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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36980-8.txt b/36980-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..82f8e58 --- /dev/null +++ b/36980-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6126 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Papers from Overlook-House, by Casper Almore + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Papers from Overlook-House + +Author: Casper Almore + +Release Date: August 5, 2011 [EBook #36980] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + + + + + + + + + + + PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE. + + By Caspar Almore + + + PHILADELPHIA + J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. + 1866. + + Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by + J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., + In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District + of Pennsylvania. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + INTRODUCTORY LETTER 5 + + CHAPTER I. ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE 13 + + CHAPTER II. THE WELCOME AT OVERLOOK-HOUSE 18 + + CHAPTER III. THE CHRISTMAS LOG IN THE KITCHEN 33 + + CHAPTER IV. HOW THE OVERLOOK PAPERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN 47 + + I. DR. BENSON; OR THE LIVING MAN EMBALMED FOR TWENTY YEARS 51 + + II. THE GHOST AT FORD INN--NESHAMONY 75 + + III. MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT BIOGRAPHY;--OR, LITERATURE FOR A + FAIR WIDOW 91 + + IV. KATYDIDS:--A NEW CHAPTER IN NATURAL HISTORY 127 + + V. THE IMAGE-MAKER 139 + + VI. THE CLOUDS 142 + + VII. THE PROTECTOR DYING 145 + + VIII. THE INDIAN DREAM-CELL 149 + + IX. WILD FLOWERS GATHERED FOR MY WIFE 178 + + X. RIVERSDALE 181 + + XI. DR. SAMUEL STANHOPE SMITH AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE 198 + + XII. MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY 224 + + XIII. TO MY WIFE 236 + + XIV. FADING AWAY 237 + + + + +INTRODUCTORY LETTER. + + +OVERLOOK HOUSE, _October 10, 1864_. + +MY DEAR FRIEND:--At last, as if borne to you by some scape-grace of a +messenger, these papers, copied from the time-discoloured manuscripts, +so carefully preserved in the old book-case, which with its dark lustre, +its bright brass ornaments, is still the prominent object in our +library, are destined to reach the hands into which they should long ago +have been placed. + +I well remember the evening on which you first heard of them, and +listened to my attempt to read them to you; perplexed as I was with the +faded lines, traced by fingers which can write no more. + +You will not forget our drives, previously, during the day, and late in +the afternoon, in consequence of my week-day service in the old church. +Perhaps the ancient edifice would need the excuse of days of +architectural ignorance, but no Cathedral on earth can surpass it, in +its claim to occupy a place amid scenes of surpassing beauty and +sublimity. There it stands alone, on the slope of an immense hill, with +the whole range of the mountains from the water-gap to the wind-gap full +in view--glorious walls to sustain the great blue dome of heaven! The +great solitude of the road that winds along the grave-yard, has often +caused me to think of distant friends, and has riveted them to my soul +with still more indissoluble bonds. And the Great Friend has been the +great relief from oppressive loneliness, as I thus stood in one of the +beautiful gates of the Eternal Temple. As to that quiet grave-yard +itself, the "rhetoric of the dead" is there well spoken, and they whose +ashes are here deposited, do not find "second graves" in our short +memories. + +You will tell me that all connected with my church is not always solemn. +Your perverse memory will never forget the leader of the choir; nay, the +useful man who was often choir itself. He sang at least with energy. +Unfortunately--oh well do I remember my fearful victory over my +features, when I first became cognizant of the fact; a victory at a time +when a smile had endangered my claims to due ministerial sobriety; +unfortunately he had the habit of marking time emphatically, by raising +himself on his toes, and simultaneously elevating his hand, his chin, +his eyes, and his hair. Yet that was but a slight trial to us both. The +man was better than either of us; and the first impression having +subsided, we found that he did well in calling forth the voices of the +congregation. You will recollect our return home, as we refused all +offers of hospitality, although the snow was falling, and we were warned +not to risk the drifts, promised by the rising wind. We would not be +detained, as we had set our hearts on passing the evening together in +the old mansion of my fathers. On we drove, the sound of the bells +sweeping in wild merriment over the great fields of snow, or rising to a +louder chime as we passed through the forest, under a thousand triumphal +arches, of boughs laden with white honors. Only once, and where the road +was in a ravine, was I afraid that you would be exposed some hours to +the storm, until we should hear the voices of hunters, and the bay of +their dogs, sent to seek us, after our custom, when any one is lost in +the snow. Happily we extricated ourselves, and soon saw the lights +gleaming from the windows of the house upon the hill. + +How pleasant the welcome of our good old Cæsar, the man of dark hue, who +had no desire to be the first man in the village, nor the second man at +Rome; but was all eagerness to have a place, however lowly, in the +Eternal City! Another glad welcome in the hall; a net-work of questions +from little threads of voices, and the seats before the great wood-fire, +one of the few remaining representatives of the profuse customs of the +fathers; one witness that our forests are not yet all swept away. Did we +not give ample tributes to the repast prepared by Cæsar's wife! Two +hungry men rescued from snow waves, we proved that one could feast on +Dinah's poetry of food, and yet, in the ensuing night, behold no +magnificent bandit, with a beard that would have done credit to a Roman +Centurion, and a dagger that honored the sense of sublime danger, by the +assurance that if it was to give us our death-blow, it was no coarse +weapon; the grand villain peering over you with an eye in which the evil +fires take refuge when conscience is in ashes. You know that in that +coming night, you did not even see the "fair ladie," now your wife, +borne away from you, in a mysterious coach, by some ruffians clad in +splendid mantles, while you were palsied, and could not move to seize +the sword, or gun, or could not call for aid. How pleasant was that +evening! From your weed rose the cloud that no counterblast, royal or +plebeian, has ever yet been able to sweep away from the lips of men. +Knitting by her little stand, sat one, whom to name is to tell, in a +word, the great history of my best earthly happiness. I am sure her +sweet thoughts, when spoken, were as the fragrance of flowers over our +homelier fields; while her gentle sympathy added to our strength, and +her instinctive and pure impressions, aided our conceptions, as gentle +guides, and taught us how wisdom was linked to minds swayed by goodness. +What a bond has she been of our long-enduring friendship! We talked of +the old times--of the ancient famed hospitality of the house. We spoke +of those who came there at Christmas--when the hymn of Milton seemed to +be read in a grand audience chamber--at the Spring when the world seemed +again so young--at Autumn where the mountains and hills were all a glow, +as if angels had kindled them with a fire, burning, but not consuming +them, turning them into great altars, by which man could stand, and +offer his adoration. Then we spoke of the papers that had been read +among the assembled guests. I told you their history; a history further +recorded in the fourth chapter; the last of the four chapters +preliminary. These were written by my grandfather. As your curiosity was +awakened, I drew forth some of these, from the old book-case in the +library, and read them as I could. You insisted that I should decipher +them, and let you send them to the press; send them to some one of your +honorable publishers, so that many eyes could read, what few eyes have +rested on, in this distant solitude. Julia seconded the proposition. +What had I to do, but to obey! Some years have passed, and you have +often complained of my procrastination. Shall I make excuses? Excuses +are the shadows which the irresolute and idle, the evil, keep ever near, +as their refuge from just accusation. The moment you feel the least loss +of self-respect in seeking them, the moment you have to search to find +them, take heed of them. Those formed to be giants, often live in them, +and then life is consequently the life of the dwarf. I knew that I could +have sent the papers long ago, had I written two or three lines each +day, since I gave my promise. Julia, who, woman-like, always convicts me +when I excuse myself, and consoles me, and defends me, when I am in the +ashes, and contrite with self-upbraiding, who is never severe with me, +but when I spoil the children by keeping them up too late at night, +says, that I never allow a literary effort to encroach on my great +duties; that I have had so much to do, that I could not sooner perform +my promise. She laughs, and says that the dates I annex to my papers, +during my progress in this work, show how I was interrupted, and that if +the histories of intermediate parochial work were given, the book would +be a strange record. Often the sick and suffering have caused long +intervals to elapse in these labors. When I could attempt the work, the +change in the current of my associations has been a relief. Julia has +wished me to write histories of the lives of some of those, who composed +various papers in the old case. Of course, some of the authors have been +passing utterly from the minds of a race, that cannot remember, but the +least remnant of those who have gone before. We lament the ravages of +time. Multitudes are forgotten on the earth, whom it would be a blessing +to have in perpetual remembrance. Alas! we have also to confess, that +time conceals the story of innumerable others, when it is well that it +should be buried in its deepest oblivion. + +I hope that I have copied these papers with commendable accuracy. We +trust that they will add to the happiness of those who read them, and +prove at the same time to be profitable. May they increase kind +impressions! May they sow seeds that shall have the sun and dew that +never falls on growth that is evil! Man has tablets in the heart, for +inscriptions greater, and more enduring, than those of the great ledges +of rock in the far East. + +As one would hesitate to write the outlines of his coming destiny, if +such a pen of Providence could be ready for his hand, so he, who has any +love for others, would pause before he would carve, even in faintest +letters, one word on these, which could sully the surface, where the +indestructibility warns us, that all is an eternal record with Him, +whose eye is too pure to look upon iniquity. I need not attempt, like +authors of a former age, to solicit a favorable criticism, from the +"gentle reader." If I say, here, that the hall has rung with peals of +laughter, as some of the papers of the old book-case have been read, +that some have shed tears over the Ghost of Ford Inn, and said, it is +too sad, these assurances will not predispose one who shall open the +proposed volume, to utter a favorable opinion. These waifs must be cast +on the waters, like all other similar ventures. We must wait, and learn +where Providence shall waft them. + +Will these papers outlive this decaying house? Will men love us because +we have sent them forth? Will we, because of them, be grasped with a +kindlier hand? Will they soften hearts in this trying world, and aid men +to a greater charity? + +But I must pause. Lamps will grow dim. Warnings will come, that letters +may attain to too great prolixity. Readers are often not sufficiently +sagacious, to know that when Homer nods, he has a design. Can I apply, +what old Dr. South, the great and witty preacher said, when he printed +the sermon at the Royal mandate, that the Majesty of the Realm must +excuse the length of the discourse, inasmuch as he had not had time to +make it shorter? Or, shall I remember the severe speech, doubtless a +dutiful necessity, a knife to remove such a miserable vanity as often +makes men worse than useless; the severe speech of an Eastern Divine, +who, when the young preacher waited all day in vain for a compliment, to +his morning's discourse, and said, in desperation, as the evening waned +in the study, "Doctor, I hope that I did not weary your people with the +length of my discourse," had for reply the quiet answer, "No, sir; nor +by the depth of it." + +So, as you have the infirmity of going to sleep over the most +interesting discourse, as the lamp is going out, as I am nervous, +sitting up at such a late hour, as the paper is all written over, and I +have none other near at hand, I release you. Go to sleep, but wake the +world to-morrow, and then say that I am your friend. + +A friend of many years, + +CASPAR ALMORE. + + + + +OVERLOOK. + + +CHAPTER I. + +_ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE._ + + +I stepped from the stage-sleigh, in the village of Overlook, at the +post-office: for there the driver stopped to leave his mail-bag. That +important article, which, as a boy, I used to regard with undefined +dread, for I associated it with a poor wretch, who was hung for laying +villanous hands upon one, in a desolate road, was the old-fashioned +leather sack, full of iron rivets. + +Perhaps at the time when this writing may reach the press, such a +contrivance may have become antiquated; and therefore I had better add +to my description, that a weighty chain passed through iron rings, to +secure the opening; and finally, there was the brass padlock, at which +the Indian gazed with such contempt, when he said, "Brass lock upon +leather! that makes my knife laugh." I stepped from the heavy +stage-sleigh into the one sent for me by Judge Almore, and it was like +passing from a heavy craft on the waters, into one of lesser make, and +lighter burden. John Frake, the farmer at Overlook Manor, had driven +over for me. His horses seemed exhilarated by the bells, and we dashed +forward in splendid style. John Frake was a character; a real man in +energy, work, and talk; frank, and good-hearted. + +As we drove along, in a loud voice, that permitted not a word to be lost +by the melody of the bells, he made his comments upon all things, and +especially on the inhabitants along the streets of the village. + +"Dr. Norkin lives there," he said, pointing with his whip to a +comfortable house. And then as if pondering the beginning of a long +train of thought, he added, + +"Those Yankees are unaccountable smart people." + +"The doctor is a Yankee, then?" + +"Oh no! there aint enough Yankee in him to make a spot on the map of +Massachusetts. Not but that the doctor has lots of common sense, and +keeps all that he has got ready for use, when wanted, as ready as my +plough to go through the ground. But those Yankees have the most +uncommon ways of putting things together; just as if you took something +out of the middle of the earth, and made it fit something on the top of +a mountain." + +"Yes, but I don't see what Yankees have to do with the doctor." + +"I'll tell you what I was thinking about. I was once at the mountains, +forty miles off, where there is a mineral spring. There is where ladies +and gentlemen go to drink water, eat all manner of things at the tavern, +and get well, when they never have been sick. Iron in the water at the +springs! Bless you; it would not divide the nails in a horse-shoe in a +month, to the whole army of the Revolution, if they had drunk of nothing +else. Well our judge and the family followed the fashion. Fashion is a +runaway horse that carries a great load of straw behind him, and +sometimes he has after him things much better than straw. I drove up to +bring them home. But the judge was taken sick just before I got there, +and sent for our doctor here, to come up and cure him. In the night, +after I got there, one of your uncommon Yankees, who seemed to be well +off, and to do fifty things, from what I could gather, to make money, +had a bad attack; unlike anything I ever heard of around here. He was +awful bad. I heard the racket, and went into his room. + +"'My friend,' says I, 'you do look awful bad'--for I always speak my +honest sentiments, in a sick-room, or out of it. 'I thank you for your +sympathy,' says he--and yet somehow it sounded as if he didn't. I +presumed he didn't want any one to talk to him. 'Send down for Dr. +Norkin,' says the landlord. 'He is here;' this is what he said to the +sick man. 'He lives forty miles off--at Overlook. But he is here, +attending on Judge Almore--who has been ill.' + +"The sick man, after a groan or two, raised himself up in his bed. It +was as good as the best apple, to see how quickly he seemed to ungear +his mind from his sick body. He gave a long thought. Then he said, + +"'Did the judge send for that doctor, because he was in the house at the +time when he was taken sick? Or did he send all the way to Overlook for +him to come here to him?' + +"'He sent for him to Overlook,' says the landlord, before I could put in +a word. + +"'Then I'll see him,' says he--speaking quickly out, and firm like, as +if he was a king. Now wasn't that cute? I tell you such men think +faster, and a great way before other people. Well; it's a free country, +and all people aint bound to do their thinking alike." + +We now came to the entrance of the lane, that led up to Overlook House. + +Two large cherry trees stood on either side of the gate. I drew the +attention of my companion to them. They were very venerable, and their +winter boughs showed some signs of decay. + +"Them big trees,"--said he. "Either of them, I'll engage is as old as +three average men. They say a man averages thirty years of life. Now +they are full ninety years old, and big at that." + +"You have lived long with the judge?" + +"Bless your heart, sir, long indeed. But he's a good man. There's few +that don't say so--well, thank God, it is those kind of people that +don't. When he speaks and acts, you feel that our Lord has taught him +his religion--just as we know it is Sunday, when we wake and hear the +church-bells ringing, and all the sun-light seems full of the sweet +sound, and all the sound as if it had gone through the bright sun. I do +love Sunday." + +Here we were close to the house. "Come and see me," he said, "down at my +house there. It is not as big as the judge's, but then there is room in +it for a hearty welcome. I will give you a glass of good cider, or two, +or three, for that matter. As for wine, I never keep any. It seems to me +to be poor stuff, as if it was trying to be brandy, and couldn't." The +mission of the sleigh was now over. I and my trunks were at the porch of +the house. So the worthy farmer and I parted for the present. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_THE WELCOME AT OVERLOOK-HOUSE._ + + +A colored servant man, of most respectable appearance, and of quiet +manners, evidently glad of my arrival ushered me into the house, saying +that Judge Almore would be home in a short time, as he had gone but a +little distance on the farm; and that his good lady would come down +stairs in a few minutes. The hall of the house was large, and decorated +with Indian relics; with long deer-horns, also, and other trophies of +the hunting ground. I was hastened into an adjoining room, which I had +scarcely entered, before I felt the invigorating heat from the great +fire-place. There the hickory logs seemed doing their best, with their +immense flame, to make me feel as if I was cared for, a stranger from a +distance. On the hearth there was a small mountain of glowing coals. How +pleasant it is to sit before such a fire, and to think that our +interminable forests, will supply abundant fuel, for the inhabitants of +our cities for hundreds of years to come. Even when New York, and +Philadelphia, Trenton, and Boston, may, two or three centuries hence, +have each two or three hundred thousand inhabitants, and that +expectation of their increase in population, is not so chimerical as it +seems, and when the country round them, may be so cleared and +cultivated, that in a circle of fifteen or twenty miles in diameter, the +farm-houses may generally be in sight of one another, it is probable +that the decrease of our woods will scarcely be perceptible. + +But as I gazed into the flames which soon removed all chilliness from my +frame, I had no time for lengthened speculations on the future of our +land; for Mrs. Almore entered the room, and greeting me with great +cordiality, assured me of my welcome. As I was engaged in conversation +with this most estimable lady, I found myself called on to regret her +visitation with a great affliction. Her cheerful countenance and manner, +however, proved that she had not permitted it to hang over her as a +cloud, to darken her days, or to make her selfish in her expectation of +attention. The affliction was a great deafness, one evidently of long +duration, and incurable; so I judged from the evidence of her loud +tones, almost shouting when she addressed me. I flatter myself that I +can cause any one to hear me speak, who has the ability to know, that a +pistol is discharged not far from his ear. And I always feel great +commiseration for those who hear with difficulty. Meeting with such, I +regard the power of my lungs, as a gift, particularly designed for their +service and enjoyment. Indeed I undesignedly secured a legacy from an +aged aunt, by the assiduity I exhibited in informing her of what was +said around her, when others neglected her, as she thought, because it +was so difficult to make her to hear. Trained as I had been in the past, +I have to confess, that my powers of loud speech, were never more taxed +than on the present occasion. The loud tones in which we commenced our +conversation, were gradually increased; I perceived that as she raised +the pitch of her voice, it was a delicate intimation to me, that I must +speak with increased effort, if I would secure a perfect hearing. As we +were engaged in this polite rivalship, each being, not only a diligent +hearer, but a good speaker, a most comfortable-looking African woman, of +very dark hue, entered to receive the orders of her mistress. She +desired to know, as it soon appeared, some particulars concerning the +approaching meal; and also to receive some orders which pertained to the +room I was to occupy. The good mistress then stepped aside and drew near +to the swarthy domestic. To my surprise, the lady dropped her voice to a +good undertone, and gave her directions, as it were, "aside." She is one +of those deaf persons, I said to myself, who can understand what others, +with whom they are familiar, have to say when they see the motion of +their lips. I once met with a man who had this singular gift. He +possessed it to such an extent, that strangers, who conversed with him, +never knew that he did not hear a word which they spoke. Yet what could +I do now! I was compelled to hear what was said. How strange it was, +that the good lady overlooked the fact, that I must hear all that could +be heard by Dinah. And this Dinah was now informed what set of china +should be placed on the table for my special benefit. From what she +hinted, I inferred, that there was some special honor in this +arrangement; as it proved to her that the Holemans, who took tea with +them the night before, having made use of a decidedly inferior service, +were some grades less respectable than myself--though the mistress, when +the insinuation was made, peremptorily declared, that the aforesaid +Holemans were very worthy people, and should always be treated with +great respect, as valued friends, in her house. An occasion was also +taken, on the mention of the white and gold china, to administer a +cutting reproof to Mrs. Dinah, for a nick in the spout of the +tea-pot,--which circumstantial evidence, clearly and hastily summed up, +proved to be the result of carelessness in the kitchen. To this attack, +Dinah, as I must honestly testify, made persistent defense, and gave +some most curious rebutting testimony. And I am also under obligation to +state, that even when most excited by the charge, she never even made +the most distant allusion, to the possibility that the cat had anything +to do with this domestic calamity. Such was the honor of the kitchen in +the good old times. I also learned, incidentally, some curious +information concerning the comparative ages of some chickens, which had +lately been cooped up and fattened. + +I gleaned besides, some antiquarian lore concerning a venerated +"comfortable," that was intended for my bed,--and a hint that some +portion of its variegated lining had been the valued dress of a +grandmother, worn by her on some memorable occasion,--a proud record in +the family history. Some very particular directions were also given for +my comfort, so that my ideas on the art of house-keeping, were greatly +expanded; and I was ready to look on each lady, who ruleth over a house, +as a minute philosopher. + +Dinah was also informed, that she was forbidden to act on a speculative +principle, which she advanced, with great assurance; namely, that +bachelors did not see, or know anything; that it was only married men +who did; being set up to it by their wives, who made a mighty fuss in +another house, when all the time they knew things wasn't as tidy at +home. She was told not to act on any such miserable sophistry--that +things were to be done right, and kept right--no matter whether any one +noticed them, or not. In the course of conversation, my having come from +New York was the subject of an allusion; whereupon the dark woman +slipped in the observation, that she did wish she could get to that +place, for she "was afraid that she should die, and have nothing to +tell." + +After all this important business was transacted, there was a hasty, and +sudden digression for a moment, in the shape of a kind inquiry into the +present state of the health of the hopeful heir of the said Dinah, who +was spending the chief portion of his days in a cradle. I was, I must +confess it, very much astonished to learn, from the reply and +descriptions of the mother, that there is such a wonderful sympathy, +between the teeth which are trying to make their way into the world, and +the mechanism of a juvenile which is concealed from human sight in his +body. It seemed to me a marvellous proof of the manner in which such +little creatures maintain their hold on life, that he could possibly +have endured such astonishing internal pains; and, also, that all the +world ought to know the sovereign virtues of an elixir, which was +compounded at Overlook House. Its virtues, unlike the novel devices that +are palmed on the public with such pretentious certificates, have been +tested by the infants of several generations. + +All cabinet meetings must have an end. So Dinah disappeared, after a +furtive glance at my person; drawing her conclusions, I am assured, +whether I would be a suitable husband for Miss Meta. + +Soon after the hall door opened, and this young lady entered. Her mother +introduced me to her in the same high pitch of voice, in which she +conducted her conversation with strangers. + +She said a few kind and pleasant words to me; and with a voice raised to +an imitation of the maternal precedent, though without the loss of its +indescribable sweetness. She was evidently anxious, that her mother +should feel, that she was to be a party in our brief conversation. + +As I looked at her, I thought that a sweeter, more etherial form, a face +more radiant with affections pure as the air over the snow, an eye to +rest on you, as if it said, that every one on whom it fell was a new +object for sympathy, had never met my view, and I thought then, and +think now the more confidently, that I have made a good use of my eyes +during my pilgrimage in the world. After the interchange of the few +words to which I have alluded, she was about leaving us; but before she +reached the door, her mother called to her, and arrested her steps. The +good lady addressed her, in the same low tones in which she had formerly +conversed with Dinah. + +As I looked at her again, I felt that I repressed the exhibition of +signs of unrestrained admiration. She seemed, indeed, as if she had +grown up in the midst of the beauty of the natural world, and had been +moulded to a conformity with all that we witness of grace in the field, +or in the forest. The mother spoke in a manner half playful, half +serious. "So Miss Meta this is the old way. You expected the arrival of +this young gentleman, quiet, good-looking, evidently a person of good +sense, and your father says, of most estimable character. And there you +have on your old shawl, your old bonnet, and your hair blown about in +the wind as if it had never had a brush applied to it. You are so +careless about your appearance! You know that I have often spoken to you +on the subject. And yet, on the most important occasions, you neglect +all my advice. You will be laid upon the shelf yet. You will die an old +maid. But do not blame me. Do go, and brush your hair, and put on +another frock, and make yourself presentable. And after that, go and see +that Dinah arranges everything right. I will give you credit for order, +and expertness as a house-keeper. Old maids, however, are often very +good house-keepers. So go, and do as I tell you. I don't mean to say +that you are a dowdy, but I want to see you more particular." + +"My revered mother," said Meta, with a most grave inclination of the +head, and with a slight pomp of declamation, "your will is law. My +dress, for the next two or three weeks, shall be a grand deceit, as if +it was my habit to be as particular as the young Quakeress, who once +visited us, and who was as exact in arranging her robes, as the snow is, +in taking care, that there shall be grace in its unblemished drifts. I +intend, in fact, to be irresistible. Henceforth let all young men, +quiet, respectable, who have not cross eyes, and who fascinate a mother, +and give occasion to all her sanguine hopes of matrimonial felicity for +a daughter, beware of Meta. They are as sure of being captives, as the +poor little rabbits I so pity, when once they unwisely venture, to +nibble at the bait in one of Peter's celebrated traps. So, best of +mothers, forgive the past. Wisest of counsellors, for a brief space, +farewell." + +After the retreat of the daughter silence endured for a little while, +while I walked to the window, and enjoyed the extensive and beautiful +view. The residence of the Judge was on a hill, overlooking a +picturesque village, and hence the name of the mansion which in time +dispelled a very ugly name, from the small town, and gave its own +designation to the place--the name of such a collection of dwellings +generally becoming permanent when the post-office is established in its +limits. After this I was engaged in the survey of some fine old plates +upon the wall, and the picture of a portly old gentleman, whose dress +indicated that he had lived in the olden time. I was seeking to find +some clue to his character and history in his face, when Mrs. Almore +rose, and crossed the room and joined me. + +It was evident that the picture was too important for me to look upon it +and not know what was due of admiration for him, of whom this uncertain +resemblance was all that remained on earth,--the frail shadow of a +shadow. I saw at once that she had a formidable history to relate, and +that she had often told it to those who gazed on the form on the wall. I +suspected that some family pride was gratified by the narrative; and +prepared myself for some harmless amusement, as I was to watch and +observe how the vanity would expose itself. But she had not got beyond +some dry statistics, the name, the age, the offices held in the State in +the good olden time, when such honors were always a pledge of merit in +the possessors, before the Judge entered the room, without our observing +it. He drew near, heard for a moment, with the greatest astonishment, +the loud tones of the lady, who now addressed me. + +He extended his hand to me, with very kind, but dignified, courtesy, +and, after giving the assurance that I was most truly welcome on my own +account, and for the sake of my father, who had been a fellow-student +with him at Princeton College, and almost a life-long friend, he turned +to the lady by us, his honored wife, and exclaimed,-- + +"My dear, I heard your elevated voice outside of the house, and in the +extreme end of the hall. You really alarmed me. At first I could not +imagine what had occurred in the room. Why do you speak in such tones of +thunder to my young friend? Is this a new style of hospitality for +Overlook-House?" + +"You told me that our guest, Mr. Martin, was deaf." So spoke the good +hostess, with a look of frightened inquiry, a perturbed glance at +myself,--with a countenance that expressed a desire for relief,--while +her tone was expressive of a great misgiving. + +"I beg your pardon," said the Judge; "you are under an entire mistake. I +told you that he wrote to me, some time ago, that he had met with an +accident and become very lame. But when I told you this I remember that +you were very much abstracted. I presume that you were deeply absorbed +in some new order for your household, or in the state of Dinah's noisy +heir. I never heard that Mr. Martin was deaf for a moment in his life. I +told you that he was lame." + +"Are you sure--are you sure that he is not deaf?" + +"I am sure that he hears as well as either of us. And,--at least as far +as you are concerned, that is to say that he could not have a better +sense of hearing. He might possibly, it is true, be abstracted, when +any one spoke to him, and imagine that he said 'deaf,' when in reality +the speaker said 'lame.'" + +"Dear me! my future peace is destroyed. It is worse than if a ghost +intended perpetually to haunt me--for the ghost would come only in the +dark; but this disaster will torture me day and night. I have buried +myself under a mass of ruins from which I cannot extricate myself." And +the lady looked as if an anaconda was threatening to creep in among us. + +"I am sure that Mr. Martin will forgive you. He has only been annoyed by +a loud conversation for a short time. It will be a pleasing variety to +hear you address him in a gentle voice. Since he had such evidence of +the pains you have taken to entertain him when you thought him deaf, he +is assured that you will not change your desire to make him feel at home +and to know that he is among friends, now that you hear so well." + +"Judge, you have no sympathy. You should have taken care that I did not +fall into such a terrible mistake. I often notice that you speak to me, +and turn and go away, as if you never watched to observe whether I +understood you or no. I have often felt it, Judge, often felt +it,--although I kept my feelings on the subject to myself. And now you +see the consequences. You see where you have landed me. And I am the one +to suffer all the evil that results from such indifference. What shall +I do? Here is Meta. Meta, what shall I do? Mr. Martin is not at all +deaf. Somehow, your father did not impress what he said on my mind. I am +sure that this is not the first time that I have misunderstood him, and +I never have any desire to fall into error. People that are so accurate +and so careful as he is, not to be guilty of any mistake in their +professional duties, so accurate as they say he is when on the bench, +are often careless of smaller matters at home. Meta, Mr. Martin can +hear. My dear, he can hear as well as you or I." + +"Let me, my dear mother, enter into your Christian joy, now that your +sorrow over his supposed affliction is relieved. You know that it is an +unmingled pleasure to you to learn that he is not afflicted with so +great a calamity as you supposed." + +"Very well, Meta." + +"And then, mother, as far as I am involved in the consequences of your +mistake, he knows that I appear in my present fascinations; see my +smooth hair, and this frock almost new, not in my own will, or in +accordance with my usual habits, but solely from a sense of filial duty. +I am so charming, because of my reverential regard for the injunctions +of my mother." + +"Meta, can you never be still?" + +"And then, mother, if there be a little art in my dress, if snares lurk +around me to secure those who come near me, this does not proceed, in +the least possible degree, from any guile in me. It is the mere +expression of the anxiety of a mother that her daughter should not +attain the condition of some of the best people on the earth. I allude +to a class of my sex who are ignorantly, I will not say uncharitably, +supposed to make the world uncomfortable through their inflexible +devotion to minor morals." + +"Meta, unless you are silent I shall have to leave the room." + +"Well, mother, then I am mute. How fortunate it was that I was the only +person with whom you conversed in the hearing of Mr. Martin!" + +"Meta, you drive me mad. I did have another conversation, which he +heard." + +"Oh, do tell us! What happened? It could not have been as interesting to +him as the one which you held with me. I shall not use my brush for some +time without thinking about it. Do tell us. As Nancy often says, I am +dying to hear all about it." + +"Oh," said I, "Miss. Meta, all that your mother said was of no +importance. She cannot care, when she reflects upon it, whether I heard +it or no." + +"But, Mr. Martin, then tell us what she said. It put my father and +myself under a lasting obligation." + +"Mr. Martin can be more considerate than you are." + +"Yes, madam, because he has heard all. I will be as considerate as you +please, if I can only acquire the same information. Well, walls have +ears. And if ever walls heard anything, I am sure ours have heard +to-day. They will speak in due time. Father, who has been in the room +with mother since Mr. Martin arrived? I must ask Ben." + +"Meta, I take my departure. If nothing is heard of me to-day or +to-morrow, search the mill-pond. Oh, what a difference there is between +being lame, or deaf! I cannot forgive your father. Really, he ought to +be more cautious. I cannot forgive him." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THE CHRISTMAS LOG IN THE KITCHEN._ + + +The day after my arrival, Miss Meta and I were returning home, after we +had driven several miles over the country in a sleigh. Our nearest +conception of the ecstasy of those who shall hereafter have wings, with +which they can fly over earth and sea, on a bright morning, racing with +the larks, or some ambitious hawk, or, on some most fortunate hour, even +with the eagle, is attained when we glide thus over the snow. But far +above all the other pleasure of the time, was the sweet companionship of +her whose laugh was merrier than the bells, which Cæsar had hung around +the horses with a profuse generosity. I have wondered at the mysterious +manner in which some of the loveliest beings with which God enriches +this earth are developed before our view, on occasions when we might +expect that we should obtain the least insight into their character. + +How is it that the ineffable purity of a woman, her depth of affection, +her capacity for sympathy, which even in its lesser degrees renders her +such a blessing in a world of so much trial, can, in some instances of +great perfection, appear with such evidence in a few words, in an act +which requires but little self-denial, in a tone of sorrow for small +suffering, or of joy for some one who is happy! There are some men in +whom you place perfect confidence as soon as you once behold the eye +kindled with an earnest expression, and hear their voice. After all the +disappointments one endures in life from misplaced trust one may freely +confess that if we have spent many years on the earth, and at last say +in our hearts there are none in whose professions we can repose, the +fault is in ourselves. We judge ourselves to be true men, and we cannot +be a miracle, standing alone as such, amid all the rest of the human +family. But if we can assuredly pronounce of some men that they are +worthy of our utmost confidence as soon as we become acquainted with +them, much more can we confide in our impressions, thus quickly formed, +of some of the gentler portion of our race. How many years have passed +since I formed my first impressions of Meta! and how true they were! +Quickly, inaudible prophecies, in their silence arresting your mind and +eliciting homage, were made known in her presence, and gave promise of +endless charities to adorn her daily life. There was an imperious +necessity in her noble nature, elevated as no power of earth could +accomplish, to perform with strict exactness even the least duties, as +one who heard him say that the least of his commandments can by its +observance aid us to the attainment of the true life. + +An enthusiast might have said that her very laugh was too pure for +earth. All pure influences, too good for us, are needed by our +necessities. It is well for earth that we have not only those among us +who, though not criminal in human estimate, are of the earth earthy, and +of whom the world is worthy. Her joy always proclaimed the freedom given +the blest here below, and that it never could subvert the deep gravity +of her nature--as the bark that moves so gaily in the sun and wind, by a +sudden check reminds us that it cannot drift into danger, but is secure; +for the hidden anchor holds in its just bounds. + +We had crossed a stream upon the ice, and were now ascending the hill +from whose summit we could see Overlook-House in the distance. The great +forest was on either side of the way. Suddenly we espied three men +holding a consultation over an immense log. It had just been severed +from a huge tree, which the saw and axe had laid low, the great branches +sweeping the snow as they came crushing down into heaps, and here and +there revealing the dead leaves and the wintry grass. + +Near them stood--models of patience--four oxen, looking as if the cold +air could never discompose them, and attached to a sled whose strong +runners seemed to defy any weight that could be heaped upon them. I +recognized the men as servants belonging on the estate of the Judge. +They were negroes, slaves,--slaves in name, awaiting a near year of +emancipation fixed by the law of the State. They were perfectly aware +that they could have their freedom at any time from their +master,--freedom in name; for they now possessed it in reality. + +Nothing could be more comfortable than their general appearance. Their +dress was warm, and such as any laboring man could desire. At the +present moment their happiness seemed perfect. They surrounded the log +with an exhibition of exuberant animal spirits, with transport in such +excess that it never could have been crowded into the frame of a white +man. + +As we drew near, one was demanding attention, in a most triumphant +manner, to sundry vast knots which protruded from the log. Then the trio +made the wood ring with shouts of merriment, and threw themselves into +inimitable contortions. + +"What causes all this excitement?" I asked. "Why should that log cause +all the effect which the greatest wit could hope to produce?" "They are +preparing," was the answer, "a back-log for the kitchen chimney. It is +to be put in the fire-place this evening, the night before Christmas, +after all the fire has burnt down required for an evening meal. As long +as any portion of it lasts, they have holiday. In winter they have so +little to do, that it would puzzle them to say what change the holiday +makes in their labor. Their imagination acts on a traditionary custom. +Hence they take it for granted that they have an easier time than in the +month before or after. They go into the wood and select the largest tree +and the one which can afford the log most likely to last. Before they +retire to rest, they take great care to arrange the brands and coals so +that it shall not burn during the night. They often throw water upon it +when it seems to burn too rapidly. And as to their wisdom, I think that +on the present occasion they have made an admirable choice." + +We now drew near, and spoke to the Africans. They eagerly called the +attention of their young mistress to the wonderful qualities of the +severed trunk. Assertions were made concerning fabulous quantities of +buckwheat-cakes, that would be eaten before that vast cylinder would be +reduced to ashes. There was not the slightest idea that any member of +the family of the Judge would feel the least interest different from +their own. In fact they felt that all joined them in their conspiracy +against--they knew not what,--a conspiracy for some great imaginable +benefit unknown. + +"You had better hasten," I said, observing their oblivion as to the work +before them; "for the sun is sinking, and the night will soon be upon +us. There is no moon to-night." + +"Master," said one, "what is the reason why the moon always shines on +bright nights, when we do not want him, and not on dark nights, when we +can't see where we go?" + +Happily, before I could summon my philosophical knowledge for practical +use, and deliver then and there, from my oracular sleigh, a lecture +which would do honor to my Alma Mater, while I, in a lucid manner, +removed the perplexity of my inquirer, he was called away to make +diligent use of one of the great levers provided for the occasion. The +rolling of the log on the sled was hard work,--so hard that I gave Meta +the reins, and volunteered my assistance. I did well as to the physical +application of power. Yet I found these men, in this instance, possessed +of more practical natural philosophy than myself. The toil was seasoned +with much wit,--that is to say, wit if the laughter was to be the test. +And there is no epicure who can exceed the African in enjoyment when he +is feasting on his own witticisms. + +Meta told me that I must by all means be a witness to the process of +rolling the log on the kitchen hearth. So we led the way home, our fleet +horses leaving the oxen, with their vast and important load, far behind +us. On our arrival home, we found the wife of the doctor, with the Judge +and his good lady. She was a pleasant person, and added to the +conversation of the evening the remarks of an acute and cultivated mind. +She had one protruding weakness. It was her pride in her family, which +was a very respectable one in the part of the country from which she +came. She had been educated in the idea, that they were the greatest +people in the world,--a wide-spread delusion in the land. This led her +to assure me, at least a dozen times in the evening that her family were +very "peculiar." "This tea very fine! Yes, it is remarkably good. I am +sure that it cannot be excelled. And I must say to you, that my family +are very peculiar. They are very peculiar in their fondness for +excellent tea." + +"The Judge's family not exclusive! No; certainly they are very much +beloved, and, mingling with others, have done great good to our +community. But I must say that my family are, perhaps, too exclusive. +They are peculiar, very peculiar. They do not like to associate with +uncongenial persons." + +"What a grand Christmas fire! Well I suppose I inherit the love of such +a blaze. How cheerful it is! Well my family are peculiar, very peculiar; +they always like to have a cheerful, a good warm fire. They are +peculiar." So "peculiar" I soon discovered meant that they were very +remarkable, very distinguished people. It was to be supposed that all +that they did, indicated that they were made of clay finer than all the +rest used in the formation of other people. Common things touched by +their hands became gilded and refined. Wherever they were, there was a +pyramid above the common elevation, and on its summit was their +appropriate place. Was the doctor on that platform? Or was he only +holding to it by his elbows and yet with his feet far above the earth on +which common men had their place where they could stand? + +With the exception of this folly the lady was, as I have said, an +acquisition to our evening party. She was evidently one who had a kind +heart, and devotedly attached to her Lord and Master. In after days I +found her to be one of my most valued friends and advisers. As respects +their ability to become such true friends, an ability which truly +ennobles man, I have no doubt that her family were peculiar, very +peculiar indeed. + +The evening was quickly passing away when we were summoned, according to +the order which Meta had given, to the wing of the house where was the +kitchen, that we might see the great log rolled into the fire-place. The +kitchen was a very large room, such as were built of old by prosperous +settlers in our land, when they had acquired enough of this world's +goods, to make such additions to the log cabin in which they began their +farming life, as they in their full ambition of space could desire. + +How often are the dwelling-houses in our country a curious history of +the gradual increase of a family in prosperity! + +The kitchen of the Judge was evidently designed by a frontier architect, +as a great hall of refuge for a large family. The windows were planned +when there need not be loop-holes where Indians prowled around, and +might need the admonition of a rifle-ball to teach them to keep at a +respectful distance. The glasses in them were small, and the pieces of +wood in which they were inserted would have been strong enough for the +rounds of a ladder. There was room for all things. One could churn, +another spin, another mend a net; children could find appropriate nooks +where they could con the spelling-book and study the multiplication +table in times when the rod was not spared; neighbors making a friendly +call could find a vacant space where they could sit and partake of cider +and homely cakes, and if they had any special business, which a citizen +would settle in two minutes, could spend an hour in preliminaries of a +very vague kind, in generalities not glittering, and coming to the +subject, only when they were farthest from it, and all could be +transacted without any one being in the least degree incommoded. + +One of the prominent objects in the kitchen at Overlook-House was the +rafters above you. The ceiling was resting upon them, in the form of +thick boards, which were the floor of the rooms above. From these guns +were suspended on wooden forks, just as they were cut from the tree and +stripped of their bark. Fishing rods were hung there in the same manner. +In some places parcels of dried herbs were tied to large nails driven +into the timbers. Here and there a board was nailed to the rafters, +forming a shelf. On one side of the room was a great bench with a board +back much higher than the head of any person who could sit upon +it,--which back by an ingenious device could be let down and make a +table,--the rude sofa beneath answering for solid legs. + +Near this useful combination was a box on rockers--as a cradle. There +lay the heir of Dinah. Its little dark head on the white pillow was like +a large blackberry, could it have existed out of its season and fallen +on the pure snow. Dinah, who was near it, was a character. Her sayings +were memorable. One day she was speaking of a bad man who had found his +way for a brief season to Overlook, and said in a state of great +indignation, for he had cheated the people by some act of bare-faced +villany, "Master, if the devil doesn't get that man I want any of the +folks to tell me what is the use of having a devil?" + +But the most singular portion of the room was the great fire-place and +the arrangements connected with it. It was a structure perfectly +enormous, and the stones required for its erection must have made a +large opening in the quarry. It was deep and high. An ox could easily +have been roasted whole before it. Over it was a shelf which no one in +these degenerate days could reach. On either side were two small +closets,--made in the deep wall,--the door of each being made from a +wide plank, and secured by a large wooden button. In the back of the +fire-place, on one side of it, was the door of a great oven,--rivalling +in size, I presume, the tomb of the ancient grandee in the east--where +the traveler slept, perhaps on some of the very dust of the proud man +who gloried in the expectation of a kingly sepulchre. On either side of +the room on a line with the vast fire-place were two doors opening into +the air, and exactly opposite to each other. The broad hearth extended +from door to door, being flagged with large smooth stones. Each door was +framed of heavy oaken timber,--the boards in consequence of the depths +of the frame being sunk as deep panels. Each had a heavy wooden latch, +and a vast curved piece of wood was the handle by which it was to be +opened. + +On the great pavement in front of the fire-place stood Cæsar, a man +with a frame finely developed. His twin brother Pompey dwelt on an +adjoining farm,--so resembling him as one of the colored people said +that you could "scarcely tell them apart, they were so like one another, +especially Pomp." He had a rough coat thrown over him,--a fur-cap on his +head, and he held in one hand an iron chain that trailed on the stone +hearth and in the other a lantern emitting a blaze of light. + +When we were all in our places Cæsar directed one of the boys to open +the door on the right hand. There on the snow revealed by the light of +his lantern, was the famous log on a line parallel with the stone paving +that crossed the end of the room. Around this log, he with the help of +the boy fastened the iron chain, securing it with a spike partially +driven into the wood with a heavy hammer. The door on the left was then +thrown open, and we saw by the lights borne by several of the laborers, +that the oxen which had drawn the great segment of the trunk from the +forest were standing there upon the snow waiting to complete their labor +for the evening. The long chain extending across the whole width of the +room was drawn through the door and fastened to the yokes of the oxen. + +Then came the chief excitement of the time. A quantity of snow was +thrown down at the entrance where the log lay in ponderous quiet, and +beaten down with spades and the heavy boots of the men. All were now +directed to stand some distance from the chain for fear of any accident. +Then Cæsar gave the order. There was a sudden movement without. The +words of command which oxen are supposed to know, were spoken to put +them in motion. There was a loud snapping of whips. The chain was heaved +in the air and rose and fell. The huge log was drawn forward. It passed +the door and glided along on the stone pavement, like a great ship +moving through the water after its sails have suddenly been lowered, and +it proceeds by its acquired impulse. When it had reached the front of +the vast aperture where it was to be slowly consumed, Cæsar gave his +prompt order. It was immediately obeyed, and the oxen were brought to a +pause in their exertions. It was evident from the absence of explanation +to those without, and from the perfect composure of the master of the +ceremony, that similar scenes were of frequent occurrence. + +The chain being removed and the oxen led away, the log was rolled by the +application of the levers to its place. There it lay, the crushed snow +melting and falling on the hot hearth, the singing sound of the steam +rising from the stones. + +So there was the measure of the fancied increase of freedom from labor +during the Christmas season. Nothing now remained but the gathering of +all the household to the evening devotions. The Judge read the +Scriptures, and after the singing of a hymn offered up the prayers. +There was an indescribable reality in the attention, and a fervor in the +kneeling church in the house. It led you to reflect how One who came +down from above and took our nature upon him has taught man how to make +his life on earth the dawn of an eternal day. I had felt the presence of +God in the shades of the great mountain forest during past hours. But +here in the stillness of this evening worship, as the light of the +Redeemer revealed the grandeur of all that is immortal in men, of all +that stands ever so near the portal of endless glory, as all earthly +distinctions faded away among those who to the eye of faith, were now +the sons of God,--distinctions overlooked at this hour, as the last +fragment of the moulted plumage is unknown to the eagle soaring in its +strength, no words could better express the sentiment of the time than +those noble ones of old,--"This is none other than the house of God; +this is the gate of heaven." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_HOW THE OVERLOOK PAPERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN._ + + +"I believe," said the Judge one morning shortly after my arrival, "that +I must supply you with pen and paper, and assign to you a task." + +"What can I do? Tell me how to be useful." + +"Do not offer too hastily. Let me inform you of a custom which is +observed here like the laws of the Medes and Persians. + +"All our guests, at our festival seasons, and I hope that whenever it +can be in your power you will be present, are most seriously enjoined to +bring with them a contribution to our Overlook Papers. From each is +demanded a story, a poem, or an essay. In the evening these are read. +And indeed, I require from each of my friends who receives an +invitation, if he cannot accept it, still to transmit his paper. + +"These or copies of them are preserved in the huge book-case in the +library. We sometimes draw upon the old collection, and it is pleasant +to revive the old associations as they are again read to a happy circle. +I ought to have sent you word, and told you to prepare your paper. It +is an unusual thing for me to be guilty of such an omission. As I have +been negligent I must now enjoin you to prepare to do your part with the +others." + +"My dear sir, has ever any guest written a paper after his arrival +here?" + +"Come! come! I have never asked any guest to do it after he came, who +could probably accomplish it more easily than yourself." + +"What shall I write?" + +"Whatever you please. A Poem if you will." + +"I might make the attempt. But will poetry come 'under compulsion?' +Surely not 'under compulsion.' Shall I cudgel my brains? Will Pegasus go +at my will when I smite him with my staff? How long might I sit here, +the image of despair, and what despair on monumental marble, as desolate +as the poet with fixed eye, unable to indite a line? How long might I be +like the hopeless bird--all promise, but not one unfolded gleam of +beauty? In this free air am I to find the poetic pressure of a prison? +In this old cheerful home, a poet's garret? With your abundant and +hospitable board before me, can I write as famous men of old, when they +wanted a dinner? Am I to sit here, as one has said, waiting for +inspiration as a rusty conductor for a flash of lightning? My dear sir, +I surely can plead exemption. Let me come here, if we live, next +Christmas season or at the early spring or autumnal gathering. I will +provide two if you please. If the first should weary, then the circle +can hope that I have kept the best for the last." + +"I do not think that it will answer for one to be a hearer who has no +paper of his own. So let me insist on your compliance." + +"Well sir, if you insist on it, I must see what I can do. Would you +object to my producing a poem already published by me in a New York +paper?" + +"I am sorry to say that would not be in accordance with our rules. The +piece must be composed for our social gathering." + +"Well I must then make the attempt. I would weave a short romance out of +some story I have heard in my travels. But I am always afraid of the sad +being who, searching to the fag-end of memory says, after hearing you, +and approving, let me see, I have heard that, or something like it, +before! I once learned a lesson and received a nervous shock which +easily returns, as I was about to address a meeting, and under a sudden +impression asked the most knowing inhabitant of the village, 'Did any of +the speakers who have addressed you ever tell such a story?' 'Oh! yes,' +said he, with sudden alarm, 'Every one who has been here has told that +story.' Yet that was my main stay, argument, illustration, eloquence. I +had to do the best I could without it. Since then I am in a trepidation +lest I fall into the pit from which I kept my feet at that time." + +"Well so much the better. Such caution will insure variety." + +"Do not be too sure of that. Excessive care often leads us to the very +errors it would avoid." + +So our conversation closed. The paper was written and read. I looked +some time ago in vain for my piece among the Overlook papers. Strange to +say, it was not there. I saw the Judge originally endorse it and tie it +up in the collection. Meta told me when I expressed my surprise that the +document was missing, that she must confess that when she was younger +and more silly, and had her taste less cultivated, she took it one day, +after I had left her father's, secretly from the pile. Regarding it as +of such small consequence, she had not put it back in its place; and as +it was also particularly weak in having a few sentences evidently meant +for her to understand as no one else could. She will find it, she says, +when she next examines her old papers and letters. And she assures me +that it must be safe, because the old house would not trouble itself to +destroy it; the Overlook moths would not dare to touch it, and that it +is destined to outlive its author, even if he had brass enough in him to +make a monument. + + + + +I. + +_DR. BENSON, OR THE LIVING MAN EMBALMED FOR TWENTY YEARS._ + + +The United States is the oldest country in the world. Many of its +institutions are of a venerable antiquity which cast those of Europe +into the shade. By their side those of Great Britain, France and Germany +seem but of yesterday. The honest impressions of each man substantiate +these assertions so clearly that all argument on the subject would be as +great a work of supererogation as that of carrying shade to a forest. +Ages, countless ages, as all reflecting men are aware, have been +requisite for the development of man into the highest type of +civilization. Not less, it is obvious, than five thousand years could +elevate any human being into a genuine Yankee. Such an immense space of +time must have elapsed before man, passing through each primeval epoch, +could have worn away on Plymouth Rock the caudal appendages that impeded +the progress of humanity. + +We have such remarkable institutions among us, such progressive +theorists upon all possible subjects, that the foundations of our +cities must have been laid simultaneously with those of the Pyramids. + +A like conviction arises as we compare our accomplished financiers who +can raise up in any plain, mountains of gold, and turn little streams of +promise into seas of bank notes, with the Indian magician whose alchemy +transmuted mutterings and strange figures in the ashes into comfortable +fires, venison, bear's meat, and a variety of comforts for his +terror-striking wigwam. Are there not noted streets in our cities where +some men have discovered the philosopher's stone? + +And then look on the systems of our modern politics. Each man can see +what glacier periods have been over the land, what thickness of ice +impenetrable to pure rays from above, melted from beneath, ice which has +ground down to dust the ancient heights of honor, of modest nature +distrusting itself. Yes, we are the oldest people in the wide world. + +Even the little village where my history directs our attention has one +savor of dignified antiquity. It has had a long series of names in no +rapid succession. Our antiquarians have not paid sufficient attention to +this subject of the succession of such names borne by our villages and +towns. One cause is our nervous apprehension, that such a study will +reveal a former state of society which people of strong prejudice may +not mention to our honor. Citizens who have long purses acquired in the +sale of farms divided into town lots, who have highly educated and +refined children, do not wish any one to contradict them while they +intimate their illustrious descent, by saying that they remember when +their father or grandfather dwelt at Scrabbletown, Blackeye or +Hardcorner. The honest truth is that these names of these rural towns do +indicate the transmigration of the souls of the places into different +social forms. They often tell of the original solitude, the cluster of +poor dwellings of men a little above the Indian, of small taverns +springing up as the devil has sown the seed, of the free-fights, of the +loose stones in the roads, the mud immeasurably deep, of the reformation +with the advent of the itinerant preacher, of the church, of the +school-house, of the rapid progress in general prosperity. In place of +yielding to the seductive influence of the disquisition which offers +itself to my toil, I shall consider it sufficient to say of our village +that it was honored by becoming the residence of Dr. Benson. It is +sufficient for me to inform my reader that at the time when my history +commences his fame and occupation gave the title to the place. Indeed, +in his honor it bore successively the names of Pill-Town, and Mortar and +Pestle city. + +His general history was not one that is uncommon in our land. Many a man +of small education, but who has had a natural turn for the study of +simple means for the cure of ordinary diseases in a country +neighborhood has acquired considerable skill, and done more good, and +far less evil, than could have been anticipated. In fact the ignorant +often lean on such a man with special confidence. They prefer his +services to those of the well-taught and meritorious physician. For they +think it easily explicable, that the learned doctor should often cure +the diseased. Books have taught him what medicines are needful for those +who are sick. But around the quack there is a delightful cloud of +mystery. His genius was surely born with him. He has stumbled on his +remedies by some almost supernatural accident. And then there is the +exciting and most pleasant doubt whether he has not had some dealings +with the devil. You have moreover this advantage, that you acquire all +the benefit of his compact with the evil one, without any guilt on your +part. All that is evil lies on the head of the practitioner. + +How noble the calling of the true physician! What more need we say of +his office than that in every sick-room he can look to the Redeemer, and +feel that he employs him to do, what he was continually doing by his own +words when he was on the earth? "Without the power of miracles,"--I +quote from memory words that fell from the lips of one very dear to me +whose voice is no more heard on earth, and I fear I mar the +sentence,--"Without the power of miracles, he goes about doing good, the +blessed shadow of our Lord; and by him God gives sight to the blind, +hearing to the deaf, enables the lame to walk and raises up those almost +fallen into the sleep of death." + +As I write, the manly form of our family physician, the form that we +laid in the grave a few years ago, rises before me. Oh! what +unselfishness, what high sense of honor and professional duty, what +compassion for human infirmities, what a grand and enduring perception +of the brotherhood of man, of the one family of rich and poor, learned +and ignorant, didst thou then learn, our dear kind friend, in thy +innumerable ministrations! Literary men have too often indulged in cheap +humor at the cost of the physician. It is easy to caricature anything +grand and sacred. It is easy to cure in the pages of the novel the sick +man who plays his pranks at the expense of the doctor, and eats his +meat, and drinks his wine when the medical advice assures him that he +must fast or die. Just imagine one of these literati to send for his +physician in haste. + +"Doctor," he exclaims, "it is well you have come! Do give me some +relief." + +"Wait a moment," exclaims the physician! "I have something to read to +you." + +"Read to me, doctor! Why I am ill,--alarmed. Depend upon it, I am very +sick. Prescribe for me at once." + +"Prescribe for you! Why hear what you wrote concerning physicians. If +they are what you describe, you should never ask them to come near your +sick bed." + +"But I wrote only in jest. I described the pretender." + +"No, my dear sir, your assault is without limitation. Your attack is +against all men of my profession. Your words were adapted to aid the +ignorant popular prejudice against our art. I will read to you." + +I cannot but think that, in such a case, there are not a few writers of +light literature, who would be forced to perceive the meanness of their +assault on a noble profession. + +Our hero commenced his public career in a blacksmith's shop, where he +gave assistance in the useful work done by his master on the anvil. +There he displayed a curious talent for healing the diseases of the +horses, which the farmers brought to the place. This gave him some +notoriety. And he never was sent for to heal as a veterinary doctor, on +any occasion, when he did not have the confidence of a man whose eyes +pierced far through the skin, and saw the secret causes of disease. + +A change in his fortunes occurred, when a skilful physician, who fled +from France in a time of great political trouble, came to reside in his +neighborhood. All the spare time that our hero could command he spent in +serving him in his fishing excursions--rowing his boat for him, and +pointing out the best places where he could cast his hook--an act that +seemed to be his best solace as an exile. The good stream or lake that +well repaid his skill and patience in the use of his rod, was almost to +him for a season, a Lethe between him and beautiful France. + +The amiable Frenchman was not destined long to endure any sorrows on our +soil. At his death, Benson became the possessor of his few books, his +few surgical instruments and some curious preparations. He rented a +small house near the blacksmith's shop and tavern, and placed his books, +the instruments, some strange bones, a curious stuffed animal, and some +jars and bottles prominently in the window. He also had some +unaccountable grandeur of scientific words, understood by all to be +French--a public supposition in evidence of his having been a favorite +pupil of the doctor. And then, as he was a capital fellow at a drink, it +is no marvel that he acquired practice with rapidity. And as money +flowed into his pocket, unhappily the whisky, in a proportionate manner, +flowed down his throat. But as he had an established reputation, he of +course received the compliment: "I would rather have Benson to cure me +if he was drunk than to have any other doctor to cure me if he was +sober." Such was the confidence of the men of Pill-Town in his skill. + +Oftentimes when his brain was excited by his potations, he would wander +off into the woods and seek roots and plants, talking to himself in +strange words, and bent, apparently, on some great discovery. He began +to throw out vague hints to some of his companions that he knew of some +strange secret, and could perform a work more wonderful than he had ever +before done in all his practice. But as his associates never dreamed +that any one would make experiments on the bodies of men, and as his +talk of philosophy seemed to be in the clouds, they, more akin to the +clods of earth, heard him with blank minds, so that when he had done +talking, there was no more impression left, than the shadows of passing +birds left on their fields. + +Once as he sat with a friend over a bottle of famous whisky, which is +your true leveler, placing the man of science on a level with the +ignorant boor, he gave him a full account of a singular adventure which +he had with an Indian physician. It was a peculiarity of the doctor that +his memory and power of narration increased, as he imbibed increasing +quantities of his primitive beverage. He said that he had wandered away +from home one fine morning, and been lost in the distant forest. He +became very weary and fell asleep. His slumbers were broken by some +sounds that were near to him, and looking through the bushes he saw a +majestic Indian who was searching with great diligence for some roots, +whose use he had imagined no man knew but himself. The doctor said that +he rose, and approaching him with due professional dignity, informed him +that he supposed he was one of the medical fraternity. His natural +conjecture proved to be very correct. They soon became very sociable, +and pledged each other in several good drinks from a flask which the +white man fortunately carried in his pocket. The savage M. D. finally +took him to his laboratory, and in return for some communications from +one well versed in the modern state of medical science in France, which +the red man listened to with the most intense admiration, he disclosed a +variety of Indian cures. Above all he told of a marvelous exercise of +his power, and related the secret means employed under the assurance of +the most solemn promise that it should not be divulged. Dr. Benson told +his friend that this great secret was in his mind morning and evening; +that when he waked at night it haunted him, and that he could not cease +to think of it if he would make every attempt. + +When the bottle was nearly empty he said that if his hearer would +promise great secrecy he would relate the narrative of the Indian. The +other gave the required assurances. Three times however the doctor +repeated one specific caution,--"Would he promise not to tell it to his +wife?" and receiving three most earnest pledges, that no curtain +inquisition should exert its rack so successfully, as to extort any +fragment of the confidence, the relater proceeded without fear. I will +tell you, said he, how the red-skin doctor influenced the welfare of a +great Indian Prince. + +Awaha was king of a tribe whose territory bordered on one of the great +northern lakes. The eagle soaring when the heavens were filled with the +winged tribes, was not more conspicuous and more supreme in grandeur, +than he, when he stood among all the assembled warriors of the north. As +the thunder-peal when the bolt tore the great oak on the mountains, so +that it must wither and die, exceeded all the other tumult of the storm, +so the shout he uttered in battle was heard amid the fierce cries of +conflict. + +The hearts of all the beautiful maidens moved at his approach, as the +graceful flags and wild-flowers move when the breath of the evening wind +seems to seek rest as it passes over the quiet lake. The Indian mothers +said that it was strange that he sought no wife, when his deeds had gone +before him, and seemed to have softened the hearts of such as the wisest +of his race might have chosen for him. He had come from the battles a +great warrior. Were there not daughters of his tribe, who became more +stately and more grave, as though they heard great battle songs when he +came near? Were not these fitted to be the wives of great braves,--the +mothers of sons whose fame would last in war-songs? Surely the great +warrior had need to speak to one who would be saddest of all when he was +away, and most glad when his shadow fell upon the threshold! He speaks +not, and the air around him is too still. The sunbeams seemed wintry, +waiting for his voice. He seemed to leave the paths through the forest +very lonely. The great mountain's summit must not ever be alone, covered +with ice and snow, bright in the sun and in the moonbeams. Let spring +come and cover it with soft green, and let the sweet song fill its +trees, as the warm light streamed over it from the morning. + +Many of the tribe marvelled that he did not seek for a bride the +beautiful Mahanara. Some said that it was whispered among those who knew +her best, that her thoughts were as the scent of the sweet vine she had +planted and trained over the door of her wigwam, intended for the narrow +circle at home, but drifting away far off on the fitful breeze; for when +she would not, she sighed as she remembered the young warrior. + +Once, some of the village girls told her that they heard that he had +chosen a bride who lived far beyond the waters, and the great ridge of +the Blue Mountains. + +She replied, and her words seemed to die as they reached the ear, that +the one whom he had chosen for his wife, ought not to plant the corn for +his food but where the flowers covered the sod which she was to overturn +in her spring tasks, that she must bring him water from the spring on +the high hills where the Great Spirit had opened the fountains with his +lightning, and where in vallies the pure snow lingered longest of all +that fell in the winter; that when he came back from the hunter's far +journey or from the terrors of his war path, her face must assure him of +all the love and praise of his tribe, as the lake tells all the moon and +stars shed abroad of glory in the pure midnight. + +The story that was a secret sorrow to her was false, and no maiden +should have whispered it. It came not over a path that was trodden by +warriors. The dove would not fly in the air which was burdened by such +tidings. Awaha loved her, and because she feared to meet him freely, and +seemed to turn away as he drew near, he thought that she loved him not. + +One night he fell asleep by the great fire of the hunters. The +companions of the chase had counted their spoils, and spoke with joy of +their return, of the glad smiles that awaited them, of the hum of the +voices of the children as they drew near to the village. + +He dreamt that he came near to his solitary dwelling-place. He was all +alone on the path of the forest. He heard the unending sounds which are +in the great wilderness, none of which ever removes the lonely shadow +from the heart,--the shadow that has fallen on endless generations, that +speaks of countless graves amid the trees, and of countless hosts that +are out of sight in the spirit land. + +That I could hear, he thought, one voice breaking the stillness of my +way! That I could look to the end of the thick trees and know that when +I issued from their darkness, as the light would be above me, so the +light would be in my home. + +As he was thus borne away by the fancies of the night he murmured the +name of Mahanara. + +By his side was her brother, who loved him more than his life. He heard +the name, and rejoiced in the assurance which it taught him. When he +spoke of the murmur of the dream the next day, as they were alone on the +great prairie, he received the open confession. And then the brother +uttered words which filled the heart with hope. + +When they returned from the hunting-grounds he directed his steps to the +dwelling of her father,--crossing to reach it, the little stream that +she loved to watch as it foamed amid the white stones that rested in +its bed. + +Around the walls were trophies of the chase and of the battle. But the +wild songs and the stories of former days were no more heard from his +lips. He seldom spoke but of the Spirit-land, and in strange words for +the home of the Indian, prayed that the Great One would teach the tribes +to love peace. He said he was going to new hunting grounds, but not to +new war paths. The people of the wilderness that he would meet in the +sky would speak in voices that never would utter the cry of strife. + +When the evening came upon them, and the old man sat silent, looking +gladly on the stars, Awaha said to Mahanara, "Walk with me to these +fir-trees that echo murmurs to yon stream." + +"Mahanara's place is here," she said gently. "Here she can prepare the +corn and the venison, and spread the skins for her guest. But in the +fir-grove there is no door for her to open. There she cannot say, +Welcome. There she cannot throw the pine-knot on the flames to brighten +the home for thy presence. Stay here and say some words of the +Spirit-land to my father. I will sew the beads, and weave the split +quills, and the voices I shall hear shall be pleasant like the mingling +of the murmurs of the rill and of the wind when the leaves that we see +not are in motion, sounds which I so love, for they were among the +first sounds I heard by the side of my mother." + +Then he replied, "I must say here what I would have said to thee under +the stars and the night. Why was it not said in the days that are past? +The stream could not come to the water-flower, for it was frozen. The +sun came the other day, and the winter-power took off its bonds from the +stream. Long have I loved thee--loved thee here as I wandered in the +village--loved thee far off on the prairies--loved thee when the shout +told that the vanquished fled from our onset. Be my bride, and the Great +Spirit will know where is the Indian whose step on earth is the +lightest." + +He saw that the tears were falling fast as he spoke, and that she did +move as a maiden at the plea of her lover. + +"Thou hast waited," she said, "to move thy flower until the winter has +hold of its roots in the ground hard as the rock. Hadst thou come before +the snow had melted, then Mahanara had gone with thee. Then together we +had cared for him who can go out on the hunt no more. But seest thou +these links of the bleached bone carved with these secret symbols? Seest +thou the fragment of the broken arrow-head? Thou knowest how these bind +me to another. I will pray for thee to the Great Spirit. A warrior's +wife may pray for a warrior. Seek thou another and a better bride among +the daughters of our tribe." + +"It cannot be," he said. "I shall go away from the land where the sun +shines, like the lone tree amid the rocks. It shall wither and die, and +who will know that it ever cast its shade for the hunter." + +"Ah not so," she said, "it is the shadow of to-day. Seek the wife that +is on the earth for thee. If she has sorrow send for me and I will hold +up her fainting head. If I comfort her, then shall I also comfort thee. +I will speak the praises of thy tribe and she will love me." + +Awaha sat in his lonely house day after day, and friends looked on him +in sorrow and said that the Great Spirit was calling him, for his last +path was trodden. They sought me in their sorrow, not regarding the long +weary journey. My home is in a deep dark cave on the side of the +mountain. The great horn from the monster that has never roamed the +forest since the Indian began to hand down the story of his day hangs on +the huge oak at the entrance. The blasts shake the forest, and I hear it +far down below the springs in the earth where I burn my red fires. + +In vain I tried all my arts to drive from him the deep and lasting +sorrow. So I sought the aid of my mother whose home is near the great +river that pours its waters from the clouds--over which the storm of +heaven seems to rage in silence. She heard my story, and she arrayed +herself in her strange robe bright with the skins of snakes from a land +where the sun always keeps the earth green and warm. On her head were +the feathers of the eagle and of the hawk. + +She kindled her fire on the stones that were heaped together and threw +in them bones and matted hair. + +Then she drank of the cup, death to all but for her lips, and poured +that which was left on the flame. The fire told her the story of days +that were to come. She said that Awaha must live. When three winters had +come and gone Mahanara would be alone, for wrapped in his hunting skins, +the braves would lay her husband in his grave. Let him live--let Awaha +live--for he and Mahanara shall yet dwell among their people. The vine +shall fall. It can twine around another tree. Let Awaha live. + +So I sought him--and his eye was dim--he scarce knew the voices of those +around him. I gave him the precious elixir which my mother alone on +earth could draw from roots such as no eye of man has ever seen. The +young men placed him on a litter and bore him to a far off river. There +we made the raft, covered it with leaves, and we floated gently onward +to my cave. Then I said leave him with me. In a few days he will have +strength and shall go down these waters to his canoe. A new home shall +he seek where there are no paths ever trodden by Mahanara. There he +shall not look round as the breeze moves the bushes, as though she was +near him. He shall not see flowers there which shall say, you gathered +such for her in the warm days when the Indian village was full of hearts +as bright as the sun shining down upon it. The woods everywhere has a +place for the warrior. There are no mountains where the battle-cry +cannot echo. There are no red men where the great man shall not be +great. I then gave him strange food that a hunter from the spirit land +once threw down at the tent of my mother when she had healed his little +child that he left to the care of his tribe. I then compounded in the +cup which was white and shining, as it had been on a high rock for ages +to be bleached in the moonbeams, the draught that he was to drink that +he might sleep for three years. I laid him gently in the clift in the +rock above my cave. The warm spring ran winter and summer beneath the +place of his rest. I covered him with light bruised roots that would add +to his strength. I placed over him the cedar boughs, matted, so that the +rain could reach him. Over these, folds of leaves well dried in the heat +of the cavern. I laid the loose stones over all and scattered the dust +there which the beasts flee from, waking the echo of the forest. There +he slept until the great stillness come over the husband of Mahanara, +and the great song had told of his wisdom, of his battles, as the +warriors stood by his grave. + +One day she sat by the side of the stream,--and not on the bank where +she had often chanted the wild song to Awaha. Her hands were forming the +beautiful wampum belt. I came to her, and as we spoke of past days, her +eye rested on the chain of Awaha, that I wound and unwound as if I +thought not of it, before her eyes that rested on it for a moment only +to look away, and to look far down into the deep water. + +I laid it secretly near her,--and left her, crossing on the white stones +of the stream, and passing into the deep forest. + +When the dark night came over all the village, I crept silently to her +wigwam. There she sat by the fire and pressed the chain to her heart, +and looked sadly on the flames that rose and fell, and gleamed on one +who was near and unknown. + +He must live. So I sought him when the red star was over the mountain. +Three moons more could he have slept, and have yet been called from his +sleep to see the bright sunbeams. + +Oh how beautiful the warrior, when all the coverings were taken away, +and I saw him again as on the day when he first fell into his slumber. + +As I waked him, he said, "yesterday you said that I should live. I feel +strange strength after the sleep of the night that is past." + +When he fell asleep a great night had crept up to his eye,--and he saw +not the hunting-ground,--the fierce battle,--the wigwam,--but +darkness,--and beyond it darkness,--and beyond that the land of all +spirits. Now his eye was sad,--but he looked as one who heard voices +call him to go forth, and be not as the stone that lies on the +hill-side. + +I sought Mahanara, and told her that he would come back from far, and +would seek her as the bride of a warrior. I sent him to her home, and he +trod the forest paths as the sunshine sweeps from wave-crest to +wave-crest in the brook that hurries on, leaving the sound of peace in +its murmurs. So out of the years they met, as the breeze so sweet from +over the wild-flowers and trees of the valley, and the wind that carried +strength from the sides of the mountain. + +"Can you marvel that they call me the great medicine man among the +tribes? Thou art a great brother. Thy fire-water is good. The white men +honor thee. Thou keepest the sod that is wet with tears from being +turned over. They call thee the very great man of thy tribe." I will not +tell you all that he said of me. Let others learn that of him, and speak +of it. Then he said,--"Brother tell thou me more of thy wonderful +powers. I will teach thee how to mingle the cup for the sleep of many +years." "So he told me," said the doctor, "how to compound the mixture. +And the secret no one shall hear from my lips. If you will, I will put +you to sleep for as long a time as you can desire. Put your money out +at interest. Go to sleep until all you have has been doubled. Then let +me wake you, and you can enjoy it." + +This desire to put a fellow-creature into this sleep took possession of +the doctor, and it was his dream by day and night, when he was tipsy, or +half ready to become so. He tried to persuade a good-natured negro, +Jack, who lived near his premises, to indulge in the luxury. But Jack +assured him that he was as much obliged to him as if he had done it. + +At last he formed his plan, and attempted to carry it into execution. +There was Job Jones, who lived, nobody knew how, and nobody cared +whether he lived or not. When he could gain a few coppers, he was a +great and independent statesman at the tavern. And when he had no pence, +he walked along in the sun as if he had no business in its light, and +with a cast-down look as if he thanked the world for not drowning him, +like supernumerary kittens. + +So one evening the doctor easily enticed Job to his office. Then he +partook of whisky until he lost all sense of all that occurred around +him. The poor fellow soon fell asleep. The great experimenter dragged +him to a box prepared for him in the cellar. Then he poured down his +throat the final draught, and covered him with great boughs of cedar. He +then ascended to his office. His first thought was that of triumph. +"There," he said, "was that shallow Doctor Pinch, the practitioner at +the next village, who had called him an ignoramus, and said that he was +not fit to be the family physician of a rabbit. He had written the +account of the boy who had fallen down and indented his skull, and that +some of his brains had to be removed,--all done so skilfully by Doctor +Pinch, that he was ever after, a brighter fellow than ever before. His +mother always boasted of the manner in which the doctor had 'japanned' +his skull. But what will he be when I wake up Job? Sleep away, Job! You +will have for years to come, the easiest life of any man in these United +States. No want of shoes, or clothes, or whisky. When you wake you shall +have a new suit, after the fashion of that coming time. Doctor Pinch! +Pooh! what is Doctor Pinch to Doctor Benson?" + +After a little while a cry of murder rang through his half intoxicated +brain. A great chill crept over his frame. The night became horrible in +its stillness. + +He must try the old resource. It never failed, whisky must restore the +energy. He took up the glass from the table. It fell from his hands as +if he was paralyzed. + +He had made a fearful mistake. The cup of whisky which he had poured out +for himself was the last drink which he had ministered to Job. He had +taken the sleeping draught by mistake. + +When they came, he thought and found him so still, so senseless, and +that for days he never moved, would they not bury him! Then he might +smother in the grave! Or waking some twenty years hence, he would wake +in some tomb, some vile epitaph over him, written by that Pinch, and +call for aid, and die, and die. + +He saw himself in his coffin. The neighbors were all around him. The +clergyman was ready to draw an awful moral against intemperance from his +history. He was about to assure his hearers that no one could doubt what +had become of such a man in another world. + +His brain became more and more confused. He sank on the floor senseless. +So Job slumbered in the box, and the doctor on the floor of the office. + + * * * * * + +Twenty years have elapsed. Dr. Benson wakes. It is a clear morning. How +has the world changed! There, out of his window he sees the village. +That row of neat dwellings is his property. He has a pleasant home to +wake in. His wife is the very personification of happiness and +prosperity. The clothes in which he arrays himself are a strange +contrast to the miserable habiliments in which he fell down to sleep on +the office floor twenty years ago. There is the spire of the +church--and thank God, he loves to enter there as a sincere and humble +worshipper. + +What a change in this lapse of years! What an awakening! How is the +world altered! + +If the doctor's voice reached the ear of the intemperate man, he said, +"Friend, better the fang of the rattlesnake than your cup. The bands +that you think to be threads, are iron bands that are clasping you not +only for your grave, but forever. Awake! and see if the good Lord will +not give you a world changed, as the world has thus been to Dr. +Benson." + + + + +II. + +_THE GHOST AT FORD INN--NESHAMONY._ + + +PART FIRST. + + There, where the time-worn bridge at School House Run, + Spans o'er the stream unquiet as our lives, + You find a place where few will pause at night; + Where the foot-fall is quick, and all press on + As if a winter's blast had touched the frame, + And men drew to themselves. Oft there is seen, + So men aver, the quiet gliding ghost. + + Descend yon hill, near woods so desolate, + With upward gloom, and tangled undergrowths, + And shadows mouldering in the brightest day. + Near is the Indian spring's unmurmuring flow. + The summit now is gladdened by the Church. + You leave all village sounds, and are alone, + On grass-worn paths your feet emit no sound. + The thick damp air is full of dreary rest, + And stillness there spreads out like the great night. + + Upon the left, hidden by aged oaks, + Is a small cedar grove; where broken winds + Are organ-like with requiem o'er some graves. + A low stone wall, and never-opened gate + Protect the marble records of the dead. + + To stand at sunny noon, or starry night + Upon the arch, where you can yield the soul, + Captive to nature's impress, power with peace, + Is stillness from afar. The solitude + Seems linked with some far distant, distant space + In the broad universe, where worlds are not. + Unrest with rest is there. We often call + That peace, where thoughts are deep, but where the soul + Moves as the great, great sea, in mighty waves. + Here memories for tears, forgotten thoughts + Come without seeking. Just as the winds of May + Bring with unlaboring wings, from unknown fields, + Sweet scents from flowers, and from the early grass. + + The fearful man, who left the village store, + Near to the cross roads, where the untutored tongue + Supplies the gossip of the printed sheet, + Has here beheld the mist-like, awful ghost. + The rustic lover under midnight stars, + Detained so long by Phebe's sorceries, + His little speech taking so long to say, + Has had his faith sore tried, as he has asked, + Will I, next week, pass here alone, again? + Far the most haunted spot lies yet beyond, + Follow the road until you reach the Ford, + There at the mouldering pile of wall and logs, + Where once the floating raft was as a bridge, + A pure white spirit oftentimes is seen. + She sometimes wanders all along the shore; + Sometimes from off the rocks, she seems to look + For something in the waters. Then again + Where the trees arch the road that skirts the bank, + And night is like the darkness of a cave, + This gentle spirit glides. Earth's sorrow yet, + Its burden, weary burden, borne alone. + + Sad is the story of her earthly life. + You see that lonely house upon the green, + With its broad porch beneath that sycamore. + 'Tis now a pleasant undisturbed abode. + There lingereth much of ancient time within: + Long may it cling there in these days of change! + Quaint are the rooms, irregular. The bright fire + Glows from the corner fire-place. Often there + I sit, and marvel o'er the shadowy past. + It is a place of welcome. Loving hearts + Extend the welcome. Angels welcome thus. + Dear sisters, reading there the purest page, + Planning some act of gentleness to wo, + The selfishness of solitary life, + Not finding place amid your daily thoughts, + For you commune with that activity + Of love most infinite, that once came down + From the far Heaven, to human form on earth. + The music of the true, the harmony + Of highest thoughts, that have enthroned as kings + The best in heart, and head of all our race, + Have their great kindred echoes as you read. + O as your prayers ascend, pray oft for me, + And then I shall not lose the name of friend. + The golden link that bindeth heart to heart + Forever, is the Love and prayer in Christ. + Since the Great Being gives me love at home, + The Diamond payment for my worth of dust, + Gives me that bright and daily light of earth, + I'm bold, and covetous of Christian love. + + This house, in ancient days a wayside inn, + Has sheltered men of mark. Here Washington + Rested his weary head without despair, + Before the sinking tide rose with bright waves + At Trenton, and the spot where Mercer fell. + Here youthful La Fayette was also seen, + Whose smile, benign in age, was joy to me, + As my loved Father, at our fire-side spake + To him, as the true Patriot speaks to those + Who win a nation's homage by their toils. + Here even now, on an age-colored pane, + The letters, diamond-cut, show Hancock's name. + + The war had found the host of the Ford Inn + A happy man; no idler round a bar; + For his chief calling was upon his farm, + With rich fields open to the sun, amid + The dense surrounding forests, where the deer + Still lingered by the homes of laboring men. + He bore arms for his country. And he heard + The last guns fired at Yorktown for the free. + + One little daughter played around his hearth; + Oft tracked his steps far in the furrowed field; + Looked up with guileless eye in his true face. + After each absence short, her merry shout + Of greeting at his coming, rose as sure + As sounds from those dark cedars on the shore, + When the winds rise and break their mirror there. + + Oh happy child! She also learned the love + That places underneath her the strong arms + Of Him who held the children when on earth, + Journeying along his pathway to the cross. + She opened all her gentle Heaven-touched heart + To all the unknown teachings of her home. + + The wild-flower's beauty passed into her thoughts, + And as she gazed, and saw in earth and sky, + In every form the love of God stream forth, + She knew of beauty that could never fade. + For He, from whom these emanations came, + Will never cease to be a God revealed. + + Happy the child, for her fond parents both + Had souls to kindle with her sympathies. + They learned anew with her the blessed love, + Which makes the pure like children all their days. + With her pure mind repassed the former way, + Their age and youth blended at once in her. + + There was a small church in the little town + Of Bristol, some miles distant, over which + A loving pastor ruled with watchful care. + He came from England,--and but few had known + That he was bishop, of that secret line + Which Ken, and other loyalists prolonged, + Prepared for any changes in the realm. + The good man loved his people at the ford. + The child's expanding mind had ample seals + Of his kind guidance. From his store of books + He culled the treasures for her thoughtful eye. + + Another memorable influence, + To add refining grace, came from the town. + One, whose sweet beauty threw a woman's charm + Over a household, seeking health in air, + That rustles forest leaves, that sweeps the fields, + Came to their home, and was not useless there. + + She threw round Ellen, in resplendent light, + What Ellen knew before, in fainter day. + + The lady was so true in all her grace, + Such open nature, that the child, all heart, + Could think, could love, could be as one with her. + How sad, that the refinement of the world, + Should often be the cost of all that's true! + + From the volcano's side the dreadful stream, + That buried the great city, pressed its way, + To every room of refuge. Prison ne'er + Gave bondage like those dark and awful homes. + Around each form came the encrusting clay: + Death at the moment. Dying ne'er so still. + In passing ages all the form was gone: + The dark clay held the shapes of what had been, + And when the beauteous city was exhumed, + Into those hollows, moulds of former life, + They poured the plaster, and regained the form, + Of men, or women, as they were at death. + So all that lives in nature, in the heart, + Is often, living, buried by the world, + By its dead stream. Dust only can remain. + And in its place the statue--outward all + The form of beauty--the pretense of soul. + + How the child basked in all her loveliness! + Unconscious, she was moulded day by day, + Sweet buds that in her heart strove to unfold, + Had waited for that sun. And Ellen saw + Her mother in changed aspect. The soft charms + Of her new friend, revealed at once in her, + More of the woman's natural tenderness. + + The gentle child, had not a single love + For all the varied scenes of bank and stream-- + And these to her were almost all the earth, + But as each glory centered round her home. + If the descending sun threw down the light + Tinged with the mellow hues of autumn leaves, + Upon the waters till they shone as gold, + And yet diminished not the million flames + That burnt upon the trees, all unconsumed, + It was to her a joy. But deeper joy + Came with the thought, that all her eye surveyed, + Was but a repetition of the scene, + When her fond mother, at some former day, + Had by her side blessed God for these his works. + And all the softest murmurs of the air + Recalled her father's step, and his true voice. + Thus home entwined itself with every thought, + As that great vine with all that wide-branched oak. + + +PART SECOND. + + And in this quiet scene, the child grew up, + To know not inequalities of lot, + Of any rank dissevering man from man. + Once from the splendid coach, the city dame + And her young daughter entered the Ford Inn. + + As Ellen gazed upon the little one + Whose eye recalled the dove, and then the gleam + That morning threw upon her much loved waves, + And on the tresses, like the chesnut fringe + In full luxuriance, she came forth and stood + With such a guileless, and admiring love, + That tenderness was won. And then they strolled + O'er Ellen's favorite haunts. She asked the child, + Have you such waters, and such trees beside + Your home far off? The little languid eye + Gazed vacantly on all the beauty there, + And then, as one who had not heard the words, + And least of all could give forth a response + To nature's loving call, even as it passed + To her, through Ellen's eyes, and Ellen's voice, + And from her kindled soul,--she turned again, + Absorbed in the small wagon which they drew, + And to the stones they skimmed upon the stream. + + Just for a brief space, down there seemed to fall + A veil between the two--a veil like night. + All Ellen's greater, deeper swell of tides + Of soul, forever dashing on the cliffs + On which mind's ocean-great forever beat + Their swell of thunder, here could find no height + That could reverberate. And yet her heart + Was all too noble, high, serenely pure, + Too Christ-taught ever thus to stand apart. + + The tender gentleness, the laughing eye, + The soul responsive to the moment's joy, + The power to love, the softening sympathy + With every bird or squirrel that appeared, + Or rabbit, scarce afraid, with wondering eye, + The love of parents, her sweet talk of friends, + And above all, a heart to beat so true + To all that One in heaven had said to her, + Were most alluring powers. Ellen forgot + Wherein they differed: And their souls then chimed + As sounds of bells, blended in summer's wind. + So, as if sunbeams faltering on the bank, + The cloud departing, creep o'er all the green, + Her brightening interest rested on the child. + + And when they parted at the bridge of logs, + Though the child's dress was gorgeous, and the pomp + Of city livery from the chariot shone, + While the soft tear was in our Ellen's eye, + There still dwelt all unknown in her sweet mind, + All free from pride, the deep inspiring wish, + That she could raise this merry-hearted one + Above herself: and then there came the thought, + Unconscious, causing sorrows--higher aims-- + That the one gone was poor, and she was rich. + + There was a loneliness, and so she sought + Her mother; whose companionship was peace: + Who ever won her to her wonted rest. + + There is a poetry in many hearts + Which only blends with thought through tenderness: + It never comes as light within the mind + Creating forms of beauty for itself. + It has an eye, and ear for all the world + Can have of beauty. You will see it bend + Over the cradle, sorrow o'er the grave. + It knows of every human tie below, + The vast significance. Unto its God + It renders homage, giving incense clouds + To waft its adorations. By the cross, + It hears the voice, "How holy all is here!" + It speaks deep mysteries, and yet the clue + Is most apparent to the common mind. + Its sayings fall like ancient memories; + We so accept them. Natures such as these + Are often common-place, until the heart + Is touched, and then the tones from gates of heaven. + Such are the blessed to brighten human life-- + To give a glory to our earth-born thoughts-- + To teach us how to act our deeds as kings, + Which we might else perform as weary slaves. + They give us wings, not sandals, for the road + Full of dry dust. And such the mother was. + So as we tell you of the child, there needs + No voice to say, and such the woman was. + + One day she sought her father in the field, + Just before sunset, ready for his home. + And as they reached the rocks along the shore, + Where the road turns, to meet the deep ravine, + Nigh unto Farley, a faint cry for help + Rang in their ears. It was a manly voice + Grieving through pain. They turned aside, and found + A stranger, who had fallen, as he leapt + From out his boat. His fallen gun and dress + Proclaimed the sportsman. Aid was soon at hand, + And in their dwelling he found friends, and care. + + Days past. His mother came, and soon she found + He spake to Ellen, Ellen unto him; + As they spake not to others. And it seemed, + Such a perpetual reference in his talk, + As if he had not now a single thought, + Which had not been compared with thought of hers. + + At first her pride was moved. And while she stood + Irresolute, the spell was fixed: as when + The power of spring thaws winter to itself. + She knew her son was worthy: and she knew + Here, in the wide-world must he seek a wife. + And in due time she was his fair-haired wife. + + They had a rural home across the stream. + Their lights at night answered the cheerful light + Of her paternal home. Their winter's fires + Mingled their gleam upon the dark night wave, + Or on the ice. By summer's winds her voice + Was wafted o'er the waters, as she sang: + And loving hearers blessed her in their hearts. + + Oh! what a joy, when in her arms they placed + Her son--ah doomed to be her only born! + Her cup of happiness seemed now so full. + And then the Father, knowing all to come, + Gave her more grace, and so she loved him more, + And had no Idol. But, as days rolled on + Such sorrow came, I scarce can tell the tale. + She saw her husband's manly strength all gone. + + There was a withering tree, in the spring time, + Which on the lawn, seemed struggling to assume + The Autumn's hues amid the world's full green. + He faintly smiled, and said, "So do I fade." + Soon it was dead. He lingered slowly on. + Hopes came: hopes faded. From the early world + 'Tis the same story. It was well for her, + In this her sorrow, she had learned to weep + In days of bliss, as she had read the page + Which tells of Jesus bearing his own cross. + + His mother came, but Ellen was repelled + By the stern brow of one who met the shock + And would not quail. That hard and iron will + Was so unlike _her_ firmness. She was one + Who had ruled abjects. Sorrow seemed a wrong. + + The parting time drew near. And then as one + Who asked as one gives law. "This little boy + Should dwell with me. Thereby shall he attain + All discipline to form the noble man. + Even as I made his Father what he was, + So will I now, again, care for the child. + Let him with me. And he shall often come + And visit you. This surely will be wise." + We need not say that Ellen too was firm. + + A mother's love! In all the world a power, + To educate as this! Could any wealth + Of other learning recompense this loss! + Would this stern woman ripen in his heart + Fruits, that angelic eyes beheld with joy? + "When the boy grew, at times she'd gladly send + With thanks, the child to all this proffered care." + But now--to send him now! Why at the thought + A darkness gathered over all the world. + From all things came a voice, "All, all alone, + The husband is not--the child far away." + + There was strange meaning in the angry eye; + A strange defiance, and an unknown threat, + Enmity and a triumph. As if a triumph gained. + A nation crushed, her husband's mother looked, + No flush was on her face--her voice the same. + + Coldly she said, farewell. And Ellen held + The child with firmer grasp, when she was gone. + Then she had sorrow that they thus should part; + For she felt all the reverence death made due, + And also mourned rejection of her love. + + As the child slept one night, watched by his nurse, + She crossed the river on the bridge of logs, + To reach her parents. Under the bright stars + The Neshamony, and its hurried waves, + Rising and falling all around her path. + No peace in all the Heavens that she could see + Was like her peace. "I suffer here," she said, + "But suffering, I shall learn more love for all." + + She had returned. Her footsteps died away, + Her parents stood yet in the open air, + Where they had parted with her for the night. + + Then o'er the stream there came an awful cry. + It was her cry. Oh agony to hear! + It stilled all sounds besides. It seemed to make + The wide-arched Heavens one call to echo it. + Parents and others rushed there with affright, + In breathless terror. Nurse and child were gone. + Each wood around, and every forest road + Gleamed all the night with torches. But no cheer + Rose to proclaim a trace of faintest hope. + One traveler said, that on a distant road + He met a carriage, hurrying with strange speed, + And heard, in passing, cries of a young child. + In vain they follow. Hopeless they return. + + Oh wondrous, the ingenious plan devised + By that poor mother to regain her child! + Her parents tried, as if for life and death + To give her aid: and saw that she must die: + For patience such as hers was all too grand + To linger long on earth. She day by day + Trod her old haunts. But never did she see + The Heaven, or beauteous world. Her pallid lips + Moved with perpetual prayer. And when she leaned + On those who loved her, the storm-tossed at rest, + She was as quiet as in days, when she + Was but an infant. When they spoke of hope + She smiled. It was a smile of love, not hope. + It was indeed simplicity to one, + Just on the threshold where His people pass, + And where, forever, they have more than hope. + + All saw that she attained a mystic life, + That was not of the earth. What might she had + To love the sorrowing! By the dying bed + She seemed as if she had not known a pang, + Her voice so peaceful. Little children round + Gazed sorrowful: and in their confused thought + Deemed that the anguish of her little child + Weeping its mother, was her dying pain; + And thought how desolate fond hearts would be + If they were gone, as was her little one. + + One sweet Lord's Day she knelt down at the rail, + In her loved Church, and had forgot all grief, + Receiving there the hallowed Bread and Wine, + And the one shadowed forth had strengthened her, + So that she fed on food come down from Heaven. + The others moved. But she was in her place. + The Pastor came, and found that she was dead. + Oh how the tears of Christians fell that day! + Oh how they thanked God for her good release! + And so she went to her eternal rest. + + But men, unreasoning, said they saw her form, + Oft in the night, along the river shore-- + Oft at the Ford, which now is crossed no more. + And men will say, in firmness of belief, + That when the Inn was closed, and no man dwelt + In its forsaken walls, a light was seen + In Ellen's room. And then they also say, + That pure while flowers which never grew before, + Now come with Spring, where her bright spirit walks. + My children say, that if you hear the owl + Along her pathway, you may hasten on + Sure that her spirit will not meet you there. + But should you hear a bird of plaintive song, + Break the night's stillness, then go far around + By field and wood--for you may see her form + Along the shore she gladdened with her life-- + A shore of many sorrows at the last. + + + + +III. + +_MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT BIOGRAPHY;--OR, LITERATURE FOR A FAIR WIDOW._ + + +I had just concluded my first cause at the bar. My duty had been the +defence of a man, whom the jury, without leaving the box, condemned to +be hung. My friends said that I spoke very eloquently. I consoled myself +for my want of success, by remembering that my client had put into my +hands, sorry evidence of his innocence, in place of having allowed me to +arrange the circumstances of his murderous deed, so that the testimony +against him might have at least, some degree of inconsistency and doubt. +But the rash creature formed his plan for killing a man out of his own +head. A poor, stupid, blundering head it was. + +I have always regarded that trial with a cool, philosophical mind. I +think that any gentleman, who indulges himself in that rather +exceptionable occupation of shedding the blood of his fellow-man, +without first consulting a lawyer, deserves to be executed. And, verily, +this fellow got his deserts. + +Well, as I sat in my office, perfectly calm and composed, some hours +after the case was decided, I received a pretty note from a widow lady. +I had often met her at our pleasant little evening parties. She was on a +visit to one of her friends in our green village; was very pretty, was +said to be quite agreeable, and it was obvious that she was much admired +by the gentlemen. As to her age--to say the least on that subject, which +I consider, in such a case, to be the only gentlemanly mode of +procedure--she was some years older than she wished to be accounted. + +Her particular friends said that she had been very beautiful as a girl. +She was one of that select class, scattered over our country, concerning +each of whom there was a family tradition, that on some occasion of +public ceremonial, General Washington had paused and stood opposite to +her in mute admiration. I know that the great Father of his country was +reported to have paid such a tribute to one of my maiden aunts--and that +the story procured from her nephews and nieces a large portion of +respect. I boasted, as a boy, of this fact--regarding it as a sprig of a +foreign aristocratic family, would the honors of his aunt, the Duchess. +But an unreliable boy at our school matched this history from the +unwritten archives of his vulgar relatives. So, in great disgust, I held +my tongue on the subject for the future. + +Well, thought I, as I mused over the note of the widow, the formation +of some of her letters indicating a romantic turn of mind; this is, +indeed, a strange, a very strange world. Here I have just done with a +client who must get himself hung. A dull, stupid fellow; a blockhead of +the most knotty material, "unwedgeable" by any possible force of common +sense; a spot on the face of the earth! Hang him! Hanging is too good +for him. He was a fellow who had neither eyes, nor nose, nor mouth for +the attracted observation of a jury, nor any history, nor any ingenuity +in his murderous deed,--as a thread on which a poor advocate could +suspend one gem of argument, one gem of eloquence to blaze and dazzle +the eyes of the twelve substantial citizens, whose verdict was to life +or death. And now here is a call to attend to some legal business to be +done in the sunshine of a fair lady's favor! Has she heard of the rare +ability displayed in the defence of this man who is so soon to be +suspended in the air, as a terror to evil doers? Or has she been allured +by my good looks and agreeable manners? Handsome!