John Esten Cooke

“ Roundjacket sniffed.
"Don't be sorry," said Verty.
"I cannot refrain, sir," said Roundjacket, in a tone of acute agony; "it is more than I can bear. See here, sir, again: 'High Jove! great father!' is changed into 'By Jove, I'd rather!' and so on. Sir, it is more than humanity can bear; I feel that I shall sink under it. I shall be in bed to-morrow, sir—after all my trouble—'By Jove!'"
With this despairing exclamation Roundjacket let his head fall, overcome with grief, upon his desk, requesting not to be spoken to, after the wont of great unfortunates. ”

“ Don't you know that the great element of success in life, from killing a mosquito to winning an empress, is to strike at once, and at the right moment? Go on, Jinks, my boy, and luck to you!"
"Thanks, sir," replied Mr. Jinks—"I hope I shall have luck."
"Of course, because you have genius! What is luck?" cried Ralph, bending down to smooth the glossy neck of his animal, and laughing gaily,—"why, nothing but a word! Luck, sir, is nothing—genius everything. Luck throws her old shoe after, as says the proverb; but genius catches it, and conquers. ”

“ No more! when it dreams of and clings to that thought of meeting, as the life and vital blood of to-morrow!—when the heart is liquid—the eyes moist with tenderness—the warp of thought woven of golden thread—at such a moment for the blow of the wave to fall, and drown the precious argosy with all its freight of love, and hope, and memory—this is the supreme agony of youth, the last and most refined of tortures.
Verty lived in the thought of meeting Redbud—his days were full of her; but the hours he passed at Apple Orchard were the brightest. The noonday culminated at dawn and sunset! ”

“ Therefore, when Miss Redbud saw Verty approach, clad in his new costume, and radiant with happy expectation, she hastily left the window at which she had been standing, and, in the depths of her chamber, sought for strength and consolation.
Let no one deride the innocent prayer of the child, and say that it was folly, and unworthy of her. The woes of youth are not our woes, and the iron mace which strikes down the stalwart man, falls not more heavily upon his strong shoulders, than does the straw which bears to the earth the weak heart of childhood. ”

“ Verty paused, and they went on slowly.
"We love him because he first loved us," said Redbud, thoughtfully.
"Yes, and what a love it must have been. Oh me!" said the young man, "I sometimes think of it until my heart is melted to water, and my eyes begin to feel heavy. What love it was!—and if we do not love in return, what punishment is great enough for such a crime!"
And Verty's face was raised with a dreamy, reverent look toward the sky. Youth, manhood, age—if they but thought of it!—but youth is a dream—manhood the waking—age the return to slumber. ”

“ Ah! after all, there is no philosophy like ignorance—there is no joy like youth and innocence!
The shouts and laughter ringing through the merry fields, on the fine autumn morning, may have led us into this discourse upon youth: the very air was full of laughter, and when Fanny let the kite string go by accident, the rapture grew intense.
Verty and Redbud sitting quietly, at the distance of some paces, under the oaks, looked on, laughing and talking.
"How bright Fanny is," said Redbud, laughing—"Look! I think she is lovely; and then she is as good as she can be." ”

“ Strephon is never so devoted as when Chloe has been removed from him—when his glances seek for her in vain on the well-remembered lawn. And Chloe, too, is disconsolate, when she no longer sees the crook of her shepherd, or hears the madrigals he sings. Absence smoothes all rough places; and the friend from whom we are separated, takes the dearest place in the heart of hearts.
Redbud did not discover how much she loved Verty, until she was gone from him, and the fresh music of his laughter was no longer in her ears. ”

“ Verty's face was more dreamy and thoughtful than ever. The dim smile still dwelt upon his lips, and though his countenance had as much of the forest Indian character as ever, there was a languor about the drooping eyelids, with their long lashes, and a stoop in the usually erect neck, which betrayed the existence in the boy's mind of some ever-present sadness. His costume was just what it had always been—moccasins, deerskin leggings, a shaggy forest paletot, and fringed leather gauntlets, which now lay by him near his white fur hat. He had not changed by becoming a lawyer's clerk ”

