 | CHAPTER III. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
“Who comes here?”
As You Like It.
There was to be a Temperance meeting at Longbridge,
one of more importance than usual, as a speaker of note was
to be heard on the occasion.
“Are you ready, Catherine?” inquired Mr. Clapp of his
wife, appearing at the parlour-door, holding his hat and cane
in one hand, and running the other through his brown curls.
“Wait one minute, dear, until I have put a clean collar
on Willie.”
Little Willie, who had been hopping about the room, delighted
with the importance of sitting up later than his
younger brothers and sisters, was persuaded to stand still
for a few seconds, while his mother tied on the clean collar;
meeting-house, which they found already half-filled. They
were beckoned into a pew near to one already occupied by
the Van Hornes, Miss Patsey, and Charlie. As the evening
was very pleasant, men, women, and children crowded in,
until a large audience was brought together, urged, as
usual, by different motives; some came from curiosity, others
from always preferring an evening in public to an evening
at home; some, from sincere respect for the object of the
meeting, many for the sake of the speeches, and many others
merely because they were ever ready to follow the general
example. Mr. Clapp had no sooner found seats for his wife
and child, than he began to look about him; his eye wandered
over the heads around, apparently in quest of some
one; at length his search seemed successful; it rested on a
man, whose whole appearance and dress proclaimed him to
be a sailor.
The meeting was opened by prayer, two different ministers
officiating on the occasion; one, a venerable-looking old
man, offered a simple, fervent, Christian prayer; the second,
a much younger person, placing one hand in his waistcoat
pocket, the other under the flaps of his coat, advanced to the
front of the staging, and commenced, what was afterwards
pronounced one of the “most eloquent prayers ever addressed
to a congregation.”
The speeches then followed. The first speaker, who
seemed the business-man of the evening, gave some account
of the statistics of the Society, concluding with a short address
to those present, hoping they would, upon that occasion,
enrol their names as Members of the Longbridge Temperance
Society.
The principal orator of the evening, Mr. Strong, then
came forward; he made a speech of some length, and one
that was very impressive. Nothing could be more clear,
more just, more true, than the picture he drew of the manifold
evils of intemperance; a vice so deceitful in its first appearance,
brutalizing in its enjoyments; so blasting and ruinous in its
effects—ruinous to body and mind, heart and soul—blasting
all hopes for this life and for the next, so long as it remains
unconquered. He entreated his friends to count the cost of
indulgence in this vice; loss of property, loss of health, loss
of character, loss of intellect and feeling, loss of conscience,
until roused in those fearful moments of terror and fury, the
peculiar punishment of drunkenness. He begged his hearers
to look at this evil under all its aspects, from the moment
it destroys the daily peace of its miserable victims and all
connected with them, until it leaves them, in death, without
a hope, exposed to the fearful penalty of sin. As he went
on, the heart of many a wretched wife and mother acknowledged
the bitter truth of his observations; many a guilty
conscience shrunk under the probe. He then made a just
and reasonable estimate of the difficulties to be resisted in
conquering this evil; he did not attempt to deny that there
were obstacles to be overcome; he showed all the force of
bad habit, all the danger of temptation—but if there were
difficulties in the way, it was equally true that the power to
subdue them was fully within the reach of every man.
He went on to represent the happy effects of a change from
evil to good; a restoration to usefulness, peace, comfort, and
respectability, which has happily been seen in many an instance.
He concluded by appealing to his hearers as men,
to shake off a debasing slavery; as Christians, to flee from
a heinous sin; and he entreated them, if they had not done
so before, to take, on that evening, the first step in the cheering,
honourable, blessed course of temperance.
Mr. Strong's speech was, in fact, excellent; all he said
was perfectly true, it was well-expressed, and his manner
was easy, natural, and dignified.
He was followed by William Cassius Clapp; the lawyer
had been very anxious to speak at this meeting. Temperance
societies were very popular at that time in Longbridge,
an opportunity of appearing before the public on such an
occasion; he thought it would help him on in his road towards
the Assembly. Running his fingers through his curls, he
took his place on the stage, and commenced. He was very
fluent by nature, and in animation, in fanatical zeal for the
cause, he far surpassed Mr. Strong: any other cause, by-the-bye,
had it been popular, would have suited him just as
well. In assertion, in denunciation, he distinguished himself
particularly; he called upon every individual present to come
forward and sign the pledge, under penalty of public disgrace;
it was the will of the community that the pledge
should be signed, public opinion demanded it, the public
will required it; every individual present who neglected to
sign the pledge of total abstinence, he pronounced to be “instigated
by aristocratic pride,” and would leave that house,
stigmatized as “anti-Christian, and anti-republican;” and in
conclusion he threw in something about “liberty.”
