Remember, now, you are to start down stairs atquarter-past Twelve, precisely, and JOCKO will open the front door foryou. Then go straight to the bridge, where you will find my brother,who will get you by the guard."
"That reminds me," observed Mr. PETERS, "what time is it? I must set myrepeater."
LIBBY consulted her watch and answered that it was half-past eight,whereupon Mr. BOB PETERS fished from his fob a vast silverconglomeration, and having wound it up with a noise like that of adistant coffee mill, and set it correctly, proceeded to hang it, forconvenient reference, upon the gas-branch across the mirror.
"Dear BOB, good bye."
"Fare thee well, and if for ever, still remember me," responded Mr.PETERS, with some vagueness.
"We shall meet again?" said LIBBY, lingering.
"If I did not believe it," replied Mr. BOB PETERS, with vehemence, "Ishould at once proceed to kill myself at your feet, covering the wallsand furniture of the apartment with my gore."
"God bless you, BOB."
They parted wiping their mouths. Miss ORDETH went down stairs in tears,had a fit of hysterics on the sofa, and fell asleep with her head inthe card basket.
CHAPTER V.--BETRAYED INNOCENCE.
There he slumbered on that rude lounge, with his head upon his handsand his hands under his head. A man, like you--or me--or any other man.Did you ever notice how you always keep your eyes shut when you areasleep? The lids come down over your orbs, your soul's windows, likenight over the sun. You shall have visions of Heaven, or Hades,according to what you had for supper. Lobster salad, or truffles, willact upon a sleeping man's great, dark soul, like one of PAGE'S pictureson the open eye. Make it see light blue landscapes, and pallid faceslooking out of pink distances. You think that young man there issleeping upon a rude couch? No. He is sleeping upon something notpalpable to your worldly eyes nor mine; he is sleeping upon an emptystomach. You dare not pity him. His scornful, stern man's soul wouldwither you if you talked to him of compassion. Such is man. An animal.A worm of the dust. Yet proud. Ha! you know it. You blush for yourunworthy thought. Such is woman. Something aroused the sleepersuddenly. It might have been an angel's whisper, or the kiss of aninsect. He sprang to his feet, shook himself, and mentally declaredthat he had come pretty near getting asleep. The idea was rational.
"By all that's blue! it can't be, though it is, by Jupiter!"
The gas was still burning brightly. Mr. BOB PETERS had caught sight ofhis watch as it was reflected in the mirror, with the hands pointing toa quarter past Twelve. With great rapidity he grasped the repeater,stabbed it into his fob, crushed his demoralized hat upon his head,looked regretfully about the room, turned off the gas, and in anothermoment was stealthily groping his way down stairs, toward the frontdoor.
The door yielded to his hand, but no JOCKO was there. "Isuppose," murmured Mr. PETERS to himself, "I suppose the faithfulfellow is praying for me somewhere in the kitchen, with his handsresting on a jar of sweetmeats. Ah! I ought to be a better man than Iam." With this excellent moral reflection, Mr. BOB PETERS stepped intothe street and faced boldly for the path to freedom; but at the veryfirst corner his road was barred by two individuals in military capsand the first stage of intoxication.
"Aryupeters--eters!" said one, who was evidently desirous of having buta single word with him.
"With a BOB," replied the fugitive sententiously.
"Aw' ri', then," observed the two in chorus, and Mr. PETERS quicklyfound himself attended on either side by guardians whose affectionatemanner of monopolizing his arms suggested a civil process of the mostuncivil sort.
"Treachery!" he exclaimed, struggling fiercely. The twain held himtightly, however, with the strength of tight-uns, and his exertion onlycaused them to venture divers pleasant oaths concerning the destiny ofhis eyes.
Onward they dragged him, down Broad street and up half a dozen otherstreets, until a certain rebel institution was gained. "In with'm,"said one of his captors; and they hurried him past a sentry and througha hall into a long, low room, where half a dozen miserable candlesstuck up against the walls revealed a dismal company of over ahundred--some stretched upon the floor, some standing about, and othersclustered around what appeared to be a cot in one corner.
