XIII
AN UNINVITED GUEST
In the lull following Mr. O'Brien's story the conductor and porter wenthurriedly through the car out to the rear platform; where, it seems,they had been summoned by the brakeman. They quickly reappeared with asbedraggled and woebegone a specimen of humanity as it has ever been mymisfortune to see. An unwashed, evil-smelling, half-frozen Hobo wasdragged into the car, to our utter amazement!
"Hold on a minute, conductor," said Colonel Manysnifters, as they wererushing the captive through. "What have you here? Where did you get him?Who are you, sir?" asked he of the tramp. "Who are you, I say, and whatare you doing on this strictly private outfit?"
An uninvited guest.]
The tramp, quite unabashed, blew upon his fingers to warm them, pickedup a cigar stump from the floor, lighted it, and looking around thegroup said courteously, though with a bored expression:
"Gentlemen, I got on your train about the time you did, though hardly inthe same way. A ride on the trucks and brakebeams, while exhilarating inthe extreme at the outset, soon becomes wearying and nerve-racking, soat the last water tank I made bold to take up my quarters on the rearplatform, with an occasional climb to the roof for observation andchange. But, my, it is cold out there! If it hadn't been for my friendhere," exhibiting a flask, "I would have frozen to death. Alas, poorfellow, he is empty now!" and he held it up to the light.
"It grew very dark and bitter as the night wore on; then the blizzardcaught us; but even in spite of that, I fell into a doze, to be rudelyawakened by this fellow--but what can you expect from a person of thatkind?" Here the brakeman gave a scornful grunt, and the conductor smiledbroadly.
"After all," the tramp continued affably, between cigar puffs, "theirlot is a hard one, and it is not for me to cast the first stone. So hereI am, gentlemen, right with you, and my fate is quite in your hands."This with a magnificent wave of a grimy paw, and something approaching acurtsy.
"You should get down on your knees, fellow, and thank this brakeman. Heundoubtedly saved your life. It would have been your last sleep if hehad not come along! Where is your gratitude?" asked Senator Pennypackerseverely.
"You may be right, sir," said the tramp politely. "I don't dispute yourword. I _ought_ to be friendly with that fellow, as I see he is abrother of mine. He belongs to my order. I can tell by hiswatch-charm--that square bit of enamel with the rising sun in themiddle, and the letters 'I. O. U.' in red, white, and blue, around it.Yes, he is O. K. I have been a member of many fraternities, and inbetter days I was the keeper of the 'Hoot Mon' in our local Caledonianclub. Brother, accept my thanks. Perhaps some of these days I may beable to repay you with something more substantial." The brakemanlaughed, and by this time we were all in a melting mood. Senator Bullreached instinctively into his trousers pocket, and Mr. Ridley did thesame.
"Just a moment, gentlemen, just a moment," said Colonel Manysnifters."Now, sir," said he to the tramp, "we have been telling stories hereto-night--some of them fair, some pretty bad. Let us hear what you cando in that line. We will give you a chance. If you don't make good wewill put you off at the next station and turn you over to theauthorities. Captain," to the conductor, "and you, President Madison,take our friend into the next car, give him something to eat and drink,wash him up a bit--several bits--and let him come back here and do hisbest."
"Sir, I thank you," said the tramp with dignity. "Your idea is a greatand noble one. My stomach is so empty that it hangs about me in folds.You have all doubtless seen a balloon awaiting the kindly offices of thegas-man--that's me. But it will soon be remedied. Adieu for thepresent." He left us, with the conductor in the lead and the grinningdarky at his heels.
"The nerve of those hoboes is something astonishing," said ColonelManysnifters, walking up and down, and filling the car with smoke inorder to cover up all traces of our visitor. I'll bet a thousand dollarsthat that fellow had as good a chance at the start as any of us,--justthrew himself away,--whiskey, I suppose, or women, or the platers--thecombination more likely. Did you ever see such eyes?--like two burntholes in a blanket!"
"Yet he has the manners of a gentleman, and seems to have had someeducation," said Van Rensselaer. "Did you notice his small hands andrather classic profile? Bathed, shaven, manicured, and properly clothed,he would be much like the rest of us--externally so, at least."
"May have been born a gentleman," observed the Colonel, "but he seems tohave outgrown it. A college man, too, no doubt; but what does thatsignify? I have a friend who spent about six thousand simoleons on hisson's education, and at the end of three years all the boy had learnedwas to wear baggy pants, sport a cane, and yell 'Raw! Raw! Raw!'--veryappropriately--upon the slightest provocation. The kind of chap you willfind dashing through the streets in a forty horse-power automobile witha hundred fool-power chauffeur in charge. As to the modern young woman,all the education _she_ wants is to be able to write love-letters!
