The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 16, No. 96, October 1865. Various
and I shall be mortified to death. Jest like a woman, to git frightened!"
"If you hadn't got frightened, and made a fool of yourself, yelling fire, 'twouldn't have happened!" retorted Mrs. Ducklow.
"Wal! wal! say no more about it! The bonds are safe."
"I was in hopes you'd change 'em for them registered bonds Reuben spoke of."
"I did try to, but they told me to the bank it couldn't be did. Then I asked 'em if they would keep 'em for me, and they said they wouldn't object to lockin' on 'em up in their safe; but they wouldn't give me no receipt, nor hold themselves responsible for 'em. I didn't know what else to do, so I handed 'em the bonds to keep."
"I want to know if you did now!" exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow, disapprovingly.
"Why not? What else could I do? I didn't want to lug 'em around with me forever. And as for keepin' 'em hid in the house, we've tried that!" and Ducklow unfolded his weekly newspaper.
Mrs. Ducklow was placing the dinner on the table, with a look which seemed to say, "I wouldn't have left the bonds in the bank; my judgment would have been better than all that. If they are lost, I sha'n't be to blame!" when suddenly Ducklow started and uttered a cry of consternation over his newspaper.
"Why, what have ye found?"
"Bank robbery!"
"Not your bank? Not the bank where your bonds"–
"Of course not; but in the very next town! The safe blown open with gunpowder! Five thousand dollars in Gov'ment bonds stole!"
"How strange!" said Mrs. Ducklow. "Now what did I tell ye?"
"I believe you're right," cried Ducklow, starting to his feet. "They'll be safer in my own house, or even in my own pocket!"
"If you was going to put 'em in any safe, why not put 'em in Josiah's? He's got a safe, ye know."
"So he has! We might drive over there and make a visit Monday, and ask him to lock up–yes, we might tell him and Laury all about it, and leave 'em in their charge."
"So we might!" said Mrs. Ducklow.
Laura was their daughter, and Josiah her husband, in whose honor and sagacity they placed unlimited confidence. The plan was resolved upon at once.
"To-morrow's Sunday," said Ducklow, pacing the floor. "If we leave the bonds in the bank over night, they must stay there till Monday."
"And Sunday is jest the day for burglars to operate!" added Mrs. Ducklow.
"I've a good notion—let me see!" said Ducklow, looking at the clock. "Twenty minutes after twelve! Bank closes at two! An hour and a half,—I believe I could git there in an hour and a half. I will. I'll take a bite and drive right back."
Which he accordingly did, and brought the tape-tied envelope home with him again. That night he slept with it under his pillow. The next day was Sunday; and although Mr. Ducklow did not like to have the bonds on his mind during sermon-time, and Mrs. Ducklow "dreaded dreadfully," as she said, "to look the minister in the face," they concluded that it was best, on the whole, to go to meeting, and carry the bonds. With the envelope once more in his breast-pocket, (stitched in this time by Mrs. Ducklow's own hand,) the farmer sat under the droppings of the sanctuary, and stared up at the good minister, but without hearing a word of the discourse, his mind was so engrossed by worldly cares, until the preacher exclaimed vehemently, looking straight at Ducklow's pew,—
"What said Paul? 'I would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am, except these bonds.' 'Except these bonds'!" he repeated, striking the Bible. "Can you, my hearers,—can you say, with Paul, 'Would that all were as I am, except these bonds'?"
A point which seemed for a moment so personal to himself, that Ducklow was filled with confusion, and would certainly have stammered out some foolish answer, had not the preacher passed on to other themes. As it was, Ducklow contented himself with glancing around to see if the congregation was looking at him, and carelessly passing his hand across his breast-pocket to make sure the bonds were still there.
Early the next morning, the old mare was harnessed, and Taddy's adopted parents set out to visit their daughter,—Mrs. Ducklow having postponed her washing for the purpose. It was afternoon when they arrived at their journey's end. Laura received them joyfully, but Josiah was not expected home until evening. Mr. Ducklow put the old mare in the barn, and fed her, and then went in to dinner, feeling very comfortable indeed.
"Josiah's got a nice place here. That's about as slick a little barn as ever I see. Always does me good to come over here and see you gittin' along so nicely, Laury."
"I wish you'd come oftener, then," said Laura.
"Wal, it's hard leavin' home, ye know. Have to git one of the Atkins boys to come and sleep with Taddy the night we're away."
"We shouldn't have come to-day, if 't hadn't been for me," remarked Mrs. Ducklow. "Says I to your father, says I, 'I feel as if I wanted to go over and see Laury; it seems an age since I've seen her,' says I. 'Wal,' says he, 's'pos'n' we go!' says he. That was only last Saturday; and this morning we started."
"And it's no fool of a job to make the journey with the old mare!" said Ducklow.
"Why don't you drive a better horse?" said Laura, whose pride was always touched when her parents came to visit her with the old mare and the one-horse wagon.
"Oh, she answers my purpose. Hossflesh is high, Laury. Have to economize, these times."
"I'm sure there's no need of your economizing!" exclaimed Laura, leading the way to the dining-room. "Why don't you use your money, and have the good of it?"
"So I tell him," said Mrs. Ducklow, faintly.—"Why, Laury! I didn't want you to be to so much trouble to git dinner jest for us! A bite would have answered. Do see, father!"
At evening Josiah came home; and it was not until then that Ducklow mentioned the subject which was foremost in his thoughts.
"What do ye think o' Gov'ment bonds, Josiah?" he incidentally inquired, after supper.
"First-rate!" said Josiah.
"About as safe as anything, a'n't they?" said Ducklow, encouraged.
"Safe?" cried Josiah. "Just look at the resources of this country! Nobody has begun yet to appreciate the power and undeveloped wealth of these United States. It's a big rebellion, I know; but we're going to put it down. It'll leave us a big debt, very sure; but we handle it now easy as that child lifts that stool. It makes him grunt and stagger a little, not because he isn't strong enough for it, but because he don't understand his own strength, or how to use it: he'll have twice the strength, and know just how to apply it, in a little while. Just so with this country. It makes me laugh to bear folks talk about repudiation and bankruptcy."
"But s'pos'n' we do put down the Rebellion, and the States come back: then what's to hender the South, and Secesh sympathizers in the North, from j'inin' together and votin' that the debt sha'n't be paid?"
"Don't you worry about that! Do ye suppose we're going to be such fools as to give the Rebels, after we've whipped 'em, the same political power they had before the war? Not by a long chalk! Sooner than that, we'll put the ballot into the hands of the freedmen. They're our friends. They've fought on the right side, and they'll vote on the right side. I tell ye, spite of all the prejudice there is against black skins, we a'n't such a nation of ninnies as to give up all we're fighting for, and leave our best friends and allies, not to speak of our own interests, in the hands of our enemies."
"You consider Gov'ments a good investment, then, do ye?" said Ducklow, growing radiant.
"I do, decidedly,—the very best. Besides, you help the Government; and that's no small consideration."
"So I thought. But how is it about the cowpon bonds? A'n't they rather ticklish property to have in the house?"
"Well, I don't know. Think how many years you'll keep old bills and documents and never dream of such a thing as losing them! There's not a bit more danger with the bonds. I shouldn't want to carry