Watch Yourself Go By

A >> Al. G. Field >> Watch Yourself Go By

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Her two children, somewhere in Missouri in the keeping of her mother,
seemed her only hope in life and the only time the poor crushed soul
evidenced interest in anything was when tidings came from the children
or she could prevail upon their thankless father to send them a little
money. The mother's wardrobe was scanty that the darlings of her heart
might be better clad.

Aunt Susan wore a sun-bonnet almost continuously that she might better
keep in place mustard plasters and horse radish leaves to relieve the
neuralgia pains. Alfred presumed that Mrs. Palmer was similarly affected
since she always wore a sun-bonnet. That was before they left Palmer's
house. Afterwards he became convinced that the woman wore the sun-bonnet
to conceal the lines of sorrow in her once fine face.

Rev. Gideon was the last of the trio whom Alfred figured out. He had
married Palmer's sister. They went to a foreign country as missionaries;
Gideon's health gave way under the tropical climate. He returned to this
country and had since made his home with the Palmers. But little was
learned of the wife. She still lived, and if remittances were not
forthcoming, Gideon was on the rack. In fact, each one of her
complaining letters made Gideon turn more yellow in color, sit up later
and get up earlier than usual, no matter how poor Gideon suffered. If he
was ailing and Palmer noticed it, he would sneer and jerk out: "Huh! Got
a letter from Sis, did you? S'pose she wants you to go back to China.
Say Gideon, that must have been a hell of a job to instill the gospel
into heathen when you can't make an impression upon those who understand
what you say. It must have been discouraging to waste your eloquence
upon those copper-colored thieves. There's many a game to catch suckers
in this world but that foreign mission play is the rawest ever sprung.
Say, Gideon, how much did you get? So much for each sinner saved or did
you lump the job?"

Under such cynicism Gideon would turn about and walk off as though
nothing had been said to him. Palmer took an especial delight in teasing
Gideon as to his mission labors. Gideon never deigned to notice the
ridicule of Palmer, at least in words. Yet there was one thing that
impressed Alfred. Palmer always deferred to Gideon in any business
proposition under consideration; he would bluster and rave a little but
always in the end gave in to Gideon's judgment.

In addition to the receipts that came to him from the exhibition of the
panorama, Palmer had a large, framed, steel plate engraving of John
Bunyan which he sold while soliciting subscriptions for several
religious publications. He worked diligently. He never desisted when he
once went after preacher, deacon or the entire congregation, and he
generally sold what he offered or secured their names to one of his
numerous subscription lists.

He worked so adroitly that he made many his aides. Not infrequently a
minister would get up during an intermission in the Pilgrim's Progress
exhibition and announce one or more of Palmer's offerings. These
announcements invariably wound up with the statement that the proceeds
were for the benefit of a retired minister who had lost his health in an
endeavor to carry the gospel to the heathen in foreign lands.

Alfred became curious as to what effect these announcements would have
upon Gideon and he often peeped from behind the scenes to note it. But
Gideon was never in sight. He would step out of the door as the speaker
began. Alfred noticed that Mrs. Palmer always lowered her face over the
keys of the piano or organ when the announcement of this character was
being made. Palmer, behind the scenes, standing near the curtain his
head bent to one side his hand up to his ear. If the speaker's efforts
pleased him he would pull his tuft of beard with his free hand and
ejaculate: "Good! Fine! Capital! Good boy, go it old Beeswax. I didn't
think it was in you. Go it boots, you'll win in a walk. They're gittin'
their pocket books out now; Gideon will do well tonight, ha, ha, ha."
Did the speaker not measure up to his ideas, he would say: "Wade in!
Wade in! Wade in! Dam you, the water's not cold. Warm up now or you'll
freeze them to the pews. Oh, what you tryin' to git through you? Just
listen to that crack; he'll make them think he's going to take up a
collection for the foreign missions. You can't get seventeen cents. It's
been worked to death. Come off, come off your perch, you poll parrot!
Come off! Well you ought to be studying your primer instead of
preaching; you don't know as much as Gideon."

Palmer, through the influence of the church members, procured a half
dozen young girls, at each place visited, to represent the multitude
passing through the gates in the final scene of Pilgrim's Progress.
Although these girls were before the audience but a moment or two at the
very end of the panorama, amateur like, instead of remaining in front
witnessing the exhibition, they would repair to the rear of the curtain,
don their robes and stand around during the entire performance, to the
annoyance of everybody working the panorama, and, more frequently than
otherwise, be late for their cue.