"But our visitor is certainly an individual of strong personality!"grunted Colonel Manysnifters, continuing to blow smoke into all parts ofthe car. "Whew! Open the window back of you, Ridley. It is hard torealize that he has left us! He was certainly not 'born to blush unseen,nor waste his sweetness on the desert air,' eh?"
"The tramp problem is becoming a serious one," said Senator Pennypackerponderously. "The great army of the unemployed is steadily increasing.In New York City alone, on October the first of last year, there were noless than--just a second. I have the data in my bag. I will read yousome figures that will astonish you."
The Senator arose to get his bag. Faint groans were heard as he left us.Senators Bull, Wendell, Baker, several Representatives, and thegentlemen of the press arose as one man and rushed to the button.President Madison appeared and took the orders. Then Pennypackerreturned with a look of determination on his face, and for fifteenminutes or more we were regaled with facts, figures, and statistics, alltending to prove that crime and wretchedness were on the increasethroughout the country; that we were a degenerate people; and otherequally cheerful information.
The hobo's return was hailed with joy. He was vastly improved inappearance, and fairly radiated contentment. He sank into the seat thatColonel Manysnifters had thoughtfully placed for him,--somewhat apartfrom the rest,--with a murmur of satisfaction not unlike the loudpurring of a cat. Senator Bull pushed the cigars in his direction, andVan Rensselaer was equally assiduous with the whiskey and soda. Ourvisitor seemed perfectly at home. He drank,--drank deeply,--and wipinghis mouth on his sleeve, drank again.
"The hair of the goat is certainly good for the butt," said he, smiling,and displaying a set of marvellously white and regular teeth. "Now,gentlemen, I am quite ready to fulfil my part of the agreement. If mylittle story interests you, you are welcome to it. It was this way.
"I was a doctor by profession, carpenter by trade, stevedore byoccupation; then came harder times--booze--more booze--despair, illness,and I found myself discharged from the hospital, down and out--a hobo!Yet tramp life is not so bad after all. I like it. I like the open-airexistence, the freedom from care and responsibility, and--the hours. Iam much alone, and genius, you know, grows corpulent in solitude.
"My name is Tippett--Livingstone Tippett. Age, of no special moment. Youknow," he said pleasantly, "there are two things all of us lieabout--our ages and our incomes. As this is a true story I will drop the_age_ question. It is better so.
"My early life was uneventful. I was brought up by a pious mother in aquiet, deeply religious home; every influence uplifting andgood-instilling. I was taught, among other things, to regard liquor inany form with abhorrence, and that drunkenness was the sin of sins. Iwas surrounded with every safeguard a loving mother could devise, and itwas not until after her death and my wife's that I took to drink. Myfather and grandfather both died drunkards. Heredity, in my case,overcame both training and environment, and my troubles hurried on theinevitable.
"I passed through college unscathed, studied medicine, walked thehospitals, and began t
he practice of my profession under the mostfavorable auspices. I fell in love with a charming girl, and blessedwith my good mother's approval we were married. Our future seemedsingularly bright and untroubled. Life is a game and I was considerablyahead of the game. I was certainly playing on velvet.
"When my Elizabeth and I announced that instead of going abroad we wouldspend our honeymoon at 'Raven Hill' our little world thought it quiteabsurd. They were charitably inclined, however, and made excuses for usupon the ground that we were too much absorbed in each other to knowwhat we were doing. But we did know, nevertheless. Our plans had beenfully matured long before we saw fit to reveal them. To spend a month orso at Neville Mason's, down in Virginia, appealed very pleasantly toboth of us, and I accepted my old chum's offer with avidity. We were tohave everything to ourselves, with just as many servants as we wanted.
"We were married. There was a wedding breakfast, flowers, weepingrelatives, old shoes, and a profusion of rice; nothing, in short, wasomitted. A few hours later we left Jersey City on the southbound flyer.Breaking the journey at Washington, and remaining over night there, wearrived at the tiny depot near our ultimate destination late on theevening of the following day. An ancient but still serviceable familycarriage was in waiting, and we were conveyed in state to the mansion.
"The house at Raven Hill is a huge affair of the Revolutionary period,with numerous modern additions, which fail entirely to harmonize withthe quaint architecture of the original. The stables and servants'quarters give the place the appearance of quite a settlement--a survivalof slavery days one sees here and there in the South.
