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Thomas, Frederick William, 1806-1866 [1853], John Randolph, of Roanoke; and other sketches of character, including William Wirt; together with tales of real life (A. Hart, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf717T].
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CHAPTER II.

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We all took a seat at the end of the porch in
silence, which was interrupted by my inquiry of
Adam “as to how he came on with those fellows?”

“Badly, in their opinion,” replied Adam. “I
knew they were cheating me, and I waited to catch
them at it. I was alone with them, and presently
saw one plainly hide a card. There were three in
the room. I had no friend by, but I was desperate.
I sprang to the door, locked it, drew my pistols,
and told them that I had detected them in the act
of cheating; that I knew there was a combination
among them for that purpose; and,” said I, presenting
my pistols, “you must refund every cent
I ever lost to you, or take your chances! Two of
you I can kill instantly, and the other must take
it `rough and tumble' with a desperate man!”
You know them—Bowling, Jackson, and Sharp.
They tried to laugh it off, but I stood on the
other side of the table, and, drawing out my
watch, gave them just one minute. Bowling
blustered, and swore he'd have the law on me;
but asked me, nevertheless, how much I claimed?

“Fifteen hundred and fifty dollars,” said I.
He's the leader, you know, and he shelled it out.

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I pocketed my watch and my money, opened the
door, and left the room. As I passed, I heard
Bowling whisper to the others: “Let's follow him
out, brain him, and get back the money?” as he
said this, all three followed me out. I warned
them to return; they would not, and I fired at the
foremost.”

“Did you kill him?” we all exclaimed at once.

“No; I may have hit him, though I believe
they all returned to their room, and I left the house
unmolested. I am told they mean to get me indicted
for shooting with intent to kill. I don't
care for myself; but the disgrace, let such a trial
end as it may, to the old gentleman and Jane!
Bradshaw, what do you say about it?”

“Why,” said I, plainly, “to tell you the truth,
if you had not been associating with these men so
much lately, your character, and the respectability
of your family, would bear you through with a
grand-jury, and prevent them from finding a bill.
As it is, though they should indict you upon the
false swearing of these men (for from your statement
there would be no grounds), they could not,
in my opinion, possibly obtain a conviction. Did
any one overhear Bowling's remark, about braining
you?”

“Yes; Whelan, the bar-keeper, was in the next
room. It is separated only by a thin board partition,
full of chinks, from the other, and he

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overheard it. I have done him some favors; and as I
was leaving the house, we talked the matter over,
and he told me what he had heard. But his testimony
is no better than theirs; he's a gambler,
himself, and they are three to one.”

“I think,” said I, “I can manage it, if they
have not gone too far to retreat. I'll ride in to-morrow.”

Do, Bradshaw,” said he, grasping my hand;
“and you will do me a service I shall never forget.
I do not care for myself, but the old gentleman
and Jane! He paid a large debt for me, yesterday,
and this, this! That old missionary,” said
he, abruptly interrupting himself, “prayed with
great feeling.”

“Yes, he did!” I replied.

“Adam,” exclaimed Harry, “with not half the
feeling of a prayer I heard this morning. I
walked leisurely out, and arrived here before
breakfast. When it was over, your father and
sister followed me out of the room, and asked for
you. I told them I believed you were in town.
Your sister burst into tears, but said not a word.
I was tired, and going into the front room, I
threw myself on the sofa, behind the folding-doors.
I was lost in thought, and don't know how long it
was before your sister entered the back room,
alone. She kneeled down and prayed aloud; thinking
that no one heard her but the Being to whom

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her supplication was addressed. I wish you could
have heard her. She was praying for you.

Adam sprung to his feet, struck his clenched
hand against his brow, and, rushing from the
porch, passed into an adjacent grove.

I stayed all night, but saw no more of Adam
until the next morning, when he made his appearance
at the breakfast-table, and announced his
intention of accompanying his sister to the camp-meeting.

I mounted my horse, rode into the city, and
proceeded directly to the hotel at which I knew
the gamblers, at least Bowling, stopped. Though
gaming is not among my vices, since I never
played for a cent in my life, yet I knew Bowling
well. We agreed in politics, and he was a great
better on elections; one who gained his point by
indirection, and who, though not so depraved as he
was thought to be, was more vicious than bold.
Once, when he was indicted for gambling, I defended
him.

I asked for him, and was told he was in his
room. Not being disposed to stand upon ceremony,
save when it is required, I asked the number,
and forthwith proceeded thither. I rapped.
A husky voice called, “come in!” I entered. The
gambler had evidently just arisen, late as it was,
for his bed was unmade; and with his coat off,
and in his stocking feet, he was gathering into a

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pack a number of cards that were scattered on the
table and floor. On the table, also, were a couple
of empty decanters, and several half-filled glasses,
from the different colored contents of which it was
evident that, though the gamblers might have
agreed as to their game, they had that variety
which is the spice of life in their choice of liquors.
The ends of cigars, which had been thrown, with
an unsteady hand, toward the fireplace, were scattered
around. Bowling appeared a little confused
when he recognized his visitor, but he immediately
rallied. His brow was flushed, and he threw upon
me an inquiring glance, as he said—

“Walk in, Mr. Bradshaw; I am glad to see
you. Anything stirring?”

