University of Virginia Library

15. THE
MAN THAT KILLED HIS NEIGHBOURS.

THE PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS OF THIS STORY ARE FACTS.

R. W. Dana.

It is curious to observe how a man's spiritual
state reflects itself in the people and animals around
him; nay, in the very garments, trees and stones.

Reuben Black was an infestation in the neighbourhood
where he resided. The very sight of
him produced effects similar to the Hindoo magical
tune, called Raug, which is said to bring on clouds,
storms, and earthquakes. His wife seemed lean,
sharp, and uncomfortable. The heads of his boys
had a bristling aspect, as if each individual hair
stood on end with perpetual fear. The cows poked
out their horns horizontally, as soon as he opened
the barn-yard gate. The dog dropped his tail between
his legs, and eyed him askance, to see what

humour he was in. The cat looked wild and
scraggy, and had been known to rush straight up
the chimney when he moved toward her. Fanny
Kemble's expressive description of the Pennsylvanian
stage-horses was exactly suited to Reuben's
poor old nag. “His hide resembled an old hair-trunk.”
Continual whipping and kicking had made
him such a stoic, that no amount of blows could
quicken his pace, and no chirruping could change
the dejected drooping of his head. All his natural
language said, as plainly as a horse could say it, that
he was a most unhappy beast. Even the trees on
Reuben's premises had a gnarled and knotted appearance.
The bark wept little sickly tears of gum,
and the branches grew awry, as if they felt the continual
discord, and made sorry faces at each other,
behind their owner's back. His fields were red
with sorrel, or run over with mullein. Every thing
seemed as hard and arid as his own visage. Every
day, he cursed the town and the neighbourhood,
because they poisoned his dogs, and stoned his
hens, and shot his cats. Continual law-suits involved
him in so much expense, that he had neither
time nor money to spend on the improvement of
his farm.

Against Joe Smith, a poor labourer in the neighbourhood,
he had brought three suits in succession.
Joe said he had returned a spade he borrowed, and
Reuben swore he had not. He sued Joe, and recovered
damages, for which he ordered the sheriff

to seize his pig. Joe, in his wrath, called him an
old swindler, and a curse to the neighbourhood.
These remarks were soon repeated to Reuben.
He brought an action for slander, and recovered
twenty-five cents. Provoked at the laugh this occasioned,
he watched for Joe to pass by, and set
his big dog upon him, screaming furiously, “Call
me an old swindler again, will you?” An evil
spirit is more contagious than the plague. Joe
went home and scolded his wife, and boxed little
Joe's ears, and kicked the cat; and not one of them
knew what it was all for. A fortnight after, Reuben's
big dog was found dead by poison. Whereupon
he brought another action against Joe Smith,
and not being able to prove him guilty of the
charge of dog-murder, he took his revenge by poisoning
a pet lamb, belonging to Mrs. Smith. Thus
the bad game went on, with mutual worriment and
loss. Joe's temper grew more and more vindictive,
and the love of talking over his troubles at the grog-shop
increased upon him. Poor Mrs. Smith cried,
and said it was all owing to Reuben Black, for a
better-hearted man never lived than her Joe, when
she first married him.

Such was the state of things when Simeon Green
purchased the farm adjoining Reuben's. The estate
had been much neglected, and had caught
thistles and mullein from the neighbouring fields.
But Simeon was a diligent man, blessed by nature
with a healthy organization and a genial temperament;

and a wise and kind education had aided
nature in the perfection of her goodly work. His
provident industry soon changed the aspect of
things on the farm. River-mud, autumn leaves,
old shoes, and old bones, were all put in requisition
to assist in the production of use and beauty.
The trees, with branches pruned, and bark scraped
free from moss and insects, soon looked clean and
vigorous. Fields of grain waved where weeds had
rioted. Persian lilacs bowed gracefully over the
simple gateway. Michigan roses covered half the
house with their abundant clusters. Even the
rough rock which formed the door-step, was edged
with golden moss. The sleek horse, feeding in
clover, tossed his mane and neighed when his master
came near; as much as to say “The world is
all the pleasanter for having you in it, Simeon
Green!” The old cow, fondling her calf under
the great walnut tree, walked up to him with serious
friendly face, asking for the slice of sugarbeet
he was wont to give her. Chanticleer, strutting
about, with his troop of plump hens and
downy little chickens, took no trouble to keep
out of his way, but flapped his glossy wings, and
crowed a welcome in his very face. When Simeon
turned his steps homeward, the boys threw up their
caps and ran out shouting, “Father's coming!” and
little Mary went toddling up to him, with a dandelion
blossom to place in his button-hole. His wife
was a woman of few words, but she sometimes said
to her neighbours, with a quiet kind of satisfaction,
“Everybody loves my husband that knows him.
They can't help it.”

