Litchfield Enquirer

MISCELLANY.

From the American Review,

KATE ROSSELL.

CHAPTER FROM THE FIRST PART OF MY

LIFE.

It was strange that Kate Russell and I

should quarrel.

Strange that, after weeks

of fondness—after our daily wanderings in

wood and meadow—after we had christened

every green bank that the brooks baptized,

and consecrated every shaded knoll

with some memory of love—after all glad

influences of earth and sky had bound our

hearts together—a little word of jealous

anger should have had power to burst the

bonds and free us from our sweet slavery.

But so it was.

Long we sat together in

the twilight, one October evening, whispering

bright dreams of the future, promising

never to be parted, and vowing that doubt,

and change, and coldness should never enter

our true hearts; and some twelve short

hours thereafter, a banished lover, with an

empty stomach, and, as I fancied, an empty

heart, I was packed close in one corner of

the Old Colony stage, and hastening towards

the new Athens.

It was a dreary day, the dismalest since

the deluge. One of winter's Texan Rangers,

a New England north-easter, had got

the better of 'brave old autumn,' and was

fast banishing bird and flower—everything

that dared to wear a look of cheerfulness—

from his master's new dominion. It was

not a day for reflecting on deeds that need

repentance. The rain trickled down the

closed windows, and hid the world from my

sight. The passengers were gloomy and

silent as at a funeral. If one spoke it was

with a sigh and a shudder. The wind

howled through the gaping crannies of the

stage, like a disembodied spirit. The mud

fell on the roof, with the dull sound of clods

upon a coffin; and long before we reached

Quincy bridge, I had repented most bitterly

of my hasty and foolish anger.

It was not for pride that I did not turn

back. Men may be proud when the sun

shines, but an east wind brings humility.

On that day Lucifer himself might have

been dragged about like a whipped dog. No,

pride was not in my thoughts, but I felt

that we could never more renew our old

sympathy. The bitter words we had spoken

must always remain a barrier between

our hearts. The rudest remnant of

common sense would have taught me that

we had quarreled only because we were

a little lower than the angels; that Kate

was under the same cloud that shrouded

me, and that a quick return, one kiss,

one word of love, would heal the wound

forever.

But it is not permitted that love and

common sense shall dwell together in men's

brains, so I held my course, gloomily thinking

of all that had chanced since I traveled

that road before: of the new wishes, and

pleasures, and hopes that had sprung up in

my heart, and of the sudden storm that had

blasted them all.

Turn back, dear reader, with those

thoughts of mine, I pray thee:

Just before the Indian summer, my good

friend, Frank Russell, had promised me a

fortnight's shooting in the Old Colony—

for thus fondly do the good people of Plymouth

name their weather-worn county. We

were to visit his uncle, the Colonel, and

much he boasted to my willing ear of the

old gentleman's hospitality. Something

there was, too, in praise of his cousin Kate's

beauty, but that I minded less.

We were nearly ready for our journey,

when suddenly Satan or Momus, or some

other of the subterraneans, crazed Frank's

governor with the vain hope that his son

might make something in the world, if cut

loose from his old associations. Speedily

to coin this into reality, he shipped poor

Frank, unwarned, without one farewell call,

or parting supper, to New York, there, from

the bad eminence of a stool in Front street

to wing his flight to usefulness, distinction

and a plum.

I was not to be baulked of my sport, and

a day or two after Frank's disappearance,

mounted the Plymouth stage, beside Ben

Stebbins, the driver, and started down

the road at the decent rate of six miles an

hour.

Speed is reckoned by miles and minutes

on that route, now-a-days; but the 'way of

life' was then a pleasant walk—not a steeple

chase that steam has made it since. Sensible

people were laughing at the vagaries

of a madcap fellow, named Fulton, who pretended

to have made a boat move without

oar or sail. Old sea dogs wagged their

heads, and reckoned that she went down the

stream.

We pay dearly for these new inventions

that men find out, and, for steam, we have

bartered away a race of great souled men,

yclept stage drivers; universal philanthropists,

different in mark and number from

those of our days; men whose hearts had

no opportunity to close, whose daily business

it was to ride chatting and laughing,

stealing secret kisses, leaving kind messages,

and dropping love-letters and presents

of game and city finery, through miles of

sunny woodland.

But, alas for the noble craft! The men

of the long whip and many coats, the oracles

of the wayside inn, the rulers of the

world—'if all the world's a stage'—are fast

passing away. Yet are they booked for a

glorious immortality. 'Their lines have

fallen in pleasant places' Tony Weller

will keep the road till 'the last pike' is

paid, and the last man set down in paradise.

Of this race, so full of the milk of human

kindness, Ben Stebbins was, like Sir

John the very best. Still more like Sir

John, he was 'five fingers thick on the ribs,

and, in that goodly frame there was not a

nerve or muscle that did not vibrate with

good humor. Well it was for me, that I

soon appropriated a niche in his heart to

myself.

