University of Virginia Library

CHRISTOPHER CROTCHET:
THE SINGING-MASTER.

BY SEBA SMITH.

Your New England country singing-master is a
peculiar character; who shall venture to describe
him? During his stay in a country village, he is
the most important personage in it. The common
school-master, to be sure, is a man of dignity and
importance. Children never pass him on the road,
without turning square round, pulling off their hats,
and making one of their best and most profound
bows. He is looked up to with universal deference
both by young and old, and is often invited out to
tea. Or, if he “boards round,” great is the parade,
and great the preparation, by each family, when
their “week for boarding the master” draws near.
Then not unfrequently a well fatted porker is killed,
and the spare ribs are duly hung round the pantry
in readiness for roasting. A half bushel of sausages
are made up into “links,” and suspended on a
pole near the ceiling from one end of the kitchen
to the other. And the Saturday beforehand, if the
school-master is to come on Monday, the work of
preparation reaches its crisis. Then it is, that the
old oven, if it be not “heaten seven times hotter
than it is wont to be,” is at least heated seven times;
and apple-pies, and pumpkin-pies, and mince-pies
are turned out by dozens, and packed away in
closet and cellar for the coming week. And the
“fore room,” which has not had a fire in it for the
winter, is now duly washed and scrubbed and put
to rights, and wood is heaped on the fire with a

liberal hand, till the room itself becomes almost
another oven. George is up betimes on Monday
morning to go with his hand-sled and bring the
master's trunk; Betsey and Sally are rigged out in
the best calico gowns, the little ones have their
faces washed and their hair combed with more than
ordinary care, and the mother's cap has an extra
crimp. And all this stir and preparation for the
common school-master. And yet he is but an
every-day planet, that moves in a regular orbit, and
comes round at least every winter.

But the singing-master is your true comet. Appearing
at no regular intervals, he comes suddenly,
and often unexpected. Brilliant, mysterious and
erratic, no wonder that he attracts all eyes, and
produces a tremendous sensation. Not only the
children, but the whole family, flock to the windows
when he passes, and a face may be seen at every
pane of glass, eagerly peering out to catch a
glimpse of the singing-master. Even the very
dogs seem to partake of the awe he inspires, and
bark with uncommon fierceness whenever they
meet him.

“O, father,” said little Jimmy Brown, as he came
running into the house on a cold December night,
with eyes staring wide open, and panting for breath,
“O, father, Mr. Christopher Crotchet from Quavertown,
is over to Mr. Gibbs' tavern, come to see
about keeping singing-school; and Mr. Gibbs, and
a whole parcel more of 'em, wants you to come
right over there, cause they're goin' to have a
meeting this evening to see about hiring of him.”

Squire Brown and his family, all except Jimmy,
were seated round the supper table when this interesting
piece of intelligence was announced. Every
one save Squire Brown himself, gave a sudden
start, and at once suspended operations; but the
Squire, who was a very moderate man, and never

did anything from impulse, ate on without turning
his head, or changing his position. After a short
pause, however, which was a moment of intense
anxiety to some members of the family, he replied
to Jimmy as follows:—

“I shan't do no sich thing; if they want a singing-school,
they may get it themselves. A singing-school
wont do us no good, and I've ways enough
to spend my money without paying it for singing.”
Turning his head round and casting a severe look
upon Jimmy, he proceeded with increasing energy:

“Now, Sir, hang your hat up and set down and
eat your supper; I should like to know what sent
you off over to the tavern without leave.”

“I wanted to see the singing-master,” said Jimmy.
“Sam Gibbs said there was a singing-master
over to their house, and so I wanted to see him.”

“Well, I'll singing-master you,” said the Squire,
“if I catch you to go off so again without leave.
Come, don't stand there; set down and eat your
supper, or I'll trounce you in two minutes.”

“There, I declare,” said Mrs. Brown, “I do think
it too bad. I do wish I could live in peace one
moment of my life. The children will be spoilt
and ruined. They never can stir a step nor hardly
breathe, but what they must be scolded and fretted
to death.”

Squire Brown had been accustomed to these
sudden squalls about twenty-five years, they having
commenced some six months or so after his marriage;
and long experience had taught him, that
the only way to escape with safety, was to bear
away immediately and scud before the wind. Accordingly
he turned again to Jimmy, and with a
much softened tone addressed him as follows:—

“Come, Jimmy, my son, set down and eat your
supper, that's a good boy. You shouldn't go away

without asking your mother or me; but you'll try
to remember next time, won't you?”

