Boarding Round/Chapter 13

At the special exercises of Saturday, the little schoolhouse was crowded to its last inch of sitting room. The packing in of human beings had, on previous occasions, seemed to be sufficiently dense, but what was now witnessed showed the increasing popularity of the new movement. Among those present—somewhat to the surprise of the teacher—were seen Dr. Colon and his younger daughter, Miss Frances. The good minister, although not designated as the member of the committee to visit the schools in a formal and official manner, would, as opportunity presented, drop in and see the children. He was not, at this time, drawn by any knowledge that poor Jake was expected to make another display of his oratorical powers. Miss Frances, however, did not wish to deny that she was interested in the awkward boy's performance. It would indeed show that she had a very natural desire to visit the school.

​After Jake had, with much perseverance, made for himself a zigzag path to the place where he was to stand, he reproduced a part of Patrick Henry's fiery speech, in defiance of British tyranny, closing with the immortal words, "Give me liberty or give me death!" As, trying to turn to go back to his seat, he caught his foot into the extended crinoline of a lady's dress, and came near falling flat on the floor, some began to fear that one alternative of his wish was about to come to pass—to say nothing of the fright and embarrassment from which the owner of the crinoline suffered—but the redoubtable orator regained the place which he had vacated on his bench, and sat down in quietness and peace. It may properly be said, however, that he captured his sitting place; for during his absence, the two persons who had sat, one on each side of him, had, willy-nilly, divided his seat between them. Still, with a somewhat more severe pressure of the ribs of all who occupied the long bench, Jake was able to claim his own. It hardly need be said that he turned from his oratorical position amid great applause; but this was unfortunately reduced by the crinoline accident.

At the close of these exercises, congratulations were heaped upon the teacher for his success in his school. No school before had received so many and such enthusiastic visitors. All praised the school. All the young ​ladies who were sorry that they were not scholars this year, declared that they had great pleasure in seeing such a school.

Squire Hendee's mellifluous oratory was as charming as it had ever been. Dr. Colon said a few words to the school, and after it was dismissed, he said a few words to its teacher. He invited Mr. Sears to go up home with him, and spend the Sabbath.

This invitation was most unexpected, but was at once accepted. Mr. Sears only needed to inform Mrs. Hale that he should not be at her house on the morrow. Mrs. Aikin was too late in asking him to take tea at her table, that evening. And it was with a feeling akin to dismay that she saw him ride off on the same seat with the beautiful and accomplished Frances Colon. Her father had put his horse into the two-seated sleigh, although he seemed to need only the little cutter for their accommodation.

The young teacher was extremely happy over his invitation, yet he had an instinctive shrinking from the ordeal before him. He was well aware that he had not had such opportunities for culture in the polite arts as would enable him to feel at his ease in a home like that of Dr. Colon. Yet he would do the best he could. All had to learn—he would learn. But in a short time after his arrival at the parsonage, he was relieved of all anxiety, finding himself in easy and most ​agreeable conversation with Mrs. Colon, who understood most perfectly how to smooth the path of a bashful young man, when visiting at the home of young ladies. Dr. Colon had said to his wife that he had been most favorably impressed by what he had seen and heard of Mr. Sears. He had come to regard him as a young man of unusual promise. She had not before that day met him, for an introduction, neither her two daughters, Mary and Frances. They had only seen him as he sat in church. He had been up to the Congregational church once or twice. But as they had thus seen him, they thought him very fine looking. Miss Frances had said much less about him than had her older sister; but she had thought more.

After Mr. Sears had thus found himself in a situation most flatteringly agreeable, his only embarrassment arose from his ignorance of certain games that they proposed to introduce. But a woman's intuitive tactfulness is always equal to such occasions. Games that the ladies saw were understood, were pleasing to them also. They played such games, and enjoyed together looking at some new magazines that had just come to their table.

But early in the evening the Doctor came into the parlor, and announced that a man and his lady-love would soon come to be married. This he jokingly said he thought was ​a new game that they might all be interested in, though they might not be able to play it for themselves that evening.