--a few years older +than myself, and then a good little fortune, which my legal knowledge +could protect. Well, if this world be odd, I must make the best of it. +Society is a strange structure; and happy is the man who is a statue +ready for his appropriate pedestal. + +It is unquestionably an amiable trait in human character which clothes +those, who by special circumstances acquire marked relations with us, in +attractions which surpass ordinary charms. + +I must freely confess that I never saw the widow look so interesting as +at the hour when I made my visit. I presented myself with dignity, as +one who represented learning at the bar, and future dignities on the +bench. She received me kindly. There was a seriousness in her demeanor, +an obvious earnestness, as of one who had a burden on the mind, so that +I perceived that the occasion was one of great importance. + +I ought here to inform the gentle reader that it had been my good +pleasure, instigated by ambition natural to young men, and as a +relaxation from my graver studies, to indite various articles in prose +and verse for the _Newark Democrat_;--a paper which was supposed by the +editor, the host at the Bald Eagle Inn, the headquarters of the ruling +political party in our town, and also by several members of the +Legislature who could read any kind of printing, to exert a great +influence over the destinies of our country. + +There was one contribution of mine, entitled, "The Flame Expiring in the +Heart," which obtained great admiration, and was committed to memory by +a number of the young ladies at Miss Sykes' boarding-school. It was +copied into both of the New York papers. Just, however, as it seemed to +be securing a place for itself in American poetry, some one, urged by +envy, and under the instigation of very bad taste,--some said it was +Paulding, some Washington Irving,--but that was simply slanderous,--I +say some one of more self-conceit than of the gift of appreciation of +pure versification, and of elevated sentiment, wrote a reply. It had a +hypocritical dedication as if the author of the aforesaid poem was +affectionately addressed, and as if the utmost tenderness of sorrow was +displayed in sympathy. To crown all, the coarseness of the writer was +shown in the title, "A Bellows to Fan the Expiring Flame of Alonzo in +the Newark Democrat." + +However it is not necessary for me to dwell on my literary career. I was +compelled to allude to it, in order that you could understand the +reasonableness of the conduct of the lady under the circumstances which +I now describe. + +After a few words of greeting, she at once descended into the "midst of +things." She informed me that the reasons of her sending for me, were +her convictions of my goodness of heart, which she gleaned, no doubt, +from the tone of my poetry, of my elevated desire to promote the +interests of science and of letters, and her high idea of my literary +abilities, particularly as a writer of prose. + +Here I felt that her critical skill was in error. She had not, perhaps, +as much natural capacity for the admiration of sterling poetry as of +prose. Without intending to hint that I pretend to the false humility of +undervaluing my prose style, I am satisfied, that to say the least, my +poetry is in all respects its equal. But to return from this brief +digression; the fair one proceeded to say, that she perceived that I had +a remarkable gift in narrative. + +Now, her deceased husband, she said, was a very remarkable man. A true +account of his abilities and virtues need only be placed before the +public attention to secure him a perpetual remembrance among men. It +would be a great wrong,--indeed it would be robbing the world of a just +claim, that his character, writings, and his general history should not +be widely known. As she discoursed on the subject, she became a little +romantic; and when she began to expand her views, and to adopt the +figure of a flower concealed from the gaze of men, lying buried in the +dark recesses of the forest, which ought to be brought out before the +common view, I doubted whether the sentence had not been previously +studied. This only proved, of course, her faithfulness to the memory of +her husband; and her desire that I should enter into her sympathies. + +She proceeded to say, that she had selected me as his Biographer. If I +complied with her wishes, I would find that I had undertaken a task in +which I would have intense interest, and be stimulated to exertion. She +could tell me of eminent men who had spoken of him in terms of exalted +praise. He had once sent to a distinguished scholar in Germany, a +strange petrifaction; and the learned man had written a long essay, in +which he described it, and made it the basis of remarks on nature in +general, and took occasion to speak of his American correspondent as a +learned man, and one who wrote in magnificent sentences. Indeed, I was +to find no difficulty in collecting the greatest abundance of material +for a memoir. She wished this composition to be prefixed to a large +volume in manuscript which he had prepared for the press some years +before his lamented close of life. The volume was a treatise on +"Fugitive impressions, and enduring mental records." + +Now had this proposition been made by a man, I should have declined the +undertaking. In that case law would have appeared as a jealous +master,--its study long, and life very short. But as it was, the lady +had sufficient power to extort a promise that I would devote myself to +the work. + +The gratitude of the fair one, was, in itself, no small fee for the +labor which was before me. I felt that it was necessary to arrange with +her, that I could consult with her at all times, as I proceeded with my +work, and that she should hear me read over a page at any time, or even +sentences, if I needed her advice. These proposals satisfied her that I +was about entering on my duty in earnest, and she became so affable, so +pleased with me, that I anticipated that every page of my work would +secure me a pleasant visit. + +My first plan was to make a tour to the village which had the honor to +number a few years ago, Dr. Bolton, who was to be so famous by means of +my well-rewarded pen. And I must confess that my arrival at Scrabble +Hill, for such was the name of the place, was attended with +circumstances so very dismal, that my ardor would have been damped, had +not a bright flame sent its warmth, and cheering rays through my mind. + +I remembered that my very absence from Newark was a perpetual plea for +me, to the lady whom I sought to serve. And this consoled me, as I drove +along the street of the place. The dwellings were poor. They were more +dismal than houses falling into ruins; for it was evident that they had +been run up as ambitious shells, and never finished. The men went about +with coats out at the elbows, and seemed to drag along languidly to the +blacksmith's shop, or to the inn. The whole place looked as if it had no +thought of better days. My sudden presence, and the appearance of my +horse and gig, promised, as the opened eyes of the gazers assured me, +to exercise the mental faculties of the inhabitants, in the highest +degree of which they were capable. + +The inn was no better than the rest of the village. The landlord was one +of the most imperturbable of human beings. I verily believe that his +wife told the truth when she asserted, as I inquired whether he could +not be sent for, to sit with me, tired of my solitude in the evening, +that I need not think of such a thing, for "John Hillers was no company +for nobody." And this remark, I thought, was accompanied with the +suggestion hinted in her manner, that she herself would be a far better +gossip. Her exact adherence to the truth was, I presume, equally +manifested, when I asked as a hungry man, "What have you in the house?" +and she replied, "Not much of anything." + +After a wretched meal in a room half heated from a stove in the +adjoining kitchen, and where the fire-place was full of pieces of paper, +and of empty bottles labelled "bitters," I began to reflect on the +nature of my undertaking. The great responsibility devolved on one who +should attempt the biography of so great a man as Doctor Bolton, all at +once assumed a new aspect. My vanity and self-confidence began to ooze +away. These rainbows faded, and a very dull sky was all that was left. + +Was I able to do justice to so great an ornament of my native land? The +reputation of a man sometimes depends on the ability of his biographer. +A good memoir is a bright lamp, which guides the eyes of men to works, +otherwise, perhaps, doomed to lie in obscurity forever. And when they +are opened, it throws a gleam on the page, which secures attention, and +elicits admiration. All the civilized world sees its great books in the +light supplied by a few critics. Hence the critical biographer may +enhance all the merit of the author, who is his subject. On the other +hand, if he usher the unknown book before the public, by a dull and weak +narrative, and criticism, men will imagine that he has been selected as +a congenial mind, and will slight even the treatise of a man like Doctor +Bolton. + +In the morning the sun began to shine,--for I ought to have said that +when I entered the village I drove through a dull misty rain. I took +heart, and determined to prosecute my researches with ardor. What is to +be done must be done, and let us try and do all things well. + +The first person on my list of those who could give me information, was +Mrs. Rachel Peabody. I found her at home. She seemed much surprised and +mystified, when I told her that I was about writing a life of the +doctor,--but not at all astonished that when I sought information, I +should come to her. + +The reference to the past excited her mind. For an hour or more she +poured forth her recollections. And gentle reader, my page would present +a strange array of information, could I accurately record the words that +flowed from her lips. Her chief idea of the doctor, was, that he carried +with her help, advice, and warm cabbage leaves, Eliza Jane, Faith Kitty, +and John Potts, of the house of Peabody, through a variety of +unaccountable diseases. Hitherto I had been a creature, hardened at the +cry of little children. Now when I learnt what a sad time they often +had, when their teeth were ready to force their way through the gums, I +am prepared to bear all the noise which they can make, with a patience +that will cause me to be a favorite with every mother. + +I must confess that I left the mansion of the Peabodys very much +perplexed, to know what I could weave, of this conversation into my +biography. Had I gleaned a fact, that ought to live in the memory of +men, long after marble monuments shall have crumbled into dust? As I +formed my enduring statue, was I now able to take my chisel into my +hand, and leave its immortal line? I flattered myself that I had a +presentiment, that I should yet discover in this narration, some +evidence of the greatness of the celebrated physician. + +And now I was to call on Miss Mary Phelps--a lady of great +respectability--advanced in life--who had spent her years in maiden +meditation fancy free. + +Miss Phelps was certainly one of the most homely creatures, on whom my +eyes were ever compelled to rest. If she had qualities of mind and +heart, sufficient to compensate her for her external appearance, she was +indeed an angel within. + +But I quickly ascertained, that such a theory was impracticable. Her +temper was, evidently, a torment to those around her. The airs of a +foolish girl had not disappeared from her manner. She even received me +with a ridiculous affectation of shyness, and when she glanced at me her +eyes fell quickly to the ground. + +"Madam," said I, "I have been referred to you as to one who could give +me valuable information, for an important work which I have in hand?" + +"Oh, sir--" and her looks indicated intolerable disgust, and great +defiance,--"you are one of the folks hired to take the census, and you +want Papistical statements about the ages of people, that ain't as old +as you wish them to be." + +"Oh, no--nothing of the kind. I am engaged in writing a life of Doctor +Bolton. As his appointed biographer, I wish to attain all the knowledge +I can concerning him. For this reason I have visited this village, where +he once resided,--such a successful practitioner; and the object of such +universal love and admiration. You have dwelt here a great many years." +Here the lady frowned in a very ominous manner. "That is to say, you +lived here as a child, and continued here until the present maturity of +your powers has been attained. I have therefore to inquire of you, +whether you can give me any information about him--anything that would +throw light on his character. After all it is your gentle sex who retain +the most tender, and lasting impressions of such a man." + +Here Miss Phelps' demeanor became a most unaccountable procedure. Her +eyes fell upon the floor. She looked as if she thought, that deep +blushes were on her sallow, sunken cheeks. She became the most wonderful +representation of modesty, sensibility, and embarrassment. + +I waited patiently, but there was no response. + +"Madam," said I, "unless the friends of the Doctor give me their +assistance, it will be impossible for me to write his life. Think, +madam, what a wrong it would be, that his history should not be known to +the world! Surely you can inform me of some circumstances, which are of +an interesting nature in his history. Can you not recall any events, +which awaken tender sentiments? Did nothing ever occur in your +intercourse with him,--did nothing ever occur between you that was +memorable?" + +"There may have been circumstances," she said, "which are of too +delicate a nature to confide to you. There are feelings which one does +not want to speak about to a gentleman, whom one did not know a little +while ago from Adam." + +"Indeed, madam, if the Doctor attended you in any illness, whose nature +was such that you would prefer not to speak of it, do not for a moment +suppose that I would trespass on the delicacy of your feelings by any +inquiries. In fact it is enough for you to assure me, in general terms, +that the Doctor was a skilful physician. I would much prefer such +general statements: particularly as my nerves are much unstrung by +hearing of the diseases of some children in this place--for whom he +ministered in the most admirable manner. I need not print your name in +his biography. As to diseases, I do not know the symptoms of those of +the heart--or----" + + * * * * * + +"Ah, then," she said, "you have hit it. The heart! He was a lovely man. +Yes, he was a man that any woman could love." As this was said, her +hands were clasped together. + +"I thank you," I replied, "for that information. You had, of course, +ample opportunity to know his character. You have been his intimate +friend." Here the lady gave me another timid, hesitating glance, and +then her eyes sought the abiding place on the floor. + +"Indeed I do not wish you to speak of anything which is unpleasant to +you. If your admiration of the Doctor is so great, all that you could +tell me, would be in his favor. Out of your recollections, you can +suggest anything that you deem proper." + +"You have heard about him, and me?" + +"I have been told that you were intimate with him. That you could give +me information about him. Whatever tender memories I may awaken, do not +allow me to distress you." + +Here she put up a marvelously big handkerchief to her eyes. Dear me, I +thought, at least she had a tender heart. + +"If, madam, you have lost a dear friend, whom the Doctor attended in his +last illness--but excuse me,--I regret that I trouble you, that I awaken +sorrowful recollections." + +"You have never, then, heard of my history?" + +"No, madam." + +"The Doctor was a great loss to me." The utterance was distinct, in +defiance of the huge handkerchief. + +"Were you in ill health at the time of his death?" + +"I enjoyed very bad health--and he attended me--like--like----" + +"A brother?" + +"No brother could be so affectionate. Oh how often we sat together in +this very room! Our hearts have been so full, that we were silent for +half an hour together." + +"The Doctor was very much attached to his last wife, was he not?" + +"He married her after he was disappointed in another object of his +affections. But it was not my fault. Things will cross one another +sometimes, and make all go wrong. He said, when he gave me a bill one +day,--that I was necessary to his existence. I shall never forget it. He +did marry that girl--far too young for him. But I didn't blame him. I +will not say any more. My feelings oppress me." + +Suddenly, I began to understand, the meaning of this mysterious +conversation. You will say I was excessively stupid not to perceive it +before; that the hints were almost as intolerable and palpable as the +most excessive hint ever given--that of Desdemona to the Moor of Venice. +But you will please to remember, that you had not the personal +appearance before you, which was in the room with me. + +After I left this informant, I sat down on the rail of a small bridge, +and then made a memorandum, of which you shall hear in due season. + +I was told, in one of my "searches for truths," that if I would only +write to Mr. Bob Warren, of Hardrun, I could acquire important knowledge +of the nature which I so eagerly coveted. Accordingly, I addressed to +him a very polite letter, and begged his aid--as I was collecting +materials for the life of a celebrated Physician--Dr. Bolton, of +Scrabble-Hill. + +Only a short time elapsed before I received a reply, and to the +following effect: + + "ROBERT LORING, Esq.,--_Dear Sir_: + + "About the doctor. I did know him. That is to say, I used to meet + him scattered about the country, though I never called him in for + professional services. In fact I believe my mother-in-law has more + judgment about common ailments, than half the doctors around the + world; and, thanks to a kind Providence, we have had wonderful + health in the family. + + "You want to hear about his personal appearance. He was a short + thick-set man, with rather a reddish summit, and a sort of an + in-pressed nose, and his skin always so tight that it seemed as if + no more ever could get into it. As to his manners, he was slow, + awful slow; slow in taking in ideas, like in mind in this respect, + to snow melting on a March day. He did not say much, and so people, + after the common ignorant notion about such folks, thought that as + not much came out of him, there must be a great deal left in him. + He would often repeat what others said, only putting the things + into bigger words, and rolling them out so that people did not + know their own observations. + + "You ask me if I remember any observations of his. The most + sensible remarks he ever made were some scornful attacks on Tom + Jefferson's gun-boats, just before election; but I cannot say what + they were, being very busy in hunting up voters at the time. + + "I hope the doctor was no relation of yours. I write under that + impression. I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings, but I must say + I am in a quandary, when I learn that you propose to print a book + about him. I hope I shall know when it is printed. + + "As to asking my associates here, as you say, about the man, there + is no use in it. I am perfectly willing to do anything to oblige + you, or any one else. But I know what they would say--that he was a + stupid, solemn old ass. + + "I think the creature was honest enough. As to not being over + blessed with smartness, it was not his fault; for all cannot have + much brains; for if they had, what would the world be, where it + seems to me evident that the great majority must be blessed with + but little common sense, or the country would never get along? It + is always evident to me, that a small part of the world must do the + thinking. + + "Poor fellow! I have nothing to say against the doctor. He was + honest enough. He was good-natured, and could forgive an injury, + and that I take it is a pretty good proof that his religion will be + found worth more at last than that of a good many people who think + themselves better than ever he thought himself. In fact, if I have + said anything about him that is not to his credit, I am not much + used to writing; and then the idea of having his life written, + rather turned my ideas into confusion. I can't go through the work + of writing a new letter. He never hurt any one, I believe, by his + practice. His being slow kept him from giving as much medicine as + he would have done had he been a smarter man. + + "I hope what I write is agreeable and useful. + + "With respect, + + "Yours to command, + + "ROBERT WARREN. + + "P.S.--I will say that the doctor was ready to do a good turn. He + was not hard on the poor. I believe I said he was honest, and had a + good temper. It was a very good temper. He was honest as the + sun--so people said, and in this instance it was true. He was not + for experiments, as that Dr. Stone at the Run, who was always + restless as if at some deep game, or like Dr. Thomas, at our place, + who tried his new-fashioned medicines on rabbits, so that at least + it was not an imposition on human nature. The doctor practiced in + the good old way, and for that he has my respect." + +I have now given you a pretty clear idea of the valuable results of my +historical labors at the village. With my notes collected with so much +care, I turned my back on this place, and returned to my office at +Newark. + +And now what was to be done? I began to feel quite feverish and +miserable. Then I asked myself the question, whether all histories, and +a considerable number of our biographies, were not based on similar +poverty of materials--were not paste-board edifices looking like stone, +and having only chaff for a foundation? + +Now came a great temptation.--Should I imitate certain authors who, by +means of cunning sentences, made the trifling appear to be events which +were all-important, and so transformed ideas, that the mean became an +object of admiration? + +I recalled an instance when an historian found a record of a man whom he +desired to clothe in all possibility of royal purple, and so to find +fame with his sect, or to gain applause as a gorgeous writer. The true +narrative declared, "At this time he believed that he received from +heaven a divine intimation, a light from above, assuring him that a man +might go through all the instruction of the Colleges of Oxford and +Cambridge, and not be able to tell a man how to save his soul." + +Now, this plain statement, however translated into the dignity of an +ambitious style, would not appear to advantage in a brilliant eulogy. +The man was fanatical, and crazy. But the design was to represent him as +a philosophical reformer in the religious world. + +And now behold the power of art. In the original document there is a sad +poverty, and deformity of flesh and bones. The poor creature must appear +on the stage in kingly robes. Hear our model!--Behold the +transformation! "At this time he was convinced that he received a divine +illumination, infusing such thoughts as transcend the most elevated +conceptions of mere human wisdom; and he was overwhelmed with the depth +of the conviction, that a man might pass through all the extent of +scholastic learning taught at Oxford and Cambridge, and not be able to +solve the great problem of human existence." + +Was there ever such alchemy? If I could attain a moderate degree of +efficiency, as the pupil of such a writer, the small items of +information collected at the village, could become a grand biography. + +Let me see, thought I, what I can make of my material. I do not know +that I could dare to publish words which would make a false impression. +But let me try my skill in this essay to transmute poor substances into +gold. I take the note concerning the visit to Mrs. Rachel Peabody,--and +the account she gave me of the sicknesses of Eliza Jane, Faith Kitty, +and John Potts. + +"One of the most impressive views of the doctor, was his appearance +among the young, when the sickness which does not spare our race in the +days of our early development, was bearing its distress to the languid +frame, and sorrow to the affectionate relatives who watched by the +bed-side. I do not mean to say that this illustrious physician was less +skilful in dealing with the maladies of middle life, or with those which +we deplore in the aged,--whose sun we would have to sink in all the +tranquillity of a serene sky. It is the consequence of maternal love, +that in this village where his great talents were so unfortunately +circumscribed, you may still hear the most touching descriptions of his +skill and tenderness by the cradle, and by the couch of those children, +the future promise of our country, who would attend on the instructions +of the academy, were it not that their condition has become one, where +obscure causes prove to us the limitation of our finite capacities." + +Let me now try my hand on the letter of Mr. Warren. + +Note,--"The doctor was a solemn ass." Biographical representation. +"Suspicion might arise with respect to the extent of the intellectual +power of the doctor, if the biographer led the reader to suppose that +all who knew him, in his retreat from the great circles where the +understanding is cultivated to its highest degree, regarded him as a man +of transcendent genius. The slow process of thought, often observable in +men whose deductions reach the greatest altitude, like the great tree +slowly evolved from its incipient stem, is a contradiction to the +conceptions, which the vulgar form of the intellectual power of men of +acute minds. They anticipate the sudden flashing of the eagle eye, and +the flight of thought as with the eagle wing. And when they are doomed +to disappointment, and meet with that seemingly sluggish action of the +mind, which has learned caution, lest elements that should enter into +the decision that is sought, should not be observed, it is an error at +which a philosophical mind can afford a smile, to find that their +unauthorized disgust, will seek a similitude for the great man of such +tardy conclusions, in some animal that is proverbial for the dulness of +its perceptions." + +Note,--"Supposed to be wise, because he was solemn and stupid." +Biographical representation. "It is curious to observe that when +contemporary testimony is elicited, concerning the powers of a superior +man, you discover, amid unavoidable abuse and misrepresentation, +unintentional testimony to his exalted qualities. While an attempt is +made to undermine his claim to wisdom, it will incidentally appear that +wisdom was ascribed to him. The endeavor of envy which would ostracise +him, is a proof that it is excited by common admiration heaped upon its +object." + +Note,--The old lady who intimated that there had been "love passages +between herself and the Doctor"--Biographical representation. + +"It is delightful to know that a man of such science, and constant +observation, was not rude, or wanting in those gentle traits which +allure the susceptibilities of the best portion of our race. I might +narrate a romantic incident, which would prove how he had +unintentionally inspired an affection in a lovely lady, which endured in +the most singular extent, even to old age. I have witnessed her tears at +the mention of his name. On the most ample scrutiny, I repose, when I +say, that the Doctor had never trifled with this sincere love. The sense +of devoted affection in this case, led the victim of a tender delusion +to infer, that on his part, the regard was reciprocated. I can imagine +the sorrow of his great heart, if he discovered the unfortunate error +and misplaced passion. In the case to which I now refer, I could only +judge of the beauty and attractions of the early youth, by those remains +of little arts and graceful attitudes, which are the result, so +generally, of a consciousness of a beauty that is confessed by all." + +Then too I could avail myself of the ingenious devices of praise, by a +denial of infirmities. + +"In him there was nothing for effect--nothing that was +theatrical--nothing done to cause the vulgar to stare with astonishment. +No pompous equipage, no hurried drives, no sudden summons from the +dwellings of his friends, as if patients required his sudden +attendance--no turgid denomination of little objects by words of +thundering sound--no ordering the simple placing of the feet in hot +water, as Pediluvium,--none of those arts were employed by the subject +of our Biography, to acquire or extend his practice, or build up his +great fame." + +I also found some of the letters of the Doctor. Let me attempt the work +of Alchemy again. Let me transform some passage into the proper language +of Modern Biography. + +Thus I find this sentence in a letter to Colonel Tupp: "Some of our +negroes in New Jersey are very troublesome, and some wise plan should be +devised lest they become a heavy burden----" + +"It would appear"--thus should it be erected into Biographical +effect--"that the Doctor, to be named always with so much veneration, +was probably one of the first of our men of giant minds, to foresee the +dangers of the problem involved in the existence of the African race, in +the new world. I claim him--on the evidence of his familiar epistolary +correspondence--as the originator of the great movements of statesmen +and philosophers, for its solution. He gave, beyond all contradiction, +that impulse to the energetic thought, which has led to all the plans +for the elevation of those, who bear 'God's image cut in ebony.' As we +trace the voice to the distant fountain--or the immense circle of fire +on our prairies, to the sparks elicited by the careless traveler from +the small flint, so as I recall the present innumerable discussions on +this sable subject, I refer them all to the unpretending utterances of +this great man. I recur to the small village where he dwelt. His study, +his favorite retreat, is before me. There, at the table, illuminated as +it were with his manuscript, I see his impressive form. Near him are the +pestle and mortar; the various jars on which are labels in such unknown +words, that the country people regard them as if they were the +ingredients for the sorcerer,--his coat,--his books,--his +minerals,--such are his surroundings. + +"There in that study--he first in the unostentatious effusions of a +private letter, suggests the seed of those convictions, which led to the +formation of the Colonization Society. No fanaticism, however, has +marked and disfigured the stately forms of his thoughts, on the subject +of the extinction of slavery. Let not the readers of this Biography at +the Sunny South, imagine that he designed an interference with their +possessions. There is evidence of the perfect balance of his mind on +this subject, in the fact, that he designates them, in another letter, +written probably after this one, which contains the immortal sentence, +in which he employs a word, which in printed syllables, with the +exception of one repeated letter in the English, resembles the Roman +adjective for Black,--but whose pronunciation rejected the classical +usage. + +"I am aware that those who love his memory will be compelled to do +battle for the honors which they justly claim for these and other +anticipations of later movements in the world of wisdom and +philanthropy. As Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, only to +have his claim a subject of dispute, so our great Philosopher will find +those to detract from his merits, and maintain that the great efforts to +which we have alluded were of later origination." + +While I speak upon this subject of the African discussion, I may remark +that there is a singular discovery which I have made, as I have searched +his papers, and concerning which I am in doubt, whether it should be +delegated to oblivion or made the subject of ingenuous confession. I am +aware that obscurity throws its shadow over the topic. I am also aware +that I may hereby cast a suspicion of the spirit of a wild projector, +over the subject of this memoir. I think, however, and believe that I do +not flatter myself unjustly, that I have guarded against such a wrong +by the delineation I have given of his calm and reflecting character. + +The circumstances which my pen is somewhat reluctant to trace for fear +of misapprehension, are these: I find in a letter to a friend the +remark, "You would be no less startled by the assertion, that I could +transform the African into a white man, than to learn from me that my +Cæsar has become sedulous in the discharge of his duties, and ceased to +slumber by the kitchen fire when he should be at his work at the +wood-shed." + +Now observe this ominous suggestion about the transformation of the +physical characteristics of those who have been translated among us from +the land of sandy deserts. Here is a hint of the physical transformation +of a black man into a white. And then I must add that I find two small +pieces of paper lying near the letter, which seem to corroborate my +view, which papers, I candidly confess,--here is the ground of +hesitation, the momentum which disturbs the mind seemingly on the eve of +its rest, might indeed have been prescriptions saved by accident, or +have been hints on the subject of the transformation of the race of +darkened skins. One of these fragments contains the words, "Elixir to +remove the dark pigment which causes the surface discrimination"--on the +other, "For the removal of odorous accidentals." I am willing to leave +the subject to the consideration of my readers. + +Then again I have known a man who had no brilliant or striking +qualities, exalted into one of most honorable fame,--in this wise,-- + +"The doctor perhaps had no one gift of intellectual power which exalted +him above other men. But look to the faculties which he possessed in +admirable combination; regard him in the complete symmetry of his mind," +etc. etc. + +Thus I amused myself by this imitation of the system of eulogistic +biographies. But I must confess that I had returned to my home oppressed +with a feverish anxiety, as of one who felt that he had become involved +in a hopeless undertaking. How utterly absurd the position which I +occupied! How silly had I been in taking the assurance of Mrs. Bolton +for certain truth, and acting on the principle, that her husband was a +great man in his day. I now began to regard the deceased as one of the +most stupid creatures that had ever felt a pulse. + +But then I had acquired the most morbid fear of meeting the widow. What +excuse should I offer for a change of purpose? I have no doubt that my +exposure and miserable life when at the village, seeking pearls and +finding chaff, had produced a temporary derangement of my system, and +that I had contracted some low fever. + +Nothing else could account for the manner in which I was tormented by my +position. What could be more easy than to say that I found myself unable +to gather material for the life of the Great--I was about to say, old +fool! Somehow I was spell-bound. I could not reason calmly on the +subject. It broke my rest at night. It haunted me during the day. I now +perceive, that I ought to have sought the advice of my physician. But +then, common sense seemed to have deserted me on this one point. I was +nervous, wretched, for so unreasonable a reason, and could not find +relief. One night I dreamed that the widow and the doctor were both +intent on murdering me. There she stood near me, the picture of wrath, +and urging him, as a second Lady Macbeth, to destroy me. He advanced and +raised his abominable pestle above his head. He smiled, proving how a +man may smile and be a villain, and procrastinated the deadly blow to +torment me. Fortunately I saw projecting from one of his huge pockets a +large bottle of some specific which he had concocted for a patient. +Springing up, I seized the vial, and grasping him by the collar, was +pouring it down his throat, saying, you infamous old murderer die of +your own medicine, when a chair, near my bed, thrown violently half +across the room by my impetuosity, awoke me. + +But every knock at my door tormented me. Every letter was examined with +terror,--lest I should recognize a hand calling me to account. + +I found my way about Newark through unfrequented streets, and across the +lots when it was practicable. Even when I went to the court-house, on +business, I left my office, not by the door, but through a small back +window, and by sundry winding ways reached my destination. + +After this plan had been pursued for some time, I was duly honored by +the following note. + + "SIR:--You are not to think that your designs are unknown. Your + singular conduct in passing by my house so often,--a house so + removed from the streets through which you would naturally + pass,--could not fail to be observed by any man who had an eye in + his head, and who regarded his rights. I am not alone in this + observation of your proceedings. We have taken into consideration + your stealthy look as you passed, and have noticed how you watched + at the corners, lest any one should see you. + + "Depend upon it your designs are known. The villany is detected. + You are a hypocrite of the deepest dye. Unless you entirely, and + immediately, relinquish your pursuit, you will suffer in a manner + you little apprehend. + + "Do not prowl in this mean way around my premises any more. Strive + to retrieve your character. I hope the day may come when I can + honor you as I now despise you. + + "WARNING." + +About the same time I received this additional note. + + "DEAR BOB:--I heard the other day that you had returned home, and I + have been eager to see you. They tell me that you have fallen + desperately in love with a certain widow, and that you have been up + the country, under pretence of partridge shooting, in order that + you might inquire about her property. Are the inquiries + satisfactory? Are the acres and dwellings such, that on your + return, she appears to be angelic? Or, being disappointed as to the + properties left her by her father, and the old doctor, is she but a + woman of ordinary charms? Oh Bob! I never thought you so mercenary. + I thought that you would follow my example, and despise all but the + real excellencies which can adorn a wife. + + "Had it not been that I am lame, I should have been to see you,--as + it is desirable that we should meet soon. + + "Now I think of it, there is another foolish report about + you,--that you go to the court-house by the back street, in + consequence of your having heard that that scape-grace, Bill + Turney, whom you lashed so terribly in your address before the + squire, when Obadiah Potter was arrested for beating his wife, + intended to pummel you as soon as he caught you. They say also that + he describes his belligerent intentions in very graphic language, + to wit, that he will, 'shoot through you, like lightning through a + gooseberry bush.' These stories will amuse you. + + "Stop and see me the first time you come along the main street in a + bold manner. + + "Your friend, + + "J. WALTERS." + +These annoyances had at least a good effect. I resolved that I would see +the widow, and throwing off my nervous anxiety, explain to her that I +could not possibly find materials sufficient for a biography. I intended +also to suggest, that a physician might be better qualified for the +undertaking. + +Hence I gladly accepted the invitation of a fair cousin of mine, to be +one of her guests for an evening party; where I felt confident that I +should meet the widow. + +It had now been several weeks since I had been thrown into the society +of ladies. My health was improved. The nervous fever that had agitated +me, had passed away. The fascination of one whom I had sometimes met in +our village gatherings, seemed to be restoring me to myself. + +After a while, my companion looking across the room, said to me, "How +well our widow looks this evening." + +I thought that there was a mischievous look in her laughing eye. But +sure enough--there stood the Empress, who had commanded the biography. +She was resting her hand upon a piano, and in deep conversation with +Judge Plian. + +I crossed the room and spoke to her. She received me politely--but not +as one who had the slightest recollection, that there was any tie of the +most profound interest between us. Surely a man writing her deceased +husband's biography, should have immediately become her chief object of +attention. On the contrary, after a few common-place words, she turned +to the Judge, and became absorbed in his conversation. + +And this was the more remarkable, because the man was by no means +good-looking. Nay, I think him rather insignificant. I had a few words +with him on the occasion of the trial of that miserable creature, who +would get himself hung, and I concluded, not only that he was not well +versed in legal learning, but that he was a remarkably stubborn man, +riveted to his opinions, even when, by means of lucid argument, you +proved him to be in error. + +A short time afterwards I entered into conversation with my fair +cousin. She directed me to look at the two, near the piano. + +"They will make a good-looking couple, will they not?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, have you not heard of their engagement?" + +"Engagement!" + +"Yes, it has been a short acquaintance. Indeed, Bob, now that it recurs +to my mind, I heard that she sent you out of the way, into the country +on business, that the Judge might not be alarmed by the appearance of a +rival. But you know that villagers are famous for gossip. Of course +there was nothing in it. And I said, you never had a serious thought +about her." + +Was ever anything like this? Before the shoes were old with which she +followed my poor father's body. While the Biography of her deceased +husband was in progress, she forms an engagement with a man of no sort +of personal attractions, and who, being on the bench, can have his legal +decisions confuted by a young lawyer. + +Surely the most strict moralist would confess, that I was released from +my engagements! Surely Sir Charles Grandison would have said, that I +need not put myself forward for an explanation with the widow. If she +spoke to me on the subject, could I not say, "Let the Judge write the +book?" + +These notes have not been written in vain, if I can contribute, in the +least degree, to the awakening of the public mind to a demand for +greater moral principles, in the composition of histories, and of the +memoirs of distinguished men. + +I thought that the widow might send me a note, before many days had +passed. I waited, and concluded in a Christian spirit, that if she +applied to me, she should have the notes which I had accumulated. But I +never heard again of my first attempt at writing a memoir. I never heard +again of Dr. Bolton's Biography. + + + + +IV. + +_KATYDIDS:--A NEW CHAPTER IN NATURAL HISTORY._ + + + John Jones, a man who said he hated strife, + Had from the altar led an able wife. + No lines told scandal on a wrinkled brow; + Temper and Time are rivals with their plow. + Some said that she was gentle as the May; + That Jones, the dog, was now to have his day. + + Your pardon, men, I pray you now dispense, + If I proclaim you void of common sense, + When you would have your wives to know no will, + To have no thought but such as you instill; + To be your shadows, never to suggest, + Each judgment crossing yours at once represt; + And to suppose, that every chiding word + Shall from your bearded lips alone be heard. + + If no resistance met us in our home, + What petty tyrants would all men become? + The little wits that most of men possess, + For want of sharp'ning would become far less; + The selfish streams that flow from out our will, + So far corrupted be more stagnant still: + And restless, we should wage an inward war, + But for the soothing rays of home's true star. + Oh, let this wrong abuse of women end, + In me, at least, they'll find a sturdy friend. + I give my witness, I who have been thrown, + Widely with all in Country and in Town, + Women are best of all our fallen race, + Richer in heart, than e'en in outward grace, + And if our homes are not the abodes of peace, + The fault is ours; and the complaint should cease. + + In that small dwelling there--from morn to night, + A woman toils, withdrawn from human sight; + A plain poor woman, in a common dress, + Of kindly tones, and of uncouth address. + + Just wend thy way unto the little brook, + Day after day upon its waters look, + See every day the self-same ripples there, + On those same stones, for ages smooth and bare. + + So she from day to day the course of life, + Finds one recurring call of labor's strife, + Save when God's blessed day of rest hath come, + And its sun shines, as in the church, at home. + Unlike the stream she has no murmuring tone, + She has God's will to do, and it is done. + + With tender care she trains her youthful band, + And never wearies in her heart or hand; + Is ready, when the music in her ear, + From one loved step, proclaims her husband near, + To spread the frugal board, the welcome give, + In each act say, for self I do not live. + Oh man, o'erlook thy wife's unceasing care + How her dear love doth follow everywhere, + Forget her, as she stood beside thy bed, + When the long sickness bowed thy weary head, + Watching,--to her all sacrifice as light, + As 'tis to stars to watch o'er earth at night. + + Ah 'tis most noble, manly, not to know + How light o'er all doth from her presence flow, + And when a quicker word in haste doth fall, + To speak of her, as if strife was her all. + What could she say, if she replied to thee, + Told to the world her secret misery, + Showed the sad wounds that thy neglect had wrought, + Where but a look the healing balm had brought. + + One, at this hour, lies on the bed of death, + A neighbor lovely as the morning's breath. + Slowly she dies,--and with prophetic eye + Tracing the course of human destiny, + I see a home she brightened, hence so lone, + Its calm day darkened, and its music gone; + + The young, the old with anxious cares opprest, + Their hearts, like shadows feeling for their rest + On the green sward, where flickering sunbeams glide, + My tears can fall, and standing by thy side, + I know a woman's place, a woman's worth,-- + I know the gift of God in her to earth. + + Thou will not let thy wife become to thee, + That which her nature claims that she should be. + Thou hast a cold dead life from her apart, + Thou art not moulded by her gentler heart, + Else by her sweet, pure thoughts thou wert more true + More wise, more bold each noble deed to do. + + Of woman's weakness dost thou speak? Thou'lt find + Her strength indeed, by this just bond of mind. + You are the weak one, cannot grasp her might, + Forever boasting that thy wrong is right. + + Without her soul to thine, the page is dull + Of all life's work,--and with this it is full + Of all illumined splendors, as of old, + The precious writings were adorned with Gold. + + Ah view that cell so dark!--the felon there, + With glaring eye that speaks his vast despair. + He once in princely splendor lived his day, + Lord of the street, a monarch in his way. + His costly revels gained an envied fame, + Where shallow fops, and women like them came. + Oh man! how couldst thou thus thy God defy? + Could riches pay thee for thy long-told lie? + + If thou hadst said thy secret to thy wife, + Made known to her the secret guilty strife, + Told of the awful chance, the business dice, + The gambling sales, the shameful, well-named vice, + Asked what to risk, asked what a man should do, + Would that shame-darkened cell have been for you? + + She would have said, in woman's faith so strong, + "We may be poor,--we never will do wrong. + Take all this splendor; let it fade away, + But stand thou honest as the open day." + Would she have been to thee a feeble stay? + + We make the woman weak where she is weak; + We school her feeble; feebleness we seek. + We make believe that life is pompous pride, + That she is blest, by gold when gratified, + This my conclusion, as the world we scan, + What's wrong in woman tells of wrong in man. + + But where is Jones? While I have thus digressed, + Why Jones, poor fellow, is by care oppressed. + He draws his trail of briars round life's ring, + And wonders he is caught by everything. + Jones snaps at every woman, man, and child, + Just as a turtle by hot coals made wild. + + Jones had a daughter, and her name was Kate, + As like her sire as pewter plate to plate. + And they together almost vexed to death, + The wife, the target of their arrowed breath. + + Sometimes the patient creature's anger rose + Their petty wrongs, and malice to oppose. + And tempers such as hers, men do not try + By single deeds that cause some misery; + Stirred at the last by injuries borne so long, + Their anger speaks accumulated wrong. + + Kate had her beauty, and her household skill, + And in due time her Jack had found his Gill, + He was a man as meek as man could be, + And could not dream of woman's tyranny. + He was a pleasant man to smile "good day," + And had the art to say what others say; + Thought his old saws came from a welling-spring + In his own mind--not knowing he did bring + All that so softly from his lips e'er fell, + As vapid water from his neighbor's well-- + The poor dog never stole a good-sized bone, + And so the world of curs let him alone. + + Not to an infant could Kate gentle be, + As to a creature, meek and kind as he. + How could she tear the vine that round her grew, + Ready to fall with every wind that blew. + The wife made battle for him with his friends; + And fighting them, she thus made good amends + For all her patience with him. Thus with care + She spread her shield, and said, attack, who dare. + Strange, how 'mid peace we make the show of war, + And shout unto the battle from afar, + And her defense at last such habit wrought + Had she assailed him, she herself had fought. + + In time, ill-temper wrought upon her mind, + And illness, too, its miseries combined. + Oh! sad to read of intellect o'erthrown! + Sometimes all blank. Sometimes one train alone + Of thought, declares that reason is denied. + We hear of one who said, I must abide + Behind the door, because I am a clock. + And there he stood, and ticked. And one was shocked + To feel a rat within his stomach run. + The doctor heard: the story being done, + He wisely smiled, and said, "I soon can cure. + You need not be a rat-trap long I'm sure." + "Why how, O doctor, can you reach the rat?" + "'Tis easy: down your throat I'll send a cat." + The man at such a pill must need rebel. + And with good sense he quietly got well. + + Kate had her fancies--said she soon would die, + And wasting seemed to prove her prophecy. + "Poor Will," she said, "you soon my loss will mourn, + The wife who shielded you from many a thorn; + I'm glad the pigs are killed, the sweet-meats made, + Our turnips gathered, and our butcher paid. + I'm glad I sent away to Jericho, + That lazy Bess, that tried my temper so. + I'm glad I told my mind to Jane Agree, + About that scandal that she said of me: + That I was jealous, to my apron string + Tied you--distrustful of my marriage ring. + I'm glad I told her that it was a lie, + And somewhat sorry, since it made her cry. + + "And, Oh! poor Will--so helpless when alone, + What wilt thou do, dear one, when I am gone? + How would I love, a spirit round thy way, + To move, and be thy blessing every day! + To fan thy forehead, and to dry thy tears, + To nerve thy soul, and banish all thy fears. + All I can do for thee, thou patient one, + So gentle, tender, loving, all is done. + I feel so lonely, in thy loneliness. + This is, in death, my very great distress. + Some one will fill my place, ere long, I trow, + Your clothes are whole--in perfect order now. + Be sure you get a wife that is like me, + In gentle temper, and sweet sympathy. + For you, so long to gentleness allied, + Could not a bristling woman, sure, abide." + + Poor Will! At first his tears fell down like rain + Most at the time when she inflicted pain, + By her unkind surmise, that he would take + Another wife--did she the world forsake. + + "You are a wife," he said, "so fond, so true, + I cannot have another--none but you. + You made me what I am the people say; + Another wife might make me; what I pray? + An eight-day clock, they say, I am most like, + Wound up by you, and by you taught to strike. + Another wife might keep the time too late, + Take out the wheels, and snatch away each weight: + And I, neglected, come to a dead stop, + Like some old time-piece in a lumber shop. + But if you think, dear wife, that I must wed, + When you, at last, are numbered with the dead, + As I depend upon your good advice, + Choose you the bride. Shall it be Susan Price?" + + Never had Bill so great a blunder made; + Never had demon so his cause betrayed. + Changed in her view--a villain lost to shame-- + She scarced believed that he could bear his name. + + She saw the future. Susan Price was there. + With hazel eyes, and curls of Auburn hair. + The rooms she swept would that vile Susan sweep? + The cup-board key would that bad Susan keep? + With those same pans would Susan cook their food, + For that fool Bill, and for some foolish brood? + Would Susan drink the wine that she had made? + Would all those pickles be to her betrayed? + "Shall that vain thing sit there,--a pretty pass! + Neglecting work, to simper in that glass? + Will she cut down that silk frock, good, though old, + And puff it out with pride in every fold? + And of all other insults, this the worst,-- + My beating heart is ready here to burst-- + She'll use my blue-edged china,--yes she will-- + Oh! I could throw it piece by piece at Bill. + + "I see her, proud to occupy my chair, + To pour out tea, to smile around her there, + While my false friends will praise her half-baked cake, + And Bill will chuckle o'er each piece they take. + And while his grief is lettered o'er my grave, + He'll laugh, and eat, and show himself a knave." + + Hast thou on some huge cliff, with oaks around, + Heard the full terror of the thunder sound? + Hast thou at sea, all breathless heard the blast + Rolling vast waves on high whene'er it past? + Then mayst thou form some thought of her dread ire + Poured on the man to burn his soul like fire. + + But soon the burst of anger all was o'er,-- + And softened, she could speak of death once more. + "And Susan Price can marry whom she will, + And,"--so she argued, "will not marry Bill." + One day she said,--"It is revealed to me + That ere I die, a warning there shall be." + Will looked, and saw her mind now wandered more, + As thus she spake, than it had done before. + + "Yes," she exclaimed, "before I leave this scene, + Death will appear,--the warning intervene. + Death will appear in this our quiet home-- + A chicken without feathers will he come." + + Fame spreads the great, and fame will spread the small, + Fame gives us tears,--for laughter it will call. + Fame spreads this whim,--this foolish crazy fear,-- + The neighbors laughed, and told it far and near. + + There dwelt close by, a restless heedless wight-- + Mischief to him was ever a delight.-- + He heard the story, and his scheme prepared, + And what his brain had purposed, that he dared. + + He from a rooster all his feathers tore, + --Had he been learned in the Grecian lore + Heard of the Cynic, old Diogenes, + Who, lying in his tub, in dreamy ease, + Said to the hard-brained conqueror of old time, + With heedlessness to human wants sublime, + When he inquired, "What shall for you be done?" + "All that I ask, hide not from me the sun." + He might have thought of him; and Plato's scowl, + When in the school he hurled the unfeathered fowl, + And said, ere murmuring lips reproof began, + "There, Plato, is, as you defined, a man." + But of the Greeks our wight had not a thought. + Under his arm the fowl, all plucked, was brought, + And forced to enter into Katy's door: + Who spied him wandering o'er her sanded floor. + + She looked upon him, and began to weep. + Bill sat not far off on a chair asleep. + + "And so," she said, "Oh death! and thou art come + To take my spirit far away from home." + Then as inspired a sudden hope to trace, + She waved the unfeathered monster from its place. + Would drive far off from her the coming ill,-- + "Shoo shoo, thou death, now leave me, go to Bill." + + 'Twas overheard--and wide the story spread. + It reached John Jones, and to his wife he said, + In precious wrath,--"They slander thus our Kate; + Some foe devised this in malicious hate; + And you, perhaps, were one to make the lie." + Thus deeply stung, she made a fierce reply. + + "She did it, I am sure," replied the wife, + "She did it, sure as I have breath and life." + "No--Katy didn't," said the man in rage. + "Yes, Katy did," she said. And so they wage + A war of words, like these upon my page. + + The Indian Fairy spirit heard the din, + And first to patience strove them both to win, + Sent the cool breeze to fan the burning brow, + Volcanic fires to die by flakes of snow. + In war incessant, still the clamor rose, + Still Katy did, and didn't, and fierce blows. + + At last the spirit took their souls away, + And in their cottage lay their lifeless clay; + Their bodies changed--and insects they became-- + Green as the grass--but still their cry the same. + + Hence in all trees, we hear in starry night, + The contradiction, and the wordy fight. + We hear John Jones, and his unhappy wife, + And all their brood forever in a strife: + And Katy did, and Katy didn't still + Are sounds incessant as a murmuring rill. + + + + +V. + +_THE IMAGE-MAKER._ + + + DWELLER ON EARTH. + + Thou dwellest here, beneath this dome, + A Pilgrim, far from thine own home. + Where is thine heart, and where thy land? + Thou longest for some distant strand. + + We have thy love and gentle care, + Thou bearest blessings every where. + Yet day and night, and light and shade + Shall with less labor one be made, + + Than thou in sympathy be one + With us, who through our course will run, + Laden with cares, with pleasures worn, + Children of hope to sorrow born. + + Thou hast our speech, our garb, our toil, + Well known, yet stranger on our soil. + Some deeper hidden life is thine, + As if we saw the tortuous vine + + 'Mid veiling branches intertwine; + Swinging in air its precious fruit, + While the deep mould has hid its root; + From view its highest honors lost, + + 'Mid the oak leaves in murmurs tost, + A secret work thy endless task, + Thy endless care, of that we ask. + + +PILGRIM. + + I seek to form an Image here. + + +DWELLER ON EARTH. + + Thou art a Sculptor! Yet our ear + Doth catch no sound of chisel stroke, + No hammer clang--no marble broke. + + +PILGRIM. + + The silence of Eternity + Around my work doth ever lie. + When marbles into dust shall fall, + And human art no fame befall, + + The sun no more its beams shall give + To statues seeming half to live, + Beauty no more on genius wait, + Which copying seemeth to create; + + When heaven and earth shall pass away, + When breaketh everlasting day, + Then shall the Image that I form, + Appear 'mid nature's dying storm. + + The Image that no human skill + Could fashion, or Archangel's will; + No angel mind the model give + Of that which shall forever live. + + At that great day it shall be known, + The Image of the Eternal One. + + + + +VI. + +_THE CLOUDS._ + + + The clouds that drift, are slowly drawn + To that glorious sun at dawn. + Darkened mists, and now so bright, + Resplendent in the morning light; + In borrowed glory,--spreading flame, + God's fiery pillar still they frame. + + So I,--in dark night once astray + Through boundless grace have found my way, + To thee,--the Sun of Righteousness, + Whose wings are healing in distress. + + From thee I trust, the dawning gleam + Hath made me more than I can seem; + Hath made me thine, in joy, in tears, + Thy pardoned one,--one all whose fears + + Are silenced in thy cross-wrung groan, + Buried beneath thy tomb's vast stone, + Which angels' hands alone can move. + Earth has this pure work for their love. + + Oh let thy glory shine on me, + Armed in thy purest panoply. + My shield, the Lamb, the cross it bears, + Let me not weep its stain with tears! + The gathering waters fill each cloud; + The mountain's burnished tops they shroud. + They spread o'er valley, over plain, + Rich with God's blessings in the rain; + On good and evil both they fall, + In the vast care of God for all. + + So Lord, thy servant thus prepare, + To bear thy mercies everywhere. + When in the grave mine ashes sleep, + When o'er it, sad a friend may weep, + + Thou wilt not suffer it be said,-- + His life was scarce accredited + By Him who sits upon the throne,-- + By Him who bore our sins alone, + Who wills our holy walk on earth, + As sons of God, of heavenly birth, + Who will have none disciples here + Unless their cross with zeal they bear. + + Life without Christ! That is but death. + Prayer without Christ!--but idle breath: + And love for man, but vanity + Save at the cross 'tis learnt by me. + Oh help thy branch, thou heavenly Vine. + Union with thee is life divine, + And clustered fruits are ever mine, + + If from beneath alone we gaze, + Thy providence a darkened maze. + Rise on wings of faith and prayer, + And then what love and wisdom there! + So brightness of unbroken day + Upon those clouds doth heavenward lay + Though we can trace no single ray, + Who look from earth. Yet angels see + The glory as a silver sea. + + + + +VII. + +_THE PROTECTOR DYING._ + + + Dread hour! nearing, nearing fast. + Yet I cannot wish thee past. + Death! Oh! but a dream till nigh, + With night cold from eternity. + + That cold night doth around me creep + In which immortals never sleep. + + The cloud its mighty shade doth fling, + Like a mantle for a king, + On the mountain's awful form, + Scarred through battles with the storm. + + So thy darkness falls on me, + Darkness, such as cannot be, + But to those whose soul is life, + To a nation in its strife, + That its wrongs for ever crushed, + The cries of slaves forever hushed, + And every chain forever gone, + Man tremble before God alone; + That man's true right, so long betrayed, + On truth and justice shall be laid; + That Freedom's martyr's work begun + In blood, and fire, and hidden sun, + Shall culminate in triumphs won; + And the world's changing channels trace + A course of hope for all our race. + + Oh! how they as the humblest die, + Who part from kingly majesty + To stand before Him!--nothing there + But as His image we may bear; + The image by the humblest borne; + The kings of the eternal morn. + + The lowliest man, most void of power, + To stand the trial of that hour! + To come from life in quiet shade, + From humble duties well obeyed. + + Ah! if this be a solemn thing, + What then for one in might a king! + To meet the trial of that day + From gorgeous wrongs in false array, + Where false praise gilds the every deed, + Where few warn one that will not heed; + The man whom Weird-like hands have shown + The weary pathway to the throne. + + Oh! thou gory-crowned head + Haunting here my dying bed! + Was it not necessity? + Moulding deed that was to be! + Oh! king so false--away--away-- + Leave me at least my dying day. + + Is there no refuge? Hated face! + Come with the looks of thy cold race. + Look thou as when thy soiled hand gave + The Earl, thy vassal to the grave. + Gaze thou on me in that worst pride + As kingly honor was defied. + Look thus on me--but not as now, + That patient sorrow on thy brow. + + I can but gaze. Forever near + Thy dreaded form is my one fear. + + A boy, I sit by running stream, + The humble life my daily dream: + Some lowly good--some wrongs redrest, + A noiseless life, its peaceful rest. + As that stream calm my life shall be; + As placid in its purity. + The humble stone shall tell the tale + When life began--when strength did fail. + An humble race shall bear my name + Blest by a few not rich in fame. + Oh! king, thine eye! It says, but then + Thy hand had not the guilty stain. + + Hark! how the marriage-bells are ringing! + Voices fill the air with singing. + Waves of light are now the beating + Of my heart, and the repeating + Seems no weariness of pleasure, + Only increase of its treasure. + Ah! dear wife! thy look hath sped + Many a sorrow. But this head! + E'en at the hearth, and by thy side + This kingly blood-stained form doth glide. + The quiet house of God,--the prayer + Rising as incense in the air. + I breathe the still and mighty power, + I catch the glory of the hour. + Am I not pure, and armed for strife + With England for her better life? + Thou gory head! my prophecy, + In that loved church told not of thee. + + Look as if heaven changed thy face, + Let pardon there at last have place: + Before me, on this awful sea, + Some gleam of heaven reflected be. + + + + +VIII. + +_THE INDIAN DREAM-CELL._ + + +In Pearl-run valley, not far from the noise and crowded streets of our +great Metropolis, the original forests, and a few unsightly rural +dwellings, have given place to a large number of those pleasant homes, +which citizens of wealth or of comfortable means, have erected for their +summer abodes. Hence the hills around are dotted with costly mansions, +and unpretending cottages. + +It is a sight inspiring happiness to look on these dwellings in the +spring. You have evidence that so many families, released from the city +are rejoicing in the pure invigorating air, in the sunshine and shadows, +in the rooms associated with so much ease and tranquility. + +Can it be that any one can be found who is void of all sympathy with the +natural world? All who seek these rural homes, at the established +season, are supposed--if we are the correct exponents of common +opinion,--to take wings from the city, for those cool and shady nests, +under the influence of love for the country? + +Of course, when the spring arrives, all who have led a fashionable +career for the winter, have a sudden and marvellous restoration to their +senses. Like those whom some friendly magician has freed from the +enchantments of an evil genius, they are restored to a healthy judgment. +They then perceive the folly of the life which they have led. The +absurdity of denominating as society, crowded assemblies, where +conversation bears the relation to interchange of thought, such as +becomes intelligent creatures, which wilted and fallen leaves sustain to +those of the beautiful and nutritious plant from which they have been +torn,--where trifles and external polish are accepted in the place of +the best qualities which can commend others to our esteem,--where +friendships are formed, not links of human creatures with affectionate +qualities to one another, but to fashion, whose representatives they +are,--friendships to be dissolved, as easily as the melting of the +Pyramids of frozen cream, all these facts become, as soon as the air is +heated in spring, some of the most clear of all possible demonstrations. +Then they long for a more reasonable life. All that true poets or wise +moralists have taught of the rural home, asserts its power over the +memory. All vulgar glare becomes utterly distasteful. Simplicity of +life, amid a nature that summons man to cast off artificial follies, +has a powerful fascination. They have been poor city puppets too long. +Let them now be true men and women, where all things are so true and +real. Hence they hasten to the country. + +Let us be thankful that any influences, even those of fashion, draw so +many of our citizens from the towns to the country-places. Let us be +thankful, that the great river of city-life,--hurrying on so madly, and +tossing its stained waves crowned with bubbles that pain the eye, has +its side eddies, and throws off great branches for far away shades, +where the waters are at rest, and where innumerable small streams unite +their efforts to purify that which has so long been so turbid. + +Minds and hearts will touch one another in the rural scene. The limited +number of associates will foster some more depths of mutual interest. +The Sunday in the country, the rural church, the gathering of the +congregation from green lanes, and winding roads, and not from streets +sacred to pomp and vanity, to business, and to glaring sin, God so +visible in all his glorious works, perhaps a Pastor trained by his +labors among plain people during the winter, to speak the Word with +greater simplicity, these are not influences which exist only in +appearance. Men ask why make life such a vain and foolish dream? I trust +the day will come, when many families of cultivated minds, will reside +all the year in our country-places. From such social circles influences +must go forth, to transform no inconsiderable portion of what is called +the society of the town. The necessary association of the two classes, +will prove of inestimable benefit to each. + +If you passed along Pearl-run valley, and left the more cultivated +region, which we have described, the scene changed, and you found +yourself in wild places. + +There were steep cliffs, with endless masses of broken stone beneath, as +if a Giant McAdam, ages ago had been meditating the formation of a great +road, like that we pigmies build on a smaller scale, in these degenerate +days. And there were mountains where you could scarcely detect any proof +that the hand of man had disturbed the primeval forests. + +These you could ascend by winding paths, and attain elevations, where +half the world seemed to lie beneath your feet. Well do I remember such +an ascent with a sister, who had been a few hours before, with me in the +crowded city. + +Our time was limited. What we could see of the glorious scenes around +us, must be accomplished late in the afternoon. The sun had gone down +while we were climbing up the side of the mountain. We had never been in +such deep shadows. For the first time in our lives, we knew what was the +awful grandeur of solitude. Our existence seemed more sublime for the +solemn awe. + +As we hastened on to reach a vast rock, from whose summit we were +assured, the view was one of surpassing beauty, we met some children, +wild in appearance, barefooted, seeking cattle that found pasturage in +an open space, scarcely perceptible to the eye, that, at a distance, +could take in the whole aspect of the mountain. But one of these little +creatures in her kindness added, with surpassing power the effect of the +wilderness. + +"Take care," she said, "you may be lost." We, in the vast mountain where +we could be lost! + +What a sound for ears so lately filled with the noise of the crowded +city! Oh child! what human study could have taught the greatest genius +in our land, to speak and add to the solemn power, of that most +memorable time, of two awed and enthusiastic wanderers! + +How strange it is that the intense excitement of the soul, among such +scenes, is such a healthy peace--never the over-wrought exertion of the +mind! The intense activity within us does not _subside_ into +tranquility. It is elevated to a peace. If you would have true enjoyment +there, God,--the Infinite Father,--our immortality--the world our +Redeemer has promised us, must be placed side by side with every +impression. + +Our forests are strangely primeval solitudes, when you reflect what +tribes of Indians have resided in them. That wild people have left there +no traces of their existence. You often seem to be one of a few, who +alone have ever disturbed the Sabbath rest of very holy places. + +Why did not the aboriginal inhabitants leave us in letters carved on the +rocks, traditions, which our learned and ingenious men could interpret? +We know not what we have lost in our deprivation of wonderful mysteries. +We wander by great oaks, and stony places unconscious of powers that +linger there. The lore of demons and of spirits that plagued or +comforted the Indians is lost to us. + +Yet, let us not be unjust as though the civilization which has +superseded the rude Indian life, had given us no romantic substitutes +for these powers which agitated the barbarian. And especially let us be +just to the genius of those who came over from the wilds of Germany, as +well as those who had their intellect brightened by the illumination of +Plymouth Rock. The imaginations of the two, were, indeed, very diverse +in their nature. They differed as the stiff gowns and ample pantaloons, +all so quaintly made, from the paint and skins which made the array of +the savage. + +I am by no means insensible to the poetry which speaks to us in the +horse-shoe, nailed to the door to keep away witches, whose fears were +the more suggestive, because no one ever described the full power of the +mischief they were able to accomplish; and to the mysterious art +medicinal, rivalling in wisdom many of the celebrated systems of the +schools, whereby the muttering of strange words could cure a fever and +ague,--and where a nail that had pierced the foot was safely wrapped up +and laid up the chimney as a preventive of lock-jaw. The world is not so +prosaic as some would imagine. + +I am happy, however, in being able to rescue one important tradition +from oblivion. + +In one of the mountains of which I have spoken, which has been courteous +enough to retain its place, and ancient habits, notwithstanding the airs +and encroachments of the adjoining settlements, was a spot--well known +to some favored few of the Indian tribes. It was a mysterious place. + +At the side of a large rock was a small cell. It was hollowed on its +stony side almost as if it had been a work of art. A little ledge that +stood across it, afforded a rude seat. + +Tradition goes back to the wife of an Indian king, centuries ago, who +first acquired a knowledge of the virtues of the place, and availed +herself of the acquisition in a very happy manner. + +It is a comfort and a sorrow to know how human nature has been the same +in all ages. Wives and husbands have had many virtues and failings in +common, whether they dwelt in primeval days in the Alleghany Mountains +or in Broadway in New York. + +The Indian Queen had, it appears, great difficulty in preserving a +salutary discipline in the wigwam. Her lord--yet not her master--she had +never assented to that peculiar precedence in the marriage contract, had +been inclined to low company--that is to company that might be good +enough in itself, but was entirely too low for the royalty of the realm. +These fellows, white traders, who would prowl about to waylay his +Majesty, keeping respectfully out of sight of the Queen, were by no +means school-masters abroad for the benefit of the red man. + +Even the queen, for some reason which it is difficult to conjecture, did +not object to the introduction of large quantities of fire-water into +the palace. She always took charge of it, however, and for that reason, +no doubt, felt that it would be used in a judicious manner. + +But at last the king was unwise enough to set up as a reformer; not +under the instigation of the white men,--but indirectly, through their +influence. There is nothing new under the sun. We now abound in men and +women, who are in advance of their age. A man of mere genius, in these +days, is a helpless creature; sure to be laid up like old lumber in a +house, in some out of the way place of deposit. But if he should only +have a moderate disorder of the brain,--have circumstances to occur, +which would produce the effect which according to Bishop Warburton was +the result of the earthquake in his day, "widening the crack in old Will +Winston's noddle,"--then particularly if he can be mad after a method, +he is sure to form a society, and to be well fed and famous. + +There was also in our kingly Indian reformer, one disagreeable +quality,--by no means unknown in an enlightened philosophical head of +associations. In all his projects, he was himself a central object. He +differed from some of our reformers in one respect. He was not crazy for +notoriety. + +Among other things which he learnt from these good-for-nothing white +scamps, who were in such disfavor with the queen, fellows who had +traveled all around the world to little purpose,--sifting with wonderful +skill all useless and bad knowledge from the good, and casting away the +good as chaff, was a piece of information concerning the social +relations of some of his royal cousins in distant lands. + +They gave him a glowing picture of a great chief who had a great host of +wives. Our king had informed one of his friends, that he thought that +the introduction of this custom on our American strand, would be a most +desirable improvement. And one day, under the influence of fire-water, +which in opening his heart, proved how good a fellow he was, he +suggested the theory to the queen. + +It is said, that the wary queen, in her distress and perplexity at this +theory, sought for one of the wonder-workers of her tribe, and learnt +from him the secret powers of this cell. There she placed her royal +spouse, who slept until he was sober enough to dream a wise dream. The +consequence was his reformation. After this, it is also said, that the +queen attained such domestic power, that a warrior who slept under their +roof one night, was heard to inquire of one of his tribe, whether in +case the people should go out on the war-path, the woman would be the +great warrior. + +It is also reported, that the spirit of the Indian queen often haunts +the cell, and has some secret power to allure chosen way-farers there to +rest, and have the dreams which belong to the place. The great +peculiarity of the mysterious power here exerted on the dreamer, was +this,--that he was compelled in his dreams, to follow a course contrary +to his habits and nature, and to learn some of the results of a new +course of conduct. + +Over the cell were jutting rocks, which threw down as the sun was over +them, strange shadows, making the most mysterious letters. Curious wild +vines, with grotesque leaves, grew above it, having a fragrance like +that of poppies, but of greater intensity. Some fir trees near, blended +their murmurs with the hum of the wild-bees, and with a rill whose +waters passed over a rock, covered with green weeds, and fell into a +small dead pool, whose issues crept silently away amid innumerable +roots. Opposite, on a mountain, was a circle composed of various +objects, which, as you gazed seemed to move round with ever increasing +rapidity, and to exercise a mesmeric power in causing tranquility, and a +state of repose in which you were prepared for a control, extraneous to +your own mind. The sides of the cell receded slightly inwards, in gentle +curves, in such a way that you were tempted to recline, and lean your +head for rest on the moss-covered hollows of the rock. + +One of the inhabitants of our valley, whose name was Eugene Cranmer, had +left the hill-side where he had a luxurious mansion, and had wandered +into the wild region, that contained this mysterious cell. + +He was well pleased to see the general air of comfort, as he strolled +along; for it disquieted him to look on men who were very poor, inasmuch +as he had a vague sense that he was called on for some exertion in their +behalf. The poor seemed to him to mar the general aspect of the world, +as some unfortunate error in the taste of an artist, will mar the +general beauty of his picture. He wished all to be at peace, and have +enough to eat and put on; for the world, in such a state, seemed to be a +suitable place for a man who had attained great prosperity; and who had +the undefined impression that his life would be extended a few hundred +years, before he would be under the unhappy alternative of passing to a +good place in a better country. He provided well in his house for +himself; and of course he felt that such a care was all that was +essential for the comfort of his family. + +His mother in his early life had indulged him to excess, and acted on +the principle, that all who came near him, would regard it as the most +reasonable thing in the world, that it must be their study and highest +happiness to gratify his inclination. + +Our hero,--for it is pleasant thus to designate him, and to recognize +the superiority of such a man,--had climbed the ascent of the mountain, +and reached the place of the mystic cell. A peculiar agitation of the +vines above it, and sounds as of a bird complaining of an intruder near +its rest, drew his attention to the recess. He determined to seat +himself and rest awhile, before he returned to his home. No sooner had +this been attempted, than he wondered at the luxury of the sheltered +nook. He had an undefined feeling, that after all, the natural world, +providing on such an occasion such a place for his rest, was perhaps, +not so inattentive to human wants, as he had frequently imagined. The +walk he had enjoyed, the exhilarating air of the mountain, and the +composing influences around him, had thrown him into a state of more +than common good humor. He had fewer thoughts about himself; some dreamy +recollections, and he went rapidly to sleep. + +Then he dreamed dreams. First he saw a strange reptile crawl along the +paths by which he had ascended to the cell. An odious object, deformed, +it looked as if it bore deadly venom in its fang. It was also obvious +that the creature had faculties to be developed. At one moment it seemed +ready to put forth its strength to attain the new gifts,--to call into +exercise powers that slumbered in its frame. + +Its indolence, and anger at the stirring of inward strife by nature, +caused it to assume a torpid indifference. + +Suddenly a stream of quivering light fell upon it. A bright dove +descended, and the radiance increased as it drew nigh, with silver +wings; and part of the lustre of its plumage was as of wrought gold. It +hovered over the creature, whom all its resplendent rays could not +render even less repulsive. + +Then came a strange transformation. On a sudden all that repelled the +eye was gone. The creature glorified, assumed a place amid the objects +of beauty that adorn the world. + +And what was a cause of surprise, he who saw all in the vision, and +witnessed the transformation, had now no other sentiment toward the +transformed and glorious, but love. No association existed in his mind, +to recall, with any disgust, what it once had been. His thoughts ever +rested on the dove and its pure rays, on the indescribable beauty of the +creature as he now beheld it, new-created in excellence. The deepest +darkness of oblivion, spreading as far as the east is from the west, +interposed between what it had been, and was now, could not have blotted +out the disgust of the former unsightly appearance more thoroughly from +his impressions. He could gladly have placed it in his bosom. Its +beauty, he felt sure, would be perpetual memories, each ever being a new +joy like a star rushing on into its place of brightness in the evening, +gladdening all on which its beams can rest. + +Then there came to him a voice which said, Thou too must be changed from +evil to a glorious state. At first he bitterly opposed the suggestion. +Change! What then would life be to him? Thoughts would be his, and +views, and desires forever, whose very shadow touched him, to cause +pain, and to assure him of their contrariety to his nature. He who had +made slaves of all, to be the loving servant of all! + +Then the influence that abode in the mystic cell began to exert its +power over him. It was as if a fever had passed away, and a sweet quiet, +as of an infant going to its rest had pervaded his frame. Resistance to +the good desires passed from him. He began to wish for a glorious +transformation. + +And now the dream was changed. It was late at night. He drew near his +home. The lumbering stage, full of drowsy passengers, had left him at +his gate. + +He was not compelled to linger long upon his porch. The door was quickly +opened by one, whose form glided swiftly along through the hall, +summoned by the sounds of the stage. It was his pale and weary wife, a +gentle, uncomplaining woman, bearing all his oppressions as void of +resistance, and as submissively as the stem, the overgrown bulb, the +work of insects deforming the bud or flower, whose weight bends as if it +would break it. He entered the dwelling and saluted her, as if her +watching was the least service she could render. + +And then, though he perceived that she was pale and faint, he imposed on +her tasks for his present comfort. The servants were at rest, and she +must arrange for his evening meal, and go from room to room to procure +the least trifle he might desire. + +And again there came over him the spell of the Indian dream-seat. + +Just as he was about to pour upon his serving wife the vials of his +wrath, because she had misunderstood some one of his multitude of +directions, there suddenly was exerted over him a power which gave all +his thoughts a bias, and ruled his words and manner as the wind sways +the frail reed. + +He began to speak to her words of tender commiseration. He insisted that +she was in need of his assiduous aid for her present comfort. For her +the wine and viands must be procured. She never again should keep these +watches for his sake--watches after midnight. Nay, more; with a torrent +of glowing words, he promised that all his future conduct should undergo +a perfect transformation. + +In his struggle, our hero acquired an almost preturnatural quickening of +the memory. All thought, however, ran in one single course--in the +demonstration of his selfishness. He uttered confessions of his deep and +sincere repentance. He enumerated a long series of petty annoyances of +which he had been guilty towards his wife, and which had made up the sum +of much misery. One confession of a wrong deed revived the remembrance +of another. If the chain seemed at an end, as link after link was drawn +into light, there was no such termination. + +He had no time to observe the effect of this his sorrow and confession. + +His internal wrath at this departure from his ordinary habits, from all +the course which he, as a reasonable being could pursue, from all the +rules he had ever prescribed for his family,--from all that could make +the time to come consistent with the comfortable care he had taken of +himself in the past, caused such an agitation, that he thought for a +moment he must die. His golden age in the past to be supplanted with +this coming age of iron! Would he die? A great earthquake had crowded +all its might into a mole-hill. It was as if a storm-cloud was just on +the eve of being rent asunder, to tear the hills below with its awful +bolts, and some angelic messenger was sent to give it the aspect of a +quiet summer-cloud, and cause it to send down a gentle rain on all the +plants. + +He knew well from experience the sense of suffocation. His throat had +seemed incapable of allowing a breath to pass to the lungs. But now he +had, as it were, a sense of suffocation in every limb. His whole frame +had sensations as if pressed to its utmost tension by some expanding +power, as by some great hydraulic press. + +What was to be the result? Was he to undergo some external +transformation like the reptile which he had seen in the plain? + +To his horror, he began, in his rhapsody of the dream to recall a huge +frog, which he had watched as a boy--swelling--swelling--and about to +burst through its old skin, and come out in the sunshine in a new and +fashionable coat and a pair of elastic pantaloons, with water-proof +boots to match. Then his imagination recalled a snake which he had seen +when he sat once by the brook with a fishing-rod in his hand, the hook +in the sluggish stream, and the fish, no one could tell where. Thus was +it passing through a similar process with the frog--preparing to present +itself in the court of the queenly season, making his new toilette as if +he had been fattening off the spoils of office, and had ordered his new +garb from the tailor without regard to cost. + +In his heart there came again a tenderness for his wife and children. +And with that deep emotion came peace--for suddenly a golden cup was at +his lips, and cooling water, such as he had never tasted. An angel's +hand--oh how like the hand of his wife in its gentle touch--was laid +upon his head, and all its throbbing misery was gone. The same Being +waved his wings, and a cool air, with waves murmuring in some music from +a far off, blessed space, and with fragrance that lulled the disturbed +senses to repose, passed over him,--and he felt that all his fever and +distress had departed from him. + +Then he appeared to be surrounded by his wife and children, who were +wrapped in a deep sleep. He gazed on them, meditating offices of love in +time to come. One and another, in dreams, uttered his name with +unspeakable tenderness. His tears fell freely. The great night around +him--that used to seem so unsympathizing--and to throw him off far from +all its glory, as a poor worthless atom, now entered into accordance +with the new found life within. The gleaming stars said to him, we take +your purpose into one great mission of reflecting light. All spoke of +hope. He was used to the feeling of loneliness and painful humiliation, +when in the darkness under the great unchanging canopy. Now was he +lowly; but he felt that man was great, as one who bore the relation of a +spirit to the Maker of all things. He had never thought, that as great +peace dwelt among all the human family, as now pervaded his own heart. + +Again the dream was changed. He was in the city. He was seated in the +old dusty counting-room. He was the former selfish man. The men in the +place, were to him a sea of a multitude of living waves. All that he had +to do was to count all created for him, and he for himself; and in that +sea he was to seek to gain the pearls which he coveted. As men passed +by, he had no blessing in his heart for those tried in life, and to meet +death, or be tried still more. That God cared for them was no thought +that made an impress on his nature. + +As he sat before his table covered with his papers, witnesses of his +gains, there was a sound of approaching feet. Then men entered and bore +along with them a mummy,--the dead form in its manifold wrappings, as +the mourners had left it in the days when Abraham dwelt in the land of +promise. + +They placed the form on which it was borne in the centre of the room, +and then with grave deliberation proceeded to unroll its many +integuments. + +In a short time they had spread out all the folds of the cloth, and +there lay the form which it was difficult to imagine had once been a +living man--a being of thoughts, emotions, hope, with ties to life, such +as are ours at the present day. + +Our hero looked upon the extended covering of the dead. One of those +men, of a far distant clime and age, who had belonged to the silent +procession that thus presented the mortal remains to the eye, drew from +the folds of his dress a stone of exquisite beauty. + +He held it before the cloth, and rays of an unearthly light fell upon +it, emitted from that precious gem. In a moment, that which had been so +dark, became a piece of exquisite tapestry. On it were a series of +representations, an endless variety of hieroglyphics. + +As the rich merchant gazed on these, he read a history of a life, that +strangely condemned his own. + +And then the Egyptian Priest came forth from the midst of his +associates. + +He held in his hand an immense concave mirror in a frame of gold. Taking +his position between the window and the dead form, he first gazed upon +the sky. A cloud had obscured the sun. + +As soon as it had been swept away, and the noon-day beams streamed +forth, he held up the mirror, and concentrating the rays of light, threw +all the blinding radiance on the dead form. + +In a little while it began, under the power of that wonderful glory, to +assume the appearance of a living man. Breath came. It moved. It rose. +The one thus revived from the power of death gazed on the cloth, and +traced out for himself a plan of a beneficent life. He was to live to do +good. Tears were to be dried, the hungry to be fed, the heart was to +have its perpetual glow of good will, to speak words of blessing, and of +peace, of hope to all. + +As our rich man gazed on all this scene,--mysterious hands seemed to be +unwinding countless wrappings from the soul within, dead to the Creator, +dead to the love of man. + +A light was poured upon him. A new life was given him. He was preparing +to unlock his treasures, to share his possessions with the poor. The +home of sorrow became a place of attraction. He was to seek all means of +lessening the sin and misery of the human family. + +Thus far had his discipline proceeded. The dreams had given activity to +the mind. They had bent the spirit of the man in glad submission to a +yoke of obedience; and in this submission to all that was pure, he found +how the great service was perfect freedom. Holy truths, which had never +been great realities, but certainties that were among his deepest +convictions, many of them like seeds still capable of life, but floating +on the sea in masses of ice, perhaps to be dropped on some island +forming in the deep, and there to germinate, now began to be living +truth, and to struggle with the soul that it might live. He bowed before +the august presence,--now that the great veil that had concealed the +kingly visitants was torn away. Now they were not like the magnetic +power, affecting dubiously, and without a steady control, the needle of +the seaman as he drew near to the coast. They had become the +all-pervading power in the needle itself, affecting each particle, and +turning all in attraction towards the one star, that is before every +bark freighted with the precious trusts, which he now felt to be so +grand a responsibility. Are not these sealed with a seal that no enemy +can cause to be forged or broken? + +A slight change in his dream, and the temptations began to reappear, +crowding as the gay tares wind among the eddying wheat heads, and are +tossed by the wind and arrest the eye. There was a sense of slight fear +and doubt. + +Then was he borne onward, and placed on the green sward beneath great +overhanging rocks. Their awful majesty was tempered by the endless +vines, laden with fruits and flowers that crept along their sides, and +waved, as crowns upon their summits. + +A lake spread its waters before him. As he looked far off upon its +unruffled surface, he saw clouds, now dark, now radiant, floating +rapidly in the sky. The wind that impelled them came in great gushes of +its power, as their changing shapes, and rapid motion gave full +evidence. And when the winds thus swept on, they gave not the slightest +ripple to the great blue expanse of the waters. Yet they were no dead +sea, but pure and living, from streams on innumerable fertile +hill-sides, whose threads of fountain-issues glittered in the sun. + +And the great shadows that fell from these floating masses in the air, +did not reach to the surface of the lake. They wasted themselves between +the clouds and the atmosphere of tranquil light, that rested on the +placid, sky-like depths of the blue expanse. + +Even at his very feet, these waters seemed in depth ocean-like. His eye +was never weary as he gazed into their abyss, and the sight never +appeared to have looked down into them, and to have found the limit of +its power to penetrate their immeasurable profundity. + +Great peace again took possession of his mind! Then he felt the +mysterious hand upon him, and he was lifted up from the borders of this +lake, for other scenes. He could not but feel regret. He was however +convinced, that any new prospect opened before him, would be one that he +might earnestly desire to look upon. + +The motion of the wings of the angel, as he transported him through the +air, was as silent as the calm of the great lake. + +They entered into a cave, so vast, that its roofs and sides were at such +distance from them, that no object could be distinguished in the evening +twilight. But soon he saw before him a high archway, lofty as the summit +of the highest mountain, by which they were to emerge into the light. +They passed it, and found that it opened into a deep valley. + +A plain was here the prospect, and near to him the side of a precipitous +hill. It had great sepulchral inscriptions on the surface of the rocks. +There was a slight earthquake. Its power caused the sides of the hill +to tremble, and revealed the bones of men buried in the sands and +crevices. + +He proceeded--and soon he saw grave-stones on the plain. Drawing near, +he attempted to read the names inscribed upon them. Soon he discovered +that they recorded those of his wife and children. Foes, as he imagined, +as his eyes rested on objects around, moving to and fro, lurked in the +shadows. + +And now his sorrow assumed a form, different from all the former remorse +of his dream. A vague idea that all was a dream came to his relief. +Tears fell, bitter regret for the past continued, but he had a joyous +and undefined conviction, that his family were not beyond the reach of +his awakened love. + +A gentle hand was then laid upon his eyelids. It pointed to the mountain +near--on whose summit an eternal light rested. Such light, he thought, +must have been seen on the mount of the transfiguration. + +He discovered that he had the power to look into the depths of the great +mountain. As his eye penetrated those great hidden ways, he found that +all was revealed there, as if the earth and rocks were only air more +dense than that which he breathed. + +His attention was soon arrested by a rock in the centre of the mountain. +It became the sole object to which he could direct the eye. + +There imbedded were evil forms, on which he looked to feel new sorrow, +and to torture himself with self-upbraiding. + +These forms were his work. It was evident that they should have been +created in exquisite beauty. The material of which they had been +made,--so precious--was a witness that this could have been +accomplished. The marks of the chisel were a proof that there had been +capacity--skill--which could readily have been exercised in creating +that which was beautiful, and which had been perverted and abused in the +production of the shapes by which he was repelled. And it was also +evident, that they had been fashioned in a light, which would have +enabled him to judge truly of every new progress of his toil, and under +a sky where true inspirations would be fostered. My work! my work! he +said--but he added, there is hope for the future. + +As his new-found tenderness subdued him, the power that transported him +from scene to scene, bore him away. + +Soon he found himself standing before another mountain, which was in the +process of formation. + +It was made of the clearest crystal, and the light was in all its height +and breadth. Angels were there, and waiting with a placid but +unutterable happiness for labors that were to occupy them. + +He could not rest. He must put forth into action the aims, the +aspirations to fashion forms of immortal glory. As he moved, in his +great ambition from his place, he saw that his dwelling was near at +hand--close beneath this great mound of crystal, and that its light was +reflected upon it. + +He entered the house. His gentleness was the happiness of all. He was +now the unselfish and loving husband and parent. He marvelled that so +many little acts of love could be done day by day. He marvelled to see +how little acts of love made up such a vast sum of happiness, and what +moulding influences, whose value could not be estimated, were united +with his deeds. + +He found that forms were ever taken by the angels and borne away. They +reverently bore them--reverencing the beauty, and above all reverencing +them as the work of One who had given him aid to think of their +creation, and to embody them according to the pure conception. They +carried them first to a fountain of waters that flowed from a smitten +rock. A crown of thorns, and nails, and a spear, were sculptured there. +Washed in this stream every particle was cleansed. Afterwards they held +up the form in the most clear light, brighter than the light of any sun, +and the beauty became far more perfect. + +The angelic laborers then carried each to the mountain of crystal. +There it was imbedded,--but in a radiance which was to shine forever, +and forever. + +And then to his great joy, he found that vast numbers of men came to a +summit of an adjoining hill; caring not for the ascent by a narrow and +arduous way. They looked into the mountain, and were entranced by the +forms that they beheld. He had no thought that they would turn to him in +admiration. All that he exulted in, was, that he loved them, and that +they turned away to labor to make like forms, for the angelic +hands,--for the waters of the cleansing fountain,--for the inexpressible +light that purified,--for the place in the mountain, where they should +shine eternally. + +Just at this moment, a bird perched on the vines around the cell. It +poured forth a rich melody of song close to the ear of the sleeper. It +awoke him gently from the profound sleep. The first sound which he heard +was that of the sweet bell of his village church. Its gushes of sound +rolled along the valley, and up the side of the great hills. + +He felt that the impressions of his dream were durable. So deeply was he +affected, that he scarcely thought of the visions in which the truth had +been represented. He descended his path another man. Another man he +entered his home. The house was a changed house that day. No one more +subdued in spirit than himself, knelt in the church. No one with more +determined purpose, heard that day, of the One who "pleased not +himself." + + + + +IX. + +_WILD FLOWERS GATHERED FOR MY WIFE._ + + + Though these sweet flowers are in their freshest bloom, + They had a beauty as I gathered them + Which thine eye sees not. For with every one + New lustre in the varied colors shone, + A purer white melted beneath the eye, + A sweeter fragrance came from dew-gemmed leaves, + Advanced in beauty as I thought of thee. + + Thou seest that they grew wild in wood and fields + Teachers of love and wisdom. Some I found + In deep pine shades, where the sun's straggling beams + Through bending boughs may reach them. + + Holier rays + Through deeper shades can reach the broken heart, + Through deeper shades can foster heavenly growth + Of beauty for the everlasting fields; + Through more dense shades can reach the good unknown + To human fame, yet left to bless the world. + + These flowers and leaves that ripen unobserved + But for our eyes, had withered with the frost, + And none had blessed God for their loveliness. + They give their little power unto the wind + To purify for men the air they breathe,-- + Air wafted far by every rising breeze. + And so a myriad of the little deeds, + Done by the men that walk in Christ's blest steps, + Add health unto the living atmosphere + Where men breathe for the strength of highest life. + Deeds go out on a sea of human life, + And touch a myriad of the rolling waves, + Send the great sea a portion of unrest, + Which saves its surface from the mould of death. + + These flowers are memories that I had of thee + During my wandering to the distant home, + Where sickness was, and many an anxious care, + Where there was need that Christ's work should be done. + + Oh! if these paths we tread with our soiled feet, + On this world far from scenes where all is pure, + Our feet not yet in laver cleansed from soil, + In wave by angel stirred and all so bright, + Where gleams are on the waves from his own sun, + Are skirted with these fragrant beauteous forms, + What shall surround our path in Paradise? + + Flowers have a language; so they choose to say. + Each speaks a word of pure significance. + Thus in the fields of nature we can print, + Where flowers shall be the type, a beauteous book-- + With joyful eye can read the beauteous book. + + With all my love of flowers, here is a lore + Which is to me unknown. I have to turn + Over the pages of that pictured book + To spell each letter as a little child. + But this I know, that none can e'er mean ill. + Flowers are too pure, as angels sowed their seed + On earth in pity for a burdened race. + And where their smiles have rested there came forth + These witnesses that men are not alone. + + And also this is lore from nature's school-- + That speak they as they may--whate'er they mean + Of faith to be unshaken through our life, + Of love that never wanes, true as the star, + They cannot speak of faith or tender love, + Which I--flower-bearer--do not speak to thee + In this my offering of far-gathered spoils. + + + + +X. + +_RIVERSDALE._ + + +It was my good fortune to dwell for some years on the banks of the +Delaware, with a sturdy old yeoman, who was quite a character in his +day. Manly, honest, hospitable, of a dignified bearing as of one who +respected himself, and who had no false pride, it was a treasure to have +known him. + +His nature had been moulded, as far as earthly influences gave their +impress by a life spent chiefly on a farm, in days that are called +"primitive;" that being one of the words which hold in unfixed solution, +some true but very vague impressions. A few years which he spent in the +naval service of his country, had no doubt added some lines to the mould +that shaped him as he was. + +I have said that his characteristics were very prominent. Therein he +differed from the mass of the country people. They are like a knoll, +where you see at once all the outlines. You must look attentively, to +discover more than the eye has taken in at its first glance. He was like +one of our rugged hills, having bold varieties of shape, records of time +and of great convulsions, of the violence of storms, of changes wrought +by other and varied influences. + +He had thriven in the world far beyond all his expectations. His life +had been one of untiring industry, decision, and ingenious energy. At +the time of his marriage, almost every penny was exhausted by the humble +fee. As days rolled on, the Creator added to his store, and he purchased +the farm on which his father had resided. By a manly appeal to the sense +of justice, he prevented a rich neighbor from competing with him at the +sale of these broad acres. + +In after days he also became the possessor of the farm, called +Riversdale. There he spent his last years of life. He lived there in the +affluence of a rich farmer. It was strange to see him and his faithful +wife so utterly unchanged by prosperity, and by the alterations in the +habits of society. + +At Riversdale he had a spacious dwelling. There was here a degree of +elegance within and without. It had been the country residence of a rich +merchant. His furniture was plain, but abundant, and all for use. + +Among the curiosities of our house was the old clock, on whose face the +sun and moon differed from their prototypes in the heavens, inasmuch as +they had a far more distinct representation of the ruddy human +countenance, and as they did not rise or set,--for their mechanism had +become distracted. + +And then there was the famous old gun,--taken from a Hessian at the +battle of Princeton, and which had done great service in the deer hunts +in the Pocano Mountains, and amid the pines of New Jersey. + +Those deer-hunts were great circumstances in the course of the year. He +used to narrate with great pleasure, the events that occurred at such +excursions in the forests. + +Once as he told me, he was alone in the woods with a guide. The darkness +was coming apace. He had wounded a deer. The cry of the dogs indicated +that they were close upon it. It became evident that the man wished to +lead the hunters out of the way; and to disappear in the darkness, that +he might appropriate the prey to himself. But all his mean plans were +soon baffled. "If you," said the old yeoman, "can run faster than the +buck-shot in my gun, slip away in the dark." Never guide, I venture to +say, adhered more closely to his party. + +His education, like that of so many of the old Pennsylvania farmers, had +been very limited. His sympathies were not broad; though a small degree +of sentiment pervaded a vein of tenderness which wound its way through +the rugged nature of his soul. Sometimes it appeared so attenuated, that +few influences seemed to be willing to work for the precious ore. + +I remember that we were once walking along the avenue which led to the +house, and I quoted to him a line of poetry which he did heartily +appreciate. The scene around had little power to prepare his mind for +the impression. Two huge old cherry trees were near us. These were +gradually withering away; as if to remind him, as he continually passed +them, that the days of his full strength were gone, and that infirmities +of old age were creeping upon him. + +Had I perused all our volumes of poetry, I could not have selected a +sentence, which he could relish more than the one which I repeated. It +was the well-known line of Cowper, that God made the country, but man +made the town. + +It was really curious to observe how this arrested all his mind. It +seemed as if his soul was deeply impressed with a sense of the goodness +of God, in giving man this beautiful green world, on which he does not +labor in vain. He appeared also to have respect for the poet who could +utter such a truth. Had all the tribe of bards risen from their graves, +been capable of participating in our earthly food, and come to us that +day, Cowper would have been treated to Benjamin's portion. + +His histories proved to me how his nature was the same in early life, +and in age, as to fearlessness, and to a rough opposition to those by +whom he was excited. + +Once his step-mother, during the strife of the revolution, and while his +father was absent from home in the service of his country, sent him with +a claim to a British officer. He was to demand payment for some produce +which the soldiers of the king had taken from the farm. + +He found him seated at a table, at a place not far from Bustleton, and +presenting himself made known the object of his visit. + +"Where is your father?" said the officer. + +The boy was shrewd enough to know that discretion was now the better +part of valor. But mingled emotions overcame his wisdom. The British +soldiers around him were the oppressors of his country. + +Regardless of the wrath which he would assuredly awaken, and scattering, +manifestly, all hope of success in his mission to the wind, he saucily +replied, "Why, he is at the camp with General Washington; where he ought +to be." Perhaps he also regarded this as a defence of his father. A +grasp at a sword, an angry oath,--an assurance that he was a vile little +rebel, and must quickly vanish, were the evidences that he had given his +receipt in full for all that had been taken as spoils from the farm. + +I have said that he was a man of the most sterling honesty. His extreme +care to ascertain that all his accounts were correct, was actually a +trouble to the vestry of the church, while he was treasurer of the body. +He was above the least meanness in all his dealings with men. As he was +rather too suspicious of others, sometimes imagining that they had some +evil design, where they had none, it was the more remarkable that he had +no cunning in his own heart, was open in all his aims, and free from +those arts which entangle weak consciences. + +He had manners which were a study. Few men are not, in some degree +affected by their dress. He was the same man in self-respect and +courtesy, whether you met him in his soiled working-clothes, or in his +best array. Summoned suddenly from the work in the field, or from the +barn, with chaff and dust upon him, his calm courtesy in receiving any +guest, whatever his station in life, the utter absence of all apology +for his appearance, his entire devotion to the attentions due to his +visitors, elicited your decided admiration. Not in his conduct, to his +guests, but in some slight expression, when we were alone, could any of +us detect that he felt any peculiar pleasure, when any of our most +aristocratic inhabitants had called to see him and his household, +manifesting their respect. I have never seen him more devoted and kind +to any visitor, than to a poor friend,--one who had lagged far behind +him, in the ascent of the hill of fortune. + +It could not be expected that his wild portion of the country would be +exempted from those rude scenes of violence, where men take the laws +into their own hands. Nor can it be surprising, that with his physical +strength, boldness, and wild life at sea and on land, he should +sometimes be prominent in these wars on a little scale. + +I remember how I heard one of his narratives with mingled interest and +sorrow, when he told of a victory fought and won. + +It was a contest with a party of butchers, who had come from a distance +and taken possession of the tavern, maltreating some of the country +people, who had, to say the least, a better right to the injurious +comforts of the inn. + +He was summoned from his sleep, and became the leader of the avenging +party. When they reached the scene of noisy revelry, he proved that he +did not rely on physical strength alone, but summoned a "moral effect" +to his aid. A pretended roll was to be called. Many names of persons not +present, perhaps not in existence, were, by his order, pronounced; and +their "Here," was heard clearly uttered in the night air. The effect of +this act of generalship soon became apparent. Silence, indicative of +dismay reigned in the place of the former noisy laughter. The rough +fellows were sorely thrashed, and taught that there was a high law which +the quiet dwellers in the field could put in force. + +In after days my old friend would have deprecated the recurrence of such +scenes. There is always a tendency to law and order, and to gentle +virtues where a man has a great fondness for children--and this love for +little ones he possessed in a great degree. + +It would have been a good scene for a painter, when they gathered round +the white-haired man and elicited his attention and his smile. The large +form sinking into its most quiet repose, as if there was no need that it +should be braced now as if prepared for any struggle of life, and the +rough features softened to gentle sympathy, would have been worthy of +lasting perpetuation on the canvass. I have no doubt that the passage of +Scripture recording the benediction of the children by our Lord, touched +his heart powerfully, and allured him the more to the One who bore our +nature in the perfection of every excellence. + +If an able painter, I would strive to represent our Redeemer, as I could +fancy that He appeared in the scene to which I have referred. Who can +attempt to satisfy even the least imaginative disciple, by any picture +of the countenance of our Lord? How difficult even to unite the infinite +tenderness with the determination of the perfect man, whom nothing +could move from his true purpose, because holiness was the necessity of +a heart without sin? One shrinks, in some degree, from a multitude of +representations of Him, as if they, failing to meet the inspiration of +the soul, were not reverent. Might we not more easily conceive of his +blended love and dignity, if he was painted among those who could not +trouble him, whom He would not have sent away, whom he took in his arms, +and on whom he caused to rest a blessing, that ever waits now to descend +on the children of those who diligently seek him. + +Some of the quaint narratives of the old man have proved, as I have +repeated them, a source of much amusement to the young. + +For instance, he said that he was returning from a journey of some miles +into the interior of the country. He had taken his heavy wagon, and +aided a neighbor who was removing his goods to a new home. + +The night had overtaken him as he returned. Just as he crossed a small +stream, he heard a voice of one in great distress, calling for aid. "Oh! +come here,--come here,"--were the piteous cries from an adjoining field. + +Stopping his horses, and clambering a bank, he soon secured a +"reconnoissance" of a field of strife. + +By the dim light of the moon, he saw a scene sufficiently ludicrous, +but demanding immediate activity. He had not come a moment too soon. A +small man, a shoemaker, the one who cried for aid, and sadly in need of +it had, it seems, been crossing a field, when an ugly-tempered bull +rushed upon him, and would have gored him to death but for his presence +of mind and dexterity. The poor fellow had skill enough to dodge the +assault; and as the animal, missing his aim, rushed by him, he caught it +by the tail. The vicious brute made every effort to reach his +disagreeable parasite. In doing this he ran around in endless circles, +very wearying to the little legs of the little man, and exhausting his +strength. + +As my old friend had come and seen, what had he to do but conquer? He +hastened to the side of the living whirligig. The shoemaker was wearing +out his shoe-soles more rapidly than any of his customers. + +Seizing also the tail of the bull, he informed the exhausted man that he +might now let go. + +The animal continued the same tactics, but his foe-man was armed with +his heavy whip, and this was wielded by a powerful right hand. A few +blows, and the victory was won. The hero was left alone in his glory; +for the rescued had vanished as soon as he could release his hold on the +tail, and he did not return to see the result of the strife. Let us hope +that he was grateful, although I doubt the gratitude of one who could +thus run away, and leave all the battle to his deliverer. A benefactor +in things small and great, who has a noble mind, though wounded by +insensibility to his kindness, may receive benefit from the unthankful; +for he may learn more deeply the example of the Lord, and he may free +his heart the more to do good, and look for no return--learn to do good +to the unthankful and the evil. + +I have represented the farmer at Riversdale as openness and honesty +itself in all his dealings. Men will be men. In country life, as in the +city you will find a sad abundance of mean and tricky persons. + +It is not a little curious to see our city friends come into the +country, and take for granted that the sojourners there are all +simple-minded and honest men. That is a weakness which is soon +dissipated. The wisdom is purchased with the loss of gold and silver. +They find that they are charged by many, probably the obtrusive ones, +the most extravagant prices for all things. The more free they are with +their money, the more they are required to pay. The value fixed on the +substance offered for sale, is all that can possibly be extorted from +any one who is imprudent enough to buy, and make no inquiries. There +comes a danger of reaction. They change the theory concerning men of the +field, which they have learned from poets and novelists, and are tempted +to imagine that they all are like these thieves. I thank God, that I +know well to the contrary. + +Some men of large means imagine that if they are very free in spending +their money, and allow those whom they employ, to take advantage of +them, to extort unfair prices, that they will thereby cultivate good +feeling, a grateful regard. This is an entire mistake. The man who +cheats you never will be grateful. He comes to you, in all his relations +to you, with meanness of soul. That is no soil for good will. He also +fears, that at any time, you may be conscious of the fraud. He expects +therefore an hour when you will be angry, and despise him. He judges of +your coming enmity, by his own lasting bitterness and revengeful mind, +toward any one who has overreached him. He has also some contempt for +you, because you have been less cunning than himself. + +Pay fair generous prices. When a man gains from you more than the fair +price, let it be a gift. Do not expect anything from the man, who does +in two days the labor that should be accomplished in one. Alas, as we +reflect on the want of truth and gratitude towards us, we have to +remember that we can apply these lessons to ourselves, as we labor in +the vineyard where we have been sent to toil! + +I have spoken of the hospitality of the house at Riversdale. This never +could have been exercised as it was, but for the admirable arrangements +of the good wife and excellent daughters. I look back, and marvel how +all could be done in that house and farm, and yet time be found for the +entertainment of so many guests. + +I am deeply grieved to look back to those bachelor days, and find that I +had a senseless conviction, that a house pretty much took care of +itself. It was a delusion which must often have caused me to be +troublesome, when I had not any idea that I was in the way. I now honor +the statemanship which adorns domestic affairs, and hope I no longer am +found at any time, a wheel out of place in the machinery of any house. +Never too late to mend. A good proverb, friends. But as we apply its +hopefulness, let us take care to remember that when the present time +shall have become the past, and we have done wrong in things small and +great, it is too late to mend the sin and error. We cannot mend the evil +of the past. + +I see the good old mother of the household now. Always neat in her +dress,--erect in form,--kind,--thoughtful, self-possessed. You could not +know her long, and not perceive that she was a pre-eminent +representative of the wife and parent. Her love for others had its true +source, the love of God. Thence it flowed gently a stream of tenderness +for her family, and then spread freely far and wide to all others. Her +religion was of a very grand character. She knew, in all the trials of +life, what it was to have her Creator for her Rock,--to have His rod and +His staff. Real to her indeed, the divine love which brought our +Redeemer to our form from Heaven, and caused Him to expiate our sins on +the cross. + +Once we were speaking hopelessly, of some reprobate. The opinion was +advanced, or implied, that he was never to be reformed. I never forgot +the sorrow she manifested, and her heart-felt but gentle reproof, while +she corrected us in the abiding spirit of the hope in Christ for any one +who yet lives. While the lamp holds out to burn, she asked, could not he +return? + +She was one of the most unpretending Christians, and therefore her deep +piety could not be concealed. When she was unconscious of the +revelation, she taught us in a living subject of the Lord, the power +that can be given for holiness in this scene, where all gold can be well +tried in the fire. + +She was ever busy. In hours of ease she had her knitting-needle. How +pleasant it was to see her at her work, in the warm days of summer, as +she sat in her high-backed chair on the piazza which overlooked the +River. With the steamboats, then beginning their course, she was never +satisfied. "The boats with sails," she said, "glided away so natural +like: but with the steamboats it was all forced work." No doubt she +often regarded these different vessels, as emblematic of those who moved +under gentle and approved agencies, and those who were out of harmony +with nature around us,--the working of the hands that are infinite in +power,--those who cared only for hire, and needed, in order to their +activity, some of those goads which happily abound for the idle. + +The aged woman came to us what she was, to remind us what endless +influences are ever ready to mould us to increasing piety, and love for +others. To the sick and sorrowing out of her household she had been an +angel of charity. Her life had been a golden cord. He had strung it for +her with jewels from the mine. Is that mine exhausted? The glories we +know lie near at hand for all that will gather them. + +Well can I realize after the lapse of years, the sorrow of the aged wife +when it was manifest that my old friend must soon close his eyes on the +world for ever. There he lay, his strong form promising hope, which the +decision of the physician denied. Could he be dying, who was bound to +the scene around him by so many ties? As he had gained these fields by +such a life of labor, and held them so firmly in his grasp, as every +tree seemed so surely his, as you felt the impress of his firm and +undisputed will in all the arrangements of his broad farm, you might ask +can all these bonds which bind him here be sundered? But God sunders +all, as he will, in a moment. + +And now he was on the verge of the world to come. In infancy his life +had hung by the most attenuated thread. Was it better for him that he +was to die an old man, one who had passed through life's trials, had +received such endless mercies, had so many calls to so many duties? Or +would it have been better for him that he had died in infancy, passing +to the ineffable joy, but to less glory and honor than those who have +borne the cross, endured in true manly toil, the burden and heat of the +day in the vineyard of the Master? + +It was in a quiet house, quiet as one so soon to be forsaken of its +owner, that we assembled to receive with him the precious emblems of the +great sacrifice made for us, in infinite love. If he received +consolation, it was indeed given also to the aged wife. Her quiet +sorrow, without a tear, was reverent, and full of submission. Its +evenness,--not rising or falling with every hope or fear,--was a seal of +its great depth. You read in her fixed countenance that she had the past +with all its memories, and the future with all its solitude clearly +before her. She was henceforth to be as the shattered vase, just waiting +some small trial of its strength, to fall to pieces. But the lamp within +was to burn on, and fed with ever increasing supplies of aliment for its +flame, to glow with increasing radiance. Such lights in the temple of +God never go out. + +My aged friends! your ashes lie where you hoped that your mortal remains +would find their resting-place. Years have passed, and yet I recall you +to remembrance more affectionately, than when I stood by your opened +grave. One cause of this, is, I presume, that the more I become +acquainted with men, the more I learn to value those who have risen in +their integrity, above the low level of ordinary character. + +Changed is your dwelling. A vast and costly pile occupies the place +where once it stood. But could you, the former inhabitants, of that +which has undergone such alteration, reappear among us, we should +recognize what is eternal in its nature. What is of earth, alters and +passes away. But love, and truth, and faith, all the nobleness given by +the Redeemer,--these endure. These are extended and glorified in the +world to come. + + + + +XI. + +_DR. SAMUEL STANHOPE SMITH AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE._ + + +When I was at Princeton College, Dr. Samuel Stanhope Smith was its +president. A learned and able man, and an eloquent preacher, blameless +in his life, his influence was great, not only over his college, but far +and wide over the surrounding country. + +I trust that it is one of the merits of our Republic, that truly great +and good men will always have this influence and respect. Surely we have +cast off those impediments to human progress which exist in other lands, +where tributes due to real merit are paid to men for their accumulation +of riches. Our offices in the states will almost always be bestowed on +the deserving. The tricks of the politician will be generally unknown, +because our people will hold them in abhorrence. In the old countries +legislative bodies have felt the force of bribes. But I will boldly turn +prophet here, and say, that no such practices will ever be known in such +deliberative bodies in New Jersey. I can imagine the shame which the +pure-minded people of this common-wealth must be ready to visit on one +proven guilty of such a detestable enormity. Indeed he would incur the +risk of being burnt alive at the stake. + +The influence which Dr. Smith attained by the purest means, he exercised +for the public good. His mind was of a philosophic cast, and he abhorred +all superstition. Hence he was always eager to dispel the errors of the +ignorant, and to remove the fears excited by diseased imaginations. + +One day I was plodding over a page of Sophocles. No doubt it contained +beauties whose discovery would repay toil. I was, however, unable to +say, as I pondered it, lexicon by my side, with the Frenchman, "hang +these ancients, they are always anticipating our bright thoughts," for I +was not yet able to compare the idea of the Greek with the +scintillations of genius which had flashed through my mind, and which +were laid up for the future edification of the world, because I could +not determine what the old dramatist had intended to say to us. + +While I was in this state of most unpleasant perplexity, there was a +knock at my door. I knew it at once to be that of our tutor. He informed +me that the great doctor wished to see me and the rest of my class at +his study. + +We were thus invited,--that is, we had as strict a summons as any +soldiers could receive from their commander,--to appear at his +residence, the famous house under whose roof so many illustrious men +have found shelter. Long may it stand! + +It could not take much time to collect the designated young gentlemen +together. Before we met, each individual brain was greatly exercised +with speculations, concerning the cause of our being thus summoned to +the study of our venerable head. When we were a collective body the +various streams of conjecture being thrown in a torrent together, the +effervescence exceeded all my powers of description. + +It was a trying hour when any one of us had to come face to face with +Dr. Smith. + +We were not aware that any evil deed had been committed of late in the +college. We all felt a bold conviction of individual innocence. Indeed, +all college fellows are innocent always, until they are proved to be +guilty. + +One poor fellow, whose shaggy head could never be reduced to smooth +order by comb or brush, more than the tossing waves are subdued to a +placid mirror by the shadows of passing clouds, with a nose that always +reminded you of a sun-dial, and an eye, which sometimes gave him the +nickname of Planet, from its ceaseless twinkling,--had indeed some +troubles of conscience concerning a duck which had been killed, cooked, +and eaten in his room a few nights before, after he had taken a long +rural ramble in the evening. He had some reasonable fear that he could +not produce the bill of its sale for the scrutiny of the President, +should it be demanded. Still, on the whole, we were calm. All felt the +necessity of a general sunshine of countenances. It was our wisdom to +look as if we expected some compliment from the head of the college. +Indeed, one fellow, who had a manly, harmless wildness in him, whom all +loved and confided in, who was a good and kind adviser of us all,--whose +intense life was a good element for the formation of the noble minister +which he afterwards became,--was audibly preparing a reply to the +doubtfully anticipated commendation of the President. It contained the +most ludicrous assertion of our great modesty, and sense of +unworthiness,--in which he said, we all most cordially concurred,--while +in the presence in which we stood. Curiosity was in every mind. No one +had the slightest clue, which appeared to guide us satisfactorily one +step in the darkness. + +But we reached the door of the study. One of the most respectful knocks +ever given proclaimed our presence,--or rather inquired if we could be +admitted. The fine, manly voice which we so well knew, called on us to +enter. We were received with that courteous dignity which characterized +the doctor. All scanned the noble head, and no thunder-clouds were +there. It is something to have seen Dr. Smith in the pulpit, in the +class-room, or in the study. He was somewhat taller than men in general, +and had a frame of fine proportions. His countenance easily kindled with +intelligence. A large blue eye seemed to search your secret +thoughts--and yet in all manliness of inquiry--promising cordial +sympathy with all that was elevated, and a just indignation at the +contemplation of any moral evil. His brow was spacious. His whole face +spoke of hard study--polish of mind--of patient thought--of one who +walked among men as a king. His voice was full and harmonious. His +address was dignified and urbane. The stranger must trust him, and his +friends confided in him, not to discover that he ever could forsake +them. + +Before he spoke we were at our ease. Our surprise took a new channel as +he entered on the business of the hour. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "I have sent for you, that I might have your +co-operation in a plan, which may greatly benefit a worthy farmer, and +remove superstitious fears from some ignorant minds. + +"Mr. Hollman, who has a farm about two miles from the college, cannot +persuade any of the laboring families to reside in a lonely stone house +on his property. It is a dwelling that should be a comfortable, happy +home. The situation is rather picturesque; standing, as it does, near +the shade of a thick wood, and on the bank of a small stream which +empties into our classical run. The people say that the house is +haunted. Family after family has forsaken it in dread. I have not had +patience to listen to the various narratives told concerning it. One man +who is quite intelligent, and evidently honest, declares that he will +take his oath that he has heard terrible noises at midnight, and has +smelt strange fumes. + +"Now this short story must be put an end to. Such superstition must not +exist under the shadow of an institution celebrated for its learning. I +should regard it as a blot on our fair reputation. + +"I have been engaged in devising a plan for the refutation of this +folly. It is this. I propose that you, gentlemen of the senior class, +shall spend a night in the house. This will soon be known over the +neighborhood. There has been much expenditure of words, over the silly +narratives of people alarmed at less than their own shadows. All who +have talked of the ghost, will talk of your act as having cast shame on +those who pretend to see supernatural sights. You will soon have the +pleasure of finding that the deserted house has become the home of some +worthy family. You will do much to put an end to the belief in +ghosts--for the history of your act will be narrated far and wide. Mr. +Hollman will be a debtor to you for securing him from loss, and from +great inconvenience. You have no fear of ghosts. In all probability you +will hear no sounds to disturb you, or call for investigation. If you +hear any peculiar noise, you will be assured that it is caused by some +designing person,--who avails himself of the credulity of the ignorant +to gain his corrupt or foolish purpose. I leave this matter in your +hands. I am confident that the trust that I repose in you will be +attended with the result that I desire." + +We, one and all, became the personification of delight. The president +was informed that it was a most agreeable adventure which he thus +proposed. One fellow, who was awfully alarmed, and who had late at night +told stories of ghosts who appeared in Virginia, until some of his +companions were afraid to separate, was the loudest in expressing his +readiness to go with the rest. He became pale with fright, when one of +his class-mates suggested that it would have more effect if one stayed +all night in the house alone, and that he should be selected for that +solitude. + +It was agreed that we should say nothing about our plan in the college. +Hence, on our return from the doctor's study, our mysterious conduct, +and sundry vague hints caused some eyes to be opened so wide, that one +might question how they would ever close again. In vain every attempt to +discover what had happened in the study of the great divine and +philosopher. + +Late in the afternoon a deputation from our class waited on Mr. Hollman. +I had the honor to be appointed on this committee. The estimable man, a +well-educated farmer, and having that simple address which enables a +benevolent heart to declare itself through its courtesy, expressed great +pleasure on hearing of our proposition, and uttered his thanks to us, +and to the venerable doctor. + +He corroborated the remark of our president, that if we put an end to +the ghost story connected with the house where we were to spend the +night, we should also, simultaneously, succeed in preventing the growth +of superstition elsewhere. "All true--very true," he said; "I always +notice that the doctor's remarks on all subjects run on alike, each of +value like the other, like links in a gold chain. There is danger that +this fear of ghosts will spread. I have some symptoms of it already in +my household. The woman who attends to the milk, begins to look round +her, and hurry home from the milk-house in the dusk of the evening with +a very rapid pace, and to the neglect of some of her duties. And I think +that Pompey has a decided seriousness at times,--as of a man destined to +see something terrible. Perhaps this will occur on his first lonely +drive at night by the grave-yard at our village beyond us. Tell me what +I can do to make you comfortable to-night. I will see that the house is +warmed at once, and provided with lights." + +We walked with him over to the haunted dwelling. On our way he gave us +some good practical advice, as we conversed on various subjects. It came +from a practical spring of knowledge which he had acquired by reflection +on all that he saw of men, and on the affairs that transpired. Indeed +Saner, a lazy fellow, who smelt the instruction so amply spread for us +at the literary table of Nassau Hall, but who never tasted or digested +one crumb or other fragment, said to us, as we returned home +afterwards--and that with a malicious sense of triumph over Latin, +Greek, Philosophy, mental and moral,--Algebra, and like kindred +venerable foes,--"You see a man can get sense of more real value out of +the world than out of books." + +"Saner," said I, "my dear fellow, is this worthy man possessed of the +widely-extended sense of Dr. Smith? And do you think that any one to +whom Providence has given the opportunity of collegiate education, and +who will turn out an ignorant blockhead, will ever learn anything from +observation? Besides our class,--or at least the deputation to the house +of the ghost,--have their minds enlightened by our instruction. Now, I +want to know whether this has not prepared us to glean instruction from +the sensible remarks of Mr. Hollman? Do you think that the ignorant men +who work for him, learn of him in a year what we do, or some of us do, +in a day?" + +But this is a digression.--To return to our survey of the dwelling. +Unfortunately there was nothing very romantic in the structure. The +frowning shadows of larch, and other forest trees; the massive walls +were not there to call forth associations with some of the descriptions +of castles which were the scenes of ghosts and of banditti--such as were +common in the novels of the day. + +The house looked desolate only because it was deserted, and had a dark +history. There were two rooms on the first floor; one was a kitchen of +considerable size. The other the sitting-room,--stove-room,--or +parlor,--as it might happen to be called by the inmates. This was an +apartment opened a few times in the year for company on great State +occasions. Yet it gave all the year round,--a fact which weak critics +often overlook when they talk about a useless room, and laugh in their +dreaded but unproductive way,--gave all the year round a sense of ample +accommodation and dignity to the mansion. From the kitchen a winding +staircase ascended to the upper rooms. The small landing-place rested on +the back wall of the house. Small garrets were over these rooms. The +cellar was of the size of the dwelling, and afforded no hiding-place, +nor any means of access to the interior from without, which we could not +easily secure. A small shed rested against the back of the house, from +the inside of which there was no door by which you could enter either +room. It was obvious, from the pathway to this shed from the kitchen +door, that the access of the family to it, was in the open air. + +The most desolate thing to me was the well. It was one of those still +seen in the little State--so elbowed by its big brothers of New York and +Pennsylvania, and able to bear a great deal of such pressure. It was +lorded over by that huge apparatus of the great long scale-beam, with a +pole and bucket on one end, and a great weight on the other. A vine had +crept up the pole, which must be torn away before water could be drawn. +When had the matron called the good man to draw water from the deep and +damp abode of truth? when had the children, returning from school, +slaked their thirst from the bucket, covered in places by the green +moss? + +We could discover no manner by which any one disposed to disturb the +inmates of the house, could secretly enter. It was amusing to notice how +some of the students, had no conception of pranks to be played upon us +in any other way than those known among collegians. However, we all +agreed that our regulations for self-defence must be very simple. We +had to wait for the demonstrations of the enemy, before we could do +more than draw up our forces in a simple line for attack or defence. + +The night, of course, came on. The whole class entered the house. We had +good fires in the two rooms below, and in one above. Mr. Hollman sent +chairs and tables, and a good stock of solid provisions. Lights had been +provided, and we had with us a number of lanterns--two of which were to +be kept burning all night. Some excellent cider had been sent to us; and +if any had desired it, we would not have permitted the introduction of +stronger drink. Our honor was concerned; Dr. Smith having reposed such +entire confidence in our proceedings. There was an implied contract +between us, and there were men in the class who would see that it was +complied with, not only in letter, but in spirit. It was also obvious +that if we had any intoxicating beverage among us, and should report +strange sights, men would account for it in their own way. Indeed, if +the young gents had engaged in a noisy revel, and their intellects had +become clouded, we should have tempted some mischievous creature to try +and create an alarm. + +We soon were a lively party. The house was cheerful with its blazing +fires and lights. But as that noble-hearted K----k, who became in +aftertime so eloquent a preacher in the Presbyterian church--and +M----r, for so many years a representative of his district in +Congress--and H----t, afterwards a distinguished Bishop, took their +seats by the fire in the kitchen--they soon drew around them the whole +of our little army. We became so joyous and free from care, that we +regretted that there were not other haunted houses requiring our aid. We +had no more thought that our talk would be exhausted before morning, +than the bird that its song will cease before the season for its melody +is over. It was put to the vote by the leanest fellow in the class that +we should not have our supper until we had passed the midnight hour. + +All remained quiet for a long time, when a dismal sound near one of the +windows arrested us, and caused a strange silence. It was the common +opinion, that it was the visit of an owl. Before midnight a scraping +noise was heard, and as we moved about, R----k insisted that he heard a +sound of moving boards, as if some one had climbed hastily over the +garden fence. + +All soon subsided into silence. Our animated conversations proceeded. I +ought to say, that almost the whole evening had been spent in the +discussion of metaphysical questions. In those days these were unfailing +topics. We did wonderfully well, considering that the German school had +not yet thrown open its gates, and let in its flood of waters, not +muddy, but stained with all sorts of dyes, so that the eye is dazzled +on the surface in place of penetrating the mass before you. The doctrine +of the freedom of the will, as expounded by the great President Edwards, +was a sure mountain of gold for every adventurer. I always observed that +all who pretended to argue at all, could argue fluently on this subject. +I also noticed that no student ever hinted that he did not understand +what his opponent had said, and that none of us ever complained that +those who replied to us, had misunderstood us,--a wonderful proof of the +clear manner in which we all reasoned. And indeed there was so much +genius among us for this branch of disputation, that it did not appear +to matter whether a student had in any degree mastered the great +treatise, of which a celebrated Scotchman, no profound judge to be sure, +has said that it never had been refuted. + +As we were thus arguing these great subjects, and saying things which +Locke, Malebranche, Leibnitz, and Reid could never have said, K----k +amused us by a story,--for the actual truth of which he gave us his +word. He said that in a part of the country where he had spent many +years, the people had a debating club. It was held in a school-house +during the winter evenings, and drew large audiences. On one occasion +the topic of debate was the free agency of man. + +A stone-mason who had attended the meeting during the discussion gave an +animated account of the scene. The teacher of the school was his +particular hero. He acknowledged that the opponent had merit,--was, in +country parlance, "a smart man." But little Charlie the teacher was too +much for him,--he was still "smarter." It had been a long argument. The +little teacher held that man was not a free agent. The evening was +passing away. The friends of each champion were much perplexed. Would it +be a drawn battle? Just at the happy time, the little teacher thought of +a happy argument. "Man," he said, "could not be a free agent; for if he +was, he would never die." "That settled it," was the comment. Man would +never die, if he was a free agent. So we gave him the vote. He is an +"uncommon smart man." We laughed,--and Thompson said that a story was +not an argument, and was preparing for a new onset, when the lean +student,--whom some called, improperly, Bean-pole,--interposed with the +assurance, that it was time for our repast. Some said not yet,--but he +who argued on the side of the lean one, had one vast advantage; that is +to say, his statements, particularly his reference to the tender ham, +and tempting bread and butter, created an appetite even in his +opponents. So the night was carried,--and we soon arranged our viands. +The metaphysical discussions ceased,--probably from the instinctive +conviction that such severe exercise of the mind was unfavorable to +health, when one was making a hasty repast. + +While we were engaged in this agreeable duty, one of our number, +Shockford, a fellow of the kindest disposition, but always saying things +in a grumbling way, declared that he had some scruples of conscience, as +to the nature of our present occupation. What business had we to +interfere with ghosts? They had never done any harm to us. He used to +groan over the dull, unimaginative brains of the people of his +neighborhood. One day a weight of lead was taken off from his mind. He +sang his triumph in the best Latin and Greek which he could summon. He +thought that his neighborhood was about to improve. Could it be +credited, some of the people had seen a ghost. He knew a part of the +country where the inhabitants were too mean ever to have seen a spirit. +Lonely places, awful shadows by the woods, grave-yards, bridges in dark +hollows, were all thrown away upon them. + +And no man ever heard of a generous thought that originated there, or, +being sent there, found a hospitable reception. They are as dry in their +natures as the old posts in their fences. They never saw anything in the +grand old woods, which are rapidly disappearing, those majestic trees +with their deep shades, that elevated their souls higher than the +furrows, which they turn over year by year. The trees are but so much +fire-wood, so much material for lumber,--so many posts and rails. All +the beauty of the harvest, is submerged in the expectation of the silver +for which it could be sold. Is it any marvel that such clods are +despised by the ghosts? If you were one, and had your own way, would you +appear in such a dreary society? Would you go before the stupid eye, +that never gleamed at the glorious unfolding of the stars, or rolled, in +some little transport, as the autumnal clouds drifted towards the +sunset, and were so radiant in the beams of the setting orb, that they +were too grand a canopy, for a world on whose surface men do so many +deeds contrary to the holy will of the Great Ruler of the universe? + +Happy he was to say that he knew other parts of the country where the +sojourners are a people of different characteristics. Many ghosts were +seen in the favored spot. What was the consequence? The young ladies +are, as it might naturally be expected, much more attractive in their +personal appearance, of gentler voices, of more sympathizing manners, +and form husbands on a much more elevated plan. Of course there is much +variety in their descriptions of the ghosts which they have seen. One +most commendable trait which I have observed among them, is that the +sights which they have witnessed enhance their social respectability. +There are slight grades in rank among the ghost-seers. Those who have +seen a spirit at midnight, are superior to those who have beheld one +early in the evening. Those who have seen one near the graves, rank +above those who have met one only in the fields. But the crowned head of +all is my old neighbor, who begins apparently to tell you an awful +history,--his manner indicating that he can give strange circumstantial +evidence of the truth of the event which he is about to narrate,--and +all at once the blood, which began to cool, flows freely, as he cuts +short his tantalizing narrative, with the information that he shall +never inform any soul what he saw that night. No one of our neighbors +dares to think that he has ever approached such a transcendent vision. +The shake of the head with which the old man concludes his last +sentence, is too impressive for the most presumptuous man, having a +tendency to a doubt. + +After our meal, and many a hearty laugh, a number composed themselves in +the different rooms for a good sleep. It was determined that three of +the class should sit up awake before the fire in case of emergency. I +must say that there was an undefined doubt over our minds whether +something very exciting would not happen before morning. I felt this +even in the gayety of the room. The young men laughed and talked as if +their minds were wrought up to an unnatural state. + +The hours sped on,--rapidly for those who slumbered, and heavily for +those who did duty as waking guards before the fire. Now and then some +one would awaken, as if from a dream, and ask in bold speech whether the +ghost had yet come. + +I remember that it was my turn to be off guard, and to join the +sleepers. The fires were kept up brightly, and gave a cheerful light to +all the apartment. I was watching the flickering of the flames, and had +forgotten almost entirely the place and position which we occupied, and +was philosophizing on the nature of sleep, and recalling some +observations I had read on the happy state of healthy little children +who are sinking to their sleep. I recalled the evidence I had received +of that kind arrangement of Providence, in the case of the little ones +at home, smiling on you in such perfect benignity and peace, as you drew +near them in their little beds. This, of course, recalled the home. As I +was bringing loved faces and scenes before me, the whole house was throw +into a sudden commotion,--just like that which you may imagine to occur +when a whole ship's crew, having been devoid of fear, is suddenly +startled with the report, communicated as by some mysterious power from +man to man, that an iceberg is near at hand, or breakers, or that the +good vessel has been subjected to some shock which endangers the common +safety. + +A loud sound was heard, evidently in the centre of the house, and all +agreed that it was occasioned by the discharge of a large pistol. The +dwelling was shaken by the report, and the windows rattled. In a moment +all was activity. By a common impulse all above and below gathered at +the staircase. We distinctly smelt the fumes of the powder, and holding +up lights, were satisfied that we detected the lingering smoke. + +Then commenced a new and perfect scrutiny of the building. +Notwithstanding the evidence that earthly elements had entered into the +cause of the shock, some were rather awed. + +All our search was in vain. There are more things in heaven and earth +than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Yet, in this instance, we looked +on the earth for that which we could not find. + +Not the slightest trace could be discovered to throw us on the true path +of investigation. We could form no possible conjecture as to the manner +in which the pistol had been discharged. After daylight we re-examined +the house. But all was in vain. The external and internal scrutiny gave +us not a hint as to the manner in which the deed could have been +accomplished. + +I must confess that we returned to Princeton in no enviable mood. We all +dreaded an interview with Dr. Smith. We sought him at once,--as nature +inclines us often to go through a painful duty as soon as we can, and +to have it over. + +But the President listened to our story in a manner which relieved us of +our apprehensions. He did not seem greatly surprised; and his remarks +satisfied us that we had not been made ridiculous, and we were prepared +to face the world, or rather the worst part of it,--with reference to +our present condition,--the college. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "some effort to continue this imposition was to +have been expected. I presumed that such a series of inmates would not +have been driven from the house, had not some skill been shown in the +manner of causing alarm. Now, the affair is more serious than ever. If +you allow this to rest here, the fate of the house is sealed. Ghosts +will be seen all around the land. Perhaps we shall even have one to +disturb the college. Malicious and designing men will be able to torture +their victims, and often render the property of those whom they hate, +perfectly worthless. You must continue to sleep in this building until +you unravel this mystery. For my own part, I would say to you, do not be +discouraged. You have made an advance. It is now evident that the noises +heard in the house, perhaps sudden flashes that have been seen, are not +the work of imagination. A pistol fired there, gives you a clear +indication that some man is to be detected. Go there again. Let a +portion of the class go to the house, and take possession. Have your +fires and lights. At a later hour let another body of these gentlemen go +quietly in the dark, and secrete themselves outside of the dwelling, so +that they can watch it during the night. Place yourselves so as not to +intercept the most natural approaches to the house. Do not let any one +know of your plans. I shall wait to hear from you again, and am sure +that you will succeed." + +Before the evening had arrived we had proof that Dr. Smith was correct +in his judgment as to the necessity for the prosecution of this +adventure. Night promised to become hideous to the surrounding country. +It was already reported on the most indisputable evidence; nay, some of +the narrators had heard it directly from the lips of the students +themselves, that as we were assembled in the dwelling, the lights +suddenly became dim, the fires ceased to blaze, and then an awful +stately lady, with the famous red ring around her throat, indicating +clearly that a murder had been committed on the premises, walked through +the rooms and looked on us, and seemed to enjoin on us the duty of +bringing the men who had stained their hands with her blood to justice, +and then suddenly withdrew with a terrific noise. Another report was to +the injury of an unpopular man, who had owned the property before it +was purchased by Mr. Hollman. Its version of the affair was, that the +ghost disclosed a secret place in the house where some papers were +concealed,--proving that the property had in former times been acquired +by the most wicked means. Great satisfaction was intimated that the man +would be exposed, and attain his deserts,--a prison having long been +supposed to be his appropriate destination. + +In the evening we followed the injunctions of the president. The late +party left the college one by one, issuing in the dark from the basement +of the building, so that no one watching us could know of their +departure. They crept along over fields, and by the skirt of the woods. +They hid themselves under a thicket, through which no one would attempt +to pass to the house. + +The midnight came on. I was one of those in the interior of the +building. About the same time of the night we heard the strange pistol +again. I also thought I heard an additional sound, but could not imagine +its cause. Our chief trust was in those without. And we were not +disappointed. A moment after the discharge of the pistol, we heard a +rush of feet, and many cries. Then there arose a noise of unmistakable +triumph. + +The noise, and a flash revealed to the watchers without, the direction +they must pursue. They surrounded the shed, back of the building. There +they seized a form, a base--unspiritual--rough form. It was that of a +young negro man, who was brought into the light in the house, and +subjected to investigation. + +He confessed that his design was to obtain vengeance of Mr. Hollman, who +had given him some offence. It seems that above the shed on the back of +the house, where he was secured, there was a small trap-door, opening +into the interior. It was so cut out of the boards, and so often +white-washed within and without, that we had never observed it. He had +once lived in the house, and knowing of this small opening, had availed +himself of it, for the success of his wicked design. Climbing up the +shed, he lifted the door, held the large horse-pistol deeply loaded, as +far as he could over the landing of the winding staircase, and then +discharging it, dropped the door, slid from the shed, and was soon far +off, and free from all suspicion. + +He had heard from the people at Mr. Hollman's, that we were to attempt +to satisfy the public mind, that the house was not haunted, and that any +family might reside on the premises in peace. Hence he resolved to alarm +us all, and drive us away. + +Some of the class were for summary vengeance on the fellow. We +determined to take him into Princeton, and hand him over to the +magistrate. You may imagine that we entered our town on the following +morning, with an air of triumph,--which was quite a contrast to our +looks on the preceding day. We went in figuratively speaking, with +banners flying, and drums beating. And we had some literally blowing +their trumpets. + +The ghost attracted some curiosity, and some said that as we looked for +something in white, we were disappointed. + +Dr. Smith was as well pleased as we were, with our success. The house +was soon reoccupied. I went there some time after our adventure, and +found it the home of a respectable family, who treated me with special +consideration, and a satisfactory portion of a large pie, when they +heard that I was one of the celebrated party that caught the ghost. +Ghosts in troops forsook Princeton. They found their occupation gone. +Men and women, boys and girls, darkies of all ages, saw shadows in the +evening, mists, indistinct lights, flickering candles, passed by graves, +and grave-yards, and had no longer any special dread. And had any ghost +in fact, dared to appear anywhere around, I have no doubt that our class +would have been summoned to do, what daylight always does, send the +wandering and terrible spirit to the regions where such dwell,--far from +all human cognizance. May Nassau Hall ever have such success in all her +laudable enterprises! May all her classes, be as great victors over all +that can cause dread to a student, as we were over the ghost at +Hollman's. + + + + +XII. + +_MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY._[1] + + +"Father," said one of Mr. Digby's children, just let loose from school, +and fluttering about as if on the eve of a great flight of +play,--"father, look at my copy-book." + +The face of the one thus appealed to, which generally bore a care-worn +look, relaxed into an attentive and gentle interest. He gave the labored +page the appropriate scrutiny. When the right of criticism was thus +justly earned, he bestowed due meed of praise. In line after line he +read, ECONOMY IS WEALTH. + +The children soon left him, and he turned down a path leading to the +gate. All the way he repeated in various intonations of voice, the tones +changing with various trains of thought, economy is wealth. + +He said to himself, "Who was the great inventor of that most absurd of +proverbs? Economy is wealth. Nonsense! The man who first spoke that +sentence, never had a saving wife. Economy wealth! Pooh! Pooh! I say, +economy is poverty. + +"Our house is full of economy. The more it becomes a bank full of that +article, so ridiculously misrepresented, the more poor I am. We have a +great linen-closet, never opened for use, full of economy. We have a +garret where economy is packed away. There are things ancient and +modern, big and little, shining and rusty, known and unknown, bought as +bargains, and patiently waiting under loads of dust to become useful, +and to save us several fortunes. There is a huge chest of economy in the +entry near the spare room door. It contains plated ware, spoons, urns, +tea-pots, toast-racks, branches for candle-sticks, all ready for use +some fifty years hence, when we shall give parties to the fashionable +people in our village, increased from eight or ten to one hundred. + +"And there is the fat boy in the kitchen, who was to save me from the +cost of hiring a man to cut my wood, and dig the garden, and who was to +wear my old clothes. Now he is so corpulent that he cannot get into my +coats or pantaloons. If there be a tide which takes out everything, and +brings in nothing, then it is economy. Yes. Economy is wealth." + +Now Mrs. Digby was a great domestic statesman. Her husband had been +leading a life of married astonishment. There seemed to be no end to the +resources of her diplomacy. Her reasons for any departure from her +ordinary expenditures, were versatile and profound. + +One principle behind which the good lady invariably entrenched herself, +was the impregnable one, that she never bought anything unless it was +under the promptings of a strict necessity. "I never buy anything not +strictly necessary, Mr. Digby," was the oil she poured on the troubled +waters of the mind of her husband. + +Now the man whose intellect was not able to comprehend the curious +principles that regulated his household, declared that he never saw +anything so comprehensive as this theory of necessity. It appeared to +him to be the only law on the earth or among the stars which had no +exceptions. And all these necessities, were a great perplexity under +another aspect. They were all matters of life and death. If the coat of +the little girl faded in a slight degree, a new one--if Mrs. Digby said +so--was so necessary, that it was evident that an earthquake would come, +or the sun turn aside from his path, with consequences of unending +disaster, unless her will was transformed into actual ribbons, and +merino, or silk, or velvet. And what was equally surprising, it +sometimes happened, that before one necessity could thus be removed, +another arose; and the first was forgotten. The earthquake was somehow +prevented. The sun did not alter his course. It was a strange mystery. + + * * * * * + +It happened after they had been married a short time, that Mrs. Digby +expected a visit from some friends. + +"My dear," she said, "you will be so pleased with them. I would not +think of treating them with any great ceremony, if it was not that they +have never seen our house. First impressions are very strong. I never +forget the pitcher, towels, and basin in the room where I slept, when I +made a visit to the Elders. Nothing could ever eradicate from my mind +the belief, that she is not as good a house-keeper as she should be. No, +it would not change my mind on that point, if I was to see her in a +house, where everything was cut out of newly fallen snow. + +"Now, my dear, as these friends are to form their first impressions of +my house, I am under the necessity of having everything very nice for +them. I shall go to the expense of buying a few articles. And then our +meals must be a little more particular than when we are alone. But we +will make all up by increased economy. Yes, we will save all the +increased expense in various ways. First impressions are so powerful. +The first impressions of these friends must be favorable." + +This all seemed to be very natural to Mr. Digby. But his surprise was +great when he discovered that this theory of first impressions on the +part of visitors, went on for years. The great portion of those who came +to see them, were persons who were to receive first impressions. The +Nobbs, the Stowells, the Campbells, the Lambs, and a host of others +came, and all were to receive their first impressions. After ten years +the theory was still in existence. As soon as Mr. Digby heard of a new +comer, then the theory was the first thing in his mind. + +And when any of the friends repeated a visit, Mrs. Digby had a pleasant +piece of information to impart to her lord and master. She had heard +that Mrs. Snobbs, for instance, had said, that their house was kept in a +state of perfection. She had been in ecstacies over the appearance of +the furniture, and thought the table such as would tempt one to eat who +had lost all appetite. Of course, it would never do to allow her to +come, and have the first impressions changed. That would be coming down +to a most painful extent. It could never be. Some old furniture must +therefore be displaced by some new purchases. And then their table must +be a little more richly served. Indeed, it would be rather advantageous +to have things a little better than in former times. Former impressions +would lead her to expect some advance. + + * * * * * + +----this time Mr. Digby was again much perplexed. His wife received a +present of three hundred dollars from an aunt. The good lady was quite +triumphant, and now appeared to think, that anything but economy was not +practicable. The old theory of necessity now came in like a torrent. The +good husband had read of crops which sprang up in some portions of the +earth, in a wonderful manner. He had heard of the plants in some of our +warm climes which grew under a few suns in certain seasons, in a way +which seems incredible to us who live in this northern land. But never +did he imagine that anything could ever equal the sudden growth of +necessities in his house, since the good aunt had sent the present. +Necessity met you everywhere. It haunted you in every room. You trod +upon it when you stepped upon the old carpet, or the old oil-cloth. You +could not come near the window but it met you. + +We must have new curtains for our parlor-windows. + +But, Mr. Digby suggested, daring to run a tilt, madman as he was, +against necessity, that irresistible giant, who has a perfect covering +of impenetrable mail,--the expense. Think of my present, said the lady, +offering terms as a conquering general would offer them to a prostrate +foe. I will give of my present a great part of the expense. + +So the curtains were bought. They were put up, and Mrs. Digby was as +happy as Mr. Digby was dejected and miserable. + +Then the good lady discovered that the porch must be taken down, and a +piazza erected. Her lord said it was impossible. Here again was he +foolish enough to place his impossibility as an opponent to her +necessity. She would pay for a portion of the cost out of the money +which was sent her by her aunt. But Mr. Digby said that he had several +debts to pay, and knew not how to meet them. + +Poor man! He here made a most disastrous movement of his forces. The +able general opposed to him, was too much gifted with military genius to +lose sight of the proffered advantage. + +Did he expect that she was to pay his debts out of the present made her +by her aunt? No such thing. Her dear aunt manifestly intended that the +money should be spent for her special comfort. She could read him the +letter. She intended, as that kind epistle taught, that her niece should +expend it in some way that would personally gratify herself. She never +intended that it should be swallowed up in the ordinary expenditures of +the house. + +So she ingeniously carried her day, for discomfiting Mr. Digby, on the +ground that he had proposed to her that she should pay his debts, which, +however, it will be observed he had not done,--for he had only +remonstrated against new expenditures before his old debts were +expunged,--she wisely made the two questions one. As he had to retire +from the field on the question of battle, as insisted on by her, despite +of all his pleas to the contrary,--she took for granted that the subject +of the new piazza was involved in the one issue. So the piazza was +erected. + +Some time after this, one of her friends wished to dispose of a new +carriage, or one almost as good as new. Mrs. Digby described it in +glowing terms. And then she said that she could have it at a great +reduction in the price. If the fish knew that the hook was near, as well +as Mr. Digby knew that the cord and hook were dangling around to secure +him for a prey,--no fish would ever be caught. + +It was astonishing what an eloquence Mrs. Digby could throw into such a +statement. It was not merely that she was eloquent when she described +the carriage. The picture she drew of the comfort in which she and her +lord would appear,--nay their increased elegance and respectability, was +one which could not have been surpassed. Then there was a happy contrast +presented between the proposed new equipage, and their present homely +wagon, in which they had of late years jogged along in a contented way, +which proved that their ideas of what was desirable were in need of +improvement. + +The master-power of her eloquence did not, however, here appear in its +highest manifestations. No, it was revealed when the simple description +of the carriage, conveyed to the mind of the hearer, the idea that if he +did not most earnestly desire to purchase it, he must be a man fit for +treason, stratagems, and spoils. The reproof was carried to the heart +through terrors, which in themselves seemed incapable of any such power. +Those who are ignorant of such feminine power, would as soon expect the +rays of the sun to bring with them the food needful for their +sustenance. And when she referred to the old carriage, Mr. Digby felt as +if his conscience was indeed disturbed. There were two statements +addressed to him. One referred to the homely nature of the wagon. The +other said, if you could allow a woman who has been a faithful wife,--a +woman who has shared your fortunes for fifteen years,--who has never +spared herself to order her household well,--who is the mother of seven +children of whom you are very proud,--to crown all,--who has practised +for fifteen years in your house, in the most untiring manner the most +exact, and even unreasonable economy,--buying only what she has been +forced to do under the pressure of necessity,--if you could allow such a +woman to go in that old wagon, when this new and pleasant carriage could +be purchased, and that too when she is willing to give part of the money +which was sent her by her affectionate aunt, that aforesaid money having +been intended for her own personal benefit,--why then you are one of +those of whom the world may well say, that it is fortunate that you are +not placed in a situation where you could become a pirate. + +After all this moving eloquence, one passage was repeated in express +words. Mr. Digby was told that if he would agree to the purchase of the +carriage and the harness which appropriately belonged to it, she would +expend in paying for it the three hundred dollars sent her by her aunt. +In that case he would have to advance but one hundred dollars, and by +that insignificant outlay, insignificant of course she meant in +comparison of that which they would gain, for economy is wealth, and she +could not throw away a dollar on any account, he would secure this +invaluable vehicle, and prove himself a man who had some regard for his +wife. + +Mr. Digby suggested that some of this money, sent by the aunt was to +have paid for the window-curtains. He intended to add in order, some +other purchases, all of which were to have a partial payment from the +same treasured notes. But this suggestion only brought upon him a storm +of virtuous indignation. Nothing could be more unreasonable than to +expect that her money should be devoted to such purposes. All that she +could say, was, that the curtains were necessities. And what would they +have done if the aunt had not sent the money? If the present had not +come, he would never have thought that she would be the one who ought to +supply the money for such necessary expenses. + +So the carriage was bought, and at last the money of the aunt was +expended. + +Mr. Digby made a calculation, and found that the three hundred dollars +of the aunt, had been expended in part payment for purchases which cost +him about one thousand dollars. He uttered the fervent hope that the +good aunt would not send any more of her precious gifts. + +Note. The manuscript here again becomes illegible. As far as I can +gather from a word which can be distinguished here and there, Mr. Digby, +after much suffering, and a severe illness from mental excitement, found +that his good lady, who was really a woman of affectionate nature, +changed all her views. Some one, at the close of the manuscript, appears +to be inquiring of him, how it is that he has attained great peace of +mind. The reply seems to be to the effect, that all the old theories are +exploded from their domestic arrangements, and that in place of all +other questions, the one consideration now is, what their income will +enable them to purchase. And there also seems to be an assertion, that +he no longer feels as if he was in danger of ruin, when any of their +relatives sends his wife a present. There further appears to be some +apology to the proverb, which he so greatly despised in former times, +that economy is wealth. + +[Footnote 1: This paper was so much injured by time, that the editor +could decipher only some portions. But he has concluded to publish these +fragmentary hints, which may be of utility, and open some eyes, as they +reveal some similar weaknesses, of a propensity to live beyond one's +income, which modern progress has not yet perfectly removed from all +minds.] + + + + +XIII. + +_TO MY WIFE._ + + + The lapidary day by day + Brightened the sparkling gem, + And then that diamond flashed each ray + Fit for a diadem. + So in this trusting heart of mine + Increaseth love for thee; + A love whose rays shall brighter shine + When earth shall close o'er me. + + The lapidary knoweth nought + But diamond-dust alone, + By which full glory may be wrought + Upon that precious stone. + So day by day increaseth love + By my true love alone; + The love that trial shall approve + A measure of thy own. + + + + +XIV. + +_FADING AWAY._ + + + From morn to night, thine eye, my dying-boy + Is on those autumn leaves that ever wave, + A sea of leaves on that great forest oak; + Each wave of that wide sea a wave of fire. + + Ah! boy! before those tinted leaves are sear, + And fallen with light crush upon the earth, + Thou wilt be gone. Oh! glorious canopy + Around thy dying bed! All nature seems + To yield a triumph conqueror ne'er received, + When all the world knew that he entered Rome, + To the Redeemer's little one who waits + Just at the gate of life. + + Blest is that tree + That lulls thy quiet. 'Tis one beauteous flame + Less glorious only than the burning bush, + When God was present in the wilderness. + Is He less present to thy spirit now? + + Soon, soon a change will come, and thou wilt see + The angels round thee. They will glow in light + From the Redeemer's presence. Then how dim + All earth's great transport round us in this scene! + Why hast thou lived, my boy? Thy little life + Has all been sorrow: all but some few smiles + To thy dear mother, and to me, to him + Thy brother here unconscious of his loss, + And to thy faithful nurse who never knew + Her care was trouble, sorrowing but for thee. + + But thou hast lived because thou art redeemed: + Because a life was here begun for heaven. + Thou livest to say, love not this passing world. + 'Tis not our home, or surely such as thou + Would be exempt from sorrow. All is well. + Yea, blessed is the family where death + Enters to take an infant. Without fear + All look unto the world where it has rest. + No gentler sorrow falls on all than this. + No gentler sorrow nurtures mutual love. + + O easy faith to know that it is gone + By the bright pathway to eternal realms + Which He first opened, when he left the cross, + The earth he blessed, and so ascended there, + Where with Him all the blessed at death have rest! + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Papers from Overlook-House, by Casper Almore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 36980-8.txt or 36980-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/9/8/36980/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Papers from Overlook-House + +Author: Casper Almore + +Release Date: August 5, 2011 [EBook #36980] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<h1>PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE.</h1> + +<h2>By Caspar Almore</h2> + + +<p class="center">PHILADELPHIA<br /> +J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.<br /> +1866.</p> + +<p class="center">Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by<br /> +J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,<br /> +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table width="90%"> +<tr><td><a href="#INTRODUCTORY_LETTER">INTRODUCTORY LETTER </a></td><td align="right">5</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE </a></td><td align="right">13</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE WELCOME AT OVERLOOK-HOUSE </a></td><td align="right">18</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. THE CHRISTMAS LOG IN THE KITCHEN </a></td><td align="right">33</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. HOW THE OVERLOOK PAPERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN </a></td><td align="right">47</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#I">I. DR. BENSON; OR THE LIVING MAN EMBALMED FOR TWENTY YEARS </a></td><td align="right">51</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#II">II. THE GHOST AT FORD INN—NESHAMONY </a></td><td align="right">75</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#III">III. MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT BIOGRAPHY;—OR, LITERATURE FOR A FAIR WIDOW </a></td><td align="right">91</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#IV">IV. KATYDIDS:—A NEW CHAPTER IN NATURAL HISTORY </a></td><td align="right">127</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#V">V. THE IMAGE-MAKER </a></td><td align="right">139</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#VI">VI. THE CLOUDS </a></td><td align="right">142</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#VII">VII. THE PROTECTOR DYING </a></td><td align="right">145</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#VIII">VIII. THE INDIAN DREAM-CELL </a></td><td align="right">149</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#IX">IX. WILD FLOWERS GATHERED FOR MY WIFE </a></td><td align="right">178</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#X">X. RIVERSDALE </a></td><td align="right">181</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#XI">XI. DR. SAMUEL STANHOPE SMITH AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE </a></td><td align="right">198</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#XII">XII. MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY </a></td><td align="right">224</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#XIII">XIII. TO MY WIFE </a></td><td align="right">236</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#XIV">XIV. FADING AWAY </a></td><td align="right">237</td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTORY_LETTER" id="INTRODUCTORY_LETTER"></a>INTRODUCTORY LETTER.</h2> + + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Overlook House</span>, <i>October 10, 1864</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Friend</span>:—At last, as if borne to you by some scape-grace of a +messenger, these papers, copied from the time-discoloured manuscripts, +so carefully preserved in the old book-case, which with its dark lustre, +its bright brass ornaments, is still the prominent object in our +library, are destined to reach the hands into which they should long ago +have been placed.</p> + +<p>I well remember the evening on which you first heard of them, and +listened to my attempt to read them to you; perplexed as I was with the +faded lines, traced by fingers which can write no more.</p> + +<p>You will not forget our drives, previously, during the day, and late in +the afternoon, in consequence of my week-day service in the old church. +Perhaps the ancient edifice would need the excuse of days of +architectural ignorance, but no Cathedral on earth can surpass it, in +its claim to occupy a place amid scenes of surpassing beauty and +sublimity. There it stands alone, on the slope of an immense hill, with +the whole range of the mountains from the water-gap to the wind-gap full +in view—glorious walls to sustain the great blue dome of heaven! The +great solitude of the road that winds along the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> grave-yard, has often +caused me to think of distant friends, and has riveted them to my soul +with still more indissoluble bonds. And the Great Friend has been the +great relief from oppressive loneliness, as I thus stood in one of the +beautiful gates of the Eternal Temple. As to that quiet grave-yard +itself, the "rhetoric of the dead" is there well spoken, and they whose +ashes are here deposited, do not find "second graves" in our short +memories.</p> + +<p>You will tell me that all connected with my church is not always solemn. +Your perverse memory will never forget the leader of the choir; nay, the +useful man who was often choir itself. He sang at least with energy. +Unfortunately—oh well do I remember my fearful victory over my +features, when I first became cognizant of the fact; a victory at a time +when a smile had endangered my claims to due ministerial sobriety; +unfortunately he had the habit of marking time emphatically, by raising +himself on his toes, and simultaneously elevating his hand, his chin, +his eyes, and his hair. Yet that was but a slight trial to us both. The +man was better than either of us; and the first impression having +subsided, we found that he did well in calling forth the voices of the +congregation. You will recollect our return home, as we refused all +offers of hospitality, although the snow was falling, and we were warned +not to risk the drifts, promised by the rising wind. We would not be +detained, as we had set our hearts on passing the evening together in +the old mansion of my fathers. On we drove, the sound of the bells +sweeping in wild merriment over the great fields of snow, or rising to a +louder chime as we passed through the forest, under a thousand triumphal +arches, of boughs laden with white honors. Only once, and where the road +was in a ravine, was I afraid that you would be exposed some hours to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +the storm, until we should hear the voices of hunters, and the bay of +their dogs, sent to seek us, after our custom, when any one is lost in +the snow. Happily we extricated ourselves, and soon saw the lights +gleaming from the windows of the house upon the hill.</p> + +<p>How pleasant the welcome of our good old Cæsar, the man of dark hue, who +had no desire to be the first man in the village, nor the second man at +Rome; but was all eagerness to have a place, however lowly, in the +Eternal City! Another glad welcome in the hall; a net-work of questions +from little threads of voices, and the seats before the great wood-fire, +one of the few remaining representatives of the profuse customs of the +fathers; one witness that our forests are not yet all swept away. Did we +not give ample tributes to the repast prepared by Cæsar's wife! Two +hungry men rescued from snow waves, we proved that one could feast on +Dinah's poetry of food, and yet, in the ensuing night, behold no +magnificent bandit, with a beard that would have done credit to a Roman +Centurion, and a dagger that honored the sense of sublime danger, by the +assurance that if it was to give us our death-blow, it was no coarse +weapon; the grand villain peering over you with an eye in which the evil +fires take refuge when conscience is in ashes. You know that in that +coming night, you did not even see the "fair ladie," now your wife, +borne away from you, in a mysterious coach, by some ruffians clad in +splendid mantles, while you were palsied, and could not move to seize +the sword, or gun, or could not call for aid. How pleasant was that +evening! From your weed rose the cloud that no counterblast, royal or +plebeian, has ever yet been able to sweep away from the lips of men. +Knitting by her little stand, sat one, whom to name is to tell, in a +word, the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> history of my best earthly happiness. I am sure her +sweet thoughts, when spoken, were as the fragrance of flowers over our +homelier fields; while her gentle sympathy added to our strength, and +her instinctive and pure impressions, aided our conceptions, as gentle +guides, and taught us how wisdom was linked to minds swayed by goodness. +What a bond has she been of our long-enduring friendship! We talked of +the old times—of the ancient famed hospitality of the house. We spoke +of those who came there at Christmas—when the hymn of Milton seemed to +be read in a grand audience chamber—at the Spring when the world seemed +again so young—at Autumn where the mountains and hills were all a glow, +as if angels had kindled them with a fire, burning, but not consuming +them, turning them into great altars, by which man could stand, and +offer his adoration. Then we spoke of the papers that had been read +among the assembled guests. I told you their history; a history further +recorded in the fourth chapter; the last of the four chapters +preliminary. These were written by my grandfather. As your curiosity was +awakened, I drew forth some of these, from the old book-case in the +library, and read them as I could. You insisted that I should decipher +them, and let you send them to the press; send them to some one of your +honorable publishers, so that many eyes could read, what few eyes have +rested on, in this distant solitude. Julia seconded the proposition. +What had I to do, but to obey! Some years have passed, and you have +often complained of my procrastination. Shall I make excuses? Excuses +are the shadows which the irresolute and idle, the evil, keep ever near, +as their refuge from just accusation. The moment you feel the least loss +of self-respect in seeking them, the moment you have to search to find +them, take heed of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> them. Those formed to be giants, often live in them, +and then life is consequently the life of the dwarf. I knew that I could +have sent the papers long ago, had I written two or three lines each +day, since I gave my promise. Julia, who, woman-like, always convicts me +when I excuse myself, and consoles me, and defends me, when I am in the +ashes, and contrite with self-upbraiding, who is never severe with me, +but when I spoil the children by keeping them up too late at night, +says, that I never allow a literary effort to encroach on my great +duties; that I have had so much to do, that I could not sooner perform +my promise. She laughs, and says that the dates I annex to my papers, +during my progress in this work, show how I was interrupted, and that if +the histories of intermediate parochial work were given, the book would +be a strange record. Often the sick and suffering have caused long +intervals to elapse in these labors. When I could attempt the work, the +change in the current of my associations has been a relief. Julia has +wished me to write histories of the lives of some of those, who composed +various papers in the old case. Of course, some of the authors have been +passing utterly from the minds of a race, that cannot remember, but the +least remnant of those who have gone before. We lament the ravages of +time. Multitudes are forgotten on the earth, whom it would be a blessing +to have in perpetual remembrance. Alas! we have also to confess, that +time conceals the story of innumerable others, when it is well that it +should be buried in its deepest oblivion.</p> + +<p>I hope that I have copied these papers with commendable accuracy. We +trust that they will add to the happiness of those who read them, and +prove at the same time to be profitable. May they increase kind +impressions! May they sow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> seeds that shall have the sun and dew that +never falls on growth that is evil! Man has tablets in the heart, for +inscriptions greater, and more enduring, than those of the great ledges +of rock in the far East.</p> + +<p>As one would hesitate to write the outlines of his coming destiny, if +such a pen of Providence could be ready for his hand, so he, who has any +love for others, would pause before he would carve, even in faintest +letters, one word on these, which could sully the surface, where the +indestructibility warns us, that all is an eternal record with Him, +whose eye is too pure to look upon iniquity. I need not attempt, like +authors of a former age, to solicit a favorable criticism, from the +"gentle reader." If I say, here, that the hall has rung with peals of +laughter, as some of the papers of the old book-case have been read, +that some have shed tears over the Ghost of Ford Inn, and said, it is +too sad, these assurances will not predispose one who shall open the +proposed volume, to utter a favorable opinion. These waifs must be cast +on the waters, like all other similar ventures. We must wait, and learn +where Providence shall waft them.</p> + +<p>Will these papers outlive this decaying house? Will men love us because +we have sent them forth? Will we, because of them, be grasped with a +kindlier hand? Will they soften hearts in this trying world, and aid men +to a greater charity?</p> + +<p>But I must pause. Lamps will grow dim. Warnings will come, that letters +may attain to too great prolixity. Readers are often not sufficiently +sagacious, to know that when Homer nods, he has a design. Can I apply, +what old Dr. South, the great and witty preacher said, when he printed +the sermon at the Royal mandate, that the Majesty of the Realm must +excuse the length of the discourse, inasmuch as he had not had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> time to +make it shorter? Or, shall I remember the severe speech, doubtless a +dutiful necessity, a knife to remove such a miserable vanity as often +makes men worse than useless; the severe speech of an Eastern Divine, +who, when the young preacher waited all day in vain for a compliment, to +his morning's discourse, and said, in desperation, as the evening waned +in the study, "Doctor, I hope that I did not weary your people with the +length of my discourse," had for reply the quiet answer, "No, sir; nor +by the depth of it."</p> + +<p>So, as you have the infirmity of going to sleep over the most +interesting discourse, as the lamp is going out, as I am nervous, +sitting up at such a late hour, as the paper is all written over, and I +have none other near at hand, I release you. Go to sleep, but wake the +world to-morrow, and then say that I am your friend.</p> + +<p class="right">A friend of many years,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Caspar Almore</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<h2>OVERLOOK.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3><i>ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE.</i></h3> + + +<p>I stepped from the stage-sleigh, in the village of Overlook, at the +post-office: for there the driver stopped to leave his mail-bag. That +important article, which, as a boy, I used to regard with undefined +dread, for I associated it with a poor wretch, who was hung for laying +villanous hands upon one, in a desolate road, was the old-fashioned +leather sack, full of iron rivets.</p> + +<p>Perhaps at the time when this writing may reach the press, such a +contrivance may have become antiquated; and therefore I had better add +to my description, that a weighty chain passed through iron rings, to +secure the opening; and finally, there was the brass padlock, at which +the Indian gazed with such contempt, when he said, "Brass lock upon +leather! that makes my knife laugh." I stepped from the heavy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +stage-sleigh into the one sent for me by Judge Almore, and it was like +passing from a heavy craft on the waters, into one of lesser make, and +lighter burden. John Frake, the farmer at Overlook Manor, had driven +over for me. His horses seemed exhilarated by the bells, and we dashed +forward in splendid style. John Frake was a character; a real man in +energy, work, and talk; frank, and good-hearted.</p> + +<p>As we drove along, in a loud voice, that permitted not a word to be lost +by the melody of the bells, he made his comments upon all things, and +especially on the inhabitants along the streets of the village.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Norkin lives there," he said, pointing with his whip to a +comfortable house. And then as if pondering the beginning of a long +train of thought, he added,</p> + +<p>"Those Yankees are unaccountable smart people."</p> + +<p>"The doctor is a Yankee, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no! there aint enough Yankee in him to make a spot on the map of +Massachusetts. Not but that the doctor has lots of common sense, and +keeps all that he has got ready for use, when wanted, as ready as my +plough to go through the ground. But those Yankees have the most +uncommon ways of putting things together; just as if you took something +out of the middle of the earth, and made it fit something on the top of +a mountain."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, but I don't see what Yankees have to do with the doctor."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I was thinking about. I was once at the mountains, +forty miles off, where there is a mineral spring. There is where ladies +and gentlemen go to drink water, eat all manner of things at the tavern, +and get well, when they never have been sick. Iron in the water at the +springs! Bless you; it would not divide the nails in a horse-shoe in a +month, to the whole army of the Revolution, if they had drunk of nothing +else. Well our judge and the family followed the fashion. Fashion is a +runaway horse that carries a great load of straw behind him, and +sometimes he has after him things much better than straw. I drove up to +bring them home. But the judge was taken sick just before I got there, +and sent for our doctor here, to come up and cure him. In the night, +after I got there, one of your uncommon Yankees, who seemed to be well +off, and to do fifty things, from what I could gather, to make money, +had a bad attack; unlike anything I ever heard of around here. He was +awful bad. I heard the racket, and went into his room.</p> + +<p>"'My friend,' says I, 'you do look awful bad'—for I always speak my +honest sentiments, in a sick-room, or out of it. 'I thank you for your +sympathy,' says he—and yet somehow it sounded as if he didn't. I +presumed he didn't want any one to talk to him. 'Send<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> down for Dr. +Norkin,' says the landlord. 'He is here;' this is what he said to the +sick man. 'He lives forty miles off—at Overlook. But he is here, +attending on Judge Almore—who has been ill.'</p> + +<p>"The sick man, after a groan or two, raised himself up in his bed. It +was as good as the best apple, to see how quickly he seemed to ungear +his mind from his sick body. He gave a long thought. Then he said,</p> + +<p>"'Did the judge send for that doctor, because he was in the house at the +time when he was taken sick? Or did he send all the way to Overlook for +him to come here to him?'</p> + +<p>"'He sent for him to Overlook,' says the landlord, before I could put in +a word.</p> + +<p>"'Then I'll see him,' says he—speaking quickly out, and firm like, as +if he was a king. Now wasn't that cute? I tell you such men think +faster, and a great way before other people. Well; it's a free country, +and all people aint bound to do their thinking alike."</p> + +<p>We now came to the entrance of the lane, that led up to Overlook House.</p> + +<p>Two large cherry trees stood on either side of the gate. I drew the +attention of my companion to them. They were very venerable, and their +winter boughs showed some signs of decay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Them big trees,"—said he. "Either of them, I'll engage is as old as +three average men. They say a man averages thirty years of life. Now +they are full ninety years old, and big at that."</p> + +<p>"You have lived long with the judge?"</p> + +<p>"Bless your heart, sir, long indeed. But he's a good man. There's few +that don't say so—well, thank God, it is those kind of people that +don't. When he speaks and acts, you feel that our Lord has taught him +his religion—just as we know it is Sunday, when we wake and hear the +church-bells ringing, and all the sun-light seems full of the sweet +sound, and all the sound as if it had gone through the bright sun. I do +love Sunday."</p> + +<p>Here we were close to the house. "Come and see me," he said, "down at my +house there. It is not as big as the judge's, but then there is room in +it for a hearty welcome. I will give you a glass of good cider, or two, +or three, for that matter. As for wine, I never keep any. It seems to me +to be poor stuff, as if it was trying to be brandy, and couldn't." The +mission of the sleigh was now over. I and my trunks were at the porch of +the house. So the worthy farmer and I parted for the present.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE WELCOME AT OVERLOOK-HOUSE.</i></h3> + + +<p>A colored servant man, of most respectable appearance, and of quiet +manners, evidently glad of my arrival ushered me into the house, saying +that Judge Almore would be home in a short time, as he had gone but a +little distance on the farm; and that his good lady would come down +stairs in a few minutes. The hall of the house was large, and decorated +with Indian relics; with long deer-horns, also, and other trophies of +the hunting ground. I was hastened into an adjoining room, which I had +scarcely entered, before I felt the invigorating heat from the great +fire-place. There the hickory logs seemed doing their best, with their +immense flame, to make me feel as if I was cared for, a stranger from a +distance. On the hearth there was a small mountain of glowing coals. How +pleasant it is to sit before such a fire, and to think that our +interminable forests, will supply abundant fuel, for the inhabitants of +our cities for hundreds of years to come. Even when New York, and +Philadelphia, Trenton, and Boston, may, two or three centuries hence, +have each two or three hundred thousand inhabitants, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> that +expectation of their increase in population, is not so chimerical as it +seems, and when the country round them, may be so cleared and +cultivated, that in a circle of fifteen or twenty miles in diameter, the +farm-houses may generally be in sight of one another, it is probable +that the decrease of our woods will scarcely be perceptible.</p> + +<p>But as I gazed into the flames which soon removed all chilliness from my +frame, I had no time for lengthened speculations on the future of our +land; for Mrs. Almore entered the room, and greeting me with great +cordiality, assured me of my welcome. As I was engaged in conversation +with this most estimable lady, I found myself called on to regret her +visitation with a great affliction. Her cheerful countenance and manner, +however, proved that she had not permitted it to hang over her as a +cloud, to darken her days, or to make her selfish in her expectation of +attention. The affliction was a great deafness, one evidently of long +duration, and incurable; so I judged from the evidence of her loud +tones, almost shouting when she addressed me. I flatter myself that I +can cause any one to hear me speak, who has the ability to know, that a +pistol is discharged not far from his ear. And I always feel great +commiseration for those who hear with difficulty. Meeting with such, I +regard the power of my lungs, as a gift, particularly designed for their +service<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> and enjoyment. Indeed I undesignedly secured a legacy from an +aged aunt, by the assiduity I exhibited in informing her of what was +said around her, when others neglected her, as she thought, because it +was so difficult to make her to hear. Trained as I had been in the past, +I have to confess, that my powers of loud speech, were never more taxed +than on the present occasion. The loud tones in which we commenced our +conversation, were gradually increased; I perceived that as she raised +the pitch of her voice, it was a delicate intimation to me, that I must +speak with increased effort, if I would secure a perfect hearing. As we +were engaged in this polite rivalship, each being, not only a diligent +hearer, but a good speaker, a most comfortable-looking African woman, of +very dark hue, entered to receive the orders of her mistress. She +desired to know, as it soon appeared, some particulars concerning the +approaching meal; and also to receive some orders which pertained to the +room I was to occupy. The good mistress then stepped aside and drew near +to the swarthy domestic. To my surprise, the lady dropped her voice to a +good undertone, and gave her directions, as it were, "aside." She is one +of those deaf persons, I said to myself, who can understand what others, +with whom they are familiar, have to say when they see the motion of +their lips. I once met with a man who had this singular gift. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +possessed it to such an extent, that strangers, who conversed with him, +never knew that he did not hear a word which they spoke. Yet what could +I do now! I was compelled to hear what was said. How strange it was, +that the good lady overlooked the fact, that I must hear all that could +be heard by Dinah. And this Dinah was now informed what set of china +should be placed on the table for my special benefit. From what she +hinted, I inferred, that there was some special honor in this +arrangement; as it proved to her that the Holemans, who took tea with +them the night before, having made use of a decidedly inferior service, +were some grades less respectable than myself—though the mistress, when +the insinuation was made, peremptorily declared, that the aforesaid +Holemans were very worthy people, and should always be treated with +great respect, as valued friends, in her house. An occasion was also +taken, on the mention of the white and gold china, to administer a +cutting reproof to Mrs. Dinah, for a nick in the spout of the +tea-pot,—which circumstantial evidence, clearly and hastily summed up, +proved to be the result of carelessness in the kitchen. To this attack, +Dinah, as I must honestly testify, made persistent defense, and gave +some most curious rebutting testimony. And I am also under obligation to +state, that even when most excited by the charge, she never even made +the most distant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> allusion, to the possibility that the cat had anything +to do with this domestic calamity. Such was the honor of the kitchen in +the good old times. I also learned, incidentally, some curious +information concerning the comparative ages of some chickens, which had +lately been cooped up and fattened.</p> + +<p>I gleaned besides, some antiquarian lore concerning a venerated +"comfortable," that was intended for my bed,—and a hint that some +portion of its variegated lining had been the valued dress of a +grandmother, worn by her on some memorable occasion,—a proud record in +the family history. Some very particular directions were also given for +my comfort, so that my ideas on the art of house-keeping, were greatly +expanded; and I was ready to look on each lady, who ruleth over a house, +as a minute philosopher.</p> + +<p>Dinah was also informed, that she was forbidden to act on a speculative +principle, which she advanced, with great assurance; namely, that +bachelors did not see, or know anything; that it was only married men +who did; being set up to it by their wives, who made a mighty fuss in +another house, when all the time they knew things wasn't as tidy at +home. She was told not to act on any such miserable sophistry—that +things were to be done right, and kept right—no matter whether any one +noticed them, or not. In the course of conversation, my having come from +New York was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> the subject of an allusion; whereupon the dark woman +slipped in the observation, that she did wish she could get to that +place, for she "was afraid that she should die, and have nothing to +tell."</p> + +<p>After all this important business was transacted, there was a hasty, and +sudden digression for a moment, in the shape of a kind inquiry into the +present state of the health of the hopeful heir of the said Dinah, who +was spending the chief portion of his days in a cradle. I was, I must +confess it, very much astonished to learn, from the reply and +descriptions of the mother, that there is such a wonderful sympathy, +between the teeth which are trying to make their way into the world, and +the mechanism of a juvenile which is concealed from human sight in his +body. It seemed to me a marvellous proof of the manner in which such +little creatures maintain their hold on life, that he could possibly +have endured such astonishing internal pains; and, also, that all the +world ought to know the sovereign virtues of an elixir, which was +compounded at Overlook House. Its virtues, unlike the novel devices that +are palmed on the public with such pretentious certificates, have been +tested by the infants of several generations.</p> + +<p>All cabinet meetings must have an end. So Dinah disappeared, after a +furtive glance at my person; drawing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> her conclusions, I am assured, +whether I would be a suitable husband for Miss Meta.</p> + +<p>Soon after the hall door opened, and this young lady entered. Her mother +introduced me to her in the same high pitch of voice, in which she +conducted her conversation with strangers.</p> + +<p>She said a few kind and pleasant words to me; and with a voice raised to +an imitation of the maternal precedent, though without the loss of its +indescribable sweetness. She was evidently anxious, that her mother +should feel, that she was to be a party in our brief conversation.</p> + +<p>As I looked at her, I thought that a sweeter, more etherial form, a face +more radiant with affections pure as the air over the snow, an eye to +rest on you, as if it said, that every one on whom it fell was a new +object for sympathy, had never met my view, and I thought then, and +think now the more confidently, that I have made a good use of my eyes +during my pilgrimage in the world. After the interchange of the few +words to which I have alluded, she was about leaving us; but before she +reached the door, her mother called to her, and arrested her steps. The +good lady addressed her, in the same low tones in which she had formerly +conversed with Dinah.</p> + +<p>As I looked at her again, I felt that I repressed the exhibition of +signs of unrestrained admiration. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> seemed, indeed, as if she had +grown up in the midst of the beauty of the natural world, and had been +moulded to a conformity with all that we witness of grace in the field, +or in the forest. The mother spoke in a manner half playful, half +serious. "So Miss Meta this is the old way. You expected the arrival of +this young gentleman, quiet, good-looking, evidently a person of good +sense, and your father says, of most estimable character. And there you +have on your old shawl, your old bonnet, and your hair blown about in +the wind as if it had never had a brush applied to it. You are so +careless about your appearance! You know that I have often spoken to you +on the subject. And yet, on the most important occasions, you neglect +all my advice. You will be laid upon the shelf yet. You will die an old +maid. But do not blame me. Do go, and brush your hair, and put on +another frock, and make yourself presentable. And after that, go and see +that Dinah arranges everything right. I will give you credit for order, +and expertness as a house-keeper. Old maids, however, are often very +good house-keepers. So go, and do as I tell you. I don't mean to say +that you are a dowdy, but I want to see you more particular."</p> + +<p>"My revered mother," said Meta, with a most grave inclination of the +head, and with a slight pomp of declamation, "your will is law. My +dress, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> next two or three weeks, shall be a grand deceit, as if +it was my habit to be as particular as the young Quakeress, who once +visited us, and who was as exact in arranging her robes, as the snow is, +in taking care, that there shall be grace in its unblemished drifts. I +intend, in fact, to be irresistible. Henceforth let all young men, +quiet, respectable, who have not cross eyes, and who fascinate a mother, +and give occasion to all her sanguine hopes of matrimonial felicity for +a daughter, beware of Meta. They are as sure of being captives, as the +poor little rabbits I so pity, when once they unwisely venture, to +nibble at the bait in one of Peter's celebrated traps. So, best of +mothers, forgive the past. Wisest of counsellors, for a brief space, +farewell."</p> + +<p>After the retreat of the daughter silence endured for a little while, +while I walked to the window, and enjoyed the extensive and beautiful +view. The residence of the Judge was on a hill, overlooking a +picturesque village, and hence the name of the mansion which in time +dispelled a very ugly name, from the small town, and gave its own +designation to the place—the name of such a collection of dwellings +generally becoming permanent when the post-office is established in its +limits. After this I was engaged in the survey of some fine old plates +upon the wall, and the picture of a portly old gentleman, whose dress +indicated that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> he had lived in the olden time. I was seeking to find +some clue to his character and history in his face, when Mrs. Almore +rose, and crossed the room and joined me.</p> + +<p>It was evident that the picture was too important for me to look upon it +and not know what was due of admiration for him, of whom this uncertain +resemblance was all that remained on earth,—the frail shadow of a +shadow. I saw at once that she had a formidable history to relate, and +that she had often told it to those who gazed on the form on the wall. I +suspected that some family pride was gratified by the narrative; and +prepared myself for some harmless amusement, as I was to watch and +observe how the vanity would expose itself. But she had not got beyond +some dry statistics, the name, the age, the offices held in the State in +the good olden time, when such honors were always a pledge of merit in +the possessors, before the Judge entered the room, without our observing +it. He drew near, heard for a moment, with the greatest astonishment, +the loud tones of the lady, who now addressed me.</p> + +<p>He extended his hand to me, with very kind, but dignified, courtesy, +and, after giving the assurance that I was most truly welcome on my own +account, and for the sake of my father, who had been a fellow-student +with him at Princeton College, and almost a life-long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> friend, he turned +to the lady by us, his honored wife, and exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"My dear, I heard your elevated voice outside of the house, and in the +extreme end of the hall. You really alarmed me. At first I could not +imagine what had occurred in the room. Why do you speak in such tones of +thunder to my young friend? Is this a new style of hospitality for +Overlook-House?"</p> + +<p>"You told me that our guest, Mr. Martin, was deaf." So spoke the good +hostess, with a look of frightened inquiry, a perturbed glance at +myself,—with a countenance that expressed a desire for relief,—while +her tone was expressive of a great misgiving.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said the Judge; "you are under an entire mistake. I +told you that he wrote to me, some time ago, that he had met with an +accident and become very lame. But when I told you this I remember that +you were very much abstracted. I presume that you were deeply absorbed +in some new order for your household, or in the state of Dinah's noisy +heir. I never heard that Mr. Martin was deaf for a moment in his life. I +told you that he was lame."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure—are you sure that he is not deaf?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that he hears as well as either of us. And,—at least as far +as you are concerned, that is to say that he could not have a better +sense of hearing. He might possibly, it is true, be abstracted, when +any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> one spoke to him, and imagine that he said 'deaf,' when in reality +the speaker said 'lame.'"</p> + +<p>"Dear me! my future peace is destroyed. It is worse than if a ghost +intended perpetually to haunt me—for the ghost would come only in the +dark; but this disaster will torture me day and night. I have buried +myself under a mass of ruins from which I cannot extricate myself." And +the lady looked as if an anaconda was threatening to creep in among us.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that Mr. Martin will forgive you. He has only been annoyed by +a loud conversation for a short time. It will be a pleasing variety to +hear you address him in a gentle voice. Since he had such evidence of +the pains you have taken to entertain him when you thought him deaf, he +is assured that you will not change your desire to make him feel at home +and to know that he is among friends, now that you hear so well."</p> + +<p>"Judge, you have no sympathy. You should have taken care that I did not +fall into such a terrible mistake. I often notice that you speak to me, +and turn and go away, as if you never watched to observe whether I +understood you or no. I have often felt it, Judge, often felt +it,—although I kept my feelings on the subject to myself. And now you +see the consequences. You see where you have landed me. And I am the one +to suffer all the evil that results from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> such indifference. What shall +I do? Here is Meta. Meta, what shall I do? Mr. Martin is not at all +deaf. Somehow, your father did not impress what he said on my mind. I am +sure that this is not the first time that I have misunderstood him, and +I never have any desire to fall into error. People that are so accurate +and so careful as he is, not to be guilty of any mistake in their +professional duties, so accurate as they say he is when on the bench, +are often careless of smaller matters at home. Meta, Mr. Martin can +hear. My dear, he can hear as well as you or I."</p> + +<p>"Let me, my dear mother, enter into your Christian joy, now that your +sorrow over his supposed affliction is relieved. You know that it is an +unmingled pleasure to you to learn that he is not afflicted with so +great a calamity as you supposed."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Meta."</p> + +<p>"And then, mother, as far as I am involved in the consequences of your +mistake, he knows that I appear in my present fascinations; see my +smooth hair, and this frock almost new, not in my own will, or in +accordance with my usual habits, but solely from a sense of filial duty. +I am so charming, because of my reverential regard for the injunctions +of my mother."</p> + +<p>"Meta, can you never be still?"</p> + +<p>"And then, mother, if there be a little art in my dress, if snares lurk +around me to secure those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> come near me, this does not proceed, in +the least possible degree, from any guile in me. It is the mere +expression of the anxiety of a mother that her daughter should not +attain the condition of some of the best people on the earth. I allude +to a class of my sex who are ignorantly, I will not say uncharitably, +supposed to make the world uncomfortable through their inflexible +devotion to minor morals."</p> + +<p>"Meta, unless you are silent I shall have to leave the room."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, then I am mute. How fortunate it was that I was the only +person with whom you conversed in the hearing of Mr. Martin!"</p> + +<p>"Meta, you drive me mad. I did have another conversation, which he +heard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do tell us! What happened? It could not have been as interesting to +him as the one which you held with me. I shall not use my brush for some +time without thinking about it. Do tell us. As Nancy often says, I am +dying to hear all about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said I, "Miss. Meta, all that your mother said was of no +importance. She cannot care, when she reflects upon it, whether I heard +it or no."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Martin, then tell us what she said. It put my father and +myself under a lasting obligation."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Martin can be more considerate than you are."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam, because he has heard all. I will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> as considerate as you +please, if I can only acquire the same information. Well, walls have +ears. And if ever walls heard anything, I am sure ours have heard +to-day. They will speak in due time. Father, who has been in the room +with mother since Mr. Martin arrived? I must ask Ben."</p> + +<p>"Meta, I take my departure. If nothing is heard of me to-day or +to-morrow, search the mill-pond. Oh, what a difference there is between +being lame, or deaf! I cannot forgive your father. Really, he ought to +be more cautious. I cannot forgive him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE CHRISTMAS LOG IN THE KITCHEN.</i></h3> + + +<p>The day after my arrival, Miss Meta and I were returning home, after we +had driven several miles over the country in a sleigh. Our nearest +conception of the ecstasy of those who shall hereafter have wings, with +which they can fly over earth and sea, on a bright morning, racing with +the larks, or some ambitious hawk, or, on some most fortunate hour, even +with the eagle, is attained when we glide thus over the snow. But far +above all the other pleasure of the time, was the sweet companionship of +her whose laugh was merrier than the bells, which Cæsar had hung around +the horses with a profuse generosity. I have wondered at the mysterious +manner in which some of the loveliest beings with which God enriches +this earth are developed before our view, on occasions when we might +expect that we should obtain the least insight into their character.</p> + +<p>How is it that the ineffable purity of a woman, her depth of affection, +her capacity for sympathy, which even in its lesser degrees renders her +such a blessing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> in a world of so much trial, can, in some instances of +great perfection, appear with such evidence in a few words, in an act +which requires but little self-denial, in a tone of sorrow for small +suffering, or of joy for some one who is happy! There are some men in +whom you place perfect confidence as soon as you once behold the eye +kindled with an earnest expression, and hear their voice. After all the +disappointments one endures in life from misplaced trust one may freely +confess that if we have spent many years on the earth, and at last say +in our hearts there are none in whose professions we can repose, the +fault is in ourselves. We judge ourselves to be true men, and we cannot +be a miracle, standing alone as such, amid all the rest of the human +family. But if we can assuredly pronounce of some men that they are +worthy of our utmost confidence as soon as we become acquainted with +them, much more can we confide in our impressions, thus quickly formed, +of some of the gentler portion of our race. How many years have passed +since I formed my first impressions of Meta! and how true they were! +Quickly, inaudible prophecies, in their silence arresting your mind and +eliciting homage, were made known in her presence, and gave promise of +endless charities to adorn her daily life. There was an imperious +necessity in her noble nature, elevated as no power of earth could +accomplish, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> perform with strict exactness even the least duties, as +one who heard him say that the least of his commandments can by its +observance aid us to the attainment of the true life.</p> + +<p>An enthusiast might have said that her very laugh was too pure for +earth. All pure influences, too good for us, are needed by our +necessities. It is well for earth that we have not only those among us +who, though not criminal in human estimate, are of the earth earthy, and +of whom the world is worthy. Her joy always proclaimed the freedom given +the blest here below, and that it never could subvert the deep gravity +of her nature—as the bark that moves so gaily in the sun and wind, by a +sudden check reminds us that it cannot drift into danger, but is secure; +for the hidden anchor holds in its just bounds.</p> + +<p>We had crossed a stream upon the ice, and were now ascending the hill +from whose summit we could see Overlook-House in the distance. The great +forest was on either side of the way. Suddenly we espied three men +holding a consultation over an immense log. It had just been severed +from a huge tree, which the saw and axe had laid low, the great branches +sweeping the snow as they came crushing down into heaps, and here and +there revealing the dead leaves and the wintry grass.</p> + +<p>Near them stood—models of patience—four oxen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> looking as if the cold +air could never discompose them, and attached to a sled whose strong +runners seemed to defy any weight that could be heaped upon them. I +recognized the men as servants belonging on the estate of the Judge. +They were negroes, slaves,—slaves in name, awaiting a near year of +emancipation fixed by the law of the State. They were perfectly aware +that they could have their freedom at any time from their +master,—freedom in name; for they now possessed it in reality.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be more comfortable than their general appearance. Their +dress was warm, and such as any laboring man could desire. At the +present moment their happiness seemed perfect. They surrounded the log +with an exhibition of exuberant animal spirits, with transport in such +excess that it never could have been crowded into the frame of a white +man.</p> + +<p>As we drew near, one was demanding attention, in a most triumphant +manner, to sundry vast knots which protruded from the log. Then the trio +made the wood ring with shouts of merriment, and threw themselves into +inimitable contortions.</p> + +<p>"What causes all this excitement?" I asked. "Why should that log cause +all the effect which the greatest wit could hope to produce?" "They are +preparing," was the answer, "a back-log for the kitchen chimney.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> It is +to be put in the fire-place this evening, the night before Christmas, +after all the fire has burnt down required for an evening meal. As long +as any portion of it lasts, they have holiday. In winter they have so +little to do, that it would puzzle them to say what change the holiday +makes in their labor. Their imagination acts on a traditionary custom. +Hence they take it for granted that they have an easier time than in the +month before or after. They go into the wood and select the largest tree +and the one which can afford the log most likely to last. Before they +retire to rest, they take great care to arrange the brands and coals so +that it shall not burn during the night. They often throw water upon it +when it seems to burn too rapidly. And as to their wisdom, I think that +on the present occasion they have made an admirable choice."</p> + +<p>We now drew near, and spoke to the Africans. They eagerly called the +attention of their young mistress to the wonderful qualities of the +severed trunk. Assertions were made concerning fabulous quantities of +buckwheat-cakes, that would be eaten before that vast cylinder would be +reduced to ashes. There was not the slightest idea that any member of +the family of the Judge would feel the least interest different from +their own. In fact they felt that all joined them in their conspiracy +against—they knew not what,—a conspiracy for some great imaginable +benefit unknown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You had better hasten," I said, observing their oblivion as to the work +before them; "for the sun is sinking, and the night will soon be upon +us. There is no moon to-night."</p> + +<p>"Master," said one, "what is the reason why the moon always shines on +bright nights, when we do not want him, and not on dark nights, when we +can't see where we go?"</p> + +<p>Happily, before I could summon my philosophical knowledge for practical +use, and deliver then and there, from my oracular sleigh, a lecture +which would do honor to my Alma Mater, while I, in a lucid manner, +removed the perplexity of my inquirer, he was called away to make +diligent use of one of the great levers provided for the occasion. The +rolling of the log on the sled was hard work,—so hard that I gave Meta +the reins, and volunteered my assistance. I did well as to the physical +application of power. Yet I found these men, in this instance, possessed +of more practical natural philosophy than myself. The toil was seasoned +with much wit,—that is to say, wit if the laughter was to be the test. +And there is no epicure who can exceed the African in enjoyment when he +is feasting on his own witticisms.</p> + +<p>Meta told me that I must by all means be a witness to the process of +rolling the log on the kitchen hearth. So we led the way home, our fleet +horses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> leaving the oxen, with their vast and important load, far behind +us. On our arrival home, we found the wife of the doctor, with the Judge +and his good lady. She was a pleasant person, and added to the +conversation of the evening the remarks of an acute and cultivated mind. +She had one protruding weakness. It was her pride in her family, which +was a very respectable one in the part of the country from which she +came. She had been educated in the idea, that they were the greatest +people in the world,—a wide-spread delusion in the land. This led her +to assure me, at least a dozen times in the evening that her family were +very "peculiar." "This tea very fine! Yes, it is remarkably good. I am +sure that it cannot be excelled. And I must say to you, that my family +are very peculiar. They are very peculiar in their fondness for +excellent tea."</p> + +<p>"The Judge's family not exclusive! No; certainly they are very much +beloved, and, mingling with others, have done great good to our +community. But I must say that my family are, perhaps, too exclusive. +They are peculiar, very peculiar. They do not like to associate with +uncongenial persons."</p> + +<p>"What a grand Christmas fire! Well I suppose I inherit the love of such +a blaze. How cheerful it is! Well my family are peculiar, very peculiar; +they always like to have a cheerful, a good warm fire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> They are +peculiar." So "peculiar" I soon discovered meant that they were very +remarkable, very distinguished people. It was to be supposed that all +that they did, indicated that they were made of clay finer than all the +rest used in the formation of other people. Common things touched by +their hands became gilded and refined. Wherever they were, there was a +pyramid above the common elevation, and on its summit was their +appropriate place. Was the doctor on that platform? Or was he only +holding to it by his elbows and yet with his feet far above the earth on +which common men had their place where they could stand?</p> + +<p>With the exception of this folly the lady was, as I have said, an +acquisition to our evening party. She was evidently one who had a kind +heart, and devotedly attached to her Lord and Master. In after days I +found her to be one of my most valued friends and advisers. As respects +their ability to become such true friends, an ability which truly +ennobles man, I have no doubt that her family were peculiar, very +peculiar indeed.</p> + +<p>The evening was quickly passing away when we were summoned, according to +the order which Meta had given, to the wing of the house where was the +kitchen, that we might see the great log rolled into the fire-place. The +kitchen was a very large room, such as were built of old by prosperous +settlers in our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> land, when they had acquired enough of this world's +goods, to make such additions to the log cabin in which they began their +farming life, as they in their full ambition of space could desire.</p> + +<p>How often are the dwelling-houses in our country a curious history of +the gradual increase of a family in prosperity!</p> + +<p>The kitchen of the Judge was evidently designed by a frontier architect, +as a great hall of refuge for a large family. The windows were planned +when there need not be loop-holes where Indians prowled around, and +might need the admonition of a rifle-ball to teach them to keep at a +respectful distance. The glasses in them were small, and the pieces of +wood in which they were inserted would have been strong enough for the +rounds of a ladder. There was room for all things. One could churn, +another spin, another mend a net; children could find appropriate nooks +where they could con the spelling-book and study the multiplication +table in times when the rod was not spared; neighbors making a friendly +call could find a vacant space where they could sit and partake of cider +and homely cakes, and if they had any special business, which a citizen +would settle in two minutes, could spend an hour in preliminaries of a +very vague kind, in generalities not glittering, and coming to the +subject, only when they were farthest from it, and all could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +transacted without any one being in the least degree incommoded.</p> + +<p>One of the prominent objects in the kitchen at Overlook-House was the +rafters above you. The ceiling was resting upon them, in the form of +thick boards, which were the floor of the rooms above. From these guns +were suspended on wooden forks, just as they were cut from the tree and +stripped of their bark. Fishing rods were hung there in the same manner. +In some places parcels of dried herbs were tied to large nails driven +into the timbers. Here and there a board was nailed to the rafters, +forming a shelf. On one side of the room was a great bench with a board +back much higher than the head of any person who could sit upon +it,—which back by an ingenious device could be let down and make a +table,—the rude sofa beneath answering for solid legs.</p> + +<p>Near this useful combination was a box on rockers—as a cradle. There +lay the heir of Dinah. Its little dark head on the white pillow was like +a large blackberry, could it have existed out of its season and fallen +on the pure snow. Dinah, who was near it, was a character. Her sayings +were memorable. One day she was speaking of a bad man who had found his +way for a brief season to Overlook, and said in a state of great +indignation, for he had cheated the people by some act of bare-faced +villany, "Master, if the devil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> doesn't get that man I want any of the +folks to tell me what is the use of having a devil?"</p> + +<p>But the most singular portion of the room was the great fire-place and +the arrangements connected with it. It was a structure perfectly +enormous, and the stones required for its erection must have made a +large opening in the quarry. It was deep and high. An ox could easily +have been roasted whole before it. Over it was a shelf which no one in +these degenerate days could reach. On either side were two small +closets,—made in the deep wall,—the door of each being made from a +wide plank, and secured by a large wooden button. In the back of the +fire-place, on one side of it, was the door of a great oven,—rivalling +in size, I presume, the tomb of the ancient grandee in the east—where +the traveler slept, perhaps on some of the very dust of the proud man +who gloried in the expectation of a kingly sepulchre. On either side of +the room on a line with the vast fire-place were two doors opening into +the air, and exactly opposite to each other. The broad hearth extended +from door to door, being flagged with large smooth stones. Each door was +framed of heavy oaken timber,—the boards in consequence of the depths +of the frame being sunk as deep panels. Each had a heavy wooden latch, +and a vast curved piece of wood was the handle by which it was to be +opened.</p> + +<p>On the great pavement in front of the fire-place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> stood Cæsar, a man +with a frame finely developed. His twin brother Pompey dwelt on an +adjoining farm,—so resembling him as one of the colored people said +that you could "scarcely tell them apart, they were so like one another, +especially Pomp." He had a rough coat thrown over him,—a fur-cap on his +head, and he held in one hand an iron chain that trailed on the stone +hearth and in the other a lantern emitting a blaze of light.</p> + +<p>When we were all in our places Cæsar directed one of the boys to open +the door on the right hand. There on the snow revealed by the light of +his lantern, was the famous log on a line parallel with the stone paving +that crossed the end of the room. Around this log, he with the help of +the boy fastened the iron chain, securing it with a spike partially +driven into the wood with a heavy hammer. The door on the left was then +thrown open, and we saw by the lights borne by several of the laborers, +that the oxen which had drawn the great segment of the trunk from the +forest were standing there upon the snow waiting to complete their labor +for the evening. The long chain extending across the whole width of the +room was drawn through the door and fastened to the yokes of the oxen.</p> + +<p>Then came the chief excitement of the time. A quantity of snow was +thrown down at the entrance where the log lay in ponderous quiet, and +beaten down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> with spades and the heavy boots of the men. All were now +directed to stand some distance from the chain for fear of any accident. +Then Cæsar gave the order. There was a sudden movement without. The +words of command which oxen are supposed to know, were spoken to put +them in motion. There was a loud snapping of whips. The chain was heaved +in the air and rose and fell. The huge log was drawn forward. It passed +the door and glided along on the stone pavement, like a great ship +moving through the water after its sails have suddenly been lowered, and +it proceeds by its acquired impulse. When it had reached the front of +the vast aperture where it was to be slowly consumed, Cæsar gave his +prompt order. It was immediately obeyed, and the oxen were brought to a +pause in their exertions. It was evident from the absence of explanation +to those without, and from the perfect composure of the master of the +ceremony, that similar scenes were of frequent occurrence.</p> + +<p>The chain being removed and the oxen led away, the log was rolled by the +application of the levers to its place. There it lay, the crushed snow +melting and falling on the hot hearth, the singing sound of the steam +rising from the stones.</p> + +<p>So there was the measure of the fancied increase of freedom from labor +during the Christmas season. Nothing now remained but the gathering of +all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> household to the evening devotions. The Judge read the +Scriptures, and after the singing of a hymn offered up the prayers. +There was an indescribable reality in the attention, and a fervor in the +kneeling church in the house. It led you to reflect how One who came +down from above and took our nature upon him has taught man how to make +his life on earth the dawn of an eternal day. I had felt the presence of +God in the shades of the great mountain forest during past hours. But +here in the stillness of this evening worship, as the light of the +Redeemer revealed the grandeur of all that is immortal in men, of all +that stands ever so near the portal of endless glory, as all earthly +distinctions faded away among those who to the eye of faith, were now +the sons of God,—distinctions overlooked at this hour, as the last +fragment of the moulted plumage is unknown to the eagle soaring in its +strength, no words could better express the sentiment of the time than +those noble ones of old,—"This is none other than the house of God; +this is the gate of heaven."