Chapter 12

Now mark the wonder that here appears: After a season of months and years, Comes up again the dead man, Who in a very practical way, Says he'll bring his bones some day, And give them again to Redman. When, sure enough (Though some that are rough Might call the narrative "devilish tough"), One charming day In the month of May, As Orton and Redman walked the street Through the severing air, From they knew not where, Came a positive bone, all bleached and bare. That dropped at the doctor's wondering feet!

Then the sprightly dead man Knocked out to Redman The plan that lay in his ghostly head, man: He'd carry the freight, Unheeding its weight; They needn't question how, or about it; But they might be sure The bones he'd procure And not make any great bones about it. From that he made it a special point Each day for their larder to furnish a joint!

From overhead, and from all around, Upon the floor, and upon the ground, Pell-mell, Down fell Low bones, and high bones, Jaw bones, and thigh bones, Until the doctors, beneath their power, Ducked like ducks in a thunder-shower! Armfuls of bones, Bagfuls of bones, Cartloads of bones, No end to the multitudinous bones, Until, forsooth, this thought gained head, man, That this invisible friend, the dead man, Had chartered a band From the shadowy land, Who had turned to work with a busy hand, And boned all their bones for Dr. Redman!

Now, how to account for all the mystery Of this same weird and fantastical history? That is the question For people's digestion, And calls aloud for instant untwistery! Of this we are certain, By this lift of the curtain, That still they're alive for work or enjoyment, Though I must confess That I scarcely can guess Why they don't choose some useful employment.

[Footnote 2: Dr. Redman, of New York, was a noted medium, and it was said that, for a while, wherever he might be, bones would be dropped all about him, to the confusion and wonder of everybody. These bones, he said, were brought him by a spirit, whose bones were of no further use to him.]

THE RED CHIGNON.

(FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY.)

CHARACTERS.

MISS PRISCILLA PRECISE, { Principal of a genteel Boarding { School for Young Ladies.

HETTY GRAY, } FANNY RICE, } Pupils. LIZZIE BOND, } HANNAH JONES, } MRS. LOFTY, a fashionable Lady.

SCENE.--_Parlor in_ MISS PRECISE'S _Establishment._

_Piano_ R., _Lounge_ L., _Chairs_ C.

_Enter_ HETTY, FANNY, _and_ LIZZIE, R., _laughing._

_Hetty._ O, such a fright!

_Fanny._ Such a stupid!

_Lizzie._ I never saw such a ridiculous figure in the whole course of my life!

_Hetty._ I should think she came from the back-woods.

_Fanny._ Who is she, any way?

_Lizzie._ She's the daughter of the rich Mr. Jones, a man, who, three years ago, was the proprietor of a very small saw-mill away down east. He managed to scrape together a little money, which he invested in certain railroad stocks, which nobody thought would ever pay. They did, however, and he has, no doubt to his own astonishment, made a great deal of money.

_Hetty._ And that accounts for Miss Precise's partiality. Well, I'm not going to associate myself with her; and I mean to write to father this very day, and tell him to take me home. She dresses so ridiculously!

_Lizzie._ And talks so horridly!

_Fanny._ And plays so wretchedly!

_Hetty._ O, girls, don't you think I caught her at the piano this morning playing Yankee Doodle and whistling an accompaniment!

_Fanny._ Whistling!

_Lizzie._ Good gracious! what would Miss Precise say. If there's anything she forbids, it's whistling.

_Hetty._ Yes, and such a reader! I heard her reciting Longfellow's Excelsior; and such reading, and such gestures! (_Recites._)

"The shades of night were falling fast, As through an All-pine village past--"

(_All laugh._)

_Fanny._ O, it's ridiculous!

_Lizzie._ And then her dress! O, girls, I've made a discovery!

_Fanny._ What is it? What is it?

_Hetty._ O, do tell us!

_Lizzie._ Well, then, you must be secret.

_Fanny and Hetty._ Of course, of course!

_Lizzie._ Well, yesterday, at just twelve o'clock, I was in the hall; the door-bell rang; I opened it; there was a box for Miss Hannah Jones; I took it; I carried it to her room; I opened--

_Fanny and Hetty._ The box?

_Lizzie._ The door; she wasn't there. I put it on the table; it slipped off; the cover rolled off; and such a sight!

_Fanny._ What was it?

_Hetty._ O, do tell us!

_Lizzie._ Four--great--red--

_Fanny and Hetty._ What? What?

_Lizzie._ Chignons!