Simeon Green's acquaintance knew that he was
never engaged in a law-suit in his life; but they
predicted that he would find it impossible to avoid
it now. They told him his next neighbour was
determined to quarrel with people, whether they
would or not; that he was like John Liburne,
of whom Judge Jenkins said, “If the world was
emptied of every person but himself, Liburne
would still quarrel with John, and John with
Liburne.”

“Is that his character?” said Simeon, in his smiling
way. “If he exercises it upon me, I will soon
kill him.”

In every neighbourhood there are individuals
who like to foment disputes, not from any definite
intention of malice or mischief, but merely because
it makes a little ripple of excitement in the dull
stream of life, like a contest between dogs or
game-cocks. Such people were not slow in repeating
Simeon Green's remark about his wrangling
neighbour. “Kill me! will he?” exclaimed Reuben.
He said no more; but his tightly compressed
mouth had such a significant expression, that his
dog dodged him, as he would the track of a tiger.
That very night, Reuben turned his horse into the
highway, in hopes he would commit some depredations
on neighbour Green's premises. But Joe

Smith, seeing the animal at large, let down the
bars of Reuben's own corn-field, and the poor
beast walked in, and feasted as he had not done
for many a year. It would have been a great
satisfaction to Reuben if he could have brought a
lawsuit against his horse; but as it was, he was
obliged to content himself with beating him. His
next exploit was to shoot Mary Green's handsome
chantieleer, because he stood on the stone wall
and crowed, in the ignorant joy of his heart, two
inches beyond the frontier line that bounded the
contiguous farms. Simeon said he was sorry for
the poor bird, and sorry because his wife and
children liked the pretty creature; but otherwise
it was no great matter. He had been intending
to build a poultry yard, with a good high fence,
that his hens might not annoy his neighbours; and
now he was admonished to make haste and do it.
He would build them a snug warm house to
roost in; they should have plenty of gravel and
oats, and room to promenade back and forth, and
crow and cackle to their heart's content; there they
could enjoy themselves, and be out of harm's way.

But Reuben Black had a degree of ingenuity
and perseverance, which might have produced
great results for mankind, had those qualities been
devoted to some more noble purpose than provoking
quarrels. A pear tree in his garden very
improperly stretched over a friendly arm into
Simeon Green's premises. Whether the sunny

state of things there had a cheering effect on the
tree I know not; but it happened that this over-hanging
bough bore more abundant fruit, and
glowed with a richer hue, than the other boughs.
One day, little George Green, as he went whistling
along, picked up a pear that had fallen into his
father's garden. The instant he touched it, he felt
something on the back of his neck, like the sting
of a wasp. It was Reuben Black's whip, followed
by such a storm of angry words, that the poor
child rushed into the house in an agony of terror.
But this experiment failed also. The boy was
soothed by his mother, and told not to go near the
pear tree again; and there the matter ended.

This imperturbable good nature vexed Reuben
more than all the tricks and taunts he met from
others. Evil efforts he could understand, and
repay with compound interest; but he did not know
what to make of this perpetual forbearance. It
seemed to him there must be something contemptuous
in it. He disliked Simeon Green more
than all the rest of the town put together, because
he made him feel so uncomfortably in the wrong,
and did not afford him the slightest pretext for
complaint. It was annoying to see every thing in
his neighbour's domains looking so happy, and presenting
such a bright contrast to the forlornness of
his own. When their wagons passed each other
on the road, it seemed as if Simeon's horse tossed
his head higher, and flung out his mane, as if he

