Thomas Barnes

“ He went to the trouble of actually putting his finger on the line where the guest was expected to write his name.
"Can I have supper?"
"Food for man and beast," said the other patiently. He slapped his palm upon a cracked call-bell, and then looked at the fresh name on the page. "Thomas K. Barnes, New York," he read aloud. ”

“ Barnes, Thomas, editor of the Times, under whom the paper first rose to the pre-eminent place it came to occupy among the journals of the day (1786-1841) .
Barnes, William, a local philologist, native of Dorsetshire; author of “Poems of Rural Life in Dorset,” in three vols.; wrote on subjects of philological interest (1830-1886) .
Barnet (5) , a town in Hertfordshire, almost a suburb of London; a favourite resort of Londoners; has a large annual horse and cattle fair; scene of a battle in 1471, at which Warwick, the king-maker, was slain.
Barnett, John, composer, born at Bedford ”

“ Vor he went, wi' a smile, vor to meet
Wi' the trespassers while they did pass,
An' he zaid, "I do fear you'll catch cwold in your veet,
You've a-walk'd drough so much o' my grass."
His mild words, Thomas, cut em like swords, Thomas,
Newly a-whet,
An' went vurder wi' them than a dreat.
THE RAILROAD.
I took a flight, awhile agoo,
Along the raïls, a stage or two,
An' while the heavy wheels did spin
An' rottle, wi' a deafnèn din,
In clouds o' steam, the zweepèn traïn
Did shoot along the hill-bound plaïn,
As sheädes o' birds in flight, do pass
Below em on the zunny grass. ”

“ O' rogues together,—ev'ry woone o'm false.
An' if he had the power, very soon
Perhaps he'd vall upon em, ev'ry woone.
The times be pinchèn me, so well as you,
But I can't tell what ever they can do.
TOM.
Why meäke the farmers gi'e their leäbourèn men
Mwore wages,—half or twice so much ageän
As what they got.
JOHN.
But, Thomas, you can't meäke
A man pay mwore away than he can teäke.
If you do meäke en gi'e, to till a vield,
So much ageän as what the groun' do yield,
He'll shut out farmèn—or he'll be a goose—
An' goo an' put his money out to use.
Wages be low because the hands be plenty ”

“ Vor to leäve a green spot where a flower can grow,
Or a voot-weary walker mid rest.
Tis hedge-grubbèn, Thomas, an' ledge-grubbèn,
Never a-done
While a sov'rèn mwore's to be won.
The road, he do zay, is so wide
As 'tis wanted vor travellers' wheels,
As if all that did travel did ride
An' did never get galls on their heels.
He would leäve sich a thin strip o' groun',
That, if a man's veet in his shoes
Wer a-burnèn an' zore, why he coulden zit down
But the wheels would run over his tooes.
Vor 'tis meäke money, Thomas, an' teäke money,
What's zwold an' bought
Is all that is worthy o' thought. ”

“ Lik' money vor money,
Or zellèn woone's honey to buy zome'hat sweet.
DOBBIN DEAD. Thomas (1) an' John (2) a-ta'èn o't.
2. I do veel vor ye, Thomas, vor I be a-feär'd
You've a-lost your wold meäre then, by what I've a-heärd.
1. Ees, my meäre is a-gone, an' the cart's in the shed
Wi' his wheelbonds a-rustèn, an' I'm out o' bread;
Vor what be my han's vor to eärn me a croust,
Wi' noo meäre's vower legs vor to trample the doust.
2. Well, how did it happen? He vell vrom the brim
Ov a cliff, as the teäle is, an' broke ev'ry lim'.
[page 318]
1. ”

“ Barnes was strangely silent, sitting restlessly on his restive horse with all the skill that displayed the many years he had passed in the saddle.
“You can bet your life on one thing,” he said, suddenly turning toward Tom, “that if they've killed Josh Price, I'll get the man that did it if it takes all the time and money I've got! There is one of the whitest, squarest, truest men that ever lived. You don't know how white he is. I couldn't tell you in a week of all the decent things that man, rough and ugly as he is, has done for others. ”

