University of Virginia Library

7. VII.
FARMER LAPHAM'S EXPLOIT.

When Parson Dodd withdrew from the society of the
Five Sisters and their dog Bruce, he descried across the
fields a house and barn situated on another road, and
made toward them, under the shelter of walls and fences,
thinking that if he could take them in the rear, and enter
the barn unperceived, he might at least secure a horse-blanket
in which to introduce himself to the family.

He found, however, to his dismay, that they must be
finally approached across a range of barren pasture, unsheltered
even by a shrub. No friendly rye-field here;
and he was too far off to make known his wants by shouting.

He did shout two or three times from behind an old
cow-house in which he took refuge, but timidly, and without
the desired effect. What was to be done?

He had turned aside to visit the cow-house, in the feeble
hope of finding there some relief to his forlorn condition.
But it was empty even of straw.

As he cast about him in his despair, seeking for something
wherewith to cover his farther advance, his eye fell
upon the cow-house door. “If I only had that off its
hinges, I might carry it before me,” thought he. He took
hold of it and found it could be easily removed. In a
minute he had it in his arms. “Samson carrying off the
gates of Gaza!” was the lively comparison that occurred
to him, — but with this difference: whereas, in familiar
Bible pictures, the strong man was represented as bearing
his burden on his back, this modern Samson poised his
upon his portly bosom. “Circumstances alter cases,”
thought he.

With arms stretched across it, grasping its edges with
his hands, and just lifting it from the ground (it was not
very heavy), he moved forward with it cautiously, — much
like a Roman soldier under cover of his immense scutum,
or door-shaped shield, occasionally setting it down to rest
(being careful at such times to take his toes from under
it), or reconnoitring his ground from behind it; but always
keeping it skilfully betwixt his person and the enemy's
walls.

Now, one can easily picture the amazement of the worthy
Lapham family, when its younger members reported a
wonderful phenomenon in the cow-pasture, that calm Sunday
morning; and mother and children running to look,
behold! there was the cow-house door advancing in this
extraordinary manner to pay them a visit; staggering
slightly, and balancing itself occasionally on its lower corners,

like a door that had as yet learned but imperfectly
the art of walking! Close scrutiny might perhaps have
revealed to them the human fingers clasping the edges of
it; or the feet of flesh and blood taking short steps under
it; or the glistening crown of the bearer peeping furtively
from behind. But when the vulgar mind is greatly astonished,
it is prone to see only that which most astonishes;
and, accordingly, good Mrs. Lapham and the little Laphams,
failing to discriminate in such trifling matters as
hands and feet, saw only the gross phenomenon of the
perambulating door. It was like Birnam Wood coming to
Dunsinane.

What gave a sort of dramatic effect to the apparition
was the grotesque outline of a human figure, large as life,
which the boys had chalked on the outside of the door, for
a target. As soon as they saw this advance, grinning at
them, they were greatly excited; and one ran for the
gun.

“Keep back, mother!” said he; “I 'll give the old
thing a shot, if 't is Sunday!”

“Stop! You sha' n't, Jason! Martin, run for your
father! Run!”

Mr. Lapham had been talking with a stranger at the
gate, who had just driven up when the children ran out to
proclaim the wonder.

“Nonsense, children!” said he. “A door don't move
across the country without somebody to help it; you ought
to know that, mother. Wal! there!” he exclaimed, witnessing
the miracle from the kitchen window. “It is on
its travels, sure enough! Jason, run and see if you can
catch that man I was talking with. Holler! scream! Be
quick!”

“Who is he, father?” asked mother.

“A man from the Asylum — says one of their crazy folks

got away this morning. Run off without his clothes. He 's
behind that door, I 'll bet a dollar!”

This seemed a very plausible explanation of the mystery;
but it did not serve to tranquillize the mother and
children. Was not a live madman as much to be dreaded
as a walking door?

“Don't be frightened. Just shet the house and keep
dark. I 'll head him off. Give me the gun, I may want
it.” And arming himself, out the farmer sallied.

Parson Dodd had by this time perceived that his approach
was creating a sensation. For want of a pocket,
he had tied his handkerchief to his wrist. He now fluttered
that white flag over a corner of the door for a signal;
then, with his hand behind his mouth for a trumpet, summoned
a parley. Looking to see some friendly recognition
of his flag of truce, great was his consternation at beholding
so warlike a demonstration as a man running to the
ambush of some quince-bushes with a gun. In vain he
fluttered his white flag, and called for help.

“I a'n't goin' to fall into no trap sot by a crazy pate!”
thought shrewd Farmer Lapham, as he concealed himself.

Poor Dodd was in a terrible situation. He could not
advance without the risk of receiving a bullet; neither
could he lay the door down, unless, indeed, he first laid
himself down, and then drew it over him for a blanket.
He might retreat, but that movement, too, presented difficulties.
So there he stood, holding up the target, beckoning
and shouting himself hoarse to no purpose.

And now the musical clamor of church bells rose on the
tranquil morning air. “The wedding-guest here beat his
breast, for he heard the loud bassoon!” thought he; for still
he could not keep odd fancies out of his brain. Yet how
far off those bells sounded! — not in distance only; they
seemed to be in a world of which he had once dreamed.

