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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mind Amongst the Spindles, by Various
+
+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: Mind Amongst the Spindles
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles Knight
+
+Release Date: September 18, 2011 [EBook #37471]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julia Miller, Julia Neufeld and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES.
+
+  A Miscellany,
+
+  WHOLLY COMPOSED BY THE FACTORY GIRLS.
+
+
+  SELECTED FROM THE
+
+  LOWELL OFFERING.
+
+
+  WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE ENGLISH EDITOR,
+
+  AND A LETTER FROM
+
+  HARRIET MARTINEAU.
+
+
+  BOSTON:
+  JORDAN, SWIFT & WILEY.
+  1845.
+
+
+  [Illustration: DOW AND JACKSON'S PRESS]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  INTRODUCTION.   By the English Editor                               5
+
+  Abby's Year in Lowell                                              21
+
+  The First Wedding in Salmagundi                                    28
+
+  "Bless, and curse not"                                             32
+
+  Ancient Poetry                                                     33
+
+  The Spirit of Discontent                                           36
+
+  The Whortleberry Excursion                                         38
+
+  The Western Antiquities                                            43
+
+  The Fig Tree                                                       45
+
+  Village Pastors                                                    49
+
+  The Sugar-Making Excursion                                         61
+
+  Prejudice against Labor                                            65
+
+  Joan of Arc                                                        73
+
+  Susan Miller                                                       81
+
+  Scenes on the Merrimac                                             92
+
+  The First Bells                                                   100
+
+  Evening before Pay-Day                                            108
+
+  The Indian Pledge                                                 118
+
+  The First Dish of Tea                                             120
+
+  Leisure Hours of the Mill Girls                                   122
+
+  The Tomb of Washington                                            136
+
+  Life among Farmers                                                138
+
+  A Weaver's Reverie                                                147
+
+  Our Duty to Strangers                                             150
+
+  Elder Isaac Townsend                                              152
+
+  Harriet Greenough                                                 153
+
+  Fancy                                                             161
+
+  The Widow's Son                                                   163
+
+  Witchcraft                                                        167
+
+  Cleaning Up                                                       170
+
+  Visits to the Shakers                                             172
+
+  The Lock of Gray Hair                                             178
+
+  Lament of the little Hunchback                                    183
+
+  This World is not our Home                                        185
+
+  Dignity of Labor                                                  187
+
+  The Village Chronicle                                             188
+
+  Ambition and Contentment                                          197
+
+  A Conversation on Physiology                                      199
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION, BY THE ENGLISH EDITOR.
+
+
+In the American state of Massachusetts, one of the New England states,
+which was colonized by the stern Puritans who were driven from our
+country by civil and religious persecution, has sprung up within the
+last thirty years the largest manufacturing town of the vast republic.
+Lowell is situated not a great distance from Boston, at the confluence
+of the rivers Merrimac and Concord. The falls of these rivers here
+afford a natural moving power for machinery; and at the latter end of
+the year 1813 a small cotton manufacture was here set up, where the
+sound of labor had not been heard before. The original adventure was not
+a prosperous one. But in 1826 the works were bought by a company or
+corporation; and from that time Lowell has gone on so rapidly increasing
+that it is now held to be "the greatest manufacturing city in America."
+According to Mr. Buckingham, there are now ten companies occupying or
+working thirty mills, and giving employment to more than 10,000
+operatives, of whom 7,000 are females. The situation of the female
+population is, for the most part, a peculiar one. Unlike the greater
+number of the young women in our English factories, they are not brought
+up to the labor of the mills, amongst parents who are also workers in
+factories. They come from a distance; many of them remain only a limited
+time; and they live in boarding houses expressly provided for their
+accommodation. Miss Martineau, in her "Society in America," explains
+the cause not only of the large proportion of females in the Lowell
+mills, but also of their coming from distant parts in search of
+employment: "Manufactures can to a considerable degree be carried on by
+the labor of women; and there is a great number of unemployed women in
+New England, from the circumstance that the young men of that region
+wander away in search of a settlement on the land, and after being
+settled find wives in the south and west." Again, she says, "Many of the
+girls are in the factories because they have too much pride for domestic
+service."
+
+In October, 1840, appeared the first number of a periodical work
+entitled "The Lowell Offering." The publication arose out of the
+meetings of an association of young women called "The Mutual Improvement
+Society." It has continued at intervals of a month or six weeks, and the
+first volume was completed in December, 1841. A second volume was
+concluded in 1842. The work was under the direction of an editor, who
+gives his name at the end of the second volume,--Abel C. Thomas. The
+duties which this gentleman performed are thus stated by him in the
+preface to the first volume:--
+
+"The two most important questions which may be suggested shall receive
+due attention.
+
+"1st. Are all the articles, in good faith and exclusively the
+productions of females employed in the mills? We reply, unhesitatingly
+and without reserve, that THEY ARE, the verses set to music excepted. We
+speak from personal acquaintance with all the writers, excepting four;
+and in relation to the latter (whose articles do not occupy eight pages
+in the aggregate) we had satisfactory proof that they were employed in
+the mills.
+
+"2d. Have not the articles been materially amended by the exercise of
+the editorial prerogative? We answer, THEY HAVE NOT. We have taken
+_less liberty_ with the articles than editors usually take with the
+productions of other than the most experienced writers. Our corrections
+and additions have been so slight as to be unworthy of special note."
+
+Of the merits of the compositions contained in these volumes their
+editor speaks with a modest confidence, in which he is fully borne out
+by the opinions of others:--
+
+"In estimating the talent of the writers for the 'Offering,' the fact
+should be remembered, that they are actively employed in the mills for
+more than twelve hours out of every twenty-four. The evening, after
+eight o'clock, affords their only opportunity for composition; and
+whoever will consider the sympathy between mind and body, must be
+sensible that a day of constant manual employment, even though the labor
+be not excessive, must in some measure unfit the individual for the full
+development of mental power. Yet the articles in this volume ask no
+unusual indulgence from the critics--for, in the language of 'The North
+American Quarterly Review,'--'many of the articles are such as satisfy
+the reader at once, that if he has only taken up the "Offering" as a
+phenomenon, and not as what may bear criticism and reward perusal, he
+has but to own his error, and dismiss his condescension, as soon as may
+be.'"
+
+The two volumes thus completed in 1842 were lent to us by a lady whose
+well-earned literary reputation gave us the assurance that she would not
+bestow her praise upon a work whose merit merely consisted in the
+remarkable circumstance that it was written by young women, not highly
+educated, during the short leisure afforded by their daily laborious
+employments. She told us that we should find in those volumes some
+things which might be read with pleasure and improvement. And yet we
+must honestly confess that we looked at the perusal of these
+closely-printed eight hundred pages as something of a task. We felt
+that all literary productions, and indeed all works of art, should, in a
+great degree, be judged without reference to the condition of the
+producer. When we take up the poems of Burns, we never think that he was
+a ploughman and an exciseman; but we have a painful remembrance of
+having read a large quarto volume of verses by Ann Yearsly, who was
+patronized in her day by Horace Walpole and Hannah More, and to have
+felt only the conviction that the milkwoman of Bristol, for such was
+their authoress, had better have limited her learning to the score and
+the tally. But it was a duty to read the "Lowell Offering." The day that
+saw us begin the first paper was witness to our continued reading till
+night found us busy at the last page, not for a duty, but a real
+pleasure.
+
+The qualities which most struck us in these volumes were chiefly these:
+_First_--there is an entire absence of all pretension in the writers to
+be what they are not. They are factory girls. They always call
+themselves "girls." They have no desire to be fine ladies, nor do they
+call themselves "ladies," as the common fashion is of most American
+females. They have no affectations of gentility; and by a natural
+consequence they are essentially free from all vulgarity. They describe
+the scenes amongst which they live, their labors and their pleasures,
+the little follies of some of their number, the pure tastes and
+unexpensive enjoyments of others. They feel, and constantly proclaim
+without any effort, that they think it an honor to labor with their
+hands. They recognize the real dignity of all useful employments. They
+know that there is no occupation really unworthy of men or women, but
+the selfish pursuits of what is called pleasure, without the desire to
+promote the good of others by physical, intellectual, or moral
+exertions. _Secondly_--many of these papers clearly show under what
+influences these young women have been brought up. An earnest feeling
+of piety pervades their recollections of the past, and their hopes for
+the future. The thoughts of home, too, lie deep in their hearts. They
+are constantly describing the secluded farm-house where they were
+reared, the mother's love, the father's labors. Sometimes a reverse of
+fortune falling upon a family has dispersed its once happy members.
+Sometimes we see visions of past household joy through the orphan's
+tears. Not unfrequently the ardent girl, happy in the confirmed
+affection of some equal in rank, looks exultingly towards the day when
+she may carry back from the savings' bank at Lowell a little dower to
+furnish out their little farm on the hill side, where the barberries
+grew, so deliciously red and sour, in her remembrance of childhood.
+_Thirdly_--there is a genuine patriotism in the tone of many of these
+productions, which is worthy the descendants of the stern freemen who,
+in the New England solitudes, looked tearfully back upon their
+father-land. The institutions under which these young women live are
+different from our own; but there is scarcely a particle of what we have
+been too apt to call republican arrogance. The War of Independence is
+spoken of as it ought to be by every American, with feelings of honest
+exultation. But that higher sentiments than those of military triumph
+mingle with the memory of that war, and render patriotism something far
+nobler than mere national pride, may be seen in the little poem which we
+gladly reprint, "The Tomb of Washington." The paper called "The Lock of
+Gray Hair" is marked by an honest nationality, which we would be ashamed
+not to reverence.--_Fourthly_--like all writers of good natural taste,
+who have not been perverted into mere imitators of other writers, they
+perceive that there is a great source of interest in describing, simply
+and correctly, what they have witnessed with their own eyes. Thus, some
+of the home pictures of these volumes are exceedingly agreeable,
+presenting to us manners and habits wholly different from our own, and
+scenes which have all the freshness of truth in their delineations.--The
+old stories, too, which they sometimes tell of past life in America, are
+equally interesting; and they show us how deeply in all minds is
+implanted the love of old things, which are tenderly looked back upon,
+even though they may have been swept away by what is real
+improvement.--_Lastly_--although there are necessarily in these volumes,
+as in every miscellany, some things which are tedious, and some puerile,
+mock sentimentalities and labored efforts at fine writing, we think it
+would be difficult upon the whole for a large body of contributors,
+writing under great indulgence, to produce so much matter with so little
+bad taste. Of pedantry there is literally none. The writers are familiar
+with good models of composition; they know something of ancient and
+modern history; the literature of England has reached them, and given a
+character and direction to their thoughts. But there is never any
+attempt to parade what they know; and we see they have been readers,
+only as we discover the same thing in the best educated persons, not in
+a display of their reading, but in a general tone which shows that
+cultivation has made them wiser and better.
+
+Such were the opinions we had formed of "The Lowell Offering," before we
+were acquainted with the judgment pronounced upon the same book by a
+writer whose original and brilliant genius is always under the direction
+of kindly feelings towards his fellow-creatures, and especially towards
+the poor and lowly of his human brethren. Mr. Dickens, in his "American
+Notes," thus mentions "The Lowell Offering," of which he says, "I
+brought away from Lowell four hundred good solid pages, which I have
+read from beginning to end:"--"Of the merits of 'The Lowell Offering,'
+as a literary production, I will only observe, putting entirely out of
+sight the fact of the articles having been written by these girls after
+the arduous labors of the day, that it will compare advantageously with
+a great many English annuals. It is pleasant to find that many of its
+tales are of the mills and of those who work in them; that they
+inculcate habits of self-denial and contentment, and teach good
+doctrines of enlarged benevolence. A strong feeling for the beauties of
+nature, as displayed in the solitudes the writers have left at home,
+breathes through its pages like wholesome village air; and though a
+circulating library is a favorable school for the study of such topics,
+it has very scant allusion to fine clothes, fine marriages, fine houses,
+or fine life. Some persons might object to the papers being signed
+occasionally with rather fine names, but this is an American fashion.
+One of the provinces of the state legislature of Massachusetts is to
+alter ugly names into pretty ones, as the children improve upon the
+tastes of their parents."
+
+If the separate articles in "The Lowell Offering" bear signatures which
+represent distinct writers, we have, in our selection of thirty-seven
+articles, given the productions of twenty-nine individual contributors.
+It is this circumstance which leads us to believe that many of the
+papers are faithful representations of individual feelings. Tabitha,
+from whose pen we have given four papers, is a simple, unpretending
+narrator of old American scenes and customs. Ella, from whom we select
+three papers, is one of the imaginative spirits who dwell on high
+thoughts of the past, and reveries of the future--one who has been an
+earnest thinker as well as a reader. Jemima prettily describes two
+little home-scenes. Susanna, who to our minds exhibits natural powers
+and feelings, that by cultivation might enable her to become as
+interesting an historian of the old times of America in the days before
+the Revolution as an Irving or a Cooper, furnishes us with two papers.
+The rest are Lisettas, and Almiras, and Ethelindas, and Annettes, and
+Theresas; with others who are contented with simple initials. They have
+all afforded us much pleasure. We have read what they have written with
+a deep interest. May the love of letters which they enjoy, and the power
+of composition which they have attained, shed their charms over their
+domestic life, when their days of mill service are ended. May their
+epistles to their friends be as full of truthfulness and good feeling as
+their contributions to "The Lowell Offering." May the success of this
+their remarkable attempt at literary composition not lead them to dream
+too much of the proud distinctions of authorship--uncertain prizes, won,
+if won at all, by many a weary struggle and many a bitter
+disappointment. The efforts which they have made to acquire the practice
+of writing have had their own reward. They have united themselves as
+familiar friends with high and gentle minds, who have spoken to them in
+books with love and encouragement. In dwelling upon the thoughts of
+others, in fixing their own thoughts upon some definite object, they
+have lifted themselves up into a higher region than is attained by
+those, whatever be their rank, whose minds are not filled with images of
+what is natural and beautiful and true. They have raised themselves out
+of the sphere of the partial and the temporary into the broad expanse of
+the universal and the eternal. During their twelve hours of daily labor,
+when there were easy but automatic services to perform, waiting upon a
+machine--with that slight degree of skill which no machine can ever
+attain--for the repair of the accidents of its unvarying progress, they
+may, without a neglect of their duty, have been elevating their minds in
+the scale of being by cheerful lookings-out upon nature, by pleasant
+recollections of books, by imaginary converse with the just and wise who
+have lived before them, by consoling reflections upon the infinite
+goodness and wisdom which regulates this world, so unintelligible
+without such a dependence. These habits have given them cheerfulness and
+freedom amidst their uninterrupted toils. We see no repinings against
+their twelve hours' labor, for it has had its solace. Even during the
+low wages of 1842, which they mention with sorrow but without complaint,
+the same cultivation goes on; "The Lowell Offering" is still produced.
+To us of England these things ought to be encouraging. To the immense
+body of our factory operatives the example of what the girls of Lowell
+have done should be especially valuable. It should teach them that their
+strength, as well as their happiness, lies in the cultivation of their
+minds. To the employers of operatives, and to all of wealth and
+influence amongst us, this example ought to manifest that a strict and
+diligent performance of daily duties, in work prolonged as much as in
+our own factories, is no impediment to the exercise of those faculties,
+and the gratification of those tastes, which, whatever the world may
+have thought, can no longer be held to be limited by station. There is a
+contest going on amongst us, as it is going on all over the world,
+between the hard imperious laws which regulate the production of wealth
+and the aspirations of benevolence for the increase of human happiness.
+We do not deplore the contest; for out of it must come a gradual
+subjection of the iron necessity to the holy influences of love and
+charity. Such a period cannot, indeed, be rashly anticipated by
+legislation against principles which are secondary laws of nature; but
+one thing, nevertheless, is certain--that such an improvement of the
+operative classes, as all good men,--and we sincerely believe amongst
+them the great body of manufacturing capitalists,--ardently pray for and
+desire to labor in their several spheres to attain, will be brought
+about in a parallel progression with the elevation of the operatives
+themselves in mental cultivation, and consequently in moral excellence.
+We believe that this great good may be somewhat advanced by a knowledge
+diffused in every building throughout the land where there is a mule or
+a loom, of what the factory girls of Lowell have done to exhibit the
+cheering influences of "MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We had written thus far when we received the following most interesting
+and valuable letter from Miss Martineau. We have the greatest pleasure
+in printing this admirable account of the factory girls at Lowell, from
+the pen of one who has labored more diligently and successfully than any
+writer of our day, to elevate the condition of the operative classes. To
+Miss Martineau we are deeply indebted for the ardent zeal with which she
+has recommended the compilation, and for the sound judgment with which
+she has assisted us in arranging the details of a plan which mainly owes
+its origin to her unwearied solicitude for the good of her
+fellow-creatures.
+
+              _Letter from Miss Martineau to the Editor._
+
+                                            _Tynemouth, May 20, 1844._
+
+    MY DEAR FRIEND,--Your interest in this Lowell book can scarcely
+    equal mine; for I have seen the factory girls in their Lyceum, and
+    have gone over the cotton-mills at Waltham, and made myself familiar
+    on the spot with factory life in New England; so that in reading the
+    "Offering," I saw again in my memory the street of houses built by
+    the earnings of the girls, the church which is their property, and
+    the girls themselves trooping to the mill, with their healthy
+    countenances, and their neat dress and quiet manners, resembling
+    those of the tradesman class of our country.
+
+    My visit to Lowell was merely for one day, in company with Mr.
+    Emerson's party,--he (the pride and boast of New England as an
+    author and philosopher) being engaged by the Lowell factory people
+    to lecture to them, in a winter course of historical biography. Of
+    course the lectures were delivered in the evening, after the mills
+    were closed. The girls were then working seventy hours a week, yet,
+    as I looked at the large audience (and I attended more to them than
+    to the lecture) I saw no sign of weariness among any of them. There
+    they sat, row behind row, in their own Lyceum--a large hall,
+    wainscoted with mahogany, the platform carpeted, well lighted,
+    provided with a handsome table, desk, and seat, and adorned with
+    portraits of a few worthies, and as they thus sat listening to their
+    lecturer, all wakeful and interested, all well-dressed and
+    lady-like, I could not but feel my heart swell at the thought, of
+    what such a sight would be with us.
+
+    The difference is not in rank, for these young people were all
+    daughters of parents who earn their bread with their own hands. It
+    is not in the amount of wages, however usual that supposition is,
+    for they were then earning from one to three dollars a-week, besides
+    their food; the children one dollar (4_s._ 3_d._), the second rate
+    workers two dollars, and the best three: the cost of their dress and
+    necessary comforts being much above what the same class expend in
+    this country. It is not in the amount of toil; for, as I have said,
+    they worked seventy clear hours per week. The difference was in
+    their superior culture. Their minds are kept fresh, and strong, and
+    free by knowledge and power of thought; and this is the reason why
+    they are not worn and depressed under their labors. They begin with
+    a poorer chance for health than our people; for the health of the
+    New England women generally is not good, owing to circumstances of
+    climate and other influences; but among the 3800 women and girls in
+    the Lowell mills when I was there, the average of health was not
+    lower than elsewhere; and the disease which was most mischievous was
+    the same that proves most fatal over the whole country--consumption;
+    while there were no complaints peculiar to mill life.
+
+    At Waltham, where I saw the mills, and conversed with the people, I
+    had an opportunity of observing the invigorating effects of MIND in
+    a life of labor. Twice the wages and half the toil would not have
+    made the girls I saw happy and healthy, without that cultivation of
+    mind which afforded them perpetual support, entertainment, and
+    motive for activity. They were not highly educated, but they had
+    pleasure in books and lectures, in correspondence with home; and had
+    their minds so open to fresh ideas, as to be drawn off from thoughts
+    of themselves and their own concerns. When at work they were amused
+    with thinking over the last book they had read, or with planning the
+    account they should write home of the last Sunday's sermon, or with
+    singing over to themselves the song they meant to practise in the
+    evening; and when evening came, nothing was heard of tired limbs and
+    eagerness for bed, but, if it was summer, they sallied out, the
+    moment tea was over, for a walk, and if it was winter, to the
+    lecture-room or to the ball-room for a dance, or they got an hour's
+    practice at the piano, or wrote home, or shut themselves up with a
+    new book. It was during the hours of work in the mill that the
+    papers in the "Offering" were meditated, and it was after work in
+    the evenings that they were penned.
+
+    There is, however, in the case of these girls, a stronger support, a
+    more elastic spring of vigor and cheerfulness than even an active
+    and cultivated understanding. The institution of factory labor has
+    brought ease of heart to many; and to many occasion for noble and
+    generous deeds. The ease of heart is given to those who were before
+    suffering in silent poverty, from the deficiency of profitable
+    employment for women, which is even greater in America than with us.
+    It used to be understood there that all women were maintained by the
+    men of their families; but the young men of New England are apt to
+    troop off into the West, to settle in new lands, leaving sisters at
+    home. Some few return to fetch a wife, but the greater number do
+    not, and thus a vast over proportion of young women remains; and to
+    a multitude of these the opening of factories was a most welcome
+    event, affording means of honorable maintenance, in exchange for
+    pining poverty at home.
+
+    As for the noble deeds, it makes one's heart glow to stand in these
+    mills, and hear of the domestic history of some who are working
+    before one's eyes, unconscious of being observed or of being the
+    object of any admiration. If one of the sons of a New England farmer
+    shows a love for books and thought, the ambition of an affectionate
+    sister is roused, and she thinks of the glory and honor to the whole
+    family, and the blessing to him, if he could have a college
+    education. She ponders this till she tells her parents, some day, of
+    her wish to go to Lowell, and earn the means of sending her brother
+    to college. The desire is yet more urgent if the brother has a pious
+    mind, and a wish to enter the ministry. Many a clergyman in America
+    has been prepared for his function by the devoted industry of
+    sisters; and many a scholar and professional man dates his elevation
+    in social rank and usefulness from his sister's, or even some
+    affectionate aunt's entrance upon mill life, for his sake. Many
+    girls, perceiving anxiety in their fathers' faces, on account of the
+    farm being incumbered, and age coming on without release from the
+    debt, have gone to Lowell, and worked till the mortgage was paid
+    off, and the little family property free. Such motives may well
+    lighten and sweeten labor; and to such girls labor is light and
+    sweet.
+
+    Some, who have no such calls, unite the surplus of their earnings to
+    build dwellings for their own residence, six, eight, or twelve
+    living together with the widowed mother or elderly aunt of one of
+    them to keep house for, and give countenance to the party. I saw a
+    whole street of houses so built and owned, at Waltham; pretty frame
+    houses, with the broad piazza, and the green Venitian blinds, that
+    give such an air of coolness and pleasantness to American village
+    and country abodes. There is the large airy eating-room, with a few
+    prints hung up, the piano at one end, and the united libraries of
+    the girls, forming a good-looking array of books, the rocking chairs
+    universal in America, the stove adorned in summer with flowers, and
+    the long dining-table in the middle. The chambers do not answer to
+    our English ideas of comfort. There is a strange absence of the wish
+    for privacy; and more girls are accommodated in one room than we
+    should see any reason for in such comfortable and pretty houses.
+
+    In the mills the girls have quite the appearance of ladies. They
+    sally forth in the morning with their umbrellas in threatening
+    weather, their calashes to keep their hair neat, gowns of print or
+    gingham, with a perfect fit, worked collars or pelerines, and
+    waistbands of ribbon. For Sundays and social evenings they have
+    their silk gowns, and neat gloves and shoes. Yet through proper
+    economy,--the economy of educated and thoughtful people,--they are
+    able to lay by for such purposes as I have mentioned above. The
+    deposits in the Lowell Savings' Bank were, in 1834, upwards of
+    114,000 dollars, the number of operatives being 5000, of whom 3800
+    were women and girls.
+
+    I thank you for calling my attention back to this subject. It is
+    one I have pleasure in recurring to. There is nothing in America
+    which necessitates the prosperity of manufactures as of agriculture,
+    and there is nothing of good in their factory system that may not be
+    emulated elsewhere--equalled elsewhere, when the people employed are
+    so educated as to have the command of themselves and of their lot in
+    life, which is always and everywhere controlled by mind, far more
+    than by outward circumstances.
+
+                                            I am very truly yours,
+
+                                                    H. MARTINEAU.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES.
+
+
+
+
+ABBY'S YEAR IN LOWELL.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"Mr. Atkins, I say! Husband, why can't you speak? Do you hear what Abby
+says?"
+
+"Any thing worth hearing?" was the responsive question of Mr. Atkins;
+and he laid down the New Hampshire Patriot, and peered over his
+spectacles, with a look which seemed to say, that an event so uncommon
+deserved particular attention.
+
+"Why, she says that she means to go to Lowell, and work in the factory."
+
+"Well, wife, let her go;" and Mr. Atkins took up the Patriot again.
+
+"But I do not see how I can spare her; the spring cleaning is not done,
+nor the soap made, nor the boys' summer clothes; and you say that you
+intend to board your own 'men-folks' and keep two more cows than you did
+last year; and Charley can scarcely go alone. I do not see how I can get
+along without her."
+
+"But you say she does not assist you any about the house."
+
+"Well, husband, she _might_."
+
+"Yes, she might do a great many things which she does not think of
+doing; and as I do not see that she means to be useful here; we will let
+her go to the factory."
+
+"Father, are you in earnest? may I go to Lowell?" said Abby; and she
+raised her bright black eyes to her father's, with a look of exquisite
+delight.
+
+"Yes, Abby, if you will promise me one thing, and that is, that you will
+stay a whole year without visiting us, excepting in case of sickness,
+and that you will stay but one year."
+
+"I will promise anything, father, if you will only let me go; for I
+thought you would say that I had better stay at home, and pick rocks,
+and weed the garden, and drop corn, and rake hay; and I do not want to
+do such work any longer. May I go with the Slater girls next Tuesday?
+for that is the day they have set for their return."
+
+"Yes, Abby, if you will remember that you are to stay a year, and only a
+year."
+
+Abby retired to rest that night with a heart fluttering with pleasure;
+for ever since the visit of the Slater girls, with new silk dresses, and
+Navarino bonnets trimmed with flowers and lace veils, and gauze
+handkerchiefs, her head had been filled with visions of fine clothes;
+and she thought if she could only go where she could dress like them,
+she would be completely happy. She was naturally very fond of dress, and
+often, while a little girl, had she sat on the grass bank by the
+road-side, watching the stage which went daily by her father's retired
+dwelling; and when she saw the gay ribbons and smart shawls, which
+passed like a bright phantom before her wondering eyes, she had thought
+that when older she too would have such things; and she looked forward
+to womanhood as to a state in which the chief pleasure must consist in
+wearing fine clothes. But as years passed over her, she became aware
+that this was a source from which she could never derive any enjoyment,
+while she remained at home, for her father was neither able nor willing
+to gratify her in this respect, and she had begun to fear that she must
+always wear the same brown cambric bonnet, and that the same calico gown
+would always be her "go-to-meeting dress." And now what a bright picture
+had been formed by her ardent and uncultivated imagination.--Yes, she
+would go to Lowell, and earn all that she possibly could, and spend
+those earnings in beautiful attire; she would have silk dresses,--one of
+grass green, and another of cherry red, and another upon the color of
+which she would decide when she purchased it; and she would have a new
+Navarino bonnet; far more beautiful than Judith Slater's; and when at
+last she fell asleep, it was to dream of satin and lace, and her glowing
+fancy revelled all night in a vast and beautiful collection of
+milliners' finery.
+
+But very different were the dreams of Abby's mother; and when she awoke
+the next morning, her first words to her husband were, "Mr. Atkins,
+were you serious last night when you told Abby that she might go to
+Lowell? I thought at first that you were vexed because I interrupted
+you, and said it to stop the conversation."
+
+"Yes, wife, I was serious, and you did not interrupt me, for I had been
+listening to all that you and Abby were saying. She is a wild,
+thoughtless girl, and I hardly know what it is best to do with her; but
+perhaps it will be as well to try an experiment, and let her think and
+act a little while for herself. I expect that she will spend all her
+earnings in fine clothes, but after she has done so she may see the
+folly of it; at all events, she will be more likely to understand the
+value of money when she has been obliged to work for it. After she has
+had her own way for one year, she may possibly be willing to return
+home, and become a little more steady, and be willing to devote her
+active energies (for she is a very capable girl) to household duties,
+for hitherto her services have been principally out of doors, where she
+is now too old to work. I am also willing that she should see a little
+of the world, and what is going on in it; and I hope that, if she
+receives no benefit, she will at least return to us uninjured."
+
+"O, husband, I have many fears for her," was the reply of Mrs. Atkins,
+"she is so very giddy and thoughtless, and the Slater girls are as
+hair-brained as herself, and will lead her on in all sorts of folly. I
+wish you would tell her that she must stay at home."
+
+"I made a promise," said Mr. Atkins, "and I will keep it; and Abby, I
+trust, will keep _hers_."
+
+Abby flew round in high spirits to make the necessary preparations for
+her departure, and her mother assisted her with a heavy heart.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+The evening before she left home her father called her to him, and
+fixing upon her a calm, earnest, and almost mournful look, he said,
+"Abby, do you ever think?"--Abby was subdued, and almost awed, by her
+father's look and manner. There was something unusual in it--something
+in his expression which was unexpected in him, which reminded her of her
+teacher's look at the Sabbath school, when he was endeavoring to
+impress upon her mind some serious truth. "Yes, father," she at length
+replied, "I have thought a great deal lately about going to Lowell."
+
+"But I do not believe, my child, that you have had one serious
+reflection upon the subject, and I fear that I have done wrong in
+consenting to let you go from home. If I was too poor to maintain you
+here, and had no employment about which you could make yourself useful,
+I should feel no self-reproach, and would let you go, trusting that all
+might yet be well; but now I have done what I may at some future time
+severely repent of; and, Abby, if you do not wish to make me wretched,
+you will return to us a better, milder, and more thoughtful girl."
+
+That night Abby reflected more seriously than she had ever done in her
+life before. Her father's words, rendered more impressive by the look
+and tone with which they were delivered, had sunk into her heart as
+words of his had never done before. She had been surprised at his ready
+acquiescence in her wishes, but it had now a new meaning. She felt that
+she was about to be abandoned to herself, because her parents despaired
+of being able to do anything for her; they thought her too wild,
+reckless, and untameable, to be softened by aught but the stern lessons
+of experience. I will surprise them, said she to herself; I will show
+them that I have some reflection; and after I come home, my father shall
+never ask me if I _think_. Yes, I know what their fears are, and I will
+let them see that I can take care of myself, and as good care as they
+have ever taken of me. I know that I have not done as well as I might
+have done; but I will begin _now_, and when I return, they shall see
+that _I am_ a better, milder, and more thoughtful girl. And the money
+which I intended to spend in fine dress shall be put into the bank; I
+will save it all, and my father shall see that I can earn money, and
+take care of it too. O, how different I will be from what they think I
+am; and how very glad it will make my father and mother to see that I am
+not so very bad, after all.
+
+New feelings and new ideas had begotten new resolutions, and Abby's
+dreams that night were of smiles from her mother, and words from her
+father, such as she had never received nor deserved.
+
+When she bade them farewell the next morning, she said nothing of the
+change which had taken place in her views and feelings, for she felt a
+slight degree of self-distrust in her own firmness of purpose.
+
+Abby's self-distrust was commendable and auspicious; but she had a very
+prominent development in that part of the head where phrenologists
+locate the organ of firmness; and when she had once determined upon a
+thing, she usually went through with it. She had now resolved to pursue
+a course entirely different from that which was expected of her, and as
+different from the one she had first marked out for herself. This was
+more difficult, on account of her strong propensity for dress, a love of
+which was freely gratified by her companions. But when Judith Slater
+pressed her to purchase this beautiful piece of silk, or that splendid
+piece of muslin, her constant reply was, "No, I have determined not to
+buy any such things, and I will keep my resolution."
+
+Before she came to Lowell, she wondered, in her simplicity, how people
+could live where there were so many stores, and not spend all their
+money; and it now required all her firmness to resist being overcome by
+the tempting display of beauties which met her eye whenever she
+promenaded the illuminated streets. It was hard to walk by the
+milliners' shops with an unwavering step; and when she came to the
+confectionaries, she could not help stopping. But she did not yield to
+the temptation; she did not spend her money in them. When she saw fine
+strawberries, she said to herself, "I can gather them in our own pasture
+next year;" when she looked upon the nice peaches, cherries, and plums
+which stood in tempting array behind their crystal barriers, she said
+again, "I will do without them _this_ summer;" and when apples, pears,
+and nuts were offered to her for sale, she thought that she would eat
+none of them till she went home. But she felt that the only safe place
+for her earnings was the savings' bank, and there they were regularly
+deposited, that it might be out of her power to indulge in momentary
+whims. She gratified no feeling but a newly-awakened desire for mental
+improvement, and spent her leisure hours in reading useful books.