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>HOW THE OVERLOOK PAPERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN.</i></h3> + + +<p>"I believe," said the Judge one morning shortly after my arrival, "that +I must supply you with pen and paper, and assign to you a task."</p> + +<p>"What can I do? Tell me how to be useful."</p> + +<p>"Do not offer too hastily. Let me inform you of a custom which is +observed here like the laws of the Medes and Persians.</p> + +<p>"All our guests, at our festival seasons, and I hope that whenever it +can be in your power you will be present, are most seriously enjoined to +bring with them a contribution to our Overlook Papers. From each is +demanded a story, a poem, or an essay. In the evening these are read. +And indeed, I require from each of my friends who receives an +invitation, if he cannot accept it, still to transmit his paper.</p> + +<p>"These or copies of them are preserved in the huge book-case in the +library. We sometimes draw upon the old collection, and it is pleasant +to revive the old associations as they are again read to a happy circle. +I ought to have sent you word, and told you to prepare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> your paper. It +is an unusual thing for me to be guilty of such an omission. As I have +been negligent I must now enjoin you to prepare to do your part with the +others."</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, has ever any guest written a paper after his arrival +here?"</p> + +<p>"Come! come! I have never asked any guest to do it after he came, who +could probably accomplish it more easily than yourself."</p> + +<p>"What shall I write?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever you please. A Poem if you will."</p> + +<p>"I might make the attempt. But will poetry come 'under compulsion?' +Surely not 'under compulsion.' Shall I cudgel my brains? Will Pegasus go +at my will when I smite him with my staff? How long might I sit here, +the image of despair, and what despair on monumental marble, as desolate +as the poet with fixed eye, unable to indite a line? How long might I be +like the hopeless bird—all promise, but not one unfolded gleam of +beauty? In this free air am I to find the poetic pressure of a prison? +In this old cheerful home, a poet's garret? With your abundant and +hospitable board before me, can I write as famous men of old, when they +wanted a dinner? Am I to sit here, as one has said, waiting for +inspiration as a rusty conductor for a flash of lightning? My dear sir, +I surely can plead exemption. Let me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> come here, if we live, next +Christmas season or at the early spring or autumnal gathering. I will +provide two if you please. If the first should weary, then the circle +can hope that I have kept the best for the last."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that it will answer for one to be a hearer who has no +paper of his own. So let me insist on your compliance."</p> + +<p>"Well sir, if you insist on it, I must see what I can do. Would you +object to my producing a poem already published by me in a New York +paper?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say that would not be in accordance with our rules. The +piece must be composed for our social gathering."</p> + +<p>"Well I must then make the attempt. I would weave a short romance out of +some story I have heard in my travels. But I am always afraid of the sad +being who, searching to the fag-end of memory says, after hearing you, +and approving, let me see, I have heard that, or something like it, +before! I once learned a lesson and received a nervous shock which +easily returns, as I was about to address a meeting, and under a sudden +impression asked the most knowing inhabitant of the village, 'Did any of +the speakers who have addressed you ever tell such a story?' 'Oh! yes,' +said he, with sudden alarm, 'Every one who has been here has told that +story.' Yet that was my main stay, argument, illustration, eloquence. I +had to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> the best I could without it. Since then I am in a trepidation +lest I fall into the pit from which I kept my feet at that time."</p> + +<p>"Well so much the better. Such caution will insure variety."</p> + +<p>"Do not be too sure of that. Excessive care often leads us to the very +errors it would avoid."</p> + +<p>So our conversation closed. The paper was written and read. I looked +some time ago in vain for my piece among the Overlook papers. Strange to +say, it was not there. I saw the Judge originally endorse it and tie it +up in the collection. Meta told me when I expressed my surprise that the +document was missing, that she must confess that when she was younger +and more silly, and had her taste less cultivated, she took it one day, +after I had left her father's, secretly from the pile. Regarding it as +of such small consequence, she had not put it back in its place; and as +it was also particularly weak in having a few sentences evidently meant +for her to understand as no one else could. She will find it, she says, +when she next examines her old papers and letters. And she assures me +that it must be safe, because the old house would not trouble itself to +destroy it; the Overlook moths would not dare to touch it, and that it +is destined to outlive its author, even if he had brass enough in him to +make a monument.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I.</h2> + +<h3><i>DR. BENSON, OR THE LIVING MAN EMBALMED FOR TWENTY YEARS.</i></h3> + + +<p>The United States is the oldest country in the world. Many of its +institutions are of a venerable antiquity which cast those of Europe +into the shade. By their side those of Great Britain, France and Germany +seem but of yesterday. The honest impressions of each man substantiate +these assertions so clearly that all argument on the subject would be as +great a work of supererogation as that of carrying shade to a forest. +Ages, countless ages, as all reflecting men are aware, have been +requisite for the development of man into the highest type of +civilization. Not less, it is obvious, than five thousand years could +elevate any human being into a genuine Yankee. Such an immense space of +time must have elapsed before man, passing through each primeval epoch, +could have worn away on Plymouth Rock the caudal appendages that impeded +the progress of humanity.</p> + +<p>We have such remarkable institutions among us, such progressive +theorists upon all possible subjects,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> that the foundations of our +cities must have been laid simultaneously with those of the Pyramids.</p> + +<p>A like conviction arises as we compare our accomplished financiers who +can raise up in any plain, mountains of gold, and turn little streams of +promise into seas of bank notes, with the Indian magician whose alchemy +transmuted mutterings and strange figures in the ashes into comfortable +fires, venison, bear's meat, and a variety of comforts for his +terror-striking wigwam. Are there not noted streets in our cities where +some men have discovered the philosopher's stone?</p> + +<p>And then look on the systems of our modern politics. Each man can see +what glacier periods have been over the land, what thickness of ice +impenetrable to pure rays from above, melted from beneath, ice which has +ground down to dust the ancient heights of honor, of modest nature +distrusting itself. Yes, we are the oldest people in the wide world.</p> + +<p>Even the little village where my history directs our attention has one +savor of dignified antiquity. It has had a long series of names in no +rapid succession. Our antiquarians have not paid sufficient attention to +this subject of the succession of such names borne by our villages and +towns. One cause is our nervous apprehension, that such a study will +reveal a former state of society which people of strong prejudice may +not mention to our honor. Citizens who have long purses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> acquired in the +sale of farms divided into town lots, who have highly educated and +refined children, do not wish any one to contradict them while they +intimate their illustrious descent, by saying that they remember when +their father or grandfather dwelt at Scrabbletown, Blackeye or +Hardcorner. The honest truth is that these names of these rural towns do +indicate the transmigration of the souls of the places into different +social forms. They often tell of the original solitude, the cluster of +poor dwellings of men a little above the Indian, of small taverns +springing up as the devil has sown the seed, of the free-fights, of the +loose stones in the roads, the mud immeasurably deep, of the reformation +with the advent of the itinerant preacher, of the church, of the +school-house, of the rapid progress in general prosperity. In place of +yielding to the seductive influence of the disquisition which offers +itself to my toil, I shall consider it sufficient to say of our village +that it was honored by becoming the residence of Dr. Benson. It is +sufficient for me to inform my reader that at the time when my history +commences his fame and occupation gave the title to the place. Indeed, +in his honor it bore successively the names of Pill-Town, and Mortar and +Pestle city.</p> + +<p>His general history was not one that is uncommon in our land. Many a man +of small education, but who has had a natural turn for the study of +simple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> means for the cure of ordinary diseases in a country +neighborhood has acquired considerable skill, and done more good, and +far less evil, than could have been anticipated. In fact the ignorant +often lean on such a man with special confidence. They prefer his +services to those of the well-taught and meritorious physician. For they +think it easily explicable, that the learned doctor should often cure +the diseased. Books have taught him what medicines are needful for those +who are sick. But around the quack there is a delightful cloud of +mystery. His genius was surely born with him. He has stumbled on his +remedies by some almost supernatural accident. And then there is the +exciting and most pleasant doubt whether he has not had some dealings +with the devil. You have moreover this advantage, that you acquire all +the benefit of his compact with the evil one, without any guilt on your +part. All that is evil lies on the head of the practitioner.</p> + +<p>How noble the calling of the true physician! What more need we say of +his office than that in every sick-room he can look to the Redeemer, and +feel that he employs him to do, what he was continually doing by his own +words when he was on the earth? "Without the power of miracles,"—I +quote from memory words that fell from the lips of one very dear to me +whose voice is no more heard on earth, and I fear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> I mar the +sentence,—"Without the power of miracles, he goes about doing good, the +blessed shadow of our Lord; and by him God gives sight to the blind, +hearing to the deaf, enables the lame to walk and raises up those almost +fallen into the sleep of death."</p> + +<p>As I write, the manly form of our family physician, the form that we +laid in the grave a few years ago, rises before me. Oh! what +unselfishness, what high sense of honor and professional duty, what +compassion for human infirmities, what a grand and enduring perception +of the brotherhood of man, of the one family of rich and poor, learned +and ignorant, didst thou then learn, our dear kind friend, in thy +innumerable ministrations! Literary men have too often indulged in cheap +humor at the cost of the physician. It is easy to caricature anything +grand and sacred. It is easy to cure in the pages of the novel the sick +man who plays his pranks at the expense of the doctor, and eats his +meat, and drinks his wine when the medical advice assures him that he +must fast or die. Just imagine one of these literati to send for his +physician in haste.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," he exclaims, "it is well you have come! Do give me some +relief."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," exclaims the physician! "I have something to read to +you."</p> + +<p>"Read to me, doctor! Why I am ill,—alarmed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> Depend upon it, I am very +sick. Prescribe for me at once."</p> + +<p>"Prescribe for you! Why hear what you wrote concerning physicians. If +they are what you describe, you should never ask them to come near your +sick bed."</p> + +<p>"But I wrote only in jest. I described the pretender."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear sir, your assault is without limitation. Your attack is +against all men of my profession. Your words were adapted to aid the +ignorant popular prejudice against our art. I will read to you."</p> + +<p>I cannot but think that, in such a case, there are not a few writers of +light literature, who would be forced to perceive the meanness of their +assault on a noble profession.</p> + +<p>Our hero commenced his public career in a blacksmith's shop, where he +gave assistance in the useful work done by his master on the anvil. +There he displayed a curious talent for healing the diseases of the +horses, which the farmers brought to the place. This gave him some +notoriety. And he never was sent for to heal as a veterinary doctor, on +any occasion, when he did not have the confidence of a man whose eyes +pierced far through the skin, and saw the secret causes of disease.</p> + +<p>A change in his fortunes occurred, when a skilful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> physician, who fled +from France in a time of great political trouble, came to reside in his +neighborhood. All the spare time that our hero could command he spent in +serving him in his fishing excursions—rowing his boat for him, and +pointing out the best places where he could cast his hook—an act that +seemed to be his best solace as an exile. The good stream or lake that +well repaid his skill and patience in the use of his rod, was almost to +him for a season, a Lethe between him and beautiful France.</p> + +<p>The amiable Frenchman was not destined long to endure any sorrows on our +soil. At his death, Benson became the possessor of his few books, his +few surgical instruments and some curious preparations. He rented a +small house near the blacksmith's shop and tavern, and placed his books, +the instruments, some strange bones, a curious stuffed animal, and some +jars and bottles prominently in the window. He also had some +unaccountable grandeur of scientific words, understood by all to be +French—a public supposition in evidence of his having been a favorite +pupil of the doctor. And then, as he was a capital fellow at a drink, it +is no marvel that he acquired practice with rapidity. And as money +flowed into his pocket, unhappily the whisky, in a proportionate manner, +flowed down his throat. But as he had an established reputation, he of +course received the compliment: "I would rather have Benson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> to cure me +if he was drunk than to have any other doctor to cure me if he was +sober." Such was the confidence of the men of Pill-Town in his skill.</p> + +<p>Oftentimes when his brain was excited by his potations, he would wander +off into the woods and seek roots and plants, talking to himself in +strange words, and bent, apparently, on some great discovery. He began +to throw out vague hints to some of his companions that he knew of some +strange secret, and could perform a work more wonderful than he had ever +before done in all his practice. But as his associates never dreamed +that any one would make experiments on the bodies of men, and as his +talk of philosophy seemed to be in the clouds, they, more akin to the +clods of earth, heard him with blank minds, so that when he had done +talking, there was no more impression left, than the shadows of passing +birds left on their fields.</p> + +<p>Once as he sat with a friend over a bottle of famous whisky, which is +your true leveler, placing the man of science on a level with the +ignorant boor, he gave him a full account of a singular adventure which +he had with an Indian physician. It was a peculiarity of the doctor that +his memory and power of narration increased, as he imbibed increasing +quantities of his primitive beverage. He said that he had wandered away +from home one fine morning, and been lost in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> the distant forest. He +became very weary and fell asleep. His slumbers were broken by some +sounds that were near to him, and looking through the bushes he saw a +majestic Indian who was searching with great diligence for some roots, +whose use he had imagined no man knew but himself. The doctor said that +he rose, and approaching him with due professional dignity, informed him +that he supposed he was one of the medical fraternity. His natural +conjecture proved to be very correct. They soon became very sociable, +and pledged each other in several good drinks from a flask which the +white man fortunately carried in his pocket. The savage M. D. finally +took him to his laboratory, and in return for some communications from +one well versed in the modern state of medical science in France, which +the red man listened to with the most intense admiration, he disclosed a +variety of Indian cures. Above all he told of a marvelous exercise of +his power, and related the secret means employed under the assurance of +the most solemn promise that it should not be divulged. Dr. Benson told +his friend that this great secret was in his mind morning and evening; +that when he waked at night it haunted him, and that he could not cease +to think of it if he would make every attempt.</p> + +<p>When the bottle was nearly empty he said that if his hearer would +promise great secrecy he would relate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> the narrative of the Indian. The +other gave the required assurances. Three times however the doctor +repeated one specific caution,—"Would he promise not to tell it to his +wife?" and receiving three most earnest pledges, that no curtain +inquisition should exert its rack so successfully, as to extort any +fragment of the confidence, the relater proceeded without fear. I will +tell you, said he, how the red-skin doctor influenced the welfare of a +great Indian Prince.</p> + +<p>Awaha was king of a tribe whose territory bordered on one of the great +northern lakes. The eagle soaring when the heavens were filled with the +winged tribes, was not more conspicuous and more supreme in grandeur, +than he, when he stood among all the assembled warriors of the north. As +the thunder-peal when the bolt tore the great oak on the mountains, so +that it must wither and die, exceeded all the other tumult of the storm, +so the shout he uttered in battle was heard amid the fierce cries of +conflict.</p> + +<p>The hearts of all the beautiful maidens moved at his approach, as the +graceful flags and wild-flowers move when the breath of the evening wind +seems to seek rest as it passes over the quiet lake. The Indian mothers +said that it was strange that he sought no wife, when his deeds had gone +before him, and seemed to have softened the hearts of such as the wisest +of his race might have chosen for him. He had come from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> the battles a +great warrior. Were there not daughters of his tribe, who became more +stately and more grave, as though they heard great battle songs when he +came near? Were not these fitted to be the wives of great braves,—the +mothers of sons whose fame would last in war-songs? Surely the great +warrior had need to speak to one who would be saddest of all when he was +away, and most glad when his shadow fell upon the threshold! He speaks +not, and the air around him is too still. The sunbeams seemed wintry, +waiting for his voice. He seemed to leave the paths through the forest +very lonely. The great mountain's summit must not ever be alone, covered +with ice and snow, bright in the sun and in the moonbeams. Let spring +come and cover it with soft green, and let the sweet song fill its +trees, as the warm light streamed over it from the morning.</p> + +<p>Many of the tribe marvelled that he did not seek for a bride the +beautiful Mahanara. Some said that it was whispered among those who knew +her best, that her thoughts were as the scent of the sweet vine she had +planted and trained over the door of her wigwam, intended for the narrow +circle at home, but drifting away far off on the fitful breeze; for when +she would not, she sighed as she remembered the young warrior.</p> + +<p>Once, some of the village girls told her that they heard that he had +chosen a bride who lived far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> beyond the waters, and the great ridge of +the Blue Mountains.</p> + +<p>She replied, and her words seemed to die as they reached the ear, that +the one whom he had chosen for his wife, ought not to plant the corn for +his food but where the flowers covered the sod which she was to overturn +in her spring tasks, that she must bring him water from the spring on +the high hills where the Great Spirit had opened the fountains with his +lightning, and where in vallies the pure snow lingered longest of all +that fell in the winter; that when he came back from the hunter's far +journey or from the terrors of his war path, her face must assure him of +all the love and praise of his tribe, as the lake tells all the moon and +stars shed abroad of glory in the pure midnight.</p> + +<p>The story that was a secret sorrow to her was false, and no maiden +should have whispered it. It came not over a path that was trodden by +warriors. The dove would not fly in the air which was burdened by such +tidings. Awaha loved her, and because she feared to meet him freely, and +seemed to turn away as he drew near, he thought that she loved him not.</p> + +<p>One night he fell asleep by the great fire of the hunters. The +companions of the chase had counted their spoils, and spoke with joy of +their return, of the glad smiles that awaited them, of the hum of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +voices of the children as they drew near to the village.</p> + +<p>He dreamt that he came near to his solitary dwelling-place. He was all +alone on the path of the forest. He heard the unending sounds which are +in the great wilderness, none of which ever removes the lonely shadow +from the heart,—the shadow that has fallen on endless generations, that +speaks of countless graves amid the trees, and of countless hosts that +are out of sight in the spirit land.</p> + +<p>That I could hear, he thought, one voice breaking the stillness of my +way! That I could look to the end of the thick trees and know that when +I issued from their darkness, as the light would be above me, so the +light would be in my home.</p> + +<p>As he was thus borne away by the fancies of the night he murmured the +name of Mahanara.</p> + +<p>By his side was her brother, who loved him more than his life. He heard +the name, and rejoiced in the assurance which it taught him. When he +spoke of the murmur of the dream the next day, as they were alone on the +great prairie, he received the open confession. And then the brother +uttered words which filled the heart with hope.</p> + +<p>When they returned from the hunting-grounds he directed his steps to the +dwelling of her father,—crossing to reach it, the little stream that +she loved to watch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> as it foamed amid the white stones that rested in +its bed.</p> + +<p>Around the walls were trophies of the chase and of the battle. But the +wild songs and the stories of former days were no more heard from his +lips. He seldom spoke but of the Spirit-land, and in strange words for +the home of the Indian, prayed that the Great One would teach the tribes +to love peace. He said he was going to new hunting grounds, but not to +new war paths. The people of the wilderness that he would meet in the +sky would speak in voices that never would utter the cry of strife.</p> + +<p>When the evening came upon them, and the old man sat silent, looking +gladly on the stars, Awaha said to Mahanara, "Walk with me to these +fir-trees that echo murmurs to yon stream."</p> + +<p>"Mahanara's place is here," she said gently. "Here she can prepare the +corn and the venison, and spread the skins for her guest. But in the +fir-grove there is no door for her to open. There she cannot say, +Welcome. There she cannot throw the pine-knot on the flames to brighten +the home for thy presence. Stay here and say some words of the +Spirit-land to my father. I will sew the beads, and weave the split +quills, and the voices I shall hear shall be pleasant like the mingling +of the murmurs of the rill and of the wind when the leaves that we see +not are in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> motion, sounds which I so love, for they were among the +first sounds I heard by the side of my mother."</p> + +<p>Then he replied, "I must say here what I would have said to thee under +the stars and the night. Why was it not said in the days that are past? +The stream could not come to the water-flower, for it was frozen. The +sun came the other day, and the winter-power took off its bonds from the +stream. Long have I loved thee—loved thee here as I wandered in the +village—loved thee far off on the prairies—loved thee when the shout +told that the vanquished fled from our onset. Be my bride, and the Great +Spirit will know where is the Indian whose step on earth is the +lightest."</p> + +<p>He saw that the tears were falling fast as he spoke, and that she did +move as a maiden at the plea of her lover.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast waited," she said, "to move thy flower until the winter has +hold of its roots in the ground hard as the rock. Hadst thou come before +the snow had melted, then Mahanara had gone with thee. Then together we +had cared for him who can go out on the hunt no more. But seest thou +these links of the bleached bone carved with these secret symbols? Seest +thou the fragment of the broken arrow-head? Thou knowest how these bind +me to another. I will pray for thee to the Great Spirit. A warrior's +wife may pray for a warrior. Seek thou another and a better bride among +the daughters of our tribe."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It cannot be," he said. "I shall go away from the land where the sun +shines, like the lone tree amid the rocks. It shall wither and die, and +who will know that it ever cast its shade for the hunter."</p> + +<p>"Ah not so," she said, "it is the shadow of to-day. Seek the wife that +is on the earth for thee. If she has sorrow send for me and I will hold +up her fainting head. If I comfort her, then shall I also comfort thee. +I will speak the praises of thy tribe and she will love me."</p> + +<p>Awaha sat in his lonely house day after day, and friends looked on him +in sorrow and said that the Great Spirit was calling him, for his last +path was trodden. They sought me in their sorrow, not regarding the long +weary journey. My home is in a deep dark cave on the side of the +mountain. The great horn from the monster that has never roamed the +forest since the Indian began to hand down the story of his day hangs on +the huge oak at the entrance. The blasts shake the forest, and I hear it +far down below the springs in the earth where I burn my red fires.</p> + +<p>In vain I tried all my arts to drive from him the deep and lasting +sorrow. So I sought the aid of my mother whose home is near the great +river that pours its waters from the clouds—over which the storm of +heaven seems to rage in silence. She heard my story, and she arrayed +herself in her strange robe bright with the skins of snakes from a land +where the sun always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> keeps the earth green and warm. On her head were +the feathers of the eagle and of the hawk.</p> + +<p>She kindled her fire on the stones that were heaped together and threw +in them bones and matted hair.</p> + +<p>Then she drank of the cup, death to all but for her lips, and poured +that which was left on the flame. The fire told her the story of days +that were to come. She said that Awaha must live. When three winters had +come and gone Mahanara would be alone, for wrapped in his hunting skins, +the braves would lay her husband in his grave. Let him live—let Awaha +live—for he and Mahanara shall yet dwell among their people. The vine +shall fall. It can twine around another tree. Let Awaha live.</p> + +<p>So I sought him—and his eye was dim—he scarce knew the voices of those +around him. I gave him the precious elixir which my mother alone on +earth could draw from roots such as no eye of man has ever seen. The +young men placed him on a litter and bore him to a far off river. There +we made the raft, covered it with leaves, and we floated gently onward +to my cave. Then I said leave him with me. In a few days he will have +strength and shall go down these waters to his canoe. A new home shall +he seek where there are no paths ever trodden by Mahanara. There he +shall not look round as the breeze moves the bushes, as though she was +near him. He shall not see flowers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> there which shall say, you gathered +such for her in the warm days when the Indian village was full of hearts +as bright as the sun shining down upon it. The woods everywhere has a +place for the warrior. There are no mountains where the battle-cry +cannot echo. There are no red men where the great man shall not be +great. I then gave him strange food that a hunter from the spirit land +once threw down at the tent of my mother when she had healed his little +child that he left to the care of his tribe. I then compounded in the +cup which was white and shining, as it had been on a high rock for ages +to be bleached in the moonbeams, the draught that he was to drink that +he might sleep for three years. I laid him gently in the clift in the +rock above my cave. The warm spring ran winter and summer beneath the +place of his rest. I covered him with light bruised roots that would add +to his strength. I placed over him the cedar boughs, matted, so that the +rain could reach him. Over these, folds of leaves well dried in the heat +of the cavern. I laid the loose stones over all and scattered the dust +there which the beasts flee from, waking the echo of the forest. There +he slept until the great stillness come over the husband of Mahanara, +and the great song had told of his wisdom, of his battles, as the +warriors stood by his grave.</p> + +<p>One day she sat by the side of the stream,—and not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> on the bank where +she had often chanted the wild song to Awaha. Her hands were forming the +beautiful wampum belt. I came to her, and as we spoke of past days, her +eye rested on the chain of Awaha, that I wound and unwound as if I +thought not of it, before her eyes that rested on it for a moment only +to look away, and to look far down into the deep water.</p> + +<p>I laid it secretly near her,—and left her, crossing on the white stones +of the stream, and passing into the deep forest.</p> + +<p>When the dark night came over all the village, I crept silently to her +wigwam. There she sat by the fire and pressed the chain to her heart, +and looked sadly on the flames that rose and fell, and gleamed on one +who was near and unknown.</p> + +<p>He must live. So I sought him when the red star was over the mountain. +Three moons more could he have slept, and have yet been called from his +sleep to see the bright sunbeams.</p> + +<p>Oh how beautiful the warrior, when all the coverings were taken away, +and I saw him again as on the day when he first fell into his slumber.</p> + +<p>As I waked him, he said, "yesterday you said that I should live. I feel +strange strength after the sleep of the night that is past."</p> + +<p>When he fell asleep a great night had crept up to his eye,—and he saw +not the hunting-ground,—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> fierce battle,—the wigwam,—but +darkness,—and beyond it darkness,—and beyond that the land of all +spirits. Now his eye was sad,—but he looked as one who heard voices +call him to go forth, and be not as the stone that lies on the +hill-side.</p> + +<p>I sought Mahanara, and told her that he would come back from far, and +would seek her as the bride of a warrior. I sent him to her home, and he +trod the forest paths as the sunshine sweeps from wave-crest to +wave-crest in the brook that hurries on, leaving the sound of peace in +its murmurs. So out of the years they met, as the breeze so sweet from +over the wild-flowers and trees of the valley, and the wind that carried +strength from the sides of the mountain.</p> + +<p>"Can you marvel that they call me the great medicine man among the +tribes? Thou art a great brother. Thy fire-water is good. The white men +honor thee. Thou keepest the sod that is wet with tears from being +turned over. They call thee the very great man of thy tribe." I will not +tell you all that he said of me. Let others learn that of him, and speak +of it. Then he said,—"Brother tell thou me more of thy wonderful +powers. I will teach thee how to mingle the cup for the sleep of many +years." "So he told me," said the doctor, "how to compound the mixture. +And the secret no one shall hear from my lips. If you will, I will put +you to sleep for as long a time as you can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> desire. Put your money out +at interest. Go to sleep until all you have has been doubled. Then let +me wake you, and you can enjoy it."</p> + +<p>This desire to put a fellow-creature into this sleep took possession of +the doctor, and it was his dream by day and night, when he was tipsy, or +half ready to become so. He tried to persuade a good-natured negro, +Jack, who lived near his premises, to indulge in the luxury. But Jack +assured him that he was as much obliged to him as if he had done it.</p> + +<p>At last he formed his plan, and attempted to carry it into execution. +There was Job Jones, who lived, nobody knew how, and nobody cared +whether he lived or not. When he could gain a few coppers, he was a +great and independent statesman at the tavern. And when he had no pence, +he walked along in the sun as if he had no business in its light, and +with a cast-down look as if he thanked the world for not drowning him, +like supernumerary kittens.</p> + +<p>So one evening the doctor easily enticed Job to his office. Then he +partook of whisky until he lost all sense of all that occurred around +him. The poor fellow soon fell asleep. The great experimenter dragged +him to a box prepared for him in the cellar. Then he poured down his +throat the final draught, and covered him with great boughs of cedar. He +then ascended to his office. His first thought was that of triumph.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +"There," he said, "was that shallow Doctor Pinch, the practitioner at +the next village, who had called him an ignoramus, and said that he was +not fit to be the family physician of a rabbit. He had written the +account of the boy who had fallen down and indented his skull, and that +some of his brains had to be removed,—all done so skilfully by Doctor +Pinch, that he was ever after, a brighter fellow than ever before. His +mother always boasted of the manner in which the doctor had 'japanned' +his skull. But what will he be when I wake up Job? Sleep away, Job! You +will have for years to come, the easiest life of any man in these United +States. No want of shoes, or clothes, or whisky. When you wake you shall +have a new suit, after the fashion of that coming time. Doctor Pinch! +Pooh! what is Doctor Pinch to Doctor Benson?"</p> + +<p>After a little while a cry of murder rang through his half intoxicated +brain. A great chill crept over his frame. The night became horrible in +its stillness.</p> + +<p>He must try the old resource. It never failed, whisky must restore the +energy. He took up the glass from the table. It fell from his hands as +if he was paralyzed.</p> + +<p>He had made a fearful mistake. The cup of whisky which he had poured out +for himself was the last drink<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> which he had ministered to Job. He had +taken the sleeping draught by mistake.</p> + +<p>When they came, he thought and found him so still, so senseless, and +that for days he never moved, would they not bury him! Then he might +smother in the grave! Or waking some twenty years hence, he would wake +in some tomb, some vile epitaph over him, written by that Pinch, and +call for aid, and die, and die.</p> + +<p>He saw himself in his coffin. The neighbors were all around him. The +clergyman was ready to draw an awful moral against intemperance from his +history. He was about to assure his hearers that no one could doubt what +had become of such a man in another world.</p> + +<p>His brain became more and more confused. He sank on the floor senseless. +So Job slumbered in the box, and the doctor on the floor of the office.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Twenty years have elapsed. Dr. Benson wakes. It is a clear morning. How +has the world changed! There, out of his window he sees the village. +That row of neat dwellings is his property. He has a pleasant home to +wake in. His wife is the very personification of happiness and +prosperity. The clothes in which he arrays himself are a strange +contrast to the miserable habiliments in which he fell down to sleep on +the office floor twenty years ago. There is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> spire of the +church—and thank God, he loves to enter there as a sincere and humble +worshipper.</p> + +<p>What a change in this lapse of years! What an awakening! How is the +world altered!</p> + +<p>If the doctor's voice reached the ear of the intemperate man, he said, +"Friend, better the fang of the rattlesnake than your cup. The bands +that you think to be threads, are iron bands that are clasping you not +only for your grave, but forever. Awake! and see if the good Lord will +not give you a world changed, as the world has thus been to Dr. +Benson."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE GHOST AT FORD INN—NESHAMONY.</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">PART FIRST.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, where the time-worn bridge at School House Run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spans o'er the stream unquiet as our lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You find a place where few will pause at night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the foot-fall is quick, and all press on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if a winter's blast had touched the frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men drew to themselves. Oft there is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So men aver, the quiet gliding ghost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Descend yon hill, near woods so desolate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With upward gloom, and tangled undergrowths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shadows mouldering in the brightest day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near is the Indian spring's unmurmuring flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The summit now is gladdened by the Church.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You leave all village sounds, and are alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On grass-worn paths your feet emit no sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thick damp air is full of dreary rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stillness there spreads out like the great night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Upon the left, hidden by aged oaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a small cedar grove; where broken winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are organ-like with requiem o'er some graves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A low stone wall, and never-opened gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Protect the marble records of the dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To stand at sunny noon, or starry night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the arch, where you can yield the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Captive to nature's impress, power with peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is stillness from afar. The solitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems linked with some far distant, distant space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the broad universe, where worlds are not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unrest with rest is there. We often call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That peace, where thoughts are deep, but where the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves as the great, great sea, in mighty waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here memories for tears, forgotten thoughts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come without seeking. Just as the winds of May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring with unlaboring wings, from unknown fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet scents from flowers, and from the early grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The fearful man, who left the village store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near to the cross roads, where the untutored tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Supplies the gossip of the printed sheet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has here beheld the mist-like, awful ghost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rustic lover under midnight stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Detained so long by Phebe's sorceries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His little speech taking so long to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has had his faith sore tried, as he has asked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will I, next week, pass here alone, again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far the most haunted spot lies yet beyond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow the road until you reach the Ford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There at the mouldering pile of wall and logs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once the floating raft was as a bridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pure white spirit oftentimes is seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sometimes wanders all along the shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes from off the rocks, she seems to look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For something in the waters. Then again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the trees arch the road that skirts the bank,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night is like the darkness of a cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gentle spirit glides. Earth's sorrow yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its burden, weary burden, borne alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sad is the story of her earthly life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see that lonely house upon the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its broad porch beneath that sycamore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis now a pleasant undisturbed abode.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lingereth much of ancient time within:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long may it cling there in these days of change!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quaint are the rooms, irregular. The bright fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glows from the corner fire-place. Often there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit, and marvel o'er the shadowy past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a place of welcome. Loving hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Extend the welcome. Angels welcome thus.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear sisters, reading there the purest page,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Planning some act of gentleness to wo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The selfishness of solitary life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not finding place amid your daily thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For you commune with that activity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love most infinite, that once came down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far Heaven, to human form on earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of the true, the harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of highest thoughts, that have enthroned as kings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best in heart, and head of all our race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have their great kindred echoes as you read.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O as your prayers ascend, pray oft for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I shall not lose the name of friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden link that bindeth heart to heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, is the Love and prayer in Christ.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the Great Being gives me love at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Diamond payment for my worth of dust,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives me that bright and daily light of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm bold, and covetous of Christian love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">This house, in ancient days a wayside inn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has sheltered men of mark. Here Washington<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rested his weary head without despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the sinking tide rose with bright waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Trenton, and the spot where Mercer fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here youthful La Fayette was also seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose smile, benign in age, was joy to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my loved Father, at our fire-side spake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him, as the true Patriot speaks to those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who win a nation's homage by their toils.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here even now, on an age-colored pane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The letters, diamond-cut, show Hancock's name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The war had found the host of the Ford Inn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A happy man; no idler round a bar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his chief calling was upon his farm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rich fields open to the sun, amid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dense surrounding forests, where the deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still lingered by the homes of laboring men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bore arms for his country. And he heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last guns fired at Yorktown for the free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">One little daughter played around his hearth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft tracked his steps far in the furrowed field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked up with guileless eye in his true face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After each absence short, her merry shout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of greeting at his coming, rose as sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sounds from those dark cedars on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the winds rise and break their mirror there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh happy child! She also learned the love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That places underneath her the strong arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Him who held the children when on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Journeying along his pathway to the cross.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She opened all her gentle Heaven-touched heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all the unknown teachings of her home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The wild-flower's beauty passed into her thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as she gazed, and saw in earth and sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every form the love of God stream forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew of beauty that could never fade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For He, from whom these emanations came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will never cease to be a God revealed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Happy the child, for her fond parents both<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had souls to kindle with her sympathies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They learned anew with her the blessed love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes the pure like children all their days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her pure mind repassed the former way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their age and youth blended at once in her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There was a small church in the little town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Bristol, some miles distant, over which<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A loving pastor ruled with watchful care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came from England,—and but few had known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he was bishop, of that secret line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Ken, and other loyalists prolonged,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepared for any changes in the realm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good man loved his people at the ford.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child's expanding mind had ample seals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his kind guidance. From his store of books<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He culled the treasures for her thoughtful eye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Another memorable influence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To add refining grace, came from the town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One, whose sweet beauty threw a woman's charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over a household, seeking health in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rustles forest leaves, that sweeps the fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to their home, and was not useless there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">She threw round Ellen, in resplendent light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Ellen knew before, in fainter day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lady was so true in all her grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such open nature, that the child, all heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could think, could love, could be as one with her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sad, that the refinement of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should often be the cost of all that's true!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">From the volcano's side the dreadful stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That buried the great city, pressed its way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every room of refuge. Prison ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave bondage like those dark and awful homes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around each form came the encrusting clay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death at the moment. Dying ne'er so still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In passing ages all the form was gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark clay held the shapes of what had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the beauteous city was exhumed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into those hollows, moulds of former life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They poured the plaster, and regained the form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of men, or women, as they were at death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So all that lives in nature, in the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is often, living, buried by the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By its dead stream. Dust only can remain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its place the statue—outward all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form of beauty—the pretense of soul.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">How the child basked in all her loveliness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unconscious, she was moulded day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet buds that in her heart strove to unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had waited for that sun. And Ellen saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mother in changed aspect. The soft charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her new friend, revealed at once in her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More of the woman's natural tenderness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gentle child, had not a single love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the varied scenes of bank and stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these to her were almost all the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as each glory centered round her home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the descending sun threw down the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tinged with the mellow hues of autumn leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the waters till they shone as gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet diminished not the million flames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burnt upon the trees, all unconsumed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was to her a joy. But deeper joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came with the thought, that all her eye surveyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was but a repetition of the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her fond mother, at some former day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had by her side blessed God for these his works.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the softest murmurs of the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recalled her father's step, and his true voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus home entwined itself with every thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that great vine with all that wide-branched oak.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p> </p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">PART SECOND.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And in this quiet scene, the child grew up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know not inequalities of lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of any rank dissevering man from man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once from the splendid coach, the city dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her young daughter entered the Ford Inn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">As Ellen gazed upon the little one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eye recalled the dove, and then the gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That morning threw upon her much loved waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the tresses, like the chesnut fringe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In full luxuriance, she came forth and stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such a guileless, and admiring love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tenderness was won. And then they strolled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Ellen's favorite haunts. She asked the child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you such waters, and such trees beside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your home far off? The little languid eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazed vacantly on all the beauty there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, as one who had not heard the words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And least of all could give forth a response<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To nature's loving call, even as it passed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her, through Ellen's eyes, and Ellen's voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her kindled soul,—she turned again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absorbed in the small wagon which they drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the stones they skimmed upon the stream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Just for a brief space, down there seemed to fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A veil between the two—a veil like night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Ellen's greater, deeper swell of tides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of soul, forever dashing on the cliffs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which mind's ocean-great forever beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their swell of thunder, here could find no height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That could reverberate. And yet her heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was all too noble, high, serenely pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too Christ-taught ever thus to stand apart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The tender gentleness, the laughing eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul responsive to the moment's joy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power to love, the softening sympathy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every bird or squirrel that appeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or rabbit, scarce afraid, with wondering eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love of parents, her sweet talk of friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And above all, a heart to beat so true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all that One in heaven had said to her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were most alluring powers. Ellen forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein they differed: And their souls then chimed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sounds of bells, blended in summer's wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, as if sunbeams faltering on the bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cloud departing, creep o'er all the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brightening interest rested on the child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And when they parted at the bridge of logs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the child's dress was gorgeous, and the pomp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of city livery from the chariot shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the soft tear was in our Ellen's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There still dwelt all unknown in her sweet mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All free from pride, the deep inspiring wish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she could raise this merry-hearted one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above herself: and then there came the thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unconscious, causing sorrows—higher aims—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the one gone was poor, and she was rich.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There was a loneliness, and so she sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mother; whose companionship was peace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ever won her to her wonted rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There is a poetry in many hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which only blends with thought through tenderness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It never comes as light within the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creating forms of beauty for itself.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It has an eye, and ear for all the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can have of beauty. You will see it bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the cradle, sorrow o'er the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It knows of every human tie below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vast significance. Unto its God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It renders homage, giving incense clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To waft its adorations. By the cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hears the voice, "How holy all is here!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It speaks deep mysteries, and yet the clue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is most apparent to the common mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its sayings fall like ancient memories;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We so accept them. Natures such as these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are often common-place, until the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is touched, and then the tones from gates of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such are the blessed to brighten human life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give a glory to our earth-born thoughts—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To teach us how to act our deeds as kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which we might else perform as weary slaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They give us wings, not sandals, for the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of dry dust. And such the mother was.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So as we tell you of the child, there needs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No voice to say, and such the woman was.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">One day she sought her father in the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just before sunset, ready for his home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as they reached the rocks along the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the road turns, to meet the deep ravine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nigh unto Farley, a faint cry for help<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rang in their ears. It was a manly voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grieving through pain. They turned aside, and found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stranger, who had fallen, as he leapt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out his boat. His fallen gun and dress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaimed the sportsman. Aid was soon at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in their dwelling he found friends, and care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Days past. His mother came, and soon she found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He spake to Ellen, Ellen unto him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they spake not to others. And it seemed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such a perpetual reference in his talk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if he had not now a single thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which had not been compared with thought of hers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">At first her pride was moved. And while she stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Irresolute, the spell was fixed: as when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power of spring thaws winter to itself.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew her son was worthy: and she knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, in the wide-world must he seek a wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in due time she was his fair-haired wife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">They had a rural home across the stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lights at night answered the cheerful light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her paternal home. Their winter's fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingled their gleam upon the dark night wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or on the ice. By summer's winds her voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was wafted o'er the waters, as she sang:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loving hearers blessed her in their hearts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! what a joy, when in her arms they placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her son—ah doomed to be her only born!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cup of happiness seemed now so full.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the Father, knowing all to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave her more grace, and so she loved him more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And had no Idol. But, as days rolled on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such sorrow came, I scarce can tell the tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw her husband's manly strength all gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There was a withering tree, in the spring time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which on the lawn, seemed struggling to assume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Autumn's hues amid the world's full green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He faintly smiled, and said, "So do I fade."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon it was dead. He lingered slowly on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopes came: hopes faded. From the early world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the same story. It was well for her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this her sorrow, she had learned to weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In days of bliss, as she had read the page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tells of Jesus bearing his own cross.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">His mother came, but Ellen was repelled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the stern brow of one who met the shock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would not quail. That hard and iron will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was so unlike <i>her</i> firmness. She was one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who had ruled abjects. Sorrow seemed a wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The parting time drew near. And then as one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who asked as one gives law. "This little boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should dwell with me. Thereby shall he attain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All discipline to form the noble man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as I made his Father what he was,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So will I now, again, care for the child.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him with me. And he shall often come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And visit you. This surely will be wise."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We need not say that Ellen too was firm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A mother's love! In all the world a power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To educate as this! Could any wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of other learning recompense this loss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would this stern woman ripen in his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fruits, that angelic eyes beheld with joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"When the boy grew, at times she'd gladly send<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thanks, the child to all this proffered care."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now—to send him now! Why at the thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A darkness gathered over all the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all things came a voice, "All, all alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The husband is not—the child far away."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There was strange meaning in the angry eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strange defiance, and an unknown threat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enmity and a triumph. As if a triumph gained.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nation crushed, her husband's mother looked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No flush was on her face—her voice the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Coldly she said, farewell. And Ellen held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child with firmer grasp, when she was gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she had sorrow that they thus should part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she felt all the reverence death made due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And also mourned rejection of her love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">As the child slept one night, watched by his nurse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She crossed the river on the bridge of logs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reach her parents. Under the bright stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Neshamony, and its hurried waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rising and falling all around her path.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No peace in all the Heavens that she could see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was like her peace. "I suffer here," she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But suffering, I shall learn more love for all."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">She had returned. Her footsteps died away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her parents stood yet in the open air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where they had parted with her for the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then o'er the stream there came an awful cry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was her cry. Oh agony to hear!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">It stilled all sounds besides. It seemed to make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wide-arched Heavens one call to echo it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parents and others rushed there with affright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In breathless terror. Nurse and child were gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wood around, and every forest road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleamed all the night with torches. But no cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose to proclaim a trace of faintest hope.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One traveler said, that on a distant road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He met a carriage, hurrying with strange speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard, in passing, cries of a young child.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain they follow. Hopeless they return.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh wondrous, the ingenious plan devised<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By that poor mother to regain her child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her parents tried, as if for life and death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give her aid: and saw that she must die:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For patience such as hers was all too grand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To linger long on earth. She day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trod her old haunts. But never did she see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Heaven, or beauteous world. Her pallid lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved with perpetual prayer. And when she leaned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On those who loved her, the storm-tossed at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was as quiet as in days, when she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was but an infant. When they spoke of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She smiled. It was a smile of love, not hope.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was indeed simplicity to one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just on the threshold where His people pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where, forever, they have more than hope.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">All saw that she attained a mystic life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was not of the earth. What might she had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To love the sorrowing! By the dying bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seemed as if she had not known a pang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice so peaceful. Little children round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazed sorrowful: and in their confused thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deemed that the anguish of her little child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping its mother, was her dying pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thought how desolate fond hearts would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they were gone, as was her little one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">One sweet Lord's Day she knelt down at the rail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her loved Church, and had forgot all grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receiving there the hallowed Bread and Wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the one shadowed forth had strengthened her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that she fed on food come down from Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The others moved. But she was in her place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pastor came, and found that she was dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh how the tears of Christians fell that day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh how they thanked God for her good release!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so she went to her eternal rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But men, unreasoning, said they saw her form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in the night, along the river shore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft at the Ford, which now is crossed no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men will say, in firmness of belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That when the Inn was closed, and no man dwelt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its forsaken walls, a light was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Ellen's room. And then they also say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pure while flowers which never grew before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now come with Spring, where her bright spirit walks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My children say, that if you hear the owl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along her pathway, you may hasten on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure that her spirit will not meet you there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But should you hear a bird of plaintive song,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break the night's stillness, then go far around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By field and wood—for you may see her form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the shore she gladdened with her life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shore of many sorrows at the last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.</h2> + +<h3><i>MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT BIOGRAPHY;—OR, LITERATURE FOR A FAIR WIDOW.</i></h3> + + +<p>I had just concluded my first cause at the bar. My duty had been the +defence of a man, whom the jury, without leaving the box, condemned to +be hung. My friends said that I spoke very eloquently. I consoled myself +for my want of success, by remembering that my client had put into my +hands, sorry evidence of his innocence, in place of having allowed me to +arrange the circumstances of his murderous deed, so that the testimony +against him might have at least, some degree of inconsistency and doubt. +But the rash creature formed his plan for killing a man out of his own +head. A poor, stupid, blundering head it was.</p> + +<p>I have always regarded that trial with a cool, philosophical mind. I +think that any gentleman, who indulges himself in that rather +exceptionable occupation of shedding the blood of his fellow-man, +without first consulting a lawyer, deserves to be executed. And, verily, +this fellow got his deserts.</p> + +<p>Well, as I sat in my office, perfectly calm and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> composed, some hours +after the case was decided, I received a pretty note from a widow lady. +I had often met her at our pleasant little evening parties. She was on a +visit to one of her friends in our green village; was very pretty, was +said to be quite agreeable, and it was obvious that she was much admired +by the gentlemen. As to her age—to say the least on that subject, which +I consider, in such a case, to be the only gentlemanly mode of +procedure—she was some years older than she wished to be accounted.</p> + +<p>Her particular friends said that she had been very beautiful as a girl. +She was one of that select class, scattered over our country, concerning +each of whom there was a family tradition, that on some occasion of +public ceremonial, General Washington had paused and stood opposite to +her in mute admiration. I know that the great Father of his country was +reported to have paid such a tribute to one of my maiden aunts—and that +the story procured from her nephews and nieces a large portion of +respect. I boasted, as a boy, of this fact—regarding it as a sprig of a +foreign aristocratic family, would the honors of his aunt, the Duchess. +But an unreliable boy at our school matched this history from the +unwritten archives of his vulgar relatives. So, in great disgust, I held +my tongue on the subject for the future.</p> + +<p>Well, thought I, as I mused over the note of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> widow, the formation +of some of her letters indicating a romantic turn of mind; this is, +indeed, a strange, a very strange world. Here I have just done with a +client who must get himself hung. A dull, stupid fellow; a blockhead of +the most knotty material, "unwedgeable" by any possible force of common +sense; a spot on the face of the earth! Hang him! Hanging is too good +for him. He was a fellow who had neither eyes, nor nose, nor mouth for +the attracted observation of a jury, nor any history, nor any ingenuity +in his murderous deed,—as a thread on which a poor advocate could +suspend one gem of argument, one gem of eloquence to blaze and dazzle +the eyes of the twelve substantial citizens, whose verdict was to life +or death. And now here is a call to attend to some legal business to be +done in the sunshine of a fair lady's favor! Has she heard of the rare +ability displayed in the defence of this man who is so soon to be +suspended in the air, as a terror to evil doers? Or has she been allured +by my good looks and agreeable manners? Handsome!—a few years older +than myself, and then a good little fortune, which my legal knowledge +could protect. Well, if this world be odd, I must make the best of it. +Society is a strange structure; and happy is the man who is a statue +ready for his appropriate pedestal.</p> + +<p>It is unquestionably an amiable trait in human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> character which clothes +those, who by special circumstances acquire marked relations with us, in +attractions which surpass ordinary charms.</p> + +<p>I must freely confess that I never saw the widow look so interesting as +at the hour when I made my visit. I presented myself with dignity, as +one who represented learning at the bar, and future dignities on the +bench. She received me kindly. There was a seriousness in her demeanor, +an obvious earnestness, as of one who had a burden on the mind, so that +I perceived that the occasion was one of great importance.</p> + +<p>I ought here to inform the gentle reader that it had been my good +pleasure, instigated by ambition natural to young men, and as a +relaxation from my graver studies, to indite various articles in prose +and verse for the <i>Newark Democrat</i>;—a paper which was supposed by the +editor, the host at the Bald Eagle Inn, the headquarters of the ruling +political party in our town, and also by several members of the +Legislature who could read any kind of printing, to exert a great +influence over the destinies of our country.</p> + +<p>There was one contribution of mine, entitled, "The Flame Expiring in the +Heart," which obtained great admiration, and was committed to memory by +a number of the young ladies at Miss Sykes' boarding-school. It was +copied into both of the New York papers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> Just, however, as it seemed to +be securing a place for itself in American poetry, some one, urged by +envy, and under the instigation of very bad taste,—some said it was +Paulding, some Washington Irving,—but that was simply slanderous,—I +say some one of more self-conceit than of the gift of appreciation of +pure versification, and of elevated sentiment, wrote a reply. It had a +hypocritical dedication as if the author of the aforesaid poem was +affectionately addressed, and as if the utmost tenderness of sorrow was +displayed in sympathy. To crown all, the coarseness of the writer was +shown in the title, "A Bellows to Fan the Expiring Flame of Alonzo in +the Newark Democrat."</p> + +<p>However it is not necessary for me to dwell on my literary career. I was +compelled to allude to it, in order that you could understand the +reasonableness of the conduct of the lady under the circumstances which +I now describe.</p> + +<p>After a few words of greeting, she at once descended into the "midst of +things." She informed me that the reasons of her sending for me, were +her convictions of my goodness of heart, which she gleaned, no doubt, +from the tone of my poetry, of my elevated desire to promote the +interests of science and of letters, and her high idea of my literary +abilities, particularly as a writer of prose.</p> + +<p>Here I felt that her critical skill was in error. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> had not, perhaps, +as much natural capacity for the admiration of sterling poetry as of +prose. Without intending to hint that I pretend to the false humility of +undervaluing my prose style, I am satisfied, that to say the least, my +poetry is in all respects its equal. But to return from this brief +digression; the fair one proceeded to say, that she perceived that I had +a remarkable gift in narrative.</p> + +<p>Now, her deceased husband, she said, was a very remarkable man. A true +account of his abilities and virtues need only be placed before the +public attention to secure him a perpetual remembrance among men. It +would be a great wrong,—indeed it would be robbing the world of a just +claim, that his character, writings, and his general history should not +be widely known. As she discoursed on the subject, she became a little +romantic; and when she began to expand her views, and to adopt the +figure of a flower concealed from the gaze of men, lying buried in the +dark recesses of the forest, which ought to be brought out before the +common view, I doubted whether the sentence had not been previously +studied. This only proved, of course, her faithfulness to the memory of +her husband; and her desire that I should enter into her sympathies.</p> + +<p>She proceeded to say, that she had selected me as his Biographer. If I +complied with her wishes, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> would find that I had undertaken a task in +which I would have intense interest, and be stimulated to exertion. She +could tell me of eminent men who had spoken of him in terms of exalted +praise. He had once sent to a distinguished scholar in Germany, a +strange petrifaction; and the learned man had written a long essay, in +which he described it, and made it the basis of remarks on nature in +general, and took occasion to speak of his American correspondent as a +learned man, and one who wrote in magnificent sentences. Indeed, I was +to find no difficulty in collecting the greatest abundance of material +for a memoir. She wished this composition to be prefixed to a large +volume in manuscript which he had prepared for the press some years +before his lamented close of life. The volume was a treatise on +"Fugitive impressions, and enduring mental records."</p> + +<p>Now had this proposition been made by a man, I should have declined the +undertaking. In that case law would have appeared as a jealous +master,—its study long, and life very short. But as it was, the lady +had sufficient power to extort a promise that I would devote myself to +the work.</p> + +<p>The gratitude of the fair one, was, in itself, no small fee for the +labor which was before me. I felt that it was necessary to arrange with +her, that I could consult with her at all times, as I proceeded with my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +work, and that she should hear me read over a page at any time, or even +sentences, if I needed her advice. These proposals satisfied her that I +was about entering on my duty in earnest, and she became so affable, so +pleased with me, that I anticipated that every page of my work would +secure me a pleasant visit.</p> + +<p>My first plan was to make a tour to the village which had the honor to +number a few years ago, Dr. Bolton, who was to be so famous by means of +my well-rewarded pen. And I must confess that my arrival at Scrabble +Hill, for such was the name of the place, was attended with +circumstances so very dismal, that my ardor would have been damped, had +not a bright flame sent its warmth, and cheering rays through my mind.</p> + +<p>I remembered that my very absence from Newark was a perpetual plea for +me, to the lady whom I sought to serve. And this consoled me, as I drove +along the street of the place. The dwellings were poor. They were more +dismal than houses falling into ruins; for it was evident that they had +been run up as ambitious shells, and never finished. The men went about +with coats out at the elbows, and seemed to drag along languidly to the +blacksmith's shop, or to the inn. The whole place looked as if it had no +thought of better days. My sudden presence, and the appearance of my +horse and gig, promised, as the opened eyes of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> gazers assured me, +to exercise the mental faculties of the inhabitants, in the highest +degree of which they were capable.</p> + +<p>The inn was no better than the rest of the village. The landlord was one +of the most imperturbable of human beings. I verily believe that his +wife told the truth when she asserted, as I inquired whether he could +not be sent for, to sit with me, tired of my solitude in the evening, +that I need not think of such a thing, for "John Hillers was no company +for nobody." And this remark, I thought, was accompanied with the +suggestion hinted in her manner, that she herself would be a far better +gossip. Her exact adherence to the truth was, I presume, equally +manifested, when I asked as a hungry man, "What have you in the house?" +and she replied, "Not much of anything."</p> + +<p>After a wretched meal in a room half heated from a stove in the +adjoining kitchen, and where the fire-place was full of pieces of paper, +and of empty bottles labelled "bitters," I began to reflect on the +nature of my undertaking. The great responsibility devolved on one who +should attempt the biography of so great a man as Doctor Bolton, all at +once assumed a new aspect. My vanity and self-confidence began to ooze +away. These rainbows faded, and a very dull sky was all that was left.</p> + +<p>Was I able to do justice to so great an ornament of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> my native land? The +reputation of a man sometimes depends on the ability of his biographer. +A good memoir is a bright lamp, which guides the eyes of men to works, +otherwise, perhaps, doomed to lie in obscurity forever. And when they +are opened, it throws a gleam on the page, which secures attention, and +elicits admiration. All the civilized world sees its great books in the +light supplied by a few critics. Hence the critical biographer may +enhance all the merit of the author, who is his subject. On the other +hand, if he usher the unknown book before the public, by a dull and weak +narrative, and criticism, men will imagine that he has been selected as +a congenial mind, and will slight even the treatise of a man like Doctor +Bolton.</p> + +<p>In the morning the sun began to shine,—for I ought to have said that +when I entered the village I drove through a dull misty rain. I took +heart, and determined to prosecute my researches with ardor. What is to +be done must be done, and let us try and do all things well.</p> + +<p>The first person on my list of those who could give me information, was +Mrs. Rachel Peabody. I found her at home. She seemed much surprised and +mystified, when I told her that I was about writing a life of the +doctor,—but not at all astonished that when I sought information, I +should come to her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>The reference to the past excited her mind. For an hour or more she +poured forth her recollections. And gentle reader, my page would present +a strange array of information, could I accurately record the words that +flowed from her lips. Her chief idea of the doctor, was, that he carried +with her help, advice, and warm cabbage leaves, Eliza Jane, Faith Kitty, +and John Potts, of the house of Peabody, through a variety of +unaccountable diseases. Hitherto I had been a creature, hardened at the +cry of little children. Now when I learnt what a sad time they often +had, when their teeth were ready to force their way through the gums, I +am prepared to bear all the noise which they can make, with a patience +that will cause me to be a favorite with every mother.</p> + +<p>I must confess that I left the mansion of the Peabodys very much +perplexed, to know what I could weave, of this conversation into my +biography. Had I gleaned a fact, that ought to live in the memory of +men, long after marble monuments shall have crumbled into dust? As I +formed my enduring statue, was I now able to take my chisel into my +hand, and leave its immortal line? I flattered myself that I had a +presentiment, that I should yet discover in this narration, some +evidence of the greatness of the celebrated physician.</p> + +<p>And now I was to call on Miss Mary Phelps—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> lady of great +respectability—advanced in life—who had spent her years in maiden +meditation fancy free.</p> + +<p>Miss Phelps was certainly one of the most homely creatures, on whom my +eyes were ever compelled to rest. If she had qualities of mind and +heart, sufficient to compensate her for her external appearance, she was +indeed an angel within.</p> + +<p>But I quickly ascertained, that such a theory was impracticable. Her +temper was, evidently, a torment to those around her. The airs of a +foolish girl had not disappeared from her manner. She even received me +with a ridiculous affectation of shyness, and when she glanced at me her +eyes fell quickly to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said I, "I have been referred to you as to one who could give +me valuable information, for an important work which I have in hand?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir—" and her looks indicated intolerable disgust, and great +defiance,—"you are one of the folks hired to take the census, and you +want Papistical statements about the ages of people, that ain't as old +as you wish them to be."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—nothing of the kind. I am engaged in writing a life of Doctor +Bolton. As his appointed biographer, I wish to attain all the knowledge +I can concerning him. For this reason I have visited this village, where +he once resided,—such a successful practitioner; and the object of such +universal love and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> admiration. You have dwelt here a great many years." +Here the lady frowned in a very ominous manner. "That is to say, you +lived here as a child, and continued here until the present maturity of +your powers has been attained. I have therefore to inquire of you, +whether you can give me any information about him—anything that would +throw light on his character. After all it is your gentle sex who retain +the most tender, and lasting impressions of such a man."</p> + +<p>Here Miss Phelps' demeanor became a most unaccountable procedure. Her +eyes fell upon the floor. She looked as if she thought, that deep +blushes were on her sallow, sunken cheeks. She became the most wonderful +representation of modesty, sensibility, and embarrassment.</p> + +<p>I waited patiently, but there was no response.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said I, "unless the friends of the Doctor give me their +assistance, it will be impossible for me to write his life. Think, +madam, what a wrong it would be, that his history should not be known to +the world! Surely you can inform me of some circumstances, which are of +an interesting nature in his history. Can you not recall any events, +which awaken tender sentiments? Did nothing ever occur in your +intercourse with him,—did nothing ever occur between you that was +memorable?"</p> + +<p>"There may have been circumstances," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> "which are of too +delicate a nature to confide to you. There are feelings which one does +not want to speak about to a gentleman, whom one did not know a little +while ago from Adam."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, madam, if the Doctor attended you in any illness, whose nature +was such that you would prefer not to speak of it, do not for a moment +suppose that I would trespass on the delicacy of your feelings by any +inquiries. In fact it is enough for you to assure me, in general terms, +that the Doctor was a skilful physician. I would much prefer such +general statements: particularly as my nerves are much unstrung by +hearing of the diseases of some children in this place—for whom he +ministered in the most admirable manner. I need not print your name in +his biography. As to diseases, I do not know the symptoms of those of +the heart—or——"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Ah, then," she said, "you have hit it. The heart! He was a lovely man. +Yes, he was a man that any woman could love." As this was said, her +hands were clasped together.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," I replied, "for that information. You had, of course, +ample opportunity to know his character. You have been his intimate +friend." Here the lady gave me another timid, hesitating glance, and +then her eyes sought the abiding place on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do not wish you to speak of anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> which is unpleasant to +you. If your admiration of the Doctor is so great, all that you could +tell me, would be in his favor. Out of your recollections, you can +suggest anything that you deem proper."</p> + +<p>"You have heard about him, and me?"</p> + +<p>"I have been told that you were intimate with him. That you could give +me information about him. Whatever tender memories I may awaken, do not +allow me to distress you."</p> + +<p>Here she put up a marvelously big handkerchief to her eyes. Dear me, I +thought, at least she had a tender heart.</p> + +<p>"If, madam, you have lost a dear friend, whom the Doctor attended in his +last illness—but excuse me,—I regret that I trouble you, that I awaken +sorrowful recollections."</p> + +<p>"You have never, then, heard of my history?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam."</p> + +<p>"The Doctor was a great loss to me." The utterance was distinct, in +defiance of the huge handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Were you in ill health at the time of his death?"</p> + +<p>"I enjoyed very bad health—and he attended me—like—like——"</p> + +<p>"A brother?"</p> + +<p>"No brother could be so affectionate. Oh how often we sat together in +this very room! Our hearts have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> been so full, that we were silent for +half an hour together."</p> + +<p>"The Doctor was very much attached to his last wife, was he not?"</p> + +<p>"He married her after he was disappointed in another object of his +affections. But it was not my fault. Things will cross one another +sometimes, and make all go wrong. He said, when he gave me a bill one +day,—that I was necessary to his existence. I shall never forget it. He +did marry that girl—far too young for him. But I didn't blame him. I +will not say any more. My feelings oppress me."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, I began to understand, the meaning of this mysterious +conversation. You will say I was excessively stupid not to perceive it +before; that the hints were almost as intolerable and palpable as the +most excessive hint ever given—that of Desdemona to the Moor of Venice. +But you will please to remember, that you had not the personal +appearance before you, which was in the room with me.</p> + +<p>After I left this informant, I sat down on the rail of a small bridge, +and then made a memorandum, of which you shall hear in due season.</p> + +<p>I was told, in one of my "searches for truths," that if I would only +write to Mr. Bob Warren, of Hardrun, I could acquire important knowledge +of the nature which I so eagerly coveted. Accordingly, I addressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> to +him a very polite letter, and begged his aid—as I was collecting +materials for the life of a celebrated Physician—Dr. Bolton, of +Scrabble-Hill.</p> + +<p>Only a short time elapsed before I received a reply, and to the +following effect:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Robert Loring</span>, Esq.,—<i>Dear Sir</i>:</p> + +<p>"About the doctor. I did know him. That is to say, I used to meet +him scattered about the country, though I never called him in for +professional services. In fact I believe my mother-in-law has more +judgment about common ailments, than half the doctors around the +world; and, thanks to a kind Providence, we have had wonderful +health in the family.</p> + +<p>"You want to hear about his personal appearance. He was a short +thick-set man, with rather a reddish summit, and a sort of an +in-pressed nose, and his skin always so tight that it seemed as if +no more ever could get into it. As to his manners, he was slow, +awful slow; slow in taking in ideas, like in mind in this respect, +to snow melting on a March day. He did not say much, and so people, +after the common ignorant notion about such folks, thought that as +not much came out of him, there must be a great deal left in him. +He would often repeat what others said, only putting the things +into bigger words, and rolling them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> out so that people did not +know their own observations.</p> + +<p>"You ask me if I remember any observations of his. The most +sensible remarks he ever made were some scornful attacks on Tom +Jefferson's gun-boats, just before election; but I cannot say what +they were, being very busy in hunting up voters at the time.</p> + +<p>"I hope the doctor was no relation of yours. I write under that +impression. I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings, but I must say +I am in a quandary, when I learn that you propose to print a book +about him. I hope I shall know when it is printed.</p> + +<p>"As to asking my associates here, as you say, about the man, there +is no use in it. I am perfectly willing to do anything to oblige +you, or any one else. But I know what they would say—that he was a +stupid, solemn old ass.</p> + +<p>"I think the creature was honest enough. As to not being over +blessed with smartness, it was not his fault; for all cannot have +much brains; for if they had, what would the world be, where it +seems to me evident that the great majority must be blessed with +but little common sense, or the country would never get along? It +is always evident to me, that a small part of the world must do the +thinking.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! I have nothing to say against the doctor. He was +honest enough. He was good-natured,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> and could forgive an injury, +and that I take it is a pretty good proof that his religion will be +found worth more at last than that of a good many people who think +themselves better than ever he thought himself. In fact, if I have +said anything about him that is not to his credit, I am not much +used to writing; and then the idea of having his life written, +rather turned my ideas into confusion. I can't go through the work +of writing a new letter. He never hurt any one, I believe, by his +practice. His being slow kept him from giving as much medicine as +he would have done had he been a smarter man.</p> + +<p>"I hope what I write is agreeable and useful.</p> + +<p class="right">"With respect,<br /> +"Yours to command,<br /> +"<span class="smcap">Robert Warren</span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I will say that the doctor was ready to do a good turn. He +was not hard on the poor. I believe I said he was honest, and had a +good temper. It was a very good temper. He was honest as the +sun—so people said, and in this instance it was true. He was not +for experiments, as that Dr. Stone at the Run, who was always +restless as if at some deep game, or like Dr. Thomas, at our place, +who tried his new-fashioned medicines on rabbits, so that at least +it was not an imposition on human nature. The doctor practiced in +the good old way, and for that he has my respect."</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>I have now given you a pretty clear idea of the valuable results of my +historical labors at the village. With my notes collected with so much +care, I turned my back on this place, and returned to my office at +Newark.</p> + +<p>And now what was to be done? I began to feel quite feverish and +miserable. Then I asked myself the question, whether all histories, and +a considerable number of our biographies, were not based on similar +poverty of materials—were not paste-board edifices looking like stone, +and having only chaff for a foundation?</p> + +<p>Now came a great temptation.—Should I imitate certain authors who, by +means of cunning sentences, made the trifling appear to be events which +were all-important, and so transformed ideas, that the mean became an +object of admiration?</p> + +<p>I recalled an instance when an historian found a record of a man whom he +desired to clothe in all possibility of royal purple, and so to find +fame with his sect, or to gain applause as a gorgeous writer. The true +narrative declared, "At this time he believed that he received from +heaven a divine intimation, a light from above, assuring him that a man +might go through all the instruction of the Colleges of Oxford and +Cambridge, and not be able to tell a man how to save his soul."</p> + +<p>Now, this plain statement, however translated into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> the dignity of an +ambitious style, would not appear to advantage in a brilliant eulogy. +The man was fanatical, and crazy. But the design was to represent him as +a philosophical reformer in the religious world.</p> + +<p>And now behold the power of art. In the original document there is a sad +poverty, and deformity of flesh and bones. The poor creature must appear +on the stage in kingly robes. Hear our model!—Behold the +transformation! "At this time he was convinced that he received a divine +illumination, infusing such thoughts as transcend the most elevated +conceptions of mere human wisdom; and he was overwhelmed with the depth +of the conviction, that a man might pass through all the extent of +scholastic learning taught at Oxford and Cambridge, and not be able to +solve the great problem of human existence."</p> + +<p>Was there ever such alchemy? If I could attain a moderate degree of +efficiency, as the pupil of such a writer, the small items of +information collected at the village, could become a grand biography.</p> + +<p>Let me see, thought I, what I can make of my material. I do not know +that I could dare to publish words which would make a false impression. +But let me try my skill in this essay to transmute poor substances into +gold. I take the note concerning the visit to Mrs. Rachel Peabody,—and +the account she gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> me of the sicknesses of Eliza Jane, Faith Kitty, +and John Potts.</p> + +<p>"One of the most impressive views of the doctor, was his appearance +among the young, when the sickness which does not spare our race in the +days of our early development, was bearing its distress to the languid +frame, and sorrow to the affectionate relatives who watched by the +bed-side. I do not mean to say that this illustrious physician was less +skilful in dealing with the maladies of middle life, or with those which +we deplore in the aged,—whose sun we would have to sink in all the +tranquillity of a serene sky. It is the consequence of maternal love, +that in this village where his great talents were so unfortunately +circumscribed, you may still hear the most touching descriptions of his +skill and tenderness by the cradle, and by the couch of those children, +the future promise of our country, who would attend on the instructions +of the academy, were it not that their condition has become one, where +obscure causes prove to us the limitation of our finite capacities."</p> + +<p>Let me now try my hand on the letter of Mr. Warren.</p> + +<p>Note,—"The doctor was a solemn ass." Biographical representation. +"Suspicion might arise with respect to the extent of the intellectual +power of the doctor, if the biographer led the reader to suppose that +all who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> knew him, in his retreat from the great circles where the +understanding is cultivated to its highest degree, regarded him as a man +of transcendent genius. The slow process of thought, often observable in +men whose deductions reach the greatest altitude, like the great tree +slowly evolved from its incipient stem, is a contradiction to the +conceptions, which the vulgar form of the intellectual power of men of +acute minds. They anticipate the sudden flashing of the eagle eye, and +the flight of thought as with the eagle wing. And when they are doomed +to disappointment, and meet with that seemingly sluggish action of the +mind, which has learned caution, lest elements that should enter into +the decision that is sought, should not be observed, it is an error at +which a philosophical mind can afford a smile, to find that their +unauthorized disgust, will seek a similitude for the great man of such +tardy conclusions, in some animal that is proverbial for the dulness of +its perceptions."</p> + +<p>Note,—"Supposed to be wise, because he was solemn and stupid." +Biographical representation. "It is curious to observe that when +contemporary testimony is elicited, concerning the powers of a superior +man, you discover, amid unavoidable abuse and misrepresentation, +unintentional testimony to his exalted qualities. While an attempt is +made to undermine his claim to wisdom, it will incidentally appear that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +wisdom was ascribed to him. The endeavor of envy which would ostracise +him, is a proof that it is excited by common admiration heaped upon its +object."</p> + +<p>Note,—The old lady who intimated that there had been "love passages +between herself and the Doctor"—Biographical representation.</p> + +<p>"It is delightful to know that a man of such science, and constant +observation, was not rude, or wanting in those gentle traits which +allure the susceptibilities of the best portion of our race. I might +narrate a romantic incident, which would prove how he had +unintentionally inspired an affection in a lovely lady, which endured in +the most singular extent, even to old age. I have witnessed her tears at +the mention of his name. On the most ample scrutiny, I repose, when I +say, that the Doctor had never trifled with this sincere love. The sense +of devoted affection in this case, led the victim of a tender delusion +to infer, that on his part, the regard was reciprocated. I can imagine +the sorrow of his great heart, if he discovered the unfortunate error +and misplaced passion. In the case to which I now refer, I could only +judge of the beauty and attractions of the early youth, by those remains +of little arts and graceful attitudes, which are the result, so +generally, of a consciousness of a beauty that is confessed by all."</p> + +<p>Then too I could avail myself of the ingenious devices of praise, by a +denial of infirmities.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In him there was nothing for effect—nothing that was +theatrical—nothing done to cause the vulgar to stare with astonishment. +No pompous equipage, no hurried drives, no sudden summons from the +dwellings of his friends, as if patients required his sudden +attendance—no turgid denomination of little objects by words of +thundering sound—no ordering the simple placing of the feet in hot +water, as Pediluvium,—none of those arts were employed by the subject +of our Biography, to acquire or extend his practice, or build up his +great fame."</p> + +<p>I also found some of the letters of the Doctor. Let me attempt the work +of Alchemy again. Let me transform some passage into the proper language +of Modern Biography.</p> + +<p>Thus I find this sentence in a letter to Colonel Tupp: "Some of our +negroes in New Jersey are very troublesome, and some wise plan should be +devised lest they become a heavy burden——"</p> + +<p>"It would appear"—thus should it be erected into Biographical +effect—"that the Doctor, to be named always with so much veneration, +was probably one of the first of our men of giant minds, to foresee the +dangers of the problem involved in the existence of the African race, in +the new world. I claim him—on the evidence of his familiar epistolary +correspondence—as the originator of the great movements of statesmen +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> philosophers, for its solution. He gave, beyond all contradiction, +that impulse to the energetic thought, which has led to all the plans +for the elevation of those, who bear 'God's image cut in ebony.' As we +trace the voice to the distant fountain—or the immense circle of fire +on our prairies, to the sparks elicited by the careless traveler from +the small flint, so as I recall the present innumerable discussions on +this sable subject, I refer them all to the unpretending utterances of +this great man. I recur to the small village where he dwelt. His study, +his favorite retreat, is before me. There, at the table, illuminated as +it were with his manuscript, I see his impressive form. Near him are the +pestle and mortar; the various jars on which are labels in such unknown +words, that the country people regard them as if they were the +ingredients for the sorcerer,—his coat,—his books,—his +minerals,—such are his surroundings.</p> + +<p>"There in that study—he first in the unostentatious effusions of a +private letter, suggests the seed of those convictions, which led to the +formation of the Colonization Society. No fanaticism, however, has +marked and disfigured the stately forms of his thoughts, on the subject +of the extinction of slavery. Let not the readers of this Biography at +the Sunny South, imagine that he designed an interference with their +possessions. There is evidence of the perfect balance of his mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> on +this subject, in the fact, that he designates them, in another letter, +written probably after this one, which contains the immortal sentence, +in which he employs a word, which in printed syllables, with the +exception of one repeated letter in the English, resembles the Roman +adjective for Black,—but whose pronunciation rejected the classical +usage.</p> + +<p>"I am aware that those who love his memory will be compelled to do +battle for the honors which they justly claim for these and other +anticipations of later movements in the world of wisdom and +philanthropy. As Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, only to +have his claim a subject of dispute, so our great Philosopher will find +those to detract from his merits, and maintain that the great efforts to +which we have alluded were of later origination."</p> + +<p>While I speak upon this subject of the African discussion, I may remark +that there is a singular discovery which I have made, as I have searched +his papers, and concerning which I am in doubt, whether it should be +delegated to oblivion or made the subject of ingenuous confession. I am +aware that obscurity throws its shadow over the topic. I am also aware +that I may hereby cast a suspicion of the spirit of a wild projector, +over the subject of this memoir. I think, however, and believe that I do +not flatter myself unjustly, that I have guarded against such a wrong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +by the delineation I have given of his calm and reflecting character.</p> + +<p>The circumstances which my pen is somewhat reluctant to trace for fear +of misapprehension, are these: I find in a letter to a friend the +remark, "You would be no less startled by the assertion, that I could +transform the African into a white man, than to learn from me that my +Cæsar has become sedulous in the discharge of his duties, and ceased to +slumber by the kitchen fire when he should be at his work at the +wood-shed."</p> + +<p>Now observe this ominous suggestion about the transformation of the +physical characteristics of those who have been translated among us from +the land of sandy deserts. Here is a hint of the physical transformation +of a black man into a white. And then I must add that I find two small +pieces of paper lying near the letter, which seem to corroborate my +view, which papers, I candidly confess,—here is the ground of +hesitation, the momentum which disturbs the mind seemingly on the eve of +its rest, might indeed have been prescriptions saved by accident, or +have been hints on the subject of the transformation of the race of +darkened skins. One of these fragments contains the words, "Elixir to +remove the dark pigment which causes the surface discrimination"—on the +other, "For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> the removal of odorous accidentals." I am willing to leave +the subject to the consideration of my readers.