"Is this the Confederate Congress?" asked the astonished BOB, as hiscaptors left him, turning the key and adjusting various bolts as theywent out.
"It's LIBBY'S pork-packing-house," answered the prisoner nearest him,"and you're jugged, I suppose, as a spy."
"Pork-packing!" ejaculated the bewildered BOB. "Why, this is treatingme like a hog."
Several prisoners at once gave in their adhesion to this logicalpremise.
"Here's a case of betrayed innocence!" soliloquized Mr. BOB PETERS,bitterly, "I've trusted to LIBBY, and Libby's taken me in."--
"I'm going to be exchanged, I tell you!"
The sound came from the cot in the corner, and as the crowd in thatdirection opened for a moment, the new-comer beheld a sight that, for atime, made him forget his own troubles. A tall, gaunt man in ragged,Zouave uniform was reclining upon his elbow on the miserable pallet,the pale, dismal light of the candles disclosing a ghastly wound on hisright temple, from which the blood was trickling down upon his rustyand matted beard.
"I'm going to be exchanged, I tell you!" he exclaimed, waving theothers away with his left hand and glaring directly at BOB. "I've beenhere a whole year, and Eighty's boys wants me back; and I'm going to beexchanged."
"The poor fellow was shot by one of the sentries this morning. He'sfrom a New York regiment, and has been a prisoner ever since Bull Run,"whispered one of the unfortunates to BOB.
The latter approached the wounded man and kindly asked; "Can I doanything for you, old fellow?"
The dying Zouave regarded him with a ghastly smile; "Yes," said he,"you can go down to Eighty's truck house and take care of little JAKEtill I'm exchanged. Will you, bub, will you?"
"Is JAKE your child?" asked Bob.
"No," responded the Zouave, softly, "it's only a little yaller dorg. Iaint got no wife, nor child, nor no friend except the masheen andlittle JAKE. He's petty as a picture, bub, and he's slept with me manya gay old night around Catherine Market--he has. You'll be kind to him,bub, won't you?"
"Here! what's this noise about? What are yes doin' with lights thistime ernight? I'll soon stop his Yankee groaning," were the words of abrutal keeper, who had just come in and was roughly elbowing his waytoward the cot.
"Stand off, you hound!" shouted BOB, throwing himself between thekeeper and the dying soldier. "Stand off!" growled the prisoners,fiercely crowding upon the intruder with murder in their faces.
"Hark!" said the Zouave, leaning listfully forward, "there goes theHall bell--one--two--three----" His features lighted up as with theglow of a conflagration; his lips opened--
"_Fire! Fire! Fire!_"
And the Zouave fell back upon the cot--dead.
The keeper crawled forward like a whipped hound, and eyed theoutstretched form with a face full of fear:
"Exchanged at last, by G--d!"
True, O traitorous hireling! and by God alone. For when that honest,loyal soul went out, there came to take its place an Avenging Spirit,that shall not cease to call on Heaven for vengeance on the Southernmurderer until the cowardly stain of fifty thousand murders, such asthis, are washed out in a terrible atonement.
"Poor little JAKE," murmured Mr. BOB PETERS, "I wonder if he's aterrier." Then, turning to the keeper,--"How long is my imprisonment inthis terrible place to be continued?"
The keeper eyed the querist with no very amiable expression, "You'llstay here," said he, "until you take the Oath, I reckon."
"In that case, my native land, good night," responded the interestingcaptive, Byronically; "my incarceration will terminate with anepitaph--'_Hic Jacet_ ROBERT PETERS. A victim of miss-placedconfidence. He died young'--Jailor, you are affected. Accept a quarter!"
The Cerberus clutched the proffered coin and eyed it with feverishintensity. It was evidently the first quarter he had seen since thecommencement of his services in that hole. The man's better nature wastouched. "Hist!" he said, drawing Mr. PETERS aside and speaking in awhisper: "I can no longer conceal the truth. I am a Southern Union man."
