The Old Soldier's Story: Poems and Prose Sketches

by W. W. Jacobs

  ON HACKMENS

  Hackmens has the softest thing in the bizness. They hain't got nothin'to do but look hump-shouldered an' chaw tobacker an' wait. Hackmensall looks like detectives, an' keeps still, an' never even spits whenyou walk past 'em. An' they're allus cold. A hackman that stands highin the p'fession kin wear a overcoat in dog-days an' then look chillyan' like his folks wuz all dead but the old man, an' he wuz adrunkard. Ef a hackman would on'y be a blind fiddler he'd take in moremoney than a fair-ground. Hackmens never gives nothin' away. You kintrust a hackman when you can't trust your own mother. Some peoplethinks when they hire a hack to take 'em some place that the hackmanhas got some grudge ag'in' 'em--but he hain't--he's allus that way. Heloves you but he knows his place, and smothers his real feelings. Inlife's giddy scenes hackmens all wears a mask; but down deep in theirheart you kin bet they are yourn till deth. Some hackmens look likethey wuz stuck up, but they hain't--it's only 'cause they got on somuch clothes. Onc't a hackman wuz stabbed by a friend of his in thesame bizness, an' when the doctors wuz seein' how bad he wuz karvedup, they found he had on five shurts. They said that wuz all thatsaved his life. They said ef he'd on'y had on four shurts, he'd 'a'been a ded man. An' the hackman hissef, when he got well, used to bragit wuz the closetest call he ever had, an' laid fer the other hackman,an' hit him with a car couplin' an' killed him, an' come mighty nighgoin' to the penitenchary fer it. Influenshal friends wuz all thatsaved him that time. No five shurts would 'a' done it. The mayor saidthat when he let him off, an' brought down the house, an' made hissefa strong man fer another term. Some mayors is purty slick, but ahumble hackman may sometimes turn out to be thist as smooth. The on'ything w'y a hackman don't show up no better is 'cause he loses so muchsleep. That's why he allus looks like he had the headache, an' didn'tcare ef he did. Onc't a hackman wuz waitin' in front of a hotel onemorning an' wuz sort o' dozin' like, an' fell off his seat. An' theyrun an' picked him up, an' he wuz unconshus, an' they worked with himtill 'way long in the afternoon 'fore they found out he wuz thistasleep; an' he cussed fearful cause they waked him up, an' wonderedwhy people couldn't never tend to their own bizness like he did.

  ON DUDES

  Ever'body is allus a-givin' it to Dudes. Newspapers makes fun of 'em,an' artists makes pictures of 'em; an' the on'y ones in the wide worldthat stuck on Dudes is me an' the Dudes theirse'f, an' we love an'cherish 'em with all a parent's fond regards. An' nobody knows muchabout Dudes neither, 'cause they hain't been broke out long enough yitto tell thist what the disease is. Some say it's softinning of thebrains, an' others claim it can't be that, on the groun's they hain'tgot material fer the softinning to work on, &c., &c., till even"Sientests is puzzled," as the good book says. An' ef I wuz a-goin' tosay what ails Dudes I'd have to give it up, er pernounce it a'aggervated case of Tyfoid blues, which is my 'onnest convictions.That's what makes me kind o' stand in with 'em--same as ef they wuzthe under-dog. I am willing to aknolege that Dudes has their weakness,but so has ever'thing. Even Oscar Wild, ef putt to the test; an' Iallus feel sorry fer George Washington 'cause he died 'fore he got tosee Oscar Wild. An' then another reason w'y you oughten't to jump onto Dudes is, they don't know what's the matter with 'em any more thanus folks in whom they come in daily contack. Dudes all walks an' looksin the face like they wuz on their way to fill an engagement with arevolvin' lady wax-figger in some milliner-winder, an' had fergot thenumber of her place of bizness. Some folks is mean enough to bitterlya'sert that Dudes is strained in their manner an' fools from choice;but they ain't. It's a gift--Dudes is Geenuses--that's what Dudes is!