Mr. Clapp sat down amid much applause; his speech
was warmly admired by a portion of his hearers. All did
not seem to agree on the subject, however, to judge, at least,
by their manner and expression; for, during the delivery of
their brother-in-law's oration, Miss Patsey Hubbard seemed
to be generally looking down at the floor, while Charlie was
looking up at the ceiling: and there were many others present,
who thought Mr. Clapp's fluency much more striking
than his common sense, or his sincerity. It is always painful
to hear a good cause injured by a bad defence, to see truth
disgraced by unworthy weapons employed in her name. It
would have been quite impossible for Mr. Clapp to prove
half his bold assertions, to justify half his sweeping denunciations.
Still, in spite of the fanatical character of some of
the advocates of Temperance, who distort her just proportions
as a virtue—lovely in her own true character—yet drunkenness
is a vice so hateful, that one would never wish to oppose
any society, however imperfectly managed, whose object is
forgotten, however, that total abstinence from spirituous
liquors is not the one great duty of man; intemperance is
not the only sin to which human nature is inclined.
Mr. Clapp's speech was the last for the evening.
“I wish you joy, Mrs. Clapp,” said Mrs. Tibbs, leaning
forward from the seat behind the lawyer's pretty little wife,
and nodding as she spoke.
“I really congratulate you; Mr. Clapp has surpassed
himself; such animation, such a flow of eloquence!” added
Mrs. Bibbs.
Kate smiled, and looked much gratified; she evidently
admired her husband's speeches as much as she did his hair.
The moment for enrolling new names had now come;
numbers of the audience went forward to sign the Total
Abstinence Pledge. There was one worthy woman, a widow,
sitting near Miss Patsey, whose only son had, during the
last year or two, fallen into habits of intemperance; his attention
had quite lately been attracted to the Temperance
Societies, he had read their publications, had been struck by
a short speech of Mr. Strong on a former occasion; and his
mother's joy may possibly be imagined, as she saw him rise
and add his name to the list of members engaging to abstain
from intoxicating liquors. There were several others whose
hearts were cheered, on the same occasion, by seeing those
they loved best, those over whom they had often mourned,
take this step towards reformation. Among the rest, a man
dressed as a sailor was seen approaching the table; when
his turn came he put down his name, and this was no sooner
done, than Mr. Clapp advanced and shook him warmly by
the hand.
“Who is that man, Catherine, speaking to Mr. Clapp?—
he looks like a sailor,” inquired Miss Patsey.
“I don't know who it is; some client I suppose; William
seemed very much pleased at his signing.”
Mr. Clapp, after shaking hands with his friend, the sailor,
where his wife and little boy were sitting. Taking Willie
by the hand, he led him to the table, placed the pen in his
fingers, and left him to write William C. Clapp, jr. as well as
he could—no easy matter, by-the-bye, for the child was not
very expert in capital letters. As Willie was the youngest
individual on the list, his signature was received by a burst
of applause. The little fellow was extremely elated by being
made of so much consequence; to tell the truth, he understood
very little of what he was about. If respect for temperance
were implanted in his mind on that evening, it was
also accompanied by still more decided ideas of the great
importance of little boys, with the germ of a confused notion
as to the absolute necessity of the approbation of a regularly
organized public meeting, to foster every individual virtue in
himself, and in the human race in general. Miss Patsey
very much doubted the wisdom of making her little nephew
play such a prominent part before the public; she had old-fashioned
notions about the modesty of childhood and youth.
The mother, her sister Kate, however, was never disposed to
find fault with anything her husband did; it was all right in
her eyes. Mr. Clapp himself took the opportunity to thank
the audience, in a short but emphatic burst, for their sympathy;
concluding by expressing the hope that his boy would
one day be as much disposed to gratitude for any public
favours, and as entirely submissive, body and soul, to the
public will of his own time, as he himself—the father—was
conscious of being at that moment—within a few weeks of
election.
The meeting was shortly after concluded by a temperance
song, and a good prayer by the elder minister.
As the audience crowded out of the door, Mr. Clapp
nodded again to the sailor, when passing near him.
“Who is that man, William?” asked Mrs. Clapp, as they
reached the street.
