CHAPTER XII. LORD EDWARD AND THE TREE-MAN.
It was winter at Rudder Grange. The season was the same at other places,but that fact did not particularly interest Euphemia and myself. It waswinter with us, and we were ready for it. That was the great point,and it made us proud to think that we had not been taken unawares,notwithstanding the many things that were to be thought of on a littlefarm like ours.
It is true that we had always been prepared for winter, wherever we hadlived; but this was a different case. In other days it did not mattermuch whether we were ready or not; but now our house, our cow, ourpoultry, and indeed ourselves, might have suffered,--there is no wayof finding out exactly how much,--if we had not made all possiblepreparations for the coming of cold weather.
But there was a great deal yet to be thought of and planned out,although we were ready for winter. The next thing to think of wasspring.
We laid out the farm. We decided where we would have wheat, corn,potatoes, and oats. We would have a man by the day to sow and reap. Theintermediate processes I thought I could attend to myself.
Everything was talked over, ciphered over, and freely discussed bymy wife and myself, except one matter, which I planned and worked outalone, doing most of the necessary calculations at the office, so as notto excite Euphemia's curiosity.
I had determined to buy a horse. This would be one of the most importantevents of our married life, and it demanded a great deal of thought,which I gave it.
The horse was chosen for me by a friend. He was an excellent beast (thehorse), excelling, as my friend told me, in muscle and wit. Nothingbetter than this could be said about a horse. He was a sorrel animal,quite handsome, gentle enough for Euphemia to drive, and not toohigh-minded to do a little farm-work, if necessary. He was exactly theanimal I needed.
The carriage was not quite such a success. The horse having cost a gooddeal more than I expected to pay, I found that I could only afford asecond-hand carriage. I bought a good, serviceable vehicle, which wouldhold four persons, if necessary, and there was room enough to pack allsorts of parcels and baskets. It was with great satisfaction thatI contemplated this feature of the carriage, which was a ratherrusty-looking affair, although sound and strong enough. The harness wasnew, and set off the horse admirably.
On the afternoon when my purchases were completed, I did not come homeby the train. I drove home in my own carriage, drawn by my own horse!The ten miles' drive was over a smooth road, and the sorrel traveledsplendidly. If I had been a line of kings a mile long, all in theirchariots of state, with gold and silver, and outriders, and music, andbanners waving in the wind, I could not have been prouder than when Idrew up in front of my house.
There was a wagon-gate at one side of the front fence which had neverbeen used except by the men who brought coal, and I got out and openedthis, very quietly, so as not to attract the attention of Euphemia. Itwas earlier than I usually returned, and she would not be expectingme. I was then about to lead the horse up a somewhat grass-growncarriage-way to the front door, but I reflected that Euphemia might belooking out of some of the windows and I had better drive up. So I gotin and drove very slowly to the door.
However, she heard the unaccustomed noise of wheels, and looked out ofthe parlor window. She did not see me, but immediately came aroundto the door. I hurried out of the carriage so quickly that, not beingfamiliar with the steps, I barely escaped tripping.
When she opened the front door she was surprised to see me standing bythe horse.
"Have you hired a carriage?" she cried. "Are we going to ride?"
"My dear," said I, as I took her by the hand, "we are going to ride. ButI have not hired a carriage. I have bought one. Do you see this horse?He is ours--our own horse."
If you could have seen the face that was turned up to me,--all you othermen in the world,--you would have torn your hair in despair.
Afterward she went around and around that horse; she patted his smoothsides; she looked, with admiration, at his strong, well-formed legs; shestroked his head; she smoothed his mane; she was brimful of joy.
When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket--and what a pleasureit was to water one's own horse!--Euphemia rushed into the house and gother hat and cloak, and we took a little drive.
