 | Twice-told tales |  |
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM'S CATASTROPHE.
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM'S CATASTROPHE.
A young fellow, a tobacco-pedler by trade, was on
his way from Morristown, where he had dealt largely
with the Deacon of the Shaker settlement, to the village
of Parker's Falls on Salmon River. He had a neat
little cart, painted green, with a box of cigars depicted
on each side-panel, and an Indian chief, holding a
pipe and a golden tobacco-stalk, on the rear. The
pedler drove a smart little mare, and was a young man
of excellent character, keen at a bargain, but none the
worse liked by the Yankees; who, as I have heard
them say, would rather be shaved with a sharp razor
than a dull one. Especially was he beloved by the
pretty girls along the Connecticut, whose favor he used
to court by presents of the best smoking-tobacco in his
stock; knowing well that the country lasses of New
Moreover, as will be seen in the course of my story,
the pedler was inquisitive, and something of a tattler,
always itching to hear the news and anxious to tell it
again.
After an early breakfast at Morristown, the tobacco-pedler,
whose name was Dominicus Pike, had travelled
seven miles through a solitary piece of woods, without
speaking a word to any body but himself and his
little gray mare. It being nearly seven o'clock, he
was as eager to hold a morning gossip, as a city shopkeeper
to read the morning paper. An opportunity
seemed at hand, when after lighting a cigar with a
sun-glass, he looked up, and perceived a man coming
over the brow of the hill, at the foot of which the pedler
had stopped his green cart. Dominicus watched him
as he descended, and noticed that he carried a bundle
over his shoulder on the end of a stick, and travelled
with a weary, yet determined pace. He did not look
as if he had started in the freshness of the morning,
but had footed it all night, and meant to do the same
all day.
`Good morning, mister,' said Dominicus, when
within speaking distance. `You go a pretty good
jog. What's the latest news at Parker's Falls?'
The man pulled the broad brim of a gray hat over
his eyes, and answered, rather sullenly, that he did
not come from Parker's Falls, which, as being the
limit of his own day's journey, the pedler had naturally
mentioned in his inquiry.
`Well, then,' rejoined Dominicus Pike, `let's have
the latest news where you did come from. I'm not
particular about Parker's Falls. Any place will
answer.'
Being thus importuned, the traveller—who was as
ill-looking a fellow as one would desire to meet, in a
solitary piece of woods—appeared to hesitate a little,
as if he was either searching his memory for news, or
weighing the expediency of telling it. At last mounting
on the step of the cart, he whispered in the ear of
Dominicus, though he might have shouted aloud, and
no other mortal would have heard him.
`I do remember one little trifle of news,' said he.
`Old Mr Higginbotham, of Kimballton, was murdered
in his orchard, at eight o'clock last night, by an Irishman
and a nigger. They strung him up to the branch
of a St. Michæl's pear-tree, where nobody would find
him till the morning.'
As soon as this horrible intelligence was communicated,
the stranger betook himself to his journey again,
with more speed than ever, not even turning his head
when Dominicus invited him to smoke a Spanish cigar
and relate all the particulars. The pedler whistled to
his mare and went up the hill, pondering on the doleful
fate of Mr. Higginbotham, whom he had known in
the way of trade, having sold him many a bunch of
long nines, and a great deal of pig-tail, lady's twist,
and fig tobacco. He was rather astonished at the
rapidity with which the news had spread. Kimballton
murder had been perpetrated only at eight o'clock
the preceding night; yet Dominicus had heard of it
at seven in the morning, when, in all probability, poor
Mr. Higginbotham's own family had but just discovered
his corpse, hanging on the St. Michæl's pear-tree.
The stranger on foot must have worn seven-league
boots, to travel at such a rate.
`Ill news flies fast, they say,' thought Dominicus
Pike; `but this beats railroads. The fellow ought
to be hired to go express with the President's Message.'
The difficulty was solved, by supposing that the
narrator had made a mistake of one day, in the date
of the occurrence; so that our friend did not hesitate
to introduce the story at every tavern and country-store
along the road, expending a whole bunch of Spanish-wrappers
among at least twenty horrified audiences.
He found himself invariably the first bearer of the
intelligence, and was so pestered with questions that
he could not avoid filling up the outline, till it became
quite a respectable narrative. He met with one piece
of corroborative evidence. Mr. Higginbotham was a
trader; and a former clerk of his to whom Dominicus
related the facts, testified that the old gentleman was
accustomed to return home through the orchard,
about night-fall, with the money and valuable papers
of the store in his pocket. The clerk manifested but
little grief at Mr. Higginbotham's catastrophe, hinting,
with him, that he was a crusty old fellow, as close as
a vise. His property would descend to a pretty niece
who was now keeping school in Kimballton.
