CHAPTER X.

Another Parting.

Mrs. Ellis had been for some time engaged in arranging and replenishing Charlie's wardrobe, preparatory to his journey to Warmouth with Mrs. Bird. An entire new suit of grey cloth had been ordered of the tailor, to whom Mrs. Ellis gave strict injunctions not to make them too small. Notwithstanding the unfavourable results of several experiments, Mrs. Ellis adhered with wonderful tenacity to the idea that a boy's clothes could never be made too large, and, therefore, when Charlie had a new suit, it always appeared as if it had been made for some portly gentleman, and sent home to Charlie by mistake.

This last suit formed no exception to the others, and Charlie surveyed with dismay its ample dimensions as it hung from the back of the chair. "Oh, gemini!" said he, "but that jacket is a rouser! I tell you what, mother, you'll have to get out a search-warrant to find me in that jacket; now, mind, I tell you!"

"Nonsense!" replied Mrs. Ellis, "it don't look a bit too large; put it on."

Charlie took up the coat, and in a twinkling had it on over his other. His hands were almost completely lost in the excessively long sleeves, which hung down so far that the tips of his fingers were barely visible. "Oh, mother!" he exclaimed, "just look at these sleeves—if such a thing were to happen that any one were to offer me a half dollar, they would change their mind before I could get my hand out to take it; and it will almost go twice round me, it is so large in the waist."

"Oh, you can turn the sleeves up; and as for the waist—you'll soon grow to it; it will be tight enough for you before long, I'll warrant," said Mrs. Ellis.

"But, mother," rejoined Charlie, "that is just what you said about the other blue suit, and it was entirely worn out before you had let down the tucks in the trowsers."

"Never mind the blue suit," persisted Mrs. Ellis, entirely unbiassed by this statement of facts. "You'll grow faster this time—you're going into the country, you must remember—boys always grow fast in the country; go into the other room and try on the trowsers."

Charlie retired into another room with the trowsers in question. Here he was joined by Kinch, who went into fits of laughter over Charlie's pea-jacket, as he offensively called the new coat.

"Why, Charlie," said he, "it fits you like a shirt on a bean-pole, or rather it's like a sentry's box—it don't touch you any where. But get into these pants," said he, almost choking with the laughter that Charlie's vexed look caused him to suppress—"get into the pants;" at the same time tying a string round Charlie's neck.

"What are you doing that for?" exclaimed Charlie, in an irritated tone; "I shouldn't have thought you would make fun of me!"

"Oh," said Kinch, assuming a solemn look, "don't they always tie a rope round a man's body when they are going to lower him into a pit? and how on earth do you ever expect we shall find you in the legs of them trowsers, unless something is fastened to you?" Here Charlie was obliged to join in the laugh that Kinch could no longer restrain.

"Stop that playing, boys," cried Mrs. Ellis, as their noisy mirth reached her in the adjoining room; "you forget I am waiting for you."

Charlie hastily drew on the trousers, and found that their dimensions fully justified the precaution Kinch was desirous of taking to secure him from sinking into oblivion.

"Oh, I can't wear these things," said Charlie, tears of vexation starting from his eyes. "Why, they are so large I can't even keep them up; and just look at the legs, will you—they'll have to be turned up a quarter of a yard at least."

"Here," said Kinch, seizing a large pillow, "I'll stuff this in. Oh, golly, how you look! if you ain't a sight to see!" and he shouted with laughter as he surveyed Charlie, to whom the pillow had imparted the appearance of a London alderman. "If you don't look like Squire Baker now, I'll give it up. You are as big as old Daddy Downhill. You are a regular Daniel Lambert!"

The idea of looking like Squire Baker and Daddy Downhill, who were the "fat men" of their acquaintance, amused Charlie as much as it did his companion, and making the house ring with their mirth, they entered the room where Mr. Ellis and the girls had joined Mrs. Ellis.

"What on earth is the matter with the child?" exclaimed Mr. Ellis, as he gazed upon the grotesque figure Charlie presented. "What has the boy been doing to himself?" Hereupon Kinch explained how matters stood, to the infinite amusement of all parties.