One night, an old preacher was laboring with an announcement Palmer had
written and rehearsed him in, Palmer was most vicious in his comments.
The old speaker's daughter was one of the virgins, standing near she
heard every word uttered and there was enough and there would have been
more, had not Alfred, by a nudge and a whisper, checked him. Palmer
grasped the situation at once. He stepped nearer the girls. Then with a
start, he shaded his eyes, dramatically gazed at the girls and began:
"Oh, woman, lovely woman, nature made thee to temper man; we had been
brutes without you. Angels are painted fair to look like you. There is
in you all we believe of heaven, amazing brightness, purity, truth,
eternal joy and everlasting love."

He was never at a loss, his quick wit extricating him from embarrassment
at all times.

* * * * *

SOMERSET, PA.

DEAR MUZ:

We showed, or we exhibited, last night. It was the most crowded
church I ever seen. I did well, better than anyone. Gideon, Mrs.
Palmer and all said so. Gideon said I saved the day, but Palmer
held me back, he wouldn't let me sing or dance. I heard him tell
Gideon: "I'll have hell with that gilly kid, he thinks it a
minstrel show; I got to hold him down or he'll queer the fake."
I don't know what he meant, only he meant me.

Jake made some awful blunders but Gideon said it was like Palmer
to put him in to play "Christian." Tomorrow's Sunday and I'll
write you the full purceeding. I know the whole thing by heart
and if Pap can paint a Pilgrim's Progress I can show it, exhibit
it. Palmer will make a million. Lin could go along and play the
organ like Mrs. Palmer. I tell you she can put in the music
right, she fills out the thing just grand. Lin would have to
learn to play with both hands and she must learn music. Mrs.
Palmer won't play without the notes to lead her. I will take the
whole Sunday to write you the full history of the first night.
You better read "Pilgrim's Progress." Did you borrow Uncle
Tom's?

Does Uncle Ned feel hard towards me? If anything happens to me
and I get ruined it's their doings because I could have been
with a minstrel troupe. You have to lie more here in a day than
I did all the time I was with a minstrel show.

Your very affectionate son,
ALFRED GRIFFITH HATFIELD.

P. S. I looked at the dictionary. A "gilly" is a man attendant
in the Scottish Highlands. A "kid" is a young goat. It don't
tell what a "fake" is. Now I know Palmer will have to raise my
wages. If Pap agrees to paint a panorama and take Lin along you
can get Sis Minks to work for you.

[Illustration: "Oh! My Dear Hearers!"]

Palmer began the exhibition with a lecture:

"Ladies and Gentlemen: John Bunyan, the author of that wonderful work,
'The Pilgrim's Progress,' was an English religious writer, soldier and
Baptist preacher. He enlisted in the Parliamentary army very young. He
was so strongly impressed with the glimpse he caught of war that all his
writings, even things sacred, were strongly illustrative of fortresses,
camps, marching men, guns and trumpets. Bunyan was but seventeen years
old when he entered the army, hence the lasting impressions his
military life made upon his mind. He became famous as a Baptist preacher
and was flung into Bedford jail under order of the Restoration. He was
frequently offered his liberty on condition that he would desist from
preaching. This he refused; therefore, for twelve years he suffered
imprisonment for his conscience's sake.

"While in Bedford jail he began the book that has immortalized him. It
is the best allegory ever written and is the only book, excepting the
Bible, about which the educated majority have come over to the opinion
of the common people. The peculiar glory of Bunyan is that those who
hated his doctrines have acknowledged his genius by printing and using a
Catholic version of his parable, The Pilgrim's Progress, with the
Virgin's head in the title page.

"Oh, my dear hearers, how similar to the sufferings of the lowly genius
in producing his masterpiece were those undergone in painting the work
of art about to be unfolded for your inspection. For years he who
transferred the thoughts of Bunyan into almost real life, for years he
who wrought these fancies upon canvas, labored and suffered in secret.
No living eye was ever permitted to gaze upon his work save his own.
Night after night, by the dim light of lamp, the artist labored. Lack of
food, lack of sleep, did not deter him. He was inspired to produce that
which has been pronounced by men of highest learning as the greatest
painting the world has ever known, the greatest educator of the masses,
the greatest object lesson ever presented to the people of this country.

