The Real Hard Sell

to nothing else until Hannah, serving black coffee to him from her furnace, in the daw

that no one was near, she went down to the water, slowly picking her way to a shallow pool between the rafts and the shore. She sat here at first, upon the edge of the bank, frankly dropping her feet

etting her weight go, she subsided, with arms extended, into the shallow pool, a close listener might have heard an undulating song, so like the river's in tone as to be separable

what not?-seemed intermittent, as i

as if renewing her baptism, and when she presently lifted herself, she was crying aloud, sobbing a

logs beside her so that its spray covered her over; while the straining ropes, breaking and bumping timbers, with the slow dripping of the spent wave through the raft, seemed to answer and po

hful companionship grown dear through years of stress? Or had it deeper meaning in a realization-or hallucination-as to the pe

hose of our nearest and dearest. To the good man and soldier, Israel,-the prophet, even, who held up the wavering hands of the imaginative woman when her courage waned, pointing to the hour of fulfilment,-the great river, full of potencies for good or ill, could be

the sun says-is fully half-time off her mind. And the soul of the

ntil they trembled with a sort of mad harp-consciousness, and were set a-quivering for just one full strain-one coherent expression of soul-ess

ng in the moonlight, to sit and talk with her husband, her composure was as perfect as that of the face of t

and Blossom, and, despite the joy in their old hearts, it cost them a pang to contemplate going away. Every wo

spoke

h!" he

t, I

s a-flowin' on to de sea-an' settin' heah, I 'magines I kin see Mis' Aggie lookin' down on us, an' seem like she m

Yit an' still, when we rests off a little an' studies freedom free-handed, we won't want to hasten along maybe. Ef we was to set heah an' wait tell Gord calls us,-He ain't a

nna

, Is

night close to de b

, Is

ters is in sigh

, Is

gin', ef we listen

, Is

e turns our backs on dis swellin' tide, dat de river o' Jordan is jes

said t

a shimmering path of light from shore to shore,

cabin. Blucher caught it, and, springing out, barked at the st

and he ran to the new levee, reaching its summit just in time to see the roof of the cab

ople home, the river came to meet him at the brim of the n

, a wet dog came, and, whining, crouched at his feet. He barked softly, laid his head a moment upon h

? He had heard all the sweet converse of the old people on that last ni

ing discharged their responsibilit

T T

it 's

t Lu

ver-bank

e moo

de noo

mblin' wate

llow as, with oars over his shoulder, he strolled down "Lovers

hich marked the home of his lady, when he dropped his voi

it 's

t Ma

er-bank t

teps behind him, he stopped and waited while

e of the oars. "Better begin right. You tote half an' me half." And a

left side, the girl instinctively bestowed the one she carried over her right shoulde

h," he said. "De breeze on de levee is fresh an' cool,

a fresh coat o' paint? An' dat's my favory

ft no mo'-not on dis plantati

What is you nam

surely expected. Of course the boat was renam

the man, with a lunge toward the girl, as the oar he carried struck a tree-a lunge which brought him in

know? I ain't

know who is. You's a reg'lar risidenter, you is-an' you kno

o guess, I'll say Silv' Ann. Da

I run 'roun' wid Silv' Ann awhile back, jes to pass de time, but she can't name none o' my boats! No;

alk free. I ain't ingaged to tote no half-load yit-as I knows on. Lordy, but dat heavy paddle done put my whole arm

h he tossed as a ball in his hands, never letting her q

roud practice, she could spell her own name. As they presently climbed the levee together, she remar

'er-an' maybe readin' off my affairs. She got her new intitlemint painted on her stern-ever

own name, a bouquet of color reaching across the boat, and it p

an' water," she genera

ything-wid my chosen company. What is dat wh

t! Dat's another! You started 'em time you drug yo' oah in de mids' o' dem chiny-

over it. Whenever life gits too sweet, look out for trouble! But w

idlers dat I shun. An' I ain't afeared o' trouble, nuther.

o happy,

irl l

I can say. Take yo' han' off my wais', boy! Ef you don't I'll be

llow-clump, Love close at her heels, and in a moment the Maria

od, which is free to the captor. And so most of the couples who sought the river strolled for a short space, finding secluded seats on

he fruit-luggers which crowd around "Picayune Tier" at the French market, there

alf a dozen tongues, as he sings

e strong current of the channel, avoiding, too, the large steamboats, wh

en would often dare fate in riding the billows in her wake. These great steamboats were known among the humble river

which followed her keel, while some who, enjoying their fun with less snap of danger, preferred to have their skiffs dance behind the Laurel Hi

least they are out of the world of action, and let us hope they have gone to their rest. An old hulk stranded ashore and awaiting final

tting their lines, and if the oarsmen listened keenly, they might almost surely have caught from

humor in "How firm a foundation," chanted by one standing boot-deep in suspicious sands. The favorite hymn of several of t

boys waded and swam, jeering the deaf singer as they jeered each passing boat, while occasionally an

times a sloop would float by with an air of commanding a squadron

line this evening when one of the fines

while daylight still prevailed, all the steamer's lights were lit, and although the keen sun which struck her a

t-they always do it-and the more amiable of the

, an aged negro, sitting mending

ook like to yo

ok like-to me?" he repeated again. "Why, tell the trufe, I was jes' studyin' 'bout dat when you spoke. Sh

not wid all dat black smoke risin' outen 'er 'bominable regions. She's mo' like de yether place to me. She may have Heavenly gyarments on, but she got a hell

mean de

ans her clair whistle. Hit's got a j

still, whilst she looks like Heaven, I'd a heap ruther set heah an' see her go by 'n to put foot in her, 'ca'se I'd look for her to 'splode out de minute I landed in her an' to scatter my body in one direction an' my soul somewhars else. No; even ef she was Heaven, I'd ruther 'speriment heah a little longer, s