"Oh, Ellen," said Mr. Ellis, "you must have them altered; they're a mile too big for him. I really believe they would fit me."

"They do look rather large," said Mrs. Ellis, reluctantly; "but it seems such a waste to take them in, as he grows so fast."

"He would not grow enough in two years to fill that suit," rejoined Mr. Ellis; "and he will have worn them out in less than six months;" and so, to the infinite satisfaction of Charlie, it was concluded that they should be sent back to the tailor's for the evidently necessary alterations.

The day for Charlie's departure at last arrived.

Kinch, who had been up since two o'clock in the morning, was found by Caddy at the early hour of five waiting upon the door-step to accompany his friend to the wharf. Beside him lay a bag, in which there appeared to be some living object.

"What have you got in here?" asked Caddy, as she gave the bag a punch with the broom she was using. "It's a present for Charlie," replied Kinch, opening the bag, and displaying, to the astonished gaze of Caddy, a very young pig.

"Why," said she, laughing, "you don't expect he can take that with him, do you?"

"Why not?" asked Kinch, taking up the bag and carrying it into the house. "It's just the thing to take into the country; Charlie can fatten him and sell him for a lot of money."

It was as much as Mrs. Ellis could do to convince Charlie and Kinch of the impracticability of their scheme of carrying off to Warmouth the pig in question. She suggested, as it was the exclusive property of Kinch, and he was so exceedingly anxious to make Charlie a parting gift, that she should purchase it, which she did, on the spot; and Kinch invested all the money in a large cross-bow, wherewith Charlie was to shoot game sufficient to supply both Kinch and his own parents. Had Charlie been on his way to the scaffold, he could not have been followed by a more solemn face than that presented by Kinch as he trudged on with him in the rear the porter who carried the trunk.

"I wish you were not going," said he, as he put his arm affectionately over Charlie's shoulder, "I shall be so lonesome when you are gone; and what is more, I know I shall get licked every day in school, for who will help me with my sums?"

"Oh, any of the boys will, they all like you, Kinch; and if you only study a little harder, you can do them yourself," was Charlie's encouraging reply.

On arriving at the boat, they found. Mrs. Bird waiting for them; so Charlie hastily kissed his mother and sisters, and made endless promises not to be mischievous, and, above all, to be as tidy as possible. Then tearing himself away from them, and turning to Kinch, he exclaimed, "I'll be back to see you all again soon, so don't cry old fellow;" and at the same time thrusting his hand into his pocket, he drew out a number of marbles, which he gave him, his own lips quivering all the while. At last his attempts to suppress his tears and look like a man grew entirely futile, and he cried heartily as Mrs. Bird took his hand and drew him on board the steamer.

As it slowly moved from the pier and glided up the river, Charlie stood looking with tearful eyes at his mother and sisters, who, with Kinch, waved their handkerchiefs as long as they could distinguish him, and then he saw them move away with the crowd.

Mrs. Bird, who had been conversing with a lady who accompanied her a short distance on her journey, came and took her little protege by the hand, and led him to a seat near her in the after part of the boat, informing him, as she did so, that they would shortly exchange the steamer for the cars, and she thought he had better remain near her.

After some time they approached the little town where the passengers took the train for New York. Mrs. Bird, who had taken leave of her friend, held Charlie fast by the hand, and they entered the cars together. He looked a little pale and weak from the excitement of parting and the novelty of his situation. Mrs. Bird, observing his pallid look, placed him on a seat, and propped him up with shawls and cushions, making him as comfortable as possible.

The train had not long started, when the conductor came through to inspect the tickets, and quite started with surprise at seeing Charlie stretched at full length upon the velvet cushion. "What are you doing here?" exclaimed he, at the same time shaking him roughly, to arouse him from the slight slumber into which he had fallen. "Come, get up: you must go out of this."

"What do you mean by such conduct?" asked Mrs. Bird, very much surprised.
"Don't wake him; I've got his ticket; the child is sick."

"I don't care whether he's sick or well—he can't ride in here. We don't allow niggers to ride in this car, no how you can fix it—so come, youngster," said he, gruffly, to the now aroused boy, "you must travel out of this."