“ Let's chain him up to-night."
"Chain nothing," said Tommy Wilson, who had the mobile face of the comedian, and a twinkle in his eyes that never failed to catch his audience. "You fellows are jest jealous. Now we handsome men—"
"Oh, shut up!" said one of the banjo players. "If you don't get a move on you, and get dressed, Tommy, you'll be late again. Then the 'gentleman of the cash box' will throw a fine at you."
At this, a tall, rather sleepy-looking youth turned about. He put a finishing touch to his white tie, and came down the aisle of the car. ”

“ Barnes found the situation more disconcerting than he had anticipated. His self-confidence deserted him. He had no heart to play upon this big man’s credulity. Rather would he take him [153] into his confidence; rather would he speak fairly to those blue eyes resting in their nest of wrinkles. Here was a man used to seeing the unshrouded souls of his fellows. He was doctor, priest, and lawyer, and when these three get together in one man there is a great dropping off of cloaking rags. Such a man must see terrible things; at times beautiful things. ”

“ Barnes studied the big-framed, big-faced man a second and continued more soberly.
“What you call imagination are the grim facts of life for him and for me, doctor. His fiddle isn’t a detail of his life—it’s life itself for him. Cripple his arm and you cripple his soul. You’ve got to fight as hard for those fingers as you would for his life.”
If Dr. Merriweather was at first only annoyed by what he took to be mere extravagance of speech, there was something now in the tense face of Barnes which made him pause and think. ”

“ He had known what it was to come under the Professor's knife, and even at that moment, as he turned, Barnes could see the recent stitches in a comparatively new wound between the ape's shoulders.
"I wouldn't drive Crim too far, if I were you," he said. "Some of these days he'll do you a mischief. And he's powerful enough to do so, despite his gentleness."
Gride laughed harshly.
"I've flayed him a score of times," he said. "He'll never do any mischief—he hasn't got pluck enough. And I am not going seriously to hurt the best subject I've got. ”

“ Yet, like many other comedians, he had, when shorn of his make-up, a prematurely old, wizened face, like that of a jockey or a light-weight fighter, which made his expression almost formidable.
"Do you realize what you 're doing!" repeated Barnes. "What is it to you? A skylark! An adventure! What is the price of a show to you? Yes, you can afford it, but we can't. Do you realize that there are men and women out there who have n't even got the money to take them back to New York? ”

“ Barnes retired from active business life. He is vice-president of the Highland National Bank of Newburgh. Mr. Barnes has not sought prominence in public life, but rather has devoted himself to his business, in which he was eminently successful, and to the work of the church and Sunday-school with which he is connected. He has been twice married, his first wife being M. Theresa Pack, of New York, who died, leaving four children, three of whom are living. Anna, Minnie, and Arthur, his business successor. ”

“ She could not pretend to mourn the death of the marquis, her own 429 father; had he not ever been dead to her; as dead as the good wife (or bad wife) of that nobleman; as dead as Gross George, and all the other honored and dishonored figures of that misty past? But Barnes’ death was the abrupt severing of ties, strengthened by years of tender association, and, when his last summons came, she felt herself truly alone. ”

“ Barnes was proprietor of nothing but himself. That was much or little as you happened to feel about it. To himself it was enough to make him glad that he stood here to-day even with only a trifle over ten round dollars to his name. The position was of his own choosing. He might have been secretary to the Acme Manufacturing Co. had he wished, instead of a painter of very good water-colors which as yet, however, had not found so ready a market as the cook-stoves.
The father put it bluntly when he declared, “People must eat to live; they can worry along without pictures.” ”

“ Barnes assented; “but you're taking the whole business too seriously. I'm rather for the boy, all things considered. I despise his style of cranial decoration—his hair, I mean; but he dresses faultlessly—those quiet neutral shades that are affected by men of breeding, and he's the only man in the house who puts on a dinner coat with religious regularity. In fact, he's the most correct male in the whole bloomin' commonwealth He's certainly not making a nuisance of himself. The only member who ever speaks to him is old man Burrows who hitches on to him every evening for an hour ”

“ It was in such a street that James Barnes and his family existed, rather than lived; for life is too vigorous a term to be applied to the time dragged on by those who were unfortunate enough to breathe so polluted an atmosphere. ”

