cast,there were not lacking hints that by nature he had been endowed withvivacity of spirit; for, as he continued, with an industry which wasremarkable, to refresh himself, there were appearances, which came tothe eye and the corners of his mouth, which made the observer concludethat he was not lacking the sense of humor; and, if his experience hadbeen most unfortunate, there was in him an ability to appreciate theludicrousness of its changeful situations. Indeed, one could butconclude that originally he must have been of a buoyant, not to saysanguine disposition; and, if one could but prevail upon him to narratethe incidents of his life, they would be found to be most entertaining.
It was something like an hour before our melancholy-looking guest hadfully improved the opportunity with which a benignant Providence hadsupplied him,--a freak in which, one might conclude, she seldomindulged. He ceased to eat, and sat for a moment gazing pensively at thedishes. It seemed to me--but in this I may possibly be mistaken--that adarker shade of sadness possessed his face at the conclusion than theone that shadowed it so heavily at the beginning of the repast. "Thepleasures of hope," I said to myself, "are evidently greater to myspecies than are those of recollection. Now that there is nothing leftfor my guest to anticipate, it is evident that memory ceases to excite."And I could but feel that, had our provisions been more abundant, thestranger's appetite would not have been so easily appeased. Withsomething of regret in my voice, I sought to divert his mind from thatsense of disappointment which I judged from his countenance threatenedto oppress his spirits.
"Friend," I said, "I doubt not that you have trailed a goodly distance,and your fasting has been long?"
"I have not eaten a meal in two days," was the response.
"Heavens!" exclaimed Dick in an aside to the major. "Is it credible thatthat man ate two days ago!"
"Gad!" exclaimed the major, "the man's stomach is nothing but a pocket."
"A pocket! I should call it an unexplored cavern!" retorted Dick.
"The direction and reason of your long trail would be interesting," Iresumed. "And, if not impertinent, friend, may I ask you whence you havecome?"
"I have journeyed from Texas," replied the man, and his voice nearlybroke as he said it.
"_Oh!_" exclaimed the ladies, and they sympathetically groupedthemselves, anticipating, with true feminine sensitiveness, someterrible denouement.
"_Texas!_" I ejaculated.
"_Gad!_" said the major.
"The _Devil!_" said Dick.
"Yes, _Texas!_" repeated the man, and he groaned.
By this time, as any intelligent reader will easily divine, our wholegroup was in a condition of mild excitement. Several of us had residedin Texas, and we felt that we stood at the threshold of a history,--ahistory with infinite possibilities in it. For myself, I knew not how toproceed. My position as a host forbade me to interrogate. The sorrows oflife are sacred, and my sensitiveness withheld me from thrusting myselfwithin the enclosure of my guest's recollections. That his experiences,could we but be favored with a narration of them, would beentertaining,--painfully entertaining,--I keenly realized; but how toproceed I saw not. I remained silent.
"Yes,"--it was the stranger who broke the silence,--"I am a bustedex-Texan!"
I AM A BUSTED EX-TEXAN.]
The relief that came to me at the instant was indescribable. The pathwas made plain. We all felt that we were not only on the threshold of ahistory, but of a narration of that history. The ladies fluttered intoposition for listening. I could but see it, and so I am bound to recordthat I saw Dick irreverently punch the major. It was a punch whichcarried with it the significance of an exclamation. The major receivedit with the face of a Spartan, but with the grunt of a Chinook chief.
"Friend," I said, "we are accustomed to beguile the evening hours withentertaining descriptions of travels, often of personal incidents of thehaps and hazards of life; and, if it would not be disagreeable to you,we would be vastly entertained, beyond doubt, by any narration withwhich you might favor us of your Texan experiences and of the fortuneswhich befell you there."