_Hetty._ Chignons? Why, Miss Precise has forbidden our wearing them.

_Fanny._ O, it's horrible!

_Lizzie._ Ain't it? And I did want one so bad!

_Hetty._ But she cannot wear them.

_Lizzie._ We shall see! Now comes Miss Precise's trial. She has taken Hannah Jones because her father is rich. She worships money; but if there is anything she hates, it is chignons. If she can stand this test, it will be the best thing in the world for us. Then we'll all have them.

_Hetty._ Of course we will.

_Fanny._ But I don't like the idea of having such an interloper here. She's no company for us.

_Enter_ MISS PRECISE, L. _She stands behind the Girls with folded arms._

_Hetty._ Indeed she isn't! I think Miss Precise is real mean to allow her to stay.

_Lizzie._ She'd better go where she belongs,--among the barbarians!

_Miss Precise._ And pray, whom are you consigning to a place among the barbarians, young ladies?

_Hetty._ Good gracious!

_Fanny._ O, dear! O, dear!

_Lizzie._ O, who'd have thought!

(_They separate_, HETTY _and_ FANNY, L., LIZZIE, R., MISS PRECISE, C.)

_Miss P._ Speak, young ladies; upon whom has your dread anathema been bestowed?

_Lizzie._ Well, Miss Precise, if I must tell, it's that hateful new pupil, Miss Jones. I detest her.

_Fanny._ I can't abide her.

_Hetty._ She's horrible!

_Lizzie._ So awkward!

_Fanny._ Talks so badly!

_Hetty._ And dresses so ridiculously!

_Lizzie._ If she stays here, I shan't!

_Fanny._ Nor I.

_Hetty._ Nor I.

_Miss P._ Young ladies, are you pupils of the finest finishing-school in the city? Are you being nursed at the fount of learning? Are you being led in the paths of literature by my fostering hands?

_Lizzie._ Don't know. S'pose so.

_Miss P._ S'pose so! What language! S'pose so! Is this the fruit of my teaching? Young ladies, I blush for you!--you, who should be the patterns of propriety! Let me hear no more of this. Miss Jones is the daughter of one of the richest men in the city, and, as such, she should be respected by you.

_Lizzie._ She's a low, ignorant girl.

_Miss P._ Miss Bond!

_Hetty._ With arms like a windmill.

_Miss P._ Miss Gray!

_Fanny._ A voice like a peacock.

_Miss P._ Miss Rice!

_Hetty, Lizzie, and Fanny._ O, she's awful!

_Miss P._ Young ladies! I'm astonished! I'm shocked! I'm thunderstruck! Miss Jones is my pupil. She is your associate. As such, you will respect her. Let me hear no more of this. Go to your studies. I highly respect Miss Jones. Imitate her. She's not given to conspiracies. She's not forever gossiping. Be like her, and you will deserve my respect. To your studies. Miss Jones is a model for your imitation. [_Exit_, L.

_Hetty._ Did you ever!

_Fanny._ No, I never!

_Lizzie._ A model for imitation! Girls, we'll have some fun out of this. Imitate Miss Jones! I only hope she'll put on one of her chignons. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ HANNAH JONES, R., _extravagantly dressed, with a red chignon, followed by_ MRS. LOFTY.

_Hannah._ Come right in, marm; this is our setting-room, where we receive callers. Take a seat.

(MRS. LOFTY _sits on lounge_.)

_Mrs. Lofty._ Will you please call your mistress at once?

_Hannah._ My mistress? Law, neow, I s'pose yeou take me for a hired gal. Yeou make me laugh! Why, my pa's richer than all the rest of 'em's pas put together. I deon't look quite so scrumptious as the rest o 'em, p'r'aps, but I'm one of the scholars here.

_Mrs. L._ I beg your pardon. No offence was intended.

_Hannah._ Law, I don't mind it. Yeou see our folks come from deown east, and we haven't quite got the hang of rich folks yit. That's why I'm here to git polished up. Miss Precise is the schoolmarm, but she's so stiff, I don't expect she'll make much of me. I do hate airs. She makes the girls tend tu door, because she's too poor to keep help.

_Mrs. L._ Will you please speak to her? I have not much time to spare, as this is my charity day.

_Hannah._ Charity day! Pray, what's that?

_Mrs. L._ I devote one day in the week to visiting poor people, and doing what I can to alleviate their misfortunes.