"We were shown to a suite of sunny rooms in the east wing which had beenespecially prepared for us, and soon made ourselves thoroughly at home.From this agreeable vantage-ground we set out upon many pleasantexpeditions into the countryside, returned the visits of our neighbors,and attended the chapel at the Crossways in truly rural style. Nothingamused us as much, though, as the negro servants. To them Elizabeth was'Honey,' and I, 'Marse Livingstone'; and over at the quarters the littledarkies gave rare exhibitions of dancing for our benefit, while solemn,gray-haired Uncle Ashby picked a greasy banjo. The men sang in nasal,but not unmelodious tones, weird, crooning songs, with occasionally anup-to-date composition which found its way, no doubt, from nearbyRichmond. I shall never forget those happy evenings at Raven Hill; andin my dreams I often see and hear the negroes as they danced and sang inthe moonlight.
"There were some good horses in the stables, and we did not spare them.Our cross-country dashes were most exciting, and the total absence offences in the region gave us an apparently limitless expanse over whichto wander. And that reminds me of a never-to-be-forgotten fox hunt whichwas attended by riders from all over that section of the country. Half adozen foxes were corralled at the 'round-up,' and I could not helpthinking how tame our alleged 'chases' at home appeared by the contrast.
"One day while roaming about the lower portion of the Raven Hill estatewe stumbled quite by accident into Dark Forest, vaguely hinted at by thenegroes as a place to be avoided. This Dark Forest is a large tract ofscrub oak, birch and holly, with dense undergrowths of briar; the hauntof innumerable small birds that dart in and out, chirping faintly. Inits depressed portions the 'forest' has degenerated into a marsh throughwhich a sluggish stream wends it way to the distant river. Slimyreptiles bask in the warm sun and glide lazily over the black, oozysoil. At intervals the stillness is broken by the splash of a giganticbullfrog returning to his favorite pool. This acrobatic feat is usuallyaccompanied by a deep-throated cry of satisfaction, not unlike thetwanging of an ill-tuned guitar. On the edges of the marsh mud-coveredterrapins drag themselves through the weeds and disappear withsurprising swiftness when they see an intruder.
"Through this singular region, and overgrown with rank, sedgy grass, isa wagon trail, here and there along its winding course several inchesunder water; and into this wretched road we turned our horses. After ahalf a mile or so we left the marsh and struck into firmer ground. Thencame a sharp bend in the undergrowth, and a clearing, several acres inextent, burst into view. Here stood a white-washed cabin in the midst ofa little garden enclosed by a paling fence, and tall sunflowers, swayingto and fro in the breeze, brushed the low-hanging eaves. Flowers greweverywhere in profusion, and the rude porch at the front of the dwellingwas half buried in a mass of fragrant honey-suckle. White curtains,gracefully looped, hung at the windows, and there was a charming air offemininity and comfort about the place. We dismounted, and tied ourhorses at the gate. As we approached the cabin an immense cat dozing onthe stoop sprang up hurriedly and darted into the vines. We knockedrepeatedly at the door without response. Finally, some one was heardapproaching, so we walked to the lean-to at the rear, and there saw,coming up from the spring at the foot of the enclosure, a young andastonishingly pretty girl. She was not at all startled by seeing us; infact, led us to believe from her manner that we were rather expectedthan otherwise.
"'Walk right in,' said the little beauty. 'I reckon you folks must bepretty well beat out after your long ride in the hot sun. It's a goodishbit from here to the Hill, ain't it?'
"'How do you know that we are from the Hill?' I asked in surprise.
"'Oh, I know,' she replied. 'I saw ye both at the station when ye firstcome, and then again at meetin' on Sunday. And you air a bride?' sheadded, turning to my wife.
"'Yes, and a very happy one,' said Elizabeth, placing her hand upon myshoulder in loving fashion. The child, for she was hardly more thanthat, gave an odd little sigh, but quickly brightened up again.
"'I'm downright glad ye came,' she said heartily. 'I do so like folks tobe neighborly and sociable. Ye ain't stuck up, nuther, like most cityfolks; no airs, nor the like o' that. Pap'll be home soon, and he'll beglad to see ye too!'
"Then she prepared a nice luncheon in the living-room. The lightestbread, delicious butter, preserved peaches, and some slices ofmarvellous old ham; this, with a stone pitcher of cool, foamy milk, madelife very pleasant to the weary travelers. The girl declined to join us,but sat near at hand, gazing intently at my wife. No detail ofElizabeth's attire seemed to escape her.