For a few moments, the silence remained unbroken, save by the crackle ofthe fire and the soft movement in the great firs overhead,--a movementwhich is to sound what dawn is to the day; not so much a sound as afeathery suggestion that sound might come. It was a genial hour, and themood of the hour began to be felt in our own. The warmth of it evidentlypenetrated the bosom of our guest. He had eaten. He wasfilled,--appreciably so at least, and that happy feeling, thatcomfortable sense of fulness, which characterizes the after-dinner hour,pervaded him with its genial glow. He loosened his belt,--anothertremendous nudge from Dick,--and a look of contentment softened hisfeatures. Whatever storm had wrecked his life, he had now passed beyondits billows, and from the sure haven into which he had been blown hecould gaze with complacent resignation, if not with happiness, at thedangers through which he had passed. I am sure that we were alldelighted at the brightening appearance of our guest, and felt that, ifthe story he was to tell us was one which included disasters, it wouldat least be lightened by traces of humor and the calm acceptance of aphilosophic mind.
"I was born in the State of Connecticut," so our guest began hisnarration. "I came from a venturesome stock, and the instinct ofcommercial enterprise may be regarded as hereditary in my family. Mygrandfather was the first one to discover the tropical attributes of thebeech-wood tree. He first perceived that it contained within its fibresthe pungency of the nutmeg. With a celerity which we remember with pridein our family, he availed himself of the commercial value of hisdiscovery, and for years did a prosperous trade on the credulity ofmankind. He was a man of humor,--a sense which has been to some extenttransmitted to myself,--he was a man of humor, and I have no doubt heenjoyed the joke he was practising on people, fully as much as theprofits which the practical embodiment of his humor brought to hispocket. My father was a deacon, a man of true piety and eminentlyrespectable. He was engaged in the retail-grocery business,--a businesswhich offers opportunities to a person of wit and of an inventive turnof mind. The butter that he sold was salted invariably by one rule--arule which he discovered and applied in the cellar of the store himself;and the sugar which he sold, if it was sanded, was always sanded by amethod which improved rather than detracted from its appearance."
Here our guest paused a moment, as if enjoying the recollections of thevirtues of his ancestors. His face was as sober as ever, but his lookwas one of contentment; and I could but note the suggestion ofmerriment--the merriment of a happy memory--in his eye. How happy it isfor an offspring to be able to recall the character of his forefatherswith such liveliness of mind!
"The motive which impelled me towards Texas," he resumed, "was one whichwas natural for me to feel, thus ancestrally connected. I had heired myfather's business,--the deacon, who had died full of honors, ripe inyears, and in perfect peace. But the business did not prosper in myhands; perhaps, I had not heired, with the business, the deacon'sability,--that accuracy of eye, that gravity of appearance, thatdeftness of touch, so to speak, which underlay his success. Be that asit may, the business did not pay, and without hesitation I sold it; and,with a comfortable sum for investment, I journeyed to Texas.
"It is proper for me to remark that the welcome I received was mostcordial. I chose a populous centre for a temporary residence, andproceeded to look around me. I found the Texans to be a warm-heartedpeople, much given to hospitality, and willing, with a charmingdisinterestedness, to admit all new-comers, with capital, to theenormous profits of their various enterprises.
"For the first time in my life, I found myself among a people who weresuccessful in everything they undertook. Their profits were simplyenormous. No speculation could possibly fail. However I invested mymoney, I was assured that I would speedily become a millionnaire. Cottonwas a certain crop. Corn was never known to fail. The Texan tobacco wasrapidly driving the Cuban out of the market. The aboriginal grapes ofthe State, of which there were millions of acres waiting for thepresses, yielded, as Europe co
nfessed, a wine superior to Champagne. IfI preferred herding, all I had to do was to purchase a few sheep andsimply sit down. There was no section of the globe where sheep were soprolific, fleeces so thick, or the demands of market so clamorous. And,as for horses, I was assured that no one in Texas who knew the facts ofthe case would spend any time in raising them. The prairies were full ofthem, hundreds of thousands of them, all blooded stock, 'truedescendants, sir, from the Moorish Barb, distributed through the wholecountry at the Spanish invasion.' I need do nothing but purchase fiftythousand acres, fence the territory in, and the enclosed herds wouldcontinue to propagate indefinitely. Such were the delightful pictureswhich my entertainers presented to me. Captivated by the charmingmanners of my hosts, my sanguine temperament
The Busted Ex-Texan, and Other Stories Page 2