Out of the Hurly-Burly; Or, Life in an Odd Corner

by Charles Heber Clark

  CHAPTER XV.

  A VERY DISAGREEABLE PREDICAMENT--WILD EXULTATION OF PARKER--HE MAKES AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT--AN INTERVIEW WITH THE OLD MAN--THE EMBARRASSMENT OF MR. SPARKS, AND HOW HE OVERCAME IT--A STORY OF BISHOP POTTS--THE MISERIES OF TOO MUCH MARRIAGE--HOW POTTS SUFFERED, AND WHAT HIS END WAS.

  Last evening, after waiting until eleven o'clock for Mr. Parker to comehome, I went to bed. I had hardly composed myself for slumber when Ithought I heard the door-bell ring; and supposing Bob had forgotten hislatch-key, I descended for the purpose of letting him in. When I openedthe door, no one was upon the porch; and although I was dressed simplyin a night-shirt, I stepped out just beyond the doorway for the purposeof ascertaining if I could see any one who might have pulled the bell.Just as I did so the wind banged the door shut, and as it closed itcaught a portion of my raiment which was fluttering about, and held itfast. I was somewhat amused at first, and I laughed as I tried to pullthe muslin from the door; but after making very violent exertion forthat purpose, I discovered that the material would not slip through.The garment was held so firmly that it could not possibly be removed.Then I determined to reach over to the other side of the doorway andpull the bell, in the hope that some one would hear it and come to myassistance. But to my dismay I found that the doorway was so wide thateven with the most desperate effort I could not succeed in touching thebell-knob with the tips of my fingers.

  Meantime, I was beginning to freeze, for the night was very cold, and mylegs and feet were wholly unprotected.

  At last a happy thought struck me. I might very easily creep out of theshirt and leave it hanging in the door until I rang the bell, and then Icould slip back again and await the result. Accordingly, I began towithdraw from the garment, and I had just freed myself from it and wasabout to pull the bell when I heard some one coming down the street. Asthe moon was shining brightly, I became panic-stricken, and hurried intothe garment again. In my confusion I got it on backward, and foundmyself with my face to the wall; and then the person who was comingturned down the street just above my house, and didn't pass, after all.

  I was afraid to try the experiment again, and I determined to shout forhelp. I uttered one cry, and waited for a response. It was a desperatelycold night. I think the air must have been colder than it ever wasbefore in the history of this continent. I stamped my feet in order tokeep the blood in circulation, and then I shouted again for assistance.The river lay white and glistening in the light of the moon, and soclear was the atmosphere, so lustrous the radiance of the orb above,that I could plainly distinguish the dark line of the Jersey shore. Itwas a magnificent spectacle, and I should have enjoyed it intensely if Ihad had my clothing on. Then I began to think how very odd it was that aman's appreciation of the glorious majesty of nature should be dependentupon his trousers! how strange it was that cold legs should prevent animmortal soul from having felicity! Man is always prosaic when he isuncomfortable. Even a slight indigestion is utterly destructive ofsentiment. I defy any man to enjoy the fruitiest poetry while his cornshurt him, or to feel a genuine impulse of affection while he has asevere cold in his head.

  Then I cried aloud again for help, and an immediate response came fromCooley's new dog, which leaped over the fence and behaved as if itmeditated an assault upon my defenceless calves. I was relieved fromthis dreadful situation by Bob, who came up the street whistling andsinging in an especially joyous manner. He was a little frightened, Ithink, when he saw a figure in white upon the porch, and he paused for amoment before opening the gate, but he entered when I called to him; andunlocking the door with his key, he released me, and went up stairslaughing heartily at my mishap.

  I was about to retire when I heard a series of extraordinary sounds inBob's room overhead, and I thought it worth while to go up and ascertainwhat was going on. Standing outside the door, I could hear Bob chucklingand making use of such exclamations as,

  "Bul-l-_e-e-e_! Ha! ha! All right, my boy! All right! You've fixed that,I guess! Bul-l-_e-e-e-e-e_!"