+
+Abby's year was one of perpetual self-contest and self-denial; but it
+was by no means one of unmitigated misery. The ruling desire of years
+was not to be conquered by the resolution of a moment; but when the
+contest was over, there was for her the triumph of victory. If the
+battle was sometimes desperate, there was so much more merit in being
+conqueror. One Sabbath was spent in tears, because Judith Slater did not
+wish her to attend their meeting with such a dowdy bonnet; and another
+fellow-boarder thought her gown must have been made in "the year one."
+The color mounted to her cheeks, and the lightning flashed from her
+eyes, when asked if she had "_just come down_;" and she felt as though
+she should be glad to be away from them all, when she heard their sly
+innuendoes about "bush-wackers." Still she remained unshaken. It is but
+a year, said she to herself, and the time and money that my father
+thought I should spend in folly, shall be devoted to a better purpose.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+At the close of a pleasant April day, Mr. Atkins sat at his kitchen
+fire-side, with Charley upon his knees. "Wife," said he to Mrs. Atkins,
+who was busily preparing the evening meal, "is it not a year since Abby
+left home?"
+
+"Why, husband, let me think: I always clean up the house thoroughly just
+before _fast-day_, and I had not done it when Abby went away. I remember
+speaking to her about it, and telling her that it was wrong to leave me
+at such a busy time, and she said, 'Mother, I will be at home to do it
+all next year.' Yes, it is a year, and I should not be surprised if she
+should come this week."
+
+"Perhaps she will not come at all," said Mr. Atkins, with a gloomy look;
+"she has written us but few letters, and they have been very short and
+unsatisfactory. I suppose she has sense enough to know that no news is
+better than bad news, and having nothing pleasant to tell about herself,
+she thinks she will tell us nothing at all. But if I ever get her home
+again, I will keep her here. I assure you, her first year in Lowell
+shall also be her last."
+
+"Husband, I told you my fears, and if you had set up your authority,
+Abby would have been obliged to stay at home; but perhaps she is doing
+pretty well. You know she is not accustomed to writing, and that may
+account for the few and short letters we have received; but they have
+all, even the shortest, contained the assurance that she would be at
+home at the close of the year."
+
+"Pa, the stage has stopped here," said little Charley, and he bounded
+from his father's knee. The next moment the room rang with the shout of
+"Abby has come! Abby has come!" In a few moments more, she was in the
+midst of the joyful throng. Her father pressed her hand in silence, and
+tears gushed from her mother's eyes. Her brothers and sisters were
+clamorous with delight, all but little Charley, to whom Abby was a
+stranger, and who repelled with terror all her overtures for a better
+acquaintance. Her parents gazed upon her with speechless pleasure, for
+they felt that a change for the better had taken place in their once
+wayward girl. Yes, there she stood before them, a little taller and a
+little thinner, and, when the flush of emotion had faded away, perhaps a
+little paler; but the eyes were bright in their joyous radiance, and the
+smile of health and innocence was playing around the rosy lips. She
+carefully laid aside her new straw bonnet, with its plain trimming of
+light blue ribbon, and her dark merino dress showed to the best
+advantage her neat symmetrical form. There was more delicacy of personal
+appearance than when she left them, and also more softness of manner;
+for constant collision with so many young females had worn off the
+little asperities which had marked her conduct while at home.
+
+"Well, Abby, how many silk gowns have you got?" said her father, as he
+opened a large new trunk. "_Not one_, father," said she; and she fixed
+her dark eyes upon him with an expression which told all. "But here are
+some little books for the children, and a new calico dress for mother;
+and here is a nice black silk handkerchief for you to wear around your
+neck on Sundays; accept it, dear father, for it is your daughter's first
+gift."
+
+"You had better have bought me a pair of spectacles, for I am sure I
+cannot see anything." There were tears in the rough farmer's eyes, but
+he tried to laugh and joke, that they might not be perceived. "But what
+did you do with all your money?"
+
+"I thought I had better leave it there," said Abby, and she placed her
+bank-book in her father's hand. Mr. Atkins looked a moment, and the
+forced smile faded away. The surprise had been too great, and tears fell
+thick and fast from the father's eyes.
+
+"It is but a little," said Abby. "But it was all you could save,"
+replied her father, "and I am proud of you, Abby; yes, proud that I am
+the father of such a girl. It is not this paltry sum which pleases me so
+much, but the prudence, self-command, and real affection for us which
+you have displayed. But was it not sometimes hard to resist temptation?"
+
+"Yes, father, _you_ can never know how hard; but it was the thought of
+_this_ night which sustained me through it all. I knew how you would
+smile, and what my mother would say and feel; and though there have been
+moments, yes, hours, that have seen me wretched enough, yet this one
+evening will repay for all. There is but one thing now to mar my
+happiness, and that is the thought that this little fellow has quite
+forgotten me;" and she drew Charley to her side. But the new
+picture-book had already effected wonders, and in a few moments he was
+in her lap, with his arms around her neck, and his mother could not
+persuade him to retire that night until he had given "sister Abby" a
+hundred kisses.
+
+"Father," said Abby, as she arose to retire, when the tall clock struck
+eleven, "may I not sometime go back to Lowell? I should like to add a
+little to the sum in the bank, and I should be glad of _one_ silk gown!"
+
+"Yes, Abby, you may do anything you wish. I shall never again be afraid
+to let you spend a year in Lowell."
+
+                                                         LUCINDA.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST WEDDING IN SALMAGUNDI.
+
+
+I have often heard this remark, "If their friends can give them nothing
+else, they will surely give them a wedding." As I have nothing else to
+present at this time, I hope my friends will not complain if I give them
+an account of the first wedding in our town. The ceremony of marriage
+being performed by his Excellency the Governor, it would not be amiss to
+introduce him first of all.
+
+Let me then introduce John Wentworth (the last governor of New Hampshire
+while the colonies were subject to the crown of Great Britain), whose
+country seat was in Salmagundi. The wedding which I am about to
+describe was celebrated on a romantic spot, by the side of Lake
+Winnipiseogee. All the neighbors within ten miles were invited, and it
+was understood that all who came were expected to bring with them some
+implements of husbandry, such as ploughs, harrows, yokes, bows,
+wheelbarrows, hods, scythe-snaths, rakes, goads, hay-hooks, bar-pins,
+&c. These articles were for a fair, the product of which was to defray
+the expenses of the wedding, and also to fit out the bride with some
+household furniture. All these implements, and a thousand and one
+besides, being wanted on the farm of Wentworth, he was to employ persons
+to buy them for his own especial use.
+
+Johnny O'Lara, an old man, who used to chop wood at my father's door,
+related the particulars of the wedding one evening, while I sat on a
+block in the chimney-corner (the usual place for the greatest rogue in
+the family), plying my knitting-needles, and every now and then, when
+the eyes of my step-mother were turned another way, playing slyly with
+the cat. And once, when we yonkers went upon a whortleberry excursion,
+with O'Lara for our pilot, he showed us the spot where the wedding took
+place, and described it as it was at the time. On the right was a grove
+of birches; on the left a grove of bushy pines, with recesses for the
+cows and sheep to retire from the noon-day sun. The background was a
+forest of tall pines and hemlocks, and in front were the limpid waters
+of the "Smile of the Great Spirit." These encircled about three acres of
+level grass-land, with here and there a scattering oak. "Under yonder
+oak," said O'Lara, "the ceremony was performed; and here, on this flat
+rock, was the rude oven constructed, where the good wives baked the
+lamb; and there is the place where crotched stakes were driven to
+support a pole, upon which hung two huge iron kettles, in which they
+boiled their peas. And on this very ground," said O'Lara, "in days of
+yore, the elfs and fairies used to meet, and, far from mortal ken, have
+their midnight gambols."
+
+The wedding was on a fine evening in the latter part of the month of
+July, at a time when the moon was above the horizon for the whole night.
+The company were all assembled, with the exception of the Governor and
+his retinue. To while away the time, just as the sun was sinking behind
+the opposite mountains, they commenced singing an ode to sunset. They
+had sung,
+
+  "The sunset is calm on the face of the deep,
+    And bright is the last look of Sol in the west;
+  And broad do the beams of his parting glance sweep,
+    Like the path that conducts to the land of the blest,"
+
+when the blowing of a horn announced the approach of the Governor, whose
+barge was soon seen turning a point of land. The company gave a salute
+of nineteen guns, which was returned from the barge, gun for gun. The
+Governor and retinue soon landed, and the fair was quickly over. The
+company being seated on rude benches prepared for the occasion, the
+blowing of a horn announced that it was time for the ceremony to
+commence; and, being answered by a whistle, all eyes were turned toward
+the right, and issuing from the birchen grove were seen three musicians,
+with a bagpipe, fife, and a Scotch fiddle, upon which they were playing
+with more good nature than skill. They were followed by the bridegroom
+and grooms-man, and in the rear were a number of young men in their
+holiday clothes. These having taken their places, soft music was heard
+from the left; and from a recess in the pines, three maidens in white,
+with baskets of wild flowers on the left arm, came forth, strewing the
+flowers on the ground, and singing a song, of which I remember only the
+chorus:
+
+  "Lead the bride to Hymen's bowers,
+  Strew her path with choicest flowers."
+
+The bride and bridesmaid followed, and after them came several lasses in
+gala dresses. These having taken their places, the father of the bride
+arose, and taking his daughter's hand and placing it in that of
+Clifford, gave them his blessing. The Governor soon united them in the
+bonds of holy matrimony, and as he ended the ceremony with saying, "What
+God hath joined let no man put asunder," he heartily saluted the bride.
+Clifford followed his example, and after him she was saluted by every
+gentleman in the company. As a compensation for this "rifling of
+sweets," Clifford had the privilege of kissing every lady present, and
+beginning with Madame Wentworth, he saluted them all, from the
+gray-headed matron, to the infant in its mother's arms.
+
+The cake and wine were then passed round. Being a present from Madame
+Wentworth, they were no doubt excellent. After this refreshment, and
+while the good matrons were cooking their peas, and making other
+preparations, the young folks spent the time in playing
+"blind-man's-buff," and "hide and go seek," and in singing "Jemmy and
+Nancy," "Barbara Allen," "The Friar with Orders Grey," "The Lass of
+Richmond Hill," "Gilderoy," and other songs which they thought were
+appropriate to the occasion.
+
+At length the ringing of a bell announced that dinner was ready. "What,
+dinner at that time of night?" perhaps some will say. But let me tell
+you, good friends (in Johnny O'Lara's words), that "the best time for a
+wedding dinner, is when it is well cooked, and the guests are ready to
+eat it." The company were soon arranged around the rude tables, which
+were rough boards, laid across poles that were supported by crotched
+stakes driven into the ground. But it matters not what the tables were,
+as they were covered with cloth white as the driven snow, and well
+loaded with plum puddings, baked lamb, and green peas, with all
+necessary accompaniments for a well ordered dinner, which the guests
+complimented in the best possible manner, that is, by making a hearty
+meal.
+
+Dinner being ended, while the matrons were putting all things to rights,
+the young people made preparation for dancing; and a joyous time they
+had. The music and amusement continued until the "blushing morn"
+reminded the good people that it was time to separate. The rising sun
+had gilded the sides of the opposite mountains, which were sending up
+their exhalations, before the company were all on their way to their
+respective homes. Long did they remember the first wedding in our town.
+Even after the frost of seventy winters had whitened the heads of those
+who were then boys, they delighted to dwell on the merry scenes of that
+joyful night; and from that time to the present, weddings have been
+fashionable in Salmagundi, although they are not always celebrated in
+quite so romantic a manner.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+
+
+
+"BLESS, AND CURSE NOT."
+
+
+The Athenians were proud of their glory. Their boasted city claimed
+pre-eminence in the arts and sciences; even the savage bowed before the
+eloquence of their soul-stirring orators; and the bards of every nation
+sang of the glory of Athens.
+
+But pre-eminent as they were, they had not learned to be merciful. The
+pure precepts of kindness and love were not taught by their sages; and
+their noble orators forgot to inculcate the humble precepts of
+forgiveness, and the "charity which hopeth all things." They told of
+patriotism, of freedom, and of that courage which chastises wrong or
+injury with physical suffering; but they told not of that nobler spirit
+which "renders good for evil," and "blesses, but curses not."
+
+Alcibiades, one of their own countrymen, offended against their laws,
+and was condemned to expiate the offence with his life. The civil
+authorities ordered his goods to be confiscated, that their value might
+swell the riches of the public treasury; and everything that pertained
+to him, in the way of citizenship, was obliterated from the public
+records. To render his doom more dreary and miserable,--to add weight to
+the fearful fulness of his sentence,--the priests and priestesses were
+commanded to pronounce upon him their curse. One of them, however, a
+being gentle and good as the principles of mercy which dwelt within her
+heart--timid as the sweet songsters of her own myrrh and orange groves,
+and as fair as the acacia-blossom of her own bower--rendered courageous
+by the all-stimulating and powerful influence of kindness, dared alone
+to assert the divinity of her office, by refusing to curse her
+unfortunate fellow-being--asserting that she was "PRIESTESS TO BLESS,
+AND NOT TO CURSE."
+
+                                                         LISETTA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+ANCIENT POETRY.
+
+
+I love old poetry, with its obscure expressions, its obsolete words, its
+quaint measure, and rough rhyme. I love it with all these, perhaps _for_
+these. It is because it is different from modern poetry, and not that I
+think it better, that it at times affords me pleasure. But when one has
+been indulging in the perusal of the smooth and elegant productions of
+later poets, there is at least the charm of variety in turning to those
+of ancient bards. This is pleasant to those who love to exercise the
+imagination--for if we would understand our author, we must go back into
+olden times; we must look upon the countenances and enter into the
+feelings of a long-buried generation; we must remember that much of what
+we know was then unknown, and that thoughts and sentiments which may
+have become common to us, glowed upon these pages in all their primal
+beauty. Much of which our writer may speak has now been wholly lost; and
+difficult, if not impossible, to be understood are many of his
+expressions and allusions.
+
+But these difficulties present a "delightful task" to those who would
+rather push on through a tangled labyrinth, than to walk with ease in a
+smooth-rolled path. Their self-esteem is gratified by being able to
+discover beauty where other eyes behold but deformity: and a brilliant
+thought or glowing image is rendered to them still more beautiful,
+because it shines through a veil impenetrable to other eyes. They are
+proud of their ability to perceive this beauty, or understand that
+oddity, and they care not for the mental labor which they have been
+obliged to perform.
+
+When I turn from modern poetry to that of other days, it is like leaving
+bright flowery fields to enter a dark tangled forest. The air is cooler,
+but damp and heavy. A sombre gloom reigns throughout, occasionally
+broken by flitting sunbeams, which force their way through the thick
+branches which meet above me, and dance and glitter upon the dark
+underwood below. They are strongly contrasted with the deep shade
+around, and my eye rests upon them with more pleasure than it did upon
+the broad flood of sunshine which bathes the fields without. My
+searching eye at times discovers some lonely flower, half hidden by
+decayed leaves and withered moss, yet blooming there in undecaying
+beauty. There are briers and thistles and creeping vines around, but I
+heedlessly press on, for I must enjoy the fragrance and examine the
+structure of these unobtrusive plants. I enjoy all this for a while, but
+at length I grow chilled and weary, and am glad to leave the forest for
+a less fatiguing resort.
+
+But there is one kind of old poetry to which these remarks may not
+apply--I mean the POETRY OF THE BIBLE.--And how much is there of this!
+There are songs of joy and praise, and those of woe and lamentation;
+there are odes and elegies; there are prophecies and histories; there
+are descriptions of nature and narratives of persons, and all written
+with a fervency of feeling which embodies itself in lofty and glowing
+imagery. And what is this but poetry? yet not that which can be compared
+to some dark, mazy forest, but rather like a sacred grove, such as "were
+God's first temples." There is no gloom around, neither is there bright
+sunshine; but a calm and holy light pervades the place. The tall trees
+meet not above me, but through their lofty boughs I can look up and see
+the blue heavens bending their perfect dome above the hallowed spot,
+while now and then some fleecy cloud sails slowly on, as though it loved
+to shadow the still loneliness beneath. There are soft winds murmuring
+through the high tree-tops, and their gentle sound is like a voice from
+the spirit-land. There are delicate white flowers waving upon their
+slight stems, and their sweet fragrance is like the breath of heaven. I
+feel that I am in God's temple. The Spirit above waits for the
+sacrifice. I can now erect an altar, and every selfish worldly thought
+should be laid thereon, a free-will offering. But when the rite is over,
+and I leave this consecrated spot for the busy path of life, I should
+strive to bear into the world a heart baptized in the love of beauty,
+holiness, and truth.
+
+I have spoken figuratively--perhaps too much so to please the pure and
+simple tastes of some--but He who made my soul and placed it in the body
+which it animates, implanted within it a love of the beautiful in
+literature, and this love was first awakened and then cherished by the
+words of Holy Writ.
+
+I have, when a child, read my Bible, from its earliest book to its
+latest. I have gone in imagination to the plains of Uz, and have there
+beheld the pastoral prince in all his pride and glory. I have marked
+him; too, when in the depth of his sorrow he sat speechless upon the
+ground for seven days and seven nights; but when he opened his mouth and
+spake, I listened with eagerness to the heart-stirring words and
+startling imagery which poured forth from his burning lips! But my heart
+has thrilled with a delightful awe when "the Lord answered Job out of
+the whirlwind," and I listened to words of more simplicity than
+uninspired man may ever conceive.
+
+I have gone, too, with the beloved disciple into that lonely isle where
+he beheld those things of which he was commanded to write. My
+imagination dared not conceive of the glorious throne, and of Him who
+sat upon it; but I have looked with a throbbing delight upon the New
+Jerusalem coming down from heaven in her clear crystal light, "as a
+bride adorned for her husband." I have gazed upon the golden city,
+flashing like "transparent glass," and have marked its pearly gates and
+walls of every precious stone. In imagination have I looked upon all
+this, till my young spirit longed to leave its earthly tenement and soar
+upward to that brighter world, where there is no need of sun or moon,
+for "the Lamb is the light thereof."
+
+I have since read my Bible for better purposes than the indulgence of
+taste. There must I go to learn my duty to God and my neighbor. There
+should I look for precepts to direct the life that now is, and for the
+promise of that which is to come; yet seldom do I close that sacred
+volume without a feeling of thankfulness, that the truths of our holy
+religion have been so often presented in forms which not only reason and
+conscience will approve, but also which the fancy can admire and the
+heart must love.
+
+                                                            ELLA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT OF DISCONTENT.
+
+
+"I will not stay in Lowell any longer; I am determined to give my notice
+this very day," said Ellen Collins, as the earliest bell was tolling to
+remind us of the hour for labor.
+
+"Why, what is the matter, Ellen? It seems to me you have dreamed out a
+new idea! Where do you think of going? and what for?"
+
+"I am going home, where I shall not be obliged to rise so early in the
+morning, nor be dragged about by the ringing of a bell, nor confined in
+a close noisy room from morning till night. I will not stay here; I am
+determined to go home in a fortnight."
+
+Such was our brief morning's conversation.
+
+In the evening, as I sat alone, reading, my companions having gone out
+to public lectures or social meetings, Ellen entered. I saw that she
+still wore the same gloomy expression of countenance, which had been
+manifested in the morning; and I was disposed to remove from her mind
+the evil influence, by a plain common-sense conversation.
+
+"And so, Ellen," said I, "you think it unpleasant to rise so early in
+the morning, and be confined in the noisy mill so many hours during the
+day. And I think so, too. All this, and much more, is very annoying, no
+doubt. But we must not forget that there are advantages, as well as
+disadvantages, in this employment, as in every other. If we expect to
+find all sunshine and flowers in any station in life, we shall most
+surely be disappointed. We are very busily engaged during the day; but
+then we have the evening to ourselves, with no one to dictate to or
+control us. I have frequently heard you say, that you would not be
+confined to household duties, and that you dislike the millinery
+business altogether, because you could not have your evenings for
+leisure. You know that in Lowell we have schools, lectures, and meetings
+of every description, for moral and intellectual improvement."
+
+"All that is very true," replied Ellen, "but if we were to attend every
+public institution, and every evening school which offers itself for our
+improvement, we might spend every farthing of our earnings, and even
+more. Then if sickness should overtake us, what are the probable
+consequences? Here we are, far from kindred and home; and if we have an
+empty purse, we shall be destitute of _friends_ also."
+
+"I do not think so, Ellen. I believe there is no place where there are
+so many advantages within the reach of the laboring class of people, as
+exist here; where there is so much equality, so few aristocratic
+distinctions, and such good fellowship, as may be found in this
+community. A person has only to be honest, industrious, and moral, to
+secure the respect of the virtuous and good, though he may not be worth
+a dollar; while on the other hand, an immoral person, though he should
+possess wealth, is not respected."
+
+"As to the morality of the place," returned Ellen, "I have no fault to
+find. I object to the constant hurry of everything. We cannot have time
+to eat, drink, or sleep; we have only thirty minutes, or at most
+three-quarters of an hour, allowed us, to go from our work, partake of
+our food, and return to the noisy chatter of machinery. Up before day,
+at the clang of the bell--and out of the mill by the clang of the
+bell--into the mill, and at work, in obedience to that ding-dong of a
+bell--just as though we were so many living machines. I will give my
+notice to-morrow: go, I will--I won't stay here and be a white slave."
+
+"Ellen," said I, "do you remember what is said of the bee, that it
+gathers honey even in a poisonous flower? May we not, in like manner, if
+our hearts are rightly attuned, find many pleasures connected with our
+employment? Why is it, then, that you so obstinately look altogether on
+the dark side of a factory life? I think you thought differently while
+you were at home, on a visit, last summer--for you were glad to come
+back to the mill in less than four weeks. Tell me, now--why were you so
+glad to return to the ringing of the bell, the clatter of the machinery,
+the early rising, the half-hour dinner, and so on?"
+
+I saw that my discontented friend was not in a humor to give me an
+answer--and I therefore went on with my talk.
+
+"You are fully aware, Ellen, that a country life does not exclude people
+from labor--to say nothing of the inferior privileges of attending
+public worship--that people have often to go a distance to meeting of
+any kind--that books cannot be so easily obtained as they can here--that
+you cannot always have just such society as you wish--that you"--
+
+She interrupted me, by saying, "We have no bell, with its everlasting
+ding-dong."
+
+"What difference does it make?" said I, "whether you shall be awakened
+by a bell, or the noisy bustle of a farm-house? For, you know, farmers
+are generally up as early in the morning as we are obliged to rise."
+
+"But then," said Ellen, "country people have none of the clattering of
+machinery constantly dinning in their ears."
+
+"True," I replied, "but they have what is worse--and that is, a dull,
+lifeless silence all around them. The hens may cackle sometimes, and the
+geese gabble, and the pigs squeal"----
+
+Ellen's hearty laugh interrupted my description--and presently we
+proceeded, very pleasantly, to compare a country life with a factory
+life in Lowell. Her scowl of discontent had departed, and she was
+prepared to consider the subject candidly. We agreed, that since we must
+work for a living, the mill, all things considered, is the most
+pleasant, and best calculated to promote our welfare; that we will work
+diligently during the hours of labor; improve our leisure to the best
+advantage, in the cultivation of the mind,--hoping thereby not only to
+increase our own pleasure, but also to add to the happiness of those
+around us.
+
+                                                          ALMIRA.
+
+
+
+
+THE WHORTLEBERRY EXCURSION.
+
+
+About a dozen of us, lads and lasses, had promised friend H. that on the
+first lowery day we would meet him and his family on the top of Moose
+Mountain, for the purpose of picking whortleberries, and of taking a
+view of the country around. We had provided the customary complement of
+baskets, pails, dippers, &c.; and one morning, which promised a suitable
+day for our excursion, we piled ourselves into a couple of waggons, and
+rode to the foot of the mountain and commenced climbing it on foot. A
+beaten path and spotted trees were our guides. A toilsome way we found
+it--some places being so steep that we were obliged to hold by the
+twigs, to prevent us from falling.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour after we left our horses, we found ourselves
+on the whortleberry ground--some of us singing, some chatting, and all
+trying to see who could pick the most berries. Friend H. went from place
+to place among the young people, and with his social conversation gave
+new life to the party--while his chubby boys and rosy girls by their
+nimbleness plainly told that they did not intend that any one should
+beat them in picking berries.
+
+Towards noon, friend H. conducted us to a spring, where we made some
+lemonade, having taken care to bring plenty of lemons and sugar with us,
+and also bread and cheese for a lunch. Seated beneath a wide-spreading
+oak, we partook of our homely repast; and never in princely hall were
+the choicest viands eaten with a keener relish. After resting a while,
+we recommenced picking berries, and in a brief space our pails and
+baskets were all full.
+
+About this time, the clouds cleared away, the sun shone out in all the
+splendor imaginable, and bright and beautiful was the prospect. Far as
+the eye could reach, in a north and north-easterly direction, were to be
+seen fields of corn and grain, with new mown grass-land, and potato
+flats, farm-houses, barns, and orchards--together with a suitable
+proportion of wood-land, all beautifully interspersed; and a number of
+ponds of water, in different places, and of different forms and
+sizes--some of them containing small islands, which added to the beauty
+of the scenery. The little village at Wakefield corner, which was about
+three miles distant, seemed to be almost under our feet; and with friend
+H.'s spy-glass, we could see the people at work in their gardens,
+weeding vegetables, picking cherries, gathering flowers, &c. But not one
+of our number had the faculty that the old lady possessed, who, in the
+time of the Revolution, in looking through a spy-glass at the French
+fleet, brought the Frenchmen so near, that she could hear them chatter;
+so we had to be content with ignorance of their conversation.
+
+South-westerly might be seen Cropple-crown Mountain; and beyond it,
+Merry-meeting Pond, where, I have been told, Elder Randall, the father
+of the Free-will Baptist denomination, first administered the ordinance
+of Baptism. West, might be seen Tumble-down-dick Mountain; and north,
+the Ossipee Mountains; and far north, might be seen the White Mountains
+of New Hampshire, whose snow-crowned summits seemed to reach the very
+skies.
+
+The prospect in the other directions was not so grand, although it was
+beautiful--so I will leave it, and take the shortest route, with my
+companions, with the baskets and pails of berries, to the house of
+friend H. On our way, we stopped to view the lot of rock maples, which,
+with some little labor, afforded a sufficient supply of sugar for the
+family of friend H., and we promised that in the season of sugar-making
+the next spring, we would make it convenient to visit the place, and
+witness the process of making maple-sugar.
+
+Our descent from the mountain was by a different path--our friends
+having assured us, that although our route would be farther, we should
+find it more pleasant; and truly we did--for the pathway was not so
+rough as the one in which we travelled in the morning. And besides, we
+had the pleasure of walking over the farm of the good Quaker, and of
+hearing from his own lips many interesting circumstances of his life.
+
+The country, he told us, was quite a wilderness when he first took up
+his abode on the mountain; and bears, he said, were as plenty as
+woodchucks, and destroyed much of his corn. He was a bachelor, and lived
+alone for a number of years after he first engaged in clearing his land.
+His habitation was between two huge rocks, at about seventy rods from
+the place where he afterwards built his house.--He showed us this
+ancient abode of his; it was in the midst of an old orchard. It appeared
+as if the rocks had been originally one; but by some convulsion of
+nature it had been sundered, midway, from top to bottom. The back part
+of this dwelling was a rock wall, in which there was a fire-place and an
+oven. The front was built of logs, with an aperture for a door-way; and
+the roof was made of saplings and bark. In this rude dwelling, friend H.
+dressed his food, and ate it; and here, on a bed of straw, he spent his
+lonely nights. A small window in the rock wall admitted the light by
+day; and by night, his solitary dwelling was illuminated with a
+pitch-pine torch.
+
+On being interrogated respecting the cause of his living alone so long
+as he did, he made answer, by giving us to understand, that if he was
+called "the bear," he was not so much of a brute as to marry until he
+could give his wife a comfortable maintenance; "and moreover, I was
+resolved," said he, "that Hannah should never have the least cause to
+repent of the ready decision which she made in my favor." "Then," said
+one of our company, "your wife was not afraid to trust herself with the
+bear?" "She did not hesitate in the least," said friend H.; "for when I
+'popped the question,' by saying, 'Hannah, will thee have me?' she
+readily answered, 'Yes, To----;' she would have said, 'Tobias, I will;'
+but the words died on her lips, and her face, which blushed like the
+rose, became deadly pale; and she would have fallen on the floor, had I
+not caught her in my arms. After Hannah got over her faintness, I told
+her that we had better not marry, until I was in a better way of living;
+to which she also agreed. And," said he, "before I brought home my bird,
+I had built yonder cage"--pointing to his house; "and now, neighbors,
+let us hasten to it; for Hannah will have her tea ready by the time we
+get there." When we arrived at the house we found that tea was ready;
+and the amiable Mrs. H., the wife of the good Quaker, was waiting for
+us, with all imaginable patience.
+
+The room in which we took tea was remarkably neat. The white floor was
+nicely sanded, and the fire-place filled with pine-tops and rose-bushes;
+and vases of roses were standing on the mantel-piece. The table was
+covered with a cloth of snowy whiteness, and loaded with delicacies; and
+here and there stood a little China vase, filled with white and damask
+roses.
+
+"So-ho!" said the saucy Henry L., upon entering the room; "I thought
+that you Quakers were averse to every species of decoration; but see!
+here is a whole flower-garden!" Friend H. smiled and said, "the rose is
+a favorite with Hannah; and then it is like her, with one exception."
+"And what is that exception?" said Henry.--"Oh," said our friend,
+"Hannah has no thorns to wound." Mrs. H.'s heightened color and smile
+plainly told us, that praise from her husband was "music to her ear."
+After tea, we had the pleasure of promenading through the house; and
+Mrs. H. showed us many articles of domestic manufacture, being the work
+of her own and her daughters' hands. The articles consisted of sheets,
+pillow-cases, bed-quilts, coverlets of various colors, and woven in
+different patterns,--such as chariot wheels, rose-of-sharon, ladies'
+delight, federal constitution--and other patterns, the names of which I
+have forgotten. The white bed-spreads and the table-covers, which were
+inspected by us, were equal, if not superior, to those of English
+manufacture; in short, all that we saw proclaimed that order and
+industry had an abiding place in the house of friend H.
+
+Mrs. H. and myself seated ourselves by a window which overlooked a young
+and thrifty orchard. A flock of sheep were grazing among the trees, and
+their lambs were gambolling from place to place. "This orchard is more
+beautiful than your other," said I; "but I do not suppose it contains
+anything so dear to the memory of friend H. as his old habitation." She
+pointed to a knoll, where was a small enclosure, and which I had not
+before observed. "There," said she, "is a spot more dear to Tobias; for
+there sleep our children." "Your cup has then been mingled with sorrow?"
+said I. "But," replied she, "we do not sorrow without hope; for their
+departure was calm as the setting of yonder sun, which is just sinking
+from sight; and we trust that we shall meet them in a fairer world,
+never to part." A tear trickled down the cheek of Mrs. H., but she
+instantly wiped it away, and changed the conversation. Friend H. came
+and took a seat beside us, and joined in the conversation, which, with
+his assistance, became animated and amusing.
+
+Here, thought I, dwell a couple, happily united. Friend H., though rough
+in his exterior, nevertheless possesses a kindly affectionate heart; and
+he has a wife whose price is above rubies.
+
+The saucy Henry soon came to the door, and bawled out, "The stage is
+ready." We obeyed the summons, and found that Henry and friend H.'s son
+had been for our vehicles. We were again piled into the waggons--pails,
+baskets, whortleberries, and all; and with many hearty shakes of the
+hand, and many kind farewells, we bade adieu to the family of friend H.,
+but not without renewing the promise, that, in the next sugar-making
+season, we would revisit Moose Mountain.
+
+                                                          JEMIMA.
+
+
+
+
+THE WESTERN ANTIQUITIES.
+
+
+In the valley of the Mississippi, and the more southern parts of North
+America, are found antique curiosities and works of art, bearing the
+impress of cultivated intelligence. But of the race, or people, who
+executed them, time has left no vestige of their existence, save these
+monuments of their skill and knowledge. Not even a tradition whispers
+its _guess-work_, who they might be. We only know _they were_.
+
+What proof and evidence do we gather from their remains, which have
+withstood the test of time, of their origin and probable era of their
+existence? That they existed centuries ago, is evident from the size
+which forest trees have attained, which grow upon the mounds and
+fortifications discovered. That they were civilized and understood the
+arts, is apparent from the manner of laying out and erecting their
+fortifications, and from various utensils of gold, copper, and iron
+which have occasionally been found in digging below the earth's surface.