knew he was going by Reuben Black's old nag.
He often said he supposed Green covered his
house with roses and honeysuckles on purpose to
shame his bare walls. But he didn't care—not
he! He wasn't going to be enough to rot his
boards with such stuff. But no one resented his
disparaging remarks, or sought to provoke him in
any way. The roses smiled, the horse neighed,
and the calf capered; but none of them had the
least idea they were insulting Reuben Black.
Even the dog had no malice in his heart, though
he did one night chase home his geese, and bark
at them through the bars. Reuben told his master,
the next day; he swore he would bring an
action against him, if he didn't keep that dog at
home; and Simeon answered very quietly that he
would try to take better care of him. For several
days a strict watch was kept, in hopes Towzer
would worry the geese again; but they paced
home undisturbed, and not a solitary bow-wow
furnished excuse for a law-suit.

The new neighbours not only declined quarrelling,
but they occasionally made positive advances
towards a friendly relation. Simeon's wife sent
Mrs. Black a large basket full of very fine cherries.
Pleased with the unexpected attention, she cordially
replied, “Tell your mother it was very
kind of her, and I am very much obliged to her.”
Reuben, who sat smoking in the chimney-corner,
listened to this message once without any manifestation

of impatience, except whiffing the smoke
through his pipe a little faster and fiercer than
usual. But when the boy was going out of the
door, and the friendly words were again repeated,
he exclaimed, “Don't make a fool of yourself,
Peg. They want to give us a hint to send a
basket of our pears; that's the upshot of the business.
You may send 'em a basket, when they
are ripe; for I scorn to be under obligation, especially
to your smooth-tongued folks.” Poor Peggy,
whose arid life had been for the moment refreshed
with a little dew of kindness, admitted distrust
into her bosom, and the halo that radiated round
the ripe glowing cherries departed.

Not long after this advance towards good neighbourhood,
some labourers employed by Simeon
Green, passing over a bit of marshy ground, with a
heavy team, stuck fast in a bog occasioned by
long continued rain. The poor oxen were entirely
unable to extricate themselves, and Simeon ventured
to ask assistance from his waspish neighbour,
who was working at a short distance. Reuben
replied gruffly, “I've got enough to do to attend to
my own business.” The civil request that he
might be allowed to use his oxen and chains for a
few moments being answered in the same surly
tone, Simeon silently walked off, in search of a
more obliging neighbour.

The men, who were left waiting with the patient,
suffering oxen, scolded about Reuben's ill-nature,

and said they hoped he would get stuck in
the same bog himself. Their employer rejoined,
“If he does, we will do our duty, and help him
out.”

“There is such a thing as being too good-natured,”
said they. “If Reuben Black takes the notion that
people are afraid of him, it makes him trample on
them worse than ever.”

“Oh, wait a while,” replied Mr. Green, smiling,
“I will kill him before long. Wait and see if I
don't kill him.”

It chanced, soon after, that Reuben's team did
stick fast in the same bog, as the workmen had
wished. Simeon observed it, from a neighbouring
field, and gave directions that the oxen and chains
should be immediately conveyed to his assistance.
The men laughed, shook their heads, and said it was
good enough for the old hornet. They, however,
cheerfully proceeded to do as their employer had
requested. “You are in a bad situation, neighbour,”
said Simeon, as he came alongside of the
foundered team. “But my men are coming with
two yoke of oxen, and I think we shall soon
manage to help you out.”

“You may take your oxen back again,” replied
Reuben; “I don't want any of your help.”

In a very friendly tone Simeon answered, “I cannot
consent to do that; for evening is coming on,
and you have very little time to lose. It is a bad
job any time, but it will be still worse in the dark.”

“Light or dark, I don't ask your help,” replied
Reuben, emphatically. “I would'nt help you out
of the bog, the other day, when you asked me.”

“The trouble I had in relieving my poor oxen
teaches me to sympathize with others in the same
situation,” answered Simeon. “Don't let us waste
words about it, neighbour. It is impossible for
me to go home and leave you here in the bog, and
night coming on.”

The team was soon drawn out, and Simeon and
his men went away, without waiting for thanks.
When Reuben went home that night, he was
unusually silent and thoughtful. After smoking
a while, in deep contemplation, he gently knocked
the ashes from his pipe, and said, with a sigh,
“Peg, Simeon Green has killed me!”

