University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

JEREMIAH remained a prisoner all the next day and
night in the little room where we left him at the close of
our last chapter. Nobody came near him, and the only food
that he had tasted was the claw of a boiled lobster and a crust
of bread, that were thrown into his room over the sky-light
of the door. He made up his mind to be murdered, but he
resolved to defend himself to the best of his powers His
only weapon of defence was a pocket-knife, and from want of
practice he was not very expert in the use of his hands; and
feeling his own weakness he knew that he could make but a
feeble resistance to any one that would be likely to attack
him; he therefore endeavored to compose his mind, and tried
to prevail upon himself that he was resigned to whatever
death he might be doomed to suffer. As he had wronged no
man, and was in no manner enlisted in any cause that required
a sacrifice, he was entirely at a loss to conceive any

reason for his confinement; and when, at last, he was set at
liberty by the same woman who had enticed him to her den,
he was so overjoyed to regain his freedom that he forgot to
ask for an explanation, but hurried out of the house and ran
the entire length of two or three streets before he thought of
the necessity of taking the number of the house.

His absence from his business and his boarding house,
caused innumerable speculations among his friends, and very
serious inconvenience to Mr. Tremlett, who was compelled
to remain until a very late hour at the counting-room, to arrange
some business that no one but Jeremiah or himself
could attend to, and on his way home at night, he was overtaken
by a sudden shower of rain, and a severe cold attended
by a fever, was the consequence.

Jeremiah hastened to the house of his employer, the moment
he was set at liberty, and related to him the particulars
of his confinement, omitting only the cause of his visit to the
Bowery. The old gentleman was not a little amazed at so
strange a story, and if he had not known that Jeremiah was
incapable of deceit, he would have been inclined to doubt the
truth of it. But believing it entirely, he advised him to make
a complaint at the police office and have the woman punished.
Jeremiah, however, had a great horror of seeing his name in
a newspaper, and he had made up his mind to keep the circumstance
to himself and seek for no redress for his grievances.

Miss Hogshart had been terribly alarmed during his absence,
but now that he had come back unharmed, she felt herself
constrained to be very cold and dignified in her manner
towards him, and to treat his protestations of innocence in a
very sneering manner, unbecoming in any lady, but especially
so in her; she almost insinuated that Jeremiah was a hypocrite,
and not half as good as he pretended to be, which made
him feel very wretched; for it distressed him beyond measure
to know that she could, under any circumstances, appear so

unamiable. But it was nevertheless some consolation to him
to know that her ill feelings were excited by her excessive
fondness for him, and therefore he forgave her. Among the
very first friends who called upon him the next morning to
inquire about the cause of his absence were the brothers
Tuck, who were shocked and amazed when they heard of
the outrage that had been committed upon his person, and expressed
a world of sympathy for him, but advised him not to
make the affair public, lest he should get into the papers, and
suffer in his reputation. They informed him with many expressions
of regret and chagrin that in consequence of his
absence, Mr. Washington Mortimer had been allowed to escape,
as they depended solely upon his testimony to procure
a commitment. Jeremiah had no possible sympathy for
wrong-doers, and yet it was a relief to him to hear that the
poor man had got clear; it would have been a continual
source of unhappiness to him if any human being through
his agency had been confined in prison or otherwise harmed.
Although the brothers, and Mr. Tremlett, and even Miss
Hogshart in reality, acquitted Jeremiah of the slightest suspicion
of wrong doing; yet there were two persons who entertained
the most coarse and indelicate doubts of his uprightness;
doubts that impressed even these virtuous persons so seriously
that they only ventured to give a slight intimation of their
existence by whispers and winks, and awful shrugs of their
shoulders, which being rendered into language mean, “Oh,
the wickedness of some folks.” These two excellent persons
were Mr. and Mrs. Bates. Such a coincidence of thought
between two persons so remarkably dissimilar is a phenomenon
that requires an explanation; and as differences of opinion
are fruitful of much unhappiness among married people, we
will cheerfully devote a few lines to giving one, in the confident
hope that the profit to be derived therefrom will compensate
to our readers for a suspension of our narrative.