+If I mistake not, I believe even glass has been found, which, if so,
+shows them acquainted with chemical discoveries, which are supposed to
+have been unknown until a period much later than the probable time of
+their existence. That they were not the ancestors of the race which
+inhabited this country at the time of its discovery by Columbus, appears
+conclusive from the total ignorance of the Indian tribes of all
+knowledge of arts and civilization, and the non-existence of any
+tradition of their once proud sway. That they were a mighty people is
+evident from the extent of territory where these antiquities are
+scattered. The banks of the Ohio and Mississippi tell they once lived;
+and even to the shore where the vast Pacific heaves its waves, there are
+traces of their existence. Who were they? In what period of time did
+they exist?
+
+In a cave in one of the Western States, there is carved upon the walls a
+group of people, apparently in the act of devotion; and a rising sun is
+sculptured above them. From this we should infer that they were Pagans,
+worshipping the sun and the fabulous gods. But what most strikingly
+arrests the antiquarian's observation, and causes him to repeat the
+inquiry, "who were they?" is the habiliments of the group. One part of
+their habit is of the Grecian costume, and the remainder is of the
+Phoenicians. Were they a colony from Greece? Did they come from that
+land in the days of its proud glory, bringing with them a knowledge of
+arts, science, and philosophy? Did they, too, seek a home across the
+western waters, because they loved liberty in a strange land better than
+they loved slavery at home? Or what may be as probable, were they the
+descendants of some band who managed to escape the destruction of
+ill-fated Troy?--the descendants of a people who had called Greece a
+mother-country, but were sacrificed to her vindictive ire, because they
+were prouder to be Trojans than the descendants of Grecians? Ay, who
+were they? Might not America have had its Hector, its Paris, and Helen?
+its maidens who prayed, and its sons who fought? All this might have
+been. But their historians and their poets alike have perished. They
+_have been_; but the history of their existence, their origin, and their
+destruction, all, all are hidden by the dark chaos of oblivion.
+Imagination alone, from inanimate landmarks, voiceless walls, and
+soulless bodies, must weave the record which shall tell of their lives,
+their aims, origin, and final extinction.
+
+Recently, report says, in Mexico there have been discovered several
+mummies, embalmed after the manner of the ancient Egyptians. If true, it
+carries the origin of this fated people still farther back; and we might
+claim them to be contemporaries with Moses and Joshua. Still, if I form
+my conclusions correctly from what descriptions I have perused of these
+Western relics of the past, I should decide that they corresponded
+better with the ancient Grecians, Phoenicians, or Trojans, than with the
+Egyptians. I repeat, I may be incorrect in my premises and deductions,
+but as imagination is their historian, it pleases me better to fill a
+world with heroes and beauties of Homer's delineations, than with those
+of "Pharaoh and his host."
+
+                                                         LISETTE.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE FIG-TREE.
+
+
+It was a cold winter's evening. The snow had fallen lightly, and each
+tree and shrub was bending beneath its glittering burden. Here and there
+was one, with the moonbeams gleaming brightly upon it, until it seemed,
+with its many branches, touched by the ice-spirit, or some fairy-like
+creation, in its loveliness and beauty. Every thing was hushed in
+Dridonville.
+
+Situated at a little distance, was a large white house, surrounded with
+elm-trees, in the rear of which, upon an eminence, stood a summer-house;
+and in the warm season might have been seen many a gay lady reclining
+beneath its vine-covered roof. No pains had been spared to make the
+situation desirable. It was the summer residence of Captain Wilson. But
+it was now mid-winter, and yet he lingered in the country. Many were the
+questions addressed by the villagers to the old gardener, who had grown
+grey in the captain's service, as to the cause of the long delay; but he
+could not, or would not, answer their inquiries.
+
+The shutters were closed, the fire burning cheerfully, and the astral
+lamp throwing its soft mellow light upon the crimson drapery and rich
+furniture of one of the parlors. In a large easy chair was seated a
+gentleman, who was between fifty and sixty years of age. He was in deep
+and anxious thought; and ever and anon his lip curled, as if some bitter
+feeling was in his heart. Standing near him was a young man. His brow
+was open and serene; his forehead high and expansive; and his eyes
+beamed with an expression of benevolence and mildness. His lips were
+firmly compressed, denoting energy and decision of character.
+
+"You may be seated," said Capt. Wilson, for it was he who occupied the
+large chair, the young man being his only son. "You may be seated,
+Augustus," and he cast upon him a look of mingled pride and scorn. The
+young man bowed profoundly, and took a seat opposite his father. There
+was a long pause, and the father was first to break silence. "So you
+intend to marry a beggar, and suffer the consequences. But do you think
+your love will stand the test of poverty, and the sneer of the world?
+for I repeat, that not one farthing of my money shall you receive,
+unless you comply with the promise which I long since made to my old
+friend, that our families should be united. She will inherit his vast
+possessions, as there is no other heir. True, she is a few years your
+senior; but that is of no importance. Your mother is older than I am.
+But I have told you all this before. Consider well ere you choose
+between wealth and poverty."
+
+"Would that I could conscientiously comply with your request," replied
+Augustus, "but I have promised to be protector and friend to Emily
+Summerville. She is not rich in this world's goods; but she has what is
+far preferable--a contented mind; and you will allow that, in point of
+education, she will compare even with Miss Clarkson." In a firm voice he
+continued, "I have made my choice, I shall marry Emily;" and he was
+about to proceed, but his father stamped his foot, and commanded him to
+quit his presence. He left the house, and as he walked rapidly towards
+Mr. Grant's, the uncle of Miss Summerville, he thought how unstable were
+all earthly possessions, "and why," he exclaimed, "why should I make
+myself miserable for a little paltry gold? It may wound my pride at
+first to meet my gay associates; but that will soon pass away, and my
+father will see that I can provide for my own wants."
+
+Emily Summerville was the daughter of a British officer, who for many
+years resided in the pleasant village of Dridonville. He was much
+beloved by the good people for his activity and benevolence. He built
+the cottage occupied by Mr. Grant. On account of its singular
+construction, it bore the name of the "English cottage." After his death
+it was sold, and Mr. Grant became the purchaser. There Emily had spent
+her childhood. On the evening before alluded to, she was in their little
+parlor, one corner of which was occupied by a large fig-tree. On a stand
+were geraniums, rose-bushes, the African lily, and many other plants. At
+a small table sat Emily, busily engaged with her needle, when the old
+servant announced Mr. Wilson. "Oh, Augustus, how glad I am you are
+come!" she exclaimed, as she sprung from her seat to meet him; "but you
+look sad and weary," she added, as she seated herself by his side, and
+gazed inquiringly into his face, the mirror of his heart. "What has
+happened? you look perplexed."
+
+"Nothing more than I have expected for a long time," was the reply; and
+it was with heartfelt satisfaction that he gazed on the fair creature by
+his side, and thought she would be a star to guide him in the way of
+virtue. He told her all. And then he explained to her the path he had
+marked out for himself. "I must leave you for a time, and engage in the
+noise and excitement of my profession. It will not be long, if I am
+successful. I must claim one promise from you, that is, that you will
+write often, for that will be the only pleasure I shall have to cheer me
+in my absence."
+
+She did promise; and when they separated at a late hour, they dreamed
+not that it was their last meeting on earth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, uncle," said Emily, as they entered the parlor together one
+morning, "do look at my fig-tree; how beautiful it is. If it continues
+to grow as fast as it has done, I can soon sit under its branches." "It
+is really pretty," replied her uncle; and he continued, laughing and
+patting her cheek, "you must cherish it with great care, as it was a
+present from ---- now don't blush; I do not intend to speak his name,
+but was merely about to observe, that it might be now as in olden times,
+that as _he_ prospers, the tree will flourish; if he is sick, or in
+trouble, it will decay."
+
+"If such are your sentiments," said Emily, "you will acknowledge that
+thus far his path has been strewed with flowers."
+
+Many months passed away, and there was indeed a change. The tree that
+had before looked so green, had gradually decayed, until nothing was
+left but the dry branches. But she was not superstitious: "It might be,"
+she said, "that she had killed it with kindness." Her uncle never
+alluded to the remark he had formerly made; but Emily often thought
+there might be some truth in it. She had received but one letter from
+Augustus, though she had written many.
+
+Summer had passed, and autumn was losing itself in winter. Augustus
+Wilson was alone in the solitude of his chamber.--There was a hectic
+flush upon his cheek, and the low hollow cough told that consumption was
+busy. Was that the talented Augustus Wilson? he whose thrilling
+eloquence had sounded far and wide? His eyes were riveted upon a
+withered rose. It was given him by Emily, on the eve of his departure,
+with these words, "Such as I am, receive me. Would I were of more worth,
+for your sake."
+
+"No," he musingly said; "it is not possible she has forgotten me. I will
+not, cannot believe it." He arose, and walked the room with hurried
+steps, and a smile passed over his face, as he held communion with the
+bright images of the past. He threw himself upon his couch, but sleep
+was a stranger to his weary frame.
+
+Three weeks quickly passed, and Augustus Wilson lay upon his death-bed.
+Calm and sweet was his slumber, as the spirit took its flight to the
+better land. And O, it was a sad thing to see that father, with the
+frost of many winters upon his head, bending low over his son,
+entreating him to speak once more; but all was silent. He was not there;
+nought remained but the beautiful casket; the jewel which had adorned it
+was gone. And deep was the grief of the mother; but, unlike her husband,
+she felt she had done all she could to brighten her son's pathway in
+life. She knew not to what extent Capt. W. had been guilty.
+
+Augustus was buried in all the pomp and splendor that wealth could
+command. The wretched father thought in this way to blind the eyes of
+the world. But he could not deceive himself. It was but a short time
+before he was laid beside his son at Mount Auburn. Several letters were
+found among his papers, but they had not been opened. Probably he
+thought that by detaining them, he should induce his son to marry the
+rich Miss Clarkson, instead of the poor Emily Summerville.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Emily Summerville firmly stood amidst the desolation that had withered
+all her bright hopes in life. She had followed her almost idolized uncle
+to the grave; she had seen the cottage, and all the familiar objects
+connected with her earliest recollections, pass into the hands of
+strangers; but there was not a sigh, nor a quiver of the lip, to tell of
+the anguish within. She knew not that Augustus Wilson had entered the
+spirit-land, until she saw the record of his death in a Boston paper.
+"O, if he had only sent me one word," she said; "even if it had been to
+tell me that I was remembered no more, it would have been preferable to
+this." The light which had shone so brightly on her pathway was
+withdrawn, and the darkness of night closed around her.
+
+Long and fearful was the struggle between life and death; but when she
+arose from that sick bed, it was with a chastened spirit. "I am young,"
+she thought, "and I may yet do much good." And when she again mingled in
+society, it was with a peace that the world could neither give nor take
+away.
+
+She bade adieu to her native village, and has taken up her abode in
+Lowell. She is one of the class called "factory girls." She recently
+received the letters intercepted by Capt. Wilson, and the melancholy
+pleasure of perusing them is hallowed by the remembrance of him who is
+"gone, but not lost."
+
+                                                            IONE.
+
+
+
+
+VILLAGE PASTORS.
+
+
+The old village pastor of New England was "a man having authority." His
+deacons were _under_ him, and not, as is now often the case, his
+tyrannical rulers; and whenever his parishioners met him, they doffed
+their hats, and said "Your Reverence." Whatever passed his lips was both
+law and gospel; and when too old and infirm to minister to his charge,
+he was not turned away, like an old worn-out beast, to die of hunger, or
+gather up, with failing strength, the coarse bit which might eke out a
+little longer his remaining days; but he was still treated with all the
+deference, and supported with all the munificence which was believed due
+to him whom they regarded as "God's vicegerent upon earth." He deemed
+himself, and was considered by his parishioners, if not infallible, yet
+something approaching it. Those were indeed the days of glory for New
+England clergymen.
+
+Perhaps I am wrong. The present pastor of New England, with his more
+humble mien and conciliatory tone, his closer application and untiring
+activity, may be, in a wider sphere, as truly glorious an object of
+contemplation. Many are the toils, plans and enterprises entrusted to
+him, which in former days were not permitted to interfere with the
+duties exclusively appertaining to the holy vocation; yet with added
+labors, the modern pastor receives neither added honors, nor added
+remuneration. Perhaps it is well--nay, perhaps it is _better_; but I am
+confident that if the old pastor could return, and take a bird's-eye
+view of the situations of his successors, he would exclaim, "How has the
+glory departed from Israel, and how have they cast down the sons of
+Levi!"
+
+I have been led to these reflections by a contemplation of the
+characters of the first three occupants of the pulpit in my native
+village.
+
+Our old pastor was settled, as all then were, for life. I can remember
+him but in his declining years, yet even then was he a hale and vigorous
+old man. Honored and beloved by all his flock, his days passed
+undisturbed by the storms and tempests which have since then so often
+darkened and disturbed the theological world. The opinions and creeds,
+handed down by his Pilgrim Fathers, he carefully cherished, neither
+adding thereto, nor taking therefrom; and he indoctrinated the young in
+all the mysteries of the true faith, with an undoubting belief in its
+infallibility. There was much of the patriarch in his look and manner;
+and this was heightened by the nature of his avocations, in which
+pastoral labors were mingled with clerical duties. No farm was in better
+order than that of the parsonage; no fields looked more thriving, and no
+flocks were more profitable than were those of the good clergyman.
+Indeed he sometimes almost forgot his spiritual field, in the culture of
+that which was more earthly.
+
+One Saturday afternoon the minister was very busily engaged in
+hay-making. His good wife had observed that during the week he had been
+unusually engrossed in temporal affairs, and feared for the well-being
+of his flock, as she saw that he could not break the earthly spell, even
+upon this last day of the week. She looked, and looked in vain for his
+return; until, finding him wholly lost to a sense of his higher duties,
+she deemed it her duty to remind him of them. So away she went to the
+haying field, and when she was in sight of the reverend haymaker, she
+screamed out, "Mr. W., Mr. W."
+
+"What, my dear?" shouted Mr. W. in return.
+
+"Do you intend to feed your people with hay to-morrow?"
+
+This was a poser--and Mr. W. dropped his rake; and, repairing to his
+study, spent the rest of the day in the preparation of food more meat
+for those who looked so trustfully to him for the bread of life.
+
+His faithful companion was taken from him, and those who knew of his
+strong and refined attachment to her, said truly, when they prophesied,
+that he would never marry again.
+
+She left one son--their only child--a boy of noble feelings and superior
+intellect; and his father carefully educated him with a fond wish that
+he would one day succeed him in the sacred office of a minister of God.
+He hoped indeed that he might even fill the very pulpit which he must at
+some time vacate; and he prayed that his own life might be spared until
+this hope had been realized.
+
+Endicott W. was also looked upon as their future pastor by many of the
+good parishioners; and never did a more pure and gentle spirit take upon
+himself the task of preparing to minister to a people in holy things. He
+was the beloved of his father, the only child who had ever blessed
+him--for he had not married till late in life, and the warm affections
+which had been so tardily bestowed upon one of the gentler sex, were now
+with an unusual fervor lavished upon this image of her who was gone.
+
+When Endicott W. returned home, having completed his studies at the
+University, he was requested by our parish to settle as associate pastor
+with his father, whose failing strength was unequal to the regular
+discharge of his parochial duties. It was indeed a beautiful sight to
+see that old man, with bending form and silvery locks, joining in the
+public ministrations with his young and gifted son--the one with a calm
+expression of trusting faith; the countenance of the other beaming with
+that of enthusiasm and hope.
+
+Endicott was ambitious. He longed to see his own name placed in the
+bright constellation of famed theologians; and though he knew that years
+must be spent in toil for the attainment of that object, he was willing
+that they should be thus devoted. The midnight lamp constantly witnessed
+the devotions of Endicott W. at the shrine of science; and the wasting
+form and fading cheek told what would be the fate of the infatuated
+worshipper.
+
+It was long before our young pastor, his aged father, and the idolizing
+people, who were so proud of his talents, and such admirers of his
+virtues,--it was long ere these could be made to believe he was dying;
+but Endicott W. departed from life, as a bright cloud fades away in a
+noon-day sky--for his calm exit was surrounded by all which makes a
+death-bed glorious. His aged father said, "The Lord gave, and the Lord
+hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." And then he went
+again before his flock, and endeavored to reconcile them to their loss,
+and dispense again the comforts and blessings of the gospel, trusting
+that his strength would still be spared, until one, who was even then
+preparing, should be ready to take his place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Shall I tell you now of my own home? It was a rude farm-house, almost
+embowered by ancient trees, which covered the sloping hill-side on which
+it was situated; and it looked like an old pilgrim, who had crawled into
+the thicket to rest his limbs, and hide his poverty. My parents were
+poor, toiling, care-worn beings, and in a hard struggle for the comforts
+of this life had almost forgotten to prepare for that which is to come.
+It is true, the outward ordinances of religion were never neglected; but
+the spirit, the feeling, the interest, in short all that is truly
+deserving the name of piety, was wanting. My father toiled through the
+burning heat of summer, and the biting frost of winter, for his loved
+ones; and my mother also labored, from the first dawn of day till a late
+hour at night in behalf of her family. She was true to her duties as
+wife and mother, but it was from no higher motive than the instincts
+which prompt the fowls of the air to cherish their brood; and though she
+perhaps did not believe that "labor was the end of life," still her
+conduct would have given birth to that supposition.
+
+I had been for some time the youngest of the family, when a little
+brother was born. He was warmly welcomed by us, though we had long
+believed the family circle complete.--We were not then aware at how dear
+a price the little stranger was to be purchased. From the moment of his
+birth, my mother never knew an hour of perfect health. She had
+previously injured her constitution by unmitigated toil, and now were
+the effects to be more sensibly felt. She lived very many years; but it
+was the life of an invalid.
+
+Reader, did you ever hear of the "thirty years' consumption?" a disease
+at present unknown in New England--for that scourge of our climate will
+now complete in a few months the destruction which it took years of
+desperate struggle to perform upon the constitutions of our more hardy
+ancestors.
+
+My mother was in such a consumption--that disorder which comes upon its
+victim like the Aurorean flashes in an Arctic sky, now vivid in its pure
+loveliness, and then shrouded in a sombre gloom. Now we hoped, nay,
+almost believed, she was to be again quite well, and anon we watched
+around a bed from which we feared she would never arise.
+
+It was strange to us, who had always seen her so unremitting in her
+toilsome labors, and so careless in her exposure to the elements, to
+watch around her now--to shield her from the lightest breeze, or the
+slightest dampness of the air--to guard her from all intrusion, and
+relieve her from all care--to be always reserving for her the warmest
+place by the fire-side, and preparing the choicest bit of food--to be
+ever ready to pillow her head and bathe her brow--in short, to be never
+unconscious of the presence of disease.--Our steps grew softer, and our
+voices lower, and the stillness of our manners had its influence upon
+our minds. The hush was upon our spirits; and there can surely be
+nothing so effectual in carrying the soul before its Maker, as disease;
+and it may truly be said to every one who enters the chamber of
+sickness, "The place whereon thou standest is holy ground."
+
+My little brother was to us an angel sent from heaven.--He possessed a
+far more delicate frame and lofty intellect than any other member of the
+family; and his high, pale brow, and brilliant eyes, were deemed sure
+tokens of uncommon genius. My mother herself watched with pleasure these
+indications of talent, although the time had been when a predilection
+for literary pursuits would have been thought inconsistent with the
+common duties which we were all born to fulfil.
+
+We had always respected the learned and talented, but it was with a
+feeling akin to the veneration we felt for the inhabitants of the
+spiritual world. They were far above us, and we were content to bow in
+reverence. Our thoughts had been restricted to the narrow circle of
+every-day duties, and our highest aspirations were to be admitted at
+length, as spectators, to the glory of a material heaven, where streets
+of gold and thrones of ivory form the magnificence of the place. It was
+different now.--With a nearer view of that better world, to which my
+mother had received her summons, came also more elevated spiritual and
+blissful views of its glory and perfection. It was another heaven, for
+she was another being; and she would have been willing at any moment to
+have resigned the existence which she held by so frail a tenure, had it
+not been for the sweet child which seemed to have been sent from that
+brighter world to hasten and prepare her for departure.
+
+Our pastor was now a constant visitant. Hitherto he had found but little
+to invite him to our humble habitation. He had been received with awe
+and constraint, and the topics upon which he loved to dwell touched no
+chord in the hearts of those whom he addressed. But now my mother was
+anxious to pour into his ears all the new-felt sentiments and emotions
+with which her heart was filled. She wished to share his sympathy, and
+receive his instructions; for she felt painfully conscious of her
+extreme ignorance.
+
+It was our pastor who first noticed in my little brother the indications
+of mental superiority; and we felt then as though the magical powers of
+some favored order of beings had been transferred to one in our own
+home-circle; and we loved the little Winthrop (for father had named him
+after the old governor) with a stronger and holier love than we had
+previously felt for each other. And in these new feelings how much was
+there of happiness! Though there was now less health, and of course less
+wealth, in our home, yet there was also more pure joy.
+
+I have sometimes been out upon the barren hill-side, and thought that
+there was no pleasure in standing on a spot so desolate. I have been
+again in the same bare place, and there was a balmy odor in the
+delicious air, which made it bliss but to inhale the fragrance. Some
+spicy herb had carpeted the ground, and though too lowly and simple to
+attract the eye, yet the charm it threw around the scene was not less
+entrancing because so viewless and unobtrusive.
+
+Such was the spell shed around our lowly home by the presence of
+religion. It was with us the exhalation from lowly plants, and the pure
+fragrance went up the more freely because they had been bruised. In our
+sickness and poverty we had joy in the present, and bright hopes for the
+future.
+
+It was early decided that Winthrop should be a scholar.--Our pastor said
+it must be so, and Endicott, who was but a few years older, assisted him
+in his studies. They were very much together, and excepting in their own
+families, had no other companion. But when my brother returned from the
+pastor's study with a face radiant with the glow of newly-acquired
+knowledge, and a heart overflowing in its desire to impart to others, he
+usually went to his pale, emaciated mother to give vent to his
+sensations of joy, and came to me to bestow the boon of knowledge. I was
+the nearest in age. I had assisted to rear his infancy, and been his
+constant companion in childhood; and now our intercourse was to be
+continued and strengthened, amidst higher purposes and loftier feelings.
+I was the depository of all his hopes and fears, the sharer of all his
+plans for the future; and his aim was then to follow in the footsteps of
+Endicott W. If he could only be as good, as kind and learned, he should
+think himself one of the best of mankind.
+
+When Endicott became our pastor, my brother was ready to enter college,
+with the determination to consecrate himself to the same high calling.
+It seemed hardly like reality to us, that one of our own poor household
+was to be an educated man. We felt lifted up--not with pride--for the
+feeling which elevated us was too pure for that; but we esteemed
+ourselves better than we had ever been before, and strove to be more
+worthy of the high gift which had been bestowed upon us. When my brother
+left home, it was with the knowledge that self-denial was to be
+practised, for his sake, by those who remained; but he also knew that it
+was to be willingly, nay, joyously performed. Still he did not know
+_all_. Even things which heretofore, in our poverty, we had deemed
+essential to comfort, were now resigned.--We did not even permit my
+mother to know how differently the table was spread for her than for our
+own frugal repast. Neither was she aware how late and painfully I toiled
+to prevent the hire of additional service upon our little farm. The joy
+in the secret depths of my heart was its own reward; and never yet have
+I regretted an effort or a sacrifice made then. It was a discipline like
+the refiner's fire, and but for my brother, I should never have been
+even as, with all my imperfections, I trust I am now.
+
+My brother returned from college as the bright sun of Endicott W.'s
+brief career was low in a western sky. He had intended to study with him
+for the same vocation--and with him he _did_ prepare. O, there could
+have been no more fitting place to imbue the mind with that wisdom which
+cometh from above, than the sick room at our pastor's.
+
+  "The chamber where the good man meets his fate,
+  Is privileged beyond the common walks of life,"--
+
+and Endicott's was like the shelter of some bright spirit from the other
+world, who, for the sake of those about him, was delaying for a while
+his return to the home above.--My brother was with him in his latest
+hours, and received as a dying bequest the charge of his people. The
+parish also were anxious that he should be Endicott's successor; and in
+the space requested for farther preparation, our old pastor returned to
+his pulpit.
+
+But he had overrated his own powers; and besides, he was growing blind.
+There were indeed those who said that, notwithstanding his calmness in
+the presence of others, he had in secret wept his sight away; and that
+while a glimmer of it remained, the curtain of his window, which
+overlooked the grave-yard, had never been drawn. He ceased his labors,
+but a temporary substitute was easily found--for, as old Deacon S.
+remarked, "There are many ministers _now_, who are glad to go out to
+day's labor."
+
+My mother had prayed that strength might be imparted to her feeble
+frame, to retain its rejoicing inhabitant until she could see her son a
+more active laborer in the Lord's vineyard; "and then," said she, "I can
+depart in peace." For years she had hoped the time would come, but dared
+not hope to see it. But life was graciously spared; and the day which
+was to see him set apart as peculiarly a servant of his God, dawned upon
+her in better health than she had known for years. Perhaps it was the
+glad spirit which imparted its renewing glow to the worn body, but she
+went with us that day to the service of ordination. The old church was
+thronged; and as the expression of thankfulness went up from the
+preacher's lips, that one so worthy was then to be dedicated to his
+service, my own heart was subdued by the solemn joy that he was one of
+us. My own soul was poured out in all the exercises; but when the charge
+was given, there was also an awe upon all the rest.
+
+Our aged pastor had been led into his pulpit, that he might perform this
+ceremony; and when he arose with his silvery locks, thinned even since
+he stood there last, and raised his sightless eyes to heaven, I freely
+wept. He was in that pulpit where he had stood so many years, to warn,
+to guide, and to console; and probably each familiar face was then
+presented to his imagination. He was where his dear departed son had
+exercised the ministerial functions, and the same part of the service
+which he had performed at his ordination, he was to enact again for his
+successor. The blind old man raised his trembling hand, and laid it upon
+the head of the young candidate; and as the memories of the past came
+rushing over him, he burst forth in a strain of heart-stirring
+eloquence. There was not a tearless eye in the vast congregation; and
+the remembrance of that hour had doubtless a hallowing influence upon
+the young pastor's life.
+
+My brother was settled for five years, and as we departed from the
+church, I heard Deacon S. exclaim, in his bitterness against modern
+degeneracy in spiritual things, that "the old pastor was settled _for
+life_." "So is the new one," said a low voice in reply; and for the
+first time the idea was presented to my mind that Winthrop was to be,
+like Endicott W., one of the early called.
+
+But the impression departed in my constant intercourse with him in his
+home--for our lowly dwelling was still the abode of the new pastor. He
+would never remove from it while his mother lived, and an apartment was
+prepared for him adjoining hers. They were pleasant rooms, for during
+the few past years he had done much to beautify the place, and the
+shrubs which he had planted were already at their growth. The thick
+vines also which had struggled over the building, were now gracefully
+twined around the windows, and some of the old trees cut down, that we
+might be allowed a prospect. Still all that could conduce to beauty was
+retained; and I have often thought how easily and cheaply the votary of
+true taste can enjoy its pleasures.
+
+Winthrop was now so constantly active and cheerful, that I could not
+think of death as connected with him. But I knew that he was feeble, and
+watched and cherished him, as I had done when he was but a little child.
+Though in these respects his guardian, in others I was his pupil. I sat
+before him, as Mary did at the Messiah's feet, and gladly received his
+instructions. My heart went out with him in all the various functions of
+his calling. I often went with him to the bed-side of the sick, and to
+the habitations of the wretched. None knew better than he did, how to
+still the throbbings of the wrung heart, and administer consolation.
+
+I was present also, when, for the first time, he sprinkled an infant's
+brow with the waters of consecration; and when he had blessed the babe,
+he also prayed that we might all become even as that little child. I was
+with him, too, when for the first time he joined in holy bands, those
+whom none but God should ever put asunder; and if the remembrance of the
+fervent petition which went up for them, has dwelt as vividly in their
+hearts as it has in mine, that prayer must have had a holy influence
+upon their lives.
+
+I have said that I remember his first baptism and wedding; but none who
+were present will forget his first funeral. It was our mother's. She had
+lived so much beyond our expectations, and been so graciously permitted
+to witness the fulfilment of her dearest hope, that when at length the
+spirit winged its flight, we all joined in the thanksgiving which went
+up from the lips of her latest-born, that she had been spared so long.
+
+It was a beautiful Sabbath--that day appointed for her funeral--but in
+the morning a messenger came to tell us that the clergyman whom we
+expected was taken suddenly ill. What could be done? Our old pastor was
+then confined to his bed, and on this day all else were engaged. "I will
+perform the services myself," said Winthrop. "I shall even be happy to
+do it."
+
+"Nay," said I, "you are feeble, and already spent with study and
+watching. It must not be so."
+
+"Do not attempt to dissuade me, sister," he replied. "There will be many
+to witness the interment of her who has hovered upon the brink of the
+grave so long; and has not almost every incident of her life, from my
+very birth, been a text from which important lessons may be drawn?" And
+then, fixing his large mild eyes full upon me, as though he would utter
+a truth which duty forbade him longer to suppress, he added, "I dare not
+misimprove this opportunity. This first death in _my_ parish may also be
+the last. Nay, weep not, my sister, because I may go next. The time at
+best is short, and I must work while the day lasts."
+
+I did not answer. My heart was full, and I turned away. That day my
+brother ascended his pulpit to conduct the funeral services, and in them
+he _did_ make of her life a lesson to all present. But when he addressed
+himself particularly to the young, the middle-aged and the old, his eyes
+kindled, and his cheeks glowed, as he varied the subject to present the
+"king of terrors" in a different light to each. Then he turned to the
+mourners. And who were _they?_ His own aged father, the companion for
+many years of her who was before them in her shroud. His own brothers
+and sisters, and the little ones of the third generation, whose childish
+memories had not even yet forgotten her dying blessing. He essayed to
+speak, but in vain. The flush faded from his cheek till he was deadly
+pale. Again he attempted to address us, and again in vain. He raised his
+hand, and buried his face in the folds of his white handkerchief. I also
+covered my eyes, and there was a deep stillness throughout the assembly.
+At that moment I thought more of the living than of the dead; and then
+there was a rush among the great congregation, like the sudden bursting
+forth of a mighty torrent.
+
+I raised my eyes, but could see no one in the pulpit. The next instant
+it was filled. I also pressed forward, and unimpeded ascended the steps,
+for all stood back that I might pass. I reached him as he lay upon the
+seat where he had fallen, and the handkerchief, which was still pressed
+to his lips, was wet with blood. They bore him down, and through the
+aisle; and when he passed the coffin, he raised his head, and gazed a
+moment upon that calm, pale face. Then casting upon all around a
+farewell glance, he sunk gently back, and closed his eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few evenings after, I was sitting by his bed-side. The bright glow of
+a setting sun penetrated the white curtains of his windows, and fell
+with softened lustre upon his face. The shadows of the contiguous
+foliage were dancing upon the curtains, the floor, and the snowy drapery
+of his bed; and as he looked faintly up, he murmured, "It is a beautiful
+world; but the other is glorious! and my mother is there, and Endicott.
+See! they are beckoning to me, and smiling joyfully!--Mother, dear
+mother, and Endicott, I am coming!"
+
+His voice and looks expressed such conviction of the reality of what he
+saw, that I also looked up to see these beautiful spirits. My glance of
+disappointment recalled him; and he smiled as he said, "I think it was a
+dream; but it will be reality soon.--Do not go," said he, as I arose to
+call for others. "Do not fear, sister. The bands are very loose, and the
+spirit will go gently, and perhaps even before you could return."
+
+I reseated myself, and pressing his wasted hand in mine, I watched,--
+
+  "As through his breast, the wave of life
+        Heaved gently to and fro."
+
+A few moments more, and I was alone with the dead.
+
+We buried Winthrop by the side of Endicott W., and the old pastor was
+soon laid beside them. * * * *
+
+Years have passed since then, and I still love to visit those three
+graves. But other feelings mingle with those which once possessed my
+soul. I hear those whose high vocation was once deemed a sure guarantee
+for their purity, either basely calumniated, or terribly condemned.
+Their morality is questioned, their sincerity doubted, their usefulness
+denied, and their pretensions scoffed at. It may be that unholy hands
+are sometimes laid upon the ark, and that change of times forbids such
+extensive usefulness as was in the power of the clergymen of New England
+in former days. But when there comes a muttering cry of "Down with the
+priesthood!" and a denial of the good which they have effected, my soul
+repels the insinuation, as though it were blasphemy. I think of the
+first three pastors of our village, and I reverence the ministerial
+office and its labors,
+
+  "If I but remember only,
+  That such as these have lived, and died."