“Nothing remarkable, that I know of, Bowling;
how is it with you?”

“I am glad to see you, Squire. I was asking,
just now, after you. I have been robbed, sir, of
three thousand dollars?”

“Ah!” said I.

“I'll tell you; you havn t quit the practice,
have you? They told me you were living in the
country. I want your advice. Yes, sir, take a
seat; robbed of three thousand dollars. That infernal
blackleg, Adam Godfrey; I won some
money from him; he drew a pistol on me, swore
he'd kill me, if I did'nt give him three thousand.
I can prove it, both by Jackson and Sharp. Not

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only that, but after I paid him the money, as I
was leaving the room, he shot at me. There, sir,
look at that hat; that bullet-hole tells the story.
I'll go the whole law against him. I want you to
go with me to the magistrate's; I must have out a
writ. Nothing less than an attempt to murder!
Simbo'll cool him! You must resist bail, save the
highest. There, sir, that bullet-hole tells the
tale.”

I thought it would have been well, could Adam
have escaped, if the bullet had gone a little
lower.

On discovering what his feelings were, I thought
myself justified, in defending Adam, to practice a
little artifice, for I knew that they would swear
anything against him; this was sufficiently evident,
indeed, from what I now heard; I therefore remarked—

“Bowling, it is proper that I should tell you,
that I am employed by Godfrey against yourself,
Jackson, and Sharp.”

“Against me! for what?”

“Why, he says that you, and the rest, cheated
him out of fifteen hundred dollars, which he made
you refund; that after he left the room, you followed
him out, agreeing to beset him, `brain him,'
and take back the money.”

“Ha! can he prove it?—can he prove it?”

“Yes; he says that a person in the next room, I

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believe, through a thin partition, overheard you, as
well as himself; and that on your following him
out, to put your threat into execution, he fired to
defend himself. I shall be sorry to appear against
you, but a lawyer must go for his client. The
truth is, you are well known to be gamblers; and
with this proof, if he should bind you over, the
court would require enormous security. Besides, I
should not be surprised if he could prove that you,
together with Jackson and Sharp, were overheard
conspiring to cheat him, and boasting afterward
that you had succeeded.”

Bowling looked exceedingly black at this. Oh,
what an advantage innocence has over guilt!

“Squire,” said he, in an altered tone, approaching
close to me, “as you say, the hounds are
always after us. If ever there were persecuted
men, we are. Thunder! I'll tell you—”

“Stop, Bowling; remember I am, in this case,
Mr. Godfrey's counsel. Don't tell me anything
against yourself; for I should be sorry to be compelled
to use it.”

“You're right. He's combining with a set of
rascals to put us down; that's it. He knows that
the court and jury will be against us, and after he
has obtained, by threatening our lives, money we
won fairly from him, he wants more; I suppose to
try his luck somewhere else. How much more does
he claim, Squire?”

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“I don't know,” I replied, “that he is entirely
certain how much you got from him; but I speak
candidly to you—”

“Do, do; I don't think you have any cause for
being an enemy of mine.”

“None whatever. I appeared for Godfrey once,
when he was charged with an assault and battery.
He nearly beat a doctor to death.”

“He'll die with his shoes on, yet,” interrupted
Bowling.

“I defended him, as I said, since then; I have
known him well, and his family, who have wealth,
and are of the first respectability. On their account,
I don't think, when his temper cools, he will
be very anxious to appear in this business; for if
he should, it would be evident to all that he had
been gambling himself.”

“That's a fact! Gambling?—he's always gambling;
he's one of the biggest blacklegs I ever
knew.”

“His father, I am sure, would object to anything
of the kind, on his part; and I think I have
some influence with the old man.”

“Then, Squire, let's have it hushed up. You
shan't lose by it. But that Godfrey is a perfect
devil! Nobody can do anything with him. He
was once near throwing Jackson, big as he is, out
of a third story window. Do you think he'll cool
off?”

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“He wouldn't, if it were not for the exposure.
I'll advise with him.”

“Do—do! Stop, won't you take something to
drink?”

“No, I thank you.”

“When shall I see you, Squire?”

“In a day or two; in the mean time, keep
dark.”

“I will—depend on me; I'll go immediately
and see Jackson and Sharp,” said he, hurrying on
his coat. “Squire, I may depend on you now?”
he continued, offering me his hand.

Taking the proffer, I replied: “The matter
shall be hushed up, Bowling, or it will be your
fault. Forthwith see Jackson and Sharp.”

So saying, I departed, leaving Mr. Bowling in
quite a ruminating mood.

