none but could smile upon the spinster and be glad of the little tale she told. half the world knows of the pigeons so nourished on one of the most crowded corners in the heart of a great, turbulent city, but none had thought before of what might accompany this exhibition of the fact that there is still a regard for beings of the lower and less grasping life. very pleasant was the conversation and very understanding were the comments, but the colonel, like many a commander of the past, from joshua down, noted the swift passing of the hours of day and was insatiate for more of what might be attained before it was too late. he called upon the banker. that gentleman, easy, suave and really a good specimen of the class which inclines us to save by taking care of our savings—and only rarely departing with them—was quite equal to the demand at the paying-teller's window. "i have listened," he said, "to these accounts, some of adventure, some of fancy, some of love[289] and persistence, and it has occurred to me that even i might contribute something to the general fund. oddly enough, as coming from me, what i shall tell is a story of love and courage and persistence all combined. it is not a tale of some far country, but one of our modern life, a tale of true lovers whose union was opposed but who came together at last in spite of obstacles. i think we may term it
abercrombie's wooing
mr. gentil abercrombie is a fine fellow, quick-witted, and amiable, with prospects in the world, but he is not, as yet, wealthy. last spring he fell in love with miss frances dobson, and the young lady seemed not entirely oblivious of the fact nor altogether displeased with it. the affair appeared prosperous to the hopeful abercrombie until the middle of june, when the dobson family moved to their country home at a modest little watering place not far from the city, leaving the suitor in a position he did not like. a resolute gentleman, though, is mr. abercrombie, and he followed his star, taking apartments at the watering-place hotel, coming into town by train daily and returning in the evening.[290]
the young lady thus sought had the fortune to be the only daughter of her somewhat austere parents, mr. james dobson and mrs. irene dobson, each distinctly of the class not to be trifled with by any too aspiring suitor. abercrombie was admitted to the dobson residence, for he has good social standing—but his reception was not as warm as the weather. it appeared to each of the lovers early in the season that it was best to be politic, and that abercrombie was not, as yet, looked upon by the father and mother as a person with that superabundance of worldly goods and of stability of character and wisdom which should appertain to the husband of the family pride. hence it came that abercrombie made an effort whenever an opportunity offered to become what he remarked to himself as "solid with the old folks." hence it came, too, that at a certain trying time there arrived in his immediate vicinity a certain quantity and quality of disaster.
it chanced that on one occasion, abercrombie, seeking, as usual, to ingratiate himself with the parents, drifted into a discussion concerning the bringing up of children and expressed himself to the effect that, in place[291] of the usual inane though amusing fairy stories and things of that sort, children should in their youth, when the memory fairly petrifies things, be entertained with pleasant tales about natural history and in fact about anything likely to aid most in future equipment for the great struggle in the world. of natural history he made a point. well, one evening, in just what poets call the "gloaming," abercrombie, the parents, frances and young erastus dobson were sitting together upon the front porch, when, suddenly, from some inscrutable impulse, erastus broke out with the exclamation:
"mr. abercrombie, tell me a story."
here was a situation! it flashed upon abercrombie, that he had, as already mentioned, impressed upon the elder people the fact that, in his opinion, the youthful mind should be loaded with natural history when tales were imposed upon it. there was no alternative. here were the older people listening and expectant. here was erastus, vociferous. here was his own sweetheart, sitting in the half darkness and wondering if he were equal to the occasion!
abercrombie quivered for a moment trying[292] to collect his senses which seemed to have been, somehow, "jolted" by erastus' request, and then suddenly became so desperate and cold-blooded that he could not understand himself.
"yes, erastus," he said, affably; "i will tell you a story, most willingly." then he continued:
"this is the story of the boy and the bull and the horned hen. once there was a boy. it has frequently happened that there was a boy, so that it is hardly worth while referring to such a thing now, but, since we have mentioned it, we'll let it go. tum-a-row! this boy lived in the country and was kind to a hen. little did he know that the hen appreciated and remembered it, but she did! one day this boy started to cross a meadow in which was a savage bull, and the boy forgot he had on his red sweater. in the middle of the meadow stood a tree which was blasted and which looked almost like a cone. it was what a young kindergarten teacher might describe as a trunk from which the branches had been riven away in some of nature's convulsions, probably electric. anyhow, the bull started for the boy and the boy started for the tree. tum-a-row! the boy reached the tree four[293] and one-third seconds before the bull reached the same place, and the boy began climbing and was at least thirty feet from the ground before the bull arrived. it is needless to say that the boy climbed with much rapidity. the bull followed rapaciously—yes, that's the word—and began climbing also with great rapidity behind the boy, and there was a race to what—if the term may be applied to such a dead trunk of a tree—to the topmast. there the tree sloped to a point, which the boy, climbing with avidity—that's the word,—reached easily, under the stress of circumstances. the bull, climbing swiftly after, attained a height of between ten and fifteen feet from his intended victim, and then, reaching the slope of compression, as one may say, of the dead tree, suddenly found himself without sufficient grasp and slid down, again and again, as he sought to reach the apex of the cone. the boy, meanwhile, was and properly, too, in a state of utmost fear, as the bull from time to time seemed almost successful in his upward attempts.