“It is a person in whom I am warmly interested—an injured
man.”
“Indeed!—one of your clients I suppose.”
“Yes; I am now pledged to serve him to the best of my
ability.”
“He looks like a sailor.”
“He is a sailor, just returned from a three years' whaling
voyage. You will be surprised, Catherine, when you hear
that man's story; but the time has come when it must be
revealed to the world.”
“You quite excite my curiosity; I hope you will tell me
the story?”
“Yes; you shall hear it. But where are your sister and
Charles; are they going home with us?”
“No; I am very sorry; but they told me at the meeting
they could not stay, as they had come over in Mrs. Van
Horne's carriage. It is a pity, for I had made some ice-cream,
and gathered some raspberries, expressly for them;
and we have hardly seen Charles since he arrived. But
Patsey wants us to spend the day at the grey house, to-morrow,
children and all.”
Mr. Clapp assented to this arrangement; although he said
he should not be able to do more than go over himself for
his family in the evening, on account of business.
Kate had only her husband and Willie to share her excellent
ice-cream and beautiful raspberries, on that warm
evening; the trio did justice, however, to these nice refreshments;
and little Willie only wished he could sign a temperance
pledge every evening, if he could sit up later than
usual, and eat an excellent supper after it.
After the little fellow had been sent to bed, and his mother
had taken a look at her younger children, who were sleeping
sweetly in their usual places, the lawyer and his wife were
left alone in the parlour. It was a charming moon-light
evening, though very warm; and Kate having lowered the
lamp, threw herself into a rocking-chair near the window;
stretched out on the sofa.
“It is early yet, William; suppose you tell the story you
promised me, about your client, the sailor.”
“I don't much like to tell it, Catherine; and yet it is time
you knew something about it, for we must proceed to action
immediately.”
“Oh, tell me, by all means; you have really made me
quite curious. You know very well that I can keep a secret.”
“Certainly; and I request you will not mention the facts
I shall relate, to any one, for some time; not until we have
taken the necessary legal steps.”
“Of course not, if you wish it; and now for the story.
You said this poor man had been injured.”
“Grossly injured.”
“In what manner?”
“He has been treated in the most unjustifiable manner by
his nearest relatives. His reputation has been injured, and
he has been tyrannically deprived of a very large property.”
“Is it possible!—poor fellow! Can nothing be done for
him?”
“That is what we shall see. Yes, I flatter myself if
there is law in the land, we shall yet be able to restore him
to his rights!”
“Does he belong to this part of the country?”
“He does not himself; but those who are revelling in his
wealth do.”
“What is his name?—Do I know his family?”
“You will be distressed, Catherine, when you hear the
name; you will be astonished when you learn the whole
story; but the time for concealment has gone by now.
Several years ago that poor sailor came to me, in ragged
clothing, in poverty and distress, and first laid his complaint
before me. I did not believe a word of what he told me; I
thought the man mad, and refused to have anything to do
with the cause. He became disgusted, and went to sea
in his rights; the obstacles seemed too great. But at length
a very important witness in his favour was accidentally
thrown in his way: at the end of his cruise he came to me
again, and I confess I was astounded at the evidence he then
laid before me. It is conclusive, beyond a doubt, to any
unprejudiced mind,” said Mr. Clapp, rousing himself from
his recumbent position.
“But you have not told me the man's name.”
“His name is Stanley—William Stanley.”
“You said I knew him; but I never heard of him; I
don't know the family at all.”
“Yes, you do; you know them only too well; you will
be as much surprised as I was myself—as I am still, whenever
I allow myself to dwell on the subject. Mr. Stanley
is the cousin-german of your friend, Miss Elinor Wyllys.
Mr. Wyllys himself, Mrs. Stanley, the step-mother, and
young Hazlehurst, are the individuals who stand between
him and his rights,” continued Mr. Clapp, rising, and walking
across the room, as he ran his fingers through his brown
curls.
“Impossible!” exclaimed Kate, as the fan she held dropped
from her hand.
“Just what I said myself, at first,” replied Mr. Clapp.
“But surely you are deceived, William—how can it be?”
continued the wife, in amazement. We always thought
that Mr. Stanley was lost at sea, years ago!”
“Exactly—it was thought so; but it was not true.”
“But where has he been in the mean time?—Why did
he wait so long before he came to claim his inheritance?”
“The same unhappy, reckless disposition that first sent
him to sea, kept him roving about. He did not know of his
father's death, until four years after it had taken place, and
he heard at the same time that he had been disinherited.