  Then he seemed to be executing a hornpipe in his stockings upon thecarpet; and when this exercise was concluded, he continued theconversation with himself in such tones as these:

  "How _are_ YOU, Smiley! No chance, hadn't I? Couldn't make it, couldn'tI? I know a thing or two, I reckon. How _are_ YOU, LieutenantSmil-_e-e-e-e_! Ha! ha! I've settled your case, I guess, my boy! Bullyfor you, Parker! You've straightened that out, anyhow. Yes, sir! Ha! ha!Fol de rol de rol de rol," etc., etc. (second performance of thehornpipe, accompanied by whistling and new expressions of intensesatisfaction).

  I went down stairs with a solemn conviction that Mr. Parker hadexplained himself to Miss Magruder, and had received an answer from herthat was wholly satisfactory. I did not reveal the secret to Mrs.Adeler, concluding that it would be better to permit Bob to do thathimself in the morning.

  Parker rose about two hours earlier than usual, and I entertain asuspicion that he expended a portion of the time in going down thestreet to examine the exterior of Mr. Magruder's house. It probably gavehim some satisfaction merely to view the tenement wherein his fairenslaver reposed. He came to the breakfast-table with a radiantcountenance, and it was evident that he would be unable to contain thenews for many moments longer. In order to prepare the way for him, Iasked him:

  "Why were you so late last night, Bob?"

  "Oh, I had some important business on hand. Big things have beenhappening; I have some news to tell you."

  "Another railroad accident?" I asked, carelessly, "or a riot inPhiladelphia?"

  "Riot? no! Thunder!" exclaimed Bob; "nothing of that kind. It'ssomething more important. You know old Smiley--Fiji Island Smiley? Well,I've floored him; I've laid him out flat; I've knocked him intodiminutive smithereens."

  "Had a personal encounter with the lieutenant?" I asked, gravely.

  "No, _sir_! better than that. I've cut him out down at Magruder's.Bessie and I are engaged! What do you think of that, Max?"

  "Think of it? Why, I congratulate you heartily. You have secured atreasure."

  "And I congratulate you, too," said Mrs. A. "Bessie is a very fine girl,and will make you a good wife."

  "That's what I think about it," observed Mr. Parker.

  "I am very glad Lieutenant Smiley didn't succeed there," said Mrs. A.

  "Smiley! Smiley!" exclaimed Bob, scornfully. "Why, he never had theghost of a chance. Bessie told me last night she despised him. Shewouldn't look at such a man as he is."

  "Not while such men as you are around, at any rate, I suppose?"

  "When are you going to speak to Bessie's father?" asked Mrs. Adeler.

  A cloud suddenly passed over Bob's face, and he said:

  "I don't know. I have to do it, I s'pose, but I hate it worse than I cantell you. I believe I'd rather propose to a woman a dozen times than tobroach the matter to a stern parent once. It's all well enough toexpress your feelings to a woman who loves you; but when you come toexplain the matter to a cold-blooded, matter-of-fact old man who is asprosy as a boiled turnip, it seems kind of ridiculous."

  "Why don't you speak to Mrs. Dr. Magruder, then? She is a power in thatfamily."

  "No; I'll talk to Mr. Magruder. It's hard, but it has to be done. Andsee here, Max, don't you poke fun at Mrs. Magruder. She's a first-ratewoman, and those things Dr. Jones told about her are the most rascallykind of lies. If you'll excuse me, I'll go down and see the old man now.I might as well settle the thing at once."

  This evening, while we were waiting for tea, Bob made a report. Thepaternal Magruder, it seems, had already considered the subjectcarefully, and was not by any means as much surprised by Mr. Parker'sstatement as the latter expected he would be. Bob was amazed to findthat although the old gentleman during the courtship had appeared whollyunconscious of the fact that his daughter was particularly intimate withthe youth, yet somehow he seemed now to have had all the time a veryclear perception of the state of the case.

  "I thought he would get excited and, maybe,
show a little emotion," saidBob, "but blame me if he didn't sit there and take it as coolly as ifsuch things happened to him every day. And you know, when I began totell him how much I thought of Bessie, he soused down on me and broughtme back to prose with a question about the size of my income. But it'sall right. He said he would be glad to have me a member of his family,and then he called in Bessie, and gave us a kind of a blessing andadvised us not to be in a hurry about getting married."