“What do you mean?” said his wife, dropping
her knitting with a look of surprise.

“You know when he first came into this neighbourhood,
he said he'd kill me,” replied Reuben;
“and he has done it. The other day, he asked me
to help draw his team out of the bog, and I told him
I had enough to do to attend to my own business.
To-day, my team stuck fast in the same bog, and
he came with two yoke of oxen to draw it out.
I felt sort of ashamed to have him lend me a hand,
so I told him I didn't want any of his help; but he
answered, just as pleasant as if nothing contrary
had ever happened, that night was coming on, and
he was not willing to leave me there in the mud.”

“It was very good of him,” replied Peggy. “He
is a pleasant-spoken man, and always has a pretty
word to say to the boys. His wife seems to be a
nice neighbourly body, too.”

Reuben made no answer; but after meditating a
while, he remarked, “Peg, you know that big ripe
melon down at the bottom of the garden? you may
as well carry it over there, in the morning.” His
wife said she would, without asking him to explain
where “over there” was.

But when the morning came, Reuben walked
back and forth, and round and round, with that
sort of aimless activity, often manifested by hens,
and by fashionable idlers, who feel restless, and
don't know what to run after. At length, the
cause of his uncertain movements was explained,
by his saying, in the form of a question, “I guess
I may as well carry the melon myself, and thank
him for his oxen? In my flurry down there in
the marsh, I did'nt think to say I was obliged to
him.”

He marched off toward the garden, and his wife
stood at the door, with one hand on her hip, and
the other shading the sun from her eyes, to see if
he really would carry the melon into Simeon
Green's house. It was the most remarkable incident
that had happened since her marriage. She
could hardly believe her own eyes. He walked
quick, as if afraid he should not be able to carry
the unusual impulse into action if he stopped to

reconsider the question. When he found himself
in Mr. Green's house, he felt extremely awkward,
and hastened to say, “Mrs. Green, here is a melon
my wife sent you, and we reckon it's a ripe one.”
Without manifesting any surprise at such unexpected
courtesy, the friendly matron thanked him,
and invited him to sit down. But he stood playing
with the latch of the door, and without raising
his eyes said, “May be Mr. Green ain't in, this
morning?”

“He is at the pump, and will be in directly,”
she replied; and before her words were spoken,
the honest man walked in, with a face as fresh
and bright as a June morning. He stepped right
up to Reuben, shook his hand cordially, and said,
“I am glad to see you, neighbour. Take a chair.
Take a chair.”

“Thank you, I can't stop,” replied Reuben. He
pushed his hat on one side, rubbed his head, looked
out of the window, and then said suddenly, as if
by a desperate effort, “The fact is, Mr. Green, I
didn't behave right about the oxen.”

“Never mind, never mind,” replied Mr. Green
“Perhaps I shall get into the bog again, some of
these rainy days. If I do, I shall know whom to
call upon.”

“Why you see,” said Reuben, still very much
confused, and avoiding Simeon's mild clear eye,
“you see the neighbors about here are very ugly.

If I had always lived by such neighbours as you
are, I shouldn't be just as I am.”

“Ah, well, we must try to be to others what we
want them to be to us,” rejoined Simeon. “You
know the good book says so. I have learned by
experience that if we speak kind words, we hear
kind echoes. If we try to make others happy,
it fills them with a wish to make us happy.
Perhaps you and I can bring the neighbourhood
round, in time. Who knows? Let us try, Mr.
Black! Let us try! But come and look at my
orchard. I want to show you a tree, which I have
grafted with very choice apples. If you like I
will procure you some scions from the same stock.”

They went into the orchard together, and
friendly chat soon put Reuben at his ease. When
he returned home, he made no remarks about his
visit; for he could not, as yet, summon sufficient
greatness of soul to tell his wife that he had confessed
himself in the wrong. A gun stood behind
the kitchen door, in readiness to shoot Mr. Green's
dog for having barked at his horse. He now
fired the contents into the air, and put the gun
away in the barn. From that day, henceforth, he
never sought for any pretext to quarrel with either
the dog or his master. A short time after, Joe
Smith, to his utter astonishment, saw him pat
Towzer on the head, and heard him say, “Good
fellow!”

