  The man who borrows trouble Mt. Pleasant, Pa. Dear Muz: We got here safe and sound. This is a pretty place. Palmer lives on the edge of the town; it's an old house; one end of it is all taken up with his "art studio," he calls it. He biles glue and the smell goes through the whole house. You and Lin thought I stunk when I worked in the tannery, you ought to smell Palmer and his art studio. He has another preacher helping him. His wife is very quiet; she is making the clothes for the panorama; they have a pile of clothes to make. He asked me if I had read "Pilgrim's Progress." He knows the book backwards, so I have to read it and learn it too. The way he talks this is a regular show, but he won't let you call it a show. The painting looks awful to me but Palmer says it looks all right under the lights. He is about done and wants Pap to come over to see it. If he comes don't let him bring any money. Tell Lin to get my shotgun from under the feed trough in the cow stable. She'd better get it quick. Turkey Evans knows where it is and he'll steal it. Answer and let me know if he has stole it yet. Tom White is too short. If Cousin Charley was a few inches taller I could get him this job. It takes tall people to be characters in Pilgrim's Progress, especially "Christian," "Help" and the "Evangelist." Jake's goin' to be somethin' in the panorama. They don't live very well; maybe Mrs. Palmer didn't know we were coming and didn't fix for us. They have had no meat any meal yet, only flitch. Give my love to all. Your affectionate son, Alfred Griffith Hatfield. P. N. B. Don't forgit the gun. Turner Simpson promised me when Queen had pups to give me one. If he brings it you'll keep it, won't you Muz? Mt. Pleasant, Pa. Dear Muz: The livin's no better, it's flitch every meal; they haven't had pie or cake since we came. Palmer says when they get the thing going we'll live on the fat on the land. His wife don't say nothin', just sews and cooks and wears a sun-bonnet. They've got two children somewhere. I heard Palmer say they'd have to stay, that they'd be too much trouble on the road. This seemed to make Mrs. Palmer more quiet, I reckon you'd call it sad. She ought to say somethin', then a body would know what ails her. I don't think it's newralgy. I told her mustard plasters always helped Aunt Susan and she just looked at me. I hope he gets her goin' soon, I'm hungry. If this show is good, as he says she is, he ought to make enough to buy something to eat besides flitch, corn meal and potatoes. He's got two more scenes to paint, then we're ready to show her up. Tom tried to help Mrs. Palmer wash the dishes, he broke two plates. Palmer says he's all thumbs and mouth. Your affectionate son, Alfred Griffith Hatfield. P. S. Was the gun gone? The pup's a hound but it's bound to be pretty, the children will like it. You keep it till I get home. Mt. Pleasant, Pa. Dear Muz: Palmer's the awfulest worker I ever saw. He knows his business but he ain't got any money. We're waitin' on Jake to come. Palmer owes everybody in town, they won't let him have anything until he pays. The flitch gave out last night, and we had nothin' but corn pone, buttermilk and potatoes. Palmer said he ketched the gout once from high livin', and he did not want to see another human suffer like he did. I guess his wife's dietin' too, as she don't set down to eat with us. Palmer is a wonderful man. He's got his lecture all wrote out and all the characters and all the costumes for them. He's going to begin the rehearsals tomorrow. Practicin' we called it. I looked in the dictionary, rehearsing is to recite, to recount, to relate, to repeat what has already been said, to recite in private for experiment and improvement before a public representation. I have learned more from Palmer than anybody I was ever with. The old preacher, Reverend Gideon, writes letters all day; he has the names of all the churches and preachers and we know where we are to be weeks before hand. Jake came today and brought his two horses. They're nice horses but he won't let you drive them, he wants to drive himself. Palmer went to the stable while Jake was unhitchin' and I seen him get money from Jake. We had beefstake for supper, fried, but it was too dry. She did not make any sop. I got acquainted with a boy, Will Peters. He invited me over to his house several times. I want to go but am ashamed to; they have pie and cake three times a day just like we all do at home. Mrs. Palmer talks a little to me now. She still wears the sun-bonnet but I don't believe it's newralgy that ails her. She asked me if your name warn't Mary Irons before you married Pap. I finished the Pilgrim's Progress last night. It's a great book, you ought to read it. The one we got at home is not complete, borrow Uncle Tom's. He'll Not Put Faith's Clothes On Me "He'll Not Put Faith's Clothes On Me" I'm glad Turkey Evans did not