Doubtless, however, the
recollection
of hav-
ing been kept long in frocks had engendered a desire to convince
the world that they had sadly mistaken their man.
ing been kept long in frocks had engendered a desire to convince
the world that they had sadly mistaken their man.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v14 - Ibn to Juv
He was nat-
urally a thinker for himself, confident of his own abilities, and
disdainful of help or hindrance: he did not refuse admission to
the thoughts or images of his predecessors, but he did not seek
them. From his contemporaries he neither courted nor received
support; there is in his writings nothing by which the pride of
other authors might be gratified, or favor gained; no exchange
of praise nor solicitation of support. His great works were per-
formed under discountenance and in blindness; but difficulties
vanished at his touch: he was born for whatever is arduous; and
his work is not the greatest of heroic poems, only because it is
not the first.
## p. 8317 (#521) ###########################################
8317
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
(1822-)
-
NE of the most distinctive and pleasant features of American
literature in its development since 1870 has been the work
of Southern writers. They have portrayed in sketch, poem,
and story,— notably in the latter form,—the scenes, types, and nat-
ural beauties of a picturesque and romantic part of the United States,
rich in colors and flavors of its own, and a most hopeful field for
literary cultivation. Different authors, men and women, have drawn
with sympathetic insight the characters peculiar to their own sections
or States, and a product of originality and
value has been the result. To mention but
a few names: Mr. Page and Mrs. Stuart
have done this for Virginia and Alabama,
Miss Murfree for Tennessee, «Octave Tha-
net” for the Southwest, Mr. James Lane
Allen for Kentucky, and Messrs. Harris and
Johnston for Georgia. The last mentioned,
R. M. Johnston, holds an honorable place
amid the elder authors of the South because
of his lively, humorously unctuous, and
truthfully limned studies of Georgia folk.
Richard Malcolm Johnston was born in
1822 in Hancock County, Georgia, and was RICHARD M. JOHNSTON
graduated from Mercer University in that
State in 1841. He was admitted to the bar, and practiced his pro-
fession at Sparta, Georgia; but like the legion before him who have
felt themselves called to scholarship and literature, he turned from
the law, declining such a substantial bait as a judgeship, and in 1857
became professor of belles-lettres in the University of Georgia, holding
the position until the breaking out of the war in 1861. Afterwards
he opened a select classical school at Rockby, in his native county,
and it became a noted institution in the South. In 1867 the school
was moved to the suburbs of Baltimore; and since its abandonment
Colonel Johnston has resided in that city.
The stories which gave him reputation, The Dukesborough Tales,'
first appeared in the old Southern Magazine, and were published later
in book form (1871). Some time before, he had printed his "Georgia
Sketches: By an Old Man' (1864). In 1884 came Old Mark Langston:
(
## p. 8318 (#522) ###########################################
8318
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
(
A Tale of Duke's Creek'; in 1885 (Two Grey Tourists'; Mr. Absa-
lom Billingslea and Other Georgia Folk dates from 1888; Ogeechee
Cross-Firings from 1889; and still later books of fiction are Widow
Guthrie (1890); (The Primes and their Neighbors,' Mr. Fortner's
Marital Claims) (1892); (Mr. Billy Downs and his Likes) (1892); and
Little Ike Templin and Other Stories (1894). Colonel Johnston has
also written a biography of Alexander H. Stephens, a sketch of Eng-
lish literature (in collaboration with Professor William Hand Browne),
and several volumes of essays.
Colonel Johnston's representative work is found in the Dukes-
borough Tales. All his later fiction bears a family resemblance to
this inimitable series, in which is reproduced the old-time Georgian
country life among white folks from a supposed contemporary's coign
of vantage, and in a way to give the reader a vivid sense of local
custom, tradition, and trait. The sly fun of these genial stories is
delicious; the revelations of human nature are keen, while the tem-
per is kindly and tolerant. Johnston does for the white people of a
certain period and section what Page and Harris do for the negroes;
and he does it once and for all.
THE EARLY MAJORITY OF MR. THOMAS WATTS
Copyright 1883, by Harper & Brothers. Reprinted by permission of the
author
« () 'tis a parlous boy. ”
- (RICHARD III. )
L
ITTLE Tom Watts, as he used to be called before the unex-
pected developments which I propose briefly to narrate, was
the second in a family of eight children, his sister Susan
being the eldest. His parents dwelt in a small house situate
on the edge of Dukesborough. Mr. Simon Watts, though of
extremely limited means, had some ambition. He held the office
of constable in that militia district, and in seasons favorable to
law business made about fifty dollars a year. The outside world
seemed to think it was a pity that the head of a family so large
and continually increasing should so persistently prefer mere
fame to the competency which would have followed upon his
staying at home and working his little field of very good ground.
But he used to contend that a man could not be expected to
live always, and therefore he ought to try to live in such a way
as to leave his family, if nothing else, a name that they wouldn't
be ashamed to hear mentioned after he was gone.
## p. 8319 (#523) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8319
Yet Mr. Watts was not a cheerful man. Proud as he might
justly feel in his official position, it went hard with him to be
compelled to live in a way more and more pinched as his family
continued to multiply with astonishing rapidity. His spirits, nat-
urally saturnine, grew worse and worse with every fresh arrival
in the person of a baby, until the eighth. Being yet a young
man, comparatively speaking, and being used to make calcula-
tions, the figures seemed too large as he looked to the future. I
would not go so far as to say that this prospect actually killed
him; but at any rate he took a sickness which the doctor could
not manage, and then Mr. Watts gave up his office and every-
thing else that he had in this world.
But Mrs. Watts, his widow, had as good a resolution as any
other woman in her circumstances ever had. She had no notion
of giving up in that way. She gave up her husband, it is true,
but that could not be helped; and without making much ado
about even that, she kept going at all sorts of work, and some-
how she got along at least as well after as before the death of
Mr. Simon.
A person not well acquainted with the brood of little Wattses
often found difficulty in discriminating among them. I used
to observe them with considerable interest as I went into Dukes-
borough occasionally, with one or the other
or the other or both of my
parents. They all had white hair, and red chubby faces. It
was long a matter of doubt what was their sex. Such was the
rapidity of their succession, and so graduated the declivity from
Susan downwards, that the mother used to cut all their garments
after a fashion that was very general, in order that they might
descend during the process of decay to as many of them as
possible. Now, although I saw them right often, I had believed
for several months, for instance, that little Jack was a girl, from
a yellow frock that had belonged to his sister Mary Jane, but
which little Jack wore until his legs became subjected to such
exposure that it had to descend to Polly Ann, his next younger
sister. Then I made a similar mistake about Polly Ann, who
during this time had worn little Jack's breeches, out of which he
had gone into Mary Jane's frock; and I thought on my soul that
Polly Ann was a boy.
In regard to Tommy, not only I, but the whole public, had
been in a state of uncertainty in this behalf for a great length of
time. Having no older brother, and Susan's outgrown dresses
## p. 8320 (#524) ###########################################
8320
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
being alone available, his male wardrobe was inevitably only
half as extensive and various as by good rights, generally speak-
ing, it ought to have been. Therefore Tommy had to make his
appearance alternately in frock and breeches, according to the
varying conditions of these garments, for a period that annoyed
him the more the longer it extended, and finally began to dis-
gust. Tom eagerly wished that he could outgrow Susan, and
thus get into breeches out and out. But Susan in this respect,
as indeed in almost all others, kept her distance in the lead.
There was a difference, easily noticeable, in Tom's deportment
in these seasons. While in frocks it was subdued, retiring, and
if not melancholy, at least fretful. Curiosity perhaps, or some
other motive equally powerful, might and indeed sometimes did
lead him outside of the gate; but never to linger there for any
great length of time. If he had to go upon an errand during
that season (a necessity which that resolute woman his mother
enforced without the slightest hesitation), he went and returned
with speed. Yet before starting out on such occasions, he was
wont to be careful to give his hair such a turn that his manly
head might refute the lie which Susan's frock had told. For it
is probable that there have been few, if indeed any, boys who
were more unwilling either to be or to be considered of the
opposite sex, than that same Tom Watts. I do not remember
ever to have seen a boy whose hair had so high and peculiar a
roach as his exhibited, especially when he wore his sister Susan's
frocks. Instead of being parted in the middle, it was divided
into three parts. It was combed perfectly straight down on the
sides of his head, and perfectly straight up from the top. An
immense distance was thus established between the extremities
of any two hairs which receded contiguously to each other on the
border-lines.