  "Very good advice, too. There is no need of haste. You ought to haveplenty of time to think the matter over."

  "Think it over!" exclaimed Bob, indignantly. "Why, I _have_ thought itover. You don't suppose I'd be such a fool as to engage myself to a girlwithout thinking seriously about it?"

  "Certainly not; but marriage is a very solemn thing, and it should beundertaken advisedly. It is probable, I suppose, that you would never,under any circumstances, marry any woman but Bessie Magruder?"

  "Nev-er; no, never!"

  "You don't believe in second marriages, then?"

  "Certainly not."

  "They _do_ get a man into trouble very often. Did I ever tell you aboutold Sparks, of Pencadder Hundred?"

  "I think not," said Bob.

  "Well, old Sparks was married four times; and several years after thedeath of his last wife they started a new cemetery up there atPencadder. Sparks bought a lot, and determined to remove his sacred dustfrom the old graveyard. Somehow or other, in taking the remains over tothe cemetery in the wagon, they were hopelessly mixed together, so thatit was utterly impossible to tell which was which. Any other man thanSparks would simply have taken the chances of having the reintermentsproperly made. But he was an extremely conscientious man; and when thesepulture was completed, he had a lot of new headstones set in, bearingsuch inscriptions as these: 'Here lies Jane (and probably part of Susan)Sparks;' 'Sacred to the memory of Maria (to say nothing of Jane andHannah) Sparks.'

  "'Stranger, pause and drop a tear, For Susan Sparks lies buried here; Mingled, in some perplexing manner, With Jane, Maria and portions of Hannah.'"

  "Don't it seem a little bit rough," said Bob, "to bring in such a storyas that in connection with my engagement? I don't like it."

  "Pardon me, Bob. Perhaps it was neither gracious nor in good taste, butsomehow I just happened to think of old Sparks at that moment, I amsure, though, you won't object to another narrative which I am going toread to you upon the subject of too frequent marriage. It is the storyof Bishop Potts. Do you feel like hearing it?"

  "Well, no," said Bob, gloomily, "to tell you the truth, I don't; but Isuppose I will have to hear it, so go ahead."

  "Yes, I am going to inflict it upon you whether you want it or not. Aman who is meditating matrimony, and is in a hurry, needs the influenceof a few 'awful examples' to induce him to proceed slowly. Here is thestory. The hero was a dignitary in the Mormon Church, and his sufferingswere the result of excessive marriage. The tale is entitled

  "BISHOP POTTS.

  "Bishop Potts, of Salt Lake City, was the husband of three wives and thefather of fifteen interesting children. Early in the winter the bishopdetermined that his little ones should have a good time on Christmas, sohe concluded to take a trip down to San Francisco to see what he couldfind in the shape of toys with which to gratify and amuse them. The goodbishop packed his carpet-bag, embraced Mrs. Potts one by one and kissedeach of her affectionately, and started upon his journey.

  "He was gone a little more than a week, when he came back with fifteenbrass trumpets in his valise for his darlings. He got out of the trainat Salt Lake, thinking how joyous it would be at home on Christmasmorning when the fifteen trumpets should be in operation upon differenttunes at the same moment. But just as he entered the depot he saw agroup of women standing in the ladies' room apparently waiting for him.As soon as he approached, the whole twenty of them rushed up, threwtheir arms about his neck and kissed him, exclaiming:

  "'Oh, Theodore, we are so, _so_ glad you have come back! Welcome home!Welcome, dear Theodore, to the bosom of your family!' and then theentire score of them fell upon his neck and cried over his shirt frontand mussed him.

  "The bishop seemed surprised and embarrassed. Struggling to disengagehimself, he blushed and said:

  "'Really, ladies, this kind of thing is well enough--it is interestingand all that; but there must be some kind of a--that is, an awkward sortof a--excuse me, ladies, but there seems to be, as it were, a slightmisunderstanding about the--I am Bishop Potts.'

  "'We know it, we know it, dear,' they exclaimed, in chorus, 'and we areglad to see you safe at home. We have all been very well while you wereaway, love.'

