Watch Yourself Go By Part 30

"Well, ef ye never git hit harder then Eli hit ye, ye'll need no poultices," consoled Lin. "Why don't ye gin Redstone Skule-house another try? Charley Wagner an' everybody else sed ef ye'd go back that ye'd make all back ye wus shy afore."

Alfred was on his way in less time than it takes to record it, notifying the boys that they would go to Redstone School-house next Sat.u.r.day night. The school-house secured, the music was the next important matter. Charley Wagner had a sore throat, so he informed Alfred. All others approached were affected in the same way. It looked very much as if the exhibition would have to be given up.

Cousin Charley suggested that Alfred go to Merrittstown and hire the blind Hostetler family. All were blind excepting John, who had one eye.

There were three brothers and a sister--two violins, a double ba.s.s violin, the girl sang and in time with the music manipulated two large corn-cobs, much in the manner of a minstrel's cracking the bones. A contract was entered into with the family whereby they were to receive ten dollars for the night, and their suppers.

The school-house was packed, there was some thirty-seven dollars in all.

When the performance was nearing the end, Cousin Charley made his way behind the curtain and in a whisper informed Alfred that the constable had seized all the money and properties of the minstrels and that he, Alfred, was to be arrested and put in jail. Alfred's acting was not so spirited as in the opening. Those who were aware of the load that oppressed him, sympathized and condoned with him until he was nearly unmanned.

The suit came up before a justice of the peace. Eli's creditors had an attorney, Alfred and the minstrels had none. The plea that Eli was not interested in the venture, that it was Alfred's show, was offset by the fact that Alfred, in his dealings, informed every one that the show belonged to Eli. And there was the advertising matter. Did not all bear the words, "Eli, Owner and Manager." Alfred had designedly and against his pride ordered Eli's name placed on the bills to relieve himself of all responsibility and worry.

The evidence was conclusive. At least that's what the lawyer, Isaac Bailey, said. Lin said: "It was boun' to go agin Alfurd. Limpy Bailey cud make black white an' Squire Wilkinson's agin' evurythin' but the Methudis' Church."

There were numerous little bills unpaid, including five dollars to the blind family. Chapters of truths and unfounded rumors, were in the mouths of the gossips as to how the troupe stranded in West Virginia, compelled to walk home, traveling as deck pa.s.sengers on the steamboat.

It even went the rounds that they would have starved if George Warner had not fed them surrept.i.tiously on their way home.

Alfred was crestfallen. He was ashamed to visit his old haunts in the town. He evolved plan after plan only to be persuaded by Lin to abandon them as soon as they were broached to her. The father rubbed salt into his wounded feelings at every reference he made to the minstrel business and the lowness of those connected with it, holding Eli up as a terrible example of what minstrel life would bring a man to.

Berated, brow-beaten, driven to the wall, Alfred answered his father in kind following one of his most bitter arraignments of show people: "Father, what are you talking about? Something you know nothing of. Eli was not a showman, not a minstrel man. He was only with an amateur minstrel show eight days. Nothing in his a.s.sociations made him lower than he was before he left."

"Then why did you go with him?" sternly demanded the parent.

"I wanted to make money."

"Yes, you wanted to make trouble and disgrace for your poor mother and myself," was the father's rejoinder.

"How sorry I am I did not do differently. How sorry I am that this ever happened and I planned it all so differently. I felt I was protecting myself and I'm into it deeper than before." Thus would Alfred reason with himself.

But the judgment of regret is a silent witness of the heart to the conviction that some things are inevitable. With Alfred it was a confession hard to make--another battle lost that seemed won. The words, "disgrace to the family, to your mother and myself," kept ringing in his ears and he resolved to leave the town, go to the oil regions, go west, go anywhere, get rich, come back and make his people retract all their cruel reflections.

Lin adjured him to "furgit the sore spot; es long es ye pick hit, it'll never heal. Why, ye cud go to Capt. Abrams, Sammy Steele ur Joe Thornton an' borry enuf to pay every durn cent ye owe; though ye don't owe nuthin', everybody ses so thet knows enythin' bout hit. Thet Eli's in fur hit all. He ought to pay hit. Thur's thet blin' family, he'll nefer hev no luck ef he don't pay 'em."

This allusion to the blind family was the last stone. Alfred felt that he and he alone was responsible for the amount due the blind family.

This obligation brought him more regrets than all his troubles. He crept upstairs, he fell on his knees and prayed, yes, prayed fervently, earnestly. No penitent, no prisoner, no saint, no sinner ever beseeched guidance and a.s.sistance with a more contrite heart.

It was announced that Uncle Thomas was to preach to the young people of his congregation. Alfred went early. He was ill at ease. He imagined all the congregation gazing at him and when two or more bent their heads and whispered, he imagined that it was he who was under discussion.

The song services ended, the minister arose, opened the Bible and very slowly read the text selected--"Honor thy father and thy mother."

