[M6] “How to Provide Oneself with a Chum,” The Citizen Soldier, June 14, 1843

HOW TO PROVIDE ONESELF

WITH A CHUM.

BY BARON DE LA WAR.

Not a hundred years ago, the gossips of W———, a collegiate town in one of the New England states, found a rich matter of discussion in the contemplation of the peculiar manners and characteristic habits of Mr. Charles Tripps, a divinity student in the college of that place.

Mr. Charles Tripps, notwithstanding his matter-of-fact name, was a very handsome young man, with a tall slender figure; a face, characterised by dark, brilliant eyes, Grecian nose, small mouth with delicate lips, a well turned chin, and a high and pallid forehead, shaded by rich masses of luxuriant dark brown hair, falling in glossy locks down to his very shoulders.  His manner was sedate, and his face was imbued with a general solemnity of expression, and scholar-like thoughtfulness of appearance, that went far to win for Mr. Charles Tripps the good opinion of the sober people of W———, and the kind consideration and affection of the President of the college.  It was the wont of the good President to speak of Charles in the highest terms, and in the choicest phrases of paternal kindness.  He was ever holding him up to the students of the University, as a pattern for their imitation, an exemplar worthy of the most delicate copying, and a general model of moral and religious worth, in every way fitted for the Gospel ministry, whose robes of office he was shortly to assume.

The praise of the old ladies of the town, the admiration of the young misses, the envy of the classmates, and the never-failing topic of the venerable President, the young  divinity student pursued the careful tenor of his way, through the various scholastic ranks, until he stood among the first in the senior class, and but a vacation interposed between Mr. Charles Tripps and his degree.

One evening, during the summer vacation, the venerable figure of the President was observed issuing from the college buildings, and presently he took his way toward the small tenement of the Widow Wilson, a good quiet soul, with a fat round face, an extensive corpulency of form, and a considerable volubility of tongue.

Charles Tripps was quartered in the best room of the Widow Wilson’s cottage, while in town, by particular favor of the President, who gave the young student permission to lodge without the bounds of the college, where he might pursue his studies undisturbed by the noises and rattle of the crowd of scholars, and uninterrupted by the presence of that curious animal yclept a chum.

Entering the cottage door, the President discovered the Widow Wilson, who “did up linen for the stew-dents,” engaged in the mysteries of the ironing table, with a great pile of damp linen at one elbow, and a pyramid of clean “shams, dickies, and so-forth,” rising from the other end of the table.

The compliments of the evening were passed, the President took a seat, and glancing around the small and neatly furnished apartment, he announced the object of his visit.

“The summer was well nigh passed—” he said in his quiet way—“and the commencement day of the next term drew nigh.  He was afraid that he would have to uncommode the widow with another lodger,—in fact he proposed to quarter an additional student in the same room with Charles, whose arrival in town he observed might shortly be expected, and he wished Mrs. Wilson to be pleased to make arrangements for the reception of the student afore mentioned, and further he—”

At this point he was interrupted by a loud ahem! from the widow, who had suddenly grown very red in the face, while a curious expression was visible at the corners of her mouth, and several very peculiar wrinkles varied her countenance in the vicinity of the eyes, and she was altogether in a state of indefinable emotion, proceeding from some cause unknown to the President.

“Surely, sister Wilson,” began the President, who, by the way, was of the sect who “brother” and “sister” one another on all occasions,—“Surely, sister Wilson, had I known that this proposition would have been disagreeable to you, I certainly would not have submitted it.”

“Nothing o’ the kind, nothing o’ the kind, brother F—, I assure you,” replied the widow, in a very hurried manner, “only I kinder thought you know’d that brother Tripps had arriv’ in town this arternoon?”

The President, calm and collected as was his usual demeanor, started on his feet with the nervous movement of surprise.  “You don’t say so, sister!” he exclaimed.  “Why not tell me of this sooner?  I will go and see brother Tripps instantly,” he continued, placing his hand on the latch of the door that concealed the stairway leading to the young student’s room.