Some men, and some women even, are so fond of peace

and quietness that they are willing to fight continually for
their sakes, while others are so partial to a quiet life that they
will live in a continual tumult lest any attempt to allay it
should only increase its force. Of these two kinds of people
were Mr. and Mrs. Bates, and consequently where each was
resolutely bent on peace and quietness, it must have happened
that there were no disagreeable differences of opinion, and unpleasant
bickerings, such as have too often brought the marriage
state into contempt and given occasion to crabbed old
bachelors and cross tempered old maids to cast many witless
reproaches upon the blessed matrimonial condition. She
being determined for the sake of peace to have her own way
and he being determined, for the same reason, that she should,
the most delightful harmony must always have prevailed in
the opinions and actions of these excellent persons. Another
thing which helped to produce this most pleasant and peaceful
condition was the fact that Mr. Bates had attained to a
very respectable age, some eight and thirty years, before he
was blessed by his union with his better part; and being duly
impressed by her with a sense of the great sacrifice she had
made in consenting to unite herself to him, he could not find
it in his heart to oppose her in any of her little peculiarities
of opinion. When she first took possession of the rooms that
Mr. Bates had furnished for her, she discovered that he had
appropriated a particular peg, for each particular portion of his
wardrobe, and in fulfilment of her marriage vows, which had
just fallen from her lips, she immediately tumbled all his
coats, pantaloons and wrap-rascals into a dark closet, and supplied
their places with her own trousseau, consisting of a
greater number of articles than we have here space to enumerate;
and upon his re-appearance he was struck aghast at
the tremendous change.

“Bless my eyes, my dear!” he exclaimed, “what's the
meaning of all this?”

“Meaning of it, indeed!” said the bride smartly, “is the

man blind? Don't you see that I am going to have those pegs
for my own use?”

“But you musn't my dear, it will never do.”

“Musn't! musn't!” screamed Mrs. B., as though she had
never before heard those words, “where did you learn that
word sir? come, come, I must have my way, so don't put on
any of your old bachelor airs to me.”

It is needless to say who came off conqueror and who consented
to be bound hand and foot, manacled like a slave and
deprived of his rights, for the sake of peace and quietness.
Never again did Mr. Bates demur to any of his wife's propositions,
and when she hinted that Jeremiah was a dreadful slyboots,
he immediately expressed exactly the same opinion, and
said, moreover, that he had never had any other.

It gives us pain to record these things against Mr. Bates, for
doubtless many people have always looked upon him as a
very excellent person, as, indeed, he was; for he had always
paid his debts, a great thing assuredly in a community where
a neglect to do so is looked upon as an odious offence, without
any consideration of the debtors misfortunes or ability,
but then it must be remembered that nobody would have
trusted Mr. Bates beyond his known ability to pay; he had
robbed no man of his money, an unusual thing in those days,
when even governments and independent states set examples
of dishonesty; he had never cheated government out of a
penny, although it is right to say that he had never been intrusted
with any of the nation's funds; he had run away with
no man's wife, which was a greater merit in him, since he
would not have looked upon it as an unpardonable offence if
any body had run away with his; he had never accepted office
of a party and then proved traitorous to those who placed him
in power, a rare virtue in him, since he saw so many examples
around him, and heard them spoken of as good jokes
rather than as black crimes; but then it must be remembered
that nobody ever dreamed of trusting him with an office; he

had fought no duels; he had misled no minds by preaching
false doctrines; he had never overturned any established
forms of society by making pestiferous innovations; he had
wronged no man by giving freedom to his slave; he paid his
pew rent regularly and believed as devoutly in the apostolical
authority of his pastor as though he had been educated at
Oxford; and, in one word, he was a very good sort of man.
We might extend the catalogue of his virtues to a much
greater length, but we trust enough has been done to satisfy
his friends that we have no wish to treat him unjustly.

