Tom Buxton's Aim

Front matter

SPECIAL NOTICE.— The New and Revised Edition contains Prefatory Remarks by the Right Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE , M.P., who has read and approved the Volume. THE STANDARD WORK ON AUTHORSHIP. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, price 5s. ; Postage, 4Jd. (Fifth Edition, New and Revised.) THE AUTHOR'S MANUAL: A Complete Practical Guide lo all Branches of Journalism, Literary Work generally and Book-producing, ■with special advice in reference to Imaginative Literature. By PERCY RUSSELL. BKIEF EXTRACTS FKOM SOME OF THE REVIEWS :— The Spectator says :—" The aspirant to literature may certainly read Mr. Russell's book with profit." The Graphic says : — " Mr. Russell has got up his subject with much care and supplies a great deal of useful information. His advice and suggestions are sound and to the point,'^^7 St. Stephen's Review /tips; — " ' The Author's Manual ' is clever to a fault.

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Chapter I

Tom is not an aristocratic loafer, a briefless bar rister, an impecunious officer retired on half-pay with a gummed moustache, and six inches of floral decoration in his button-hole, nor a doctor, nor a musician, nor a tailor, nor a publican ; but, a sinner, making cloth and selling it to the great advantage of himself. Would you like to know Tom, should chance, or the fortuitous peregrina tion of atoms, throw him in your way ? Here he is : his height is not less than five feet ten inches, nor his circumference more than thirty inches. His face is small and unmanly ; his chin and upper lip are clean shaved ; his nose is not very objectionable, tracing it from the brow downwards, but when you reach the point you find yourself attracted thereto by a peculiarity of formation which you will find difficult to classify.

You would be scarcely correct in placing it under the list snub ; B it is not a hook, so your safest plan and mine will be to call it hybrid, for it is a cross between the two. His eyes, those " windows of the soul," are after the Early English style, denoting sombre gloom within. His mouth is rather neat, I must confess, conveying an idea of firmness and determination. The tout ensemble, a moderately good looking man, stylish, and particular to femininity in his dress, with an expression in his face dependant on the direction of the commercial wind, with firm, elastic and quick step. Such is Tom now ; but at the time our story opens he was a very young man, five years from the country, where he had boarded with his master and courted his daughter. I have discovered, through bitter experience, that it is a worldly-wise thing to have an aim in life ; whether to be prime minister or mayor of a small provincial town ; to be a reporter on a daily paper, or, to make as much money as is possible within the short allotted span.

The last was, and is, Tom's aim; and he has succeeded. When he came to Roxton, he commenced with a salary of £60 a-year. He calculated on how much, or how little, rather, he could live ; and concluded that £40 a-year would suffice. Thus he saved £20 the first year. As his salary increased he did not allow his expenses to do so in proportion but steadily steered his course through the £40, and thus his savings increased every year, until, at the end of five years, he found himself in possession of £200. His employer, who was wealthy, was a widower with one son, a barrister in London. Being troubled with an inventive brain and a small amount of engineering skill, he was continually pottering amongst wheels, and destroying vast sheets of German paper with mechanical drawings. At last, he took out a patent and a single first-class ticket to London, whence he never returned.

Tom was left monarch of all he surveyed ; osten sibly to wind up the business, but, in reality, he wound tobacco-smoke from morning till night around the ceiling. Seated in a comfortable up holstered chair, with one foot planted on either side of the fire, he reclined in Sultanic ease, and like the pensive Arab, watched the graceful curves of the tobacco-smoke as it ascended to the roof, with £100 a-year of salary. Tom Buxton and Harry Lintoft had become very friendly. Although there was something about him which Harry did not like, an unde finable sensation which for ever haunted him, they spent nearly all their spare time together, and gradually, by a systematic course of self-compulsion, Harry believed in him and trusted him. Tom made him his confidante, and in the long summer evenings, as they strolled along the banks of the charming river, glistening like a pearly robe under tbe rays of the western sun, glinting through the branches of the trees overhead, they chattered like two love-sick school-girls.

