A Jug of Syrup

THIS narrativebegins with the death of its hero. Silas Deemer died on
the I6th day of July, 1863; and two days later his remains wereburied.
As he had been personally known to every man, woman and well-grownchild
in the village, the funeral, as the local newspaper phrased it,'was
largely at- tended.' In accordance with a custom of the time andplace,
the coffin was opened at the graveside and the entire assembly of
friends and neighbours filed past, taking a last look at the faceof the
dead. And then, before the eyes of all, Silas Deemer was put intothe
ground. Some of the eyes were a trifle dim, but in a general wayit may
be said that at that interment where was lack of neitherobservance nor
observation; Silas was indubitably dead, and none could havepointed out
any ritual delinquency that would have justified him in comingback from
the grave. Yet if human testimony is good for anything (andcertainly it
once put an end to witchcraft in and about Salem) he came back.
I forgot to state that the death and burial of Silas Deemeroccurred
in the little village of Hillbrook, where he had lived for thirty-one
years. He had been what is known in some parts of the Union (whichis
admittedly a free country) as a 'merchant'; that is to say, hekept a
retail shop for the sale of such things as are commonly sold inshops of
that char- acter. His honesty had never been questioned, so faras is
known, and he was held in high esteem by all. The only thing thatcould
be urged against him by the most censorious was a too closeattention to
business. It was not urged against him, though many another, who
manifested it in no greater degree, was less leniently judged.The
business to which Silas was devoted was mostly his own--that, pos-
sibly, may have made a difference.
At the time of Deemer's death nobody could recol- lect a singleday,
Sundays excepted, that he had not passed in his 'store,' since hehad
opened it more than a quarter-century before. His health havingbeen
perfect during all that time, he had been unable to discern anyvalidity
in whatever may or might have been urged to lure him astray fromhis
counter; and it is related that once when he was summoned to thecounty
seat as a witness in an important law case and did not attend,the
lawyer who had the hardihood to move that he be 'ad- monished'was
solemnly informed that the Court regarded the proposal with'surprise.'
Judicial sur- prise being an emotion that attorneys are not com-monly
ambitious to arouse, the motion was hastily withdrawn and anagreement
with the other side effected as to what Mr. Deemer would havesaid if he
had been there--the other side pushing its advantage to theextreme and
making the supposi- titious testimony distinctly damaging to the
interests of its proponents. In brief, it was the general feelingin all
that region that Silas Deemer was the one immobile verity ofHillbrook,
and that his transla- tion in space would precipitate some dismalpublic
ill or strenuous calamity.
Mrs. Deemer and two grown daughters occupied the upper rooms ofthe
building, but Silas had never been known to sleep elsewhere thanon a
cot behind the counter of the store. And there, quite by acci-dent, he
was found one night, dying, and passed away just before the timefor
taking down the shut- ters. Though speechless, he appearedconscious,
and it was thought by those who knew him best that if the end had
unfortunately been delayed beyond the usual hour for opening thestore
the effect upon him would have been deplorable.
Such had been Silas Deemer--such the fixity and invariety of his
life and habit, that the village humor- ist (who had onceattended
college) was moved to bestow upon him the sobriquet of 'OldIbidem,'
and, in the first issue of the local newspaper after the death,to
explain without offence that Silas had taken 'a day off.' It wasmore
than a day, but from the record it appears that well within amonth Mr.
Deemer made it plain that he had not the leisure to be dead.
One of Hillbrook's most respected citizens was Alvan Creede, a
banker. He lived in the finest house in town, kept a carriage andwas a
most estimable man variously. He knew something of the advan-tages of
travel, too, having been frequently in Boston, and once, it wasthought,
in New York, though he modestly disclaimed that glitteringdistinction.
The matter is mentioned here merely as a contribution to an
understanding of Mr. Creede's worth, for either way it iscreditable to
him--to his intelli- gence if he had put himself, eventemporarily, into
contact with metropolitan culture; to his candour if he had not.
One pleasant summer evening at about the hour of ten Mr. Creede,
entering at his garden gate, passed up the gravel walk, whichlooked
very white in the moonlight, mounted the stone steps of his finehouse
and pausing a moment inserted his latchkey in the door. As hepushed
this open he met his wife, who was crossing the passage from theparlour
to the library. She greeted him pleasantly and pulling the doorfarther
back held it for him to enter. Instead, he turned and, lookingabout his
feet in front of the threshold, uttered an exclamation ofsurprise.
