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CHAPTER XII.
WHICH TREATS OF HOW MAJOR POTTER ARRIVED IN BARNSTABLE, AND SUNDRY
OTHER QUEER THINGS, WITHOUT WHICH THIS HISTORY WOULD NOT BE PERFECT.
IT was quite dark when we entered the town of Barnstable, making as
much noise as if the devil had broken loose and come to carry off
the inhabitants, who were a timid people, but sharp enough to cut
the best side of a trade. The bright blue waters skirting the town
seemed reflecting ten thousand curious shadows, while several tall
steeples of churches, (showing that the people had theology without
stint, and to their liking,) loomed out through a gray mist that
tipped the clouds with a pale fringe. And the clean green shutters
of the bright white houses, and the neatly arranged gardens, with
their picket fences, ranging along both sides of the street, and the
flowers that were giving out their perfumes to the night breeze,
were all blending in a panorama of exquisite softness.
The major plumed himself not a little on his popularity with the
town's people, who made his departures and arrivals no common
events. Nor was his admiration of himself one whit less than that so
common with some others I have in view at this moment, and who
follow the profession of arms.
And now, news of his approach having got spread abroad, he had
scarcely entered the outskirts of the town when little Barnstable,
hatless and shoeless, came running to meet him, cheering, clambering
upon his wagon, and making such other demonstrations of welcome as
satisfied the major that the town had waited his return with no
little anxiety, though it annoyed old Battle exceedingly, for he had
great difficulty in drawing the load over the sand. Seeing the
distress the animal was in, two mischievous urchins fell upon him,
seized him by the halter, and, after throwing it over their
shoulders, were joined by some two dozen more, who ran ahead
dragging him by the mouth, while three others plied his belly with
switches. The major, in the meantime, continued to contemplate the
fortune there was in a pig so learned, and who was now mingling his
loudest squeals with the cheers and bravos of the urchins, until the
very welkin rang with their echoes. We proceeded according to old
Battle's slow pace to what I shall for convenience sake call the
Independent Temperance Hotel, the guests of which were so alarmed at
the strange noises in the streets that they came running out to
ascertain the cause.
"Well, I'm back again, you see! and as for the rest, you may find
that out!" exclaimed the major, cracking his whip, and declaring he
would give the urchins three stripes apiece unless they ceased
teasing old Battle, whom he now reined up in front of a large
portico that opened into a spacious hall of the hotel. The
bystanders, among whom there was a lawyer or two, as well as another
species of hanger-on about a country tavern, sent up three loud and
long cheers, which brought the major's friends in a crowd about the
door. The major raised his hat, acknowledged the compliment with his
usual grace, and dismounted over the wheel, displaying as he did so,
the pins that had served to protect his dignity. But of this he was
unconscious, and bidding me follow, he waddled into the house, an
expression of gladness lighting up his broad red face, and saluting
his friends, not one of whom said a word touching the condition of
his garments.
"Major! is it you? Well, there ain't nobody more welcome in this
hotel!" exclaimed a small, frisky figure, rushing through the crowd,
and seizing him earnestly by the hand.
"Me?" replied the major, returning his salutation with equal warmth
of manner, "Well, I reckon it is! you think of me in my absence, I
see, colonel. Well, there is no roof Major Roger Sherman Potter
feels so much at ease under as this." Here the landlord, whose name
was Zach Aldrich, to which was added the title of Colonel, as a mark
of distinction, for having commanded with great gallantry the
Barnstable Invincibles. The host was fond of a joke, and after
giving his guest a cordial welcome, bid him hasten into the parlor,
where the hostess, who had long held him in great esteem, was
rubbing her palms to see him. Impatient to pay his respects to so
good a lady, he trudged up the hall, and turning to the right,
entered the parlor, in which were seated some seven females, to the
great delight of numerous bystanders, whom the major congratulated
himself were laughing for joy at his return. He had scarcely
disappeared, however, when a loud shriek was heard, and one after
another the females came scampering out of the room, so sorry a
figure did he cut. "Zounds, me," exclaimed the major, "what can have
come over the witches?" and he followed them into the hall,
surprised and astonished, while the compact little figure of mine
host was seen almost splitting his sides with laughter. Indeed, I
venture to say without fear of contradiction, that never did
military hero cut so extravagant a figure before females; and as he
had that scrupulous regard for their good opinion, so common with
his brethren in arms, so was he only saved from swooning by the aid
of a little whiskey and water. This, however, was not applied until
the cause of the alarm was discovered. "Upon my life, Colonel," said
the major, as the host aided him in securing his garments with a few
pins, "I never was known to offer a discourtesy to ladies through
the whole course of my eventful life. No, I wouldn't, by my military
reputation, I wouldn't have had such a thing occur to me, especially
as my friend here is the most distinguished politician in this part
of the country." I could not restrain a blush at this naive remark,
and begging that he would reserve his compliments for one more
worthy of them, he continued by pleading with the host, and
enjoining him to say to the ladies, that never in his life had he
met with so serious an accident, and as it was woman's nature to be
gentle and forgiving, he hoped they would forgive him this once,
"and I shall not be so rude and ungrateful as to soon forget their
generosity," he concluded. Having mended his garments thus
summarily, mine host led the way into the bar room, in one corner of
which was a square, mahogany counter, upon which stood a tin drain
containing a jug of water, and several empty tumblers. An open stove
stood opposite the counter; and in it were massive dog-irons in
brass, highly polished. A square Connecticut clock ticked on a
little shelf between two front windows; and suspended upon the walls
were pictures of horses and bulls that had won prizes at the
Worcester Cattle Show. Certain parts of the bar room were much
distained with tobacco juice; while beneath the stove grate there
lay a heap of cigar ends, and other soft projectiles common to such
taverns. And these, with a bench and a few reed bottomed chairs,
made up the furniture.
In one of these chairs, a lean and somewhat shabbily clad man sat,
his feet upon the rounds, his body thrown back against the wall, his
face half buried in a slouch hat, and apparently dozing, but really
keeping a watchful eye upon every movement in the room. The
landlord, whose round face was lit up with a mischievous laugh, said
he would bet his new frock coat, which had brass buttons and a
velvet collar, and his white trowsers, and even his ruffle shirt,
that the major had made a successful trip, and would do the generous
without more ado. The bystanders said it would be only right that a
person who had witnessed so many proofs of his own popularity as the
major had done should pay the forfeit he had incurred by calling on
such good beverages as the host was celebrated for affording his
guests. The major placed the fore finger of his right hand to his
lip, cast a look of inquiry at the bystanders, and then said he knew
it would be no easy matter to apologize to ladies for so singular a
transgression, but how his treating could extenuate an insult
offered to another party, he could not exactly see. "By my word as a
man of standing, I have spent much sweat and labor in getting the
little Fortune has favored me with, and it seems to me that he who
needs it most had better quench his thirst with what remains in his
own pocket!" spoke the major, giving his head a toss, and edging
aside from his importuners.
The landlord replied, that as the major had brought him a
distinguished guest, he should claim the right to do the
hospitalities of his own house, and this he held the more incumbent,
as the major was returned from so long an absence. But in obedience
to the spirit of temperance that ruled in the village, and was so
rigid in its exactions, that it kept Captain Jack Laythe, the man
who dozed in the chair, a spy over his counter, he could give them
nothing but cider and mead. Indeed the whole town had gone into such
exceedingly steady habits, that if an old friend chanced that way,
and took it into his head that a drop of heavy would do him no harm,
he was forced to wink him down into the cellar, and relieve his
wants in a little out of the way place, for even the smell of
whiskey upon the tumblers was set down as proof of guilt sufficient
to call a town meeting.
They had scarcely drank the cider set before them by the landlord,
when the man in the chair began to exhibit signs of motion. Then
getting up from his seat, his sharp sallow visage assumed a look of
revenge; and approaching the counter, he began scenting the
tumblers. "Captain Jack Laythe!" said the major, casting upon the
man a look of hate, "you might find a better business than scenting
tumblers for temperance folks. You're a pretty Christian,
surrendering yourself to such meanness!" It was evident that the
major's choler was raised, and that he rather courted a set-to with
the spy, who had no great admiration for heroes of any kind. Indeed,
the major declared that if such a thing had happened when he was
with his regiment in Mexico, his sword had not long remained in its
sheath.
"This man," rejoined the spy, with a nasal drawl, "is a burning
torch to the town, which he keeps in a perpetual uproar. The devil
never thought of half the evil he has inflicted upon certain of the
townspeople, for he serves them with his poison, and they go about
as if they were dead. Time and again has he been commanded to
surrender his traffic of misery, on penalty of being ridden into the
river; but he has neither fear of the devil, nor respect for the
laws; and though every pulpit in the land should preach against him,
they cannot put him to shame." The host, who was itching to have
revenge of the spy, hurled a lemon squeezer at his head, which took
him between the two eyes, and caused him to retreat into the street,
amidst the cheering and jeering of the bystanders. The major, too,
applied his boot in right good earnest to the retreating gentleman's
rear, and asserted his courage by making threats in the door, while
the other, having regained his sight, stood challenging him to come
out into the street, and take it like a man. The major called upon
the bystanders to bear witness that he had courage enough to tackle
a dozen or more of such spies, only he would rather not soil his
hands just now. Nor was there any honor in fighting such people,
which was a chief point in such game.
The landlord now reminded the major that the town esteemed him too
highly to have him compromise himself by holding a parley with such
a fellow, who was no other than an old Pawtucket stage driver, who
having tempered his throat with brandy until it had dried up his
wits, saw fit to reform, and had become the most implacable enemy of
all who enjoyed what he had abused.
The spy seeing the landlord about to set on his big dog, took to his
heels, muttering in a low and plaintive tone, and threatening to
report his grievances to Parson Bangshanter, and Squire Clapp, two
leading members of the temperance league, and who, in respect to
good morals, had taken the sale of liquor into their own hands, and
were making a good thing of it. The major now remembered that his
wife, Polly Potter, would get the news and be impatient to welcome
him, and so bidding the host and his company good night, and
assuring me that he would ring the town out to pay me proper respect
in the morning, he took his way home, meeting with so serious an
accident as had well nigh cost him his life, the particulars of
which I must reserve for another chapter.
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Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis
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