It is a beautiful peculiarity of our common nature, _mon ami_, thatcrime never sinks so deeply nor perversion spreads so obstinately inthe human soul, but there is still a deeper current of normal rectituderesponsive to the force of currency. That this was known to theancients, is evinced by the antique custom of placing coins on the eyesof the dead, thereby signifying to all concerned that, whatever faultsmight have perished with the deceased, _de mortuis nil nisi bonum_.
"Can't I have a room to myself?" asked BOB, after a short pause.
"Follow me," was the response; and he followed the keeper through acrowd of curious prisoners, up a stair-way against a wall, to a room onthe next floor. The keeper opened the door with a key from one of hispockets, and led the way into an apartment whose only furniture was abed, a ricketty chair and a bit of looking-glass on a shelf.
"I sleep here sometimes myself," said the keeper; "but you shall stayhere for a small rent. Make yourself comfortable."
"Stop a minute," said BOB, as the man turned to leave. "Do you know howI came to be arrested?"
"I don't know exactly," was the answer; "but I believe you was informedupon by some woman. Good night. Here's the candle."
The prisoner cast himself upon the bed, as the key grated again in thelock, and was fast asleep before the poor fellows down stairs hadextinguished their miserable lights.
In the morning the friendly keeper brought him his breakfast,consisting of a cup of something very much like "sacred soil" after aheavy rain, two geological biscuits and a copy of the Richmond _Whig_.
"What do you call this stuff?" asked Mr. PETERS, ruefully eyeing thecontents of the cup.
"Coffee," replied the keeper, blandly, "real Mocha."
Mr. PETERS was silent. To call such fluid Mocha was sheer mockery.
The biscuits dispatched and the coffee defied, the captive betookhimself to deep and admiring contemplation of the newspaper; and wasderiving much valuable instruction from an article written to prove howskilfully and ingeniously the Southern Confederacy had struck a tellingblow at its ruthless invaders by strategetically surrendering Norfolk,when an early visitor was admitted. Said visitor was a young mancontained in a picturesquely-tattered uniform, with a fatigue cap onhis head and a rusty sword rattling at his heels.
"BOB, my boy," said he, "how the mischief did you get into this scrape?"
"This is some of your family's Chivalry," responded Mr. PETERS, shortly.
"My governor certainly did come it over you a little," observed thevisitor, who was no othe
r than the younger ORDETH; "but you might havegone off safely enough if you'd been at the bridge at quarter-pastTwelve, as you were told. I don't like the governor's style any morethan you do, and if you had come to time I could have passed you out ofthe lines easily enough."
"I did come to time," answered BOB, with great bitterness, "and apretty time of night it was. How did I get into this scrape? TheSouthern Confederacy brought me here. I've had enough of you and yourfamily. It affords me satisfaction to contemplate a perspective inwhich your family are attending a funeral of one of their number whosedemise would be attended with funeral honors, if all his comrades werenot engaged in the work of running away from MCCLELLAN."
Mr. PETERS hazarded this cutting insinuation of the future with anexpression of countenance rigidly severe.
"But, my dear boy, there is some mistake. You--"
"Enough, Sir!"
"Oh, very well; if you won't you won't," exclaimed the Confederateyouth, growing very red in the face. "All I have to say is, that I havedone my part as your friend. If you had been at the bridge atquarter-past Twelve last night, you might be back among the Yankeesnow. And, let me tell you, those same Yankees will never conquer theSouth."
"Perhaps not," said Mr. PETERS, ironically.
"One of our officers has just invented a new gun that will soon teachthe North manners," continued the Confederate, with increasing heat."It throws one-hundred-pound balls as fast as a man can turn thehandle."
"Ah!" said BOB, sneeringly.
"Yes; and it has but one defect."
"What's that?" asked BOB, with some appearance of interest.
"The handle won't turn!" ejaculated the young Virginian, dartinghastily from the room to hide his emotion.