Raising his eyes from the book, looking over the congregation as if to select some one to whom to direct his words, he repeated, "Honor thy father and mother, which is the first commandment with promise. Honor thy father and mother, that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest live long on earth."

Then followed a lengthy discourse as to the duties of children to their parents.

As the sermon progressed, the preacher said: "Rebuke not an elder but entreat him as a father. Rebuke not an elder but treat all your elders with that respect you would others should exhibit toward your parents.

Show me the young man who is disrespectful to his parents or elders, disregards their admonitions and I will show you a boy who is without the pale of content."

Uncle Tom seemed to look straight at Alfred as he let fall the words.

Alfred felt sure that he referred to the quarrel between himself and Uncle Ned.

In the next quotation Alfred was slightly rea.s.sured: "An angry man stirreth up strife and aboundeth in transgressions, for he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."

Alfred said to himself, he is touching up Uncle Ned. He wanted to turn his head around to see how the Uncle took his medicine, but the preacher had his attention. Alfred was sitting erect, looking straight at the speaker. His att.i.tude seemed to say: "If you are going to hit them all I can stand it but don't hold me up as a lone example of all that's sinful in this congregation."

Then the speaker waded into the popular frivolities of the times; cards, dice, gambling, drinking, dancing and other pastimes. As Alfred was immune from all of the above sins he sat up still more straight and even ventured to look around at some of the society young folks of the congregation. He began to feel that Uncle Tom was a very good preacher.

After a moment's pause as if to pull himself together for the final onslaught upon all that was sinful, the preacher resumed: "I do not hesitate for a moment to condemn show life and all who are aware of its iniquity that engage in it. The circus, the theatre, the actors therein, the proprietors, those who, for sordid gain, place these terrible temptations before our young people." Alfred felt himself sinking in the pew. "I do not hesitate to condemn the theatre as one of the broadest roads that leads to destruction. Fascinating no doubt to the young of susceptible and impressionable feelings, on that account all the more dangerous. Show life is a delusion. It holds out hopes never realized; it poisons the mind and diseases the soul; it takes innocence and happiness and repays with suffering and misery. It separates families; it desolates homes; it makes wanderers on the face of the earth of those who are allured to it. Once let a young man acquire a taste for show life and yield himself up to its wicked gratifications; that young man is in great danger of losing his reputation. He is rus.h.i.+ng headlong to certain ruin."

Alfred was sitting straight up. His cheeks burned like fire but there was no shame in his face, he even looked about him; he met the gaze of those who stared and held it until the eyes of the others dropped.

The preacher continued: "All the evils that can blight a young life, waste his property, corrupt his morals, blast his hopes, impair his health and wreck his soul, lurk in the purlieus of this abominated show life that is threatening some of the best beloved and most talented of our young people. Folly consists in drawing false conclusions from just principles; and that is what the theatre does. Men may live fools but fools they cannot die. The instruction of fools is folly; therefore, the actor cannot teach wisdom or morality. He that refuseth instruction despiseth his own soul; but he that heareth reproof getteth understanding."

The parting admonition, delivered to the young people in general and, Alfred felt, to himself in particular, was: "Choose a good name; a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches and loving favor rather than silver and gold."

Alfred felt that the latter part of the sermon was directed at his ambitions to become a clown, get rich and buy a farm. He wondered who had informed the preacher of his ambitions.

When the congregation stood up and sang, Alfred's voice could be heard above those around him. When the plate was pa.s.sed he placed his last dollar on the coppers and dimes on it.

When the minister requested that all the young people who desired the prayers of the congregation for their future guidance, stand up, Alfred remained seated. There was no contriteness in his heart; no impression had been made upon him. He forgot his surroundings; he felt no embarra.s.sment that all stared at him, their looks seeming to say: "Well, how did you like it? Hit you pretty hard, did it not?"

Alfred forgot the sermon, forgot the surroundings; other thoughts swayed his mind. "I'll make Uncle Tom, I'll make this congregation, I'll make this whole town acknowledge my worth. I've not done anything I'm ashamed of." Then the five dollars he owed the blind family flashed upon his mind. "I'll pay them, I'll pay every cent I owe."

He pa.s.sed out of the church unconscious of the gaze of a half hundred young men lined up on either side of the door waiting for the girls to run the gauntlet, each one offering an arm to the girl he fancied; if rejected he was termed "sacked" and the rejected one felt the ridicule of his fellows for many days thereafter. Lucy Fowler "sacked" John Albright that night. Lin was so full of this affair that she seemed to forget the sermon in her eagerness to recount the other incident. Alfred interrupted her by sneakingly inquiring as to how she liked the sermon.