"The Pilgrim's Progress in living figures and realistic scenes, the
hills, the mountains, the sunny pastures, the soft vales, the
wilderness, the Shining River, the Beautiful Gates, the Celestial City.

"Like Bunyan, the painter had no idea that he was producing a
masterpiece."

Here Palmer would step to the front of the platform and, after a modest
pause, in a lower tone, continue: "Ladies and Gentlemen: I was not aware
the printed bills had announced to the world that I, Professor Palmer,
D. D., was the author of this work of art, otherwise, I am sure I would
not have mentioned it."

Alfred could never disassociate this announcement from that of the clown
in the circus who, after singing his song, announcing the sale of the
books, assuring the audience that the proceeds of the sale of the book
were for the benefit of an orphan who was a long ways from home, without
money or friends. Hoping the charitably disposed would assist the orphan
by buying the song books. Bowing low, he would add: "I forgot to tell
you that I am the orphan."

DEAR MUZ:

The first night is the most terrible thing one can go through.
We had a hard time of it; Palmer became excited and cussed; Tom
did well as long as I told him; Mrs. Palmer filled in all the
stops with music and this helped but if it hadn't been for me it
would have been a bad failure. It was all I could do to keep it
going; I nearly worked myself sick. I'm going to ask Palmer to
raise my wages. Palmer praised all of us, but I know he was
lying because every time Jake or Tom made a mistake he cussed.
Palmer does all the talking for all the characters; the way he
can change his voice you'd swear there were several people
talking. He is hid from the audience and of course they think
it's the characters that talk. In spite of Gideon's advice,
Palmer gave Jake the part of Christian. The first scene is a
field. Jake, as Christian, is discovered standing in the middle
of the field. Here is where the pilgrimage begins. Jake is
supposed to be reading a book and asks: "What shall I do to be
saved?" Jake held the book in his hand, not looking at it but at
the audience, smiling. From behind the scenes Palmer hissed;
"Look serious! Look worried! Read the book! Hold the book up! Oh
you dam Dutch galoot look scared!" Jake only smiled louder. I
know Jake didn't hear a word Palmer said. I could hear him
breathing from where I stood. You know Christian is dressed in
ragged clothes, he has a burden on his back. Palmer wrapped an
old coffee sack about a big stone and this was fastened on
Jake's back to represent Christian's burden.

I was Evangelist. I had a long, white robe on and wore a wig
with long curls; not yellow curls like you used to make me wear,
but black curls, with a blue ribbon around my forehead. I walked
solemn towards Jake; I looked at him a little while, then I
raised my hand, pointing the roll of parchment and, in the most
saddest way I could speak, I said: "Wherefore dost thou cry?"
Jake said easy like, "Not by a tam sight." Palmer came right in
with the proper speech: "If I be not fit to go to prison I am
not fit to go to judgment and thence to execution. The thoughts
of these things make me cry." Here Jake looked at me, then at
Palmer; then he winked at me. I could scarcely go on with my
speech: "If this be thy condition, why standest thou still?" "I
don't vant to, I'd rather valk to Bedford dan stan' dis way
still," was Jake's reply. A number of those nearest the platform
overheard Jake but Palmer came in quickly with: "Because I
knoweth not whither to go." I didn't give Jake any time, I just
shouted at him: "Do you see yon wicket gate?" I pointed at the
imaginary gate. Jake turned about, shook his head and answered:
"No." I cut in before he could get further: "Do you see yon
shining light? Keep that light in thy eye and go up directly
thereto, so shalt thou see the gate at which, when thou
knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do."

[Illustration: "Hold Her Down, Tom"]

Jake was lost. He walked he knew not whither, Palmer pleading
and swearing to guide him. The gate and shining light to which I
referred were imaginary. I pointed off stage. Jake, in his
excitement was trying to get away from the audience. He walked
up stage; he pressed against the canvas, trying to force his way
further. Palmer and Bedford Tom had all their weight against the
frame of the panorama. When Jake felt resistance he put his
powerful muscles to work. "Hold on! Hold on! Stop! You can't go
further," cried Palmer. Jake kept on pushing. "Hold her down,
Tom; hold her down." Then came a crash, the lights went out and
over went Palmer, Tom and the panorama.

