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![The smile of polite curiosity with which he heard that Charley had
had something to say to him rapidly faded as I spoke, and there
came into his countenance a look of such intense seriousness, nay,
even of subdued and suffering agitation, that, for a moment, I lost
my self-possession in my surprise, but managed to finish my
message in a stumbling sort of way. As for the Don, anticipating,
apparently, from my opening words what that message was to be,
he seemed hardly conscious that it was ended. He sat, for a
moment, with his head resting in the palm of his hand, his piercing
eyes fixed upon the floor; but seeming suddenly to realize that this
was a queer way of meeting a courtesy, he quickly raised his head.
“Thanks, thanks,” said he, with a forced smile, but with apologetic
emphasis. “Charley—I beg pardon—Mr. Frobisher is very kind,—very
kind indeed! Yes, I should immensely enjoy having a tilt once more
at the partridges.[1]
Very much indeed.”
“Then I may hope that you will accept?”
“Oh, certainly, with very great pleasure. Please present my warmest
acknowledgments to Char—Mr. Frobisher, and say that I shall be at
his command so soon as I shall have recovered my strength
somewhat.” He paused for a moment; then, throwing back his head
with a little laugh: “By the way,” he continued, “I beg you will not
misinterpret my singular way of receiving the invitation. It was such
a surprise, and I am still a little weak, you know.”
“You must allow me to add how much gratified I, too, am at your
decision. You know—or do you not?—that the invitation is to my
grandfather’s place, Elmington.”
“Elmington?”
“Ah, I see—very naturally, you don’t understand that Charley lives
with my grandfather.”
“With your grandfather? Why, how can that be? I thought his place
adjoined your—” And he stopped suddenly. “Please be so good as to
explain,” he added, in a low voice.](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/129465-240912051750-20addd76/75/Streaming-Data-Pipelines-with-Kafka-MEAP-Stefan-Sprenger-download-pdf-33-2048.jpg)
![professional engagements, or, rather, the hope of such, as I have but
recently opened a law office.”
“You may rest assured that I shall not lose a day, when once my
physician has given me leave to go. Can’t you sit longer? Another
visit yet? Ah, I am sorry.” And he accompanied me to the door of his
sitting-room.
As we stood there for a moment, exchanging the customary civilities
of leave-taking, my eye fell upon the little book the Don had laid
upon a shelf of his book-case.
It was a copy of the New Testament.
[1]
The quail is unknown in Virginia—both bird and
word.—Ed.](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/129465-240912051750-20addd76/75/Streaming-Data-Pipelines-with-Kafka-MEAP-Stefan-Sprenger-download-pdf-36-2048.jpg)
![nothin’. Anybody can see you ain’t kin to nobody. ’M’h’m! yes, chile!
you needn’t say a word, Dick knows dat kind far as he can see ’em,
be dey man or beast. Howsomever, Dick don’t mount no sich. Nigger
property is too unsartin for dat. Nebberdeless, Marse Charles, bein’
as how he belongs to his self, he mought. Nebberdeless, you fotch
him home, and pretty is as pretty does, dat’s de way old Dick talks
it. Polly! Polly!” shouted he to his wife, the cook, as he passed the
kitchen door; “Polly! git up, gal! Marse Charles done come and want
he supper. I would say,” continued he, not content with the
colloquial phrases in which he had announced his young master’s
arrival and the state of his appetite,—“I would say, Polly,”—and
enveloped in darkness as he was, and invisible even to his spouse,
the old man threw himself into an impressive pose, as he always did
when about to adorn his language with phrases caught up from the
conversation of his master and his guests,—“I would say de Prodigy
Son have arrove, and he as ravenous as de fatted calf.” Hearing Polly
bustling about within the kitchen: “Polly,” inquired he, in a stately
voice, “did you hearken to what I rubserved?”
“I hear you, Dick.”
“But did you make me out, chile, dat’s de pint, did you make me
out?”
“G’long, man, and put dat horse in de stable. Marse Charley want he
supper, course he do. What’s de use o’ talkin’ about fat calves, when
you know as well as I does d’yar ain’t no sich a thing in de kitchen.
Marse Charley want he supper, I know dat, and I’se gittin’ ready to
cook it fast as I can.”
“I b’lieve you. Well, put my name in de pot, chile.” And the old man
went his way. “Well,” said he, soliloquizing upon the much-longed-for
return of his young master, “dey tell me chickens, like horses
[curses?], always does come home to roost—git up, I tell you!
—’cep’n onless dey meets a free nigger in de road, den good-by
chickens—for you’re gwine to leave us.”](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/129465-240912051750-20addd76/75/Streaming-Data-Pipelines-with-Kafka-MEAP-Stefan-Sprenger-download-pdf-41-2048.jpg)
Streaming Data Pipelines with Kafka (MEAP) Stefan Sprenger download pdf
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- 6. Streaming Data Pipelineswith Kafka 1. Welcome 2. 1_Getting_into_data_streaming 3. 2_A_walk_through_Kafka_and_its_ecosystem 4. 3_Integrating_data_systems_in_real-time_with_Kafka_Connect
- 7. Welcome Thank you forpurchasing Streaming Data Pipelines with Kafka in MEAP. We are used to getting groceries delivered in under ten minutes and we can access almost any information at any time via search engines, yet most data integrations are implemented with batch pipelines that leave data systems out of sync at most times. Streaming data pipelines are a modern alternative to batch pipelines: They replicate data between data systems like database systems and APIs in real-time and can process them on the way. As a foundational technology of modern, real- time data architectures, streaming data pipelines enable downstream data consumers to always work with fresh data. Unfortunately, you still need to become an expert in many technologies to successfully apply them. I am writing this book for data engineers, software developers, and others who face use cases for data- integration at their workplace. It aims to provide a complete introduction to the concepts, development, and deployment of streaming data pipelines, with a strong focus on the open-source technology Apache Kafka, the de-facto industry standard for event streaming. The book not only teaches foundational concepts of streaming data pipelines but prepares the reader to successfully implement them at their workplace. Throughout the book, we will help an imaginary e-commerce company to migrate its legacy batch pipelines to a modern streaming architecture and overcome the typical challenges of such migrations. My goal is to develop the best book possible. Your feedback on early versions of the book is essential for its development and is highly appreciated. Please don’t hesitate to post your questions, comments, or suggestions in the liveBook discussion forum. -Stefan Sprenger In this book
- 8. Welcome 1 Gettinginto data streaming 2 A walk through Kafka and its ecosystem 3 Integrating data systems in real-time with Kafka Connect
- 9. 1 Getting intodata streaming This chapter covers An introduction to streaming data pipelines and their building blocks The shortcomings of traditional batch data pipelines The relationship between data streaming and batch processing Use cases for stream processing In the last decades, software has eaten the world. Across all industries, companies have adopted software solutions at their core to unlock new business models, improve their efficiency, and provide more value to customers. Businesses use CRM tools to manage customer relationships, drive their decision-making with reporting and dashboards, and predict the impact of price changes with AI models. Similar to cars requiring fuel to drive, these software systems run on data. Modern businesses employ a plethora of different software solutions that they cannot operate as isolated silos but need to integrate with each other to derive the maximum value. Integrating software systems has never been an easy task but is becoming even more complex these days. We are used to getting groceries delivered in ten minutes and can access almost any information at any time via search engines - Why are most data integrations neither working in real-time nor syncing data changes instantly after their occurrence? At the same time, businesses operate an ever-growing number of different systems and easily spend six to seven digits on cloud computing per year, making them favor efficient data integrations that sync only relevant data changes instead of performing resource-wasting bulk loads. Fortunately, there is a modern, event-driven approach to cope with the demanding requirements of data-driven businesses: Streaming data pipelines. 1.1 Introducing streaming data pipelines
- 10. Data pipelines integratedifferent data systems. They replicate data from data sources, like database systems, to data sinks, like data warehouses, and can process the data on the way. Most datasets are unbounded. Whether it is a transactional database system empowering an online shop, a cloud object store holding sales data, or an API exposing user data; it is very likely that these datasets are not static but experience changes frequently. To this end, most data pipelines are not one- off deployments but must be recurringly or continuously executed. 1.1.1 Going one step back: Batch data pipelines Traditionally, data pipelines are implemented with batch processing: They recurringly extract all data from data sources, processing them in one go, and publish the processed data to data sinks. Figure 1.1 shows a batch data pipeline that integrates MySQL, a transactional database system, with ClickHouse, a data warehouse. Each night at 2 AM, the batch pipeline (1) extracts all data from MySQL, (2) cleans up the data, and (3) ingests the processed data into ClickHouse. While batch pipelines are fairly straightforward to implement, they put a tremendous load on all components of the architecture, which precludes a frequent execution. As a consequence, data consumers, like dashboards, reporting tools, or analytical applications, do not have access to up-to-date data. Figure 1.1 Each night at 2 AM, a batch data pipeline replicates data from MySQL to ClickHouse and processes them on the way.