+
+                                                         SUSANNA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE SUGAR-MAKING EXCURSION.
+
+
+It was on a beautiful morning in the month of March, (one of those
+mornings so exhilarating that they make even age and decrepitude long
+for a ramble), that friend H. called to invite me to visit his
+sugar-lot--as he called it--in company with the party which, in the
+preceding summer, visited Moose Mountain upon the whortleberry
+excursion. It was with the pleasure generally experienced in revisiting
+former scenes, in quest of novelty and to revive impressions and
+friendships, that our party set out for this second visit to Moose
+Mountain.
+
+A pleasant sleigh-ride of four or five miles, brought us safely to the
+domicile of friend H., who had reached home an hour previously, and was
+prepared to pilot us to his sugar-camp. "Before we go," said he, "you
+must one and all step within doors, and warm your stomachs with some
+gingered cider." We complied with his request, and after a little social
+chat with Mrs. H., who welcomed us with a cordiality not to be
+surpassed, and expressed many a kind wish that we might spend the day
+agreeably, we made for the sugar-camp, preceded by friend H., who walked
+by the side of his sleigh, which appeared to be well loaded, and which
+he steadied with the greatest care at every uneven place in the path.
+
+Arrived at the camp, we found two huge iron kettles suspended on a pole,
+which was supported by crotched stakes, driven in the ground, and each
+half full of boiling syrup. This was made by boiling down the sap, which
+was gathered from troughs that were placed under spouts which were
+driven into rock-maple trees, an incision being first made in the tree
+with an auger. Friend H. told us that it had taken more than two barrels
+of sap to make what syrup each kettle contained. A steady fire of oak
+bark was burning underneath the kettles, and the boys and girls, friend
+H.'s sons and daughters, were busily engaged in stirring the syrup,
+replenishing the fire, &c.
+
+Abigail, the eldest daughter, went to her father's sleigh, and taking
+out a large rundlet, which might contain two or three gallons, poured
+the contents into a couple of pails. This we perceived was milk, and as
+she raised one of the pails to empty the contents into the kettles, her
+father called out, "Ho, Abigail! hast thee strained the milk?"
+
+"Yes, father," said Abigail.
+
+"Well," said friend H., with a chuckle, "Abigail understands what she is
+about, as well as her mother would; and I'll warrant Hannah to make
+better maple-sugar than any other woman in New England, or in the whole
+United States--and you will agree with me in that, after that sugar is
+turned off and cooled." Abigail turned to her work, emptied her milk
+into the kettles, and then stirred their contents well together, and put
+some bark on the fire.
+
+"Come, Jemima," said Henry L., "let us try to assist Abigail a little,
+and perhaps we shall learn to make sugar ourselves; and who knows but
+what she will give us a 'gob' to carry home as a specimen to show our
+friends; and besides, it is possible that we may have to make sugar
+ourselves at some time or other; and even if we do not, it will never do
+us any harm to know how the thing is done." Abigail furnished us each
+with a large brass scummer, and instructed us to take off the scum as it
+arose, and put it into the pails; and Henry called two others of our
+party to come and hold the pails.
+
+"But tell me, Abigail," said Henry, with a roguish leer, "was that milk
+really intended for whitening the sugar?"
+
+"Yes," said Abigail with all the simplicity of a Quakeress, "for thee
+must know that the milk will all rise in a scum, and with it every
+particle of dirt or dust which may have found its way into the kettles."
+
+Abigail made a second visit to her father's sleigh, accompanied by her
+little brother, and brought from thence a large tin baker, and placed it
+before the fire. Her brother brought a peck measure two-thirds full of
+potatoes, which Abigail put into the baker, and leaving them to their
+fate, returned to the sleigh, and with her brother's assistance carried
+several parcels, neatly done up in white napkins, into a little log hut
+of some fifteen feet square, with a shed roof made of slabs. We began to
+fancy that we were to have an Irish lunch. Henry took a sly peep into
+the hut when we first arrived, and he declared that there was nothing
+inside, save some squared logs, which were placed back against the
+walls, and which he supposed were intended for seats. But he was
+mistaken in thinking that seats were every convenience which the
+building contained,--as will presently be shown.
+
+Abigail and her brother had been absent something like half an hour, and
+friend H. had in the mean time busied himself in gathering sap, and
+putting it in some barrels hard by. The kettles were clear from scum,
+and their contents were bubbling like soap. The fire was burning
+cheerfully, the company all chatting merrily, and a peep into the baker
+told that the potatoes were cooked.
+
+Abigail and her brother came, and taking up the baker, carried it inside
+the building, but soon returned, and placed it again before the fire.
+Then she called to her father, who came and invited us to go and take
+dinner.
+
+We obeyed the summons; but how were we surprised, when we saw how neatly
+arranged was every thing. The walls of the building were ceiled around
+with boards, and side tables fastened to them, which could be raised or
+let down at pleasure, being but pieces of boards fastened with leather
+hinges and a prop underneath. The tables were covered with napkins,
+white as the driven snow, and loaded with cold ham, neat's tongue,
+pickles, bread, apple-sauce, preserves, dough-nuts, butter, cheese, and
+_potatoes_--without which a Yankee dinner is never complete. For
+beverage, there was chocolate, which was made over a fire in the
+building--there being a rock chimney in one corner. "Now, neighbors,"
+said friend H., "if you will but seat yourselves on these squared logs,
+and put up with these rude accommodations, you will do me a favor. We
+might have had our dinner at the house, but I thought that it would be a
+novelty, and afford more amusement to have it in this little hut, which
+I built to shelter us from what stormy weather we might have in the
+season of making sugar."
+
+We arranged ourselves around the room, and right merry were we, for
+friend H.'s lively chat did not suffer us to be otherwise. He
+recapitulated to us the manner of his life while a bachelor; the many
+bear-fights which he had had; told us how many bears he had killed; how
+a she-bear denned in his rock dwelling the first winter after he
+commenced clearing his land--he having returned home to his father's to
+attend school; how, when he returned in the spring, he killed her two
+cubs, and afterwards the old bear, and made his Hannah a present of
+their skins to make a muff and tippet; also his courtship, marriage, &c.
+
+In the midst of dinner, Abigail came in with some hot mince-pies, which
+had been heating in the baker before the fire out of doors, and which
+said much in praise of Mrs. H.'s cookery.
+
+We had finished eating, and were chatting as merrily as might be, when
+one of the little boys called from without, "Father, the sugar has
+grained." We immediately went out, and found one of the boys stirring
+some sugar in a bowl to cool it. The fire was raked from beneath the
+kettles, and Abigail and her eldest brother were stirring their contents
+with all haste. Friend H. put a pole within the bail of one of the
+kettles, and raised it up, which enabled two of the company to take the
+other down, and having placed it in the snow, they assisted friend H. to
+take down the other; and while we lent a helping hand to stir and cool
+the sugar, friend H.'s children ate their dinners, cleared away the
+tables, put what fragments were left into their father's sleigh,
+together with the dinner-dishes, tin baker, rundlet, and the pails of
+scum, which were to be carried home for the swine. A firkin was also put
+into the sleigh; and after the sugar was sufficiently cool, it was put
+into the firkin, and covered up with great care.
+
+After this we spent a short time promenading around the rock-maple
+grove, if leafless trees can be called a grove. A large sap-trough,
+which was very neatly made, struck my fancy, and friend H. said he would
+make me a present of it for a cradle. This afforded a subject for mirth.
+Friend H. said that we must not ridicule the idea of having sap-troughs
+for cradles; for that was touching quality, as his eldest child had been
+rocked many an hour in a sap-trough, beneath the shade of a tree, while
+his wife sat beside it knitting, and he was hard by, hoeing corn.
+
+Soon we were on our way to friend H.'s house, which we all reached in
+safety; and where we spent an agreeable evening, eating maple sugar,
+apples, beech-nuts, &c. We also had tea about eight o'clock, which was
+accompanied by every desirable luxury--after which we started for home.
+
+As we were about taking leave, Abigail made each of us a present of a
+cake of sugar, which was cooled in a tin heart.--"Heigh ho!" said Henry
+L., "how lucky! We have had an agreeable visit, a bountiful feast--have
+learned how to make sugar, and have all got sweethearts!"
+
+We went home, blessing our stars and the hospitality of our Quaker
+friends.
+
+I cannot close without telling the reader, that the sugar which was
+that day made, was nearly as white as loaf sugar, and tasted much
+better.
+
+                                                          JEMIMA.
+
+
+
+
+PREJUDICE AGAINST LABOR.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Mrs. K. and her daughter Emily were discussing the propriety of
+permitting Martha to be one of the party which was to be given at Mr.
+K.'s the succeeding Tuesday evening, to celebrate the birth-day of
+George, who had lately returned from college. Martha was the niece of
+Mr. K. She was an interesting girl of about nineteen years of age, who,
+having had the misfortune to lose her parents, rather preferred working
+in a factory for her support, than to be dependent on the charity of her
+friends. Martha was a favorite in the family of her uncle; and Mrs. K.,
+notwithstanding her aristocratic prejudices, would gladly have her niece
+present at the party, were it not for fear of what people might say, if
+Mr. and Mrs. K. suffered their children to appear on a level with
+factory operatives.
+
+"Mother," said Emily, "I do wish there was not such a prejudice against
+those who labor for a living; and especially against those who work in a
+factory; for then Martha might with propriety appear at George's party;
+but I know it would be thought disgraceful to be seen at a party with a
+factory girl, even if she is one's own cousin, and without a single
+fault. And besides, the Miss Lindsays are invited, and if Martha should
+be present, they will be highly offended, and make her the subject of
+ridicule. I would not for my life have Martha's feelings wounded, as I
+know they would be, if either of the Miss Lindsays should ask her when
+she left Lowell, or how long she had worked in a factory."
+
+"Well, Emily," said Mrs. K., "I do not know how we shall manage to keep
+up appearances, and also spare Martha's feelings, unless we can persuade
+your father to take her with him to Acton, on the morrow, and leave her
+at your uncle Theodore's. I do not see any impropriety in this step, as
+she proposes to visit Acton before she returns to Lowell."
+
+"You will persuade me to no such thing," said Mr. K., stepping to the
+door of his study, which opened from the parlor, and which stood ajar,
+so that the conversation between his wife and daughter had been
+overheard by Mr. K., and also by the Hon. Mr. S., a gentleman of large
+benevolence, whose firmness of character placed him far above popular
+prejudice. These gentlemen had been in the study unknown to Mrs. K. and
+Emily.
+
+"You will persuade me to no such thing," Mr. K. repeated, as he entered
+the parlor accompanied by Mr. S.; "I am determined that my niece shall
+be at the party. However loudly the public opinion may cry out against
+such a measure, I shall henceforth exert my influence to eradicate the
+wrong opinions entertained by what is called good society, respecting
+the degradation of labor; and I will commence by placing my children and
+niece on a level. The occupations of people have made too much
+distinction in society. The laboring classes, who are in fact the wealth
+of a nation, are trampled upon; while those whom dame Fortune has placed
+above, or if you please, _below_ labor, with some few honorable
+exceptions, arrogate to themselves all of the claims to good society.
+But in my humble opinion, the rich and the poor ought to be equally
+respected, if virtuous; and equally detested, if vicious."
+
+"But what will our acquaintances say?" said Mrs. K.
+
+"It is immaterial to me what 'they say' or think," said Mr. K., "so long
+as I know that I am actuated by right motives."
+
+"But you know, my dear husband," replied his wife, "that the world is
+censorious, and that much of the good or ill fortune of our children
+will depend on the company which they shall keep. For myself, I care but
+little for the opinion of the world, so long as I have the approbation
+of my husband, but I cannot bear to have my children treated with
+coldness; and besides, as George is intended for the law, his success
+will in a great measure depend on public opinion; and I do not think
+that even Esq. S. would think it altogether judicious, under existing
+circumstances, for us to place our children on a level with the laboring
+people."
+
+"If I may be permitted to express my opinion," said Mr. S. "I must say,
+in all sincerity, that I concur in sentiment with my friend K.; and,
+like him, I would that the line of separation between good and bad
+society was drawn between the virtuous and the vicious; and to bring
+about this much-to-be-desired state of things, the affluent, those who
+are allowed by all to have an undisputed right to rank with good
+society, must begin the reformation, by exerting their influence to
+raise up those who are bowed down. Your fears, Mrs. K., respecting your
+son's success, are, or should be, groundless; for, to associate with the
+laboring people, and strive to raise them to their proper place in the
+scale of being, should do more for his prosperity in the profession
+which he has chosen, than he ought to realize by a contrary course of
+conduct; and, I doubt not, your fears will prove groundless. So, my dear
+lady, rise above them; and also above the opinions of a gainsaying
+multitude--opinions which are erroneous, and which every philanthropist,
+and every Christian, should labor to correct."
+
+The remarks of Esq. S. had so good an effect on Mrs. K., that she
+relinquished the idea of sending Martha to Acton.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+The following evening Emily and Martha spent at Esq. S.'s, agreeably to
+an earnest invitation from Mrs. S. and her daughter Susan, who were
+anxious to cultivate an acquaintance with the orphan. These ladies were
+desirous to ascertain the real situation of a factory girl, and if it
+was as truly deplorable as public fame had represented, they intended to
+devise some plan to place Martha in a more desirable situation. Mrs. S.
+had a sister, who had long been in a declining state of health; and she
+had but recently written to Mrs. S. to allow Susan to spend a few months
+with her, while opportunity should offer to engage a young lady to live
+with her as a companion. This lady's husband was a clerk in one of the
+departments at Washington; and, not thinking it prudent to remove his
+family to the capital, they remained in P.; but the time passed so
+heavily in her husband's absence, as to have a visible effect on her
+health. Her physician advised her not to live so retired as she did, but
+to go into lively company to cheer up her spirits; but she thought it
+would be more judicious to have an agreeable female companion to live
+with her; and Mrs. S. concluded, from the character given her by her
+uncle, that Martha would be just such a companion as her sister wanted;
+and she intended in the course of the evening to invite Martha to
+accompany Susan on a visit to her aunt.
+
+The evening passed rapidly away, for the lively and interesting
+conversation, in the neat and splendid parlor of Esq. S., did not suffer
+any one present to note the flight of time. Martha's manners well
+accorded with the flattering description which her uncle had given of
+her. She had a good flow of language, and found no difficulty in
+expressing her sentiments on any subject which was introduced. Her
+description of "Life in Lowell" convinced those who listened to the
+clear, musical tones of her voice, that the many reports which they had
+heard, respecting the ignorance and vice of the factory operatives, were
+the breathings of ignorance, wafted on the wings of slander, and not
+worthy of credence.
+
+"But with all your privileges, Martha," said Mrs. S., "was it not
+wearisome to labor so many hours in a day?"
+
+"Truly it was at times," said Martha, "and fewer hours of labor would be
+desirable, if they could command a proper amount of wages; for in that
+case there would be more time for improvement."
+
+Mrs. S. then gave Martha an invitation to accompany her daughter to P.,
+hoping that she would accept the invitation, and find the company of her
+sister so agreeable that she would consent to remain with her, at least
+for one year; assuring her that if she did, her privileges for
+improvement should be equal, if not superior to those she had enjoyed in
+Lowell; and also that she should not be a loser in pecuniary matters.
+Martha politely thanked Mrs. S. for the interest she took in her behalf,
+but wished a little time to consider the propriety of accepting the
+proposal. But when Mrs. S. explained how necessary it was that her
+sister should have a female companion with her, during her husband's
+absence, Martha consented to accompany Susan, provided that her uncle
+and aunt K. gave their consent.
+
+"What an interesting girl!" said Esq. S. to his lady, after the young
+people had retired. "Amiable and refined as Emily K. appears, Martha's
+manners show that her privileges have been greater, or that her
+abilities are superior to those of Emily. How cold and calculating, and
+also unjust, was her aunt K., to think that it would detract aught from
+the respectability of her children for Martha to appear in company with
+them! I really hope that Mr. K. will allow her to visit your sister. I
+will speak to him on the subject."
+
+"She _must_ go with Susan," said Mrs. S.; "I am determined to take no
+denial. Her sprightly manners and delightful conversation will cheer my
+sister's spirits, and be of more avail in restoring her health than ten
+physicians."
+
+Mr. K. gave the desired consent, and it was agreed by all parties
+concerned that some time in the following week the ladies should visit
+P.; and all necessary preparations were immediately made for the
+journey.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+It was Tuesday evening, and a whole bevy of young people had assembled
+at Mr. K.'s. Beauty and wit were there, and seemed to vie with each
+other for superiority. The beaux and belles were in high glee. All was
+life and animation. The door opened, and Mr. K. entered the room. A
+young lady, rather above the middle height, and of a form of the most
+perfect symmetry, was leaning on his arm. She was dressed in a plain
+white muslin gown; a lace 'kerchief was thrown gracefully over her
+shoulders, and a profusion of auburn hair hung in ringlets down her
+neck, which had no decoration save a single string of pearl; her head
+was destitute of ornament, with the exception of one solitary rosebud on
+the left temple; her complexion was a mixture of the rose and the lily;
+a pair of large hazel eyes, half concealed by their long silken lashes,
+beamed with intelligence and expression, as they cast a furtive glance
+at the company. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. K., "this is my niece,
+Miss Croly;" and as with a modest dignity she courtesied, a beholder
+could scarce refrain from applying to her Milton's description of Eve
+when she first came from the hand of her Creator. Mr. K. crossed the
+room with his niece, seated her by the side of his daughter, and,
+wishing the young people a pleasant evening, retired. The eyes of all
+were turned towards the stranger, eager to ascertain whether indeed she
+was the little girl who once attended the same school with them, but who
+had, for a number of years past, been employed in a "Lowell factory."
+"Oh, it is the same," said the Miss Lindsays. "How presumptuous," said
+Caroline Lindsay to a gentleman who sat near her, "thus to intrude a
+factory girl into our company! Unless I am very much mistaken, I shall
+make her sorry for her impudence, and wish herself somewhere else
+before the party breaks up." "Indeed, Miss Caroline, you will not try to
+distress the poor girl; you cannot be so cruel," said the gentleman, who
+was no other than the eldest son of Esq. S., who had on the preceding
+day returned home, after an absence of two years on a tour through
+Europe. "Cruel!" said Caroline, interrupting him, "surely, Mr. S., you
+cannot think it cruel to keep people where they belong; or if they get
+out of the way, to set them right; and you will soon see that I shall
+direct Miss Presumption to her proper place, which is in the
+kitchen,"--and giving her head a toss, she left Mr. S., and seating
+herself by Emily and Martha, inquired when the latter left Lowell, and
+if the factory girls were as ignorant as ever.
+
+Martha replied by informing her when she left the "city of spindles;"
+and also by telling her that she believed the factory girls, considering
+the little time they had for the cultivation of their minds, were not,
+in the useful branches of education, behind any class of females in the
+Union. "What chance can they have for improvement?" said Caroline: "they
+are driven like slaves to and from their work, for fourteen hours in
+each day, and dare not disobey the calls of the factory bell. If they
+had the means for improvement, they have not the time; and it must be
+that they are quite as ignorant as the southern slaves, and as little
+fitted for society." Martha colored to the eyes at this unjust
+aspersion; and Emily, in pity to her cousin, undertook to refute the
+charge. Mr. S. drew near, and seating himself by the cousins, entered
+into conversation respecting the state of society in Lowell. Martha soon
+recovered her self-possession, and joined in the conversation with more
+than her usual animation, yet with a modest dignity which attracted the
+attention of all present. She mentioned the evening schools for teaching
+penmanship, grammar, geography, and other branches of education, and how
+highly they were prized, and how well they were attended by the factory
+girls. She also spoke of the Lyceum and Institute, and other lectures;
+and her remarks were so appropriate and sensible, that even those who
+were at first for assisting Caroline Lindsay in directing her to her
+"proper place," and who even laughed at what they thought to be Miss
+Lindsay's wit,--became attentive listeners, and found that even one who
+"had to work for a living" could by her conversation add much to the
+enjoyment of "good society."
+
+All were now disposed to treat Martha with courtesy, with the exception
+of the Miss Lindsays, who sat biting their lips for vexation; mortified
+to think that in trying to make Martha an object of ridicule, they had
+exposed themselves to contempt. Mr. S. took upon himself the task (if
+task it could be called, for one whose feelings were warmly enlisted in
+the work) of explaining in a clear and concise manner the impropriety of
+treating people with contempt for none other cause than that they earned
+an honest living by laboring with their hands. He spoke of the duty of
+the rich, with regard to meliorating the condition of the poor, not only
+in affairs of a pecuniary nature, but also by encouraging them in the
+way of well-doing, by bestowing upon them that which would cost a good
+man or woman nothing,--namely, kind looks, kind words, and all the sweet
+courtesies of life. His words were not lost; for those who heard him
+have overcome their prejudices against labor and laboring people, and
+respect the virtuous whatever may be their occupation.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Bright and unclouded was the morning which witnessed the departure of
+the family coach from the door of the Hon. Mr. S. Henry accompanied by
+his sister and the beautiful Martha, whose champion he had been at the
+birth-night party of George K. Arrived at P., they found that they were
+not only welcome, but expected visitors; for Esq. S. had previously
+written to his sister-in-law, apprising her of Henry's return, and his
+intention of visiting her in company with his sister Susan, and a young
+lady whom he could recommend as being just the companion of which she
+was in need. In a postscript to his letter he added, "I do not hesitate
+to commend this lovely orphan to your kindness, for I know you will
+appreciate her worth."
+
+When Henry S. took leave of his aunt and her family, and was about to
+start upon his homeward journey, he found that a two days' ride, and a
+week spent in the society of Martha, had been at work with his heart. He
+requested a private interview, and what was said, or what was concluded
+on, I shall leave the reader to imagine, as best suits his fancy. I
+shall also leave him to imagine what the many billets-doux contained
+which Henry sent to P., and what were the answers he received, and read
+with so much pleasure.--As it is no part of my business to enter into
+any explanation of that subject, I will leave it and call the reader's
+attention to the sequel of my story, hoping to be pardoned if I make it
+as short as possible. * * * *
+
+It was a lovely moonlight evening. The Hon. Mr. S. and lady, Mr. and
+Mrs. K., and Caroline Lindsay, were seated in the parlor of Mr.
+K.--Caroline had called to inquire for Martha, supposing her to be in
+Lowell. Caroline's father had been deeply engaged in the eastern land
+speculation, the result of which was a total loss of property. This made
+it absolutely necessary that his family should labor for their bread;
+and Caroline had come to the noble resolution of going to Lowell to work
+in a factory, not only to support herself, but to assist her parents in
+supporting her little brother and sisters. It was a hard struggle for
+Caroline to bring her mind to this; but she had done it, and was now
+ready to leave home. Dreading to go where all were strangers, she
+requested Mr. K. to give her directions where to find Martha, and to
+honor her as the bearer of a letter to his niece. "I know," said she,
+"that Martha's goodness of heart will induce her to secure me a place of
+work, notwithstanding my former rudeness to her--a rudeness which has
+caused me to suffer severely, and of which I heartily repent." Mr. K.
+informed Caroline that he expected to see his niece that evening; and he
+doubted not she would recommend Miss Lindsay to the overseer with whom
+she had worked while in Lowell; and also introduce her to good society,
+which she would find could be enjoyed, even in the "city of spindles,"
+popular prejudice to the contrary notwithstanding. Esquire and Mrs. S.
+approved of Caroline's resolution of going to Lowell, and spoke many
+words of encouragement, and also prevailed on her to accept of something
+to assist in defraying the expenses of her journey, and to provide for
+any exigency which might happen. They were yet engaged in conversation,
+when a coach stopped at the door, and presently George and Emily entered
+the parlor! They were followed by a gentleman and lady in bridal
+habiliments. George stepped back, and introduced Mr. Henry S. and lady.
+"Yes," said Henry laughingly, "I have brought safely back the Factory
+Pearl, which a twelvemonth since I found in this room, and which I have
+taken for my own." The lady threw back her veil, and Miss Lindsay beheld
+the countenance of Martha Croly.
+
+I shall omit the apologies and congratulations of Caroline and the
+assurance of forgiveness and proffers of friendship of Martha. The
+reader must also excuse me from delineating the joy with which Martha
+was received by her uncle and aunt K.; and the heartfelt satisfaction
+which Esquire and Mrs. S. expressed in their son's choice of a wife. It
+is enough to state that all parties concerned were satisfied and happy,
+and continue so to the present time. To sum up the whole they are happy
+themselves, and diffuse happiness all around them.
+
+Caroline Lindsay was the bearer of several letters from Martha, now Mrs.
+S., to her friends in Lowell. She spent two years in a factory, and
+enjoyed the friendship of all who knew her; and when she left Lowell her
+friends could not avoid grieving for the loss of her company, although
+they knew that a bright day was soon to dawn upon her. She is now the
+wife of George K., and is beloved and respected by all who know her.
+Well may she say, "Sweet are the uses of adversity," for adversity awoke
+to energy virtues which were dormant, until a reverse of fortune. Her
+father's affairs are in a measure retrieved; and he says that he is
+doubly compensated for his loss of property in the happiness he now
+enjoys.
+
+I will take leave of the reader, hoping that if he has hitherto had any
+undue prejudice against labor, or laboring people, he will overcome it,
+and excuse my freedom and plainness of speech.
+
+                                                       ETHELINDA.
+
+
+
+
+JOAN OF ARC.
+
+
+When, in the perusal of history, I meet with the names of females whom
+circumstances, or their own inclinations, have brought thus openly
+before the public eye, I can seldom repress the desire to know more of
+them. Was it choice, or necessity, which led them to the battle-field,
+or council-hall? Had the woman's heart been crushed within their
+breasts? or did it struggle with the sterner feelings which had then
+found entrance there? Were they recreant to their own sex? or were the
+deed which claim the historian's notice but the necessary results of the
+situations in which they had been placed?
+
+These are questions which I often ask, and yet I love not in old and
+musty records to meet with names which long ere this should have
+perished with the hearts upon which love had written them; for happier,
+surely, is woman, when in _one_ manly heart she has been "shrined a
+queen," than when upon some powerful throne she sits with an untrembling
+form, and an unquailing eye, to receive the homage, and command the
+services of loyal thousands. I love not to read of women transformed in
+all, save outward form, into one of the sterner sex; and when I see, in
+the memorials of the past, that this has apparently been done, I would
+fain overleap the barriers of bygone time, and know how it has been
+effected. Imagination goes back to the scenes which must have been
+witnessed then, and perhaps unaided portrays the minute features of the
+sketch, of which history has preserved merely the outlines.
+
+But I sometimes read of woman, when I would not know more of the places
+where she has rendered herself conspicuous; when there is something so
+noble and so bright in the character I have given her, that I fear a
+better knowledge of trivial incidents might break the spell which leads
+me to love and admire her; where, perhaps, the picture which my fancy
+has painted, glows in colors so brilliant, that a sketch by Truth would
+seem beside it but a sombre shadow.
+
+Joan of Arc is one of those heroines of history, who cannot fail to
+excite an interest in all who love to contemplate the female character.
+From the gloom of that dark age, when woman was but a plaything and a
+slave, she stands in bold relief, its most conspicuous personage. Not,
+indeed, as a queen, but as more than a queen, even the preserver of her
+nation's king; not as a conqueror, but as the savior of her country; not
+as a man, urged in his proud career by mad ambition's stirring energies,
+but as a woman, guided in her brilliant course by woman's noblest
+impulses--so does she appear in that lofty station which for herself she
+won.
+
+Though high and dazzling was the eminence to which she rose, yet "'twas
+not thus, oh 'twas not thus, her dwelling-place was found." Low in the
+vale of humble life was the maiden born and bred; and thick as is the
+veil which time and distance have thrown over every passage of her life
+yet that which rests upon her early days is most impenetrable. And much
+room is there here for the interested inquirer, and Imagination may rest
+almost unchecked amid the slight revelations of History.
+
+Joan is a heroine--a woman of mighty power--wearing herself the
+habiliments of man, and guiding armies to battle and to victory; yet
+never to my eye is "the warrior-maid" aught but _woman_. The ruling
+passion, the spirit which nerved her arm, illumed her eye, and buoyed
+her heart, was woman's faith. Ay, it was _power_--and call it what ye
+may--say it was enthusiasm, fanaticism, madness--or call it, if ye will,
+what those _did_ name it who burned Joan at the stake,--still it was
+power, the power of woman's firm, undoubting faith.
+
+I should love to go back into Joan's humble home--that home which the
+historian has thought so little worthy of his notice; and in imagination
+I _must_ go there, even to the very cradle of her infancy, and know of
+all those influences which wrought the mind of Joan to that fearful
+pitch of wild enthusiasm, when she declared herself the inspired agent
+of the Almighty.
+
+Slowly and gradually was the spirit trained to an act like this; for
+though, like the volcano's fire, its instantaneous bursting forth was
+preceded by no prophet-herald of its coming--yet Joan of Arc was the
+same Joan ere she was maid of Orleans; the same high-souled, pure and
+imaginative being, the creature of holy impulses, and conscious of
+superior energies. It must have been so; _a superior mind may burst upon
+the world, but never upon itself_: there must be a feeling of sympathy
+with the noble and the gifted, a knowledge of innate though slumbering
+powers. The neglected eaglet may lie in its mountain nest, long after
+the pinion is fledged; but it will fix its unquailing eye upon the
+dazzling sun, and feel a consciousness of strength in the untried wing;
+but let the mother-bird once call it forth, and far away it will soar
+into the deep blue heavens, or bathe and revel amidst the
+tempest-clouds--and henceforth the eyrie is but a resting place.
+
+As the diamond is formed, brilliant and priceless, in the dark bowels of
+the earth, even so, in the gloom of poverty, obscurity, and toil, was
+formed the mind of Joan of Arc.--Circumstances were but the jeweller's
+cutting, which placed it where it might more readily receive the rays
+of light, and flash them forth with greater brilliancy.
+
+I have said, that I must in imagination go back to the infancy of Joan,
+and note the incidents which shed their silent, hallowed influence upon
+her soul, until she stands forth an inspired being, albeit inspired by
+naught but her own imagination.
+
+The basis of Joan's character is religious enthusiasm: this is the
+substratum, the foundation of all that wild and mighty power which made
+_her_, the peasant girl, the savior of her country. But the flame must
+have been early fed; it was not merely an elementary portion of her
+nature, but it was one which was cherished in infancy, in childhood and
+in youth, until it became the master-passion of her being.
+
+Joan, the child of the humble and the lowly, was also the daughter of
+the fervently religious. The light of faith and hope illumes their
+little cot; and reverence for all that is good and true, and a trust
+which admits no shade of fear or doubt, is early taught the gentle
+child. Though "faith in God's own promises" was mingled with
+superstitious awe of those to whom all were then indebted for a
+knowledge of the truth; though priestly craft had united the wild and
+false with the pure light of the gospel: and though Joan's religion was
+mingled with delusion and error,--still it comprised all that is
+fervent, and pure, and truthful, in the female heart. The first words
+her infant lips are taught to utter, are those of prayer--prayer,
+mayhap, to saints or virgin; but still to her _then_ and in all
+after-time, the aspirations of a spirit which delights in communion with
+the Invisible.
+
+She grows older, and still, amid ignorance, and poverty, and toil, the
+spirit gains new light and fervor. With a mind alive to everything that
+is high and holy, she goes forth into a dark and sinful world, dependent
+upon her daily toil for daily bread; she lives among the thoughtless and
+the vile; but like that plant which opens to nought but light and air,
+and shrinks from all other contact--so her mind, amid the corruptions of
+the world, is shut to all that is base and sinful, though open and
+sensitive to that which is pure and noble.
+
+"Joan," says the historian, "was a tender of stables in a village inn."
+Such was her outward life; but there was for her _another_ life, a life
+within that life. While the hands perform low, menial service, the soul
+untrammelled is away, and revelling amidst its own creations of beauty
+and of bliss. She is silent and abstracted; always alone among her
+fellows--for among them all she sees no kindred spirit; she finds none
+who can touch the chords within her heart, or respond to their melody,
+when she would herself sweep its harp-strings.
+
+Joan has no friends; far less does she ever think of earthly lovers; and
+who would love _her_, the wild and strange Joan! though perhaps, the
+gloomy, dull, and silent one; but that soul, whose very essence is
+fervent zeal and glowing passion, sends forth in secrecy and silence its
+burning love upon the unconscious things of earth. She talks to the
+flowers, and the stars, and the changing clouds; and their voiceless
+answers come back to her soul at morn, and noon, and stilly night. Yes,
+Joan loves to go forth in the darkness of eve, and sit,
+
+  "Beneath the radiant stars, still burning as they roll,
+  And sending down their prophecies into her fervent soul;"
+
+but, better even than this, does she love to go into some high
+cathedral, where the "dim religious light" comes faintly through the
+painted windows; and when the priests chant vesper hymns, and burning
+incense goes upward from the sacred altar--and when the solemn strains
+and the fragrant vapor dissolve and die away in the distant aisles and
+lofty dome, she kneels upon the marble floor, and in ecstatic worship
+sends forth the tribute of a glowing heart.
