Chapter 5

"That you tried to get on while the car was going. All these gentlemen here say the car started while you were trying to get on, which is a very different thing, you know." The doctor had evidently kept his ears open while attending to the sufferer. Mrs. Tarbell, rather red in the face, kept silent, not knowing exactly what she ought to do.

"I don't know," said Mrs. Stiles feebly. "I don't s'pose I remember much."

"Of course you don't," said the doctor cheerfully. "Bless you, you'll sue the company and have a famous verdict; I wouldn't take ten thousand dollars for your chances if I had them. You observe," he went on confidentially to Mrs. Tarbell, "I am doing my best for the community of interests which, ought to exist among the learned professions. I raise this poor woman's spirits by suggesting to her dreams of enormous damages, and at the same time I promote litigation, to the great advantage of her lawyer. I think that is the true scientific spirit."

"I--I--" began Mrs. Tarbell, in some confusion.

"Beg pardon?" said the doctor. "Well, I must be off. I've done all I can for the poor woman. She ought to send for her own doctor as soon as she gets home. I suppose--will you--?" He looked at Mrs. Tarbell doubtfully, as if wondering whether he ought to take it for granted that she was in charge of the case.

"I will tell her," said Mrs. Tarbell.

"I could tell her myself," said the doctor. "To be sure. Well, if I could only inform her lawyer what I've done for him, he might induce my fair patient to employ me permanently." He smiled at his joke, shook his head waggishly, and turned to look for his hat.

As Mrs. Tarbell looked after him in some perplexity, John, the office-boy, came back to report that the carriage was engaged and at the door; and Mrs. Stiles was presently carried down-stairs again, it being quite impossible for her even to limp.

But before she was lifted up she turned her head and beckoned to Mrs. Tarbell.

"Could I," she said,--"could I have a case against the railway company?"

"Ye-es,--I suppose so," Mrs. Tarbell answered.

"Did they say it was the fault of the conductor that I fell off that car?"

"Of the driver,--yes."

"Well, then, ma'am, would you advise me to bring a case against them?"

"You had better decide for yourself," said Mrs. Tarbell faintly. But then, remembering that it was her duty to advise, she added, "Yes, I think you ought to sue."

"Then you'll take the case, Mrs. Tarbell, won't you, please?" said Mrs. Stiles, closing her eyes again, as if satisfied of the future.

Mrs. Tarbell! There was a general movement of surprise as the lady lawyer's name was pronounced, and the doctor was so much taken aback that heh burst out laughing.

"I'm sure I beg your pardon, Mrs. Tarbell," he cried. "I had no idea in the world--"

"Ah," said Stethson, "I looked at the sign on the door coming in. I knew it was the lady lawyer. My, if my wife could see you, Mrs. Tarbell!"

"And I never knew who I was talking to!" grumbled Mecutchen disgustedly.

A quarter of an hour later, when Mr. Juddson returned to his office, Mrs. Tarbell was engaged in drawing up a paper which ran as follows:

ANNETTE GORSLEY STILES } _Court of Common_ vs. } _Pleas._ THE BLANK AND DASH } _May Term, 1883._ AVENUES PASSENGER } _No_. ---- RAILWAY CO. }

_To the Prothonotary of the said Court_:

Issue summons in case returnable the first Monday in May, 1883.

TARBELL, pro plff.

It was a _precipe_ for a writ.

"Alexander!" said Mrs. Tarbell, in an expressive voice, regardless of the office-boy.

"Yes?" said Mr. Juddson. The referee had refused to admit some of his testimony.

"Alexander, I have a client," said Mrs. Tarbell.

"Do you tell me so?" replied Mr. Juddson absently, as he redisarranged the papers upon his table. "I hope--Bless me, where _is_ that--? Mrs. Tarbell, have you seen anything of an envelope?--John, what became of the papers in Muggins and Bylow? I gave them to you."