Jake's breathing and his efforts to release himself from the
heavy canvas covering him could be heard above the din and
confusion. Palmer was here, there, everywhere, assuring the
audience that a slight accident had befallen the mechanical part
of the panorama. "Just remain seated, we'll give you a good
show." He forgot himself and called it a show after all his
orders to us not to speak the word "show." The strong arms of
Bedford Tom, and Jake soon righted the panorama. Mrs. Palmer
played the organ, and right there is where one of my songs would
come in right. I sung for Jake and Tom last night and Jake
declared: "The people in Bedford would like one of dem nigger
songs better dan Palmer's hull tarn pictur show. De hull tam
ting is a fraudt; no such a man as Bunjun was ever in Bedford
yail. I and Tom knows every man dot's been in dot yail and dey
don't put 'em in yail fur what he sedt." Jake's mixed up; he
imagines Palmer refers to Bedford, Pa.

The panorama worked along smoothly until Pliable and Christian,
(I and Jake), fell into the Slough of Despond. You know, in the
book, Pliable and Christian are traveling together; they fall in
the Slough of Despond; Pliable struggles and gets out.
Christian, owing to the burden he carries on his back, flounders
about and is fast sinking when Help appears and asks: "What
doest thou there?" Jake answered: "Noting." Palmer hissed: "Roll
over! Roll over! Hold your head under the canvas; duck, you son
of a gun, duck!" Palmer answered with the speech Jake was
supposed to deliver, as Jake rolled over and over: "Sir, I was
bid by a man named Evangelist, who directed me to yonder gate
that I might escape the wrath to come and as I was going thither
I fell in here." Then I come as Help; I say: "Why did you not
look for the steps?" Jake is supposed to say: "Fear followed me
so hard that I fled the next way and fell in." Then as Help, I
lean far over, hold out my hand and say: "Give me thine hand
that I may draw thee upon hard ground that thou might go thy
way." Instead of Jake following the business as rehearsed, he
arose, took the burden off his back, walked out the opposite
side, back towards the City of Destruction.

The audience, or some of them, tittered, others laughed
outright. Palmer was prompting Jake: "Get into the pond!
Complete the scene!" The more Palmer prompted, the more confused
Jake appeared. "Get your burden, it's not time to drop it; get
your burden." Jake, smiling, walked over the miry, muddy slough
he was supposed to have struggled in a moment before, and took
up the burden. Instead of putting it on his back he carried it
under his arm, nodded at Palmer, as much as to say: "I'm ready
for anything further, go on." Worldly Wise Man here appears
before Christian and speaks to him: "How now good fellow;
whither away after this burdened manner?" Christian answers: "A
burdened manner indeed as ever, I think, poor creature had. And
whereas you ask me whither away, I am going to yonder wicket
gate, for there, as I am informed, I shall be put in a way to be
rid of my heavy burden." Then Worldly Wise advises Christian:
"Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee counsel?" Christian
answers: "If it be good I will, for I stand in need of good
counsel." Worldly Wise then answers: "I would advise thee that
thou, with all speed, get thyself rid of thy burden, for thou
will never be settled in thy mind until then." Palmer answered
with Christian's speech: "That is which I seek for, even to be
rid of this heavy burden, but get it off myself I cannot, nor is
there any man in our country who can take it off my shoulders."

[Illustration: Jake As Christian]

Jake, smiling more pleasantly than ever, answered, "I kin."
Suiting the action to the word, he flung his burden into the
Slough of Despond. The pond was a thin piece of canvas painted
to represent the quagmire. The burden made a sound as of the
house falling down. Jake wiped the perspiration from his face
and, spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice to one side, he gazed
on the audience and smiled. It was too much for even the staid
old church members. The laughter was so great that Palmer pulled
the curtain and announced an organ recital.

Christian's burden was replaced on Jake's back, he was
admonished to pay closest attention to Palmer's promptings. Jake
continued the pilgrimage. In the next scene Jake, representing
Christian on his journey from the City of Destruction to the
Celestial City, must pass through the Dark Valley of Shadows.
When Jake, instead of keeping to the right and following the
straight and narrow path, boldly walked into the mouth of the
burning pit, out of which Palmer was sending sparks and smoke.
Palmer again pulled the curtain on the scene. Jake sat on a
stage stump. Smoke was still coming from the pot of damp straw.
Tears filled Jake's eyes, tears caused by the smoke. Palmer
rushed back and forth, declaring Jake had made a farce of the
most beautiful and inspiring scene in the entire exhibition. I
was substituted for Jake. I knew every speech; I had learned
them all and it went good to the last.