But Jeremiah was wholly unconscious that any one entertained
such cruel suspicions against him as Mr. and Mrs. Bates
did, and he walked erect in the light of his own innocence,
fearing nothing so much as doing wrong to others. The
first day of his release, he was confined until a late hour to
his desk, and before he went to his boarding-house at night
he called upon Mr. Tremlett and was alarmed to find the old
gentleman in a high fever. Poor old Mrs. Swazey, the housekeeper,
was doing all she could to hasten his end by smothering
him with hot blankets, and deluging his bowels with hot
boneset tea.

Jeremiah saw at a glance that the old gentleman was very
ill, and he begged Mrs. Swazey to desist from giving him any
more of her remedies until he called in a physician. But the
old lady looked upon his interference with high disdain. Dosing
was her peculiar province, and if there was any thing
that she delighted in it was compelling people to drink decoctions
of boneset and penny-royal. Jeremiah was too seriously
impressed with the necessity of immediate medical assistance
to be influenced by Mrs. Swazey's persuasions and he went
directly in search of a doctor.

It is a sad thing for poor human nature that the innocent
and unpretending should always prove the easiest and surest
prey to the knavish and humbugeous portion of mankind;
like natures so far from proving attractive, always repel each

other, and humbugs of every kind receive their chief countenance
and support from the open hearted and sincere part of
the community.

With his accustomed ingenuousness, Jeremiah proceeded
directly to the house of doctor Smoothcoat when he went in
pursuit of a physician, for he knew that that personage was
celebrated for his high charges, and he thought that no physician
could have the conscience to value his services at a
higher rate than the rest of the faculty unless he were conscious
that they were worth more to the patient; and as there
were many other simple-minded people besides Jeremiah,
Doctor Smoothcoat had a good many rich patients who
enabled him, by their contributions, to live in great magnificence,
and occasionally to refresh himself by a visit to Europe,
which brought him more patients than even his high charges,
for an European reputation is a great help to one's progress
in the New World.

Jeremiah's heart sank within him when he reached the
doctor's house, and was informed that the great man was out
on a professional visit; he waited a long time expecting him
to return, and at last came away without seeing him, but left
a note on his office table requesting him to call at Mr. Tremlett's
house. He sat by the old gentleman's bed-side until past
midnight watching with great anxiety, but no physician came;
and then, growing alarmed, he went again in search of Doctor
Smoothcoat. This time he found the professional gentleman
at home, but he was astonished to learn that he had
been for more than an hour in bed and asleep. How could
he sleep when a patient lay sick almost unto death, waiting
for his assistance?

But the Doctor said he had not received a call.

“Did you not get the note that I left for you?” asked Jeremiah.

“The note!” said the Doctor, “I have received no communication
from you.”

“But I left one upon your office table,” said Jeremiah.

“Oh! ah! I do remember that I observed a bit of paper
lying there directed to me, but I did not think that it could
be of any moment,” said Doctor Smoothcoat, “gentlemen having
communications to make to me usually seal their letters
with wax.”

“Wax!” exclaimed Jeremiah with unusual warmth,
“Wax! O, true, it should ha ve been wax; and here it is
sealed with a wafer; and it has not been opened. Well, well,
I am very sorry. But, surely the life of a human being is of
more consequence than a bit of wax.”

The doctor thought otherwise. He had not been to Europe
for nothing. Moreover he was a conservative, and consequently
a great stickler for forms. So wicked a departure
from established usages as sealing a note to a person of his
consequence with a wafer, was not to be lightly passed by.
He understood the full importance of wax.