</p> + +<p>Then again I have known a man who had no brilliant or striking +qualities, exalted into one of most honorable fame,—in this wise,—</p> + +<p>"The doctor perhaps had no one gift of intellectual power which exalted +him above other men. But look to the faculties which he possessed in +admirable combination; regard him in the complete symmetry of his mind," +etc. etc.</p> + +<p>Thus I amused myself by this imitation of the system of eulogistic +biographies. But I must confess that I had returned to my home oppressed +with a feverish anxiety, as of one who felt that he had become involved +in a hopeless undertaking. How utterly absurd the position which I +occupied! How silly had I been in taking the assurance of Mrs. Bolton +for certain truth, and acting on the principle, that her husband was a +great man in his day. I now began to regard the deceased as one of the +most stupid creatures that had ever felt a pulse.</p> + +<p>But then I had acquired the most morbid fear of meeting the widow. What +excuse should I offer for a change of purpose? I have no doubt that my +exposure and miserable life when at the village, seeking pearls and +finding chaff, had produced a temporary derangement of my system, and +that I had contracted some low fever.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nothing else could account for the manner in which I was tormented by my +position. What could be more easy than to say that I found myself unable +to gather material for the life of the Great—I was about to say, old +fool! Somehow I was spell-bound. I could not reason calmly on the +subject. It broke my rest at night. It haunted me during the day. I now +perceive, that I ought to have sought the advice of my physician. But +then, common sense seemed to have deserted me on this one point. I was +nervous, wretched, for so unreasonable a reason, and could not find +relief. One night I dreamed that the widow and the doctor were both +intent on murdering me. There she stood near me, the picture of wrath, +and urging him, as a second Lady Macbeth, to destroy me. He advanced and +raised his abominable pestle above his head. He smiled, proving how a +man may smile and be a villain, and procrastinated the deadly blow to +torment me. Fortunately I saw projecting from one of his huge pockets a +large bottle of some specific which he had concocted for a patient. +Springing up, I seized the vial, and grasping him by the collar, was +pouring it down his throat, saying, you infamous old murderer die of +your own medicine, when a chair, near my bed, thrown violently half +across the room by my impetuosity, awoke me.</p> + +<p>But every knock at my door tormented me. Every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> letter was examined with +terror,—lest I should recognize a hand calling me to account.</p> + +<p>I found my way about Newark through unfrequented streets, and across the +lots when it was practicable. Even when I went to the court-house, on +business, I left my office, not by the door, but through a small back +window, and by sundry winding ways reached my destination.</p> + +<p>After this plan had been pursued for some time, I was duly honored by +the following note.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>:—You are not to think that your designs are unknown. Your +singular conduct in passing by my house so often,—a house so +removed from the streets through which you would naturally +pass,—could not fail to be observed by any man who had an eye in +his head, and who regarded his rights. I am not alone in this +observation of your proceedings. We have taken into consideration +your stealthy look as you passed, and have noticed how you watched +at the corners, lest any one should see you.</p> + +<p>"Depend upon it your designs are known. The villany is detected. +You are a hypocrite of the deepest dye. Unless you entirely, and +immediately, relinquish your pursuit, you will suffer in a manner +you little apprehend.</p> + +<p>"Do not prowl in this mean way around my premises any more. Strive +to retrieve your character. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> hope the day may come when I can +honor you as I now despise you.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Warning.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>About the same time I received this additional note.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Bob</span>:—I heard the other day that you had returned home, and I +have been eager to see you. They tell me that you have fallen +desperately in love with a certain widow, and that you have been up +the country, under pretence of partridge shooting, in order that +you might inquire about her property. Are the inquiries +satisfactory? Are the acres and dwellings such, that on your +return, she appears to be angelic? Or, being disappointed as to the +properties left her by her father, and the old doctor, is she but a +woman of ordinary charms? Oh Bob! I never thought you so mercenary. +I thought that you would follow my example, and despise all but the +real excellencies which can adorn a wife.</p> + +<p>"Had it not been that I am lame, I should have been to see you,—as +it is desirable that we should meet soon.</p> + +<p>"Now I think of it, there is another foolish report about +you,—that you go to the court-house by the back street, in +consequence of your having heard that that scape-grace, Bill +Turney, whom you lashed so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> terribly in your address before the +squire, when Obadiah Potter was arrested for beating his wife, +intended to pummel you as soon as he caught you. They say also that +he describes his belligerent intentions in very graphic language, +to wit, that he will, 'shoot through you, like lightning through a +gooseberry bush.' These stories will amuse you.</p> + +<p>"Stop and see me the first time you come along the main street in a +bold manner.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your friend,<br /> +"<span class="smcap">J. Walters</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>These annoyances had at least a good effect. I resolved that I would see +the widow, and throwing off my nervous anxiety, explain to her that I +could not possibly find materials sufficient for a biography. I intended +also to suggest, that a physician might be better qualified for the +undertaking.</p> + +<p>Hence I gladly accepted the invitation of a fair cousin of mine, to be +one of her guests for an evening party; where I felt confident that I +should meet the widow.</p> + +<p>It had now been several weeks since I had been thrown into the society +of ladies. My health was improved. The nervous fever that had agitated +me, had passed away. The fascination of one whom I had sometimes met in +our village gatherings, seemed to be restoring me to myself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a while, my companion looking across the room, said to me, "How +well our widow looks this evening."</p> + +<p>I thought that there was a mischievous look in her laughing eye. But +sure enough—there stood the Empress, who had commanded the biography. +She was resting her hand upon a piano, and in deep conversation with +Judge Plian.</p> + +<p>I crossed the room and spoke to her. She received me politely—but not +as one who had the slightest recollection, that there was any tie of the +most profound interest between us. Surely a man writing her deceased +husband's biography, should have immediately become her chief object of +attention. On the contrary, after a few common-place words, she turned +to the Judge, and became absorbed in his conversation.</p> + +<p>And this was the more remarkable, because the man was by no means +good-looking. Nay, I think him rather insignificant. I had a few words +with him on the occasion of the trial of that miserable creature, who +would get himself hung, and I concluded, not only that he was not well +versed in legal learning, but that he was a remarkably stubborn man, +riveted to his opinions, even when, by means of lucid argument, you +proved him to be in error.</p> + +<p>A short time afterwards I entered into conversation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> with my fair +cousin. She directed me to look at the two, near the piano.</p> + +<p>"They will make a good-looking couple, will they not?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, have you not heard of their engagement?"</p> + +<p>"Engagement!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it has been a short acquaintance. Indeed, Bob, now that it recurs +to my mind, I heard that she sent you out of the way, into the country +on business, that the Judge might not be alarmed by the appearance of a +rival. But you know that villagers are famous for gossip. Of course +there was nothing in it. And I said, you never had a serious thought +about her."</p> + +<p>Was ever anything like this? Before the shoes were old with which she +followed my poor father's body. While the Biography of her deceased +husband was in progress, she forms an engagement with a man of no sort +of personal attractions, and who, being on the bench, can have his legal +decisions confuted by a young lawyer.</p> + +<p>Surely the most strict moralist would confess, that I was released from +my engagements! Surely Sir Charles Grandison would have said, that I +need not put myself forward for an explanation with the widow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> If she +spoke to me on the subject, could I not say, "Let the Judge write the +book?"</p> + +<p>These notes have not been written in vain, if I can contribute, in the +least degree, to the awakening of the public mind to a demand for +greater moral principles, in the composition of histories, and of the +memoirs of distinguished men.</p> + +<p>I thought that the widow might send me a note, before many days had +passed. I waited, and concluded in a Christian spirit, that if she +applied to me, she should have the notes which I had accumulated. But I +never heard again of my first attempt at writing a memoir. I never heard +again of Dr. Bolton's Biography.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>KATYDIDS:—A NEW CHAPTER IN NATURAL HISTORY.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Jones, a man who said he hated strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had from the altar led an able wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lines told scandal on a wrinkled brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Temper and Time are rivals with their plow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some said that she was gentle as the May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Jones, the dog, was now to have his day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your pardon, men, I pray you now dispense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I proclaim you void of common sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you would have your wives to know no will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have no thought but such as you instill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be your shadows, never to suggest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each judgment crossing yours at once represt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to suppose, that every chiding word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall from your bearded lips alone be heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If no resistance met us in our home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What petty tyrants would all men become?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little wits that most of men possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For want of sharp'ning would become far less;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The selfish streams that flow from out our will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far corrupted be more stagnant still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And restless, we should wage an inward war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for the soothing rays of home's true star.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let this wrong abuse of women end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In me, at least, they'll find a sturdy friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give my witness, I who have been thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Widely with all in Country and in Town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Women are best of all our fallen race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Richer in heart, than e'en in outward grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if our homes are not the abodes of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fault is ours; and the complaint should cease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In that small dwelling there—from morn to night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman toils, withdrawn from human sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A plain poor woman, in a common dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of kindly tones, and of uncouth address.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just wend thy way unto the little brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day after day upon its waters look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See every day the self-same ripples there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On those same stones, for ages smooth and bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So she from day to day the course of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finds one recurring call of labor's strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save when God's blessed day of rest hath come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its sun shines, as in the church, at home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unlike the stream she has no murmuring tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has God's will to do, and it is done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With tender care she trains her youthful band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never wearies in her heart or hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is ready, when the music in her ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From one loved step, proclaims her husband near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spread the frugal board, the welcome give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In each act say, for self I do not live.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh man, o'erlook thy wife's unceasing care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How her dear love doth follow everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget her, as she stood beside thy bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the long sickness bowed thy weary head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching,—to her all sacrifice as light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As 'tis to stars to watch o'er earth at night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah 'tis most noble, manly, not to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How light o'er all doth from her presence flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when a quicker word in haste doth fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To speak of her, as if strife was her all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What could she say, if she replied to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told to the world her secret misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showed the sad wounds that thy neglect had wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where but a look the healing balm had brought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One, at this hour, lies on the bed of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A neighbor lovely as the morning's breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly she dies,—and with prophetic eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tracing the course of human destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see a home she brightened, hence so lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its calm day darkened, and its music gone;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The young, the old with anxious cares opprest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hearts, like shadows feeling for their rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the green sward, where flickering sunbeams glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tears can fall, and standing by thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know a woman's place, a woman's worth,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the gift of God in her to earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou will not let thy wife become to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That which her nature claims that she should be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast a cold dead life from her apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not moulded by her gentler heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else by her sweet, pure thoughts thou wert more true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More wise, more bold each noble deed to do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of woman's weakness dost thou speak? Thou'lt find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her strength indeed, by this just bond of mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are the weak one, cannot grasp her might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever boasting that thy wrong is right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Without her soul to thine, the page is dull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all life's work,—and with this it is full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all illumined splendors, as of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The precious writings were adorned with Gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah view that cell so dark!—the felon there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With glaring eye that speaks his vast despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He once in princely splendor lived his day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of the street, a monarch in his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His costly revels gained an envied fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where shallow fops, and women like them came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh man! how couldst thou thus thy God defy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could riches pay thee for thy long-told lie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou hadst said thy secret to thy wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made known to her the secret guilty strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told of the awful chance, the business dice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gambling sales, the shameful, well-named vice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asked what to risk, asked what a man should do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that shame-darkened cell have been for you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She would have said, in woman's faith so strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We may be poor,—we never will do wrong.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take all this splendor; let it fade away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But stand thou honest as the open day."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would she have been to thee a feeble stay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We make the woman weak where she is weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We school her feeble; feebleness we seek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We make believe that life is pompous pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she is blest, by gold when gratified,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This my conclusion, as the world we scan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's wrong in woman tells of wrong in man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But where is Jones? While I have thus digressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why Jones, poor fellow, is by care oppressed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He draws his trail of briars round life's ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonders he is caught by everything.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jones snaps at every woman, man, and child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as a turtle by hot coals made wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jones had a daughter, and her name was Kate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As like her sire as pewter plate to plate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they together almost vexed to death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife, the target of their arrowed breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sometimes the patient creature's anger rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their petty wrongs, and malice to oppose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tempers such as hers, men do not try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By single deeds that cause some misery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stirred at the last by injuries borne so long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their anger speaks accumulated wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kate had her beauty, and her household skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in due time her Jack had found his Gill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was a man as meek as man could be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could not dream of woman's tyranny.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was a pleasant man to smile "good day,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And had the art to say what others say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought his old saws came from a welling-spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his own mind—not knowing he did bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that so softly from his lips e'er fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As vapid water from his neighbor's well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor dog never stole a good-sized bone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so the world of curs let him alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not to an infant could Kate gentle be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to a creature, meek and kind as he.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How could she tear the vine that round her grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready to fall with every wind that blew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife made battle for him with his friends;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fighting them, she thus made good amends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all her patience with him. Thus with care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She spread her shield, and said, attack, who dare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange, how 'mid peace we make the show of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shout unto the battle from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her defense at last such habit wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had she assailed him, she herself had fought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In time, ill-temper wrought upon her mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And illness, too, its miseries combined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! sad to read of intellect o'erthrown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes all blank. Sometimes one train alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thought, declares that reason is denied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear of one who said, I must abide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the door, because I am a clock.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there he stood, and ticked. And one was shocked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel a rat within his stomach run.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doctor heard: the story being done,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wisely smiled, and said, "I soon can cure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You need not be a rat-trap long I'm sure."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why how, O doctor, can you reach the rat?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis easy: down your throat I'll send a cat."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man at such a pill must need rebel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with good sense he quietly got well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kate had her fancies—said she soon would die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wasting seemed to prove her prophecy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Poor Will," she said, "you soon my loss will mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife who shielded you from many a thorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm glad the pigs are killed, the sweet-meats made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our turnips gathered, and our butcher paid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm glad I sent away to Jericho,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lazy Bess, that tried my temper so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm glad I told my mind to Jane Agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About that scandal that she said of me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I was jealous, to my apron string<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tied you—distrustful of my marriage ring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm glad I told her that it was a lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And somewhat sorry, since it made her cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And, Oh! poor Will—so helpless when alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wilt thou do, dear one, when I am gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How would I love, a spirit round thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To move, and be thy blessing every day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fan thy forehead, and to dry thy tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To nerve thy soul, and banish all thy fears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All I can do for thee, thou patient one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So gentle, tender, loving, all is done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel so lonely, in thy loneliness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is, in death, my very great distress.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some one will fill my place, ere long, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your clothes are whole—in perfect order now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be sure you get a wife that is like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gentle temper, and sweet sympathy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For you, so long to gentleness allied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not a bristling woman, sure, abide."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor Will! At first his tears fell down like rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most at the time when she inflicted pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her unkind surmise, that he would take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another wife—did she the world forsake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You are a wife," he said, "so fond, so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot have another—none but you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You made me what I am the people say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another wife might make me; what I pray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eight-day clock, they say, I am most like,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wound up by you, and by you taught to strike.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another wife might keep the time too late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take out the wheels, and snatch away each weight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, neglected, come to a dead stop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some old time-piece in a lumber shop.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if you think, dear wife, that I must wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you, at last, are numbered with the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I depend upon your good advice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choose you the bride. Shall it be Susan Price?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never had Bill so great a blunder made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never had demon so his cause betrayed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed in her view—a villain lost to shame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She scarced believed that he could bear his name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She saw the future. Susan Price was there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hazel eyes, and curls of Auburn hair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rooms she swept would that vile Susan sweep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup-board key would that bad Susan keep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those same pans would Susan cook their food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that fool Bill, and for some foolish brood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would Susan drink the wine that she had made?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would all those pickles be to her betrayed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Shall that vain thing sit there,—a pretty pass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neglecting work, to simper in that glass?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will she cut down that silk frock, good, though old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And puff it out with pride in every fold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of all other insults, this the worst,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My beating heart is ready here to burst—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'll use my blue-edged china,—yes she will—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I could throw it piece by piece at Bill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I see her, proud to occupy my chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pour out tea, to smile around her there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my false friends will praise her half-baked cake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Bill will chuckle o'er each piece they take.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while his grief is lettered o'er my grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll laugh, and eat, and show himself a knave."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hast thou on some huge cliff, with oaks around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the full terror of the thunder sound?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou at sea, all breathless heard the blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolling vast waves on high whene'er it past?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then mayst thou form some thought of her dread ire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poured on the man to burn his soul like fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But soon the burst of anger all was o'er,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softened, she could speak of death once more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And Susan Price can marry whom she will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And,"—so she argued, "will not marry Bill."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">One day she said,—"It is revealed to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ere I die, a warning there shall be."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will looked, and saw her mind now wandered more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thus she spake, than it had done before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yes," she exclaimed, "before I leave this scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death will appear,—the warning intervene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death will appear in this our quiet home—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chicken without feathers will he come."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fame spreads the great, and fame will spread the small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame gives us tears,—for laughter it will call.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame spreads this whim,—this foolish crazy fear,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The neighbors laughed, and told it far and near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There dwelt close by, a restless heedless wight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mischief to him was ever a delight.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He heard the story, and his scheme prepared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what his brain had purposed, that he dared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He from a rooster all his feathers tore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Had he been learned in the Grecian lore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard of the Cynic, old Diogenes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, lying in his tub, in dreamy ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said to the hard-brained conqueror of old time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heedlessness to human wants sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he inquired, "What shall for you be done?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"All that I ask, hide not from me the sun."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He might have thought of him; and Plato's scowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the school he hurled the unfeathered fowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, ere murmuring lips reproof began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"There, Plato, is, as you defined, a man."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of the Greeks our wight had not a thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under his arm the fowl, all plucked, was brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forced to enter into Katy's door:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who spied him wandering o'er her sanded floor.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looked upon him, and began to weep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bill sat not far off on a chair asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And so," she said, "Oh death! and thou art come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take my spirit far away from home."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then as inspired a sudden hope to trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She waved the unfeathered monster from its place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would drive far off from her the coming ill,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Shoo shoo, thou death, now leave me, go to Bill."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas overheard—and wide the story spread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It reached John Jones, and to his wife he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In precious wrath,—"They slander thus our Kate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some foe devised this in malicious hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, perhaps, were one to make the lie."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus deeply stung, she made a fierce reply.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She did it, I am sure," replied the wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"She did it, sure as I have breath and life."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No—Katy didn't," said the man in rage.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yes, Katy did," she said. And so they wage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A war of words, like these upon my page.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Indian Fairy spirit heard the din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And first to patience strove them both to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent the cool breeze to fan the burning brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Volcanic fires to die by flakes of snow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In war incessant, still the clamor rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still Katy did, and didn't, and fierce blows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At last the spirit took their souls away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in their cottage lay their lifeless clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bodies changed—and insects they became—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green as the grass—but still their cry the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hence in all trees, we hear in starry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The contradiction, and the wordy fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear John Jones, and his unhappy wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all their brood forever in a strife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Katy did, and Katy didn't still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are sounds incessant as a murmuring rill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE IMAGE-MAKER.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">DWELLER ON EARTH.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou dwellest here, beneath this dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Pilgrim, far from thine own home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is thine heart, and where thy land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou longest for some distant strand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have thy love and gentle care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bearest blessings every where.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet day and night, and light and shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall with less labor one be made,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Than thou in sympathy be one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With us, who through our course will run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laden with cares, with pleasures worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children of hope to sorrow born.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast our speech, our garb, our toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well known, yet stranger on our soil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some deeper hidden life is thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if we saw the tortuous vine<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid veiling branches intertwine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swinging in air its precious fruit,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the deep mould has hid its root;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From view its highest honors lost,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid the oak leaves in murmurs tost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A secret work thy endless task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy endless care, of that we ask.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">PILGRIM.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I seek to form an Image here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">DWELLER ON EARTH.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art a Sculptor! Yet our ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth catch no sound of chisel stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hammer clang—no marble broke.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">PILGRIM.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The silence of Eternity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around my work doth ever lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When marbles into dust shall fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And human art no fame befall,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun no more its beams shall give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To statues seeming half to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty no more on genius wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which copying seemeth to create;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When heaven and earth shall pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When breaketh everlasting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shall the Image that I form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appear 'mid nature's dying storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Image that no human skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could fashion, or Archangel's will;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">No angel mind the model give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that which shall forever live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At that great day it shall be known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Image of the Eternal One.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE CLOUDS.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clouds that drift, are slowly drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that glorious sun at dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkened mists, and now so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resplendent in the morning light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In borrowed glory,—spreading flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's fiery pillar still they frame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So I,—in dark night once astray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through boundless grace have found my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee,—the Sun of Righteousness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose wings are healing in distress.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From thee I trust, the dawning gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath made me more than I can seem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath made me thine, in joy, in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy pardoned one,—one all whose fears<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Are silenced in thy cross-wrung groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buried beneath thy tomb's vast stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which angels' hands alone can move.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth has this pure work for their love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh let thy glory shine on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Armed in thy purest panoply.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My shield, the Lamb, the cross it bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not weep its stain with tears!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gathering waters fill each cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain's burnished tops they shroud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They spread o'er valley, over plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich with God's blessings in the rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On good and evil both they fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the vast care of God for all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So Lord, thy servant thus prepare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear thy mercies everywhere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the grave mine ashes sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When o'er it, sad a friend may weep,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt not suffer it be said,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life was scarce accredited<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Him who sits upon the throne,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Him who bore our sins alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wills our holy walk on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sons of God, of heavenly birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who will have none disciples here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless their cross with zeal they bear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life without Christ! That is but death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prayer without Christ!—but idle breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love for man, but vanity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save at the cross 'tis learnt by me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh help thy branch, thou heavenly Vine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Union with thee is life divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clustered fruits are ever mine,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If from beneath alone we gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy providence a darkened maze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise on wings of faith and prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then what love and wisdom there!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">So brightness of unbroken day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon those clouds doth heavenward lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though we can trace no single ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who look from earth. Yet angels see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory as a silver sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE PROTECTOR DYING.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dread hour! nearing, nearing fast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I cannot wish thee past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death! Oh! but a dream till nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With night cold from eternity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That cold night doth around me creep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which immortals never sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cloud its mighty shade doth fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a mantle for a king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mountain's awful form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarred through battles with the storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So thy darkness falls on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkness, such as cannot be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to those whose soul is life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a nation in its strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That its wrongs for ever crushed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cries of slaves forever hushed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every chain forever gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man tremble before God alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That man's true right, so long betrayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On truth and justice shall be laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Freedom's martyr's work begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In blood, and fire, and hidden sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall culminate in triumphs won;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the world's changing channels trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A course of hope for all our race.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! how they as the humblest die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who part from kingly majesty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand before Him!—nothing there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as His image we may bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image by the humblest borne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kings of the eternal morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lowliest man, most void of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand the trial of that hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To come from life in quiet shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From humble duties well obeyed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! if this be a solemn thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then for one in might a king!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the trial of that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From gorgeous wrongs in false array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where false praise gilds the every deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where few warn one that will not heed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man whom Weird-like hands have shown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary pathway to the throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! thou gory-crowned head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunting here my dying bed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it not necessity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moulding deed that was to be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! king so false—away—away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave me at least my dying day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is there no refuge? Hated face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come with the looks of thy cold race.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look thou as when thy soiled hand gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Earl, thy vassal to the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaze thou on me in that worst pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As kingly honor was defied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look thus on me—but not as now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That patient sorrow on thy brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can but gaze. Forever near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy dreaded form is my one fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A boy, I sit by running stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The humble life my daily dream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lowly good—some wrongs redrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A noiseless life, its peaceful rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that stream calm my life shall be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As placid in its purity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The humble stone shall tell the tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When life began—when strength did fail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An humble race shall bear my name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest by a few not rich in fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! king, thine eye! It says, but then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hand had not the guilty stain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! how the marriage-bells are ringing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Voices fill the air with singing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waves of light are now the beating<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my heart, and the repeating<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems no weariness of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only increase of its treasure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! dear wife! thy look hath sped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a sorrow. But this head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en at the hearth, and by thy side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This kingly blood-stained form doth glide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quiet house of God,—the prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rising as incense in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I breathe the still and mighty power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I catch the glory of the hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am I not pure, and armed for strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With England for her better life?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou gory head! my prophecy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that loved church told not of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look as if heaven changed thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let pardon there at last have place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before me, on this awful sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some gleam of heaven reflected be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>THE INDIAN DREAM-CELL.</i></h3> + + +<p>In Pearl-run valley, not far from the noise and crowded streets of our +great Metropolis, the original forests, and a few unsightly rural +dwellings, have given place to a large number of those pleasant homes, +which citizens of wealth or of comfortable means, have erected for their +summer abodes. Hence the hills around are dotted with costly mansions, +and unpretending cottages.</p> + +<p>It is a sight inspiring happiness to look on these dwellings in the +spring. You have evidence that so many families, released from the city +are rejoicing in the pure invigorating air, in the sunshine and shadows, +in the rooms associated with so much ease and tranquility.</p> + +<p>Can it be that any one can be found who is void of all sympathy with the +natural world? All who seek these rural homes, at the established +season, are supposed—if we are the correct exponents of common +opinion,—to take wings from the city, for those cool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> and shady nests, +under the influence of love for the country?</p> + +<p>Of course, when the spring arrives, all who have led a fashionable +career for the winter, have a sudden and marvellous restoration to their +senses. Like those whom some friendly magician has freed from the +enchantments of an evil genius, they are restored to a healthy judgment. +They then perceive the folly of the life which they have led. The +absurdity of denominating as society, crowded assemblies, where +conversation bears the relation to interchange of thought, such as +becomes intelligent creatures, which wilted and fallen leaves sustain to +those of the beautiful and nutritious plant from which they have been +torn,—where trifles and external polish are accepted in the place of +the best qualities which can commend others to our esteem,—where +friendships are formed, not links of human creatures with affectionate +qualities to one another, but to fashion, whose representatives they +are,—friendships to be dissolved, as easily as the melting of the +Pyramids of frozen cream, all these facts become, as soon as the air is +heated in spring, some of the most clear of all possible demonstrations. +Then they long for a more reasonable life. All that true poets or wise +moralists have taught of the rural home, asserts its power over the +memory. All vulgar glare becomes utterly distasteful. Simplicity of +life, amid a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> nature that summons man to cast off artificial follies, +has a powerful fascination. They have been poor city puppets too long. +Let them now be true men and women, where all things are so true and +real. Hence they hasten to the country.</p> + +<p>Let us be thankful that any influences, even those of fashion, draw so +many of our citizens from the towns to the country-places. Let us be +thankful, that the great river of city-life,—hurrying on so madly, and +tossing its stained waves crowned with bubbles that pain the eye, has +its side eddies, and throws off great branches for far away shades, +where the waters are at rest, and where innumerable small streams unite +their efforts to purify that which has so long been so turbid.</p> + +<p>Minds and hearts will touch one another in the rural scene. The limited +number of associates will foster some more depths of mutual interest. +The Sunday in the country, the rural church, the gathering of the +congregation from green lanes, and winding roads, and not from streets +sacred to pomp and vanity, to business, and to glaring sin, God so +visible in all his glorious works, perhaps a Pastor trained by his +labors among plain people during the winter, to speak the Word with +greater simplicity, these are not influences which exist only in +appearance. Men ask why make life such a vain and foolish dream? I trust +the day will come, when many families of cultivated minds, will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> reside +all the year in our country-places. From such social circles influences +must go forth, to transform no inconsiderable portion of what is called +the society of the town. The necessary association of the two classes, +will prove of inestimable benefit to each.</p> + +<p>If you passed along Pearl-run valley, and left the more cultivated +region, which we have described, the scene changed, and you found +yourself in wild places.</p> + +<p>There were steep cliffs, with endless masses of broken stone beneath, as +if a Giant McAdam, ages ago had been meditating the formation of a great +road, like that we pigmies build on a smaller scale, in these degenerate +days. And there were mountains where you could scarcely detect any proof +that the hand of man had disturbed the primeval forests.</p> + +<p>These you could ascend by winding paths, and attain elevations, where +half the world seemed to lie beneath your feet. Well do I remember such +an ascent with a sister, who had been a few hours before, with me in the +crowded city.</p> + +<p>Our time was limited. What we could see of the glorious scenes around +us, must be accomplished late in the afternoon. The sun had gone down +while we were climbing up the side of the mountain. We had never been in +such deep shadows. For the first time in our lives, we knew what was the +awful grandeur of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> solitude. Our existence seemed more sublime for the +solemn awe.</p> + +<p>As we hastened on to reach a vast rock, from whose summit we were +assured, the view was one of surpassing beauty, we met some children, +wild in appearance, barefooted, seeking cattle that found pasturage in +an open space, scarcely perceptible to the eye, that, at a distance, +could take in the whole aspect of the mountain. But one of these little +creatures in her kindness added, with surpassing power the effect of the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>"Take care," she said, "you may be lost." We, in the vast mountain where +we could be lost!</p> + +<p>What a sound for ears so lately filled with the noise of the crowded +city! Oh child! what human study could have taught the greatest genius +in our land, to speak and add to the solemn power, of that most +memorable time, of two awed and enthusiastic wanderers!</p> + +<p>How strange it is that the intense excitement of the soul, among such +scenes, is such a healthy peace—never the over-wrought exertion of the +mind! The intense activity within us does not <i>subside</i> into +tranquility. It is elevated to a peace. If you would have true enjoyment +there, God,—the Infinite Father,—our immortality—the world our +Redeemer has promised us, must be placed side by side with every +impression.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Our forests are strangely primeval solitudes, when you reflect what +tribes of Indians have resided in them. That wild people have left there +no traces of their existence. You often seem to be one of a few, who +alone have ever disturbed the Sabbath rest of very holy places.</p> + +<p>Why did not the aboriginal inhabitants leave us in letters carved on the +rocks, traditions, which our learned and ingenious men could interpret? +We know not what we have lost in our deprivation of wonderful mysteries. +We wander by great oaks, and stony places unconscious of powers that +linger there. The lore of demons and of spirits that plagued or +comforted the Indians is lost to us.</p> + +<p>Yet, let us not be unjust as though the civilization which has +superseded the rude Indian life, had given us no romantic substitutes +for these powers which agitated the barbarian. And especially let us be +just to the genius of those who came over from the wilds of Germany, as +well as those who had their intellect brightened by the illumination of +Plymouth Rock. The imaginations of the two, were, indeed, very diverse +in their nature. They differed as the stiff gowns and ample pantaloons, +all so quaintly made, from the paint and skins which made the array of +the savage.</p> + +<p>I am by no means insensible to the poetry which speaks to us in the +horse-shoe, nailed to the door to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> keep away witches, whose fears were +the more suggestive, because no one ever described the full power of the +mischief they were able to accomplish; and to the mysterious art +medicinal, rivalling in wisdom many of the celebrated systems of the +schools, whereby the muttering of strange words could cure a fever and +ague,—and where a nail that had pierced the foot was safely wrapped up +and laid up the chimney as a preventive of lock-jaw. The world is not so +prosaic as some would imagine.</p> + +<p>I am happy, however, in being able to rescue one important tradition +from oblivion.</p> + +<p>In one of the mountains of which I have spoken, which has been courteous +enough to retain its place, and ancient habits, notwithstanding the airs +and encroachments of the adjoining settlements, was a spot—well known +to some favored few of the Indian tribes. It was a mysterious place.</p> + +<p>At the side of a large rock was a small cell. It was hollowed on its +stony side almost as if it had been a work of art. A little ledge that +stood across it, afforded a rude seat.</p> + +<p>Tradition goes back to the wife of an Indian king, centuries ago, who +first acquired a knowledge of the virtues of the place, and availed +herself of the acquisition in a very happy manner.</p> + +<p>It is a comfort and a sorrow to know how human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> nature has been the same +in all ages. Wives and husbands have had many virtues and failings in +common, whether they dwelt in primeval days in the Alleghany Mountains +or in Broadway in New York.</p> + +<p>The Indian Queen had, it appears, great difficulty in preserving a +salutary discipline in the wigwam. Her lord—yet not her master—she had +never assented to that peculiar precedence in the marriage contract, had +been inclined to low company—that is to company that might be good +enough in itself, but was entirely too low for the royalty of the realm. +These fellows, white traders, who would prowl about to waylay his +Majesty, keeping respectfully out of sight of the Queen, were by no +means school-masters abroad for the benefit of the red man.</p> + +<p>Even the queen, for some reason which it is difficult to conjecture, did +not object to the introduction of large quantities of fire-water into +the palace. She always took charge of it, however, and for that reason, +no doubt, felt that it would be used in a judicious manner.</p> + +<p>But at last the king was unwise enough to set up as a reformer; not +under the instigation of the white men,—but indirectly, through their +influence. There is nothing new under the sun. We now abound in men and +women, who are in advance of their age. A man of mere genius, in these +days, is a helpless creature;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> sure to be laid up like old lumber in a +house, in some out of the way place of deposit. But if he should only +have a moderate disorder of the brain,—have circumstances to occur, +which would produce the effect which according to Bishop Warburton was +the result of the earthquake in his day, "widening the crack in old Will +Winston's noddle,"—then particularly if he can be mad after a method, +he is sure to form a society, and to be well fed and famous.</p> + +<p>There was also in our kingly Indian reformer, one disagreeable +quality,—by no means unknown in an enlightened philosophical head of +associations. In all his projects, he was himself a central object. He +differed from some of our reformers in one respect. He was not crazy for +notoriety.</p> + +<p>Among other things which he learnt from these good-for-nothing white +scamps, who were in such disfavor with the queen, fellows who had +traveled all around the world to little purpose,—sifting with wonderful +skill all useless and bad knowledge from the good, and casting away the +good as chaff, was a piece of information concerning the social +relations of some of his royal cousins in distant lands.</p> + +<p>They gave him a glowing picture of a great chief who had a great host of +wives. Our king had informed one of his friends, that he thought that +the introduction of this custom on our American strand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> would be a most +desirable improvement. And one day, under the influence of fire-water, +which in opening his heart, proved how good a fellow he was, he +suggested the theory to the queen.</p> + +<p>It is said, that the wary queen, in her distress and perplexity at this +theory, sought for one of the wonder-workers of her tribe, and learnt +from him the secret powers of this cell. There she placed her royal +spouse, who slept until he was sober enough to dream a wise dream. The +consequence was his reformation. After this, it is also said, that the +queen attained such domestic power, that a warrior who slept under their +roof one night, was heard to inquire of one of his tribe, whether in +case the people should go out on the war-path, the woman would be the +great warrior.</p> + +<p>It is also reported, that the spirit of the Indian queen often haunts +the cell, and has some secret power to allure chosen way-farers there to +rest, and have the dreams which belong to the place. The great +peculiarity of the mysterious power here exerted on the dreamer, was +this,—that he was compelled in his dreams, to follow a course contrary +to his habits and nature, and to learn some of the results of a new +course of conduct.</p> + +<p>Over the cell were jutting rocks, which threw down as the sun was over +them, strange shadows, making the most mysterious letters. Curious wild +vines, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> grotesque leaves, grew above it, having a fragrance like +that of poppies, but of greater intensity. Some fir trees near, blended +their murmurs with the hum of the wild-bees, and with a rill whose +waters passed over a rock, covered with green weeds, and fell into a +small dead pool, whose issues crept silently away amid innumerable +roots. Opposite, on a mountain, was a circle composed of various +objects, which, as you gazed seemed to move round with ever increasing +rapidity, and to exercise a mesmeric power in causing tranquility, and a +state of repose in which you were prepared for a control, extraneous to +your own mind. The sides of the cell receded slightly inwards, in gentle +curves, in such a way that you were tempted to recline, and lean your +head for rest on the moss-covered hollows of the rock.</p> + +<p>One of the inhabitants of our valley, whose name was Eugene Cranmer, had +left the hill-side where he had a luxurious mansion, and had wandered +into the wild region, that contained this mysterious cell.</p> + +<p>He was well pleased to see the general air of comfort, as he strolled +along; for it disquieted him to look on men who were very poor, inasmuch +as he had a vague sense that he was called on for some exertion in their +behalf. The poor seemed to him to mar the general aspect of the world, +as some unfortunate error in the taste of an artist, will mar the +general beauty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> of his picture. He wished all to be at peace, and have +enough to eat and put on; for the world, in such a state, seemed to be a +suitable place for a man who had attained great prosperity; and who had +the undefined impression that his life would be extended a few hundred +years, before he would be under the unhappy alternative of passing to a +good place in a better country. He provided well in his house for +himself; and of course he felt that such a care was all that was +essential for the comfort of his family.</p> + +<p>His mother in his early life had indulged him to excess, and acted on +the principle, that all who came near him, would regard it as the most +reasonable thing in the world, that it must be their study and highest +happiness to gratify his inclination.</p> + +<p>Our hero,—for it is pleasant thus to designate him, and to recognize +the superiority of such a man,—had climbed the ascent of the mountain, +and reached the place of the mystic cell. A peculiar agitation of the +vines above it, and sounds as of a bird complaining of an intruder near +its rest, drew his attention to the recess. He determined to seat +himself and rest awhile, before he returned to his home. No sooner had +this been attempted, than he wondered at the luxury of the sheltered +nook. He had an undefined feeling, that after all, the natural world, +providing on such an occasion such a place for his rest, was perhaps, +not so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> inattentive to human wants, as he had frequently imagined. The +walk he had enjoyed, the exhilarating air of the mountain, and the +composing influences around him, had thrown him into a state of more +than common good humor. He had fewer thoughts about himself; some dreamy +recollections, and he went rapidly to sleep.</p> + +<p>Then he dreamed dreams. First he saw a strange reptile crawl along the +paths by which he had ascended to the cell. An odious object, deformed, +it looked as if it bore deadly venom in its fang. It was also obvious +that the creature had faculties to be developed. At one moment it seemed +ready to put forth its strength to attain the new gifts,—to call into +exercise powers that slumbered in its frame.</p> + +<p>Its indolence, and anger at the stirring of inward strife by nature, +caused it to assume a torpid indifference.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a stream of quivering light fell upon it. A bright dove +descended, and the radiance increased as it drew nigh, with silver +wings; and part of the lustre of its plumage was as of wrought gold. It +hovered over the creature, whom all its resplendent rays could not +render even less repulsive.</p> + +<p>Then came a strange transformation. On a sudden all that repelled the +eye was gone. The creature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> glorified, assumed a place amid the objects +of beauty that adorn the world.</p> + +<p>And what was a cause of surprise, he who saw all in the vision, and +witnessed the transformation, had now no other sentiment toward the +transformed and glorious, but love. No association existed in his mind, +to recall, with any disgust, what it once had been. His thoughts ever +rested on the dove and its pure rays, on the indescribable beauty of the +creature as he now beheld it, new-created in excellence. The deepest +darkness of oblivion, spreading as far as the east is from the west, +interposed between what it had been, and was now, could not have blotted +out the disgust of the former unsightly appearance more thoroughly from +his impressions. He could gladly have placed it in his bosom. Its +beauty, he felt sure, would be perpetual memories, each ever being a new +joy like a star rushing on into its place of brightness in the evening, +gladdening all on which its beams can rest.</p> + +<p>Then there came to him a voice which said, Thou too must be changed from +evil to a glorious state. At first he bitterly opposed the suggestion. +Change! What then would life be to him? Thoughts would be his, and +views, and desires forever, whose very shadow touched him, to cause +pain, and to assure him of their contrariety to his nature. He who had +made slaves of all, to be the loving servant of all!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the influence that abode in the mystic cell began to exert its +power over him. It was as if a fever had passed away, and a sweet quiet, +as of an infant going to its rest had pervaded his frame. Resistance to +the good desires passed from him. He began to wish for a glorious +transformation.</p> + +<p>And now the dream was changed. It was late at night. He drew near his +home. The lumbering stage, full of drowsy passengers, had left him at +his gate.</p> + +<p>He was not compelled to linger long upon his porch. The door was quickly +opened by one, whose form glided swiftly along through the hall, +summoned by the sounds of the stage. It was his pale and weary wife, a +gentle, uncomplaining woman, bearing all his oppressions as void of +resistance, and as submissively as the stem, the overgrown bulb, the +work of insects deforming the bud or flower, whose weight bends as if it +would break it. He entered the dwelling and saluted her, as if her +watching was the least service she could render.</p> + +<p>And then, though he perceived that she was pale and faint, he imposed on +her tasks for his present comfort. The servants were at rest, and she +must arrange for his evening meal, and go from room to room to procure +the least trifle he might desire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>And again there came over him the spell of the Indian dream-seat.</p> + +<p>Just as he was about to pour upon his serving wife the vials of his +wrath, because she had misunderstood some one of his multitude of +directions, there suddenly was exerted over him a power which gave all +his thoughts a bias, and ruled his words and manner as the wind sways +the frail reed.</p> + +<p>He began to speak to her words of tender commiseration. He insisted that +she was in need of his assiduous aid for her present comfort. For her +the wine and viands must be procured. She never again should keep these +watches for his sake—watches after midnight. Nay, more; with a torrent +of glowing words, he promised that all his future conduct should undergo +a perfect transformation.</p> + +<p>In his struggle, our hero acquired an almost preturnatural quickening of +the memory. All thought, however, ran in one single course—in the +demonstration of his selfishness. He uttered confessions of his deep and +sincere repentance. He enumerated a long series of petty annoyances of +which he had been guilty towards his wife, and which had made up the sum +of much misery. One confession of a wrong deed revived the remembrance +of another. If the chain seemed at an end, as link after link was drawn +into light, there was no such termination.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had no time to observe the effect of this his sorrow and confession.</p> + +<p>His internal wrath at this departure from his ordinary habits, from all +the course which he, as a reasonable being could pursue, from all the +rules he had ever prescribed for his family,—from all that could make +the time to come consistent with the comfortable care he had taken of +himself in the past, caused such an agitation, that he thought for a +moment he must die. His golden age in the past to be supplanted with +this coming age of iron! Would he die? A great earthquake had crowded +all its might into a mole-hill. It was as if a storm-cloud was just on +the eve of being rent asunder, to tear the hills below with its awful +bolts, and some angelic messenger was sent to give it the aspect of a +quiet summer-cloud, and cause it to send down a gentle rain on all the +plants.</p> + +<p>He knew well from experience the sense of suffocation. His throat had +seemed incapable of allowing a breath to pass to the lungs. But now he +had, as it were, a sense of suffocation in every limb. His whole frame +had sensations as if pressed to its utmost tension by some expanding +power, as by some great hydraulic press.</p> + +<p>What was to be the result? Was he to undergo some external +transformation like the reptile which he had seen in the plain?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>To his horror, he began, in his rhapsody of the dream to recall a huge +frog, which he had watched as a boy—swelling—swelling—and about to +burst through its old skin, and come out in the sunshine in a new and +fashionable coat and a pair of elastic pantaloons, with water-proof +boots to match. Then his imagination recalled a snake which he had seen +when he sat once by the brook with a fishing-rod in his hand, the hook +in the sluggish stream, and the fish, no one could tell where. Thus was +it passing through a similar process with the frog—preparing to present +itself in the court of the queenly season, making his new toilette as if +he had been fattening off the spoils of office, and had ordered his new +garb from the tailor without regard to cost.</p> + +<p>In his heart there came again a tenderness for his wife and children. +And with that deep emotion came peace—for suddenly a golden cup was at +his lips, and cooling water, such as he had never tasted. An angel's +hand—oh how like the hand of his wife in its gentle touch—was laid +upon his head, and all its throbbing misery was gone. The same Being +waved his wings, and a cool air, with waves murmuring in some music from +a far off, blessed space, and with fragrance that lulled the disturbed +senses to repose, passed over him,—and he felt that all his fever and +distress had departed from him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he appeared to be surrounded by his wife and children, who were +wrapped in a deep sleep. He gazed on them, meditating offices of love in +time to come. One and another, in dreams, uttered his name with +unspeakable tenderness. His tears fell freely. The great night around +him—that used to seem so unsympathizing—and to throw him off far from +all its glory, as a poor worthless atom, now entered into accordance +with the new found life within. The gleaming stars said to him, we take +your purpose into one great mission of reflecting light. All spoke of +hope. He was used to the feeling of loneliness and painful humiliation, +when in the darkness under the great unchanging canopy. Now was he +lowly; but he felt that man was great, as one who bore the relation of a +spirit to the Maker of all things. He had never thought, that as great +peace dwelt among all the human family, as now pervaded his own heart.</p> + +<p>Again the dream was changed. He was in the city. He was seated in the +old dusty counting-room. He was the former selfish man. The men in the +place, were to him a sea of a multitude of living waves. All that he had +to do was to count all created for him, and he for himself; and in that +sea he was to seek to gain the pearls which he coveted. As men passed +by, he had no blessing in his heart for those tried in life, and to meet +death, or be tried still more. That God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> cared for them was no thought +that made an impress on his nature.</p> + +<p>As he sat before his table covered with his papers, witnesses of his +gains, there was a sound of approaching feet. Then men entered and bore +along with them a mummy,—the dead form in its manifold wrappings, as +the mourners had left it in the days when Abraham dwelt in the land of +promise.</p> + +<p>They placed the form on which it was borne in the centre of the room, +and then with grave deliberation proceeded to unroll its many +integuments.</p> + +<p>In a short time they had spread out all the folds of the cloth, and +there lay the form which it was difficult to imagine had once been a +living man—a being of thoughts, emotions, hope, with ties to life, such +as are ours at the present day.</p> + +<p>Our hero looked upon the extended covering of the dead. One of those +men, of a far distant clime and age, who had belonged to the silent +procession that thus presented the mortal remains to the eye, drew from +the folds of his dress a stone of exquisite beauty.</p> + +<p>He held it before the cloth, and rays of an unearthly light fell upon +it, emitted from that precious gem. In a moment, that which had been so +dark, became a piece of exquisite tapestry. On it were a series of +representations, an endless variety of hieroglyphics.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the rich merchant gazed on these, he read a history of a life, that +strangely condemned his own.</p> + +<p>And then the Egyptian Priest came forth from the midst of his +associates.</p> + +<p>He held in his hand an immense concave mirror in a frame of gold. Taking +his position between the window and the dead form, he first gazed upon +the sky. A cloud had obscured the sun.</p> + +<p>As soon as it had been swept away, and the noon-day beams streamed +forth, he held up the mirror, and concentrating the rays of light, threw +all the blinding radiance on the dead form.</p> + +<p>In a little while it began, under the power of that wonderful glory, to +assume the appearance of a living man. Breath came. It moved. It rose. +The one thus revived from the power of death gazed on the cloth, and +traced out for himself a plan of a beneficent life. He was to live to do +good. Tears were to be dried, the hungry to be fed, the heart was to +have its perpetual glow of good will, to speak words of blessing, and of +peace, of hope to all.</p> + +<p>As our rich man gazed on all this scene,—mysterious hands seemed to be +unwinding countless wrappings from the soul within, dead to the Creator, +dead to the love of man.</p> + +<p>A light was poured upon him. A new life was given him. He was preparing +to unlock his treasures,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> to share his possessions with the poor. The +home of sorrow became a place of attraction. He was to seek all means of +lessening the sin and misery of the human family.</p> + +<p>Thus far had his discipline proceeded. The dreams had given activity to +the mind. They had bent the spirit of the man in glad submission to a +yoke of obedience; and in this submission to all that was pure, he found +how the great service was perfect freedom. Holy truths, which had never +been great realities, but certainties that were among his deepest +convictions, many of them like seeds still capable of life, but floating +on the sea in masses of ice, perhaps to be dropped on some island +forming in the deep, and there to germinate, now began to be living +truth, and to struggle with the soul that it might live. He bowed before +the august presence,—now that the great veil that had concealed the +kingly visitants was torn away. Now they were not like the magnetic +power, affecting dubiously, and without a steady control, the needle of +the seaman as he drew near to the coast. They had become the +all-pervading power in the needle itself, affecting each particle, and +turning all in attraction towards the one star, that is before every +bark freighted with the precious trusts, which he now felt to be so +grand a responsibility. Are not these sealed with a seal that no enemy +can cause to be forged or broken?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>A slight change in his dream, and the temptations began to reappear, +crowding as the gay tares wind among the eddying wheat heads, and are +tossed by the wind and arrest the eye. There was a sense of slight fear +and doubt.</p> + +<p>Then was he borne onward, and placed on the green sward beneath great +overhanging rocks. Their awful majesty was tempered by the endless +vines, laden with fruits and flowers that crept along their sides, and +waved, as crowns upon their summits.</p> + +<p>A lake spread its waters before him. As he looked far off upon its +unruffled surface, he saw clouds, now dark, now radiant, floating +rapidly in the sky. The wind that impelled them came in great gushes of +its power, as their changing shapes, and rapid motion gave full +evidence. And when the winds thus swept on, they gave not the slightest +ripple to the great blue expanse of the waters. Yet they were no dead +sea, but pure and living, from streams on innumerable fertile +hill-sides, whose threads of fountain-issues glittered in the sun.</p> + +<p>And the great shadows that fell from these floating masses in the air, +did not reach to the surface of the lake. They wasted themselves between +the clouds and the atmosphere of tranquil light, that rested on the +placid, sky-like depths of the blue expanse.</p> + +<p>Even at his very feet, these waters seemed in depth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> ocean-like. His eye +was never weary as he gazed into their abyss, and the sight never +appeared to have looked down into them, and to have found the limit of +its power to penetrate their immeasurable profundity.</p> + +<p>Great peace again took possession of his mind! Then he felt the +mysterious hand upon him, and he was lifted up from the borders of this +lake, for other scenes. He could not but feel regret. He was however +convinced, that any new prospect opened before him, would be one that he +might earnestly desire to look upon.</p> + +<p>The motion of the wings of the angel, as he transported him through the +air, was as silent as the calm of the great lake.</p> + +<p>They entered into a cave, so vast, that its roofs and sides were at such +distance from them, that no object could be distinguished in the evening +twilight. But soon he saw before him a high archway, lofty as the summit +of the highest mountain, by which they were to emerge into the light. +They passed it, and found that it opened into a deep valley.</p> + +<p>A plain was here the prospect, and near to him the side of a precipitous +hill. It had great sepulchral inscriptions on the surface of the rocks. +There was a slight earthquake. Its power caused the sides of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> hill +to tremble, and revealed the bones of men buried in the sands and +crevices.</p> + +<p>He proceeded—and soon he saw grave-stones on the plain. Drawing near, +he attempted to read the names inscribed upon them. Soon he discovered +that they recorded those of his wife and children. Foes, as he imagined, +as his eyes rested on objects around, moving to and fro, lurked in the +shadows.</p> + +<p>And now his sorrow assumed a form, different from all the former remorse +of his dream. A vague idea that all was a dream came to his relief. +Tears fell, bitter regret for the past continued, but he had a joyous +and undefined conviction, that his family were not beyond the reach of +his awakened love.</p> + +<p>A gentle hand was then laid upon his eyelids. It pointed to the mountain +near—on whose summit an eternal light rested. Such light, he thought, +must have been seen on the mount of the transfiguration.</p> + +<p>He discovered that he had the power to look into the depths of the great +mountain. As his eye penetrated those great hidden ways, he found that +all was revealed there, as if the earth and rocks were only air more +dense than that which he breathed.</p> + +<p>His attention was soon arrested by a rock in the centre of the mountain. +It became the sole object to which he could direct the eye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>There imbedded were evil forms, on which he looked to feel new sorrow, +and to torture himself with self-upbraiding.</p> + +<p>These forms were his work. It was evident that they should have been +created in exquisite beauty. The material of which they had been +made,—so precious—was a witness that this could have been +accomplished. The marks of the chisel were a proof that there had been +capacity—skill—which could readily have been exercised in creating +that which was beautiful, and which had been perverted and abused in the +production of the shapes by which he was repelled. And it was also +evident, that they had been fashioned in a light, which would have +enabled him to judge truly of every new progress of his toil, and under +a sky where true inspirations would be fostered. My work! my work! he +said—but he added, there is hope for the future.</p> + +<p>As his new-found tenderness subdued him, the power that transported him +from scene to scene, bore him away.</p> + +<p>Soon he found himself standing before another mountain, which was in the +process of formation.</p> + +<p>It was made of the clearest crystal, and the light was in all its height +and breadth. Angels were there, and waiting with a placid but +unutterable happiness for labors that were to occupy them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>He could not rest. He must put forth into action the aims, the +aspirations to fashion forms of immortal glory. As he moved, in his +great ambition from his place, he saw that his dwelling was near at +hand—close beneath this great mound of crystal, and that its light was +reflected upon it.</p> + +<p>He entered the house. His gentleness was the happiness of all. He was +now the unselfish and loving husband and parent. He marvelled that so +many little acts of love could be done day by day. He marvelled to see +how little acts of love made up such a vast sum of happiness, and what +moulding influences, whose value could not be estimated, were united +with his deeds.</p> + +<p>He found that forms were ever taken by the angels and borne away. They +reverently bore them—reverencing the beauty, and above all reverencing +them as the work of One who had given him aid to think of their +creation, and to embody them according to the pure conception. They +carried them first to a fountain of waters that flowed from a smitten +rock. A crown of thorns, and nails, and a spear, were sculptured there. +Washed in this stream every particle was cleansed. Afterwards they held +up the form in the most clear light, brighter than the light of any sun, +and the beauty became far more perfect.</p> + +<p>The angelic laborers then carried each to the mountain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> of crystal. +There it was imbedded,—but in a radiance which was to shine forever, +and forever.</p> + +<p>And then to his great joy, he found that vast numbers of men came to a +summit of an adjoining hill; caring not for the ascent by a narrow and +arduous way. They looked into the mountain, and were entranced by the +forms that they beheld. He had no thought that they would turn to him in +admiration. All that he exulted in, was, that he loved them, and that +they turned away to labor to make like forms, for the angelic +hands,—for the waters of the cleansing fountain,—for the inexpressible +light that purified,—for the place in the mountain, where they should +shine eternally.</p> + +<p>Just at this moment, a bird perched on the vines around the cell. It +poured forth a rich melody of song close to the ear of the sleeper. It +awoke him gently from the profound sleep. The first sound which he heard +was that of the sweet bell of his village church. Its gushes of sound +rolled along the valley, and up the side of the great hills.</p> + +<p>He felt that the impressions of his dream were durable. So deeply was he +affected, that he scarcely thought of the visions in which the truth had +been represented. He descended his path another man. Another man he +entered his home. The house was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> changed house that day. No one more +subdued in spirit than himself, knelt in the church. No one with more +determined purpose, heard that day, of the One who "pleased not +himself."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX.</h2> + +<h3><i>WILD FLOWERS GATHERED FOR MY WIFE.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though these sweet flowers are in their freshest bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They had a beauty as I gathered them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thine eye sees not. For with every one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New lustre in the varied colors shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A purer white melted beneath the eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweeter fragrance came from dew-gemmed leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Advanced in beauty as I thought of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou seest that they grew wild in wood and fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teachers of love and wisdom. Some I found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deep pine shades, where the sun's straggling beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through bending boughs may reach them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Holier rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through deeper shades can reach the broken heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through deeper shades can foster heavenly growth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty for the everlasting fields;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through more dense shades can reach the good unknown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To human fame, yet left to bless the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These flowers and leaves that ripen unobserved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for our eyes, had withered with the frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none had blessed God for their loveliness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They give their little power unto the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To purify for men the air they breathe,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Air wafted far by every rising breeze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so a myriad of the little deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Done by the men that walk in Christ's blest steps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Add health unto the living atmosphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where men breathe for the strength of highest life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deeds go out on a sea of human life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And touch a myriad of the rolling waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send the great sea a portion of unrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which saves its surface from the mould of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These flowers are memories that I had of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">During my wandering to the distant home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sickness was, and many an anxious care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where there was need that Christ's work should be done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! if these paths we tread with our soiled feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this world far from scenes where all is pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our feet not yet in laver cleansed from soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wave by angel stirred and all so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where gleams are on the waves from his own sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are skirted with these fragrant beauteous forms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall surround our path in Paradise?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flowers have a language; so they choose to say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each speaks a word of pure significance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in the fields of nature we can print,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flowers shall be the type, a beauteous book—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joyful eye can read the beauteous book.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With all my love of flowers, here is a lore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is to me unknown. I have to turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the pages of that pictured book<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spell each letter as a little child.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this I know, that none can e'er mean ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers are too pure, as angels sowed their seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth in pity for a burdened race.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where their smiles have rested there came forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These witnesses that men are not alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And also this is lore from nature's school—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That speak they as they may—whate'er they mean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of faith to be unshaken through our life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love that never wanes, true as the star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot speak of faith or tender love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I—flower-bearer—do not speak to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this my offering of far-gathered spoils.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X.</h2> + +<h3><i>RIVERSDALE.</i></h3> + + +<p>It was my good fortune to dwell for some years on the banks of the +Delaware, with a sturdy old yeoman, who was quite a character in his +day. Manly, honest, hospitable, of a dignified bearing as of one who +respected himself, and who had no false pride, it was a treasure to have +known him.</p> + +<p>His nature had been moulded, as far as earthly influences gave their +impress by a life spent chiefly on a farm, in days that are called +"primitive;" that being one of the words which hold in unfixed solution, +some true but very vague impressions. A few years which he spent in the +naval service of his country, had no doubt added some lines to the mould +that shaped him as he was.</p> + +<p>I have said that his characteristics were very prominent. Therein he +differed from the mass of the country people. They are like a knoll, +where you see at once all the outlines. You must look attentively, to +discover more than the eye has taken in at its first glance. He was like +one of our rugged hills, having bold varieties of shape, records of time +and of great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> convulsions, of the violence of storms, of changes wrought +by other and varied influences.</p> + +<p>He had thriven in the world far beyond all his expectations. His life +had been one of untiring industry, decision, and ingenious energy. At +the time of his marriage, almost every penny was exhausted by the humble +fee. As days rolled on, the Creator added to his store, and he purchased +the farm on which his father had resided. By a manly appeal to the sense +of justice, he prevented a rich neighbor from competing with him at the +sale of these broad acres.</p> + +<p>In after days he also became the possessor of the farm, called +Riversdale. There he spent his last years of life. He lived there in the +affluence of a rich farmer. It was strange to see him and his faithful +wife so utterly unchanged by prosperity, and by the alterations in the +habits of society.</p> + +<p>At Riversdale he had a spacious dwelling. There was here a degree of +elegance within and without. It had been the country residence of a rich +merchant. His furniture was plain, but abundant, and all for use.</p> + +<p>Among the curiosities of our house was the old clock, on whose face the +sun and moon differed from their prototypes in the heavens, inasmuch as +they had a far more distinct representation of the ruddy human +countenance, and as they did not rise or set,—for their mechanism had +become distracted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then there was the famous old gun,—taken from a Hessian at the +battle of Princeton, and which had done great service in the deer hunts +in the Pocano Mountains, and amid the pines of New Jersey.</p> + +<p>Those deer-hunts were great circumstances in the course of the year. He +used to narrate with great pleasure, the events that occurred at such +excursions in the forests.</p> + +<p>Once as he told me, he was alone in the woods with a guide. The darkness +was coming apace. He had wounded a deer. The cry of the dogs indicated +that they were close upon it. It became evident that the man wished to +lead the hunters out of the way; and to disappear in the darkness, that +he might appropriate the prey to himself. But all his mean plans were +soon baffled. "If you," said the old yeoman, "can run faster than the +buck-shot in my gun, slip away in the dark." Never guide, I venture to +say, adhered more closely to his party.</p> + +<p>His education, like that of so many of the old Pennsylvania farmers, had +been very limited. His sympathies were not broad; though a small degree +of sentiment pervaded a vein of tenderness which wound its way through +the rugged nature of his soul. Sometimes it appeared so attenuated, that +few influences seemed to be willing to work for the precious ore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>I remember that we were once walking along the avenue which led to the +house, and I quoted to him a line of poetry which he did heartily +appreciate. The scene around had little power to prepare his mind for +the impression. Two huge old cherry trees were near us. These were +gradually withering away; as if to remind him, as he continually passed +them, that the days of his full strength were gone, and that infirmities +of old age were creeping upon him.</p> + +<p>Had I perused all our volumes of poetry, I could not have selected a +sentence, which he could relish more than the one which I repeated. It +was the well-known line of Cowper, that God made the country, but man +made the town.</p> + +<p>It was really curious to observe how this arrested all his mind. It +seemed as if his soul was deeply impressed with a sense of the goodness +of God, in giving man this beautiful green world, on which he does not +labor in vain. He appeared also to have respect for the poet who could +utter such a truth. Had all the tribe of bards risen from their graves, +been capable of participating in our earthly food, and come to us that +day, Cowper would have been treated to Benjamin's portion.</p> + +<p>His histories proved to me how his nature was the same in early life, +and in age, as to fearlessness, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> to a rough opposition to those by +whom he was excited.</p> + +<p>Once his step-mother, during the strife of the revolution, and while his +father was absent from home in the service of his country, sent him with +a claim to a British officer. He was to demand payment for some produce +which the soldiers of the king had taken from the farm.</p> + +<p>He found him seated at a table, at a place not far from Bustleton, and +presenting himself made known the object of his visit.</p> + +<p>"Where is your father?" said the officer.</p> + +<p>The boy was shrewd enough to know that discretion was now the better +part of valor. But mingled emotions overcame his wisdom. The British +soldiers around him were the oppressors of his country.</p> + +<p>Regardless of the wrath which he would assuredly awaken, and scattering, +manifestly, all hope of success in his mission to the wind, he saucily +replied, "Why, he is at the camp with General Washington; where he ought +to be." Perhaps he also regarded this as a defence of his father. A +grasp at a sword, an angry oath,—an assurance that he was a vile little +rebel, and must quickly vanish, were the evidences that he had given his +receipt in full for all that had been taken as spoils from the farm.</p> + +<p>I have said that he was a man of the most sterling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> honesty. His extreme +care to ascertain that all his accounts were correct, was actually a +trouble to the vestry of the church, while he was treasurer of the body. +He was above the least meanness in all his dealings with men. As he was +rather too suspicious of others, sometimes imagining that they had some +evil design, where they had none, it was the more remarkable that he had +no cunning in his own heart, was open in all his aims, and free from +those arts which entangle weak consciences.</p> + +<p>He had manners which were a study. Few men are not, in some degree +affected by their dress. He was the same man in self-respect and +courtesy, whether you met him in his soiled working-clothes, or in his +best array. Summoned suddenly from the work in the field, or from the +barn, with chaff and dust upon him, his calm courtesy in receiving any +guest, whatever his station in life, the utter absence of all apology +for his appearance, his entire devotion to the attentions due to his +visitors, elicited your decided admiration. Not in his conduct, to his +guests, but in some slight expression, when we were alone, could any of +us detect that he felt any peculiar pleasure, when any of our most +aristocratic inhabitants had called to see him and his household, +manifesting their respect. I have never seen him more devoted and kind +to any visitor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> than to a poor friend,—one who had lagged far behind +him, in the ascent of the hill of fortune.</p> + +<p>It could not be expected that his wild portion of the country would be +exempted from those rude scenes of violence, where men take the laws +into their own hands. Nor can it be surprising, that with his physical +strength, boldness, and wild life at sea and on land, he should +sometimes be prominent in these wars on a little scale.</p> + +<p>I remember how I heard one of his narratives with mingled interest and +sorrow, when he told of a victory fought and won.</p> + +<p>It was a contest with a party of butchers, who had come from a distance +and taken possession of the tavern, maltreating some of the country +people, who had, to say the least, a better right to the injurious +comforts of the inn.</p> + +<p>He was summoned from his sleep, and became the leader of the avenging +party. When they reached the scene of noisy revelry, he proved that he +did not rely on physical strength alone, but summoned a "moral effect" +to his aid. A pretended roll was to be called. Many names of persons not +present, perhaps not in existence, were, by his order, pronounced; and +their "Here," was heard clearly uttered in the night air. The effect of +this act of generalship soon became apparent. Silence, indicative of +dismay reigned in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> place of the former noisy laughter. The rough +fellows were sorely thrashed, and taught that there was a high law which +the quiet dwellers in the field could put in force.</p> + +<p>In after days my old friend would have deprecated the recurrence of such +scenes. There is always a tendency to law and order, and to gentle +virtues where a man has a great fondness for children—and this love for +little ones he possessed in a great degree.</p> + +<p>It would have been a good scene for a painter, when they gathered round +the white-haired man and elicited his attention and his smile. The large +form sinking into its most quiet repose, as if there was no need that it +should be braced now as if prepared for any struggle of life, and the +rough features softened to gentle sympathy, would have been worthy of +lasting perpetuation on the canvass. I have no doubt that the passage of +Scripture recording the benediction of the children by our Lord, touched +his heart powerfully, and allured him the more to the One who bore our +nature in the perfection of every excellence.</p> + +<p>If an able painter, I would strive to represent our Redeemer, as I could +fancy that He appeared in the scene to which I have referred. Who can +attempt to satisfy even the least imaginative disciple, by any picture +of the countenance of our Lord? How difficult even to unite the infinite +tenderness with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> determination of the perfect man, whom nothing +could move from his true purpose, because holiness was the necessity of +a heart without sin? One shrinks, in some degree, from a multitude of +representations of Him, as if they, failing to meet the inspiration of +the soul, were not reverent. Might we not more easily conceive of his +blended love and dignity, if he was painted among those who could not +trouble him, whom He would not have sent away, whom he took in his arms, +and on whom he caused to rest a blessing, that ever waits now to descend +on the children of those who diligently seek him.</p> + +<p>Some of the quaint narratives of the old man have proved, as I have +repeated them, a source of much amusement to the young.</p> + +<p>For instance, he said that he was returning from a journey of some miles +into the interior of the country. He had taken his heavy wagon, and +aided a neighbor who was removing his goods to a new home.</p> + +<p>The night had overtaken him as he returned. Just as he crossed a small +stream, he heard a voice of one in great distress, calling for aid. "Oh! +come here,—come here,"—were the piteous cries from an adjoining field.</p> + +<p>Stopping his horses, and clambering a bank, he soon secured a +"reconnoissance" of a field of strife.</p> + +<p>By the dim light of the moon, he saw a scene<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> sufficiently ludicrous, +but demanding immediate activity. He had not come a moment too soon. A +small man, a shoemaker, the one who cried for aid, and sadly in need of +it had, it seems, been crossing a field, when an ugly-tempered bull +rushed upon him, and would have gored him to death but for his presence +of mind and dexterity. The poor fellow had skill enough to dodge the +assault; and as the animal, missing his aim, rushed by him, he caught it +by the tail. The vicious brute made every effort to reach his +disagreeable parasite. In doing this he ran around in endless circles, +very wearying to the little legs of the little man, and exhausting his +strength.</p> + +<p>As my old friend had come and seen, what had he to do but conquer? He +hastened to the side of the living whirligig. The shoemaker was wearing +out his shoe-soles more rapidly than any of his customers.</p> + +<p>Seizing also the tail of the bull, he informed the exhausted man that he +might now let go.</p> + +<p>The animal continued the same tactics, but his foe-man was armed with +his heavy whip, and this was wielded by a powerful right hand. A few +blows, and the victory was won. The hero was left alone in his glory; +for the rescued had vanished as soon as he could release his hold on the +tail, and he did not return to see the result of the strife. Let us hope +that he was grateful, although I doubt the gratitude of one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> who could +thus run away, and leave all the battle to his deliverer. A benefactor +in things small and great, who has a noble mind, though wounded by +insensibility to his kindness, may receive benefit from the unthankful; +for he may learn more deeply the example of the Lord, and he may free +his heart the more to do good, and look for no return—learn to do good +to the unthankful and the evil.</p> + +<p>I have represented the farmer at Riversdale as openness and honesty +itself in all his dealings. Men will be men. In country life, as in the +city you will find a sad abundance of mean and tricky persons.</p> + +<p>It is not a little curious to see our city friends come into the +country, and take for granted that the sojourners there are all +simple-minded and honest men. That is a weakness which is soon +dissipated. The wisdom is purchased with the loss of gold and silver. +They find that they are charged by many, probably the obtrusive ones, +the most extravagant prices for all things. The more free they are with +their money, the more they are required to pay. The value fixed on the +substance offered for sale, is all that can possibly be extorted from +any one who is imprudent enough to buy, and make no inquiries. There +comes a danger of reaction. They change the theory concerning men of the +field, which they have learned from poets and novelists, and are tempted +to imagine that they all are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> like these thieves. I thank God, that I +know well to the contrary.</p> + +<p>Some men of large means imagine that if they are very free in spending +their money, and allow those whom they employ, to take advantage of +them, to extort unfair prices, that they will thereby cultivate good +feeling, a grateful regard. This is an entire mistake. The man who +cheats you never will be grateful. He comes to you, in all his relations +to you, with meanness of soul. That is no soil for good will. He also +fears, that at any time, you may be conscious of the fraud. He expects +therefore an hour when you will be angry, and despise him. He judges of +your coming enmity, by his own lasting bitterness and revengeful mind, +toward any one who has overreached him. He has also some contempt for +you, because you have been less cunning than himself.</p> + +<p>Pay fair generous prices. When a man gains from you more than the fair +price, let it be a gift. Do not expect anything from the man, who does +in two days the labor that should be accomplished in one. Alas, as we +reflect on the want of truth and gratitude towards us, we have to +remember that we can apply these lessons to ourselves, as we labor in +the vineyard where we have been sent to toil!</p> + +<p>I have spoken of the hospitality of the house at Riversdale. This never +could have been exercised as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> it was, but for the admirable arrangements +of the good wife and excellent daughters. I look back, and marvel how +all could be done in that house and farm, and yet time be found for the +entertainment of so many guests.</p> + +<p>I am deeply grieved to look back to those bachelor days, and find that I +had a senseless conviction, that a house pretty much took care of +itself. It was a delusion which must often have caused me to be +troublesome, when I had not any idea that I was in the way. I now honor +the statemanship which adorns domestic affairs, and hope I no longer am +found at any time, a wheel out of place in the machinery of any house. +Never too late to mend. A good proverb, friends. But as we apply its +hopefulness, let us take care to remember that when the present time +shall have become the past, and we have done wrong in things small and +great, it is too late to mend the sin and error. We cannot mend the evil +of the past.</p> + +<p>I see the good old mother of the household now. Always neat in her +dress,—erect in form,—kind,—thoughtful, self-possessed. You could not +know her long, and not perceive that she was a pre-eminent +representative of the wife and parent. Her love for others had its true +source, the love of God. Thence it flowed gently a stream of tenderness +for her family, and then spread freely far and wide to all others. Her +religion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> was of a very grand character. She knew, in all the trials of +life, what it was to have her Creator for her Rock,—to have His rod and +His staff. Real to her indeed, the divine love which brought our +Redeemer to our form from Heaven, and caused Him to expiate our sins on +the cross.