CHAPTER III.
LIFE IN THE CAPTIVE CITY.
At this time in New York, John Bradley was a man of considerableimportance. He was not only a native of the city, but many generationsof Bradleys had been born, and lived, and died in the wide, low houseclose to the river bank, not far north of old Trinity. They wereoriginally a Yorkshire family who had followed the great Oliver Cromwellfrom Marston Moor to Worcester, and who, having helped to build theCommonwealth of England, refused to accept the return of royalty. Evenbefore Charles the Second assumed the crown, Ezra Bradley and his sixsons had landed in New York. They were not rich, but they had goldsufficient to build a home, and to open near the fort a shop for themaking and repairing of saddlery.
Ever since that time this trade had been the distinctive occupation ofthe family, and the John Bradley who represented it in the year 1779,had both an inherited and a trained capability in the craft. No one inall America could make a saddle comparable with Bradley's; the treeswere of his own designing, and the leather work unequalled in strengthand beauty. In addition to this important faculty, he was a veterinarysurgeon of great skill, and possessed some occult way of managingungovernable horses, which commended itself peculiarly to officers whosemounts were to be renewed frequently from any available source. Andnever had his business been so lucrative as at the present date, for NewYork was full of mounted military during the whole period of the war,and enormous prices were willingly paid for the fine saddlery turned outof the workshop of John Bradley.
Contrary to all the traditions of his family, he had positively takenthe part of the King, and at the very commencement of the nationalquarrel had shown the red ribbon of loyalty to England. His wife dyingat this time, he sent his daughter to a famous boarding-school inBoston, and his son to the great dissenting academy in Gloucester,England; then he closed his house and lived solitarily in very humblefashion above his workroom and shop. In this way, he believed himself tohave provided for the absolute safety of his two children; the boy wasout of the war circle; the thundering drum and screaming fife could notreach him in the cloistered rooms of the Doddridge School; and as forAgnes, Mrs. Charlton's house was as secure as a convent; he had no fearthat either English or American soldiers would molest a dwelling full ofschoolgirls. And John Bradley could keep the door of his mouth; and hebelieved that a man who could do that might pursue a trade so necessaryas his, with an almost certain degree of safety.
In appearance he was a short, powerful-looking man with tranquil,meditating eyes and a great talent for silence; an armed soul dwellingin a strong body. Some minds reflect, shift, argue, and are like thesurface of a lake; but John Bradley's mind was like stubborn clay; whenonce impressed it was sure to harden and preserve the imprint throughhis life, and perhaps the other one. His Methodism was of thischaracter, and he never shirked conversation on this subject; he was asready to tell his experience to General Howe or General Clinton as tothe members of his own class meeting; for his heart was saturated withthe energy of his faith; he had the substance of things hoped for, theevidence of things not seen.
On politics he would not talk; he said, "public affairs were in wiserhands than his, and that to serve God and be diligent in business, wasthe length and breadth of his commission." His shop was a place wheremany men and many minds met, and angry words were frequently thrownbackward and forward there; yet his needle never paused an instant forthem. Only once had he been known to interfere; it was on a day when oneof De Lancey's troop drew his sword against a boyish English ensignalmost at his side. He stopped them with his thread half drawn out, andsaid sternly:
"If you two fools are in a hurry for death, and the judgment afterdeath, there are more likely places to kill each other than my shop,"and the words were cold as ice and sharp as steel, and the men went outrebuked and checked, and washed away their hot temper in wine instead ofblood. For the vision of death, and the judgment after death, whichBradley's words and manner had evoked, was not to be faced at that hour.Yet, withal, Bradley was rather a common-looking man, ill-mannered andrough as hemp to the generality; but not so where childhood or calamityappealed to his strength or forbearance. In other respects, General Howehad, not inaptly, described him as "very unlike other men when atchapel, but not much so, when among horses in the stable, or sellingsaddles in the shop."
This was the man who came up from the waterside early one morning in thebeginning of July, singing Dr. Watts' lyrical dream of heaven:
"There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign."
His voice was strong and melodious, and it was evident that Agnes hadinherited her charming vocal power from him. He did not cease as heentered the house, but continued his hymn until he was in the littlesitting-room, and Agnes finished the verse with him:
"And see the Canaan that we love, With unbeclouded eyes."