Simeon Green was far too magnanimous to

repeat to any one that his quarrelsome neighbour
had confessed himself to blame. He merely smiled
as he said to his wife, “I thought we should kill
him, after a while.”

Joe Smith did not believe in such doctrines.
When he heard of the adventures in the marsh, he
said, “Sim Green's a fool. When he first came
here he talked very big about killing folks, if they
didn't mind their Ps and Qs. But he don't appear
to have as much spirit as a worm; for a worm will
turn when its trod upon.”

Poor Joe had grown more intemperate and more
quarrelsome, till at last nobody would employ him.
About a year after the memorable incident of the
water-melon, some one stole several valuable hides
from Mr. Green. He did not mention the circumstance
to any one but his wife; and they both had
reasons for suspecting that Joe was the thief. The
next week, the following anonymous advertisement
appeared in the newspaper of the county:

“Whoever stole a lot of hides on Friday night,
the 5th of the present month, is hereby informed
that the owner has a sincere wish to be his friend.
If poverty tempted him to this false step, the
owner will keep the whole transaction a secret,
and will gladly put him in the way of obtaining
money by means more likely to bring him peace
of mind.”[1]

This singular advertisement of course excited
a good deal of remark. There was much debate
whether or not the thief would avail himself of the
friendly offer. Some said he would be a greenhorn
if he did; for it was manifestly a trap to
catch him. But he who had committed the dishonest
deed alone knew whence the benevolent
offer came; and he knew that Simeon Green was
not a man to set traps for his fellow creatures.

A few nights afterward a timid knock was
heard at Simeon's door, just as the family were
retiring to rest. When the door was opened, Joe
Smith was seen on the steps, with a load of hides
on his shoulder. Without raising his eyes, he said
in a low, humble tone, “I have brought these back,
Mr. Green. Where shall I put them?”

“Wait a moment, till I can get a lantern, and
I will go to the barn with you,” he replied. “Then
you will come in, and tell me how it happened.
We will see what can be done for you.”

Mrs. Green knew that Joe often went hungry,
and had become accustomed to the stimulus of
rum. She therefore hastened to make hot coffee,
and brought from the closet some cold meat and a
pie.

When they returned from the barn, she said, “I
thought you might feel the better for a little warm
supper, neighbour Smith.” Joe turned his back
toward her, and did not speak. He leaned his
head against the chimney, and after a moment's

silence, he said in a choked voice, “It was the
first time I ever stole any thing; and I have felt
very bad about it. I don't know how it is. I
didn't think once I should ever come to be what
I am. But I took to quarrelling, and then to
drinking. Since I began to go down hill, everybody
gives me a kick. You are the first man
that has offered me a helping hand. My wife is
feeble, and my children starving. You have sent
them many a meal, God bless you! and yet I stole
the hides from you, meaning to sell them the first
chance I could get. But I tell you the truth, Mr.
Green, it is the first time I ever deserved the name
of thief.”

“Let it be the last, my friend,” said Simeon,
pressing his hand kindly. “The secret shall remain
between ourselves. You are young, and
can make up for lost time. Come, now, give me
a promise that you will not drink one drop of
intoxicating liquor for a year, and I will employ
you to-morrow, at good wages. Mary will go to
see your family early in the morning, and perhaps
we may find some employment for them also.
The little boy can at least pick up stones. But
eat a bit now, and drink some hot coffee. It will
keep you from wanting to drink any thing stronger
to-night. You will find it hard to abstain, at first,
Joseph; but keep up a brave heart, for the sake
of your wife and children, and it will soon become

easy. When you feel the need of coffee, tell
my Mary, and she will always give it to you.”

Joe tried to eat and drink, but the food seemed
to choke him. He was nervous and excited. After
an ineffectual effort to compose himself, he laid his
head on the table and wept like a child.

After a while, Simeon persuaded him to bathe
his head in cold water, and he ate and drank with
a good appetite. When he went away, the kind-hearted
host said, “Try to do well, Joseph, and
you shall always find a friend in me.”

The poor fellow pressed his hand and replied,—
“I understand now how it is you kill bad neighbours.”

He entered in Mr. Green's service the next day,
and remained in it many years, an honest and faithful
man.