Mr. PETERS looked vaguely after the retreating form of the sensitiveyouth, and as one of the keepers relocked the door again from theoutside, his face sank upon his hands. What did his visitor mean byaccusing him of not making his appearance at the appointed time? It wasexactly quarter-past Twelve when he left the house. "I see how it is,"murmured Mr. PETERS, between his hands; "the boy has been takingsomething hot."
CHAPTER VI.--ANOTHER VISITOR.
The ladies were taking their usual promenade through the main corridorof the jail, curiously gazing at times through the newly-grated door atthe prisoners in the main room, and seasoning their morning gossip withpiquant observations on the probable execution of the horrid creaturesthere confined. Mrs. PEYTON took occasion to inform Mrs. MASON that shewouldn't pass a day without taking a look at the wretches for all theworld; and Mrs. MASON informed Mrs. PEYTON that her life would hardlybe endurable if she did not live in hope of seeing all theAbolitionists there yet. Here young Mr. BARON ventured to intimate thatthe Yankee prisoners were fortunate in being favored with such an arrayof _fair_ before them; for which he was saluted as an "absurd thing,"and received a shower of taps from adjacent fans.
Miss ADAMS led her companion, a neighbor's child, to where a keeper wasleaning idly against the wall.
"Are these all your prisoners?" she asked.
"All but one that was taken last night and is up stairs," replied theofficial.
"Is that one on exhibition?"
"I reckon he is, if you want to see him."
"Well," said Miss ADAMS, with an assumption of indifference, "I don'tknow that it's worth while; but--well, I reckon I _will_ look at him."
"This way, then, if you please," said the keeper, leading the way up anadjacent flight of stairs and conducting the fair one to the roomoccupied by Mr. PETERS.
BOB was gazing gloomily out of the window and did not recognize thepresence of his new guests until the end of a parasol touched hisshoulder.
"Miss ADAMS!" he exclaimed, offering his hand.
The young lady tossed her head haughtily:
"I don't wish to shake hands with an enemy of my country, sir."
"I see," said BOB, coolly, "the presence of a third party obliges us tovail our emotions. Keeper, leave the saloon."
"Pay no attention to him, Keeper," retorted EVE, indignantly, "I wishyour attendance."
Not at all abashed by the severity of her tone, Mr. PETERS nodded tothe officer and smiled pleasantly.
"Then I must expose you with a witness to it," he said, good-naturedly;"you are offended, Miss EVE because I did not comply with your kindnote and meet your friends at a quarter-of Twelve, instead of walkingstraight into trouble at quarter-past, as I did."
"You are beneath my notice," was the answer of Miss ADAMS; "but sinceyou choose to speak so I must explain myself to this good man here. Youare indebted to me for your present situation. I am a Southern woman,sir, and it was my duty as a Southerner, to see that you did not escapeto injure our cause by telling some of your Northern falsehoods aboutus. I wrote you the note you speak of in order that you might be drawnfrom your hiding place, and also one to the authorities putting them onthe watch. I may be a woman, but I have the heart of a man."
If Miss ADAMS did _not_ have the heart of a man it was owing to noneglect on her part of any possible means to catch such a heart. Thatis to say, all her dearest and most intimate female friends said so.
Her speech was evidently intended to impress the prisoner with atorturing sense of woman's vengeance, but, contrary to her expectation,Mr. PETERS received it with the utmost complacency. In fact, he evenevinced a playful disposition and favored the attentive keeper with aninsidious wink.
"I don't doubt that your intentions were excellent, Miss EVE," said Mr.BOB PETERS, with an air of great enjoyment; "but they did not work aswell as your affectionate heart designed. Because--you see--I did'ntcome out at a quarter of Twelve at all, nor did I follow any of yourdirections. Oh, no! It was just quarter-past Twelve by my repeater whenI departed from my late residence, and it's my private opinion thatyour dear friend, Miss ORDETH, had the privilege of being my adviser onthat nocturnal occasion. Don't let your sensitive soul be afflictedwith the thought that _you_ have wronged confiding innocence," addedBOB, pathetically, "for I do assure you that you are as guiltless asthe child unborn."