+
+And when at night she lies down upon her rude pallet, she dreams that
+she is with those bright and happy beings with whom her fancy has
+peopled heaven. She is there, among saints and angels, and even
+permitted high converse with the Mother of Jesus.
+
+Yes, Joan is a dreamer; and she dreams not only in the night, but in the
+day; whether at work or at rest, alone or among her fellow-men, there
+are angel voices near, and spirit-wings are hovering around her, and
+visions of all that is pure, and bright, and beautiful, come to the mind
+of the lowly girl. She finds that she is a favored one; she feels that
+those about her are not gifted as she has been; she knows that their
+thoughts are not as her thoughts; and then the spirit questions, Why is
+it thus that she should be permitted communings with unearthly ones? Why
+was this ardent, aspiring mind bestowed upon _her_, one of earth's
+meanest ones, shackled by bonds of penury, toil, and ignorance of all
+that the world calls high and gifted? Day after day goes by, night after
+night wears on, and still these queries will arise, and still they are
+unanswered.
+
+At length the affairs of busy life, those which to Joan have heretofore
+been of but little moment, begin to awaken even _her_ interest.
+Hitherto, absorbed in her own bright fancies, she has mingled in the
+scenes around her, like one who walketh in his sleep. They have been too
+tame and insipid to arouse her energies, or excite her interest; but now
+there is a thrilling power in the tidings which daily meet her ears. All
+hearts are stirred, but none now throb like hers: her country is
+invaded, her king an exile from his throne; and at length the
+conquerors, unopposed, are quietly boasting of their triumphs on the
+very soil they have polluted. And shall it be thus? Shall the victor
+revel and triumph in her own loved France? Shall her country thus tamely
+submit to wear the foreign yoke? And Joan says, No! She feels the power
+to arouse, to quicken, and to guide.
+
+None now may tell whether it was first in fancies of the day or visions
+of the night, that the thought came, like some lightning flash, upon her
+mind, that it was for this that powers unknown to others had been
+vouchsafed to _her_; and that for this, even new energies should now be
+given.--But the idea once received is not abandoned; she cherishes it,
+and broods upon it, till it has mingled with every thought of day and
+night. If doubts at first arise, they are not harbored, and at length
+they vanish away.
+
+  "Her spirit shadowed forth a dream, till it became a creed."
+
+All that she sees and all that she hears--the words to which she eagerly
+listens by day, and the spirit-whispers which come to her at
+night,--they all assure her of this, that she is the appointed one. All
+other thoughts and feelings now crystallize in this grand scheme; and as
+the cloud grows darker upon her country's sky, her faith grows surer and
+more bright. Her countrymen have ceased to resist, have almost ceased to
+hope; but she alone, in her fervent joy, has "looked beyond the present
+clouds and seen the light beyond." The spoiler shall yet be vanquished,
+and _she_ will do it; her country shall be saved, and _she_ will save
+it; her unanointed king shall yet sit on the throne, and "Charles shall
+be crowned at Rheims." Such is her mission, and she goes forth in her
+own ardent faith to its accomplishment.
+
+And did those who first admitted the claims of Joan as an inspired
+leader, themselves believe that she was an agent of the Almighty? None
+can now tell how much the superstition of their faith, mingled with the
+commanding influence of a mind firm in its own conviction of
+supernatural guidance, influenced those haughty ones, as they listened
+to the counsels, and obeyed the mandates, of the peasant girl.--Perhaps
+they saw that she was their last hope, a frail reed upon which they
+might lean, yet one that might not break. Her zeal and faith might be an
+instrument to effect the end which she had declared herself destined to
+accomplish. Worldly policy and religious credulity might mingle in their
+admission of her claims; but however this might be, the peasant girl of
+Arc soon rides at her monarch's side, with helmet on her head, and armor
+on her frame, the time-hallowed sword girt to her side, and the
+consecrated banner in her hand; and with the lightning of inspiration in
+her eye, and words of dauntless courage on her lips, she guides them on
+to battle and to victory.
+
+Ay, there she is, the low-born maid of Arc! there, with the noble and
+the brave, amid the clangor of trumpets, the waving of banners, the
+tramp of the war horse, and the shouts of warriors; and there she is
+more at home than in those humble scenes in which she has been wont to
+bear a part. Now for once she is herself; now may she put forth all her
+hidden energy, and with a mind which rises at each new demand upon its
+powers, she is gaining for herself a name even greater than that of
+queen. And now does the light beam brightly from her eye, and the blood
+course quickly through her veins--for her task is ended, her mission
+accomplished, and "Charles is crowned at Rheims."
+
+This is the moment of Joan's glory,--and what is before her now? To
+stand in courts, a favored and flattered one? to revel in the soft
+luxuries and enervating pleasures of a princely life? Oh this was not
+for one like her. To return to obscurity and loneliness, and there to
+let the over-wrought mind sink back with nought to occupy and support
+it, till it feeds and drivels on the remembrance of the past--this is
+what she would do; but there is for her what is better far, even the
+glorious death of a martyr.
+
+Little does Joan deem, in her moment of triumph, that this is before
+her; but when she has seen her mission ended, and her king the anointed
+ruler of a liberated people, the sacred sword and standard are cast
+aside; and throwing herself at her monarch's feet, and watering them
+with tears of joy, she begs permission to return to her humble
+home.--She has now done all for which that power was bestowed; her work
+has been accomplished, and she claims no longer the special commission
+of an inspired leader. But Dunois says, No! The English are not yet
+entirely expelled the kingdom, and the French general would avail
+himself of that name, and that presence, which have infused new courage
+into his armies, and struck terror to their enemies. He knows that Joan
+will no longer be sustained by the belief that she is an agent of
+heaven; but she will be with them, and that alone must benefit their
+cause. He would have her again assume the standard, sword, and armor; he
+would have her still retain the title of "Messenger of God," though she
+believe that her mission goes no farther.
+
+It probably was not the first time, and it certainly was not the last,
+when woman's holiest feelings have been made the instruments of man's
+ambition, or agents for the completion of his designs. Joan is now but a
+woman, poor, weak, and yielding woman; and overpowered by their
+entreaties, she consents to try again her influence. But the power of
+that faith is gone, the light of inspiration is no more given, and she
+is attacked, conquered, and delivered to her enemies. They place her in
+low dungeons, then bring her before tribunals; they wring and torture
+that noble spirit, and endeavor to obtain from it a confession of
+imposture, or connivance with the "evil one;" but she still persists in
+the declaration that her claims to a heavenly guidance were true.
+
+Once only was she false to herself. Weary and dispirited; deserted by
+her friends, and tormented by her foes,--she yields to their assertions,
+and admits that she did deceive her countrymen. Perhaps in that hour of
+trial and darkness, when all hope of deliverance from without, or from
+above, had died away,--when she saw herself powerless in the merciless
+hands of her enemies, the conviction might steal upon her own mind, that
+she had been self-deceived; that phantasies of the brain had been
+received as visions from on high,--but though her confession was true in
+the abstract, yet Joan was surely untrue to herself.
+
+Still it avails her little; she is again remanded to the dungeon, and
+there awaits her doom.
+
+At length they bring her the panoply of war, the armored suit in which
+she went forth at the king's right hand to fight their battle hosts. Her
+heart thrills, and her eye flashes, as she looks upon it--for it tells
+of glorious days. Once more she dons those fatal garments, and they find
+her arrayed in the habiliments of war. It is enough for those who wished
+but an excuse to take her life, and the Maid of Orleans is condemned to
+die.
+
+They led Joan to the martyr-stake. Proudly and nobly went she forth, for
+it was a fitting death for one like _her_. Once more the spirit may
+rouse its noblest energies; and with brightened eye, and firm, undaunted
+step, she goes where banners wave and trumpets sound, and martial hosts
+appear in proud array. And the sons of England weep as they see her, the
+calm and tearless one, come forth to meet her fate. They bind her to the
+stake; they light the fire; and upward borne on wreaths of soaring
+flame, the soul of the martyred Joan ascends to heaven.
+
+                                                            ELLA.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN MILLER.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"Mother, it is all over now," said Susan Miller, as she descended from
+the chamber where her father had just died of _delirium tremens_.
+
+Mrs. Miller had for several hours walked the house, with that ceaseless
+step which tells of fearful mental agony: and when she had heard from
+her husband's room some louder shriek or groan, she had knelt by the
+chair or bed which was nearest, and prayed that the troubled spirit
+might pass away. But a faintness came over her, when a long interval of
+stillness told that her prayer was answered; and she leaned upon the
+railing of the stairway for support, as she looked up to see the first
+one who should come to her from the bed of death.
+
+Susan was the first to think of her mother: and when she saw her sink,
+pale, breathless, and stupified upon a stair, she sat down in silence,
+and supported her head upon her own bosom. Then for the first time was
+she aroused to the consciousness that she was to be looked upon as a
+stay and support; and she resolved to bring from the hidden recesses of
+her heart, a strength, courage, and firmness, which should make her to
+her heart-broken mother, and younger brothers and sisters, what _he_ had
+not been for many years, who was now a stiffening corpse.
+
+At length she ventured to whisper words of solace and sympathy, and
+succeeded in infusing into her mother's mind a feeling of resignation to
+the stroke they had received.--She persuaded her to retire to her bed,
+and seek the slumber which had been for several days denied them; and
+then she endeavored to calm the terror-stricken little ones, who were
+screaming because their father was no more. The neighbors came in and
+proffered every assistance; but when Susan retired that night to her own
+chamber, she felt that she must look to HIM for aid, who alone could
+sustain through the tasks that awaited her.
+
+Preparations were made for the funeral; and though every one knew that
+Mr. Miller had left his farm deeply mortgaged, yet the store-keeper
+cheerfully trusted them for articles of mourning, and the dress-maker
+worked day and night, while she expected never to receive a
+remuneration. The minister came to comfort the widow and her children.
+He spoke of the former virtues of him who had been wont to seek the
+house of God on each returning Sabbath, and who had brought his eldest
+children to the font of baptism, and been then regarded as an example of
+honesty and sterling worth; and when he adverted to the one failing
+which had brought him to his grave in the very prime of manhood, he also
+remarked, that he was now in the hands of a merciful God.
+
+The remains of the husband and father were at length removed from the
+home which he had once rendered happy, but upon which he had afterwards
+brought poverty and distress, and laid in that narrow house which he
+never more might leave, till the last trumpet should call him forth;
+and when the family were left to that deep silence and gloom which
+always succeed a death and burial, they began to think of the trials
+which were yet to come.
+
+Mrs. Miller had been for several years aware that ruin was coming upon
+them. She had at first warned, reasoned, and expostulated; but she was
+naturally of a gentle and almost timid disposition; and when she found
+that she awakened passions which were daily growing more violent and
+ungovernable, she resolved to await in silence a crisis which sooner or
+later would change their destiny. Whether she was to follow her
+degenerate husband to his grave, or accompany him to some low hovel, she
+knew not; she shrunk from the future, but faithfully discharged all
+present duties, and endeavored, by a strict economy, to retain at least
+an appearance of comfort in her household.
+
+To Susan, her eldest child, she had confided all her fears and sorrows;
+and they had watched, toiled, and sympathized together. But when the
+blow came at last, when he who had caused all their sorrow and anxiety
+was taken away by a dreadful and disgraceful death, the long-enduring
+wife and mother was almost paralyzed by the shock.
+
+But Susan was young; she had health, strength, and spirits to bear her
+up, and upon her devolved the care of the family, and the plan for its
+future support. Her resolution was soon formed; and without saying a
+word to any individual, she went to Deacon Rand, who was her father's
+principal creditor.
+
+It was a beautiful afternoon in the month of May, when Susan left the
+house in which her life had hitherto been spent, determined to know,
+before she returned to it, whether she might ever again look upon it as
+her home. It was nearly a mile to the deacon's house, and not a single
+house upon the way. The two lines of turf in the road, upon which the
+bright green grass was springing, showed that it was but seldom
+travelled; and the birds warbled in the trees, as though they feared no
+disturbance. The fragrance of the lowly flowers, the budding shrubs, and
+the blooming fruit-trees, filled the air; and she stood for a moment to
+listen to the streamlet which she crossed upon a rude bridge of stones.
+She remembered how she had loved to look at it in summer, as it murmured
+along among the low willows and alder bushes; and how she had watched it
+in the early spring, when its swollen waters forced their way through
+the drifts of snow which had frozen over it, and wrought for itself an
+arched roof, from which the little icicles depended in diamond points
+and rows of beaded pearls. She looked also at the meadow, where the
+grass was already so long and green; and she sighed to think that she
+must leave all that was so dear to her, and go where a ramble among
+fields, meadows, and orchards, would be henceforth a pleasure denied to
+her.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+When she arrived at the spacious farm-house, which was the residence of
+the deacon, she was rejoiced to find him at home and alone. He laid
+aside his newspaper as she entered, and, kindly taking her hand,
+inquired after her own health and that of her friends. "And now,
+deacon," said she, when she had answered all his questions, "I wish to
+know whether you intend to turn us all out of doors, as you have a
+perfect right to do--or suffer us still to remain, with a slight hope
+that we may sometime pay you the debt for which our farm is mortgaged."
+
+"You have asked me a very plain question," was the deacon's reply, "and
+one which I can easily answer. You see that I have here a house, large
+enough and good enough for the president himself, and plenty of every
+thing in it and around it; and how in the name of common sense and
+charity, and religion, could I turn a widow and fatherless children out
+of their house and home! Folks have called me mean, and stingy, and
+close-fisted; and though in my dealings with a rich man I take good care
+that he shall not overreach me, yet I never stood for a cent with a poor
+man in my life. But you spake about some time paying me; pray, how do
+you hope to do it?"
+
+"I am going to Lowell," said Susan quietly, "to work in the factory, the
+girls have high wages there now, and in a year or two Lydia and Eliza
+can come too; and if we all have our health, and mother and James get
+along well with the farm and the little ones, I hope, I do think, that
+we can pay it all up in the course of seven or eight years."
+
+"That is a long time for you to go and work so hard, and shut yourself
+up so close at your time of life," said the deacon, "and on many other
+accounts I do not approve of it."
+
+"I know how prejudiced the people here are against factory girls," said
+Susan, "but I should like to know what real good _reason_ you have for
+disapproving of my resolution. You cannot think there is anything really
+wrong in my determination to labor, as steadily and as profitably as I
+can, for myself and the family."
+
+"Why, the way that I look at things is this," replied the deacon:
+"whatever is not right, is certainly wrong; and I do not think it right
+for a young girl like you, to put herself in the way of all sorts of
+temptation. You have no idea of the wickedness and corruption which
+exist in that town of Lowell. Why, they say that more than half of the
+girls have been in the house of correction, or the county gaol, or some
+other vile place; and that the other half are not much better; and I
+should not think you would wish to go and work, and eat, and sleep, with
+such a low, mean, ignorant, wicked set of creatures."
+
+"I know such things are said of them, deacon, but I do not think they
+are true. I have never seen but one factory girl, and that was my cousin
+Esther, who visited us last summer. I do not believe there is a better
+girl in the world than she is; and I cannot think she would be so
+contented and cheerful among such a set of wretches as some folks think
+factory girls must be. There may be wicked girls there; but among so
+many, there must be some who are good; and when I go there, I shall try
+to keep out of the way of bad company, and I do not doubt that cousin
+Esther can introduce me to girls who are as good as any with whom I have
+associated. If she cannot I will have no companion but her, and spend
+the little leisure I shall have in solitude, for I am determined to go."
+
+"But supposing, Susan, that all the girls there were as good, and
+sensible, and pleasant as yourself--yet there are many other things to
+be considered. You have not thought how hard it will seem to be boxed up
+fourteen hours in a day, among a parcel of clattering looms, or whirling
+spindles, whose constant din is of itself enough to drive a girl out of
+her wits; and then you will have no fresh air to breathe, and as likely
+as not come home in a year or two with a consumption, and wishing you
+had staid where you would have had less money and better health. I have
+also heard that the boarding women do not give the girls food which is
+fit to eat, nor half enough of the mean stuff they do allow them, and it
+is contrary to all reason to suppose that folks can work, and have their
+health, without victuals to eat."
+
+"I have thought of all these things, deacon, but they do not move me. I
+know the noise of the mills must be unpleasant at first, but I shall get
+used to that; and as to my health, I know that I have as good a
+constitution to begin with as any girl could wish, and no predisposition
+to consumption, nor any of those diseases which a factory life might
+otherwise bring upon me. I do not expect all the comforts which are
+common to country farmers; but I am not afraid of starving, for cousin
+Esther said, that she had an excellent boarding place, and plenty to
+eat, and drink, and that which was good enough for anybody. But if they
+do not give us good meat, I will eat vegetables alone, and when we have
+bad butter, I will eat my bread without it."
+
+"Well," said the deacon, "if your health is preserved, you may lose some
+of your limbs. I have heard a great many stories about girls who had
+their hands torn off by the machinery, or mangled so that they could
+never use them again; and a hand is not a thing to be despised, nor
+easily dispensed with. And then, how should you like to be ordered
+about, and scolded at, by a cross overseer?"
+
+"I know there is danger," replied Susan, "among so much machinery, but
+those who meet with accidents are but a small number, in proportion to
+the whole, and if I am careful I need not fear any injury. I do not
+believe the stories we hear about bad overseers, for such men would not
+be placed over so many girls; and if I have a cross one, I will give no
+reason to find fault; and if he finds fault without reason, I will leave
+him, and work for some one else.--You know that I must do something, and
+I have made up my mind what it shall be."
+
+"You are a good child, Susan," and the deacon looked very kind when he
+told her so, "and you are a courageous, noble-minded girl. I am not
+afraid that _you_ will learn to steal, and lie, and swear, and neglect
+your Bible and the meeting-house; but lest anything unpleasant should
+happen, I will make you this offer: I will let your mother live upon the
+farm, and pay me what little she can, till your brother James is old
+enough to take it at the halves; and if you will come here, and help my
+wife about the house and dairy, I will give you 4_s._ 6_d._ a-week, and
+you shall be treated as a daughter--perhaps you may one day be one."
+
+The deacon looked rather sly at her, and Susan blushed; for Henry Rand,
+the deacon's youngest son, had been her playmate in childhood, her
+friend at school, and her constant attendant at all the parties and
+evening meetings. Her young friends all spoke of him as her lover, and
+even the old people had talked of it as a very fitting match, as Susan,
+besides good sense, good humor, and some beauty, had the health,
+strength and activity which are always reckoned among the qualifications
+for a farmer's wife.
+
+Susan knew of this; but of late, domestic trouble had kept her at home,
+and she knew not what his present feelings were. Still she felt that
+they must not influence her plans and resolutions. Delicacy forbade that
+she should come and be an inmate of his father's house, and her very
+affection for him had prompted the desire that she should be as
+independent as possible of all favors from him, or his father; and also
+the earnest desire that they might one day clear themselves of debt. So
+she thanked the deacon for his offer, but declined accepting it, and
+arose to take leave.
+
+"I shall think a great deal about you, when you are gone," said the
+deacon, "and will pray for you, too. I never used to think about the
+sailors, till my wife's brother visited us, who had led for many years a
+sea-faring life; and now I always pray for those who are exposed to the
+dangers of the great deep. And I will also pray for the poor factory
+girls who work so hard and suffer so much."
+
+"Pray for me, deacon," replied Susan in a faltering voice, "that I may
+have strength to keep a good resolution."
+
+She left the house with a sad heart; for the very success of her hopes
+and wishes had brought more vividly to mind the feeling that she was
+really to go and leave for many years her friends and home.
+
+She was almost glad that she had not seen Henry; and while she was
+wondering what he would say and think, when told that she was going to
+Lowell, she heard approaching footsteps, and looking up, saw him coming
+towards her. The thought--no, the idea, for it had not time to form into
+a definite thought--flashed across her mind, that she must now arouse
+all her firmness, and not let Henry's persuasion shake her resolution to
+leave them all, and go to the factory.
+
+But the very indifference with which he heard of her intention was of
+itself sufficient to arouse her energy. He appeared surprised, but
+otherwise wholly unconcerned, though he expressed a hope that she would
+be happy and prosperous, and that her health would not suffer from the
+change of occupation.
+
+If he had told her that he loved her--if he had entreated her not to
+leave them, or to go with the promise of returning to be his future
+companion through life--she could have resisted it; for this she had
+resolved to do; and the happiness attending an act of self-sacrifice
+would have been her reward.
+
+She had before known sorrow, and she had borne it patiently and
+cheerfully; and she knew that the life which was before her would have
+been rendered happier by the thought, that there was one who was deeply
+interested for her happiness, and who sympathized in all her trials.
+
+When she parted from Henry it was with a sense of loneliness, of utter
+desolation, such as she had never before experienced. She had never
+before thought that he was dear to her, and that she had wished to carry
+in her far-off place of abode the reflection that she was dear to him.
+She felt disappointed and mortified, but she blamed not him, neither did
+she blame herself; she did not know that any one had been to blame. Her
+young affections had gone forth as naturally and as involuntarily as the
+vapors rise to meet the sun. But the sun which had called them forth,
+had now gone down, and they were returning in cold drops to the
+heart-springs from which they had arisen; and Susan resolved that they
+should henceforth form a secret fount, whence every other feeling should
+derive new strength and vigor. She was now more firmly resolved that her
+future life should be wholly devoted to her kindred, and thought not of
+herself but as connected with them.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+It was with pain that Mrs. Miller heard of Susan's plan; but she did not
+oppose her. She felt that it must be so, that she must part with her
+for her own good and the benefit of the family; and Susan hastily made
+preparations for her departure.
+
+She arranged everything in and about the house for her mother's
+convenience; and the evening before she left she spent in instructing
+Lydia how to take her place, as far as possible, and told her to be
+always cheerful with mother, and patient with the younger ones, and to
+write a long letter every two months (for she could not afford to hear
+oftener), and to be sure and not forget her for a single day.
+
+Then she went to her own room; and when she had re-examined her trunk,
+bandbox, and basket, to see that all was right, and laid her
+riding-dress over the great armchair, she sat down by the window to
+meditate upon her change of life.
+
+She thought, as she looked upon the spacious, convenient chamber in
+which she was sitting, how hard it would be to have no place to which
+she could retire and be alone, and how difficult it would be to keep her
+things in order in the fourth part of a small apartment, and how
+possible it was that she might have unpleasant room-mates, and how
+probable that every day would call into exercise all her kindness and
+forbearance. And then she wondered if it would be possible for her to
+work so long, and save so much, as to render it possible that she might
+one day return to that chamber and call it her own. Sometimes she wished
+she had not undertaken it, that she had not let the deacon know that she
+hoped to be able to pay him; she feared that she had taken a burden upon
+herself which she could not bear, and sighed to think that her lot
+should be so different from that of most young girls.
+
+She thought of the days when she was a little child; when she played
+with Henry at the brook, or picked berries with him on the hill; when
+her mother was always happy, and her father always kind; and she wished
+that the time could roll back, and she could again be a careless little
+girl.
+
+She felt, as we sometimes do, when we shut our eyes and try to sleep,
+and get back into some pleasant dream, from which we have been too
+suddenly awakened. But the dream of youth was over, and before her was
+the sad waking reality of a life of toil, separation, and sorrow.
+
+When she left home the next morning, it was the first time she had ever
+parted from her friends. The day was delightful, and the scenery
+beautiful; a stage-ride was of itself a novelty to her, and her
+companions pleasant and sociable; but she felt very sad, and when she
+retired at night to sleep in a hotel, she burst into tears.
+
+Those who see the factory girls in Lowell, little think of the sighs and
+heart-aches which must attend a young girl's entrance upon a life of
+toil and privation, among strangers.
+
+To Susan, the first entrance into a factory boarding-house seemed
+something dreadful. The rooms looked strange and comfortless, and the
+women cold and heartless; and when she sat down to the supper-table,
+where, among more than twenty girls, all but one were strangers, she
+could not eat a mouthful. She went with Esther to their sleeping
+apartment, and, after arranging her clothes and baggage, she went to
+bed, but not to sleep.
+
+The next morning she went into the mill; and at first, the sight of so
+many bands, and wheels, and springs, in constant motion was very
+frightful. She felt afraid to touch the loom, and she was almost sure
+that she could never learn to weave; the harness puzzled and the reed
+perplexed her; the shuttle flew out, and made a new bump upon her head;
+and the first time she tried to spring the lathe, she broke out a
+quarter of the treads. It seemed as if the girls all stared at her, and
+the overseers watched every motion, and the day appeared as long as a
+month had been at home. But at last it was night; and O, how glad was
+Susan to be released! She felt weary and wretched, and retired to rest
+without taking a mouthful of refreshment. There was a dull pain in her
+head, and a sharp pain in her ankles; every bone was aching, and there
+was in her ears a strange noise, as of crickets, frogs, and jews-harps,
+all mingling together, and she felt gloomy and sick at heart. "But it
+won't seem so always," said she to herself; and with this truly
+philosophical reflection, she turned her head upon a hard pillow, and
+went to sleep.
+
+Susan was right, it did not seem so always. Every succeeding day seemed
+shorter and pleasanter than the last; and when she was accustomed to the
+work, and had become interested in it, the hours seemed shorter, and the
+days, weeks, and months flew more swiftly by than they had ever done
+before. She was healthy, active, and ambitious, and was soon able to
+earn even as much as her cousin, who had been a weaver several years.
+
+Wages were then much higher than they are now; and Susan had the
+pleasure of devoting the avails of her labor to a noble and cherished
+purpose. There was a definite aim before her, and she never lost sight
+of the object for which she left her home, and was happy in the prospect
+of fulfilling that design. And it needed all this hope of success, and
+all her strength of resolution, to enable her to bear up against the
+wearing influences of a life of unvarying toil. Though the days seemed
+shorter than at first, yet there was a tiresome monotony about them.
+Every morning the bells pealed forth the same clangor, and every night
+brought the same feeling of fatigue. But Susan felt, as all factory
+girls feel, that she could bear it for a while. There are few who look
+upon factory labor as a pursuit for life. It is but a temporary
+vocation; and most of the girls resolve to quit the mill when some
+favorite design is accomplished. Money is their object--not for itself,
+but for what it can perform; and pay-days are the landmarks which cheer
+all hearts, by assuring them of their progress to the wished-for goal.
+
+Susan was always very happy when she enclosed the quarterly sum to
+Deacon Rand, although it was hardly won, and earned by the deprivation
+of many little comforts, and pretty articles of dress, which her
+companions could procure. But the thought of home, and the future happy
+days which she might enjoy in it, was the talisman which ever cheered
+and strengthened her.
+
+She also formed strong friendships among her factory companions, and
+became attached to her pastor, and their place of worship. After the
+first two years she had also the pleasure of her sister's society, and
+in a year or two more, another came. She did not wish them to come while
+very young. She thought it better that their bodies should be
+strengthened, and their minds educated in their country home; and she
+also wished, that in their early girlhood they should enjoy the same
+pleasures which had once made her own life a very happy one.
+
+And she was happy now; happy in the success of her noble exertions, the
+affection and gratitude of her relatives, the esteem of her
+acquaintances, and the approbation of conscience. Only once was she
+really disquieted. It was when her sister wrote that Henry Rand was
+married to one of their old school-mates. For a moment the color fled
+from her cheek, and a quick pang went through her heart. It was but for
+a moment; and then she sat down and wrote to the newly-married couple a
+letter, which touched their hearts by its simple fervent wishes for
+their happiness, and assurances of sincere friendship.
+
+Susan had occasionally visited home, and she longed to go, never to
+leave it; but she conquered the desire, and remained in Lowell more than
+a year after the last dollar had been forwarded to Deacon Rand. And
+then, O, how happy was she when she entered her chamber the first
+evening after her arrival, and viewed its newly-painted wainscoting, and
+brightly-colored paper-hangings, and the new furniture with which she
+had decorated it; and she smiled as she thought of the sadness which had
+filled her heart the evening before she first went to Lowell.
+
+She now always thinks of Lowell with pleasure, for Lydia is married
+here, and she intends to visit her occasionally, and even sometimes
+thinks of returning for a little while to the mills. Her brother James
+has married, and resides in one half of the house, which he has recently
+repaired; and Eliza, though still in the factory, is engaged to a
+wealthy young farmer.
+
+Susan is with her mother, and younger brothers and sisters. People begin
+to think she will be an old maid, and she thinks herself that it will be
+so. The old deacon still calls her a good child, and prays every night
+and morning for the factory girls.
+
+                                                        F. G. A.
+
+
+
+
+SCENES ON THE MERRIMAC.
+
+
+I have been but a slight traveller, and the beautiful rivers of our
+country have, with but one or two exceptions, rolled their bright waves
+before "the orbs of fancy" alone, and not to my visual senses. But the
+few specimens which have been favored me of river scenery, have been
+very happy in the influence they have exerted upon my mind, in favor of
+this feature of natural loveliness.
+
+I do not wonder that the "stream of _his_ fathers" should be ever so
+favorite a theme with the poet, and that wherever he has sung its
+praise, the spot should henceforth be as classic ground. Wherever some
+"gently rolling river" has whispered its soft murmurs to the recording
+muse, its name has been linked with his; and far as that name may
+extend, is the beauty of that inspiring streamlet appreciated.
+
+Helicon and Castalia are more frequently referred to than
+Parnassus,--and even the small streams of hilly Scotland, are renowned
+wherever the songs of her poet "are said or sung." "The banks and braes
+o' bonny Doon," are duly applauded in the drawing-rooms of America; and
+the Tweed, the "clear winding Devon," the "braes of Ayr," the "braes o'
+Ballochmyle," and the "sweet Afton," so often the theme of his lays, for
+his "Mary's asleep by its murmuring stream," are names even here quite
+as familiar, perhaps more so, than our own broad and beauteous rivers.
+Such is the hallowing power of Genius; and upon whatever spot she may
+cast her bright unfading mantle, there is forever stamped the impress of
+beauty.
+
+"The Bard of Avon" is an honorary title wherever our language is read;
+and though we may have few streams which have as yet been sacred to the
+muse, yet time will doubtless bring forth those whose genius shall make
+the Indian cognomens of our noble rivers' names associated with all that
+is lofty in intellect and beautiful in poetry.
+
+The Merrimac has already received the grateful tribute of praise from
+the muse of the New England poet; and well does it merit the encomiums
+which he has bestowed upon it. It is a beautiful river, from the time
+when its blue waters start on their joyous course, leaving "the smile of
+the Great Spirit," to wind through many a vale, and round many a hill,
+till they mingle
+
+  "With ocean's dark eternal tide."
+
+I have said that I have seen but few rivers. No! never have I stood
+
+  "Where Hudson rolls his lordly flood;
+  Seen sunrise rest, and sunset fade
+  Along his frowning palisade;
+  Looked down the Appalachian peak
+  On Juniata's silver streak;
+  Or seen along his valley gleam
+  The Mohawk's softly winding stream;
+  The setting sun, his axle red
+  Quench darkly in Potomac's bed;
+  And autumn's rainbow-tinted banner
+  Hang lightly o'er the Susquehanna;"--
+
+but I still imagine that all their beauties are concentrated in the blue
+waters of the Merrimac--not as it appears here, where, almost beneath my
+factory window, its broad tide moves peacefully along; but where by
+"Salisbury's beach of shining sand," it rolls amidst far lovelier
+scenes, and with more rapid flow. Perhaps it is because it is _my_ river
+that I think it so beautiful--no matter if it is; there is a great
+source of gratification in the feeling of whatever is in any way
+connected with our _humble_ selves is on that account invested with some
+distinctive charm, and in some mysterious way rendered peculiarly
+lovely.
+
+But even to the stranger's eye, if he have any taste for the beautiful
+in nature, the charms of the banks of the Merrimac would not be
+disregarded. Can there be a more beautiful bend in a river, than that
+which it makes at Salisbury Point? It is one of the most picturesque
+scenes, at all events, which I have ever witnessed. Stand for a moment
+upon the drawbridge which spans with its single arch the spot where "the
+winding Powow" joins his sparkling waters with the broad tide of the
+receiving river. We will suppose it is a summer morning. The thin white
+mist from the Atlantic, which the night-spirit has thrown, like a bridal
+veil, over the vale and river, is gently lifted by Aurora, and the
+unshrouded waters blush "celestial rosy red" at the exposure of their
+own loveliness. But the bright flush is soon gone, and as the sun rides
+higher in the heavens, the millions of little wavelets don their diamond
+crowns, and rise, and sink, and leap, and dance rejoicingly together;
+and while their sparkling brilliancy arrests the eye, their murmurs of
+delight are no less grateful to the ear. The grove upon the Newbury side
+is already vocal with the morning anthems of the feathered choir, and
+from the maple, oak, and pine is rising one glad peal of melody. The
+slight fragrance of the kalmia, or American laurel, which flourishes
+here in much profusion, is borne upon the morning breeze; and when their
+roseate umbels are opened to the sun, they "sing to the eye," as their
+less stationary companions have done to the ear.