I know I'll nuver lead a p'ocession but once-t, and dat'll be at my own fun'al,

he wonderful apparition so aptly t

coquetry played mirthfully in the breeze. A piquant Arcadian bride, "pretty as red shoes," artlessly appearing in all her white wedding toggery, her veil almost crushed by its weight of artificial orange-flowers, looked stoically away from the little dark husband who persisted i

way, behind the doubtful screening of waving palmetto fans. While among the teething and whooping-

y-five, all their youthful magnolia tints gone wrong, as in the flower when its bloom is passed-exchange

ding each moment to perceive the flicker in her breath which would show that a flame we

rescribe it. An' my father he had las' winter such a so much trouble to work his heart, an' so, seeing we were coming, he is also here-yas, dat's heem yonder, aslee

a distinguished-looking couple in fresh mid-life, who led the animated discussion, and who were seen often to look in the direction of a tall and beautiful girl who stood in the midst of a circle of young people withi

her fine little head above most of her companions. A certain distinction of manner-unrelated to haughtiness, which may fail in effect, o

hing apart from the unusual beauty which marked

nadequate to the veracious presentment of beauty, and

in her quick movements, the effect was almost like an iridescence. Tender in tints as a sea-shell, there might have been danger of lapse into insipidity but for the accent o

whom tribute comes as naturally as the air they breathe. It often dates back into their spe

nd-this magnetic quality, then, was probably, in Agnes Le Duc, the gift of the Latin strain grafted upon New England sturdiness and reser

her a succession of flashes, as of opposite electric currents meeting and breaking through the caprice of temperamental distu

England, the pride and pet of a charmed Cambridge circle, with occasional trips abroad with her "p

regal on a slender stem-shy of unfolding, yet ultimately unafraid, even through the dewy veil of immat

has long been considered a grace-just to listen; but there is a still higher art, perhaps, in going a step beyond. It is to listen with enthusiasm, yes, even with eloquence. One having a ge

l languages, familiarly, and when the invitation arrived, she did-upward, with respect, to her elders (she had learned that both in New Orleans and in Boston); downward to

quality which sometimes adorns natures wanting in depth of affection. That this was n

e shore, they came suddenly upon a congregation of negroes encircling an inlet between two curves in the levee

ile the minister, knee-deep in the water, was immersing a subject who shouted wildly as he went unde

t at its expense. One playful comment led to another until a slashing bit of ridicule brought the entire ce

te understand how it may affect you; but-oh, it is

cent, indeed, of the indelicacy of which he had become technically

spoken,-and really I could not help it; I could not wish to let i

to-day but for the devoted care of two old Christian people who dated their joy i

died, and I do not clearly remember many of her words; but this I do well recall, for we lived for some years on the river-bank, only a few miles from the spot where in her youth she had been immersed. She taught me to love the river, and perhaps I am a little sent

was known to every one present, and this une

then she added, laughing: "I seem to forget that no event could surprise a child in her first experiences of life. Yet I remember trivial things, as, for instance, the losing of a hat. I clea

white cabin, which I shall never forget. When anything is kept ever in mind by constant description, it is hard to know how much one really rememb

r-ride us. Why, my grandmother in Boston has a friend who had his wife's portrait painted after she was lost at sea. He spent all the money he had to have it done by a 'best artist who had made a hasty sketch of her in life,' and when it came home he

One day the woman came home. People 'lost at sea' occasionally do, you know. And would you believe it? Her widower-I mean to say her husband-refused to receive her. He did not know her! He simply pointed to the painting and shook his head. And if she hadn't been a person of resolution and resource,-descended from the Mayflower,-wh

ays believe our own eyes, w

d. Now I like the picture of the cabin, even while I

o often in Boston, where we are said to try to make

a little rebel. And at each place I am quite honest, I assure you. You see, I have a grand

six, in a Highland costume, with his arm over a strange dog which belonged to the artist. He looks in the picture as if he were stuffed-the dog does; but papa denies that. I believe this same dog appeared in most of the portraits done by this man, in all of those of boys, at

ms-the last, I suppose. I know I was frightened because the minister shouted, and Mammy kept whispering to me that he wouldn't harm me; and then he suddenly threw water all over me an

piles, that called 'The Soldier's Dream,' in which a poor fellow, asleep on the

re it all against the sunset sky. Just look at it now. Was anything ever more gorgeous and at the

oss the Mississippi, especially when we have their dreamy cloud effects, it goes down with variation and splendor unmatched anywhere, I do bel

er-? Oh, no. Their bodies went with the waters they loved-and it was better so. Certainly, papa used every effort.

