THE TRUE STORY OF AN APPOINTMENT

During a recent visit to Washington, my business brought me into contact with a representative of that class which has arisen upon the ruins of the semi-patrician society which once, in marked contrast to its present influence, dominated the affairs and engrossed the offices of the nation. Keen and far-sighted by nature, he had divined the true issues of the civil war, and alone of his family, and at the sacrifice for the time of all social ties, enlisted in one of the few regiments which the South contributed to the Northern cause-while the half-score of wounds received bore unequivocal witness to his gallantry in battle.

A sincere and aggressive partisan, he was an unfailing power in the political machinery of his state, and secured and was able to retain during the ensuing administration an office of more than ordinary importance. Success, however, did not in his case choke the springs of human interest and kindly charity which incline one to lend a sympathetic ear to those whose affairs glide less auspiciously. Beneath the harsh lines of the politician, his face displayed the excellent qualities of the Southern gentleman.

Having concluded the business which led to our meeting, the conversation glided into genial channels, and at length involved me in an extended comment upon the curious phases of life which present themselves with every change of administration. I mentioned the apparently overwhelming tide of office-seekers that, at stated intervals, with significant regularity, sweeps down upon the seat of government, and I chanced to remark that as offices are necessarily restricted in number, many who come thither hoping for office must return with blighted expectations.

"Ah!" sighed the major, "you have chanced upon a theme which I studiously avoid; but as my thoughts are now turned in that direction, I will, if you can afford the time, relate an episode in which I bore a particular part." In reply, I assured him that my time was at his disposal.

He went on to say: "James Romeyn, of Tuscaloosa, in Alabama, was among the very diminutive number of the citizens of my native state who declined either to fight for or to countenance a cause which was based upon the doctrine of states' rights, and the enslavement of the negro. At first he held aloof from every expression which, in the slightest degree, could be construed into a preference for either party, but there came a time when the pressure had grown to be unendurable, and a sense of manhood required him to define his position.

Realizing the situation, he threw aside the veil which had hitherto concealed his real feelings, and embraced with enthusiasm the Northern cause. The chagrin and resentment of his neighbors and life-long associates cannot readily be expressed, while the hardship of his position can only be understood by one who has himself undergone a similar experience. Escaping with difficulty from the measures which were taken for his arrest, he at length reached the place of rendezvous of my regiment, in which he served with distinction until the close of the war.

Then, naturally distrusting the opportunities for peaceful enjoyment which his former home would afford, it chanced that, like so many veterans from both armies, he wandered into the wilds of the far west, where, after years of hardship and self-denial, he found himself, in the year 1870, possessed of a moderate fortune; but the exposures and the vicissitudes of a migratory existence had at last impaired even his ironlike constitution, and rendered a period of rest and recuperation a matter of necessity. It was then that the associations and attractions of his early home crowded upon his mind with resistless force, and, with the impetuosity of a Southern nature, he could scarcely await the time when the speed of even the swiftest conveyance would transport him to the scenes which memory had always held enshrined in his inmost feelings. Nor had he been entirely forgotten. The object of his early adoration he found-still appreciative of his worth, and within a year from his return he had adorned his newly acquired plantation with a wife, in whose society he willingly forgot the privations and dangers of the intervening years. A family grew up about him, to add to the happiness which Providence seemed only to have withheld that it might become enhanced to a transcendent value, while a prudent abstinence from those expressions of party views which might tend to inflame the minds of his neighbors assured him the regard of the community of which he had become a not uninfluential member. This happy state continued through nearly a score of years, in which life moved on in the serene and eventless course which we only recognize to be the highest bliss, when some fortuitous occurrence breaks the spell. Such at length became the fate of James Romeyn.

A year of disastrous floods, followed by successive seasons of blighted or partial crops, impaired his resources and obliged him, in order to meet the requirements of his family, to mortgage his land at a time when prudence might rather have counseled him to exercise a severer degree of retrenchment. The vexations and exigencies of debt impaired his temper and discretion, and led him, during the heat of election, to express sentiments at variance with those of his fellow-planters, and in

sympathy with the party whose interests were in contravention to their

own.

Fortune seemed now to have determined to inflict upon him an era of disaster commensurate with the period of his prosperity. His crops were sold before they had been sown; his fences and his cattle began to display the embarrassed state of the exchequer of their owner; his friends grew estranged and withdrew their countenance and generous aid; while, most imbittering of all, he was obliged to see his children deprived of the educational opportunities which the customs of society require. Exasperated and defeated upon every side, he seized upon one hope-so flattering to our sense of merit, and yet, in reality, so slightly grounded upon factthat of obtaining a public office.

Some months since, in consequence of this resolve, it was my fortune to meet this old friend and companion in arms, and to hear from him of the occurrences which had marked the flight of years since we were mustered out of the service. When social greetings and inquiries with regard to mutual friends had drawn to a close, he told me of the vicissitudes of fortune and the changes which had recently been his lot, and of his consequent resolve; and while perfectly convinced of immediate success, he yet desired from me some slight service in high quarters-where it may be surmised I aided him to the extent of my ability. Our interviews were subsequently of frequent occurrence; but, though his faith and self-confidence seemed unabated, I began to grow concerned as I found that, in my judgment, he was in no way nearer the accomplishment of his purpose than when he arrived at the capital; while I knew that he must be under a heavy strain both in purse and patience.

