Pen Pictures, of Eventful Scenes and Struggles of Life

by B. F. Craig

  SCENE FIFTH.--THE BELLE OF PORT WILLIAM.

  ```A cozy room, adorned with maiden art,

  ```Contained the belle of Port William’s heart.

  ```There she stood--to blushing love unknown,

  ```Her youthful heart was all her own.

  ```Her sisters gone, and every kindred tie,

  ```Alone she smiled, alone she had to cry;

  ```No mother’s smile, no father’s kind reproof,

  ```She hop’d and pray’d beneath a stranger’s roof.=

  |The voice of history and the practice of historians has been to dwellupon the marching of armies; the deeds of great heroes; the rise andfall of governments; great battles and victories; the conduct of troops,etc., while the manners and customs of the people of whom they write areentirely ignored.

  Were it not for the common law of England, we would have a poorknowledge of the manners and customs of the English people longcenturies ago.

  The common law was founded upon the manners and customs of the people,and many of the principles of the common law have come down to thepresent day. And a careful study of the common laws of England is thebest guide to English civilization long centuries ago.

  Manners and customs change with almost every generation, yet theprinciples upon which our manners and customs are founded are lesschangeable.

  Change is marked upon almost everything It is said that the particleswhich compose our bodies change in every seven years. The oceansand continents change in a long series of ages. Change is one of theuniversal laws of matter.

  And like everything else, Port William changed. Brother Demitt left PortWilliam, on foot and full of whisky, one cold evening in December. Thepath led him across a field fenced from the suburbs of the village. Theold man being unable to mount the fence, sat down to rest with his backagainst the fence--here it is supposed he fell into a stupid sleep. Thecold north wind--that never ceases to blow because some of Earth’s poorchildren are intoxicated--wafted away the spirit of the old man, andhis neighbors, the next morning, found the old man sitting against thefence, frozen, cold and dead.

  Old Arch Wheataker, full of whisky, was running old Ball for home oneevening in the twilight. Old Ball, frightened at something by the sideof the road, threw the old man against a tree, and “busted” his head.

  Dave Deminish had retired from business and given place to thebrilliantly lighted saloon. Old Dick, the negro man, was sleepingbeneath the sod, with as little pain in his left foot as any othermember of his body. Joe, the colored boy that drove the wood slide sofast through the snow with the little orphan girls, had left home, foundhis way to Canada, and was enjoying his freedom in the Queen s Dominion.

  The Demitt estate had passed through the hands of administrators muchreduced. Old Demitt died intestate, and Aunt Katy had no children. Hisrelations inherited his estate, except Aunt Katy’s life interest. ButAunt Katy had money of her own, earned with her own hands.

  Aunt Katy was economical and industrious. Every dry goods store in PortWilliam was furnished with stockings knit by the hands of Aunt Katy. Thepassion to save in Aunt Katy’s breast, like Aaron’s serpent, swallowedup the rest.

  Aunt Katy was a good talker--except of her own concerns, upon which shewas non-committal. She kept her own counsel and her own money. It wassupposed by the Demitt kinsfolk that Aunt Katy had a will filed away,and old Ballard, the administrator, was often interrogated by theDemitt kinsfolk about Aunt Katy’s will. Old Ballard was a cold man ofbusiness--one that never thought of anything that did not pay him--and,of course, sent all will-hunters to Aunt Katy.

  The Demitt relations indulged in many speculations about Aunt Katy’smoney. Some counted it by the thousand, and all hoped to receive theirportion when the poor old woman slept beneath the sod.

  Aunt Katy had moved to Port William, to occupy one of the best housesin the village, in which she held a life estate. Aunt Katy’s householdconsisted of herself and Suza Fairfield, eleven years old, and it wassupposed by the Demitt relations, that when Aunt Katy died, a will wouldturn up in favor of Suza Fairfield.

  Tom Ditamus had moved from the backwoods of the Cumberland mountainsto the Ohio river, and not pleased with the surroundings of his adoptedlocality, made up his mind to return to his old home. Tom had a wife andtwo dirty children. Tom’s wife was a pussy-cat woman, and obeyed all ofTom’s commands without ever stopping to think on the subject of “woman’srights.” Tom was a sulky fellow; his forehead retreated from hiseyebrows, at an angle of forty-five degrees, to the top of his head; hisskull had a greater distance between the ears than it had fore and aft’;a dark shade hung in the corner of his eye, and he stood six feet abovethe dirt with square shoulders. Tom was too great a coward to steal, andtoo lazy to work. Tom intended to return to his old home in a coveredwagon drawn by an ox team.