“ At seven twenty the doctor returned from a brief visit upstairs and John produced himself in the majesty of full regalia.
It was not until the soup was served that Barnes found himself in a position to size up the genial enemy. Among other reasons he was too elated over the necessity that had forced Aunt Philomela to seat him opposite her niece. Barnes saw a heavy [152] man of sixty with a round tanned face, and hands of remarkable beauty. They were tender hands backed by arms that might have been those of a Flemish warrior. ”

“ All through the summer he continued to grow and was happy, playing with Toby, offending the yellow cat, amusing Miss Libby, and affording food for speculation to Mrs. Barnes over her knitting. In the winter Captain Ephraim polished him up in his old tricks, and taught him some new ones. But by this time he had grown so big that Mrs. Barnes began to grumble at him for taking up too much room. He was, as ever, a model of confiding amiability, in spite of his ample jaws and formidable teeth. ”

“ But I'm glad you told me, because—well, because I'm a pretty fair sort of a friend myself.”
He had straightened in his seat, touched his horse with the spur, and was galloping away before Tom could speak. He stood and watched the broad shoulders swinging easily to the horse's stride, but Barnes never looked back.
“Why, Tom, what has happened?” Edith Barnes asked when, a few minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen door. “You look positively happy about something.”
“I am,” he said; then added, with a sense of guilty evasion: “Happy because the doctor thinks Josh will recover. Aren't you?” ”

“ Barnes was already master at Newcome and the bank, and awaiting with perfect composure the event which was to place the blood-red hand of the Newcome baronetcy on his own brougham.
Casting his eyes about the room, a heap of drawings, the work of a well-known hand which he hated, met his eye. There were a half-dozen sketches of Baden; Ethel on horseback again; the children and the dogs just in the old way. “D—— him, is he here?” screams out Barnes. “Is that young pothouse villain here? and hasn’t Kew knocked his head off? Is Clive Newcome here, sir,” he cries out to his father. ”

“ Barnes was impressed. "Perhaps you will condescend to tell me who you are, Mr. Sprouse. I am very much in the dark."
"I am a special agent,—but not a spy, sir,—of a government that is friendly to yours. I am known in Washington. My credentials are not to be questioned. At present it would be unwise for me to reveal the name of my government. I dare say if I can afford to trust you, Mr. Barnes, you can afford to trust me. There is too much at stake for me to take the slightest chance with any man. ”

“ Which left Barnes standing with the appearance of occupying the superior position.
“Dad,” he ran on, “I’m serious. This damned business of the Acme must be stopped. You’ve sat in your office down there until you’re baked as dry as though you had been sitting in one of your own ovens. It’s burning the soul out of you. I’ve seen these last few days just how small at best a cook-stove is.”
The older man made no reply, but his lips began [254] to twitch. Barnes seated himself before those twitching lips and resumed.
“I’ve been down where people live. ”

“ These are a few films from the human biograph of Harry Barnes, old actor. You know, when you are old, you accept life with more or less of a sigh of quiet acquiescence, and by your cozy fire you sit and nod to an inner voice, a gentle old voice which over and over whispers and murmurs—"Once upon a time, once upon a time." And possibly Barnes would have nodded, too, but he lacked the cozy fire. Life has its dramatic unities, it would seem, and if one thing or another is awry we are apt not to perform as the book says we should. No cozy fire, says the Great Stage Manager ”

“ It needs someone who can put in twenty hours a day and not come to the office the next morning with a twitching face.”
“What it needs, then,” suggested Barnes, “is a man of cast-iron—with a scroll on his forehead.”
“It’s a big business,” went on the father with unexpected calmness. “It’s a business to be proud of. It’s a business that a young man would take over with forty years already put into it.”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Barnes, “isn’t that enough of good red years to feed into cook-stoves?” ”

“ Barnes smiled grimly.
[184] “If I were an artist,” he said, “I’d paint you as you stand there saying that, Langdon. There’s a big triumphant picture in you—of some sort!”
Barnes made his feet and for a moment the men stood side by side looking down upon the green valley which was slowly coming to life there below them. What a song it was; what a picture it was! The blazing sun was big enough to make both of it. For a second Barnes caught a flash of some hidden meaning in this thought. Then his face hardened; even the sun could not do both through one man alone. ”