'Why!--what the devil,' he said, 'has become of that jug?'
'What jug, Alvan?' his wife inquired, not very sympathetically.
'A jug of maple syrup--I brought it along from the store and setit
down here to open the door. What the--'
'There, there, Alvan, please don't swear again,' said the lady,
interrupting. Hillbrook, by the way, is not the only place in
Christendom where a vestigal polytheism forbids the taking invain of
the Evil One's name.
The jug of maple syrup which the easy ways of village life had
permitted Hillbrook's foremost citi- zen to carry home from thestore
was not there.
'Are you quite sure, Alvan?'
'My dear, do you suppose a man does not know when he is carryinga
jug? I bought that syrup at Deemer's as I was passing. Deemerhimself
drew it and lent me the jug, and I--'
The sentence remains to this day unfinished. Mr. Creede staggered
into the house, entered the parlour and dropped into an arm-chair,
trembling in every limb. He had suddenly remembered that SilasDeemer
was three weeks dead.
Mrs. Creede stood by her husband, regarding him with surprise and
anxiety.
'For Heaven's sake,' she said, 'what ails you?' Mr. Creede'sailment
having no obvious relation to the interests of the better land hedid
not appar- ently deem it necessary to expound it on that de-mand; he
said nothing--merely stared. There were long moments of silencebroken
by nothing but the measured ticking of the clock, which seemedsome-
what slower than usual, as if it were civilly granting them anextension
of time in which to recover their wits.
'Jane, I have gone mad--that is it.' He spoke thickly andhurriedly.
'You should have told me; you must have observed my symptomsbefore they
became so pronounced that I have observed them myself. I thoughtI was
passing Deemer's store; it was open and lit up--that is what Ithought;
of course it is never open now. Silas Deemer stood at his deskbehind
the counter. My God, Jane, I saw him as distinctly as I see you.
Remembering that you had said you wanted some maple syrup, I wentin and
bought some--that is all--I bought two quarts of maple syrup fromSilas
Deemer, who is dead and underground, but nevertheless drew thatsyrup
from a cask and handed it to me in a jug. He talked with me, too,rather
gravely, I remember, even more so than was his way, but not aword of
what he said can I now recall. But I saw him-- good Lord, I sawand
talked with him--and he is dead So I thought, but I'm mad, Jane,I'm as
crazy as a beetle; and you have kept it from me.'
This monologue gave the woman time to collect what faculties she
had.
'Alvan,' she said, 'you have given no evidence of insanity,believe
me. This was undoubtedly an illu- sion--how should it be anythingelse?
That would be too terrible! But there is no insanity; you areworking
too hard at the bank. You should not have attended the meeting of
directors this evening; any- one could see that you were ill; Iknew
something would occur.'
It may have seemed to him that the prophecy had lagged a bit,
awaiting the event, but he said nothing of that, being concernedwith
his own con- dition. He was calm now, and could think coherently.
'Doubtless the phenomenon was subjective,' he said, with asomewhat
ludicrous transition to the slang of science. 'Granting thepossibility
of spiritual apparition and even materialization, yet the appari-tion
and materialization of a half-gallon brown clay jug--a piece ofcoarse,
heavy pottery evolved from nothing--that is hardly thinkable.'
As he finished speaking, a child ran into the room --his little
daughter. She was clad in a bedgown. Hastening to her father shethrew
her arms about his neck, saying: 'You naughty papa, you forgot tocome
in and kiss me. We heard you open the gate and got up and lookedout.
And, papa dear, Eddy says mayn't he have the little jug when itis
empty?'
As the full import of that revelation imparted it- self to Alvan
Creede's understanding he visibly shuddered. For the child couldnot
have heard a word of the conversation.
The estate of Silas Deemer being in the hands of an administrator
who had thought it best to dispose of the 'business,' the storehad been
closed ever since the owner's death, the goods having beenremoved by
another 'merchant' who had purchased them en bloc. The roomsabove were
vacant as well, for the widow and daughters had gone to anothertown.
On the evening immediately after Alvan Creede's adventure (whichhad
somehow 'got out') a crowd of men, women and children throngedthe
sidewalk opposite the store. That the place was haunted by thespirit of
the late Silas Deemer was now well known to every resident ofHillbrook,
though many affected disbelief. Of these the hardiest, and in ageneral
way the youngest, threw stones against the front of the building,the
only part accessible, but carefully missed the unshutteredwindows.