He sat down to breakfast with the heavenly vision in his heart, andreluctantly let it pass away. But his spiritual nature had hands as wellas wings, and he felt also the stress of the daily labor waiting him.
"The expedition leaves for the Connecticut coast to-day," he said."General Clinton is determined to strike a blow at the people in NewHaven, and Fairfield, and New London."
"Well, father? What do you say to that?"
"I say it is better they should be struck down than that they should liedown."
"Matthews has but just returned from ravaging the river counties ofVirginia, and Clinton from Stony Point. Have they not made misery enoughfor a little while? Who is going with the Connecticut expedition?"
"Tryon, and he goes to do mischief with the joy of an ape."
"I heard trumpets sounding and men mustering, as I was dressing myself."
"Trumpets may sound, and not to victory, Agnes. Fire and pillage arecowardly arms; but I heard Tryon say, any stick was good enough to beata dog with, and all who differ from Tryon are dogs. Vile work! Vilework! And yet all this does not keep New York from dancing and drinking,and racing, and gambling, and trading; nor yet New York women frompainting and dressing themselves as if there were no such persons asKing George and George Washington."
"Yes, father, a great many of our best families are very poor."
"Those not employed by the government, or those who are not contractorsor privateers, are whipped and driven to the last pinch by poverty. Ah,Agnes, remember New York before this war began, its sunny streets shadedwith trees, and its busy, happy citizens talking, laughing, smoking,trading, loving and living through every sense they had at the sametime. Now there is nothing but covert ill-will and suspicion. Ourviolent passions have not cured our mean ones; to the common list ofrogueries, we have only added those of contractors and commissioners."
"I think war is the most terrible calamity that can befall a people,father."
"The despair of subjugated souls would be worse."
"Do they never doubt you, father?"
"Howe never did. That amiable, indolent officer might have liked me allthe more if he had doubted me. Clinton is a different man; and I thinkhe may have thought my loyalty to royalty lukewarm, for he sent for meon the King's birthday, and after some talk about a horse and saddle, hesaid, 'Mr. Bradley, it is the King's birthday; shall we drink hisMajesty's health?' And I answered him, 'if it please you, General.' Sohe filled a glass with Portugal wine for me, and then filling one forhimself raised it, and waited for me to speak. There were severalofficers present, and I lifted my glass and said, 'To King George theThird! God bless him, and make him and all his officers good John WesleyMethodists!'"
"Then, father?"
"Clinton put down his glass with a ringing guffaw, and the rest followedhim. Only one bit of a beardless boy spoke, and he said: 'you think,Bradley, Methodism might make his Majesty a better king?' And Ianswered, 'I am not here to judge his Majesty's kingship. I think itwould make him and all present, better and happier men.' I did not tryto go away or shirk questions;
I looked squarely in their faces untilGeneral Clinton said, 'Very good, Bradley. You will remember Saladin andthe new saddle for him'; and I answered, 'I will see to it at once,General.' So I went out then, and I think they were not all sure of me;but they cannot do without me, and they know it is better to put theirdoubts out of inquiry. Wise men obey necessity, and that is true forthem as well as for me. Agnes, I want to know something about thatlittle girl of Semple's? I don't like her coming here day after day. Shewill be seeing or hearing something she ought not to see or hear. Womenare dangerous in politics, for, as a rule, politics either find or leavethem vixens."
"Maria is to be trusted."
"You can not be sure. She is passionate, and though a woman in a tempermay not intend to burn any one, she pokes the fire and makes a blaze andsets others looking and wondering. I can tell you of many such women inNew York; they think ill of their neighbor, and the thoughts get totheir tongues, and before they know the mischief is done. Then, like thewolf in the fable, they thank God they are not ferocious. Oh, no! Theyhave only loosed the dogs of war and left others to set them worrying."
"How you do run on, father! And not one word you have said fits thelittle Maria, no, nor any one of the Semples. Indeed, I am sure Madameis as true a patriot as you could find anywhere."
"The old man is as bitter a royalist as I could find anywhere."
"He is, however, a good old man. Last Monday night, when you had to goto the leaders' meeting, I walked home with Maria and stayed to teathere. And after tea Madame asked me to sing a hymn, and I sang the oneyou were singing this morning, and when I had finished, the Elder said,'Now, then, we will supplement Isaac Watts with the Apostle John'; andhe opened the Bible and read aloud John's vision of 'the land of puredelight' from the twenty-first of Revelation; then standing up, he askedus all to join in the prayer of the Lord Jesus Christ. And we stood upwith him and said to 'Our Father which is in heaven,' the words hetaught us. I felt it to be a very precious few minutes."
