Chapter 8. What Took Place Between The Major And The Fishmonger

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_ CHAPTER VIII. WHAT TOOK PLACE BETWEEN THE MAJOR AND THE FISHMONGER

A SOFT glow enhanced the beauty of the foliage on the hill side, tottering stone walls lined each side of the road, and the crowing of cocks, and the lowing of cattle, together with a pastoral view obtained through the scraggy trees, betokened our near approach to a farm house. "Let us forget politics and go in for a bit of trade with this fishmonger!" said the major, as he jerked the reins, that old Battle might take heed, and quicken his pace. Another blast from the fishmonger's horn, and his wagon appeared in the road, approaching at a rapid pace. The fishmonger, doubtless, thought there was no trade to be had of a tin peddler, whose wares had nothing in common with his own, and was about to drive by at a brisk pace, when the major reined up old Battle, and half hidden in a cloud of dust, cried out, in a thin, squeaking voice, "Ho! stranger, what like for fish have you?"

"Cod, haddock and bass," replied the fishmonger, who seemed as lean and well starved as his horse, which was of a light sorrel color, and presented so pitiable a pack of bones that no real philanthropist could have looked upon him without shedding many tears. The two tradesmen now got down from their respective wagons, and approaching each other with hands extended, presented a corporeal contrast one seldom sees in the rural districts of New England, inasmuch as the fishmonger stood six feet in his grain-leather boots, and was so lean of person that one might easily have imagined him fed on half-tanned leather and Connecticut nutmegs, while the major stood just five feet two in his stockings, measured exactly twenty-seven inches across the broad disc of his trousers, and had a belly equal to that of three turtle-fed aldermen rolled into one. The major too, had a head very like a Wethersfield squash stunted in the growth, with a broad, florid face, and a spacious mouth, and two small eyes he could see at right angles with. The fishmonger, on the other hand, was hatchet faced, had a dilating jaw, and a vacant look out of his eyes, which were well nigh obscured by the battered hat slouched down over his parchment colored forehead.

They began at once to raise their wares, to shake each other cordially by the hand, and to exchange salutations of mutual confidence. Old Battle, who had a deep fellow feeling for his master, must needs imitate the affection he displayed for the fishmonger, and to that end began to make free with his horse, which, after sundry friendly bites of the mane, and otherwise exhibiting himself in a manner very much unbecoming a horse of such good morals, reared and had done serious damage with the bones of the other, but for the interposition of his master, who separated them with the stock of his big whip. Peace being restored, the animals were removed to a respectful distance, and I was introduced to the fishmonger as the greatest young politician ever known in that part of the country. The major, it must here be recorded, otherwise this history would be imperfect, was scrupulous not to admit that a young politician, however brilliant his capacity, could be equal to an old one. In this he differed but little from many other great military politicians of my acquaintance.

As the major seemed not to have a care for any other political campaign than that which elected General Harrison, it was a custom with him to inquire of every new acquaintance how he voted in that event, before engaging in a trade with him. Having put the question as a preliminary, the fishmonger replied that he had voted as good and square a "Coon ticket" as any citizen in the town where he lived, but that he received two pieces of gold for so doing, and thought it no harm.

"It is how a man votes," said the major, adding a nod of satisfaction, "not what he gets for his vote. That's his business, and except heaven, no one has a right to interfere. Here, take these, know how much I esteem you, and remember when you drink your cider out of them that I am your friend." Here the major took two tin pints from his wagon, and having patted the fishmonger upon the shoulder, presented them to him, with a speech very like that made by a Mayor of New York, who, having dined with his board of aldermen, holds it incumbent upon him to bestow praises the cunning rascals know are meant for a jest. This done, the major drew forth his flask, saying that it would be no more than good manners to christen the pints. The fishmonger answered that he had no objection, the weather being very oppressive. A stout draft was now poured into each cup, and having myself declined, compliments and bows, such as the fishmonger had never before received, were exchanged, and the whiskey drank with great apparent satisfaction.