+
+The road which accompanies the river in its beauteous curve, is soon
+alive with the active laborers of "Salisbury shore;" and soon the loud
+"Heave-ho!" of the ship-builders is mingled with the more mellifluous
+tones which have preceded them. The other busy inhabitants are soon
+threading the winding street, and as they glance upon their bright and
+beauteous river, their breasts swell with emotions of pleasure, though
+in their constant and active bustle, they may seldom pause to analyze
+the cause. The single sail of the sloop which has lain so listless at
+the little wharf, and the double one of the schooner which is about to
+traverse its way to the ocean, are unfurled to the morning wind, and the
+loud orders of the bustling skipper, and the noisy echoes of his
+bustling men, are borne upon the dewy breeze, and echoed from the
+Newbury slopes. Soon they are riding upon the bright waters, and the
+little skiff or wherry is also seen darting about, amidst the rolling
+diamonds, while here and there a heavy laden "gundelow" moves slowly
+along, "with sure and steady aim," as though it disdained the pastime of
+its livelier neighbors.
+
+Such is many a morning scene on the banks of the Merrimac; and not less
+delightful are those of the evening. Perhaps the sunset has passed. The
+last golden tint has faded from the river, and its waveless surface
+reflects the deep blue of heaven, and sends back undimmed the first
+faint ray of the evening star. The rising tide creeps rippling up the
+narrow beach, sending along its foremost swell, which, in a sort of
+drowsy play, leaps forward, and then sinks gently back upon its
+successors. Now the tide is up--the trees upon the wooded banks of
+Newbury, and the sandy hills upon the Amesbury side, are pencilled with
+minutest accuracy in the clear waters. Farther down, the dwellings at
+the Ferry, and those of the Point, which stand upon the banks, are also
+mirrored in the deep stream. You might also fancy that beneath its lucid
+tide there was a duplicate village, so distinct is every shadow. As, one
+by one, the lights appear in the cottage windows, their reflected fires
+shoot up from the depths of the Merrimac.
+
+But the waters shine with brighter radiance as evening lengthens; for
+Luna grows more lavish of her silvery beams as the crimson tints of her
+brighter rival die in the western sky. The shore is still and
+motionless, save where a pair of happy lovers steal slowly along the
+shadowed walk which leads to Pleasant Valley. The old weather-worn ship
+at the Point, which has all day long resounded with the clatter of
+mischievous boys, is now wrapped in silence. The new one in the
+ship-yard, which has also been dinning with the maul and hammer, is
+equally quiet. But from the broad surface of the stream there comes the
+song, the shout, and the ringing laugh of the light-hearted. They come
+from the boats which dot the water, and are filled with the young and
+gay. Some have just shot from the little wharf, and others have been for
+hours upon the river. What they have been doing, and where they have
+been, I do not precisely know; but, from the boughs which have been
+broken from _somebody's_ trees, and the large clusters of laurel which
+the ladies bear, I think I can "guess-o."
+
+But it grows late. The lights which have glowed in the reflected
+buildings have one by one been quenched, and still those light barks
+remain upon the river. And that large "gundelow," which came down the
+Powow, from the mills, with its freight of "factory girls," sends forth
+"the sound of music and dancing." We will leave them--for it is possible
+that they will linger till after midnight, and we have staid quite long
+enough to obtain an evening's glimpse at the Merrimac.
+
+Such are some of the scenes on the river, and many are also the pleasant
+spots upon its banks. Beautiful walks and snug little nooks are not
+unfrequent; and there are bright green sheltered coves, like Pleasant
+Valley, where "all save the spirit of man is divine."
+
+I remember the first steamboat which ever came hissing and puffing and
+groaning and sputtering up the calm surface of the Merrimac. I remember
+also the lovely moonlight evening when I watched her return from
+Haverhill, and when every wave and rock and tree were lying bathed in a
+flood of silver radiance. I shall not soon forget her noisy approach, so
+strongly contrasted with the stillness around, nor the long loud ringing
+cheers which hailed her arrival and accompanied her departure. I noted
+every movement, as she hissed and splashed among the bright waters,
+until she reached the curve in the river, and then was lost to view,
+excepting the thick sparks which rose above the glistening foilage of
+the wooded banks.
+
+I remember also the first time I ever saw the aborigines of our country.
+They were Penobscots, and then, I believe, upon their way to this city.
+They encamped among the woods of the Newbury shore, and crossed the
+river (there about a mile in width) in their little canoes, whenever
+they wished to beg or trade.--They sadly refuted the romantic ideas
+which I had formed from the descriptions of Cooper and others;
+nevertheless, they were to me an interesting people. They appeared so
+strange, with their birch-bark canoes and wooden paddles, their women
+with men's hats and such _outré_ dresses, their little boys with their
+unfailing bows and arrows, and the little feet which they all had. Their
+curious, bright-stained baskets, too, which they sold or gave away. I
+have one of them now, but it has lost its bright tints. It was given me
+in return for a slight favor.--I remember also one dreadful stormy night
+while they were amongst us. The rain poured in torrents. The thick
+darkness was unrelieved by a single lightning-flash, and the hoarse
+murmur of the seething river was the only noise which could be
+distinguished from the pitiless storm. I thought of my new acquaintance,
+and looked out in the direction of their camp. I could see at one time
+the lights flickering among the thick trees, and darting rapidly to and
+fro behind them, and then all would be unbroken gloom. Sometimes I
+fancied I could distinguish a whoop or yell, and then I heard nought but
+the pelting of the rain. As I gazed on the wild scene, I was strongly
+reminded of scenes which are described in old border tales, of wild
+banditti, and night revels of lawless hordes of barbarians.
+
+These are summer scenes; and in winter there is nothing particularly
+beautiful in the icy robe with which the Merrimac often enrobes its
+chilled waters. But the breaking up of the ice is an event of much
+interest.
+
+As spring approaches, and the weather becomes milder, the river, which
+has been a thoroughfare for loaded teams and lighter sleighs, is
+gradually shunned, even by the daring skater. Little pools of bluish
+water, which the sun has melted, stand in slight hollows, distinctly
+contrasted with the clear dark ice in the middle of the stream, or the
+flaky snow-crust near the shore. At length a loud crack is heard, like
+the report of a cannon--then another, and another--and finally the
+loosened mass begins to move towards the ocean. The motion at first is
+almost imperceptible, but it gradually increases in velocity, as the
+impetus of the descending ice above propels it along; and soon the dark
+blue waters are seen between the huge chasms of the parting ice. By and
+bye, the avalanches come drifting down, tumbling, crashing, and whirling
+along, with the foaming waves boiling up wherever they can find a
+crevice; and trunks of trees, fragments of buildings, and ruins of
+bridges, are driven along with the tumultuous mass.--A single night will
+sometimes clear the river of the main portion of the ice, and then the
+darkly-tinted waters will roll rapidly on, as though wildly rejoicing at
+their deliverance from bondage. But for some time the white cakes, or
+rather ice-islands, will be seen floating along, though hourly
+diminishing in size, and becoming more "like angel's visits."
+
+But there is another glad scene occasionally upon the Merrimac--and that
+is, when there is a launching. I have already alluded to the
+ship-builders, and they form quite a proportion of the inhabitants of
+the shore. And now, by the way, I cannot omit a passing compliment to
+the inhabitants of this same shore. It is seldom that so correct,
+intelligent, contented, and truly comfortable a class of people is to be
+found, as in this pretty hamlet. Pretty it most certainly is--for nearly
+all the houses are neatly painted, and some of them indicate much taste
+in the owners. And then the people are so kind, good, and industrious. A
+Newburyport editor once said of them, "They are nice folks there on
+Salisbury shore; they always pay for their newspapers"--a trait of
+excellence which printers can usually appreciate.
+
+But now to the ships, whose building I have often watched with interest,
+from the day when the long keel was laid till it was launched into the
+river. This is a scene which is likewise calculated to inspire salutary
+reflections, from the comparison which is often instituted between
+ourselves and a wave-tossed bark. How often is the commencement of
+active life compared to the launching of a ship; and even the
+unimaginative Puritans could sing,
+
+  "Life's like a ship in constant motion,
+    Sometimes high and sometimes low,
+  Where every man must plough the ocean,
+    Whatsoever winds may blow."
+
+The striking analogy has been more beautifully expressed by better
+poets, though hardly with more force. And if we are like wind-tossed
+vessels on a stormy sea, then the gradual formation of our minds may be
+compared to the building of a ship. And it was this thought which often
+attracted my notice to the labors of the shipwright.
+
+First, the long keel is laid--then the huge ribs go up the sides; then
+the rail-way runs around the top. Then commences the boarding or
+timbering of the sides; and for weeks, or months, the builder's maul is
+heard, as he pounds in the huge _trunnels_ which fasten all together.
+Then there is the finishing inside, and the painting outside, and, after
+all, the launching.
+
+The first that I ever saw was a large and noble ship. It had been long
+in building, and I had watched its progress with much interest. The
+morning it was to be launched I played truant to witness the scene. It
+was a fine sunshiny day, Sept. 21, 1832; and I almost wished I was a
+boy, that I might join the throng upon the deck, who were determined
+upon a ride. The blocks which supported the ship were severally knocked
+out, until it rested upon but one. When that was gone, the ship would
+rest upon greased planks, which descended to the water. It must have
+been a thrilling moment to the man who lay upon his back, beneath the
+huge vessel, when he knocked away the last prop. But it was done, and
+swiftly it glided along the planks, then plunged into the river, with an
+impetus which sunk her almost to her deck, and carried her nearly to the
+middle of the river. Then she slowly rose, rocked back and forth, and
+finally righted herself, and stood motionless. But while the dashing
+foaming waters were still clamorously welcoming her to a new element,
+and the loud cheers from the deck were ringing up into the blue sky, the
+bottle was thrown, and she was named the WALTER SCOTT. It will be
+remembered that this was the very day on which the Great Magician
+died--a fact noticed in the Saturday Courier about that time.
+
+Several years after this, I was attending school in a neighboring town.
+I happened one evening to take up a newspaper. I think it was a
+Portsmouth paper; and I saw the statement that a fine new ship had been
+burnt at sea, called the WALTER SCOTT. The particulars were so minutely
+given, as to leave no room for doubt that it was the beautiful vessel
+which I had seen launched, upon the banks of the Merrimac.
+
+                                                         ANNETTE.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST BELLS.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+There are times when I am melancholy, when the sun seems to shine with a
+shadowy light, and the woods are filled with notes of sadness; when the
+up-springing flowers seem blossoms strewed upon a bier, and every
+streamlet chants a requiem. Have we not all our trials? And though we
+may bury the sad thoughts to which they give birth in the dark recesses
+of our own hearts, yet Memory and Sensibility must both be dead, if we
+can always be light and mirthful.
+
+Once it was not so. There was a time when I gaily viewed the dull clouds
+of a rainy day, and could hear the voice of rejoicing in the roarings of
+the wintry storm, when sorrow was an unmeaning word, and in things which
+now appear sacred my thoughtless mind could see the ludicrous.
+
+These thoughts have been suggested by the recollection of a poor old
+couple, to whom in my careless girlhood I gave the name of "the first
+bells." And now, I doubt not, you are wondering what strange association
+of ideas could have led me to fasten this appellation upon a poor old
+man and woman. My answer must be the narration of a few facts.
+
+When I was young, we all worshipped in the great meeting-house, which
+now stands so vacant and forlorn upon the brow of Church Hill. It is
+never used but upon town-meeting days--for those who once went up to the
+house of God in company, now worship in three separate buildings. There
+is discord between them--that worst of all hatred, the animosity which
+arises from difference of religious opinions. I am sorry for it; not
+that I regret that they cannot all think alike, but that they cannot
+"agree to differ." Because the heads are not in unison, it needeth not
+that the hearts should be estranged; and a difference of faith may be
+expressed in kindly words. I have my friends among them all, and they
+are not the less dear to me, because upon some doctrinal points our
+opinions cannot be the same. A creed which I do not now believe is
+hallowed by recollections of the Sabbath worship, the evening meetings,
+the religious feelings--in short, of the faith, hope, and trust of my
+earlier days.
+
+I remember now how still and beautiful our Sunday mornings used to seem,
+after the toil and play of the busy week. I would take my catechism in
+my hand, and go and sit upon a large flat stone, under the shade of the
+chestnut tree; and, looking abroad, would wonder if there was a thing
+which did not feel that it was the Sabbath. The sun was as bright and
+warm as upon other days, but its light seemed to fall more softly upon
+the fields, woods and hills; and though the birds sung as loudly and
+joyfully as ever, I thought their sweet voices united in a more sacred
+strain. I heard a Sabbath tone in the waving of the boughs above me, and
+the hum of the bees around me, and even the bleating of the lambs and
+the lowing of the kine seemed pitched upon some softer key. Thus it is
+that the heart fashions the mantle with which it is wont to enrobe all
+nature, and gives to its never silent voices a tone of joy, or sorrow,
+or holy peace.
+
+We had then no bell; and when the hour approached for the commencement
+of religious services, each nook and dale sent forth its worshippers in
+silence. But precisely half an hour before the rest of our neighbors
+started, the old man and woman, who lived upon Pine Hill, could be seen
+wending their way to the meeting-house. They walked side by side, with a
+slow even step, such as was befitting the errand which had brought them
+forth. Their appearance was always the signal for me to lay aside my
+book, and prepare to follow them to the house of God. And it was because
+they were so unvarying in their early attendance, because I was never
+disappointed in the forms which first emerged from the pine trees upon
+the hill, that I gave them the name of "the first bells."
+
+Why they went thus regularly early I know not, but think it probable
+they wished for time to rest after their long walk, and then to prepare
+their hearts to join in exercises which were evidently more valued by
+them than by most of those around them. Yet it must have been a deep
+interest which brought so large a congregation from the scattered
+houses, and many far-off dwellings of our thinly peopled country town.
+
+And every face was then familiar to me. I knew each white-headed
+patriarch who took his seat by the door of his pew, and every aged woman
+who seated herself in the low chair in the middle of it; and the
+countenances of the middle-aged and the young were rendered familiar by
+the exchange of Sabbath glances, as we met year after year in that
+humble temple.
+
+But upon none did I look with more interest than upon "the first bells."
+There they always were when I took my accustomed seat at the right hand
+of the pulpit. Their heads were always bowed in meditation till they
+arose to join in the morning prayer; and when the choir sent forth their
+strain of praise they drew nearer to each other, and looked upon the
+same book, as they silently sent forth the spirit's song to their Father
+in heaven. There was an expression of meekness, of calm and perfect
+faith, and of subdued sorrow upon the countenances of both, which won my
+reverence, and excited my curiosity to know more of them.
+
+They were poor. I knew it by the coarse and much-worn garments which
+they always wore; but I could not conjecture why they avoided the
+society and sympathy of all around them. They always waited for our
+pastor's greeting when he descended from the pulpit, and meekly bowed to
+all around, but farther than this, their intercourse with others
+extended not. It appeared to me that some heavy trial, which had knit
+their own hearts more closely together, and endeared to them their faith
+and its religious observances, had also rendered them unusually
+sensitive to the careless remarks and curious inquiries of a country
+neighborhood.
+
+One Sabbath our pastor preached upon parental love. His text was that
+affecting ejaculation of David, "O Absalom, my son, my son!" He spoke of
+the depth and fervor of that affection which in a parental heart will
+remain unchanged and unabated, through years of sin, estrangement, and
+rebellion. He spoke of that reckless insubordination which often sends
+pang after pang through the parent's breast; and of wicked deeds which
+sometimes bring their grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. I heard stifled
+sobs; and looking up, saw that the old man and woman at the right hand
+of the pulpit had buried their faces in their hands. They were trembling
+with agitation, and I saw that a fount of deep and painful remembrances
+had now been opened. They soon regained their usual calmness, but I
+thought their steps more slow, and their countenances more sorrowful
+that day, when after our morning service had closed, they went to the
+grave in the corner of the churchyard. There was no stone to mark it,
+but their feet had been wearing, for many a Sabbath noon, the little
+path which led to it.
+
+I went that night to my mother, and asked her if she could not tell me
+something about "the first bells." She chid me for the phrase by which I
+was wont to designate them, but said that her knowledge of their former
+life was very limited. Several years before, she added, a man was
+murdered in hot blood in a distant town, by a person named John L. The
+murderer was tried and hung; and not long after, this old man and woman
+came and hired the little cottage upon Pine Hill. Their names were the
+same that the murderer had borne, and their looks of sadness and
+retiring manners had led to the conclusion that they were his parents.
+No one knew, certainly, that it was so--for they shrunk from all
+inquiries, and never adverted to the past; but a gentle and sad looking
+girl, who had accompanied them to their new place of abode, had pined
+away, and died within the first year of their arrival. She was their
+daughter, and was supposed to have died of a broken heart for her
+brother who had been hung. She was buried in the corner of the
+churchyard, and every pleasant Sabbath noon her aged parents had mourned
+together over her lowly grave.
+
+"And now, my daughter," said my mother, in conclusion "respect their
+years, their sorrows, and, above all, the deep fervent piety which
+cheers and sustains them, and which has been nurtured by agonies, and
+watered by tears, such as I hope my child will never know."
+
+My mother drew me to her side, and kissed me tenderly; and I resolved
+that never again would I in a spirit of levity call Mr. and Mrs. L. "the
+first bells."
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Years passed on; and through summer's sunshine and its showers, and
+through winter's cold and frost, and storms, that old couple still went
+upon their never-failing Sabbath pilgrimage. I can see them even now, as
+they looked in days long gone by. The old man, with his loose, black,
+Quaker-like coat, and low-crowned, much-worn hat, his heavy cowhide
+boots, and coarse blue mittens; and his partner walking slowly by his
+side, wearing a scanty brown cloak with four little capes, and a close,
+black, rusty-looking bonnet. In summer the cloak was exchanged for a
+cotton shawl, and the woollen gown for one of mourning print. The
+Sabbath expression was as unchangeable as its dress. Their features were
+very different, but they had the same mild, mournful look, the same
+touching glance, whenever their eyes rested upon each other; and it was
+one which spoke of sympathy, hallowed by heartfelt piety.
+
+At length a coffin was borne upon a bier from the little house upon the
+hill; and after that the widow went alone each Sabbath noon to the two
+graves in the corner of the churchyard. I felt sad when I thought how
+lonely and sorrowful she must be now; and one pleasant day I ventured an
+unbidden guest into her lowly cot. As I approached her door, I heard her
+singing in a low, tremulous tone,
+
+  "How are thy servants blessed, O Lord."
+
+I was touched to the heart; for I could see that her blessings were
+those of a faith, hope, and joy, which the world could neither give nor
+take away.
+
+She was evidently destitute of what the world calls comforts, and I
+feared she might also want its necessaries. But her look was almost
+cheerful as she assured me that her knitting (at which I perceived she
+was quite expeditious) supplied her with all which she now wanted.
+
+I looked upon her sunburnt, wrinkled countenance, and thought it radiant
+with moral beauty. She wore no cap, and her thin grey hair was combed
+back from her furrowed brow. Her dress was a blue woollen skirt, and a
+short loose gown; and her hard shrivelled hands bore witness to much
+unfeminine labor. Yet she was contented, and even happy, and singing
+praise to God for his blessings.
+
+The next winter I thought I could perceive a faltering in her gait
+whenever she ascended Church Hill; and one Sabbath she was not in her
+accustomed seat. The next, she was also absent; and when I looked upon
+Pine Hill, I could perceive no smoke issuing from her chimney. I felt
+anxious, and requested liberty to make, what was then in our
+neighborhood an unusual occurrence, a Sabbath visit. My mother granted
+me permission to go, and remain as long as my services might be
+necessary; and at the close of the afternoon worship, I went to the
+little house upon the hill. I listened eagerly for some sound as I
+entered the cold apartment; but hearing none, I tremblingly approached
+the low hard bed. She was lying there with the same calm look of
+resignation, and whispered a few words of welcome as I took her hand.
+
+"You are sick and alone," said I to her; "tell me what I can do for
+you."
+
+"I am sick," was her reply, "but not _alone_. He who is every where, and
+at all times present, has been with me, in the day and in the night. I
+have prayed to him, and received answers of mercy, love, and peace. He
+has sent His angel to call me home, and there is nought for you to do
+but to watch the spirit's departure."
+
+I felt that it was so; yet I must do something. I kindled a fire, and
+prepared some refreshment; and after she drank a bowl of warm tea, I
+thought she looked better. She asked me for her Bible, and I brought her
+the worn volume which had been lying upon the little stand. She took
+from it a soiled and much worn letter, and after pressing it to her
+lips, endeavored to open it--but her hands were too weak, and it dropped
+upon the bed. "No matter," said she, as I offered to open it for her; "I
+know all that is in it, and in that book also. But I thought I should
+like to look once more upon them both. I have read them daily for many
+years till now; but I do not mind it--I shall go soon."
+
+She followed me with her eyes as I laid them aside, and then closing
+them, her lips moved as if in prayer. She soon after fell into a
+slumber, and I watched her every breath, fearing it might be the last.
+
+What lessons of wisdom, truth and fortitude were taught me by that
+humble bed-side! I had never before been with the dying, and I had
+always imagined a death-bed to be fraught with terror. I expected that
+there were always fearful shrieks and appalling groans, as the soul left
+its clay tenement; but my fears were now dispelled. A sweet calmness
+stole into my inmost soul, as I watched by the low couch of the
+sufferer; and I said, "If this be death, may my last end be like hers."
+
+But at length I saw that some dark dream had brought a frown upon the
+pallid brow, and an expression of woe around the parched lips. She was
+endeavoring to speak or to weep, and I was about to awaken her, when a
+sweet smile came like a flash of sunlight over her sunken face, and I
+saw that the dream of woe was exchanged for one of pleasure. Then she
+slept calmly, and I wondered if the spirit would go home in that
+peaceful slumber. But at length she awoke, and after looking upon me and
+her little room with a bewildered air, she heaved a sigh, and said
+mournfully, "I thought that I was not to come back again, but it is only
+for a little while. I have had a pleasant dream, but not at first. I
+thought once that I stood in the midst of a vast multitude, and we were
+all looking up at one who was struggling on a gallows. O, I have seen
+that sight in many a dream before, but still I could not bear it, and I
+said, 'Father, have mercy;' and then I thought that the sky rolled away
+from behind the gallows, and there was a flood of glory in the depth
+beyond; and I heard a voice saying to him who was hanging there, 'This
+day shalt thou be with me in Paradise!' And then the gallows dropped,
+and the multitude around me vanished, and the sky rolled together again;
+but before it had quite closed over that scene of beauty, I looked
+again, and _they were all there_. Yes," added she with a placid smile,
+"I know that _he_ is there with them; the _three_ are in heaven, and _I_
+shall be there soon."
+
+She ceased, and a drowsy feeling came over her. After a while she opened
+her eyes with a strange look of anxiety and terror. I went to her, but
+she could not speak, and she pressed my hand closely, as though she
+feared I would leave her. It was a momentary terror, for she knew that
+the last pangs were coming on. There was a painful struggle, and then
+came rest and peaceful confidence. "That letter," whispered she
+convulsively; and I went to the Bible, and took from it the soiled paper
+which claimed her thoughts even in death. I laid it in her trembling
+hands, which clasped it nervously, and then pressing it to her heart,
+she fell into that slumber from which there is no awakening.
+
+When I saw that she was indeed gone, I took the letter, and laid it in
+its accustomed place; and then, after straightening the limbs, and
+throwing the bed-clothes over the stiffening form, I left the house.
+
+It was a dazzling scene of winter beauty that met my eye as I went forth
+from that lowly bed of death. The rising sun threw a rosy light upon the
+crusted snow, and the earth was dressed in a robe of sparkling jewels.
+The trees were hung with glittering drops, and the frozen streams were
+dressed in lobes of brilliant beauty.
+
+I thought of her upon whose eyes a brighter morn had beamed, and of a
+scene of beauty upon which no sun should ever set, and whose
+never-fading glories shall yield a happiness which may never pass away.
+
+I went home, and told my mother what had passed; and she went, with some
+others, to prepare the body for burial. I went to look upon it once
+more, the morning of the funeral. The features had assumed a rigid
+aspect, but the placid smile was still there. The hands were crossed
+upon the breast; and as the form lay so still and calm in its snowy
+robes, I almost wished that the last change might come upon me, so that
+it would bring a peace like this, which should last for evermore.
+
+I went to the Bible, and took from it that letter. Curiosity was strong
+within me, and I opened it. It was signed "John L.," and dated from his
+prison the night before his execution. But I did not read it. O no! it
+was too sacred. It contained those words of penitence and affection over
+which her stricken heart had brooded for years. It had been the
+well-spring from which she had drunk joy and consolation, and derived
+her hopes of a reunion where there should be no more shame, nor sorrow,
+nor death.
+
+I could not destroy that letter: so I laid it beneath the clasped hands,
+over the heart to which it had been pressed when its beatings were
+forever stilled; and they buried her, too, in the corner of the
+churchyard; and that tattered paper soon mouldered to ashes upon her
+breast. * * * *
+
+We have now a bell upon our new meeting-house; and when I hear its
+Sabbath morning peal, my thoughts are subdued to a tone fitting for
+sacred worship; for my mind goes back to that old couple, whom I was
+wont to call "the first bells;" and I think of the power of religion to
+hallow and strengthen the affections, to elevate the mind, and sustain
+the drooping spirit, even in the saddest and humblest lot of life.
+
+                                                         SUSANNA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+EVENING BEFORE PAY-DAY.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"To-morrow is pay-day; are you not glad, Rosina, and Lucy? _Dorcas_ is,
+I know; for she always loves to see the money. Don't I speak truth
+_now_, Miss Dorcas Tilton?"
+
+"I wish you would stop your clack, Miss Noisy Impudence; for I never
+heard you speak anything that was worth an answer. Let me alone, for I
+have not yet been able to obtain a moment's time to read my tract."
+
+"'My tract'--how came it 'my tract,' Miss Stingy Oldmaid?--for I can
+call names as fast as you," was the reply of Elizabeth Walters. "Not
+because you bought it, or paid for it, or gave a thank'ee to those who
+did; but because you lay your clutches upon every thing you can get
+without downright stealing."
+
+"Well," replied Dorcas, "I do not think I have clutched any thing now
+which was much coveted by anyone else."
+
+"You are right, Dorcas," said Rosina Alden, lifting her mild blue eye
+for the first time towards the speakers; "the tracts left here by the
+monthly distributors are thrown about, and trampled under foot, even by
+those who most approve the sentiments which they contain. I have not
+seen anyone take them up to read but yourself."
+
+"She likes them," interrupted the vivacious Elizabeth, "because she gets
+them for nothing. They come to her as cheap as the light of the sun, or
+the dews of heaven; and thus they are rendered quite as valuable in her
+eyes."
+
+"And that very cheapness, that freedom from exertion and expense by
+which they are obtained, is, I believe, the reason why they are
+generally so little valued," added Rosina. "People are apt to think
+things worthless which come to them so easily. They believe them cheap,
+if they are offered cheap. Now I think, without saying one word against
+those tracts, that they would be more valued, more perused, and exert
+far more influence, if they were only to be obtained by payment for
+them. If they do good now, it is to the publishers only; for I do not
+think the community in general is influenced by them in the slightest
+degree. If Dorcas feels more interested in them because she procures
+them gratuitously, it is because she is an exception to the general
+rule."
+
+"I like sometimes," said Dorcas, "to see the voice of instruction, of
+warning, of encouragement, and reproof, coming to the thoughtless,
+ignorant, poor and sinful, as it did from him who said to those whom he
+sent to inculcate its truths, Freely ye have received, _freely give_.
+The gospel is an expensive luxury now, and those only who can afford to
+pay their four, or six, or more, dollars a year, can hear its truths
+from the successors of him who lifted his voice upon the lonely
+mountain, and opened his lips for council at the table of the despised
+publican, or under the humble roof of the Magdalen."
+
+"Do not speak harshly, Dorcas," was Rosina's reply; "times have indeed
+changed since the Savior went about with not a shelter for his head,
+dispensing the bread of life to all who would but reach forth their
+hands and take it; but circumstances have also changed since then. It is
+true, we must lay down our money for almost everything we have; but
+money is much more easily obtained than it was then. It is true, we
+cannot procure a year's seat in one of our most expensive churches for
+less than your present week's wages; and if you really wish for the
+benefits of regular gospel instruction, you must make for it as much of
+an exertion as was made by the woman who went on her toilsome errand to
+the deep well of Samaria, little aware that she was there to receive the
+waters of eternal life. Do not say that it was by no effort, no
+self-denial, that the gospel was received by those who followed the
+great Teacher to the lonely sea-side, or even to the desert, where,
+weary and famished, they remained day after day, beneath the heat of a
+burning sun, and were relieved from hunger but by a miracle. And who so
+poor now, or so utterly helpless, that they cannot easily obtain the
+record of those words which fell so freely upon the ears of the
+listening multitudes of Judea? If there are such, there are societies
+which will cheerfully relieve their wants, if application be made. And
+these tracts, which come to us with scarcely the trouble of stretching
+forth our hands for their reception, are doubtless meant for good."
+
+"Well, Rosina," exclaimed Elizabeth, "if you hold out a little longer, I
+think Dorcas will have no reason to complain but that she gets _her_
+preaching cheap enough; but as I, for one, am entirely willing to pay
+for mine, you may be excused for the present; and those who wish to
+hear a theological discussion, can go and listen to the very able
+expounders of the Baptist and Universalist faiths, who are just now
+holding forth in the other chamber. As Dorcas hears no preaching but
+that which comes _as cheap as the light of the sun_, she will probably
+like to go; and do not be offended with me, Rosina, if I tell you
+plainly, that you are not the one to rebuke her. What sacrifice have you
+made? How much have you spent? When have you ever given anything for the
+support of the gospel?"
+
+A tear started to Rosina's eye, and the color deepened upon her cheek.
+Her lip quivered, but she remained silent.
+
+"Well," said Lucy to Elizabeth, "all this difficulty is the effect of
+the very simple question you asked; and I will answer for one, that I am
+glad to-morrow is pay-day. Pray what shall you get that is new,
+Elizabeth?"
+
+"Oh, I shall get one of those damask silk shawls which are now so
+fashionable. How splendid it will look! Let me see; this is a five
+weeks' payment, and I have earned about two dollars per week; and so
+have you, and Rosina; and Dorcas has earned a great deal more, for she
+has extra work. Pray what new thing shall _you_ get, Dorcas?" added she,
+laughing.
+
+"She will get a new bank book, I suppose," replied Lucy. "She has
+already deposited in her own name five hundred dollars, and now she has
+got a book in the name of her little niece, and I do not know but she
+will soon procure another. She almost worships them, and Sundays she
+stays here reckoning up her interest while we are at meeting."
+
+"I think it is far better," retorted Dorcas, "to stay at home, than to
+go to meeting, as Elizabeth does, to show her fine clothes. I do not
+make a mockery of public worship to God."
+
+"There, Lizzy, you must take that, for you deserved it," said Lucy to
+her friend. "You know you _do_ spend almost all your money in dress."
+
+"Well," said Elizabeth, "I shall sow all my wild oats now, and when I am
+an old maid I will be as steady, but _not quite_ so stingy as Dorcas. I
+will get a bank book, and trot down Merrimack street as often as she
+does, and everybody will say, 'what a remarkable change in Elizabeth
+Walters! She used to spend all her wages as fast as they were paid her,
+but now she puts them in the bank. She will be quite a fortune for some
+one, and I have no doubt she will get married for what she _has_, if not
+for what she is.' But I cannot begin now, and I don't see how _you_ can,
+Rosina."
+
+"I have not begun," replied Rosina, in a low sorrowful tone.
+
+"Why yes, you have; you are as miserly now as Dorcas herself; and I
+cannot bear to think of what you may become. Now tell me if you will not
+get a new gown and bonnet, and go to meeting?"
+
+"I cannot," replied Rosina, decidedly.
+
+"Well, do, if you have any mercy on us, buy a new gown to wear in the
+Mill, for your old one is so shabby. When calico is nine-pence a yard, I
+do think it is mean to wear such an old thing as that; besides, I should
+not wonder if it should soon drop off your back."
+
+"Will it not last me one month more?" and Rosina began to mend the
+tattered dress with a very wistful countenance.