Mrs. Tarbell, deeply mortified, resumed her occupation, and completed the _precipe_ by writing the words, "Tarbell, pro plff."

Mr. Juddson's papers were found for him, under his nose, and he was beginning to say that he was going out to lunch, when the enormity of his conduct made itself apparent to him.

"By George!" he said, stopping short, "you told me you had a client at last, eh, Mrs. Tarbell?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Tarbell coldly.

"Why,--bless my soul! It's your first client, is it not? And what kind of a case has your ewe-lamb brought you? Come, tell me about it. I did not properly appreciate the communication." And he went over to Mrs. Tarbell's desk, upon which he sat himself down in a position which Mrs. Tarbell had formerly considered very undignified; but now she could not help feeling that it was really a legal attitude.

She looked up with a smile, and then, though with a little shame, displayed the _precipe_.

"Well, that's good," said Mr. Juddson. "Accident case, I suppose. What is it? Death, and damages for the widow?--for I see there are no children,--or was the plaintiff herself the victim of the accident? Your sex has finally decided to stand by you, it seems."

"I shan't send out the writ just yet," said Mrs. Tarbell, blushing. "I was--wanted to see how the _precipe_ would look. I must see the plaintiff again, I think, before I advise her definitely to sue."

"Hasn't she a case?"

"Yes--but--"

"What nonsense!" cried Juddson. "Come, my dear, don't be a goose, and don't lose a return-day. Otherwise, I shall buy you a sewing-machine."

"Aren't you pleased, Alexander?" said Mrs. Tarbell, with a little effusion.

"My dear, I'm delighted. I hope that in five years' time you will be supporting me and my family. Your sister-in-law will be speechless with jealousy. I congratulate you. Hum--The Blank and Dash Avenues Company? Well, you won't have to send John very far with your copies of the pleadings. Pope was appointed attorney for the company last week, in place of old Slyther, who resigned, you know."

"Pope?" said Mrs. Tarbell.

"Yes,--the Honorable Franklin."

"Goodness!" said Mrs. Tarbell, in a tone of inexpressible disgust.

"By jingo; you are not fond of him, are you? Hem! Well, as a general rule, I should advise you to put personal feelings entirely out of the question; but, as this is your first case, perhaps it would be just as well for you to have me with you, and let me--hum--well, let me take the jury."

"Alexander! do you think I am _afraid_ of Mr. Pope?"

"N-no; but Pope is a blackguard, and very shady, and, it might be unpleasant for you; and I'd do that, if I were you."

Mrs. Tarbell's spirits rose. "I will do nothing of the sort, Alexander," she said; "though it is very kind of you to suggest it; and I will--I will bet you,"--determinedly,--" I will bet you a copy of the new edition of Baxter's Digest that I beat him."

THOMAS WHARTON.

A CARCANET.

I give thee, love, a carcanet With all the rainbow splendor set, Of diamonds that drink the sun. Of emeralds that feed upon His light as doth the evergreen, A memory of spring between This frost of whiter pearls than snow, And warmth of violets below A wreath of opalescent mist, Where blooms the tender amethyst. Here, too, the captives of the mine-- The sapphire and the ruby--shine, Rekindling each a hidden spark, Unquenched by buried ages dark, Nor dimmed beneath the jewelled skies, Save by the sunlight of thine eyes.

JOHN B. TABB.

IN A SALT-MINE.