"I have nothing to say against such experiences, Agnes. If people wouldstick to what Christ says, there might be only one creed and one church;it is Peter and Paul that make disputing. But if you go to Semple'shouse do not stop after sunset. There are bad men about."
"Mr. Neil Semple walked home with me."
"Oh! Mr. Neil Semple! And what had he to say?"
"Very little. He praised my singing, he said it went to his heart; andhe spoke about the moon, and the perfume of the locust flowers. I thinkthat was all."
"The moon and the locust flowers! What does Mr. Neil Semple know aboutthe moon and the locust flowers? And he spoke very little! He can talkfast enough when he is in court, and well paid for it. He is a proudman--ill-tempered, too, I should think."
"I am sure he is not ill-tempered. He is as sweet as a child to hisfather and mother; and Maria says many pleasant things about him."
"Let him pass for what he is worth; but remember always this thing,Agnes, I am trusting my life in your hands. If you inadvertentlyrepeated even what I have said this morning, I should be hard put toanswer it."
"You know well that I would die rather than reveal anything you said tome. My life for yours, father!"
"I trust you as my own soul. You are an inexpressible comfort to me. Ican speak to you. I can open my heart to you. I can get relief andsympathy from you. Your coming home makes me a hundred-fold safer. Ifyour brother with his hot temper and young imprudences had been here, noone knows what would have happened before this. I thank God continuallythat he is so far out of the way. Has he left school yet?"
"School does not close until June."
"Then he will go directly to Doctor Brudenel in London?"
"That was your instruction to him."
"When did you have a letter from him?"
"It is nearly a month since."
"When will you write to him next?"
"I write to him every opportunity I have."
"Does he need money? Young men are often extravagant."
"He has never named money to me. He is well and happy."
"Tell him he must not come home, not think of coming home till I givehim permission. Tell him that his being away from home is my greatcomfort. Make that plain to him, Agnes, my great comfort. Tell him hemust stay in London till a man can speak his mind safely in New York,whatever his mind may be."
"I will tell him all, father."
Then Bradley went to his shop and his daughter sat down to considerwith herself. Many persons stimulate or regulate thought in movement andfind a positive assistance to their mental powers in action of somekind, but Agnes had the reverse of this temperament. She needed quiet,so closing the door of her room she sat still, recalling, reviewing, anddoing her best to anticipate events. There were certain things whichmust be revealed to Maria, wholly, or in part, if she continued to visitthe house, and Agnes saw not how to prevent those visits. Nor did shewish to prevent them; she loved Maria and delighted in hercompanionship. They had many acquaintances and events in common to talkabout, and she was also interested in Maria's life, which was verydifferent to her own. She felt, too, that her influence was necessaryand valuable to the young girl, suddenly thrown into the midst of whatAgnes regarded as sinful and dangerous society. And then into thisprocess of self-examination there drifted another form--the stately,rather sombre, but altogether kindly personality of Neil Semple. It waslinked with Maria, she could not separate the two; and as intrusioninvolved some heart-searching she was not inclined to, she ratherpromptly decided the question without any further prudentialconsiderations, and as she did so Maria called her.
She answered the call gladly. It was to her one of those leadings onwhich she spiritually relied, and her face was beaming with love andpleasure as she went down stairs to her friend. Maria was standing inthe middle of the small parlor, most beautifully arrayed in an Indianmuslin, white as snow and lustrously fine, as only Dacca looms couldweave it. Her shoulders were covered with a little cape of the samematerial, ruffled and laced and fastened with pink ribbons, and on herhead was a bewitching gypsy hat tied under her chin with bows of thesame color. Her uncle stood at her side, smiling with grave tolerance ather girlish pride in her dress, and the pretty airs with which sheexhibited it to Agnes.
"Am I not handsome?" she cried. "Am I not dressed in the most perfecttaste? Why do you not say as Miss Robinson is sure to say--'La, child,you are adorable!'"
Agnes fell quite naturally into her friend's excited mood, and in thehappiest tone of admiring mimicry, repeated the words dictated. She madethe most perfect contrast to Maria; her pale blue gown of simplematerial and simple fashion was without ornament of any kind, except itslarge falling collar of white muslin embroidery, but the long, unbrokenline of the skirt seemed to Neil Semple the most fitting, the onlyfitting, garment he had ever seen on any woman.