+
+"Why, I somewhat doubt it; but at all events, you must have another pair
+of shoes."
+
+"These are but just beginning to let in the water," said Rosina; "I
+think they must last me till another pay-day."
+
+"Well, if you have a fever or consumption, Dorcas may take care of you,
+for _I_ will not; but what," continued the chattering Elizabeth, "shall
+you buy that is new, Lucy?"
+
+"Oh, a pretty new, though cheap, bonnet; and I shall also pay my
+quarter's pew-rent, and a year's subscription to the 'Lowell Offering;'
+and that is all that I shall spend. You have laughed much about old
+maids; but it was an old maid who took care of me when I first came to
+Lowell, and she taught me to lay aside half of every month's wages. It
+is a rule from which I have never deviated, and thus I have quite a
+pretty sum at interest, and have never been in want of anything."
+
+"Well," said Elizabeth, "will you go out to-night with me, and we will
+look at the bonnets, and also the damask silk shawls? I wish to know the
+prices. How I wish to-day had been pay-day, and then I need not have
+gone out with an empty purse."
+
+"Well, Lizzy, _you_ know that 'to-morrow is pay-day,' do you not?"
+
+"Oh yes, and the beautiful pay-master will come in, rattling his coppers
+so nicely."
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed Lucy; "do you call our pay-master _beautiful_?"
+
+"Why, I do not know that he would look beautiful, if he was coming to
+cut my head off; but really, that money-box makes him look
+delightfully."
+
+"Well, Lizzy, it _does_ make a great difference in his appearance, I
+know; but if we are going out to-night, we must be in a hurry."
+
+"If you go by the post-office, do ask if there is a letter for me," said
+Rosina.
+
+"Oh, I hate to go near the post-office in the evening; the girls act as
+wild as so many Caribbee Indians. Sometimes I have to stand there an
+hour on the ends of my toes, stretching my neck, and sticking out my
+eyes; and when I think I have been pommeled and jostled long enough, I
+begin to 'set up on my own hook,' and I push away the heads that have
+been at the list as if they were committing it all to memory, and I send
+my elbows right and left in the most approved style, till I find myself
+'master of the field.'"
+
+"Oh, Lizzy! you know better; how can you do so?"
+
+"Why, Lucy, pray tell me what _you_ do?"
+
+"I go away, if there is a crowd; or if I feel very anxious to know
+whether there is a letter for me, the worst that I do is to try 'sliding
+and gliding.' I dodge between folks, or slip through them, till I get
+waited upon. But I know that we all act worse there than anywhere else;
+and if the post-master speaks a good word for the factory girls, I think
+it must come against his conscience, unless he has seen them somewhere
+else than in the office."
+
+"Well, well, we must hasten along," said Elizabeth; "and stingy as
+Rosina is, I suppose she will be willing to pay for a letter; so I will
+buy her one, if I can get it. Good evening, ladies," continued she,
+tying her bonnet; and she hurried after Lucy, who was already down the
+stairs, leaving Dorcas to read her tract at leisure, and Rosina to patch
+her old calico gown, with none to torment her.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+"Two letters!" exclaimed Elizabeth, as she burst into the chamber,
+holding them up, as little Goody in the storybook held up her "two
+shoes;" "two letters! one for _you_, Rosina, and the other is for _me_.
+Only look at it! It is from a cousin of mine, who has never lived out of
+sight of the Green Mountains. I do believe, notwithstanding all that is
+said about the ignorance of the factory girls, that the letters which
+_go out_ of Lowell look as well as those which _come into_ it. See here:
+up in the left hand corner, the direction commences, 'Miss;' one step
+lower is 'Elizabeth;' then down another step, 'Walters.' Another step
+brings us down to 'Lowell;' one more is the 'City;' and down in the
+right hand corner is 'Massachusetts,' at full length. Quite a regular
+stair-case, if the steps had been all of an equal width. Miss Elizabeth
+Walters, Lowell City, Massachusetts, anticipates much edification from
+the perusal thereof," said she, as she broke the seal.
+
+"Oh, I must tell you an anecdote," said Lucy. "While we were waiting
+there, I saw one girl push her face into the little aperture, and ask if
+there was a paper for her; and the clerk asked if it was a transient
+paper. 'A what?' said she. 'A transient paper,' he repeated. 'Why, I
+don't know what paper it is,' was the reply; 'sometimes our folks send
+me one, and sometimes another.'"
+
+Dorcas and Elizabeth laughed, and the latter exclaimed, "Girls, I am not
+so selfish as to be unwilling that you should share my felicity. Should
+you not like to see my letter?" and she held it up before them. "It is
+quite a contrast to our Rosina's delicate Italian penmanship, although
+she is a factory girl."
+
+    "DEAR COUSIN.--I write this to let you know that I am well, and hope
+    you are enjoying the same great blessing. Father and Mother are well
+    too. Uncle Joshua is sick of the information of the brain. We think
+    he will die, but he says that he shall live his days out. We have
+    not had a letter from you since you went to Lowell. I send this by
+    Mary Twining, an old friend of mine. She works upon the Appletown
+    Corporation. She will put this in the post-office, because we do not
+    know where you work. I hope you will go and see her. We have had a
+    nice time making maple sugar this spring. I wish you had been with
+    us. When you are married, you must come with your husband. Write to
+    me soon, and if you don't have a chance to send it by private
+    conveyance, drop it into the post-office. I shall get it, for the
+    mail-stage passes through the village twice a week.
+
+      'I want to see you morn, I think,
+      Than I can write with pen and ink;
+      But when I shall, I cannot tell--
+      At present I must wish you well.'
+
+                                      "Your loving cousin,
+                                                "JUDITH WALTERS."
+
+"Well," said Elizabeth, drawing a long breath, "I do not think my
+_loving cousin_ will ever die of the 'information of the brain;' but if
+it should get there, I do not know what might happen.--But, Rosina, from
+whom is _your_ letter?"
+
+"My mother," said Rosina; and she seated herself at the little
+light-stand, with a sheet of paper, pen, and inkstand.
+
+"Why, you do not intend to answer it to-night?"
+
+"I must commence it to-night," replied Rosina, "and finish it to-morrow
+night, and carry it to the post-office. I cannot write a whole letter in
+one evening."
+
+"Why, what is the matter?" said Dorcas.
+
+"My twin-sister is very sick," replied Rosina; and the tears she could
+no longer restrain gushing freely forth. The girls, who had before been
+in high spirits, over cousin Judy's letter, were subdued in an instant.
+Oh, how quick is the influence of sympathy for grief! Not another word
+was spoken. The letter was put away in silence, and the girls glided
+noiselessly around the room, as they prepared to retire to rest.
+
+Shall we take a peep at Rosina's letter? It may remove some false
+impressions respecting her character, and many are probably suffering
+injustice from erroneous opinions, when, if all could be known, the very
+conduct which has exposed them to censure would excite approbation. Her
+widowed mother's letter was the following:--
+
+    "MY DEAR CHILD.--Many thanks for your last letter, and many more for
+    the present it contained. It was very acceptable, for it reached me
+    when I had not a cent in the world. I fear you deprive yourself of
+    necessaries to send me so much. But all you can easily spare will be
+    gladly received. I have as much employment at tailoring as I can
+    find time to do, and sometimes I sit up all night, when I cannot
+    accomplish my self-allotted task during the day.
+
+    "I have delayed my reply to your letter, because I wished to know
+    what the doctors really thought of your sister Marcia. They
+    consulted to-day, and tell me _there is no hope_. The suspense is
+    now over, but I thought I was better prepared for the worst than I
+    am. She wished me to tell her what the doctors said. At length I
+    yielded to her importunities. 'Oh, mother,' said she, with a sweet
+    smile, 'I am so glad they have told you, for I have known it for a
+    long time. You must write to Rosina to come and see me before I
+    die.' Do as you think best, my dear, about coming. You know how glad
+    we would be to see you. But if you cannot come, do not grieve too
+    much about it.--Marcia must soon die, and you, I hope, will live
+    many years; but the existence which you commenced together here, I
+    feel assured will be continued in a happier world. The interruption
+    which will now take place will be short, in comparison with the life
+    itself which shall have no end. And yet it is hard to think that one
+    so young, so good, and lovely, is so soon to lie in the silent
+    grave. While the blue skies of heaven are daily growing more softly
+    beautiful, and the green things of earth are hourly putting forth a
+    brighter verdure, she, too, like the lovely creatures of nature, is
+    constantly acquiring some new charm, to fit her for that world which
+    she will so soon inhabit. Death is coming, with his severest
+    tortures, but she arrays her person in bright loveliness at his
+    approach, and her spirit is robed in graces which well may fit her
+    for that angel-band, which she is so soon to join.
+
+    "I am now writing by her bed-side. She is sleeping soundly now, but
+    there is a heavy dew upon the cheek, brow, and neck of the tranquil
+    sleeper. A rose--it is one of _your_ roses, Rosina--is clasped in
+    her transparent hand: and one rosy pedal has somehow dropped upon
+    her temple. It breaks the line which the blue vein has so distinctly
+    traced on the clear white brow. I will take it away, and enclose it
+    in the letter. When you see it, perhaps it will bring more vividly
+    to memory the days when you and Marcia frolicked together among the
+    wild rose bushes.--Those which you transplanted to the front of the
+    house have grown astonishingly. Marcia took care of them as long as
+    she could go out of doors; for she wished to do something to show
+    her gratitude to you. Now that she can go among them no longer, she
+    watches them through the window, and the little boys bring her
+    every morning the most beautiful blossoms. She enjoys their beauty
+    and fragrance, as she does everything which is reserved for her
+    enjoyment. There is but one thought which casts a shade upon that
+    tranquil spirit, and it is that she is such a helpless burden upon
+    us. The last time that she received a compensation for some slight
+    article which she had exerted herself to complete, she took the
+    money and sent Willy for some salt. 'Now, mother,' said she, with
+    the arch smile which so often illuminated her countenance in the
+    days of health, 'Now, mother you cannot say that I do not earn my
+    salt.'
+
+    "But I must soon close, for in a short time she will awaken, and
+    suffer for hours from her agonizing cough.--No one need tell me now
+    that a consumption makes an easy path to the grave. I watched too
+    long by your father's bed-side, and have witnessed too minutely all
+    of Marcia's sufferings to be persuaded of this.
+
+    "But she breathes less softly now, and I must hasten. I have said
+    little of the other members of the family, for I knew you would like
+    to hear particularly about her. The little boys are well--they are
+    obedient to me, and kind to their sister. Answer as soon as you
+    receive this, for Marcia's sake, unless you come and visit us.
+
+    "And now, hoping that this will find you in good health, as, by the
+    blessing of God, it leaves me, (a good though an old-fashioned
+    manner of closing a letter,) I remain as ever,
+
+                                      "Your affectionate mother."
+
+Rosina's reply was as follows:--
+
+    "DEAR MOTHER.--I have just received your long-expected letter, and
+    have seated myself to commence an answer, for I cannot go home.
+
+    "I do wish very much to see you all, especially dear Marcia, once
+    more; but it is not best. I know you think so, or you would have
+    urged my return. I think I shall feel more contented here, earning
+    comforts for my sick sister and necessaries for you, than I should
+    be there, and unable to relieve a want. 'To-morrow is pay-day,' and
+    my earnings, amounting to ten dollars, I shall enclose in this
+    letter. Do not think I am suffering for anything, for I get a long
+    very well. But I am obliged to be extremely prudent, and the girls
+    here call me miserly. Oh, mother! it is hard to be so misunderstood;
+    but I cannot tell _them_ all.
+
+    "But your kind letters are indeed a solace to me, for they assure me
+    that the mother whom I have always loved and reverenced approves of
+    my conduct. I shall feel happier to-morrow night, when I enclose
+    that bill to you, than my room-mates can be in the far different
+    disposal of theirs.
+
+    "What a blessing it is that we can send money to our friends; and
+    indeed what a blessing that we can send them a letter. Last evening
+    you was penning the lines which I have just perused, in my
+    far-distant home; and not twenty-four hours have elapsed since the
+    rose-leaf before me was resting on the brow of my sister; but it is
+    now ten o'clock, and I must bid you good night, reserving for
+    to-morrow evening the remainder of my epistle, which I shall address
+    to Marcia."
+
+It was long before Rosina slept that night; and when she did, she was
+troubled at first by fearful dreams. But at length it seemed to her that
+she was approaching the quiet home of her childhood. She did not
+remember where she had been, but had a vague impression that it was in
+some scene of anxiety, sorrow, and fatigue; and she was longing to reach
+that little cot, where it appeared so still and happy. She thought the
+sky was very clear above it, and the yellow sunshine lay softly on the
+hills and fields around it. She saw her rose-bushes blooming around it,
+like a little wilderness of blossoms; and while she was admiring their
+increased size and beauty, the door was opened, and a body arrayed in
+the snowy robes of the grave, was carried beneath the rose-bushes. They
+bent to a slight breeze which swept above them, and a shower of snowy
+petals fell upon the marble face and shrouded form. It was as if nature
+had paid this last tribute of gratitude to one who had been one of her
+truest and loveliest votaries.
+
+Rosina started forward that she might remove the fragrant covering, and
+imprint one last kiss upon the fair cold brow; but a hand was laid upon
+her, and a well-known voice repeated her name. And then she started, for
+she heard the bell ring loudly; and she opened her eyes as Dorcas again
+cried out, "Rosina, the second bell is ringing."--Elizabeth and Lucy
+were already dressed, and they exclaimed at the same moment, "Remember,
+Rosina, that _to-day is pay-day_."
+
+                                                         LUCINDA.
+
+
+
+
+THE INDIAN PLEDGE.
+
+
+On the door-steps of a cottage in the land of "steady habits," some
+ninety or an hundred years since, might, on a soft evening in June, have
+been seen a sturdy young farmer, preparing his scythes for the coming
+hay-making season. So intent was he upon his work that he heeded not the
+approach of a tall Indian, accoutred for a hunting expedition, until,
+"Will you give an unfortunate hunter some supper and lodging for the
+night?" in a tone of supplication, caught his ear.
+
+The farmer raised his eyes from his work, and darting fury from beneath
+a pair of shaggy eyebrows, he exclaimed, "Heathen, Indian dog, begone!
+you shall have nothing here."
+
+"But I am very hungry," said the Indian; "give only a crust of bread and
+a bone to strengthen me on my journey."
+
+"Get you gone, you heathen dog," said the farmer; "I have nothing for
+you."
+
+"Give me but a cup of cold water," said the Indian, "for I am very
+faint."
+
+This appeal was not more successful than the others.--Reiterated abuse,
+and to be told to drink when he came to a river, was all he could obtain
+from one who bore the name of Christian! But the supplicating appeal
+fell not unheeded on the ear of one of finer mould and more sensibility.
+The farmer's youthful bride heard the whole, as she sat hushing her
+infant to rest; and from the open casement she watched the poor Indian
+until she saw his dusky form sink, apparently exhausted, on the ground
+at no great distance from her dwelling. Ascertaining that her husband
+was too busied with his work to notice her, she was soon at the Indian's
+side, with a pitcher of milk and a napkin filled with bread and cheese.
+"Will my red brother slake his thirst with some milk?" said this angel
+of mercy; and as he essayed to comply with her invitation, she untied
+the napkin, and bade him eat and be refreshed.
+
+"Cantantowwit protect the white dove from the pounces of the eagle,"
+said the Indian; "for _her_ sake the unfledged young shall be safe in
+their nest, and her red brother will not seek to be revenged."
+
+He then drew a bunch of feathers from his bosom, and plucking one of
+the longest, gave it to her, and said, "When the white dove's mate
+flies over the Indians' hunting grounds, bid him wear this on his
+head." * * * *
+
+The summer had passed away. Harvest-time had come and gone, and
+preparations had been made for a hunting excursion by the neighbors. Our
+young farmer was to be one of the party; but on the eve of their
+departure he had strange misgivings relative to his safety. No doubt his
+imagination was haunted by the form of the Indian, whom, in the
+preceding summer he had treated so harshly.
+
+The morning that witnessed the departure of the hunters was one of
+surpassing beauty. Not a cloud was to be seen, save one that gathered on
+the brow of Ichabod (our young farmer), as he attempted to tear a
+feather from his hunting-cap, which was sewed fast to it. His wife
+arrested his hand, while she whispered in his ear, and a slight quiver
+agitated his lips as he said, "Well, Mary, if you think this feather
+will protect me from the arrows of the red-skins, I'll e'en let it
+remain." Ichabod donned his cap, shouldered his rifle, and the hunters
+were soon on their way in quest of game.
+
+The day wore away as was usual with people on a like excursion; and at
+nightfall they took shelter in the den of a bear, whose flesh served for
+supper, and whose skin spread on bruin's bed of leaves, pillowed their
+heads through a long November night.
+
+With the first dawn of morning, the hunters left their rude shelter and
+resumed their chase. Ichabod, by some mishap, soon separated from his
+companions, and in trying to join them got bewildered. He wandered all
+day in the forest, and just as the sun was receding from sight, and he
+was about sinking down in despair, he espied an Indian hut. With mingled
+emotions of hope and fear, he bent his steps towards it; and meeting an
+Indian at the door, he asked him to direct him to the nearest white
+settlement.
+
+"If the weary hunter will rest till morning, the eagle will show him the
+way to the nest of his white dove," said the Indian, as he took Ichabod
+by the hand and led him within his hut. The Indian gave him a supper of
+parched corn and venison, and spread the skins of animals, which he had
+taken in hunting, for his bed.
+
+The light had hardly began to streak the east, when the Indian awoke
+Ichabod, and after a slight repast, the twain started for the settlement
+of the whites. Late in the afternoon, as they emerged from a thick wood,
+Ichabod with joy espied his home. A heartfelt ejaculation had scarce
+escaped his lips, when the Indian stepped before him, and turning
+around, stared him full in the face, and inquired if he had any
+recollection of a previous acquaintance with his red brother. Upon being
+answered in the negative, the Indian said, "Five moons ago, when I was
+faint and weary, you called me an Indian dog, and drove me from your
+door. I might now be revenged; but Cantantowwit bids me tell you to go
+home; and hereafter, when you see a red man in need of kindness, do to
+him as you have been done by. Farewell."
+
+The Indian having said this, turned upon his heel, and was soon out of
+sight. Ichabod was abashed. He went home purified in heart, having
+learned a lesson of Christianity from an untutored savage.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST DISH OF TEA.
+
+
+Tea holds a conspicuous place in the history of our country; but it is
+no part of my business to offer comments, or to make any remarks upon
+the spirit of olden time, which prompted those patriotic defenders of
+their country's rights to destroy so much tea, to express their
+indignation at the oppression of their fellow citizens. I only intend to
+inform the readers of the "Lowell Offering" that the first dish of tea
+which was ever made in Portsmouth, N. H., was made by Abigail Van Dame,
+my great-great-grandmother.
+
+Abigail was early in life left an orphan, and the care of her tender
+years devolved upon her aunt Townsend, to whose store fate had never
+added any of the smiling blessings of Providence; and as a thing in
+course, Abigail became not only the adopted, but also the well-beloved,
+child of her uncle and aunt Townsend. They gave her every advantage for
+an education which the town of Portsmouth afforded; and at the age of
+seventeen she was acknowledged to be the most accomplished young lady in
+Portsmouth.
+
+Many were the worshippers who bowed at the shrine of beauty and learning
+at the domicile of Alphonzo Townsend; but his lovely niece was unmoved
+by their petitions, much to the perplexity of her aunt, who often
+charged Abigail with carrying an obdurate heart in her bosom. In vain
+did Mrs. Townsend urge her niece to accept the offers of a young student
+of law; and equally vain were her efforts to gain a clue to the cause of
+the refusal, until, by the return of an East India Merchantman, Mr.
+Townsend received a small package for his niece, and a letter from
+Captain Lowd, asking his consent to their union, which he wished might
+take place the following year, when he should return to Portsmouth.
+
+Abigail's package contained a Chinese silk hat, the crown of which was
+full of Bohea tea. A letter informed her that the contents of the hat
+was the ingredient, which, boiled in water, made what was called the
+"Chinese soup."
+
+Abigail, anxious to ascertain the flavor of a beverage, of which she had
+heard much, put the brass skillet over the coals, poured in two quarts
+of water, and added thereto a pint bason full of tea, and a gill of
+molasses, and let it simmer an hour. She then strained it through a
+linen cloth, and in some pewter basins set it around the supper table,
+in lieu of bean-porridge, which was the favorite supper of the epicures
+of the olden time.
+
+Uncle, aunt, and Abigail, seated themselves around the little table, and
+after crumbling some brown bread into their basins, commenced eating the
+Chinese soup. The first spoonful set their faces awry, but the second
+was past endurance; and Mrs. Townsend screamed with fright, for she
+imagined that she had tasted poison. The doctor was sent for, who
+administered a powerful emetic; and the careful aunt persuaded her niece
+to consign her hat and its contents to the vault of an outbuilding.
+
+When Capt. Lowd returned to Portsmouth, he brought with him a chest of
+tea, a China tea-set, and a copper teakettle, and instructed Abigail in
+the art of tea-making and tea drinking, to the great annoyance of her
+aunt Townsend, who could never believe that Chinese soup was half so
+good as bean-porridge.
+
+The _first dish of tea_ afforded a fund of amusement for Capt. Lowd and
+lady, and I hope the narrative will be acceptable to modern
+tea-drinkers.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+
+
+
+LEISURE HOURS OF THE MILL GIRLS.
+
+
+The leisure hours of the mill girls--how shall they be spent? As Ann,
+Bertha, Charlotte, Emily, and others, spent theirs? as we spend ours?
+Let us decide.
+
+No. 4 was to stop a day for repairs. Ann sat at her window until she
+tired of watching passers-by. She then started up in search of one idle
+as herself, for a companion in a saunter. She called at the chamber
+opposite her own. The room was sadly disordered. The bed was not made,
+although it was past nine o'clock. In making choice of dresses, collars,
+aprons, _pro tempore_, some half dozen of each had been taken from their
+places, and there they were, lying about on chairs, trunks, and bed,
+together with mill clothes just taken off. Bertha had not combed her
+hair; but Charlotte gave hers a hasty dressing before "going out
+shopping;" and there lay brush, combs, and hair on the table. There were
+a few pictures hanging about the walls, such as "You are the prettiest
+Rose," "The Kiss," "Man Friday," and a miserable, soiled drawing of a
+"Cottage Girl." Bertha blushed when Ann entered. She was evidently
+ashamed of the state of her room, and vexed at Ann's intrusion. Ann
+understood the reason when Bertha told her, with a sigh, that she had
+been "hurrying all the morning to get through the 'Children of the
+Abbey,' before Charlotte returned."
+
+"Ann, I wish you would talk to her," said she. "Her folks are very poor.
+I have it on the best authority. Elinda told me that it was confidently
+reported by girls who came from the same town, that her folks had been
+known to jump for joy at the sight of a crust of bread. She spends every
+cent of her wages for dress and confectionary. She has gone out now; and
+she will come back with lemons, sugar, rich cake, and so on. She had
+better do as I do--spend her money for books, and her leisure time in
+reading them. I buy three volumes of novels every month; and when that
+is not enough, I take some from the circulating library. I think it our
+duty to improve our minds as much as possible, now the mill girls are
+beginning to be thought so much of."
+
+Ann was a bit of a wag. Idle as a breeze, like a breeze she sported with
+every _trifling_ thing that came in her way.
+
+"Pshaw!" said she. "And so we must begin to read silly novels, be very
+sentimental, talk about tears and flowers, dews and bowers. There is
+some poetry for you, Bertha. Don't you think I'd better 'astonish the
+natives,' by writing a poetical rhapsody, nicknamed 'Twilight Reverie,'
+or some other silly, inappropriate thing, and sending it to the
+'Offering?' Oh, how fine this would be! Then I could purchase a few
+novels, borrow a few more, take a few more from a circulating library;
+and then shed tears and grow soft over them--all because we are taking a
+higher stand in the world, you know, Bertha."
+
+Bertha again blushed. Ann remained some moments silent.
+
+"Did you ever read Pelham?" asked Bertha, by way of breaking the
+silence.
+
+"No; I read no novels, good, bad, or indifferent. I have been thinking,
+Bertha, that there may be danger of our running away from the reputation
+we enjoy, as a class. For my part, I sha'n't ape the follies of other
+classes of females. As Isabel Greenwood says--and you know she is always
+right about such things--I think we shall lose our independence,
+originality, and individuality of character, if we all take one standard
+of excellence, and this the customs and opinions of others. This is a
+jaw-cracking sentence for me. If any body had uttered it but Isabel, I
+should, perhaps, have laughed at it. As it was, I treasured it up for
+use, as I do the wise sayings of Franklin, Dudley, Leavitt, and Robert
+Thomas. I, for one, shall not attempt to become so accomplished. I shall
+do as near right as I can conveniently, not because I have a heavy
+burden of gentility to support, but because it is quite as easy to do
+right,
+
+  'And then I sleep so sweet at night.'
+
+"Good morning, Bertha."
+
+At the door she met Charlotte, on her return, with lemons, nuts, and
+cake.
+
+"I am in search of a companion for a long ramble," said Ann. "Can you
+recommend a _subject_?"
+
+"I should think Bertha would like to shake herself," said Charlotte.
+"She has been buried in a novel ever since she was out of bed this
+morning. It was her turn to do the chamber work this morning; and this
+is the way she always does, if she can get a novel. She would not mind
+sitting all day, with dirt to her head. It is a shame for her to do so.
+She had better be wide awake, enjoying life, as I am."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ann, in her usual _brusque_ manner. "There is not
+a cent's choice between you this morning; both are doing wrong, and each
+is condemning the other without mercy. So far you are both just like me,
+you see. Good morning."
+
+She walked on to the next chamber. She had enough of the philosopher
+about her to reason from appearances, and from the occupation of its
+inmates, that she could succeed no better there. Every thing was in the
+most perfect order. The bed was shaped, and the sheet hemmed down _just
+so_. Their lines that hung by the walls were filled "jist." First came
+starched aprons, then starched capes, then pocket handkerchiefs, folded
+with the marked corner out. Then hose. This room likewise, had its
+paintings, and like those of the other, they were in perfect keeping
+with the general arrangements of the room and the dress of its
+occupants. There was an apology for a lady. Her attitude and form were
+of precisely that uncouth kind which is produced by youthful artificers,
+who form head, body and feet from one piece of shingle; and wedge in two
+sticks at right angles with the body, for arms. Her sleeves increased in
+dimensions from the shoulders, and the skirt from the belt, but without
+the semblance of a fold. This, with some others of the same school, and
+two "profiles," were carefully preserved in frames, and the frames in
+screens of green barage. Miss Clark was busily engaged in making
+netting, and Miss Emily in making a dress. Ann made known her wants to
+them, more from curiosity to hear their reply, than from a hope of
+success. In measured periods they thanked her--would have been happy to
+accompany her. "But, really, I must be excused," said Miss Clark. "I
+have given myself a stint, and I always feel bad if I fall an inch short
+of my plans."
+
+"Yes; don't you think, Ann," said Emily, "she has stinted herself to
+make five yards of netting to-day. And mother says there is ten times as
+much in the house as we shall ever need. Father says there is twenty
+times as much; for he knows we shall both be old maids, ha! ha!"
+
+"Yes, and I always tell him that if I am an old maid I shall need the
+more. Our folks make twenty or thirty yards of table linen every year. I
+mean to make fringe for every yard; and have enough laid by for the next
+ten years, before I leave the mill."
+
+"Well, Emily," said Ann, "you have no fringe to make, can't you
+accompany me?"
+
+"I should be glad to, Ann; but I am over head and ears in work. I have
+got my work all done up, every thing that I could find to do. Now I am
+making a dress for Bertha."
+
+"Why, Emily, you are making a slave of yourself, body and mind," said
+Ann. "Can't you earn enough in the mill to afford yourself a little time
+for rest and amusement?"
+
+"La! I don't make but twelve dollars a month, besides my board. I have
+made a great many dresses evenings, and have stinted myself to finish
+this to-day. So I believe I can't go, any way. I should be terrible glad
+to."
+
+"Oh, you are very excusable," answered Ann. "But let me ask if you take
+any time to read."
+
+"No; not much. We can't afford to. Father owns the best farm in Burt;
+but we have always had to work hard, and always expect to. We generally
+read a chapter every day. We take turns about it. One of us reads while
+the other works."
+
+"Yes; but lately we have only taken time to read a short psalm," said
+Emily, again laughing.
+
+"Well, the Bible says, 'Let him that is without sin cast the first
+stone,' or I might be tempted to remind you that there is such a thing
+as laboring too much 'for the meat that perisheth.' Good morning,
+ladies."
+
+Ann heard a loud, merry laugh from the next room, as she reached the
+door. It was Ellinora Frothingham's; no one could mistake, who had heard
+it once. It seemed the out-pouring of glee that could no longer be
+suppressed. Ellinor sat on the floor, just as she had thrown herself on
+her return from a walk. Her pretty little bonnet was lying on the floor
+on one side, and on the other a travelling bag, whose contents she had
+just poured into her lap. There were apples, pears, melons, a
+mock-orange, a pumpkin, squash, and a crooked cucumber. Ellinora sprang
+to her feet when Ann entered, and threw the contents of her lap on the
+floor with such violence, as to set them to rolling all about. Then she
+laughed and clapped her hands to see the squash chase the mock-orange
+under the bed, a great russet running so furiously after a little fellow
+of the Baldwin family, and finally pinning him in a corner. A pear
+started in the chase; but after taking a few turns, he sat himself down
+to shake his fat sides and enjoy the scene. Ellinora stepped back a few
+paces to elude the pursuit of the pumpkin, and then, with well-feigned
+terror, jumped into a chair. But the drollest personage of the group was
+the ugly cucumber. There he sat, Forminius-like, watching the mad freaks
+of his companions.
+
+"Ha! see that cucumber?" exclaimed Ellinora, laughing heartily. "If he
+had hands, how he would raise them so! If he had eyes and mouth, how he
+would open them so!" suiting action to her words. "Look, Ann! look,
+Fanny! See if it does not look like the Clark girls, when one leaves any
+thing in the shape of dirt on their table or stand!"
+
+Peace was at length restored among the _inanimates_.
+
+"I came to invite you to walk; but I find I am too late," said Ann.
+
+"Yes. Oh, how I wish you had been with us! You would have been so
+happy!" said Ellinora. "We started out very early--before
+sunrise--intending to take a brisk walk of a mile or two, and return in
+season for breakfast. We went over to Dracut, and met such adventures
+there and by the way, as will supply me with food for laughter years
+after I get married, and trouble comes. We came along where some oxen
+were standing, yoked, eating their breakfast while their owner was
+eating his. They were attached to a cart filled with pumpkins. I took
+some of the smallest, greenest ones, and stuck them fast on the tips of
+the oxen's horns. I was so interested in observing how the ceremony
+affected the Messrs. Oxen, that I did not laugh a bit until I had
+crowned all four of them. I looked up to Fanny, as I finished the work,
+and there she sat on a great rock, where she had thrown herself when she
+could no longer stand. Poor girl! tears were streaming down her cheeks.
+With one hand she was holding her lame side, and with the other filling
+her mouth with her pocket handkerchief, that the laugh need not run out,
+I suppose. Well, as soon as I looked at her, and at the oxen, I burst
+into a laugh that might have been heard miles, I fancy. Oh! I shall
+never forget how reprovingly those oxen looked at me. The poor
+creatures could not eat with such an unusual weight on their horns, so
+they pitched their heads higher than usual, and now and then gave them a
+graceful cant, then stood entirely motionless, as if attempting to
+conjecture what it all meant.
+
+"Well, that loud and long laugh of mine, brought a whole volley of folks
+to the door--farmer, and farmer's wife, farmer's sons, and farmer's
+daughters. 'Whoa hish!' exclaimed the farmer, before he reached the
+door; and 'Whoa hish!' echoed all the farmer's sons. They all stopped as
+soon as they saw me. I would remind you that I still stood before the
+oxen, laughing at them. I never saw such comical expressions as those
+people wore. Did you, Fanny? Even those pictures of mine are not so
+funny. I thought we should raise the city police; for they had
+tremendous voices, and I never saw any body laugh so.
+
+"As soon as I could speak, and they could listen to me, I walked up to
+the farmer. 'I beg your pardon sir,' said I, 'but I did want to laugh
+so! Came all the way from Lowell for something new to laugh at.' He was
+a good, sensible man, and this proves it. He said it was a good thing to
+have a hearty laugh occasionally--good for the health and spirits. Work
+would go off easier all day for it, especially with the boys. As he said
+'boys,' I could not avoid smiling as I looked at a fine young sprig of a
+farmer, his oldest son, as he afterwards told us, full twenty-one."