There were five of us. The little New-Yorker, plump, blonde, and pretty, I call Cecilia: that is not her name, but if she suggested any saint it was the patron saint of music. Her soul was full of it, and it ran off the ends of her fingers in the most enchanting manner. Elise, half French, as you would see at a glance, was from the Golden Gate,--as dainty and pretty a bit of femininity as ever wore French gowns with the inimitable American air. Elise could smile her way straight through the world. All barriers gave way before her dimples, and with her on board ship we never feared icebergs at sea, feeling confident they would melt away before her glance. Thirdly, there was myself, and then I come to the masculine two-fifths of our party. First, the curate. He was young in years and in his knowledge of the great world. His parish had sent him to the Continent with us to regain his somewhat broken health. He sometimes spoke of himself as a shepherd, and he liked to talk of the Church as his bride: he always blushed when he looked straight at Elise. Cecilia liked him because his clerical coat gave tone to the party, and his dignity was sufficient for us all, thus saving us the trouble of assuming any. Lastly, there was Samayana, which was not his name either, from Bombay,--a real, live East-Indian nabob. In his own country he travelled with three tents, a dozen servants, as many horses, and always carried his laundress with him. Yet he never seemed lonely with us,--which we thought very agreeable in him. Crawford had just created Mr. Isaacs, and we fancied there was a resemblance,--barring the wives,--and he told us such graphic stories of life in India that we were not always sure in just which quarter of the globe we were touring. Both Samayana and the curate were picturesque--for men. Two beings more opposed never came together, yet they liked each other thoroughly. Samayana was greatly admired in European society for his color, his gift as a _raconteur_, and the curious rings he wore. He was very dusky, and Cecilia, being very blonde, valued him as a most effective foil and adjunct. We were seeing Germany in the most leisurely fashion, courting the unexpected and letting things happen to us.

On the day of which I write we spent the early morning on the Königsee, in Bavaria, the loveliest sheet of water in Germany, vying in grandeur with any Swiss or Italian lake. Its color is that of the pheasant's breast, and the green mountain-sides, almost perpendicular in places, rise till their peaks are in the clouds and their snows are perpetual. Stalwart, bronzed peasant girls, in the short skirts of the Bavarian costume, rowed us about. A few years ago, in answer to a petition, King Louis I. promised them that never in his reign should steam supplant them. They laughed happily and looked proudly at their muscle when we hinted at their being tired.

We landed at different points and strolled into wooded valleys, visited artificial hermitages, stopped for a bite at a restaurant connected with a royal hunting-château, and listened lazily to Elise's telling of the legends of the region, accompanied by the music of some little waterfall coming from the snow above and gleefully leaping into the lake. We crossed the rocky, wild pasture-land lying between the Königsee and the Obersee, that tiny lake that faithfully gives back as a mirror all the crags, peaks, and snowy heights which hide it away there as if it were indeed the precious opal you may fancy it to be when viewed from above.

We drifted back to the little inn, where we were approached by a respectful _Kutscher_, who asked if we would not like to go down into a salt-mine. Whatever we did, it was with one accord, and the answer came in chorus, "_Ja, gewiss!_" Elise glanced down at her dainty toilet, a look instantly interpreted by the _Kutscher_, who explained that costumes for the descent were furnished, that the exploration was not fatiguing, and that the carriages were ready.

It was all done in an "_Augenblick_," the bill was paid, the _Trinkgeld_ was scattered, and we were rattling away through as beautiful a region as you will find, even in Switzerland. The snow-peaks were dazzlingly white in the sunshine; in the ravines and defiles the darkness lingers from night to night; singing, leaping Alpine streams came like molten silver from the glaciers over the rocky ledges and through the hanging forests, and a swift river ran through this happy, fertile valley of peace and plenty in which our roadway wound. The peasants looked content and well-to-do, and were picturesquely clothed. We stopped an old man and bargained for the quaint, antique silver buttons on his coat, and paid him twice its weight in silver money for the big silver buckle at his belt. We were stopped at the frontier, and accommodatingly rose while the custom-officers politely looked under the carriage-seats. The wine we had just drunk was not taxable, while that we were about to drink was: so we presented our remaining bottles to the officers to save them the trouble of making change. Up to that time we had turned our horses to the right: once over the Austrian line, custom demanded we should turn to the left, a change to which the _Kutscher_ readily accommodated himself. One is kept geographically informed in that region by this difference in manners on the high-road in Austria and Bavaria.