All this was an artful attempt to divert public attention from
the frock which intimated the female, to the head which asserted
and which was supposed to establish the male. He once said to
Susan:
“When they sees your old frock, they makes out like that they
'spicions me a gal; but when they looks at my har all roached
up, then they knows who I am. ”
« Yes indeed,” answered Susan, and a sight you air. Good-
ness knows, I'd rather be a girl, and rather look like one if I
weren't, than to look like you do in that fix. ”
((
## p. 8321 (#525) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8321
But it was during the other season, that which he called
his breeches week, that Tommy Watts was most himself. In this
period he was cheerful, bold, notorious. He was as often upon
the street as he could find opportunities to steal away from home;
and while there, he was as evidently a boy as was to be found
in Dukesborough or any other place of its size. In this happy
.
season he seemed to be disposed to make up as far as possible for
the confinements and the gloominesses of the other. So much
so, indeed, that he had to be whipped time and time again for
his unlicensed wanderings; and for many other pranks which
are indeed common to persons of his age and sex, but which he
seemed to have the greater temptation to do, and which he did
with more zest and temerity than other boys, because he had
only half their time in which to do them. Tom Watts maintained
that if a boy was a boy, then he ought to be a boy; and as for
himself, if he had to be a girl a part of the time, he meant to
double on them for the balance. By them he meant his mammy,
as he was wont to call his surviving parent. But she understood
the method of doubling as well as he; for while she whipped him
with that amount of good-will which in her judgment was proper,
she not unfrequently cut short his gay career by reducing him to
Susan's frock, or (if it was not ready for the occasion) to his own
single shirt. On such occasions he would relapse at once into
the old melancholy ways. If Thomas Watts had been familiar
with classical history, I have not a doubt that in these periods
of his humiliation he would have compared his case with that
the great Achilles, whose mother had kept him in inglorious
seclusion amid the daughters of Lycomedes. Yet, like that hero
further in being extremely imprudent, no sooner would he recover
his male attire than he would seem to think that no laws had
ever been made for him, and he would rush headlong into diffi-
culties and meet their consequences. Tom, as his mother used
to say, was a boy of a “tremenjuous sperrit. ” But it had come
from her, and enough had been left in her for all domestic pur-
poses. In every hand-to-hand encounter between the two, Thomas
was forced to yield and make terms; but he resolved over and
over, and communicated that resolution to many persons, that if
he ever did obtain his liberty, the world should hear from him.
His late father having been to a degree connected, as we remem-
ber, with the legal profession, Tom had learned one item (and
that was probably the only one that he did learn sufficiently well
XIV-521
(
## p. 8322 (#526) ###########################################
8322
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
new
to remember) of the law: that was, that young men of fourteen
who had lost their fathers might go into court and choose their
own guardians, and do other things besides. How he did long
for that fourteenth birthday! The more he longed for it, the
longer it seemed in coming. He had gotten to believe that if
it ever should come, he would have lived long enough and had
experience enough for all, even the most difficult and responsible
purposes of human life.
But events that must come will come, if we will only wait
for them. In the process of time, which to the hasty nature of
Tom seemed unreasonably and cruelly long in passing, he seemed
to emerge from the frock for good and all. The latest induce-
ment to a preparation for this liberty was a promise that it
a
should come the sooner, provided he would improve in the care
that he was wont to take of his clothes; for he had been a sad
fellow in that item of personal economy. When this inducement
was placed before him, he entered upon a career. He
abjured wrestlings with other boys, and all other sports and
exercises, however manly, which involved either the tearing of
his attire or contact with the ground. He even began to be
spruce and dandyish; and the public was astonished to find that
in the matter of personal neatness, Tom Watts was likely to
become a pattern to all the youth of Dukesborough and its envi-
rons. His roach grew both in height and in sleekness; and when
his hat was off his head, Tom Watts was the tallest-looking boy
of his inches that I ever saw.
Resolute as was the Widow Watts, she had respect for her
word, and was not deficient in love for her offspring. Besides,
it was getting to be high time for Tom to go to school, if he
ever was to go. Now in a school, I maintain, if nowhere else,
it is undeniably to be desired that everybody's sex should be put
beyond doubt. Even a real girl in a schcol of boys, or a real
boy in a school of girls, it is probable, would both feel and im-
part considerable embarrassment. This would doubtless be much
increased in case where such a matter was in doubt. There is
no telling what a difference an uncertainty in this behalf would
make, not only in the hours of study, but even, and to a per-
haps greater extent, in those of play. I have lived in the world
long enough to feel justified in saying that suspicions and doubts
are more efficacious than facts in producing embarrassments and
alienations. Oh, it is no use to say anything more upon the
## p. 8323 (#527) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8323
subject! Mrs. Watts had sense enough to have respect for public
sentiment; and when Tom was ready for school, Susan's frock
had to be laid aside. However, Mary Jane, who was a fast
grower, went into it with the taking of only a little tuck, and
nothing was wasted.
Tom Watts, therefore, avowedly and notoriously, for good and
for all and forever, became a boy. When he stepped out of
Susan's frock for the last time, and stepped into a new pair of
trousers which had been made for the purpose of honoring the
occasion, he felt himself to be older by many years; and if not
as sleek, he was at least as proud, as any snake, when with the
incoming spring he has left his old skin behind him and glided
into the sunlight with a new one.
The neat habits which he had adopted from policy, he con-
tinued to practice, to his mother's great delight. It was really a
fine thing to observe the care he took with his clothes; and the
manly gait he assumed would have led unthinking persons almost
to conclude that the having been confounded so long with the
other sex had begotten a repugnance for the latter which might
never be removed. Such was the rapidity of his strides towards
manhood, that some females of his acquaintance not unfrequently
spoke of him as Mr. Thomas Watts; while others went further,
left off the Thomas altogether, and called him Mr. Watts.
But time, which is ever making revelations that surprise man-
kind, was not slow to reveal that Mr. Watts had not yet been
fully understood. He had been going to school to Mr. Cordy for
several weeks in the winter, and was believed to be making
reasonable progress.
He had now passed his thirteenth year,
and had gone some distance upon his fourteenth. He had long
looked to that day as the commencement of his majority. A
guardian (or, as he was wont to say, a gardseen) was an incum-
brance which he had long determined to dispense with. This
was not so much, however, because there would not be a thing
for an official to manage except the person of Mr. Thomas
himself, as that he had no doubt — not a shadow of a doubt, in
fact — that such management would be more agreeable, more safe,
and in every way better, in his own hands than in those of any
other person of his acquaintance.
Mr. Cordy's school was in a grove of hickory and oak at the
end of the village opposite to the one at which Mrs. Watts's
cabin stood. At the hither end of this grove was another small
## p. 8324 (#528) ###########################################
8324
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
school, of girls, kept by Miss Louisa Wilkins. She was from Ver-
mont, and was a young lady of about twenty-eight years, very
fair, somewhat tall, and upon the whole rather good — certainly a
cheerful — looking face. For I should remark that Dukesborough,
which ever held Augusta in view, had in the pride of its ambi-
tion abolished the system of mixed schools; and though the
number of children was rather limited to allow of great division,
still Dukesborough would have, and did have, two institutions of
learning. Miss Wilkins had under her charge about fifteen girls,
ranging from eight years old to fourteen.
Prominent among
them were Miss Adeline Jones, Miss Emily Sharp, Miss Lorinda
Holland, Miss Jane Hutchins, and Mr. Watts's elder sister, Susan.
Mr. Watts's relations to this institution seemed to have been
started by accident. One morning, as with lingering but not un-
manly steps he was passing by on his way to his own school, he
spied Miss Wilkins through the window in the act of kindling a
fire. As her face was turned from him, he had the opportunity,
and he used it, to observe her motion for several moments.
Whether because the kindling-wood was damp, or Miss Wilkins
was not expert, I would not undertake at this late day to say;
but the fire would not make a start: and the lady, apparently
bent upon getting warm in some way, threw down the tongs and
walked rapidly up and down the room. Observing Mr. Watts,
.
and possibly suspecting that he was a person of an accommo-
dating disposition, she requested his assistance.
He yielded
promptly, and it did Miss Wilkins good to see how quickly the
blaze arose and the genial warmth radiated through the room.
The artificial heat at once subsided, and she smiled and thanked
him in a way that could not soon be forgotten. Then she in-
quired his name, and was surprised and gratified to know that so
manly a person as he was should be the brother of one of the
best and most biddable girls in her school.
This accident, trifling in appearance, led to consequences. Mr.
Watts had frequent opportunities of rendering this same service,
and others of an equally obliging nature. These gave him access
to the school in its hours of ease; and the care that he took of
his clothes, and the general manners that he adopted, were reach-
ing to a height that approached perfection. If the roach on the
summit of his head was not quite as high as formerly (a depres-
sion caused by his having now a hat to wear), it was not any
less decided and defiant.
## p. 8325 (#529) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8325
Yet he never seemed disposed to abuse his privileges. Al-
though he was there very often, he usually had little to say to
any of the young ladies, and seemed to try to pay the utmost
respect to all the mistress's rules and regulations in regard to
the intercourse of her pupils with the opposite sex. It must be
admitted that Mr. Watts had not advanced lately in his studies
to the degree that was promised by his opening career. But
Mr. Cordy was a reasonable man, and upon principle was opposed
to pushing boys along too fast. Mrs. Watts, although not a per-
son of education herself, yet suspected from several circumstances
that her son was not well improving the little time which she
could afford to send him to school. But his deportment was
such an example to the younger children that she had not the
heart to complain, except in a very general way.
Of all persons of Mr. Watts's acquaintance, his sister Susan
was the only one who seemed to fail to appreciate his manly
habits. She used to frown dreadfully upon him, even when he
seemed to be at his very best. Sometimes she even broke into
immoderate laughter. While the former conduct had no influ-
ence, the latter used to affect him deeply. He would grow very
angry and abuse her, and then become even more manlike. But
when Susan would think that he was carrying matters into
extremes, she would check him somewhat in this wise:
“Now lookee here, Tom, if you talk to me that way, I shall
tell ma what's the matter with you; and if you don't quit being
such a man, and stop some of your foolishness, I'll tell her any.
how. ”
Threats of this sort for a time would recall Mr. Watts at
least to a more respectful treatment of his sister. Indeed, he
condescended to beg her not to mention her suspicions, although
he assured her that in these she was wholly mistaken. But Susan
did know very well what he was about; and it is probable that
it is high time I should explain all this uncommon conduct. The
truth is, Susan had ascertained that so far from having the
repugnance to ladies that had been feared at first might grow
out of his remembrance of the long confusion of the public mind
touching his own sex, Mr. Thomas Watts had already conceived
a passion that was ardent and pointed and ambitious to a degree
which Susan characterized as “perfectly redickerlous. ”
But who was the young lady who had thus concentrated
upon herself all the first fresh worship of that young manly heart ?