"'Oh,' said she, partly to herself, 'what beautiful, beautiful clothes!'And I registered a vow that she should have just such an outfit as soonas we went back to New York.
"'That child, properly dressed, would attract attention anywhere; shedoes not look at all bourgeois,' said my wife; and this from Elizabeth,whose grandmother was a Boston Higglesworth, was a concession indeed.
"'Do not tell her so,' said I; 'it would certainly spoil her. She _is_uncommonly pretty, I'll admit; but unless something unforeseen happensshe will probably marry within her own sphere of life, toil unceasingly,rear a brood of uncouth bumpkins--a hag at thirty, and thus fulfil herdestiny.'
"Elizabeth looked exceeding wise, but said nothing.
"Ailsee came to us at that moment, and I looked at her closely as shestood in the sunlight, her bonnet dangling from her arm. She wasundeniably beautiful--a dainty little head, crowned with a wealth ofgolden-brown hair, sweet hazel eyes, a lovely mouth, and the mostbewitching dimples. There was nothing of the milkmaid style about her,for she lacked the vivid coloring and tendency to embonpoint of thetypical rustic beauty. I pictured her to myself entering the room at oneof the Bachelors' on the arm of the leader of the cotillion, and thesubsequent sensation and heart-burnings.
"My reverie was interrupted by a hoarse voice calling, 'Ailsee!Ailsee!'--seemingly just over in the forest.
"'Dad wants me,' she said with a smile. 'I'll go and fetch him back withme. Please you folks wait a moment.' And she tripped lightly down thegarden and out into the wilderness beyond.
"Ten or fifteen minutes slipped by without the return of either Ailseeor her father. The footfalls in the forest died away, and the stillnesswas becoming oppressive.
"'Remarkable, truly,' said my wife, with a puzzled expression. 'Wherecould she have gone? Do you think her father is keeping her? Dearest,'she added g
ravely, 'don't laugh, I feel--I feel--that something dreadfulis going to happen. I don't know exactly what, but----'
"'Of course you don't know exactly what,' I interrupted. 'Come now, be asensible little woman. You surely don't believe in presentiments. It isthe heat; this sticky, Southern heat! I feel a little queer myself.'
"But nothing I could say quite banished the singular fancy which hadtaken possession of my young wife. Womenkind cling tenaciously to absurdideas, especially when they are of the worrying kind; and Elizabethlooked so troubled and sad that I soon caught the feeling and becamemelancholy too.
"It was long past noon and intensely sultry, and we were sitting on theporch where occasionally the faintest shadow of a breeze made life moreendurable. Our horses, maddened by the flies and heat, chafed andstamped restlessly out at the gate. Elizabeth tried to amuse herselfwith a huge album of daguerreotypes which occupied the place of honor inthe cabin parlor, and I smoked and lounged about, wondering what hadbecome of Ailsee.
"'Well,' said I at last, 'we can not wait here forever. If I am notgreatly mistaken there will be a storm before night, and we had betterget out of this at once. We can come down here some other day and renewour acquaintance with the mysterious child of the forest.' So backthrough the marsh we splashed our way, and arrived at Raven Hill barelyin time to escape the storm, which broke with fury just as Uncle Ashbycame around for our mud-bespattered steeds.
"Elizabeth went upstairs to change her dress and rest before dinner, andI settled down in the library with the _Country Gentleman_. There was aknock at the door, and Uncle Ashby came in.
"'Marse Livingstone,' he asked huskily, 'whar has you been wif dehorses?'
"I told him; and during the brief account of our adventures his facegrew ashen and his eyes seemed about to start out of his head. When Iwas through he tottered over to the window, muttering, 'Gawd help us!Gawd help us!'
"'What's the matter, Uncle Ashby?' I asked curiously. 'What on earth areyou so excited about?'
"'Boss,' said he entreatingly, 'doan' make me tell you--you'll be sorryef you do. 'Deed, Marster, I really mus' go now, sah; dey's waitin' ferme at de stables. And youse been down dar an' seen it! Oh, Lordy,Lordy!'
"'Come back here,' said I, my curiosity getting the better of me. 'Don'tbe a fool, old man; brace up. What's the trouble? You are not afraid tospeak out, eh?'
"'Well, Marse Livingstone, ef I mus' tell you, I 'spose I mus'--thardoan' 'pear to be no help fer it. But I'd ruther not, boss; 'deed, I'druther not.'