Jimmy and his mother were both somewhat
soothed by this well-timed suavity, and the boy
took his seat at the table.

“Now, pa,” said Miss Jerusha Brown, “you will
go over and see about having a singing-school,
won't you? I want to go dreadfully?”

“Oh, I can't do anything about that,” said the
Squire; “it'll cost a good deal of money, and I
can't afford it. And besides, there's no use at all in
it. You can sing enough now, any of you; you
are singing half your time.”

“There,” said Mrs. Brown, “that's just the way.
Our children will never have a chance to be anything
as long as they live. Other folks' children
have a chance to go to singing-schools, and to see
young company, and to be something in the world.
Here's our Jerusha has got to be in her twenty-fifth
year now, and if she's ever going to have
young company, and have a chance to be anything,
she must have it soon; for she'll be past the time
bime-by for sich things. 'Tisn't as if we was poor
and couldn't afford it; for you know, Mr. Brown,
you pay the largest tax of anybody in the town,
and can afford to give the children a chance to be
something in the world, as well as not. And as for
living in this kind of way any longer, I've no notion
on't.”

Mrs. Brown knew how to follow up an advantage.
She had got her husband upon the retreat
in the onset a moment before, in reference to Jimmy's
absence, and the closing part of this last
speech was uttered with an energy and determination,
of which Squire Brown knew too well the
import to disregard it. Perceiving that a storm
was brewing that would burst upon his head with
tremendous power, if he did not take care to avoid

it, he finished his supper with all convenient despatch,
rose from the table, put on his great-coat
and hat, and marched deliberately over to Gibbs'
tavern. Mrs. Brown knew at once, that she had
won the victory, and that they should have a singing-school.
The children also had become so well
versed in the science of their mother's tactics, that
they understood the same thing, and immediately
began to discuss matters preparatory to attending
the school.

Miss Jerusha said she must have her new calico
gown made right up, the next day; and her mother
said she should, and David might go right over after
Betsey Davis to come to work on it the next
morning.

“How delightful it will be to have a singing-school,”
said Miss Jerusha: “Jimmy, what sort of
a looking man is Mr. Crotchet?”

“Oh, he is a slick kind of a looking man,” said
Jimmy.

“Is he a young man, or a married man?” inquired
Miss Jerusha.

“Ho! married? no; I guess he isn't,” said
Jimmy, “I don't believe he's more than twenty
years old.”

“Poh; I don't believe that story,” said Jerusha,
“a singing-master must be as much as twenty-five
years old, I know! How is he dressed? Isn't he
dressed quite genteel?”

“Oh, he's dressed pretty slick,” said Jimmy.

“Well, that's what makes him look so young,”
said Miss Jerusha; “I dare say he's as much as
twenty-five years old; don't you think he is, mother?”

“Well, I think it's pretty likely he is,” said Mrs.
Brown; “singing-masters are generally about that
age.”

“How does he look?” said Miss Jerusha; “is he
handsome?”

“He's handsome enough,” said Jimmy, “only he's
got a red head and freckly face.”

“Now, Jim, I don't believe a word you say. You
are saying this, only just to plague me.”

To understand the propriety of this last remark
of Miss Jerusha, the reader should be informed, that
for the last ten years she had looked upon every
young man who came into the place, as her own
peculiar property. And in all cases, in order to
obtain possession of her aforesaid property, she had
adopted prompt measures, and pursued them with
a diligence worthy of all praise.

“No I ain't neither,” said Jimmy, “I say he has
got a red head and freckly face.”

“La, well,” said Mrs. Brown, “what if he has?
I'm sure a red head don't look bad; and one of
the handsomest men that ever I see, had a freckly
face.”

“Well, Jimmy, how large is he? Is he a tall
man, or a short man?” said Miss Jerusha.

“Why, he isn't bigger round than I be,” said
Jimmy; “and I guess he isn't quite as tall as a hay-pole;
but he's so tall he has to stoop when he goes
into the door.”

So far from adding to the shock, which Miss Jerusha's
nerves had already received from the account
of the red head and freckly face, this last piece of
intelligence was on the whole rather consolatory;
for she lacked but an inch and a half of six feet in
height herself.

“Well, Jimmy,” said Miss Jerusha, “when he
stands up, take him altogether, isn't he a good-looking
young man?”