The Colonel's house was but a few miles

from Plymouth. Ben pointed it out to me

as we approached, and, peering through

the rows of lofty elms that hid it from the

road, my eyes fell on a lovely girl, who was

hastening towards us; her dark brown curls

that has no counterpart in nature, no rainbow's

wing, or summer sky, to halo the poet

to a smile, and so has passed unsung by

the passionate tribe

That's the Colonel's darter,' said Ben

—a fact which I had guessed many a second

before. It was the first time that ever

woman's beauty had quickened my heart,

and in a moment I wished Frank's father a

life-time of affection for having separated

me from so lovely a companion. She had

a basket to be taken to Plymouth, and as I

sat on the side of the coach nearest her, she

reached it to me. My eyes were fixed on

her beautiful face, and I groped about for

the charge like a blind man; of course I

missed it, and it fell strewing the ground

with needle books, thimbles, scissors, and

all the indefinite armor of a lady's work

box. She looked half vexed, half amused,

at my awkwardness, and abashed for the

first time in my life, I leaped to the ground

gathered too quickly for me to summon

to repair the fault. The articles were

enough of my scattered wits to say anything

pretty to her dark eyes, but one little spool

was so considerate as to roll apart from the

rest, and it being the last of the group, our

hands met upon it. Thrilled by the touch,

I looked into her eyes, as, for a moment,

they were turned towards mine. Kind

thoughts travel quick between young hearts

and, though she turned hastily away, I saw

a smile dimple her flushed cheek. The

next instant she was gone. The victor

had fled, and the vanquished held the field.

The next morning the wind was in the

south, and sportsman like, I rose before the

day. But clouded skies had lost their

charm. There had been anarchy in my

dreams and a revolution in my brain.—

King Nimrod had abdicated, and Cupid

the sans culotte, had assumed the directorate.

I picked a flint and then my teeth,

I snooded a hook and caught my thumb,

I put on my hunting toggery, and put it

off again, and went back to my bed, and

lay, half dreaming, half thinking of cottages

in the green wood and Kate Russells in

muslin, of palaces in the city and Kate

Russells in satin, of altars and flames, arrows

and rings, till, at the sound of the

bell, I rose up determined to leave birds to

their boughs and fishes to their brooks, 'and

to look on Kate Russell again with all

speed.

Now there would have been nothing improper

in my walking over to the Colonel's

and introducing myself like a gentleman.

But a round-about way I naturally took.

I knew that Frank had warned the Colonel

of our coming, and I trusted his friendship

had painted me in winning colors. I had

brought with me, for evening reading, the

first edition of the 'Lady of the Lake,' then

fresh from the press—and, having inscribed

on the blank page, 'Kate Russell, from

her cousin Frank,' in Frank's own sprawling

hand, I made a dash for camp. Fortune

was in love with me, and I met Kate where

we had parted, I introduced myself, saying

that I came with better auspices than

before, for I brought with me a gift from

her cousin, which he had charged me to deliver

immediately.

'He could not have sent a letter of introduction

more fairly writ,' said she, and I

have been longing for this book for weeks.

But how did Frank ever dream of doing so

pretty a thing?'

I blushed at my poor trick,

Perhaps Frank's friends are blessed with

a better taste,' continued she. 'But pardon

me for detaining you here. The minstrel

makes me forget all courtesy. You

must let me lead you to the house. My

father will be most happy to welcome a

friend of our dear cousin to the Old Colony.'

At the house I found Colonel Russell

who greeted me with that warm, yet stately

courtesy which has so poor a substitute, either

in the prim coldness, or the blunt familiarity

of our parvenus—a courtesy in

whose presence neither rudeness nor diffidence

could exist—courtesy which both

conferred and commanded respect. The

old lady was one of those who never lose

the kindliness and vivacity of youth—one

of Coleridge's 'dear old souls—' and, to all

that I was the friend of their relative, seemed

sufficient reason for the warmest kindness,

The Colonel reproached me for not coming

directly to his house, and nothing would

atone for the fault but that my trunks should

forthwith be brought, and I become one of

the household.

Thus kind reader, thou hast the beginning

and end of my wooing. How it sped and

how much the tale of Malcom and Ellen had

to do with opening Kate's heart, and how

when, or where, the sweet confession was

tempted from her ripe lips, are secrets not

to be told even to thee. Yet let me warn thee,

fair one, if thou would'st not easily be won,

to beware how, at twilight, in the listening

woods, thou hearest that tale from a young

man's lips or flee, ere with deep and low

and pleading tone, he reads—

"His chain of gold the king unstrung—

The links o'er Malcom's neck he flung;

Then gently drew the glittering band,

And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand."