_Hannah._ Well, marm, that's real clever in you. I do like to see rich folks look arter the poor ones. Won't you please to let me help you? I don't know the way among the poor yit, but I'm going to find out. Here's my pocket-book; there's lots uv money in it; and if you'll take and use it for the poor folks, I'll be obleeged. (_Gives pocket-book._)

_Mrs. L._ O, thank you, thank you! you are very kind; I will use it, for I know just where it is needed. Can you really spare it?

_Hannah._ Spare it? Of course I can. I know where to git lots more; and my pa says, 'What's the use of having money, if you don't do good with it?' Law, I forgot all about Miss Precise. You just make yourself to home, and I'll call her. [_Exit_, L.

_Mrs. L._ A rough diamond. She has a kind heart. I hope she'll not be spoiled in the hands of Miss Precise. (_Opens pocket-book._) What a roll of bills! I must speak to Miss Precise before I use her money. She may not be at liberty to dispose of it in this wholesale manner.

_Enter_ MISS PRECISE, L.

_Miss P._ My dear Mrs. Lofty, I hope I have not kept you waiting. (_Shakes hands with her, then sits in chair_, C.)

_Mrs. L._ O, no; though I'm in something of a hurry. I called to ask you if you could take my daughter as a pupil.

_Miss P._ Well, I am rather full just now; and the duties of instructor are so arduous, and I am so feeble in health----

_Mrs. L._ O, don't let me add to your trials. I will look elsewhere.

_Miss P._ No, no; you did not hear me out. I was going to say I have decided to take but one more pupil.

_Mrs. L._ What are the studies?

_Miss P._ English branches, French, Italian, German, and Spanish languages, and music; all taught under my personal supervision.

_Mrs. L._ Quite an array of studies; almost too much for one teacher.

_Miss P._ Ah, Mrs. Lofty, the mind--the mind is capable of great expansion; and to one gifted with the power to lead the young in the flowery paths of learning, no toil is too difficult. My school is select, refined; nothing rough or improper is allowed to mingle with the high-toned elements with which I endeavour to form a fashionable education.

_Mrs. L._ I should like to see some of your pupils.

_Miss P._ O, certainly. You will take them unawares; but I flatter myself you will not find them unprepared. (_Strikes bell on piano._)

_Enter_ FANNY, _dressed as before, but with large, red chignon on her head._

_Miss P._ This is Miss Fanny Rice. Mrs. Lofty, Fanny. There you see one of my pupils who has an exquisite touch for the piano, a refined, delicate appreciation of the sweetest strains of the great masters. Fanny, my dear, take your place at the piano, and play one of those pieces which you know I most admire. (FANNY _sits at piano, plays Yankee Doodle, whistling an accompaniment._) What does this mean? (_Turns and looks at_ FANNY, _starts, puts her eye-glass to her eye.--Aside._) Heavens! that child has one of those horrible chignons on her head!--(_Aloud._) Miss Rice, why did you make that selection?

_Fanny._ (_Imitates_ HANNAH'S _manner of speaking._) Cos I thought you'd like it.

_Miss P._ "Cos?" O, I shall die! And why did you think I should like it?

_Fanny._ Cos that's the way Hannah Jones does.

_Miss P._ Send Miss Gray to me. (_Follows_ FANNY _to door._) And take that flaming turban off your head. I'll pay you for this! [_Exit_ FANNY, L.

_Mrs. L._ Your pupil is exceedingly patriotic in her selection.

_Miss P._ Yes; there's some mistake here. She's evidently not on her good behaviour.

_Enter_ HETTY GRAY, L., _with red chignon._

Ah, here's Miss Gray. Mrs. Lofty, Miss Gray. She has a sweet voice, and sings sentimental songs in a bewitching manner. Miss Gray, take your place at the piano, and sing one of my favourites.

(HETTY _sits at piano, plays and sings._)

"Father and I went down to camp Along with Captain Goodin, And there we saw the boys and girls As thick as hasty-puddin."

_Miss P._ Stop! (_Looks at her through eye-glass._) She's got one of those hateful things on too,--chignons! Is there a conspiracy? Miss Gray, who taught you that song?

_Hetty._ Miss Hannah Jones, if you please.

_Miss P._ Go back to your studies, and send Miss Bond to me. (_Takes her by the ear, and leads her to the door._)

_Hetty._ Ow! you hurt!

_Miss P._ Silence, miss! Take off that horrid head-dress at once.

[_Exit_, HETTY, L.

Mrs. Lofty, how can I find words to express my indignation at the conduct of my pupils? I assure you, this is something out of the common course.