“I don't know anything about that,” said Jimmy;
“he looks the most like the tongs in the riddle, of
anything I can think of:

“There, Jim, you little plague,” said Miss Jerusha,
“you shall go right off to bed, if you don't
leave off your nonsense. I won't hear another word
of it.”

“I don't care it you won't,” said Jimmy, “it's all
true, every word of it.”

“What! then the singing-muster hasn't got no
eyes, has he?” said Miss Jerusha; “that's a pretty
story.”

“I don't mean, he hasn't got no eyes at all,” said
Jimmy, “only his eyes are dreadful little, and you
can't see but one of 'em to time neither, they're
twisted round so.”

“A little cross-eyed, I s'pose,” said Mrs. Brown,
“that's all; I don't think that hurts the looks of a
man a bit; it only makes him look a little sharper.”

While these things were transpiring at Mr.
Brown's, matters of weight and importance were
being discussed at the tavern. About a dozen of
the neighbors had collected there early in the evening,
and every one, as soon as he found that Mr.
Christopher Crotchet from Quavertown was in the
village, was for having a singing-school forthwith,
cost what it would. They accordingly proceeded
at once to ascertain Mr. Crotchet's terms. His
proposals were, to keep twenty evenings for twenty
dollars and “found,” or for thirty and board himself.
The school to be kept three evenings in a
week. A subscription-paper was opened, and the
sum of fifteen dollars was at last made up. But
that was the extent to which they could go; not
another dollar could be raised. Much anxiety was
now felt for the arrival of Squire Brown; for the
question of school or no school depended entirely
on him.

“Squire Brown's got money enough,” said Mr.
Gibbs, “and if he only has the will, we shall have a
school.”

“Not exactly,” said Mr. Jones; “if Mrs. Brown
has the will, we shall have a school, let the Squire's
will be what it may.”

Before the laugh occasioned by this last remark
had fully subsided, Squire Brown entered, much to
the joy of the whole company.

“Squire Brown, I'm glad to see you,” said Mr.
Gibbs; “shall I introduce you to Mr. Christopher
Crotchet, singing-master from Quavertown.

The Squire was a very short man, somewhat inclined
to corpulence, and Mr. Crotchet, according
to Jimmy's account, was not quite as tall as a hay-pole;
so that by dint of the Squire's throwing his
head back and looking up, and Mr. Crotchet's canting
his head on one side in order to bring one eye
to bear on the Squire, the parties were brought
within each other's field of vision. The Squire
made a bow, which was done by throwing his head
upward, and Mr. Crotchet returned the compliment
by extending his arm downward to the Squire and
shaking hands.

When the ceremony of introduction was over,
Mr. Gibbs laid the whole matter before Mr. Brown,
showed him the subscription-paper, and told him
they were all depending upon him to decide whether
they should have a singing-school or not. Squire
Brown put on his spectacles and read the subscription-paper
over two or three times, till he fully understood
the terms, and the deficiency in the amount
subscribed. Then without saying a word, he took
a pen and deliberately subscribed five dollars.
That settled the business; the desired sum was
raised, and the school was to go ahead. It was
agreed that it should commence on the following
evening, and that Mr. Crotchet should board with

Mr. Gibbs one week, with the Squire the next, and
so go round through the neighborhood.

On the following day there was no small commotion
among the young folks of the village, in
making preparation for the evening school. New
singing-books were purchased, dresses were prepared,
curling-tongs and crimping-irons were put
in requisition, and early in the evening the long
chamber in Gibbs' tavern, which was called by way
of eminence “the hall,” was well filled by youth of
both sexes, the old folks not being allowed to attend
that evening, lest the “boys and gals” should
be diffident about “sounding the notes.” A range
of long narrow tables was placed round three sides
of the hall, with benches behind them, upon which
the youth were seated. A singing-book and a candle
were shared by two, all round the room, till you
came to Miss Jerusha Brown, who had taken the
uppermost seat, and monopolized a whole book and
a whole candle to her own use. Betsey Buck, a
lively, reckless sort of a girl of sixteen, who cared
for nobody nor nothing in this world, but was full
of frolic and fun, had by chance taken a seat next
to Miss Jerusha. Miss Betsey had a slight inward
turn of one eye, just enough to give her a roguish
look, that comported well with her character.—
While they were waiting for the entrance of the
master, many a suppressed laugh, and now and then
an audible giggle, passed round the room, the mere
ebullitions of buoyant spirits and contagious mirth,
without aim or object. Miss Jerusha, who was trying
to behave her prettiest, repeatedly chided their
rudeness, and more than once told Miss Betsey
Buck, that she ought to be ashamed to be laughing
so much; “for what would Mr. Crotchet think, if
he should come in and find them all of a giggle?”