"but there is a limit to endeavor. the bull, fatigued at last, slid downward to the ground, just as the hen, who, happily for the boy, had[294] noted from the distant barnyard what was going on, came desperately to the rescue. the struggle which ensued was something doubtless without a parallel, or anything else in the way of similitude, in the history of single combats. it was something frightful! the bellowing of the hen, the hissing and cackling of the bull, the scattering of scales from both adversaries as they clashed together, cannot be adequately described. but the end came quickly. there came a moment, when perspiring and panting, the hen gored the bull with all her might, mind and strength, and he fell lifeless to the ground.
"the moral of this story is, be kind to a hen. tum-a-row!"
"why do you say 'tum-a-row'?" suddenly demanded erastus.
"well, i hardly know, myself," said abercrombie. "i guess it's a sort of accompaniment. it came in an old farmer's song i heard when i was a little boy, in an old song which told about a young man who went 'down in the medder for to mow,' and who 'mowed around till he did feel a pizen sarpint bite him on the heel;' and, every little while, through the song came the word 'tum-a-row.' that's the reason[295] 'tum-a-row' comes in so often in the story. it isn't my fault; it just seems to belong. tum-a-row!"
"tell me another! tell me another!" shouted young erastus, but there came no sound from the twilight which encompassed the old people, nor from the gloaming about the sweetheart, though little did it matter. abercrombie had passed the caring point!
"one more will i tell you," he said, speaking in a resonant and rotund voice, to the wide-mouthed and expectant erastus. "this is the story of the dark forest, the charcoal burners, the witch and the boa constrictor.
"once there was a forest so dark that you cannot conceive of its darkness. oh! it was just a forest dark from darkville! it was fringed about with a forest which was somewhat lighter, in which things lived, but nothing lived in the forest itself; it was too black! among the people who lived in this lighter fringe of forest were some charcoal burners. you will always find charcoal burners connected with a deep forest story, particularly in the german medieval legends. the charcoal burners in those stories usually lived in some glade in the middle of the wood, but the charcoal burners[296] we are telling about lived on the outside for the reason we have given—but they ought not really to be called 'burners,' because they did not burn anything. whenever orders came for charcoal they simply took their shovels and went down an aisle into the depth of the inner wood and dug out great hunks of the blackness, which they brought out and stacked upon wagons, and which were conveyed to vienna and wiesbaden and oshkosh and all the other charcoal commercial centers.
"now all this has nothing to do with the story. these matters about the charcoal burners i have related only because it chances that from the charcoal burners themselves the real story was gained. we ought to be grateful to them for what they have told.
"four or five miles east of the charcoal burners lived a boa constrictor. he was sixty feet long and had a gilt-edged appetite. i don't believe in using slang, and gilt-edged is slightly slangy, but the bald fact stands out that he had a gilt-edged appetite. he lived mostly on wild boars, but, when the supply of wild boars gave out on any occasion, he lived on most anything that came along.
"now, five miles east of the boa constrictor[297] lived a witch, and she was a witch from witchville. she was not any common witch, but one whose slightest anathema would just curl your hair. talk about brimstone! why brimstone would be just ice cream in any comparison you could make between this witch and other things in the world. she knew her business! well, this witch had three children, two sons and a daughter, nice little children, in their way. it happened, unfortunately, one afternoon, that they strayed into the forest; and this afternoon happened to be the particular afternoon on which the boa constrictor had run out of wild boars. he consumed the kids—i beg your pardon; young as you are, i beg your pardon—i meant to say that he devoured the three young children, that he encompassed them after the constrictor manner.
"by and by, the witch missed her children and, induced by maternal instinct, went out looking for them, and so came to the abode of the constrictor. they had been on good enough terms and she approached him affably.
"'good morning, mr. constrictor,' said she.
"'good afternoon, mrs. witch,' said the constrictor.
"'have you seen my children?' asked the lady.[298]
"'i have not', said the constrictor.
"the witch was about to depart when a thought seemed to seize her and she turned just about half way, assuming what may be designated as a suddenly reflective attitude;
"'are you sure, mr. constrictor?' said she.
"'i am sure,' said he.
"only a person with nerves under absolute control could have been present on that occasion and considered unmoved the changes in the witch's face. the accumulative grimness of her countenance became something startling. she spoke slowly but her voice had that hard, low, even tone which we read about in novels.
"'what is the reason that you are so big in the middle?' said she.
"'i am not big in the middle, your eyes deceive you,' said he.
"'you are lying, mr. constrictor,' said she, 'and i'm going to make you tell the truth. i am going to make an incantation over and around and all about you that will give you some idea of what forces are at work in the universe.'