"What do you mean, sir?" asked EVE, in some haste; "were you notarrested at a quarter of Twelve?"
"Why no!" said BOB. "Don't I tell you that I didn't break cover untilquarter-past?"
"Well, sir," snarled EVE, with no little irritation, "you're here atany rate, and I hope you'll enjoy the society of your Yankee friendsdown stairs. I hope you'll all be hung. I do."
And the injured fair swept magnificently from the room, dragging withher the neighbor's child, and leaving Mr. PETERS alone with the keeper.
"I say, she's a spunky one," remarked the latter. "It's a pity youreally did'nt wait till quarter-past. I would'nt trust a woman withsuch eyes as hers--I would'nt."
"And I didn't trust them," said BOB. "It was full quarter-past by myrepeater when I came out, and if I'm betrayed it's by another woman."
"Oh, come now," put in the keeper, deprecatingly, "it's all right, youknow, between us two. It was'nt but quarter-past when I locked you inhere, you know."
"What!" exclaimed BOB.
"Fact," said the keeper.
Mr. PETERS deliberately drew out his watch and held it up in full view.
"By all that's true!" said BOB, "it was quarter-past Twelve by thatrepeater before I was taken last night."
The rebel official looked steadily into the eyes of his prisoner for amoment, and then withdrew hurriedly and in silence. He evidentlymistrusted the sincerity of Mr. PETERS, or believed that a man withsuch a fast watch was too much ahead of _his_ time to be trustedwithout a watch of a different kind.
CHAPTER VII.--UNION SENTIMENT DEVELOPING.
If some modern BURTON would supply the world with an Anatomy ofPatriotism, _mon ami_, I am inclined to believe that his firstdiscovery in the process of dissection would be, that the modernquality of that name is essentially lacking in the anatomical compositeof back-bone. Ordinary patriotism in practice, as far as I have beenable
to observe it, is equivalent, in general aspect and result, to anirresistible force in contact with an immovable body, those who arechiefly carried away with it metaphorically being the last to yield toits impulsion personally. In short, the quality appears to be asentiment rather than a motive in its character, and moves us toinspire others rather oftener than it inspires us to move ourselves.
Mr. VICTOR E. ORDETH was a patriot in the conventional sense of theterm, and when the Southern heart was first fired he took a very largeember to his own bosom. None could be more ready to repudiate all theirNorthern debts than was Mr. ORDETH to repudiate his, and his deadlyhatred of the Abolitionist was only equaled by that of a New Englandman owning a colored drayman, and living next door to him. "We willraise a million of soldiers if need be," said the chivalrous Virginianat a public meeting in Richmond, "and sacrifice our last crust." Afterwhich he went comfortably home and growled very much at the dampness ofhis slippers and the barely perceptible chill in his buttered toast.Great admiration was evoked on all sides by this spirited conduct, andwhen he finally donated one hundred dollars of his creditors' money tothe Volunteer fund, there was some talk of making him a brigadier; butit happened to leak out that he knew something of military businessfrom early study, and, of course, that project had to be given up. Abrigadier with military capability would be an anomaly indeed!
And so, this self-sacrificed gentleman meekly wore his honors inprivate life, his patriotism deepening and intensifying until itattained the pitch of verbal perfection demonstrated in the firstchapter of this veracious narrative. Suddenly, however, this patriotismsuffered what its possessor's pocket did not--a "sea change": theConfiscation Act passed by the Congress of the United States inducedMr. ORDETH to consider seriously what might possibly happen to acertain little property of his near Danville, in the event of certainUnion achievements; and the news of MCCLELLAN'S advance to within fivemiles of Richmond, did not tend to increase the patriotic fervor ofthis chivalrous Virginian.
It was on the second morning after the summary incarceration of Mr. BOBPETERS, that Mr. ORDETH peremptorily called for his newspaper, and,having elevated his feet upon the window sill, proceeded to read themore humorous articles of the journal in question, which were chieflydevoted to the discussion of divers excellent plans for invading theNorth in one column, and burning Richmond in the next. The only otherperson in the apartment at the time was Mrs. ORDETH, who turned verypale when her lord took up his paper, and watched him as he read, withconsiderable agitation. She was evidently expecting an explosion, andit came.
