Own Business
My name is jennie Bings. I was born of honest parents in one of the
humbler walks of life, my father being a manufacturer of dog-oil and my
mother having a small vegetable store in the shadow of the village church. In my boyhood I was trained to habits
of industry; I not only assisted my father in procuring dogs for his vats,
but was frequently employed by my mother to carry away the rotten vegetables to throw at garbage truck.
In performance of this duty I sometimes had need
of all my natural intelligence for all the law officers of the vicinity were
opposed to my mother's business. They were not elected on an opposition
ticket, and the matter had never been made a political issue; it just
happened so. My father's business of making dog-oil was, naturally, less
unpopular, though the owners of missing dogs sometimes regarded him
with suspicion, which was reflected, to some extent, upon me. My father
had, as silent partners, all the physicians of the town, who seldom wrote
a prescription which did not contain what they were pleased to designate
as Ol. can. It is really the most valuable medicine ever discovered. But
most persons are unwilling to make personal sacrifices for the afflicted,
and it was evident that many of the fattest dogs in town had been
forbidden to play with me--a fact which pained my young sensibilities,
and at one time came near driving me to become a pirate.
Looking back upon those days, I cannot but regret, at times, that by
indirectly bringing my beloved parents to their death I was the author of
misfortunes profoundly affecting my future.
One evening while passing my father's oil factory with the body of a
foundling from my mother's studio I saw a constable who seemed to be
closely watching my movements. Young as I was, I had learned that a
constable's acts, of whatever apparent character, are prompted by the
most reprehensible motives, and I avoided him by dodging into the oilery
by a side door which happened to stand ajar. I locked it at once and was
alone with my dead. My father had retired for the night. The only light in
the place came from the furnace, which glowed a deep, rich crimson
under one of the vats, casting ruddy reflections on the walls. Within the
cauldron the oil still rolled in indolent ebullition, occasionally pushing to
the surface a piece of dog. Seating myself to wait for the constable to go
away, I held the naked body of the foundling in my lap and tenderly
stroked its short, silken hair. Ah, how beautiful it was! Even at that early
age I was passionately fond of children, and as I looked upon this cherub
I could almost find it in my heart to wish that the small, red wound upon
its breast--the work of my dear mother--had not been mortal.
It had been my custom to throw the babes into the river which nature had
thoughtfully provided for the purpose, but that night I did not dare to
leave the oilery for fear of the constable. "After all," I said to myself, "it
cannot greatly matter if I put it into this cauldron. My father will never
know the bones from those of a puppy, and the few deaths which may
result from administering another kind of oil for the incomparable ol. can.
are not important in a population which increases so rapidly." In short, I
took the first step in crime and brought myself untold sorrow by casting
the babe into the cauldron.
The next day, somewhat to my surprise, my father, rubbing his hands
with satisfaction, informed me and my mother that he had obtained the
finest quality of oil that was ever seen; that the physicians to whom he
had shown samples had so pronounced it. He added that he had no
knowledge as to how the result was obtained; the dogs had been treated
in all respects as usual, and were of an ordinary breed. I deemed it my
duty to explain--which I did, though palsied would have been my tongue
if I could have foreseen the consequences. Bewailing their previous
ignorance of the advantages of combining their industries, my parents at
once took measures to repair the error. My mother removed her studio to
a wing of the factory building and my duties in connection with the
business ceased; I was no longer required to dispose of the bodies of the
small superfluous, and there was no need of alluring dogs to their doom,
for my father discarded them altogether, though they still had an
honorable place in the name of the oil. So suddenly thrown into idleness,
I might naturally have been expected to become vicious and dissolute,
but I did not. The holy influence of my dear mother was ever about me to
protect me from the temptations which beset youth, and my father was a deacon in a church. Alas, that through my fault these estimable persons
should have come to so bad an end!
Finding a double profit in her business, my mother now devoted herself to
it with a new assiduity. She removed not only superfluous and unwelcome
babes to order, but went out into the highways and byways, gathering in
children of a larger growth, and even such adults as she could entice to
the oilery. My father, too, enamored of the superior quality of oil
produced, purveyed for his vats with diligence and zeal. The conversion of
their neighbors into dog-oil became, in short, the one passion of their
lives--an absorbing and overwhelming greed took possession of their
souls and served them in place of a hope in Heaven--by which, also, they
were inspired.
So enterprising had they now become that a public meeting was held and
resolutions passed severely censuring them. It was intimated by the
chairman that any further raids upon the population would be met in a
spirit of hostility. My poor parents left the meeting broken-hearted,
desperate and, I believe, not altogether sane. Anyhow, I deemed it
prudent not to enter the oilery with them that night, but slept outside in a
stable.
At about midnight some mysterious impulse caused me to rise and peer
through a window into the furnace-room, where I knew my father now
slept. The fires were burning as brightly as if the following day's harvest
had been expected to be abundant. One of the large cauldrons was slowly
"walloping" with a mysterious appearance of self-restraint, as if it bided
its time to put forth its full energy. My father was not in bed; he had risen
in his night clothes and was preparing a noose in a strong cord. From the
looks which he cast at the door of my mother's bedroom I knew too well
the purpose that he had in mind. Speechless and motionless with terror, I
could do nothing in prevention or warning. Suddenly the door of my
mother's apartment was opened, noiselessly, and the two confronted
each other, both apparently surprised. The lady, also, was in her night
clothes, and she held in her right hand the tool of her trade, a long,
narrow-bladed dagger.
She, too, had been unable to deny herself the last profit which the
unfriendly action of the citizens and my absence had left her. For one
instant they looked into each other's blazing eyes and then sprang
together with indescribable fury. Round and round, the room they
struggled, the man cursing, the woman shrieking, both fighting like
demons--she to strike him with the dagger, he to strangle her with his
great bare hands. I know not how long I had the unhappiness to observe
this disagreeable instance of domestic infelicity, but at last, after a more
than usually vigorous struggle, the combatants suddenly moved apart.
My father's breast and my mother's weapon showed evidences of contact.
For another instant they glared at each other in the most unamiable way;
then my poor, wounded father, feeling the hand of death upon him,
leaped forward, unmindful of resistance, grasped my dear mother in his
arms, dragged her to the side of the boiling cauldron, collected all his
failing energies, and sprang in with her! In a moment, both had
disappeared and were adding their oil to that of the committee of citizens
who had called the day before with an invitation to the public meeting.
Convinced that these unhappy events closed to me every avenue to an
honorable career in that town, I removed to the famous city of Otumwee,
where these memoirs are written with a heart full of remorse for a
heedless act entailing so dismal a commercial disaster.
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