The parties in pursuit of happiness, in due time, made their appearance at the parsonage. They stood up before the minister, and, having shown the usual nervousness, and fear of not doing all that might be required of them in the right way, and having made all necessary promises, were duly and solemnly declared to have become husband and wife. The two, now made one, did not seem desirous of remaining after there was nothing to be accomplished by so doing. So after "much happiness" had been "wished them" by all present, they departed.

Now Dr. Colon proceeded to tell a story. He was a capital story-teller. For efforts of that sort, nature had done much in furnishing him with necessary qualifications; but practice had made these perfect. His high Calvinism had appeared only in his theology; it had had no effect upon his domestic life. Though he must do his duty, and so exhort others to repent of Adam's sins, he gave very little attention to that business himself. His theology and his practical life were wholly distinct. The former spent itself in his preaching, the latter, involved obedience to God, and kind, helpful service to his fellow men. He entered sympathetically into the life of his parishioners, lamenting their sins ​and their folly, while he rejoiced with them in everything that was good. He wept with them when they wept, and was equally ready to laugh with them when they laughed. He had a very keen sense of the ludicrous. Accordingly, he was now ready to repeat a story, that he never tired of telling. It related to his first experience in solemnizing a marriage. It was not altogether a "solemn" affair; yet it came near being something quite other than a merry-go-round, for himself.

"It occurred to me," he said, "during the service of my ordination, that, after being thus inducted into the work of the ministry, some new duties might be required of me; but I little imagined that, before another day, I should be called to pass through such a trying ordeal. It was only a few minutes after I had pronounced the benediction—my first act as installed pastor of this church—that was accosted, in the aisle, by a man whom I recognized as some one that I had somewhere met. He soon began to tell me how he had once ridden with me, in the stage, to Denville. I preached there a few times before coming down here. After a little conversation, I was able to recall the whole affair. When in the stage he was very talkative, telling me much about his own private matters, and, among other things, gave me an account of his matrimonial exploits. He had had five wives, all the best that any man ever ​lived with, especially the one he then had. As our happy acquaintance in the stage was thus brought to mind, I very naturally inquired about his family, and for the health of that last, so affectionate, wife. He hesitated, stammered a little, then said, as his emotion was beginning to overcome him, 'To tell the truth, Elder, I'm—I'm—kinder out o' wives jest now.'

"'Sorry to hear that you have been so sadly afflicted,' I said. Then I asked, 'Are you now living in this place?'

"'Wal, no, not livin' here now, Elder, but I've come here to-day. I was askin' who there was for a little job; and they said that you was goin' to be ordained, and could officiate. So I've come up. I suppose ye are all ready for tyin' knots now.'

"'I ought to be,' I said.

"'Ye don't object to beginnin' to-night, do ye?'

"'I see no objection now,' I said.

"'No, and ye won't see none, Elder. I've got everything 'cordin' to law. I ought t know. I ain't no greenhorn in this business.'

"'No—I remember,' I ventured to say. 'At what hour may I expect you? At eight or half past?'

"'Can't tell jest the hour,' he replied. 'But me and my woman will be 'round 'fore it's late.'

"'Perhaps before eight,' I added.

​"'Can't fix jest the minute, Elder. Ye never know how long 'twill take a woman to git ready to go anywhere. But my woman is an old bird for gittin' herself up for a weddin'. It hadn't oughter take her long this time. But eight o'clock is too late, Elder. I've alwuz liked to be on hand airly when I was goin' to be merried.'

"'Then shall we say seven?' I asked.

"'That's better, Elder. Mebbe we'll git 'round 'fore that.'

"'But that's quite early in the evening,' I urged.

"'I know 'tis for some folks, Elder. But ye see I've nothin' more to do. I had to slip on my other coat to come up here.'

"As he thus called my attention to his coat, I noticed that it was an ancient swallow-tail, and originally of much more expensive cloth than the rest of his suit.

"He added, 'This coat has served me several times. I always want a coat laid up, so that when I need it, I can have it.'