  "'It gratifies me,' remarked the bishop, 'to learn that none of you havebeen a prey to disease. I am filled with serenity when I contemplate thefact; but really, I do not understand why you should rush into thisrailway station and hug me because your livers are active and yourdigestion good. The precedent is bad; it is dangerous!'

  "'Oh, but we didn't!' they exclaimed, in chorus. 'We came here towelcome you because you are our husband.'

  "'Pardon me, but there must be some little--that is to say, as it were,I should think not. Women, you have mistaken your man!'

  "'Oh no!' they shouted; 'we were married to you while you were away!'

  "'What!' exclaimed the bishop; 'you don't mean to say that--'

  "'Yes, love. Our husband, William Brown, died on Monday, and onThursday, Brigham had a vision in which he was directed to seal us toyou; and so he performed the ceremony at once by proxy.'

  "'Th-th-th-th-under!' observed the bishop.

  "'And we are all living with you now--we and the dear children.'

  "'Children! children!' exclaimed Bishop Potts, turning pale; 'you don'tmean to say that there is a pack of children, too?'

  "'Yes, love, but only one hundred and twenty-five, not counting theeight twins and the triplet.'

  "'Wha-wha-wha-what d'you say?' gasped the bishop, in a coldperspiration; 'one hundred and twenty-five! One hundred and twenty-fivechildren and twenty more wives! It is too much--it is awful!' and thebishop sat down and groaned, while the late Mrs. Brown, the bride, stoodaround in a semicircle and fanned him with her bonnets, all except thered-haired one, and she in her trepidation made a futile effort to fanhim with the coal-scuttle.

  "But after a while the bishop became reconciled to his new alliance,knowing well that protests would be unavailing, so he walked home,holding several of the little hands of the bride, while the red-hairedwoman carried his umbrella and marched in front of the parade to removeobstructions and to scare off small boys.

  "When the bishop reached the house, he went around among the cradleswhich filled the back parlor and the two second-story rooms, andattempted with such earnestness to become acquainted with his new sonsand daughters that he set the whole one hundred and twenty-five and thetwins to crying, while his own original fifteen stood around and swelledthe volume of sound. Then the bishop went out and sat on the gardenfence to whittle a stick and solemnly think, while Mrs. Pottsdistributed herself around and soothed the children. It occurred to thebishop while he mused, out there on the fence, that he had not enoughtrumpets to go around among the children as the family now stood; andso, rather than seem to be partial, he determined to go back to SanFrancisco for one hundred and forty-four more.

  "So the bishop repacked his carpet-bag, and began again to bid farewellto his family. He tenderly kissed all of the Mrs. Potts who were athome, and started for the depot, while Mrs. Potts stood at the variouswindows and waved her handkerchiefs at him--all except the woman withthe warm hair, and she, in a fit of absent-mindedness, held one of thetwins by the leg and brandished it at Potts as he fled down the streettoward the railway station.

  "The bishop reached San Francisco, completed his purchases, and was justabout to get on the train with his one hundred and forty-four trumpets,when a telegram was handed him. It contained information to the effectthat the auburn-haired Mrs. Potts had just had a daughter. This
inducedthe bishop to return to the city for the purpose of purchasing anadditional trumpet.

  "On the following Saturday he returned home. As he approached his housea swarm of young children flew out of the front gate and ran toward him,shouting, 'There's pa! Here comes pa! Oh, pa, but we're glad to seeyou! Hurrah for pa!' etc., etc.

  "The bishop looked at the children as they flocked around him and clungto his legs and coat, and was astonished to perceive that they wereneither his nor the late Brown's. He said, 'You youngsters have made amistake; I am not your father;' and the bishop smiled good-naturedly.

  "'Oh yes, you are, though!' screamed the little ones, in chorus.

  "'But I say I am not,' said the bishop, severely, and frowning; 'youought to be ashamed of yourselves. Don't you know where littlestory-tellers go? It is scandalous for you to violate the truth in thismanner. My name is Potts.'

  "'Yes, we know it is,' exclaimed the children--'we know it is, and so isours; that is our name now, too, since the wedding.'

  "'Since what wedding?' demanded the bishop, turning pale.

  "'Why, ma's wedding, of course. She was married yesterday to you by Mr.Young, and we are all living at your house now with our new littlebrothers and sisters.'