## p. 8326 (#530) ###########################################
8326
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
Was it Miss Jones, or Miss Sharp? Was it Miss Holland, or
Miss Hutchins ? Not one of these. Mr. Thomas Watts had, with
one tremendous bound, leaped clear over the heads of these
secondary characters, and cast himself at the very foot of the
throne. To be plain, Mr. Watts fondly, entirely, madly loved
Miss Louisa Wilkins, the mistress and head of the Dukesborough
Female Institution.
Probably this surprising reach might be attributed to the am-
bitious nature of his father, from whom he had inherited this and
some other qualities.
Doubtless, however, the recollection of hav-
ing been kept long in frocks had engendered a desire to convince
the world that they had sadly mistaken their man. Whatever
was the motive power, such was the fact. Now, notwithstanding
.
this state of his own feelings, he had never made a declaration
in so many words to Miss Wilkins. But he did not doubt for a
moment that she thoroughly understood his looks, and sighs, and
devoted services. For the habit which all of us have of envelop-
ing beloved objects in our hearts, and making them, so to speak,
understand and reciprocate our feelings, had come to Mr. Watts
even to a greater degree perhaps than if he had been older. He
as little inclined and as little able to doubt Miss Wilkins
as to doubt himself. Facts seemed to bear him out. She had
not only smiled upon him time and time again, and patted him
sweetly on the back of his head, and praised his roach to the very
skies; but once, when he had carried her a great armful of good
fat pine-knots, she was so overcome as to place her hand under
his chin, look him fully in the face, and declare that if he wasn't
a man, there wasn't one in this wide, wide world.
Such was the course of his true love, when its smoothness
suffered that interruption which so strangely obtrudes itself
among the fondest affairs of the heart. Miss Susan had threat-
ened so often without fulfillment to give information to their
mother, that he had begun to presume there was little or no
danger from that quarter. Besides, Mr. Watts had now grown
so old and manlike that he was getting to be without appre-
hension from any quarter. He reflected that within a few weeks
more he would be fourteen years old, when legal rights would
accrue. Determining not to choose any "gardzeen,” it would
follow that he must become his own. Yet he did not intend to
act with unnecessary notoriety. His plans were, to consummate
his union on the very day he should be fourteen; but to do so
was
## p. 8327 (#531) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8327
clandestinely, and then run away, not stopping until he should
get his bride plump to Vermont. For even the bravest find it
necessary sometimes to retreat.
Of the practicability of this plan he had no doubt, because he
knew that Miss Wilkins had five hundred dollars in hard cash
a whole stockingful. This sum seemed to him immensely ade-
quate for their support in becoming style for an indefinitely long
period of time.
As the day of his majority approached, he grew more and
more reserved in his intercourse with his family.
This was
scarcely to be avoided now, when he was already beginning to
consider himself as not one of them. If his conscience ever
upbraided him as he looked upon his toiling mother and his
helpless brothers and sisters, and knew that he alone was to rise
into luxury while they were to be left in their lowly estate, he
reflected that it was a selfish world at best, and that every man
must take care of himself. But one day, after a season of un-
usual reserve, and when he had behaved to Miss Susan in a way
which she considered outrageously supercilious, the latter availed
herself of his going into the village, fulfilled her threat, and
gave her mother full information of the state of his feelings.
That resolute woman was in the act of ironing a new home-
spun frock she had just made for Susan. She laid down her
iron, sat down in a chair, and looked up at Susan.
Susan, don't be foolin' 'long o' me. ”
"Ma, I tell you it's the truth. ”
“Susan, do you want me to believe that Tom's a fool ? I
knowed the child didn't have no great deal of sense; but I didn't
think he was a clean-gone fool. ”
But Susan told many things which established the fact beyond
dispute. In Mr. Thomas's box were found several evidences of
guilt. There was a great red picture of a young woman, on the
margin of which was written the name of Miss Louisa Wilkins.
Then there was wrapped carefully in a rag a small piece of
sweet soap, which was known by Susan to have been once the
property of Miss Wilkins. Then there were sundry scraps of
poetry, which were quite variant in sentiment, and for this and
other reasons apparently not fully suited for the purposes for
which they were employed. Mr. Watts's acquaintance with ama-
tory verses being limited, he had recourse to his mother's hymn-
book. Miss Wilkins was assured how tedious and tasteless were
(
## p. 8328 (#532) ###########################################
8328
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
C
the hours. Her attention was directed alternately to Greenland's
icy mountains and India's coral strand. She was informed that
here he was raising his Ebenezer, having hitherto thus safely
come.
But immediately afterwards his mind seemed to have
been divèrted to thoughts of distant travel, and he remarked that
his home was over Jordan, and he suggested to Miss Wilkins
that if she should get there before he did, she might tell them
he was a-coming. Then he urged Miss Wilkins to turn, sinner,
turn, and with great anxiety inquired why would she die? These
might have passed for evidences of a religious state of mind,
but that they were all signed by Miss Wilkins's loving admirer,
Thomas Watts. Indeed, in the blindness of his temerity he
had actually written out his formal proposition to Miss Wilkins,
which he had intended to deliver to her on the very next day.
This had been delayed only because he was not quite satisfied
either with the phraseology or the handwriting. As to the way
in which it would be received, his ardent soul had never enter-
tained a doubt.
Well, well! ” exclaimed his mother, after getting through
with all this irrefragable evidence. “Well, well! I never should
a' b'lieved it.
But I suppose we live and larn. Stealin' out of
my hime-book too! It's enough to make anybody sick at the
stomach. I knowed the child didn't have much sense; but I
didn't know he was a clean-gone fool. Yes, we lives and larns.
But bless me, it won't do to tarry here. Susan, have that frock
ironed all right, stiff and starch, by the time I git back. I
sha'n't be gone long. ”
The lady arose, and without putting on her bonnet, walked
rapidly down the street.
“What are you lookin' for, Mrs. Watts ? » inquired an ac-
quaintance whom she met on her way.
" I'm a-looking for a person of the name of Mr. Watts,” she
answered, and rushed madly on. The acquaintance hurried home,
but told other acquaintances on the way that the Widow Watts
have lost her mind and gone ravin' distracted. Soon afterwards,
as Mr. Watts was slowly returning, his mind full of great thoughts
and his head somewhat bowed, he suddenly became conscious that
his hat was removed and his roach rudely seized. Immediately
afterwards he found himself carried along the street, his head
foremost and his legs and feet performing the smallest possible
part in the act of locomotion. The villagers looked on with
## p. 8329 (#533) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8329
wonder. The conclusion was universal. Yes, the Widow Watts
have lost her mind.
When she reached her cabin with her charge, a space was
cleared in the middle by removing the stools and the children.
Then Mr. Watts was ordered to remove such portions of his
attire as might oppose any hindrance whatever to the application
of a leather strap to those parts of his person which his mother
might select.
“O mother, mother! ” began Mr. Watts.
«No motherin' o' me, sir. Down with 'em," and down they
came, and down came the strap rapidly, violently.
“O mammy, mammy! ”
"Ah, now! that sounds a little like old times, when you used
to be a boy,” she exclaimed in glee, as the sounds were repeated
amid the unslackened descent of the strap. Mrs. Watts seemed
disposed to carry on a lively conversation during this flagellation.
She joked her son pleasantly about Miss Wilkins; inquired when
it was to be, and who was to be invited ? Oh, no! she forgot: it
was not to be a big wedding, but a private one. But how long
were they going to be gone before they would make us all a
visit ? Mr. Watts not only could not see the joke, but was not
able to join in the conversation at all, except to continue to
scream louder and louder, "O mammy, mammy! ” Mrs. Watts,
finding him not disposed to be talkative, except in mere ejacula-
tory remarks, appealed to little Jack, and Mary Jane, and Polly
Ann, and to all, down even to the baby. She asked them, did
they know that Buddy Tommy were a man grown, and were
going to git married and have a wife, and then go away off
yonder to the Vermonties? Little Jack, and Polly Ann, and
Baby, and all, evidently did not precisely understand; for they
cried and laughed tumultuously.
How long this exercise, varied as it was by most animated
conversation, might have continued if the mother had not become
exhausted, there is no calculating Things were fast approaching
that condition, when the son declared that his mother would kill
him if she didn't stop.
“That,” she answered between breaths, is-what-I- aims
- to do- if I can't git it - all - all — every --- spang — passel
-outen you. ”
Tom declared that it was all gone.
you —
a boy? ”
»
«Is
-a man
or
- is you
## p. 8330 (#534) ###########################################
8330
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
(
Boy! boy! mammy,” cried Tom. “Let me up, mammy –
and — I'll be a boy — as long — as I live. ”
She let him up.
Susan, whar's that frock? Ah, there it is. Lookee here.