"Its modesty and simplicity is an instinct," he thought; "and I havethis morning seen a woman clothed by her raiment. Now I understand thedifference between being dressed and clothed. Maria is dressed, Agnes isclothed; her garments interpret her."
He was lifted up by his love for her; and her calico gown became a royalrobe in his imagination. Every time he saw her she appeared to have beenadorned for that time only. It was a delightful thing for him to watchher tenderness and pride in Maria. It was motherly and sisterly, andwithout a thought of envy, and he trembled with delight when she turnedher sweet, affectionate face to his for sympathy in it. And really thismorning Agnes might reasonably have given some of her admiring interestto Maria's escort. He was undeniably handsome. His suit of fine, darkcloth, his spotless lawn ruffles, his long, light sword, his blackbeaver in his hand, were but fitting adjuncts to a noble face, gravenwith many experiences and alight with the tender glow of love and thesteady fire of intellectual power and purpose.
He did not stay at this time many minutes, but the girls watched him tothe garden gate and shared the courtly salute of his adieu there. "Is henot the most graceful and beautiful of men?" ask
ed Maria.
"Indeed he is very handsome," replied Agnes.
"There is not an officer in New York fit to latch his shoe buckles."
"Then why do you dress so splendidly, only to show yourself to them?"
"Well, Agnes, see how _they_ dress. As we were coming here we met men inall the colors of the rainbow; they were rattling swords and spurs, andtossing their heads like war horses scenting the battle afar off."
"You are quoting the Bible, Maria."
"Uncle did it first. You don't suppose I thought of that. We passed aregiment of Hessians with their towering brass-fronted helmets, theiryellow breeches, and black gaiters; really, Agnes, they weregrand-looking men."
"Very," answered Agnes, scornfully. "I have seen them standing likeautomatons, taking both the commands and the canes of their officers.Very grand-looking indeed!"
"You need not be angry at the poor fellows. It must be very disagreeablefor them to be caned in public and not dare to move an eyelash or uttera word of protest."
"Men that will suffer such things are no better than the beasts of thefield; not as good, for the beasts do speak in their way with hoofs, orhorns, or teeth, or claws, and that to some purpose, when their sense ofjustice is outraged."
"It is all military discipline, you know, Agnes. And you must allow, theregiments make fine appearances. I dare say these Hessians have to becaned--most men have, in one way or another. Uncle is coming back for methis afternoon. We are going to see the troops leaving; it will be afine sight. I told uncle you might like to go with us, and he said hewould ask you, but he did not."
"He had more grace granted him, Maria."
"I think he is a little afraid of you, Agnes."
"Nothing of the kind. He had sense enough to understand I would not go."Then, without further thought or preliminary she said: "Sit down herebeside me, Maria, I have something very important to say to you. I knowthat I can perfectly trust you, but I want to hear you tell me so. Canyou keep a secret inviolate and sure, Maria?"
"If the secret is yours, Agnes, neither in life nor in the hour of deathwould I tell it."
"If you were questioned----"
"I should be stupid and dumb; if it was your secret, fire could not burnit out of me."
"I believe you. Many times in Boston you must have known that a youngman called on me. You may have seen his face."
"None of the girls saw his face but Sally Laws; we all knew that hecalled on you. I should recognize his figure and his walk anywhere, buthis face I never saw. Sally said he was as handsome as Apollo."
"Such nonsense! He has an open, bright, strong countenance, but there isnothing Greek about him, nothing at all. He is an American, and he loveshis native land, and would give his life for her freedom."
"And he will come here to see you now?"
"Yes, but my father must not know it."
"I thought you were always so against anything being done unknown to ourparents. When I wanted to write good-bye to Teddy Bowen you would notlet me."
"I expected you to remind me of this, and at present I can give you noexplanation. But I tell you positively that I am doing right. Can youtake my word for it?"
"I believe in you, Agnes, as if you were the Bible. I know you will onlydo right."
"All that you see or hear or are told about this person must be to youas if you had dreamed a dream, and you must forget that you ever hadit."
"I have said that I would be faithful. Darling Agnes, you know that youmay trust me."
"Just suppose that my friend should be seen, and that my father shouldbe told," she was silent a moment in consideration of such an event, andMaria impulsively continued:
"In that case I would say it was my friend."