_Enter_ LIZZIE, L., _with red chignon._

Here is one of my smartest pupils, Miss Bond. Mrs. Lofty, Miss Bond. She particularly excels in reading. Miss Bond, take a book from the piano and read, something sweet and pathetic! something that you think would suit me.

LIZZIE _takes a position_, L., _opens book, and reads, in imitation of_ HANNAH'S _voice._

_Lizzie._

What is it that salutes the light, Making the heads of mortals bright, And proves attractive to the sight? My chignon.

_Miss P._ Good gracious! is the girl mad?

_Lizzie._

What moves the heart of Miss Precise To throw aside all prejudice, And gently whisper, It is nice? My chignon!

_Miss P._ Chignon, indeed! Who taught you to read in that manner?

_Lizzie._ Hannah Jones.

_Miss P._ O, this is too bad! You, too, with one of these horrid things on your head? (_Snatches it off, and beats her on head with it._) Back to your room! You shall suffer for this! [_Exit_ LIZZIE, L.

_Mrs. L._ Excuse me, Miss Precise, but your pupils all wear red chignons. Pray, is this a uniform you have adopted in your school?

_Miss P._ O, Mrs. Lofty, I'm dying with mortification! Chignons! I detest them; and my positive orders to my pupils are, never to wear them in the house.

_Hannah._ (_Outside_, L.) Wal, we'll see what Miss Precise will say to this.

_Enters with a red chignon in each hand, followed by_ LIZZIE, HETTY, _and_ FANNY.

_Miss P._ Good gracious! More of these horrid things!

_Hannah._ Miss Precise, jest look at them! Here these pesky girls have been rummaging my boxes, and putting on my best chignons that pa sent me only yesterday. Look at them! They're teetotally ruined!

_Miss P._ Why, Miss Jones, you've got one on your head now!

_Hannah._ Of course I have. Have you got anything to say against it?

_Miss P._ O, no; only it don't match your hair.

_Hannah._ What of that? Pa always goes for the bright colours, and so do I.

_Lizzie._ Miss Precise, I thought pupils were forbidden to wear them.

_Miss P._ Well, yes--no--I must make exceptions. Miss Jones has permission to wear them.

_Lizzie._ Then I want permission.

_Hetty._ And so do I.

_Fanny._ And so do I.

_Miss P._ First tell me what is the meaning of this scene we have just had.

_Lizzie._ Scene? Why, didn't you tell us to take Miss Jones as a model for imitation? Haven't we done it?

_Miss P._ But Miss Jones doesn't whistle.

_Hannah._ Whistle? I bet I can. Want to hear me?

_Miss P._ No. She don't sing comic songs.

_Hannah._ Yes, she does.

_Lizzie._ Yes, and she wears chignons. As we must imitate her, and hadn't any of our own, we appropriated hers.

_Miss P._ Shame, shame! What will Mrs. Lofty say?

_Mrs. L._ That she rather enjoyed it. I saw mischief in their eyes as they came in. And now, girls, I'm going to tell you what Miss Jones does that you _don't_ know. A short time ago she placed in my hands her pocket-book, containing a large roll of bills, to be distributed among the poor.

_Lizzie._ Why, isn't she splendid?

_Hetty._ Why, she's "mag."

_Fanny._ O, you dear old Hannah. (_Kisses her._)

_Mrs. L._ I'm going to send my daughter here to school, and I shall tell her to make all the friends she can; but her first friend must be Hannah Jones.

_Hannah._ Well, I'm sure, I'm obleeged to you.

_Lizzie._ O, Miss Precise, we are so sorry we have acted so! Let us try again, and show Mrs. Lofty that we have benefited by your instruction.

_Miss P._ Not now. If Mrs. Lofty will call again, we will try to entertain her. I see I was in the wrong to give you such general directions. I say now, imitate Hannah Jones--her warm heart, her generous hand.

_Mrs. L._ And help her, by your friendship, to acquire the knowledge which Miss Precise so ably dispenses.

_Lizzie._ We will, we will.

_Miss P._ Only, ladies, avoid whistling.

_Hetty._ Of course, of course.

_Miss P._ And comic songs!

_Fanny._ O, certainly.

_Lizzie._ And there is one more thing we shall be sure to avoid.

_Miss P._ What is that?

_Lizzie._ The wearing of red chignons.

[_Exeunt._

THE KNIFE-GRINDER.

GEORGE CANNING.

FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

Needy Knife-grinder! whither are you going? Rough is the road,--your wheel is out of order,-- Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in 't, So have your breeches!

Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- Road, what hard work 't is crying all day 'Knives and Scissors to grind O!

Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives? Did some rich man tyrannically use you? Was it the squire? or parson of the parish? Or the attorney?

Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a lawsuit?

(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?) Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall as soon as you have told your Pitiful story.

KNIFE-GRINDER.

Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir, Only last night, a drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle.

Constables came up for to take me into Custody; they took me before the justice; Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish- Stocks for a vagrant.

I should be glad to drink your Honor's health in A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence; But for my part, I never love to meddle With politics, sir.

FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

I give thee sixpence! I will see thee hang'd first,-- Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance-- Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast!

[Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.]

PREACHING TO THE POOR.

Father Taylor once said, "'Tis of no use to preach to empty stomachs."

The parson preached in solemn way, --A well-clad man on ample pay,-- And told the poor they were sinners all, Depraved and lost by Adam's fall; That they must repent, and save their souls. A hollow-eyed wretch cried, "_Give us coals!_"

Then he told of virtue's pleasant path, And that of ruin and of wrath; How the slipping feet of sinners fell Quick on the downward road to h----, To suffer for sins when they are dead; And the hollow voice answered, "_Give us bread!_"

Then he spoke of a land of love and peace, Where all of pain and woe shall cease, Where celestial flowers bloom by the way, Where the light is brighter than solar day, And there's no cold nor hunger there. "Oh," says the voice, "_Give us clothes to wear!_"

Then the good man sighed, and turned away, For such depravity to pray, That had cast aside the heavenly worth For the transient and fleeting things of earth! And his church that night, to his content, Raised his salary fifty per cent.

THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.

BY C.B. SOUTHEY.

Tread softly--bow the head; In reverent silence bow; No passing bell doth toll, Yet an immortal soul Is passing now.

Stranger! however great, With lowly reverence bow; There's one in that poor shed, One by that paltry bed, Greater than thou.

Beneath that beggar's roof, Lo! Death doth keep his state; Enter--no crowds attend; Enter--no guards defend This palace gate.

That pavement, damp and cold, No smiling courtiers tread; One silent woman stands, Lifting with meagre hands A dying head.

No mingling voices sound-- An infant wail alone: A sob suppressed--again That short, deep gasp, and then The parting groan.

Oh! change!--Oh! wondrous change!-- Burst are the prison bars-- This moment there, so low, So agonized, and now Beyond the stars!

Oh! change--stupendous change! There lies the soulless clod! The sun eternal breaks-- The new immortal wakes Wakes with his God!

A HORSE-CAR INCIDENT.

No matter what horse-car, but it happened that I had to go a mile or two, and held up my cane to attract the attention of the driver or the conductor of one of them, which I did, after some difficulty. I am bound to say it was not on the Touchandgo road, for the officers employed there have an instinctive knowledge whether a man wishes to ride or not, and indeed often by the magic of the upraised finger they draw people in to ride who had hardly any previous intention of it. I have been attracted in this way, and found myself to my astonishment, seated in the car, confident that I had signified no disposition to do so. In this instance, however, I would ride, and got in.

There were the usual passengers in the car--the respectable people going out of town, who were reading the last editions of the papers, the women who had been shopping, the servant girls who had been in to visit their friends, feeling no interest in one another, and all absorbed in their own reflections, as I was. I was thinking seriously, when--my eye was attracted by some glittering object on the floor, beneath the opposite seat.

Of course everybody is attracted by glitter. A piece of glass in the moonlight may be a diamond, and show is far ahead of substance in influencing men, from the illusion which affects short-sighted vision. Thus this glittering object. What was it?--a diamond pin dropped by a former passenger? No, it could not be this, because it appeared to be round, and bigger than a pin stone could be. Could it be a bracelet? No, for it was too small. I directed my gaze more earnestly towards it in my doubt, and saw that it was a QUARTER, bright and sparkling with the freshness of new mint about it, so it seemed.

This I determined to make mine at the first chance, for a woman was sitting very near it, and I dreaded any confusion I might cause, by a sudden plunge, through the motion of the cars; so, whistling at a low breath, as if indifferent, but keeping my eye upon the prize, I awaited the opportunity that should insure me the coveted one-and-sixpence. It soon came: the bell rang, and the lady opposite, with her arms full of bundles, walked out, leaving the object of my ardent regard more distinctly in view. It seemed to me that every one in the car had an eye on that quarter, which I felt was mine by right of discovery, and which I was determined to have.