The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter Part 29

"The one you sent it with must have mistaken the road, husband, for he has not showed his face here."

"Here's where the kingdoms pinch," muttered Roger to himself; while at the same moment a little boy unrolled himself from the covering of a bed on the floor, and crying "father! father!" ran to the general, threw his little arms about his neck, and kissed him, and fondled over him, like one whose love knew no bounds. And these caresses the father returned with great paternal tenderness; but he was too much dejected in spirit to offer the child those merry tokens of his attachment which had so often amused him in days gone-by.

"Though I have conquered kingdoms enough, Polly," said the general, his eyes moistening with tears, "I am none the better for them now.

In truth, I have nothing but the clothes I stand in; and having resolved that it was best to be an honest man, I was glad enough to get safely home, and wash my hands of these kingdoms, which I have left behind for them who have a turn for such things."

"Indeed, husband, I will think no more of these riches you promised me, if you will stay quietly at home, a.s.sist me in getting an honest livelihood, and give your thoughts to G.o.d and the church. But how comes it that you are in the hat of a priest?"

The forlorn general picked up the hat, and having eyed it distrustfully, said in reply: "You must know, dear Polly, that though I gained some fame as a politician; that my valor as a military man no man ever dared doubt; and that no really great man ever had more undertakings; this hat is the only trophy left to me.

And though my melancholy put a quick end to the rest of my days, I am resolved to preserve this relic of my lost kingdom, so that when my enemies scoff and say, "all the wonderful things that were written of him had no truth in them, except only as they appeared on paper, I can, pointing to this hat, say: 'here's the ducat!'"

"You are dearer to me than several kingdoms would be, dear Roger,"

resumed the honest woman, kissing him affectionately.

"And now, Polly," he rejoined, "give me an account of your trials and struggles during my absence, for I see care has written the history of many of them in your face."

The good woman immediately drew her chair beside him, and commenced giving an account of the many troubles and trials she had undergone; but so numerous were they, that it would be impossible to recount them all here. The little pictures which gave such a martial air to his home had been sold to get bread; death had kindly stepped in and relieved the mother of one daughter; the other was out at service.

In short the forlornness pervading each object that met his eye, told how hard had been the struggle for bread. As she continued recounting her trials his grief deepened; but when she came to the death that had carried away his favorite child, his head dropped, and burying his face in his hands, he gave vent to his feelings in sobs and tears. "Heaven give me strength," he sighed, "that I may retain her sweet face in my memory." This was indeed a misfortune that seemed to shut the past from his thoughts, and to increase his sufferings as the future appeared to him in all its loneliness. And when he had partially recovered from this shock of grief, the good woman brought him food, for he was hungry; and also procured him a change of raiment from one of the neighbors, there not being a shred of his own in the house. And when he had satisfied his appet.i.te, he turned to his wife, saying; "As these misfortunes which have overtaken me are incident to the lives of all great men, I hold it good policy that we mourn them not too long, but set to loving one another, that we may be cured of the sins of this world when death calls us away."

Polly at once fell in with this opinion; but being a sensible woman, was careful to add a clause stipulating that Roger give up politics and return to the making of shoes, at which employment there was some chance of getting food to maintain the body, without which there was no knowing what would become of the soul. His sword being in the possession of the priest, there was no immediate danger of a return of his military ardor. As for governing, he made up his mind that the most worthy man in that line was the shepherd who provided well for the lambs of his own flock. "For truly," said he, "I have gained the applause of millions; but it has not saved my family from want." And with these salutary resolutions, he sought and obtained employment in the town; where he lives much respected by his neighbors, who, I must add, were not a little disappointed that he returned so unexpectedly and shabbily, for they had read in the newspapers that he was a great ruler, which, however, was strange enough, for they knew in their own minds that he was dull of intellect, and in truth had a disordered brain.

Many years after his return he went about seemingly much dejected.

Indeed, he would avoid even his best friends, and go straight into a melancholy mood if in a merry moment any one ever touched upon his past career, though I ought to mention that he rarely appeared in the street without being saluted by little Barnstable, who would gather about him, and persist in offering him that species of homage it was accustomed to pay him in years gone by. But even this failed to excite the slightest love of adventure in his bosom; and the star of his glory sank to rise no more.

And now, the stream of my compa.s.sion having run out, I have felt myself at liberty to desert many of the characters who figured so conspicuously in the early part of this history; and, indeed, to leave them in that state of glorious uncertainty for which critics have a perfect madness, since it furnishes their bountiful pens with means to show the greatness of their wisdom. But if any of these good natured gentlemen critics call me such names, as: "simpleton," "a fool and don't know it," "an idiot making an a.s.s of himself," which exquisite expressions I have selected from the sayings of critics at this day, I would have them beware, since if I am old, my heart is none the less given to mischief, and I have a rare knack for cracking the pates of those who say aught disrespectful of my books.

THE END.