"As the sun is warm, and my profits to day have not amounted to much," said the fishmonger, with an air of stupidity that by no means pleased the major, "I must hurry these ere fish through!" The major expected a different return for his generosity, and reminded his friend that he had not yet showed him a sample of his wares. At the word, the other mounted his little box of a wagon, and in a trice laid three cod and two flabby haddock upon the lid, declaring they were as fresh and bright as a new-coined quarter. And though at the most rapid pace his horse could travel, he was more than six hours from the nearest sea-shore, he was ready to swear by the hair of his head, of which he had but little, they were only two hours caught. "Five cents a pound for the cod, and four for the haddock!" ejaculated the fishmonger, raising a haddock by the gills, as if to assert some near point to the notch it would bring down on the steelyard. "Well, to you, here, have the cod for four and a half; that's offsettin' your good turn, and I make it a point never to be out of the way with a fellow trader." Saying this, he hung a codfish to the hook of his steelyards, and finding seven pounds marked, said thirty cents would cover the cost, that being a cent and a half more off. Generosity, the Major saw, was not bait that tempted the fishmonger to reciprocity. "I should like two of them at the price you name; but as paying cash is not in my line, perhaps we can trade, somehow? By my military reputation, I never let a chance to trade slip. Yes, by my buttons, I made a good thing of it when at the head of my regiment in Mexico." This the major said by way of softening the fishmonger's generosity; but that honest-minded individual replied in the following laconic manner: "Bin in Mexaki, eh? Darn'd if I'd like to bin there."

The major, not at all pleased with the unimpressable nature of the fishmonger, said, somewhat curtly, that no one cared whether he would or not. "However, here's at you for a trade," continued the major, adding that generosity was the surest road to fortune. And having bid him hang another cod to his steelyards, he drew from his stock a small tin strainer, with which he offered to make a square exchange for the fish. "Say the word, and it is done!" ejaculated the major, patting the other upon the shoulder. The fishmonger shook his head, and looked askant at the major, as if to say he would rather be excused. The major now, out of sheer generosity, as he said, and anxious, no doubt, to sustain the character of military men, threw in a pint of number four shoe pegs, which article was among his wares, and which he was ready to swear by his military honor the people of Connecticut raised Shanghai chickens on. The fishmonger said he did not know exactly what to do with the shoe pegs; but as a New Englander was never at a loss to find a use for every thing, and not wanting to be hard with a fellow trader, he would call it a bargain. They now mounted their respective teams, and drove on in opposite directions.

A little red house, half buried under a hill side, interspersed with scrubby trees and blackberry vines, now appeared in sight. This the major described as the house of his dear good friend, Mrs. Trotbridge, the widow of three husbands, and yet so young in feeling that she was in daily expectation of getting a fourth. He never failed to make her a present, and partake of her good cheer while passing that way. The fish would be a great treat with the widow; and though the strainer and shoe-pegs, for which they were exchanged, did not "stand him in" more than a shilling, the fish would rise up in her eyes to the worth of a jolly good dinner.

Old Battle, recognizing the house as one he was accustomed to rest and feed at, quickened his pace, and disturbing the repose of pigs, chickens, and young ducks, nestling by the roadside, soon reached the garden gate. Dismounting in great haste, the major bid me follow him, and, leaving old Battle to take care of himself for the nonce, hastened up the pathway toward the front door, for the house was separated from the road by a narrow garden, enclosed with pickets, and full of stunted shrubbery. The inmates of the house were soon astir, and the major's name was, one might have thought, called from every window. Then the basement door suddenly opened, and two little, mischievous looking Trotbridges, scampered out to meet him, and so clung about his short legs, and otherwise offered him proof of the affection they bore him, as almost to impede his progress. Mrs. Trotbridge, at the same time, appeared in the door, three or four flaxen headed little members of the Trotbridge family clinging at her skirts, and shaking their chubby fingers in ecstasy. Mrs. Trotbridge stood at least an head taller than the major, and was in figure so lean as to give one the idea that she had been pressed between two opposite points of theology. Her face was worn and wrinkled; her eyes small, gray, and staring, and fortified with a pair of silver-bowed spectacles, which were incessantly getting down upon her long, flat nose. Her complexion, too, was the color of alum tanned sheep skin. The major's arrival was evidently a great event with the Trotbridge family, for while the two elder boys, one about eight and the other nine years old, ran to see which should be first to take care of his horse, Mrs. Trotbridge, saying, "Well, as I'm living, if here ain't the major again," hastened down the pathway, one hand under her check apron and the other extended. There now took place such a series of embracings, accompanied with kisses, as one seldom sees in lovers over sixteen.

