Home > Authors Index > F. Colburn Adams > Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter > This page
The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter, a novel by F. Colburn Adams |
||
Chapter 58. In Which The Reader Will Find Much That Is Curious And Interesting |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER LVIII. IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND MUCH THAT IS CURIOUS AND INTERESTING
Being scrupulous of the character which my hero shall maintain for strict honesty, I here enjoin the reader to remember the circumstances under which General Roger Potter, ruler over all Kalorama, was constrained to commit a theft so small as that of the mule and the priest's gown. Life is sweet with the greatest heroes; and let no man question the means by which they seek to preserve it until he has felt the halter about his own neck. Know then, that while the priests were pursuing their blind way, eager for a victim, the retreating ruler, being hungry and anxious, was entering the cabin of a poor peasant woman, having travelled some twenty miles on the road without stopping. No sooner did the poor woman see him than she fell upon her knees, crossed herself and began saying her beads. In short she paid reverence to him in so many ways that he became alarmed lest she go mad with joy; for being clad in the garb of a priest, and in his bare feet, she mistook him for one of those good and holy men who go over the country renouncing the vanities of the world, and setting an example to others by the terrible penance paid with the soles of their feet. And when she had paid him reverence to her satisfaction, she bid her children provide fodder for his mule, for she saw the animal was in a lather and seriously jaded. "Madam, I am General Roger Potter, ruler over this nation. Being in pursuit of my army, pray tell me if you have seen it straying this way;" spoke the general, with becoming courtesy. But as neither could understand a word the other said, matters became singularly confused, and to all the general's questions, the good woman would answer by placing her hands to her bosom, looking heavenward with appealing sweetness, and whispering: "Holy virgin!" "Faith of my mother!" exclaimed the general, as he concealed the condition of his legs with the priest's gown, "I am not the person she takes me for-that's certain!" Soon she brought water and washed his feet, combed and perfumed his beard (which was excessively dirty), and indeed bestowed so many little kindnesses that his heart was moved, and he not only shed tears, but said within himself: "Honestly, it is better to have peace and comfort in a cabin like this (for the smiles of this good woman seem to have much of heaven in them), than to rule king over a nation, and live in a palace when there is no safety against being hanged. Truly, I begin to feel that my ambition has made me a great fool." In washing his feet, the good woman discovered the true condition of his raiment, though it was by the merest accident. The good man, she said within herself, has in his anxiety to do penance forgotten to arrange his robes. In the tenderest manner, then, she brought him the breeches and doublet of her dead husband, for whose soul she beseeched him to pray. The application of the garments he readily understood; but for the prayers, the good woman had to accept the will for the deed. To afford his reverence an opportunity of arranging his clothes, the good woman proceeded to the garden and filled her basket with plantain for his breakfast. Much as the general stood in need of shoes, he sat himself down for a most fortunate gentleman in being able to procure even such raiment; for, said he, what a figure I would cut entering Jolliffee on a mule, and in the hat and gown of a priest. When, therefore, he had breakfasted on plantain and yams, to which a dish of coffee was added, he returned thanks to the good woman, and fearing the priests might be in pursuit of him, bid her an affectionate adieu, mounted his mule, and proceeded on his journey. Travelling all day under a burning sun, he found the priest's hat of great service in protecting his brain, which otherwise would have dissolved. When night came he was more than six leagues from Jolliffee, and his mule being much jaded, and himself fatigued, he drew up by the road-side, in a grove of palms, beneath which a spring of crystal water gushed forth and rippled away over the pebbly bottom. The mule having quenched its thirst, the general seated himself beside the spring; and when he had refreshed himself on some crusts and water, gave himself up to contemplation. And the perfect stillness that pervaded the grove (for not a sound was heard, and even the mule seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of his master's musings, for he baited cautiously of the young grass) gave to his revery a melancholy turn. His forlorn condition; the many sudden and unforseen misfortunes that had come upon him; the narrow escapes for his life; the many times he had almost dangled at the limb of a tree; and the unnumbered batterings and bruisings he had got while displaying his "military valor"-all flashed across his mind, as if stretched upon a clearly defined panorama, and caused him to heave a deep sigh. What compensation had he got for all these sufferings, which were the result of his ambition? And the answer came to him with the suddenness of lightning-"Ruler over Kalorama, for a day." "Heaven be with me," he sighed; "for now my poverty is perfect. And who would envy my fate, here in a desert, without a friend, and in the raiment of a priest, which if I cast off I shall look like a clown, which will not do for the man who has ruled a kingdom. Therefore, I say, seeing that it is good to be an honest man, that if heaven spare me and get me safely out of this snare, I will go to my home, and there live so good a man that the neighbors shall say, Roger Potter is a Christian. Faith of my father, I begin to have a hate for these rogues of rulers, and would give a dozen kingdoms of the size of Kalorama to be safe beside my good wife Polly. And resolved am I to get to her, so heaven favor my inclinations, and let not death overtake me on the way. As for my employer, if he still persist in gratifying his love for getting kingdoms, why, he can get him another general, for there is no lack