I doubt if any horse ever drew two happier people. Euphemia said butlittle about the carriage. That was a necessary adjunct, and it was goodenough for the present. But the horse! How nobly and with what vigorhe pulled us up the hills and how carefully and strongly he held thecarriage back as we went down! How easily he trotted over the levelroad, caring nothing for the ten miles he had gone that afternoon! Whata sensation of power it gave us to think that all that strength andspeed and endurance was ours, that it would go where we wished, that itwould wait for us as long as we chose, that it was at our service dayand night, that it was a horse, and we owned it!
When we returned, Pomona saw us drive in,--she had not known of ourride,--and when she heard the news she was as wild with proud delight asanybody. She wanted to unharness him, but this I could not allow. We didnot wish to be selfish, but after she had seen and heard what we thoughtwas enough for her, we were obliged to send her back to the kitchen forthe sake of the dinner.
Then we unharnessed him. I say we, for Euphemia stood by and I explainedeverything, for some day, she said, she might want to do it herself.Then I led him into the stable. How nobly he trod, and how finely hishoofs sounded on the stable floor!
There was hay in the mow and I had brought a bag of oats under the seatof the carriage.
"Isn't it just delightful," said Euphemia, "that we haven't any man?If we had a man he would take the horse at the door, and we should bedeprived of all this. It wouldn't be half like owning a horse."
In the morning I drove down to the station, Euphemia by my side. Shedrove back and Old John came up and attended to the horse. This he wasto do, for the present, for a small stipend. In the afternoon Euphemiacame down after me. How I enjoyed those rides! Before this I had thoughtit ever so much more pleasant and healthful to walk to and from thestation than to ride, but then I did not own a horse. At night Iattended to everything, Euphemia generally following me about the stablewith a lantern. When the days grew longer we would have delightful ridesafter dinner, and even now we planned to have early breakfasts, and goto the station by the longest possible way.
One day, in the following spring, I was riding home from the stationwith Euphemia,--we seldom took pleasure-drives now, we were so busyon the place,--and as we reached the house I heard the dog barkingsavagely. He was loose in the little orchard by the side of the house.As I drove in, Pomona came running to the carriage.
"Man up the tree!" she shouted.
I helped Euphemia out, left the horse standing by the door, and ran tothe dog, followed by my wife and Pomona. Sure enough, there was a manup the tree, and Lord Edward was doing his best to get at him, springingwildly at the tree and fairly shaking with rage.
I looked up at the man, he was a thoroughbred tramp, burly, dirty,generally unkempt, but, unlike most tramps, he looked very muchfrightened. His position, on a high crotch of an apple-tree, was notaltogether comfortable, and although, for the present, it was safe, thefellow seemed to have a wavering faith in the strength of apple-treebranches, and the moment he saw me, he earnestly besought me to takethat dog away, and let him down.
I made no answer, but turning to Pomona, I asked her what this allmeant.
"Why, sir, you see," said she, "I was in the kitchen bakin' pies, andthis fellow must have got over the fence at the side of the house, forthe dog didn't see him, and the first thing I know'd he was stickin' hishead in the window, and he asked me to give him somethin' to eat. Andwhen I said I'd see in a minute if there was anything for him, he saysto me, 'Gim me a piece of one of them pies,'--pies I'd just baked andwas settin' to cool on the kitchen table! 'No, sir,' says I, 'I'mnot goin' to cut one of them pies for you, or any one like you.' 'Allright!' says he. 'I'll come in and help mysel
f.' He must have knownthere was no man about, and, comin' the way he did, he hadn't seen thedog. So he come round to the kitchen door, but I shot out before he gotthere and unchained Lord Edward. I guess he saw the dog, when he got tothe door, and at any rate he heard the chain clankin', and he didn't goin, but just put for the gate. But Lord Edward was after him so quickthat he hadn't no time to go to no gates. It was all he could do toscoot up this tree, and if he'd been a millionth part of a minute laterhe'd 'a' been in another world by this time."
