"Yes, seh, anybody could 'a' had that man when Ah found him," averred Clem; "anybody could 'a' had him fo' th' askin'. A p'liceman offaseh neahly git him—yes, seh. But Ah seen him befo' that, an' Ah speaks his notice by sayin', 'This yeh ain' no good place to sleep, on this yeh hahd stone sidewalk. Yo' freeze yo'se'f, Mahstah,' an' of cose Ah appreciated th' infuhmities of a genaman, but Ah induced him to put on his coat an' his hat an' his boots, an' he sais, 'Ah am Cunnel Potts, an' Ah mus' have mah eight houahs sleep.' Ah sais to him, 'If yo' is a Cunnel, yo' is a genaman, an' Ah shall escoht yo' to yo' hotel.' Raght then a p'liceman offaseh come up, an' he sais, 'Yeh, yeh! what all this yeh row about?' an' Ah sais, 'Nothin' 'tall, Mahstah p'liceman offaseh, Ah's jes' takin' Mahstah Cunnel Potts to his hotel, seh, with yo' kindness,' an' he sais, 'Git him out a yeh an' go 'long with yo' then,' so Ah led th' Cunnel off, seh. An' eveh hotel he seen, he sais, 'Yes, tha' she is—tha's mah hotel,' but the Mahstahs in th' hotels they all talk ve'y shawtly eveh time. They sais, 'No—no—g'wan, tek him out a' yeh—he ain' b'long in this place, that man ain'.' So we walk an' walk an' ultimately he sais, 'If Ah'm go'n' a' git mah eight houahs sleep this naght, Ah mus' begin sometime,—why not now?' So th' Cunnel lay raght down on th' thu'faih an' Ah set mahse'f down beside him twell he wake up in th' mawnin', not knowin' what hahm maght come to him. An' he neveh did have no hotel in that town, seh,—no, seh. He been talkin' reglah foolishness all that theah time. An' he sais: 'Yo' stay by me, boy. Ah's go'n' a' go West to mek mah fo'chun.' Well, seh, Ah was lookin' fo' a place to mek some fo'chun mahse'f fo mah folks, an' that theah Cincinnati didn't seem jes' th' raght place to set about it, so Ah sais, 'Thank yo' ve'y much, Mahstah Cunnel,' an' Ah stays by him fo' a consid'ble length of time."
But, little by little, after their coming to our town the Colonel had alienated his companion by a lack of those qualities which Clem had been accustomed to observe in those to whom he gave himself. Potts was at length speaking of him as an ungrateful black hound, and wondering if the nation might not have been injudicious in liberating the slave.
Clem, for his part, cut the Colonel dead on Main Street one day and never afterwards betrayed to him any consciousness of his existence. It was said that their final disagreement hinged upon a matter of thirty odd dollars earned by Clem in a Cincinnati restaurant and confided later to the Colonel's too thorough keeping.
Be as it may, Clem had formed other and more profitable connections. From a doer of odd jobs of wood-sawing, house-cleaning, and stove-polishing he had risen to the dignity of a market gardener. A small house and a large garden a block away from my place were now rented by him. Also he caught fish, snared rabbits, gathered the wild fruits in their seasons, and was janitor of the Methodist church; all this in addition to looking after my own home. It was not surprising that he had money in the bank. He worked unceasingly. The earliest risers in Little Arcady found him already busied, and those abroad latest at night would see or hear him about the little unpainted house in the big garden.
I suspect he had come out into the strange world of the North with large, loose notions that the fortune he needed might be speedily amassed. Such tales had been told him in his Southland, where he had not learned to question or doubt. If so, his disappointment was not to be seen in his bearing. That look of patient endurance may have eaten a little deeper the lines about his inky eyes, but I am sure his purpose had never wavered, nor his faith that he would win at last.
As I ate my breakfast that morning he told me of his good year. The early produce of his garden had sold well. Soon there would be half an acre of potatoes to dig, and now there was a fine crop of melons just coming ripe. These he would begin to sell on the morrow.
At this point, breakfast being done, the cloth brushed, and a light brought for my pipe, Clem came from the kitchen with a new pine board, upon which he had painted a sign with shoe polish.
"Yes, seh, Mahstah Majah,—Ah beg yo' t' see if hit's raght!" and he held it up to me. It read:—
Mellins on Sale
Mush & Water
Ask Mr. Tuckerman
at his House.
I gave the thing a critical survey under his grave regard, then applauded the workmanship and hoped him a prosperous season with the melons.