"I should say that I was unmarried, and was boarding at the Nachaug House. At just fifteen minutes to seven I saw the couple coming up the road. They were seated in an old business wagon, drawn by a horse that evidently was not in full sympathy with his driver, in his efforts to get there. But in due time the pair were approaching the door of the hotel,—he leading, and she following on ​behind. I went to the door, when the man 'of great expectations' spoke with a voice that he evidently intended should be to some purpose.

"'Wal, ye see we've come. I guess we're about on time. I've never ben late yit when I've ben merried. And ye see it didn't take me all night to hitch my horse, git out o' my wagon, and find ye here. I c'n do somethin' yit, ef I ain't so spry as when I was a boy. Ye see by this stiffikit, I ain't so young as I was some years ago. But I c'n keep my 'pintments for weddin's jest the same.'

"He handed me the license that he had procured from the town clerk. It was in due form, and it authorized the marriage of Mr. Partridge Albright and Mrs. Matilda Chuzzleborough. I was desirous of having my first effort of this kind all right, so asked:

"'Neither of you have a partner living?'

"'No,' he spoke up joyfully, 'the Lord be praised. 'Tain't no fault o' mine that I've had to part with so many lovely wives; but the more I git into this business, the better I like it, every time. The past is past. There's no use cryin' over spilt milk.'

"'And you have no husband living, Mrs. Chuzzleborough?'

"'Not any,' she said feelingly.

"The boarders at the hotel, getting an inkling of what was about to come to pass, had gathered in the parlor. Everything now ap​peared to be ready. I was a little nervous, I confess. The solemn business of introducing two human beings into the felicities of matrimony, was new to me. But I had, as I thought, successfully covered up all incipient tremors with a composed exterior; so with a fair degree of confidence in my ability to show to my eager friends, acting as witnesses, how the thing ought to be done, I addressed the expectant couple:

"'You will please stand.' My bridegroom promptly replied:

"'I s'pose y'r right, Elder, but I've ginerally sot.'

"This unexpected response threw my mental faculties out of equilibrium at once. My proceedings came to a sudden standstill. I didn't know what to say. But the pair did rise to their feet. This was doubtless from kind consideration of my youthful ignorance. But I couldn't regain myself, or proceed. My thoughts were in utter confusion. What would I have given, at that moment, for a book containing a marriage service, that I could read! I had nothing of the kind. There was nothing in my hands, there was nothing in my brain. Both were equally empty. What I was to say next was out of my reach. The young ladies, sitting on either side of me, I noticed were beginning to put their handkerchiefs to their mouths, and to cast significant glances at each other. My ​face suddenly grew hot. I couldn't go on, yet I must go on. There was no stopping place where I was. I must marry the couple. And I did. I don't know, to this day, what I said. But some way or other, I got them to a point where I could ask them if they then would be husband and wife. I suppose that was what I asked them. It was something, at any rate, which they were glad to accept as that, and they said positively that they would.

"Afterwards my hotel friends, in the great kindness of their hearts, said that they thought I did very well, 'considering.' I would have wished that they were not obliged to 'consider.'

"The next morning, I ordered a hand book, containing forms of marriage ceremony."

In various ways, Dr. Colon, forgetting the sins of Adam, entertained the young people until he must repair to his study, because of the duties of the morrow.

Sunday morning came. The young schoolmaster went with the minister's family to church, and he sat with them in their pew. Whatever his wishes, there was nothing else that he could do. But Mrs. Aikin, from her near pew, saw him sitting there. Mr. Sears, as a matter of course, sat at the head of the pew; and, according to the ordinary arrangement of the family, Miss Colon would have sat next to him; but somehow, by accident or otherwise, Miss Frances came in next to the ​teacher. They used a hymn book together. Mrs. Aikin and Sophrena both saw how near they sat to each other. Even during the "long prayer" they couldn't refrain from casting side glances at them.

Miss Frances was a charming girl of eighteen years. She had improved her advantages for fine culture, was witty, and attractive.