  "The bishop sat down on the nearest front-door step and wiped away atear. Then he asked,

  "'Who was your father?'

  "'Mr. Simpson,' said the crowd, 'and he died on Tuesday.'

  "'And how many of his infernal old widows--I mean how many of yourmother--are there?'

  "'Only twenty-seven,' replied the children, 'and there are onlysixty-four of us, and we are awful glad you have come home.'

  "The bishop did not seem to be unusually glad; somehow, he failed toshare the enthusiasm of the occasion. There appeared to be, in a certainsense, too much sameness about these surprises; so he sat there with hishat pulled over his eyes and considered the situation. Finally, seeingthere was no help for it, he went up to the house, and forty-eight ofMrs. Potts rushed up to him and told him how the prophet had anothervision, in which he was commanded to seal Simpson's widow to Potts.

  "Then the bishop stumbled around among the cradles to his writing-desk.He felt among the gum rings and rattles for his letter-paper, and thenhe addressed a note to Brigham, asking him as a personal favor to keepawake until after Christmas. 'The man must take me for a foundlinghospital,' he said. Then the bishop saw clearly enough that if he gavepresents to the other children, and not to the late Simpson's, the bridewould make things warm for him. So he started again for San Franciscofor sixty-four more trumpets, while Mrs. Potts gradually took leave ofhim in the entry--all but the red-haired woman, who was up stairs, andwho had to be satisfied with screeching good-bye at the top of hervoice.

  "On his way home, after his last visit to San Francisco, the bishop satin the car by the side of a man who had left Salt Lake the day before.The stranger was communicative. In the course of the conversation heremarked to the bishop:

  "'That was a mighty pretty little affair up there at the city onMonday.'

  "'What affair?' asked Potts.

  "'Why, that wedding; McGrath's widow, you know--married by proxy.'

  "'You don't say?' replied the bishop. 'I didn't know McGrath was dead.'

  "'Yes; died on Sunday, and that night Brigham had a vision in which hewas ordered to seal her to the bishop.'

  "'Bishop!' exclaimed Potts. 'Bishop! What bishop?'

  "'Well, you see, there were fifteen of Mrs. McGrath and eighty-twochildren, and they shoved the whole lot off on old Potts. Perhaps youdon't know him?'

  "The bishop gave a wild shriek and writhed upon the floor as if he had afit. When he recovered, he leaped from the train and walked back to SanFrancisco. He afterward took the first steamer for Peru, where heentered a monastery and became a celibate.

  "His carpet-bag was sent on to his family. It contained the balance ofthe trumpets. On Christmas morning they were distributed, and in lessthan an hour the entire two hundred and eight children were sick fromsucking the brass upon them. A doctor was called, and he seemed so muchinterested in the family that Brigham divorced the whole concern fromold Potts and annexed it to the doctor, who immediately lost his reason,and would have butchered the entire family if the red-haired woman andthe oldest boy had not marched him off to a lunatic asylum, where hespent his time trying to arrive at an estimate of the number of hischildren by ciphering with an impossible combination of themultiplication table and algebra."

  * * * * *

  "And now that that's over," said Bob, as I folded up the manuscript,"will you please to tell me what the suffering of old Potts has to dowith my engagement?"

  "Well, to tell the truth, nothing in particular. I thought perhaps youmight feel a sort of general interest in the mere subject of matrimonyjust now; and at any rate, I wanted your opinion of the merit of thestory."

  "Well, I think it is a pretty poor story. The humor of the Mormonbusiness is stale, anyhow, and in your hands it becomes absolutelydismal. I can write a better Mormon story than that myself, and I don'teven profess to be a scribbler."

  Then Mr. Parker swaggered out with the air of a man whose opinions havethe weight of a judicial decision. I think he has acquired, since hisengagement, a much greater notion of his importance than he had before.It is remarkable how a youth who has succeeded in a love affairimmediately begins to cherish the idea that his victory is attributableto the fact that he possesses particularly brilliant qualities of somekind. Bob was the humblest man in Delaware a week ago; to-day he walksabout with such an air as he might have had if he had just won thebattle of Waterloo.