All the boyish habits of Helph were at once thrown aside,
and much Aunt Wetherbe marvelled when she saw him a day
or two after his return from the city, bring forth from the
cellar a little sled on which all previous winters he had been
accustomed (out of the view of the highway, it is true), to ride
down hill.

“What on airth now?” she said, placing her hands on
either hip, and eyeing him in sorrowful amazement. A great
deal of pains had been lavished on the making of the sled, the
runners were shod with iron, and it was nicely painted; indeed
Helph had considered it quite an article of bijoutry, and
now as he dragged it forth to light, dusted it with his handkerchief
and brushed the spider-webs from among its slender
beams, he found it hard to suppress the old admiration for his
beautiful handiwork. Nevertheless, when he found himself
observed, he gave it a rough toss which lodged it broken and
ruined among some rubbish, and drawing his hat over his
eyes to conceal from them the wreck, he strode away without
at all noticing his aunt, who immediately went in search of
her good man, who (in her estimation at least) knew almost
every thing, to ask an explanation of the boy's unaccountable
conduct.

But the strange freaks of the young man were not yet at
an end, and on returning to the house he took from a nail
beneath the looking-glass a string of speckled birds'-eggs and

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

the long silvery skin of a snake, where they had long hung,
the admiration of all visitors, and threw them carelessly into
the fire, thereby sending a sharp pang through the heart of
Aunt Wetherbe, if not through his own. He next took from
the joist a bundle of arrows and darts, the latter cut in fanciful
shapes, and which he had made at various times to amuse his
leisure, and crushed them together in a box of kindlings, saying
in answer to the remonstrance of his relative, that was all
they were good for.

From the pockets of coats and trowsers he was observed at
various times to make sundry ejectments, such as the election
tickets of former years, variously colored, yellow, blue, and
pink, together with bits of twine, brass-headed nails, &c.
But when he brought from an out-house a squirrel's cage,
where many a captive had been civilized into tricks never
dreamed of in its wild swingings from bough to bough, Aunt
Wetherbe took it from his hands just as she had done when he
was a wayward boy, exclaiming with real displeasure, “Lord-a-mercy,
child, has the old boy himself got into you!” But
Helph soon proved that he was not possessed of the evil one,
by the manliness with which he talked of the coming election,
discussing shrewdly the merits of the several candidates. All
the apparatus pertaining to shaving operations were shortly
procured, and Helph was observed to spend much of his time
in their examination and careful preparation, though no special
necessity for their use was observable, and hitherto the old
razor of his uncle had only now and then been brought into
requisition.

When the first flush of exuberant manhood had subsided, a
thoughtful and almost sorrowful feeling pervaded the dreams
of the young man; he kept much alone, knit his brows, and
answered vaguely when questioned. At last he abruptly

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

announced his intention of beginning the world for himself. He
would sell his horse and the various farming implements he
possessed, together with the two young oxen that he had
played with and petted, and taught to plough and draw the
cart, and with the means thus acquired he would procure a
small shop in the vicinity of the great city, and resume his
blacksmithing.

“Tut, tut,” said the aunt, “I'd rather you would steal away
from the splitting of oven-wood and the churning of a morning,
just as you used to do, to set quail traps and shoot at a mark,
than to be talking in this way. Your uncle and me can't get
along without you: no, no, my child, you mustn't think of
going.”

Helph brushed his hand across his eyes and appealed to the
authority which had always been absolute; and removing his
spectacles the good old man rubbed them carefully through
the corner of his handkerchief as he said, sadly but decidedly,
“Yes, my son, you have made a wise resolve—you are almost
a man now (here the youth's face colored), and it's time you
were beginning to work for yourself and be a man amongst
men;” and approaching an old-fashioned walnut desk in which
all manner of yellow, musty receipts and letters from relatives
were kept, he unlocked it slowly, and pouring from a stout
linen bag a quantity of silver, counted the dollars to the
amount of a hundred, and placing them in the hand of the
young man, he said, “a little present to help you on in the
world—make good use of it, my boy, but above all things, continue
in the honest, straight path in which you have always
kept, and my word for it, prosperity will come to you, even
though you have but a small beginning. I have lived to be
an old man,” he continued, “and I have never seen the righteous
forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.”