The man, who had not attempted to interrupt Pomona's speech, now beganagain to implore me to let him down, while Euphemia looked pitifully athim, and was about, I think, to intercede with me in his favor, but myattention was drawn off from her, by the strange conduct of the dog.Believing, I suppose, that he might leave the tramp for a moment, nowthat I had arrived, he had dashed away to another tree, where he wasbarking furiously, standing on his hind legs and clawing at the trunk.
"What's the matter over there?" I asked.
"Oh, that's the other fellow," said Pomona. "He's no harm." And then,as the tramp made a movement as if he would try to come down, and makea rush for safety, during the absence of the dog, she called out, "Here,boy! here, boy!" and in an instant Lord Edward was again raging at hispost, at the foot of the apple-tree.
I was grievously puzzled at all this, and walked over to the other tree,followed, as before, by Euphemia and Pomona.
"This one," said the latter, "is a tree-man--"
"I should think so," said I, as I caught sight of a person in graytrowsers standing among the branches of a cherry-tree not very far fromthe kitchen door. The tree was not a large one, and the branches werenot strong enough to allow him to sit down on them, although theysupported him well enough, as he stood close to the trunk just out ofreach of Lord Edward.
"This is a very unpleasant position, sir," said he, when I reachedthe tree. "I simply came into your yard, on a matter of business, andfinding that raging beast attacking a person in a tree, I had barelytime to get up into this tree myself, before he dashed at me. LuckilyI was out of his reach; but I very much fear I have lost some of myproperty."
"No, he hasn't," said Pomona. "It was a big book he dropped. I pickedit up and took it into the house. It's full of pictures of pears andpeaches and flowers. I've been lookin' at it. That's how I knew what hewas. And there was no call for his gittin' up a tree. Lord Edward neverwould have gone after him if he hadn't run as if he had guilt on hissoul."
"I suppose, then," said I, addressing the individual in the cherry-tree,"that you came here to sell me some trees."
"Yes, sir," said he quickly, "trees, shrubs, vines,evergreens,--everything suitable for a gentleman's country villa. Ican sell you something quite remarkable, sir, in the way ofcherry-trees,--French ones, just imported; bear fruit three timesthe size of anything that could be produced on a tree like this. Andpears--fruit of the finest flavor and enormous size--"
"Yes," said Pomona. "I seen them in the book. But they must grow on aground-vine. No tree couldn't hold such pears as them."
Here Euphemia reproved Pomona's forwardness, and I invited thetree-agent to get down out of the tree.
"Thank you," said he; "but not while that dog is loose. If you willkindly chain him up, I will get my book, and show you specimens of someof the finest small fruit in the world, all imported from the firstnurseries of Europe--the Red-gold Amber Muscat grape,--the--"
"Oh, please let him down!" said Euphemia, her eyes beginning to sparkle.
I slowly walked toward the tramp-tree, revolving various matters in mymind. We had not spent much money on the place during the winter, andwe now had a small sum which we intended to use for the advantage of thefarm, but had not yet decided what to do with it. It behooved me to becareful.
I told Pomona to run and get me the dog-chain, and I stood under thetree, listening, as well as I could, to the tree-agent talking toEuphemia, and paying no attention to the impassioned entreaties of thetramp in the crotch above me. When the chain was brought, I hooked oneend of it in Lord Edward's collar, and then I took a firm grasp of theother. Telling Pomona to bring the tree-agent's book from the house, Icalled to that individual to get down from his tree. He promptly obeyed,and taking the book from Pomona, began to show the pictures to Euphemia.
"You had better hurry, sir," I called out. "I can't hold this dog verylong." And, indeed, Lord Edward had made a run toward the agent, whichjerked me very forcibly in his direction. But a movement by the tramphad quickly brought the dog back to his more desired victim.
"If you will just tie up that dog, sir," said the agent, "and come thisway, I would like to show you the Meltinagua pear,--dissolves in themouth like snow, sir; trees will bear next year."
"Oh, come look at the Royal Sparkling Ruby grape!" cried Euphemia. "Itglows in the sun like a gem."