- 11. Note While most databasesystems provide the same interface, the Structured Query Language (SQL), they typically do not optimize for all kinds of workloads but focus on either transactional, write-heavy operations or analytical, ready-heavy use cases. For instance, MySQL is a solid choice for managing the continuously-changing state of an application, like an online shop, but does not cater well to the analytical queries executed by dashboards, reporting tools, and data-intensive applications.
- 12. The simple andstraightforward implementation of batch data pipelines comes at the cost of several drawbacks in the timely, efficient, and robust processing of data: 1. Batch data pipelines cannot be executed with a high frequency. Business teams cannot support decisions with current information but are almost always working with outdated data, which might lead to missed business opportunities. 2. Batch pipelines are quite heavy and put a lot of load onto data source systems because they extract all data at each execution. To avoid impacting the performance of data sources, batch pipelines are typically executed outside of business hours. Debugging production issues is a challenge and rollouts of bug fixes must wait until the next execution. 3. Single runs of batch pipelines can easily take multiple hours because they are processing very large datasets. If batch pipelines fail while executing, they might leave data sinks in a corrupted state until the next execution of the pipeline. It might also happen that pipelines finish their execution after the start of the business day. 4. Batch pipelines see data sources at the time of data extraction and might miss incremental updates that occurred in between two runs. 1.1.2 Building blocks of streaming data pipelines Similar to batch pipelines, streaming data pipelines replicate data from data sources to data sinks and can process them on the way. The big difference is that they are being executed continuously, work in real-time, and process incremental updates. Once a change has been applied to a data source, streaming data pipelines extract the change event (basically a row-level INSERT, UPDATE, or DELETE event), process it, and publish the processed change event to the data sink. Figure 1.2 Employing a streaming data pipeline to replicate data from MySQL to ClickHouse in real-time and process them on the way.
- 13. Figure 1.2 illustrateshow the example from the prior section could be implemented with a streaming data pipeline: Connectors integrate the streaming data pipeline with external data sources and external data sinks, here MySQL and ClickHouse. The data source connector employs change data capture (CDC) for extracting row-level data change events from the replication log of MySQL in real- time. The data sink connector publishes processed change events to ClickHouse. Connectors may apply lightweight data transformations to events after extracting them from a data source or before publishing
- 14. them to adata sink, e.g., for converting between data formats. The open-source community provides a few projects that implement connectors for data streaming use cases; the most popular and complete one is Kafka Connect, which is part of the official Apache Kafka release. Kafka Connect provides hundreds of different connectors for integrating Apache Kafka with external data systems, like MySQL or ClickHouse. While using existing connectors helps you to save time and minimize potential errors, developing custom connectors can make sense if you are dealing with uncommon data systems that are not (yet) covered by Kafka Connect. Stream processors handle the processing of events while replicating them from data sources to data sinks. They often integrate with an event store, like Apache Kafka. Stateless stream processing operations, such as transformations or filters, process event by event and do not consider the order or time of the events. Stateful stream processing operations, such as aggregations or joins, perform computations over windows of events. They are more complex than stateless operations, require maintaining and persisting the state of the computations, and need a notion of time. They also need mechanisms for dealing with scenarios, like the late arrival of events. Traditionally, stream processors are implemented with projects, such as Kafka Streams or Apache Flink, and in programming languages, like Java, Scala, or Python. Recently, a lot of tools started introducing SQL layers on top of their programmatic APIs, which simplifies the development of stream processing logic at the cost of flexibility. If you are heavily building on top of Apache Kafka, Kafka Streams might be a reasonable choice. Event stores, like Apache Kafka, persist events in a reliable and scalable way. Streaming data pipelines employ event brokers to persist (1) events that have been extracted by source connectors from an external data source, like MySQL, and are passed to the stream processor and (2) events that have been processed by the stream processor and are consumed by the sink connector for publishing them to an external data sink, like ClickHouse. Using dedicated storage for events instead of passing them directly between the connectors and the stream processor is very useful for a number of reasons, like the mitigation of backpressure, which occurs when consumers cannot keep
- 15. up with thepace of the producers, or the replaying of events. Event stores also enable streaming data pipelines to achieve a high tolerance towards failures and temporary outages of single components. Apache Kafka is the most popular storage solution in the industry. Even most of its competitors, like Azure Event Hubs or RedPanda, provide a Kafka- compatible API. Apache Kafka provides low-level interfaces for consuming and producing events; Kafka Connect and Kafka Streams build on top of these interfaces and may help you save time when implementing connectors or stream processing logic. 1.1.3 Integrating data in real-time with Apache Kafka Let us have a closer look at how you can use Apache Kafka, Kafka Connect, and Kafka Streams to build a data pipeline that streams order data from an online shop to a data warehouse in real-time. Figure 1.3 Visualization of a streaming data pipeline capturing CDC events from a MySQL database with Kafka Connect, processing them with Kafka Streams, and inserting them into ClickHouse with Kafka Connect; Kafka topics are used for persisting records.