Here's your clo'es, my man. Mary Jane, put away them panta-
loonses. ”
Tom was making ready to resume the frock. But Susan re-
monstrated. It wouldn't look right now, and she would go Tom's
security that he wouldn't be a man any more.
He was cured. From being an ardent lover, he grew to be-
come a hearty hater of the principal of the Dukesborough Female
Institution; the more implacable upon his hearing that she had
laughed heartily at his whipping. Before many months she re-
moved from the village; and when two years afterwards a rumor
came that she was dead, Tom was accused of being gratified by
the news. Nor did he deny it.
"Well, fellers,” said he, “I know it weren't right, I knew it
were mean; but I couldn't' a' kep' from it ef I knowed it would
'a 'kilt me. ”
## p. 8330 (#535) ###########################################
1
1
!
## p. 8330 (#536) ###########################################
os
JOKAI.
## p. 8330 (#537) ###########################################
了
## p. 8330 (#538) ###########################################
JOKAI.
## p. 8331 (#539) ###########################################
8331
MAURICE JÓKAI
(1825-)
BY EMIL REICH
-
MONG the numerous novelists and humorists of Hungary, Jókai
is, in the opinion of his compatriots and the rest of his
contemporaries, facile princeps. The number of his novels,
articles, and sketches is legion; yet in all of them there is scarcely
a dull page. Everything he has written is swelling and palpitating
with the intense vitality of thought and sentiment so characteristic
of the Hungarians. Like all nations with whom conversation or the
living word is more important than written or dead vocables, they
endow the expressions of their inner life with a power of spontaneity
and wit that must appear to more book-ridden nations as elemental.
As in their music the originality of rhythm and counterpoint, so in
their literature we cannot but perceive a striking originality of ideas
and framework. From the earliest dawn of Hungarian literature
as such, - that is, from the seventeenth century onward, - a great
number of Magyar writers have struck out literary paths of their
own, thus adding materially to the wealth of modern European liter-
ature. Kazinczy, Berzsenyi, Kölcsey, and the Kisfaludys, who wrote
in the latter half of the last, and in the first three decades of the
present century, not only labored at a close imitation of Greek,
Roman, or French and German models, but also created new liter-
ary subjects and some novel literary modes.
The Hungarian writers have been able to lend their works that
intimacy between word and sentiment which alone can be productive
of high literary finish. The language of the Magyars is one of the
idioms of Central Asia, related to Finnish on the one hand and
Turkish on the other.
It has no similarity whatever with the Aryan
languages. It is sonorous and agglutinative; rich in verbal forms and
adjectives; and unlike French, without any stubborn aversion to the
coining of new words. It has a peculiar wealth of terms for acoustic
phenomena, which is but natural with a people so intensely musical
as are the Hungarians.
And finally, the language of the Magyars
is their most powerful political weapon in the struggle against the
Slavic nations inhabiting Hungary. Hence the majority of Hunga-
rian writers are at once poets and politicians. Petöfi, the greatest of
## p. 8332 (#540) ###########################################
8332
MAURICE JÓKAI
Hungarian poets, was at the same time one of the most formidable
of political pamphleteers; and all the more so because his explos-
ives were generally wrapped in a few stanzas. One of his intimate
friends was Jókai.
As Petöfi is the most prominent of Hungarian writers in verse, so
Jókai is the most conspicuous if not the most gifted Hungarian writer
in prose. He was born at Komorn in Hungary, on the 19th of Feb-
ruary, 1825. From the very outset his life showed that union of lit-
erary and political activity which characterizes Hungarian and English
men of talent. Two years before the great Hungarian revolution in
1848, he appeared as the author of a successful novel, Hétköznapok'
(Working Days); and together with Petöfi he embraced the cause of
the revolution with all the ardor and temerity of his genius. Nearly
shipwrecked in the desperate attempt at defying the victorious Aus-
trians, then Hungary's oppressors, he was saved by his lovely wife
Rose Laborfalvi, the greatest of Hungarian tragédiennes (born 1820,
died 1886). He has been ever since incessantly at work, publishing
volume after volume, over three hundred in all, in which he has
laid before the world a true and fascinating picture of nearly all the
phases of that strange semi-European and semi-Asiatic life of Hun-
gary. Like the country itself, his novels are gorgeous with variety,
and resplendent with colors of all tints. The mystic majesty of her
Puszta (prairie), the colossal dignity of her Alps, the sweet charm
of her lakes, the ardent temper of her men and the melodramatic
spell exercised by her women,- all these and many more phases of
Magyar life in the past and the present, — nay, in the future (see his
(Romance of the Next Century'),— have been painted by Jókai in
all the colors of the literary rainbow. His older novels are ripe mas-
terpieces, elaborated during the calm of the period of reaction (1849–
1861). Amongst them the most excellent are — A Hungarian Nabob?
(1856); (Zoltán Kárpáthy,' continuation of the former, and if possible
still more pathetic and humorous; The Palmy Days of Transylvania!
(1851); The New Squire (1862), exquisite in irony, humor, and scath-
ing travesty; For What we are Growing old' (1865); Love's Fools'
(1867); Black Diamonds (1870); “Rab Ráby) (1880); “The Poor Rich'
(1881); 'Eyes Like the Sea' (1890); “There is No Devil' (1891); “The
Son of Rákóczy' (1892); (Twice Two are Four' (1893); etc. Besides
these works of fiction, Jókai has written a very interesting History of
Hungary; his memoirs; the Hungarian part of the late Crown Prince
Rudolph's great work on Austria-Hungary; and other works.
Yet far from being exhausted by the composition of so many
novels, he has still found time for wide activity as a journalist.
,
With the editing of great political dailies he managed to combine the
publication of one of the wittiest of Hungarian humorous papers, the
(
## p. 8333 (#541) ###########################################
MAURICE JÓKAI
8333
Üstökös, a weekly. And this is not all. Jókai has been, ever since
the reopening of the Hungarian Parliament, - that is, for over thirty
years, - a member of the Lower House; and being as consummate a
speaker as he is an incomparable writer, he has been heavily drawn
upon by the party of the government, whose constant adherent he is.
The joy of his country's youth, the glory of its manhood, Jókai con-
tributed, by the signal favor bestowed upon him by the Emperor-
King of Austria-Hungary, but especially by Queen Elizabeth, very
much towards an understanding between monarch and people; and
when in 1896 the fiftieth anniversary of his literary activity had been
reached, the whole country rose in one unanimous desire to express
to the venerable poet its deep sense of his merits. Festivities were
arranged on a scale so grand as to dwarf nearly any other ovation
ever made to a country's favorite poet. Official and non-official
Hungary, monarch and people, aristocrat and peasant, all united to
celebrate the event. An édition de luxe of Jókai’s works was made;
and out of the proceeds the author was given the sum of $90,000.
Finally, in January 1897, the great novelist was appointed member
for life of the House of Magnates (the Hungarian House of Lords).
He is still enjoying vigorous health, and will no doubt enrich liter-
ature with many more gems.
Gil Reich
THE LANDSLIDE AND THE TRAIN WRECK
From There is No Devil. Translated by F. Steinitz. Copyright 1891, by
Cassell Publishing Co.
W*
E ARE on the Rossberg. A devastated tract of the globe it
seems. Our eyes rest on barren soii, devoid of vegeta-
tion. Beneath a large field of huge bowlders, imbedded
in snow and ice, the Alpine vegetation thrives. The whole valley
is one immense grave-yard, and the great rocks are giant tomb-
stones, encircled by wreaths of white flowers meet for adorning
graves. At the beginning of the present century one of the
ridges of the Rossberg gave way, and in the landslide four vil-
lages were buried. This happened at night, when the villagers
were all asleep, and not a single man, woman, or child escaped.
This valley is their resting-place. Was I not right to call it a
grave-yard ?
## p. 8334 (#542) ###########################################
8334
MAURICE JÓKAI
Above this valley of destruction the train glides on. Upon
the side of the mountain is a little watch-house, built into the
rock; a narrow flight of steps hewn in the stone leads up to it
like a ladder. The moon, which had lately seemed fixed to the
crest of the mountain, now plays hide-and-seek among the peaks.
A high barricade on the side of the Rossberg serves to protect
the railroad track against another landslide.
On the high ridges of the mountain, goats were pasturing;
and not far from them a shepherd's fire was blazing, and the
shepherd himself sat beside it. I remember all of these acces-
sories as well as if they were still before my eyes. I can see the
white goats climbing up and pulling at the broom plants. I can
see the shepherd's black form encircled by the light of the fire,
and the white watch-house with its black leaden roof, the high
signal-pole in front of it, above which all at once a great flaming
star arises.
I was gazing at that shining red light, when all at once I felt
a concussion, as if the train had met with some impediment. I
heard the jolting of the foremost cars, and had time to prepare
for the shock which was sure to follow; but when it did come
it was so great that it threw me to the opposite wall of the
corridor.