"Yes," said the agent, "and fills the air with fragrance during thewhole month of September--"
"I tell you," I shouted, "I can't hold this dog another minute! Thechain is cutting the skin off my hands. Run, sir, run! I'm going to letgo!"
"Run! run!" cried Pomona. "Fly for your life!"
The agent now began to be frightened, and shut up his book.
"If you only could see the plates, sir, I'm sure--"
"Are you ready?" I cried, as the dog, excited by Pomona's wild shouts,made a bolt in his direction.
"Good-day, if I must--" said the agent, as he hurried to the gate. Butthere he stopped.
"There is nothing, sir," he said, "that would so improve your place asa row of the Spitzenberg Sweet-scented Balsam fir along this fence. I'llsell you three-year-old trees--"
"He's loose!" I shouted, as I dropped the chain.
In a second the agent was on the other side of the gate. Lord Edwardmade a dash toward him; but, stopping suddenly, flew back to the tree ofthe tramp.
"If you should conclude, sir," said the tree-agent, looking over thefence, "to have a row of those firs along here--"
"My good sir," said I, "there is no row of firs there now, and the fenceis not very high. My dog, as you see, is very much excited and I cannotanswer for the consequences if he takes it into his head to jump over."
The tree-agent turned and walked slowly away.
"Now, look-a-here," cried the tramp from the tree, in the voice of avery ill-used person, "ain't you goin' to fasten up that dog, and let megit down?"
I walked up close to the tree and addressed him.
"No," said I, "I am not. When a man comes to my place, bullies a younggirl who was about to relieve his hunger, and then boldly determinesto enter my house and help himself to my property, I don't propose tofasten up any dog that may happen to be after him. If I had another dog,I'd let him loose, and give this faithful beast a rest. You can do asyou please. You can come down and have it out with the dog, or you canstay up there, until I have had my dinner. Then I will drive down to thevillage and bring up the constable, and deliver you into his hands. Wewant no such fellows as you about."
With that, I unhooked the chain from Lord Edward, and walked off to putup the horse. The man shouted after me, but I paid no attention. I didnot feel in a good humor with him.
Euphemia was much disturbed by the various occurrences of the afternoon.She was sorry for the man in the tree; she was sorry that the agent forthe Royal Ruby grape had been obliged to go away; and I had a good dealof trouble during dinner to make her see things in the proper light. ButI succeeded at last.
I did not hurry through dinner, and when we had finished I went to mywork at the barn. Tramps are not generally pressed for time, and Pomonahad been told to give our captive something to eat.
I was just locking the door of the carriage-house, when Pomona camerunning to me to tell me that the tramp wanted to see me about somethingvery important--just a minute, he said. I put the key in my pocket andwalked over to the tree. It was now almost dark, but I could see thatthe dog, the tramp, and the tree still kept their respective places.
&
nbsp; "Look-a-here," said the individual in the crotch, "you don't know howdreadful oneasy these limbs gits after you've been settin up hereas long as I have. And I don't want to have nuthin to do with noconstables. I'll tell you what I'll do if you'll chain up that dog, andlet me go, I'll fix things so that you'll not be troubled no more by notramps."
"How will you do that?" I asked.
"Oh, never you mind," said he. "I'll give you my word of honor I'll doit. There's a reg'lar understandin' among us fellers, you know."
I considered the matter. The word of honor of a fellow such as he wascould not be worth much, but the merest chance of getting rid oftramps should not be neglected. I went in to talk to Euphemia about it,although I knew what she would say. I reasoned with myself as much aswith her.
"If we put this one fellow in prison for a few weeks," I said, "thebenefit is not very great. If we are freed from all tramps, for theseason, the benefit is very great. Shall we try for the greatest good?"
"Certainly," said Euphemia; "and his legs must be dreadfully stiff."