- 16. When a websitevisitor places an order on the website of an e-commerce shop, the shop software executes an INSERT statement for adding a new row to the table orders of the underlying database system, here MySQL. Most database systems offer log files for replicating data between multiple database instances; one database instance can subscribe to the log file of another database instance and consume all data change events in real-time, allowing different database instances to stay in sync. The great thing about replication logs is that subscribing to them does not put any load onto the database system, because it bypasses the database system’s query layer and lets subscribers directly access the log file. MySQL’s replication log is called
- 17. the Binary Log. Theopen-source project Debezium, which provides Kafka Connect source connectors for various database systems, leverages this mechanism for detecting and capturing changes in real-time and without impacting the performance of MySQL. Once MySQL has flushed the change event to its Binary Log, Debezium extracts the event and produces it to an Apache Kafka topic, here called orders_raw. Internally, Debezium maintains the latest position of the Binary Log that it has successfully processed and persists that information in another Kafka topic, which allows resuming data extraction after restarts or downtimes without reprocessing data. The Kafka Streams application subscribes to the Kafka topic orders_raw, consumes new records immediately after their occurrence, and applies a custom data masking function to the records for masking credit card numbers. After processing the records, the Kafka Streams application produces them to another Kafka topic, called orders_clean. The Kafka Streams application is a regular Java application. A Kafka Connect sink connector subscribes to the Kafka topic orders_clean, consumes new records immediately after their occurrence, and publishes them to ClickHouse by executing INSERT statements. The Kafka Connect connectors and the Kafka Streams application are loosely coupled, share data via Kafka topics, and are deployed independently of each other. That is, restarting the Kafka Streams application does not affect the uptime of the connectors and vice versa. 1.1.4 Benefits and challenges of streaming data pipelines Streaming data pipelines represent a much more natural, robust, and efficient approach to dealing with unbounded datasets than their batch-based counterparts. Instead of performing recurring bulk loads at fixed times, streaming data pipelines continuously replicate data change events from the consumed data sources to the downstream data sinks. Notably, streaming data pipelines offer the following benefits:
- 18. Data sinks arealways in sync with data sources: Streaming data pipelines minimize the gap between the time a change event occurs in the data source and the time the processed event arrives at the data sink, often offering sub-second latencies. They allow downstream data consumers, regardless of whether these are humans manually interpreting the data or applications processing the data in a programmatic manner, to work with up-to-date data. Capturing of all changes occurring in data sources: Log-based CDC connectors make all changes from a data source available to streaming data pipelines and downstream data consumers, while batch pipelines observe the state of the data source at the time of data extraction. Having access to high-fidelity data is beneficial for a number of use cases, including audit logs. Better resource footprint: When employing CDC, streaming data pipelines must process only the data that have changed, i.e., incremental changes. They keep all other data untouched and help to reduce the load on all involved systems and improve the overall usage of computing resources, which potentially leads to a reduction in cost. Minimal impact on production database systems: Processing incremental changes instead of performing bulk loads is beneficial for reducing the load on the consumed data source, because much less data is touched at execution time. When employing log-based CDC, streaming data pipelines further reduce the load on the consumed database system because they do not need to execute SELECT * FROM queries but can extract data from the replication log files of the database system. Predictable workload patterns: Batch pipelines show peak resource consumption at execution time and are stale for the rest of the time, which wastes a lot of compute resources. Streaming data pipelines have rather flat workload patterns as they continuously replicate change events. They reduce the cost and allow for the usage of elastic workload scaling, as available in cloud computing technologies like Kubernetes. There is no free lunch. While providing clear benefits and advantages over batch processing, the architectures of streaming systems are more complex and require expertise in multiple technologies. This book helps you to overcome the hurdles associated with data streaming and prepares you for the
- 19. Another random documentwith no related content on Scribd:
- 20. CHAPTER XIV. This decreeof the doctor’s threw the household into a great bustle. I was requested to call on the Don’s landlord, explain his long absence, and have his trunk sent up to Leigh Street. The girls were in a great flutter at the prospect of breakfasting with the mysterious stranger next morning; which announcement they had no sooner heard than they flew across the street to give Mary the news; and the air grew misty with interjections. “We have arranged it all, Mary. Mr. Whacker and Mr. Frobisher, who, as you know, are to leave our house this evening, will come up to breakfast with the Don, of course, and you will just make the party complete. Proper? Of course, Mary. Why, there will be just one apiece,—so nice! You and Mr. Frobisher, Lucy and—ahem!—Mr. Whacker, and the Don and myself. No! that’s the way it shall be. Of course I’ll let you girls look at him,—even exchange a few words with him,—but I!—” And dropping into a chair by a table, she made as though mincing at an imaginary breakfast, whilst ogling, most killingly, an invisible gallant by her side. That day, the girls thought, would never end. They could neither talk nor think of anything save the coming breakfast, wandering aimlessly from room to room, and from story to story, romping, yawning, giggling, and were so exhausted by nightfall that they all went to bed at an early hour, just as children do on Christmas Eve, to make the morning come sooner. You must remember that they were hardly eighteen years of age. The morning came. Charley and I met Mary at the front door and we entered together. “I am so excited,” said she. “It is all so like a real adventure.”
- 21. A few minutesafterwards Mrs. Carter begged me to go up and assist the Don down-stairs, if necessary. He walked down-stairs very well, however, and we entered the dining-room, where I expected to find the whole family, but the girls had not yet put in an appearance. Alice, it seems, had gotten the other girls into so hilarious a state by her mad drolleries—enacting scenes that were to take place between herself and the Don—that they had to remain some time in the upper chamber in order to resume control of their countenances; and her performances in the halls and on the stairways were such that they had to call a halt several times before they reached the dining-room door. We were all seated at the table, and breakfast had begun, when the door was partly opened, then nearly closed, then opened a little way again, while a faint rustling of female garments was the only sound that broke the stillness. Presently, Mary, followed by Lucy, popped into the room with a suddenness that suggested a vigorous push from some one in the rear, while their features, of necessity instantly composed, were in that state of unstable equilibrium which may be observed in the faces of boys when the teacher reappears in the school-room after a few moments’ absence. Alice followed, demure as a Quakeress. The introductions over, and Alice and Lucy having thanked the Don for his gallant rescue of them from danger, the girls took their seats, Alice next the Don. It will be easily imagined that, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, no word, no gesture, no look of our new friend passed unobserved. No bride, coming among her husband’s relations, was ever more searchingly scrutinized. Naturally, we compared notes upon the first occasion that offered, and it was interesting to observe that, various as were the estimates placed upon our enigma, each of the ladies held, in the main, to her first impression. It is no secret, in fact, that if a woman sees a man passing in front of a window at which she is sitting, or hears him utter three sentences, the impression formed upon her mind is often next to ineradicable. “I do not know,” said Mrs. Carter, “when I have seen a manner so elegant and distinguished. It shows the combined effect of gentle
- 22. birth and muchtravel. How charming—and how rare nowadays—is that deference towards our sex that he manages to combine with perfect dignity and repose of manner! By the way, Mr. Whacker, did you not notice how subdued Alice was throughout breakfast? I have never seen her so quiet and demure.” “Never mind,” said Alice, “I am feeling my way. Wait till I get a little better acquainted with him. I must say, however, that I don’t think our hero promises much in the way of fun. I doubt whether he would know a joke if he met one on the highway.” “No,” said Mary, “his nature is too absorbed, too intense, for—” “And his eyes too starry. Did you not observe, Mary, how they dilated when first they bended their light on the dish of stewed oysters?” “Alice, I believe that if you could, you would jest at your own funeral.” “No; at that pageant you may count on me as chief mourner.” “Ob, Alice!” said Lucy, reprovingly. “Never mind, my dear; I am not so wicked as I seem. Besides, I am rather reckless and desperate just at this moment.” “Why, what is the matter?” “All my aspirations dashed to the ground during one short breakfast!” Alice rested her chin upon her hand, and gazed pensively upon the floor. “What new farce is this?” asked Lucy, amused. “And it is you who ask me that!” And Alice raised her eyes with a sad, reproachful look to those of her friend. “And you call it a farce? You!” And she sighed. “Of course,” resumed Alice, quickly raising her head and looking from face to face,—“of course you all noticed it. It was perfectly obvious. Yes, this Miss from the rural districts has swooped down and carried off the prey without an effort.” “I, at least,” said Lucy, coloring, “saw nothing of the kind. In the first place, I sat at one end of the table and he at the other, and I am