Incre- dulity had not grown to malice. A few venturesome soulscrossed
the street and rattled the door in its frame; struck matches andheld
them near the win- dow; attempted to view the black interior.Some of
the spectators invited attention to their wit by shouting andgroaning
and challenging the ghost to a foot-race.
After a considerable time had elapsed without any manifestation,and
many of the crowd had gone away, all those remaining began toobserve
that the interior of the store was suffused with a dim, yellowlight. At
this all demonstrations ceased; the intrepid souls about the doorand
windows fell back to the opposite side of the street and weremerged in
the crowd; the small boys ceased throwing stones. No- body spokeabove
his breath; all whispered ex- citedly and pointed to the nowsteadily
growing light. How long a time had passed since the first faintglow had
been observed none could have guessed, but eventually theillumination
was bright enough to reveal the whole interior of the store; andthere,
standing at his desk behind the counter Silas Deemer wasdistinctly
visible!
The effect upon the crowd was marvellous. It be- gan rapidly tomelt
away at both flanks, as the timid left the place. Many ran asfast as
their legs would let them; others moved off with greater dig-nity,
turning occasionally to look backward over the shoulder. At lasta score
or more, mostly men, remained where they were, speechless,staring,
excited. The apparition inside gave them no atten- tion; it was
apparently occupied with a book of accounts.
Presently three men left the crowd on the side- walk as if by a
common impulse and crossed the street. One of them, a heavy man,was
about to set his shoulder against the door when it opened, ap-parently
without human agency, and the courageous investigators passed in.No
sooner had they crossed the threshold than they were seen by theawed
observers outside to be acting in the most unaccount- able way.They
thrust out their hands before them, pursued devious courses, cameinto
violent collision with the counter, with boxes and barrels on thefloor,
and with one another. They turned awkwardly hither and thitherand
seemed trying to escape, but unable to retrace their steps. Theirvoices
were heard in exclamations and curses. But in no way did theapparition
of Silas Deemer manifest an interest in what was going on.
By what impulse the crowd was moved none ever recollected, butthe
entire mass--men, women, children, dogs--made a simultaneous and
tumultu- ous rush for the entrance. They congested the doorway,pushing
for precedence--resolving them- selves at length into a line andmoving
up step by step. By some subtle spiritual or physical alchemy
observation had been transmuted into action--the sightseers hadbecome
participants in the spectacle--the audience had usurped the stage.
To the only spectator remaining on the other side of the
street--Alvan Creede, the banker-- the interior of the store withits
inpouring crowd continued in full illumination; all the strangethings
going on there were clearly visible. To those inside all wasblack
darkness. It was as if each person as he was thrust in at thedoor had
been stricken blind, and was maddened by the mischance. Theygroped with
aimless imprecision, tried to force their way out against thecurrent,
pushed and elbowed, struck at random, fell and were trampled,rose and
trampled in their turn. They seized one another by the gar-ments, the
hair, the beard--fought like animals, cursed, shouted, called one
another opprobrious and obscene names. When, finally, AlvanCreede had
seen the last person of the line pass into that awful tumult thelight
that had illuminated it was suddenly quenched and all was asblack to
him as to those within. He turned away and left the place.
In the early morning a curious crowd had gath- ered about
'Deemer's.' It was composed partly of those who had run away thenight
before, but now had the courage of sunshine, partly of honestfolk going
to their daily toil. The door of the store stood open; the placewas
vacant, but on the walls, the floor, the furniture, were shredsof
clothing and tan- gles of hair. Hillbrook militant had managedsome- how
to pull itself out and had gone home to medi- cine its hurts andswear
that it had been all night in bed. On the dusty desk, behind the
counter, was the sales book. The entries in it, in Deemer'shandwrit-
ing, had ceased on the 16th day of July, the last of his life.There was
no record of a later sale to Alvan Creede.
That is the entire story--except that men's pas- sions having
subsided and reason having resumed its immemorial sway, it wasconfessed
in Hillbrook that, considering the harmless and honourable char-acter
of his first commercial transaction under the new conditions,Silas
Deemer, deceased, might properly have been suffered to resumebusiness
at the old stand without mobbing. In that judgment the localhistorian
from whose unpublished work these facts are compiled had the
thoughtfulness to signify his concurrence.