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

Boyishly Helph began drawing figures rapidly on the table
with his finger, for he felt the tears coming, but it would not
do, and looking rather than speaking his thanks, he hurried
from the house, and for an hour chopped vigorously at the
wood-pile.

It was soon concluded to hurry the preparations of his departure,
so that he might get fairly settled before the coming
on of cold weather, and a list of goods and chattels to be sold
at public vendue on a specified day, was made out, and bills
posted on the schoolhouse, at the cross-roads, and in the bar-room
of the tavern, stating the time and place of sale. Ellen
Blake was sent for in haste to come right away and make up
half a dozen shirts, and the provident old lady briskly plied the
knitting-needles, that her nephew might lack for nothing. All
talked gayly of the new project, but the gayety was assumed,
and Ellen herself, with all her powers of making sombre things
take cheerful aspects, felt that she succeeded illy.

Now that he was about to part with them, the gay young
horse that had eaten so often from his hand, and the two gentle
steers that had bowed their necks beneath the heavy yoke at
his bidding, seemed to the young master almost humanly endeared,
and he fed and caressed them morning and evening
with unusual solicitude, tossing them oat sheaves and emptying
measures of corn very liberally.

“Any calves, or beef cattle to sell,” called a coarse, loud
voice to Helph, as he lingered near the stall of his oxen the
evening preceding the day of sale.

“No,” answered the young man, seeing that it was a butcher
who asked the question.

“I saw an advertisement of oxen to be sold here to-morrow,”
said the man, striking his spurred heel against his horse, and
reining him in with a jerk.

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

“I prefer selling to a farmer,” said Helph, as he leaned
against the broad shoulders of one of the steers, and took in
his hand its horn of greenish silver.

“My money is as good as any man's,” said the butcher, and
throwing himself from the saddle he approached the stall, and
after walking once or twice around the unconsciously doomed
animals, and having pinched their hides with his fingers, he
offered for them a larger sum than Helph expected; he however
shut his eyes to the selfish advantage, saying he hoped to
sell them to some neighbor who would keep and be kind to
them.

A scornful laugh answered in part as the butcher turned
away, saying he was going further into the country, and would
call on his return—they might not be sold.

Thus far, Helph had not advised with Jenny relative to the
new movement he was about making, and when all arrangements
were made, and it was quite too late to retract, he resolved
to ask her advice; and I suspect in this conduct he
was not acting without a precedent.

From amongst a bunch of quills that had remained in the
old desk from time immemorial, he selected one with great
care, and having rubbed his pocket-knife across the toe of his
boot for an hour or more, there began a search for ink, of
which his uncle told him there was a good bottle full on the
upper shelf of the cupboard. But said bottle was not to be
found, and after a good deal of rummaging and some questioning
of Aunt Wetherbe, it was finally ascertained that the ink
alluded to must have been bought ten or twelve years previously,
and that only some dry grounds remained of it now
in the bottom of a broken inkstand: to this a little vinegar
was added, and having shaken it thoroughly, the young man
concluded it would do. More than once during all this

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

preparation, he had been asked what he was going to do, for
writing was not done in the family except on eventful occasions,
but the question elicited no answer more direct than
“nothing much,” and so at last with a sheet of foolscap, ink,
and quill, he retired to his own room—Aunt Wetherbe having
first stuck a pin in the candle, indicating the portion he was
privileged to burn.

Whether more or less candle were consumed, I am not ad
vised, but that a letter was written, I have good authority for
believing. Murder will out, there is no doubt about that, and
the day following the writing Aunt Wetherbe chanced to
have occasion to untie a bundle of herbs that in a pillow-case
had been suspended from the ceiling of Helph's room for a
long time, and what should she find but a letter addressed to
Jenny Mitchel, fantastically folded and sealed with four red
wafers, where it had evidently been placed to await a secret
opportunity of conveyance to the post-office. Long was the
whispered conference between the old lady and Ellen that
followed this discovery; very indignant was the aunt at first,
for old people are too apt to regard love and marriage in the
young as highly improper, but Ellen, whose regard for matrimony
was certainly more lenient, exerted her liveliest influence
in behalf of the young people, nor were her efforts unsuccessful,
and unobtrusive silence was resolved upon.