Having perused with mitigated satisfaction a leader on the sublimenobility of soul evidenced by the people who destroyed their city atthe approach of the enemy, Mr. ORDETH turned to the Local Department ofthe reduced sheet before him, and was electrified at the discoverytherein of a full and accurate account of the arrest of "one ROBERTPETERS, supposed to be a Yankee spy, who is said to have found refugefor some time past in the house of a well-known citizen, and who wasseized at the instigation of a devoted Daughter of the South, who, by apardonable device, lured him from his hiding place for that purpose.But for the disordered state of things just now, the citizen said tohave harbored this fellow would be called to account for his equivocalconcern in the matter."
The paper dropped from the hands of Mr. ORDETH, and he stared at hiswife in utter bewilderment.
"Don't be angry with us, VICTOR!" exclaimed that lady, tremblingly; forshe had seen the paper and anticipated what was coming. "LIBBY hid poorBOB away because she didn't want to see one of our own relations takenand hung, and when she told me of it I didn't dare to tell you."
"And do you mean to tell me that it was in _my_ house he was secreted?"asked the Virginian, tragically.
"Yes, my dear, up-stairs, you know."
This unexampled revelation might have produced a scene, had not thedoor been opened at the moment by JOCKO, who unceremoniously enteredwith a folded paper in his hand.
"Dis wus brung for you, Mars'r, by de angel ob de--I mean by de gemmanwid gold on he shoulder."
The master hastily snatched the paper from the dutiful black, waved himmagisterially from the presence, and found himself ordered to report onthe following morning for military duty at the headquarters of themilitary commandant, Richmond. A new draft was ordered!
Passing the paper to his wife, without a word of comment, Mr. ORDETHcommenced to pace the room with long and rapid strides. Finally, hestopped short before his lady's chair:--
"I am beginning to think," said he, coolly, "that the Union is best forthe South, after all."
"Yes, my dear."
"And we must be off for Danville this very afternoon."
"Oh!"
A pause, and then--
"I was hasty about BOB. My friend, GENERAL EVANS, has just come in fromLeesburg. I must explain this matter to him and get BOB discharged; forBOB may be of great service to us, my dear, when the Yankees takepossession."
Mrs. ORDETH understood her husband well enough to appreciate thisremarkable change in his sentiments, and refrained from exhibiting anyastonishment at this speech. She only answered:
"You know best, VICTOR."
The head of the house received this judicious reply in full payment ofall demands on his wife's attention, and immediately went forth to puthis designs into execution--as fine a specimen of the Southern Unionman as ever welcomed the advent of the loyal army with enthusiasm, andimmediately presented a bill for damages sustained in the cause ofFreedom!
CHAPTER VIII.--WITHOUT END.
Seated upon the lounge where _he_ so often had rested, with her elbowsresting upon the table on which _his_ arms had so frequently reposed,sat the afflicted LIBBY. She had heard her paternal leave the house anhour before, and she had just heard the sound of his boots in the hallbelow as he returned; but she felt no desire to learn the reasonthereof. Like her mother, she had seen the account of MR. PETERS'arrest in the morning paper, and her bewilderment at the statementrespecting the device used to entrap that persecuted youth by aDaughter of the South, was only equalled by her grief at theunfortunate present predicament of her lover. So absorbed was she inher sorrows that she heard not the opening of the parlor door belowher, nor the sound of footsteps on the stairs:--
"Miss ORDETH!"
Was it a dream? The beautiful mourner turned quickly in the directionof the sound, and beheld the bodily presentment of Mr. BOB PETERS, whostood near the door with his shocking bad hat between his hands and anexpression of stern reproach upon his countenance.
"BOB!--you here?" exclaimed the maiden, starting from her seat with alittle shriek.