“Oh, la! don’t put yourself to the trouble,” cried Dame Wilson, interposing between the President and the half-opened door.  “Jist sit down and take a seat for a minit’, and I’ll call brother Tripps.”

Call brother Tripps she did; and in a minute a footstep was heard descending the stairway, and another minute had elapsed, when the graceful figure of brother Tripps entered the room, and the President welcomed his favorite student back to the cloisters of M——— University.

“You had a pleasant jaunt through the country, brother Tripps?  Had you?” remarked the venerable President.

“Very pleasant,” rejoined the student.  “Indeed, I might say extremely pleasant.”  And with that Mr. Charles grew very red in the face, and Mrs. Wilson was troubled with a flea in her nose, or at all events something seemed to strike her, for she rubbed that feature of her face with peculiar intensity.

“You procured a school, Charles?” inquired the President, as his manner assumed a paternal familiarity.

“I did, brother F—,” replied Charles.  “I procured a school in the eastern part of the state of New York, near the village of R—, along the Hudson.  I am happy to say that my school proved exceedingly lucrative.  The profits will enable me to finish my studies with every regard to ease and worldly comfort.”

“Ah! indeed!” exclaimed the President; “and so your school was near the village of R—?  The family of the Raimers reside near the village—they have been considerable benefactors to our University.  Although, to be sure, the head of the family, old Mr. Raimer, is rather profane and worldly in his course and conduct.  Did you make any acquaintances, Charles?”

“I—I—contracted some very—very—interesting friendships,” replied Charles, with a deep blush.

“Might I be so bold as to inquire,” asked the widow Wilson, with a curious smile, “Might I be so bold as to inquire, brother F—, how many years a preacher of our ‘siety must travel afore he can git married?”*

“Sister Wilson, I am rather astonished at such a question from one of your information.  The rules of our conference are plain upon that point—no married person can be admitted as a regular minister of our body, and no preacher is at liberty to marry until he has been in the service of the Lord, preaching the gospel, for the space of four years.”

The widow dropped something upon the floor, and stooped to pick it up.  Charles grew very red in the face, and seemed to be engaged in contemplating a dead fly in a spider’s web, in one corner of the room.

“Why, brother F—, the p’int is hardly plain to me yet,” observed Mrs. Wilson, as she again raised her head.  “Indeed—”

“Suppose I illusrate the case,” replied the President, with a slight expression of surprise at the pertinacity with which the widow pursued the subject.  “Now here is Charles; the case is perfectly in point.  He will be licensed to preach next January, the Lord willing.  Suppose in the interim he should marry—why it needs no prophet to tell you that such an occurrence would ruin all his prospects of usefulness as a gospel minister.  He would never be admitted to the ministry in that case—the matter is perfectly plain, sister Wilson.”

The matter may have been perfectly plain, but a distant object appeared to strike the vision of Mr. Charles, and he walked to the window, while Mrs. Wilson was seized with a violent fit a coughing.

“However, to resume the object of my errand hither,” exclaimed the President, “brother Charles, I purpose to burden you with a chum, this term.”

“A chum!” muttered Charles, in an absent manner, as he resumed his seat.  “A chum, brother F—?  Oh—ah!  a chum,” he continued, shifting his position in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and then again starting up from his seat, he walked hurriedly to the window.—Widow Wilson appeared to share his emotion.  Her round, fat cheeks were puffed out to bursting, her lips were firmly compressed, and a number of small wrinkles gathered around her eye-lids.

“Yes, brother Charles, a ‘chum’,” rejoined the President.  “The companion, I purpose for you, is a very fine intelligent young man from the south.  He is very modest, and well-disposed, and exceedingly quiet in his demeanor.  All the other boarding houses in town are full, or else I should not make this request of you.  Indeed, Charles, I am astonished at you—your reluctance,” continued brother F—, glancing at the young student, whose face was exceedingly red, while he had an odd way of glancing hither and thither around the apartment, with a peculiarly restless glance, and a nervous change of position, very remarkable indeed.

“I—I have no reluctance to—to receive a—a chum”—said the young student hesitatingly, “but—but—”

“Then you will receive this young man as your companion?” interrupted the President.