  ON RED HAIR

  Onc't a pore boy wuz red-hedded, an' got mad at the other boys whenthey'd throw it up to him. An' when they'd laugh at his red hed, an'ast him fer a light, er wuzn't he afeard he'd singe his cap, an' orto'wear a tin hat, er pertend to warm their hands by him,--w'y, sometimesthe red-hedded boy'd git purty hot indeed; an' onc't he told anotherboy that wuz a-bafflin' him about his red hair that ef he wuz him he'dgit a fine comb an' go to canvassin' his own hed, and then he'd beliabul to sceer up a more livelier subjeck to talk about than redhair. An' then the other boy says, "You're a liar" an' that got thered-hedded boy into more trouble; fer the old man whipped himshameful' fer breakin' up soil with the other boy. An' this herered-hedded boy had freckles, too. An' warts. An' nobody ortn't to 'a'jumpt on to him fer that. Ef anybody wuz a red-hedded boy they'd havealso warts an' freckles--an' thist red-hair's bad enough. Onc'tanother boy told him ef he wuz him he bet he could make a big day looksick some night. An' when the red-hedded boy says "How?" w'y, theother boy he says "Easy enough. I'd thist march around bare-hedded inthe torch-light p'cession."--"Yes, you would," says the red-heddedboy, an' pasted him one with a shinny club, an' got dispelled fromschool 'cause he wuz so high-tempered an' impulsiv. Ef I wuz thered-hedded boy I'd be a pirut; but he allus said he wuz goin' to be abaker.

  THE CROSS-EYED GIRL

  "You don't want to never tamper with a cross-eyed girl," said Mr.Judkins, "and I'll tell you w'y: They've natur'lly got a better focuson things than a man would ever guess--studyin' their eyes, youunderstand. A man may think he's a-foolin' a cross-eyed girl simplybecause she's apparently got her eyes tangled on other topics as he'sa-talkin' to her, but at the same time that girl may be a-lookin' downthe windin' stairway of the cellar of his soul with one eye, anda-winkin' in a whisper to her own soul with the other, and herunconscious victim jes' a-takin' it fer granted that nothin' is thematter with the girl, only jes' cross-eyes! You see I've studied 'em,"continued Judkins, "and I'm on to one fact dead sure--and that is,their natures is as deceivin' as their eyes is! Knowed one onc't thathad her eyes mixed up thataway--sensitive little thing she was, andalways referrin' to her 'misfortune,' as she called it, and eternallythreatenin' to have some surgeon straighten 'em out like otherfolks'--and, sir, that girl so worked on my feelin's, and took suchunderholts on my sympathies that, blame me, before I knowed it Iconfessed to her that ef it hadn't 'a' been fer her defective eyes (Imade it 'defective') I never would have thought of lovin' her, and,furthermore ef ever she did have 'em changed back normal, don't youunderstand, she might consider our engagement at an end--I did,honest. And that girl was so absolute cross-eyed it warped her ears,and she used to amuse herself by watchin' 'em curl up as I'd bea-talkin' to her, and that maddened me, 'cause I'm natur'lly of ajealous disposition, you know, and so, at last, I jes' casually hintedthat ef she was really a-goin' to git them eyes carpentered up, w'yshe'd better git at it: and that ended it.

  "And then the blame' girl turned right around and married a fellowthat had a better pair of eyes than mine this minute! Then I struckanother cross-eyed girl--not really a legitimate case, 'cause, inreality, she only had one off eye--the right eye, ef I don'tdisremember--the other one was as square as a gouge. And that girlwas, ef any difference, a more confusin' case than the other, andbesides all that, she had some money in her own right, and warn'ta-throwin' off no big discount on one game eye. But I finally got herinterested, and I reckon something serious might 'a' come of it--but,you see, her father was dead, and her stepmother sort o' shet down onmy comin' to the house; besides that, she had three grown uncles, andyou know how uncles is. I didn't want to marry no family, of course,and so I slid out of the scheme, and tackled a poor girl that clerkedin a post-office. Her eyes was bad! I never did git the hang of themeyes of hern. She had purty hair, and a complexion, I used to tellher, which outrivalled the rose. But them eyes, you know! I didn'treally appreciate how bad they was crossed, at first. You see, it tooktime. Got her to give me her picture, and I used to cipher on that,but finally worked her off on a young friend of mine who wanted tomarry intellect--give her a good send-off to him--and she wassmart--only them eyes, you know! Why, that girl could read a postalcard, both sides at once, and smile at a personal friend through theoffice window at the same time!"

