Along our course the great river plowed its unobstructed way through rich alluvial lands, bordered with forests and far-reaching plantations. On the edges of these last, hamlets clustered, and about them children played, while men and women watched the angry waters with bated breath. At spots far apart, landing-places were marked by lonesome cabins, and here, in the water-soaked bank, our boat poked its nose, and was held as in a vise by the soft receptive clay. At other places, warned away, we anchored at a distance, transferring our load to smaller crafts, or passed on to await a more favorable hour. Of danger there was none, or if at night the timid held their breath when the sharp sound of the bell caused the great wheel to stop as if stricken with death, they breathed more freely when the obstruction, crashing against the bottom of the boat, passed on and we were safe. Or if at times the tumbling waters and swift converging currents threatened us, the watchful pilots steered us clear, and we saw the danger from afar, and so paid little heed. Thus waiting, some read or slept or played, while others watched the sea-gulls as they flew back and forth across the foam of the flying wheel, searching for particles of food as sharks are said to do at sea.
Not meeting with accident of any kind, the more companionable among the passengers soon set themselves to form the acquaintance of those about them, and in this way, and happily, I was brought in contact with Gilbert Holmes. More fortunate still, I thought, he proved to be the companion of the beautiful lady I had seen looking down in pity on the marching convicts as I came on board. Strangely enough—but not strangely either, for such things are often noticed—he resembled her as men may resemble women. Not much alike, but as they will, without knowing it, take on some part of the features or gentle sweetness of these dear companions of their lives. Mr. Holmes was reaching on to old age, but youthful in face and erect of form and buoyant as if still in the vigor of manhood. Running through his slow speech and mirrored in the mild complaisance of his eyes there were ever present the melodies of the past, the remembrance of what had been. This as we often see in men of affairs who have mixed much in the world's strife, but are no longer concerned in its turmoil or ambitious ends. In his look and speech there was, however, still a pleasant note of interest, as if life had not tired him, nor his concern in its affairs been dulled by usage or infirmity of temper; but while he listened to what was said or took note of what went on about him, it was plain to every one that he lived only in the presence and reflection of his loving wife. She, on her part, it was also clear, had little thought of anything but her husband, her eyes following him with tender concern, as if in him all her life's interests were centered.
The great affection these two bore each other was soon discerned by every one, and at once elicited that kind and inquisitive interest which men and women are said ever to feel for those who truly love. Of her age I could form no idea, for life had left no trace of care on her beautiful face, and her eyes still showed in their placid depths the luster of youth and the tranquil calm of a loving and trustful heart. Her mouth, soft in outline and of engaging sweetness, ever led me to speculate anew as to which is the more attractive, the eyes or the mouth of women; but this, I know, others have puzzled over before me, and will to the end of time. Her soft speech and gentle manners quickly made every one her slave, the officers of the boat not less than others; and though harassed by the cares and perplexities of the journey, they lost no excuse or opportunity to come within the radiance of her gentle presence. This tribute of admiration that men ever pay, and with delight, to queenly women, one and all yielded, and gladly, to this sweet-faced lady.
Thus the days passed, and they were to me a new experience of life and its possibilities. A vision of love, burning on undimmed through years of health and sweet contentment to the very end. Happy association! Tranquil picture of life! It fades not from me now, but grows with each recurring day, so that I conjure it up anew and with greater interest than before when, in the turmoil of affairs, my mind finds need of rest or some sweet solace of comfort.
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes received me kindly from the very first, and this, it appeared, because of a resemblance they saw in me to a son lost to them long before at Lookout Mountain in the great Civil War. This resemblance and a certain reverent homage I paid them, which I did not seek to hide, caused them to take me trustfully and wholly within the influence of their lives; and this to my great happiness and good fortune then and now.
Mr. Holmes, or Gilbert, as she called him when not using some term of endearment, which she generally did, had passed his life in the West, as the country about the Mississippi Valley was called in his youth. He was fond of telling of the settlement of this new country and the people who had been connected with its early history, and in this was led on by his sweet wife. Into these accounts were interwoven glimpses of his own life, so that I was led to ask him more about himself, and particularly his early adventures, which his wife was most fond of having him recall. This I did at first, I will confess, not so much out of any great interest as that I might find excuse for being the more in his presence and that of his dear lady. After a day thus passed, I wrote out at night what he had recounted. Not at the beginning with any purpose, but because I ever had a peculiar knack in this direction, being designed, I think, from the first to be a clerk or something of that kind, and nothing more. However, lest I should transgress some law of good manners, I after a while informed Mr. Holmes of what I was doing. This, I saw, did not meet his entire approval, though he gave no expression to his thoughts save a look of surprise; but Mrs. Holmes, upon hearing it, was greatly pleased, and thereafter lost no opportunity to aid me in my efforts to draw from him the particulars of his early life. In this, however, we were never wholly successful, because of his reluctance to speak of himself; but as she seemed to know every incident of his career and to treasure it as a sweet memory, when he halted or sought to break the story, she would put her hand on his, and taking up the narrative go on, perhaps, until we parted for the night. These interruptions were greatly to his liking, it was clear, for he loved above all things to listen to her voice; and I continually detected him at such times looking at her with eyes half of remonstrance at what she told, but altogether full of affection for her and her engaging ways. By this the reader will see—and I am glad to make it plain to him—that while the life of Gilbert Holmes seems to be related by himself, it was in many parts—and the most interesting parts, I think—told by his wife as she sat by his side with her hand clasping his. Cherished memory! Sweet tale of love and adventure sweetly told! Surely I shall never know anything so beautiful again.
Our journey too quickly over, cut short the account of Mr. Holmes's life, and this to my sorrow, and so I said.
"You have heard but a part, and that not the most entertaining, you would think, could you hear all," Mrs. Holmes answered; "for among other things he has been a soldier in two of his country's wars, and in the last a general," she added, with a fond look at her husband.
"I am sure his life must have been full to the brim," I answered.
"Yes, and well you may be; but it is his early life that interests me most, and the part he loves best to recall. Nor of this have you heard the half—the dear, soft-hearted, modest man!" she answered, taking his face in both her hands and kissing him as women will those they greatly love.