</p> + +<p>Once we were speaking hopelessly, of some reprobate. The opinion was +advanced, or implied, that he was never to be reformed. I never forgot +the sorrow she manifested, and her heart-felt but gentle reproof, while +she corrected us in the abiding spirit of the hope in Christ for any one +who yet lives. While the lamp holds out to burn, she asked, could not he +return?</p> + +<p>She was one of the most unpretending Christians, and therefore her deep +piety could not be concealed. When she was unconscious of the +revelation, she taught us in a living subject of the Lord, the power +that can be given for holiness in this scene, where all gold can be well +tried in the fire.</p> + +<p>She was ever busy. In hours of ease she had her knitting-needle. How +pleasant it was to see her at her work, in the warm days of summer, as +she sat in her high-backed chair on the piazza which overlooked the +River. With the steamboats, then beginning their course, she was never +satisfied. "The boats with sails," she said, "glided away so natural +like: but with the steamboats it was all forced work." No doubt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> she +often regarded these different vessels, as emblematic of those who moved +under gentle and approved agencies, and those who were out of harmony +with nature around us,—the working of the hands that are infinite in +power,—those who cared only for hire, and needed, in order to their +activity, some of those goads which happily abound for the idle.</p> + +<p>The aged woman came to us what she was, to remind us what endless +influences are ever ready to mould us to increasing piety, and love for +others. To the sick and sorrowing out of her household she had been an +angel of charity. Her life had been a golden cord. He had strung it for +her with jewels from the mine. Is that mine exhausted? The glories we +know lie near at hand for all that will gather them.</p> + +<p>Well can I realize after the lapse of years, the sorrow of the aged wife +when it was manifest that my old friend must soon close his eyes on the +world for ever. There he lay, his strong form promising hope, which the +decision of the physician denied. Could he be dying, who was bound to +the scene around him by so many ties? As he had gained these fields by +such a life of labor, and held them so firmly in his grasp, as every +tree seemed so surely his, as you felt the impress of his firm and +undisputed will in all the arrangements of his broad farm, you might ask +can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> all these bonds which bind him here be sundered? But God sunders +all, as he will, in a moment.</p> + +<p>And now he was on the verge of the world to come. In infancy his life +had hung by the most attenuated thread. Was it better for him that he +was to die an old man, one who had passed through life's trials, had +received such endless mercies, had so many calls to so many duties? Or +would it have been better for him that he had died in infancy, passing +to the ineffable joy, but to less glory and honor than those who have +borne the cross, endured in true manly toil, the burden and heat of the +day in the vineyard of the Master?</p> + +<p>It was in a quiet house, quiet as one so soon to be forsaken of its +owner, that we assembled to receive with him the precious emblems of the +great sacrifice made for us, in infinite love. If he received +consolation, it was indeed given also to the aged wife. Her quiet +sorrow, without a tear, was reverent, and full of submission. Its +evenness,—not rising or falling with every hope or fear,—was a seal of +its great depth. You read in her fixed countenance that she had the past +with all its memories, and the future with all its solitude clearly +before her. She was henceforth to be as the shattered vase, just waiting +some small trial of its strength, to fall to pieces. But the lamp within +was to burn on, and fed with ever increasing supplies of aliment for its +flame, to glow with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> increasing radiance. Such lights in the temple of +God never go out.</p> + +<p>My aged friends! your ashes lie where you hoped that your mortal remains +would find their resting-place. Years have passed, and yet I recall you +to remembrance more affectionately, than when I stood by your opened +grave. One cause of this, is, I presume, that the more I become +acquainted with men, the more I learn to value those who have risen in +their integrity, above the low level of ordinary character.</p> + +<p>Changed is your dwelling. A vast and costly pile occupies the place +where once it stood. But could you, the former inhabitants, of that +which has undergone such alteration, reappear among us, we should +recognize what is eternal in its nature. What is of earth, alters and +passes away. But love, and truth, and faith, all the nobleness given by +the Redeemer,—these endure. These are extended and glorified in the +world to come.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI.</h2> + +<h3><i>DR. SAMUEL STANHOPE SMITH AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE.</i></h3> + + +<p>When I was at Princeton College, Dr. Samuel Stanhope Smith was its +president. A learned and able man, and an eloquent preacher, blameless +in his life, his influence was great, not only over his college, but far +and wide over the surrounding country.</p> + +<p>I trust that it is one of the merits of our Republic, that truly great +and good men will always have this influence and respect. Surely we have +cast off those impediments to human progress which exist in other lands, +where tributes due to real merit are paid to men for their accumulation +of riches. Our offices in the states will almost always be bestowed on +the deserving. The tricks of the politician will be generally unknown, +because our people will hold them in abhorrence. In the old countries +legislative bodies have felt the force of bribes. But I will boldly turn +prophet here, and say, that no such practices will ever be known in such +deliberative bodies in New Jersey. I can imagine the shame which the +pure-minded people of this common-wealth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> must be ready to visit on one +proven guilty of such a detestable enormity. Indeed he would incur the +risk of being burnt alive at the stake.</p> + +<p>The influence which Dr. Smith attained by the purest means, he exercised +for the public good. His mind was of a philosophic cast, and he abhorred +all superstition. Hence he was always eager to dispel the errors of the +ignorant, and to remove the fears excited by diseased imaginations.</p> + +<p>One day I was plodding over a page of Sophocles. No doubt it contained +beauties whose discovery would repay toil. I was, however, unable to +say, as I pondered it, lexicon by my side, with the Frenchman, "hang +these ancients, they are always anticipating our bright thoughts," for I +was not yet able to compare the idea of the Greek with the +scintillations of genius which had flashed through my mind, and which +were laid up for the future edification of the world, because I could +not determine what the old dramatist had intended to say to us.</p> + +<p>While I was in this state of most unpleasant perplexity, there was a +knock at my door. I knew it at once to be that of our tutor. He informed +me that the great doctor wished to see me and the rest of my class at +his study.</p> + +<p>We were thus invited,—that is, we had as strict a summons as any +soldiers could receive from their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> commander,—to appear at his +residence, the famous house under whose roof so many illustrious men +have found shelter. Long may it stand!</p> + +<p>It could not take much time to collect the designated young gentlemen +together. Before we met, each individual brain was greatly exercised +with speculations, concerning the cause of our being thus summoned to +the study of our venerable head. When we were a collective body the +various streams of conjecture being thrown in a torrent together, the +effervescence exceeded all my powers of description.</p> + +<p>It was a trying hour when any one of us had to come face to face with +Dr. Smith.</p> + +<p>We were not aware that any evil deed had been committed of late in the +college. We all felt a bold conviction of individual innocence. Indeed, +all college fellows are innocent always, until they are proved to be +guilty.</p> + +<p>One poor fellow, whose shaggy head could never be reduced to smooth +order by comb or brush, more than the tossing waves are subdued to a +placid mirror by the shadows of passing clouds, with a nose that always +reminded you of a sun-dial, and an eye, which sometimes gave him the +nickname of Planet, from its ceaseless twinkling,—had indeed some +troubles of conscience concerning a duck which had been killed, cooked, +and eaten in his room a few nights before, after he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> taken a long +rural ramble in the evening. He had some reasonable fear that he could +not produce the bill of its sale for the scrutiny of the President, +should it be demanded. Still, on the whole, we were calm. All felt the +necessity of a general sunshine of countenances. It was our wisdom to +look as if we expected some compliment from the head of the college. +Indeed, one fellow, who had a manly, harmless wildness in him, whom all +loved and confided in, who was a good and kind adviser of us all,—whose +intense life was a good element for the formation of the noble minister +which he afterwards became,—was audibly preparing a reply to the +doubtfully anticipated commendation of the President. It contained the +most ludicrous assertion of our great modesty, and sense of +unworthiness,—in which he said, we all most cordially concurred,—while +in the presence in which we stood. Curiosity was in every mind. No one +had the slightest clue, which appeared to guide us satisfactorily one +step in the darkness.</p> + +<p>But we reached the door of the study. One of the most respectful knocks +ever given proclaimed our presence,—or rather inquired if we could be +admitted. The fine, manly voice which we so well knew, called on us to +enter. We were received with that courteous dignity which characterized +the doctor. All scanned the noble head, and no thunder-clouds were +there. It is something to have seen Dr. Smith in the pulpit, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> the +class-room, or in the study. He was somewhat taller than men in general, +and had a frame of fine proportions. His countenance easily kindled with +intelligence. A large blue eye seemed to search your secret +thoughts—and yet in all manliness of inquiry—promising cordial +sympathy with all that was elevated, and a just indignation at the +contemplation of any moral evil. His brow was spacious. His whole face +spoke of hard study—polish of mind—of patient thought—of one who +walked among men as a king. His voice was full and harmonious. His +address was dignified and urbane. The stranger must trust him, and his +friends confided in him, not to discover that he ever could forsake +them.</p> + +<p>Before he spoke we were at our ease. Our surprise took a new channel as +he entered on the business of the hour.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said he, "I have sent for you, that I might have your +co-operation in a plan, which may greatly benefit a worthy farmer, and +remove superstitious fears from some ignorant minds.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hollman, who has a farm about two miles from the college, cannot +persuade any of the laboring families to reside in a lonely stone house +on his property. It is a dwelling that should be a comfortable, happy +home. The situation is rather picturesque; standing, as it does, near +the shade of a thick wood, and on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> bank of a small stream which +empties into our classical run. The people say that the house is +haunted. Family after family has forsaken it in dread. I have not had +patience to listen to the various narratives told concerning it. One man +who is quite intelligent, and evidently honest, declares that he will +take his oath that he has heard terrible noises at midnight, and has +smelt strange fumes.</p> + +<p>"Now this short story must be put an end to. Such superstition must not +exist under the shadow of an institution celebrated for its learning. I +should regard it as a blot on our fair reputation.</p> + +<p>"I have been engaged in devising a plan for the refutation of this +folly. It is this. I propose that you, gentlemen of the senior class, +shall spend a night in the house. This will soon be known over the +neighborhood. There has been much expenditure of words, over the silly +narratives of people alarmed at less than their own shadows. All who +have talked of the ghost, will talk of your act as having cast shame on +those who pretend to see supernatural sights. You will soon have the +pleasure of finding that the deserted house has become the home of some +worthy family. You will do much to put an end to the belief in +ghosts—for the history of your act will be narrated far and wide. Mr. +Hollman will be a debtor to you for securing him from loss, and from +great inconvenience.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> You have no fear of ghosts. In all probability you +will hear no sounds to disturb you, or call for investigation. If you +hear any peculiar noise, you will be assured that it is caused by some +designing person,—who avails himself of the credulity of the ignorant +to gain his corrupt or foolish purpose. I leave this matter in your +hands. I am confident that the trust that I repose in you will be +attended with the result that I desire."</p> + +<p>We, one and all, became the personification of delight. The president +was informed that it was a most agreeable adventure which he thus +proposed. One fellow, who was awfully alarmed, and who had late at night +told stories of ghosts who appeared in Virginia, until some of his +companions were afraid to separate, was the loudest in expressing his +readiness to go with the rest. He became pale with fright, when one of +his class-mates suggested that it would have more effect if one stayed +all night in the house alone, and that he should be selected for that +solitude.</p> + +<p>It was agreed that we should say nothing about our plan in the college. +Hence, on our return from the doctor's study, our mysterious conduct, +and sundry vague hints caused some eyes to be opened so wide, that one +might question how they would ever close again. In vain every attempt to +discover what had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> happened in the study of the great divine and +philosopher.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon a deputation from our class waited on Mr. Hollman. +I had the honor to be appointed on this committee. The estimable man, a +well-educated farmer, and having that simple address which enables a +benevolent heart to declare itself through its courtesy, expressed great +pleasure on hearing of our proposition, and uttered his thanks to us, +and to the venerable doctor.</p> + +<p>He corroborated the remark of our president, that if we put an end to +the ghost story connected with the house where we were to spend the +night, we should also, simultaneously, succeed in preventing the growth +of superstition elsewhere. "All true—very true," he said; "I always +notice that the doctor's remarks on all subjects run on alike, each of +value like the other, like links in a gold chain. There is danger that +this fear of ghosts will spread. I have some symptoms of it already in +my household. The woman who attends to the milk, begins to look round +her, and hurry home from the milk-house in the dusk of the evening with +a very rapid pace, and to the neglect of some of her duties. And I think +that Pompey has a decided seriousness at times,—as of a man destined to +see something terrible. Perhaps this will occur on his first lonely +drive at night by the grave-yard at our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> village beyond us. Tell me what +I can do to make you comfortable to-night. I will see that the house is +warmed at once, and provided with lights."</p> + +<p>We walked with him over to the haunted dwelling. On our way he gave us +some good practical advice, as we conversed on various subjects. It came +from a practical spring of knowledge which he had acquired by reflection +on all that he saw of men, and on the affairs that transpired. Indeed +Saner, a lazy fellow, who smelt the instruction so amply spread for us +at the literary table of Nassau Hall, but who never tasted or digested +one crumb or other fragment, said to us, as we returned home +afterwards—and that with a malicious sense of triumph over Latin, +Greek, Philosophy, mental and moral,—Algebra, and like kindred +venerable foes,—"You see a man can get sense of more real value out of +the world than out of books."</p> + +<p>"Saner," said I, "my dear fellow, is this worthy man possessed of the +widely-extended sense of Dr. Smith? And do you think that any one to +whom Providence has given the opportunity of collegiate education, and +who will turn out an ignorant blockhead, will ever learn anything from +observation? Besides our class,—or at least the deputation to the house +of the ghost,—have their minds enlightened by our instruction. Now, I +want to know whether this has not prepared us to glean instruction from +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> sensible remarks of Mr. Hollman? Do you think that the ignorant men +who work for him, learn of him in a year what we do, or some of us do, +in a day?"</p> + +<p>But this is a digression.—To return to our survey of the dwelling. +Unfortunately there was nothing very romantic in the structure. The +frowning shadows of larch, and other forest trees; the massive walls +were not there to call forth associations with some of the descriptions +of castles which were the scenes of ghosts and of banditti—such as were +common in the novels of the day.</p> + +<p>The house looked desolate only because it was deserted, and had a dark +history. There were two rooms on the first floor; one was a kitchen of +considerable size. The other the sitting-room,—stove-room,—or +parlor,—as it might happen to be called by the inmates. This was an +apartment opened a few times in the year for company on great State +occasions. Yet it gave all the year round,—a fact which weak critics +often overlook when they talk about a useless room, and laugh in their +dreaded but unproductive way,—gave all the year round a sense of ample +accommodation and dignity to the mansion. From the kitchen a winding +staircase ascended to the upper rooms. The small landing-place rested on +the back wall of the house. Small garrets were over these rooms. The +cellar was of the size of the dwelling, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> afforded no hiding-place, +nor any means of access to the interior from without, which we could not +easily secure. A small shed rested against the back of the house, from +the inside of which there was no door by which you could enter either +room. It was obvious, from the pathway to this shed from the kitchen +door, that the access of the family to it, was in the open air.</p> + +<p>The most desolate thing to me was the well. It was one of those still +seen in the little State—so elbowed by its big brothers of New York and +Pennsylvania, and able to bear a great deal of such pressure. It was +lorded over by that huge apparatus of the great long scale-beam, with a +pole and bucket on one end, and a great weight on the other. A vine had +crept up the pole, which must be torn away before water could be drawn. +When had the matron called the good man to draw water from the deep and +damp abode of truth? when had the children, returning from school, +slaked their thirst from the bucket, covered in places by the green +moss?</p> + +<p>We could discover no manner by which any one disposed to disturb the +inmates of the house, could secretly enter. It was amusing to notice how +some of the students, had no conception of pranks to be played upon us +in any other way than those known among collegians. However, we all +agreed that our regulations for self-defence must be very simple. We +had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> to wait for the demonstrations of the enemy, before we could do +more than draw up our forces in a simple line for attack or defence.</p> + +<p>The night, of course, came on. The whole class entered the house. We had +good fires in the two rooms below, and in one above. Mr. Hollman sent +chairs and tables, and a good stock of solid provisions. Lights had been +provided, and we had with us a number of lanterns—two of which were to +be kept burning all night. Some excellent cider had been sent to us; and +if any had desired it, we would not have permitted the introduction of +stronger drink. Our honor was concerned; Dr. Smith having reposed such +entire confidence in our proceedings. There was an implied contract +between us, and there were men in the class who would see that it was +complied with, not only in letter, but in spirit. It was also obvious +that if we had any intoxicating beverage among us, and should report +strange sights, men would account for it in their own way. Indeed, if +the young gents had engaged in a noisy revel, and their intellects had +become clouded, we should have tempted some mischievous creature to try +and create an alarm.</p> + +<p>We soon were a lively party. The house was cheerful with its blazing +fires and lights. But as that noble-hearted K——k, who became in +aftertime so eloquent a preacher in the Presbyterian church—and +M——r,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> for so many years a representative of his district in +Congress—and H——t, afterwards a distinguished Bishop, took their +seats by the fire in the kitchen—they soon drew around them the whole +of our little army. We became so joyous and free from care, that we +regretted that there were not other haunted houses requiring our aid. We +had no more thought that our talk would be exhausted before morning, +than the bird that its song will cease before the season for its melody +is over. It was put to the vote by the leanest fellow in the class that +we should not have our supper until we had passed the midnight hour.</p> + +<p>All remained quiet for a long time, when a dismal sound near one of the +windows arrested us, and caused a strange silence. It was the common +opinion, that it was the visit of an owl. Before midnight a scraping +noise was heard, and as we moved about, R——k insisted that he heard a +sound of moving boards, as if some one had climbed hastily over the +garden fence.</p> + +<p>All soon subsided into silence. Our animated conversations proceeded. I +ought to say, that almost the whole evening had been spent in the +discussion of metaphysical questions. In those days these were unfailing +topics. We did wonderfully well, considering that the German school had +not yet thrown open its gates, and let in its flood of waters, not +muddy, but stained with all sorts of dyes, so that the eye is dazzled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +on the surface in place of penetrating the mass before you. The doctrine +of the freedom of the will, as expounded by the great President Edwards, +was a sure mountain of gold for every adventurer. I always observed that +all who pretended to argue at all, could argue fluently on this subject. +I also noticed that no student ever hinted that he did not understand +what his opponent had said, and that none of us ever complained that +those who replied to us, had misunderstood us,—a wonderful proof of the +clear manner in which we all reasoned. And indeed there was so much +genius among us for this branch of disputation, that it did not appear +to matter whether a student had in any degree mastered the great +treatise, of which a celebrated Scotchman, no profound judge to be sure, +has said that it never had been refuted.</p> + +<p>As we were thus arguing these great subjects, and saying things which +Locke, Malebranche, Leibnitz, and Reid could never have said, K——k +amused us by a story,—for the actual truth of which he gave us his +word. He said that in a part of the country where he had spent many +years, the people had a debating club. It was held in a school-house +during the winter evenings, and drew large audiences. On one occasion +the topic of debate was the free agency of man.</p> + +<p>A stone-mason who had attended the meeting during the discussion gave an +animated account of the scene.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> The teacher of the school was his +particular hero. He acknowledged that the opponent had merit,—was, in +country parlance, "a smart man." But little Charlie the teacher was too +much for him,—he was still "smarter." It had been a long argument. The +little teacher held that man was not a free agent. The evening was +passing away. The friends of each champion were much perplexed. Would it +be a drawn battle? Just at the happy time, the little teacher thought of +a happy argument. "Man," he said, "could not be a free agent; for if he +was, he would never die." "That settled it," was the comment. Man would +never die, if he was a free agent. So we gave him the vote. He is an +"uncommon smart man." We laughed,—and Thompson said that a story was +not an argument, and was preparing for a new onset, when the lean +student,—whom some called, improperly, Bean-pole,—interposed with the +assurance, that it was time for our repast. Some said not yet,—but he +who argued on the side of the lean one, had one vast advantage; that is +to say, his statements, particularly his reference to the tender ham, +and tempting bread and butter, created an appetite even in his +opponents. So the night was carried,—and we soon arranged our viands. +The metaphysical discussions ceased,—probably from the instinctive +conviction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> that such severe exercise of the mind was unfavorable to +health, when one was making a hasty repast.</p> + +<p>While we were engaged in this agreeable duty, one of our number, +Shockford, a fellow of the kindest disposition, but always saying things +in a grumbling way, declared that he had some scruples of conscience, as +to the nature of our present occupation. What business had we to +interfere with ghosts? They had never done any harm to us. He used to +groan over the dull, unimaginative brains of the people of his +neighborhood. One day a weight of lead was taken off from his mind. He +sang his triumph in the best Latin and Greek which he could summon. He +thought that his neighborhood was about to improve. Could it be +credited, some of the people had seen a ghost. He knew a part of the +country where the inhabitants were too mean ever to have seen a spirit. +Lonely places, awful shadows by the woods, grave-yards, bridges in dark +hollows, were all thrown away upon them.</p> + +<p>And no man ever heard of a generous thought that originated there, or, +being sent there, found a hospitable reception. They are as dry in their +natures as the old posts in their fences. They never saw anything in the +grand old woods, which are rapidly disappearing, those majestic trees +with their deep shades, that elevated their souls higher than the +furrows,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> which they turn over year by year. The trees are but so much +fire-wood, so much material for lumber,—so many posts and rails. All +the beauty of the harvest, is submerged in the expectation of the silver +for which it could be sold. Is it any marvel that such clods are +despised by the ghosts? If you were one, and had your own way, would you +appear in such a dreary society? Would you go before the stupid eye, +that never gleamed at the glorious unfolding of the stars, or rolled, in +some little transport, as the autumnal clouds drifted towards the +sunset, and were so radiant in the beams of the setting orb, that they +were too grand a canopy, for a world on whose surface men do so many +deeds contrary to the holy will of the Great Ruler of the universe?</p> + +<p>Happy he was to say that he knew other parts of the country where the +sojourners are a people of different characteristics. Many ghosts were +seen in the favored spot. What was the consequence? The young ladies +are, as it might naturally be expected, much more attractive in their +personal appearance, of gentler voices, of more sympathizing manners, +and form husbands on a much more elevated plan. Of course there is much +variety in their descriptions of the ghosts which they have seen. One +most commendable trait which I have observed among them, is that the +sights which they have witnessed enhance their social<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> respectability. +There are slight grades in rank among the ghost-seers. Those who have +seen a spirit at midnight, are superior to those who have beheld one +early in the evening. Those who have seen one near the graves, rank +above those who have met one only in the fields. But the crowned head of +all is my old neighbor, who begins apparently to tell you an awful +history,—his manner indicating that he can give strange circumstantial +evidence of the truth of the event which he is about to narrate,—and +all at once the blood, which began to cool, flows freely, as he cuts +short his tantalizing narrative, with the information that he shall +never inform any soul what he saw that night. No one of our neighbors +dares to think that he has ever approached such a transcendent vision. +The shake of the head with which the old man concludes his last +sentence, is too impressive for the most presumptuous man, having a +tendency to a doubt.</p> + +<p>After our meal, and many a hearty laugh, a number composed themselves in +the different rooms for a good sleep. It was determined that three of +the class should sit up awake before the fire in case of emergency. I +must say that there was an undefined doubt over our minds whether +something very exciting would not happen before morning. I felt this +even in the gayety of the room. The young men laughed and talked as if +their minds were wrought up to an unnatural state.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>The hours sped on,—rapidly for those who slumbered, and heavily for +those who did duty as waking guards before the fire. Now and then some +one would awaken, as if from a dream, and ask in bold speech whether the +ghost had yet come.</p> + +<p>I remember that it was my turn to be off guard, and to join the +sleepers. The fires were kept up brightly, and gave a cheerful light to +all the apartment. I was watching the flickering of the flames, and had +forgotten almost entirely the place and position which we occupied, and +was philosophizing on the nature of sleep, and recalling some +observations I had read on the happy state of healthy little children +who are sinking to their sleep. I recalled the evidence I had received +of that kind arrangement of Providence, in the case of the little ones +at home, smiling on you in such perfect benignity and peace, as you drew +near them in their little beds. This, of course, recalled the home. As I +was bringing loved faces and scenes before me, the whole house was throw +into a sudden commotion,—just like that which you may imagine to occur +when a whole ship's crew, having been devoid of fear, is suddenly +startled with the report, communicated as by some mysterious power from +man to man, that an iceberg is near at hand, or breakers, or that the +good vessel has been subjected to some shock which endangers the common +safety.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>A loud sound was heard, evidently in the centre of the house, and all +agreed that it was occasioned by the discharge of a large pistol. The +dwelling was shaken by the report, and the windows rattled. In a moment +all was activity. By a common impulse all above and below gathered at +the staircase. We distinctly smelt the fumes of the powder, and holding +up lights, were satisfied that we detected the lingering smoke.</p> + +<p>Then commenced a new and perfect scrutiny of the building. +Notwithstanding the evidence that earthly elements had entered into the +cause of the shock, some were rather awed.</p> + +<p>All our search was in vain. There are more things in heaven and earth +than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Yet, in this instance, we looked +on the earth for that which we could not find.</p> + +<p>Not the slightest trace could be discovered to throw us on the true path +of investigation. We could form no possible conjecture as to the manner +in which the pistol had been discharged. After daylight we re-examined +the house. But all was in vain. The external and internal scrutiny gave +us not a hint as to the manner in which the deed could have been +accomplished.</p> + +<p>I must confess that we returned to Princeton in no enviable mood. We all +dreaded an interview with Dr. Smith. We sought him at once,—as nature +inclines<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> us often to go through a painful duty as soon as we can, and +to have it over.</p> + +<p>But the President listened to our story in a manner which relieved us of +our apprehensions. He did not seem greatly surprised; and his remarks +satisfied us that we had not been made ridiculous, and we were prepared +to face the world, or rather the worst part of it,—with reference to +our present condition,—the college.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said he, "some effort to continue this imposition was to +have been expected. I presumed that such a series of inmates would not +have been driven from the house, had not some skill been shown in the +manner of causing alarm. Now, the affair is more serious than ever. If +you allow this to rest here, the fate of the house is sealed. Ghosts +will be seen all around the land. Perhaps we shall even have one to +disturb the college. Malicious and designing men will be able to torture +their victims, and often render the property of those whom they hate, +perfectly worthless. You must continue to sleep in this building until +you unravel this mystery. For my own part, I would say to you, do not be +discouraged. You have made an advance. It is now evident that the noises +heard in the house, perhaps sudden flashes that have been seen, are not +the work of imagination. A pistol fired there, gives you a clear +indication that some man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> is to be detected. Go there again. Let a +portion of the class go to the house, and take possession. Have your +fires and lights. At a later hour let another body of these gentlemen go +quietly in the dark, and secrete themselves outside of the dwelling, so +that they can watch it during the night. Place yourselves so as not to +intercept the most natural approaches to the house. Do not let any one +know of your plans. I shall wait to hear from you again, and am sure +that you will succeed."</p> + +<p>Before the evening had arrived we had proof that Dr. Smith was correct +in his judgment as to the necessity for the prosecution of this +adventure. Night promised to become hideous to the surrounding country. +It was already reported on the most indisputable evidence; nay, some of +the narrators had heard it directly from the lips of the students +themselves, that as we were assembled in the dwelling, the lights +suddenly became dim, the fires ceased to blaze, and then an awful +stately lady, with the famous red ring around her throat, indicating +clearly that a murder had been committed on the premises, walked through +the rooms and looked on us, and seemed to enjoin on us the duty of +bringing the men who had stained their hands with her blood to justice, +and then suddenly withdrew with a terrific noise. Another report was to +the injury of an unpopular man, who had owned the property before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> it +was purchased by Mr. Hollman. Its version of the affair was, that the +ghost disclosed a secret place in the house where some papers were +concealed,—proving that the property had in former times been acquired +by the most wicked means. Great satisfaction was intimated that the man +would be exposed, and attain his deserts,—a prison having long been +supposed to be his appropriate destination.</p> + +<p>In the evening we followed the injunctions of the president. The late +party left the college one by one, issuing in the dark from the basement +of the building, so that no one watching us could know of their +departure. They crept along over fields, and by the skirt of the woods. +They hid themselves under a thicket, through which no one would attempt +to pass to the house.</p> + +<p>The midnight came on. I was one of those in the interior of the +building. About the same time of the night we heard the strange pistol +again. I also thought I heard an additional sound, but could not imagine +its cause. Our chief trust was in those without. And we were not +disappointed. A moment after the discharge of the pistol, we heard a +rush of feet, and many cries. Then there arose a noise of unmistakable +triumph.</p> + +<p>The noise, and a flash revealed to the watchers without, the direction +they must pursue. They surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> the shed, back of the building. There +they seized a form, a base—unspiritual—rough form. It was that of a +young negro man, who was brought into the light in the house, and +subjected to investigation.</p> + +<p>He confessed that his design was to obtain vengeance of Mr. Hollman, who +had given him some offence. It seems that above the shed on the back of +the house, where he was secured, there was a small trap-door, opening +into the interior. It was so cut out of the boards, and so often +white-washed within and without, that we had never observed it. He had +once lived in the house, and knowing of this small opening, had availed +himself of it, for the success of his wicked design. Climbing up the +shed, he lifted the door, held the large horse-pistol deeply loaded, as +far as he could over the landing of the winding staircase, and then +discharging it, dropped the door, slid from the shed, and was soon far +off, and free from all suspicion.</p> + +<p>He had heard from the people at Mr. Hollman's, that we were to attempt +to satisfy the public mind, that the house was not haunted, and that any +family might reside on the premises in peace. Hence he resolved to alarm +us all, and drive us away.</p> + +<p>Some of the class were for summary vengeance on the fellow. We +determined to take him into Princeton, and hand him over to the +magistrate. You may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> imagine that we entered our town on the following +morning, with an air of triumph,—which was quite a contrast to our +looks on the preceding day. We went in figuratively speaking, with +banners flying, and drums beating. And we had some literally blowing +their trumpets.</p> + +<p>The ghost attracted some curiosity, and some said that as we looked for +something in white, we were disappointed.</p> + +<p>Dr. Smith was as well pleased as we were, with our success. The house +was soon reoccupied. I went there some time after our adventure, and +found it the home of a respectable family, who treated me with special +consideration, and a satisfactory portion of a large pie, when they +heard that I was one of the celebrated party that caught the ghost. +Ghosts in troops forsook Princeton. They found their occupation gone. +Men and women, boys and girls, darkies of all ages, saw shadows in the +evening, mists, indistinct lights, flickering candles, passed by graves, +and grave-yards, and had no longer any special dread. And had any ghost +in fact, dared to appear anywhere around, I have no doubt that our class +would have been summoned to do, what daylight always does, send the +wandering and terrible spirit to the regions where such dwell,—far from +all human cognizance. May Nassau Hall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> ever have such success in all her +laudable enterprises! May all her classes, be as great victors over all +that can cause dread to a student, as we were over the ghost at +Hollman's.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII.</h2> + +<h3><i>MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY.</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h3> + + +<p>"Father," said one of Mr. Digby's children, just let loose from school, +and fluttering about as if on the eve of a great flight of +play,—"father, look at my copy-book."</p> + +<p>The face of the one thus appealed to, which generally bore a care-worn +look, relaxed into an attentive and gentle interest. He gave the labored +page the appropriate scrutiny. When the right of criticism was thus +justly earned, he bestowed due meed of praise. In line after line he +read, ECONOMY IS WEALTH.</p> + +<p>The children soon left him, and he turned down a path leading to the +gate. All the way he repeated in various intonations of voice, the tones +changing with various trains of thought, economy is wealth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>He said to himself, "Who was the great inventor of that most absurd of +proverbs? Economy is wealth. Nonsense! The man who first spoke that +sentence, never had a saving wife. Economy wealth! Pooh! Pooh! I say, +economy is poverty.</p> + +<p>"Our house is full of economy. The more it becomes a bank full of that +article, so ridiculously misrepresented, the more poor I am. We have a +great linen-closet, never opened for use, full of economy. We have a +garret where economy is packed away. There are things ancient and +modern, big and little, shining and rusty, known and unknown, bought as +bargains, and patiently waiting under loads of dust to become useful, +and to save us several fortunes. There is a huge chest of economy in the +entry near the spare room door. It contains plated ware, spoons, urns, +tea-pots, toast-racks, branches for candle-sticks, all ready for use +some fifty years hence, when we shall give parties to the fashionable +people in our village, increased from eight or ten to one hundred.</p> + +<p>"And there is the fat boy in the kitchen, who was to save me from the +cost of hiring a man to cut my wood, and dig the garden, and who was to +wear my old clothes. Now he is so corpulent that he cannot get into my +coats or pantaloons. If there be a tide which takes out everything, and +brings in nothing, then it is economy. Yes. Economy is wealth."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now Mrs. Digby was a great domestic statesman. Her husband had been +leading a life of married astonishment. There seemed to be no end to the +resources of her diplomacy. Her reasons for any departure from her +ordinary expenditures, were versatile and profound.</p> + +<p>One principle behind which the good lady invariably entrenched herself, +was the impregnable one, that she never bought anything unless it was +under the promptings of a strict necessity. "I never buy anything not +strictly necessary, Mr. Digby," was the oil she poured on the troubled +waters of the mind of her husband.</p> + +<p>Now the man whose intellect was not able to comprehend the curious +principles that regulated his household, declared that he never saw +anything so comprehensive as this theory of necessity. It appeared to +him to be the only law on the earth or among the stars which had no +exceptions. And all these necessities, were a great perplexity under +another aspect. They were all matters of life and death. If the coat of +the little girl faded in a slight degree, a new one—if Mrs. Digby said +so—was so necessary, that it was evident that an earthquake would come, +or the sun turn aside from his path, with consequences of unending +disaster, unless her will was transformed into actual ribbons, and +merino, or silk, or velvet. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> what was equally surprising, it +sometimes happened, that before one necessity could thus be removed, +another arose; and the first was forgotten. The earthquake was somehow +prevented. The sun did not alter his course. It was a strange mystery.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It happened after they had been married a short time, that Mrs. Digby +expected a visit from some friends.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "you will be so pleased with them. I would not +think of treating them with any great ceremony, if it was not that they +have never seen our house. First impressions are very strong. I never +forget the pitcher, towels, and basin in the room where I slept, when I +made a visit to the Elders. Nothing could ever eradicate from my mind +the belief, that she is not as good a house-keeper as she should be. No, +it would not change my mind on that point, if I was to see her in a +house, where everything was cut out of newly fallen snow.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear, as these friends are to form their first impressions of +my house, I am under the necessity of having everything very nice for +them. I shall go to the expense of buying a few articles. And then our +meals must be a little more particular than when we are alone. But we +will make all up by increased economy. Yes, we will save all the +increased expense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> in various ways. First impressions are so powerful. +The first impressions of these friends must be favorable."</p> + +<p>This all seemed to be very natural to Mr. Digby. But his surprise was +great when he discovered that this theory of first impressions on the +part of visitors, went on for years. The great portion of those who came +to see them, were persons who were to receive first impressions. The +Nobbs, the Stowells, the Campbells, the Lambs, and a host of others +came, and all were to receive their first impressions. After ten years +the theory was still in existence. As soon as Mr. Digby heard of a new +comer, then the theory was the first thing in his mind.</p> + +<p>And when any of the friends repeated a visit, Mrs. Digby had a pleasant +piece of information to impart to her lord and master. She had heard +that Mrs. Snobbs, for instance, had said, that their house was kept in a +state of perfection. She had been in ecstacies over the appearance of +the furniture, and thought the table such as would tempt one to eat who +had lost all appetite. Of course, it would never do to allow her to +come, and have the first impressions changed. That would be coming down +to a most painful extent. It could never be. Some old furniture must +therefore be displaced by some new purchases. And then their table must +be a little more richly served. Indeed, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> would be rather advantageous +to have things a little better than in former times. Former impressions +would lead her to expect some advance.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>----this time Mr. Digby was again much perplexed. His wife received a +present of three hundred dollars from an aunt. The good lady was quite +triumphant, and now appeared to think, that anything but economy was not +practicable. The old theory of necessity now came in like a torrent. The +good husband had read of crops which sprang up in some portions of the +earth, in a wonderful manner. He had heard of the plants in some of our +warm climes which grew under a few suns in certain seasons, in a way +which seems incredible to us who live in this northern land. But never +did he imagine that anything could ever equal the sudden growth of +necessities in his house, since the good aunt had sent the present. +Necessity met you everywhere. It haunted you in every room. You trod +upon it when you stepped upon the old carpet, or the old oil-cloth. You +could not come near the window but it met you.</p> + +<p>We must have new curtains for our parlor-windows.</p> + +<p>But, Mr. Digby suggested, daring to run a tilt, madman as he was, +against necessity, that irresistible giant, who has a perfect covering +of impenetrable mail,—the expense. Think of my present, said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> lady, +offering terms as a conquering general would offer them to a prostrate +foe. I will give of my present a great part of the expense.</p> + +<p>So the curtains were bought. They were put up, and Mrs. Digby was as +happy as Mr. Digby was dejected and miserable.</p> + +<p>Then the good lady discovered that the porch must be taken down, and a +piazza erected. Her lord said it was impossible. Here again was he +foolish enough to place his impossibility as an opponent to her +necessity. She would pay for a portion of the cost out of the money +which was sent her by her aunt. But Mr. Digby said that he had several +debts to pay, and knew not how to meet them.</p> + +<p>Poor man! He here made a most disastrous movement of his forces. The +able general opposed to him, was too much gifted with military genius to +lose sight of the proffered advantage.</p> + +<p>Did he expect that she was to pay his debts out of the present made her +by her aunt? No such thing. Her dear aunt manifestly intended that the +money should be spent for her special comfort. She could read him the +letter. She intended, as that kind epistle taught, that her niece should +expend it in some way that would personally gratify herself. She never +intended that it should be swallowed up in the ordinary expenditures of +the house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>So she ingeniously carried her day, for discomfiting Mr. Digby, on the +ground that he had proposed to her that she should pay his debts, which, +however, it will be observed he had not done,—for he had only +remonstrated against new expenditures before his old debts were +expunged,—she wisely made the two questions one. As he had to retire +from the field on the question of battle, as insisted on by her, despite +of all his pleas to the contrary,—she took for granted that the subject +of the new piazza was involved in the one issue. So the piazza was +erected.</p> + +<p>Some time after this, one of her friends wished to dispose of a new +carriage, or one almost as good as new. Mrs. Digby described it in +glowing terms. And then she said that she could have it at a great +reduction in the price. If the fish knew that the hook was near, as well +as Mr. Digby knew that the cord and hook were dangling around to secure +him for a prey,—no fish would ever be caught.</p> + +<p>It was astonishing what an eloquence Mrs. Digby could throw into such a +statement. It was not merely that she was eloquent when she described +the carriage. The picture she drew of the comfort in which she and her +lord would appear,—nay their increased elegance and respectability, was +one which could not have been surpassed. Then there was a happy contrast +presented between the proposed new equipage, and their present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> homely +wagon, in which they had of late years jogged along in a contented way, +which proved that their ideas of what was desirable were in need of +improvement.</p> + +<p>The master-power of her eloquence did not, however, here appear in its +highest manifestations. No, it was revealed when the simple description +of the carriage, conveyed to the mind of the hearer, the idea that if he +did not most earnestly desire to purchase it, he must be a man fit for +treason, stratagems, and spoils. The reproof was carried to the heart +through terrors, which in themselves seemed incapable of any such power. +Those who are ignorant of such feminine power, would as soon expect the +rays of the sun to bring with them the food needful for their +sustenance. And when she referred to the old carriage, Mr. Digby felt as +if his conscience was indeed disturbed. There were two statements +addressed to him. One referred to the homely nature of the wagon. The +other said, if you could allow a woman who has been a faithful wife,—a +woman who has shared your fortunes for fifteen years,—who has never +spared herself to order her household well,—who is the mother of seven +children of whom you are very proud,—to crown all,—who has practised +for fifteen years in your house, in the most untiring manner the most +exact, and even unreasonable economy,—buying only what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> she has been +forced to do under the pressure of necessity,—if you could allow such a +woman to go in that old wagon, when this new and pleasant carriage could +be purchased, and that too when she is willing to give part of the money +which was sent her by her affectionate aunt, that aforesaid money having +been intended for her own personal benefit,—why then you are one of +those of whom the world may well say, that it is fortunate that you are +not placed in a situation where you could become a pirate.</p> + +<p>After all this moving eloquence, one passage was repeated in express +words. Mr. Digby was told that if he would agree to the purchase of the +carriage and the harness which appropriately belonged to it, she would +expend in paying for it the three hundred dollars sent her by her aunt. +In that case he would have to advance but one hundred dollars, and by +that insignificant outlay, insignificant of course she meant in +comparison of that which they would gain, for economy is wealth, and she +could not throw away a dollar on any account, he would secure this +invaluable vehicle, and prove himself a man who had some regard for his +wife.</p> + +<p>Mr. Digby suggested that some of this money, sent by the aunt was to +have paid for the window-curtains. He intended to add in order, some +other purchases, all of which were to have a partial payment from the +same treasured notes. But this suggestion only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> brought upon him a storm +of virtuous indignation. Nothing could be more unreasonable than to +expect that her money should be devoted to such purposes. All that she +could say, was, that the curtains were necessities. And what would they +have done if the aunt had not sent the money? If the present had not +come, he would never have thought that she would be the one who ought to +supply the money for such necessary expenses.</p> + +<p>So the carriage was bought, and at last the money of the aunt was +expended.</p> + +<p>Mr. Digby made a calculation, and found that the three hundred dollars +of the aunt, had been expended in part payment for purchases which cost +him about one thousand dollars. He uttered the fervent hope that the +good aunt would not send any more of her precious gifts.</p> + +<p>Note. The manuscript here again becomes illegible. As far as I can +gather from a word which can be distinguished here and there, Mr. Digby, +after much suffering, and a severe illness from mental excitement, found +that his good lady, who was really a woman of affectionate nature, +changed all her views. Some one, at the close of the manuscript, appears +to be inquiring of him, how it is that he has attained great peace of +mind. The reply seems to be to the effect, that all the old theories are +exploded from their domestic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> arrangements, and that in place of all +other questions, the one consideration now is, what their income will +enable them to purchase. And there also seems to be an assertion, that +he no longer feels as if he was in danger of ruin, when any of their +relatives sends his wife a present. There further appears to be some +apology to the proverb, which he so greatly despised in former times, +that economy is wealth.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This paper was so much injured by time, that the editor +could decipher only some portions. But he has concluded to publish these +fragmentary hints, which may be of utility, and open some eyes, as they +reveal some similar weaknesses, of a propensity to live beyond one's +income, which modern progress has not yet perfectly removed from all +minds.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>TO MY WIFE.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lapidary day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brightened the sparkling gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then that diamond flashed each ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fit for a diadem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in this trusting heart of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Increaseth love for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A love whose rays shall brighter shine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When earth shall close o'er me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lapidary knoweth nought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But diamond-dust alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which full glory may be wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon that precious stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So day by day increaseth love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By my true love alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that trial shall approve<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A measure of thy own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>FADING AWAY.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From morn to night, thine eye, my dying-boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is on those autumn leaves that ever wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sea of leaves on that great forest oak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wave of that wide sea a wave of fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! boy! before those tinted leaves are sear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fallen with light crush upon the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt be gone. Oh! glorious canopy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around thy dying bed! All nature seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To yield a triumph conqueror ne'er received,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all the world knew that he entered Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Redeemer's little one who waits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just at the gate of life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Blest is that tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lulls thy quiet. 'Tis one beauteous flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less glorious only than the burning bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When God was present in the wilderness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is He less present to thy spirit now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon, soon a change will come, and thou wilt see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angels round thee. They will glow in light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the Redeemer's presence. Then how dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All earth's great transport round us in this scene!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why hast thou lived, my boy? Thy little life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has all been sorrow: all but some few smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy dear mother, and to me, to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy brother here unconscious of his loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to thy faithful nurse who never knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her care was trouble, sorrowing but for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou hast lived because thou art redeemed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because a life was here begun for heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou livest to say, love not this passing world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not our home, or surely such as thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would be exempt from sorrow. All is well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, blessed is the family where death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enters to take an infant. Without fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All look unto the world where it has rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gentler sorrow falls on all than this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gentler sorrow nurtures mutual love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O easy faith to know that it is gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the bright pathway to eternal realms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which He first opened, when he left the cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth he blessed, and so ascended there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with Him all the blessed at death have rest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Papers from Overlook-House, by Casper Almore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 36980-h.htm or 36980-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/9/8/36980/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Papers from Overlook-House + +Author: Casper Almore + +Release Date: August 5, 2011 [EBook #36980] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + + + + + + + + + + + PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE. + + By Caspar Almore + + + PHILADELPHIA + J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. + 1866. + + Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by + J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., + In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District + of Pennsylvania. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + INTRODUCTORY LETTER 5 + + CHAPTER I. ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE 13 + + CHAPTER II. THE WELCOME AT OVERLOOK-HOUSE 18 + + CHAPTER III. THE CHRISTMAS LOG IN THE KITCHEN 33 + + CHAPTER IV. HOW THE OVERLOOK PAPERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN 47 + + I. DR. BENSON; OR THE LIVING MAN EMBALMED FOR TWENTY YEARS 51 + + II. THE GHOST AT FORD INN--NESHAMONY 75 + + III. MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT BIOGRAPHY;--OR, LITERATURE FOR A + FAIR WIDOW 91 + + IV. KATYDIDS:--A NEW CHAPTER IN NATURAL HISTORY 127 + + V. THE IMAGE-MAKER 139 + + VI. THE CLOUDS 142 + + VII. THE PROTECTOR DYING 145 + + VIII. THE INDIAN DREAM-CELL 149 + + IX. WILD FLOWERS GATHERED FOR MY WIFE 178 + + X. RIVERSDALE 181 + + XI. DR. SAMUEL STANHOPE SMITH AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE 198 + + XII. MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY 224 + + XIII. TO MY WIFE 236 + + XIV. FADING AWAY 237 + + + + +INTRODUCTORY LETTER. + + +OVERLOOK HOUSE, _October 10, 1864_. + +MY DEAR FRIEND:--At last, as if borne to you by some scape-grace of a +messenger, these papers, copied from the time-discoloured manuscripts, +so carefully preserved in the old book-case, which with its dark lustre, +its bright brass ornaments, is still the prominent object in our +library, are destined to reach the hands into which they should long ago +have been placed. + +I well remember the evening on which you first heard of them, and +listened to my attempt to read them to you; perplexed as I was with the +faded lines, traced by fingers which can write no more. + +You will not forget our drives, previously, during the day, and late in +the afternoon, in consequence of my week-day service in the old church. +Perhaps the ancient edifice would need the excuse of days of +architectural ignorance, but no Cathedral on earth can surpass it, in +its claim to occupy a place amid scenes of surpassing beauty and +sublimity. There it stands alone, on the slope of an immense hill, with +the whole range of the mountains from the water-gap to the wind-gap full +in view--glorious walls to sustain the great blue dome of heaven! The +great solitude of the road that winds along the grave-yard, has often +caused me to think of distant friends, and has riveted them to my soul +with still more indissoluble bonds. And the Great Friend has been the +great relief from oppressive loneliness, as I thus stood in one of the +beautiful gates of the Eternal Temple. As to that quiet grave-yard +itself, the "rhetoric of the dead" is there well spoken, and they whose +ashes are here deposited, do not find "second graves" in our short +memories. + +You will tell me that all connected with my church is not always solemn. +Your perverse memory will never forget the leader of the choir; nay, the +useful man who was often choir itself. He sang at least with energy. +Unfortunately--oh well do I remember my fearful victory over my +features, when I first became cognizant of the fact; a victory at a time +when a smile had endangered my claims to due ministerial sobriety; +unfortunately he had the habit of marking time emphatically, by raising +himself on his toes, and simultaneously elevating his hand, his chin, +his eyes, and his hair. Yet that was but a slight trial to us both. The +man was better than either of us; and the first impression having +subsided, we found that he did well in calling forth the voices of the +congregation. You will recollect our return home, as we refused all +offers of hospitality, although the snow was falling, and we were warned +not to risk the drifts, promised by the rising wind. We would not be +detained, as we had set our hearts on passing the evening together in +the old mansion of my fathers. On we drove, the sound of the bells +sweeping in wild merriment over the great fields of snow, or rising to a +louder chime as we passed through the forest, under a thousand triumphal +arches, of boughs laden with white honors. Only once, and where the road +was in a ravine, was I afraid that you would be exposed some hours to +the storm, until we should hear the voices of hunters, and the bay of +their dogs, sent to seek us, after our custom, when any one is lost in +the snow. Happily we extricated ourselves, and soon saw the lights +gleaming from the windows of the house upon the hill. + +How pleasant the welcome of our good old Caesar, the man of dark hue, who +had no desire to be the first man in the village, nor the second man at +Rome; but was all eagerness to have a place, however lowly, in the +Eternal City! Another glad welcome in the hall; a net-work of questions +from little threads of voices, and the seats before the great wood-fire, +one of the few remaining representatives of the profuse customs of the +fathers; one witness that our forests are not yet all swept away. Did we +not give ample tributes to the repast prepared by Caesar's wife! Two +hungry men rescued from snow waves, we proved that one could feast on +Dinah's poetry of food, and yet, in the ensuing night, behold no +magnificent bandit, with a beard that would have done credit to a Roman +Centurion, and a dagger that honored the sense of sublime danger, by the +assurance that if it was to give us our death-blow, it was no coarse +weapon; the grand villain peering over you with an eye in which the evil +fires take refuge when conscience is in ashes. You know that in that +coming night, you did not even see the "fair ladie," now your wife, +borne away from you, in a mysterious coach, by some ruffians clad in +splendid mantles, while you were palsied, and could not move to seize +the sword, or gun, or could not call for aid. How pleasant was that +evening! From your weed rose the cloud that no counterblast, royal or +plebeian, has ever yet been able to sweep away from the lips of men. +Knitting by her little stand, sat one, whom to name is to tell, in a +word, the great history of my best earthly happiness. I am sure her +sweet thoughts, when spoken, were as the fragrance of flowers over our +homelier fields; while her gentle sympathy added to our strength, and +her instinctive and pure impressions, aided our conceptions, as gentle +guides, and taught us how wisdom was linked to minds swayed by goodness. +What a bond has she been of our long-enduring friendship! We talked of +the old times--of the ancient famed hospitality of the house. We spoke +of those who came there at Christmas--when the hymn of Milton seemed to +be read in a grand audience chamber--at the Spring when the world seemed +again so young--at Autumn where the mountains and hills were all a glow, +as if angels had kindled them with a fire, burning, but not consuming +them, turning them into great altars, by which man could stand, and +offer his adoration. Then we spoke of the papers that had been read +among the assembled guests. I told you their history; a history further +recorded in the fourth chapter; the last of the four chapters +preliminary. These were written by my grandfather. As your curiosity was +awakened, I drew forth some of these, from the old book-case in the +library, and read them as I could. You insisted that I should decipher +them, and let you send them to the press; send them to some one of your +honorable publishers, so that many eyes could read, what few eyes have +rested on, in this distant solitude. Julia seconded the proposition. +What had I to do, but to obey! Some years have passed, and you have +often complained of my procrastination. Shall I make excuses? Excuses +are the shadows which the irresolute and idle, the evil, keep ever near, +as their refuge from just accusation. The moment you feel the least loss +of self-respect in seeking them, the moment you have to search to find +them, take heed of them. Those formed to be giants, often live in them, +and then life is consequently the life of the dwarf. I knew that I could +have sent the papers long ago, had I written two or three lines each +day, since I gave my promise. Julia, who, woman-like, always convicts me +when I excuse myself, and consoles me, and defends me, when I am in the +ashes, and contrite with self-upbraiding, who is never severe with me, +but when I spoil the children by keeping them up too late at night, +says, that I never allow a literary effort to encroach on my great +duties; that I have had so much to do, that I could not sooner perform +my promise. She laughs, and says that the dates I annex to my papers, +during my progress in this work, show how I was interrupted, and that if +the histories of intermediate parochial work were given, the book would +be a strange record. Often the sick and suffering have caused long +intervals to elapse in these labors. When I could attempt the work, the +change in the current of my associations has been a relief. Julia has +wished me to write histories of the lives of some of those, who composed +various papers in the old case. Of course, some of the authors have been +passing utterly from the minds of a race, that cannot remember, but the +least remnant of those who have gone before. We lament the ravages of +time. Multitudes are forgotten on the earth, whom it would be a blessing +to have in perpetual remembrance. Alas! we have also to confess, that +time conceals the story of innumerable others, when it is well that it +should be buried in its deepest oblivion. + +I hope that I have copied these papers with commendable accuracy. We +trust that they will add to the happiness of those who read them, and +prove at the same time to be profitable. May they increase kind +impressions! May they sow seeds that shall have the sun and dew that +never falls on growth that is evil! Man has tablets in the heart, for +inscriptions greater, and more enduring, than those of the great ledges +of rock in the far East. + +As one would hesitate to write the outlines of his coming destiny, if +such a pen of Providence could be ready for his hand, so he, who has any +love for others, would pause before he would carve, even in faintest +letters, one word on these, which could sully the surface, where the +indestructibility warns us, that all is an eternal record with Him, +whose eye is too pure to look upon iniquity. I need not attempt, like +authors of a former age, to solicit a favorable criticism, from the +"gentle reader." If I say, here, that the hall has rung with peals of +laughter, as some of the papers of the old book-case have been read, +that some have shed tears over the Ghost of Ford Inn, and said, it is +too sad, these assurances will not predispose one who shall open the +proposed volume, to utter a favorable opinion. These waifs must be cast +on the waters, like all other similar ventures. We must wait, and learn +where Providence shall waft them. + +Will these papers outlive this decaying house? Will men love us because +we have sent them forth? Will we, because of them, be grasped with a +kindlier hand? Will they soften hearts in this trying world, and aid men +to a greater charity? + +But I must pause. Lamps will grow dim. Warnings will come, that letters +may attain to too great prolixity. Readers are often not sufficiently +sagacious, to know that when Homer nods, he has a design. Can I apply, +what old Dr. South, the great and witty preacher said, when he printed +the sermon at the Royal mandate, that the Majesty of the Realm must +excuse the length of the discourse, inasmuch as he had not had time to +make it shorter? Or, shall I remember the severe speech, doubtless a +dutiful necessity, a knife to remove such a miserable vanity as often +makes men worse than useless; the severe speech of an Eastern Divine, +who, when the young preacher waited all day in vain for a compliment, to +his morning's discourse, and said, in desperation, as the evening waned +in the study, "Doctor, I hope that I did not weary your people with the +length of my discourse," had for reply the quiet answer, "No, sir; nor +by the depth of it." + +So, as you have the infirmity of going to sleep over the most +interesting discourse, as the lamp is going out, as I am nervous, +sitting up at such a late hour, as the paper is all written over, and I +have none other near at hand, I release you. Go to sleep, but wake the +world to-morrow, and then say that I am your friend. + +A friend of many years, + +CASPAR ALMORE. + + + + +OVERLOOK. + + +CHAPTER I. + +_ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE._ + + +I stepped from the stage-sleigh, in the village of Overlook, at the +post-office: for there the driver stopped to leave his mail-bag. That +important article, which, as a boy, I used to regard with undefined +dread, for I associated it with a poor wretch, who was hung for laying +villanous hands upon one, in a desolate road, was the old-fashioned +leather sack, full of iron rivets. + +Perhaps at the time when this writing may reach the press, such a +contrivance may have become antiquated; and therefore I had better add +to my description, that a weighty chain passed through iron rings, to +secure the opening; and finally, there was the brass padlock, at which +the Indian gazed with such contempt, when he said, "Brass lock upon +leather! that makes my knife laugh." I stepped from the heavy +stage-sleigh into the one sent for me by Judge Almore, and it was like +passing from a heavy craft on the waters, into one of lesser make, and +lighter burden. John Frake, the farmer at Overlook Manor, had driven +over for me. His horses seemed exhilarated by the bells, and we dashed +forward in splendid style. John Frake was a character; a real man in +energy, work, and talk; frank, and good-hearted. + +As we drove along, in a loud voice, that permitted not a word to be lost +by the melody of the bells, he made his comments upon all things, and +especially on the inhabitants along the streets of the village. + +"Dr. Norkin lives there," he said, pointing with his whip to a +comfortable house. And then as if pondering the beginning of a long +train of thought, he added, + +"Those Yankees are unaccountable smart people." + +"The doctor is a Yankee, then?" + +"Oh no! there aint enough Yankee in him to make a spot on the map of +Massachusetts. Not but that the doctor has lots of common sense, and +keeps all that he has got ready for use, when wanted, as ready as my +plough to go through the ground. But those Yankees have the most +uncommon ways of putting things together; just as if you took something +out of the middle of the earth, and made it fit something on the top of +a mountain." + +"Yes, but I don't see what Yankees have to do with the doctor." + +"I'll tell you what I was thinking about. I was once at the mountains, +forty miles off, where there is a mineral spring. There is where ladies +and gentlemen go to drink water, eat all manner of things at the tavern, +and get well, when they never have been sick. Iron in the water at the +springs! Bless you; it would not divide the nails in a horse-shoe in a +month, to the whole army of the Revolution, if they had drunk of nothing +else. Well our judge and the family followed the fashion. Fashion is a +runaway horse that carries a great load of straw behind him, and +sometimes he has after him things much better than straw. I drove up to +bring them home. But the judge was taken sick just before I got there, +and sent for our doctor here, to come up and cure him. In the night, +after I got there, one of your uncommon Yankees, who seemed to be well +off, and to do fifty things, from what I could gather, to make money, +had a bad attack; unlike anything I ever heard of around here. He was +awful bad. I heard the racket, and went into his room. + +"'My friend,' says I, 'you do look awful bad'--for I always speak my +honest sentiments, in a sick-room, or out of it. 'I thank you for your +sympathy,' says he--and yet somehow it sounded as if he didn't. I +presumed he didn't want any one to talk to him. 'Send down for Dr. +Norkin,' says the landlord. 'He is here;' this is what he said to the +sick man. 'He lives forty miles off--at Overlook. But he is here, +attending on Judge Almore--who has been ill.' + +"The sick man, after a groan or two, raised himself up in his bed. It +was as good as the best apple, to see how quickly he seemed to ungear +his mind from his sick body. He gave a long thought. Then he said, + +"'Did the judge send for that doctor, because he was in the house at the +time when he was taken sick? Or did he send all the way to Overlook for +him to come here to him?' + +"'He sent for him to Overlook,' says the landlord, before I could put in +a word. + +"'Then I'll see him,' says he--speaking quickly out, and firm like, as +if he was a king. Now wasn't that cute? I tell you such men think +faster, and a great way before other people. Well; it's a free country, +and all people aint bound to do their thinking alike." + +We now came to the entrance of the lane, that led up to Overlook House. + +Two large cherry trees stood on either side of the gate. I drew the +attention of my companion to them. They were very venerable, and their +winter boughs showed some signs of decay. + +"Them big trees,"--said he. "Either of them, I'll engage is as old as +three average men. They say a man averages thirty years of life. Now +they are full ninety years old, and big at that." + +"You have lived long with the judge?" + +"Bless your heart, sir, long indeed. But he's a good man. There's few +that don't say so--well, thank God, it is those kind of people that +don't. When he speaks and acts, you feel that our Lord has taught him +his religion--just as we know it is Sunday, when we wake and hear the +church-bells ringing, and all the sun-light seems full of the sweet +sound, and all the sound as if it had gone through the bright sun. I do +love Sunday." + +Here we were close to the house. "Come and see me," he said, "down at my +house there. It is not as big as the judge's, but then there is room in +it for a hearty welcome. I will give you a glass of good cider, or two, +or three, for that matter. As for wine, I never keep any. It seems to me +to be poor stuff, as if it was trying to be brandy, and couldn't." The +mission of the sleigh was now over. I and my trunks were at the porch of +the house. So the worthy farmer and I parted for the present. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_THE WELCOME AT OVERLOOK-HOUSE._ + + +A colored servant man, of most respectable appearance, and of quiet +manners, evidently glad of my arrival ushered me into the house, saying +that Judge Almore would be home in a short time, as he had gone but a +little distance on the farm; and that his good lady would come down +stairs in a few minutes. The hall of the house was large, and decorated +with Indian relics; with long deer-horns, also, and other trophies of +the hunting ground. I was hastened into an adjoining room, which I had +scarcely entered, before I felt the invigorating heat from the great +fire-place. There the hickory logs seemed doing their best, with their +immense flame, to make me feel as if I was cared for, a stranger from a +distance. On the hearth there was a small mountain of glowing coals. How +pleasant it is to sit before such a fire, and to think that our +interminable forests, will supply abundant fuel, for the inhabitants of +our cities for hundreds of years to come. Even when New York, and +Philadelphia, Trenton, and Boston, may, two or three centuries hence, +have each two or three hundred thousand inhabitants, and that +expectation of their increase in population, is not so chimerical as it +seems, and when the country round them, may be so cleared and +cultivated, that in a circle of fifteen or twenty miles in diameter, the +farm-houses may generally be in sight of one another, it is probable +that the decrease of our woods will scarcely be perceptible. + +But as I gazed into the flames which soon removed all chilliness from my +frame, I had no time for lengthened speculations on the future of our +land; for Mrs. Almore entered the room, and greeting me with great +cordiality, assured me of my welcome. As I was engaged in conversation +with this most estimable lady, I found myself called on to regret her +visitation with a great affliction. Her cheerful countenance and manner, +however, proved that she had not permitted it to hang over her as a +cloud, to darken her days, or to make her selfish in her expectation of +attention. The affliction was a great deafness, one evidently of long +duration, and incurable; so I judged from the evidence of her loud +tones, almost shouting when she addressed me. I flatter myself that I +can cause any one to hear me speak, who has the ability to know, that a +pistol is discharged not far from his ear. And I always feel great +commiseration for those who hear with difficulty. Meeting with such, I +regard the power of my lungs, as a gift, particularly designed for their +service and enjoyment. Indeed I undesignedly secured a legacy from an +aged aunt, by the assiduity I exhibited in informing her of what was +said around her, when others neglected her, as she thought, because it +was so difficult to make her to hear. Trained as I had been in the past, +I have to confess, that my powers of loud speech, were never more taxed +than on the present occasion. The loud tones in which we commenced our +conversation, were gradually increased; I perceived that as she raised +the pitch of her voice, it was a delicate intimation to me, that I must +speak with increased effort, if I would secure a perfect hearing. As we +were engaged in this polite rivalship, each being, not only a diligent +hearer, but a good speaker, a most comfortable-looking African woman, of +very dark hue, entered to receive the orders of her mistress. She +desired to know, as it soon appeared, some particulars concerning the +approaching meal; and also to receive some orders which pertained to the +room I was to occupy. The good mistress then stepped aside and drew near +to the swarthy domestic. To my surprise, the lady dropped her voice to a +good undertone, and gave her directions, as it were, "aside." She is one +of those deaf persons, I said to myself, who can understand what others, +with whom they are familiar, have to say when they see the motion of +their lips. I once met with a man who had this singular gift. He +possessed it to such an extent, that strangers, who conversed with him, +never knew that he did not hear a word which they spoke. Yet what could +I do now! I was compelled to hear what was said. How strange it was, +that the good lady overlooked the fact, that I must hear all that could +be heard by Dinah. And this Dinah was now informed what set of china +should be placed on the table for my special benefit. From what she +hinted, I inferred, that there was some special honor in this +arrangement; as it proved to her that the Holemans, who took tea with +them the night before, having made use of a decidedly inferior service, +were some grades less respectable than myself--though the mistress, when +the insinuation was made, peremptorily declared, that the aforesaid +Holemans were very worthy people, and should always be treated with +great respect, as valued friends, in her house. An occasion was also +taken, on the mention of the white and gold china, to administer a +cutting reproof to Mrs. Dinah, for a nick in the spout of the +tea-pot,--which circumstantial evidence, clearly and hastily summed up, +proved to be the result of carelessness in the kitchen. To this attack, +Dinah, as I must honestly testify, made persistent defense, and gave +some most curious rebutting testimony. And I am also under obligation to +state, that even when most excited by the charge, she never even made +the most distant allusion, to the possibility that the cat had anything +to do with this domestic calamity. Such was the honor of the kitchen in +the good old times. I also learned, incidentally, some curious +information concerning the comparative ages of some chickens, which had +lately been cooped up and fattened. + +I gleaned besides, some antiquarian lore concerning a venerated +"comfortable," that was intended for my bed,--and a hint that some +portion of its variegated lining had been the valued dress of a +grandmother, worn by her on some memorable occasion,--a proud record in +the family history. Some very particular directions were also given for +my comfort, so that my ideas on the art of house-keeping, were greatly +expanded; and I was ready to look on each lady, who ruleth over a house, +as a minute philosopher. + +Dinah was also informed, that she was forbidden to act on a speculative +principle, which she advanced, with great assurance; namely, that +bachelors did not see, or know anything; that it was only married men +who did; being set up to it by their wives, who made a mighty fuss in +another house, when all the time they knew things wasn't as tidy at +home. She was told not to act on any such miserable sophistry--that +things were to be done right, and kept right--no matter whether any one +noticed them, or not. In the course of conversation, my having come from +New York was the subject of an allusion; whereupon the dark woman +slipped in the observation, that she did wish she could get to that +place, for she "was afraid that she should die, and have nothing to +tell." + +After all this important business was transacted, there was a hasty, and +sudden digression for a moment, in the shape of a kind inquiry into the +present state of the health of the hopeful heir of the said Dinah, who +was spending the chief portion of his days in a cradle. I was, I must +confess it, very much astonished to learn, from the reply and +descriptions of the mother, that there is such a wonderful sympathy, +between the teeth which are trying to make their way into the world, and +the mechanism of a juvenile which is concealed from human sight in his +body. It seemed to me a marvellous proof of the manner in which such +little creatures maintain their hold on life, that he could possibly +have endured such astonishing internal pains; and, also, that all the +world ought to know the sovereign virtues of an elixir, which was +compounded at Overlook House. Its virtues, unlike the novel devices that +are palmed on the public with such pretentious certificates, have been +tested by the infants of several generations. + +All cabinet meetings must have an end. So Dinah disappeared, after a +furtive glance at my person; drawing her conclusions, I am assured, +whether I would be a suitable husband for Miss Meta. + +Soon after the hall door opened, and this young lady entered. Her mother +introduced me to her in the same high pitch of voice, in which she +conducted her conversation with strangers. + +She said a few kind and pleasant words to me; and with a voice raised to +an imitation of the maternal precedent, though without the loss of its +indescribable sweetness. She was evidently anxious, that her mother +should feel, that she was to be a party in our brief conversation. + +As I looked at her, I thought that a sweeter, more etherial form, a face +more radiant with affections pure as the air over the snow, an eye to +rest on you, as if it said, that every one on whom it fell was a new +object for sympathy, had never met my view, and I thought then, and +think now the more confidently, that I have made a good use of my eyes +during my pilgrimage in the world. After the interchange of the few +words to which I have alluded, she was about leaving us; but before she +reached the door, her mother called to her, and arrested her steps. The +good lady addressed her, in the same low tones in which she had formerly +conversed with Dinah. + +As I looked at her again, I felt that I repressed the exhibition of +signs of unrestrained admiration. She seemed, indeed, as if she had +grown up in the midst of the beauty of the natural world, and had been +moulded to a conformity with all that we witness of grace in the field, +or in the forest. The mother spoke in a manner half playful, half +serious. "So Miss Meta this is the old way. You expected the arrival of +this young gentleman, quiet, good-looking, evidently a person of good +sense, and your father says, of most estimable character. And there you +have on your old shawl, your old bonnet, and your hair blown about in +the wind as if it had never had a brush applied to it. You are so +careless about your appearance! You know that I have often spoken to you +on the subject. And yet, on the most important occasions, you neglect +all my advice. You will be laid upon the shelf yet. You will die an old +maid. But do not blame me. Do go, and brush your hair, and put on +another frock, and make yourself presentable. And after that, go and see +that Dinah arranges everything right. I will give you credit for order, +and expertness as a house-keeper. Old maids, however, are often very +good house-keepers. So go, and do as I tell you. I don't mean to say +that you are a dowdy, but I want to see you more particular." + +"My revered mother," said Meta, with a most grave inclination of the +head, and with a slight pomp of declamation, "your will is law. My +dress, for the next two or three weeks, shall be a grand deceit, as if +it was my habit to be as particular as the young Quakeress, who once +visited us, and who was as exact in arranging her robes, as the snow is, +in taking care, that there shall be grace in its unblemished drifts. I +intend, in fact, to be irresistible. Henceforth let all young men, +quiet, respectable, who have not cross eyes, and who fascinate a mother, +and give occasion to all her sanguine hopes of matrimonial felicity for +a daughter, beware of Meta. They are as sure of being captives, as the +poor little rabbits I so pity, when once they unwisely venture, to +nibble at the bait in one of Peter's celebrated traps. So, best of +mothers, forgive the past. Wisest of counsellors, for a brief space, +farewell." + +After the retreat of the daughter silence endured for a little while, +while I walked to the window, and enjoyed the extensive and beautiful +view. The residence of the Judge was on a hill, overlooking a +picturesque village, and hence the name of the mansion which in time +dispelled a very ugly name, from the small town, and gave its own +designation to the place--the name of such a collection of dwellings +generally becoming permanent when the post-office is established in its +limits. After this I was engaged in the survey of some fine old plates +upon the wall, and the picture of a portly old gentleman, whose dress +indicated that he had lived in the olden time. I was seeking to find +some clue to his character and history in his face, when Mrs. Almore +rose, and crossed the room and joined me. + +It was evident that the picture was too important for me to look upon it +and not know what was due of admiration for him, of whom this uncertain +resemblance was all that remained on earth,--the frail shadow of a +shadow. I saw at once that she had a formidable history to relate, and +that she had often told it to those who gazed on the form on the wall. I +suspected that some family pride was gratified by the narrative; and +prepared myself for some harmless amusement, as I was to watch and +observe how the vanity would expose itself. But she had not got beyond +some dry statistics, the name, the age, the offices held in the State in +the good olden time, when such honors were always a pledge of merit in +the possessors, before the Judge entered the room, without our observing +it. He drew near, heard for a moment, with the greatest astonishment, +the loud tones of the lady, who now addressed me. + +He extended his hand to me, with very kind, but dignified, courtesy, +and, after giving the assurance that I was most truly welcome on my own +account, and for the sake of my father, who had been a fellow-student +with him at Princeton College, and almost a life-long friend, he turned +to the lady by us, his honored wife, and exclaimed,-- + +"My dear, I heard your elevated voice outside of the house, and in the +extreme end of the hall. You really alarmed me. At first I could not +imagine what had occurred in the room. Why do you speak in such tones of +thunder to my young friend? Is this a new style of hospitality for +Overlook-House?" + +"You told me that our guest, Mr. Martin, was deaf." So spoke the good +hostess, with a look of frightened inquiry, a perturbed glance at +myself,--with a countenance that expressed a desire for relief,--while +her tone was expressive of a great misgiving. + +"I beg your pardon," said the Judge; "you are under an entire mistake. I +told you that he wrote to me, some time ago, that he had met with an +accident and become very lame. But when I told you this I remember that +you were very much abstracted. I presume that you were deeply absorbed +in some new order for your household, or in the state of Dinah's noisy +heir. I never heard that Mr. Martin was deaf for a moment in his life. I +told you that he was lame." + +"Are you sure--are you sure that he is not deaf?" + +"I am sure that he hears as well as either of us. And,--at least as far +as you are concerned, that is to say that he could not have a better +sense of hearing. He might possibly, it is true, be abstracted, when +any one spoke to him, and imagine that he said 'deaf,' when in reality +the speaker said 'lame.'" + +"Dear me! my future peace is destroyed. It is worse than if a ghost +intended perpetually to haunt me--for the ghost would come only in the +dark; but this disaster will torture me day and night. I have buried +myself under a mass of ruins from which I cannot extricate myself." And +the lady looked as if an anaconda was threatening to creep in among us. + +"I am sure that Mr. Martin will forgive you. He has only been annoyed by +a loud conversation for a short time. It will be a pleasing variety to +hear you address him in a gentle voice. Since he had such evidence of +the pains you have taken to entertain him when you thought him deaf, he +is assured that you will not change your desire to make him feel at home +and to know that he is among friends, now that you hear so well." + +"Judge, you have no sympathy. You should have taken care that I did not +fall into such a terrible mistake. I often notice that you speak to me, +and turn and go away, as if you never watched to observe whether I +understood you or no. I have often felt it, Judge, often felt +it,--although I kept my feelings on the subject to myself. And now you +see the consequences. You see where you have landed me. And I am the one +to suffer all the evil that results from such indifference. What shall +I do? Here is Meta. Meta, what shall I do? Mr. Martin is not at all +deaf. Somehow, your father did not impress what he said on my mind. I am +sure that this is not the first time that I have misunderstood him, and +I never have any desire to fall into error. People that are so accurate +and so careful as he is, not to be guilty of any mistake in their +professional duties, so accurate as they say he is when on the bench, +are often careless of smaller matters at home. Meta, Mr. Martin can +hear. My dear, he can hear as well as you or I." + +"Let me, my dear mother, enter into your Christian joy, now that your +sorrow over his supposed affliction is relieved. You know that it is an +unmingled pleasure to you to learn that he is not afflicted with so +great a calamity as you supposed." + +"Very well, Meta." + +"And then, mother, as far as I am involved in the consequences of your +mistake, he knows that I appear in my present fascinations; see my +smooth hair, and this frock almost new, not in my own will, or in +accordance with my usual habits, but solely from a sense of filial duty. +I am so charming, because of my reverential regard for the injunctions +of my mother." + +"Meta, can you never be still?" + +"And then, mother, if there be a little art in my dress, if snares lurk +around me to secure those who come near me, this does not proceed, in +the least possible degree, from any guile in me. It is the mere +expression of the anxiety of a mother that her daughter should not +attain the condition of some of the best people on the earth. I allude +to a class of my sex who are ignorantly, I will not say uncharitably, +supposed to make the world uncomfortable through their inflexible +devotion to minor morals." + +"Meta, unless you are silent I shall have to leave the room." + +"Well, mother, then I am mute. How fortunate it was that I was the only +person with whom you conversed in the hearing of Mr. Martin!" + +"Meta, you drive me mad. I did have another conversation, which he +heard." + +"Oh, do tell us! What happened? It could not have been as interesting to +him as the one which you held with me. I shall not use my brush for some +time without thinking about it. Do tell us. As Nancy often says, I am +dying to hear all about it." + +"Oh," said I, "Miss. Meta, all that your mother said was of no +importance. She cannot care, when she reflects upon it, whether I heard +it or no." + +"But, Mr. Martin, then tell us what she said. It put my father and +myself under a lasting obligation." + +"Mr. Martin can be more considerate than you are." + +"Yes, madam, because he has heard all. I will be as considerate as you +please, if I can only acquire the same information. Well, walls have +ears. And if ever walls heard anything, I am sure ours have heard +to-day. They will speak in due time. Father, who has been in the room +with mother since Mr. Martin arrived? I must ask Ben." + +"Meta, I take my departure. If nothing is heard of me to-day or +to-morrow, search the mill-pond. Oh, what a difference there is between +being lame, or deaf! I cannot forgive your father. Really, he ought to +be more cautious. I cannot forgive him." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THE CHRISTMAS LOG IN THE KITCHEN._ + + +The day after my arrival, Miss Meta and I were returning home, after we +had driven several miles over the country in a sleigh. Our nearest +conception of the ecstasy of those who shall hereafter have wings, with +which they can fly over earth and sea, on a bright morning, racing with +the larks, or some ambitious hawk, or, on some most fortunate hour, even +with the eagle, is attained when we glide thus over the snow. But far +above all the other pleasure of the time, was the sweet companionship of +her whose laugh was merrier than the bells, which Caesar had hung around +the horses with a profuse generosity. I have wondered at the mysterious +manner in which some of the loveliest beings with which God enriches +this earth are developed before our view, on occasions when we might +expect that we should obtain the least insight into their character. + +How is it that the ineffable purity of a woman, her depth of affection, +her capacity for sympathy, which even in its lesser degrees renders her +such a blessing in a world of so much trial, can, in some instances of +great perfection, appear with such evidence in a few words, in an act +which requires but little self-denial, in a tone of sorrow for small +suffering, or of joy for some one who is happy! There are some men in +whom you place perfect confidence as soon as you once behold the eye +kindled with an earnest expression, and hear their voice. After all the +disappointments one endures in life from misplaced trust one may freely +confess that if we have spent many years on the earth, and at last say +in our hearts there are none in whose professions we can repose, the +fault is in ourselves. We judge ourselves to be true men, and we cannot +be a miracle, standing alone as such, amid all the rest of the human +family. But if we can assuredly pronounce of some men that they are +worthy of our utmost confidence as soon as we become acquainted with +them, much more can we confide in our impressions, thus quickly formed, +of some of the gentler portion of our race. How many years have passed +since I formed my first impressions of Meta! and how true they were! +Quickly, inaudible prophecies, in their silence arresting your mind and +eliciting homage, were made known in her presence, and gave promise of +endless charities to adorn her daily life. There was an imperious +necessity in her noble nature, elevated as no power of earth could +accomplish, to perform with strict exactness even the least duties, as +one who heard him say that the least of his commandments can by its +observance aid us to the attainment of the true life. + +An enthusiast might have said that her very laugh was too pure for +earth. All pure influences, too good for us, are needed by our +necessities. It is well for earth that we have not only those among us +who, though not criminal in human estimate, are of the earth earthy, and +of whom the world is worthy. Her joy always proclaimed the freedom given +the blest here below, and that it never could subvert the deep gravity +of her nature--as the bark that moves so gaily in the sun and wind, by a +sudden check reminds us that it cannot drift into danger, but is secure; +for the hidden anchor holds in its just bounds. + +We had crossed a stream upon the ice, and were now ascending the hill +from whose summit we could see Overlook-House in the distance. The great +forest was on either side of the way. Suddenly we espied three men +holding a consultation over an immense log. It had just been severed +from a huge tree, which the saw and axe had laid low, the great branches +sweeping the snow as they came crushing down into heaps, and here and +there revealing the dead leaves and the wintry grass. + +Near them stood--models of patience--four oxen, looking as if the cold +air could never discompose them, and attached to a sled whose strong +runners seemed to defy any weight that could be heaped upon them. I +recognized the men as servants belonging on the estate of the Judge. +They were negroes, slaves,--slaves in name, awaiting a near year of +emancipation fixed by the law of the State. They were perfectly aware +that they could have their freedom at any time from their +master,--freedom in name; for they now possessed it in reality. + +Nothing could be more comfortable than their general appearance. Their +dress was warm, and such as any laboring man could desire. At the +present moment their happiness seemed perfect. They surrounded the log +with an exhibition of exuberant animal spirits, with transport in such +excess that it never could have been crowded into the frame of a white +man. + +As we drew near, one was demanding attention, in a most triumphant +manner, to sundry vast knots which protruded from the log. Then the trio +made the wood ring with shouts of merriment, and threw themselves into +inimitable contortions. + +"What causes all this excitement?" I asked. "Why should that log cause +all the effect which the greatest wit could hope to produce?" "They are +preparing," was the answer, "a back-log for the kitchen chimney. It is +to be put in the fire-place this evening, the night before Christmas, +after all the fire has burnt down required for an evening meal. As long +as any portion of it lasts, they have holiday. In winter they have so +little to do, that it would puzzle them to say what change the holiday +makes in their labor. Their imagination acts on a traditionary custom. +Hence they take it for granted that they have an easier time than in the +month before or after. They go into the wood and select the largest tree +and the one which can afford the log most likely to last. Before they +retire to rest, they take great care to arrange the brands and coals so +that it shall not burn during the night. They often throw water upon it +when it seems to burn too rapidly. And as to their wisdom, I think that +on the present occasion they have made an admirable choice." + +We now drew near, and spoke to the Africans. They eagerly called the +attention of their young mistress to the wonderful qualities of the +severed trunk. Assertions were made concerning fabulous quantities of +buckwheat-cakes, that would be eaten before that vast cylinder would be +reduced to ashes. There was not the slightest idea that any member of +the family of the Judge would feel the least interest different from +their own. In fact they felt that all joined them in their conspiracy +against--they knew not what,--a conspiracy for some great imaginable +benefit unknown. + +"You had better hasten," I said, observing their oblivion as to the work +before them; "for the sun is sinking, and the night will soon be upon +us. There is no moon to-night." + +"Master," said one, "what is the reason why the moon always shines on +bright nights, when we do not want him, and not on dark nights, when we +can't see where we go?" + +Happily, before I could summon my philosophical knowledge for practical +use, and deliver then and there, from my oracular sleigh, a lecture +which would do honor to my Alma Mater, while I, in a lucid manner, +removed the perplexity of my inquirer, he was called away to make +diligent use of one of the great levers provided for the occasion. The +rolling of the log on the sled was hard work,--so hard that I gave Meta +the reins, and volunteered my assistance. I did well as to the physical +application of power. Yet I found these men, in this instance, possessed +of more practical natural philosophy than myself. The toil was seasoned +with much wit,--that is to say, wit if the laughter was to be the test. +And there is no epicure who can exceed the African in enjoyment when he +is feasting on his own witticisms. + +Meta told me that I must by all means be a witness to the process of +rolling the log on the kitchen hearth. So we led the way home, our fleet +horses leaving the oxen, with their vast and important load, far behind +us. On our arrival home, we found the wife of the doctor, with the Judge +and his good lady. She was a pleasant person, and added to the +conversation of the evening the remarks of an acute and cultivated mind. +She had one protruding weakness. It was her pride in her family, which +was a very respectable one in the part of the country from which she +came. She had been educated in the idea, that they were the greatest +people in the world,--a wide-spread delusion in the land. This led her +to assure me, at least a dozen times in the evening that her family were +very "peculiar." "This tea very fine! Yes, it is remarkably good. I am +sure that it cannot be excelled. And I must say to you, that my family +are very peculiar. They are very peculiar in their fondness for +excellent tea." + +"The Judge's family not exclusive! No; certainly they are very much +beloved, and, mingling with others, have done great good to our +community. But I must say that my family are, perhaps, too exclusive. +They are peculiar, very peculiar. They do not like to associate with +uncongenial persons." + +"What a grand Christmas fire! Well I suppose I inherit the love of such +a blaze. How cheerful it is! Well my family are peculiar, very peculiar; +they always like to have a cheerful, a good warm fire. They are +peculiar." So "peculiar" I soon discovered meant that they were very +remarkable, very distinguished people. It was to be supposed that all +that they did, indicated that they were made of clay finer than all the +rest used in the formation of other people. Common things touched by +their hands became gilded and refined. Wherever they were, there was a +pyramid above the common elevation, and on its summit was their +appropriate place. Was the doctor on that platform? Or was he only +holding to it by his elbows and yet with his feet far above the earth on +which common men had their place where they could stand? + +With the exception of this folly the lady was, as I have said, an +acquisition to our evening party. She was evidently one who had a kind +heart, and devotedly attached to her Lord and Master. In after days I +found her to be one of my most valued friends and advisers. As respects +their ability to become such true friends, an ability which truly +ennobles man, I have no doubt that her family were peculiar, very +peculiar indeed. + +The evening was quickly passing away when we were summoned, according to +the order which Meta had given, to the wing of the house where was the +kitchen, that we might see the great log rolled into the fire-place. The +kitchen was a very large room, such as were built of old by prosperous +settlers in our land, when they had acquired enough of this world's +goods, to make such additions to the log cabin in which they began their +farming life, as they in their full ambition of space could desire. + +How often are the dwelling-houses in our country a curious history of +the gradual increase of a family in prosperity! + +The kitchen of the Judge was evidently designed by a frontier architect, +as a great hall of refuge for a large family. The windows were planned +when there need not be loop-holes where Indians prowled around, and +might need the admonition of a rifle-ball to teach them to keep at a +respectful distance. The glasses in them were small, and the pieces of +wood in which they were inserted would have been strong enough for the +rounds of a ladder. There was room for all things. One could churn, +another spin, another mend a net; children could find appropriate nooks +where they could con the spelling-book and study the multiplication +table in times when the rod was not spared; neighbors making a friendly +call could find a vacant space where they could sit and partake of cider +and homely cakes, and if they had any special business, which a citizen +would settle in two minutes, could spend an hour in preliminaries of a +very vague kind, in generalities not glittering, and coming to the +subject, only when they were farthest from it, and all could be +transacted without any one being in the least degree incommoded. + +One of the prominent objects in the kitchen at Overlook-House was the +rafters above you. The ceiling was resting upon them, in the form of +thick boards, which were the floor of the rooms above. From these guns +were suspended on wooden forks, just as they were cut from the tree and +stripped of their bark. Fishing rods were hung there in the same manner. +In some places parcels of dried herbs were tied to large nails driven +into the timbers. Here and there a board was nailed to the rafters, +forming a shelf. On one side of the room was a great bench with a board +back much higher than the head of any person who could sit upon +it,--which back by an ingenious device could be let down and make a +table,--the rude sofa beneath answering for solid legs. + +Near this useful combination was a box on rockers--as a cradle. There +lay the heir of Dinah. Its little dark head on the white pillow was like +a large blackberry, could it have existed out of its season and fallen +on the pure snow. Dinah, who was near it, was a character. Her sayings +were memorable. One day she was speaking of a bad man who had found his +way for a brief season to Overlook, and said in a state of great +indignation, for he had cheated the people by some act of bare-faced +villany, "Master, if the devil doesn't get that man I want any of the +folks to tell me what is the use of having a devil?" + +But the most singular portion of the room was the great fire-place and +the arrangements connected with it. It was a structure perfectly +enormous, and the stones required for its erection must have made a +large opening in the quarry. It was deep and high. An ox could easily +have been roasted whole before it. Over it was a shelf which no one in +these degenerate days could reach. On either side were two small +closets,--made in the deep wall,--the door of each being made from a +wide plank, and secured by a large wooden button. In the back of the +fire-place, on one side of it, was the door of a great oven,--rivalling +in size, I presume, the tomb of the ancient grandee in the east--where +the traveler slept, perhaps on some of the very dust of the proud man +who gloried in the expectation of a kingly sepulchre. On either side of +the room on a line with the vast fire-place were two doors opening into +the air, and exactly opposite to each other. The broad hearth extended +from door to door, being flagged with large smooth stones. Each door was +framed of heavy oaken timber,--the boards in consequence of the depths +of the frame being sunk as deep panels. Each had a heavy wooden latch, +and a vast curved piece of wood was the handle by which it was to be +opened. + +On the great pavement in front of the fire-place stood Caesar, a man +with a frame finely developed. His twin brother Pompey dwelt on an +adjoining farm,--so resembling him as one of the colored people said +that you could "scarcely tell them apart, they were so like one another, +especially Pomp." He had a rough coat thrown over him,--a fur-cap on his +head, and he held in one hand an iron chain that trailed on the stone +hearth and in the other a lantern emitting a blaze of light. + +When we were all in our places Caesar directed one of the boys to open +the door on the right hand. There on the snow revealed by the light of +his lantern, was the famous log on a line parallel with the stone paving +that crossed the end of the room. Around this log, he with the help of +the boy fastened the iron chain, securing it with a spike partially +driven into the wood with a heavy hammer. The door on the left was then +thrown open, and we saw by the lights borne by several of the laborers, +that the oxen which had drawn the great segment of the trunk from the +forest were standing there upon the snow waiting to complete their labor +for the evening. The long chain extending across the whole width of the +room was drawn through the door and fastened to the yokes of the oxen. + +Then came the chief excitement of the time. A quantity of snow was +thrown down at the entrance where the log lay in ponderous quiet, and +beaten down with spades and the heavy boots of the men. All were now +directed to stand some distance from the chain for fear of any accident. +Then Caesar gave the order. There was a sudden movement without. The +words of command which oxen are supposed to know, were spoken to put +them in motion. There was a loud snapping of whips. The chain was heaved +in the air and rose and fell. The huge log was drawn forward. It passed +the door and glided along on the stone pavement, like a great ship +moving through the water after its sails have suddenly been lowered, and +it proceeds by its acquired impulse. When it had reached the front of +the vast aperture where it was to be slowly consumed, Caesar gave his +prompt order. It was immediately obeyed, and the oxen were brought to a +pause in their exertions. It was evident from the absence of explanation +to those without, and from the perfect composure of the master of the +ceremony, that similar scenes were of frequent occurrence. + +The chain being removed and the oxen led away, the log was rolled by the +application of the levers to its place. There it lay, the crushed snow +melting and falling on the hot hearth, the singing sound of the steam +rising from the stones. + +So there was the measure of the fancied increase of freedom from labor +during the Christmas season. Nothing now remained but the gathering of +all the household to the evening devotions. The Judge read the +Scriptures, and after the singing of a hymn offered up the prayers. +There was an indescribable reality in the attention, and a fervor in the +kneeling church in the house. It led you to reflect how One who came +down from above and took our nature upon him has taught man how to make +his life on earth the dawn of an eternal day. I had felt the presence of +God in the shades of the great mountain forest during past hours. But +here in the stillness of this evening worship, as the light of the +Redeemer revealed the grandeur of all that is immortal in men, of all +that stands ever so near the portal of endless glory, as all earthly +distinctions faded away among those who to the eye of faith, were now +the sons of God,--distinctions overlooked at this hour, as the last +fragment of the moulted plumage is unknown to the eagle soaring in its +strength, no words could better express the sentiment of the time than +those noble ones of old,--"This is none other than the house of God; +this is the gate of heaven." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_HOW THE OVERLOOK PAPERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN._ + + +"I believe," said the Judge one morning shortly after my arrival, "that +I must supply you with pen and paper, and assign to you a task." + +"What can I do? Tell me how to be useful." + +"Do not offer too hastily. Let me inform you of a custom which is +observed here like the laws of the Medes and Persians. + +"All our guests, at our festival seasons, and I hope that whenever it +can be in your power you will be present, are most seriously enjoined to +bring with them a contribution to our Overlook Papers. From each is +demanded a story, a poem, or an essay. In the evening these are read. +And indeed, I require from each of my friends who receives an +invitation, if he cannot accept it, still to transmit his paper. + +"These or copies of them are preserved in the huge book-case in the +library. We sometimes draw upon the old collection, and it is pleasant +to revive the old associations as they are again read to a happy circle. +I ought to have sent you word, and told you to prepare your paper. It +is an unusual thing for me to be guilty of such an omission. As I have +been negligent I must now enjoin you to prepare to do your part with the +others." + +"My dear sir, has ever any guest written a paper after his arrival +here?" + +"Come! come! I have never asked any guest to do it after he came, who +could probably accomplish it more easily than yourself." + +"What shall I write?" + +"Whatever you please. A Poem if you will." + +"I might make the attempt. But will poetry come 'under compulsion?' +Surely not 'under compulsion.' Shall I cudgel my brains? Will Pegasus go +at my will when I smite him with my staff? How long might I sit here, +the image of despair, and what despair on monumental marble, as desolate +as the poet with fixed eye, unable to indite a line? How long might I be +like the hopeless bird--all promise, but not one unfolded gleam of +beauty? In this free air am I to find the poetic pressure of a prison? +In this old cheerful home, a poet's garret? With your abundant and +hospitable board before me, can I write as famous men of old, when they +wanted a dinner? Am I to sit here, as one has said, waiting for +inspiration as a rusty conductor for a flash of lightning? My dear sir, +I surely can plead exemption. Let me come here, if we live, next +Christmas season or at the early spring or autumnal gathering. I will +provide two if you please. If the first should weary, then the circle +can hope that I have kept the best for the last." + +"I do not think that it will answer for one to be a hearer who has no +paper of his own. So let me insist on your compliance." + +"Well sir, if you insist on it, I must see what I can do. Would you +object to my producing a poem already published by me in a New York +paper?" + +"I am sorry to say that would not be in accordance with our rules. The +piece must be composed for our social gathering." + +"Well I must then make the attempt. I would weave a short romance out of +some story I have heard in my travels. But I am always afraid of the sad +being who, searching to the fag-end of memory says, after hearing you, +and approving, let me see, I have heard that, or something like it, +before! I once learned a lesson and received a nervous shock which +easily returns, as I was about to address a meeting, and under a sudden +impression asked the most knowing inhabitant of the village, 'Did any of +the speakers who have addressed you ever tell such a story?' 'Oh! yes,' +said he, with sudden alarm, 'Every one who has been here has told that +story.' Yet that was my main stay, argument, illustration, eloquence. I +had to do the best I could without it. Since then I am in a trepidation +lest I fall into the pit from which I kept my feet at that time." + +"Well so much the better. Such caution will insure variety." + +"Do not be too sure of that. Excessive care often leads us to the very +errors it would avoid." + +So our conversation closed. The paper was written and read. I looked +some time ago in vain for my piece among the Overlook papers. Strange to +say, it was not there. I saw the Judge originally endorse it and tie it +up in the collection. Meta told me when I expressed my surprise that the +document was missing, that she must confess that when she was younger +and more silly, and had her taste less cultivated, she took it one day, +after I had left her father's, secretly from the pile. Regarding it as +of such small consequence, she had not put it back in its place; and as +it was also particularly weak in having a few sentences evidently meant +for her to understand as no one else could. She will find it, she says, +when she next examines her old papers and letters. And she assures me +that it must be safe, because the old house would not trouble itself to +destroy it; the Overlook moths would not dare to touch it, and that it +is destined to outlive its author, even if he had brass enough in him to +make a monument. + + + + +I. + +_DR. BENSON, OR THE LIVING MAN EMBALMED FOR TWENTY YEARS._ + + +The United States is the oldest country in the world. Many of its +institutions are of a venerable antiquity which cast those of Europe +into the shade. By their side those of Great Britain, France and Germany +seem but of yesterday. The honest impressions of each man substantiate +these assertions so clearly that all argument on the subject would be as +great a work of supererogation as that of carrying shade to a forest. +Ages, countless ages, as all reflecting men are aware, have been +requisite for the development of man into the highest type of +civilization. Not less, it is obvious, than five thousand years could +elevate any human being into a genuine Yankee. Such an immense space of +time must have elapsed before man, passing through each primeval epoch, +could have worn away on Plymouth Rock the caudal appendages that impeded +the progress of humanity. + +We have such remarkable institutions among us, such progressive +theorists upon all possible subjects, that the foundations of our +cities must have been laid simultaneously with those of the Pyramids. + +A like conviction arises as we compare our accomplished financiers who +can raise up in any plain, mountains of gold, and turn little streams of +promise into seas of bank notes, with the Indian magician whose alchemy +transmuted mutterings and strange figures in the ashes into comfortable +fires, venison, bear's meat, and a variety of comforts for his +terror-striking wigwam. Are there not noted streets in our cities where +some men have discovered the philosopher's stone? + +And then look on the systems of our modern politics. Each man can see +what glacier periods have been over the land, what thickness of ice +impenetrable to pure rays from above, melted from beneath, ice which has +ground down to dust the ancient heights of honor, of modest nature +distrusting itself. Yes, we are the oldest people in the wide world. + +Even the little village where my history directs our attention has one +savor of dignified antiquity. It has had a long series of names in no +rapid succession. Our antiquarians have not paid sufficient attention to +this subject of the succession of such names borne by our villages and +towns. One cause is our nervous apprehension, that such a study will +reveal a former state of society which people of strong prejudice may +not mention to our honor. Citizens who have long purses acquired in the +sale of farms divided into town lots, who have highly educated and +refined children, do not wish any one to contradict them while they +intimate their illustrious descent, by saying that they remember when +their father or grandfather dwelt at Scrabbletown, Blackeye or +Hardcorner. The honest truth is that these names of these rural towns do +indicate the transmigration of the souls of the places into different +social forms. They often tell of the original solitude, the cluster of +poor dwellings of men a little above the Indian, of small taverns +springing up as the devil has sown the seed, of the free-fights, of the +loose stones in the roads, the mud immeasurably deep, of the reformation +with the advent of the itinerant preacher, of the church, of the +school-house, of the rapid progress in general prosperity. In place of +yielding to the seductive influence of the disquisition which offers +itself to my toil, I shall consider it sufficient to say of our village +that it was honored by becoming the residence of Dr. Benson. It is +sufficient for me to inform my reader that at the time when my history +commences his fame and occupation gave the title to the place. Indeed, +in his honor it bore successively the names of Pill-Town, and Mortar and +Pestle city. + +His general history was not one that is uncommon in our land. Many a man +of small education, but who has had a natural turn for the study of +simple means for the cure of ordinary diseases in a country +neighborhood has acquired considerable skill, and done more good, and +far less evil, than could have been anticipated. In fact the ignorant +often lean on such a man with special confidence. They prefer his +services to those of the well-taught and meritorious physician. For they +think it easily explicable, that the learned doctor should often cure +the diseased. Books have taught him what medicines are needful for those +who are sick. But around the quack there is a delightful cloud of +mystery. His genius was surely born with him. He has stumbled on his +remedies by some almost supernatural accident. And then there is the +exciting and most pleasant doubt whether he has not had some dealings +with the devil. You have moreover this advantage, that you acquire all +the benefit of his compact with the evil one, without any guilt on your +part. All that is evil lies on the head of the practitioner. + +How noble the calling of the true physician! What more need we say of +his office than that in every sick-room he can look to the Redeemer, and +feel that he employs him to do, what he was continually doing by his own +words when he was on the earth? "Without the power of miracles,"--I +quote from memory words that fell from the lips of one very dear to me +whose voice is no more heard on earth, and I fear I mar the +sentence,--"Without the power of miracles, he goes about doing good, the +blessed shadow of our Lord; and by him God gives sight to the blind, +hearing to the deaf, enables the lame to walk and raises up those almost +fallen into the sleep of death." + +As I write, the manly form of our family physician, the form that we +laid in the grave a few years ago, rises before me. Oh! what +unselfishness, what high sense of honor and professional duty, what +compassion for human infirmities, what a grand and enduring perception +of the brotherhood of man, of the one family of rich and poor, learned +and ignorant, didst thou then learn, our dear kind friend, in thy +innumerable ministrations! Literary men have too often indulged in cheap +humor at the cost of the physician. It is easy to caricature anything +grand and sacred. It is easy to cure in the pages of the novel the sick +man who plays his pranks at the expense of the doctor, and eats his +meat, and drinks his wine when the medical advice assures him that he +must fast or die. Just imagine one of these literati to send for his +physician in haste. + +"Doctor," he exclaims, "it is well you have come! Do give me some +relief." + +"Wait a moment," exclaims the physician! "I have something to read to +you." + +"Read to me, doctor! Why I am ill,--alarmed. Depend upon it, I am very +sick. Prescribe for me at once." + +"Prescribe for you! Why hear what you wrote concerning physicians. If +they are what you describe, you should never ask them to come near your +sick bed." + +"But I wrote only in jest. I described the pretender." + +"No, my dear sir, your assault is without limitation. Your attack is +against all men of my profession. Your words were adapted to aid the +ignorant popular prejudice against our art. I will read to you." + +I cannot but think that, in such a case, there are not a few writers of +light literature, who would be forced to perceive the meanness of their +assault on a noble profession. + +Our hero commenced his public career in a blacksmith's shop, where he +gave assistance in the useful work done by his master on the anvil. +There he displayed a curious talent for healing the diseases of the +horses, which the farmers brought to the place. This gave him some +notoriety. And he never was sent for to heal as a veterinary doctor, on +any occasion, when he did not have the confidence of a man whose eyes +pierced far through the skin, and saw the secret causes of disease. + +A change in his fortunes occurred, when a skilful physician, who fled +from France in a time of great political trouble, came to reside in his +neighborhood. All the spare time that our hero could command he spent in +serving him in his fishing excursions--rowing his boat for him, and +pointing out the best places where he could cast his hook--an act that +seemed to be his best solace as an exile. The good stream or lake that +well repaid his skill and patience in the use of his rod, was almost to +him for a season, a Lethe between him and beautiful France. + +The amiable Frenchman was not destined long to endure any sorrows on our +soil. At his death, Benson became the possessor of his few books, his +few surgical instruments and some curious preparations. He rented a +small house near the blacksmith's shop and tavern, and placed his books, +the instruments, some strange bones, a curious stuffed animal, and some +jars and bottles prominently in the window. He also had some +unaccountable grandeur of scientific words, understood by all to be +French--a public supposition in evidence of his having been a favorite +pupil of the doctor. And then, as he was a capital fellow at a drink, it +is no marvel that he acquired practice with rapidity. And as money +flowed into his pocket, unhappily the whisky, in a proportionate manner, +flowed down his throat. But as he had an established reputation, he of +course received the compliment: "I would rather have Benson to cure me +if he was drunk than to have any other doctor to cure me if he was +sober." Such was the confidence of the men of Pill-Town in his skill. + +Oftentimes when his brain was excited by his potations, he would wander +off into the woods and seek roots and plants, talking to himself in +strange words, and bent, apparently, on some great discovery. He began +to throw out vague hints to some of his companions that he knew of some +strange secret, and could perform a work more wonderful than he had ever +before done in all his practice. But as his associates never dreamed +that any one would make experiments on the bodies of men, and as his +talk of philosophy seemed to be in the clouds, they, more akin to the +clods of earth, heard him with blank minds, so that when he had done +talking, there was no more impression left, than the shadows of passing +birds left on their fields. + +Once as he sat with a friend over a bottle of famous whisky, which is +your true leveler, placing the man of science on a level with the +ignorant boor, he gave him a full account of a singular adventure which +he had with an Indian physician. It was a peculiarity of the doctor that +his memory and power of narration increased, as he imbibed increasing +quantities of his primitive beverage. He said that he had wandered away +from home one fine morning, and been lost in the distant forest. He +became very weary and fell asleep. His slumbers were broken by some +sounds that were near to him, and looking through the bushes he saw a +majestic Indian who was searching with great diligence for some roots, +whose use he had imagined no man knew but himself. The doctor said that +he rose, and approaching him with due professional dignity, informed him +that he supposed he was one of the medical fraternity. His natural +conjecture proved to be very correct. They soon became very sociable, +and pledged each other in several good drinks from a flask which the +white man fortunately carried in his pocket. The savage M. D. finally +took him to his laboratory, and in return for some communications from +one well versed in the modern state of medical science in France, which +the red man listened to with the most intense admiration, he disclosed a +variety of Indian cures. Above all he told of a marvelous exercise of +his power, and related the secret means employed under the assurance of +the most solemn promise that it should not be divulged. Dr. Benson told +his friend that this great secret was in his mind morning and evening; +that when he waked at night it haunted him, and that he could not cease +to think of it if he would make every attempt. + +When the bottle was nearly empty he said that if his hearer would +promise great secrecy he would relate the narrative of the Indian. The +other gave the required assurances. Three times however the doctor +repeated one specific caution,--"Would he promise not to tell it to his +wife?" and receiving three most earnest pledges, that no curtain +inquisition should exert its rack so successfully, as to extort any +fragment of the confidence, the relater proceeded without fear. I will +tell you, said he, how the red-skin doctor influenced the welfare of a +great Indian Prince. + +Awaha was king of a tribe whose territory bordered on one of the great +northern lakes. The eagle soaring when the heavens were filled with the +winged tribes, was not more conspicuous and more supreme in grandeur, +than he, when he stood among all the assembled warriors of the north. As +the thunder-peal when the bolt tore the great oak on the mountains, so +that it must wither and die, exceeded all the other tumult of the storm, +so the shout he uttered in battle was heard amid the fierce cries of +conflict. + +The hearts of all the beautiful maidens moved at his approach, as the +graceful flags and wild-flowers move when the breath of the evening wind +seems to seek rest as it passes over the quiet lake. The Indian mothers +said that it was strange that he sought no wife, when his deeds had gone +before him, and seemed to have softened the hearts of such as the wisest +of his race might have chosen for him. He had come from the battles a +great warrior. Were there not daughters of his tribe, who became more +stately and more grave, as though they heard great battle songs when he +came near? Were not these fitted to be the wives of great braves,--the +mothers of sons whose fame would last in war-songs? Surely the great +warrior had need to speak to one who would be saddest of all when he was +away, and most glad when his shadow fell upon the threshold! He speaks +not, and the air around him is too still. The sunbeams seemed wintry, +waiting for his voice. He seemed to leave the paths through the forest +very lonely. The great mountain's summit must not ever be alone, covered +with ice and snow, bright in the sun and in the moonbeams. Let spring +come and cover it with soft green, and let the sweet song fill its +trees, as the warm light streamed over it from the morning. + +Many of the tribe marvelled that he did not seek for a bride the +beautiful Mahanara. Some said that it was whispered among those who knew +her best, that her thoughts were as the scent of the sweet vine she had +planted and trained over the door of her wigwam, intended for the narrow +circle at home, but drifting away far off on the fitful breeze; for when +she would not, she sighed as she remembered the young warrior. + +Once, some of the village girls told her that they heard that he had +chosen a bride who lived far beyond the waters, and the great ridge of +the Blue Mountains. + +She replied, and her words seemed to die as they reached the ear, that +the one whom he had chosen for his wife, ought not to plant the corn for +his food but where the flowers covered the sod which she was to overturn +in her spring tasks, that she must bring him water from the spring on +the high hills where the Great Spirit had opened the fountains with his +lightning, and where in vallies the pure snow lingered longest of all +that fell in the winter; that when he came back from the hunter's far +journey or from the terrors of his war path, her face must assure him of +all the love and praise of his tribe, as the lake tells all the moon and +stars shed abroad of glory in the pure midnight. + +The story that was a secret sorrow to her was false, and no maiden +should have whispered it. It came not over a path that was trodden by +warriors. The dove would not fly in the air which was burdened by such +tidings. Awaha loved her, and because she feared to meet him freely, and +seemed to turn away as he drew near, he thought that she loved him not. + +One night he fell asleep by the great fire of the hunters. The +companions of the chase had counted their spoils, and spoke with joy of +their return, of the glad smiles that awaited them, of the hum of the +voices of the children as they drew near to the village. + +He dreamt that he came near to his solitary dwelling-place. He was all +alone on the path of the forest. He heard the unending sounds which are +in the great wilderness, none of which ever removes the lonely shadow +from the heart,--the shadow that has fallen on endless generations, that +speaks of countless graves amid the trees, and of countless hosts that +are out of sight in the spirit land. + +That I could hear, he thought, one voice breaking the stillness of my +way! That I could look to the end of the thick trees and know that when +I issued from their darkness, as the light would be above me, so the +light would be in my home. + +As he was thus borne away by the fancies of the night he murmured the +name of Mahanara. + +By his side was her brother, who loved him more than his life. He heard +the name, and rejoiced in the assurance which it taught him. When he +spoke of the murmur of the dream the next day, as they were alone on the +great prairie, he received the open confession. And then the brother +uttered words which filled the heart with hope. + +When they returned from the hunting-grounds he directed his steps to the +dwelling of her father,--crossing to reach it, the little stream that +she loved to watch as it foamed amid the white stones that rested in +its bed. + +Around the walls were trophies of the chase and of the battle. But the +wild songs and the stories of former days were no more heard from his +lips. He seldom spoke but of the Spirit-land, and in strange words for +the home of the Indian, prayed that the Great One would teach the tribes +to love peace. He said he was going to new hunting grounds, but not to +new war paths. The people of the wilderness that he would meet in the +sky would speak in voices that never would utter the cry of strife. + +When the evening came upon them, and the old man sat silent, looking +gladly on the stars, Awaha said to Mahanara, "Walk with me to these +fir-trees that echo murmurs to yon stream." + +"Mahanara's place is here," she said gently. "Here she can prepare the +corn and the venison, and spread the skins for her guest. But in the +fir-grove there is no door for her to open. There she cannot say, +Welcome. There she cannot throw the pine-knot on the flames to brighten +the home for thy presence. Stay here and say some words of the +Spirit-land to my father. I will sew the beads, and weave the split +quills, and the voices I shall hear shall be pleasant like the mingling +of the murmurs of the rill and of the wind when the leaves that we see +not are in motion, sounds which I so love, for they were among the +first sounds I heard by the side of my mother." + +Then he replied, "I must say here what I would have said to thee under +the stars and the night. Why was it not said in the days that are past? +The stream could not come to the water-flower, for it was frozen. The +sun came the other day, and the winter-power took off its bonds from the +stream. Long have I loved thee--loved thee here as I wandered in the +village--loved thee far off on the prairies--loved thee when the shout +told that the vanquished fled from our onset. Be my bride, and the Great +Spirit will know where is the Indian whose step on earth is the +lightest." + +He saw that the tears were falling fast as he spoke, and that she did +move as a maiden at the plea of her lover. + +"Thou hast waited," she said, "to move thy flower until the winter has +hold of its roots in the ground hard as the rock. Hadst thou come before +the snow had melted, then Mahanara had gone with thee. Then together we +had cared for him who can go out on the hunt no more. But seest thou +these links of the bleached bone carved with these secret symbols? Seest +thou the fragment of the broken arrow-head? Thou knowest how these bind +me to another. I will pray for thee to the Great Spirit. A warrior's +wife may pray for a warrior. Seek thou another and a better bride among +the daughters of our tribe." + +"It cannot be," he said. "I shall go away from the land where the sun +shines, like the lone tree amid the rocks. It shall wither and die, and +who will know that it ever cast its shade for the hunter." + +"Ah not so," she said, "it is the shadow of to-day. Seek the wife that +is on the earth for thee. If she has sorrow send for me and I will hold +up her fainting head. If I comfort her, then shall I also comfort thee. +I will speak the praises of thy tribe and she will love me." + +Awaha sat in his lonely house day after day, and friends looked on him +in sorrow and said that the Great Spirit was calling him, for his last +path was trodden. They sought me in their sorrow, not regarding the long +weary journey. My home is in a deep dark cave on the side of the +mountain. The great horn from the monster that has never roamed the +forest since the Indian began to hand down the story of his day hangs on +the huge oak at the entrance. The blasts shake the forest, and I hear it +far down below the springs in the earth where I burn my red fires. + +In vain I tried all my arts to drive from him the deep and lasting +sorrow. So I sought the aid of my mother whose home is near the great +river that pours its waters from the clouds--over which the storm of +heaven seems to rage in silence. She heard my story, and she arrayed +herself in her strange robe bright with the skins of snakes from a land +where the sun always keeps the earth green and warm. On her head were +the feathers of the eagle and of the hawk. + +She kindled her fire on the stones that were heaped together and threw +in them bones and matted hair. + +Then she drank of the cup, death to all but for her lips, and poured +that which was left on the flame. The fire told her the story of days +that were to come. She said that Awaha must live. When three winters had +come and gone Mahanara would be alone, for wrapped in his hunting skins, +the braves would lay her husband in his grave. Let him live--let Awaha +live--for he and Mahanara shall yet dwell among their people. The vine +shall fall. It can twine around another tree. Let Awaha live. + +So I sought him--and his eye was dim--he scarce knew the voices of those +around him. I gave him the precious elixir which my mother alone on +earth could draw from roots such as no eye of man has ever seen. The +young men placed him on a litter and bore him to a far off river. There +we made the raft, covered it with leaves, and we floated gently onward +to my cave. Then I said leave him with me. In a few days he will have +strength and shall go down these waters to his canoe. A new home shall +he seek where there are no paths ever trodden by Mahanara. There he +shall not look round as the breeze moves the bushes, as though she was +near him. He shall not see flowers there which shall say, you gathered +such for her in the warm days when the Indian village was full of hearts +as bright as the sun shining down upon it. The woods everywhere has a +place for the warrior. There are no mountains where the battle-cry +cannot echo. There are no red men where the great man shall not be +great. I then gave him strange food that a hunter from the spirit land +once threw down at the tent of my mother when she had healed his little +child that he left to the care of his tribe. I then compounded in the +cup which was white and shining, as it had been on a high rock for ages +to be bleached in the moonbeams, the draught that he was to drink that +he might sleep for three years. I laid him gently in the clift in the +rock above my cave. The warm spring ran winter and summer beneath the +place of his rest. I covered him with light bruised roots that would add +to his strength. I placed over him the cedar boughs, matted, so that the +rain could reach him. Over these, folds of leaves well dried in the heat +of the cavern. I laid the loose stones over all and scattered the dust +there which the beasts flee from, waking the echo of the forest. There +he slept until the great stillness come over the husband of Mahanara, +and the great song had told of his wisdom, of his battles, as the +warriors stood by his grave. + +One day she sat by the side of the stream,--and not on the bank where +she had often chanted the wild song to Awaha. Her hands were forming the +beautiful wampum belt. I came to her, and as we spoke of past days, her +eye rested on the chain of Awaha, that I wound and unwound as if I +thought not of it, before her eyes that rested on it for a moment only +to look away, and to look far down into the deep water. + +I laid it secretly near her,--and left her, crossing on the white stones +of the stream, and passing into the deep forest. + +When the dark night came over all the village, I crept silently to her +wigwam. There she sat by the fire and pressed the chain to her heart, +and looked sadly on the flames that rose and fell, and gleamed on one +who was near and unknown. + +He must live. So I sought him when the red star was over the mountain. +Three moons more could he have slept, and have yet been called from his +sleep to see the bright sunbeams. + +Oh how beautiful the warrior, when all the coverings were taken away, +and I saw him again as on the day when he first fell into his slumber. + +As I waked him, he said, "yesterday you said that I should live. I feel +strange strength after the sleep of the night that is past." + +When he fell asleep a great night had crept up to his eye,--and he saw +not the hunting-ground,--the fierce battle,--the wigwam,--but +darkness,--and beyond it darkness,--and beyond that the land of all +spirits. Now his eye was sad,--but he looked as one who heard voices +call him to go forth, and be not as the stone that lies on the +hill-side. + +I sought Mahanara, and told her that he would come back from far, and +would seek her as the bride of a warrior. I sent him to her home, and he +trod the forest paths as the sunshine sweeps from wave-crest to +wave-crest in the brook that hurries on, leaving the sound of peace in +its murmurs. So out of the years they met, as the breeze so sweet from +over the wild-flowers and trees of the valley, and the wind that carried +strength from the sides of the mountain. + +"Can you marvel that they call me the great medicine man among the +tribes? Thou art a great brother. Thy fire-water is good. The white men +honor thee. Thou keepest the sod that is wet with tears from being +turned over. They call thee the very great man of thy tribe." I will not +tell you all that he said of me. Let others learn that of him, and speak +of it. Then he said,--"Brother tell thou me more of thy wonderful +powers. I will teach thee how to mingle the cup for the sleep of many +years." "So he told me," said the doctor, "how to compound the mixture. +And the secret no one shall hear from my lips. If you will, I will put +you to sleep for as long a time as you can desire. Put your money out +at interest. Go to sleep until all you have has been doubled. Then let +me wake you, and you can enjoy it." + +This desire to put a fellow-creature into this sleep took possession of +the doctor, and it was his dream by day and night, when he was tipsy, or +half ready to become so. He tried to persuade a good-natured negro, +Jack, who lived near his premises, to indulge in the luxury. But Jack +assured him that he was as much obliged to him as if he had done it. + +At last he formed his plan, and attempted to carry it into execution. +There was Job Jones, who lived, nobody knew how, and nobody cared +whether he lived or not. When he could gain a few coppers, he was a +great and independent statesman at the tavern. And when he had no pence, +he walked along in the sun as if he had no business in its light, and +with a cast-down look as if he thanked the world for not drowning him, +like supernumerary kittens. + +So one evening the doctor easily enticed Job to his office. Then he +partook of whisky until he lost all sense of all that occurred around +him. The poor fellow soon fell asleep. The great experimenter dragged +him to a box prepared for him in the cellar. Then he poured down his +throat the final draught, and covered him with great boughs of cedar. He +then ascended to his office. His first thought was that of triumph. +"There," he said, "was that shallow Doctor Pinch, the practitioner at +the next village, who had called him an ignoramus, and said that he was +not fit to be the family physician of a rabbit. He had written the +account of the boy who had fallen down and indented his skull, and that +some of his brains had to be removed,--all done so skilfully by Doctor +Pinch, that he was ever after, a brighter fellow than ever before. His +mother always boasted of the manner in which the doctor had 'japanned' +his skull. But what will he be when I wake up Job? Sleep away, Job! You +will have for years to come, the easiest life of any man in these United +States. No want of shoes, or clothes, or whisky. When you wake you shall +have a new suit, after the fashion of that coming time. Doctor Pinch! +Pooh! what is Doctor Pinch to Doctor Benson?" + +After a little while a cry of murder rang through his half intoxicated +brain. A great chill crept over his frame. The night became horrible in +its stillness. + +He must try the old resource. It never failed, whisky must restore the +energy. He took up the glass from the table. It fell from his hands as +if he was paralyzed. + +He had made a fearful mistake. The cup of whisky which he had poured out +for himself was the last drink which he had ministered to Job. He had +taken the sleeping draught by mistake. + +When they came, he thought and found him so still, so senseless, and +that for days he never moved, would they not bury him! Then he might +smother in the grave! Or waking some twenty years hence, he would wake +in some tomb, some vile epitaph over him, written by that Pinch, and +call for aid, and die, and die. + +He saw himself in his coffin. The neighbors were all around him. The +clergyman was ready to draw an awful moral against intemperance from his +history. He was about to assure his hearers that no one could doubt what +had become of such a man in another world. + +His brain became more and more confused. He sank on the floor senseless. +So Job slumbered in the box, and the doctor on the floor of the office. + + * * * * * + +Twenty years have elapsed. Dr. Benson wakes. It is a clear morning. How +has the world changed! There, out of his window he sees the village. +That row of neat dwellings is his property. He has a pleasant home to +wake in. His wife is the very personification of happiness and +prosperity. The clothes in which he arrays himself are a strange +contrast to the miserable habiliments in which he fell down to sleep on +the office floor twenty years ago. There is the spire of the +church--and thank God, he loves to enter there as a sincere and humble +worshipper. + +What a change in this lapse of years! What an awakening! How is the +world altered! + +If the doctor's voice reached the ear of the intemperate man, he said, +"Friend, better the fang of the rattlesnake than your cup. The bands +that you think to be threads, are iron bands that are clasping you not +only for your grave, but forever. Awake! and see if the good Lord will +not give you a world changed, as the world has thus been to Dr. +Benson." + + + + +II. + +_THE GHOST AT FORD INN--NESHAMONY._ + + +PART FIRST. + + There, where the time-worn bridge at School House Run, + Spans o'er the stream unquiet as our lives, + You find a place where few will pause at night; + Where the foot-fall is quick, and all press on + As if a winter's blast had touched the frame, + And men drew to themselves. Oft there is seen, + So men aver, the quiet gliding ghost. + + Descend yon hill, near woods so desolate, + With upward gloom, and tangled undergrowths, + And shadows mouldering in the brightest day. + Near is the Indian spring's unmurmuring flow. + The summit now is gladdened by the Church. + You leave all village sounds, and are alone, + On grass-worn paths your feet emit no sound. + The thick damp air is full of dreary rest, + And stillness there spreads out like the great night. + + Upon the left, hidden by aged oaks, + Is a small cedar grove; where broken winds + Are organ-like with requiem o'er some graves. + A low stone wall, and never-opened gate + Protect the marble records of the dead. + + To stand at sunny noon, or starry night + Upon the arch, where you can yield the soul, + Captive to nature's impress, power with peace, + Is stillness from afar. The solitude + Seems linked with some far distant, distant space + In the broad universe, where worlds are not. + Unrest with rest is there. We often call + That peace, where thoughts are deep, but where the soul + Moves as the great, great sea, in mighty waves. + Here memories for tears, forgotten thoughts + Come without seeking. Just as the winds of May + Bring with unlaboring wings, from unknown fields, + Sweet scents from flowers, and from the early grass. + + The fearful man, who left the village store, + Near to the cross roads, where the untutored tongue + Supplies the gossip of the printed sheet, + Has here beheld the mist-like, awful ghost. + The rustic lover under midnight stars, + Detained so long by Phebe's sorceries, + His little speech taking so long to say, + Has had his faith sore tried, as he has asked, + Will I, next week, pass here alone, again? + Far the most haunted spot lies yet beyond, + Follow the road until you reach the Ford, + There at the mouldering pile of wall and logs, + Where once the floating raft was as a bridge, + A pure white spirit oftentimes is seen. + She sometimes wanders all along the shore; + Sometimes from off the rocks, she seems to look + For something in the waters. Then again + Where the trees arch the road that skirts the bank, + And night is like the darkness of a cave, + This gentle spirit glides. Earth's sorrow yet, + Its burden, weary burden, borne alone. + + Sad is the story of her earthly life. + You see that lonely house upon the green, + With its broad porch beneath that sycamore. + 'Tis now a pleasant undisturbed abode. + There lingereth much of ancient time within: + Long may it cling there in these days of change! + Quaint are the rooms, irregular. The bright fire + Glows from the corner fire-place. Often there + I sit, and marvel o'er the shadowy past. + It is a place of welcome. Loving hearts + Extend the welcome. Angels welcome thus. + Dear sisters, reading there the purest page, + Planning some act of gentleness to wo, + The selfishness of solitary life, + Not finding place amid your daily thoughts, + For you commune with that activity + Of love most infinite, that once came down + From the far Heaven, to human form on earth. + The music of the true, the harmony + Of highest thoughts, that have enthroned as kings + The best in heart, and head of all our race, + Have their great kindred echoes as you read. + O as your prayers ascend, pray oft for me, + And then I shall not lose the name of friend. + The golden link that bindeth heart to heart + Forever, is the Love and prayer in Christ. + Since the Great Being gives me love at home, + The Diamond payment for my worth of dust, + Gives me that bright and daily light of earth, + I'm bold, and covetous of Christian love. + + This house, in ancient days a wayside inn, + Has sheltered men of mark. Here Washington + Rested his weary head without despair, + Before the sinking tide rose with bright waves + At Trenton, and the spot where Mercer fell. + Here youthful La Fayette was also seen, + Whose smile, benign in age, was joy to me, + As my loved Father, at our fire-side spake + To him, as the true Patriot speaks to those + Who win a nation's homage by their toils. + Here even now, on an age-colored pane, + The letters, diamond-cut, show Hancock's name. + + The war had found the host of the Ford Inn + A happy man; no idler round a bar; + For his chief calling was upon his farm, + With rich fields open to the sun, amid + The dense surrounding forests, where the deer + Still lingered by the homes of laboring men. + He bore arms for his country. And he heard + The last guns fired at Yorktown for the free. + + One little daughter played around his hearth; + Oft tracked his steps far in the furrowed field; + Looked up with guileless eye in his true face. + After each absence short, her merry shout + Of greeting at his coming, rose as sure + As sounds from those dark cedars on the shore, + When the winds rise and break their mirror there. + + Oh happy child! She also learned the love + That places underneath her the strong arms + Of Him who held the children when on earth, + Journeying along his pathway to the cross. + She opened all her gentle Heaven-touched heart + To all the unknown teachings of her home. + + The wild-flower's beauty passed into her thoughts, + And as she gazed, and saw in earth and sky, + In every form the love of God stream forth, + She knew of beauty that could never fade. + For He, from whom these emanations came, + Will never cease to be a God revealed. + + Happy the child, for her fond parents both + Had souls to kindle with her sympathies. + They learned anew with her the blessed love, + Which makes the pure like children all their days. + With her pure mind repassed the former way, + Their age and youth blended at once in her. + + There was a small church in the little town + Of Bristol, some miles distant, over which + A loving pastor ruled with watchful care. + He came from England,--and but few had known + That he was bishop, of that secret line + Which Ken, and other loyalists prolonged, + Prepared for any changes in the realm. + The good man loved his people at the ford. + The child's expanding mind had ample seals + Of his kind guidance. From his store of books + He culled the treasures for her thoughtful eye. + + Another memorable influence, + To add refining grace, came from the town. + One, whose sweet beauty threw a woman's charm + Over a household, seeking health in air, + That rustles forest leaves, that sweeps the fields, + Came to their home, and was not useless there. + + She threw round Ellen, in resplendent light, + What Ellen knew before, in fainter day. + + The lady was so true in all her grace, + Such open nature, that the child, all heart, + Could think, could love, could be as one with her. + How sad, that the refinement of the world, + Should often be the cost of all that's true! + + From the volcano's side the dreadful stream, + That buried the great city, pressed its way, + To every room of refuge. Prison ne'er + Gave bondage like those dark and awful homes. + Around each form came the encrusting clay: + Death at the moment. Dying ne'er so still. + In passing ages all the form was gone: + The dark clay held the shapes of what had been, + And when the beauteous city was exhumed, + Into those hollows, moulds of former life, + They poured the plaster, and regained the form, + Of men, or women, as they were at death. + So all that lives in nature, in the heart, + Is often, living, buried by the world, + By its dead stream. Dust only can remain. + And in its place the statue--outward all + The form of beauty--the pretense of soul. + + How the child basked in all her loveliness! + Unconscious, she was moulded day by day, + Sweet buds that in her heart strove to unfold, + Had waited for that sun. And Ellen saw + Her mother in changed aspect. The soft charms + Of her new friend, revealed at once in her, + More of the woman's natural tenderness. + + The gentle child, had not a single love + For all the varied scenes of bank and stream-- + And these to her were almost all the earth, + But as each glory centered round her home. + If the descending sun threw down the light + Tinged with the mellow hues of autumn leaves, + Upon the waters till they shone as gold, + And yet diminished not the million flames + That burnt upon the trees, all unconsumed, + It was to her a joy. But deeper joy + Came with the thought, that all her eye surveyed, + Was but a repetition of the scene, + When her fond mother, at some former day, + Had by her side blessed God for these his works. + And all the softest murmurs of the air + Recalled her father's step, and his true voice. + Thus home entwined itself with every thought, + As that great vine with all that wide-branched oak. + + +PART SECOND. + + And in this quiet scene, the child grew up, + To know not inequalities of lot, + Of any rank dissevering man from man. + Once from the splendid coach, the city dame + And her young daughter entered the Ford Inn. + + As Ellen gazed upon the little one + Whose eye recalled the dove, and then the gleam + That morning threw upon her much loved waves, + And on the tresses, like the chesnut fringe + In full luxuriance, she came forth and stood + With such a guileless, and admiring love, + That tenderness was won. And then they strolled + O'er Ellen's favorite haunts. She asked the child, + Have you such waters, and such trees beside + Your home far off? The little languid eye + Gazed vacantly on all the beauty there, + And then, as one who had not heard the words, + And least of all could give forth a response + To nature's loving call, even as it passed + To her, through Ellen's eyes, and Ellen's voice, + And from her kindled soul,--she turned again, + Absorbed in the small wagon which they drew, + And to the stones they skimmed upon the stream. + + Just for a brief space, down there seemed to fall + A veil between the two--a veil like night. + All Ellen's greater, deeper swell of tides + Of soul, forever dashing on the cliffs + On which mind's ocean-great forever beat + Their swell of thunder, here could find no height + That could reverberate. And yet her heart + Was all too noble, high, serenely pure, + Too Christ-taught ever thus to stand apart. + + The tender gentleness, the laughing eye, + The soul responsive to the moment's joy, + The power to love, the softening sympathy + With every bird or squirrel that appeared, + Or rabbit, scarce afraid, with wondering eye, + The love of parents, her sweet talk of friends, + And above all, a heart to beat so true + To all that One in heaven had said to her, + Were most alluring powers. Ellen forgot + Wherein they differed: And their souls then chimed + As sounds of bells, blended in summer's wind. + So, as if sunbeams faltering on the bank, + The cloud departing, creep o'er all the green, + Her brightening interest rested on the child. + + And when they parted at the bridge of logs, + Though the child's dress was gorgeous, and the pomp + Of city livery from the chariot shone, + While the soft tear was in our Ellen's eye, + There still dwelt all unknown in her sweet mind, + All free from pride, the deep inspiring wish, + That she could raise this merry-hearted one + Above herself: and then there came the thought, + Unconscious, causing sorrows--higher aims-- + That the one gone was poor, and she was rich. + + There was a loneliness, and so she sought + Her mother; whose companionship was peace: + Who ever won her to her wonted rest. + + There is a poetry in many hearts + Which only blends with thought through tenderness: + It never comes as light within the mind + Creating forms of beauty for itself. + It has an eye, and ear for all the world + Can have of beauty. You will see it bend + Over the cradle, sorrow o'er the grave. + It knows of every human tie below, + The vast significance. Unto its God + It renders homage, giving incense clouds + To waft its adorations. By the cross, + It hears the voice, "How holy all is here!" + It speaks deep mysteries, and yet the clue + Is most apparent to the common mind. + Its sayings fall like ancient memories; + We so accept them. Natures such as these + Are often common-place, until the heart + Is touched, and then the tones from gates of heaven. + Such are the blessed to brighten human life-- + To give a glory to our earth-born thoughts-- + To teach us how to act our deeds as kings, + Which we might else perform as weary slaves. + They give us wings, not sandals, for the road + Full of dry dust. And such the mother was. + So as we tell you of the child, there needs + No voice to say, and such the woman was. + + One day she sought her father in the field, + Just before sunset, ready for his home. + And as they reached the rocks along the shore, + Where the road turns, to meet the deep ravine, + Nigh unto Farley, a faint cry for help + Rang in their ears. It was a manly voice + Grieving through pain. They turned aside, and found + A stranger, who had fallen, as he leapt + From out his boat. His fallen gun and dress + Proclaimed the sportsman. Aid was soon at hand, + And in their dwelling he found friends, and care. + + Days past. His mother came, and soon she found + He spake to Ellen, Ellen unto him; + As they spake not to others. And it seemed, + Such a perpetual reference in his talk, + As if he had not now a single thought, + Which had not been compared with thought of hers. + + At first her pride was moved. And while she stood + Irresolute, the spell was fixed: as when + The power of spring thaws winter to itself. + She knew her son was worthy: and she knew + Here, in the wide-world must he seek a wife. + And in due time she was his fair-haired wife. + + They had a rural home across the stream. + Their lights at night answered the cheerful light + Of her paternal home. Their winter's fires + Mingled their gleam upon the dark night wave, + Or on the ice. By summer's winds her voice + Was wafted o'er the waters, as she sang: + And loving hearers blessed her in their hearts. + + Oh! what a joy, when in her arms they placed + Her son--ah doomed to be her only born! + Her cup of happiness seemed now so full. + And then the Father, knowing all to come, + Gave her more grace, and so she loved him more, + And had no Idol. But, as days rolled on + Such sorrow came, I scarce can tell the tale. + She saw her husband's manly strength all gone. + + There was a withering tree, in the spring time, + Which on the lawn, seemed struggling to assume + The Autumn's hues amid the world's full green. + He faintly smiled, and said, "So do I fade." + Soon it was dead. He lingered slowly on. + Hopes came: hopes faded. From the early world + 'Tis the same story. It was well for her, + In this her sorrow, she had learned to weep + In days of bliss, as she had read the page + Which tells of Jesus bearing his own cross. + + His mother came, but Ellen was repelled + By the stern brow of one who met the shock + And would not quail. That hard and iron will + Was so unlike _her_ firmness. She was one + Who had ruled abjects. Sorrow seemed a wrong. + + The parting time drew near. And then as one + Who asked as one gives law. "This little boy + Should dwell with me. Thereby shall he attain + All discipline to form the noble man. + Even as I made his Father what he was, + So will I now, again, care for the child. + Let him with me. And he shall often come + And visit you. This surely will be wise." + We need not say that Ellen too was firm. + + A mother's love! In all the world a power, + To educate as this! Could any wealth + Of other learning recompense this loss! + Would this stern woman ripen in his heart + Fruits, that angelic eyes beheld with joy? + "When the boy grew, at times she'd gladly send + With thanks, the child to all this proffered care." + But now--to send him now! Why at the thought + A darkness gathered over all the world. + From all things came a voice, "All, all alone, + The husband is not--the child far away." + + There was strange meaning in the angry eye; + A strange defiance, and an unknown threat, + Enmity and a triumph. As if a triumph gained. + A nation crushed, her husband's mother looked, + No flush was on her face--her voice the same. + + Coldly she said, farewell. And Ellen held + The child with firmer grasp, when she was gone. + Then she had sorrow that they thus should part; + For she felt all the reverence death made due, + And also mourned rejection of her love. + + As the child slept one night, watched by his nurse, + She crossed the river on the bridge of logs, + To reach her parents. Under the bright stars + The Neshamony, and its hurried waves, + Rising and falling all around her path. + No peace in all the Heavens that she could see + Was like her peace. "I suffer here," she said, + "But suffering, I shall learn more love for all." + + She had returned. Her footsteps died away, + Her parents stood yet in the open air, + Where they had parted with her for the night. + + Then o'er the stream there came an awful cry. + It was her cry. Oh agony to hear! + It stilled all sounds besides. It seemed to make + The wide-arched Heavens one call to echo it. + Parents and others rushed there with affright, + In breathless terror. Nurse and child were gone. + Each wood around, and every forest road + Gleamed all the night with torches. But no cheer + Rose to proclaim a trace of faintest hope. + One traveler said, that on a distant road + He met a carriage, hurrying with strange speed, + And heard, in passing, cries of a young child. + In vain they follow. Hopeless they return. + + Oh wondrous, the ingenious plan devised + By that poor mother to regain her child! + Her parents tried, as if for life and death + To give her aid: and saw that she must die: + For patience such as hers was all too grand + To linger long on earth. She day by day + Trod her old haunts. But never did she see + The Heaven, or beauteous world. Her pallid lips + Moved with perpetual prayer. And when she leaned + On those who loved her, the storm-tossed at rest, + She was as quiet as in days, when she + Was but an infant. When they spoke of hope + She smiled. It was a smile of love, not hope. + It was indeed simplicity to one, + Just on the threshold where His people pass, + And where, forever, they have more than hope. + + All saw that she attained a mystic life, + That was not of the earth. What might she had + To love the sorrowing! By the dying bed + She seemed as if she had not known a pang, + Her voice so peaceful. Little children round + Gazed sorrowful: and in their confused thought + Deemed that the anguish of her little child + Weeping its mother, was her dying pain; + And thought how desolate fond hearts would be + If they were gone, as was her little one. + + One sweet Lord's Day she knelt down at the rail, + In her loved Church, and had forgot all grief, + Receiving there the hallowed Bread and Wine, + And the one shadowed forth had strengthened her, + So that she fed on food come down from Heaven. + The others moved. But she was in her place. + The Pastor came, and found that she was dead. + Oh how the tears of Christians fell that day! + Oh how they thanked God for her good release! + And so she went to her eternal rest. + + But men, unreasoning, said they saw her form, + Oft in the night, along the river shore-- + Oft at the Ford, which now is crossed no more. + And men will say, in firmness of belief, + That when the Inn was closed, and no man dwelt + In its forsaken walls, a light was seen + In Ellen's room. And then they also say, + That pure while flowers which never grew before, + Now come with Spring, where her bright spirit walks. + My children say, that if you hear the owl + Along her pathway, you may hasten on + Sure that her spirit will not meet you there. + But should you hear a bird of plaintive song, + Break the night's stillness, then go far around + By field and wood--for you may see her form + Along the shore she gladdened with her life-- + A shore of many sorrows at the last. + + + + +III. + +_MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT BIOGRAPHY;--OR, LITERATURE FOR A FAIR WIDOW._ + + +I had just concluded my first cause at the bar. My duty had been the +defence of a man, whom the jury, without leaving the box, condemned to +be hung. My friends said that I spoke very eloquently. I consoled myself +for my want of success, by remembering that my client had put into my +hands, sorry evidence of his innocence, in place of having allowed me to +arrange the circumstances of his murderous deed, so that the testimony +against him might have at least, some degree of inconsistency and doubt. +But the rash creature formed his plan for killing a man out of his own +head. A poor, stupid, blundering head it was. + +I have always regarded that trial with a cool, philosophical mind. I +think that any gentleman, who indulges himself in that rather +exceptionable occupation of shedding the blood of his fellow-man, +without first consulting a lawyer, deserves to be executed. And, verily, +this fellow got his deserts. + +Well, as I sat in my office, perfectly calm and composed, some hours +after the case was decided, I received a pretty note from a widow lady. +I had often met her at our pleasant little evening parties. She was on a +visit to one of her friends in our green village; was very pretty, was +said to be quite agreeable, and it was obvious that she was much admired +by the gentlemen. As to her age--to say the least on that subject, which +I consider, in such a case, to be the only gentlemanly mode of +procedure--she was some years older than she wished to be accounted. + +Her particular friends said that she had been very beautiful as a girl. +She was one of that select class, scattered over our country, concerning +each of whom there was a family tradition, that on some occasion of +public ceremonial, General Washington had paused and stood opposite to +her in mute admiration. I know that the great Father of his country was +reported to have paid such a tribute to one of my maiden aunts--and that +the story procured from her nephews and nieces a large portion of +respect. I boasted, as a boy, of this fact--regarding it as a sprig of a +foreign aristocratic family, would the honors of his aunt, the Duchess. +But an unreliable boy at our school matched this history from the +unwritten archives of his vulgar relatives. So, in great disgust, I held +my tongue on the subject for the future. + +Well, thought I, as I mused over the note of the widow, the formation +of some of her letters indicating a romantic turn of mind; this is, +indeed, a strange, a very strange world. Here I have just done with a +client who must get himself hung. A dull, stupid fellow; a blockhead of +the most knotty material, "unwedgeable" by any possible force of common +sense; a spot on the face of the earth! Hang him! Hanging is too good +for him. He was a fellow who had neither eyes, nor nose, nor mouth for +the attracted observation of a jury, nor any history, nor any ingenuity +in his murderous deed,--as a thread on which a poor advocate could +suspend one gem of argument, one gem of eloquence to blaze and dazzle +the eyes of the twelve substantial citizens, whose verdict was to life +or death. And now here is a call to attend to some legal business to be +done in the sunshine of a fair lady's favor! Has she heard of the rare +ability displayed in the defence of this man who is so soon to be +suspended in the air, as a terror to evil doers? Or has she been allured +by my good looks and agreeable manners? Handsome!--a few years older +than myself, and then a good little fortune, which my legal knowledge +could protect. Well, if this world be odd, I must make the best of it. +Society is a strange structure; and happy is the man who is a statue +ready for his appropriate pedestal. + +It is unquestionably an amiable trait in human character which clothes +those, who by special circumstances acquire marked relations with us, in +attractions which surpass ordinary charms. + +I must freely confess that I never saw the widow look so interesting as +at the hour when I made my visit. I presented myself with dignity, as +one who represented learning at the bar, and future dignities on the +bench. She received me kindly. There was a seriousness in her demeanor, +an obvious earnestness, as of one who had a burden on the mind, so that +I perceived that the occasion was one of great importance. + +I ought here to inform the gentle reader that it had been my good +pleasure, instigated by ambition natural to young men, and as a +relaxation from my graver studies, to indite various articles in prose +and verse for the _Newark Democrat_;--a paper which was supposed by the +editor, the host at the Bald Eagle Inn, the headquarters of the ruling +political party in our town, and also by several members of the +Legislature who could read any kind of printing, to exert a great +influence over the destinies of our country. + +There was one contribution of mine, entitled, "The Flame Expiring in the +Heart," which obtained great admiration, and was committed to memory by +a number of the young ladies at Miss Sykes' boarding-school. It was +copied into both of the New York papers. Just, however, as it seemed to +be securing a place for itself in American poetry, some one, urged by +envy, and under the instigation of very bad taste,--some said it was +Paulding, some Washington Irving,--but that was simply slanderous,--I +say some one of more self-conceit than of the gift of appreciation of +pure versification, and of elevated sentiment, wrote a reply. It had a +hypocritical dedication as if the author of the aforesaid poem was +affectionately addressed, and as if the utmost tenderness of sorrow was +displayed in sympathy. To crown all, the coarseness of the writer was +shown in the title, "A Bellows to Fan the Expiring Flame of Alonzo in +the Newark Democrat." + +However it is not necessary for me to dwell on my literary career. I was +compelled to allude to it, in order that you could understand the +reasonableness of the conduct of the lady under the circumstances which +I now describe. + +After a few words of greeting, she at once descended into the "midst of +things." She informed me that the reasons of her sending for me, were +her convictions of my goodness of heart, which she gleaned, no doubt, +from the tone of my poetry, of my elevated desire to promote the +interests of science and of letters, and her high idea of my literary +abilities, particularly as a writer of prose. + +Here I felt that her critical skill was in error. She had not, perhaps, +as much natural capacity for the admiration of sterling poetry as of +prose. Without intending to hint that I pretend to the false humility of +undervaluing my prose style, I am satisfied, that to say the least, my +poetry is in all respects its equal. But to return from this brief +digression; the fair one proceeded to say, that she perceived that I had +a remarkable gift in narrative. + +Now, her deceased husband, she said, was a very remarkable man. A true +account of his abilities and virtues need only be placed before the +public attention to secure him a perpetual remembrance among men. It +would be a great wrong,--indeed it would be robbing the world of a just +claim, that his character, writings, and his general history should not +be widely known. As she discoursed on the subject, she became a little +romantic; and when she began to expand her views, and to adopt the +figure of a flower concealed from the gaze of men, lying buried in the +dark recesses of the forest, which ought to be brought out before the +common view, I doubted whether the sentence had not been previously +studied. This only proved, of course, her faithfulness to the memory of +her husband; and her desire that I should enter into her sympathies. + +She proceeded to say, that she had selected me as his Biographer. If I +complied with her wishes, I would find that I had undertaken a task in +which I would have intense interest, and be stimulated to exertion. She +could tell me of eminent men who had spoken of him in terms of exalted +praise. He had once sent to a distinguished scholar in Germany, a +strange petrifaction; and the learned man had written a long essay, in +which he described it, and made it the basis of remarks on nature in +general, and took occasion to speak of his American correspondent as a +learned man, and one who wrote in magnificent sentences. Indeed, I was +to find no difficulty in collecting the greatest abundance of material +for a memoir. She wished this composition to be prefixed to a large +volume in manuscript which he had prepared for the press some years +before his lamented close of life. The volume was a treatise on +"Fugitive impressions, and enduring mental records." + +Now had this proposition been made by a man, I should have declined the +undertaking. In that case law would have appeared as a jealous +master,--its study long, and life very short. But as it was, the lady +had sufficient power to extort a promise that I would devote myself to +the work. + +The gratitude of the fair one, was, in itself, no small fee for the +labor which was before me. I felt that it was necessary to arrange with +her, that I could consult with her at all times, as I proceeded with my +work, and that she should hear me read over a page at any time, or even +sentences, if I needed her advice. These proposals satisfied her that I +was about entering on my duty in earnest, and she became so affable, so +pleased with me, that I anticipated that every page of my work would +secure me a pleasant visit. + +My first plan was to make a tour to the village which had the honor to +number a few years ago, Dr. Bolton, who was to be so famous by means of +my well-rewarded pen. And I must confess that my arrival at Scrabble +Hill, for such was the name of the place, was attended with +circumstances so very dismal, that my ardor would have been damped, had +not a bright flame sent its warmth, and cheering rays through my mind. + +I remembered that my very absence from Newark was a perpetual plea for +me, to the lady whom I sought to serve. And this consoled me, as I drove +along the street of the place. The dwellings were poor. They were more +dismal than houses falling into ruins; for it was evident that they had +been run up as ambitious shells, and never finished. The men went about +with coats out at the elbows, and seemed to drag along languidly to the +blacksmith's shop, or to the inn. The whole place looked as if it had no +thought of better days. My sudden presence, and the appearance of my +horse and gig, promised, as the opened eyes of the gazers assured me, +to exercise the mental faculties of the inhabitants, in the highest +degree of which they were capable. + +The inn was no better than the rest of the village. The landlord was one +of the most imperturbable of human beings. I verily believe that his +wife told the truth when she asserted, as I inquired whether he could +not be sent for, to sit with me, tired of my solitude in the evening, +that I need not think of such a thing, for "John Hillers was no company +for nobody." And this remark, I thought, was accompanied with the +suggestion hinted in her manner, that she herself would be a far better +gossip. Her exact adherence to the truth was, I presume, equally +manifested, when I asked as a hungry man, "What have you in the house?" +and she replied, "Not much of anything." + +After a wretched meal in a room half heated from a stove in the +adjoining kitchen, and where the fire-place was full of pieces of paper, +and of empty bottles labelled "bitters," I began to reflect on the +nature of my undertaking. The great responsibility devolved on one who +should attempt the biography of so great a man as Doctor Bolton, all at +once assumed a new aspect. My vanity and self-confidence began to ooze +away. These rainbows faded, and a very dull sky was all that was left. + +Was I able to do justice to so great an ornament of my native land? The +reputation of a man sometimes depends on the ability of his biographer. +A good memoir is a bright lamp, which guides the eyes of men to works, +otherwise, perhaps, doomed to lie in obscurity forever. And when they +are opened, it throws a gleam on the page, which secures attention, and +elicits admiration. All the civilized world sees its great books in the +light supplied by a few critics. Hence the critical biographer may +enhance all the merit of the author, who is his subject. On the other +hand, if he usher the unknown book before the public, by a dull and weak +narrative, and criticism, men will imagine that he has been selected as +a congenial mind, and will slight even the treatise of a man like Doctor +Bolton. + +In the morning the sun began to shine,--for I ought to have said that +when I entered the village I drove through a dull misty rain. I took +heart, and determined to prosecute my researches with ardor. What is to +be done must be done, and let us try and do all things well. + +The first person on my list of those who could give me information, was +Mrs. Rachel Peabody. I found her at home. She seemed much surprised and +mystified, when I told her that I was about writing a life of the +doctor,--but not at all astonished that when I sought information, I +should come to her. + +The reference to the past excited her mind. For an hour or more she +poured forth her recollections. And gentle reader, my page would present +a strange array of information, could I accurately record the words that +flowed from her lips. Her chief idea of the doctor, was, that he carried +with her help, advice, and warm cabbage leaves, Eliza Jane, Faith Kitty, +and John Potts, of the house of Peabody, through a variety of +unaccountable diseases. Hitherto I had been a creature, hardened at the +cry of little children. Now when I learnt what a sad time they often +had, when their teeth were ready to force their way through the gums, I +am prepared to bear all the noise which they can make, with a patience +that will cause me to be a favorite with every mother. + +I must confess that I left the mansion of the Peabodys very much +perplexed, to know what I could weave, of this conversation into my +biography. Had I gleaned a fact, that ought to live in the memory of +men, long after marble monuments shall have crumbled into dust? As I +formed my enduring statue, was I now able to take my chisel into my +hand, and leave its immortal line? I flattered myself that I had a +presentiment, that I should yet discover in this narration, some +evidence of the greatness of the celebrated physician. + +And now I was to call on Miss Mary Phelps--a lady of great +respectability--advanced in life--who had spent her years in maiden +meditation fancy free. + +Miss Phelps was certainly one of the most homely creatures, on whom my +eyes were ever compelled to rest. If she had qualities of mind and +heart, sufficient to compensate her for her external appearance, she was +indeed an angel within. + +But I quickly ascertained, that such a theory was impracticable. Her +temper was, evidently, a torment to those around her. The airs of a +foolish girl had not disappeared from her manner. She even received me +with a ridiculous affectation of shyness, and when she glanced at me her +eyes fell quickly to the ground. + +"Madam," said I, "I have been referred to you as to one who could give +me valuable information, for an important work which I have in hand?" + +"Oh, sir--" and her looks indicated intolerable disgust, and great +defiance,--"you are one of the folks hired to take the census, and you +want Papistical statements about the ages of people, that ain't as old +as you wish them to be." + +"Oh, no--nothing of the kind. I am engaged in writing a life of Doctor +Bolton. As his appointed biographer, I wish to attain all the knowledge +I can concerning him. For this reason I have visited this village, where +he once resided,--such a successful practitioner; and the object of such +universal love and admiration. You have dwelt here a great many years." +Here the lady frowned in a very ominous manner. "That is to say, you +lived here as a child, and continued here until the present maturity of +your powers has been attained. I have therefore to inquire of you, +whether you can give me any information about him--anything that would +throw light on his character. After all it is your gentle sex who retain +the most tender, and lasting impressions of such a man." + +Here Miss Phelps' demeanor became a most unaccountable procedure. Her +eyes fell upon the floor. She looked as if she thought, that deep +blushes were on her sallow, sunken cheeks. She became the most wonderful +representation of modesty, sensibility, and embarrassment. + +I waited patiently, but there was no response. + +"Madam," said I, "unless the friends of the Doctor give me their +assistance, it will be impossible for me to write his life. Think, +madam, what a wrong it would be, that his history should not be known to +the world! Surely you can inform me of some circumstances, which are of +an interesting nature in his history. Can you not recall any events, +which awaken tender sentiments? Did nothing ever occur in your +intercourse with him,--did nothing ever occur between you that was +memorable?" + +"There may have been circumstances," she said, "which are of too +delicate a nature to confide to you. There are feelings which one does +not want to speak about to a gentleman, whom one did not know a little +while ago from Adam." + +"Indeed, madam, if the Doctor attended you in any illness, whose nature +was such that you would prefer not to speak of it, do not for a moment +suppose that I would trespass on the delicacy of your feelings by any +inquiries. In fact it is enough for you to assure me, in general terms, +that the Doctor was a skilful physician. I would much prefer such +general statements: particularly as my nerves are much unstrung by +hearing of the diseases of some children in this place--for whom he +ministered in the most admirable manner. I need not print your name in +his biography. As to diseases, I do not know the symptoms of those of +the heart--or----" + + * * * * * + +"Ah, then," she said, "you have hit it. The heart! He was a lovely man. +Yes, he was a man that any woman could love." As this was said, her +hands were clasped together. + +"I thank you," I replied, "for that information. You had, of course, +ample opportunity to know his character. You have been his intimate +friend." Here the lady gave me another timid, hesitating glance, and +then her eyes sought the abiding place on the floor. + +"Indeed I do not wish you to speak of anything which is unpleasant to +you. If your admiration of the Doctor is so great, all that you could +tell me, would be in his favor. Out of your recollections, you can +suggest anything that you deem proper." + +"You have heard about him, and me?" + +"I have been told that you were intimate with him. That you could give +me information about him. Whatever tender memories I may awaken, do not +allow me to distress you." + +Here she put up a marvelously big handkerchief to her eyes. Dear me, I +thought, at least she had a tender heart. + +"If, madam, you have lost a dear friend, whom the Doctor attended in his +last illness--but excuse me,--I regret that I trouble you, that I awaken +sorrowful recollections." + +"You have never, then, heard of my history?" + +"No, madam." + +"The Doctor was a great loss to me." The utterance was distinct, in +defiance of the huge handkerchief. + +"Were you in ill health at the time of his death?" + +"I enjoyed very bad health--and he attended me--like--like----" + +"A brother?" + +"No brother could be so affectionate. Oh how often we sat together in +this very room! Our hearts have been so full, that we were silent for +half an hour together." + +"The Doctor was very much attached to his last wife, was he not?" + +"He married her after he was disappointed in another object of his +affections. But it was not my fault. Things will cross one another +sometimes, and make all go wrong. He said, when he gave me a bill one +day,--that I was necessary to his existence. I shall never forget it. He +did marry that girl--far too young for him. But I didn't blame him. I +will not say any more. My feelings oppress me." + +Suddenly, I began to understand, the meaning of this mysterious +conversation. You will say I was excessively stupid not to perceive it +before; that the hints were almost as intolerable and palpable as the +most excessive hint ever given--that of Desdemona to the Moor of Venice. +But you will please to remember, that you had not the personal +appearance before you, which was in the room with me. + +After I left this informant, I sat down on the rail of a small bridge, +and then made a memorandum, of which you shall hear in due season. + +I was told, in one of my "searches for truths," that if I would only +write to Mr. Bob Warren, of Hardrun, I could acquire important knowledge +of the nature which I so eagerly coveted. Accordingly, I addressed to +him a very polite letter, and begged his aid--as I was collecting +materials for the life of a celebrated Physician--Dr. Bolton, of +Scrabble-Hill. + +Only a short time elapsed before I received a reply, and to the +following effect: + + "ROBERT LORING, Esq.,--_Dear Sir_: + + "About the doctor. I did know him. That is to say, I used to meet + him scattered about the country, though I never called him in for + professional services. In fact I believe my mother-in-law has more + judgment about common ailments, than half the doctors around the + world; and, thanks to a kind Providence, we have had wonderful + health in the family. + + "You want to hear about his personal appearance. He was a short + thick-set man, with rather a reddish summit, and a sort of an + in-pressed nose, and his skin always so tight that it seemed as if + no more ever could get into it. As to his manners, he was slow, + awful slow; slow in taking in ideas, like in mind in this respect, + to snow melting on a March day. He did not say much, and so people, + after the common ignorant notion about such folks, thought that as + not much came out of him, there must be a great deal left in him. + He would often repeat what others said, only putting the things + into bigger words, and rolling them out so that people did not + know their own observations. + + "You ask me if I remember any observations of his. The most + sensible remarks he ever made were some scornful attacks on Tom + Jefferson's gun-boats, just before election; but I cannot say what + they were, being very busy in hunting up voters at the time. + + "I hope the doctor was no relation of yours. I write under that + impression. I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings, but I must say + I am in a quandary, when I learn that you propose to print a book + about him. I hope I shall know when it is printed. + + "As to asking my associates here, as you say, about the man, there + is no use in it. I am perfectly willing to do anything to oblige + you, or any one else. But I know what they would say--that he was a + stupid, solemn old ass. + + "I think the creature was honest enough. As to not being over + blessed with smartness, it was not his fault; for all cannot have + much brains; for if they had, what would the world be, where it + seems to me evident that the great majority must be blessed with + but little common sense, or the country would never get along? It + is always evident to me, that a small part of the world must do the + thinking. + + "Poor fellow! I have nothing to say against the doctor. He was + honest enough. He was good-natured, and could forgive an injury, + and that I take it is a pretty good proof that his religion will be + found worth more at last than that of a good many people who think + themselves better than ever he thought himself. In fact, if I have + said anything about him that is not to his credit, I am not much + used to writing; and then the idea of having his life written, + rather turned my ideas into confusion. I can't go through the work + of writing a new letter. He never hurt any one, I believe, by his + practice. His being slow kept him from giving as much medicine as + he would have done had he been a smarter man. + + "I hope what I write is agreeable and useful. + + "With respect, + + "Yours to command, + + "ROBERT WARREN. + + "P.S.--I will say that the doctor was ready to do a good turn. He + was not hard on the poor. I believe I said he was honest, and had a + good temper. It was a very good temper. He was honest as the + sun--so people said, and in this instance it was true. He was not + for experiments, as that Dr. Stone at the Run, who was always + restless as if at some deep game, or like Dr. Thomas, at our place, + who tried his new-fashioned medicines on rabbits, so that at least + it was not an imposition on human nature. The doctor practiced in + the good old way, and for that he has my respect." + +I have now given you a pretty clear idea of the valuable results of my +historical labors at the village. With my notes collected with so much +care, I turned my back on this place, and returned to my office at +Newark. + +And now what was to be done? I began to feel quite feverish and +miserable. Then I asked myself the question, whether all histories, and +a considerable number of our biographies, were not based on similar +poverty of materials--were not paste-board edifices looking like stone, +and having only chaff for a foundation? + +Now came a great temptation.--Should I imitate certain authors who, by +means of cunning sentences, made the trifling appear to be events which +were all-important, and so transformed ideas, that the mean became an +object of admiration? + +I recalled an instance when an historian found a record of a man whom he +desired to clothe in all possibility of royal purple, and so to find +fame with his sect, or to gain applause as a gorgeous writer. The true +narrative declared, "At this time he believed that he received from +heaven a divine intimation, a light from above, assuring him that a man +might go through all the instruction of the Colleges of Oxford and +Cambridge, and not be able to tell a man how to save his soul." + +Now, this plain statement, however translated into the dignity of an +ambitious style, would not appear to advantage in a brilliant eulogy. +The man was fanatical, and crazy. But the design was to represent him as +a philosophical reformer in the religious world. + +And now behold the power of art. In the original document there is a sad +poverty, and deformity of flesh and bones. The poor creature must appear +on the stage in kingly robes. Hear our model!--Behold the +transformation! "At this time he was convinced that he received a divine +illumination, infusing such thoughts as transcend the most elevated +conceptions of mere human wisdom; and he was overwhelmed with the depth +of the conviction, that a man might pass through all the extent of +scholastic learning taught at Oxford and Cambridge, and not be able to +solve the great problem of human existence." + +Was there ever such alchemy? If I could attain a moderate degree of +efficiency, as the pupil of such a writer, the small items of +information collected at the village, could become a grand biography. + +Let me see, thought I, what I can make of my material. I do not know +that I could dare to publish words which would make a false impression. +But let me try my skill in this essay to transmute poor substances into +gold. I take the note concerning the visit to Mrs. Rachel Peabody,--and +the account she gave me of the sicknesses of Eliza Jane, Faith Kitty, +and John Potts. + +"One of the most impressive views of the doctor, was his appearance +among the young, when the sickness which does not spare our race in the +days of our early development, was bearing its distress to the languid +frame, and sorrow to the affectionate relatives who watched by the +bed-side. I do not mean to say that this illustrious physician was less +skilful in dealing with the maladies of middle life, or with those which +we deplore in the aged,--whose sun we would have to sink in all the +tranquillity of a serene sky. It is the consequence of maternal love, +that in this village where his great talents were so unfortunately +circumscribed, you may still hear the most touching descriptions of his +skill and tenderness by the cradle, and by the couch of those children, +the future promise of our country, who would attend on the instructions +of the academy, were it not that their condition has become one, where +obscure causes prove to us the limitation of our finite capacities." + +Let me now try my hand on the letter of Mr. Warren. + +Note,--"The doctor was a solemn ass." Biographical representation. +"Suspicion might arise with respect to the extent of the intellectual +power of the doctor, if the biographer led the reader to suppose that +all who knew him, in his retreat from the great circles where the +understanding is cultivated to its highest degree, regarded him as a man +of transcendent genius. The slow process of thought, often observable in +men whose deductions reach the greatest altitude, like the great tree +slowly evolved from its incipient stem, is a contradiction to the +conceptions, which the vulgar form of the intellectual power of men of +acute minds. They anticipate the sudden flashing of the eagle eye, and +the flight of thought as with the eagle wing. And when they are doomed +to disappointment, and meet with that seemingly sluggish action of the +mind, which has learned caution, lest elements that should enter into +the decision that is sought, should not be observed, it is an error at +which a philosophical mind can afford a smile, to find that their +unauthorized disgust, will seek a similitude for the great man of such +tardy conclusions, in some animal that is proverbial for the dulness of +its perceptions." + +Note,--"Supposed to be wise, because he was solemn and stupid." +Biographical representation. "It is curious to observe that when +contemporary testimony is elicited, concerning the powers of a superior +man, you discover, amid unavoidable abuse and misrepresentation, +unintentional testimony to his exalted qualities. While an attempt is +made to undermine his claim to wisdom, it will incidentally appear that +wisdom was ascribed to him. The endeavor of envy which would ostracise +him, is a proof that it is excited by common admiration heaped upon its +object." + +Note,--The old lady who intimated that there had been "love passages +between herself and the Doctor"--Biographical representation. + +"It is delightful to know that a man of such science, and constant +observation, was not rude, or wanting in those gentle traits which +allure the susceptibilities of the best portion of our race. I might +narrate a romantic incident, which would prove how he had +unintentionally inspired an affection in a lovely lady, which endured in +the most singular extent, even to old age. I have witnessed her tears at +the mention of his name. On the most ample scrutiny, I repose, when I +say, that the Doctor had never trifled with this sincere love. The sense +of devoted affection in this case, led the victim of a tender delusion +to infer, that on his part, the regard was reciprocated. I can imagine +the sorrow of his great heart, if he discovered the unfortunate error +and misplaced passion. In the case to which I now refer, I could only +judge of the beauty and attractions of the early youth, by those remains +of little arts and graceful attitudes, which are the result, so +generally, of a consciousness of a beauty that is confessed by all." + +Then too I could avail myself of the ingenious devices of praise, by a +denial of infirmities. + +"In him there was nothing for effect--nothing that was +theatrical--nothing done to cause the vulgar to stare with astonishment. +No pompous equipage, no hurried drives, no sudden summons from the +dwellings of his friends, as if patients required his sudden +attendance--no turgid denomination of little objects by words of +thundering sound--no ordering the simple placing of the feet in hot +water, as Pediluvium,--none of those arts were employed by the subject +of our Biography, to acquire or extend his practice, or build up his +great fame." + +I also found some of the letters of the Doctor. Let me attempt the work +of Alchemy again. Let me transform some passage into the proper language +of Modern Biography. + +Thus I find this sentence in a letter to Colonel Tupp: "Some of our +negroes in New Jersey are very troublesome, and some wise plan should be +devised lest they become a heavy burden----" + +"It would appear"--thus should it be erected into Biographical +effect--"that the Doctor, to be named always with so much veneration, +was probably one of the first of our men of giant minds, to foresee the +dangers of the problem involved in the existence of the African race, in +the new world. I claim him--on the evidence of his familiar epistolary +correspondence--as the originator of the great movements of statesmen +and philosophers, for its solution. He gave, beyond all contradiction, +that impulse to the energetic thought, which has led to all the plans +for the elevation of those, who bear 'God's image cut in ebony.' As we +trace the voice to the distant fountain--or the immense circle of fire +on our prairies, to the sparks elicited by the careless traveler from +the small flint, so as I recall the present innumerable discussions on +this sable subject, I refer them all to the unpretending utterances of +this great man. I recur to the small village where he dwelt. His study, +his favorite retreat, is before me. There, at the table, illuminated as +it were with his manuscript, I see his impressive form. Near him are the +pestle and mortar; the various jars on which are labels in such unknown +words, that the country people regard them as if they were the +ingredients for the sorcerer,--his coat,--his books,--his +minerals,--such are his surroundings. + +"There in that study--he first in the unostentatious effusions of a +private letter, suggests the seed of those convictions, which led to the +formation of the Colonization Society. No fanaticism, however, has +marked and disfigured the stately forms of his thoughts, on the subject +of the extinction of slavery. Let not the readers of this Biography at +the Sunny South, imagine that he designed an interference with their +possessions. There is evidence of the perfect balance of his mind on +this subject, in the fact, that he designates them, in another letter, +written probably after this one, which contains the immortal sentence, +in which he employs a word, which in printed syllables, with the +exception of one repeated letter in the English, resembles the Roman +adjective for Black,--but whose pronunciation rejected the classical +usage. + +"I am aware that those who love his memory will be compelled to do +battle for the honors which they justly claim for these and other +anticipations of later movements in the world of wisdom and +philanthropy. As Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, only to +have his claim a subject of dispute, so our great Philosopher will find +those to detract from his merits, and maintain that the great efforts to +which we have alluded were of later origination." + +While I speak upon this subject of the African discussion, I may remark +that there is a singular discovery which I have made, as I have searched +his papers, and concerning which I am in doubt, whether it should be +delegated to oblivion or made the subject of ingenuous confession. I am +aware that obscurity throws its shadow over the topic. I am also aware +that I may hereby cast a suspicion of the spirit of a wild projector, +over the subject of this memoir. I think, however, and believe that I do +not flatter myself unjustly, that I have guarded against such a wrong +by the delineation I have given of his calm and reflecting character. + +The circumstances which my pen is somewhat reluctant to trace for fear +of misapprehension, are these: I find in a letter to a friend the +remark, "You would be no less startled by the assertion, that I could +transform the African into a white man, than to learn from me that my +Caesar has become sedulous in the discharge of his duties, and ceased to +slumber by the kitchen fire when he should be at his work at the +wood-shed." + +Now observe this ominous suggestion about the transformation of the +physical characteristics of those who have been translated among us from +the land of sandy deserts. Here is a hint of the physical transformation +of a black man into a white. And then I must add that I find two small +pieces of paper lying near the letter, which seem to corroborate my +view, which papers, I candidly confess,--here is the ground of +hesitation, the momentum which disturbs the mind seemingly on the eve of +its rest, might indeed have been prescriptions saved by accident, or +have been hints on the subject of the transformation of the race of +darkened skins. One of these fragments contains the words, "Elixir to +remove the dark pigment which causes the surface discrimination"--on the +other, "For the removal of odorous accidentals." I am willing to leave +the subject to the consideration of my readers. + +Then again I have known a man who had no brilliant or striking +qualities, exalted into one of most honorable fame,--in this wise,-- + +"The doctor perhaps had no one gift of intellectual power which exalted +him above other men. But look to the faculties which he possessed in +admirable combination; regard him in the complete symmetry of his mind," +etc. etc. + +Thus I amused myself by this imitation of the system of eulogistic +biographies. But I must confess that I had returned to my home oppressed +with a feverish anxiety, as of one who felt that he had become involved +in a hopeless undertaking. How utterly absurd the position which I +occupied! How silly had I been in taking the assurance of Mrs. Bolton +for certain truth, and acting on the principle, that her husband was a +great man in his day. I now began to regard the deceased as one of the +most stupid creatures that had ever felt a pulse. + +But then I had acquired the most morbid fear of meeting the widow. What +excuse should I offer for a change of purpose? I have no doubt that my +exposure and miserable life when at the village, seeking pearls and +finding chaff, had produced a temporary derangement of my system, and +that I had contracted some low fever. + +Nothing else could account for the manner in which I was tormented by my +position. What could be more easy than to say that I found myself unable +to gather material for the life of the Great--I was about to say, old +fool! Somehow I was spell-bound. I could not reason calmly on the +subject. It broke my rest at night. It haunted me during the day. I now +perceive, that I ought to have sought the advice of my physician. But +then, common sense seemed to have deserted me on this one point. I was +nervous, wretched, for so unreasonable a reason, and could not find +relief. One night I dreamed that the widow and the doctor were both +intent on murdering me. There she stood near me, the picture of wrath, +and urging him, as a second Lady Macbeth, to destroy me. He advanced and +raised his abominable pestle above his head. He smiled, proving how a +man may smile and be a villain, and procrastinated the deadly blow to +torment me. Fortunately I saw projecting from one of his huge pockets a +large bottle of some specific which he had concocted for a patient. +Springing up, I seized the vial, and grasping him by the collar, was +pouring it down his throat, saying, you infamous old murderer die of +your own medicine, when a chair, near my bed, thrown violently half +across the room by my impetuosity, awoke me. + +But every knock at my door tormented me. Every letter was examined with +terror,--lest I should recognize a hand calling me to account. + +I found my way about Newark through unfrequented streets, and across the +lots when it was practicable. Even when I went to the court-house, on +business, I left my office, not by the door, but through a small back +window, and by sundry winding ways reached my destination. + +After this plan had been pursued for some time, I was duly honored by +the following note. + + "SIR:--You are not to think that your designs are unknown. Your + singular conduct in passing by my house so often,--a house so + removed from the streets through which you would naturally + pass,--could not fail to be observed by any man who had an eye in + his head, and who regarded his rights. I am not alone in this + observation of your proceedings. We have taken into consideration + your stealthy look as you passed, and have noticed how you watched + at the corners, lest any one should see you. + + "Depend upon it your designs are known. The villany is detected. + You are a hypocrite of the deepest dye. Unless you entirely, and + immediately, relinquish your pursuit, you will suffer in a manner + you little apprehend. + + "Do not prowl in this mean way around my premises any more. Strive + to retrieve your character. I hope the day may come when I can + honor you as I now despise you. + + "WARNING." + +About the same time I received this additional note. + + "DEAR BOB:--I heard the other day that you had returned home, and I + have been eager to see you. They tell me that you have fallen + desperately in love with a certain widow, and that you have been up + the country, under pretence of partridge shooting, in order that + you might inquire about her property. Are the inquiries + satisfactory? Are the acres and dwellings such, that on your + return, she appears to be angelic? Or, being disappointed as to the + properties left her by her father, and the old doctor, is she but a + woman of ordinary charms? Oh Bob! I never thought you so mercenary. + I thought that you would follow my example, and despise all but the + real excellencies which can adorn a wife. + + "Had it not been that I am lame, I should have been to see you,--as + it is desirable that we should meet soon. + + "Now I think of it, there is another foolish report about + you,--that you go to the court-house by the back street, in + consequence of your having heard that that scape-grace, Bill + Turney, whom you lashed so terribly in your address before the + squire, when Obadiah Potter was arrested for beating his wife, + intended to pummel you as soon as he caught you. They say also that + he describes his belligerent intentions in very graphic language, + to wit, that he will, 'shoot through you, like lightning through a + gooseberry bush.' These stories will amuse you. + + "Stop and see me the first time you come along the main street in a + bold manner. + + "Your friend, + + "J. WALTERS." + +These annoyances had at least a good effect. I resolved that I would see +the widow, and throwing off my nervous anxiety, explain to her that I +could not possibly find materials sufficient for a biography. I intended +also to suggest, that a physician might be better qualified for the +undertaking. + +Hence I gladly accepted the invitation of a fair cousin of mine, to be +one of her guests for an evening party; where I felt confident that I +should meet the widow. + +It had now been several weeks since I had been thrown into the society +of ladies. My health was improved. The nervous fever that had agitated +me, had passed away. The fascination of one whom I had sometimes met in +our village gatherings, seemed to be restoring me to myself. + +After a while, my companion looking across the room, said to me, "How +well our widow looks this evening." + +I thought that there was a mischievous look in her laughing eye. But +sure enough--there stood the Empress, who had commanded the biography. +She was resting her hand upon a piano, and in deep conversation with +Judge Plian. + +I crossed the room and spoke to her. She received me politely--but not +as one who had the slightest recollection, that there was any tie of the +most profound interest between us. Surely a man writing her deceased +husband's biography, should have immediately become her chief object of +attention. On the contrary, after a few common-place words, she turned +to the Judge, and became absorbed in his conversation. + +And this was the more remarkable, because the man was by no means +good-looking. Nay, I think him rather insignificant. I had a few words +with him on the occasion of the trial of that miserable creature, who +would get himself hung, and I concluded, not only that he was not well +versed in legal learning, but that he was a remarkably stubborn man, +riveted to his opinions, even when, by means of lucid argument, you +proved him to be in error. + +A short time afterwards I entered into conversation with my fair +cousin. She directed me to look at the two, near the piano. + +"They will make a good-looking couple, will they not?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, have you not heard of their engagement?" + +"Engagement!" + +"Yes, it has been a short acquaintance. Indeed, Bob, now that it recurs +to my mind, I heard that she sent you out of the way, into the country +on business, that the Judge might not be alarmed by the appearance of a +rival. But you know that villagers are famous for gossip. Of course +there was nothing in it. And I said, you never had a serious thought +about her." + +Was ever anything like this? Before the shoes were old with which she +followed my poor father's body. While the Biography of her deceased +husband was in progress, she forms an engagement with a man of no sort +of personal attractions, and who, being on the bench, can have his legal +decisions confuted by a young lawyer. + +Surely the most strict moralist would confess, that I was released from +my engagements! Surely Sir Charles Grandison would have said, that I +need not put myself forward for an explanation with the widow. If she +spoke to me on the subject, could I not say, "Let the Judge write the +book?" + +These notes have not been written in vain, if I can contribute, in the +least degree, to the awakening of the public mind to a demand for +greater moral principles, in the composition of histories, and of the +memoirs of distinguished men. + +I thought that the widow might send me a note, before many days had +passed. I waited, and concluded in a Christian spirit, that if she +applied to me, she should have the notes which I had accumulated. But I +never heard again of my first attempt at writing a memoir. I never heard +again of Dr. Bolton's Biography. + + + + +IV. + +_KATYDIDS:--A NEW CHAPTER IN NATURAL HISTORY._ + + + John Jones, a man who said he hated strife, + Had from the altar led an able wife. + No lines told scandal on a wrinkled brow; + Temper and Time are rivals with their plow. + Some said that she was gentle as the May; + That Jones, the dog, was now to have his day. + + Your pardon, men, I pray you now dispense, + If I proclaim you void of common sense, + When you would have your wives to know no will, + To have no thought but such as you instill; + To be your shadows, never to suggest, + Each judgment crossing yours at once represt; + And to suppose, that every chiding word + Shall from your bearded lips alone be heard. + + If no resistance met us in our home, + What petty tyrants would all men become? + The little wits that most of men possess, + For want of sharp'ning would become far less; + The selfish streams that flow from out our will, + So far corrupted be more stagnant still: + And restless, we should wage an inward war, + But for the soothing rays of home's true star. + Oh, let this wrong abuse of women end, + In me, at least, they'll find a sturdy friend. + I give my witness, I who have been thrown, + Widely with all in Country and in Town, + Women are best of all our fallen race, + Richer in heart, than e'en in outward grace, + And if our homes are not the abodes of peace, + The fault is ours; and the complaint should cease. + + In that small dwelling there--from morn to night, + A woman toils, withdrawn from human sight; + A plain poor woman, in a common dress, + Of kindly tones, and of uncouth address. + + Just wend thy way unto the little brook, + Day after day upon its waters look, + See every day the self-same ripples there, + On those same stones, for ages smooth and bare. + + So she from day to day the course of life, + Finds one recurring call of labor's strife, + Save when God's blessed day of rest hath come, + And its sun shines, as in the church, at home. + Unlike the stream she has no murmuring tone, + She has God's will to do, and it is done. + + With tender care she trains her youthful band, + And never wearies in her heart or hand; + Is ready, when the music in her ear, + From one loved step, proclaims her husband near, + To spread the frugal board, the welcome give, + In each act say, for self I do not live. + Oh man, o'erlook thy wife's unceasing care + How her dear love doth follow everywhere, + Forget her, as she stood beside thy bed, + When the long sickness bowed thy weary head, + Watching,--to her all sacrifice as light, + As 'tis to stars to watch o'er earth at night. + + Ah 'tis most noble, manly, not to know + How light o'er all doth from her presence flow, + And when a quicker word in haste doth fall, + To speak of her, as if strife was her all. + What could she say, if she replied to thee, + Told to the world her secret misery, + Showed the sad wounds that thy neglect had wrought, + Where but a look the healing balm had brought. + + One, at this hour, lies on the bed of death, + A neighbor lovely as the morning's breath. + Slowly she dies,--and with prophetic eye + Tracing the course of human destiny, + I see a home she brightened, hence so lone, + Its calm day darkened, and its music gone; + + The young, the old with anxious cares opprest, + Their hearts, like shadows feeling for their rest + On the green sward, where flickering sunbeams glide, + My tears can fall, and standing by thy side, + I know a woman's place, a woman's worth,-- + I know the gift of God in her to earth. + + Thou will not let thy wife become to thee, + That which her nature claims that she should be. + Thou hast a cold dead life from her apart, + Thou art not moulded by her gentler heart, + Else by her sweet, pure thoughts thou wert more true + More wise, more bold each noble deed to do. + + Of woman's weakness dost thou speak? Thou'lt find + Her strength indeed, by this just bond of mind. + You are the weak one, cannot grasp her might, + Forever boasting that thy wrong is right. + + Without her soul to thine, the page is dull + Of all life's work,--and with this it is full + Of all illumined splendors, as of old, + The precious writings were adorned with Gold. + + Ah view that cell so dark!--the felon there, + With glaring eye that speaks his vast despair. + He once in princely splendor lived his day, + Lord of the street, a monarch in his way. + His costly revels gained an envied fame, + Where shallow fops, and women like them came. + Oh man! how couldst thou thus thy God defy? + Could riches pay thee for thy long-told lie? + + If thou hadst said thy secret to thy wife, + Made known to her the secret guilty strife, + Told of the awful chance, the business dice, + The gambling sales, the shameful, well-named vice, + Asked what to risk, asked what a man should do, + Would that shame-darkened cell have been for you? + + She would have said, in woman's faith so strong, + "We may be poor,--we never will do wrong. + Take all this splendor; let it fade away, + But stand thou honest as the open day." + Would she have been to thee a feeble stay? + + We make the woman weak where she is weak; + We school her feeble; feebleness we seek. + We make believe that life is pompous pride, + That she is blest, by gold when gratified, + This my conclusion, as the world we scan, + What's wrong in woman tells of wrong in man. + + But where is Jones? While I have thus digressed, + Why Jones, poor fellow, is by care oppressed. + He draws his trail of briars round life's ring, + And wonders he is caught by everything. + Jones snaps at every woman, man, and child, + Just as a turtle by hot coals made wild. + + Jones had a daughter, and her name was Kate, + As like her sire as pewter plate to plate. + And they together almost vexed to death, + The wife, the target of their arrowed breath. + + Sometimes the patient creature's anger rose + Their petty wrongs, and malice to oppose. + And tempers such as hers, men do not try + By single deeds that cause some misery; + Stirred at the last by injuries borne so long, + Their anger speaks accumulated wrong. + + Kate had her beauty, and her household skill, + And in due time her Jack had found his Gill, + He was a man as meek as man could be, + And could not dream of woman's tyranny. + He was a pleasant man to smile "good day," + And had the art to say what others say; + Thought his old saws came from a welling-spring + In his own mind--not knowing he did bring + All that so softly from his lips e'er fell, + As vapid water from his neighbor's well-- + The poor dog never stole a good-sized bone, + And so the world of curs let him alone. + + Not to an infant could Kate gentle be, + As to a creature, meek and kind as he. + How could she tear the vine that round her grew, + Ready to fall with every wind that blew. + The wife made battle for him with his friends; + And fighting them, she thus made good amends + For all her patience with him. Thus with care + She spread her shield, and said, attack, who dare. + Strange, how 'mid peace we make the show of war, + And shout unto the battle from afar, + And her defense at last such habit wrought + Had she assailed him, she herself had fought. + + In time, ill-temper wrought upon her mind, + And illness, too, its miseries combined. + Oh! sad to read of intellect o'erthrown! + Sometimes all blank. Sometimes one train alone + Of thought, declares that reason is denied. + We hear of one who said, I must abide + Behind the door, because I am a clock. + And there he stood, and ticked. And one was shocked + To feel a rat within his stomach run. + The doctor heard: the story being done, + He wisely smiled, and said, "I soon can cure. + You need not be a rat-trap long I'm sure." + "Why how, O doctor, can you reach the rat?" + "'Tis easy: down your throat I'll send a cat." + The man at such a pill must need rebel. + And with good sense he quietly got well. + + Kate had her fancies--said she soon would die, + And wasting seemed to prove her prophecy. + "Poor Will," she said, "you soon my loss will mourn, + The wife who shielded you from many a thorn; + I'm glad the pigs are killed, the sweet-meats made, + Our turnips gathered, and our butcher paid. + I'm glad I sent away to Jericho, + That lazy Bess, that tried my temper so. + I'm glad I told my mind to Jane Agree, + About that scandal that she said of me: + That I was jealous, to my apron string + Tied you--distrustful of my marriage ring. + I'm glad I told her that it was a lie, + And somewhat sorry, since it made her cry. + + "And, Oh! poor Will--so helpless when alone, + What wilt thou do, dear one, when I am gone? + How would I love, a spirit round thy way, + To move, and be thy blessing every day! + To fan thy forehead, and to dry thy tears, + To nerve thy soul, and banish all thy fears. + All I can do for thee, thou patient one, + So gentle, tender, loving, all is done. + I feel so lonely, in thy loneliness. + This is, in death, my very great distress. + Some one will fill my place, ere long, I trow, + Your clothes are whole--in perfect order now. + Be sure you get a wife that is like me, + In gentle temper, and sweet sympathy. + For you, so long to gentleness allied, + Could not a bristling woman, sure, abide." + + Poor Will! At first his tears fell down like rain + Most at the time when she inflicted pain, + By her unkind surmise, that he would take + Another wife--did she the world forsake. + + "You are a wife," he said, "so fond, so true, + I cannot have another--none but you. + You made me what I am the people say; + Another wife might make me; what I pray? + An eight-day clock, they say, I am most like, + Wound up by you, and by you taught to strike. + Another wife might keep the time too late, + Take out the wheels, and snatch away each weight: + And I, neglected, come to a dead stop, + Like some old time-piece in a lumber shop. + But if you think, dear wife, that I must wed, + When you, at last, are numbered with the dead, + As I depend upon your good advice, + Choose you the bride. Shall it be Susan Price?" + + Never had Bill so great a blunder made; + Never had demon so his cause betrayed. + Changed in her view--a villain lost to shame-- + She scarced believed that he could bear his name. + + She saw the future. Susan Price was there. + With hazel eyes, and curls of Auburn hair. + The rooms she swept would that vile Susan sweep? + The cup-board key would that bad Susan keep? + With those same pans would Susan cook their food, + For that fool Bill, and for some foolish brood? + Would Susan drink the wine that she had made? + Would all those pickles be to her betrayed? + "Shall that vain thing sit there,--a pretty pass! + Neglecting work, to simper in that glass? + Will she cut down that silk frock, good, though old, + And puff it out with pride in every fold? + And of all other insults, this the worst,-- + My beating heart is ready here to burst-- + She'll use my blue-edged china,--yes she will-- + Oh! I could throw it piece by piece at Bill. + + "I see her, proud to occupy my chair, + To pour out tea, to smile around her there, + While my false friends will praise her half-baked cake, + And Bill will chuckle o'er each piece they take. + And while his grief is lettered o'er my grave, + He'll laugh, and eat, and show himself a knave." + + Hast thou on some huge cliff, with oaks around, + Heard the full terror of the thunder sound? + Hast thou at sea, all breathless heard the blast + Rolling vast waves on high whene'er it past? + Then mayst thou form some thought of her dread ire + Poured on the man to burn his soul like fire. + + But soon the burst of anger all was o'er,-- + And softened, she could speak of death once more. + "And Susan Price can marry whom she will, + And,"--so she argued, "will not marry Bill." + One day she said,--"It is revealed to me + That ere I die, a warning there shall be." + Will looked, and saw her mind now wandered more, + As thus she spake, than it had done before. + + "Yes," she exclaimed, "before I leave this scene, + Death will appear,--the warning intervene. + Death will appear in this our quiet home-- + A chicken without feathers will he come." + + Fame spreads the great, and fame will spread the small, + Fame gives us tears,--for laughter it will call. + Fame spreads this whim,--this foolish crazy fear,-- + The neighbors laughed, and told it far and near. + + There dwelt close by, a restless heedless wight-- + Mischief to him was ever a delight.-- + He heard the story, and his scheme prepared, + And what his brain had purposed, that he dared. + + He from a rooster all his feathers tore, + --Had he been learned in the Grecian lore + Heard of the Cynic, old Diogenes, + Who, lying in his tub, in dreamy ease, + Said to the hard-brained conqueror of old time, + With heedlessness to human wants sublime, + When he inquired, "What shall for you be done?" + "All that I ask, hide not from me the sun." + He might have thought of him; and Plato's scowl, + When in the school he hurled the unfeathered fowl, + And said, ere murmuring lips reproof began, + "There, Plato, is, as you defined, a man." + But of the Greeks our wight had not a thought. + Under his arm the fowl, all plucked, was brought, + And forced to enter into Katy's door: + Who spied him wandering o'er her sanded floor. + + She looked upon him, and began to weep. + Bill sat not far off on a chair asleep. + + "And so," she said, "Oh death! and thou art come + To take my spirit far away from home." + Then as inspired a sudden hope to trace, + She waved the unfeathered monster from its place. + Would drive far off from her the coming ill,-- + "Shoo shoo, thou death, now leave me, go to Bill." + + 'Twas overheard--and wide the story spread. + It reached John Jones, and to his wife he said, + In precious wrath,--"They slander thus our Kate; + Some foe devised this in malicious hate; + And you, perhaps, were one to make the lie." + Thus deeply stung, she made a fierce reply. + + "She did it, I am sure," replied the wife, + "She did it, sure as I have breath and life." + "No--Katy didn't," said the man in rage. + "Yes, Katy did," she said. And so they wage + A war of words, like these upon my page. + + The Indian Fairy spirit heard the din, + And first to patience strove them both to win, + Sent the cool breeze to fan the burning brow, + Volcanic fires to die by flakes of snow. + In war incessant, still the clamor rose, + Still Katy did, and didn't, and fierce blows. + + At last the spirit took their souls away, + And in their cottage lay their lifeless clay; + Their bodies changed--and insects they became-- + Green as the grass--but still their cry the same. + + Hence in all trees, we hear in starry night, + The contradiction, and the wordy fight. + We hear John Jones, and his unhappy wife, + And all their brood forever in a strife: + And Katy did, and Katy didn't still + Are sounds incessant as a murmuring rill. + + + + +V. + +_THE IMAGE-MAKER._ + + + DWELLER ON EARTH. + + Thou dwellest here, beneath this dome, + A Pilgrim, far from thine own home. + Where is thine heart, and where thy land? + Thou longest for some distant strand. + + We have thy love and gentle care, + Thou bearest blessings every where. + Yet day and night, and light and shade + Shall with less labor one be made, + + Than thou in sympathy be one + With us, who through our course will run, + Laden with cares, with pleasures worn, + Children of hope to sorrow born. + + Thou hast our speech, our garb, our toil, + Well known, yet stranger on our soil. + Some deeper hidden life is thine, + As if we saw the tortuous vine + + 'Mid veiling branches intertwine; + Swinging in air its precious fruit, + While the deep mould has hid its root; + From view its highest honors lost, + + 'Mid the oak leaves in murmurs tost, + A secret work thy endless task, + Thy endless care, of that we ask. + + +PILGRIM. + + I seek to form an Image here. + + +DWELLER ON EARTH. + + Thou art a Sculptor! Yet our ear + Doth catch no sound of chisel stroke, + No hammer clang--no marble broke. + + +PILGRIM. + + The silence of Eternity + Around my work doth ever lie. + When marbles into dust shall fall, + And human art no fame befall, + + The sun no more its beams shall give + To statues seeming half to live, + Beauty no more on genius wait, + Which copying seemeth to create; + + When heaven and earth shall pass away, + When breaketh everlasting day, + Then shall the Image that I form, + Appear 'mid nature's dying storm. + + The Image that no human skill + Could fashion, or Archangel's will; + No angel mind the model give + Of that which shall forever live. + + At that great day it shall be known, + The Image of the Eternal One. + + + + +VI. + +_THE CLOUDS._ + + + The clouds that drift, are slowly drawn + To that glorious sun at dawn. + Darkened mists, and now so bright, + Resplendent in the morning light; + In borrowed glory,--spreading flame, + God's fiery pillar still they frame. + + So I,--in dark night once astray + Through boundless grace have found my way, + To thee,--the Sun of Righteousness, + Whose wings are healing in distress. + + From thee I trust, the dawning gleam + Hath made me more than I can seem; + Hath made me thine, in joy, in tears, + Thy pardoned one,--one all whose fears + + Are silenced in thy cross-wrung groan, + Buried beneath thy tomb's vast stone, + Which angels' hands alone can move. + Earth has this pure work for their love. + + Oh let thy glory shine on me, + Armed in thy purest panoply. + My shield, the Lamb, the cross it bears, + Let me not weep its stain with tears! + The gathering waters fill each cloud; + The mountain's burnished tops they shroud. + They spread o'er valley, over plain, + Rich with God's blessings in the rain; + On good and evil both they fall, + In the vast care of God for all. + + So Lord, thy servant thus prepare, + To bear thy mercies everywhere. + When in the grave mine ashes sleep, + When o'er it, sad a friend may weep, + + Thou wilt not suffer it be said,-- + His life was scarce accredited + By Him who sits upon the throne,-- + By Him who bore our sins alone, + Who wills our holy walk on earth, + As sons of God, of heavenly birth, + Who will have none disciples here + Unless their cross with zeal they bear. + + Life without Christ! That is but death. + Prayer without Christ!