We argued a little about the fittingness of women working in the fields. Cecilia thought it preferable to washing dishes, and one of us, who believes herself not born to sew, maintained that to rake hay was more agreeable than sitting at sewing-machines or making shirts at twenty cents apiece after the manner of New-York workwomen. But once indignation and excitement took possession of us all as we caught sight of a bare-footed, slight young girl toiling up a ladder and carrying mortar along a scaffold to men laying bricks on the second story of a new building. The girl had a complexion like a rose-leaf, her uncovered hair gleamed like gold in the sunshine, her head was exquisitely set on her shoulders. The curate sighed deeply, Samayana uttered a strong word in Hindoostanee, and there was a feminine cry of "Shameful!" when the girl, putting down her load, folded her white arms, whose sinew and muscle an athlete might have envied, and, with teeth and smile as faultless as our Elise's, threw us down a "_Gruss Gott_!" If there ever beamed content and happiness from human face we saw it in that of this peasant beauty, who had no conception of our commiseration. We gave her back a "God greet thee!" "All the same," said Cecilia indignantly, "women should _not_ carry mortar." We had noticed that Cecilia's indignation on account of the workingwoman of Germany was extreme if the woman was pretty.

We came at last to the mouth of the mine, from which issued a narrow railway for the transportation of the salt-ore, and above, zigzag on the mountain-side, ran the conduit carrying the salt, still in liquid form, to the boiling-house. A waterfall four hundred feet high furnished power for the great pump. About the entrance to the mine clustered a number of buildings. Many carriages were already there, for it was the height of the tourists' season, and this was the show-mine of the Salzkammergut. Some military officers were standing about, a dozen or more natives lounged on the piazzas, and nearly every carriage contained one or more occupants, evidently waiting for travelling-companions then in the mine. There was the fat woman who couldn't think of such an exploration, the nervous woman who hated dark places and never went underground, a few invalids and some chattering girls and young men who had previously been through the mine and had come over from Salzburg for the drive, and some very fine youths and young women who wouldn't be seen in a miner's costume. There were a score or more of these travellers, and as many more coachmen, and miners off duty, hanging about. A building on the opposite side of the road was indicated to us ladies as the place in which we were to change our costumes. Now, here was a pleasant gauntlet to run in male attire! However, a hundred strangers were not to deter us, and, _possibly_, this costume might be becoming. There were worse figures in the world than ours, and who knew but this miners' dress might show our forms to an advantage at which they had never been seen before? Encouraged by the thought, we gave our treasures into safe keeping and permitted the attendant to disrobe us. She spoke a dialect which had little meaning to us, and we carried on our conversation by signs.

She hung our habiliments on pegs, giving Elise's a little womanly caress for their prettiness. She brought in exchange a costume which made us helpless from laughter, until we were painfully sobered by the thought of the spectators outside. A pair of white duck trousers that might have been made of pasteboard, so stiff were they and so defined the crease ironed at their sides, came first. Our measures were not taken. The attendant accommodatingly turned them up about ten inches at the bottom, the edge then coming to our ankles, which somehow looked very insignificant and as if protruding from paper shoe-boxes that had been sat upon. These nether garments extended beyond us at either side to such a distance that that roundness of form which we had fancied this costume might display was not in the least perceptible. A black alpaca jacket reaching to our knees came next. These, too, had been warranted to fit the biggest woman who might visit the Salzkammergut, and one would easily have taken in all three of us. Elise, always ingenious, found hers so long on the shoulder that she fitted her elbow into the armsize. We pinned them up here and pinned them in there, and tucked our hair into little black caps, and fastened the broad leather belt about our waists, stuck a lantern in at the side, and announced ourselves in readiness. The dressing-maid, however, was not done with us. She brought three very heavy leathern aprons, attached to strong waist-bands. The leather was three-quarters of an inch thick; and I need not add that these square aprons did not take graceful folds. Elise, after regarding the curious article a moment, decided it would be no addition to her toilet, and politely declined it. Cecilia's _nez retroussé_ went yet higher up in the air. Feeling that the maid knew better than I, I meekly put one on as I had been taught from my babyhood to wear an apron, when a sudden twitch brought it around _behind_. She quickly adjusted the others in the same fashion. We dared not look at each other, and each assumed a manner as if attired in the court costume of the country; but I venture to say that more grotesque, ridiculous creatures never went out into the daylight, Cecilia, going first, wisely did not attempt to go through the door full front, and we sidled after her to avoid collision between our stiff sail-like trousers and the door-jambs.