Yet the train moved on as before, so that it could not have
been disabled, as I at first thought. I heard the guards run from
carriage to carriage, opening the doors, and I could see great
clouds of steam arise from the puffing and blowing engines. The
friction of the wheels made a grating noise, and I leaned out of
the window to ascertain the nature of the danger. Was another
train approaching and a collision inevitable? I could see nothing,
but suddenly I beheld the figure of the shepherd and saw him
raise his staff aloft. I followed the motion of his hand, and with
a thrill of horror I saw a great ledge of rock sliding downward
with threatening speed, while at the same time a shower of small
stones crashed on the roof of the cars.
urally a thinker for himself, confident of his own abilities, and
disdainful of help or hindrance: he did not refuse admission to
the thoughts or images of his predecessors, but he did not seek
them. From his contemporaries he neither courted nor received
support; there is in his writings nothing by which the pride of
other authors might be gratified, or favor gained; no exchange
of praise nor solicitation of support. His great works were per-
formed under discountenance and in blindness; but difficulties
vanished at his touch: he was born for whatever is arduous; and
his work is not the greatest of heroic poems, only because it is
not the first.
## p. 8317 (#521) ###########################################
8317
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
(1822-)
-
NE of the most distinctive and pleasant features of American
literature in its development since 1870 has been the work
of Southern writers. They have portrayed in sketch, poem,
and story,— notably in the latter form,—the scenes, types, and nat-
ural beauties of a picturesque and romantic part of the United States,
rich in colors and flavors of its own, and a most hopeful field for
literary cultivation. Different authors, men and women, have drawn
with sympathetic insight the characters peculiar to their own sections
or States, and a product of originality and
value has been the result. To mention but
a few names: Mr. Page and Mrs. Stuart
have done this for Virginia and Alabama,
Miss Murfree for Tennessee, «Octave Tha-
net” for the Southwest, Mr. James Lane
Allen for Kentucky, and Messrs. Harris and
Johnston for Georgia. The last mentioned,
R. M. Johnston, holds an honorable place
amid the elder authors of the South because
of his lively, humorously unctuous, and
truthfully limned studies of Georgia folk.
Richard Malcolm Johnston was born in
1822 in Hancock County, Georgia, and was RICHARD M. JOHNSTON
graduated from Mercer University in that
State in 1841. He was admitted to the bar, and practiced his pro-
fession at Sparta, Georgia; but like the legion before him who have
felt themselves called to scholarship and literature, he turned from
the law, declining such a substantial bait as a judgeship, and in 1857
became professor of belles-lettres in the University of Georgia, holding
the position until the breaking out of the war in 1861. Afterwards
he opened a select classical school at Rockby, in his native county,
and it became a noted institution in the South. In 1867 the school
was moved to the suburbs of Baltimore; and since its abandonment
Colonel Johnston has resided in that city.
The stories which gave him reputation, The Dukesborough Tales,'
first appeared in the old Southern Magazine, and were published later
in book form (1871). Some time before, he had printed his "Georgia
Sketches: By an Old Man' (1864). In 1884 came Old Mark Langston:
(
## p. 8318 (#522) ###########################################
8318
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
(
A Tale of Duke's Creek'; in 1885 (Two Grey Tourists'; Mr. Absa-
lom Billingslea and Other Georgia Folk dates from 1888; Ogeechee
Cross-Firings from 1889; and still later books of fiction are Widow
Guthrie (1890); (The Primes and their Neighbors,' Mr. Fortner's
Marital Claims) (1892); (Mr. Billy Downs and his Likes) (1892); and
Little Ike Templin and Other Stories (1894). Colonel Johnston has
also written a biography of Alexander H. Stephens, a sketch of Eng-
lish literature (in collaboration with Professor William Hand Browne),
and several volumes of essays.
Colonel Johnston's representative work is found in the Dukes-
borough Tales. All his later fiction bears a family resemblance to
this inimitable series, in which is reproduced the old-time Georgian
country life among white folks from a supposed contemporary's coign
of vantage, and in a way to give the reader a vivid sense of local
custom, tradition, and trait. The sly fun of these genial stories is
delicious; the revelations of human nature are keen, while the tem-
per is kindly and tolerant. Johnston does for the white people of a
certain period and section what Page and Harris do for the negroes;
and he does it once and for all.
THE EARLY MAJORITY OF MR. THOMAS WATTS
Copyright 1883, by Harper & Brothers. Reprinted by permission of the
author
« () 'tis a parlous boy. ”
- (RICHARD III. )
L
ITTLE Tom Watts, as he used to be called before the unex-
pected developments which I propose briefly to narrate, was
the second in a family of eight children, his sister Susan
being the eldest. His parents dwelt in a small house situate
on the edge of Dukesborough. Mr. Simon Watts, though of
extremely limited means, had some ambition. He held the office
of constable in that militia district, and in seasons favorable to
law business made about fifty dollars a year. The outside world
seemed to think it was a pity that the head of a family so large
and continually increasing should so persistently prefer mere
fame to the competency which would have followed upon his
staying at home and working his little field of very good ground.
But he used to contend that a man could not be expected to
live always, and therefore he ought to try to live in such a way
as to leave his family, if nothing else, a name that they wouldn't
be ashamed to hear mentioned after he was gone.
## p. 8319 (#523) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8319
Yet Mr. Watts was not a cheerful man. Proud as he might
justly feel in his official position, it went hard with him to be
compelled to live in a way more and more pinched as his family
continued to multiply with astonishing rapidity. His spirits, nat-
urally saturnine, grew worse and worse with every fresh arrival
in the person of a baby, until the eighth. Being yet a young
man, comparatively speaking, and being used to make calcula-
tions, the figures seemed too large as he looked to the future. I
would not go so far as to say that this prospect actually killed
him; but at any rate he took a sickness which the doctor could
not manage, and then Mr. Watts gave up his office and every-
thing else that he had in this world.
But Mrs. Watts, his widow, had as good a resolution as any
other woman in her circumstances ever had. She had no notion
of giving up in that way. She gave up her husband, it is true,
but that could not be helped; and without making much ado
about even that, she kept going at all sorts of work, and some-
how she got along at least as well after as before the death of
Mr. Simon.
A person not well acquainted with the brood of little Wattses
often found difficulty in discriminating among them. I used
to observe them with considerable interest as I went into Dukes-
borough occasionally, with one or the other
or the other or both of my
parents. They all had white hair, and red chubby faces. It
was long a matter of doubt what was their sex. Such was the
rapidity of their succession, and so graduated the declivity from
Susan downwards, that the mother used to cut all their garments
after a fashion that was very general, in order that they might
descend during the process of decay to as many of them as
possible. Now, although I saw them right often, I had believed
for several months, for instance, that little Jack was a girl, from
a yellow frock that had belonged to his sister Mary Jane, but
which little Jack wore until his legs became subjected to such
exposure that it had to descend to Polly Ann, his next younger
sister. Then I made a similar mistake about Polly Ann, who
during this time had worn little Jack's breeches, out of which he
had gone into Mary Jane's frock; and I thought on my soul that
Polly Ann was a boy.
In regard to Tommy, not only I, but the whole public, had
been in a state of uncertainty in this behalf for a great length of
time. Having no older brother, and Susan's outgrown dresses
## p. 8320 (#524) ###########################################
8320
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
being alone available, his male wardrobe was inevitably only
half as extensive and various as by good rights, generally speak-
ing, it ought to have been. Therefore Tommy had to make his
appearance alternately in frock and breeches, according to the
varying conditions of these garments, for a period that annoyed
him the more the longer it extended, and finally began to dis-
gust. Tom eagerly wished that he could outgrow Susan, and
thus get into breeches out and out. But Susan in this respect,
as indeed in almost all others, kept her distance in the lead.
There was a difference, easily noticeable, in Tom's deportment
in these seasons. While in frocks it was subdued, retiring, and
if not melancholy, at least fretful. Curiosity perhaps, or some
other motive equally powerful, might and indeed sometimes did
lead him outside of the gate; but never to linger there for any
great length of time. If he had to go upon an errand during
that season (a necessity which that resolute woman his mother
enforced without the slightest hesitation), he went and returned
with speed. Yet before starting out on such occasions, he was
wont to be careful to give his hair such a turn that his manly
head might refute the lie which Susan's frock had told. For it
is probable that there have been few, if indeed any, boys who
were more unwilling either to be or to be considered of the
opposite sex, than that same Tom Watts. I do not remember
ever to have seen a boy whose hair had so high and peculiar a
roach as his exhibited, especially when he wore his sister Susan's
frocks. Instead of being parted in the middle, it was divided
into three parts. It was combed perfectly straight down on the
sides of his head, and perfectly straight up from the top. An
immense distance was thus established between the extremities
of any two hairs which receded contiguously to each other on the
border-lines.