of them. Truly, I have had trials enough in his service, and if he say I have not killed enough of the enemy, I can tell him that the commander who can boast of his clean sword is your true hero. I confess, he sent me rascals enough to destroy the morals of a dozen kingdoms or more; but what matters that when I have not a dollar in my pocket to buy shoes to my feet; and even the paltry sum he promised has never seen the way to my pocket. I swear, then, to give up all these longings, and, though stripped of my coat, get speedily to my home, comfort my family, and live like a man." The forlorn general was interrupted in these reveries by a rustling noise in the bushes. And fearing he might have been discovered by robbers (for he knew they infested that part of the country), he drew up his mule and was about to mount and be off. But a female voice suddenly struck up a song, which rang silvery through the grove, and in such sweet cadences that the very trees seemed enchanted. Pausing, the general stood as if bound in admiration, whilst the priest's gown dropped from his shoulders, unfortunately leaving him in his doublet and breeches. Looking in the direction of the music, he espied emerging from a cluster of bushes, and tripping gaily towards him, two young persons he would have sworn were lovers, for the man had his arm about the waist of the damsel, a girl just in the bud of womanhood, who looked lovingly into his face, as she sang for his entertainment. I may mention that she was of what novel-writers call medium size, with features exquisitely regular, eyes ravishingly black, and a deep olive complexion, which though charms enough for one, were enhanced by tresses of black, silky hair, that fell down below her waist. The touching sweetness of the song cheered the general's heart, and was like a gleam of sunshine lighting up the dark and adverse events of his life. The singer and her companion suddenly stopped, and as the thrills of her song died away among the whispering branches, they stood gazing fixedly at the newly discovered object in the grove. As the man was not dressed in the garb common to the country, General Roger Potter resolved within himself not to give way to his fears, as perhaps he might be a soldier of his retreating army. While the lovers, on the other hand, were not a little puzzled as to the true character of the strange figure before them; for while he wore on his head the hat of a priest, his breeches and doublet were those of a mountebank. "Heavenly, stranger, if you be not an enemy, you can render me great service. And as I stand in much need of food and raiment, draw near that I may commend myself to you ;" spoke the general. And so perfect was the stillness of the grove that the words were distinctly echoed to the lovers. Indeed, the man was seen to express surprise and astonishment. But if he was astonished, the general stood confounded when he saw his arms fall from the damsel's waist, and heard the echo of these words, in return: "Heavens! if my ears do not deceive me, it is our general's voice." "Aye, I am General Roger Potter, recently ruler over this kingdom," returned the general, in a trembling voice, for he was still more bewildered. "And yet," rejoined he with the damsel, "it cannot be our general, for he is dressed in the garb of a clown; and may the devil get me if I think he would dress in that style, though it were to get him safe out of the country." Having said this, he was seen to leave the girl sitting upon the trunk of a tree, and to advance a few paces towards the figure in the strange dress. He then paused, and after a searching glance, quickened his pace, and then at the very top of his speed, ran into the other's arms, crying, "general! general! my good master, let our meeting here be set down for a miracle, for I have much need to ask your forgiveness." "Faith of my father!" exclaimed the general, releasing his hold of the mule and embracing the stranger, "Tickler, my faithful secretary! is it you? "Me, and nobody else!" rejoined the stranger, who was no less a person than the lost secretary. History affords no record of a greeting between a great general and his secretary half so enthusiastic as that which took place on this occasion. Both were nearly affected to tears; and so anxious were they to relate what had befallen them since they parted, that it seemed as if they could not wait another minute. In short, when one began to speak the other would interrupt, impatient lest he forget something of particular interest. Like sensible gentlemen, feeling that they were too much overcome by the meeting, they agreed to postpone the account of their exploits, and proceed at once to the house of Angelio's parents; for that was the name of the damsel who accompanied Tickler through the grove. "It is but half a league from this," said Tickler, "and as they are poor, but honest people, you will be welcome under their roof, and get such refreshment as I see you stand much in need of." Seeing this friendly meeting between her lover and the stranger, Angelio tripped lightly to where they stood, and with a smile of childlike innocence lighting up her sweet face, held out her hand in token of her friendship. And when the general had acknowledged this with his usual courtesy, she blushed, and shook her head, and placed her right hand to her heart, which was her mute but forcible reply, for not a word of the tongue in which he spoke could she understand. "And now, general," spoke the critic, "let me lead the mule, and do you accompany Angelio, for I remember your gallantry." Just as this was bringing to life all that vanity for which the general has distinguished himself throughout this history, Mr. Tickler continued: "But pray, how comes it that your excellency is dressed in this strange garb?" Suddenly discovering the condition he was in, he picked up the gown, had it about him in a trice, and was for offering no end of apologies, which Tickler put an end to by assuring him, that although Angelio's blushes were all the results of innocence, she was by no means prudish. And now, having got himself safely rolled up in the priest's gown, the general gallantly proceeded with Angelio to her father's house, followed by the critic, leading the mule. And for what took place when they arrived at that humble abode, the reader is referred to the next chapter. _ |
||