"That would not be the truth."
"But he might be my friend, we might have become friends, not as he isyour friend, nothing like that, just a friend. Are you very fond of him,Agnes?"
"I love him as my own life."
"And he loves you in that way?"
"He loves me! Oh, yes, Maria, he loves me! even as I love him."
"Sweetest Agnes, thank you for telling me. I will see what you tell meto see, and hear what you tell me to hear; that, and that only. I willbe as true to you as your own heart."
"I am sure you will. Some day you shall know all. Now, we will say nomore until there is a reason; everything is so uncertain. Tell me aboutthe rout last night."
"It was at Governor Robertson's. His daughter called and asked me tohonor them with my company; and grandmother said I ought to go, anduncle Neil said I ought to go--so I went. There was a great timedressing me, but I made a fine appearance when it was done. I wore mysilver-tissue gown, and grandmother loaned me her pearl necklace. Shetold me how many generations of Gordon ladies had worn it, and I feltuncanny as she clasped it round my throat. I wondered if they knew----"
"You should not wonder about such things. Did you dance much?"
"I had the honor to dance with many great people. Every gentleman dancedone minuet with his partner, and then began cotillon and allemanddances; and there were some songs sung by Major Andre, and a fine supperat midnight. It was two o'clock when I got home."
"Tell me who you talked with."
"Oh, everybody, Agnes; but I liked most of all, the lady who stays withthe Robertsons--Mrs. Gordon; her husband was with Burgoyne and is aprisoner yet. She was very pleasant to me; indeed, she told Uncle Neil'I was the perfectest creature she had ever seen,' and that she was'passionately taken with me.' She insisted that I should be brought toher, and talked to me about my dress and my lovers, and also aboutgrandfather and grandmother."
"She lived with them once, and helped to make great sorrow in theirhouse."
"I know. Grandmother does not forgive her."
"And your uncle?"
"He is very civil to her, for she is vastly the fashion. She playedcards all the evening, and called me to her side more often than Iliked. She said I brought her luck. I don't think she approved of mydancing so often with Captain Macpherson. She asked questions about him,and smiled in a way that was not pleasant, and that made me praise theHighlander far more than I meant to, and she barely heard me to the endof my talk ere she turned back to her cards, and as she did so, said:'What a paragon in tartan! Before this holy war there may have been suchmen, but if you are a good child pray that a husband may drop down fromheaven for you; there are no good ones bred here now.' Then every onenear began to protest, and she spread out her cards and cried, 'Wholeads? Diamonds are trump.' When she called me next, she was sweepingthe sovereigns into her reticule; and Governor Ludlow said she wasFortune's favorite, and uncle Neil said, 'I see, Madame, that you nowplay for gold,' and I think uncle meant something that she understood,for she looked queerly at him for a moment, and then answered, 'Yes Iplay for money now. I confess it. Why not? If you take away that excuse,the rest is sinning without temptation.' She is so well bred, Agnes, andshe speaks with such an air, you are forced to notice and remember whatshe says."
Agnes was troubled to think of the innocent child in such society, andwithout obtruding counsel, yet never restraining it when needful, shedid her best to keep Maria's conscience quick and her heart right. Itwas evident that she regarded the whole as a kind of show, whose colorand sound and movement attracted her; yet even so, this show was full oftemptation to a girl who had no heart care and no lack of anythingnecessary for the pride of life.
This afternoon the half-camp and half-garrison condition of New York wasvery conspicuous. All was military bustle and excitement; trumpets werecalling, drums beating, and regiments parading the streets once devotedto peaceful commerce and domestic happiness. Royalist merchants stood inthe doors of their shops exchanging snuff-box compliments and flatteringprophecies concerning the expedition about to leave--prophecies whichdid not hide the brooding fear in their eyes or the desponding shake ofthe head when sure of a passer's sympathy. And a sensitive observerwould have felt the gloom, the shame and sorrow that no one dare
d toexpress; for, just because no one dared to express it, the very stonesof the streets found a voice that spoke to every heart. The bitterestroyalist remembered. All the riot of military music could not drown thememory of sounds once far more familiar--the cheerful greeting of men inthe market place, and all the busy, happy tumult of prosperous trade;the laughter and chatter of joyful women and children, and the music ofthe church bells above the pleasant streets.