All this was an artful attempt to divert public attention from
the frock which intimated the female, to the head which asserted
and which was supposed to establish the male. He once said to
Susan:
“When they sees your old frock, they makes out like that they
'spicions me a gal; but when they looks at my har all roached
up, then they knows who I am. ”
« Yes indeed,” answered Susan, and a sight you air. Good-
ness knows, I'd rather be a girl, and rather look like one if I
weren't, than to look like you do in that fix. ”
((
## p. 8321 (#525) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8321
But it was during the other season, that which he called
his breeches week, that Tommy Watts was most himself. In this
period he was cheerful, bold, notorious. He was as often upon
the street as he could find opportunities to steal away from home;
and while there, he was as evidently a boy as was to be found
in Dukesborough or any other place of its size. In this happy
.
season he seemed to be disposed to make up as far as possible for
the confinements and the gloominesses of the other. So much
so, indeed, that he had to be whipped time and time again for
his unlicensed wanderings; and for many other pranks which
are indeed common to persons of his age and sex, but which he
seemed to have the greater temptation to do, and which he did
with more zest and temerity than other boys, because he had
only half their time in which to do them. Tom Watts maintained
that if a boy was a boy, then he ought to be a boy; and as for
himself, if he had to be a girl a part of the time, he meant to
double on them for the balance. By them he meant his mammy,
as he was wont to call his surviving parent. But she understood
the method of doubling as well as he; for while she whipped him
with that amount of good-will which in her judgment was proper,
she not unfrequently cut short his gay career by reducing him to
Susan's frock, or (if it was not ready for the occasion) to his own
single shirt. On such occasions he would relapse at once into
the old melancholy ways. If Thomas Watts had been familiar
with classical history, I have not a doubt that in these periods
of his humiliation he would have compared his case with that
the great Achilles, whose mother had kept him in inglorious
seclusion amid the daughters of Lycomedes. Yet, like that hero
further in being extremely imprudent, no sooner would he recover
his male attire than he would seem to think that no laws had
ever been made for him, and he would rush headlong into diffi-
culties and meet their consequences. Tom, as his mother used
to say, was a boy of a “tremenjuous sperrit. ” But it had come
from her, and enough had been left in her for all domestic pur-
poses. In every hand-to-hand encounter between the two, Thomas
was forced to yield and make terms; but he resolved over and
over, and communicated that resolution to many persons, that if
he ever did obtain his liberty, the world should hear from him.
His late father having been to a degree connected, as we remem-
ber, with the legal profession, Tom had learned one item (and
that was probably the only one that he did learn sufficiently well
XIV-521
(
## p. 8322 (#526) ###########################################
8322
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
new
to remember) of the law: that was, that young men of fourteen
who had lost their fathers might go into court and choose their
own guardians, and do other things besides. How he did long
for that fourteenth birthday! The more he longed for it, the
longer it seemed in coming. He had gotten to believe that if
it ever should come, he would have lived long enough and had
experience enough for all, even the most difficult and responsible
purposes of human life.
But events that must come will come, if we will only wait
for them. In the process of time, which to the hasty nature of
Tom seemed unreasonably and cruelly long in passing, he seemed
to emerge from the frock for good and all. The latest induce-
ment to a preparation for this liberty was a promise that it
a
should come the sooner, provided he would improve in the care
that he was wont to take of his clothes; for he had been a sad
fellow in that item of personal economy. When this inducement
was placed before him, he entered upon a career. He
abjured wrestlings with other boys, and all other sports and
exercises, however manly, which involved either the tearing of
his attire or contact with the ground. He even began to be
spruce and dandyish; and the public was astonished to find that
in the matter of personal neatness, Tom Watts was likely to
become a pattern to all the youth of Dukesborough and its envi-
rons. His roach grew both in height and in sleekness; and when
his hat was off his head, Tom Watts was the tallest-looking boy
of his inches that I ever saw.
Resolute as was the Widow Watts, she had respect for her
word, and was not deficient in love for her offspring. Besides,
it was getting to be high time for Tom to go to school, if he
ever was to go. Now in a school, I maintain, if nowhere else,
it is undeniably to be desired that everybody's sex should be put
beyond doubt. Even a real girl in a schcol of boys, or a real
boy in a school of girls, it is probable, would both feel and im-
part considerable embarrassment. This would doubtless be much
increased in case where such a matter was in doubt. There is
no telling what a difference an uncertainty in this behalf would
make, not only in the hours of study, but even, and to a per-
haps greater extent, in those of play. I have lived in the world
long enough to feel justified in saying that suspicions and doubts
are more efficacious than facts in producing embarrassments and
alienations. Oh, it is no use to say anything more upon the
## p. 8323 (#527) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8323
subject! Mrs. Watts had sense enough to have respect for public
sentiment; and when Tom was ready for school, Susan's frock
had to be laid aside. However, Mary Jane, who was a fast
grower, went into it with the taking of only a little tuck, and
nothing was wasted.
Tom Watts, therefore, avowedly and notoriously, for good and
for all and forever, became a boy. When he stepped out of
Susan's frock for the last time, and stepped into a new pair of
trousers which had been made for the purpose of honoring the
occasion, he felt himself to be older by many years; and if not
as sleek, he was at least as proud, as any snake, when with the
incoming spring he has left his old skin behind him and glided
into the sunlight with a new one.
The neat habits which he had adopted from policy, he con-
tinued to practice, to his mother's great delight. It was really a
fine thing to observe the care he took with his clothes; and the
manly gait he assumed would have led unthinking persons almost
to conclude that the having been confounded so long with the
other sex had begotten a repugnance for the latter which might
never be removed. Such was the rapidity of his strides towards
manhood, that some females of his acquaintance not unfrequently
spoke of him as Mr. Thomas Watts; while others went further,
left off the Thomas altogether, and called him Mr. Watts.
But time, which is ever making revelations that surprise man-
kind, was not slow to reveal that Mr. Watts had not yet been
fully understood. He had been going to school to Mr. Cordy for
several weeks in the winter, and was believed to be making
reasonable progress.
He had now passed his thirteenth year,
and had gone some distance upon his fourteenth. He had long
looked to that day as the commencement of his majority. A
guardian (or, as he was wont to say, a gardseen) was an incum-
brance which he had long determined to dispense with. This
was not so much, however, because there would not be a thing
for an official to manage except the person of Mr. Thomas
himself, as that he had no doubt — not a shadow of a doubt, in
fact — that such management would be more agreeable, more safe,
and in every way better, in his own hands than in those of any
other person of his acquaintance.
Mr. Cordy's school was in a grove of hickory and oak at the
end of the village opposite to the one at which Mrs. Watts's
cabin stood. At the hither end of this grove was another small
## p. 8324 (#528) ###########################################
8324
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
school, of girls, kept by Miss Louisa Wilkins. She was from Ver-
mont, and was a young lady of about twenty-eight years, very
fair, somewhat tall, and upon the whole rather good — certainly a
cheerful — looking face. For I should remark that Dukesborough,
which ever held Augusta in view, had in the pride of its ambi-
tion abolished the system of mixed schools; and though the
number of children was rather limited to allow of great division,
still Dukesborough would have, and did have, two institutions of
learning. Miss Wilkins had under her charge about fifteen girls,
ranging from eight years old to fourteen.
Prominent among
them were Miss Adeline Jones, Miss Emily Sharp, Miss Lorinda
Holland, Miss Jane Hutchins, and Mr. Watts's elder sister, Susan.
Mr. Watts's relations to this institution seemed to have been
started by accident. One morning, as with lingering but not un-
manly steps he was passing by on his way to his own school, he
spied Miss Wilkins through the window in the act of kindling a
fire. As her face was turned from him, he had the opportunity,
and he used it, to observe her motion for several moments.
Whether because the kindling-wood was damp, or Miss Wilkins
was not expert, I would not undertake at this late day to say;
but the fire would not make a start: and the lady, apparently
bent upon getting warm in some way, threw down the tongs and
walked rapidly up and down the room. Observing Mr. Watts,
.
and possibly suspecting that he was a person of an accommo-
dating disposition, she requested his assistance.
He yielded
promptly, and it did Miss Wilkins good to see how quickly the
blaze arose and the genial warmth radiated through the room.
The artificial heat at once subsided, and she smiled and thanked
him in a way that could not soon be forgotten. Then she in-
quired his name, and was surprised and gratified to know that so
manly a person as he was should be the brother of one of the
best and most biddable girls in her school.
This accident, trifling in appearance, led to consequences. Mr.
Watts had frequent opportunities of rendering this same service,
and others of an equally obliging nature. These gave him access
to the school in its hours of ease; and the care that he took of
his clothes, and the general manners that he adopted, were reach-
ing to a height that approached perfection. If the roach on the
summit of his head was not quite as high as formerly (a depres-
sion caused by his having now a hat to wear), it was not any
less decided and defiant.
## p. 8325 (#529) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8325
Yet he never seemed disposed to abuse his privileges. Al-
though he was there very often, he usually had little to say to
any of the young ladies, and seemed to try to pay the utmost
respect to all the mistress's rules and regulations in regard to
the intercourse of her pupils with the opposite sex. It must be
admitted that Mr. Watts had not advanced lately in his studies
to the degree that was promised by his opening career. But
Mr. Cordy was a reasonable man, and upon principle was opposed
to pushing boys along too fast. Mrs. Watts, although not a per-
son of education herself, yet suspected from several circumstances
that her son was not well improving the little time which she
could afford to send him to school. But his deportment was
such an example to the younger children that she had not the
heart to complain, except in a very general way.
Of all persons of Mr. Watts's acquaintance, his sister Susan
was the only one who seemed to fail to appreciate his manly
habits. She used to frown dreadfully upon him, even when he
seemed to be at his very best. Sometimes she even broke into
immoderate laughter. While the former conduct had no influ-
ence, the latter used to affect him deeply. He would grow very
angry and abuse her, and then become even more manlike. But
when Susan would think that he was carrying matters into
extremes, she would check him somewhat in this wise:
“Now lookee here, Tom, if you talk to me that way, I shall
tell ma what's the matter with you; and if you don't quit being
such a man, and stop some of your foolishness, I'll tell her any.
how. ”
Threats of this sort for a time would recall Mr. Watts at
least to a more respectful treatment of his sister. Indeed, he
condescended to beg her not to mention her suspicions, although
he assured her that in these she was wholly mistaken. But Susan
did know very well what he was about; and it is probable that
it is high time I should explain all this uncommon conduct. The
truth is, Susan had ascertained that so far from having the
repugnance to ladies that had been feared at first might grow
out of his remembrance of the long confusion of the public mind
touching his own sex, Mr. Thomas Watts had already conceived
a passion that was ardent and pointed and ambitious to a degree
which Susan characterized as “perfectly redickerlous. ”
But who was the young lady who had thus concentrated
upon herself all the first fresh worship of that young manly heart ?