After a while the door opened, and Mr. Christopher
Crotchet entered. He bent his body slightly,

as he passed the door, to prevent a concussion of
his head against the lintel, and then walked very
erect into the middle of the floor, and made a short
speech to his class. His grotesque appearance
caused a slight tittering round the room, and Miss
Betsey was even guilty of an incipient audible
laugh, which however she had the tact so far to
turn into a cough as to save appearances. Still it
was observed by Miss Jerusha, who told her again
in a low whisper that she ought to be ashamed, and
added that “Mr. Crotchet was a most splendid man;
a beautiful man.”

After Mr. Crotchet had made his introductory
speech, he proceeded to try the voices of his pupils,
making each one alone follow him in rising and falling
the notes. He passed round without difficulty
till he came to Miss Betsey Buck. She rather hesitated
to let her voice be heard alone; but the master
told her she must sound, and holding his head
down so close to hers that they almost met, he commenced
pouring his faw, sole, law, into her ear.
Miss Betsey drew back a little, but followed with a
low and somewhat tremulous voice, till she had
sounded three or four notes, when her risible muscles
got the mastery, and she burst out in an unrestrained
fit of laughter.

The master looked confused and cross; and Miss
Jerusha even looked crosser than the master. She
again reproached Miss Betsey for her rudeness, and
told her in an emphatic whisper, which was intended
more especially for the master's ear, “that such
conduct was shameful, and if she couldn't behave
better she ought to stay at home.”

Miss Jerusha's turn to sound came next, and she
leaned her head full half way across the table to
meet the master's, and sounded the notes clear
through, three or four times over, from bottom to
top and from top to bottom; and sounded them

with a loudness and strength fully equal to that of
the master.

When the process of sounding the voices separately
had been gone through with, they were
called upon to sound together; and before the close
of the evening they were allowed to commence the
notes of some easy tunes. It is unnecessary here
to give a detailed account of the progress that was
made, or to attempt to describe the jargon of strange
sounds, with which Gibbs' hall echoed that night.
Suffice it to say, that the proficiency of the pupils
was so great, that on the tenth evening, or when
the school was half through, the parents were permitted
to be present, and were delighted to hear
their children sing Old Hundred, Mear, St. Martin,
Northfield, and Hallowell, with so much accuracy,
that those who knew the tunes, could readily tell,
every time, which one was being performed. Mrs.
Brown was almost in ecstacies at the performance,
and sat the whole evening and looked at Jerusha,
who sung with great earnestness and with a voice
far above all the rest. Even Squire Brown himself
was so much softened that evening, that his
face wore a sort of smile, and he told his wife “he
didn't grudge his five dollars, a bit.”

The school went on swimmingly. Mr. Crotchet
became the lion of the village; and Miss Jerusha
Brown “thought he improved upon acquaintance
astonishingly.” Great preparation was made at
Squire Brown's for the important week of boarding
the singing-master. They outdid all the village in
the quantity and variety of their eatables, and at
every meal Miss Jerusha was particularly assiduous
in placing all the good things in the neighborhood
on Mr. Crotchet's plate. In fact, so bountifully
and regularly was Mr. Crotchet stuffed during
the week, that his lank form began to assume a perceptible
fulness. He evidently seemed very fond

of his boarding place, especially at meal time; and
made himself so much at home, that Mrs. Brown
and Jerusha were in a state of absolute felicity the
whole week. It was true he spent two evenings
abroad during the week, and it was reported that
one of them was passed at Mr. Buck's. But Miss
Jerusha would not believe a word of such a story.
She said “there was no young folks at Mr. Buck's
except Betsey, and she was sure Mr. Crotchet was
a man of more sense than to spend his evenings
with such a wild, rude thing as Betsey Buck.”
Still, however, the report gave her a little uneasiness;
and when it was ascertained, that during the
week on which Mr. Crotchet boarded at Mr. Buck's
he spent every evening at home, except the three
devoted to the singing-school, Miss Jerusha's uneasiness
evidently increased. She resolved to make
a desperate effort to counteract these untoward influences,
and to teach Miss Betsey Buck not to interfere
with other folk's concerns. For this purpose
she made a grand evening party, and invited
all the young folks of the village, except Miss Buck,
who was pointedly left out. The treat was elaborate
for a country village, and Miss Jerusha was
uncommonly assiduous in her attentions to Mr.
Crotchet during the evening. But to her inexpressible
surprise and chagrin, about eight o'clock, Mr.
Crotchet put on his hat and great coat and bade the
company good night. Mrs. Brown looked very
blue, and Miss Jerusha's nerves were in a state of
high excitement. What could it mean? She
would give anything in the world to know where
he had gone. She ran up into the chamber and
looked out from the window. The night was rather
dark, but she fancied she saw him making his
way toward Mr. Buck's. The company for the remainder
of the evening had rather a dull time; and
Miss Jerusha passed almost a sleepless night.