What a charmingly foolish time is youth ! how deli ciously innocent ! how turtle-dove-like in its co oings ! how lamb-like in its bleatings ! Harry called for Tom one beautiful evening in June. Tom had not finished his tea, so he sat down to wait until he would be ready to go. He took stock of what was on the table — a brown tea pot, a small piece of a loaf, a plate with as much butter on it as Harry would have lifted at a time, a cup and saucer. It was a rare treat to watch how he proceeded, especially with the butter. He handled the knife tenderly, cautiously inserted it into the butter, and brought away a thin, filmy shred as thick as the skin of an apple ; and then scraped it on the bread until he imagined he had done his duty to it. The remarks Harry made (mentally, of course) were not favourable to him.

He felt quite disgusted, and when they left the house he was in an irritable frame of mind and felt an in clination to kick Tom. It is true he had no TOM BUXTON'S AIM. 5 business with Tom's feeding, but for meanness and niggardliness he had ever a scornful contempt which, unfortunately, he was not always able to conceal. There was one favourite seat to which their walk usually extended, and where they used to sit for an hour or so. The path was cut out of the wooded bank, which rose to a considerable height above the level of the river. Their scat was placed close to the earthen wall. Above it was a very large and noble beech tree, with a trunk which their united arms could not encircle, and whose branches extended to the middle of the river. The great, twisted, brown roots protruded from the ground and formed a sort of wickerwork above their heads.

Here the river took a bend, and on one side they beheld a long vista of wood and water, the warm, brown-tinted path con trasting pleasantly with the cool, purple shadows and the darkening water. Here they sat, talking and watching the lads and lasses as they passed and re-passed. In the course of conversation they hit on the subject of marriage, and Tom asked Harry at what age a young man should get married. " That depends entirely on his circumstances," Harry said. "A poor young man, who has his way to make in the world, should not give the subject a single thought until he is thirty at least." "But suppose that in the case of such a poor young man, certain circumstances were to inter vene favourable to him in the case of marriage, do you think he would be wise in allowing the chance to pass ?

" " My dear fellow, it depends altogether on the view you take of marriage. If you consider it merely as a means to an end, and that end money, then take the first chance you get of a girl with cash ; but if you want to be happy, and do your duty as a man, it is necessary first that you should love and honour the girl." " Now, there's Dick Thompson — he married old Snooks's daughter, and he knew her only six weeks. Look at him now — built a splendid house, and keeps his coachman." " Oh, yes ; that's all very well ; but you don't know how Mr. and Mrs. Thompson get along together in private." "Ha! I'd risk it, I think." " Are you in earnest ? Is there anyone in your eye ? " "Well, you know old Riggs's daughter — Matty Riggs. I used to fondle her a little, long ago ; not that I ever thought of marrying her, but we used to lark a good deal together, and " he burst into a laugh.

" Out with it. There's something in the wind." " Well, I'll tell you ; but, remember, not a word about it to a living soul." "Oh, no. Trust me." "Here's how the case stands. Old Patent " (a nickname for his employer) " is giving up the business, and I must be looking out for my self. Riggs has made a good name for his cloth ; he has no agent ; if he had he could do twice the business. If I marry Matty, Riggs makes me his agent. If I work old Patent right I might get his office, just as it stands, very cheap, and perhaps you would buy from me as much as you could." " Then you mean to marry Riggs's daughter for the sake of Riggs's cloth ! Such a contemptible thing I never heard of." "Now, listen; don't flare up. You always go off like a puff of gunpowder." " Go on. I will listen, although I think it detestable."

" Perhaps you will not think it detestable when I'm done." " Talk away — my ears are open." " You have a pretty good salary." (Harry was TOM BUXTON'S AIM. at that time a buyer for Puff and Co.) " Don't get married just yet ; save as much as you can, and in a few years we might go into partnership." Harry could not help laughing, but the idea struck him as being worth some consideration. Harry argued thus, within his own mind — " If he choose to marry Matty, without loving the girl, that is none of my business ; and as I do want to many a girl whom I love very dearly, I begin to see a glimmer of reason in the plan." The upshot of their conversation was that they struck a bargain. Tom was to marry Matty and start business ; Harry was to buy from him, and in a few years they should form a partnership, and make their fortunes.

