The Old Stone House Part 9

I'm death on piratical cats, And, mangled and gory, The bodies of hundreds of rats Testify to my glory.

My duty I try to fulfil Whenever I know it; If I do not accomplish your will You've only to show it; Yet, though I'm thus honest and square In all my dealings, It is plain that you are not aware A dog has his feelings.

If master is kept in at school Why must I feel the stick?

If sweetheart is distant and cool, Why should I get a kick?

If Turk steals the mutton for dinner, And goes off to gulp it, Why screen HIM, the solemn old sinner, And call ME the culprit?

And if I am fond of the sand-banks, And fresh garden-soil, Why should you molest with your brickbats My hard, honest toil?

And why should you call it a 'dusty muss,'

And make me abandon My labor? Remember, 'DE GUSTIBUS NON EST DISPUTANDUM!'

The world should remember a canine Has a heart in his breast; If you knew all you never could say mine Was worse than the rest.

Then help me to gain the position To which I aspire, And grant this poor dog-gerel pet.i.tion Of Pete Trone, Esquire!'"

"Excellent! excellent!" cried the audience, as Rose finished reading the verses.

"I propose we have the hero in person," said Mr. Gay.

So Tom went out, and after some delay returned with Mr. P. Trone, who had been hastily attired in his red suit for the occasion, four red pantaloons, a red coat, and little cap with a red feather. He was received with applause, and, after being regaled with macaroons, went through all his tricks, concluding with a slow horn pipe to the tune of "Lochinvar."

About midnight the guests took their departure, and the cousins a.s.sembled in the parlor for a few moments before going to bed.

"I think the sanctum was real fun," said Gem; "but you did not read all the papers, Hugh?"

"No; it would have taken too much time," answered Hugh; "what a good thing you made of those hands, Bessie. We must keep the drawings.

Why!--where is Sibyl's?"

"Mr. Leslie took it away;--he laid a paper over it and put it in his pocket, just as though it belonged to him," said Tom; "but of all the contributions, _I_ liked Mr. Gay's 'Chicago' the best."

"And I liked Mr. Leslie's story," said Aunt Faith; "it is singular he never before mentioned his army life."

"Oh! he isn't one of the talking kind like Gideon Fish," said Hugh.

"Gid is always telling everybody about his 'emotional nature,' and his inner 'consciousness.' He seems to think his mental condition, a subject of public interest, and constantly sends out bulletins for the benefit of anxious friends. His ma.n.u.script was poetical, but I took good care to hide it in the bottom of the basket. By the way, Sibyl, how did you like Graham Marr's Lyric? Pretty deep, wasn't it?"

Sibyl was arranging the books and music in their proper places. "You know I am not myself poetical," she answered calmly; "but I like Mr.

Marr, and therefore I like his verses, Hugh."

"Oh, Sibyl! surely not so well as Mr. Leslie's story?" said Bessie earnestly.

"Poetry and prose cannot be compared, neither can Mr. Marr and Mr.

Leslie be compared," said Sibyl; "they are very different."

"I should think they were!" said Hugh.

"And tastes are different also," added Sibyl, as she finished her task. "Good-night all."

The cousins dispersed, while Aunt Faith turned out the lights. "I almost think she likes that Marr, after all," whispered Hugh to Bessie as they went up the stairs; "she was with him all the evening."

"Let me tell you, Hugh Warrington, that if Sibyl likes anybody, it is Mr. Leslie," returned Bessie emphatically.

"When did you discover that, Brownie?"

"I have always suspected it, but to-night I saw it plainly," replied Bessie.

"To-night! Why, she was with Marr all the time!"

"Men are as blind as bats," said Bessie scornfully; "good-night."

CHAPTER IV.

HUGH.

One bright morning towards the last of June, Bessie and Hugh were together in the studio; Bessie was working at her picture, and her cousin, seated in an old arm-chair, was gazing dreamily out through the open window over the pasture, and grove, and the blue lake beyond.