"then from somewhere about her skirt, she pulled out a broomstick, and waved it five times, and said; 'abracadabra, pentagon' and some[299] other things, and, of course, the performance had its effect and the constrictor had to tell the truth. he simply had to! he admitted the consumption of the three children.
"imagine the demeanor of the witch when she learned that her three children had been devoured by the constrictor! for a little time she was speechless and white in the face, then, as reason and the control of her powers returned, the malignant look which came was something that simply defies description. her voice, as she spoke to the constrictor this time, was shrill and raucous.
"'i am going to pronounce an anathema upon you,' she said, 'and i'm going to do it now. i am going to make you the same at both ends.'
"a very adroit and clever constrictor was this, and he said nothing. but he chuckled to himself: 'if she makes me the same at both ends, i will have more fun than ever. with a mouth at each end, i can eat twice as many wild boars and be twice as happy.' he coiled closer to the ground with a look of affected submission, and the witch went on with her anathema.
"it was a fine anathema, there was no question[300] about it. even the leaves on the trees about first turned brown, then crackled and then smoked, as she was making her few remarks. she completed the formula and departed, leaving the constrictor to become the same at both ends, and he lay there, still chuckling, waiting for his double-headedness and double enjoyment in the future.
"then came to him a sort of quivery feeling, and he knew that he was changing. it did not take more than an hour at the utmost, when that constrictor suddenly realized that he was the same at both ends, but—he did not have two heads! he had two tails! there he was, a great boa constrictor, sixty feet long, with a tail at each end. of course only one thing could happen to a boa constrictor with a tail at each end. he must starve to death, simply because he could not eat. day after day passed, and the constrictor grew less and less in dimensions, and, finally, the day came when there was only a little worm, smaller than an angle-worm. then the day came when there was no worm at all.
"and that is the end of the story, because there isn't any more worm!"
the last sentence of the tale was concluded.[301] silence prevailed for a moment or two, and then there was a gasp of delight and approval from erastus.
"that's bully!" he said. "will you tell me some more, some other time, mr. abercrombie?"
"certainly, my boy," said abercrombie. "it is well that we should become acquainted with natural history, and in the simple tales i tell you i shall endeavor at all times to introduce such information as will increase your store of knowledge. above all, we must get acquainted with natural history."
he paused. the boy had nothing to say. unfortunately, nobody else had anything to say. to abercrombie the silence seemed, in a vague way that he could not fully comprehend, destructive. there was something the matter with the atmosphere and he knew it. the gloaming had drifted into darkness, and he could no longer see either his prospective father-in-law or mother-in-law or his sweetheart. he knew only that, as an adviser of parents of the younger male offspring of the two who were also parents of his one object in life, he had flashed presumptuously in the pan, that, too, in the dimness of the gathering darkness, when people are most reflective and that[302] he had accomplished the possibility irretrievable.
the silence was broken at last by the voice of mrs. dobson. the voice was thin and didn't seem to really "break" the silence. it seemed to split it neatly.
"are those your ideas, mr. abercrombie, as to the sort of knowledge of natural history which should be conveyed to young children?"
"yes, i'd like to know, myself," added mr. dobson.
not a laugh, not a comment, not a sound came from the corner where sat miss frances dobson. she was strictly an aside.
abercrombie pondered through swift seconds. he was in what, in his own mind—so much are we addicted to the pernicious habit of thinking in the vernacular—'in a hole'. but, the man at bay has frequently proved a hero in a plain north american way. abercrombie arose to the occasion!
"it may be," he said, "that in the telling to erastus of these simple tales, i have not followed precisely the practices of those generally engaged in the teaching of youth. it may be that i have not instructed him in the manner in which i might have done had i allowed a[303] few years to lapse and my beard to grow longer and had shaved my upper lip. it may be that in the tales i have told erastus there are certain discrepancies, synchronisms, and anachronisms. my pictures may have possessed a shade too much of the impressionist character. but what of it? what i wanted to do was to give erastus a general idea of black forests, witches, and boa constrictors."
silence reigned again, and reigned very thoroughly for some time. then up rose the modern young woman.
no one in the room could see any one else, but all could hear. what the parents heard was the sound of light footsteps along the porch and then, after a pause;
"you're a ridiculous gentleman,—don't pull me so!"
what they heard also was a thoughtful and generally commendatory remark from erastus:
"say, old man, you're all right. you're the stuff!"
they heard no more at the time. the next morning was a fine morning—there have been lots of them—and, as breakfast was about ending, there took place a conversation between her parents and miss dobson—a conversation[304] inaugurated by them but ended, decidedly, by her.
given a young woman, the only one in the family and possessed of character, she can usually make her parents "know their place," though doing all this, of course, with kindness and consideration. miss dobson and abercrombie are formally engaged. the fortunate but alarmed young man had not realized what would happen when the reinforcements came up.