Lin forthwith straightened up: "Well, ef I wanted tu tell jes what I thot, I'd say he gin ye particular fits, but preachin' is preachin', n.o.body takes. .h.i.t to tha.r.s.elves, they jes think hit's fur everybody. Now I reckon ye think the hull blast wus fer ye. S'posen he'd preached on dram drinkin'. I reckon the fellur thet guzzles wud take hit all tu hisself. No, sonny, religun's fur everybody an' ye kan't thro preachin'

bricks ye don't hit somebody. So don't take a foolish powder kase a preacher workin' at his trade handed ye a few. Hit done ye good, ye never looked so purty in yer life, yer cheeks wus red es cherries an' ye sung like a exorter."

Alfred asked: "Didn't you think he took a shot at Uncle Ned?"

"Well, ef he did he never teched him fur Ned never winced. Ye know them church members never take nuthin' to tha.r.s.elves; no, they jes believe when the preacher ladles out spiritual feed hits fur sinners on the outside uf the church. They think they're above suspishun. Ye know the Pharisee thanked Gawd he wus not like other peepul, 'an he was _jes awful_. Of course a great many say thet the sermon fit yer kase. Hit's the best praise ye ever got, hit's better'n a piece in the newspapers.

Thur's a heap uf peepul in this town never knowed ye amounted to enuf to be preached about. Es long es ye hain't stole nuthin' er caused anybody misery er shame, yer on the safe side. Yer troubles hain't nuthin', ye jes think they are. Uncle Tom's got more trouble on his min' now en ye ever had."

"I'll bet if I ever get out of this trouble, I'll steer clear of it hereafter," mused Alfred.

"Yes ye will. Let me tell ye, sonny, the minnet ye begin to feel yer troubles at a end ye'll begin to look fer more en ye wouldn't be wuth cracklins ef ye didn't. I wouldn't gin four cents fer a man thet didn't git into truble; hit trys 'em out an' ye ken tell what they're made uf.

Look at all the men ye know who don't know enuf to make truble. What do they amount to? Why they ain't got enuf grit in 'em to suck alum."

She continued:

"Onct thur wus a new preacher k.u.m to a place to take charge of a church.

A member uf the church called tu pay his respeks an' afore he left he said, confidential like: 'Parson, ye preach yer first sermon Sunday. Now I want to tell ye this fer yer own good: We hev a good many members thet plays ole sledge, ten cents a corner. Thar our best payin' members an' I wouldn't, ef I wus ye, say anythin' 'bout card playin' in my fust sermon, they mought think ye wus p.u.s.s.enal.' Another member called. After talkin' 'bout the weather an' crops a bit, he sed: 'Several uf our best payin' members sell whiskey wholesale, they're agin dram drinkin' but ef ye preach agin whiskey right away it mought make 'em mad, so I wouldn't say anythin' agin whiskey in yer fust sermun nex' Sunday.' The preacher began to git a little shaky but he thanked the man. A little later anuther member called. When 'bout tu leave he sed: 'Parson, ye preach yer fust sermon Sunday; I want ye to start right. We hed a good many dances through the winter, and our peepul is very fond uf dancin'.

Thur's two ur three big dances to k.u.m off soon. These members thet dance is all willun workers an' liberal givers; ef ye pitch into dancin' en frolikin' in yer fust sermon hit's sure to raise a click in the church thet'll be agin ye. Therefore I wouldn't mention anythin' 'bout dancin'

in my fust sermon ef I wus ye.' Soon another called. After he'd talked a spell, he k.u.m to the pint: 'Parson, we got some mighty fine hosses an'

most uf 'em belongs to the leadin' members uf yer church an' we has hoss races an' we bets on 'em, an' ef ye preach 'bout anythin' uf thet kind in yer fust sermon it'll hurt the hoss bizness an' put some uf the best members uf the congregashun agin ye.' The preacher raised his hans in holy horror, as he said: 'I can't preach agin the frivolities of fashun, dancin' an' sich; I can't preach agin drunkenness; I can't preach agin gamblin'. Fur heavin's sake, what kin I preach about?' 'I'll tell ye,' volunteered the caller quickly, 'preach about the Jews, jes gin 'em h.e.l.l, thar's only one in town.'"

Lin concluded, "Maybe Uncle Tom figgered the same way on yer kase," and she roared with laughter as she gave Alfred a playful push.

After the boasting Alfred had indulged in previous to going on tour with Eli, he could not face his friends. He borrowed five dollars from Lin and in a careless way, informed the family that the next day he would go up to Uncle Jake's for a couple of weeks' visit. He packed up his belongings, bade the family an affectionate good-bye and ran away, like many another coward has done before and since. He was not in debt to any extent, it was simply his vanity, a false pride that would not permit him to face the little world in which he lived. Those who should have advised him censured; those who had influence for good held aloof. He went to a big city, to Pittsburg, to seek his fortune among strangers, return rich, reward all who were kind to him and humble all who had lost faith in him.

He went aboard the boat bound for Pittsburg. He slept soundly and was only awakened by the clanging of bells and the blowing of whistles.