Chapter II

The first thing Tom did on getting home that night was to light his pipe, and the next, to make himself as comfortable as possible in his easy-chair. This chair is deserving of our notice. It was made for use and not for ornament, which implies that it was strong and honest, roomy and comfortable. Some foolish, flimsy-minded people, might call it clumsy, because it had not turned legs and scroll-work arms. It was a plain, matter-of-fact chair, with sterling honesty marked on every inch of it — a truly royal trade-mark, very seldom encountered in these days of artistic blundering and crazy refinement. " Come," it seemed to say to every guest who entered the room, "cast yourself upon me and you shall truly rest : no hard, false stuffing in my uphols tery, nor unyielding springs. If you be weary of body, come and rest ; if troubled with anxious thoughts and cankering care, if diseased in body or disquieted in soul, here I guarantee you one slight comfort amid all your troubles : one really honest thing in a dishonest world — a comfortable, TOM BUXTON 'S AIM. easy lounge, where you may gnaw your soul with bodily comfort."

It stood on four square legs. The two side supports were continued beyond the two hind legs : the back, a plain, straight panel, was fixed to them, and an inclination backwards was given in the upholstery. Two head-rests, one on either side, projected from the back — which afforded unspeakable delight and comfort to an invalid. It was not upholstered in leather, nor in vulgar cretonne, but in unbleached linen, with tin key red stripes ; which, besides being tasteful, had the advantage of being well adapted for the purpose : not easily soiled, and when dirty, could be taken off and washed, or replaced by new at a trifling cost. This chair did not belong to Tom, but to his landlady ; and one evening, shortly after he had gone to live in her house, she lingered in his room, balancing herself first on one foot, then, when it got tired, on the other, twirling the corner of her afternoon apron, and whimpered a melo-dramatic tale about the old arm-chair.

" It was made specially to order. Oh, yes ; grandfather was a most particular man, and had a great hatred of modern things generally. He was a soldier ; had been with Wellington through the Peninsular War, and finished his military career and one of his legs at the great battle of Waterloo. Of course, he got a pension; and on coming home with his wife and two children, my mother and my uncle, settled down in this very house. ' Now Bess,' so my mother used to tell me he said to grandmother — ' Now Bess, I mean to have an arm-chair ; a reg'lar, big, roomy, comfortable affair ; none o' your pretty, pretty things ; but a sturdy,~strong chair : an' I'll tell you what, you lay by two shillin's every week until ye have as much money as pay for one.' Grandmother sug gested that they could get one at once, and pay it by instalments ; but he would not hear of such a thing. • I sit in a chair that's not my own !

Bess, lass, never mention it.' So, by-and-bye, grandmother had as much money as they thought would do, and grandfather went to the shop and gave all the instructions himself, and so it was made just as you see it." In this chair, then, Tom, after lighting his pipe, reclined ; with his head on one of the rests and his feet on the table, for he loved bodily ease, and was very self-indulgent wdien it did not cost much, or, when other people were to pay for it. And thus he soliloquised, as the smoke of his pipe circled around his head. " To-morrow is Saturday. I can close the office early, say twelve o'clock, and would just be in time to catch the one o'clock train for Ringstone. Of course, they will be a little astonished to see me, but, pshaw ! they will be pleased, I know. I'll have a chat with the old fellow, and draw^ him on to talk of Matty ; although I must be careful not to say too much, as I really don't want to marry her ; indeed I don't ; and I must try to manage the thing so as to secure what I want without marriage.

I'll try at least. When I secure the agency I am all right, as I can easily dangle Matty at the point of my stick for a few years, until I have made myself independent of her father, and then she may go to Planders." When he had finished his smoke he rose and went to his trunk, a large box, covered with black American cloth and studded with brass nails. Taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, he selected the proper one and opened the box. It contained two small compartments for papers and other important articles. He knelt on the floor and, peering anxiously into the locker, turned over the papers and pass-books which it contained ; from them he selected a few and placed them on the table. Re-lighting his pipe, he made himself comfortable again in the easy - chair and com menced a careful examination.

The first was his bankbook; and thus he muttered as he smoked and gazed — "Two hundred pounds ! It sounds big, but it won't go far in a business such as ours. But it all depends on how I buy. If I could fall on some job lots, dead cheap, I would take my chance of them now. That fellow Jobson might be able to do a fellow a good turn that way. But he is such a strange, foolish sort of creature ; I am doubtful whether it be wise to trust him. By-the-bye, he should be here to night, so I'd better hurry." He laid aside the bank-book and lifted a thin pass-book. It contained calculations for the manufacture of certain classes of goods, besides a large amount of private information belonging to a large and very successful firm, whose make of goods was in particular and con stant demand. " Gad, I got this cheap, and the fellow did not think it.