"'Go on; tell your story,' said I impatiently. 'I guess I can stand it.Just try me, anyhow.' So in the semi-darkness a marvellous tale wasunfolded to my ears.
"In the first place, Uncle Ashby solemnly assured me that I had that dayseen a ghost. The flesh-and-blood Ailsee, he declared, had been deadmany years. Her father, Coot Harris, was a rough customer who took uphis abode in the marsh--'mash,' Uncle Tucker called it--at the close ofthe Civil War. Here he gained a precarious livelihood by 'pot-hunting';for Harris and others of his ilk paid but little attention to the poorlyenforced game laws of the section. Coot Harris, the marshman, had adaughter, who, as Uncle Ashby contemptuously remarked, 'was peart enuff,as pore white trash folkses go.'
"This daughter was named Ailsee. Thwarted by her father in some loveaffair with a swain of the neighborhood, she had drowned herself in agloomy pool in the very darkest part of the forest. The body was foundshortly afterward and buried in the cottage garden. Harris then left thecountry and has never since been heard of. All this, according to UncleAshby, happened twenty years ago. The ghost of the ill-starred Ailseehad occasionally been seen by the country folk, but always with direresults. Bad luck, disease, and in some cases death, had been the fateof those who saw the 'ha'nt.' One man lost his house by fire withinforty-eight hours after the shadowy form crossed his path. The body ofanother unfortunate was found floating in the creek; his eyes wide open,staring horribly. The drowned man had but the day before made known thefact that he had seen the wraith of the marshman's daughter. Stillanother poor fellow had been taken, raving and violent, to the asylum.Numerous additional instances, equally as harrowing, were cited by UncleAshby, whose fervent belief in all that he said was rather impressivethan otherwise.
"I listened patiently to the old man until he finished. By that time thestorm had ceased and the sky, suddenly clearing in the west, revealedthe last rays of the setting sun, which brightened the room for a fewmoments. I laughed softly when Uncle Ashby went out, and all that I hadheard of the ignorance, credulity, and superstition of the Southernnegro came into my mind. I sat for a while, musing in the gatheringdusk, and then went up to my room.
"The lamps had not been lighted in that portion of the house, and it wasquite dark. The atmosphere was stifling, as all the windows had beenclosed at the approach of the storm. I raised them, and the cool, dampair, heavy with the odor of jessamine, floated into the room. Elizabeth,evidently greatly fatigued by the day's exertions, had thrown herselfupon a lounge at the foot of the bed. She was in her dressing-gown, andher face was framed in masses of wavy brown hair which had becomeuncoiled in her restless movements. I hesitated to awaken her, but assounds from below indicated the near approach of dinner I called her--atfirst softly, and then in louder tones, an indefinable fear stealingover me as I did so. I approached the couch, and tremblingly placed myhand upon her forehead.... Ah, God, I cannot tell the rest!
"Seven years have dragged their weary length along since I lost my dearyoung wife and the light of my life was extinguished forever! Now, allis darkness! darkness!
"Subsequent investigation, supported by the testimony of well-known andthoroughly reliable residents of the country, confirmed in everyparticular the truth of Uncle Ashby's story. A visit to the marshman'scottage some days after my wife's death revealed a ruinous moulderinghabitation, in the midst of a wilderness of weeds and vines. A mournful,desolate spot, shunned and avoided by all for the past twenty years, andyet had I not seen----" Tippett paused abruptly, with bowed head andeyes tear-dimmed.
"Here, old chap, take this," said Colonel Manysnifters, hastily pouringout and handing him a stiff drink. Tippett, obeying, was somewhatrevived, and continued.
"I returned to Brooklyn with the body of my wife. My mother followed herto the grave a few months later. All in the world that was dear to mewas now lost. I took to drink; I sunk lower and lower, dissipated mylittle fortune, friends forsook me; and by quick stages in thedescending scale I found myself, as I said before--an outcast! Yet,through all my troubles I have never entertained the thought ofself-destruction. I have no desire whatever to seek--
"'The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn No traveler returns,--puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than to fly to others we know not of.'"
It was long after midnight when Tippett concluded his story and thegathering broke up; not, however, before sleeping-quarters had beenfound for the unfortunate man, and a promise given by Senator Bull toput him on his feet again in the far West--an offer gladly accepted inall sincerity, and a venture which proved highly successful, as most ofthe long-headed Senator's usually did.
Morning brought relief, the track was cleared, and our train proceededon its way, arriving at Washington many hours behind schedule; itsoccupants but little the worse for their experience--ColonelManysnifters, I believe, with a slight headache.
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