One day, as I was engrossed in matters of great importance, I received from my friend a note asking that I would at my earliest convenience call upon him at his lodgings, in one of the most retired of our more modest hotels. As quickly as I could dispatch the business of the moment, I hurried away to comply with his request. I found my old companion seated at his desk, his face buried in his hands, nor did he at the first seem aware of my presence; it was only when I laid my hand upon his shoulder, and gently inquired the cause of his dejection, that he looked up and for a moment endeavored to turn upon me one of those bright smiles which in happier days had been the constant occupants of his features. But the effort was only momentary; at the next he had burst into tears, and was sobbing convulsively in the full tide of manly grief.

I did not attempt to interrupt the course of his sorrow, but quietly

awaited the abating of its first shock; then placing my arm within his I besought him to arise, and persuading him to remove from his face all traces of recent tears, and having provided him with his hat and cane, announced that we would go out into the parks, and stroll about among the winding paths of those verdant oases. Skillfully, and unconsciously to him, I turned the conversation upon the variety of the foliage then breaking forth to view, upon the emerald-like freshness of the grass of springtime, and noted the sonnets and joyous flutterings about of the inhabitants of the leafy bowers, whose very presence seemed a continuous protest against such melancholy moods. Just at that moment, a bird which seldom visits our less sultry shores-the 'red bird' of the South-came flitting by, and its presence seeming to recall the thought which had so greatly afflicted him, he again gave himself up to the convulsions of grief. I seated myself beside him upon a secluded bench and awaited the passing away of this fresh outburst of human passion. It continued a shorter time and was less violent than before, and when we had again proceeded on our way I saw that he was the master of his emotions. Insensibly, I so arranged our path that we emerged upon one of the most crowded thoroughfares, where we soon met mutual friends, in whose conversation and passing remarks I was glad to see that my companion forgot for the moment his troubles. I suggested that we should return to his hotel, where, though my business pressed, I could listen to an outline of the situation which had caused him such distress.

We ascended the stairs in silence, and when we had entered his room, having bolted the door, and placed my chair opposite his, I awaited patiently what he should disclose. For a moment he seemed lost in contemplation; then, raising his head with a sob, and with difficulty restraining his emotions, he told of his hopes and ceaseless exertions in pursuit of an office; of the delays, excuses, and broken obligations which had been the only result of his efforts; of the crushing news that his family were upon the borders of actual want, while he, incumbered by debts, was entirely bereft of means to relieve their or his own necessities.

'Would you demand an office of large salary or scope?' I inquired. 'God knows,' he replied,' that I will be forever content, if I shall attain to a competence.' Come to me at my office at this hour to-morrow,' I replied; but bear in mind that I do not promise positively to secure you the object of your wishes, though I believe that I shall succeed.' Scarcely could I break from his professions of gratitude and appreciation to hasten to my office, where I was closely confined throughout the remainder of the day and far into the night.

The following morning, after a hasty visit to my office, and a glance through my mail, I hurried away to the rooms of the superintendent of printing. Sending in my card, I requested a private interview, which was. not refused. After an exchange of such greetings as pass only between old and tried friends, I remarked that, having heard of an intended increase in the clerical force of his department, I had come to inquire as to the truth of the rumor, and as to whether incumbents had yet been secured for all these positions. 'We shall require an addition to our staff,' he replied, but the number will not together form an increase of more than twelve, and, besides, with the exception of one place, or possibly of two, the men are already appointed, while, of the remaining vacancies, I may say that they are practically filled.'

For a moment my application appeared hopeless; but the thought of the grief which a refusal would bring upon the friend I was soon to face, caused me to cling with desperate tenacity to even the slenderest chance, and in his cause, for the first, and perhaps for the last, occasion of my life, I grew convincingly eloquent. I argued and I pleaded; I urged the value and extent of my friendly services in the past, and the benefits I could yet confer upon him in the future, and I even made the bestowal of this place a test of his appreciation; while, to crown my appeal, I related the story of my friend, and placed the matter before him in the light of a necessity. He had been a soldier, and was a man whose heart had not grown callous through long continuance in office; thus I prevailed.

Punctually at the hour, my friend entered my office. Reaching the centre of the room, he remained silent, too fearful to look up, and unwilling to hear of his fate; then our eyes met, and, reading there of my success, with a cry he grasped my hand, and stood speechless with joy.

James Romeyn now resides with his family in a cottage two miles from town, and though his duties are far from light, and his salary does not exceed two thousand five hundred dollars per year, he cannot be persuaded that I am not his greatest benefactor, nor am I a whit more successful notwithstanding long and cogent arguings in convincing him that I do not deserve to be the object of his unceasing gratitude."

ure.

The story was ended, and bidding the major adieu, I took my departTo-day, when I hear or read of the advent of a fresh adventurer into the world of office-seeking, I am inclined to shake my head, and, sotto voce, to wish that the result in each instance may be as happy as in the case of James Romeyn.

Richard Selden Harvey