Five shillings ! It is worth as many pounds. However, he was highly pleased, and is quite ready to obtain more at the same figure. But I don't think I will ask him, as, after all, it is scarcely the straight thing ; although, hang it ! I don't know if it is far wrong, either. A fellow must get information somehow, and where can one get it but where it is located ? Besides, they do the same thing themselves. They took a man from Ruffles, not because they really required him, but entirely for the sake of the information he could take with him. They all do it, and why should not I ? I am not in a position to engage the man, but I nevertheless pay him for his information, and they do no more. Tuts, it's all right enough. But here comes Jobson." The papers and books were hurriedly replaced in the trunk, and scarcely was the key turned in the latter when the expected visitor entered, bearing under his arm a paper parcel of considerable dimensions, which he placed on the table, and took a chair to which Tom had pointed.

"Well?" said Tom. " Well," said the visitor, whose name the reader already knows as Jobson, " them's the cloths." "Whisht, fool ! no necessity for being so par ticular." Tom went to the door and quietly, so as not to attract Jobson' s notice, turned the lock. He opened the parcel and proceeded to examine its contents. " You have six here, Jobson. How much do you want. for them ? " "Well, sorr, I think two pounds will not be too much." " Two devils, sir. D'ye think you are going to impose upon me ? No, no ; if you want two pounds you can tie them up again and seek another and greener customer." " Now, Mr. Buxton, you know they are cheap at the money. You couldn't buy them for double. Be a little fair, and don't take advantage of me too much." " How do I take advantage of you ? Do I ask you to steal and bring your rubbishy goods here ?

No, no, Master Jobson ; take care, my good fellow, or I'll hand you over to the tender mercies of the magistrates." Jobson' s lip quivered, his mouth contracted and fierceness glowered from his eyes ; he seemed as if he intended to throttle his tormentor, and easiiy he could have done it. But in an instant the impulse to strike gave place to an expression of fawning beseechingness. " Now, Mr. Buxton, let us still be friends. You know my salary is small, that I have a large family and, God knows, I must do something to eke out my income ; and as for the goods, I know it is not right, but they are never missed, and, after all, I am entitled to them, for you know they pay me too little." " I know that, Jobson ; and it is a great shame. I sympathise with you very much ; if I did not, I would not touch the goods ; but I really can't give you two pounds for them, for two reasons.

First, I don't care for the patterns ; I don't think they will sell, except at a very great reduction, and, you know, I must have some profit ; and the second is that I don't know when I may have a chance of selling them, and I shall be kept out of my money." " Well, now, put your own price on them, Mr. Buxton." " I'll give you thirty shillings for them, and not a halfpenny more." " Let it be a bargain, then ; only, you are getting them cheap, very cheap." As Jobson pocketed the money, he whispered " I could get you a nice lot of handkerchiefs cheap, if you have a mind." " Are they plain ? " " Yes, but they are the best quality." " I might take some, but they must be very cheap, remember." " Oh, yes ; I'm sure you'll say they are when you see them. What night shall I bring them, Mr. Buxton?" -- You may come next Tuesday, but let it be late ; and, I say, try to put them under your coat. Don't come before eleven." " All right, sir ; good-night." " Good-night."

Chapter III

Tom went to Ringstone by the one o'clock train the next day. Mr. Isaac Riggs, manufacturer and farmer, lived about two miles from the station, the name of his place being Kiltub, an abbreviation of Kittletub. It was rather prettily situated on a gentle knoll overlooking a river of considerable importance, at least, to the inhabi tants whose dwellings were situated near its banks. This importance was due, not so much to its breadth or depth, but rather to irregularity of conduct ; it frequently " went on the spree," and, like the drunkard when on holiday, it was neither to " haud nor bind." At such times, it ■eanie down with terrific force, and not only over flowed its own banks, but a great number of other banks besides. It had respect for neither person nor property ; farms, mills, weaving shops, dwelling-houses, all shared in its ravagedom and destructiveness.