The next evening Miss Jerusha was early at the
singing-school. She took her seat with a disconsolate
air, opened her singing-book and commenced
singing Hallowell in the following words:

On former occasions, when the scholars were
singing before school commenced, the moment the
master opened the door they broke off short, even
if they were in the midst of a tune. But now, when
the master entered, Miss Jerusha kept on singing.
She went through the whole tune after Mr. Crotchet
came in, and went back and repeated the latter
half of it with a loud and full voice, which caused a
laugh among the scholars, and divers streaks of red
to pass over the master's face.

At the close of the evening's exercises Miss Jerusha
hurried on her shawl and bonnet, and watched
the movements of the master. She perceived
he went out directly after Betsey Buck, and she
hastened after them with becoming speed. She
contrived to get between Miss Buck and the master
as they walked along the road, and kept Mr.
Crotchet in close conversation with her, or rather
kept herself in close conversation with Mr. Crotchet,
till they came to the corner that turned down to
Mr. Buck's house. Here Mr. Crotchet left her
somewhat abruptly, and walked by the side of Miss
Betsey toward Mr. Buck's. This was more than
Miss Jerusha's nerves could well bear. She was
under too much excitement to proceed on her way
home. She stopped and gazed after the couple as
they receded from her; and as their forms became
indistinct in the darkness of the night, she turned
and followed them, just keeping them in view till
they reachnd the house. The door opened, and to

her inexpressible horror, they both went in. It was
past ten o'clock, too! She was greatly puzzled.
The affair was entirely inexplicable to her. It could
not be, however, that he would stop many minutes,
and she waited to see the result. Presently a light
appeared in the “fore-room;” and from the mellowness
of that light a fire was evidently kindled there.
Miss Jerusha approached the house and reconnoitred.
She tried to look in at the window, but a
thick curtain effectually prevented her from seeing
anything within. The curtain did not reach quite
to the top of the window, and she thought she saw
the shadows of two persons before the fire, thrown
against the ceiling. She was determined by some
means or other to know the worst of it. She looked
round the door-yard and found a long piece of
board. She thought by placing this against the
house by the side of the window, she might be able
to climb up and look over the top of the curtain.
The board was accordingly raised on one end and
placed carefully by the side of the window, and Miss
Jerusha eagerly commenced the task of climbing.
She had reached the top of the curtain and cast one
glance into the room, where, sure enough, she beheld
Mr. Crotchet seated close by the side of Miss
Betsey. At this interesting moment, from some
cause or other, either from her own trembling, for
she was exceedingly agitated, or from the board
not being properly supported at the bottom, it slipped
and canted, and in an instant one half of the
window was dashed with a tremendous crash into
the room.

Miss Jerusha fell to the ground, but not being
much injured by the fall, she sprang to her feet and
ran with the fleetness of a wild deer. The door
opened, and out came Mr. Crotchet and Mr. Buck,
and started in the race. They thought they had a
glimpse of some person running up the road when

they first came out, and Mr. Crotchet's long legs
measured off the ground with remarkable velocity.
But the fright had added so essentially to Miss Jerusha's
powers of locomotion, that not even Mr.
Crotchet could overtake her, and her pursuers soon
lost sight of her in the darkness of the night, and
gave up the chase and returned home.

Miss Jerusha was not seen at the singing-school
after this, and Mrs. Brown said she stayed at home
because she had a cough. Notwithstanding there
were many rumors and surmises afloat, and some
slanderous insinuations thrown out against Miss Jerusha
Brown, yet it was never ascertained by the
neighbors, for a certainty, who it was that demolished
Mr. Buck's window.

One item farther remains to be added to this veritable
history; and that is, that in three months
from this memorable night, Miss Betsey Buck became
Mrs. Crotchet of Quavertown.