- 23. sure I hardlyexchanged a dozen words with him.” “Alas!” sighed Alice, “it is precisely there that the sting lies. I sat by him and had every advantage over you,—and I used every advantage. Didn’t you remark the tone in which I called his attention to the omelet? Could a siren have urged upon him, more seductively, a second cup of coffee? And how gently did I strive to overwhelm his soul with buckwheat cakes! And was the marmalade sweeter than the murmur in which I recommended it? And yet,”—Alice paused for a lull in the tumultuous laughter,—“and yet,” she continued, “strive as I would, I could not keep his eyes from wandering to your end of the table.” “It is very strange,” said Lucy, wiping her eyes, “that all this was lost on me.” “And then,” added Alice, “your most—some one will please attend to the fat lady; she seems in a fit—your most trivial remark, even though not addressed to him, seemed to rivet his attention. To confess the humiliating truth, Mary, I don’t believe he would recognize either of us, should he meet us in the street; but every lineament of Lucy’s face is graven—you know how they say it in novels. It is a regular case of love at first sight, my dear.” Alice’s eyes ran along the circle of faces surrounding her as she spoke, and it so happened that when she paused at the words “my dear” she was looking Charley full in the face. Charley, as I have before remarked, had seen very little of young ladies, and I had several times observed that when Alice was speaking in her sparkling way he would watch her all the while out of the corners of his eyes, with an expression of wondering interest. Charley rarely laughed. I think his self-control in this regard amounted to somewhat of an affectation, and he had acquired a sort of serene moderation even in his smiles. But Alice’s bright, rattling talk seemed to have a sort of fascination for him, and to hurry him out of himself, as it were. And on this occasion I had been slyly watching his features moving in sympathy with the changing expression of her exceedingly mobile countenance. Entirely absorbed as he was in
- 24. watching the playof her countenance, and thinking of I know not what, when he found her bright eyes resting full upon him, and himself seemingly addressed as “my dear,” he was suddenly startled out of his revery, and not knowing what to say: “I beg pardon,” said he, quickly, “were you speaking to me?” A shout of laughter greeting this ingenuous question, Charley’s face reddened violently, Alice’s generally imperturbable countenance answering with a reflected glow. “Not exactly,” said she; “my remarks were addressed to the company at large.” “Oh!” said he, blushing more deeply still. “But, Mr. Frobisher,” continued Alice, willing to relieve the embarrassment of the woman-hater, “don’t you agree with me? Wasn’t the Don obviously captivated by Lucy?” “I am sure, if he was not, it would be hard to understand the reason why. But the fact is, Mrs. Carter’s capital breakfast—” “Oh, you monster!” Half an hour later, finding myself alone with Lucy: “So you do not claim or even admit,” I happened casually to remark, “that you have made a conquest.” “No, indeed!” replied she, with a frank look in her eyes. “Far from it. Alice is all wrong.” “But Miss Alice was not alone in her observation of the facts of the case. We all saw what she described. I did most certainly.” “And so did I.” “Well?” “I saw, of course, how often he glanced towards me, and I was conscious that even while I was speaking to others his eyes were upon me. But there are looks and looks. You men don’t understand anything about such matters.”
- 25. “And where, pray,did you learn all this mysterious language of looks and looks?” “I am a woman.” “So is Alice.” “Ah, yes; but, Alice—well, girls like to say that kind of thing to each other,—it’s encouraging, you know. Why do you smile? It is pleasant, of course, to be told that we have destroyed some man’s peace of mind, though we know it to be highly improbable in point of fact. I shall reciprocate, at the first opportune, by telling Alice with what sweet pain she has filled the breast of dear good Mr. Frobisher.” “Do you think so?” I exclaimed. “That would be too good! The woman-hater! Capital!” “Stranger things have happened. Did you not see how he blushed just now? But as to the Don, do you know he is a greater mystery to me now than ever? Every woman instinctively knows what a man’s looks mean.” “Well, what did the Don’s glances signify?” “I cannot for the life of me imagine.” “What! Although every woman instinctively knows, and so forth.” “Ah,” said she, smiling, “I meant that they always knew when the looks meant—pshaw! you know very well what I mean.” “You would have me to understand that the Don’s looks, though they meant something, did not mean nascent love.” “Yes. Do you not remember that sudden and intense look he gave me when we met him on the sidewalk? Well, when I came to turn that incident over in my mind I came to the conclusion that he mistook me for some one else. Now I am all at sea again. He knows, now, that I am Lucy Poythress, and not any one else.” “Naturally.” “Don’t be silly,—and still—”
- 26. “And still?” “And yet—oh,you know what I mean.” “Upon my word I do not.” “Well, he seemed to me to be studying me as a kind of problem,— no, not that,—he appeared—ah, this is my idea—he seemed to me to survey me just as I have seen mothers look at their sons after a session’s absence. ‘Has he grown? Has he changed? Has he improved?’ Do I make myself clear?” “Perfectly.” “What are you laughing at? What do I mean, then?” “I gather from all you say that your impression is that this Mystery, this Enigma, this Sphinx, this Don Miff—longs to be a mother to you.” “Mr. W-ha-c-k-e-r!” I could never understand why a man must not laugh at his own witticisms; and my hilarity on this occasion immediately drew the other girls and Mrs. Carter into the front parlor, where Lucy and I were sitting. By rapidly interposing a succession of chairs between that young woman and myself, I succeeded in giving the ladies an enlarged and profusely illustrated edition of Lucy’s views of the state of the Don’s feelings and intentions in regard to herself, when, seizing my hat, I fled, leaving the three girls in uproarious glee, and Mrs. Carter collapsed in an arm-chair, weeping, while voiceless laughter rippled along her rotund form. As I passed in front of the window Lucy’s head appeared. “Say your prayers twice to-night,” said she.
- 27. CHAPTER XV. “Jack,” saidCharley that night at my rooms, “have you any message for the old gentleman? I am off for home to-morrow.” “Indeed! Why this sudden resolution?” “Too many people in Richmond for me.” “It seems to me that you like some of them a good deal. Isn’t she bright?” “P-p-p-pass me the tobacco.” He filled his pipe very deliberately and walked across the room. “Where do you keep your matches? Ah, here they are. Who,” added he, striking one—“puff—do you—puff, puff—think so—puff, puff, puff—bright? Confound the thing!—puff— puff—it has gone out!” And he struck another. Lighting his pipe, and throwing himself upon a lounge, he looked the picture of content. “Say, old boy,” said I, “own up. Those hazel eyes—” “Do you know, Jack-Whack” (whenever he called me that he was in the best possible humor), “that you are making a howling ass of yourself?” And he shot a pillar of smoke straight towards the ceiling, following its eddying curves with contemplative eyes. “‘Howling ass’ is a mixed metaphor.” “Yes, but an unmixed truth, my boy. Did it ever occur to you, Jack,” said he, removing the Powhatan pipe, with its reed-root stem, from his lips, “that cigars are essentially vulgar? You never thought of it? But they are. So are dress-coats. You have only to put them into marble to see it. Look at the statue of Henry Clay in the Square. Was ever anything so absurd! Posterity will inevitably regard Henry as an ass.”
- 28. “Of the howlingvariety?” “Of course. Now, just picture to yourself Phidias’ Jove with a cigar stuck into his mouth.” Charley shot upwards a circling wreath of smoke, watched it till it dissipated itself, and then turned his head, with a little jerk, towards me: “H’m? How would the Olympian Zeus look with a Parian Partaga between his ambrosial lips?” “I have seen lips that—” “Howling and so forth.” And he turned over on his back and commenced pulling away at his pipe. “I think she likes you.” Charley pursed up his mouth, and, taking aim, with one eye, at a spot on the ceiling, projected at it a fine-spun thread of smoke. I detected a tremor in his extended lips. “I may say I know she likes you.” With an explosive chuckle the pucker instantly dissolved. I had taken him at a disadvantage. His features snapped back into position as suddenly as those of a rubber mask. “I was thinking,” said he, “how great a solace and bulwark a pipe would have been to Socrates, during his interviews with Xantippe,— and it made me smile.” “Yes,” said I, carelessly. “Yes!” said he, rising up on his elbow,—“what do you mean by ‘yes’?” “I merely meant to agree with you, that a pipe would have been a great solace and bulwark to Socrates during his interviews with Xantippe.” He fell back on the lounge. “Let’s go to bed,” said he. “Good!” said I; and I began to remove my coat. “So the Don is to leave the Carters to-morrow and go to his own quarters.”