  HOMESICKNESS

  There was a more than ordinary earnestness in the tone of Mr. Judkinsas he said: "Referrin' to this thing of bein
' homesick, I want tosay right here that of all diseases, afflictions er complaints, thisthing of bein' homesick takes the cookies! A man may think when he'sgot a' aggrivated case of janders, er white-swellin', say, erbone-erysipelas, that he's to be looked up to as bein' purty wellfixed in this vale of trouble and unrest, but I want to tell you, whenI want my sorrow blood-raw, don't you understand, you may give mehomesickness--straight goods, you know--and I'll git more clean,legitimate agony out of that than you can out of either of the otherattractions--yes, er even ef you'd ring in the full combination on me!You see, there's no way of treatin' homesickness only one--and that isto git back home--but as that's a remedy you can't git at no drugstore, at so much per box--and ef you could, fer instance, and onlyhad enough ready money anyhow to cover half the cost of a fullbox--and nothin' but a full box ever reached the case--w'y, it follersthat your condition still remains critical. And homesickness don'tshow no favors. It's jes' as liable to strike you as me. High er low,er rich er poor, all comes under her jurishdiction, and whenever sheonce reaches fer a citizen, you can jes' bet she gits there Eli, ever'time!

  "She don't confine herse'f to youth, ner make no specialty of littlechildren either, but she stalks abroad like a census-taker, and is asconscientious. She visits the city girl clean up to Maxinkuckee, andmakes her wonder how things really is back home without her. And thenshe haunts her dreams, and wakes her up at all hours of the night, andsings old songs over fer her, and talks to her in low thrillin' tonesof a young man whose salary ain't near big enough fer two; and thenshe leaves her photograph with her and comes away, and makes it livelyfer the boys on the train, the conductor, the brakeman and theengineer. She even nests out the travellin' man, and yanks him out ofhis reclinin' chair, and walks him up and down the car, and runs himclean out of cigars and finecut, and smiles to hear him swear. Thenshe gits off at little country stations and touches up the nightoperator, who grumbles at his boy companion, and wishes to dernation'six' was in, so's he could 'pound his ear.'

  "And I'll never forgit," continued Mr. Judkins, "the last case ofhomesickness I had, and the cure I took fer it. 'Tain't been more'n aweek ago neither. You see my old home is a'most too many laps fromthis base to make it very often, and in consequence I hadn't beenthere fer five years and better, till this last trip, when I jes'succumbed to the pressure, and th'owed up my hands and went. Seemedlike I'd 'a' died if I hadn't. And it was glorious to rack around theold town again--things lookin' jes' the same, mighty nigh, as they waswhen I was a boy, don't you know. Run acrost an old schoolmate, too,and tuck supper at his happy little home, and then we got us a goodnickel cigar, and walked and walked, and talked and talked! Tuck meall around, you understand, in the meller twilight--till, the firstthing you know, there stood the old schoolhouse where me and him firstlearnt to chew tobacco, and all that! Well, sir! you hain't got noidea of the feelin's that was mine! W'y, I felt like I could th'ow myarms around the dear old buildin' and squeeze it till the cupolo wouldjes' pop out of the top of the roof like the core out of a b'ile! AndI think if they ever was a' epoch in my life when I could 'a' tackledpoetry without no compunctions, as the feller says, w'y, then was thetime--shore!"

  TO THE QUIET OBSERVER

  ERASMUS WILSON, AFTER HIS LONG SILENCE

  Dear old friend of us all in need Who know the worth of a friend indeed, How rejoiced are we all to learn Of your glad return.

  We who have missed your voice so long-- Even as March might miss the song Of the sugar-bird in the maples when They're tapped again.

  Even as the memory of these _Blended_ sweets,--the sap of the trees And the song of the birds, and the old camp too, We think of you.