During this little excitement in doors, there was much noise
and bustle without; Helph's young horse was gayly caparisoned,
and bearing proudly various riders up and down the
space where, among ploughs, harrows, scythes, &c., a number
of farmers were gathered, discussing politics, smoking, and
shrewdly calculating how much they could afford to bid for
this article or that. Yoked together, and chewing their cuds
very contentedly, stood the young, plump oxen of which I have

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

spoken, but no one admired them with the design of purchasing.

The vendue was soon over, and all sold readily and well but
the oxen. The sleek bay was gone, proudly arching his neck
to the hand of a new master, and the farmers brought their
teams to carry home whatever they had purchased, and Helph
half sighed as one after another put into his hand the money
for which he had sold them.

As he lingered at the stile he saw approaching a large flock
of sheep; closely huddled they were, and the red chalk marks
on their sides indicated their destiny; close behind came a
mingled group of cows, calves, and oxen; all driven by the
butcher mentioned before.

“Well, neighbor,” he said, thrusting his hand in his pocket
and drawing thence a greasy leathern pouch, “I see you have
kept the bullocks for me.”

At first Helph positively declined selling them, but he didn't
want them; it was very uncertain when an opportunity of
disposing of them as he wished, would recur, and when the
butcher added something to his first liberal offer, he replied,
“I suppose, sir, you will have to take them;” and riding into
the yard, he drove them roughly forth with whip and voice
from the manger of hay and the deep bed of straw. Free
from the yoke they were, and yet they came side by side and
with their heads bowed close together just as they had been
accustomed to work. Passing their young master, they turned
towards him their great mournful eyes, reproachfully, he
thought, and crushing the price of them in his hand, he walked
hastily towards the house.

“The bad, old wretch,” exclaimed Ellen, looking towards the
butcher, as she stood on the porch wiping her eyes with the
sleeve of the shirt she was making, and just within the door

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

sat Aunt Wetherbe, her face smothered in a towel, and crying
like a child.

A week more, and Helph was gone, Ellen still remaining
with the old people till they should get a little accustomed to
their desolate home. The tears shed over his departure were
not yet dry, for he had gone in the morning and it was now
dusky evening, when, as the little family assembled round the
tea-table, he entered, with a hurried and anxious manner that
seemed to preface some dismal tidings.

Poor youth! his heart was almost breaking—he had no
concealments now, and very frankly told the story of his love,
and what had been his purposes for the future. Mr. and Mrs.
Randall had given up their house—gone abroad, and taken
Jenny with them, under the pretext of giving her a thorough
education in England. But the young lover felt instinctively
that she was separated from him for a widely different purpose.

Poor faithful Aunt Kitty had been dismissed without a shilling
above her scanty earnings, to work, old and disabled as
she was, or die a beggar. After much inquiry, he had learned
that she had obtained an engagement at an asylum as a servant
for the sick.

“Poor old soul!” said Aunt Wetherbe, “you must go right
away in the morning and bring her here; she shan't be left to
suffer, and I know of it.”

“Never mind—all will come out bright,” said Ellen, as Helph
sat that night on the porch, alone and sorrowful.

But he would not be comforted—Jenny had not left a single
line to give him assurance or hope, and even if she thought of
him now, she would forget him in the new life that was before
her. All this was plausible, but Ellen's efforts were not altogether
idle; and when she offered to go with him to the city

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

and see Aunt Kitty, who perhaps might throw some light upon
the sudden movement, he began to feel hopeful and cheerful
almost: for of all eyes, those of a lover are the quickest to
see the light.