  The Demitt relations held a council, and appointed one of their numberto confer with Tom Ditamus and engage him to take Suza Fairfield--withhis family and in his wagon--to the backwoods of the CumberlandMountains. For, they said, thus spirited away Aunt Katy would never hearfrom her; and Aunt Katy’s money, when broken loose from where shewas damming it up, by the death of the old thing would flow in itslegitimate channel.

  And the hard-favored and the hard-hearted Tom agreed to perform the jobfor ten dollars.

  It was in the fall of the year and a foggy morning. When the atmosphereis heavy the cold of the night produces a mist by condensing thedampness of the river, called fog; it is sometimes so thick, early inthe morning, that the eye cannot penetrate it more than one hundredyards.

  Tom was ready to start, and fortunately for him, seeing Suza Fairfieldpassing his camp, he approached her. She thought he wished to make someinquiry, and stood still until the strong man caught her by the arm,with one hand in the other hand he held an ugly gag, and told her if shemade any noise he would put the bit in her mouth and tie the straps onthe back of her head. The child made one scream, but as Tom prepared togag her she submitted, and Tom placed her in his covered wagon betweenhis dirty children, giving the gag to his wife, and commanding her ifSuza made the slightest noise to put the bridle on her, and in the denseclouds of fog Tom drove his wagon south.

  Suza realized that she was captured, but for what purpose she could notdivine; with a brave heart--far above her years--she determined to makeher escape the first night, for after that she said, mentally, shewould be unable to find home. She sat quietly and passed the day inreflection, and resolved in her mind that she would leave the caravan ofTom Ditamus that night, or die in the attempt. She remembered the wordsof Aunt Katy--“Discretion is the better part of valor”--and upon thattheory the little orphan formed her plan.

  The team traveled slow, for Tom was compelled to let them rest--in thewarm part of the day--the sun at last disappeared behind the westernhorizon. To the unspeakable delight of the little prisoner, in a darkwood by the shore of a creek, Tom encamped for the night, building afire by the side of a large log. The party in the wagon, excepting Suza,were permitted to come out and sit by the fire. While Tom’s wife waspreparing supper, Suza imploringly begged Tom to let her come to thefire, for she had something to tell him. Tom at last consented, but saidcautiously, “you must talk low.”

  “_Oh! I will talk so easy_,” said Suza, in a stage whisper. She waspermitted to take her seat with the party on a small log, and here foran hour she entertained them with stories of abuse that she had receivedfrom the _old witch, Aunt Katy_, and emphatically declared that shewould go anywhere to get away from the _old witch_.

  The orphan girl, eleven years of age, threw Tom Dita-mus, a manthirty-five years of age, entirely off his guard. Tom thought he had a_soft thing_ and the whole party were soon sound asleep, except Suza.

  With a step as light as a timid cat, Suza Fairfield left Tom Ditamus andhis family sleeping soundly on the bank of the creek in the dark woods,and sped toward Port William. They had traveled only ten miles witha lazy ox team and the active feet of the little captive could
soonretrace the distance, if she did not lose the way; to make assurance.doubly sure, Suza determined to follow the Kentucky river, for she knewthat would take her to Port William; the road was part of the way on thebank of the river, but sometimes diverged into the hills a considerabledistance from the river. At those places Suza would follow the river,though her path was through dense woods and in places thickly set withunderbrush and briars. Onward the brave little girl would struggle,until again relieved by the friendly road making its appearance againupon the bank of the river, and then the nimble little feet would travelat the rate of four miles an hour. Again Suza would have to take tothe dark woods, with no lamp to guide her footsteps but the twinklingdistant star. In one of these ventures Suza was brought to a stand, bythe mouth of White’s creek pouring its lazy waters into the Kentuckyriver. The water was deep and dark. Suza stood and reflected. An owlbroke the stillness of the night on the opposite side of the creek. Thelast note of his voice seemed to say, _come over--over--little gal_.Suza sank upon the ground and wept bitterly. It is said that the cry ofa goose once saved Rome. The seemingly taunting cry of the owl did notsave Suza, but her own good sense taught her that she could trace thecreek on the south side until she would find a ford, and when acrossthe creek retrace it back on the north side to the unerring river; andalthough this unexpected fate had perhaps doubled her task, she hadresolved to perform it. She remembered Aunt Katy’s words, “if there isa will, there is a way,” and onward she sped for two long hours. Suzafollowed the zigzag course of the bewildering creek, and found herselfat last in the big road stretching up from the water of the creek.She recognized the ford, for here she had passed in the hateful prisonwagon, and remembered that the water was not more than one foot deep.Suza pulled off her little shoes and waded the creek; when upon thenorth side she looked at the dark woods, on the north bank of the creek,and at the friendly road, so open and smooth to her little feet, andsaid, mentally, “this road will lead me to Port William, and I willfollow it, if Tom Ditamus does catch me;” and Onward she sped.

