THE YOUNG VERMONTERS.
CHAPTER XI.
PASTIMES AND PARTINGS.
In accordance with the teacher's announcement, the day following Michael's return was given up to rejoicings, and Mr. Blair invited the school to pass it at his place.
It was one of those golden days not so frequent in our autumnal season as to lose the charm of novelty, or the full sense of their value in redeeming its general sternness; and it seemed to the boys as if nature herself shared in the universal delight. The spacious ground encircling Mr. Blair's residence afforded ample scope for their pastimes, and their dinner was served under the trees in the yard.
To those who had known Michael Hennessy only as the thoughtless, frolicsome boy, it did not seem possible that a few short weeks could have wrought the change now apparent in him. The fiery trial through which he had passed accomplished the work of time upon his character, and he emerged from it purified and matured.
His face still wore the sunny smile that had made it a joy to all, but the light which lingered upon it was chastened and subdued. His manners still charmed by the warm, ingenuous frankness that made him the village pet, but their former reckless gayety was sobered by the spirit of piety, which had established its abode within his youthful heart from the moment when the blessed hand of adversity opened wide its portals, and prepared it to become thenceforth a chosen home of the celestial guest.
He was more than ever the favorite of the boys, and the leader in all their sports; but his devotion to study was more faithful, his attention to every religious duty more regular, and his conduct under all circumstances more exemplary than ever before.
Soon after his return, farmer Brown celebrated the event by inviting the school—without any exceptions this time—to spend another day at the farm, as the season for gathering nuts had arrived. Such a gay time as they had! whisking the deep beds of fallen leaves about in search for hidden treasures, and watching the squirrels gleaning in the path from which they had thrown off nature's covering for stray nuts, whose hiding places had thus been revealed.
The day passed delightfully, but not, like their former holidays, in unalloyed and careless pleasure. The thought would intrude upon its happiest moments, that their little band was soon to be broken up, and that this was to be the last occasion upon which they would all meet in the hey-day of boyish glee, to join in boyish pastimes.
For the change was now stealing upon them apace which presses closely on the footsteps of boyhood—and from which our "young Vermonters" were not to be exempted—when one and another must pass from its arena, to enter upon a new stage of action and form new associations. When the dear old school-house, with all the memories that were to link it with the shifting scenes of each single life—to which it had been the starting-point in quest of knowledge—was to be exchanged for college halls, the office, the counter, or the farm, with all their excitements, laborious duties, and temptations, and their weary anxieties.
The next week after their visit to the farm, Frank Blair took his leave of home and friends to enter the naval school at B——. Not long after, George Wingate, Henry Howe, and Johnny Hart entered the College of the Holy Cross. The same week, Patrick Casey was appointed clerk in a railroad office, and Dennis Sullivan left to take his place as clerk in a wholesale establishment in Boston.
Who shall say what pangs all these changes, so easily related, and so much a matter of course in this changeful world, cost the young exiles now banished from the sheltering bosom of home, and standing for the first time face to face with the stern realities of life? The homesick looking back to the dear and peaceful past, the timid, shrinking glances into the dim vista of the dreaded future—the one bathed in all the effulgence of morning, the other bearing already upon its sombre wings foreshadowings of the night!
And who shall describe the loneliness of each home from which the brightest, warmest ray of sunshine had been stricken, when the school-boy with his "shining morning face" vanished from its precincts, to return no more for ever with the light of his young life upon his brow?
None but mothers can know the depth of the shadow that remains to them in the place of their mirthful boys. But take courage, ye mothers! Rest not in supine regrets and gentle memories, but betake yourselves with renewed energy and diligence to the use of the all-conquering weapon of prayer, for now more than ever do your darlings need its aid. Remember what the holy bishop said to the afflicted St. Monica in the olden time, "It cannot be that the child of so many tears should perish." Let your sons, in the midst of their temptations and trials, be shielded and sustained by the firm assurance that their mothers are constantly lifting up pure hands and fervent hearts to heaven in their behalf. So, following the example of that saintly mother, may you hope to gain that mother's reward. For it is true now as it was then, and will be unto the end of time, that, "They who sow in tears shall reap in joy!"
Michael remained at home, pursuing his studies diligently until the winter was far advanced, when his father was taken alarmingly ill, and he was obliged to relinquish them and devote himself to his care, and that of the family. He had long known that some trouble was weighing upon his father, and he was now made acquainted with it.
When Mr. Hennessy first came to M——, he rented a very pretty place just out of the village, to which they became so much attached that he finally purchased it, and had from time to time been able to make improvements and add little embellishments within and around the premises, besides meeting the payments as they fell due. Latterly, with failing health and an increasing family, he had been unable to do more than support his household comfortably, and two payments remained to be met; they were now both due, and his creditor threatened to foreclose the mortgage upon the place, if they were not promptly paid.
Michael was deeply distressed when the state of their affairs was made known to him. The thought of losing their all, and the home they so dearly loved, the scene of so many tranquil joys, weighed heavily upon his young heart. He sought in fervent prayer the refuge of the Catholic, commending himself and all his dear ones anew to the protection of the Blessed Virgin Mother, and leaving all his troubles at her feet. Suddenly it flashed upon his remembrance that Mr. Blair had told him if he should ever need assistance or advice not to fail of applying to him, and that he should consider it a favor if he would do so. To him, therefore, he resolved to go at once, though it was not without much of the old apprehension of his sternness that he sought the office of that gentleman, mingled with uprisings of a pride that rebelled against asking favors from one who had formerly despised his people. For duty's sake, however, he mastered all these feelings, and was received with the utmost kindness. With a faltering voice he laid the whole case open to Mr. Blair, and concluded by saying, "Now, sir, you see the sum due on the place is not a large one, and if you feel disposed to advance it, I will guarantee the payment of interest and principal as soon as I can leave my father and get into a situation to earn it."
"What do you intend to do?" said Mr. Blair.
"I must seek a place as book-keeper or clerk in some establishment; and will do so without delay."
"Do you prefer such a position to any other?" inquired his friend.
"I have," said Michael, blushing with bashful earnestness, "always indulged the hope that I might be able to study law; but this must now be relinquished," he added after a slight pause.
"Well, my young friend," said Mr. Blair kindly, "I will now tell you what I think had better be done. I will raise this money for you, and you may take your own time to pay it. I have no fears on that score. I will see that matters in relation to the home are put upon a safe footing without delay. You will take care of your father and the family until he is sufficiently recovered to spare you, and then you will enter my office as a student. I have felt very lonely since Frank went away, and will be pleased to have his best friend with me. Besides, you are an excellent and rapid penman; I need such a one in my business just now very much, and can afford to pay you liberally for your assistance. My old hands are getting too stiff to write much, and my business is increasing. If this proposal suits you, consider the matter settled for the present."
It need not be told how thankfully Michael accepted the offer, nor what fervent thanksgivings were poured from pious hearts in that home when the arrangement was made known.
Mr. Hennessy recovered rapidly when the pressure of adverse circumstances and the fears of impending calamity were removed; and Michael soon entered Mr. Blair's office as a student. Here his close attention to business, his application to study, and his fidelity to every duty, gained for him the highest esteem and confidence of his superior, who would often exclaim to himself, "Oh! why could not my boy have been such a one as this? With every obstacle removed from his path and every encouragement offered, why would he persist in casting all his advantages aside, to pursue a reckless career of folly?"
And indeed he heard little that was encouraging from Frank in his new position. He was so homesick, discontented, and dissatisfied with everything as to unfit him for the studies and duties of the school, the discipline and restraints of which were insupportably irksome to him. But his father was only convinced that they were remedies the more necessary to a restless spirit which chafed so fiercely under them. His passion for mischief and fun continually drew the chains he hated more closely around him, and involved him daily in new difficulties. One circumstance alone—humanly speaking—prevented him from falling into utter ruin. He had formed an enthusiastic friendship for his sister Fanny's dearest friend, the eldest daughter of Mrs. Plimpton, Julia Plimpton—one of those gentle, lovely girls, who wield a controlling influence over such impetuous, restless characters. He was in correspondence with her, and to her he communicated all his troubles and his peevish, fretful repinings, in perfect confidence, receiving just the advice he needed from time to time to keep him from breaking rudely away from all restraint.
CHAPTER XII.
DEVELOPMENTS.
Two years elapsed without any material changes in the circle to which this narrative relates.
During this period, Miss Carlton, one of Miss Blair's best friends, near her own age, and a lady of intelligence and wealth, with strong philanthropic impulses, had set herself with great enthusiasm to gather a large number of poor French Catholic children, who would not attend the public schools, into a sort of boarding-school at her own cottage on the confines of the village. She solicited aid from Miss Blair in dressing her young wards suitably, and entered zealously into the task of educating them, as a necessary prelude to their conversion to Protestantism, which must inevitably follow. Miss Blair willingly assisted her with funds, and the use of her needle in preparing clothing; but could not be persuaded to go any further. Miss Carlton at length becoming vexed and irritated by the cool scepticism with which her efforts were regarded, insisted on knowing the reason.
"I am sure it is not want of benevolence," said she; "for I have known you too long and too well to doubt the kindness of your heart. Do tell me, then, why you will persist in looking upon my exertions with so much apathy?"
"Precisely because," said Miss Blair, laughing, "I once tried the experiment myself, under as much more promising auspices as the superior numbers and greater necessities of that class of children in a city could furnish. My failure was more grand than yours will be, because my operations were on a grander scale."
"But why must I of necessity fail?"
"Ah! there lies the mystery. I cannot tell you why; nor do I deny but you may benefit them so far as learning to read and write, and even some little smattering of further knowledge may go; but make Protestants of them? Never! When you think you have secured them by catching the unfledged brood and attaching them to the Protestant cage by food and favors, just one chirp from the mother-bird, and Presto! your flock is gone! If you will take the pains to follow, you will find them nestled under the parent wing and peeping out at you so contentedly and complacently! I know, for I have tried it; and am forced to laugh now when I think how provoked I was, and how puzzled to account for the mysterious, irrepressible, and apparently irresistible power that majestic mother exercised. Since I came to this part of Vermont, my conviction of the futility of all such attempts has been confirmed. There have been great rejoicings among the Methodists and Baptists, at one time and another, over accessions to their numbers from the ancient ark; but let a priest appear in those localities and utter the rallying call of their church—away scamper the converts, and their Protestant confrères have seen the last of them!"
As Mrs. Blair had intimated during the colloquy with Mrs. Plimpton, her sister-in-law had become interested in the converts of M—— and in reading their books. She began listlessly, from a mere willingness to hear what could be said on that side, and to see fair play, perhaps unconsciously hoping to find some solution for that "mysterious power" which so puzzled her. But the investigation thus indolently opened soon awakened new ideas as to the importance of issues which involved eternity. From that moment nothing could exceed the fervent energy with which she followed up the subject, determined to know and follow the truth, if it was to be found on earth. Her labors resulted as all such labors honestly entered upon, diligently pursued, and governed by the spirit of justice, must inevitably result. She found herself safely sheltered under the wings of the gentle mother whose loving attractions had formerly astonished her ignorance. Her brother made no comments, but poor Mrs. Blair was utterly disgusted.
Meanwhile her favorite niece—because Frank's favorite and petted sister—Fanny was drawn by casually looking into the books which her aunt was studying so closely to take a lively interest in the same subject. But the reading of "prosy books of controversy," as she called them, was an effort quite beyond her patience, so she would seek the office occasionally and question Michael. He declined, as far as he could in conscience, to assist her in the matter, thinking that to do so would be in some sort a breach of the confidence reposed in him by her father.
At length one day, when he had been even more provokingly indifferent than usual, and pursued his writing diligently despite her questioning, she exclaimed,
"I never did see such a vexatious fellow as you are! I can't imagine what Frank could have seen in you to like so well. One might just as well talk to a stick; there's nothing interesting or sociable about you! I suppose you think you're going to keep me from being a Catholic by your hateful ways; but you won't, I can tell you. I can read, if you won't talk, only I do hate the trouble." And she departed, leaving him amused beyond measure at her vehemence.
She was engaged in a correspondence with Julia Plimpton, of the frequent and confidential nature in which girls of that age are wont to indulge, and of course opened her heart to her friend upon the subject which now most interested her. Their letters were soon filled with the discussion of religious questions, in which after a time Mrs. Plimpton joined, expressing her surprise that so much could be said in favor of a creed which she had always regarded as the height of absurdity, and the last stronghold of bigotry, superstition, and ignorance, in this progressive age.
At the stage of our narrative upon which this chapter opens, Mr. Hennessy was one day looking over the columns of the Boston Pilot—to which Mr. Sullivan was a subscriber—when his eye fell upon the following paragraph:
"If Patrick Hennessy or any of his family, who landed in Boston from the ship Hibernia in the summer of 18—, will call at the Pilot office, they will hear something greatly to their advantage."
After consulting with Mrs. Hennessy, Michael, and Mr. Blair, he decided to start for Boston without delay.
The editor of the Pilot, when found, asked him many questions as to his place of residence in Ireland, the name of his wife, of the priest who married them, of his other family connections, and where he had lived since he came to America; all which being satisfactorily answered, the following letter was put into his hands to read:
"San Francisco, Sept. 8, 18—.
"To the Editor of the Boston Pilot:
"Dear Sir: When I was on board the Golden City, bound for this place early in the summer of 18—, the sailor on the 'look-out' discovered an object floating at some distance astern, and notified the captain, who ordered the boat manned to overhaul it. The object proved to be a man lashed to a table and apparently dead. They brought him to the vessel, where, after a time, he began to show signs of life, and in a few hours was able to give an account of himself. The Polar Queen, on which he was a passenger, was struck by an iceberg in the night. At the first shock he secured himself firmly to the table and sprang overboard; after which he remembered nothing, and could give no idea how long it was since the event, but supposed the vessel went down with all on board, as she was badly shivered and rapidly filling the last he knew of her.
"His name was Michael Hennessy, and he was a tradesman like myself, and from the same county at home. He had a brother Patrick, who was to sail for America the same year. The two brothers married two sisters, by name Mary and Bridget Denver, the year before. Michael married Bridget. They had no children when Michael left home. There was great call for work at our trades in San Francisco, and Michael came on here with me. As soon as we reached this place, he wrote home to the parish priest, Father O'Reilly, to have Patrick come to California, sending money which I loaned him. He received answer that his brother, with their two wives and Patrick's new-born infant, left soon after he did on the Hibernia, bound for Boston. He then applied to you, as you may remember, to get information of them, if you could. In due course you informed him that the Hibernia arrived safely at Boston; that you found the people with whom they stopped, who stated that Michael's wife and child died during a severe storm on the voyage out; that Patrick stopped in Boston until he heard of the loss of the Polar Queen with all on board, when he started for the western country, and they had heard nothing from him since.
"Michael then sent notices to papers in all the western cities, but could get no tidings from his brother. We continued to work at our trades, and the master builder who employed us, owning a deal of land near the city, paid us in city lots, on which we built houses, to rent according as we could, when work was scant. Rents were very high, for there was a great rush to the city, and buildings scarce, and the city lots went up in a way that would astonish the world. So Mike and I found ourselves rich of a sudden; but he always uneasy about his brother. At last, when he could stand the heavy heart no longer, he determined to go in search of him. In case any thing might happen him on his travels, he executed papers leaving all he had with me in trust for his brother or family, should they ever be found. Just when he was ready to start, he took sick of a fever and died the fourth day, which was the 27th of last month. I will do all in my power, as I promised him, to find his brother if he is still living; and my request is that you will help me. I have notices out through all the western country. He left a large amount in gold on deposit, and a still larger property in buildings and lots in the city. The rents are accumulating on my hands, but I will make no further investments until I know what will happen.
Yours respectfully,
"James Tracy."
After making arrangements to communicate with Tracy through the editor, who was to receive and forward drafts for him, Mr. Hennessy set out for home.
The surprise of all upon hearing the news may be imagined.
After a long consultation with his wife, Mr. Hennessy sought Mr. Blair, to whom he communicated the fact that the Michael of our narrative was the son of his brother Michael; that their own baby died in a fit on the night of Bridget's death, and they adopted the little motherless one in its place, without saying any thing to their companions, but intending to inform his brother of the fact when they should meet. Subsequent events determined them to keep it still concealed; but now that Michael was the rightful heir to all this wealth, it must be revealed.
Mr. Blair urged that, as his brother left the property to him, it was just as well to make no revelation on the subject; but Mr. Hennessy insisted that his brother made that arrangement in ignorance of the existence of his own child, and it would not be right for him to take advantage of it, and, in fine, that he would have nothing to do with the property. It was far more painful for him to give up his claim upon Michael as his son, and he did not feel equal to doing it in person. He therefore begged Mr. Blair to communicate these facts to Michael for him.
That gentleman lost no time in fulfilling the commission, and Michael was of course overwhelmed with amazement. He hastened to assure his father that he would not consent to any release of claims on the score of family ties, and they both went into a council with Mr. Blair upon "the situation." Finally they determined that Michael should transfer all the money to his father, and, retaining the real estate in his own hands, go into the practice of law in San Francisco himself. He at first proposed to have the family go with him to that place; but they had lived so long in Vermont, and become so much attached to M——, that they preferred not to leave.
Before Michael set out for California, he had a long conversation with Mr. Blair, at the conclusion of which it was arranged that, after he had established himself in his new home, and opened an office there, he should come back, and if a certain young lady (who was about to become a Catholic in "spite of him") could be persuaded to accompany his return—as he had good reason to hope she would—his next journey to that far off land would not be a solitary one.
CHAPTER XIII.
CONCLUSION.
During the progress of these events, the health of George Wingate had been gradually failing, but so imperceptibly as to create no serious alarm; and he could not be prevailed upon to abandon his studies, or the hope that he would live to consecrate his young life to his God in holy orders, until it was near its close. Henry Howe and Johnny Hart devoted themselves tenderly to him, and watched his decline with the grief which under such circumstances always attends friendships created and cemented by religion. He began at length to fail so rapidly that his family were sent for, and he never returned to the home of his childhood, but sleeps in peace under the shadow of the "Holy Cross" which he so dearly loved.
His mantle seemed to have fallen upon his devoted friend, Johnny Hart, who in due course of time entered upon the vineyard from which his beloved companion had been withdrawn while the dews of the morning still lingered upon his head, and the labors of the day were hardly begun.
Soon after the death of George, his oldest sister, Mary, joined the Sisters of Charity.
In the same year, Henry Howe took his father's place in the mercantile business, which was rapidly increasing in importance with the growth of the village, and Dennis Sullivan went into partnership with him.
After Michael reached San Francisco, he arranged his affairs, and opened an office in one of the best locations in the city, without delay. He found a home in James Tracy's house, and one of the best friends in that worthy man, who took a pride and interest in the son of his lamented friend scarcely less than that of a father.
Frank Blair became importunate in his solicitations for the hand of Julia Plimpton. Her mother steadfastly declining to consent until he should have established a character for sobriety and stability, he became exasperated, and abruptly left the navy. His disconsolate family could get no trace as to the course of his flight.
One day, as Michael Hennessy was passing down the street to his office, he observed a young man walking rapidly in advance of him, and, accidentally catching a side glimpse of his face, what was his astonishment to recognize Frank Blair.
"Why Frank, my lad, where in the world did you come from?" he cried out.
"Rather answer that question on your own account!" replied the astonished Frank. "How in the world do you happen to be in San Francisco?"
"If I could have seen you as I passed through New York, you would have known all; but I could not find you, and had no time to spare for a long search," said Michael. "It is a long story; so come with me to the office, and you shall hear it."
When the friends were seated, Frank told Michael that he had left the navy without a discharge, and shipped as seaman on board a vessel bound for Panama; and that he supposed his friends were wild with anxiety about him.
Michael communicated the details relating to his own affairs, with which our readers are already acquainted. He then wrote to Mr. Blair the story of Frank's arrival in safety, and that if he had no objections Frank would study law with him in San Francisco. Upon receiving the letter, Mr. Blair obtained an honorable discharge for his son from the navy, and consented to his remaining with Michael. In the course of time he went into partnership with his friend—now his brother-in-law—who has become one of the most celebrated criminal lawyers in that city.
Two years after the marriage of Michael, Frank was permitted to claim the hand of Julia Plimpton. At the same time, Henry Howe was married to Mrs. Plimpton's youngest daughter, Mary, and her mother came to live with them.
Mrs. Plimpton's son Charles is a lawyer in Massachusetts, and it is said he is coming for Lucy Wingate soon.
The people of M——, having noticed the frequent visits of Dennis Sullivan and Patrick Casey at Mr. Hennessy's, and that two beautiful cottages are building on lots purchased by that gentleman each side of his own, have settled the question that two more weddings are soon to take place in M——, but have not yet "named the day."