He thought of the sermon he was to have preached that
day as something he might have written in a previous
state of existence, something quite foreign to the dread
realities of life.

“I can't stand here holding up a door forever!” thought
he at last. And he determined to move on, in spite of
bullets. So he took up the door, and resumed his march.

Observing the point he was aiming at, Lapham thought
it wise to get into the barn before him, and station himself
where he could keep guard over his property, watch the
supposed madman, and fire a defensive shot if necessary.

Dodd, bearing up the door, did not perceive this flank
movement; but advancing to within a few yards of the
barn, he was astonished at hearing a voice thunder forth
from a window, “Stop, or I 'll shoot!”

Dodd stopped and peeped forth from behind his portable
screen, showing a bald crown which was very much against
him.

“His keeper said he was bald on top of his head,” the
farmer reasoned. And he called out, “What do you
want?”

“Rest and a guide and food and fire,” was running in
Dodd's mind; but he answered in plain prose, and very
emphatically, “I want clothes.”

This was another corroborating circumstance, and a very
strong one.

“How came you here without clothes?”

“I lost them by a singular accident. I am a clergyman,
on my way to preach.”

This was conclusive. “The very chap! His keeper said
he imagined himself a preacher,” thought the farmer.
“Wonder if I can't manage to trap him!” And he cast
about him for the means.

“I 'll explain everything; only give me something to
cover myself, and don't keep me standing here!” said Parson
Dodd, growing impatient.

By this time Lapham had formed his plan. “Do just
as I tell ye now, and you shall have clothes. Come into
the barn, turn to the right, and you 'll find a harness-room,
and in it you 'll find a frock and overalls. Do you hear?”

Dodd heard, and the prospect of even so poor a covering
thrilled his heart with gratitude. He came on with
his door, left it leaning against the barn, and entered.

He found the harness-room as described, and seized
eagerly upon the frock and overalls. But just as he was
putting them on the door of the room flew together with a
bang; the crafty farmer, who had hidden behind it, sprang
and turned the key, and the “madman” was locked in.

Having accomplished this daring feat, Farmer Lapham,
deaf to the cries of his victim, ran out excitedly to call for
help, just as Patrick Collins was taking down a pair of
bars on the other side of the pasture for Superintendent
Jakes to drive through. Their errand was soon made
known.

“I 've ketched the feller for ye!” cried the elated
farmer. And he led Jakes to the dungeon within which
the entrapped parson was calling lustily.

“Unlock the door; don't be afraid, man!” said Jakes.

Lapham opened it and stepped cautiously back while
the superintendent entered, followed by Collins with a
rope and a bundle of clothes.

Within stood the captive, a comical figure, in loose blue
frock and overalls, barefoot and wigless, and with a countenance
in which indignation at the farmer, joy at the
prospect of deliverance, and a consciousness of his own
ludicrous situation, were mingled in an expression which
was very droll indeed.

“How are you?” said Jakes in an offhand way. “We
have brought your clothes; would you like to put 'em on?”

“I would; and I am infinitely obliged to you, my good
friends!” said poor Dodd, thinking the worst of his
troubles now over. “How did you find — But what —
These — these are not my clothes!”

“A'n't they?” said Jakes. “You 'd better put 'em on,
though. They 'll do till you get back to the doctor's.”

“To the doctor's? What do you mean? I am a clergyman.
I was on my way to preach —”

“Yes, we understand all about that. Come, on with
the clothes. We don't expect you 'll give us any trouble,
Mr. Hillbright.”

“Hillbright! I am Dodd, — Dodd of Coldwater, — a
minister!”

“There are two of you, then!” said Jakes, laughing
incredulously. “We just met one Parson Dodd, in his
buggy, driving the bay mare he had of my brother, going
over to preach at Longtrot. He 's there by this time.”

“Dodd — Longtrot — the bay mare!” gasped out the
astonished parson. “Impossible!”

“Come, no nonsense, Mr. Hillbright! Colonel Jakes,
of Coldwater, is my brother, and I know the mare perfectly
well, — the balky brute!”

“There is some mistake here, Mr. Jakes, — if that is
your name. I knew the Colonel had a brother at the Insane
Asylum, and I suspect you are he.”

“Yes, and you 've seen me there often enough, I suppose.
Now, no more fooling. I don't want to use force,
if it can be avoided; but you must go with us, — that 's all
there is about it. Collins, pass along that rope.”

“Never mind the rope,” said Dodd. “Just hear my
explanation, and you 'll save yourself and me some trouble.
That mare balked with me in the middle of the river, and

to lead her out I had to take off my clothes and put them
in the wagon, and she ran away with them.”

“A very ingenious story,” said Jakes; “but you
would n't have thought on 't if I had n't just said she was
a balky brute. Come, this won't do. Mr. Hillbright, or
Mr. Dodd, or whatever your name, you must go with us;
and you can take your choice, whether to go peaceably or
be tied with this rope. We 're much obliged to you, Mr.
Lapham.”

Seeing resistance to be vain, Parson Dodd stepped into
the wagon, stared at by the whole family of Laphams, who
had come out to get a view of the madman, and was carried
off triumphantly by Jakes and Collins.