What with telling the news for the public good, and
driving bargains for his own, Dominicus was so much
delayed on the road, that he chose to put up at a
tavern, about five miles short of Parker's Falls. After
supper, lighting one of his prime cigars, he seated
himself in the bar-room, and went through the story
of the murder, which had grown so fast that it took
him half an hour to tell. There were as many as
twenty people in the room, nineteen of whom received
it all for gospel. But the twentieth was an elderly
farmer, who had arrived on horseback a short time before,
and was now seated in a corner, smoking his
pipe. When the story was concluded, he rose up very
deliberately, brought his chair right in front of Dominicus,
and stared him full in the face, puffing out the
vilest tobacco smoke the pedler had ever smelt.
`Will you make affidavit,' demanded he, in the tone
of a country justice taking an examination, `that old
Squire Higginbotham of Kimballton was murdered in
his orchard the night before last, and found hanging
on his great pear-tree yesterday morning?'
`I tell the story as I heard it, mister,' answered
Dominicus, dropping his half-burnt cigar; `I don't say
that I saw the thing done. So I can't take my oath
that he was murdered exactly in that way.'
`But I can take mine,' said the farmer, that if Squire
Higginbotham was murdered night before last, I drank
a glass of bitters with his ghost this morning. Being
a neighbor of mine, he called me into his store, as I
was riding by, and treated me, and then asked me to
do a little business for him on the road. He did'nt
seem to know any more about his own murder than I
did.'
`Why, then it can't be a fact!' exclaimed Dominicus
Pike.
`I guess he'd have mentioned, if it was,' said the
old farmer; and he removed his chair back to the
corner, leaving Dominicus quite down in the mouth.
Here was a sad resurrection of old Mr. Higginbotham!
The pedler had no heart to mingle in the
conversation any more, but comforted himself with a
glass of gin and water, and went to bed, where, all
night long, he dreamt of hanging on the St. Michæl's
pear-tree. To avoid the old farmer (whom he so detested,
that his suspension would have pleased him
better than Mr. Higginbotham's), Dominicus rose in
the gray of the morning, put the little mare into the
green cart, and trotted swiftly away towards Parker's
Falls. The fresh breeze, the dewy road, and the
pleasant summer dawn, revived his spirits, and might
have encouraged him to repeat the old story, had there
been any body awake to hear it. But he met neither
ox-team, light wagon, chaise, horseman, nor foot-traveller,
till just as he crossed Salmon River, a man came
shoulder, on the end of a stick.
`Good morning, mister,' said the pedler, reining in
his mare. `If you come from Kimballton or that
neighborhood, may be you can tell me the real fact
about this affair of old Mr. Higginbotham. Was the
old fellow actually murdered two or three nights ago,
by an Irishman and a nigger?'
Dominicus had spoken in too great a hurry to observe,
at first, that the stranger himself had a deep
tinge of negro blood. On hearing this sudden question,
the Ethiopian appeared to change his skin, its yellow
hue becoming a ghastly white, while, shaking and
stammering, he thus replied:—
`No! no! There was no colored man! It was an
Irishman that hanged him last night, at eight o'clock.
I came away at seven! His folks can't have looked for
him in the orchard yet.'
Scarcely had the yellow man spoken, when he interrupted
himself, and though he seemed weary enough
before, continued his journey at a pace, which would
have kept the pedler's mare on a smart trot. Dominicus
stared after him in great perplexity. If the murder
had not been committed till Tuesday night, who was
the prophet that had foretold it, in all its circumstances,
on Tuesday morning? If Mr. Higginbotham's corpse
were not yet discovered by his own family, how came
the mulatto, at above thirty miles distance, to know
that he was hanging in the orchard, especially as he
hanged at all. These ambiguous circumstances, with
the stranger's surprise and terror, made Dominicus
think of raising a hue and cry after him, as an accomplice
in the murder; since a murder, it seemed, had
really been perpetrated.
`But let the poor devil go,' thought the pedler.
`I don't want his black blood on my head; and hanging
the nigger would'nt unhang Mr. Higginbotham.
Unhang the old gentleman! It's a sin, I know; but I
should hate to have him come to life a second time,
and give me the lie!'
With these meditations, Dominicus Pike drove into
the street of Parker's Falls, which, as every body
knows, is as thriving as three cotton factories and a
slitting mill can make it. The machinery was not
in motion, and but a few of the shop doors unbarred,
when he alighted in the stable yard of the tavern, and
made it his first business to order the mare four quarts
of oats. His second duty, of course was to impart Mr.