## p. 8326 (#530) ###########################################
8326
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
Was it Miss Jones, or Miss Sharp? Was it Miss Holland, or
Miss Hutchins ? Not one of these. Mr. Thomas Watts had, with
one tremendous bound, leaped clear over the heads of these
secondary characters, and cast himself at the very foot of the
throne. To be plain, Mr. Watts fondly, entirely, madly loved
Miss Louisa Wilkins, the mistress and head of the Dukesborough
Female Institution.
Probably this surprising reach might be attributed to the am-
bitious nature of his father, from whom he had inherited this and
some other qualities.
Doubtless, however, the recollection of hav-
ing been kept long in frocks had engendered a desire to convince
the world that they had sadly mistaken their man. Whatever
was the motive power, such was the fact. Now, notwithstanding
.
this state of his own feelings, he had never made a declaration
in so many words to Miss Wilkins. But he did not doubt for a
moment that she thoroughly understood his looks, and sighs, and
devoted services. For the habit which all of us have of envelop-
ing beloved objects in our hearts, and making them, so to speak,
understand and reciprocate our feelings, had come to Mr. Watts
even to a greater degree perhaps than if he had been older. He
as little inclined and as little able to doubt Miss Wilkins
as to doubt himself. Facts seemed to bear him out. She had
not only smiled upon him time and time again, and patted him
sweetly on the back of his head, and praised his roach to the very
skies; but once, when he had carried her a great armful of good
fat pine-knots, she was so overcome as to place her hand under
his chin, look him fully in the face, and declare that if he wasn't
a man, there wasn't one in this wide, wide world.
Such was the course of his true love, when its smoothness
suffered that interruption which so strangely obtrudes itself
among the fondest affairs of the heart. Miss Susan had threat-
ened so often without fulfillment to give information to their
mother, that he had begun to presume there was little or no
danger from that quarter. Besides, Mr. Watts had now grown
so old and manlike that he was getting to be without appre-
hension from any quarter. He reflected that within a few weeks
more he would be fourteen years old, when legal rights would
accrue. Determining not to choose any "gardzeen,” it would
follow that he must become his own. Yet he did not intend to
act with unnecessary notoriety. His plans were, to consummate
his union on the very day he should be fourteen; but to do so
was
## p. 8327 (#531) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8327
clandestinely, and then run away, not stopping until he should
get his bride plump to Vermont. For even the bravest find it
necessary sometimes to retreat.
Of the practicability of this plan he had no doubt, because he
knew that Miss Wilkins had five hundred dollars in hard cash
a whole stockingful. This sum seemed to him immensely ade-
quate for their support in becoming style for an indefinitely long
period of time.
As the day of his majority approached, he grew more and
more reserved in his intercourse with his family.
This was
scarcely to be avoided now, when he was already beginning to
consider himself as not one of them. If his conscience ever
upbraided him as he looked upon his toiling mother and his
helpless brothers and sisters, and knew that he alone was to rise
into luxury while they were to be left in their lowly estate, he
reflected that it was a selfish world at best, and that every man
must take care of himself. But one day, after a season of un-
usual reserve, and when he had behaved to Miss Susan in a way
which she considered outrageously supercilious, the latter availed
herself of his going into the village, fulfilled her threat, and
gave her mother full information of the state of his feelings.
That resolute woman was in the act of ironing a new home-
spun frock she had just made for Susan. She laid down her
iron, sat down in a chair, and looked up at Susan.
Susan, don't be foolin' 'long o' me. ”
"Ma, I tell you it's the truth. ”
“Susan, do you want me to believe that Tom's a fool ? I
knowed the child didn't have no great deal of sense; but I didn't
think he was a clean-gone fool. ”
But Susan told many things which established the fact beyond
dispute. In Mr. Thomas's box were found several evidences of
guilt. There was a great red picture of a young woman, on the
margin of which was written the name of Miss Louisa Wilkins.
Then there was wrapped carefully in a rag a small piece of
sweet soap, which was known by Susan to have been once the
property of Miss Wilkins. Then there were sundry scraps of
poetry, which were quite variant in sentiment, and for this and
other reasons apparently not fully suited for the purposes for
which they were employed. Mr. Watts's acquaintance with ama-
tory verses being limited, he had recourse to his mother's hymn-
book. Miss Wilkins was assured how tedious and tasteless were
(
## p. 8328 (#532) ###########################################
8328
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
C
the hours. Her attention was directed alternately to Greenland's
icy mountains and India's coral strand. She was informed that
here he was raising his Ebenezer, having hitherto thus safely
come.
But immediately afterwards his mind seemed to have
been divèrted to thoughts of distant travel, and he remarked that
his home was over Jordan, and he suggested to Miss Wilkins
that if she should get there before he did, she might tell them
he was a-coming. Then he urged Miss Wilkins to turn, sinner,
turn, and with great anxiety inquired why would she die? These
might have passed for evidences of a religious state of mind,
but that they were all signed by Miss Wilkins's loving admirer,
Thomas Watts. Indeed, in the blindness of his temerity he
had actually written out his formal proposition to Miss Wilkins,
which he had intended to deliver to her on the very next day.
This had been delayed only because he was not quite satisfied
either with the phraseology or the handwriting. As to the way
in which it would be received, his ardent soul had never enter-
tained a doubt.
Well, well! ” exclaimed his mother, after getting through
with all this irrefragable evidence. “Well, well! I never should
a' b'lieved it.
But I suppose we live and larn. Stealin' out of
my hime-book too! It's enough to make anybody sick at the
stomach. I knowed the child didn't have much sense; but I
didn't know he was a clean-gone fool. Yes, we lives and larns.
But bless me, it won't do to tarry here. Susan, have that frock
ironed all right, stiff and starch, by the time I git back. I
sha'n't be gone long. ”
The lady arose, and without putting on her bonnet, walked
rapidly down the street.
“What are you lookin' for, Mrs. Watts ? » inquired an ac-
quaintance whom she met on her way.
" I'm a-looking for a person of the name of Mr. Watts,” she
answered, and rushed madly on. The acquaintance hurried home,
but told other acquaintances on the way that the Widow Watts
have lost her mind and gone ravin' distracted. Soon afterwards,
as Mr. Watts was slowly returning, his mind full of great thoughts
and his head somewhat bowed, he suddenly became conscious that
his hat was removed and his roach rudely seized. Immediately
afterwards he found himself carried along the street, his head
foremost and his legs and feet performing the smallest possible
part in the act of locomotion. The villagers looked on with
## p. 8329 (#533) ###########################################
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
8329
wonder. The conclusion was universal. Yes, the Widow Watts
have lost her mind.
When she reached her cabin with her charge, a space was
cleared in the middle by removing the stools and the children.
Then Mr. Watts was ordered to remove such portions of his
attire as might oppose any hindrance whatever to the application
of a leather strap to those parts of his person which his mother
might select.
“O mother, mother! ” began Mr. Watts.
«No motherin' o' me, sir. Down with 'em," and down they
came, and down came the strap rapidly, violently.
“O mammy, mammy! ”
"Ah, now! that sounds a little like old times, when you used
to be a boy,” she exclaimed in glee, as the sounds were repeated
amid the unslackened descent of the strap. Mrs. Watts seemed
disposed to carry on a lively conversation during this flagellation.
She joked her son pleasantly about Miss Wilkins; inquired when
it was to be, and who was to be invited ? Oh, no! she forgot: it
was not to be a big wedding, but a private one. But how long
were they going to be gone before they would make us all a
visit ? Mr. Watts not only could not see the joke, but was not
able to join in the conversation at all, except to continue to
scream louder and louder, "O mammy, mammy! ” Mrs. Watts,
finding him not disposed to be talkative, except in mere ejacula-
tory remarks, appealed to little Jack, and Mary Jane, and Polly
Ann, and to all, down even to the baby. She asked them, did
they know that Buddy Tommy were a man grown, and were
going to git married and have a wife, and then go away off
yonder to the Vermonties? Little Jack, and Polly Ann, and
Baby, and all, evidently did not precisely understand; for they
cried and laughed tumultuously.
How long this exercise, varied as it was by most animated
conversation, might have continued if the mother had not become
exhausted, there is no calculating Things were fast approaching
that condition, when the son declared that his mother would kill
him if she didn't stop.
“That,” she answered between breaths, is-what-I- aims
- to do- if I can't git it - all - all — every --- spang — passel
-outen you. ”
Tom declared that it was all gone.
you —
a boy? ”
»
«Is
-a man
or
- is you
## p. 8330 (#534) ###########################################
8330
RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON
(
Boy! boy! mammy,” cried Tom. “Let me up, mammy –
and — I'll be a boy — as long — as I live. ”
She let him up.
Susan, whar's that frock? Ah, there it is. Lookee here.
Here's your clo'es, my man. Mary Jane, put away them panta-
loonses. ”
Tom was making ready to resume the frock. But Susan re-
monstrated. It wouldn't look right now, and she would go Tom's
security that he wouldn't be a man any more.