Neil was silent and unhappy; Maria full of the excitement of the passingmoment. They sat in the open window of Neil's office and watched companyafter company march to the warships in which they were to embark:Grenadiers of Auspach with their towering black caps and sombre militaryair; brass-fronted Hessians; gaudy Waldeckers; English corps glitteringin scarlet pomp; and Highlanders loaded with weapons, but free andgraceful in their flowing contour. On these latter especially, both Neiland Maria fixed their interest. Who can say how long national feeling,expatriated, may live? Neil leaped to his feet as the plaided men camein sight. Their bagpipes made him drunk with emotion; they played on hisheartstrings and called up centuries of passionate feelings. He claspedhis sword unconsciously; his hand trembled with that magnetic attractionfor iron that soldiers know. At that moment he said proudly to his soul,"Thou also art of Scottish birth!" and a vision of hills and strathsand of a tossing ocean filled his spiritual sight.
Maria's interest was of the present and was centered on the youngcaptain walking at the head of his company; for Quentin Macpherson was aborn soldier, and whatever he might lack in a ball-room, he lackednothing at the head of his men. His red hair flowing from under hisplaided bonnet was the martial color; it seemed proper to his stern faceand to the musket and bayonet, the broadsword, dirk and pistols which hewore or carried with the ease and grace of long usage. He stepped soproudly to the strains of "Lochaber;" he looked so brave and sonaturally full of authority that Maria was, for the moment, quitesubjugated. She had told him on the previous night, at what place shewas to view the embarkment; and she detected the first movement whichshowed him to be on the watch for her.
This fleeting pleasure of exhibiting himself at his best to the girl heloves, is a soldier's joy; and the girl is heartless who refuses him thesmall triumph. Maria was kind, and she shared the triumph with him; sheknew that her white-robed figure was entrancing to the young captain,and she stood ready to rain down all of Beauty's influence upon hislifted face. Only a moment was granted them, but in that one moment ofmeeting eyes, Maria's handkerchief drifted out of her hand andMacpherson caught it on his lifted bayonet, kissed, and put it in hisbosom. The incident was accomplished as rapidly and perfectly as eventsunpremeditated usually are; for they are managed by that Self thatsometimes takes our affairs out of all other control and doesperfectly, in an instant, what all our desiring and planning would havefailed to do in any space of time.
Neil was much annoyed, and made a movement to stop the fluttering lawn.
"What have you done, Maria?" he asked angrily. "The Van der Donck's andhalf a dozen other women are watching you."
"I could not help it, Uncle Neil. I do not know how it happened. I neverintended to let it fall. Honor bright! I did not."
And perhaps Neil understood, for he said no more on the subject as theywalked silently home through the disenchanted city. All the bareness ofits brutal usage was now poignantly evident, and the very atmosphere washeavy with an unconquerable melancholy. Some half-tipsy members of theDe Lancey militia singing about "King George the Third" only added tothe sense of some incongruous disaster. Everyone has felt theintolerable _ennui_ which follows a noisy merry-making--the deserteddisorder, the spilled wine, the disdained food, the withered flowers,the silenced jest, the giving over of all left to desecration anddestruction--all this, and far more was concentrated in that wretched_ennui_ of unhappy souls which filled the streets of New York that hotsummer afternoon. For an intense dejection lay heavy on every heart.Like people with the same disease, men avoided and yet sought eachother. They dared not say, they hardly dared to think, that their lovefor the King was dying of a disease that had no pity--that their idolhad himself torn away the roots of their loyalty. But they closed theirshops early, and retreated to the citadel of their homes. Melancholy,hopelessness, silence, infected the atmosphere and became epidemic, andmen and women, sensitive to spiritual maladies, went into their chambersand shut their doors, but could not shut out the unseen contagion. Itrained down on them in their sleep, and they dreamed of the calamitiesthey feared.
It was on this afternoon that John Bradley received a new "call" andanswered it. Affected deeply by the events of the day, he left his shopin the middle of the hot afternoon and went about some business whichtook him near the King's College Building, then crowded with Americanprisoners. As he came under the windows, he heard a thin, quaveringvoice singing lines very dear and familiar to him:
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take! The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace: Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
Then there was a pause and Bradley called aloud: "Brother, who are you?"
"William Watson," was the answer.
"I thought so. How are you?"
"Dying," then a pause, and a stronger voice added, "and in need of allthings."