get hold of my shotgun. Palmer's done all his "work of art," as he calls it. Tonight he reads the whole thing over to us and then we got to learn our parts. Jake is going to be "Christian;" that's what I wanted to be but "Christian" carries a heavy load on his back and Palmer says I'm not strong enough. Me and Tom must double a dozen different characters. Mrs. Palmer tried all the clothes for everybody on me. One of the suits I do not like; it's just like you had nothin' on but a shirt; it's for "Faith" to wear. I told Palmer it would not look right before women and children and he said the costume was patterned after the original plates. I don't know what he meant but he'll not put "Faith's" clothes on me, plates or no plates. Is Pap coming over before we start? If he is, you have Lin bake a peck of doughnuts, put them in the big carpet-sack. I'm glad you got the gun. I wrote Turner Simpson to send you the pup when it was old enough to wean. Your affectionate son, Alfred Griffith Hatfield. P. S. Don't forget the doughnuts. Somerset, Pa. Dear Muz: It will be my luck to have Pap come to Mt. Pleasant with the doughnuts and find us all gone. We left last night. I wrote you we was going but I didn't know it until Palmer woke me up in the middle of the night. Reverend Gideon left two days before. Someone pulled me out of bed. I hollered, "Here, here, hold on!" Then I knew it was Palmer. I jumped up. He ordered me to dress quickly. I dressed and looked for Tom. I asked Palmer where he was. He said: "I've called him as often as I'm going to." I called Tom and had to wait so long for him to dress that when I got out doors there was Jake sitting up in the front seat of the wagon, and Mrs. Palmer beside him. She looked to me as if she was cryin'. Jake told us to "get in, she's going to go." Palmer was locking the doors. I heard something splash down in the well. His wife asked for the keys. "They're down in the well; old Lane, the landlord, can look for them." Mrs. Palmer looked very much worried. They left all their things excepting a few bedclothes and the sewing machine. Palmer spread the bedclothes on the panorama in the bottom of the wagon; Tom, me and him slept all the way here. Poor Mrs. Palmer set up all night beside Jake on the seat. If she ain't got the newralgy she'll katch it sure. Mrs. Palmer wouldn't get out of the wagon to eat breakfast when we stopped on the road at a country house, and Palmer spoke real cross to her and she cried. It's the only time I've seen Jake's face without a smile and he looks a different man when he ain't smiling. I like Jake and he likes me. He wants to see Pap. Reverend Gideon met us here. Palmer forgot his clothes and I heard him tell Gideon they'd have to go, he had flung the keys in the well and if Gideon went back after his clothes they was liable to fling him in jail. I believe Palmer's run off owing everybody. This thing's bound to make money. I'm sorry I came for twenty a month. If he does well he'll have to raise me. Your affectionate son, Alfred Griffith Hatfield. P. S. The hound was to be a dog, not another kind. "A man so various, that he seemed to be The only aim Palmer seemed to have in life was to create the impression that he might have been worse. Store clerk, school teacher, politician, preacher, scene painter, amateur showman; such were the pursuits he had been engaged in, not successful in any of them. Abusive of all, save that one he was engaged in, blaming the world for his failures. He respected no man or woman. He approached no man save with a selfish motive; could he but injure those with whom he dealt he was happy, though he did not profit thereby. Yet he did not so speak, but all his actions conveyed this impression of the man to Alfred. And thus his character was impressed on the boy's intuitive mind as strongly as were the scenes on the canvas of the panorama. Palmer Palmer The wife was only another of that type of woman who has blasted a life, one full of hope, by clinging to a man who was unworthy of one day of her life. It was a pathetic spectacle to see the faded wife standing helpless in the shadow of her husband's selfishness, having sacrificed youth, 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 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 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 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. Oh! My Dear Hearers! "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 "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." 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. Hold Her Down, Tom "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'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 Jake As Christian 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 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. |
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