"Mr. PETERS, if you please, Madame," said the late captive, with muchdignity. "Owing to a great spread of Union sentiment in the bosom ofyour paternal relative, and his consequent representation in my behalf,I _am_ here, to blast you with the sight of the innocence you havebetrayed! I slipped up here to confront you, Madame," observed Mr.PETERS, with some ease of manner, "while the old ones were packing thesilver-plated spoons preparatory to a combined movement on the peacefulhamlet of Danville."
"What do you mean, you ridiculous thing?" asked LIBBY, scarcelybelieving her own ears.
"That we must part," returned Mr. PETERS, calmly straightening an anglein the rim of his hat. "You named an hour for my nocturnalescape--quarter-past Twelve. I fled the Residence at that unseemlyhour, though another maiden had previously invited me to liberty andthe pursuit of happiness. I went, and walked straight into the arms ofthe unsleeping Southern Confederacy, who was inebriated at the time,and conducted me to the penal pork-packing establishment. Enough! wepart. I go to Danville with you, but only as an ordinary acquaintanceof chilling reserve."
"Why BOB, what can you mean?" ejaculated _Libby_, to whom thisremarkable speech was not particularly lucid; "it was not my fault thatyou were taken. If you had gone at quarter-past Twelve, as I told you,all would have been well. Oh, BOB, when JOCKO told me next morning thathe had waited for you a whole hour
in the hall in vain, and when ma andI found that you had really gone at the wrong time, I sat right downand cried my eyes out."
"The wrong time!" exclaimed Mr. PETERS, striding suddenly toward themirror. "Impossible! Observe this repeater of mine, which is a reliabletime-piece. On the night in question, this repeater was plainly beforeme, hanging on this gas bracket, before this looking-glass." Here Mr.PETERS illustrated his assertion by suspending his watch from thebracket, under which it spun feebly for a moment. "At the very instantof my waking from a temporary slumber, I caught sight of this samerepeater in the glass, and--why! what's this?"
In a moment every vestige of resentment had faded from the features ofMr. BOB PETERS, and he stood staring at the reflection of his watch inthe glass with the look of a man in the last stage of wonder.
LIBBY timidly drew near and placed a hand on his arm.
"What's the matter, dear?"
"What time is it now by the repeater?" asked Mr. PETERS, excitedly, butwithout moving his eyes.
"Why, it's ten minutes past Ten," replied LIBBY, glancing at the faceof the watch as it appeared in the mirror, and wondering what wouldcome next.
"Look again!!" thundered Mr. PETERS.
"Why," repeated LIBBY, half-frightened, "it's ten minutes past Ten."
Mr. BOB PETERS deliberately took down his watch and pointedconvulsively at its face with one finger. The time was ten minutes _of_Ten!
Mr. PETERS' first act was to clasp the maiden to his bosom and kiss herunceremoniously. Then releasing her, he took two steps in a popularbreak-down and burst into a stentorian peal of laughter.
"I shall have to call Pa," said poor LIBBY.
"Not a bit of it!" shouted BOB, ceasing his Terpsichoreanism for amoment; "don't you see the joke? It's all in the looking-glass, my pet.When I thought it was a quarter past Twelve and fled the residence, itwas really a quarter _of_ Twelve--don't you see? The looking-glass_reversed the hands on the watch_!"
And so it was, _mon ami_. Hold your own time-piece with its face to amirror, and you will "see the point."
But what can excuse that General who, after leading the whole countryto expect that he would take Richmond in time for me to conclude thispicture of Southern life, as I originally planned to do, now changeshis base of operation in a strategic manner, and introduces a fizzleinto romantic literature----
* * * * *
Here Smith-Brown, who happened to be awake, coughed intrusively, myboy, and says he:
"The fault is not the General's, my friend. The Secretary of War isalone to blame for it. He has killed literature."
How true was that speech, my boy. The Secretary is indeed responsiblefor this literary disaster, as well for everything else; and if he everundertakes to stand on his own responsibility, he will find plenty ofroom to move about.
Yours, droopingly, ORPHEUS C. KERR.