If he be of mortal mould he cannot but

press thy hand somewhat meaningly, and

as he closes the book, and the same thoughts

will be in both your hearts, and thou wilt

find it hard to say to him "Nay."

Two months had passed over me miserable,

and I had heard no word of Kate. I

had tried to write to her, but my heart had

failed me, and at length I had taken philosophy

to my bosom, and comforted myself

with wise saws, and laid an embargo on all

thoughts of love. It was the day before

Christmas, and I sat drowning my sorrows

in the bowl of my meerschaum, when Frank

Russell burst in to my room.

What makest thou here from Gotham,

Francisco?

'Much good it does, Harry, to send you a

pretty girl—that yellow amber pleases you

more than the reddest lips in the Bay State.

I meant for you to marry Kate Russell, and

here you sit, puffing at your confounded

Turk's head—and because you are a laggard

at wooing, Kate must be sacrificed to

a noodle.'

Not to be married!' said I with a vigorous puff.

Something very like it, or there's no

meaning in white ribbons—and to morrow

night, too. But what are you blushing at

man? That's a new trick you've learned,

Zounds, but you are in love with her. Why

didn't you tell her so? A girl that would

marry Bill Jones at a fortnight's notice,

would jump like a trout at a comely fellow

like you. Was your modesty your bane

or did you shoot her chickens? Come confess.'

But confess I would not. Much as I

needed counsel, I knew that Frank was too

be trusted with nothing less secret than an

advertisement. He urged me to go to Plymouth

with him in the morning, and willing

to give up anything that I might be left

alone. I consented.

Little pleasure was there in my lonely

thoughts. I tried to find comfort in reflecting,

how unworthy Kate must be of my love

if, so soon, she could take another to her

heart. But it was all in vain—that sweet

face would still come back before me, laden

with love as of old; those large eyes, dim

with unshed tears, at our cruel parting,

haunted my memory—and then I thought

how strangely anger moves a proud woman

how willingly she gives up all hopes of

happiness, rather than seem to yield to one

who has slighted her love. I could not but

suspect that it was for my sorrow, not for

her own joy that Kate had sought these

new bonds.

Perplexed and bewildered, I hastened into

the street. Led by instinct rather than

reason, my steps turned towards the stage

office. The evening coach was about starting,

and my old acquaintance Ben, was on

the box. With no purpose except to be near

her, I jumped up beside him. He saw that

I was in trouble, and, with the tact of true

kindness, said not a word. For an hour we

rode in silence. At length Ben's patience

began to totter on its throne, and he turned

to me with the polite inquiry, 'Lost you grandmother,

squire.' The cold winter air, and

the sensation of motion somewhat aroused

me, and I tried to talk as usual. Ben's

doubtless, suspected the cause of my trouble,

and in a moment he remarked

We've got the chap inside, that's going

to hev the Colonel's darter—likely looking

feller, he is, tu.

He had led up my trumps. A lawyer

could not more cunningly have caught the

train of a witness's thoughts. The confidence

I had refused to my best friend, I

gave without reserve, to one whom I had

seen but once before in my life. In a few

words, I told him my whole story.

'Wall, that's bad, said Ben, 'too devilish

bad. That feller isn't much arter all. If

you'd stuck to the road you'd a come in

fust, but you're distanced now, any way.

What d'ye mean tu do? I'm too heavy for

a capsize, you know. I'll try to leave the

chap on the road, if that'll accommodate.'

'Do it, Ben, said I, vainly endeavoring

to grasp his immense hand. 'and I'll make

your fortune.'

Wall. I must du my duty—but, if Jones

does git out, my stage won't be kept waiting

all day for him, that's sartin.'

The possibility of anticipating my rival,

made me as delirious with hope, as before I

had been wild with despair. A thousand wild

plans rushed to my thoughts, and each seemed

certain of success. A thousand moving phrases

of love and repentance seemed written in

light before my eyes. But they fled as suddenly

as they came, when I reflected how little

promise there was, that Kate, angered,

slighted, and apparently forgotten, would take

me back to her heart.—would abandon her

new love for my angry jealousy. I had just enough

reason within my control to enable me

to suspect that I was making a fool of myself.

But even in my despondency, I could not resist

being amused at the pertinacity with which

Ben drove up to every tavern within miles of

his route, and by his 'five minutes here, gentlemen,'

and now and then a best liquor,

tried to bribe Mr. Jones to rest his foot once

more on solid earth. But Mr. Jones was not

to be moved. He was a fixture: An old traveler

would sometimes put out his head to suggest

that we were on a new road, but Ben's

answer was ready: 'We always goes round

here Wednesdays,' checked the remonstrance.