Higginbotham's catastrophe to the ostler. He deemed
it advisable, however, not to be too positive as to the
date of the direful fact, and also to be uncertain
whether it were perpetrated by an Irishman and a
mulatto, or by the son of Erin alone. Neither did he
profess to relate it on his own authority, or that of any
one person; but mentioned it as a report generally
diffused.
The story ran through the town like fire among
that nobody could tell whence it had originated. Mr.
Higginbotham was as well known at Parker's Falls as
any citizen of the place, being part owner of the slitting
mill, and a considerable stockholder in the cotton
factories. The inhabitants felt their own prosperity
interested in his fate. Such was the excitement, that
the Parker's Falls Gazette anticipated its regular day
of publication, and came out with half a form of blank
paper and a column of double pica emphasized with
capitals, and headed HORRID MURDER OF MR.
HIGGINBOTHAM! Among other dreadful details,
the printed account described the mark of the cord
round the dead man's neck, and stated the number of
thousand dollars of which he had been robbed; there
was much pathos also about the affliction of his niece,
who had gone from one fainting fit to another, ever
since her uncle was found hanging on the St. Michæl's
pear-tree with his pockets inside out. The village
poet likewise commemorated the young lady's grief in
seventeen stanzas of a ballad. The selectmen held a
meeting, and in consideration of Mr. Higginbotham's
claims on the town, determined to issue handbills,
offering a reward of five hundred dollars for the apprehension
of his murderers, and the recovery of the stolen
property.
Meanwhile, the whole population of Parker's Falls,
consisting of shopkeepers, mistresses of boarding
houses, factory girls, millmen, and schoolboys, rushed
as more than compensated for the silence of the cotton
machines, which refrained from their usual din out of
respect to the deceased. Had Mr. Higginbotham
cared about posthumous renown, his untimely ghost
would have exulted in this tumult. Our friend Dominicus,
in his vanity of heart, forgot his intended precautions,
and mounting on the town pump, announced
himself as the bearer of the authentic intelligence
which had caused so wonderful a sensation. He immediately
became the great man of the moment, and
had just begun a new edition of the narrative, with a
voice like a field preacher, when the mail stage drove
into the village street. It had travelled all night, and
must have shifted horses, at Kimballton at three in the
morning.
`Now we shall hear all the particulars,' shouted the
crowd.
The coach rumbled up to the piazza of the tavern,
followed by a thousand people; for if any man had
been minding his own business till then, he now left
it at sixes and sevens, to hear the news. The pedler,
foremost in the race, discovered two passengers, both
of whom had been startled from a comfortable nap to
find themselves in the centre of a mob. Every man
assailing them with separate questions, all propounded
at once, the couple were struck speechless, though
one was a lawyer and the other a young lady.
`Mr. Higginbotham! Mr. Higginbotham! Tell us
the mob. `What is the coroner's verdict? Are the
murderers apprehended? Is Mr. Higginbotham's niece
come out of her fainting fits? Mr. Higginbotham!
Mr. Higginbotham!!'
The coachman said not a word, except to swear
awfully at the ostler for not bringing him a fresh team
of horses. The lawyer inside had generally his wits
about him even when asleep; the first thing he did,
after learning the cause of the excitement, was to produce
a large red pocket-book. Meantime, Dominicus
Pike, being an extremely polite young man, and also
suspecting that a female tongue would tell the story
as glibly as a lawyer's, had handed the lady out of the
coach. She was a fine smart girl, now wide awake
and bright as a button, and had such a sweet pretty
mouth, that Dominicus would almost as lieves have
heard a love tale from it as a tale of murder.
`Gentlemen and ladies,' said the lawyer, to the
shopkeepers, the millmen, and the factory girls, `I can
assure you that some unaccountable mistake, or, more
probably, a wilful falsehood, maliciously contrived to
injure Mr. Higginbotham's credit, has excited this singular
uproar. We passed through Kimballton at three
o'clock this morning, and most certainly should have
been informed of the murder, had any been perpetrated.
But I have proof nearly as strong as Mr. Higginbotham's
own oral testimony, in the negative. Here is a
note, relating to a suit of his in the Connecticut courts,
I find it dated at ten o'clock last evening.'
So saying, the lawyer exhibited the date and signature
of the note, which irrefragably proved, either that
this perverse Mr. Higginbotham was alive when he
wrote it, or,—as some deemed the more probable case,
of two doubtful ones,—that he was so absorbed in
worldly business as to continue to transact it, even
after his death. But unexpected evidence was forthcoming.