Jeremiah really blamed himself for his awful indiscretion
and want of breeding; and, in truth, felt like a criminal. It
was in consequence of his want of thought, or ignorance of
what was due to a great man, that his good old employer had
lain many hours watching with painful anxiety for a physician.
It was a long time before Doctor Smoothcoat was ready
to leave, for he stopped to dress himself with as much nicety
as though it had been noon instead of midnight; and when
at last he took his cane in his hand and buttoned up his coat
to go, Jeremiah in the excitement of his feelings, exclaimed,
“Wax!” quite unconsciously; at which the Doctor started
and told him he had better be careful. The night was cold
and they walked very brisky, and Jeremiah kept all the time
a few steps in advance, trying to seduce the doctor into a trot,
but without effect. It was not long, however, before they
reached the house and when the Doctor saw Mr. Tremlett, he
shook his head and said they should have sent for him sooner;
he bled his patient and left a prescription to be administered

every half hour. Jeremiah was dreadfully alarmed, and never
left the old gentleman's bed-side until morning, but just before
daylight he fell into a slumber from which he soon roused
himself and frightened the housekeeper, who had gone to
sleep in the adjoining room, by crying out in a loud voice,
“wax!” So much was his mind occupied by the unfortunate
blunder he had committed that the thought of it haunted him
in his sleep.

The morning came, and with it the Doctor, but neither
brought any relief to the sick old man. Jeremiah was obliged
to leave him, but his place was supplied by Mrs. Tuck who
offered her services with many expressions of kindness and
good will that were peculiarly grateful to the sick man's ears,
and acceptable to Mrs. Swazey, who was grown too old and
infirm to bear much fatigue. Mrs. Tuck was far from feeling
any very great tenderness for Mr. Tremlett, but with the true
instinct of her sex she could not but visit him in his illness,
and offer him those soothing and grateful offices which none
but a woman can perform, and she appeared to him like an
angel of goodness while she was smoothing his pillow or gracefully
submitting to the meanest duties for his relief. But in
spite of the skill of his physician and the kind attentions of
his friends, the old man grew worse and worse; although his
mind was disordered by turns he seemed fully aware of his
danger, but uttered no complaints only at the absence of his
darling boy and fears that he should never see him again.
Poor old man! There was not another earthly object to
which his affections clung, and he could not die without embracing
him once more. Only once more. If his eyes could
but rest on that dear form as they closed in death, his way
through the dark valley would be bright and cheerful.

Jeremiah wrote immediately to young Tremlett, informing
him of the old gentleman's danger, and urging his return.
But the next day his symptoms were more favorable, and
gave hopes of his recovery. Mrs. Swazey was so much elated

that she insisted on his eating a bowl of chicken soup to
give him strength. The old man demurred, but she persevered,
and said, `nonsense,' until at length, partly overcome by
her persuasions and partly by the delicious odor of the broth
as she held it by the bed-side, he consented to taste a spoonful;
it was so pleasant to his feverish mouth that he took one
spoonful after another until he had swallowed the whole bowlfull,
when he fell back upon his pillow and in a few hours
had gained so much strength that it was with great difficulty
that Mrs. Swazey, assisted by the coachman and chambermaid,
could hold him upon his bed. His fever returned with
more alarming symptoms than before, and his poor brain was
in a wild delirium. He continued to grow weaker and weaker;
a consultation of physicians was held and his case was pronounced
hopeless. Poor old man! he must die, and his darling
boy far away. But he lingered on from day to day,
clinging to life with a tenacity that astonished his attendants,
who hoped that he might live to see him once more. Not
a word had been heard from him since he left, and it was time
that he returned. Jeremiah was in an agony of fear, such as
he had never felt before; he could endure his own disappointments
and sufferings, but the troubles of those whom he loved
touched him deeply. If ever a mortal's lips gave utterance
to a sincere prayer, then did Jeremiah's when he nightly
poured forth his soul's desire to the Most High that the life
of the old man might be spared until his son's return.