  The dawn of morning had illuminated the eastern sky, when Suza Fairfieldbeheld the broad and, beautiful bottom land of the Ohio river.

  No mariner that ever circumnavigated the globe could have beheld hisstarting point with more delight than Suza Fairfield beheld the chimneysin Port William. She was soon upon the home street, and saw the chimneyof Aunt Katy’s house; no smoke was rising from it as from others;everything about the premises was as still as the breath of life on theDead Sea. Suza approached the back yard, the door of Aunt Katy’s roomwas not fastened, it turned upon its hinges as Suza touched it; AuntKaty’s bed was not tumbled; the fire had burned down; in front of thesmoldering coals Aunt Katy sat upon her easy chair, her face buried inher hands, elbows upon her knees--Suza paused--_Aunt Katy sleeps_; amoment’s reflection, and then Suza laid her tiny hand upon the grayhead of the sleeping woman, and pronounced the words, nearest her littleheart in a soft, mellow tone, “A-u-n-t K-a-t-y.”

  In an instant Aunt Katy Demitt was pressing Suza Fairfield close to herold faithful heart.

  Old and young tears were mingled together for a few minutes, and thenSuza related her capture and escape as we have recorded it; at the closeof which Suza was nearly out of breath. Aunt Katy threw herself upon herknees by the bedside and covered her face with the palms of her hands.Suza reflected, and thought of something she had not related, andstarting toward the old mother with the words on her tongue when theAngel of observation placed his finger on her lips, with the audiblesound of _hush!_ Aunt Katy’s praying.

  Aunt Katy rose from her posture with the words: “I understand it all mychild; the Demitts want you out of the way. Well, if they get the fewfour pences that I am able to scrape together old Katy Demitt will give‘em the last sock that she ever expects to knit; forewarned, fore-armed,my child. As for Tom Ditamus, he may go for what he is worth. He hassome of the Demitt-money, no doubt, and I have a warning that will lastme to the grave. Old Demitt had one fault, but God knows his kinsfolkhave thousands.”

  Aunt Katy took Suza by the hand and led her to the hiding place, andSuza Fairfield, for the first time, beheld Aunt Katy’s money--fivehundred dollars in gold and silver--and the old foster mother’s will,bequeathing all her earthly possessions to Suza Fairfield. The will waswitnessed by old Ballard and old Father Tearful. And from thence forwardSuza was the only person in the wide world in full possession of AuntKaty Demitt’s secrets. Tantalized by her relations, Aunt Katy was like astudent of botany, confined in the center of a large plain with a singleflower, for she doated on Suza Fairfield with a love seldom realized bya foster mother.

  Tom Ditamus awoke the next morning (perhaps about the time Suza enteredPort William) and found the little prisoner gone. Tom did not care; hehad his money, and he yoked up his cattle and traveled on.

  We must now look forward more than a decade in order to speak of DonCarlo, the hero of Shirt-Tail Bend, whom, in our haste to speak of otherparties, we left at the half-way castle in a senseless condition, on thefatal day of the explosion of the Red Stone.

  The half-way castle was one of the first brick houses ever built on theOhio river. It had long been the property of infant heirs, and rentedout or left unoccupied; it stood on the southern bank of the riverabout half way between Louisville and Cincinnati, hence the name ofthe half-way castle. Don Carlo was severely stunned, but not fatallyinjured; he had sold out in Shirt-Tail Bend, and was returning to thehome of his childhood when the dreadful accident occured. Don hadsaved a little sum of money with which he had purchased a small farm inKentucky, and began to reflect that he was a bachelor. Numerous friendshad often reminded him that a brave young lady had rushed into thewater and dragged his lifeless body to the friendly shore, when in a fewminutes more he would have been lost forever.

  Twelve months or more after these events a camp meeting was announced tocome off in the neighborhood of Port William. Camp meetings frequentlyoccurred at that day in Kentucky. The members of the church, or at leasta large portion of them, would prepare to camp out and hold a protractedmeeting. When the time and place were selected some of the interestedparties would visit the nearest saw mill and borrow several wagon loadsof lumber, draw it to the place selected, which was always in the woodsnear some stream or fountain of water, with the plank placed upon logsor stumps, they would erect the stand or pulpit, around the same, onthree sides at most, they would arrange planks for seats by placing themupon logs and stumps; they would also build shanties and partly fillthem with straw, upon which the campers slept. Fires were kindledoutside for cooking purposes. Here they would preach and pray, holdprayer meetings and love feasts night and day, sometimes for two orthree weeks. On the Sabbath day the whole country, old and young, forten miles around, would attend the camp meeting.