The young lady, after listening to the pedler's
explanation, merely seized a moment to smooth her
gown and put her curls in order, and then appeared at
the tavern door, making a modest signal to be heard.
`Good people,' said she, `I am Mr. Higginbotham's
niece.'
A wondering murmur passed through the crowd, on
beholding her so rosy and bright; that same unhappy
niece, whom they had supposed, on the authority of
the Parker's Falls Gazette, to be lying at death's door
in a fainting fit. But some shrewd fellows had doubted
all along whether a young lady would be quite so
desperate at the hanging of a rich old uncle.
`You see,' continued Miss Higginbotham, with a
smile, `that this strange story is quite unfounded, as
to myself; and I believe I may affirm it to be equally
so in regard to my dear uncle Higginbotham. He has
the kindness to give me a home in his house, though
I contribute to my own support by teaching a school.
I left Kimballton this morning to spend the vacation
miles from Parker's Falls. My generous uncle, when
he heard me on the stairs, called me to his bed-side,
and gave me two dollars and fifty cents, to pay my
stage fare, and another dollar for my extra expenses.
He then laid his pocket book under his pillow, shook
hands with me, and advised me to take some biscuit
in my bag, instead of breakfasting on the road. I feel
confident, therefore, that I left my beloved relative
alive, and trust that I shall find him so on my return.'
The young lady courtesied at the close of her speech,
which was so sensible, and well-worded, and delivered
with such grace and propriety, that every body thought
her fit to be Preceptress of the best Academy in the
State. But a stranger would have supposed that Mr.
Higginbotham was an object of abhorrence at Parker's
Falls, and that a thanksgiving had been proclaimed for
his murder; so excessive was the wrath of the inhabitants,
on learning their mistake. The millmen resolved
to bestow public honors on Dominicus Pike,
only hesitating whether to tar and feather him, ride
him on a rail, or refresh him with an ablution at the
town pump, on the top of which he had declared himself
the bearer of the news. The selectmen, by advice
of the lawyer, spoke of prosecuting him for a misdemeanor,
in circulating unfounded reports, to the great
disturbance of the peace of the commonwealth. Nothing
saved Dominicus, either from mob-law or a court
of justice, but an eloquent appeal made by the young
gratitude to his benefactress, he mounted the green
cart and rode out of town, under a discharge of artillery
from the schoolboys, who found plenty of ammunition
in the neighboring clay-pits and mud holes. As
he turned his head, to exchange a farewell glance with
Mr. Higginbotham's niece, a ball, of the consistence
of hasty-pudding, hit him slap in the mouth, giving
him a most grim aspect. His whole person was so
bespattered with the like filthy missiles, that he had
almost a mind to ride back, and supplicate for the
threatened ablution at the town pump; for, though not
meant in kindness, it would now have been a deed of
charity.
However, the sun shone bright on poor Dominicus,
and the mud, an emblem of all stains of undeserved
opprobrium, was easily brushed off when dry. Being
a funny rogue, his heart soon cheered up; nor could
he refrain from a hearty laugh at the uproar which his
story had excited. The handbills of the selectmen
would cause the commitment of all the vagabonds in
the State; the paragraph in the Parker's Falls Gazette
would be reprinted from Maine to Florida, and perhaps
form an item in the London newspapers; and
many a miser would tremble for his money-bags and
life, on learning the catastrophe of Mr. Higginbotham.
The pedler meditated with much fervor on the charms
of the young schoolmistress, and swore that Daniel
Webster never spoke nor looked so like an angel as
wrathful populace at Parker's Falls.
Dominicus was now on the Kimballton turnpike,
having all along determined to visit that place, though
business had drawn him out of the most direct road
from Morristown. As he approached the scene of the
supposed murder, he continued to revolve the circumstances
in his mind, and was astonished at the aspect
which the whole case assumed. Had nothing occurred
to corroborate the story of the first traveller, it might
now have been considered as a hoax; but the yellow
man was evidently acquainted either with the report
or the fact; and there was a mystery in his dismayed
and guilty look on being abruptly questioned. When,
to this singular combination of incidents, it was added
that the rumor tallied exactly with Mr. Higginbotham's
character and habits of life; and that he had an
orchard, and a St. Michæl's pear-tree, near which he
always passed at night-fall; the circumstantial evidence
appeared so strong, that Dominicus doubted whether
the autograph produced by the lawyer, or even the
niece's direct testimony, ought to be equivalent. Making
cautious inquiries along the road, the pedler further
learned that Mr. Higginbotham had in his service an
Irishman of doubtful character, whom he had hired
without a recommendation, on the score of economy.