When he came home, after that event, he found that he was
in the year 18—. He was, in fact, the only man saved.”
“How very extraordinary! But why has he never even
shown himself among his friends and connexions until now?”
“Why, my dear, his habits have been unhappily very
bad in every way for years; they were indeed the cause of
his first leaving his family. He hated everything like restraint—even
the common restraints of society, and cared for
nothing but a sailor's life, and that in the worst shape, it
must be confessed. But he has now grown wiser—he has
determined to reform. You observed he signed the temperance
pledge this evening?”
“It all sounds so strangely, that I cannot yet believe it,
William.”
“I dare say not—it took me four years to believe it.”
“But what do you mean to do? I hope you are not going
to undertake a law-suit against two of our best friends, Mr.
Wyllys and Mr. Hazlehurst?”
“That must depend on Mr. Wyllys and Mr. Hazlehurst,
themselves. I have undertaken, Catherine, to do my best
towards restoring this injured man to his property.”
“Oh, William; suppose this man is in the wrong, after
all! Don't think of having anything to do with him.”
“My dear, you talk like a woman—you don't know what
you say. If I don't act in the premises, do you suppose he
won't find another lawyer to undertake his cause?”
“Let him have another, then: but it seems too bad that
we should take sides against our best friends; it hardly
seems honourable, William, to do so.”
“Honour, alone, won't make a young lawyer's pot boil, I
can tell you.”
“But I had rather live poorly, and work hard all my life,
than that you should undertake a dishonest cause.”
“It is all very pretty talking, but I have no mind to live
poorly; I intend to live as well as I can, and I don't look
upon this Stanley cause as a bad one at all. I must say,
seem to think more of the interests of your friends, than of
his own.”
“How can you talk so, William, when you know you
can't think it,” said the wife reproachfully, tears springing
to her eyes.
“Well, I only judge from what you say yourself. But in
my opinion there is no danger of a law-suit. As Mr. Stan
ley's agent, I shall first apply to Mrs. Stanley and Mr.
Hazlehurst to acknowledge his claim; and when the evidence
is laid before them, I have no kind of doubt but they will
immediately give up the property; as they are some of your
very honourable people, I must say I think they are bound
to do so.”
“Certainly, if the evidence is so clear; but it seems to me,
from all I have heard since I have been a lawyer's wife, that
evidence never is so very clear, William, but what people
disagree about it.”
“Well, I flatter myself that people will be staggered by
the proofs we can bring forward; I feel sure of public
opinion, at least.”
Kate was silenced; but though she could think of nothing
more to urge, she was very far from feeling easy on the
subject.
“I hope with all my heart it will be settled amicably,”
she added at length.
“There is every probability that it will. Though the
story sounds so strangely to you now—just as it did to me,
at first—yet when you come to hear all the facts, you will
find there is scarcely room for a shadow of doubt.”
“How sorry mother and Patsey will be when they hear it!”
“I can't see why they should be sorry to see a man reinstated
in his rights, after having been deprived of them for
eighteen years. If they are not blinded by their partiality
for the Wyllyses and Hazlehursts, they cannot help being
convinced by the evidence we can show.”
“How old is this man—this sailor—this Mr. Stanley?”
“Just thirty-six, he tells me. Did you remark his likeness
to Mr. Stanley's portrait at Wyllys-Roof? that was the first
thing that struck me.”
“No; I hardly looked at him.”
“You must expect to see him often now; I have invited
him to dinner for to morrow.”
“For to-morrow? Well, Uncle Dozie has sent me this
afternoon a beautiful mess of green peas, and you will have
to get something nice from market, in the way of poultry
and fish. Though, I suppose as he has been a common
sailor so long, he won't be very particular about his dinner.”
“He knows what is good, I can tell you. You must give
him such a dinner as he would have had at his father's in
old times.”
“Well, just as you please, William; only, if you really
care for me, do not let the man deceive you; be sure you
sift the matter thoroughly — what you call cross-examine
him.”
“Never you fear—I know what I am about, Katie; though
if I was to follow your advice in law matters, I reckon we
should all of us starve together.”
“I hope it will all turn out well, but I seem to feel badly
about it,” said Kate with a sigh, as she rose to light a candle;
“only don't be too hasty—take time.”
“We have taken time enough I think, as it is. We are
only waiting now for Mr. Hazlehurst to arrive in Philadelphia,
when we shall put forward our claim.”
| CHAPTER III. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | |