THE THREE TRAVELLING-BAGS.
CHAPTER I.
There were three of them, all of shining black leather: one on top of the pile of trunks; one on the ground; one in the owner's hand;—all going to Philadelphia; all waiting to be checked.
The last bell rang. The baggageman bustled, fuming, from one pile of baggage to another, dispensing chalk to the trunks, checks to the passengers, and curses to the porters, in approved railway style.
'Mine!—Philadelphia!' cried a stout, military-looking man, with enormous whiskers and a red face, crowding forward, as the baggageman laid his hand on the first bag.
'Won't you please to give me a check for this, now?' entreated a pale, slender, carefully-dressed young man, for the ninth time, holding out bag No. 2. 'I have a lady to look after.'
'Say! be you agoin' to give me a check for that 'are, or not?' growled the proprietor of bag No. 3, a short, pockmarked fellow, in a shabby overcoat.
'All right, gen'l'men. Here you are,' says the functionary, rapidly distributing the three checks. 'Philadelfy, this? Yes, sir,—1092—1740.11—1020. All right.'
'All aboard!' shouted the conductor.
'Whoo-whew!' responded the locomotive; and the train moved slowly out of the station-house.
The baggageman meditatively watched it, as it sped away in the distance, and then, as if a thought suddenly struck him, slapping his thigh, he exclaimed,
'Blest if I don't believe—'
'What?' inquired the switchman.
'That I've gone and guv them three last fellers the wrong checks! The cussed little black things was all alike, and they bothered me.'
'Telegraph,' suggested the switchman.
'Never you mind,' replied the baggageman. 'They was all going to Philadelfy. They'll find it out when they get there.'
They did.
CHAPTER II.
The scene shifts to the Continental Hotel, Philadelphia.—Front parlor, up stairs.—Occupants, the young gentleman alluded to in Chapter I., and a young lady. In accordance with the fast usages of the times, the twain had been made one in holy matrimony at 7.30 A.M.; duly kissed and congratulated till 8.15; put aboard the express train at 8.45, and deposited at the Continental, bag and baggage, by 12.58.
They were seated on the sofa, the black broadcloth coat-sleeve encircling the slender waist of the gray traveling-dress, and the jetty moustache in equally affectionate proximity to the glossy curls.
'Are you tired, dearest?'
'No, love, not much. But you are, arn't you?'
'No, darling.'
Kiss, and a pause.
'Don't it seem funny?' said the lady.
'What, love?'
'That we should be married.'
'Yes, darling.'
'Won't they be glad to see us at George's?'
'Of course they will.'
'I'm sure I shall enjoy it so much. Shall we get there to-night?'
'Yes, love, if—'
Rap-rap-rap, at the door.
A hasty separation took place between man and wife—to opposite ends of the sofa; and then—
'Come in.'
'Av ye plaze, sur, it's an M.P. is waiting to see yez.'
'To see me! A policeman?'
'Yis, sur.'
'There must be some mistake.'
'No, sur, it's yourself; and he's waiting in the hall, beyant.'
'Well, I'll go to—No, tell him to come here.'
'Sorry to disturb you, sir,' said the M.P., with a huge brass star on his breast, appearing with great alacrity at the waiter's elbow. 'B'lieve this is your black valise?'
'Yes, that is ours, certainly. It has Julia's—the lady's things in it.'
'Suspicious sarcumstances about that 'ere valise, sir. Telegraph come this morning [pg 238] that a burglar started on the 8.45 Philadelphia train, with a lot of stolen spoons, in a black valise.—Spoons marked T.B.—Watched at the Ferry.—Saw the black valise.—Followed it up here.—Took a peek inside. Sure enough, there was the spoons. Marked T.B., too. Said it was yours. Shall have to take you in charge.'
'Take me in charge!' echoed the dismayed bridegroom. 'But I assure you, my dear sir, there is some strange mistake. It's all a mistake.'
'S'pose you'll be able to account for the spoons being in your valise, then?'
'Why, I—I—it isn't mine. It must be somebody else's. Somebody's put them there. It is some villanous conspiracy.'
'Hope you'll be able to tell a straighter story before the magistrate, young man; 'cause if you don't, you stand a smart chance of being sent up for six months.'
'Oh, Charles! this is horrid. Do send him away. Oh dear! I wish I was home,' sobbed the little bride.
'I tell you, sir,' said the bridegroom, bristling up with indignation, 'this is all a vile plot. What would I be doing with your paltry spoons? I was married this morning, in Fifth Avenue, and I am on my wedding tour. I have high connections in New York. You'll repent it, sir, if you dare to arrest me.'
'Oh, come, now,' said the incredulous official, 'I've hearn stories like that before. This ain't the first time swindlers has traveled in couples. Do you s'pose I don't know nothin'? 'Tan't no use; you've just got to come along to the station-house. Might as well go peaceably, 'cause you'll have to.'
'Charles, this is perfectly dreadful! Our wedding night in the station-house! Do send for somebody. Send for the landlord to explain it.'
The landlord was sent for, and came; the porters were sent for, and came; the waiters, and chambermaids, and bar-room loungers came, without being sent for, and filled the room and the adjoining hall,—some to laugh, some to say they wouldn't have believed it, but nearly all to exult that the unhappy pair had been 'found out.' No explanation could be given; and the upshot was, that, in spite of tears, threats, entreaties, rage, and expostulations, the unfortunate newly-married pair were taken in charge by the relentless policeman, and marched down stairs, en route for the police office.
And here let the curtain drop on the melancholy scene, while we follow the fortunes of black valise No. 2.
CHAPTER III.
When the train stopped at Camden, four gentlemen got off, and walked, arm-in-arm, rapidly and silently, up one of the by-streets, and struck off into a foot-path leading to a secluded grove outside the town. Of the first two, one was our military friend in a blue coat, apparently the leader of the party. Of the second two, one was a smiling, rosy little man, carrying a black valise. Their respective companions walked with hasty, irregular strides, were abstracted, and—apparently ill at ease.
The party stopped.
'This is the place,' said Captain Jones.
'Yes,' said Doctor Smith.
The Captain and the Doctor conferred together. The other two studiously kept apart.
'Very well. I'll measure the ground, and do you place your man.'
It was done.
'Now for the pistols,' whispered the Captain to his fellow-second.
'They are all ready, in the valise,' replied the Doctor.
The principals were placed, ten paces apart, and wearing that decidedly uncomfortable air a man has who is in momentary expectation of being shot.
'You will fire, gentlemen, simultaneously, when I give the word,' said the Captain. Then, in an undertone, to the Doctor, 'Quick, the pistols.'
The Doctor, stooping over and fumbling at the valise, appeared to find something that surprised him.
'Why, what the devil—'
'What's the matter?' asked the Captain, striding up. 'Can't you find the caps?'
'Deuce a pistol or cap, but this!'
He held up—a lady's night-cap!
'Look here—and here—and here!'—holding up successively a hair-brush, a long, white night-gown, a cologne-bottle, and a comb.
They were greeted with a long whistle by the Captain, and a blank stare by the two principals.
'Confound the luck!' ejaculated the Captain; 'if we haven't made a mistake, and brought the wrong valise!'
The principals looked at the seconds. The seconds looked at the principals. Nobody [pg 239] volunteered a suggestion. At last the Doctor inquired,
'Well, what's to be done?'
'D——d unlucky!' again ejaculated the Captain. 'The duel can't go on.'
'Evidently not,' responded the Doctor, 'unless they brain each other with the hair-brush, or take a pop at each other with the cologne-bottle.'
'You are quite sure there are no pistols in the valise?' said one of the principals, with suppressed eagerness, and drawing a long breath of evident relief.
'We might go over to the city and get pistols,' proposed the Captain.
'And by that time it will he dark,' said the Doctor.
'D——d unlucky,' said the Captain again.
'We shall be the laughing-stock of the town,' consolingly remarked the Doctor, 'if this gets wind.'
'One word with you, Doctor,' here interposed his principal.
They conferred.
At the end of the conference with his principal, the Doctor, advancing to the Captain, conferred with him. Then the Captain conferred with his principal. Then the seconds conferred with each other. Finally, it was formally agreed between the contending parties that a statement should be drawn up in writing, whereby Principal No. 1 tendered the assurance that the offensive words 'You are a liar' were not used by him in any personal sense, but solely as an abstract proposition, in a general way, in regard to the matter of fact under dispute. To which Principal No. 2 appended his statement of his high gratification at this candid and honorable explanation, and unqualifiedly withdrew the offensive words 'You are a scoundrel,' they having been used by him under a misapprehension of the intent and purpose of the remark which preceded them.
There being no longer a cause of quarrel, the duel was of course ended. The principals shook hands, first with each other, and next with the seconds, and were evidently very glad to get out of it.
'And now that it is so happily settled,' said the Doctor, chuckling and rubbing his hands, 'it proves to have been a lucky mistake, after all, that we brought the wrong valise. Wonder what the lady that owns it will say when she opens ours and finds the pistols.'
'Very well for you to laugh about,' growled the Captain; 'but it's no joke for me to lose my pistols. Hair triggers—best English make, and gold mounted. There arn't a finer pair in America.'
'Oh, we'll find 'em. We'll go on a pilgrimage from house to house, asking if any lady there has lost a night-cap and found a pair of dueling-pistols.'
CHAPTER IV.
In very good spirits, the party crossed the river, and inquired at the baggage-room in reference to each and all black leather traveling-bags arrived that day, took notes of where they were sent, and set out to follow them up. In due time they reached the Continental, and, as luck would have it, met the unhappy bridal pair just coming down stairs in charge of the policeman.
'What's all this?' inquired the Captain.
'Oh, a couple of burglars, caught with a valise full of stolen property.'
'A valise!—what kind of a valise?'
'A black leather valise. That's it, there.'
'Here!—Stop!—Hallo!—Policeman!—Landlord! It's all right. You're all wrong. That's my valise. It's all a mistake. They got changed at the depot. This lady and gentleman are innocent. Here's their valise, with her night-cap in it.'
Great was the laughter, multifarious the comments, and deep the interest of the crowd in all this dialogue, which they appeared to regard as a delightful entertainment, got up expressly for their amusement.
'Then you say this 'ere is yourn?' said the policeman, relaxing his hold on the bridegroom, and confronting the Captain.
'Yes, it's mine.'
'And how did you come by the spoons?'
'Spoons, you jackanapes!' said the Captain. 'Pistols!—dueling-pistols!'
'Do you call these pistols?' said the policeman, holding up one of the silver spoons marked 'T.B.'
The Captain, astounded, gasped, 'It's the wrong valise again, after all!'
'Stop! Not so fast!' said the police functionary, now invested with great dignity by the importance of the affair he found himself engaged in. 'If so be as how you've got this 'ere lady's valise, she's all right, and can go. But, in that case, this is yourn, and it comes on you to account for them 'are stole spoons. Have to take you in charge, all four of ye.'
'Why, you impudent scoundrel!' roared [pg 240] the Captain; 'I'll see you in ——. I wish I had my pistols here; I'd teach you how to insult gentlemen!'—shaking his fist.
The dispute waxed fast and furious. The outsiders began to take part in it, and there is no telling how it would have ended, had not an explosion, followed by a heavy fall and a scream of pain, been heard in an adjoining room.
The crowd rushed to the scene of the new attraction.
The door was fast. It was soon burst open, and the mystery explained. The thief, who had carried off the Captain's valise by mistake for his own, had taken it up to his room, and opened it to gloat over the booty he supposed it to contain, thrusting his hand in after the spoons. In so doing he had touched one of the hair triggers, and the pistol had gone off, the bullet making a round hole through the side of the valise, and a corresponding round hole in the calf of his leg.
The wounded rascal was taken in charge, first by the policeman, and then by the doctor; and the duelists and the wedded pair struck up a friendship on the score of their mutual mishaps, which culminated in a supper, where the fun was abundant, and where it would he hard to say which was in the best spirits,—the Captain for recovering his pistols, the bride for getting her night-cap, the bridegroom for escaping the station-house, or the duelists for escaping each other. All resolved to 'mark that day with a white stone,' and henceforth to mark their names on their black traveling-bags, in white letters.
MORAL.—Go thou and do likewise.
By odd coincidence, this is not the only 'tale of a traveler' and of a small carpet-bag in this our present number. The reader will find another, but of a tragic cast, in the 'Tints and Tones of Paris' among our foregoing pages.
There are errors and errors, as the French say. The following is not without a foundation in fact:—
THACKERAY'S young lady, who abused a gentleman for associating with low, radical literary friends, must have had about as elevated an opinion of literature as an Irishman I lately heard of had of the medical profession, as represented by its non-commissioned officers.
My friend BOB handed his man-servant some books, to return to the Franklin Library. Noticing, a few minutes afterwards, while passing through the hall, that he was busy carefully wrapping them up in newspaper, he asked him what he was doing that for.
'Och, shure, Mister ——, I'm afraid, if they say me carr'ing books rouhnd undher me ahrm, they'll be afther tayking me for a maydical student!'
The very remarkable and enthusiastic welcome which has been extended to our proposal to establish the CONTINENTAL as an independent magazine, calls for the warmest gratitude from us, and at the same time induces us to lay stress upon the fact that our pages are open to contributions of a very varied character; the only condition being that they shall be written by friends of the Union. While holding firmly to our own views as set forth under the 'Editorial' heading, we by no means profess to endorse those of our contributors, leaving the reader to make his own comments on these. In a word, we shall adopt such elements of independent action as have been hitherto characteristic of the newspaper press, but which we judge to be quite as suitable to a monthly magazine. We offer a fair field and all favors to all comers, avoiding all petty jealousies and exclusiveness. Will our readers please to bear this in mind in reading all articles published in our pages?
We can not conclude without expressing the warmest gratitude to the press and the public for the comment, commendation and patronage which they have so liberally bestowed upon us. We have been obliged to print three times the number for which we had anticipated sale, and believe that no American magazine ever circulated so many copies of a first number. In consequence of this demand we have been compelled to go to press earlier than was anticipated. Articles promised for February, by Messrs. BAYARD TAYLOR and CHARLES F. BROWNE, but not yet received, are necessarily deferred. From the latter gentleman we have a note promising a positive appearance in March.
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