  Don Carlo said to a friend: “I shall attend the camp meeting, for I haveentertained a secret desire for a long time to make the acquaintance ofthe young lady who it is said saved my life from the wreck of the RedStone.”

  The camp meeting will afford the opportunity. It was on a Sabbathmorning. Don and his friend were standing upon the camp ground; thepeople were pouring in from all directions; two young ladies passed themon their way to the stand; one of them attracted Don Carlo’s attention,she was not a blonde nor a brunette, but half way between the two,inheriting the beauty of each. Don said to his friend;

  “There goes the prettiest woman in America.”

  Then rubbing his hand over his forehead, continued;

  “You are acquainted with people here, I wish you would make some inquiryof that lady’s name and family.”

  “I thought you was hunting the girl that pulled you out of the river,” said his friend, sarcastically.

  “Yes, but I want to know the lady that has just passed us,” said Don,gravely.

  Love at first sight. Ah! what is love? It has puzzled mentalphilosophers of all ages; and no one has ever told us why a man willlove one woman above all the balance of God’s creature
s. And then, thestrangest secret in the problem is, that a third party can see nothinglovable in the woman so adored by her lord.

  No wonder, the ancient Greeks represented cupid as blind. No, they didnot represent him as blind, but only blind folded, which undoubtedlyleaves the impression that the love-god may peep under the bandage; andwe advise all young people to take advantage of that trick--look beforeyou love. History has proven that persons of the same temperament shouldnot marry, for their children are apt to inherit the _bad_ qualitiesof each parent; while upon the other hand, when opposites marry thechildren are apt to inherit the _good_ qualities of each parent.

  Marriage is the most important step taken in life. When a young man goesout into the world to seek fame and _fortune_ the energies of his mindare apt to concentrate upon the problem of obtaining a large fortune.The wife is thought of as a convenience, the love-god is consulted andfancy rules the occasion. Now let me say to all young men, the family isthe great object of life, you may pile millions together, and it is allscattered as soon as you are dead. A man’s children are his only livingand permanent representatives.

  You should not therefore consult fancy with regard to fortune or othertrivial things, but in the name of all the gods, at once consult commonsense in regard to the family you produce.

  While Don’s friend was upon the tour of inquiry to ascertain theidentity of the handsome young lady, Don sat alone upon a log, and saidmentally, “A woman may draw me out of the sea ten thousand times, andshe would never look like that young lady. O! God, who can she be!Perhaps out of my reach.” Don’s friend returned smiling. “Lucky,lucky,” and Don’s friend concluded with a laugh. “What now?” said Don,impatiently.

  “That lady is the girl that drew Don Carlo out of the river, her nameis Suza Fairfield, and she is the belle of Port William. An orphan girlraised and educated by old Aunt Katy Demitt. She has had a number ofsuitors, but has never consented to leave Aunt Katy’s house as a freewoman.”

  When the congregation dispersed in the evening, Don Carlo and SuzaFairfield rode side by side toward Port William.

  The language of courtship is seldom recorded. The ever open ear of theAngel of observation, has only furnished us with these words:

  “You are old, my liege, slightly touched with gray. Pray let me live andwith Aunt Katy stay.”

  “With old Aunt Katy you shall live my dear, and on her silent grave dropa weeping tear.”

  We can only speak of Suza Fairfield as we wish to speak of all otherbelles.=

  ````The outward acts of every belle,

  `````Her inward thoughts reveal;

  ````And by this rule she tries to tell

  `````How other people feel.=

  It was the neighborhood talk, that Suza Fairfield, the belle of PortWilliam, and Don Carlo, the hero of Shirt-Tail Bend, were engaged to bemarried.

  All neighborhoods will talk. Aunt Katy at the table, Betsey Green andCousin Sally; the meeting and the show; all neighborhoods will talk, forGod has made them so.

  Secrets should be kept, but neighbors let them go; with caution on thelip, they let a neighbor know, all secrets here below. Some add a littleand some take away. Each believes his neighbors in everything they say.They hold a secret _sacred_ and only tell a friend, and then whisperin the ear, Silly told me this and you must keep it dear; when all havekept it and every body knows, true or false, they tell it as it goes.