`May I be hanged myself,' exclaimed Dominicus
Pike aloud, on reaching the top of a lonely hill, `if
I'll believe old Higginbotham is unhanged, till I see
mouth! And as he's a real shaver, I'll have the minister,
or some other responsible man, for an endorser.'
It was growing dusk when he reached the toll-house
on Kimballton turnpike, about a quarter of a mile from
the village of this name. His little mare was fast
bringing him up with a man on horseback, who trotted
through the gate a few rods in advance of him, nodded
to the toll-gatherer, and kept on towards the village.
Dominicus was acquainted with the toll-man, and
while making change, the usual remarks on the weather
passed between them.
`I suppose, said the pedler, throwing back his whiplash,
to bring it down like a feather on the mare's
flank, `you have not seen anything of old Mr. Higginbotham
within a day or two?'
`Yes,' answered the toll-gatherer. `He passed the
gate just before you drove up, and yonder he rides
now, if you can see him through the dusk. He's been
to Woodfield this afternoon, attending a sheriff's sale
there. The old man generally shakes hands and has
a little chat with me; but to-night, he nodded,—as if
to say, `charge my toll,'—and jogged on; for wherever
he goes, he must always be at home by eight o'clock.'
`So they tell me,' said Dominicus.
`I never saw a man look so yellow and thin as the
squire does,' continued the toll-gatherer. `Says I to
myself, to-night, he's more like a ghost or an old
mummy than good flesh and blood.'
The pedler strained his eyes through the twilight,
and could just discern the horseman now far ahead on
the village road. He seemed to recognise the rear of
Mr. Higginbotham; but through the evening shadows,
and amid the dust from the horse's feet, the figure
appeared dim and unsubstantial; as if the shape of the
mysterious old man were faintly moulded of darkness
and gray light. Dominicus shivered.
`Mr. Higginbotham has come back from the other
world, by way of the Kimballton turnpike,' thought he.
He shook the reins and rode forward, keeping about
the same distance in the rear of the gray old shadow,
till the latter was concealed by a bend of the road.
On reaching this point the pedler no longer saw the
man on horseback, but found himself at the head of
the village street, not far from a number of stores and
two taverns, clustered round the meeting-house steeple.
On his left was a stone wall and a gate, the boundary
of a wood-lot, beyond which lay an orchard,
further still, a mowing-field, and last of all, a house.
These were the premises of Mr. Higginbotham, whose
dwelling stood beside the old highway, but had been
left in the back ground by the Kimballton turnpike.
Dominicus knew the place; and the little mare stopped
short by instinct; for he was not conscious of tightening
the reins.
`For the soul of me, I cannot get by this gate!'
said he, trembling. `I never shall be my own man
on the St. Michæl's pear-tree!'
He leaped from the cart, gave the rein a turn round
the gate-post, and ran along the green path of the
wood-lot, as if Old Nick were chasing behind. Just
then the village clock tolled eight, and as each deep
stroke fell, Dominicus gave a fresh bound and flew
faster than before, till, dim in the solitary centre of the
orchard, he saw the fated pear-tree. One great branch
stretched from the old contorted trunk across the path,
and threw the darkest shadow on that one spot. But
something seemed to struggle beneath the branch!
The pedler had never pretended to more courage
than befits a man of peaceable occupation, nor could
he account for his valor on this awful emergency.
Certain it is, however, that he rushed forward, prostrated
a sturdy Irishman with the but-end of his whip,
and found—not indeed hanging on the St.
Michæl's pear-tree, but trembling beneath it, with a
halter round his neck—the old identical Mr. Higginbotham!
`Mr. Higginbotham,' said Dominicus tremulously,
`you're an honest man, and I'll take your word for it.
Have you been hanged, or not?'
If the riddle be not already guessed, a few words
will explain the simple machinery, by which this
`coming event' was made to `cast its shadow before.'
Three men had plotted the robbery and murder of Mr.
and fled, each delaying the crime one night, by their
disappearance; the third was in the act of perpetration,
when a champion, blindly obeying the call of
fate, like the heroes of old romance, appeared in the
person of Dominicus Pike.
It only remains to say, that Mr. Higginbotham took
the pedler into high favor, sanctioned his addresses to
the pretty schoolmistress, and settled his whole property
on their children, allowing themselves the interest.
In due time, the old gentleman capped the climax of
his favors, by dying a Christian death, in bed, since
which melancholy event, Dominicus Pike has removed
from Kimballton, and established a large tobacco manufactory
in my native village.
| Twice-told tales | |