“ Why not catch the laughter of those youthful lips, and tell how the young men and maidens amused themselves that fine autumn day? Everything innocent and fresh is beautiful—and there are eyes which shine more brightly than the sun, voices which make a softer music than the breezes of October in the laughing trees. Redbud's face and voice had this innocence and joy in it—there was pleasure in the very sound of it; and such a delicate kind of light in the soft eyes, that as they went, the young men felt more pure, and bowed to her, as something better than themselves—of higher nature. ”

“ And the lawyer wiped his brow.
"Can't we think of the Creator differently," said Redbud, earnestly.
"How?"
"As the Being who came down upon the earth, and suffered, and wept tears of blood, was buffeted and crowned with thorns, and crucified like a common, degraded slave—all because he loved us, and would not see us perish? Oh! Mr. Rushton, if there are men who shrink from the terrible God—who cannot love that phase of the Almighty, why should they not turn to the Saviour, who, God as he was, came down and suffered an ignominious death, because he loved them—so dearly loved them!" ”

“ Surely, it would not be wrong for him to embrace this chance of discovering Redbud's residence—a chance which seemed to have been afforded him by some unseen power. Why should he not keep the bird until its wing was healed, and then observe the direction of its flight? Why not thus find the abode of one in whose society so much of his happiness consisted? Was there any thing wrong in it—would any one blame him?
These were the questions which Verty asked himself, standing in the October sunshine, and holding the wounded pigeon to his breast. ”

“ Are the feelings of our after lives so much more disinterested, pure and elevated?
So Miss Fanny chatted on with Redbud, telling her a thousand things, which, fortunately, have nothing to do with our present chronicle—else would the unfortunate chronicler find his pen laughed at for its tardy movement. Fanny's rapid flow of laughing and picturesque words, could no more be kept up with by a sublunary instrument of record, than the shadow of a darting bird can be caught by the eager hand of the child grasping at it as it flits by on the sward. ”

“ Look at the sun, Redbud—the beautiful sun going away like a great torch dying out;—and look at the clouds, as red as if a thousand deer had come to their death, and poured their blood out in a river! Look at the woods here, every color of the bow in the cloud, and the streams, and rocks, and all! There must be a Great Spirit who loves men, or he never would have made the world so beautiful. ”

“ The heart is purer for such hours of thought; and as the splendid autumn marches on with pensive smiles, you see a glory in his waning cheek which neither the tender Spring, nor the rich, glittering Summer ever approached—an expression of hope and resignation which is greater than strength and victory. Ah, me! if we could always look, like autumn, on the coming storms and freezing snows, and see the light and warmth beyond the veil!
Verty went on beneath the autumn skies, and through the woods, the rustle of whose leaves was music to his forest-trained ear ”

“ The idea of your thinking Verty your rival in the affections of Miss Sallianna! Jinks, my boy, you are blinded with love—open your eyes, and don't think you can see while they are closed. I tell you, Verty is in love with Redbud—I know it, sir. Or, if he is not with Redbud, it's Fanny. No, I don't think it is Fanny," murmured Ralph, with a thoughtful expression; "I think I'm safe there. A dangerous rival!" ”

“ Redbud and Verty entered; and then the young man held out his hand.
"Are you going?" said the girl.
"Yes," he said, smiling, "unless you will sing me something. Oh, yes! let me go away with music in my ears. Sing 'Dulce Domum' for me, Redbud."
The young girl assented, with a smile; and sitting down at the harpsichord, sang the fine old ditty in her soft, tender voice, which was the very echo of joy and kindness. The gentle carol floated on the evening air, and seemed to make the autumn twilight brighter, everything more lovely—and Verty listened with a look more dreamy than before. ”