"He shall do no such thing," replied Mrs. Bird, in a decided tone; "I've paid fall price for his ticket, and he shall ride here; you have no legal right to eject him."

"I've got no time to jaw about rights, legal or illegal—all I care to know is, that I've my orders not to let niggers ride in these cars, and I expect to obey, so you see there is no use to make any fuss about it."

"Charlie," said Mrs. Bird, "sit here;" and she moved aside, so as to seat him between herself and the window. "Now," said she, "move him if you think best."

"I'll tell you what it is, old woman," doggedly remarked the conductor: "you can't play that game with me. I've made up my mind that no more niggers shall ride in this car, and I'll have him out of here, cost what it may."

The passengers now began to cluster around the contending parties, and to take sides in the controversy. In the end, the conductor stopped the train, and called in one or two of the Irish brake-men to assist him, if necessary, in enforcing his orders.

"You had better let the boy go into the negro car, madam," said one of the gentlemen, respectfully; "it is perfectly useless to contend with these ruffians. I saw a coloured man ejected from here last week, and severely injured; and, in the present state of public feeling, if anything happened to you or the child, you would be entirely without redress. The directors of this railroad control the State; and there is no such thing as justice to be obtained in any of the State courts in a matter in which they are concerned. If you will accept of my arm, I will accompany you to the other car—if you will not permit the child to go there alone, you had better go quietly with him."

"Oh, what is the use of so much talk about it? Why don't you hustle the old thing out," remarked a bystander, the respectability of whose appearance contrasted broadly with his manners; "she is some crack-brained abolitionist. Making so much fuss about a little nigger! Let her go into the nigger car—she'll be more at home there."

Mrs. Bird, seeing the uselessness of contention, accepted the proffered escort of the gentleman before mentioned, and was followed out of the cars by the conductor and his blackguard assistants, all of them highly elated by the victory they had won over a defenceless old woman and a feeble little boy.

Mrs. Bird shrunk back, as they opened the door of the car that had been set apart for coloured persons, and such objectionable whites as were not admitted to the first-class cars. "Oh, what a wretched place!" she exclaimed, as she surveyed the rough pine timbers and dirty floor; "I would not force a dog to ride in such a filthy place."

"Oh, don't stay here, ma'am; never mind me—I shall get on by myself well enough, I dare say," said Charlie; "it is too nasty a place for you to stay in."

"No, my child," she replied; "I'll remain with you. I could not think of permitting you to be alone in your present state of health. I declare," she continued, "it's enough to make any one an abolitionist, or anything else of the kind, to see how inoffensive coloured people are treated!"

That evening they went on board the steamer that was to convey them to
Warmouth, where they arrived very early the following morning.

Charlie was charmed with the appearance of the pretty little town, as they rode through it in Mrs. Bird's carriage, which awaited them at the landing. At the door of her residence they were met by two cherry-faced maids, who seemed highly delighted at the arrival of their mistress.

"Now, Charlie," said Mrs. Bird, as she sat down in her large arm-chair, and looked round her snug little parlour with an air of great satisfaction—"now we are at home, and you must try and make yourself as happy as possible. Betsey," said she, turning to one of the women, "here is a nice little fellow, whom I have brought with me to remain during the summer, of whom I want you to take the best care; for," continued she, looking at him compassionately, "the poor child has had the misfortune to break his arm recently, and he has not been strong since. The physician thought the country would be the best place for him, and so I've brought him here to stay with us. Tell Reuben to carry his trunk into the little maple chamber, and by-and-by, after I have rested, I will take a walk over the place with him."

"Here are two letters for you," said Betsey, taking them from the mantelpiece, and handing them to her mistress.

Mrs. Bird opened one, of which she read a part, and then laid it down, as being apparently of no importance. The other, however, seemed to have a great effect upon her, as she exclaimed, hurriedly, "Tell Reuben not to unharness the horses—I must go to Francisville immediately—dear Mrs. Hinton is very ill, and not expected to recover. You must take good care of Charlie until I return. If I do not come back to-night, you will know that she is worse, and that I am compelled to remain there;" and, on the carriage being brought to the door, she departed in haste to visit her sick friend.