Five Hundred Dollars Part 3

"Half flood about five," said Captain Bennett; "you have n't any great time to spare."

Green went to the sh.o.r.e, rattled a skiff down over the beach to the water, and pulled away, with quick, short strokes. First the skiff was cut off from sight by the marsh-bank; then the rower's head alone was seen above the tall brown gra.s.ses; and then he pulled around the bend and was lost to view behind a ma.s.s of flaming woodbine; and still, in the distance, could be heard across the water the rattle of his oars in the thole-pins.

"Well, Silas?" said Captain Bennett.

"Well?" said Uncle Silas.

"Oh! I 've nothing to say," said Captain Bennett

"Nor I," said Uncle Silas.

"Calvin's always seemed to be a good-hearted fellow," said Captain Philo, "since he's lived here."

"Oh, yes," said Captain Bennett; "seems to feel for David surprisingly.

Told me all about the losing of the money, told my wife, told my boy, told Uncle Joe, told our minister, told the Doctor, told Zimri Cobb, told Cyrus Ba.s.s, told Captain John Wells, told Patrick Coan; and proves it out to 'em all that 't was the Jew that did it."

"Kind of zealous, like the Apostle Paul supplying the pulpit to the Gentiles," said the Deacon; "won't let alone of a man, till he gives in 't the Hebrew's in the wrong."

"But I 've nothing to say," said Captain Bennett.

"Oh, no, nor I," said Uncle Silas.

From the distance, borne on the gentle breeze, a click as even as a pulse-beat came faintly over the water.

"He may be a good-hearted fellow," said the Deacon, "but I don't know as I hanker to be the man that's pulling that skiff. But then,--that may be simply and solely because I prefer a hair-cloth rocker to a skiff."

"Delia," said David Prince to his wife, one afternoon, "Calvin Green has bought four tickets to that stereopticon show that's going to be in the West Church to-night, and he gave me two, for you and me."

"I don't want his tickets," she replied, ironing away at the sunny window.

"Now, what's the use of talking that way?" said her husband, "as much as to say--"

"I have my opinion," she said.

"Well," said her husband, "I think it's a hard way to use a man, just because he happened to be by when I lost my money."

"I 'll tell you," said Delia, stopping her work; "we will go, and all I 'll say is this--you see if after the lecture's over he does n't find a text in it to talk about our money. Now, you just wait and see--that's all."

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the lecturer, standing by a great circle of light thrown on the wall, behind the pulpit, "I have now, with a feeling of awe befitting this sacred place, thus given you, in the first part of my lecture, a succinct view of the origin, rise, and growth of the globe on which, as the poet has justly said, 'we dwell.' I have shown you--corroborating Scripture--the earth, without form and void, the awful monsters of the Silurian age, and Man in the Garden of Eden.

"I now invite you to journey with me--as one has said--'across the continent.'

"Travelling has ever been viewed as a means of education. Thus Athenian sages sought the learning of the Orient. Thus may we this evening, without toil or peril, or expense beyond the fifteen cents already incurred for the admission-fee, journey in spirit from the wild Atlantic to the sunset coast. In the words of the sacred lyrist, Edgar A. Poe, 'My country, 't is of thee,' that I shall now display some views.

"Of course we start from Boston. On the way to New York, we will first pause to view the scene where Putnam galloped down a flight of steps, beneath the hostile fire. See both mane and coat-tails flying in the wind, and the eyes of steed and rider wildly dilated with excitement.

"Next we pause in Brooklyn. And from my immense variety of scenes in the City of Churches, I choose the firemen's monument in Greenwood Cemetery.

'Here they lie low who raised their ladders high; Here they still live,--for heroes cannot die!'

[A voice: "How many are buried there?"]

"I should say, at a venture, eighteen. [A rustle of sympathy among the women.]

"Pa.s.sing on, and coming thence to the metropolis of New York, I am greatly embarra.s.sed, so vast is the richness and variety of views. But I will show first the 'Five Points.' [Great eagerness, and cries, "Down front!"] Of late, philanthropy and religion, walking in sweet converse, hand in hand, have relieved the horrors of this region, and now one may walk there comparatively safe. [Sudden cessation of interest]

"I will give even another view of the metropolis: a charming scene in Central Park. [Here wavered dimly on the screen five bushes, and a nursery-maid with a baby-carriage.] From this exquisite picture you may gain some faint idea of the charms of that Paradise raised by the wand of taste and skill in a waste of arid sands.