- 29. “Yes,” said he,rising from the lounge. “I like that chap.” That was a great deal for Charley to say. It was the very first expression of his sentiments towards the Don. “I am glad you do,” said I; “I thought you did.” “Yes, he is a man. Do you know what I am going to do? I shall invite him to Elmington. Uncle Tom will like him. He says he is fond of hunting, and this is just the time for that; and he will be strong enough soon. Suppose we go up to-morrow, before I leave town, and invite him jointly. You will be down for the Christmas holidays, you know. By the way, I hope he will accept?” “I am quite sure of it. He has betrayed an unaccountable interest in Leicester County on every occasion that I have alluded to it, notwithstanding an obvious effort to appear indifferent. He has a way of throwing out innocent, careless little questions about the county and the people that has puzzled me not a little. Who the deuse is he?” “Roll into that bed! it is too late for conundrums. Here goes for the light!” And he blew it out. “Jack!” said he, about half an hour afterwards; “Jack, are you asleep?” “H’m?” “Are you asleep?” “H’m? H’m? Confound it, yes!” “No, you’re not!” “Well, I was!” And I groaned. “Jack, I suppose Uncle Tom will have his usual Christmas party of girls and young men at Elmington this Christmas?” “S’pose so, umgh!” “I say—”
- 30. “Don’t! Don’t! Thoseare my ribs! Good Lord, man! you don’t know how sleepy I am. What on earth are you talking about?” “Do you know what girls Uncle Tom is going to have to spend Christmas with us this winter?” “And you woke me up to ask me such a question as that? Thunder! And you see him to-morrow evening, too! Oh, I understand,” said I, being at last fully awake, and I burst out laughing. “You want me to say something about Alice with the merry-glancing hazel eyes.” “About whom? Alice? That’s absurd,—perfectly absurd! Why, she thinks me an idiot because I don’t jabber like one of you lawyers. All women do. Unless you gabble, gabble, gabble, you are a fool. They are all alike. A woman is always a woman; a man may be a philosopher.” “My dear boy, your anxieties are misplaced.” “Who spoke of anxieties?” “Don’t you—a philosopher—know that talkative girls prefer taciturn men? I am perfectly certain that Alice thinks your silence admirable, —dotes on it, in fact.” “Jack-Whack,” said Charley, rising up in bed and—rare sight—though I felt rather than saw or heard it—shaking with laughter, “you are the most immeasurable, the most unspeakable, the most—” Down came a pillow on my head. Down it came again and again as I attempted to rise. We grappled, and for a few minutes no two school-boys could have had a more boisterous romp. “Now just look at this bed,” said Charley, out of breath; “see what you have done!” And he fell back exhausted, as well with the struggle as from his unwonted laughter. “We have not had such a tussle since I used to tease you as a boy. Whew! Let’s go to sleep now.” “She’s a bewitching creature.”
- 31. “Idiot!” said Charley,turning his back to me with a laugh, and settling himself for the night. “Poor fellow! Well, he got me to pronounce her name, at any rate, by his manœuvring.” “Do you know this is rather coolish? Where on earth are the blankets? Find one, won’t you? and throw it over me.” “Here they are, on the floor! There! Sleep well, poor boy! ‘Oh don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt? Sweet Alice with h-a-i-r so brown.’” “You rhyme with the sinners who came to scoff, but remained to pray. You seem to yourself to sing, but appear to me to b-b-b-bray.” “Good! There is life in the old boy yet!”
- 32. CHAPTER XVI. Next morningCharley and I called at the Carters’ to give the Don the invitation to visit Elmington, but found he had gone out for his first walk since his accident, to test, at Mrs. Carter’s instance, his strength before going into his own quarters. Charley was compelled, therefore, to leave the city without seeing him. In the evening I called at his rooms. Knocking at his sitting-room door, I was invited to enter, and found him sitting by a table reading a small book, which he closed, but held in his hand as he rose and came forward to greet me. “Reading?” began I, bowing and glancing casually towards the little book, the back of which was turned away from me. “Yes,” replied he, but without looking at the book; “getting through an evening alone I find rather dull work after my recent charming experience. Take a seat. Will you have a pipe, or do you prefer a cigar? A pipe? You will find the tobacco very good.” And walking to a small set of shelves near the door, he placed the little book upon it, —a circumstance too trivial to mention, did it not afford a characteristic example of the quiet but effectual way the Don had of nipping in the bud any conversation which was about to take a line he did not wish it to follow. I suppose we had been chatting for half an hour before I alluded to my errand. “Mr. Frobisher wished to see me particularly, you say?” “Yes; Charley heard you say one day that you were fond of shooting; and as there is fine sport to be had in Leicester, he thought it might be agreeable to you to—”
- 33. The smile ofpolite curiosity with which he heard that Charley had had something to say to him rapidly faded as I spoke, and there came into his countenance a look of such intense seriousness, nay, even of subdued and suffering agitation, that, for a moment, I lost my self-possession in my surprise, but managed to finish my message in a stumbling sort of way. As for the Don, anticipating, apparently, from my opening words what that message was to be, he seemed hardly conscious that it was ended. He sat, for a moment, with his head resting in the palm of his hand, his piercing eyes fixed upon the floor; but seeming suddenly to realize that this was a queer way of meeting a courtesy, he quickly raised his head. “Thanks, thanks,” said he, with a forced smile, but with apologetic emphasis. “Charley—I beg pardon—Mr. Frobisher is very kind,—very kind indeed! Yes, I should immensely enjoy having a tilt once more at the partridges.[1] Very much indeed.” “Then I may hope that you will accept?” “Oh, certainly, with very great pleasure. Please present my warmest acknowledgments to Char—Mr. Frobisher, and say that I shall be at his command so soon as I shall have recovered my strength somewhat.” He paused for a moment; then, throwing back his head with a little laugh: “By the way,” he continued, “I beg you will not misinterpret my singular way of receiving the invitation. It was such a surprise, and I am still a little weak, you know.” “You must allow me to add how much gratified I, too, am at your decision. You know—or do you not?—that the invitation is to my grandfather’s place, Elmington.” “Elmington?” “Ah, I see—very naturally, you don’t understand that Charley lives with my grandfather.” “With your grandfather? Why, how can that be? I thought his place adjoined your—” And he stopped suddenly. “Please be so good as to explain,” he added, in a low voice.