“But—but—President, I—I have a chum already!” exclaimed Mr. Charles, with ground teeth, and the air of a desperate man, who gets rid of some fearful disclosure with a violent effort.

“’A chum already’!” echoed the President—“Surely Charles, surely—”

“La’s bless me!” screamed the widow with a fit of laughter, “there the cat’s out o’ the bag!  Ha—ha—ho!  Ho—ha—ha!”

“President—brother F—, this way—this way!” exclaimed Charles, and he led the worthy Divine toward the stairway.

“Brother, please walk up into my room.  My chum’s there—my chum’s—I’ll—I’ll introduce you!”

The wondering President felt his hand grasped by that of his young friend, who led him up the narrow stairway.

The landing was gained, and the blaze of a lamp streamed thro’ an opened door out upon the passage.

“This way, brother F—, this way!” exclaimed Charles, leading his preceptor into the room from whence emerged the light.  “There, brother F—, there’s my chum!”

The President presented a curious picture of surprise, painted in a great hurry.  He stood in the middle of the student’s chamber, still as a statue, not a limb moved, not a muscle stirred; his very breath was hushed.  His eyes, distended with an expression of utter surprise, were fixed upon the object of wonder and that was—what?

A lamp, standing upon a small circular table, cast a brilliant light around the chamber, and its beams fell upon the figure of a young and beautiful girl, whose eyes were downcast upon the pages of a book which she was perusing, while a warm flush, the very bloom of loveliness, mantled over her cheek; her full and pouting lips were slightly apart, and her free and budding bosom, with all its virgin beauty, beamed into the light from the folds of the flowing robe that encircled her youthful form.

The young lady started on her feet at the presence of the worthy Divine, and glancing from one to the other of the intruders, she seemed to await an explanation of the singular astonishment of Brother F—.

“Charles!  Charles!” cried the President, as words came to his relief—“Oh—Charles, I little thought—I—”

“President F—,” cried Charles, advancing—“allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Tripps, (late Miss Raimer,) my wife.  My dear President F—!”

A new light seemed to break upon the astonished President.

“Miss Raimer, Miss Raimer!” exclaimed the President—“What! Do I see the daughter of Mr. Raimer!—Mr. Raimer of R—?”

“The same,” replied Mr. Charles Tripps, as the laughter-loving face of Dame Wilson appeared in the doorway—“Take a seat my dear—sit down, President.  I’ll tell you the story.”

And he did tell the story.  How he had lighted upon the beautiful little hamlet of R—, on the banks of the Hudson; how he was wont to take solitary walks along the river shore, how a fair form intruded upon his vision in one of those solitary walks, and then came the story of the first acquaintance—their mutual love—the opposition of the wealthy father to their union—the contest in the mind of the daughter between love and duty—the triumph of love—the elopement—and the consequent marriage.

“I have done wrong, President, I have done wrong, and I know it, but—but—”

“You were wofully tempted!” interrupted the President, as a meaning smile crossed his venerable countenance, while he gazed upon the beaming eyes and glowing cheeks of the beautiful girl.  “You were wofully tempted, Charles.  But I can’t blame you for it.  Kneel—my children, kneel that I may bless you!”

And the fair bride and the handsome bridegroom sunk kneeling at the feet of the venerable man, who with hands uplifted, and eyes upraised invoked a blessing upon their union.

The gossips of M— still entertain the students of the University with the story of “young Charles Tripps’ runaway match.”  They descant upon the anger of the bride’s father, they describe in vivid colours what a sensation the match created in the town, they tell how Mr. Charles Tripps debarred from entering the ministry, turned his genius to the law, how he emigrated west, rose in his profession, and last, and greatest of all incidents, they inform you of the death of the relentless father, who bequeathed to use the eloquent words of the Widow Wilson, “sich lots o’ money to that nice young man, Mr. Charles Tripps, and that sweet young woman, Mrs. Charles Tripps, Mr. Charles Tripps’ beautiful wife!”

* The preachers of the religious sect alluded to, are not stationed at any particular place for more than two years at a time. They are called itinerating or travelling preachers.