"Pa.s.sing westward, I next present the Suspension Bridge at Niagara, erected by drawing over the majestic stream a cord, a small rope, then a wire, until the whole vast framework was complete. The idea was taken from the spider's web. Thus the humblest may guide the highest; and I love to recall, in this connection, that the lamented Lincoln, some years before signing the Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation, heard me lecture on slavery, in Peoria.

"Next we come to Cleveland; and our attention is seized by three cannons taken in the famous naval battle on the lake. Every visitor pauses here, and with uncovered head and eyes suffused with tears recalls the sacrifices of the Fathers.

"Next we view Chicago the morning after the fire; on every hand are blackened ruins,--painful proofs of the vicissitudes of human fortune!

[A voice: "I was there at the time."] I am delighted to know it Such spontaneous corroboration from the audience is to the lecturer's heart as a draught from the well of Baca. [Laughter, and a voice: "What Baker?"]

"But, in order to cross so broad a continent, we must not dally, and next I show you the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City, the seat of a defiant system of sin. All things, however, have their uses, and I can recommend this religion to any young lady present who does not find it easy to secure a helpmeet. [Appreciative laughter.]

"And now, for a view of the Pacific States, I choose two of the famed Big Trees. Judge of them by the two men who stand, like the Widow's mites, beside them. These trees are called 'Father and Daughter.' [A voice: "Which is Father, and which is Daughter?"] I am not informed, but from their appearance I judge that the nearer is the Father. [Derisive laughter.]

"And now we approach a climax.

"When the Ten Thousand, in their storied march, reached at last the blue waters of the Euxine, thrilled with joy they loudly cried: 'The Sea! The Sea!' So we, travellers likewise, reach at last the Western Ocean; and for a striking scene upon its waters, I present a Pacific Mail steamer at her dock in the harbor of San Francisco. In the left foreground is a Chinese laundry. And now I can hardly restrain myself from pa.s.sing on to Asia; for imagination, taking fire, beckons to Niphon and the Flowery Kingdom. But remorseless Time says no, and we pause at the Golden Gate.

"In closing, now, I will, as is usual, give one or two moral views, relieved by others of a somewhat playful character.

"First is Napoleon's grave. He who held Europe struggling in his hand, died a prisoner in solitudes remote, far from home endearments.

"Next you see Daniel Lambert, whose greatness was of a more solid cast.

Less grasping in his pretensions than Napoleon, he lived an honored life, and died, I understand, among his relatives.

"Next is a picture of the guillotine, calling up thoughts of severed heads from memory's cloisters. On the left you see a ghastly head; on the right the decapitated trunk. By the victim stand the b.l.o.o.d.y actors in the tragedy. Ladies and gentlemen! When I review the awful guilt of Marat and Robespierre, humbly do I give thanks that I have been kept from yielding, like them, to fierce ambition and l.u.s.t of power, and that I can lay my head upon a peaceful pillow at my home in Fall River.

"Next is the Serenade. Part one: The Spanish lover with bow-knot shoes, pointed hat, and mantle over shoulder, stands, with his lute, on the covered water-b.u.t.t, while at the cas.e.m.e.nt above is his lady's charming face. Part two: The head of the water-b.u.t.t has given way, and the angry father, from his window, beholds a scene of luckless misery.

"I turn now to a more pleasing view,--the Village Blacksmith. The mighty man is at his work, and by a triumph of art I am enabled to show his fine physique in action: now you see his arm uplifted,--and now the hammer is on the iron. Up--down--up--down. [A voice: "There are two right arms!"] That arises from some slight defect in the arrangement of the light; the uplifted arm does not entirely vanish when the lowered arm appears. But to the thoughtful observer, such slight contrasts only heighten enjoyment.

"Ladies and gentlemen! A single word in closing. Our transcontinental journey this evening ended at the Golden Gate. When life's journey ends, may we not so pause, but, as the poet Judson Backus sweetly sings:--

'May we find an angel wait To lead us through the "golden gate."'

"Meanwhile, adieu."

David Prince and his wife walked slowly home in the clear, cold moonlight.

"Did you notice," said Delia, "how the man kept saying that he didn't know just what to pick out, to show? Well, I heard the Kelley boy, that helped at the lamps, say that they showed every identical picture there was. I suppose they are a lot of odds and ends he picked up at an auction."