Nevertheless, it was a magnificent destroyer ; its roar was great, glorious music ; the sweep of its rushing waters was a dream of beauty ; it transfigured the face of c nature, and the beholder imagined himself trans ported to a region where water was the predomi nating element and land struggled to uprear itself in specks here and there. But on this particular Saturday in June, it meandered peacefully, attended quietly to its own business, and allowed all peaceably disposed people to do the same. When Tom left the station he struck off the main road and took to the river-side, as he wished to meet as few people he knew as possible. He carried a small black bag in one hand and his umbrella in the other, and walked as fast as his legs could carry him ; he bad not gone far when he came upon a man fishing.

" I say, mister, could ye oblige me with a match?" Tom laid his bag and umbrella down and, producing his box, handed it to the man, who supplied himself and thanked him. " I shouldn't have come this way," Tom remarked to himself; " I forgot that it is Satur day ; all the lazy bletherheads of the country side will be here fishing." Crossing a field, he regained the public road. He had not proceeded far when he heard the noise of wheels behind him ; he turned to see what it was. " Tuts, it's that fellow Dick Thompson, confound him ; what is he doing here to-day ? " By-and-bye a voice shouted " Hulloa, Buxton ! what brings you here at this time ? But I've no right to ask, of course. Come up and keep me company ; dull work, driving, with no associates but a horse and a cigar." " Much obliged, Mr. Thompson, but I'd rather not, thank you."

" Come on and no nonsense. Hoist yourself and your traps up here ; be quick ; and there's a cigar. Have you a light ? " handing him a box. " Thanks, I have a light." " Going far ? " " No ; going far yourself ? " " Just out for a drive, go as far as you please. May return to-night, may not till Monday. How far are you going though, Buxton ? " " Only to Kiltub." " To Kiltub ; that's old Riggs's place, isn't it ? By-the-bye, I hear that his daughter is going to marry Crooty. How's business with you ? " " Middling." "But of course you can't be doing much. Aren't you going to close that office of yours by and-bye ? ' ' "Well, I believe it is intended to close it some time. It might be closed now for all the business we do." " Old Patent is worth a lot of money, I believe. Gad ! I remember spending a jolly night with him in London, I suppose about two years ago.

He is a queer old fish. It happened thus : the buyer in Yorkins and Piott's was leaving and going to Drab and Gray ; well, you know, it is the custom to get up a testimonial and have a supper on such occasions, and it is to one's interest to put in an appearance ; but, of course, you know the little game ? ' ' " No, upon my word, I don't ; what is it ? " " Hulloa, there's a hare ! See ! Gad, if I had had my dog with me, we would have seen a nice run. A splendid dog for game ; dangerous if you go near preserved ground, though. I nearly got into a scrape with him a few weeks ago. I was walking with a friend along the road that skirts Lord Rumpton's place ; we had gone a con siderable distance, engrossed in our talk so much that I had been paying no attention to the dog at all, when it suddenly struck me to look around for him, but he was not on the road.

I called and whistled in vain. At last I retraced my steps, calling and whistling alternately as I went. It was all in vain. Knowing his propensity for game, I concluded that he had entered the wood. I climbed a gate and proceeded some distance through the brushwood. All at once I spied him by a lot of whins, scratching with terrific earnest ness and making the earth and grass fly behind him. I called ' Carl, you scoundrel, come here.' He paused, looked over his shoulder and com-1 menced again as vigorously as ever. As bad luck would have it, the gamekeeper made his appearance. I suspect he had seen me climb the gate. At any rate, there he was, an embodiment of stolid officialdom, marching towards me ; in vain I called to the brute, he heeded not. When the gamekeeper came up, he asked me why I was there.

I replied I was there against my own will ; that my dog had, unknown to me, strayed into the wood, and that I had followed to fetch him back. ' The dog should be shot,' he said. ' I daresay,' I replied, ' but not to-day.' ' I'll shoot him now,' and he looked as if he meant what he said. ' You'd better not,' I said ; ' if you do, I'll make it a dear shot for you.' ' My orders are to shoot all stray dogs I find here, and why should I make an exception of yours ? ' ' For a very good reason, my friend : I'll not allow you.' ' I don't see how you can prevent me.' As he said these words he lifted his gun. I sprang between him and the dog. ' If you do, I'll throttle and thrash you.' ' Now, look here, mister,' he said, ' you're poaching, and you must give me your name and address, or out of this you shall not go, neither you nor your dog.' ' Tall talk, friend ; lay down your gun, and I'll have no objection to test who shall remain here.' ' Give me your name and address.' Gad !