The Continental Monthly, Vol III, Issue VI, June, 1863 | Page 8

mankind more than ever depend. Upon home education and
influence; on the schools and on the churches on these three forces
centred upon, interwoven, and vitalized by true Christian doctrine, as
revealed in the Sacred Scriptures or inspired Word of God, rest the
destinies of the American republic. May those who wield them live and
act with an ever more vivid and growing consciousness of their great
responsibility.

A MERCHANT'S STORY.
'All of which I saw, and part of which I was.'
CHAPTER XXV.
Joe led Slema away, and, springing from the block, I pressed through
the crowd to where Larkin was standing.
'Larkin,' I said, placing my hand on his arm, 'come with me.'
'Who in h---- ar ye?' he asked, turning on me rather roughly.
'My name is Kirke. You ought to know me.'
'Kirke! Why ye ar! I'm right down glad ter see ye, Mr. Kirke,' he
exclaimed, seizing me warmly by the hand.
'Come with me; I want to talk with you.'

He sprang from the bench, and followed me into the mansion.
Entering the library, I locked the door. When he was seated, I said:
'Now, Larkin, who do you want this girl for?'
'Wall, I swar! Mr. Kirke, ye fire right at th' bull's eye!' Then, hesitating
a moment, he added:
'Fur myself.'
'No, you don't; you know that isn't true.'
'Ha!--ha! This ar th' second time ye've told me I lied. Nary other man
ever done it twice, Mr. Kirke; but I karn't take no 'fence with ye,
nohow--ha! ha!'
'Come, Larkin, don't waste time. Tell me squarely--who do you want
this girl for?'
'Wall, Mr. Kirke, I can't answer thet--not in honor.'
'Shall I tell you?'
'Yas, ef ye kin!'
'John Hallet.'
'Wall, I'm d----d ef ye doan't take th' papers. Who in creashun told ye
thet?'
'No one; I know it, Hallet's only son is engaged to this girl. He wants
her, to balk him.'
'Ye're wrong thar. He wants har fur himself.'
'For himself!'
'Yas; he's got a couple now. He's a sly old fox; but he's one on 'em.'

'Is he willing to pay eighty-two hundred dollars for a mistress?'
'Wall, Preston owes him a debt, an' he reckons 'tain't wuth a hill o'
beans. Thet's th' amount uv it.'
Thus the wrong of the father was to be atoned for by the dishonor of the
child! Preston was right: the curse which followed his sin had fallen on
all he loved--on his wife, his mistress, the octoroon girl, his manly,
noble son; and now, the cloud which held the thunderbolt was hovering
over the head of his best-loved child! And so He visiteth 'the sins of the
fathers upon the children!'
'But he is wrong! Preston's estate will pay its debts. If it does not, Joe
will make good the deficiency, I will guarantee Hallet's claim. See him,
and tell him so.'
'He hain't yere, an' woan't be yere. He allers fights shy. An' 'twouldn't
be uv no use. He's made up his mind to hev th' gal, an' hev har he will.
He's come all th' way from Orleans ter make sure uv it.'
'But, Larkin, you've a heart under your waistcoat; you won't lend
yourself to the designs of such a consummate scoundrel as Hallet!'
'Scoundrel's a hard word, Mr. Kirke. 'Tain't used much round yere;
when it ar, it draws blood like a lancet.'
'I mean no offence to you, Larkin; but it's true--I will prove it;' and I
went on to detail my early acquaintance with Hallet; his vast profession
and small performance of piety; his betrayal of Frank's mother; his
treatment of his son, and all the damning record I have spread before
the reader.
As I talked, Larkin rose, and walked the room, evidently affected; but,
when I concluded, he said:
''Tain't no use, Mr. Kirke; I'd ruther ye wouldn't say no more. It makes
me feel like the cholera. An' 'tain't no use! I've got ter buy th' gal.'

'You have not got to buy her! You need only go away. I will give you a
thousand dollars, if you will go at once.'
'No, no, Mr. Kirke; I karn't do it. I'd like ter 'blige ye, and I need money
like th' devil; but I karn't leave Hallet in th' lurch. 'Twouldn't be far
dealin' 'tween man an' man. He trusts me ter do it, an' I'm in with him. I
must act honest.'
'How in with him?'
'Why, he an' ole Roye ar tergether. The' find th' money fur my
bis'ness--done it fur fifteen yar. The' git th' biggest sheer, but I karn't
help myself, I went inter cotton, like a d--d fool, 'bout a yar ago, an' lost
all I hed--every red cent; an' now I shud be on my