The camp-meeting, which we were about to attend,
was not more than five miles from the residence
of Mr. Godfrey. He did not, therefore,
pitch a tent on the ground, but, accompanied by
the missionary and his daughter, rode over every
day, and as it was moonlight, stayed until after the
evening service. The first day, in consequence of
my visit to Bowling, the blackleg, I did not attend
the camp, but met the family, together with Adam,
who had been with them, at night. I communicated
to the latter what had occurred between Bowling
and myself, at which he was greatly relieved. I

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never heard a word more on the subject, except
from the gamblers themselves in their anxious inquiries
to know whether it would be hushed up?
Such a coward is guilt!

That evening we kept our steps from bedward
until much after the usual hour for retiring, employing
the time in agreeable conversation. Adam
sat by, an attentive listener. The missionary rehearsed
to us many scenes in the far West, in which
he had been an actor, of deep interest. He
regretted much that he had never heard Summerfield.

It so happened that I was the only one present
who had heard him; and notwithstanding I told
the venerable minister I was but a child at the
time, yet such was his admiration for that most
eloquent and apostolic man, that he questioned me
over and over again touching my impressions of
him; and I seemed to gain an interest in his eyes,
from the fact that I had looked upon and listened
to that gentle spirit of his church, now “inheriting
the promises.”

The missionary had known my grandfather, and
he spoke of him in terms that greatly gratified me.
“My son,” said he, “your grandfather was a
truly good man. I was with him when he died;
and though it is many years ago, the scene lives in
my heart and memory more vividly than the events
of the hour that have just passed. I was kneeling

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by his bedside, and I knew the hour had come, for
I have witnessed many such an hour, my children;
and, O, it is a fearful one to him who is not prepared!
He was perfectly conscious, but the lamp
of life was flickering fast. As he closed his eyes,
apparently in prayer, I said to him: `Brother, tell
me at this earthly parting, are you convinced of
the great principles of our faith?' He opened his
eyes and looked upward, with the calmness and
trust with which a child, when resting in its
mother's arms, will look up into her face, as slumber
steals over it, and said: `I know that my Redeemer
liveth!' It was his last breath that uttered
these words, but his spirit passed away so gently,
that I was not convinced it had departed until I
felt his hand grow cold in mine. I said, then, my
children, to the bystanders, and after long experience
of the world, I say now to you, that I would
rather have been that humble Christian, on his
lowly bed of death, than Napoleon at the head of
his devoted and victorious legions, the conqueror
of the world. The true Christian is a greater conqueror;
he conquers himself. The greatest eulogy
that was ever pronounced on Washington, was
made by his biographer, Ramsay, who in speaking
of the strength of his passions, says: `With them
was his first contest, and over them his first victory.
' This, his first victory, saved our country;
for it enabled him to curb, like an obedient child,

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that ambition which, in another heart, might have
gained a giant's strength and prompted its possessor
to grasp at empire. It was this, his first
victory, that illustrated, in his last moments, the
lines of the poet:—


`O grave, where is thy victory!
O death, where is thy sting!'
It enabled him calmly, on his death-bed, to review
the great events of his varied existence, and to say
to his physician, who stood beside him: `Doctor,
I am not afraid to die.' How beautiful! There
is in such a scene a philosophy beyond the stoic's,
for it expresses a hope beyond the grave. How
different the earthly parting of Napoleon, chained
on his ocean-washed rock, with a mind as wild as
the waves dying in the hour of the storm, and
mistaking the war of the elements for the thunders
of the battle-field. `Head of the army!' he exclaimed,
in that mad moment, with his last breath,
and his soul took its flight to meet, at the dread
tribunal, the hundreds of thousands whom he had
hurried to their long account, unconscious, unrepentant,
unredeemed.”

Stirred by the tones of the old man, but not
catching his spirit, I exclaimed.



“Charge, Chester, charge!—on, Stanly, on!
Were the last words of Marmion!”

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He smiled at my enthusiasm, and then said,
gravely—

“But what were his last hopes?

“True,” said I:—



`Shame and dishonor sit
By his grave ever!
Blessings shall hallow it,
Never, oh, never!'

“God's mercy is boundless,” said the missionary.
“He is merciful, not only to his dutiful and lovely
child, but the mightiest, the most rebellious, and
the most sinful.”

We had a touching prayer from the missionary,
before we separated. I took a seat on the porch,
and Adam, after pacing to and fro for some time,
at last paused before me, and said—

“`A high-heeled Shoe for a Limping Christian;'
`Hooks and Eyes for Unbelievers' Breeches.' Confound
those books! I read them in my boyhood,
and they gave me a disrespect for the Methodists,
which I never could surmount, until I heard this
good old missionary. I ought to have reflected
that my father and sister at least try to practice
what I believe he both practices and preaches.”

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Thomas, Frederick William, 1806-1866 [1853], John Randolph, of Roanoke; and other sketches of character, including William Wirt; together with tales of real life (A. Hart, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf717T].
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