on Brake Island is only 'in me

eighteen, but Agnes had ever been thoughtful, and

startling. It was as brilliant as a waterfall seen in the sun, and often while her fond father watched her, as now, he wondered if,

of her future, in one phase of it at least, may be discerned in an intimation let fall by one of the passengers who sat with his companions at a card-table in the f

rt is he paid twice for some of dem! Of co'se he could not do such a so-foolish t'ing except he made dat

ugh. Dey say you can make sugar so quick by dat mach

I would rather see rich than Harold Le Duc. His marriage, so soon after the

e! I am sure he was in love to her one year, maybe two, befo' dat-mais, I am not sure he would have asked any woman to marry him. He had not de courage. For him love was past-an

il w

spoke! Until w

ht maybe it was s

s figure, it was really perfection, no mistake, an' to lose perfection, even in so small a matter as one toe-it prey on his mind. Tell de trut', I used to feel sorry for him, an'-an'-w'en he always would touch his glass an' drink dat favorite toast, 'To my big toe!' well, dere was somet'ing pitiful in it. I used to drink it wid him. It was no harm, an' he had always good wine, poor fellow. Mais to t'ink of Paul de La Rose dying for him! It make me mad, yet w'en I t'ink so, I am almos' sorry to reflect I have drunk to his toe! Bah-a valu'ble man-to die like dat! Wat you say? Yas, da's true. It makes not how de s

be great friends, mais, of co'se, her father sends her every year at Boston to her grandmother. Dey all want her, an' no wonder. If she was one mud fence, I suppose it would be all de same, mais you know, she is one great beauty! I say one gr-r-r-reat beauty! Wh! An'w'en I whistle so 'wh!' I mean w'at I say. You see me so, I am one ol' man, no

d another, "you don't need to walk so far. She is, at dis

day t'ings-jus' to go an' sit down in de cabin w'ere-I-can-look-at innocent-beauty! It pleasure me, yas, to see some t'ing like dat. Maybe I

ou might say, honey-suckling de bees-an' de perfume from my night-bloomin' jasmine filled my nose. It was in de evening, an' de moon on de blue sky was lik

wished I had been a g

laughed ga

ed us, any'ow! I was holding my breat'. I t'

ol' sinner like me can see in nature a t'in

a beginning, so dramatic, we expected to see Ha

the confessions of old sinners like ourselves. I am rather practical, and beauty is only skin-deep-sometimes at least. I sh

not-" he lowered his voice, suggesting mystery. "I say you can riffuse to believe me or not, I was-well, I was not long ago, one day, sitting at de table down at Leon's,-e

general. W'at is de matter wid me to-day? I cannot talk straight-my tongue is all twis'. I say we were speaking of par

wine, sure. So it happened dat w'en I put me de bottle down, my eye passed out de window. Oh, hush! No, not my eye, of co'se-I mean my sight. Well, dat li'l' bird it was still waiting in the same place, in d

of co'se. Mais, direc'ly, I looked at my friend, an' wid w'at you might call an air of nonchalance, I repeat

on. W'at

ll you. He was greatly astonish', an' he whispered

me!" I answered him. "

name? Do

If I told, dat wo

sary," said another. "

' m

y man in de Pickwick Club-on some subjects! Mais, ol' man, de nex' time you make a story at Leon's restaurant, suppose

ter for a real bird. Mais, for dis particular bird, I t'ink my

. It is true, her fodder was de King at las' year's Carnival-

ave a friend who has a summer home in the Tennessee mountains which was twice struck-three times, nearly. That is the house next do

s hope he may prove always an att

id the American. "I am told that he has found salt in immense deposits on his island-an

times I t'ink a little myself-I was t'inking dat if-I say if sometime his daughter would be de Comus Queen, not insinuating anything, you know-no allusion to de

ng up de new ca

der de

ridge he commenced-it is standing beside de beautiful w'ite marble tomb-to hold his family. His wife she is

sure dey

de monument

, as he says-it is history, and he needs to keep it before him, not to be too rash.

de Cleopatra; dey sa

t he di'n' name her

ughter and a step-wife-w'at is de matter wid me to-night? You understand me. I

t say dat

en he can dodge into history and romance at once, so much de better! An' Cleopatra, it sound well for a

agnolia-tree once more, you don't t'ink de li'l' bi

in dat story, I would try. I would put it on his

breeze skirting the shores held, in shy suspension, an occasional hint of orange-blossoms or of the Cuban frui

rnival, stood while the sun went down in all her vestal beauty on deck of the La

e then, and yet the great ri

arket, are wet with the spray of playful condescension, panting ships of commerce, some flying forei

ow in spirits? And will her hand of be

rical or melancholy, or so serene as to invit

e the length of her realm to whoever will take it, paying no toll, she invites Romance to set sail under the stars in primal simplicity, eschewi

es-barrel or throwing dice between the cotton-bale

fount of eve