The major followed speedily into the house, while the two boys unharnessed, fussed over, and took care of his horse, which one mounted and the other led by an halter to a little dilapidated barn, such as are common to that part of the country. I was next introduced, with some ceremony, to Mrs. Trotbridge, as the politician who had gone over the country effecting such wonderful political changes. After divers courtesies, the good woman put so many questions to me concerning my past history and future hopes, that I found it somewhat difficult to answer them. Mrs. Trotbridge had no very deep love for politicians in general, the doctor of the parish having told her that they did serious damage to brandy punches. Had I felt inclined, I verily believe she would have held me in conversation until midnight, such was her nimbleness of tongue.

The walls of the room, which was about twenty feet by twelve in dimensions, were hung with small, colored pictures, in mahogany frames; an high shoe bench in one corner, a few flag bottom chairs, a table and two small workstands, and four pair of shoemaker's clamps, arranged at the windows, constituted the simple but substantial furniture. But there was over all an air of neatness about it truly charming. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. "Must make yerselves at home here," said Mrs. Trotbridge. "Things, maybe, ain't as nice as yer used to havin' 'em, but poor folks must do the best they can, and hope better 'll come."

And while the good woman set about lighting a fire in the great open fireplace, Major Potter got between two chairs, into each of which an urchin mounted, with a broom in his hand, and so belabored his jacket as to fill the room with dust. "The major is always at home in this house," dryly ejaculated the good woman, taking down her bellows and commencing to blow the fire.

"I know how to appreciate it, Mrs. Trotbridge, and hope nothing may come to lengthen the distance between our friendship," returned the major, shrugging his great broad shoulders, and adding that I could now go through the process of dusting while he washed his face, preparatory to listening to how times went with Mrs. Trotbridge. He had previously ordered the boys to water his chickens, and now, having at his desire brought in the fish, he presented them to the hostess with all that pomp and dignity so common with government employés, who present the heads of departments with services of plate bought with their own money, and which intolerable nuisance had its origin among the kings and queens of the buskin. They were, he slyly intimated, worth seven Massachusetts shillings. The shrewd fishmonger wanted nine, but, saying I was going to present them to a dear old friend, he threw off two. No New York alderman ever received a gold snuff box for abusing his office with more condescension than did Mrs. Trotbridge the fish so kindly presented by the major. Saying he was proverbially a modest man, the major begged she would forego any return of thanks and accept them solely as a token of the affection he bore her, and which he certainly would enlarge were it not that Mrs. Roger Potter yet lived, and was hale and hearty. The widow blushed for once, saying as she did so, that there was a time when such a compliment would not have been lost upon her, but now that she had got on the wrong side of forty, was getting gray, and had seen three dear good husbands put away in the grave, she did not think it right to be "lookin' out," especially as Parson Stebbins had always said, when he looked in, that woman's worldly thoughts ought to end at forty.

My suspicions of the major's probity were now almost confirmed, for when she offered to vouchsafe him her generosity, by frying a piece of the fish for dinner, he expressed a positive preference for bacon, a good flitch of which he saw in a little cupboard she opened in search of her stew pan. And although he expressed it a stain upon his gallantry to deprive her of even an ounce, I thought the quality and not his gallantry stood in the way. "Lord bless you, Mrs. Trotbridge," said the major, "men distinguished in arms never make presents to eat of them."

The good hostess replied, by saying, she might have known, but it was seldom persons so distinguished came that way; and when they did, she entertained them just for the honor of it. Peace, she said, reigned in her little house, and she was more happy with the thought of eating the bread of honesty, so remotely, than she would be with a palace in the olive groves of Cordova the man who lectured told about, seeing that they who live in palaces must depend upon others for bread, while she could raise her own. _

Read next: Chapter 9. How Major Roger Potter Got His Dinner...

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