Little impression as these endeavors made

on Mr. Jones, Ben was, at last, overcome by

them. Every descent added to our load at least

one glass of brandy; not much affected by the

drops of water, which, 'for the looks of the

thing,' as he said, he scornfully dashed at it.

The frequency of his libations would have been

a statistic to the Washingtonians, if Washingtonians

there had been in those days. He afterwards

informed me that he meant to get

drunk, and leave me to do as I pleased with

the stage, as he knew that his 'bosses' would

sooner pardon that than any apparently intentional

neglect of duty. I somewhat suspect

that Ben was at all times easy of conviction, as

to the propriety of taking another glass; but

if it was really his purpose to get eminently

fuddled, seldom have human plans met with

so perfect a success. After fortune had saved

us from many an imminent danger, sleep

wrapped him about like a cloak,' and I assumed

his office, with a determination to carry

out his plans, that might have been an example

to Mr. Tyler.

Our delays had consumed some hours, and

it was now quite dark. I knew, that Mr. Jones

could see nothing from his position, and I

made up my mind that he should go to Plymouth.

Once, only, he gave signs of vigilance.

by putting out his head and bidding the driver

stop at Col. Russell's. 'Indeed will I,' quoth

Findlay.

From my rides and walks with Kate, I knew

every inch of the road for miles. In a Christian

spirit I drove slowly and steadily, in order

that Mr. Jones might be able to indulge any

inclination he might feel for repose. It was 8

o'clock when we reached the house. Thro'

the bare branches of the elms, I could see the

lighted windows and especially I noticed one

candle burning above the hall where it had

doubtless been placed at sunset, to marshal

Mr. Jones the way that he was not going, with

my consent. After some tugging I aroused

Ben's hands to their accustomed office, and

whispering 'Go ahead,' in his drowsy ear, I

jumped to the ground.

The blood rushed to my heart with a thrill

of delight, as I heard the horses' hoofs clattering

over the frozen road. The prize was before

me and considering the situation of my rival's

neck, the odds were scarcely against me. I

hastened to the house and into the room where

I saw the lights. I had thought to speak

quickly and to the purpose, but Kate who had.

doubtless risen to welcome her other lover met.

me at the door, and her look changed so suddenly

to cold, surprised anger, that my heart

fell and my hopes fled in an instant. I could

not utter a word, not a stammer came to my relief.

Through piles of silks, laces and garments,

known and unknown, I discerned Mrs. Russell.

her favor I had already won by a new recipe

for jam, and she had the grace to offer me a

seat and inquire about my health. On my responding

that I was much fatigued by my stage

ride, she asked:

'Was not Mr. Jones with you in the stage?

We have been expecting him for hours.'

A martyr to truth, I answered that he was,

but had gone to Plymouth.

I glanced at Kate, who was busily striving

to hide a crimson ribbon in white roses. I

could see that her hands trembled, and her

cheek was thin and pale. Gladly would I have

argued that our separation had preyed upon her

health, as it had upon mine, but that chilling

look of hers forbade. At length I ventured to

ask her if she was well.

'Yes sir, thank you.'

Her pets all in good condition?

'All well, sir, thank you?'

Nothing but the requisite monosyllables.

After an awkward silence, I came nearer to

my point by asking,

May I hope that Miss Russell has forgiven

my petulance?

For a moment she fixed upon me her brown

eyes as if to measure how much my words

meant, then quietly looked down and held her

peace.

My courage that had ebbed so quickly began

to flow again.

'May I speak a word with you in private

Kate?' I said.

Her mother rose. The good old lady evidently

meditated a sally through the outward

adornments, behind which she was so closely

beleaguered, as a garrison behind Gen. Pillow's

entrenchments.

'Sit still ma.' said Kate, and then with a demure

voice, but a twinkle of exquisite womanly

malice in her eye, 'I have so much to

think of now that you must excuse me, Perhaps

to-morrow or the next day, I shall be

more capable of holding council with you.'

This was too much—I was angry myself now

and I rose to go. As I opened the door the

same voice saluted me that bid me stop at the

Colonel's. I felt the absurdity of going off' so

manifestly shorn, and looking again at Kate, I

saw a tear nestled in her eyelid.

Clearing two dresses at a jump, I kissed her as

of old, and whispered, I love you dearly, Kate

—will you forgive me?'

For a moment she hid her face upon my

breast, then turned it towards mine—and our

lips rushed together at the meeting of the lips.

Mr. Jones, who had entered the room in time

to be a spectator of this pleasing scene, made

a desperate attempt at a look of lofty scorn—

an attempt which would doubtless have been

more successful, had the ice been stronger, or

the water shallower of the brook into which

Ben upset him, and then departed to his ledger

and his money making.

Frank attired me in his Broadway garments.

The wedding was not deferred and Kate and I

have not quarreled since.

My tale has its moral; a man should go

early to his own wedding!