"I think life is very beautiful," he said, after a long pause. "I have no patience with people who are always sighing and complaining, always talking of the cold world, the hard lot of man, and the sufferings of humanity. I always felt sure that they themselves have no taste for beauty, no affection for their friends, or enthusiasm for great deeds, and, judging others by themselves, of course they are always looking for double motives in the kindest actions, and hypocrisy in the most unselfish impulses."

"What has brought these thoughts to the surface, Hugh?"

"The beauty of the sky and the lake. How can any one look at them and not be happy?"

"If you were very poor, Hugh, you might not have time to look at them," said Bessie, taking up the other side.

"Why not? One can work and not be blind! I expect to work all my life, but I am going to be happy too."

"But suppose you should lose all those you love,--suppose they should all die," said Bessie, pursuing the argument.

"Even then I should be happy on such a day and with such a sky. I cannot understand how people who believe G.o.d's word can brood over their sorrows in such a gloomy way. Are not the dead with their great Creator? Can we not trust them to Him? Why, when I look up into this blue sky, I can almost see them there. My mother,--how often I think of her; not with sadness, always with pleasure, and a bright antic.i.p.ation of meeting her again. Bessie, if I should die, you must not mourn for me. Think of me as gone into another world where sooner or later you will come too."

"Why do you say such things, Hugh?" said Bessie, laying down her brush with her eyes full of tears.

"Because they happened to come into my mind, I suppose. Why, you are not crying! Nonsense, Brownie! look at me. Do I look like dying? Am I not a young giant, with every prospect of outliving all my family? I fully expect to live to a hale old age, and you have no idea how full and busy my life is going to be. Go to work again, and I will tell you all my plans; I have never told them to any one before. In the first place, I shall go, of course, to New York, and enter Cousin John's establishment. I shall work with all my might, and, with the aid of my relations.h.i.+p, I shall no doubt be able to obtain a good position there in the course of a few years. Gradually I shall mount higher and higher, I shall make myself indispensable to the firm, and at the end of ten years you will see me a partner; at the end of twenty, a rich man. I shall then retire from active business, and spend part of my time in travelling, although I intend to be very domestic, also. I shall buy beautiful pictures, choice books, and fine statues; I shall give private concerts, and, if possible, have a small orchestra of my own; I shall entertain my friends in the easiest and most charming manner. In addition to my city home, I shall have a yacht for summer cruises, and a pretty cottage on the seash.o.r.e, and I shall invite pleasant people to visit me; not the rich and the fas.h.i.+onable merely, but others who are shut out from all such luxuries, young authors, poor artists, musicians, and many others who are obliged to work night and day while their intellectual inferiors live in ease. Oh! I shall have a beautiful, happy life, Bessie. Do you not think so?"

"Yes, Hugh. But will it be so easy to get rich?"

"Twenty years of hard labor and earnest application will do it, with the opening I have. I suppose it sounds conceited, but I have unbounded confidence in myself. What man has done man can do, you know; and why am not I the man?"

"I think you can do anything, Hugh."

"Thank you, Miss Flattery. But, really Bessie, there is something stirring within me that makes me feel sure I can take my place in the world, and make my mark among men. I do not, mean that I am wiser or stronger than my fellows, but only, that my courage is indomitable, and that I am determined to succeed. I _will succeed_!"

"Of course you will," said Bessie, laying down her brush again, and looking at her cousin's kindling eyes and flushed cheeks with sympathetic excitement.

"And then," pursued Hugh, "when I have got my money, I shall not h.o.a.rd it; I shall make others as well as myself happy with it. I shall use it worthily; I shall not be ashamed to render my account at last. Oh, Bessie, it is a glorious future! Life is so beautiful,--so full of happiness!" Hugh paused, and his eyes wandered over the blue horizon; Bessie went on with her painting, and there was silence in the studio for many minutes. At length Aunt Faith's voice was heard at the foot of the stairs; "Hugh! Hugh!" she called.

"Coming, aunt," said Hugh, opening the door and going down to the second story; "do you want me?"