  Hail to you, then, with welcomes deep As grateful hearts may laugh or weep!-- You give us not only the bird that sings, But all good things.

  AMERICA'S THANKSGIVING

  1900

  Father all bountiful, in mercy bear With this our universal voice of prayer-- The voice that needs must be Upraised in thanks to Thee, O Father, from Thy Children everywhere.

  A multitudinous voice, wherein we fain Wouldst have Thee hear no lightest sob of pain-- No murmur of distress, Nor moan of loneliness, Nor drip of tears, though soft as summer rain.

  And, Father, give us first to comprehend, No ill can come from Thee; lean Thou and lend Us clearer sight to see Our boundless debt to Thee, Since all thy deeds are blessings, in the end.

  And let us feel and know that, being Thine, We are inheritors of hearts divine, And hands endowed with skill, And strength to work Thy will, And fashion to fulfilment Thy design.

  So, let us thank Thee, with all self aside, Nor any lingering taint of mortal pride; As here to Thee we dare Uplift our faltering prayer, Lend it some fervor of the glorified.

  We thank Thee that our land is loved of Thee The blessed home of thrift and industry, With ever-open door Of welcome to the poor-- Thy shielding hand o'er all abidingly.

  Even thus we thank Thee for the wrong that grew Into a right that heroes battled to, With brothers long estranged, Once more as brothers ranged Beneath the red and white and starry blue.

  Ay, thanks--though tremulous the thanks expressed-- Thanks for the battle at its worst, and best-- For all the clanging fray Whose discord dies away Into a pastoral song of peace and rest.

  WILLIAM PINKNEY FISHBACK

  Say first he loved the dear home-hearts, and then He loved his honest fellow citizen-- He loved and honored him, in any post Of duty where he served mankind the most.

  All that he asked of him in humblest need Was but to find him striving to succeed; All that he asked of him in highest place Was justice to the lowliest of his race.

  When he found these conditions, proved and tried, He owned he marvelled, but was satisfied-- Relaxed in vigilance enough to smile And, with his own wit, flay himself a while.

  Often he liked real anger--as, perchance, The summer skies like storm-clouds and the glance Of lightning--for the clearer, purer blue Of heaven, and the greener old earth, too.

  All easy things to do he did with care, Knowing the very common danger there; In noblest conquest of supreme debate The facts are simple as the victory great.

  That which had been a task to hardiest minds To him was as a pleasure, such as finds The captive-truant, doomed to read throughout The one lone book he really cares about.

  Study revived him: Howsoever dim And deep the problem, 'twas a joy to him To solve it wholly; and he seemed as one Refreshed and rested as the work was done.

  And he had gathered, from all wealth of lore That time has written, such a treasure store, His mind held opulence--his speech the rare Fair grace of sharing all his riches there--

  Sharing with all, but with the greatest zest Sharing with those who seemed the neediest: The young he ever favored; and through these Shall he live longest in men's memories.

  JOHN CLARK RIDPATH

  To the lorn ones who loved him first and best, And knew his dear love at its tenderest, We seem akin--we simplest friends who knew His fellowship, of heart and spirit too:

  We who have known the happy summertide Of his ingenuous nature, glorified With the inspiring smile that ever lit The earnest face and kindly strength of it:

  His presence, all-commanding, as his thought Into unconscious eloquence was wrought, Until the utterance became a spell That awed us as a spoken miracle.

  Learning, to him, was native--was, in truth, The earliest playmate of his lisping youth, Likewise, throughout a life of toil and stress, It was as laughter, health and happiness:

  And so he played with it--joyed at
its call-- Ran rioting with it, forgetting all Delights of childhood, and of age and fame,-- A devotee of learning, still the same!

  In fancy, even now we catch the glance Of the rapt eye and radiant countenance, As when his discourse, like a woodland stream, Flowed musically on from theme to theme:

  The skies, the stars, the mountains, and the sea, He worshipped as their high divinity-- Nor did his reverent spirit find one thing On earth too lowly for his worshipping.

  The weed, the rose, the wildwood or the plain, The teeming harvest, or the blighted grain-- All--all were fashioned beautiful and good, As the soul saw and senses understood.