- 34. “Well, this ratherpeculiar state of things came about in this way. My mother died before I was a month old, and my father, my grandfather’s only son, survived her less than a year; so that I was brought up by the old gentleman. Now, Charley’s place adjoined Elmington, my grandfather’s, their respective residences being not over a half-mile apart; and so Charley got into the habit—however, I must mention that Charley lost his father years ago, and, about ten years since, his mother died.” “His mother? His mother is dead?” asked the Don, in a low tone, and without raising his eyes from the floor. “Yes. They say she was a lovely woman.” “And she is dead, you say—your friend’s mother?” he repeated, in a mechanical sort of way; and, resting his head upon his hand, he fixed his eyes upon the window with a look so grim that I paused in my narrative. “Yes,” I presently resumed, “she—Charley’s mother; that is—” “I beg pardon,” said he, abruptly turning to me, and, as the Latin hath it, serening his face with an effort,—“please go on.” “Well, Charley was at the University at the time of his mother’s death; and during the following vacation he seemed to find his own desolate home—he was singularly devoted to his mother— unendurable; so he would frequently drop in on my grandfather and myself at tea, walking home, when bedtime came, across the fields; but my grandfather, remarking the sad look that always came into his face when he arose to depart, would frequently insist upon his spending the night with us. The poor fellow could scarcely ever resist the temptation, to my great delight; for to me, a boy of thirteen, Charley, who was eighteen, and a student, was a sort of demi-god. I suppose, in fact, that apart from my grandfather’s personal liking for the young man, and his sympathy with him under the circumstances, he was very glad to give me the society of some one younger than himself. And so, to make a long story short, Charley’s visits becoming more and more frequent and regular, it
- 35. came at lastto be understood that he was to spend every night with us,—during his vacation, of course. At last, at the end of three years, Charley left the University with the degree of Master of Arts in pocket.” “Indeed!” “Yes. You are surprised, no doubt. He is so unassuming, one would hardly suppose that he had attained an honor which is reached by hardly more than one out of every hundred of the students at the University. To continue. When he returned from college and took charge of his farm, it soon appeared that the tables were turned. It was Charley’s companionship now that had grown to be a necessity to the old gentleman. ‘We shall expect you to dinner,’ he would say every morning, as Charley rode off to look after his farming operations. Charley often protested against this one-sided hospitality, and, as a compromise, we would dine with him occasionally; but at last my grandfather proposed a consolidation of the two households, all of us wondering why the plan had not been thought of before. That is the way Charley came to live at Elmington. The two farms are separate, though from time to time worked in common, as occasion demands,—in harvest-time, for example. Each farm contributes its quota to the table, though not in any fixed ratio. My grandfather, for example, is firmly persuaded that the grass on his farm—notably in one special field—imparts, in some occult way, a flavor to his mutton that Charley’s does not possess; while, on the other hand, an old woman on Charley’s place has such a gift at raising chickens, turkeys, and ducks, that we have gotten in the habit of looking to her for our fowls.” The Don smiled. “It is rather a singular arrangement, isn’t it? but I have gone into these details that you might see that Elmington is, for all the purposes of hospitality, as much Charley’s as my grandfather’s. I hope it will not be long,” I added, rising, “before you will be able to go down and see how the arrangement works, though I am sorry I shall not be able to join you till Christmas week, being detained by
- 36. professional engagements, or,rather, the hope of such, as I have but recently opened a law office.” “You may rest assured that I shall not lose a day, when once my physician has given me leave to go. Can’t you sit longer? Another visit yet? Ah, I am sorry.” And he accompanied me to the door of his sitting-room. As we stood there for a moment, exchanging the customary civilities of leave-taking, my eye fell upon the little book the Don had laid upon a shelf of his book-case. It was a copy of the New Testament. [1] The quail is unknown in Virginia—both bird and word.—Ed.
- 37. CHAPTER XVII. At aboutthe hour at which I was taking leave of the Don my grandfather was sitting alone in his dining-room, reading; his snow- white hair and beard, as they glistened in the lamp-light, affording a strong contrast to the vivacity of his dark eyes and the ruddy glow of his complexion. But the book before him was hardly able to fix his attention. Every now and then he would raise his eyes from its pages, with the look of one who fancied that he heard an expected sound. Several times he had risen from his seat, gone to the door, opened it, and listened. Something like this he had been doing now for nearly a week. “Dick!” called he at last, opening the door: “Dick!” Uncle Dick emerged from the kitchen, where, for several days past, he had had orders to sit up till ten o’clock in the hope that Charley might arrive. “Yes, mahster!” “Dick, I thought I heard some one coming.” Uncle Dick, who very naturally (and correctly) supposed that this was another false alarm, threw his head into an attitude of pretended listening. “Do you hear anything?” asked the old gentleman. “Ain’t dem de horses a-stompin’ down at de stable?” “I believe you are right,” sighed the old gentleman, as he turned to re-enter the dining-room. “Marse Charley ain’t sont you no letter, is he?” asked Uncle Dick, advancing deferentially towards my grandfather, across the space that separated the kitchen from the “Great-House.”
- 38. “Why, no; butI thought he might come. He wrote me a week ago that the gentleman was getting well.” “Adzackly!” replied Dick, scratching in the fringe of white wool that bordered his bald head. “Jess so! Does you think it rimprobable, mahster,” he began again after a moment of seeming reflection, “dat Marse Charley would come without he writ fust and ’pinted de day, and de ferry ’most twenty miles from here, and nothin’ to hire dere ’cep’n ’tis dat old flea-bitten gray, and he a-string-halted?” “True enough.” “Dat ain’t no fitten animil for de likes o’ Marse Charley, and he a- used to straddlin’ o’ de very best dat steps.” “But listen, Dick! what’s that?” “Lor’, mahster, dat ain’t nothin’ but de old m’yar and colt out d’yar in de pasture.” “Well, what in the blue-blazes makes them all stamp so to-night?” replied the old gentleman, not without a little petulance. “Dat’s jess what I say! leastwise d’yar ain’t no flies to bite ’em dis weather; but dey will do it, mahster, dey will do it. Every dog have he day, dey tell me.” Uncle Dick was strong on proverbs, though hardly happy in their application. Sometimes, in fact, just as doctors will, when they don’t know what is the matter with a patient, prescribe pills of several remedial agents, in the hope that if one shall miss another may hit, so our old hostler, carriage-driver, and dining-room servant would not scruple, when aiming at a truth, to let fly at it an aphorism compound of the head of one proverb and the tail of another. “Yes,” said my grandfather, applying Dick’s saying for him, “every dog will have his day, and I suppose that is why your Marse Charles is staying so long in Richmond.” Uncle Dick was a year or two his master’s senior, and many a “wrassle” had they had together as boys. He was, of course, a