We tried to believe that clothes do not make the woman,--they do much toward it,--and with an air of great dignity went into the face of that miscellaneous company, to be greeted with a terrific and tremendous shout of laughter. A panic seized us, and I found myself standing stock still in the middle of the road, as if stage-struck, the others running like the wind. It was for a moment only, and I followed, the laughter sounding more and more demoniacal to my ears. I was impelled as never before in my life. Was some one striking me from behind? It was that diabolical leathern apron giving me a blow at every step, its violence increasing with my ever-accelerated speed. How grateful the shelter of that cave-like aperture in the mountain, where stood the gentlemen similarly attired, the curate so absurd that we forgot all about his other "cloth" and laughed immoderately in his face. Samayana was still picturesque. Cecilia was in a rage. "I'll never cross that road again before those horrid people, if I stay here a thousand years!" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes; and Elise breathlessly gasped, "Oh-that-awful-apron! It-beat-me-as-I-ran,-like-a-whip. I-felt-like-a-donkey-pursued-by-the-donkey-boy!"

The guide lighted our lanterns, and, with a last hysterical laugh, we followed him into the earth, through long, narrow, humid passage-ways, the temperature not unpleasant, other passage-ways branching off and suggesting the labyrinth which we knew extended for a great distance in every direction. We finally came to a lighted chamber, the entrance to the shaft. The flickering lights showed us the end of a great, smooth, wooden beam, which, at an angle of forty-five degrees, seemed to be going down into darkness, ending nowhere, as far as we could see. We had not been prepared in our minds for this descent or the manner in which it was to be made. The miner placed himself astride the great beam, keeping his position by holding on to a rope. He put Elise behind him, and, drawing her arms around his waist, clasped her hands in front of him. The curate was then requested to mount the wooden horse and embrace Elise firmly. He hesitated but a moment, and in another I found myself behind him, hanging for dear life on to the English shepherd, to be in turn encircled by Samayana, and last of all came Cecilia, doing her best to get her plump little arms around the Indian. The darkness below was a trifle appalling. We were cautioned not to unclasp our hands, lest we should lose them, and naturally we clung the closer to each other.

There was just a moment of suspense and suppressed excitement, when, with a sharp cry, the miner loosened his hold, and by the impulse of our own weight we shot, with a velocity not to be described, two hundred and forty-feet into the earth. The miner acting as a brake brought us up gently enough, so that we felt scarcely anything of a shock. Cecilia, to be sure, left her breath about two-thirds of the way up, and suffered some inconvenience till she accumulated more, and the curate forgot to loosen his hold on Elise for an unpardonable length of time, while he gathered his wits, and I could feel that he was blushing when he came to his senses. It was in adjusting our attire that we discovered the necessity and value of our leathern aprons. Had we been plunged into a pool of water we should have sizzled. They were hot from the friction. They speedily became our dearest of friends and possessions, for we had three more of these shafts to slide down, and we grew faint at the bare thought of losing them. Cecilia, after our second slide, suggested, in a language the gentlemen did not understand, that she would like her turn at being embraced, since she always lost her breath at the start and was afraid. This remark met with no response, as neither Elise nor I wanted to run the risk of being lost off behind, and felt a selfish sense of security that made the shooting of the shafts delightful and somewhat similar to the coasting and sliding down balusters of our childhood.