--but idle breath: + And love for man, but vanity + Save at the cross 'tis learnt by me. + Oh help thy branch, thou heavenly Vine. + Union with thee is life divine, + And clustered fruits are ever mine, + + If from beneath alone we gaze, + Thy providence a darkened maze. + Rise on wings of faith and prayer, + And then what love and wisdom there! + So brightness of unbroken day + Upon those clouds doth heavenward lay + Though we can trace no single ray, + Who look from earth. Yet angels see + The glory as a silver sea. + + + + +VII. + +_THE PROTECTOR DYING._ + + + Dread hour! nearing, nearing fast. + Yet I cannot wish thee past. + Death! Oh! but a dream till nigh, + With night cold from eternity. + + That cold night doth around me creep + In which immortals never sleep. + + The cloud its mighty shade doth fling, + Like a mantle for a king, + On the mountain's awful form, + Scarred through battles with the storm. + + So thy darkness falls on me, + Darkness, such as cannot be, + But to those whose soul is life, + To a nation in its strife, + That its wrongs for ever crushed, + The cries of slaves forever hushed, + And every chain forever gone, + Man tremble before God alone; + That man's true right, so long betrayed, + On truth and justice shall be laid; + That Freedom's martyr's work begun + In blood, and fire, and hidden sun, + Shall culminate in triumphs won; + And the world's changing channels trace + A course of hope for all our race. + + Oh! how they as the humblest die, + Who part from kingly majesty + To stand before Him!--nothing there + But as His image we may bear; + The image by the humblest borne; + The kings of the eternal morn. + + The lowliest man, most void of power, + To stand the trial of that hour! + To come from life in quiet shade, + From humble duties well obeyed. + + Ah! if this be a solemn thing, + What then for one in might a king! + To meet the trial of that day + From gorgeous wrongs in false array, + Where false praise gilds the every deed, + Where few warn one that will not heed; + The man whom Weird-like hands have shown + The weary pathway to the throne. + + Oh! thou gory-crowned head + Haunting here my dying bed! + Was it not necessity? + Moulding deed that was to be! + Oh! king so false--away--away-- + Leave me at least my dying day. + + Is there no refuge? Hated face! + Come with the looks of thy cold race. + Look thou as when thy soiled hand gave + The Earl, thy vassal to the grave. + Gaze thou on me in that worst pride + As kingly honor was defied. + Look thus on me--but not as now, + That patient sorrow on thy brow. + + I can but gaze. Forever near + Thy dreaded form is my one fear. + + A boy, I sit by running stream, + The humble life my daily dream: + Some lowly good--some wrongs redrest, + A noiseless life, its peaceful rest. + As that stream calm my life shall be; + As placid in its purity. + The humble stone shall tell the tale + When life began--when strength did fail. + An humble race shall bear my name + Blest by a few not rich in fame. + Oh! king, thine eye! It says, but then + Thy hand had not the guilty stain. + + Hark! how the marriage-bells are ringing! + Voices fill the air with singing. + Waves of light are now the beating + Of my heart, and the repeating + Seems no weariness of pleasure, + Only increase of its treasure. + Ah! dear wife! thy look hath sped + Many a sorrow. But this head! + E'en at the hearth, and by thy side + This kingly blood-stained form doth glide. + The quiet house of God,--the prayer + Rising as incense in the air. + I breathe the still and mighty power, + I catch the glory of the hour. + Am I not pure, and armed for strife + With England for her better life? + Thou gory head! my prophecy, + In that loved church told not of thee. + + Look as if heaven changed thy face, + Let pardon there at last have place: + Before me, on this awful sea, + Some gleam of heaven reflected be. + + + + +VIII. + +_THE INDIAN DREAM-CELL._ + + +In Pearl-run valley, not far from the noise and crowded streets of our +great Metropolis, the original forests, and a few unsightly rural +dwellings, have given place to a large number of those pleasant homes, +which citizens of wealth or of comfortable means, have erected for their +summer abodes. Hence the hills around are dotted with costly mansions, +and unpretending cottages. + +It is a sight inspiring happiness to look on these dwellings in the +spring. You have evidence that so many families, released from the city +are rejoicing in the pure invigorating air, in the sunshine and shadows, +in the rooms associated with so much ease and tranquility. + +Can it be that any one can be found who is void of all sympathy with the +natural world? All who seek these rural homes, at the established +season, are supposed--if we are the correct exponents of common +opinion,--to take wings from the city, for those cool and shady nests, +under the influence of love for the country? + +Of course, when the spring arrives, all who have led a fashionable +career for the winter, have a sudden and marvellous restoration to their +senses. Like those whom some friendly magician has freed from the +enchantments of an evil genius, they are restored to a healthy judgment. +They then perceive the folly of the life which they have led. The +absurdity of denominating as society, crowded assemblies, where +conversation bears the relation to interchange of thought, such as +becomes intelligent creatures, which wilted and fallen leaves sustain to +those of the beautiful and nutritious plant from which they have been +torn,--where trifles and external polish are accepted in the place of +the best qualities which can commend others to our esteem,--where +friendships are formed, not links of human creatures with affectionate +qualities to one another, but to fashion, whose representatives they +are,--friendships to be dissolved, as easily as the melting of the +Pyramids of frozen cream, all these facts become, as soon as the air is +heated in spring, some of the most clear of all possible demonstrations. +Then they long for a more reasonable life. All that true poets or wise +moralists have taught of the rural home, asserts its power over the +memory. All vulgar glare becomes utterly distasteful. Simplicity of +life, amid a nature that summons man to cast off artificial follies, +has a powerful fascination. They have been poor city puppets too long. +Let them now be true men and women, where all things are so true and +real. Hence they hasten to the country. + +Let us be thankful that any influences, even those of fashion, draw so +many of our citizens from the towns to the country-places. Let us be +thankful, that the great river of city-life,--hurrying on so madly, and +tossing its stained waves crowned with bubbles that pain the eye, has +its side eddies, and throws off great branches for far away shades, +where the waters are at rest, and where innumerable small streams unite +their efforts to purify that which has so long been so turbid. + +Minds and hearts will touch one another in the rural scene. The limited +number of associates will foster some more depths of mutual interest. +The Sunday in the country, the rural church, the gathering of the +congregation from green lanes, and winding roads, and not from streets +sacred to pomp and vanity, to business, and to glaring sin, God so +visible in all his glorious works, perhaps a Pastor trained by his +labors among plain people during the winter, to speak the Word with +greater simplicity, these are not influences which exist only in +appearance. Men ask why make life such a vain and foolish dream? I trust +the day will come, when many families of cultivated minds, will reside +all the year in our country-places. From such social circles influences +must go forth, to transform no inconsiderable portion of what is called +the society of the town. The necessary association of the two classes, +will prove of inestimable benefit to each. + +If you passed along Pearl-run valley, and left the more cultivated +region, which we have described, the scene changed, and you found +yourself in wild places. + +There were steep cliffs, with endless masses of broken stone beneath, as +if a Giant McAdam, ages ago had been meditating the formation of a great +road, like that we pigmies build on a smaller scale, in these degenerate +days. And there were mountains where you could scarcely detect any proof +that the hand of man had disturbed the primeval forests. + +These you could ascend by winding paths, and attain elevations, where +half the world seemed to lie beneath your feet. Well do I remember such +an ascent with a sister, who had been a few hours before, with me in the +crowded city. + +Our time was limited. What we could see of the glorious scenes around +us, must be accomplished late in the afternoon. The sun had gone down +while we were climbing up the side of the mountain. We had never been in +such deep shadows. For the first time in our lives, we knew what was the +awful grandeur of solitude. Our existence seemed more sublime for the +solemn awe. + +As we hastened on to reach a vast rock, from whose summit we were +assured, the view was one of surpassing beauty, we met some children, +wild in appearance, barefooted, seeking cattle that found pasturage in +an open space, scarcely perceptible to the eye, that, at a distance, +could take in the whole aspect of the mountain. But one of these little +creatures in her kindness added, with surpassing power the effect of the +wilderness. + +"Take care," she said, "you may be lost." We, in the vast mountain where +we could be lost! + +What a sound for ears so lately filled with the noise of the crowded +city! Oh child! what human study could have taught the greatest genius +in our land, to speak and add to the solemn power, of that most +memorable time, of two awed and enthusiastic wanderers! + +How strange it is that the intense excitement of the soul, among such +scenes, is such a healthy peace--never the over-wrought exertion of the +mind! The intense activity within us does not _subside_ into +tranquility. It is elevated to a peace. If you would have true enjoyment +there, God,--the Infinite Father,--our immortality--the world our +Redeemer has promised us, must be placed side by side with every +impression. + +Our forests are strangely primeval solitudes, when you reflect what +tribes of Indians have resided in them. That wild people have left there +no traces of their existence. You often seem to be one of a few, who +alone have ever disturbed the Sabbath rest of very holy places. + +Why did not the aboriginal inhabitants leave us in letters carved on the +rocks, traditions, which our learned and ingenious men could interpret? +We know not what we have lost in our deprivation of wonderful mysteries. +We wander by great oaks, and stony places unconscious of powers that +linger there. The lore of demons and of spirits that plagued or +comforted the Indians is lost to us. + +Yet, let us not be unjust as though the civilization which has +superseded the rude Indian life, had given us no romantic substitutes +for these powers which agitated the barbarian. And especially let us be +just to the genius of those who came over from the wilds of Germany, as +well as those who had their intellect brightened by the illumination of +Plymouth Rock. The imaginations of the two, were, indeed, very diverse +in their nature. They differed as the stiff gowns and ample pantaloons, +all so quaintly made, from the paint and skins which made the array of +the savage. + +I am by no means insensible to the poetry which speaks to us in the +horse-shoe, nailed to the door to keep away witches, whose fears were +the more suggestive, because no one ever described the full power of the +mischief they were able to accomplish; and to the mysterious art +medicinal, rivalling in wisdom many of the celebrated systems of the +schools, whereby the muttering of strange words could cure a fever and +ague,--and where a nail that had pierced the foot was safely wrapped up +and laid up the chimney as a preventive of lock-jaw. The world is not so +prosaic as some would imagine. + +I am happy, however, in being able to rescue one important tradition +from oblivion. + +In one of the mountains of which I have spoken, which has been courteous +enough to retain its place, and ancient habits, notwithstanding the airs +and encroachments of the adjoining settlements, was a spot--well known +to some favored few of the Indian tribes. It was a mysterious place. + +At the side of a large rock was a small cell. It was hollowed on its +stony side almost as if it had been a work of art. A little ledge that +stood across it, afforded a rude seat. + +Tradition goes back to the wife of an Indian king, centuries ago, who +first acquired a knowledge of the virtues of the place, and availed +herself of the acquisition in a very happy manner. + +It is a comfort and a sorrow to know how human nature has been the same +in all ages. Wives and husbands have had many virtues and failings in +common, whether they dwelt in primeval days in the Alleghany Mountains +or in Broadway in New York. + +The Indian Queen had, it appears, great difficulty in preserving a +salutary discipline in the wigwam. Her lord--yet not her master--she had +never assented to that peculiar precedence in the marriage contract, had +been inclined to low company--that is to company that might be good +enough in itself, but was entirely too low for the royalty of the realm. +These fellows, white traders, who would prowl about to waylay his +Majesty, keeping respectfully out of sight of the Queen, were by no +means school-masters abroad for the benefit of the red man. + +Even the queen, for some reason which it is difficult to conjecture, did +not object to the introduction of large quantities of fire-water into +the palace. She always took charge of it, however, and for that reason, +no doubt, felt that it would be used in a judicious manner. + +But at last the king was unwise enough to set up as a reformer; not +under the instigation of the white men,--but indirectly, through their +influence. There is nothing new under the sun. We now abound in men and +women, who are in advance of their age. A man of mere genius, in these +days, is a helpless creature; sure to be laid up like old lumber in a +house, in some out of the way place of deposit. But if he should only +have a moderate disorder of the brain,--have circumstances to occur, +which would produce the effect which according to Bishop Warburton was +the result of the earthquake in his day, "widening the crack in old Will +Winston's noddle,"--then particularly if he can be mad after a method, +he is sure to form a society, and to be well fed and famous. + +There was also in our kingly Indian reformer, one disagreeable +quality,--by no means unknown in an enlightened philosophical head of +associations. In all his projects, he was himself a central object. He +differed from some of our reformers in one respect. He was not crazy for +notoriety. + +Among other things which he learnt from these good-for-nothing white +scamps, who were in such disfavor with the queen, fellows who had +traveled all around the world to little purpose,--sifting with wonderful +skill all useless and bad knowledge from the good, and casting away the +good as chaff, was a piece of information concerning the social +relations of some of his royal cousins in distant lands. + +They gave him a glowing picture of a great chief who had a great host of +wives. Our king had informed one of his friends, that he thought that +the introduction of this custom on our American strand, would be a most +desirable improvement. And one day, under the influence of fire-water, +which in opening his heart, proved how good a fellow he was, he +suggested the theory to the queen. + +It is said, that the wary queen, in her distress and perplexity at this +theory, sought for one of the wonder-workers of her tribe, and learnt +from him the secret powers of this cell. There she placed her royal +spouse, who slept until he was sober enough to dream a wise dream. The +consequence was his reformation. After this, it is also said, that the +queen attained such domestic power, that a warrior who slept under their +roof one night, was heard to inquire of one of his tribe, whether in +case the people should go out on the war-path, the woman would be the +great warrior. + +It is also reported, that the spirit of the Indian queen often haunts +the cell, and has some secret power to allure chosen way-farers there to +rest, and have the dreams which belong to the place. The great +peculiarity of the mysterious power here exerted on the dreamer, was +this,--that he was compelled in his dreams, to follow a course contrary +to his habits and nature, and to learn some of the results of a new +course of conduct. + +Over the cell were jutting rocks, which threw down as the sun was over +them, strange shadows, making the most mysterious letters. Curious wild +vines, with grotesque leaves, grew above it, having a fragrance like +that of poppies, but of greater intensity. Some fir trees near, blended +their murmurs with the hum of the wild-bees, and with a rill whose +waters passed over a rock, covered with green weeds, and fell into a +small dead pool, whose issues crept silently away amid innumerable +roots. Opposite, on a mountain, was a circle composed of various +objects, which, as you gazed seemed to move round with ever increasing +rapidity, and to exercise a mesmeric power in causing tranquility, and a +state of repose in which you were prepared for a control, extraneous to +your own mind. The sides of the cell receded slightly inwards, in gentle +curves, in such a way that you were tempted to recline, and lean your +head for rest on the moss-covered hollows of the rock. + +One of the inhabitants of our valley, whose name was Eugene Cranmer, had +left the hill-side where he had a luxurious mansion, and had wandered +into the wild region, that contained this mysterious cell. + +He was well pleased to see the general air of comfort, as he strolled +along; for it disquieted him to look on men who were very poor, inasmuch +as he had a vague sense that he was called on for some exertion in their +behalf. The poor seemed to him to mar the general aspect of the world, +as some unfortunate error in the taste of an artist, will mar the +general beauty of his picture. He wished all to be at peace, and have +enough to eat and put on; for the world, in such a state, seemed to be a +suitable place for a man who had attained great prosperity; and who had +the undefined impression that his life would be extended a few hundred +years, before he would be under the unhappy alternative of passing to a +good place in a better country. He provided well in his house for +himself; and of course he felt that such a care was all that was +essential for the comfort of his family. + +His mother in his early life had indulged him to excess, and acted on +the principle, that all who came near him, would regard it as the most +reasonable thing in the world, that it must be their study and highest +happiness to gratify his inclination. + +Our hero,--for it is pleasant thus to designate him, and to recognize +the superiority of such a man,--had climbed the ascent of the mountain, +and reached the place of the mystic cell. A peculiar agitation of the +vines above it, and sounds as of a bird complaining of an intruder near +its rest, drew his attention to the recess. He determined to seat +himself and rest awhile, before he returned to his home. No sooner had +this been attempted, than he wondered at the luxury of the sheltered +nook. He had an undefined feeling, that after all, the natural world, +providing on such an occasion such a place for his rest, was perhaps, +not so inattentive to human wants, as he had frequently imagined. The +walk he had enjoyed, the exhilarating air of the mountain, and the +composing influences around him, had thrown him into a state of more +than common good humor. He had fewer thoughts about himself; some dreamy +recollections, and he went rapidly to sleep. + +Then he dreamed dreams. First he saw a strange reptile crawl along the +paths by which he had ascended to the cell. An odious object, deformed, +it looked as if it bore deadly venom in its fang. It was also obvious +that the creature had faculties to be developed. At one moment it seemed +ready to put forth its strength to attain the new gifts,--to call into +exercise powers that slumbered in its frame. + +Its indolence, and anger at the stirring of inward strife by nature, +caused it to assume a torpid indifference. + +Suddenly a stream of quivering light fell upon it. A bright dove +descended, and the radiance increased as it drew nigh, with silver +wings; and part of the lustre of its plumage was as of wrought gold. It +hovered over the creature, whom all its resplendent rays could not +render even less repulsive. + +Then came a strange transformation. On a sudden all that repelled the +eye was gone. The creature glorified, assumed a place amid the objects +of beauty that adorn the world. + +And what was a cause of surprise, he who saw all in the vision, and +witnessed the transformation, had now no other sentiment toward the +transformed and glorious, but love. No association existed in his mind, +to recall, with any disgust, what it once had been. His thoughts ever +rested on the dove and its pure rays, on the indescribable beauty of the +creature as he now beheld it, new-created in excellence. The deepest +darkness of oblivion, spreading as far as the east is from the west, +interposed between what it had been, and was now, could not have blotted +out the disgust of the former unsightly appearance more thoroughly from +his impressions. He could gladly have placed it in his bosom. Its +beauty, he felt sure, would be perpetual memories, each ever being a new +joy like a star rushing on into its place of brightness in the evening, +gladdening all on which its beams can rest. + +Then there came to him a voice which said, Thou too must be changed from +evil to a glorious state. At first he bitterly opposed the suggestion. +Change! What then would life be to him? Thoughts would be his, and +views, and desires forever, whose very shadow touched him, to cause +pain, and to assure him of their contrariety to his nature. He who had +made slaves of all, to be the loving servant of all! + +Then the influence that abode in the mystic cell began to exert its +power over him. It was as if a fever had passed away, and a sweet quiet, +as of an infant going to its rest had pervaded his frame. Resistance to +the good desires passed from him. He began to wish for a glorious +transformation. + +And now the dream was changed. It was late at night. He drew near his +home. The lumbering stage, full of drowsy passengers, had left him at +his gate. + +He was not compelled to linger long upon his porch. The door was quickly +opened by one, whose form glided swiftly along through the hall, +summoned by the sounds of the stage. It was his pale and weary wife, a +gentle, uncomplaining woman, bearing all his oppressions as void of +resistance, and as submissively as the stem, the overgrown bulb, the +work of insects deforming the bud or flower, whose weight bends as if it +would break it. He entered the dwelling and saluted her, as if her +watching was the least service she could render. + +And then, though he perceived that she was pale and faint, he imposed on +her tasks for his present comfort. The servants were at rest, and she +must arrange for his evening meal, and go from room to room to procure +the least trifle he might desire. + +And again there came over him the spell of the Indian dream-seat. + +Just as he was about to pour upon his serving wife the vials of his +wrath, because she had misunderstood some one of his multitude of +directions, there suddenly was exerted over him a power which gave all +his thoughts a bias, and ruled his words and manner as the wind sways +the frail reed. + +He began to speak to her words of tender commiseration. He insisted that +she was in need of his assiduous aid for her present comfort. For her +the wine and viands must be procured. She never again should keep these +watches for his sake--watches after midnight. Nay, more; with a torrent +of glowing words, he promised that all his future conduct should undergo +a perfect transformation. + +In his struggle, our hero acquired an almost preturnatural quickening of +the memory. All thought, however, ran in one single course--in the +demonstration of his selfishness. He uttered confessions of his deep and +sincere repentance. He enumerated a long series of petty annoyances of +which he had been guilty towards his wife, and which had made up the sum +of much misery. One confession of a wrong deed revived the remembrance +of another. If the chain seemed at an end, as link after link was drawn +into light, there was no such termination. + +He had no time to observe the effect of this his sorrow and confession. + +His internal wrath at this departure from his ordinary habits, from all +the course which he, as a reasonable being could pursue, from all the +rules he had ever prescribed for his family,--from all that could make +the time to come consistent with the comfortable care he had taken of +himself in the past, caused such an agitation, that he thought for a +moment he must die. His golden age in the past to be supplanted with +this coming age of iron! Would he die? A great earthquake had crowded +all its might into a mole-hill. It was as if a storm-cloud was just on +the eve of being rent asunder, to tear the hills below with its awful +bolts, and some angelic messenger was sent to give it the aspect of a +quiet summer-cloud, and cause it to send down a gentle rain on all the +plants. + +He knew well from experience the sense of suffocation. His throat had +seemed incapable of allowing a breath to pass to the lungs. But now he +had, as it were, a sense of suffocation in every limb. His whole frame +had sensations as if pressed to its utmost tension by some expanding +power, as by some great hydraulic press. + +What was to be the result? Was he to undergo some external +transformation like the reptile which he had seen in the plain? + +To his horror, he began, in his rhapsody of the dream to recall a huge +frog, which he had watched as a boy--swelling--swelling--and about to +burst through its old skin, and come out in the sunshine in a new and +fashionable coat and a pair of elastic pantaloons, with water-proof +boots to match. Then his imagination recalled a snake which he had seen +when he sat once by the brook with a fishing-rod in his hand, the hook +in the sluggish stream, and the fish, no one could tell where. Thus was +it passing through a similar process with the frog--preparing to present +itself in the court of the queenly season, making his new toilette as if +he had been fattening off the spoils of office, and had ordered his new +garb from the tailor without regard to cost. + +In his heart there came again a tenderness for his wife and children. +And with that deep emotion came peace--for suddenly a golden cup was at +his lips, and cooling water, such as he had never tasted. An angel's +hand--oh how like the hand of his wife in its gentle touch--was laid +upon his head, and all its throbbing misery was gone. The same Being +waved his wings, and a cool air, with waves murmuring in some music from +a far off, blessed space, and with fragrance that lulled the disturbed +senses to repose, passed over him,--and he felt that all his fever and +distress had departed from him. + +Then he appeared to be surrounded by his wife and children, who were +wrapped in a deep sleep. He gazed on them, meditating offices of love in +time to come. One and another, in dreams, uttered his name with +unspeakable tenderness. His tears fell freely. The great night around +him--that used to seem so unsympathizing--and to throw him off far from +all its glory, as a poor worthless atom, now entered into accordance +with the new found life within. The gleaming stars said to him, we take +your purpose into one great mission of reflecting light. All spoke of +hope. He was used to the feeling of loneliness and painful humiliation, +when in the darkness under the great unchanging canopy. Now was he +lowly; but he felt that man was great, as one who bore the relation of a +spirit to the Maker of all things. He had never thought, that as great +peace dwelt among all the human family, as now pervaded his own heart. + +Again the dream was changed. He was in the city. He was seated in the +old dusty counting-room. He was the former selfish man. The men in the +place, were to him a sea of a multitude of living waves. All that he had +to do was to count all created for him, and he for himself; and in that +sea he was to seek to gain the pearls which he coveted. As men passed +by, he had no blessing in his heart for those tried in life, and to meet +death, or be tried still more. That God cared for them was no thought +that made an impress on his nature. + +As he sat before his table covered with his papers, witnesses of his +gains, there was a sound of approaching feet. Then men entered and bore +along with them a mummy,--the dead form in its manifold wrappings, as +the mourners had left it in the days when Abraham dwelt in the land of +promise. + +They placed the form on which it was borne in the centre of the room, +and then with grave deliberation proceeded to unroll its many +integuments. + +In a short time they had spread out all the folds of the cloth, and +there lay the form which it was difficult to imagine had once been a +living man--a being of thoughts, emotions, hope, with ties to life, such +as are ours at the present day. + +Our hero looked upon the extended covering of the dead. One of those +men, of a far distant clime and age, who had belonged to the silent +procession that thus presented the mortal remains to the eye, drew from +the folds of his dress a stone of exquisite beauty. + +He held it before the cloth, and rays of an unearthly light fell upon +it, emitted from that precious gem. In a moment, that which had been so +dark, became a piece of exquisite tapestry. On it were a series of +representations, an endless variety of hieroglyphics. + +As the rich merchant gazed on these, he read a history of a life, that +strangely condemned his own. + +And then the Egyptian Priest came forth from the midst of his +associates. + +He held in his hand an immense concave mirror in a frame of gold. Taking +his position between the window and the dead form, he first gazed upon +the sky. A cloud had obscured the sun. + +As soon as it had been swept away, and the noon-day beams streamed +forth, he held up the mirror, and concentrating the rays of light, threw +all the blinding radiance on the dead form. + +In a little while it began, under the power of that wonderful glory, to +assume the appearance of a living man. Breath came. It moved. It rose. +The one thus revived from the power of death gazed on the cloth, and +traced out for himself a plan of a beneficent life. He was to live to do +good. Tears were to be dried, the hungry to be fed, the heart was to +have its perpetual glow of good will, to speak words of blessing, and of +peace, of hope to all. + +As our rich man gazed on all this scene,--mysterious hands seemed to be +unwinding countless wrappings from the soul within, dead to the Creator, +dead to the love of man. + +A light was poured upon him. A new life was given him. He was preparing +to unlock his treasures, to share his possessions with the poor. The +home of sorrow became a place of attraction. He was to seek all means of +lessening the sin and misery of the human family. + +Thus far had his discipline proceeded. The dreams had given activity to +the mind. They had bent the spirit of the man in glad submission to a +yoke of obedience; and in this submission to all that was pure, he found +how the great service was perfect freedom. Holy truths, which had never +been great realities, but certainties that were among his deepest +convictions, many of them like seeds still capable of life, but floating +on the sea in masses of ice, perhaps to be dropped on some island +forming in the deep, and there to germinate, now began to be living +truth, and to struggle with the soul that it might live. He bowed before +the august presence,--now that the great veil that had concealed the +kingly visitants was torn away. Now they were not like the magnetic +power, affecting dubiously, and without a steady control, the needle of +the seaman as he drew near to the coast. They had become the +all-pervading power in the needle itself, affecting each particle, and +turning all in attraction towards the one star, that is before every +bark freighted with the precious trusts, which he now felt to be so +grand a responsibility. Are not these sealed with a seal that no enemy +can cause to be forged or broken? + +A slight change in his dream, and the temptations began to reappear, +crowding as the gay tares wind among the eddying wheat heads, and are +tossed by the wind and arrest the eye. There was a sense of slight fear +and doubt. + +Then was he borne onward, and placed on the green sward beneath great +overhanging rocks. Their awful majesty was tempered by the endless +vines, laden with fruits and flowers that crept along their sides, and +waved, as crowns upon their summits. + +A lake spread its waters before him. As he looked far off upon its +unruffled surface, he saw clouds, now dark, now radiant, floating +rapidly in the sky. The wind that impelled them came in great gushes of +its power, as their changing shapes, and rapid motion gave full +evidence. And when the winds thus swept on, they gave not the slightest +ripple to the great blue expanse of the waters. Yet they were no dead +sea, but pure and living, from streams on innumerable fertile +hill-sides, whose threads of fountain-issues glittered in the sun. + +And the great shadows that fell from these floating masses in the air, +did not reach to the surface of the lake. They wasted themselves between +the clouds and the atmosphere of tranquil light, that rested on the +placid, sky-like depths of the blue expanse. + +Even at his very feet, these waters seemed in depth ocean-like. His eye +was never weary as he gazed into their abyss, and the sight never +appeared to have looked down into them, and to have found the limit of +its power to penetrate their immeasurable profundity. + +Great peace again took possession of his mind! Then he felt the +mysterious hand upon him, and he was lifted up from the borders of this +lake, for other scenes. He could not but feel regret. He was however +convinced, that any new prospect opened before him, would be one that he +might earnestly desire to look upon. + +The motion of the wings of the angel, as he transported him through the +air, was as silent as the calm of the great lake. + +They entered into a cave, so vast, that its roofs and sides were at such +distance from them, that no object could be distinguished in the evening +twilight. But soon he saw before him a high archway, lofty as the summit +of the highest mountain, by which they were to emerge into the light. +They passed it, and found that it opened into a deep valley. + +A plain was here the prospect, and near to him the side of a precipitous +hill. It had great sepulchral inscriptions on the surface of the rocks. +There was a slight earthquake. Its power caused the sides of the hill +to tremble, and revealed the bones of men buried in the sands and +crevices. + +He proceeded--and soon he saw grave-stones on the plain. Drawing near, +he attempted to read the names inscribed upon them. Soon he discovered +that they recorded those of his wife and children. Foes, as he imagined, +as his eyes rested on objects around, moving to and fro, lurked in the +shadows. + +And now his sorrow assumed a form, different from all the former remorse +of his dream. A vague idea that all was a dream came to his relief. +Tears fell, bitter regret for the past continued, but he had a joyous +and undefined conviction, that his family were not beyond the reach of +his awakened love. + +A gentle hand was then laid upon his eyelids. It pointed to the mountain +near--on whose summit an eternal light rested. Such light, he thought, +must have been seen on the mount of the transfiguration. + +He discovered that he had the power to look into the depths of the great +mountain. As his eye penetrated those great hidden ways, he found that +all was revealed there, as if the earth and rocks were only air more +dense than that which he breathed. + +His attention was soon arrested by a rock in the centre of the mountain. +It became the sole object to which he could direct the eye. + +There imbedded were evil forms, on which he looked to feel new sorrow, +and to torture himself with self-upbraiding. + +These forms were his work. It was evident that they should have been +created in exquisite beauty. The material of which they had been +made,--so precious--was a witness that this could have been +accomplished. The marks of the chisel were a proof that there had been +capacity--skill--which could readily have been exercised in creating +that which was beautiful, and which had been perverted and abused in the +production of the shapes by which he was repelled. And it was also +evident, that they had been fashioned in a light, which would have +enabled him to judge truly of every new progress of his toil, and under +a sky where true inspirations would be fostered. My work! my work! he +said--but he added, there is hope for the future. + +As his new-found tenderness subdued him, the power that transported him +from scene to scene, bore him away. + +Soon he found himself standing before another mountain, which was in the +process of formation. + +It was made of the clearest crystal, and the light was in all its height +and breadth. Angels were there, and waiting with a placid but +unutterable happiness for labors that were to occupy them. + +He could not rest. He must put forth into action the aims, the +aspirations to fashion forms of immortal glory. As he moved, in his +great ambition from his place, he saw that his dwelling was near at +hand--close beneath this great mound of crystal, and that its light was +reflected upon it. + +He entered the house. His gentleness was the happiness of all. He was +now the unselfish and loving husband and parent. He marvelled that so +many little acts of love could be done day by day. He marvelled to see +how little acts of love made up such a vast sum of happiness, and what +moulding influences, whose value could not be estimated, were united +with his deeds. + +He found that forms were ever taken by the angels and borne away. They +reverently bore them--reverencing the beauty, and above all reverencing +them as the work of One who had given him aid to think of their +creation, and to embody them according to the pure conception. They +carried them first to a fountain of waters that flowed from a smitten +rock. A crown of thorns, and nails, and a spear, were sculptured there. +Washed in this stream every particle was cleansed. Afterwards they held +up the form in the most clear light, brighter than the light of any sun, +and the beauty became far more perfect. + +The angelic laborers then carried each to the mountain of crystal. +There it was imbedded,--but in a radiance which was to shine forever, +and forever. + +And then to his great joy, he found that vast numbers of men came to a +summit of an adjoining hill; caring not for the ascent by a narrow and +arduous way. They looked into the mountain, and were entranced by the +forms that they beheld. He had no thought that they would turn to him in +admiration. All that he exulted in, was, that he loved them, and that +they turned away to labor to make like forms, for the angelic +hands,--for the waters of the cleansing fountain,--for the inexpressible +light that purified,--for the place in the mountain, where they should +shine eternally. + +Just at this moment, a bird perched on the vines around the cell. It +poured forth a rich melody of song close to the ear of the sleeper. It +awoke him gently from the profound sleep. The first sound which he heard +was that of the sweet bell of his village church. Its gushes of sound +rolled along the valley, and up the side of the great hills. + +He felt that the impressions of his dream were durable. So deeply was he +affected, that he scarcely thought of the visions in which the truth had +been represented. He descended his path another man. Another man he +entered his home. The house was a changed house that day. No one more +subdued in spirit than himself, knelt in the church. No one with more +determined purpose, heard that day, of the One who "pleased not +himself." + + + + +IX. + +_WILD FLOWERS GATHERED FOR MY WIFE._ + + + Though these sweet flowers are in their freshest bloom, + They had a beauty as I gathered them + Which thine eye sees not. For with every one + New lustre in the varied colors shone, + A purer white melted beneath the eye, + A sweeter fragrance came from dew-gemmed leaves, + Advanced in beauty as I thought of thee. + + Thou seest that they grew wild in wood and fields + Teachers of love and wisdom. Some I found + In deep pine shades, where the sun's straggling beams + Through bending boughs may reach them. + + Holier rays + Through deeper shades can reach the broken heart, + Through deeper shades can foster heavenly growth + Of beauty for the everlasting fields; + Through more dense shades can reach the good unknown + To human fame, yet left to bless the world. + + These flowers and leaves that ripen unobserved + But for our eyes, had withered with the frost, + And none had blessed God for their loveliness. + They give their little power unto the wind + To purify for men the air they breathe,-- + Air wafted far by every rising breeze. + And so a myriad of the little deeds, + Done by the men that walk in Christ's blest steps, + Add health unto the living atmosphere + Where men breathe for the strength of highest life. + Deeds go out on a sea of human life, + And touch a myriad of the rolling waves, + Send the great sea a portion of unrest, + Which saves its surface from the mould of death. + + These flowers are memories that I had of thee + During my wandering to the distant home, + Where sickness was, and many an anxious care, + Where there was need that Christ's work should be done. + + Oh! if these paths we tread with our soiled feet, + On this world far from scenes where all is pure, + Our feet not yet in laver cleansed from soil, + In wave by angel stirred and all so bright, + Where gleams are on the waves from his own sun, + Are skirted with these fragrant beauteous forms, + What shall surround our path in Paradise? + + Flowers have a language; so they choose to say. + Each speaks a word of pure significance. + Thus in the fields of nature we can print, + Where flowers shall be the type, a beauteous book-- + With joyful eye can read the beauteous book. + + With all my love of flowers, here is a lore + Which is to me unknown. I have to turn + Over the pages of that pictured book + To spell each letter as a little child. + But this I know, that none can e'er mean ill. + Flowers are too pure, as angels sowed their seed + On earth in pity for a burdened race. + And where their smiles have rested there came forth + These witnesses that men are not alone. + + And also this is lore from nature's school-- + That speak they as they may--whate'er they mean + Of faith to be unshaken through our life, + Of love that never wanes, true as the star, + They cannot speak of faith or tender love, + Which I--flower-bearer--do not speak to thee + In this my offering of far-gathered spoils. + + + + +X. + +_RIVERSDALE._ + + +It was my good fortune to dwell for some years on the banks of the +Delaware, with a sturdy old yeoman, who was quite a character in his +day. Manly, honest, hospitable, of a dignified bearing as of one who +respected himself, and who had no false pride, it was a treasure to have +known him. + +His nature had been moulded, as far as earthly influences gave their +impress by a life spent chiefly on a farm, in days that are called +"primitive;" that being one of the words which hold in unfixed solution, +some true but very vague impressions. A few years which he spent in the +naval service of his country, had no doubt added some lines to the mould +that shaped him as he was. + +I have said that his characteristics were very prominent. Therein he +differed from the mass of the country people. They are like a knoll, +where you see at once all the outlines. You must look attentively, to +discover more than the eye has taken in at its first glance. He was like +one of our rugged hills, having bold varieties of shape, records of time +and of great convulsions, of the violence of storms, of changes wrought +by other and varied influences. + +He had thriven in the world far beyond all his expectations. His life +had been one of untiring industry, decision, and ingenious energy. At +the time of his marriage, almost every penny was exhausted by the humble +fee. As days rolled on, the Creator added to his store, and he purchased +the farm on which his father had resided. By a manly appeal to the sense +of justice, he prevented a rich neighbor from competing with him at the +sale of these broad acres. + +In after days he also became the possessor of the farm, called +Riversdale. There he spent his last years of life. He lived there in the +affluence of a rich farmer. It was strange to see him and his faithful +wife so utterly unchanged by prosperity, and by the alterations in the +habits of society. + +At Riversdale he had a spacious dwelling. There was here a degree of +elegance within and without. It had been the country residence of a rich +merchant. His furniture was plain, but abundant, and all for use. + +Among the curiosities of our house was the old clock, on whose face the +sun and moon differed from their prototypes in the heavens, inasmuch as +they had a far more distinct representation of the ruddy human +countenance, and as they did not rise or set,--for their mechanism had +become distracted. + +And then there was the famous old gun,--taken from a Hessian at the +battle of Princeton, and which had done great service in the deer hunts +in the Pocano Mountains, and amid the pines of New Jersey. + +Those deer-hunts were great circumstances in the course of the year. He +used to narrate with great pleasure, the events that occurred at such +excursions in the forests. + +Once as he told me, he was alone in the woods with a guide. The darkness +was coming apace. He had wounded a deer. The cry of the dogs indicated +that they were close upon it. It became evident that the man wished to +lead the hunters out of the way; and to disappear in the darkness, that +he might appropriate the prey to himself. But all his mean plans were +soon baffled. "If you," said the old yeoman, "can run faster than the +buck-shot in my gun, slip away in the dark." Never guide, I venture to +say, adhered more closely to his party. + +His education, like that of so many of the old Pennsylvania farmers, had +been very limited. His sympathies were not broad; though a small degree +of sentiment pervaded a vein of tenderness which wound its way through +the rugged nature of his soul. Sometimes it appeared so attenuated, that +few influences seemed to be willing to work for the precious ore. + +I remember that we were once walking along the avenue which led to the +house, and I quoted to him a line of poetry which he did heartily +appreciate. The scene around had little power to prepare his mind for +the impression. Two huge old cherry trees were near us. These were +gradually withering away; as if to remind him, as he continually passed +them, that the days of his full strength were gone, and that infirmities +of old age were creeping upon him. + +Had I perused all our volumes of poetry, I could not have selected a +sentence, which he could relish more than the one which I repeated. It +was the well-known line of Cowper, that God made the country, but man +made the town. + +It was really curious to observe how this arrested all his mind. It +seemed as if his soul was deeply impressed with a sense of the goodness +of God, in giving man this beautiful green world, on which he does not +labor in vain. He appeared also to have respect for the poet who could +utter such a truth. Had all the tribe of bards risen from their graves, +been capable of participating in our earthly food, and come to us that +day, Cowper would have been treated to Benjamin's portion. + +His histories proved to me how his nature was the same in early life, +and in age, as to fearlessness, and to a rough opposition to those by +whom he was excited. + +Once his step-mother, during the strife of the revolution, and while his +father was absent from home in the service of his country, sent him with +a claim to a British officer. He was to demand payment for some produce +which the soldiers of the king had taken from the farm. + +He found him seated at a table, at a place not far from Bustleton, and +presenting himself made known the object of his visit. + +"Where is your father?" said the officer. + +The boy was shrewd enough to know that discretion was now the better +part of valor. But mingled emotions overcame his wisdom. The British +soldiers around him were the oppressors of his country. + +Regardless of the wrath which he would assuredly awaken, and scattering, +manifestly, all hope of success in his mission to the wind, he saucily +replied, "Why, he is at the camp with General Washington; where he ought +to be." Perhaps he also regarded this as a defence of his father. A +grasp at a sword, an angry oath,--an assurance that he was a vile little +rebel, and must quickly vanish, were the evidences that he had given his +receipt in full for all that had been taken as spoils from the farm. + +I have said that he was a man of the most sterling honesty. His extreme +care to ascertain that all his accounts were correct, was actually a +trouble to the vestry of the church, while he was treasurer of the body. +He was above the least meanness in all his dealings with men. As he was +rather too suspicious of others, sometimes imagining that they had some +evil design, where they had none, it was the more remarkable that he had +no cunning in his own heart, was open in all his aims, and free from +those arts which entangle weak consciences. + +He had manners which were a study. Few men are not, in some degree +affected by their dress. He was the same man in self-respect and +courtesy, whether you met him in his soiled working-clothes, or in his +best array. Summoned suddenly from the work in the field, or from the +barn, with chaff and dust upon him, his calm courtesy in receiving any +guest, whatever his station in life, the utter absence of all apology +for his appearance, his entire devotion to the attentions due to his +visitors, elicited your decided admiration. Not in his conduct, to his +guests, but in some slight expression, when we were alone, could any of +us detect that he felt any peculiar pleasure, when any of our most +aristocratic inhabitants had called to see him and his household, +manifesting their respect. I have never seen him more devoted and kind +to any visitor, than to a poor friend,--one who had lagged far behind +him, in the ascent of the hill of fortune. + +It could not be expected that his wild portion of the country would be +exempted from those rude scenes of violence, where men take the laws +into their own hands. Nor can it be surprising, that with his physical +strength, boldness, and wild life at sea and on land, he should +sometimes be prominent in these wars on a little scale. + +I remember how I heard one of his narratives with mingled interest and +sorrow, when he told of a victory fought and won. + +It was a contest with a party of butchers, who had come from a distance +and taken possession of the tavern, maltreating some of the country +people, who had, to say the least, a better right to the injurious +comforts of the inn. + +He was summoned from his sleep, and became the leader of the avenging +party. When they reached the scene of noisy revelry, he proved that he +did not rely on physical strength alone, but summoned a "moral effect" +to his aid. A pretended roll was to be called. Many names of persons not +present, perhaps not in existence, were, by his order, pronounced; and +their "Here," was heard clearly uttered in the night air. The effect of +this act of generalship soon became apparent. Silence, indicative of +dismay reigned in the place of the former noisy laughter. The rough +fellows were sorely thrashed, and taught that there was a high law which +the quiet dwellers in the field could put in force. + +In after days my old friend would have deprecated the recurrence of such +scenes. There is always a tendency to law and order, and to gentle +virtues where a man has a great fondness for children--and this love for +little ones he possessed in a great degree. + +It would have been a good scene for a painter, when they gathered round +the white-haired man and elicited his attention and his smile. The large +form sinking into its most quiet repose, as if there was no need that it +should be braced now as if prepared for any struggle of life, and the +rough features softened to gentle sympathy, would have been worthy of +lasting perpetuation on the canvass. I have no doubt that the passage of +Scripture recording the benediction of the children by our Lord, touched +his heart powerfully, and allured him the more to the One who bore our +nature in the perfection of every excellence. + +If an able painter, I would strive to represent our Redeemer, as I could +fancy that He appeared in the scene to which I have referred. Who can +attempt to satisfy even the least imaginative disciple, by any picture +of the countenance of our Lord? How difficult even to unite the infinite +tenderness with the determination of the perfect man, whom nothing +could move from his true purpose, because holiness was the necessity of +a heart without sin? One shrinks, in some degree, from a multitude of +representations of Him, as if they, failing to meet the inspiration of +the soul, were not reverent. Might we not more easily conceive of his +blended love and dignity, if he was painted among those who could not +trouble him, whom He would not have sent away, whom he took in his arms, +and on whom he caused to rest a blessing, that ever waits now to descend +on the children of those who diligently seek him. + +Some of the quaint narratives of the old man have proved, as I have +repeated them, a source of much amusement to the young. + +For instance, he said that he was returning from a journey of some miles +into the interior of the country. He had taken his heavy wagon, and +aided a neighbor who was removing his goods to a new home. + +The night had overtaken him as he returned. Just as he crossed a small +stream, he heard a voice of one in great distress, calling for aid. "Oh! +come here,--come here,"--were the piteous cries from an adjoining field. + +Stopping his horses, and clambering a bank, he soon secured a +"reconnoissance" of a field of strife. + +By the dim light of the moon, he saw a scene sufficiently ludicrous, +but demanding immediate activity. He had not come a moment too soon. A +small man, a shoemaker, the one who cried for aid, and sadly in need of +it had, it seems, been crossing a field, when an ugly-tempered bull +rushed upon him, and would have gored him to death but for his presence +of mind and dexterity. The poor fellow had skill enough to dodge the +assault; and as the animal, missing his aim, rushed by him, he caught it +by the tail. The vicious brute made every effort to reach his +disagreeable parasite. In doing this he ran around in endless circles, +very wearying to the little legs of the little man, and exhausting his +strength. + +As my old friend had come and seen, what had he to do but conquer? He +hastened to the side of the living whirligig. The shoemaker was wearing +out his shoe-soles more rapidly than any of his customers. + +Seizing also the tail of the bull, he informed the exhausted man that he +might now let go. + +The animal continued the same tactics, but his foe-man was armed with +his heavy whip, and this was wielded by a powerful right hand. A few +blows, and the victory was won. The hero was left alone in his glory; +for the rescued had vanished as soon as he could release his hold on the +tail, and he did not return to see the result of the strife. Let us hope +that he was grateful, although I doubt the gratitude of one who could +thus run away, and leave all the battle to his deliverer. A benefactor +in things small and great, who has a noble mind, though wounded by +insensibility to his kindness, may receive benefit from the unthankful; +for he may learn more deeply the example of the Lord, and he may free +his heart the more to do good, and look for no return--learn to do good +to the unthankful and the evil. + +I have represented the farmer at Riversdale as openness and honesty +itself in all his dealings. Men will be men. In country life, as in the +city you will find a sad abundance of mean and tricky persons. + +It is not a little curious to see our city friends come into the +country, and take for granted that the sojourners there are all +simple-minded and honest men. That is a weakness which is soon +dissipated. The wisdom is purchased with the loss of gold and silver. +They find that they are charged by many, probably the obtrusive ones, +the most extravagant prices for all things. The more free they are with +their money, the more they are required to pay. The value fixed on the +substance offered for sale, is all that can possibly be extorted from +any one who is imprudent enough to buy, and make no inquiries. There +comes a danger of reaction. They change the theory concerning men of the +field, which they have learned from poets and novelists, and are tempted +to imagine that they all are like these thieves. I thank God, that I +know well to the contrary. + +Some men of large means imagine that if they are very free in spending +their money, and allow those whom they employ, to take advantage of +them, to extort unfair prices, that they will thereby cultivate good +feeling, a grateful regard. This is an entire mistake. The man who +cheats you never will be grateful. He comes to you, in all his relations +to you, with meanness of soul. That is no soil for good will. He also +fears, that at any time, you may be conscious of the fraud. He expects +therefore an hour when you will be angry, and despise him. He judges of +your coming enmity, by his own lasting bitterness and revengeful mind, +toward any one who has overreached him. He has also some contempt for +you, because you have been less cunning than himself. + +Pay fair generous prices. When a man gains from you more than the fair +price, let it be a gift. Do not expect anything from the man, who does +in two days the labor that should be accomplished in one. Alas, as we +reflect on the want of truth and gratitude towards us, we have to +remember that we can apply these lessons to ourselves, as we labor in +the vineyard where we have been sent to toil! + +I have spoken of the hospitality of the house at Riversdale. This never +could have been exercised as it was, but for the admirable arrangements +of the good wife and excellent daughters. I look back, and marvel how +all could be done in that house and farm, and yet time be found for the +entertainment of so many guests. + +I am deeply grieved to look back to those bachelor days, and find that I +had a senseless conviction, that a house pretty much took care of +itself. It was a delusion which must often have caused me to be +troublesome, when I had not any idea that I was in the way. I now honor +the statemanship which adorns domestic affairs, and hope I no longer am +found at any time, a wheel out of place in the machinery of any house. +Never too late to mend. A good proverb, friends. But as we apply its +hopefulness, let us take care to remember that when the present time +shall have become the past, and we have done wrong in things small and +great, it is too late to mend the sin and error. We cannot mend the evil +of the past. + +I see the good old mother of the household now. Always neat in her +dress,--erect in form,--kind,--thoughtful, self-possessed. You could not +know her long, and not perceive that she was a pre-eminent +representative of the wife and parent. Her love for others had its true +source, the love of God. Thence it flowed gently a stream of tenderness +for her family, and then spread freely far and wide to all others. Her +religion was of a very grand character. She knew, in all the trials of +life, what it was to have her Creator for her Rock,--to have His rod and +His staff. Real to her indeed, the divine love which brought our +Redeemer to our form from Heaven, and caused Him to expiate our sins on +the cross. + +Once we were speaking hopelessly, of some reprobate. The opinion was +advanced, or implied, that he was never to be reformed. I never forgot +the sorrow she manifested, and her heart-felt but gentle reproof, while +she corrected us in the abiding spirit of the hope in Christ for any one +who yet lives. While the lamp holds out to burn, she asked, could not he +return? + +She was one of the most unpretending Christians, and therefore her deep +piety could not be concealed. When she was unconscious of the +revelation, she taught us in a living subject of the Lord, the power +that can be given for holiness in this scene, where all gold can be well +tried in the fire. + +She was ever busy. In hours of ease she had her knitting-needle. How +pleasant it was to see her at her work, in the warm days of summer, as +she sat in her high-backed chair on the piazza which overlooked the +River. With the steamboats, then beginning their course, she was never +satisfied. "The boats with sails," she said, "glided away so natural +like: but with the steamboats it was all forced work." No doubt she +often regarded these different vessels, as emblematic of those who moved +under gentle and approved agencies, and those who were out of harmony +with nature around us,--the working of the hands that are infinite in +power,--those who cared only for hire, and needed, in order to their +activity, some of those goads which happily abound for the idle. + +The aged woman came to us what she was, to remind us what endless +influences are ever ready to mould us to increasing piety, and love for +others. To the sick and sorrowing out of her household she had been an +angel of charity. Her life had been a golden cord. He had strung it for +her with jewels from the mine. Is that mine exhausted? The glories we +know lie near at hand for all that will gather them. + +Well can I realize after the lapse of years, the sorrow of the aged wife +when it was manifest that my old friend must soon close his eyes on the +world for ever. There he lay, his strong form promising hope, which the +decision of the physician denied. Could he be dying, who was bound to +the scene around him by so many ties? As he had gained these fields by +such a life of labor, and held them so firmly in his grasp, as every +tree seemed so surely his, as you felt the impress of his firm and +undisputed will in all the arrangements of his broad farm, you might ask +can all these bonds which bind him here be sundered? But God sunders +all, as he will, in a moment. + +And now he was on the verge of the world to come. In infancy his life +had hung by the most attenuated thread. Was it better for him that he +was to die an old man, one who had passed through life's trials, had +received such endless mercies, had so many calls to so many duties? Or +would it have been better for him that he had died in infancy, passing +to the ineffable joy, but to less glory and honor than those who have +borne the cross, endured in true manly toil, the burden and heat of the +day in the vineyard of the Master? + +It was in a quiet house, quiet as one so soon to be forsaken of its +owner, that we assembled to receive with him the precious emblems of the +great sacrifice made for us, in infinite love. If he received +consolation, it was indeed given also to the aged wife. Her quiet +sorrow, without a tear, was reverent, and full of submission. Its +evenness,--not rising or falling with every hope or fear,--was a seal of +its great depth. You read in her fixed countenance that she had the past +with all its memories, and the future with all its solitude clearly +before her. She was henceforth to be as the shattered vase, just waiting +some small trial of its strength, to fall to pieces. But the lamp within +was to burn on, and fed with ever increasing supplies of aliment for its +flame, to glow with increasing radiance. Such lights in the temple of +God never go out. + +My aged friends! your ashes lie where you hoped that your mortal remains +would find their resting-place. Years have passed, and yet I recall you +to remembrance more affectionately, than when I stood by your opened +grave. One cause of this, is, I presume, that the more I become +acquainted with men, the more I learn to value those who have risen in +their integrity, above the low level of ordinary character. + +Changed is your dwelling. A vast and costly pile occupies the place +where once it stood. But could you, the former inhabitants, of that +which has undergone such alteration, reappear among us, we should +recognize what is eternal in its nature. What is of earth, alters and +passes away. But love, and truth, and faith, all the nobleness given by +the Redeemer,--these endure. These are extended and glorified in the +world to come. + + + + +XI. + +_DR. SAMUEL STANHOPE SMITH AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE._ + + +When I was at Princeton College, Dr. Samuel Stanhope Smith was its +president. A learned and able man, and an eloquent preacher, blameless +in his life, his influence was great, not only over his college, but far +and wide over the surrounding country. + +I trust that it is one of the merits of our Republic, that truly great +and good men will always have this influence and respect. Surely we have +cast off those impediments to human progress which exist in other lands, +where tributes due to real merit are paid to men for their accumulation +of riches. Our offices in the states will almost always be bestowed on +the deserving. The tricks of the politician will be generally unknown, +because our people will hold them in abhorrence. In the old countries +legislative bodies have felt the force of bribes. But I will boldly turn +prophet here, and say, that no such practices will ever be known in such +deliberative bodies in New Jersey. I can imagine the shame which the +pure-minded people of this common-wealth must be ready to visit on one +proven guilty of such a detestable enormity. Indeed he would incur the +risk of being burnt alive at the stake. + +The influence which Dr. Smith attained by the purest means, he exercised +for the public good. His mind was of a philosophic cast, and he abhorred +all superstition. Hence he was always eager to dispel the errors of the +ignorant, and to remove the fears excited by diseased imaginations. + +One day I was plodding over a page of Sophocles. No doubt it contained +beauties whose discovery would repay toil. I was, however, unable to +say, as I pondered it, lexicon by my side, with the Frenchman, "hang +these ancients, they are always anticipating our bright thoughts," for I +was not yet able to compare the idea of the Greek with the +scintillations of genius which had flashed through my mind, and which +were laid up for the future edification of the world, because I could +not determine what the old dramatist had intended to say to us. + +While I was in this state of most unpleasant perplexity, there was a +knock at my door. I knew it at once to be that of our tutor. He informed +me that the great doctor wished to see me and the rest of my class at +his study. + +We were thus invited,--that is, we had as strict a summons as any +soldiers could receive from their commander,--to appear at his +residence, the famous house under whose roof so many illustrious men +have found shelter. Long may it stand! + +It could not take much time to collect the designated young gentlemen +together. Before we met, each individual brain was greatly exercised +with speculations, concerning the cause of our being thus summoned to +the study of our venerable head. When we were a collective body the +various streams of conjecture being thrown in a torrent together, the +effervescence exceeded all my powers of description. + +It was a trying hour when any one of us had to come face to face with +Dr. Smith. + +We were not aware that any evil deed had been committed of late in the +college. We all felt a bold conviction of individual innocence. Indeed, +all college fellows are innocent always, until they are proved to be +guilty. + +One poor fellow, whose shaggy head could never be reduced to smooth +order by comb or brush, more than the tossing waves are subdued to a +placid mirror by the shadows of passing clouds, with a nose that always +reminded you of a sun-dial, and an eye, which sometimes gave him the +nickname of Planet, from its ceaseless twinkling,--had indeed some +troubles of conscience concerning a duck which had been killed, cooked, +and eaten in his room a few nights before, after he had taken a long +rural ramble in the evening. He had some reasonable fear that he could +not produce the bill of its sale for the scrutiny of the President, +should it be demanded. Still, on the whole, we were calm. All felt the +necessity of a general sunshine of countenances. It was our wisdom to +look as if we expected some compliment from the head of the college. +Indeed, one fellow, who had a manly, harmless wildness in him, whom all +loved and confided in, who was a good and kind adviser of us all,--whose +intense life was a good element for the formation of the noble minister +which he afterwards became,--was audibly preparing a reply to the +doubtfully anticipated commendation of the President. It contained the +most ludicrous assertion of our great modesty, and sense of +unworthiness,--in which he said, we all most cordially concurred,--while +in the presence in which we stood. Curiosity was in every mind. No one +had the slightest clue, which appeared to guide us satisfactorily one +step in the darkness. + +But we reached the door of the study. One of the most respectful knocks +ever given proclaimed our presence,--or rather inquired if we could be +admitted. The fine, manly voice which we so well knew, called on us to +enter. We were received with that courteous dignity which characterized +the doctor. All scanned the noble head, and no thunder-clouds were +there. It is something to have seen Dr. Smith in the pulpit, in the +class-room, or in the study. He was somewhat taller than men in general, +and had a frame of fine proportions. His countenance easily kindled with +intelligence. A large blue eye seemed to search your secret +thoughts--and yet in all manliness of inquiry--promising cordial +sympathy with all that was elevated, and a just indignation at the +contemplation of any moral evil. His brow was spacious. His whole face +spoke of hard study--polish of mind--of patient thought--of one who +walked among men as a king. His voice was full and harmonious. His +address was dignified and urbane. The stranger must trust him, and his +friends confided in him, not to discover that he ever could forsake +them. + +Before he spoke we were at our ease. Our surprise took a new channel as +he entered on the business of the hour. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "I have sent for you, that I might have your +co-operation in a plan, which may greatly benefit a worthy farmer, and +remove superstitious fears from some ignorant minds. + +"Mr. Hollman, who has a farm about two miles from the college, cannot +persuade any of the laboring families to reside in a lonely stone house +on his property. It is a dwelling that should be a comfortable, happy +home. The situation is rather picturesque; standing, as it does, near +the shade of a thick wood, and on the bank of a small stream which +empties into our classical run. The people say that the house is +haunted. Family after family has forsaken it in dread. I have not had +patience to listen to the various narratives told concerning it. One man +who is quite intelligent, and evidently honest, declares that he will +take his oath that he has heard terrible noises at midnight, and has +smelt strange fumes. + +"Now this short story must be put an end to. Such superstition must not +exist under the shadow of an institution celebrated for its learning. I +should regard it as a blot on our fair reputation. + +"I have been engaged in devising a plan for the refutation of this +folly. It is this. I propose that you, gentlemen of the senior class, +shall spend a night in the house. This will soon be known over the +neighborhood. There has been much expenditure of words, over the silly +narratives of people alarmed at less than their own shadows. All who +have talked of the ghost, will talk of your act as having cast shame on +those who pretend to see supernatural sights. You will soon have the +pleasure of finding that the deserted house has become the home of some +worthy family. You will do much to put an end to the belief in +ghosts--for the history of your act will be narrated far and wide. Mr. +Hollman will be a debtor to you for securing him from loss, and from +great inconvenience. You have no fear of ghosts. In all probability you +will hear no sounds to disturb you, or call for investigation. If you +hear any peculiar noise, you will be assured that it is caused by some +designing person,--who avails himself of the credulity of the ignorant +to gain his corrupt or foolish purpose. I leave this matter in your +hands. I am confident that the trust that I repose in you will be +attended with the result that I desire." + +We, one and all, became the personification of delight. The president +was informed that it was a most agreeable adventure which he thus +proposed. One fellow, who was awfully alarmed, and who had late at night +told stories of ghosts who appeared in Virginia, until some of his +companions were afraid to separate, was the loudest in expressing his +readiness to go with the rest. He became pale with fright, when one of +his class-mates suggested that it would have more effect if one stayed +all night in the house alone, and that he should be selected for that +solitude. + +It was agreed that we should say nothing about our plan in the college. +Hence, on our return from the doctor's study, our mysterious conduct, +and sundry vague hints caused some eyes to be opened so wide, that one +might question how they would ever close again. In vain every attempt to +discover what had happened in the study of the great divine and +philosopher. + +Late in the afternoon a deputation from our class waited on Mr. Hollman. +I had the honor to be appointed on this committee. The estimable man, a +well-educated farmer, and having that simple address which enables a +benevolent heart to declare itself through its courtesy, expressed great +pleasure on hearing of our proposition, and uttered his thanks to us, +and to the venerable doctor. + +He corroborated the remark of our president, that if we put an end to +the ghost story connected with the house where we were to spend the +night, we should also, simultaneously, succeed in preventing the growth +of superstition elsewhere. "All true--very true," he said; "I always +notice that the doctor's remarks on all subjects run on alike, each of +value like the other, like links in a gold chain. There is danger that +this fear of ghosts will spread. I have some symptoms of it already in +my household. The woman who attends to the milk, begins to look round +her, and hurry home from the milk-house in the dusk of the evening with +a very rapid pace, and to the neglect of some of her duties. And I think +that Pompey has a decided seriousness at times,--as of a man destined to +see something terrible. Perhaps this will occur on his first lonely +drive at night by the grave-yard at our village beyond us. Tell me what +I can do to make you comfortable to-night. I will see that the house is +warmed at once, and provided with lights." + +We walked with him over to the haunted dwelling. On our way he gave us +some good practical advice, as we conversed on various subjects. It came +from a practical spring of knowledge which he had acquired by reflection +on all that he saw of men, and on the affairs that transpired. Indeed +Saner, a lazy fellow, who smelt the instruction so amply spread for us +at the literary table of Nassau Hall, but who never tasted or digested +one crumb or other fragment, said to us, as we returned home +afterwards--and that with a malicious sense of triumph over Latin, +Greek, Philosophy, mental and moral,--Algebra, and like kindred +venerable foes,--"You see a man can get sense of more real value out of +the world than out of books." + +"Saner," said I, "my dear fellow, is this worthy man possessed of the +widely-extended sense of Dr. Smith? And do you think that any one to +whom Providence has given the opportunity of collegiate education, and +who will turn out an ignorant blockhead, will ever learn anything from +observation? Besides our class,--or at least the deputation to the house +of the ghost,--have their minds enlightened by our instruction. Now, I +want to know whether this has not prepared us to glean instruction from +the sensible remarks of Mr. Hollman? Do you think that the ignorant men +who work for him, learn of him in a year what we do, or some of us do, +in a day?" + +But this is a digression.--To return to our survey of the dwelling. +Unfortunately there was nothing very romantic in the structure. The +frowning shadows of larch, and other forest trees; the massive walls +were not there to call forth associations with some of the descriptions +of castles which were the scenes of ghosts and of banditti--such as were +common in the novels of the day. + +The house looked desolate only because it was deserted, and had a dark +history. There were two rooms on the first floor; one was a kitchen of +considerable size. The other the sitting-room,--stove-room,--or +parlor,--as it might happen to be called by the inmates. This was an +apartment opened a few times in the year for company on great State +occasions. Yet it gave all the year round,--a fact which weak critics +often overlook when they talk about a useless room, and laugh in their +dreaded but unproductive way,--gave all the year round a sense of ample +accommodation and dignity to the mansion. From the kitchen a winding +staircase ascended to the upper rooms. The small landing-place rested on +the back wall of the house. Small garrets were over these rooms. The +cellar was of the size of the dwelling, and afforded no hiding-place, +nor any means of access to the interior from without, which we could not +easily secure. A small shed rested against the back of the house, from +the inside of which there was no door by which you could enter either +room. It was obvious, from the pathway to this shed from the kitchen +door, that the access of the family to it, was in the open air. + +The most desolate thing to me was the well. It was one of those still +seen in the little State--so elbowed by its big brothers of New York and +Pennsylvania, and able to bear a great deal of such pressure. It was +lorded over by that huge apparatus of the great long scale-beam, with a +pole and bucket on one end, and a great weight on the other. A vine had +crept up the pole, which must be torn away before water could be drawn. +When had the matron called the good man to draw water from the deep and +damp abode of truth? when had the children, returning from school, +slaked their thirst from the bucket, covered in places by the green +moss? + +We could discover no manner by which any one disposed to disturb the +inmates of the house, could secretly enter. It was amusing to notice how +some of the students, had no conception of pranks to be played upon us +in any other way than those known among collegians. However, we all +agreed that our regulations for self-defence must be very simple. We +had to wait for the demonstrations of the enemy, before we could do +more than draw up our forces in a simple line for attack or defence. + +The night, of course, came on. The whole class entered the house. We had +good fires in the two rooms below, and in one above. Mr. Hollman sent +chairs and tables, and a good stock of solid provisions. Lights had been +provided, and we had with us a number of lanterns--two of which were to +be kept burning all night. Some excellent cider had been sent to us; and +if any had desired it, we would not have permitted the introduction of +stronger drink. Our honor was concerned; Dr. Smith having reposed such +entire confidence in our proceedings. There was an implied contract +between us, and there were men in the class who would see that it was +complied with, not only in letter, but in spirit. It was also obvious +that if we had any intoxicating beverage among us, and should report +strange sights, men would account for it in their own way. Indeed, if +the young gents had engaged in a noisy revel, and their intellects had +become clouded, we should have tempted some mischievous creature to try +and create an alarm. + +We soon were a lively party. The house was cheerful with its blazing +fires and lights. But as that noble-hearted K----k, who became in +aftertime so eloquent a preacher in the Presbyterian church--and +M----r, for so many years a representative of his district in +Congress--and H----t, afterwards a distinguished Bishop, took their +seats by the fire in the kitchen--they soon drew around them the whole +of our little army. We became so joyous and free from care, that we +regretted that there were not other haunted houses requiring our aid. We +had no more thought that our talk would be exhausted before morning, +than the bird that its song will cease before the season for its melody +is over. It was put to the vote by the leanest fellow in the class that +we should not have our supper until we had passed the midnight hour. + +All remained quiet for a long time, when a dismal sound near one of the +windows arrested us, and caused a strange silence. It was the common +opinion, that it was the visit of an owl. Before midnight a scraping +noise was heard, and as we moved about, R----k insisted that he heard a +sound of moving boards, as if some one had climbed hastily over the +garden fence. + +All soon subsided into silence. Our animated conversations proceeded. I +ought to say, that almost the whole evening had been spent in the +discussion of metaphysical questions. In those days these were unfailing +topics. We did wonderfully well, considering that the German school had +not yet thrown open its gates, and let in its flood of waters, not +muddy, but stained with all sorts of dyes, so that the eye is dazzled +on the surface in place of penetrating the mass before you. The doctrine +of the freedom of the will, as expounded by the great President Edwards, +was a sure mountain of gold for every adventurer. I always observed that +all who pretended to argue at all, could argue fluently on this subject. +I also noticed that no student ever hinted that he did not understand +what his opponent had said, and that none of us ever complained that +those who replied to us, had misunderstood us,--a wonderful proof of the +clear manner in which we all reasoned. And indeed there was so much +genius among us for this branch of disputation, that it did not appear +to matter whether a student had in any degree mastered the great +treatise, of which a celebrated Scotchman, no profound judge to be sure, +has said that it never had been refuted. + +As we were thus arguing these great subjects, and saying things which +Locke, Malebranche, Leibnitz, and Reid could never have said, K----k +amused us by a story,--for the actual truth of which he gave us his +word. He said that in a part of the country where he had spent many +years, the people had a debating club. It was held in a school-house +during the winter evenings, and drew large audiences. On one occasion +the topic of debate was the free agency of man. + +A stone-mason who had attended the meeting during the discussion gave an +animated account of the scene. The teacher of the school was his +particular hero. He acknowledged that the opponent had merit,--was, in +country parlance, "a smart man." But little Charlie the teacher was too +much for him,--he was still "smarter." It had been a long argument. The +little teacher held that man was not a free agent. The evening was +passing away. The friends of each champion were much perplexed. Would it +be a drawn battle? Just at the happy time, the little teacher thought of +a happy argument. "Man," he said, "could not be a free agent; for if he +was, he would never die." "That settled it," was the comment. Man would +never die, if he was a free agent. So we gave him the vote. He is an +"uncommon smart man." We laughed,--and Thompson said that a story was +not an argument, and was preparing for a new onset, when the lean +student,--whom some called, improperly, Bean-pole,--interposed with the +assurance, that it was time for our repast. Some said not yet,--but he +who argued on the side of the lean one, had one vast advantage; that is +to say, his statements, particularly his reference to the tender ham, +and tempting bread and butter, created an appetite even in his +opponents. So the night was carried,--and we soon arranged our viands. +The metaphysical discussions ceased,--probably from the instinctive +conviction that such severe exercise of the mind was unfavorable to +health, when one was making a hasty repast. + +While we were engaged in this agreeable duty, one of our number, +Shockford, a fellow of the kindest disposition, but always saying things +in a grumbling way, declared that he had some scruples of conscience, as +to the nature of our present occupation. What business had we to +interfere with ghosts? They had never done any harm to us. He used to +groan over the dull, unimaginative brains of the people of his +neighborhood. One day a weight of lead was taken off from his mind. He +sang his triumph in the best Latin and Greek which he could summon. He +thought that his neighborhood was about to improve. Could it be +credited, some of the people had seen a ghost. He knew a part of the +country where the inhabitants were too mean ever to have seen a spirit. +Lonely places, awful shadows by the woods, grave-yards, bridges in dark +hollows, were all thrown away upon them. + +And no man ever heard of a generous thought that originated there, or, +being sent there, found a hospitable reception. They are as dry in their +natures as the old posts in their fences. They never saw anything in the +grand old woods, which are rapidly disappearing, those majestic trees +with their deep shades, that elevated their souls higher than the +furrows, which they turn over year by year. The trees are but so much +fire-wood, so much material for lumber,--so many posts and rails. All +the beauty of the harvest, is submerged in the expectation of the silver +for which it could be sold. Is it any marvel that such clods are +despised by the ghosts? If you were one, and had your own way, would you +appear in such a dreary society? Would you go before the stupid eye, +that never gleamed at the glorious unfolding of the stars, or rolled, in +some little transport, as the autumnal clouds drifted towards the +sunset, and were so radiant in the beams of the setting orb, that they +were too grand a canopy, for a world on whose surface men do so many +deeds contrary to the holy will of the Great Ruler of the universe? + +Happy he was to say that he knew other parts of the country where the +sojourners are a people of different characteristics. Many ghosts were +seen in the favored spot. What was the consequence? The young ladies +are, as it might naturally be expected, much more attractive in their +personal appearance, of gentler voices, of more sympathizing manners, +and form husbands on a much more elevated plan. Of course there is much +variety in their descriptions of the ghosts which they have seen. One +most commendable trait which I have observed among them, is that the +sights which they have witnessed enhance their social respectability. +There are slight grades in rank among the ghost-seers. Those who have +seen a spirit at midnight, are superior to those who have beheld one +early in the evening. Those who have seen one near the graves, rank +above those who have met one only in the fields. But the crowned head of +all is my old neighbor, who begins apparently to tell you an awful +history,--his manner indicating that he can give strange circumstantial +evidence of the truth of the event which he is about to narrate,--and +all at once the blood, which began to cool, flows freely, as he cuts +short his tantalizing narrative, with the information that he shall +never inform any soul what he saw that night. No one of our neighbors +dares to think that he has ever approached such a transcendent vision. +The shake of the head with which the old man concludes his last +sentence, is too impressive for the most presumptuous man, having a +tendency to a doubt. + +After our meal, and many a hearty laugh, a number composed themselves in +the different rooms for a good sleep. It was determined that three of +the class should sit up awake before the fire in case of emergency. I +must say that there was an undefined doubt over our minds whether +something very exciting would not happen before morning. I felt this +even in the gayety of the room. The young men laughed and talked as if +their minds were wrought up to an unnatural state. + +The hours sped on,--rapidly for those who slumbered, and heavily for +those who did duty as waking guards before the fire. Now and then some +one would awaken, as if from a dream, and ask in bold speech whether the +ghost had yet come. + +I remember that it was my turn to be off guard, and to join the +sleepers. The fires were kept up brightly, and gave a cheerful light to +all the apartment. I was watching the flickering of the flames, and had +forgotten almost entirely the place and position which we occupied, and +was philosophizing on the nature of sleep, and recalling some +observations I had read on the happy state of healthy little children +who are sinking to their sleep. I recalled the evidence I had received +of that kind arrangement of Providence, in the case of the little ones +at home, smiling on you in such perfect benignity and peace, as you drew +near them in their little beds. This, of course, recalled the home. As I +was bringing loved faces and scenes before me, the whole house was throw +into a sudden commotion,--just like that which you may imagine to occur +when a whole ship's crew, having been devoid of fear, is suddenly +startled with the report, communicated as by some mysterious power from +man to man, that an iceberg is near at hand, or breakers, or that the +good vessel has been subjected to some shock which endangers the common +safety. + +A loud sound was heard, evidently in the centre of the house, and all +agreed that it was occasioned by the discharge of a large pistol. The +dwelling was shaken by the report, and the windows rattled. In a moment +all was activity. By a common impulse all above and below gathered at +the staircase. We distinctly smelt the fumes of the powder, and holding +up lights, were satisfied that we detected the lingering smoke. + +Then commenced a new and perfect scrutiny of the building. +Notwithstanding the evidence that earthly elements had entered into the +cause of the shock, some were rather awed. + +All our search was in vain. There are more things in heaven and earth +than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Yet, in this instance, we looked +on the earth for that which we could not find. + +Not the slightest trace could be discovered to throw us on the true path +of investigation. We could form no possible conjecture as to the manner +in which the pistol had been discharged. After daylight we re-examined +the house. But all was in vain. The external and internal scrutiny gave +us not a hint as to the manner in which the deed could have been +accomplished. + +I must confess that we returned to Princeton in no enviable mood. We all +dreaded an interview with Dr. Smith. We sought him at once,--as nature +inclines us often to go through a painful duty as soon as we can, and +to have it over. + +But the President listened to our story in a manner which relieved us of +our apprehensions. He did not seem greatly surprised; and his remarks +satisfied us that we had not been made ridiculous, and we were prepared +to face the world, or rather the worst part of it,--with reference to +our present condition,--the college. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "some effort to continue this imposition was to +have been expected. I presumed that such a series of inmates would not +have been driven from the house, had not some skill been shown in the +manner of causing alarm. Now, the affair is more serious than ever. If +you allow this to rest here, the fate of the house is sealed. Ghosts +will be seen all around the land. Perhaps we shall even have one to +disturb the college. Malicious and designing men will be able to torture +their victims, and often render the property of those whom they hate, +perfectly worthless. You must continue to sleep in this building until +you unravel this mystery. For my own part, I would say to you, do not be +discouraged. You have made an advance. It is now evident that the noises +heard in the house, perhaps sudden flashes that have been seen, are not +the work of imagination. A pistol fired there, gives you a clear +indication that some man is to be detected. Go there again. Let a +portion of the class go to the house, and take possession. Have your +fires and lights. At a later hour let another body of these gentlemen go +quietly in the dark, and secrete themselves outside of the dwelling, so +that they can watch it during the night. Place yourselves so as not to +intercept the most natural approaches to the house. Do not let any one +know of your plans. I shall wait to hear from you again, and am sure +that you will succeed." + +Before the evening had arrived we had proof that Dr. Smith was correct +in his judgment as to the necessity for the prosecution of this +adventure. Night promised to become hideous to the surrounding country. +It was already reported on the most indisputable evidence; nay, some of +the narrators had heard it directly from the lips of the students +themselves, that as we were assembled in the dwelling, the lights +suddenly became dim, the fires ceased to blaze, and then an awful +stately lady, with the famous red ring around her throat, indicating +clearly that a murder had been committed on the premises, walked through +the rooms and looked on us, and seemed to enjoin on us the duty of +bringing the men who had stained their hands with her blood to justice, +and then suddenly withdrew with a terrific noise. Another report was to +the injury of an unpopular man, who had owned the property before it +was purchased by Mr. Hollman. Its version of the affair was, that the +ghost disclosed a secret place in the house where some papers were +concealed,--proving that the property had in former times been acquired +by the most wicked means. Great satisfaction was intimated that the man +would be exposed, and attain his deserts,--a prison having long been +supposed to be his appropriate destination. + +In the evening we followed the injunctions of the president. The late +party left the college one by one, issuing in the dark from the basement +of the building, so that no one watching us could know of their +departure. They crept along over fields, and by the skirt of the woods. +They hid themselves under a thicket, through which no one would attempt +to pass to the house. + +The midnight came on. I was one of those in the interior of the +building. About the same time of the night we heard the strange pistol +again. I also thought I heard an additional sound, but could not imagine +its cause. Our chief trust was in those without. And we were not +disappointed. A moment after the discharge of the pistol, we heard a +rush of feet, and many cries. Then there arose a noise of unmistakable +triumph. + +The noise, and a flash revealed to the watchers without, the direction +they must pursue. They surrounded the shed, back of the building. There +they seized a form, a base--unspiritual--rough form. It was that of a +young negro man, who was brought into the light in the house, and +subjected to investigation. + +He confessed that his design was to obtain vengeance of Mr. Hollman, who +had given him some offence. It seems that above the shed on the back of +the house, where he was secured, there was a small trap-door, opening +into the interior. It was so cut out of the boards, and so often +white-washed within and without, that we had never observed it. He had +once lived in the house, and knowing of this small opening, had availed +himself of it, for the success of his wicked design. Climbing up the +shed, he lifted the door, held the large horse-pistol deeply loaded, as +far as he could over the landing of the winding staircase, and then +discharging it, dropped the door, slid from the shed, and was soon far +off, and free from all suspicion. + +He had heard from the people at Mr. Hollman's, that we were to attempt +to satisfy the public mind, that the house was not haunted, and that any +family might reside on the premises in peace. Hence he resolved to alarm +us all, and drive us away. + +Some of the class were for summary vengeance on the fellow. We +determined to take him into Princeton, and hand him over to the +magistrate. You may imagine that we entered our town on the following +morning, with an air of triumph,--which was quite a contrast to our +looks on the preceding day. We went in figuratively speaking, with +banners flying, and drums beating. And we had some literally blowing +their trumpets. + +The ghost attracted some curiosity, and some said that as we looked for +something in white, we were disappointed. + +Dr. Smith was as well pleased as we were, with our success. The house +was soon reoccupied. I went there some time after our adventure, and +found it the home of a respectable family, who treated me with special +consideration, and a satisfactory portion of a large pie, when they +heard that I was one of the celebrated party that caught the ghost. +Ghosts in troops forsook Princeton. They found their occupation gone. +Men and women, boys and girls, darkies of all ages, saw shadows in the +evening, mists, indistinct lights, flickering candles, passed by graves, +and grave-yards, and had no longer any special dread. And had any ghost +in fact, dared to appear anywhere around, I have no doubt that our class +would have been summoned to do, what daylight always does, send the +wandering and terrible spirit to the regions where such dwell,--far from +all human cognizance. May Nassau Hall ever have such success in all her +laudable enterprises! May all her classes, be as great victors over all +that can cause dread to a student, as we were over the ghost at +Hollman's. + + + + +XII. + +_MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY._[1] + + +"Father," said one of Mr. Digby's children, just let loose from school, +and fluttering about as if on the eve of a great flight of +play,--"father, look at my copy-book." + +The face of the one thus appealed to, which generally bore a care-worn +look, relaxed into an attentive and gentle interest. He gave the labored +page the appropriate scrutiny. When the right of criticism was thus +justly earned, he bestowed due meed of praise. In line after line he +read, ECONOMY IS WEALTH. + +The children soon left him, and he turned down a path leading to the +gate. All the way he repeated in various intonations of voice, the tones +changing with various trains of thought, economy is wealth. + +He said to himself, "Who was the great inventor of that most absurd of +proverbs? Economy is wealth. Nonsense! The man who first spoke that +sentence, never had a saving wife. Economy wealth! Pooh! Pooh! I say, +economy is poverty. + +"Our house is full of economy. The more it becomes a bank full of that +article, so ridiculously misrepresented, the more poor I am. We have a +great linen-closet, never opened for use, full of economy. We have a +garret where economy is packed away. There are things ancient and +modern, big and little, shining and rusty, known and unknown, bought as +bargains, and patiently waiting under loads of dust to become useful, +and to save us several fortunes. There is a huge chest of economy in the +entry near the spare room door. It contains plated ware, spoons, urns, +tea-pots, toast-racks, branches for candle-sticks, all ready for use +some fifty years hence, when we shall give parties to the fashionable +people in our village, increased from eight or ten to one hundred. + +"And there is the fat boy in the kitchen, who was to save me from the +cost of hiring a man to cut my wood, and dig the garden, and who was to +wear my old clothes. Now he is so corpulent that he cannot get into my +coats or pantaloons. If there be a tide which takes out everything, and +brings in nothing, then it is economy. Yes. Economy is wealth." + +Now Mrs. Digby was a great domestic statesman. Her husband had been +leading a life of married astonishment. There seemed to be no end to the +resources of her diplomacy. Her reasons for any departure from her +ordinary expenditures, were versatile and profound. + +One principle behind which the good lady invariably entrenched herself, +was the impregnable one, that she never bought anything unless it was +under the promptings of a strict necessity. "I never buy anything not +strictly necessary, Mr. Digby," was the oil she poured on the troubled +waters of the mind of her husband. + +Now the man whose intellect was not able to comprehend the curious +principles that regulated his household, declared that he never saw +anything so comprehensive as this theory of necessity. It appeared to +him to be the only law on the earth or among the stars which had no +exceptions. And all these necessities, were a great perplexity under +another aspect. They were all matters of life and death. If the coat of +the little girl faded in a slight degree, a new one--if Mrs. Digby said +so--was so necessary, that it was evident that an earthquake would come, +or the sun turn aside from his path, with consequences of unending +disaster, unless her will was transformed into actual ribbons, and +merino, or silk, or velvet. And what was equally surprising, it +sometimes happened, that before one necessity could thus be removed, +another arose; and the first was forgotten. The earthquake was somehow +prevented. The sun did not alter his course. It was a strange mystery. + + * * * * * + +It happened after they had been married a short time, that Mrs. Digby +expected a visit from some friends. + +"My dear," she said, "you will be so pleased with them. I would not +think of treating them with any great ceremony, if it was not that they +have never seen our house. First impressions are very strong. I never +forget the pitcher, towels, and basin in the room where I slept, when I +made a visit to the Elders. Nothing could ever eradicate from my mind +the belief, that she is not as good a house-keeper as she should be. No, +it would not change my mind on that point, if I was to see her in a +house, where everything was cut out of newly fallen snow. + +"Now, my dear, as these friends are to form their first impressions of +my house, I am under the necessity of having everything very nice for +them. I shall go to the expense of buying a few articles. And then our +meals must be a little more particular than when we are alone. But we +will make all up by increased economy. Yes, we will save all the +increased expense in various ways. First impressions are so powerful. +The first impressions of these friends must be favorable." + +This all seemed to be very natural to Mr. Digby. But his surprise was +great when he discovered that this theory of first impressions on the +part of visitors, went on for years. The great portion of those who came +to see them, were persons who were to receive first impressions. The +Nobbs, the Stowells, the Campbells, the Lambs, and a host of others +came, and all were to receive their first impressions. After ten years +the theory was still in existence. As soon as Mr. Digby heard of a new +comer, then the theory was the first thing in his mind. + +And when any of the friends repeated a visit, Mrs. Digby had a pleasant +piece of information to impart to her lord and master. She had heard +that Mrs. Snobbs, for instance, had said, that their house was kept in a +state of perfection. She had been in ecstacies over the appearance of +the furniture, and thought the table such as would tempt one to eat who +had lost all appetite. Of course, it would never do to allow her to +come, and have the first impressions changed. That would be coming down +to a most painful extent. It could never be. Some old furniture must +therefore be displaced by some new purchases. And then their table must +be a little more richly served. Indeed, it would be rather advantageous +to have things a little better than in former times. Former impressions +would lead her to expect some advance. + + * * * * * + +----this time Mr. Digby was again much perplexed. His wife received a +present of three hundred dollars from an aunt. The good lady was quite +triumphant, and now appeared to think, that anything but economy was not +practicable. The old theory of necessity now came in like a torrent. The +good husband had read of crops which sprang up in some portions of the +earth, in a wonderful manner. He had heard of the plants in some of our +warm climes which grew under a few suns in certain seasons, in a way +which seems incredible to us who live in this northern land. But never +did he imagine that anything could ever equal the sudden growth of +necessities in his house, since the good aunt had sent the present. +Necessity met you everywhere. It haunted you in every room. You trod +upon it when you stepped upon the old carpet, or the old oil-cloth. You +could not come near the window but it met you. + +We must have new curtains for our parlor-windows. + +But, Mr. Digby suggested, daring to run a tilt, madman as he was, +against necessity, that irresistible giant, who has a perfect covering +of impenetrable mail,--the expense. Think of my present, said the lady, +offering terms as a conquering general would offer them to a prostrate +foe. I will give of my present a great part of the expense. + +So the curtains were bought. They were put up, and Mrs. Digby was as +happy as Mr. Digby was dejected and miserable. + +Then the good lady discovered that the porch must be taken down, and a +piazza erected. Her lord said it was impossible. Here again was he +foolish enough to place his impossibility as an opponent to her +necessity. She would pay for a portion of the cost out of the money +which was sent her by her aunt. But Mr. Digby said that he had several +debts to pay, and knew not how to meet them. + +Poor man! He here made a most disastrous movement of his forces. The +able general opposed to him, was too much gifted with military genius to +lose sight of the proffered advantage. + +Did he expect that she was to pay his debts out of the present made her +by her aunt? No such thing. Her dear aunt manifestly intended that the +money should be spent for her special comfort. She could read him the +letter. She intended, as that kind epistle taught, that her niece should +expend it in some way that would personally gratify herself. She never +intended that it should be swallowed up in the ordinary expenditures of +the house. + +So she ingeniously carried her day, for discomfiting Mr. Digby, on the +ground that he had proposed to her that she should pay his debts, which, +however, it will be observed he had not done,--for he had only +remonstrated against new expenditures before his old debts were +expunged,--she wisely made the two questions one. As he had to retire +from the field on the question of battle, as insisted on by her, despite +of all his pleas to the contrary,--she took for granted that the subject +of the new piazza was involved in the one issue. So the piazza was +erected. + +Some time after this, one of her friends wished to dispose of a new +carriage, or one almost as good as new. Mrs. Digby described it in +glowing terms. And then she said that she could have it at a great +reduction in the price. If the fish knew that the hook was near, as well +as Mr. Digby knew that the cord and hook were dangling around to secure +him for a prey,--no fish would ever be caught. + +It was astonishing what an eloquence Mrs. Digby could throw into such a +statement. It was not merely that she was eloquent when she described +the carriage. The picture she drew of the comfort in which she and her +lord would appear,--nay their increased elegance and respectability, was +one which could not have been surpassed. Then there was a happy contrast +presented between the proposed new equipage, and their present homely +wagon, in which they had of late years jogged along in a contented way, +which proved that their ideas of what was desirable were in need of +improvement. + +The master-power of her eloquence did not, however, here appear in its +highest manifestations. No, it was revealed when the simple description +of the carriage, conveyed to the mind of the hearer, the idea that if he +did not most earnestly desire to purchase it, he must be a man fit for +treason, stratagems, and spoils. The reproof was carried to the heart +through terrors, which in themselves seemed incapable of any such power. +Those who are ignorant of such feminine power, would as soon expect the +rays of the sun to bring with them the food needful for their +sustenance. And when she referred to the old carriage, Mr. Digby felt as +if his conscience was indeed disturbed. There were two statements +addressed to him. One referred to the homely nature of the wagon. The +other said, if you could allow a woman who has been a faithful wife,--a +woman who has shared your fortunes for fifteen years,--who has never +spared herself to order her household well,--who is the mother of seven +children of whom you are very proud,--to crown all,--who has practised +for fifteen years in your house, in the most untiring manner the most +exact, and even unreasonable economy,--buying only what she has been +forced to do under the pressure of necessity,--if you could allow such a +woman to go in that old wagon, when this new and pleasant carriage could +be purchased, and that too when she is willing to give part of the money +which was sent her by her affectionate aunt, that aforesaid money having +been intended for her own personal benefit,--why then you are one of +those of whom the world may well say, that it is fortunate that you are +not placed in a situation where you could become a pirate. + +After all this moving eloquence, one passage was repeated in express +words. Mr. Digby was told that if he would agree to the purchase of the +carriage and the harness which appropriately belonged to it, she would +expend in paying for it the three hundred dollars sent her by her aunt. +In that case he would have to advance but one hundred dollars, and by +that insignificant outlay, insignificant of course she meant in +comparison of that which they would gain, for economy is wealth, and she +could not throw away a dollar on any account, he would secure this +invaluable vehicle, and prove himself a man who had some regard for his +wife. + +Mr. Digby suggested that some of this money, sent by the aunt was to +have paid for the window-curtains. He intended to add in order, some +other purchases, all of which were to have a partial payment from the +same treasured notes. But this suggestion only brought upon him a storm +of virtuous indignation. Nothing could be more unreasonable than to +expect that her money should be devoted to such purposes. All that she +could say, was, that the curtains were necessities. And what would they +have done if the aunt had not sent the money? If the present had not +come, he would never have thought that she would be the one who ought to +supply the money for such necessary expenses. + +So the carriage was bought, and at last the money of the aunt was +expended. + +Mr. Digby made a calculation, and found that the three hundred dollars +of the aunt, had been expended in part payment for purchases which cost +him about one thousand dollars. He uttered the fervent hope that the +good aunt would not send any more of her precious gifts. + +Note. The manuscript here again becomes illegible. As far as I can +gather from a word which can be distinguished here and there, Mr. Digby, +after much suffering, and a severe illness from mental excitement, found +that his good lady, who was really a woman of affectionate nature, +changed all her views. Some one, at the close of the manuscript, appears +to be inquiring of him, how it is that he has attained great peace of +mind. The reply seems to be to the effect, that all the old theories are +exploded from their domestic arrangements, and that in place of all +other questions, the one consideration now is, what their income will +enable them to purchase. And there also seems to be an assertion, that +he no longer feels as if he was in danger of ruin, when any of their +relatives sends his wife a present. There further appears to be some +apology to the proverb, which he so greatly despised in former times, +that economy is wealth. + +[Footnote 1: This paper was so much injured by time, that the editor +could decipher only some portions. But he has concluded to publish these +fragmentary hints, which may be of utility, and open some eyes, as they +reveal some similar weaknesses, of a propensity to live beyond one's +income, which modern progress has not yet perfectly removed from all +minds.] + + + + +XIII. + +_TO MY WIFE._ + + + The lapidary day by day + Brightened the sparkling gem, + And then that diamond flashed each ray + Fit for a diadem. + So in this trusting heart of mine + Increaseth love for thee; + A love whose rays shall brighter shine + When earth shall close o'er me. + + The lapidary knoweth nought + But diamond-dust alone, + By which full glory may be wrought + Upon that precious stone. + So day by day increaseth love + By my true love alone; + The love that trial shall approve + A measure of thy own. + + + + +XIV. + +_FADING AWAY._ + + + From morn to night, thine eye, my dying-boy + Is on those autumn leaves that ever wave, + A sea of leaves on that great forest oak; + Each wave of that wide sea a wave of fire. + + Ah! boy! before those tinted leaves are sear, + And fallen with light crush upon the earth, + Thou wilt be gone. Oh! glorious canopy + Around thy dying bed! All nature seems + To yield a triumph conqueror ne'er received, + When all the world knew that he entered Rome, + To the Redeemer's little one who waits + Just at the gate of life. + + Blest is that tree + That lulls thy quiet. 'Tis one beauteous flame + Less glorious only than the burning bush, + When God was present in the wilderness. + Is He less present to thy spirit now? + + Soon, soon a change will come, and thou wilt see + The angels round thee. They will glow in light + From the Redeemer's presence. Then how dim + All earth's great transport round us in this scene! + Why hast thou lived, my boy? Thy little life + Has all been sorrow: all but some few smiles + To thy dear mother, and to me, to him + Thy brother here unconscious of his loss, + And to thy faithful nurse who never knew + Her care was trouble, sorrowing but for thee. + + But thou hast lived because thou art redeemed: + Because a life was here begun for heaven. + Thou livest to say, love not this passing world. + 'Tis not our home, or surely such as thou + Would be exempt from sorrow. All is well. + Yea, blessed is the family where death + Enters to take an infant. Without fear + All look unto the world where it has rest. + No gentler sorrow falls on all than this. + No gentler sorrow nurtures mutual love. + + O easy faith to know that it is gone + By the bright pathway to eternal realms + Which He first opened, when he left the cross, + The earth he blessed, and so ascended there, + Where with Him all the blessed at death have rest! + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Papers from Overlook-House, by Casper Almore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAPERS FROM OVERLOOK-HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 36980.txt or 36980.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/9/8/36980/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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