- 39. privileged character, andhe now gave one of those low chuckles beyond the reach of the typographer’s art to represent to the eye. “Yes, mahster, I hears ’em say dat d’yar is some monstrous pretty gals, nebberdeless I should say young ladies, up d’yar in Richmond. Howsomever, pretty is as pretty does. Dat’s what old Dick tells ’em.” “You think Charley is in love, I presume?” Old Dick drew himself up as became one consulted on family affairs, and, dropping his head on one side, he assumed, with his knitted brows and pursed lips, an eminently judicial air. “Well, mahster, ef you axes me ’bout dat, I couldn’t ’espond pint’ly, in course; for I ain’t seen Marse Charles a-noratin’ of it and a- splanifyin’ amongst de Richmond f’yar sect; but old Dick ain’t been a-wrasslin’ and a-spyin’ ’round in dis here vain world for nigh on to a hundred year for nothin’ ef you listen to Dick; and ef you believes me, mahster, dey all of ’em most inginerally gits tetched with love onetimeornuther.” “I believe you are quite right, Dick.” “Why, Lor’ me, mahster,” began Dick, encouraged, and assuming an attitude worthy of the vast generalization he was about to utter, “I really do believe into my soul dat people is born so; dey is pint’ly,— specially young folks.” And he stopped in mid-career. “What dat? ’Pear like I hear the far gate slam. But Marse Charley, he are a keener, he are, and the gal what catches him will have to be a keener too, she will pint’ly. Marse Charley worse’n a oyster at low tide; soon as a young ’oman begins a-speculatin’ and a-gallivantin’ round him, he shets up, he do.” And the old man chuckled. “Howsomever, he am pint’ly a keener, ef you hear Dick—” “Listen, Dick!” “I do believe I hear a horse snort! D’yar ’tis again! Somebody comin’ through de gate. ’Fore de Lord, I believe ’tis Marse Charley! Lemme look good! Sure enough, d’yar he is! Sarvant, Marse Charles! I knowed you was a-comin’ dis very night, and I hope I may die ef he ain’t on old Hop-and-go-fetch-it! Lord a’ massy! Lord a’ massy! Well,
- 40. it’s an illwind what don’t blow de crows out o’ some gent’mun’s cornfield. Lord a’ massy, Marse Charley, what is you a-doin’ up d’yar on dat poor old critter, and de horses in de stable jess a-spilin’ to have somebody fling he leg over ’em?” “Well, my boy, is that you?” “Yes, here I am again, and glad to be back at home. How are you, Uncle Tom?” “The same old seven-and-sixpence,—always well; and how are you?” “Sound in wind and limb, and savagely hungry.” “Well, get down, and we’ll soon cure that ailment.” “I am very sorry,” said Charley, as they entered the dining-room, “that I had to stay away so long, but it seemed right that I should help nurse him. Ah, what a noble fire!” “Well, you are at home again, at any rate. Polly will soon have some supper for you, and you know what is in the sideboard.” Old Dick, meanwhile, was carrying out his share in the programme. “Well, I s’pose I’ll have to feed you,” said he to the flea-bitten, surveying him from head to hock. No true negro feels any doubt whatever as to his words being perfectly intelligible to horse, mule, cow, or dog. “Ef ever I see a poor-folks’ horse, you is one. Git up! git up! don’t you hear me? You needn’t be a-standin’ here a-thinkin’ Dick gwine to ride you to de stable. Aha! you hear dat word stable, did you? Bound for you! You been d’yar befo’, and you know d’yar’s corn in dat ’ar stable; and a heap mo’, besides you, know dat d’yar is pervisions a- layin’ around here, and dey ain’t horses neither, nor yet mules. Git up, I tell you! Ain’t you got no more sense, old as you is, than to be a-snatchin’ at dry grass like dat? But Lor’, Dick don’t blame you! No, honey, Dick ain’t got a word agin you. Who is you, any way, I ax you dat? Is you blood? Is you quality? Dat’s what’s de matter, ef you believe me. You needn’t be a-shakin’ your head; you can’t tell Dick
- 41. nothin’. Anybody cansee you ain’t kin to nobody. ’M’h’m! yes, chile! you needn’t say a word, Dick knows dat kind far as he can see ’em, be dey man or beast. Howsomever, Dick don’t mount no sich. Nigger property is too unsartin for dat. Nebberdeless, Marse Charles, bein’ as how he belongs to his self, he mought. Nebberdeless, you fotch him home, and pretty is as pretty does, dat’s de way old Dick talks it. Polly! Polly!” shouted he to his wife, the cook, as he passed the kitchen door; “Polly! git up, gal! Marse Charles done come and want he supper. I would say,” continued he, not content with the colloquial phrases in which he had announced his young master’s arrival and the state of his appetite,—“I would say, Polly,”—and enveloped in darkness as he was, and invisible even to his spouse, the old man threw himself into an impressive pose, as he always did when about to adorn his language with phrases caught up from the conversation of his master and his guests,—“I would say de Prodigy Son have arrove, and he as ravenous as de fatted calf.” Hearing Polly bustling about within the kitchen: “Polly,” inquired he, in a stately voice, “did you hearken to what I rubserved?” “I hear you, Dick.” “But did you make me out, chile, dat’s de pint, did you make me out?” “G’long, man, and put dat horse in de stable. Marse Charley want he supper, course he do. What’s de use o’ talkin’ about fat calves, when you know as well as I does d’yar ain’t no sich a thing in de kitchen. Marse Charley want he supper, I know dat, and I’se gittin’ ready to cook it fast as I can.” “I b’lieve you. Well, put my name in de pot, chile.” And the old man went his way. “Well,” said he, soliloquizing upon the much-longed-for return of his young master, “dey tell me chickens, like horses [curses?], always does come home to roost—git up, I tell you! —’cep’n onless dey meets a free nigger in de road, den good-by chickens—for you’re gwine to leave us.”
- 42. CHAPTER XVIII. “Why, what’sall this, Uncle Dick?” exclaimed Charley, as that venerable servitor entered, with hospitably beaming countenance, bearing a tray. “Roast oysters! why, this cold turkey was enough for a prince.” And he brushed from his yellow moustache the foam of a glass of Bass’s ale. The old man, complimented by Charley’s surprise, placed the smoking oysters upon the table with a bow of the old school. “Why, they are beauties! Ah, I am glad you will join me, Uncle Tom! I never saw finer.” “Dey is fine, Marse Charley, dat’s a fac’. Polly she save ’em for you special. You know, young mahster” (another bow), “de old-time people used to say you must speed de partin’ guest.” “That’s true. By the way, Uncle Dick, what do you say to a little something to warm up your old bones?” “Since you mention it, Marse Charley, I believe de frost has tetched ’em a little.” “Well, get that bottle out of the sideboard,—you know where it is.” “Know whar ’tis? I wish I had as many dollars as I know whar dat bottle sets!” “Or would you prefer ale?” “Thank you, young mahster; whiskey good enough for Dick.” “There, ’tisn’t more than half full; take it out and give Polly her share.” “Sarvant, mahster!”
- 43. “Take some sugar?” “Muchobleeged, young mahster; seems like ’most everything spiles whiskey. Somehownutther nothin’ don’t gee with sperrits ’cep’n ’tis mo’ sperrits.” “But Aunt Polly might like sugar with hers.” “Dat’s a fac’, Marse Charley, dat’s a fac’; but Lor’ me, women don’t know; but den again dey tell me it’s a wise man as knows his own father, so d’yar ’tis.” “Well, Uncle Dick, I can make out without you now, so good-night; and present my compliments to Aunt Polly, and you and she drink my health.” “We will pint’ly, Marse Charles, we will pint’ly.” And even after the old man had closed the door, you might have heard muttered fragments of his amiable intentions, as he trudged back to the kitchen. “Well,” began my grandfather, rising from the table to fill his pipe, “you made a long stay of it in Richmond. How did you leave the young man?” “Ah, he is nearly well again,” said Charley, deftly removing a side- bone from the fowl before him. “By Jove, I did not know how hungry I was. That early dinner on the boat seems to me now like a far- away dream of a thing that never was. I wonder whether this turkey really is the best that old Sucky ever raised? How good that tobacco smells!” Charley was happy. The bright fire and good cheer, after his long, cold, and tiresome ride, the intense consciousness of being at home once more, but, above all, the look of beaming satisfaction on the face of the venerable but still vigorous old man, who sat smiling upon him and enjoying his appetite and high spirits, filled him with ineffable content. “Let me settle with this august bird, Uncle Tom, and then I shall be ready to talk to you about Mr. Smith,—Don Miff, as the girls call him.”