“ Jinks. You are really too bad. Let us view the beauties of nature."
"They are not so lovely as those beauties which I have been viewing since I saw you, my dearest Miss Sallianna."
("That's old Scowley's sister, he said so," whispered Verty.)
"Really, you make me blush," replied the mincing and languishing voice—"you men are dreadful creatures!"
"Dreadful!"
"You take advantage of our simplicity and confidence to make us believe you think very highly of us."
"Highly! divinest Miss Sallianna! highly is not the word; extravagantly is better! ”

“ I would die for her whenever she wanted me to—indeed I would."
"Hum!" said Miss Sallianna.
"You know she is so beautiful and good—she's the best and dearest girl that ever lived, and I was so happy before she treated me coldly this morning! I'll never be happy any more!"
"Cannot you banish her false image?"
"False! she's as true as the stars! Oh, Redbud is not false! she is too good and kind!"
Miss Sallianna shook her head.
"You have too high an opinion of the sex at large, I fear, Mr. Verty," she said; "some of them are very inconstant; you had better not trust Redbud." ”

“ Redbud smiled at Miss Fanny's consistency, and was about to reply, when the bell for prayers rang.
The two young girls rose, and smoothing their hair slowly, descended, arm in arm, and still conversing, to the dining-room, where old Scowley, as Verty called her, and Miss Sallianna, awaited them, in state, with their scholars.
Prayer was succeeded by breakfast; and then—the young damsels having eaten with the most unromantic heartiness—the whole school scattered: some to walk toward "town;" others to stroll by the brook, at the foot of the hill; others again to write letters home. ”

“ If we are asked how it happened that the merry, joyous Verty, whose face was before all sunshine, now resembled nobody so much as some young and handsome Don Quixote, reflecting on the obduracy of his Toboso Dulcinea, we can only reply, that Verty was in love, and had not prospered lately—that is to say, on that particular day, in his suit; and, in consequence, felt as if the world no longer held any more joy or light for him, forever. ”

“ At such moments Verty dreamed—the real world had disappeared—perforce of that imagination given him by heaven, he entered calm and happy into the boundless universe of reverie and fancy.
For a time he would go along thus, his arms hanging down, his head bent upon his breast, his body swinging from side to side with every movement of his shaggy little horse. Then he would rouse himself, and perhaps fit an arrow to his bow, and aim at some bird, or some wild turkey disappearing in the glades. Happy birds! the arrow never left the string. ”

“ Roundjacket?"
"As villainous as ever," says the lawyer; "my opinion of Mr.
Roundjacket, sir, is, that he is a villain!"
Miss Lavinia colors to the temples—the Squire nearly bursts with pent-up laughter.
"What has he done? A villain did you say?" he asks.
"Yes, sir!—a wretch!"
"Possible?"
"Yes—it is possible: and if you knew as much of human nature as I do, you would never feel surprised at any man's turning out a villain and a wretch! I am a wretch myself, sir!"
And scowling at the Squire, Mr. Rushton goes on with his breakfast. ”

“ Is not that rational, sir?"
"Yes, and theological—what, however, is one to do if the said love and faith sink and disappear—are drowned in tears, or burnt up in the fires of anguish and despair."
"Pray, sir," said Redbud, softly.
The lawyer growled.
"To whom? To a Being whom we have no faith in—whom such a man has no faith in, I mean to say—to the hand that struck—which we can only think of as armed with an avenging sword, or an all-consuming firebrand! Pray to one who stands before us as a Nemesis of wrath and terror, hating and ready to crush us?—humph!" ”

“ We are not enough for ourselves. We think we are strong and mighty, and can do everything; but a wind blows us away. Listen, there is the wind in the pines, and look how it is scattering the leaves. Men are like leaves—the breath of the Great Spirit is the wind which scatters them."
And the old Indian woman gazed with much affection on the boy.
"What you say is worthy to be written on bark, mother," he said, returning her affectionate glance; "the Great Spirit holds everything in the hollow of his hand, and we are nothing. Going away!" added Verty after a pause—"Going away!" ”

