Volume II Part 3 (1/2)

”Laws of a.s.sociation,”

And calls my tale ”absurd.”

Perhaps it is, but never, Say I, should we dissever Old places and old names; Guard the old landmarks truly, On the old altars duly Keep bright the ancient flames.

For me the face of Nature, No luckless nomenclature Of grace or beauty robs; No, when of town I weary, I'll make a strike in Erie, And buy a place at DOBBS!

--_Poems._

JOHN WILLIAM DE FOREST.

(BORN, 1826.)

FATHER HIGGINS'S PREFERMENT.

Father Higgins was not the kind of divine who easily finds preferment in the Catholic Church, or who would be apt to make a s.h.i.+ning mark in any other.

Fat and red-faced and pudding-headed was Father Higgins; uncommonly in the way of good eating, and now and then disposed for good drinking; as lazy as he dared be, ignorant enough for a hermit, and simple enough for a monk. His chief excellence lay in his kindliness of heart, which would doubtless have made him very serviceable and comfortable to his fellow-men, had it not been for his indolence, his spare intellectual gifts, and perhaps a little leaven of selfishness.

Such as he was, however, Father Higgins had no small ”consate” of himself, and sometimes thought that even a bishopric would not be ”beyant his desarts.” He pleased himself with imagining how finely he would fill an episcopal chair, what apostolic labors he would accomplish in his diocese, what swarms of heretics or pagans he would convert, what a self-sacrificing and heroic life he would lead, and what a saintly name he would leave. One day, or to speak with a precision worthy of this true history, one evening, he became a bishop.

It happened on this wise. Father Higgins had ventured to treat himself to a spectacle. He had attended, for the first time in his life, an exhibition of legerdemain; this one being given by that celebrated master of the black-art, Professor h.e.l.ler. He had seen the professor change turnips into gold watches, draw a dozen live pigeons in succession out of an empty box, send rings into ladies' handkerchiefs at the other end of the hall, catch a bullet out of an exploded pistol in his hand, and perform other marvels equally irrational and disturbing.

From this raree-show Father Higgins had gone home feeling that he had witnessed something about as unearthly as he was likely to be confronted with in the next world.

For an hour or more he sat in his elbow-chair, puzzling over the professor's ”diviltries,” and crossing himself at the remembrance of each one of them. It was black midnight, and stormy at that; there was such an uproar in the elm branches over his house as if all the Salem witches were holding Sabbath there; the whole village of Sableburg swarmed with windy rus.h.i.+ngs and shriekings and slammings. It was one of those midnights when the devil evidently ”has business on his hand.”

Of a sudden there was a rustle in the room, and looking around to discover the cause of it, Father Higgins beheld a tall and dark man with startling black eyes, in whom he recognized Professor h.e.l.ler.

”What's yer will, sir?” demanded the Father, a good deal astonished, but not a bit frightened.

”I understand, sir, that you would like to be a bishop,” replied the professor, bowing politely, but seating himself unceremoniously.

”That's thrue enough, sir,” replied Father Higgins, who somehow felt curiously at his ease, and disposed at once to be confidential with this utter stranger. ”I've often imagined meself a bishop, an' doin' wondhers in me office. But it's nonsinse.”

”What post would suit you?” inquired the visitor. ”The diocese of New York?”

”No, no,” said the father. ”I'm not ayqual to sich a risponsebility; that is, not at wanst, ye ondherstand. I'd like best to come up to sich a place as that gintly an' by degrays. It's been a drame av mine to begin my prefarmint as bis.h.i.+p av some far-away continent or archypilago, like, an' convart slathers av haythins an' cannebals for a practice. It ud plase me imagenation to prache among corrils an' c.o.ky-nuts an' naked crachurs. Y' are aware, I suppose, Misther h.e.l.ler--or Professor h.e.l.ler--av sich islands as Owyhee an' the Marquesas, famous a'ready in the history av the Propaganda Fide. Jist suppose me havin' me episkepal raysedence on wan av 'um, an' makin' me progresses to the others. There be great devos.h.i.+n to a spiritual father among thim simple people, I'm thinkin.' I'd be a G.o.d to 'um, like. Sich obeyjince ud jist shuit me.

Yes, I'd enj'y bein' Bis.h.i.+p av the Cannebal Islands, or even av wan av um.”

”Faith is necessary,” replied h.e.l.ler. ”You must believe that you are to be Bishop of the Cannibal Islands.”

”Sure an' it's not aisy at this distance to belave in the islands thimselves, let alone bein' spiritual father av the same,” smiled the priest. ”Howandiver, there's no harrum in tryin' to belave, an' so here goes for the exparimint. If ye'll kape silence a bit, I'll jist collect me moind on the subject, an' we'll see what happens.”

For a moment the gray, piggish eyes of the Father, and the black, gleaming, mysterious...o...b.. of his visitor were fixed upon each other. In the next moment h.e.l.ler, bowing with a ceremonious air of respect, inquired, ”What are your commands, my lord bishop?”

Startled by a consciousness of some wonderful change, doubtful in what land he was, or even in what age of the world, Father Higgins stared about him in expectation. A sunny sh.o.r.e, scattered groves of cocoa-nut trees, distant villages of circular huts, beyond them far-stretching forests and a smoking volcano; on the hither side bays alive with carved and painted canoes, near at hand a gathering crowd of half-naked savages--such were the objects that filled his vision.

”So this is me diocese,” he said, without feeling the least surprise.

”Well, the climate is deloightful. Let us hope that the c.o.ky-nuts will agree wid us, an' that the natives won't urge upon us the blissins av martyrdom. Professor, what may be the spiritual condition av things hereaway, do ye think?”