It was the tenth day after Mr. Tremlett's illness, and the
mail brought a letter from Mr. Loudon stating that John had
arrived in Charleston in apparent good health, but was almost
immediately seized with an illness that confined him to his bed.
It was expressed in very guarded language, and a postcript
added that the physicians supposed the disease to be varioloid.
This news very nearly deprived Jeremiah of his reason; the
cautious manner in which the letter was written, filled him
with the saddest apprehensions. He called immediately upon

the brothers Tuck with the letter, and it put them in a great
excitement; Fred had no sooner overlooked the contents of
it than he caught up his hat and ran home to comfort his
sister with the intelligence. The physician forbade the
slightest allusion to the subject in the presence of Mr. Tremlett;
but if the old gentleman's mind had been in an ordinary
state of repose he would have guessed at his son's danger from
the downcast and melancholy looks of those about him, particularly
Mrs. Swazy, who crept about the room with a handkerchief
to her eyes, and ejaculated, `O, Lord!' between
every word she utiered. She loved the young man as though
he had been her own child, at least she thought she did, and
she knew he would die, for she had dreamed of losing another
tooth. Sure presage of death!

The day after the letters had been received an incident occurred
that caused more excitement and speculation than any
event that we have yet recorded; this was nothing less than
the elopement of Julia Tuck. Whither she had gone nobody
knew, although her own family were at no loss for a reasonable
surmise. The intelligence of young Tremlett's illness
produced a stunning effect upon her at first, but when she recovered
her consciousness she bore up under the affliction
with a sober composure that astonished her friends. She retired
to her room at an earlier hour than usual, and begged
that she might not be disturbed; but her mother became
alarmed at her long silence in the morning and going up to
her chamber found that the bed had not been slept in and
that some few light articles of dress had been removed from
her wardrobe. She was gone, but nobody had seen her leave
the house, and it was supposed that she had made her escape
while the rest of the family were all asleep. The wretched
mother was at first overwhelmed with grief, and the brothers
were paralyzed with rage; but pride and interest soon came
to their aid and they came to the determination that, for the
sake of the family, it would be best to say nothing about the

matter, and they instructed the servants to say that Julia had
gone into the country, if any inquiries should be made about
her.

Before Mrs. Tuck had wholly recovered from the effect of
this astounding blow, she was summoned to the bed-side of
Mr. Tremlett; the poor old gentleman was sinking fast, and
it was thought that he could not survive an hour. As she
entered the room he looked wistfully towards the door, but
closed his eyes with an expression of disappointment when he
saw her. Jeremiah sat by the bed-side of the dying man,
and Mrs. Swazey walked the floor wringing her hands but
giving no audible expression to her grief; his eyes remained
closed so long, and his features grew so rigid and pale that
they thought he was dead. But his pulse still beat, although
so weak and uncertain, that every throb seemed as though it
must be the last; and after lying more than an hour without
giving any other signs of life, he suddenly opened his eyes
and attempted to speak, but his parched lips could not utter a
word. Jeremiah wet them with a sponge and pressed a tea-spoonful
of toast water into his mouth, when he looked up
with a grateful smile and said, in a low weak voice, “I have
seen him, he will not come.”

“Who?” said Jeremiah, “John?”

“Yes.”

The old house-keeper could contain her feelings no longer,
but lifted up her voice, and exclaimed, “Bless my dear God
for it. He has seen the precious soul!”

“Hush, hush,” said Jeremiah in a low voice, he is dead!
Let us go with him into the presence of the Lamb.” And he
knelt down and prayed long and fervently; and the soul of
the old merchant was accompanied in its upward flight by the
sincerest prayer that ever dropped from the lips of a follower
of Him whose word is life to them that believe.

“He was a dear good man,” said Mrs. Tuck, wiping her

eyes, “how sweet and calm he looks. Can it be that he is
dead?”

“He is dead to us,” said Jeremiah, “but the memory of
his good acts will live while any of those live who knew
him.”