He was cured. From being an ardent lover, he grew to be-
come a hearty hater of the principal of the Dukesborough Female
Institution; the more implacable upon his hearing that she had
laughed heartily at his whipping. Before many months she re-
moved from the village; and when two years afterwards a rumor
came that she was dead, Tom was accused of being gratified by
the news. Nor did he deny it.
"Well, fellers,” said he, “I know it weren't right, I knew it
were mean; but I couldn't' a' kep' from it ef I knowed it would
'a 'kilt me. ”
## p. 8330 (#535) ###########################################
1
1
!
## p. 8330 (#536) ###########################################
os
JOKAI.
## p. 8330 (#537) ###########################################
了
## p. 8330 (#538) ###########################################
JOKAI.
## p. 8331 (#539) ###########################################
8331
MAURICE JÓKAI
(1825-)
BY EMIL REICH
-
MONG the numerous novelists and humorists of Hungary, Jókai
is, in the opinion of his compatriots and the rest of his
contemporaries, facile princeps. The number of his novels,
articles, and sketches is legion; yet in all of them there is scarcely
a dull page. Everything he has written is swelling and palpitating
with the intense vitality of thought and sentiment so characteristic
of the Hungarians. Like all nations with whom conversation or the
living word is more important than written or dead vocables, they
endow the expressions of their inner life with a power of spontaneity
and wit that must appear to more book-ridden nations as elemental.
As in their music the originality of rhythm and counterpoint, so in
their literature we cannot but perceive a striking originality of ideas
and framework. From the earliest dawn of Hungarian literature
as such, - that is, from the seventeenth century onward, - a great
number of Magyar writers have struck out literary paths of their
own, thus adding materially to the wealth of modern European liter-
ature. Kazinczy, Berzsenyi, Kölcsey, and the Kisfaludys, who wrote
in the latter half of the last, and in the first three decades of the
present century, not only labored at a close imitation of Greek,
Roman, or French and German models, but also created new liter-
ary subjects and some novel literary modes.
The Hungarian writers have been able to lend their works that
intimacy between word and sentiment which alone can be productive
of high literary finish. The language of the Magyars is one of the
idioms of Central Asia, related to Finnish on the one hand and
Turkish on the other.
It has no similarity whatever with the Aryan
languages. It is sonorous and agglutinative; rich in verbal forms and
adjectives; and unlike French, without any stubborn aversion to the
coining of new words. It has a peculiar wealth of terms for acoustic
phenomena, which is but natural with a people so intensely musical
as are the Hungarians.
And finally, the language of the Magyars
is their most powerful political weapon in the struggle against the
Slavic nations inhabiting Hungary. Hence the majority of Hunga-
rian writers are at once poets and politicians. Petöfi, the greatest of
## p. 8332 (#540) ###########################################
8332
MAURICE JÓKAI
Hungarian poets, was at the same time one of the most formidable
of political pamphleteers; and all the more so because his explos-
ives were generally wrapped in a few stanzas. One of his intimate
friends was Jókai.
As Petöfi is the most prominent of Hungarian writers in verse, so
Jókai is the most conspicuous if not the most gifted Hungarian writer
in prose. He was born at Komorn in Hungary, on the 19th of Feb-
ruary, 1825. From the very outset his life showed that union of lit-
erary and political activity which characterizes Hungarian and English
men of talent. Two years before the great Hungarian revolution in
1848, he appeared as the author of a successful novel, Hétköznapok'
(Working Days); and together with Petöfi he embraced the cause of
the revolution with all the ardor and temerity of his genius. Nearly
shipwrecked in the desperate attempt at defying the victorious Aus-
trians, then Hungary's oppressors, he was saved by his lovely wife
Rose Laborfalvi, the greatest of Hungarian tragédiennes (born 1820,
died 1886). He has been ever since incessantly at work, publishing
volume after volume, over three hundred in all, in which he has
laid before the world a true and fascinating picture of nearly all the
phases of that strange semi-European and semi-Asiatic life of Hun-
gary. Like the country itself, his novels are gorgeous with variety,
and resplendent with colors of all tints. The mystic majesty of her
Puszta (prairie), the colossal dignity of her Alps, the sweet charm
of her lakes, the ardent temper of her men and the melodramatic
spell exercised by her women,- all these and many more phases of
Magyar life in the past and the present, — nay, in the future (see his
(Romance of the Next Century'),— have been painted by Jókai in
all the colors of the literary rainbow. His older novels are ripe mas-
terpieces, elaborated during the calm of the period of reaction (1849–
1861). Amongst them the most excellent are — A Hungarian Nabob?
(1856); (Zoltán Kárpáthy,' continuation of the former, and if possible
still more pathetic and humorous; The Palmy Days of Transylvania!
(1851); The New Squire (1862), exquisite in irony, humor, and scath-
ing travesty; For What we are Growing old' (1865); Love's Fools'
(1867); Black Diamonds (1870); “Rab Ráby) (1880); “The Poor Rich'
(1881); 'Eyes Like the Sea' (1890); “There is No Devil' (1891); “The
Son of Rákóczy' (1892); (Twice Two are Four' (1893); etc. Besides
these works of fiction, Jókai has written a very interesting History of
Hungary; his memoirs; the Hungarian part of the late Crown Prince
Rudolph's great work on Austria-Hungary; and other works.
Yet far from being exhausted by the composition of so many
novels, he has still found time for wide activity as a journalist.
,
With the editing of great political dailies he managed to combine the
publication of one of the wittiest of Hungarian humorous papers, the
(
## p. 8333 (#541) ###########################################
MAURICE JÓKAI
8333
Üstökös, a weekly. And this is not all. Jókai has been, ever since
the reopening of the Hungarian Parliament, - that is, for over thirty
years, - a member of the Lower House; and being as consummate a
speaker as he is an incomparable writer, he has been heavily drawn
upon by the party of the government, whose constant adherent he is.
The joy of his country's youth, the glory of its manhood, Jókai con-
tributed, by the signal favor bestowed upon him by the Emperor-
King of Austria-Hungary, but especially by Queen Elizabeth, very
much towards an understanding between monarch and people; and
when in 1896 the fiftieth anniversary of his literary activity had been
reached, the whole country rose in one unanimous desire to express
to the venerable poet its deep sense of his merits. Festivities were
arranged on a scale so grand as to dwarf nearly any other ovation
ever made to a country's favorite poet. Official and non-official
Hungary, monarch and people, aristocrat and peasant, all united to
celebrate the event. An édition de luxe of Jókai’s works was made;
and out of the proceeds the author was given the sum of $90,000.
Finally, in January 1897, the great novelist was appointed member
for life of the House of Magnates (the Hungarian House of Lords).
He is still enjoying vigorous health, and will no doubt enrich liter-
ature with many more gems.
Gil Reich
THE LANDSLIDE AND THE TRAIN WRECK
From There is No Devil. Translated by F. Steinitz. Copyright 1891, by
Cassell Publishing Co.
W*
E ARE on the Rossberg. A devastated tract of the globe it
seems. Our eyes rest on barren soii, devoid of vegeta-
tion. Beneath a large field of huge bowlders, imbedded
in snow and ice, the Alpine vegetation thrives. The whole valley
is one immense grave-yard, and the great rocks are giant tomb-
stones, encircled by wreaths of white flowers meet for adorning
graves. At the beginning of the present century one of the
ridges of the Rossberg gave way, and in the landslide four vil-
lages were buried. This happened at night, when the villagers
were all asleep, and not a single man, woman, or child escaped.
This valley is their resting-place. Was I not right to call it a
grave-yard ?
## p. 8334 (#542) ###########################################
8334
MAURICE JÓKAI
Above this valley of destruction the train glides on. Upon
the side of the mountain is a little watch-house, built into the
rock; a narrow flight of steps hewn in the stone leads up to it
like a ladder. The moon, which had lately seemed fixed to the
crest of the mountain, now plays hide-and-seek among the peaks.
A high barricade on the side of the Rossberg serves to protect
the railroad track against another landslide.
On the high ridges of the mountain, goats were pasturing;
and not far from them a shepherd's fire was blazing, and the
shepherd himself sat beside it. I remember all of these acces-
sories as well as if they were still before my eyes. I can see the
white goats climbing up and pulling at the broom plants. I can
see the shepherd's black form encircled by the light of the fire,
and the white watch-house with its black leaden roof, the high
signal-pole in front of it, above which all at once a great flaming
star arises.
I was gazing at that shining red light, when all at once I felt
a concussion, as if the train had met with some impediment. I
heard the jolting of the foremost cars, and had time to prepare
for the shock which was sure to follow; but when it did come
it was so great that it threw me to the opposite wall of the
corridor.
Yet the train moved on as before, so that it could not have
been disabled, as I at first thought. I heard the guards run from
carriage to carriage, opening the doors, and I could see great
clouds of steam arise from the puffing and blowing engines. The
friction of the wheels made a grating noise, and I leaned out of
the window to ascertain the nature of the danger. Was another
train approaching and a collision inevitable? I could see nothing,
but suddenly I beheld the figure of the shepherd and saw him
raise his staff aloft. I followed the motion of his hand, and with
a thrill of horror I saw a great ledge of rock sliding downward
with threatening speed, while at the same time a shower of small
stones crashed on the roof of the cars.