- 44. “Don Miff?—what girls?” “The—ah,we gave him that nickname. I’ll explain when I get even with this noble fowl and light my pipe.” “Did you,” asked my grandfather, advancing cautiously as a skirmisher, “meet any nice people in Richmond?” “Oh, yes, very nice people up there,—too many of them; made me talk myself nearly to death,—but very nice people, of course, very. Look at that chap,” added he, holding up on the end of his fork a huge oyster. “You spoke of girls,—did you meet any?” And a pang of jealousy shot through the old man’s heart, as he recalled Dick’s aphorism on the universal liability of young folks to a certain weakness. “Oh, lots!—I’ll have to cut this fellow in two, I believe.” “Who were they?” asked the old man, trying to smile. “Who? the girls?” “Yes; you did not mention any in your letters.” “Of course not. When did you ever know me to write about girls? As I said, I met lots of them at the various houses at which I visited. It seems to me that there are girls everywhere.” “Thank God for it, too.” “Well,—yes,—as it were; but you can’t expect a fellow to remember all their names. Oh, there was Lucy Poythress, of course.” “Yes, I knew she was in Richmond.” “And then—and then there was a schoolmate of hers,—Miss Mary Rolfe. You know her father, Mr. James Rolfe. Brilliant girl, they say,— talks beautifully—very accomplished, you know, and all that sort of thing.” “Yes, I have heard she is a really charming girl. What do you say to our having her as one of our Christmas party?” The old man removed his pipe from his mouth. “What do you say, Charley?” And
- 45. he glanced atthe young man’s face with a look that was too eager to be shrewd. “A capital idea!” exclaimed Charley, spearing another oyster with emphasis. The old man drew vigorously on his pipe several times, and finding it had gone out, rose for a lighter. “You think,” said he, puffing between his words as he relit his pipe, contemplatively watching the tongue of flame darting down into the bowl, “that we should have her of the party?” “Most assuredly. She is a fine girl,—you would like her. In fact, we must have her here if possible.” “Yes,” said the old man, “yes.” And he gazed at the bright coals. He felt that he had not landed his trout. “So you didn’t lose your heart?” “My heart? Who, I?” And Charley gave a loud laugh. “The very idea amuses you?” “I should think so! I suppose you suspect that old Cousin Sally’s niece—or Cousin Sally’s old niece—whichever you please—captivated me?” “No, I was not thinking of Sarah Ann. In fact, I didn’t know that any one had captivated you—till you mentioned it.” “Well, upon my word, I have finished the last of these oysters,—and there is not so much turkey as there was.” “Well, now we will have an old-time whiff together; and now begin your story. However, before you do, can you think of any other girl who would be an acquisition for Christmas?” “Who? Bless me, Uncle Tom, what could have put such a notion into your head? Oh, I’ll tell you,—leave it all to Jack-Whack; he’s the ladies’ man of the family, you know.” “Very well; and now fill your pipe and tell me all those strange things about that strange Mr. Smith, that you promised me in your letters.”
- 46. Charley told thestory, with one omission. He failed to allude to his having invited the Don to visit Elmington. Omissions to state all manner of things that ordinary mortals would make haste to mention was one of Charley’s idiosyncrasies,—so that I suspect that his silence on this point was premeditated. Another was, as I have already hinted, an aversion to expressing an opinion of any one, good or bad. But Mr. Whacker felt instinctively that Charley had conceived a genuine liking for this mysterious stranger. A tone here, a look there, told the tale. Charley’s likings, being rare, were exceedingly strong. Moreover, they were never, I may say, misplaced, and my grandfather knew this. So, when Charley had finished his narrative, “You have,” said he, “interested me deeply. Who can he be? But be he who he may, he is obviously no common man.” Charley puffed away slowly at his pipe. “He is a remarkable man,” continued my grandfather, warming up. “He has points about him,” said Charley, driven to say something. “Yes, and characteristic points, highly characteristic points,” said the old gentleman, with a sort of defiant emphasis. “He has, beyond question.” “Charley,” began Mr. Whacker, rising and taking a lighter,—for he had suffered his pipe to go out,—“don’t you think”—and he lit the taper —“what do you say,” he continued, in a hesitating manner, which he tried to cover up under pretence of strict attention to the feat of adjusting the blaze to the tobacco,—“how would it do to invite him here,—just for a week or so, you know?” It is, I dare say, a mere whim on my part, but I must now beg the contemporary reader to obliterate himself for a few pages. I must tell you, my descendant-to-the-tenth-power—no, you will be that much of a grandson,—my descendant-to-the-twelfth-power, therefore—I must tell you, as a matter of family history, why your ascendant-to-the-fourteenth-power hesitated.
- 47. Our common ancestorwas a Virginian,—which means, you will doubtless know, that he was hospitable. Again, he was a Virginian of Leicester County,—and that is as much as to say, as I trust a dim tradition, at least, shall have informed you, that he was a Virginian of Virginians. But, lastly and chiefly, he was Mr. Thomas Whacker of Elmington. What that amounts to you can learn from me alone. Our common ancestor was, then, the soul of hospitality,—hospitality in a certain sense boundless, though it was strictly limited and exclusive in a certain direction. No dull man or woman was welcome at Elmington. But his nets seemed to bring in all the queer fish that floated about Virginia. I suppose there must have been something inborn in him that made odd people attractive to him, and him to them, but I have no doubt that this trait of his was in part due to the kind of Bohemian life he led in Europe for several years, when he was a young man, mingling, on familiar terms, with musicians, actors, painters, and all manner of shiftless geniuses,—so that the average humdrum citizen possessed little interest for him. If a man could only do or say anything that no one else could do or say, or do it or say it better than any one else, he had a friend in Mr. Whacker. All forms of brightness and of humor—any kind of talent, or even oddity—could unlock that door, which swung so easily on its hinges. And not only men of gifts, but all who had a lively appreciation of gifts, were at liberty to make Elmington their headquarters; so that, as my memory goes back to those days, there rises before me a succession of the drollest mortals that were ever seen in one Virginia house. Now, I need hardly remind you that company of this character has its objections. Men such as I have rapidly outlined are not always very eligible visitors at a country house. It happens, not unfrequently, that a man who is very entertaining to-day is a bore to-morrow,—the day after, a nuisance; so that our grandfather, who was the most unsuspicious of mortals, and who always took men for what they seemed to be on a first interview, was frequently most egregiously taken in, and was often at his wit’s end as to how to get rid of some treasure he had picked up. In fact, Charley used to dread the old gentleman’s return from the springs in autumn, or the
- 48. cities in winter;for he was quite sure to have invited to Elmington some of the people whom he had met there; and they often proved not very profitable acquaintances. In fine, wherever he went, he rarely failed to gather more or less gems of purest ray serene, many of which turned out, under Charley’s more scrutinizing eyes, very ordinary pebbles indeed. Unqualified, however, what I have written would give a very erroneous idea of the people our grandfather used to gather around his hospitable board; for I must say that after all deductions have been made, he managed, certainly, to get beneath his vine and fig- tree more really clever and interesting people than I have ever seen in any one house elsewhere. And then, too, as there were no ladies at Elmington, I don’t know that his mistakes mattered much. Still, they were sufficiently numerous; and he had begun to lose, not indeed his faith in men, so much as in his own ability to read them. And just in proportion as waned his confidence in his own judgment in such matters, he placed an ever-heightening estimate upon Charley’s; so that, in the end, he was always rather nervous upon the arrival of any of his new-found geniuses, till his taciturn friend had indicated, in some way, that he thought them unexceptionable. Now, Charley had seen Mr. Smith; our grandfather not. Here was a chance. He would throw the responsibility upon Charley. In this particular case he was especially glad to do so, for there was undoubtedly an air of mystery surrounding Mr. Smith, and mystery cannot but arouse suspicion. Our grandfather continued: “H’m? What do you say? For a week or so?” There was positively something timid in the way he glanced at Charley out of the corners of his eyes. And now you may dimly discern what was most probably Charley’s motive for refraining from alluding to his having himself invited the Don to Elmington. In a spirit of affectionate malice he had deliberately entrapped his old friend into making the proposition. So I must believe, at least.
- 49. “By all means,”replied Charley, with a cordiality that surprised Mr. Whacker. “What! Do you say so?” cried our grandfather, rubbing his hands delightedly; and taking out his keys, he began to unlock his desk. “How should the letter be addressed?” continued he, turning and looking at Charley. His face reddened a little as he detected an imperfectly suppressed smile in Charley’s eyes. He was somewhat afraid of that smile. “What are you grinning at?” “I grinning?” “Yes, you! Didn’t you say we should invite him?” “Certainly.” “Then what’s the matter?” “It’s past eleven,” said Charley, glancing at the clock. “Is it possible!” “And then the mail doesn’t leave till day after to-morrow.” “Oh!” ejaculated our impulsive ancestor, “I had not thought of that!”