So I went out, and after a struggle of some minutes, I chained LordEdward to a post at a little distance from the apple-tree. When he wassecure, the tramp descended nimbly from his perch, notwithstanding hisstiff legs, and hurried out of the gate. He stopped to make no remarksover the fence. With a wild howl of disappointed ambition, Lord Edwardthrew himself after him. But the chain held.
A lane of moderate length led from our house to the main road, and thenext day, as we were riding home, I noticed, on the trunk of a largetree, which stood at the corner of the lane and road, a curious mark. Idrew up to see what it was, but we could not make it out. It was a veryrude device, cut deeply into the tree, and somewhat resembled a square,a circle, a triangle, and a cross, with some smaller marks beneath it. Ifelt sure that our tramp had cut it, and that it had some significance,which would be understood by the members of his fraternity.
And it must have had, for no tramps came near us all that summer. Wewere visited by a needy person now and then, but by no member of theregular army of tramps.
One afternoon, that fall, I walked home, and at the corner of the laneI saw a tramp looking up at the mark on the tree, which was still quitedistinct.
"What does that mean?" I said, stepping up to him.
"How do I know?" said the man, "and what do you want to know fur?"
"Just out of curiosity," I said; "I have often noticed it. I thinkyou can tell me what it means, and if you will do so, I'll give you adollar."
"And keep mum about it?" said the man.
"Yes," I replied, taking out the dollar.
"All right!" said the tramp. "That sign means that the man that lives upthis lane is a mean, stingy cuss, with a wicked dog, and it's no good togo there."
I handed him the dollar and went away, perfectly satisfied with myreputation.
I wish here to make some mention of Euphemia's methods of work in herchicken-yard. She kept a book, which she at first called her "FowlRecord," but she afterward changed the name to "Poultry Register." Inever could thoroughly understand this book, although she has oftenexplained every part of it to me. She had pages for registering the age,description, time of purchase or of birth, and subsequent performancesof every fowl in her yard. She had divisions of the book for expenses,profits, probable losses and positive losses; she noted the number ofeggs put under each setting hen; the number of eggs cracked per day, thenumber spoiled, and finally, the number hatched. Each chick, on emergingfrom its shell, was registered, and an account kept of its subsequentlife and adventures. There were frequent calculations regarding theadvantages of various methods of treatment, and there were statements ofthe results of a great many experiments--something like this: "Set Toppyand her sister Pinky, April 2nd 187-; Toppy with twelve eggs,--threeBrahma, four common, and five Leghorn; Pinky with thirteen eggs (as sheweighs four ounces more than her sister), of which three were Leghorn,five common, and five Brahma. During the twenty-second and twenty-thirdof April (same year) Toppy hatched out four Brahmas, two commons, andthree Leghorns, while her sister, on these days and the morning of theday following, hatched two Leghorns, six commons, and only one Brahma.Now, could Toppy, who had only three Brahma eggs, and hatched out fourof that breed, have exchanged eggs with her sister, thus making itpossible for her to hatch out six common chickens, when she only hadfive eggs of that kind? Or, did the eggs get mixed up in some way beforegoing into the possession of the hens? Look into probabilities."
These probabilities must have puzzled Euphemia a great deal, butthey never disturbed her equanimity. She was always as tranquil andgood-humored about her poultry-yard as if every hen laid an egg everyday, and a hen-chick was hatched out of every egg.
For it may be remembered that the principle underlying Euphemia'smanagement of her poultry was what might be designated as the"cumulative hatch." That is, she wished every chicken hatched in heryard to become the mother of a brood of her own during the year, andevery one of this brood to raise another brood the next year, and so on,in a kind of geometrical progression. This plan called for a great manymother-fowls, and so Euphemia based her highest hopes on a great annualpreponderance of hens.
We ate a good many young roosters that fall, for Euphemia would notallow all the products of her yard to go to market, and, also, a greatmany eggs and fowls were sold. She had not contented herself with heroriginal stock of poultry, but had bought fowls during the winter, andshe certainly had extraordinary good luck, or else her extraordinarysystem worked extraordinarily well.