"Brother Watson, what do you want that I can get now?"
"Cold water to drink, and some fresh fruit," and then, as if furtherinstructed the voice added, "when you can, a clean shirt to be buriedin."
"Tell William he shall have them." His whole manner had changed. Therewas something he could do, and he went at once for the fruit and water.Fortunately, he knew the provost of this prison and had done him somefavors, so he had no hesitation in asking him to see that the smallcomforts were given to William Watson.
"He was a member of my class meeting, Provost," said Bradley; "aMethodist leader must love his brother in Christ." Here Bradley's voicefailed him and the Provost added, "I knew him too--he used to live ingood style in Queen Street. I will see that he gets the fruit andwater."
"And if you need anything for yourself in the way of saddlery, Provost,I will be glad to serve you."
"I was thinking of a new riding whip."
"I will bring you the best I have. One good turn deserves another."
Then, after a little further conversation he turned homeward, and menwho met him on the way wondered what was the matter with John Bradley.For, without cessation, as he walked, he went over and over the samethree words, _"Christ forgive me!"_ And no one could smile at themonotonous iteration; the man was in too dead earnest; his face was tooremorseful, his voice too tragic.
The next morning he was very early in Superintendent Ludlow's office.The great man of the Court of Police had not arrived, but Bradley waiteduntil he came.
"You are an early visitor, Mr. Bradley," he said pleasantly.
"I have a favor to ask, Judge."
"Come in here then. What is it? You are no place or plunder hunter."
"Judge, a month ago you asked me to make you a saddle."
"And you would not do it. I remember."
"I could not--at least I thought I could not; now, if you will let me, Iwill make you the fittest saddle possible--it shall be my own work,every stitch of it."
"How much money do you want for such a saddle, Bradley?"
"I want no money at all. I want a very small favor from you."
"Nothing for the rebels, I hope. I cannot grant any favor in thatdirection."
"I want nothing for the rebels; I want one hour every Sunday afternoonin the College prison with my class members."
"Oh, I don't know, Bradley----"
"Yes, you know, Judge. You know, if I give you my promise, I will keepevery letter of it."
"What is your promise?
"
"I want only to pray with my brothers or to walk awhile with them asthey go through the Valley of the Shadow. I promise you that no word ofwar, or defeat or victory; that no breath of any political opinion shallpass my lips. Nor will I listen to any such."
"Bradley, I don't think I can grant you this request. It would not beright."
"Judge, this is a thing within your power, and you must grant it. Weshall stand together at the Judgment, and when the Lord Christ says, 'Iwas hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me nodrink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed menot: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not:' don't let me beobliged to plead, 'Lord Christ, I would have fed, and clothed, andvisited the sick and in prison, but this man barred my way.' Open thedoor, Judge, and it shall be well with you for it."
Then, without a word, Ludlow turned to his desk and wrote an orderpermitting John Bradley to visit his friends for one hour every Sundayafternoon; and as he did so, his face cleared, and when he signed hisname he had the glow of a good deed in his heart, and he said:
"Never mind the saddle, Bradley. I don't want to be paid for this thing.You say William Watson is dying--poor Willie! We have fished togethermany a long summer day"; and he took a few gold pieces from his pocketand added, "they are for the old friend, not for the rebel. Youunderstand. Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Judge. I won't overstep your grant in any way. I knowbetter."
From this interview he went direct to the prison and sent the gold tothe dying man. And as he stood talking to the provost the dead cartcame, and five nearly naked bodies were thrown into it, their facesbeing left uncovered for the provost's inspection. Bradley gazed on themwith a hot heart; emaciated to the last point with fever and want,there was yet on every countenance the peace that to the living, passethunderstanding. They had died in the night-watches, in the dark, withouthuman help or sympathy, but doubtless sustained by Him whose name is_Wonderful!_
"All of them quite common men!" said the provost carelessly--"countryrustics--plebeians!"
But when Bradley told his daughter of this visit, he added,passionately, _"Plebeians!_ Well, then, Agnes, _Plebeians who found outthe secret of a noble death!"_
Sweeter than Joy, tho' Joy might abide; Dearer than Love, tho' Love might endure, Is this thing, for a man to have died For the wronged and the poor!
Let none be glad until all are free; The song be still and the banner furled, Till all have seen what the poets see And foretell to the world!
A Song of a Single Note: A Love Story Page 3