“ Verty and Redbud, as we have said, went first.
We have few artists in Virginia—only one great humorist with the pencil. This true history has not yet been submitted to him. Yet we doubt whether ever the fine pencil of Monsignor Andante Strozzi could transfer to canvas, or the engraver's block, the figures of the maiden and the young man.
Beauty, grace, and picturesqueness might be in the design, but the indefinable and subtle poetry—the atmosphere of youth, and joy, and innocence, which seemed to wrap them round, and go with them wherever they moved—could not be reproduced. ”

“ Verty was getting angry.
"Mr. Jinks, you'd better get out of the way," he said, calmly.
"Never! stand back! Attempt to push your animal toward me, and I slaughter him. Base caitiff! Know that the rival you have yonder is myself! Know that she loves you not, and is now laughing at you, however much she may have made you believe she loved you! She is a wretch!"
Verty thought Mr. Jinks spoke of Redbud—the dominant idea again—and frowned.
"Yes! a perfidious, unfeeling traitoress," observed Mr. Jinks, grimacing terribly; "and if thou makest a single step toward her, I will spit thee on my sword!" ”

“ Rushton, vindictively—"yes, distinctly heard him whisper, 'There's old Rushton again, come to growl, and not buy anything.' The villain! but I disappointed him; and when he said, "Shall they be sent to your office, sir?" in his odious obsequious voice, I replied, 'No, sir! I am not a dandy or fine gentleman, nor a woman;—you, sir, may be accustomed to have your bundles sent—I carry mine myself.' And so, sir, I took the bundle on my shoulder and brought it away, to the astonishment of that young villain, who, I predict, will eventually come to the gallows!" ”

“ Roundjacket's indignation at this unfeeling allusion to his great poem was so intense, that for the moment he was completely deprived of utterance.
"And as for you, young man," said Mr. Rushton, smiling grimly at Verty, "I suppose you are following the ordinary course of foolish young men, and falling in love! Mark me, sir! the man that falls in love makes a confounded fool of himself—you had better at once go and hang yourself. Pretty people you are, with your 'eyes' and 'sighs'—your 'loves' and 'doves'—your moonlight, and flowers and ecstacies! Avoid it, sir! ”

“ The grass was green and soft, and the birds rose through the air on fluttering wings, singing and rejoicing, and the clouds floated over them as only clouds in May can float, quickly, hopefully, with a dash of changeful April in them—not like those of August: for the May cloud is a maiden, a child, full of life and joy, running and playing, and looking playfully back at the winds as they rustle on—not August-like—a thoughtful ripened beauty, large, lazy, and contemplative, whose spring of youth has passed, whose summer has arrived, in all its wealth, and power, and languid splendor. ”

“ But Redbud and Fanny did not—they were far too good-natured to take pleasure in such comments, and instead, spent the hours in laughing, playing and reading in the pleasant arbor. Thus the morning drew on, and the lovely autumn day sailed past with all its life and splendor toward the west. Fanny was gazing toward the house, as they thus sat in the arbor, and Redbud was smiling, when a gentleman, clothed in a forest costume, and carrying a rifle, made his appearance at the door of the Bower of Nature.
"Oh, Reddy!" cried Fanny, "there's your friend, Verty; and look what a fright he is!" ”

“ A thought is rising on the troubled and agitated mind of the lawyer, like a moon soaring above the horizon. He trembles, and does not take his eyes for a moment from the young man's face.
"A fountain—Indians?" he mutters, almost inarticulately.
"Yes, yes!" says Verty, with dreamy eyes, and crouching, so to speak, Indian fashion, until his tangled chestnut curls half cover his cheeks—"yes, yes!—there again!—why it is magic—there! I see it all—I remember it! I must have seen it! Redbud!" ”

“ Again, she was the little laughing star of his childhood, as when they wandered about over the fields—little children—that period so recent, yet which seemed so far away, because the opening heart lives long in a brief space of time. Again, she was to him little Redbud, he to her was the boy-playmate Verty. She had done all by a word—a look; a kind, frank smile, a single glance of confiding eyes. He loved her more than ever—yes, a thousand times more strongly, and was calm. ”