The second book is even more impressive and instructive than the
first. You should read it. As the young ladies walk in at the
Beautiful Gate of the city, Pilgrim is seen through a gauze; one
by one the sheets of gauze are pulled down until Christian fades
away like a vision. It held the audience dumb; they never
witnessed anything like it; neither did I. Palmer wouldn't let
me speak the words; he said they must be delivered with great
dramatic effect. The words are: "I see myself now at the end of
my journey, my toilsome days are ended. I have formerly lived by
hearsay and faith, but I now go where I shall live by sight."
But glorious it was to see how the open regions were filled with
horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers
and players upon stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims
as they went up and followed one another in at the gates of the
Beautiful City. Here the young ladies, with lighted lamps,
passed in. As Pilgrim disappeared, Palmer, with great effect,
ended the scene with the eloquent words: "Now, while he was thus
in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed
under him and, after he had said: 'Take me, for I come unto
thee,' he ceased to be seen of them."

ALFRED GRIFFITH HATFIELD.

FOOTNOTES:

[B] Bacon.

[C] Gravy.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Do not believe all that you hear,
For hot air men are hawking;
And even keep a cautious ear
When you, yourself, are talking.

BROWNSVILLE, PA.

MY DEAR SON:

I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines hoping that they
may find you as well as we all are here. Mother reads your
letters to us at dinner time. I hope you are living better. I
never knew a genius that cared much about his eating, therefore,
I do not suppose Palmer ever gave it a thought that you were
suffering. He is a good fellow and I know he will make out well,
except in the eating line.

You need not worry about your shotgun; I have it and will look
after it until such time as I feel you should be permitted to
handle dangerous weepuns. Turner Simpson says your Cousin
Charley got that hound pup weeks ago; he claims Charley said you
sent him after the pup.

All your friends inquire about you. Bill Johnston told me he was
sorry he had to have you arrested for overturning his hay stack;
that he did not believe you was to blame, the boys with you led
you into oversetting the haystack to catch the rabbit.

Your Uncle Joe was in town Saturday, got tite and carried on
high. He is getting worse as he gets older. Betsy is mortified
to death. They were just at communion afore it happened.

How is Palmer doing? Is he making money? Did he get my letter?
Hoping to hear from you very often and that you will remember
that your father and mother and all the children think of you
daily and all look forward to the time when we shall see you
again,

Your affectionate father,
J. C. H.

Alfred was living in a little world all his own. Jake, Bedford Tom, Mrs.
Palmer, Gideon, Tom White, were its inhabitants. Palmer was not of it.
He was not of the agreeable circle. Alfred often read letters from home
to Mrs. Palmer. She was greatly interested in the correspondence. Alfred
knew she desired him to read the father's letter to her. In a serious
manner he advised the letter was a business one. This seemed to make the
good woman even more anxious. She actually quizzed Alfred as to whether
the letter was not one demanding payment of money borrowed by her
husband. Alfred asked her if she knew the amount due his father. She did
not, but said she would ascertain; further, she would exert herself to
earn money to repay it. Alfred appreciated this and regretted he had
ever mentioned the flitch in his letters to the folks at home. He felt
that he had reflected upon Mrs. Palmer.

He re-read his father's letter that he might expunge the reference to
the scant living. He read to where Bill Johnston had apologized for
having him arrested; he did not care to have Mrs. Palmer know of this.

[Illustration: Palmer and the Wise Virgin]

Palmer, with his panorama and side issues, was making money, and there
was not a day, not an hour, that something coarse, selfish or mean, did
not show itself in word or deed of the man. The half dozen young women,
who took part in the final scene, were robed in long, pale blue gowns,
worn over their street apparel. It was necessary to fit the costumes on
the young ladies previous to the opening or first exhibition. In
arranging with the fathers or mothers of the girls, Palmer always
emphasized the statement that: "My wife, Mrs. Palmer will take charge of
the young ladies, show them their costumes." Mrs. Palmer was always
ready to do so but Palmer was always there. He insisted, he forced his
services in fitting the costumes. He would take an unusually long time
to smooth out the wrinkles on the waist and bust lines. All this was
done so unconcerned that none would ever suspect he was playing a part.
His wife would flush up, walk away and occupy herself with other duties.

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