Some chance prevented the fulfilment of Ellen's promise,
and I was commissioned by her to perform the task she had
proposed for herself. “It will help to keep him up like,” she
said, “if you go along.” A day or two intervened before I
could conveniently leave home, but at last we set out, a clear
frosty morning of the late autumn. Behind the one seat of
the little wagon in which we rode, an easy chair for Aunt
Kitty was placed. A brisk drive of an hour brought us to the
hospital; and pleasing ourselves with thoughts of the happy
surprise we were bringing to a poor forlorn creature, we entered
the parlor, and upon inquiry, were told that we were come
too late—she had died half an hour before our arrival, from
the effects of a fall received the previous night in returning
from the dead-house, whither she had helped to convey a body.
“I have ordered her to be decently dressed,” said the superintendress,
“from my own wardrobe; she was so good, I thought
that little enough to do for her,”—and she led the way to the
sick ward, where Aunt Kitty awaited to be claimed and buried
by her friends. It was a room some fifty or sixty feet in length,
and twenty in width, perhaps, lined on either side with a long
row of narrow dirty beds, some of them empty, but mostly filled
with pale and forlorn wretches—some nigh unto death, some
groaning, some propped on pillows and seeming to stolidly
regard both the fate of others and themselves. The sun streamed
hot through the uncurtained windows, and the atmosphere
was pervaded with most offensive odors.

As my eye glanced down the beds of suffering, it was arrested
by the corpse of the poor old woman—gone at last. I

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

shuddered and stood still as the two haggish-looking old
women wrapped and pinned the sheet about the stiffening
limbs, with as much imbecile glee as they apparently were
capable of. “What in Heaven's name are you laughing at?”
said Helph, approaching them. “Just to think of sarving a
dead nigger,” tittered one; and looking in his face, she drew
from her pocket a sealed letter, saying, “May be you can tell
who this is for—we found it in her bosom when we went to
dress her.” It was a letter from Jenny to himself: poor Aunt
Kitty had been faithful to the last.

Not till I was turning from that terriblest shelter of woe I
ever saw, did I notice a young pale-cheeked girl sitting near
the door on a low wooden rocking-chair, and holding close to
her bosom an infant of but a few days, not with a mother's
pride, I fancied, for her eyes drooped away from mine, and a
blush burned in her cheek as though shame and not honor
covered her young maternity. A moment I paused, praised
the baby, and spoke some words of cheer to herself; but she
bowed her head lower and lower on her bosom, speaking not
a word,—and seeing that I only gave her pain, I passed on,
heavy in spirit, and this more for the living than the dead.

Jenny's letter proved a wonderful solace, and cheerfulness
and elasticity gradually came back; but when, at the expiration
of a year, his parents returned without her, and bringing
the report of her recreancy and marriage, all courage and
ambition deserted him, and years and years and years went by,
during which he lived in melancholy isolation. Poor youth!
he had no liking for quiltings and wood-choppings any more.

Nearly fifteen years were gone since Jenny crossed the sea,
and country belles had bloomed and faded before his eyes,
without winning from him special regard: when, as he sat
before a blazing hickory fire one evening, waiting for Aunt

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

Weatherbe, who still enjoyed a green old age, to bring to the
table the tea and short-cake, there was a quick, lively tap on
the door, and the next moment, in the full maturity of womanhood,
but blushing and laughing like the girl of years ago,
Jenny stood in the midst of the startled group—Jenny Mitchel
still! I need not speak of the base desertion and downright
falsehood of her adopted parents, of her long struggle with
sorrow and poverty, striving the while to bind her heart from
breaking for the faithlessness of her lover, whom she was
taught to believe had abandoned her—all this the reader can
imagine, as well as the new life that dawned upon, and endowed
her with almost superhuman powers of exertion, when
she learned by chance that Helph still lived, true to her
memory.

As we introduced the reader to their happy home in the
opening of this story, we need not linger, save to say that the
quilting-quilt, still as good as new, adorned the nuptial bed;
and that Ellen Blake, good and generous and amiable as ever,
presided at the wedding, quite forgetful of her waning maidenhood
in the happiness of others.

p487-090

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