+
+"And now, Miss Ellinora," said Fanny, "I shall avenge myself on you, for
+certain saucy freaks, perpetrated against my most august commands, by
+telling Ann, that as you looked at this 'young sprig of a farmer,' he
+looked at you, and you both blushed. What made you, Nora? I never saw
+you blush before."
+
+"What made you, Nora?" echoed Ellinora, laughing and blushing slightly.
+"Well, the farmer's wife invited us to rest and breakfast with them. We
+began to make excuses; but the farmer added his good natured commands,
+so we went in; and after a few arrangements, such as placing more
+plates, &c., a huge pumpkin pie, and some hot potatoes, pealed in the
+cooking, we sat down to a full round table. There were the mealy
+potatoes, cold boiled dish, warm biscuit and dough-nuts, pie, coffee,
+pickles, sauce, cheese, and just such butter and brown bread as mother
+makes--bread hot, just taken from the oven. They all appeared so
+pleasant and kind, that I felt as if in my own home, with my own family
+around me. Wild as I was, as soon as I began to tell them how it seemed
+to me, I burst into tears in spite of myself, and was obliged to leave
+the table. But they all pitied me so much, that I brushed off my tears,
+went back to my breakfast, and have laughed ever since."
+
+"You have forgotten two very important items," said Fanny, looking
+archly into Ellinora's face. "This 'fine young sprig of a farmer'
+happened to recollect that he had business in town to-day; so he took
+their carriage and brought us home, after Nora and a roguish sister of
+his had filled her bag as you see. And more and better still, they
+invited us to spend a day with them soon; and promised to send this
+'fine young sprig,' &c., for us on the occasion."
+
+Ellinora was too busily engaged in collecting her fruit to reply. She
+ran from the room; and in a few moments returned with several young
+girls, to whom she gave generous supplies of apples, pears, and melons.
+She was about seating herself with a full plate, when a new idea seemed
+to flash upon her. She laughed, and started for the door.
+
+"Ellinora, where now?" asked Fanny.
+
+"To the Clark girls' room, to leave an apple peeling and core on their
+table, a pear pealing on their stand, and melon, apple, and pear seeds
+all about the floor," answered Ellinora, gaily snapping her fingers, and
+nodding her head.
+
+"What for? Here, Nora; come back. For what?"
+
+"Why, to see them suffer," said the incorrigible girl. "You know I told
+you this morning, that sport is to be the order of the day. So no
+scoldings, my dear."
+
+She left the room, and Fanny turned to one of the ladies who had just
+entered.
+
+"Where is Alice," said she. "Did not Ellinora extend an invitation to
+her?"
+
+"Yes; but she is half dead with the _blues_, to-day. The Brown girls
+came back last night. They called on Alice this morning, and left
+letters and presents from home for her. She had a letter from her little
+brother, ten years old. He must be a fine fellow, judging from that
+letter, it was so sensible, and so witty too! One moment I laughed at
+some of his lively expressions, and the next cried at his expressions of
+love for Alice, and regret for her loss. He told her how he cried
+himself to sleep the night after she left home; and his flowers seemed
+to have faded, and the stars to have lost their brightness, when he no
+longer had her by his side to talk to him about them. I find by his
+letter that Alice is working to keep him at school. That part of it
+which contained his thanks for her goodness was blistered with the
+little fellow's tears. Alice cried like a child when she read it, and I
+did not wonder at it. But she ought to be happy now. Her mother sent her
+a fine pair of worsted hose of her own spinning and knitting, and a nice
+cake of her own making. She wrote, that, trifling as these presents
+were, she knew they would be acceptable to her daughter, because made by
+her. When Alice read this, she cried again. Her sister sent her a pretty
+little fancy basket, and her brother a bunch of flowers from her
+mother's garden. They were enclosed in a tight tin box, and were as
+fresh as when first gathered. Alice sent out for a new vase. She has
+filled it with her flowers, and will keep them watered with her tears,
+judging from present appearances. Alice is a good-hearted girl, and I
+love her, but she is always talking or thinking of something to make her
+unhappy. A letter from a friend, containing nothing but good news, and
+assurances of friendship, that ought to make her happy, generally throws
+her into a crying fit, which ends in a moping fit of melancholy. This
+destroys her own happiness, and that of all around her.'"
+
+"You ought to talk to her, she is spoiling herself," said Mary Mason,
+whose mouth was literally crammed with the last apple of a second
+plateful.
+
+"I have often urged her to be more cheerful. But she answers me with a
+helpless, hopeless, 'I can't Jane! you know I can't. I shall never be
+happy while I live; and I often think that the sooner I go where "the
+weary are at rest," the better.' I don't know how many times she has
+given me an answer like this. Then she will sob as if her heart were
+bursting. She sometimes wears me quite out; and I feel as I did when
+Ellinora called me, as if released from a prison."
+
+"Would it improve her spirits to walk with me?" asked Ann.
+
+"Perhaps it would, if you can persuade her to go. Do try, dear Ann,"
+answered Jane. "I called at Isabel Greenwood's room as I came along, and
+asked her to go in and see if she could rouse her up."
+
+Ann heard Isabel's voice in gentle but earnest expostulation, as she
+reached Alice's room. Isabel paused when Ann entered, kissed her cheek,
+and resigned her rocking-chair to her. Alice was sobbing too violently
+to speak. She took her face from her handkerchief, bowed to Ann, and
+again buried it. Ann invited them to walk with her. Isabel cheerfully
+acceded to her proposal, and urged Alice to accompany them.
+
+"Don't urge me, Isabel," said Alice; "I am only fit for the solitude of
+my chamber. I could not add at all to your pleasure. My thoughts would
+be at my home, and I could not enjoy a walk in the least degree. But
+Isabel, I do not want you to leave me so. I know that you think me very
+foolish to indulge in these useless regrets, as you call them. You will
+understand me better if you just consider the situation of my mother's
+family. My mother a widow, my oldest brother at the West, my oldest
+sister settled in New York, my youngest brother and sister only with
+mother, and I a Lowell factory girl! And such I must be--for if I leave
+the mill, my brother cannot attend school all of the time; and his heart
+would almost break to take him from school. And how can I be happy in
+such a situation; I do not ask for riches; but I would be able to gather
+my friends all around me. Then I could be happy. Perhaps I am as happy
+now as you would be in my situation, Isabel."
+
+Isabel's eyes filled, but she answered in her own sweet, calm manner:
+
+"We will compare lots, my dear Alice. I have neither father, mother,
+sister, nor home in the world. Three years ago I had all of these, and
+every other blessing that one could ask. The death of my friends, the
+distressing circumstances attending them, the subsequent loss of our
+large property, and the critical state of my brother's health at
+present, are not slight afflictions, nor are they lightly felt."
+
+Isabel's emotions, as she paused to subdue them by a powerful mental
+effort, proved her assertion. Alice began to dry her tears, and to look
+as if ashamed of her weakness.
+
+"I, too, am a Lowell factory girl," pursued Isabel. "I, too, am laboring
+for the completion of a brother's education. If that brother were well,
+how gladly would I toil! But that disease is upon his vitals which laid
+father, mother, and sister in their graves, in one short year. I can see
+it in the unnatural and increasing brightness of his eye, and hear it in
+his hollow cough. He has entered upon his third collegiate year; and is
+too anxious to graduate next commencement, to heed my entreaties, or the
+warning of his physician."
+
+She again paused. Her whole frame shook with emotion; but not a tear
+mingled with Ann's, as they fell upon her hand.
+
+"You see, Alice," she at length added, "what reasons I have for regret
+when I think of the past, and what for fear when I turn to the future.
+Still I am happy, almost continually. My lost friends are so many
+magnets, drawing heavenward those affections that would otherwise rivet
+themselves too strongly to earthly loves. And those dear ones who are
+yet spared to me, scatter so many flowers in my pathway, that I seldom
+feel the thorns. I am cheered in my darkest hours by their kindness and
+affection, animated at all times by a wish to do all in my power to make
+them happy. If my brother is spared to me, I ask for nothing more. And
+if he is first called, I trust I shall feel that it is the will of One
+who is too wise to err, and too good to be unkind."
+
+"You are the most like my mother, Isabel, of any one I ever saw," said
+Ann. "She is never free from pain, yet she never complains. And if Pa,
+or any of us, just have a cold or head ache, she does not rest till 'she
+makes us well.' You have more trouble than any other girl in the house;
+but instead of claiming the sympathies of every one on that account, you
+are always cheering others in their little, half-imaginary trials.
+Alice, I think you and I ought to be ashamed to shed a tear, until we
+have some greater cause than mere home-sickness, or low spirits."
+
+"Why, Ann, I can no more avoid low spirits, than I can make a world!"
+exclaimed Alice, in a really aggrieved tone. "And I don't want you all
+to think that I have no trouble. I want sympathy, and I can't live
+without it. Oh that I was at home this moment!"
+
+"Why, Alice, there is hardly a girl in this house who has not as much
+trouble, in some shape, as you have. You never think of pitying them;
+and pray what gives you such strong claims on their sympathies? Do you
+walk with us, or do you not?"
+
+Alice shook her head in reply. Isabel whispered a few words in her
+ear--they might be of reproof, they might be of consolation--then
+retired with Ann to equip for their walk.
+
+"What a beautiful morning this is!" exclaimed Ann, as they emerged from
+the house. "_Malgre_ some inconveniences, factory girls are as happy as
+any class of females. I sometimes think it hard to rise so early, and
+work so many hours shut up in the house. But when I get out at night, on
+the Sabbath, or at any other time, I am just as happy as a bird, and
+long to fly and sing with them. And Alice will keep herself shut up all
+day. Is it not strange that all will not be as happy as they can be? It
+is so pleasant."
+
+Isabel returned Ann's smile. "Yes, Ann, it is strange that every one
+does not prefer happiness. Indeed, it is quite probable that every one
+does prefer it. But some mistake the modes of acquiring it through want
+of judgment. Others are too indolent to employ the means necessary to
+its attainment, and appear to expect it to flow in to them, without
+taking any pains to prepare a channel. Others, like our friend Alice,
+have constitutional infirmities, which entail upon them a deal of
+suffering, that to us, of different mental organization, appears wholly
+unnecessary."
+
+"Why, don't you think Alice might be as happy as we are, if she chose?
+Could she not be as grateful for letters and love-tokens from home?
+Could she not leave her room, and come out into this pure air, listen to
+the birds, and catch their spirit? Could she not do all this, Isabel, as
+well as we?"
+
+"Well, I do not know, Ann. Perhaps not. You know that the minds of
+different persons are like instruments of different tones. The same
+touch thrills gaily on one, mournfully on another."
+
+"Yes; and I know, Isabel, that different minds may be compared to the
+same instrument _in_ and _out_ of tune. Now I have heard Alice say that
+she loved to indulge this melancholy; that she loved to read Byron, Mrs.
+Hemans, and Miss Landon, until her heart was as gloomy as the grave.
+Isn't this strange--even silly?"
+
+"It is most unfortunate, Ann."
+
+"Isabel, you are the strangest girl! I have heard a great many say, that
+one cannot make you say anything against anybody; and I believe they are
+correct. And when you reprove one, you do it in such a mild, pretty way,
+that one only loves you the better for it. Now, I smash on, pell-mell,
+as if unconscious of a fault in myself. Hence, I oftener offend than
+amend. Let me think.--This morning I have administered reproof in my own
+blunt way to Bertha for reading novels, to Charlotte for eating
+confectionary, to the Clark girls for their 'all work and no play,' and
+to Alice for moping. I have been wondering all along how they can spend
+their time so foolishly. I see that my own employment would scarcely
+bear the test of close criticism, for I have been watching motes in
+others' eyes, while a beam was in my own. Now, Isabel, I must ask a
+favor. I do not want to be very fine and nice; but I would be gentle and
+kind hearted--would do some good in the world. I often make attempts to
+this end; but always fail, somehow. I know my manner needs correcting;
+and I want you to reprove me as you would a sister, and assist me with
+your advice. Will you not, dear Isabel?"
+
+She pressed Isabel's arm closer to her side, and a tear was in her eye
+as she looked up for an answer to her appeal.
+
+"You know not what you ask, my beloved girl," answered Isabel, in a low
+and tremulous tone. "You know not the weakness of the staff on which you
+would lean, or the frailties of the heart to which you would look up,
+for aid. Of myself, dear Ann, I can do nothing. I can only look to God
+for protection from temptation, and for guidance in the right way. When
+He keeps me, I am safe; when He withdraws His spirit, I am weak indeed.
+And can I lead you, Ann? No! you must go to a higher than earthly
+friend. Pray to Him in every hour of need, and He will be 'more to you
+than you can ask, or even think.'"
+
+"How often I have wished that I could go to Him as mother does--just as
+I would go to a father!" said Ann. "But I dare not. It would be mockery
+in one who has never experienced religion."
+
+"Make prayer a _means_ of this experience, my dear girl. Draw near to
+God by humble, constant prayer, and He will draw near to you by the
+influences of His spirit, which will make you just what you wish to be,
+a good, kind-hearted girl. You will learn to love God as a father, as
+the author of your happiness and every good thing. And you will be
+prepared to meet those trials which must be yours in life as the
+'chastisements of a Father's hand, directed by a Father's love.' And
+when the hour of death comes, dear Ann, how sweet, how soothing will be
+the deep-felt conviction that you are going _home_! You will have no
+fears, for your trust will be in One whom you have long loved and
+served; and you will feel as if about to meet your best, and most
+familiar friend."
+
+Ann answered only by her tears; and for some minutes they walked on in
+silence. They were now some distance from town. Before them lay farms,
+farm-houses, groves and scattering trees, from whose branches came the
+mingled song of a thousand birds. Isabel directed Ann's attention to the
+beauty of the scene. Ann loved nature; but she had such a dread of
+sentimentalism that she seldom expressed herself freely. Now she had no
+reserves, and Isabel found that she had not mistaken her capacities, in
+supposing her possessed of faculties, which had only to develop
+themselves more fully, which had only to become constant incentives to
+action, to make her all she could wish.
+
+"You did not promise, Isabel," said Ann, with a happy smile, as they
+entered their street, "you did not promise to be my sister; but you
+will, will you not?"
+
+"Yes, dear Ann; we will be sisters to each other. I think you told me
+that you have no sister."
+
+"I had none until now; and I have felt as if part of my affections could
+not find a resting place, but were weighing down my heart with a burden
+that did not belong to it. I shall no longer be like a branch of our
+woodbine when it cannot find a clinging place, swinging about at the
+mercy of every breeze; but like that when some kind hand twines it about
+its frame, firm and trusting. See, Isabel!" exclaimed she, interrupting
+herself, "there sits poor Alice, just as we left her. I wish she had
+walked with us--she would have felt so much better. Do you think,
+Isabel, that religion would make her happy?"
+
+"Most certainly. 'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden.
+Take my yoke upon you; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye _shall_
+find rest for your souls,'--is as 'faithful a saying' and as 'worthy of
+all acceptation' now, as when it was uttered, and when thousands came
+and 'were healed of _all_ manner of diseases.' Yes, Alice may yet be
+happy," she added musingly, "if she can be induced to read Byron less,
+and her Bible more; to think less of her own gratification, and more of
+that of others. And we will be very gentle to her, Ann; but not the less
+faithful and constant in our efforts to win her to usefulness and
+happiness."
+
+Ellinora met them at the door, and began to describe a frolic that had
+occupied her during their absence. She threw her arms around Isabel's
+waist, and entered the sitting-room with her. "Now, Isabel, I know you
+don't think it right to be so giddy," said she. "I will tell you what I
+have resolved to do. You shake your head, Isabel, and I do not wonder at
+all. But this resolution was formed this morning, on my way back from
+Dracut; and I feel in my 'heart of hearts' 'a sober certainty of waking'
+energy to keep it unbroken. It is that I will be another sort of a girl,
+altogether, henceforth; steady, but not gloomy; less talkative, but not
+reserved; more studious, but not a bookworm; kind and gentle to others,
+but not a whit the less independent, 'for a' that,' in my opinions and
+conduct.--And, after this day, which I have dedicated to Momus, I want
+you to be my Mentor. Now I am for another spree of some sort. Nay,
+Isabel, do not remonstrate. You will make me weep with five tender
+words."
+
+It needed not so much--for Isabel smiled sadly, kissed her cheek, and
+Ellinora's tears fell fast and thick as she ran from the room.
+
+Ann went immediately to Alice's room on her return.--She apologized to
+her for reproving her so roughly, described her walk, gave a synopsis of
+Isabel's advice, and her consequent determinations. By these means she
+diverted Alice's thoughts from herself, gave her nerves a healthy
+spring, and when the bell summoned them to dinner, she had recovered
+much of her happier humor. Ellinora sat beside her at table. She
+laughingly proposed an exchange, offering a portion of her levity for as
+much of her gravity. She thought the _equilibrium_ would be more
+perfect. So Alice thought, and she heartily wished that the exchange
+might be made.
+
+And this exchange seems actually taking place at this time. They are as
+intimate as sisters. Together they are resolutely struggling against the
+tide of habit. They meet many discouraging failures; but Isabel is ever
+ready to cheer them by her sympathy, and to assist them by her advice.
+
+Ann's faults were not so deeply rooted; perhaps she brought more natural
+energy to their extermination. Be that as it may, she is now an
+excellent lady, a fit companion for the peerless Isabel.
+
+The Clark girls do not, as yet, coalesce in their system of
+improvement. They still prefer making netting and dresses, to the
+lecture-room, the improvement circle, and even to the reading of the
+"Book of books." So difficult is it to turn from the worship of Plutus!
+
+The delusion of Bertha and Charlotte is partially broken. Bertha is
+beginning to understand that much reading does not naturally result in
+intellectual or moral improvement, unless it be well regulated.
+Charlotte is learning that "to enjoy is to obey;" and that to pamper her
+own animal appetites, while her father and mother are suffering for want
+of the necessaries of life, is not in obedience to Divine command.
+
+And, dear sisters, how is it with each one of _us_? How do we spend our
+leisure hours? Now, "in the stilly hour of night," let us pause, and
+give our consciences time to render faithful answers.
+
+                                                               D.
+
+
+
+
+THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON.
+
+
+    "He sleeps there in the midst of the very simplicities of Nature."
+
+  There let him sleep, in Nature's arms,
+    Her well-beloved, her chosen child--
+  There 'mid the living, quiet charms
+    Of that sequestered wild.
+    He would have chosen such a spot,
+  'Twas fit that they should lay him there,
+  Away from all the haunts of care;
+    The world disturbs him not.--
+  He sleeps full sweet in his retreat--
+    The place is consecrated ground,
+  It is not meet unhallowed feet
+    Should tread that sacred mound.
+
+  He lies in pomp--not of display--
+    No useless trappings grace his bier,
+  Nor idle words--they may not say
+    What treasures cluster here.
+    The pomp of nature, wild and free,
+  Adorns our hero's lowly bed,
+  And gently bends above his head
+    The weeping laurel tree.
+  In glory's day he shunned display,
+    And ye may not bedeck him now,
+  But Nature may, in her own way,
+    Hang garlands round his brow.
+
+  He lies in pomp--not sculptured stone,
+    Nor chiseled marble--vain pretence--
+  The glory of his deeds alone
+    Is his magnificence.
+    His country's love the meed he won,
+  He bore it with him down to death,
+  Unsullied e'en by slander's breath--
+    His country's sire and son.
+  Her hopes and fears, her smiles and tears,
+    Were each his own.--He gave his land
+  His earliest cares, his choicest years,
+    And led her conquering band.
+
+  He lies in pomp--not pomp of war--
+    He fought, but fought not for renown;
+  He triumphed, yet the victor's star
+    Adorned no regal crown.
+    His honor was his country's weal;
+  From off her neck the yoke he tore--
+  It was enough, he asked no more;
+    His generous heart could feel
+  No low desire for king's attire;--
+    With brother, friend, and country blest,
+  He could aspire to honors higher
+    Than kingly crown or crest.
+
+  He lies in pomp--his burial place
+    Than sculptured stone is richer far;
+  For in the heart's deep love we trace
+    His name, a golden star.
+    Wherever patriotism breathes,
+  His memory is devoutly shrined
+  In every pure and gifted mind:
+    And history, with wreaths
+  Of deathless fame, entwines that name,
+    Which evermore, beneath all skies,
+  Like vestal flame, shall live the same,
+    For virtue never dies.
+
+  There let him rest--'t is a sweet spot;
+    Simplicity becomes the great--But
+  Vernon's son is not forgot,
+    Though sleeping not in state.
+    There, wrapt in his own dignity,
+  His presence makes it hallowed ground,
+  And Nature throws her charms around,
+    And o'er him smiles the sky.
+  There let him rest--the noblest, best;
+    The labors of his life all done--
+  There let him rest, the spot is blessed--
+    The grave of WASHINGTON.
+
+                                                        ADELAIDE.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE AMONG FARMERS.
+
+
+There is much complaint among farmers' wives and daughters, of want of
+time for rest, recreation, and literary pursuits. "It is cook, eat, and
+scrub--cook, eat, and scrub, from morning till night, and from year to
+year," says many a farmer's wife. And so it is in many families. But how
+far this results from the very nature of the situation, and how far from
+injudicious domestic management, is a query worthy of our attention. A
+very large proportion of my readers, who are now factory girls, will in
+a few months or years be the busy wives of busy farmers; and if by a few
+speculations on the subject before us, and an illustration to the point,
+we can reach _one_ hint that may hereafter be useful to us, our labor
+and "search of thought" will not have been in vain.
+
+Mr. Moses Eastman was what is technically called a wealthy farmer. Every
+one in the country knows what this means. He had a farm of some hundred
+or more acres, a large two-story dwelling house, a capacious yard, in
+which were two large barns, sheds, a sheep-cote, granary, and hen-coop.
+He kept a hundred sheep, ten cows, horses and oxen in due proportion.
+Mr. Eastman often declared that no music was half so sweet to him as
+that of the inmates of this yard. I think we shall not quarrel with his
+taste in this manifestation; for it is certainly delightful, on a warm
+day, in early spring, to listen to them, the lambs, hens--Guinea and
+American--turkeys, geese, and ducks and peacocks.
+
+Mr. Eastman was unbending in his adherence to the creed, prejudices, and
+customs of his fathers. It was his boast that his farm had passed on
+from father to son, to the fourth generation; and everybody could see
+that it was none the worse for wear. He kept more oxen, sheep, and cows
+than his father kept. He had "pulled down his barns and built larger."
+He had surrounded his fields and pastures with stone wall, in lieu of
+Virginian, stump, brush, and board fence. And he had taught his sons and
+daughters, of whom he had an abundance, to walk in his footsteps--all
+but Mary. He should always rue the day that he consented to let Mary go
+to her aunt's; but he acted upon the belief that it would lessen his
+expenses to be rid of her during her childhood. He had all along
+intended to recall her as soon as she was old enough to be serviceable
+to him. But he said he believed that would never be, if she lived as
+long as Methuselah. She could neither spin nor weave as she ought; for
+she put so much material in her yarn, and wove her cloth so thick, that
+no profit resulted from its manufacture and sale. Now Deborah, his
+oldest daughter, had just her mother's _knack_ of making a good deal out
+of a little.--And Mary had imbibed some very dangerous ideas of
+religion,--she did not even believe in ghosts!--dress, and reading. For
+his part, he would not, on any account, attend any other meeting than
+old Mr. Bates's. His father and grandfather always attended there, and
+they prospered well. But Mary wanted to go to the other meeting
+occasionally, all because Mr. Morey happened to be a bit of an orator.
+True, Mr. Bates was none of the smartest; but there was an advantage in
+this. He could sleep as soundly, and rest as rapidly, when at his
+meeting, as in his bed; and by this means he could regain the sleep lost
+during the week by rising early and working late. And Mary had grown so
+proud that she would not wear a woolen home-manufactured dress
+visiting, as Deborah did. She must flaunt off to meeting every Sabbath,
+in white or silk, while _chintz_ was good enough for Deborah. Deborah
+seldom read anything but the Bible, Watts's Hymn Book, "Pilgrim's
+Progress," and a few tracts they had in the house. Mary had hardly laid
+off her finery, on her return from her aunt's, before she inquired about
+books and newspapers. Her aunt had heaps of books and papers. These had
+spoilt Mary. True, papers were sometimes useful; he would have lost five
+hundred dollars by the failure of the ---- Bank, but for a newspaper he
+borrowed of Captain Norwood. But the Captain had enough of them--was
+always ready to lend to him--and he saved no small sum in twenty years
+by borrowing papers of him.
+
+How Captain Norwood managed to add to his property he could not
+conceive. So much company, fine clothing, and schooling! he wondered
+that it did not ruin him. And 'twas all folly--'twas a sin; for they
+were setting extravagant examples, and every body thought they must do
+as the Norwoods did. Mr. Norwood ought to remember that his father wore
+home-made; and what was good enough for his good old father was good
+enough for _him_. But alas! times were dreadfully altered.
+
+As for Mary, she must turn over a new leaf, or go back to her aunt. He
+would not help one who did not help herself. Mary was willing, nay,
+anxious to return. To spend one moment, except on the Sabbath, in
+reading, was considered a crime; to gather a flower or mineral, absurd;
+and Mary begged that she might be permitted to return to Mrs. Barlow. As
+there was no prospect of reforming her, Mr. Eastman and his wife readily
+consented. Mr. Eastman told her, at the same time, that she must be
+preparing for a wet day; and repeatedly charged her to remember that
+those who folded their hands in the summer, must "beg in harvest, and
+have nothing."
+
+Mary had often visited the Norwoods and other young friends, during the
+year spent at home; but she had not been permitted to give a party in
+return. Why, Deborah had never thought of doing such a thing! Mary
+begged the indulgence of her mother, with the assurance that it was the
+last favor she would ever ask at her hand. The _mother_ in her at last
+yielded; and she promised to use her influence with her husband. After a
+deal of cavilling, he consented, on the condition that the strictest
+economy should attend the expenditures on the occasion, and that they
+should exercise more prudence in the family, until their loss was made
+gain. So the party was given.
+
+"You find yourself thrown on barren ground, Miss Norwood," said Mary, as
+she saw Miss Norwood looking around the room; "neither papers, books,
+plants, plates, nor minerals."
+
+"Where are those rocks you brought in, Molly!" said Deborah, with a
+loud, grating laugh.
+
+Mary attempted to smile, but her eyes were full of tears.
+
+"What rocks, Deborah!" asked Clarina Norwood.
+
+"Them you see stuffed into the garden wall, there.--Mary fixed them all
+in a row on the table. I think as father does, that nothing is worth
+saving that can't be used; so I put them in the wall to keep the hens
+out of the garden. The silly girl cried when she see them; should you
+have thought it?"
+
+"What were they, Mary?" asked Clarina.
+
+"Very pretty specimens of white, rose, and smoky quartz, black and white
+mica, gneiss, hornblende, and a few others, that I collected on that
+very high hill, west of here."
+
+"How unfortunate to lose them!" said Miss Norwood, in a soothing tone.
+"Could not we recover them, dear Mary?"
+
+"There is no room for them," said Deborah. "We want to spread currants
+and blueberries on the tables to be dried. Besides, I think as father
+does, that there is enough to do, without spending the time in such
+flummery. As father says, 'time is our estate,' and I think we ought to
+improve every moment of it, except Sundays, in work."
+
+"I must differ from you, Miss Eastman," said Miss Norwood. "I cannot
+think it the duty of any one to labor entirely for the 'meat that
+perisheth.' Too much, vastly too much time is spent thus by almost all."
+
+"The mercy! you would have folks prepare for a wet day, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I would have every one make provision for a comfortable subsistence;
+and this is enough. The mind should be cared for, Deborah. It should not
+be left to starve, or feed on husks."
+
+"I don't know about this mind, of which you and our Mary make such a
+fuss. My concern is for my body. Of this I know enough."
+
+"Yes; you know that it is dust, and that to dust it must return in a
+little time, while the mind is to live on for ever, with God and His
+holy angels. Think of this a moment, Deborah; and say, should not the
+mind be fed and clothed upon, when its destiny is so glorious? Or should
+we spend our whole lives in adding another acre to our farms, another
+dress to our wardrobe, and another dollar to our glittering heap?"
+
+"Oh, la! all this sounds nicely; but I _do_ think that every man who has
+children should provide for them."
+
+"Certainly--intellectual food and clothing. It is for this I am
+contending. He should provide a comfortable bodily subsistence, and
+educate them as far as he is able and their destinies require."
+
+"And he should leave them a few hundreds, or thousands, to give them a
+kind of a start in the world."
+
+"He does this in giving them a liberal education, and he leaves them in
+banks that will always discount. But farther than education of intellect
+and propensity is concerned, I am for the self-made man. I think it
+better for sons to carve their own way to eminence with little pecuniary
+aid by way of a settlement; and for daughters to be 'won and wedded' for
+their own intrinsic excellence, not for the dowry in store for them from
+a rich father."
+
+"There is no arguing with you, everybody says; so I'll go and see how my
+cakes bake."
+
+Mr. Eastmam came in to tea, contrary to his usual custom.
+
+"Clarina, has your father sold that great calf of his?" he inquired, as
+he seated himself snugly beside his "better half."
+
+"Indeed, I do not know, sir," answered Clarina, biting her lip to avoid
+laughing.
+
+"I heard Mr. Montgomery ask him the same question, this morning; and Pa
+said 'yes,' I believe," said Miss Norwood, smiling.
+
+"How much did he get for it?"
+
+Miss Norwood did not know.
+
+"Like Mary, I see," said Mr. Eastman. "Now I'll warrant you that Debby
+can tell the price of every creature I've sold this year."
+
+"Yes, father; I remember as plain as day, how much you got from that
+simple Joe Slater, for the white-faced calf--how much you got for the
+black-faced sheep, Rowley and Jumble, and for Star and Bright. Oh, how I
+want to see Bright! And then there is the black colt--you got forty
+dollars for him, didn't you, father?"
+
+"Yes, Debby; you are a keen one," said Mr. Eastman triumphantly. "Didn't
+I tell you so, Julia?"
+
+"I do not burden my memory with superfluities," answered Miss Norwood.
+"I can scarcely find room for necessaries."
+
+"And do you rank the best way of making pies, cakes, and puddings, with
+necessaries or superfluities?"
+
+"Among necessaries in household economy, certainly," answered Miss
+Norwood. "But Mrs. Child's 'Frugal Housewife' renders them superfluities
+as a part of memory's storage."
+
+"Oh, the book costs something, you know; and if this can be saved by a
+little exercise of the memory, it is well, you know."
+
+"The most capacious and retentive memory would fail to treasure up and
+retain all that one wishes to know of cooking and other matters," said
+Clarina.
+
+"Well, then, one may copy from her book," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+"Indeed, Mr. Eastman, to spend one's time in copying her recipes, when
+the work can be purchased for twenty-five cents, would be 'straining out
+a gnat, and swallowing a camel,'" remarked the precise and somewhat
+pedantic Miss Ellinor Gould Smith. "And then the peculiar disadvantages
+of referring to manuscript! I had my surfeit of this before the
+publication of her valuable work."
+
+"Ah! it is every thing but valuable," answered Mr. Eastman. "Just think
+of her pounds of sugar, her two pounds of butter, her dozen eggs, and
+ounces of nutmegs. Depend upon it, they are not very valuable in the
+holes they would make in our cash-bags." He said this with precisely the
+air of one who imagines he has uttered a poser.
+
+"But you forget her economical and wholesome prescriptions for disease,
+her directions for repairing and preserving clothing and provisions,
+that would be lost without them," answered Miss Smith.
+
+"But one should always be prying into these things, and learn them for
+themselves," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+"On the same principle, extended in its scale, every man might make his
+own house, furniture, and clothing," said Miss Norwood. "With the
+expenditure of much labor and research, she has supplied us with
+directions; and I think it would be vastly foolish for every wife and
+daughter to expend just as much, when they can be supplied with the
+fruits of hers, for the product of half a day's labor."
+
+"Does your mother use it much?" asked Mrs. Eastman.
+
+"Yes; she acknowledges herself much indebted to it."
+
+"I shouldn't think she'd need it; she is so notable. Has she made many
+cheeses this summer?"
+
+"About the usual number, I believe."
+
+"Well, I've made more than I ever did a year afore--thirty in my largest
+hoop, all new milk, and twenty in my next largest, part skimmed milk.
+Our cheese press is terribly out of order, now. It must be fixed, Mr.
+Eastman. And I have made more butter, or else our folks haven't ate as
+much as common. I've made it salter, and there's a great saving in
+this."
+
+"There's a good many ways to save in the world, if one will take pains
+to find them out," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+"Doubtless; but I think the best method of saving in provisions is to
+eat little," said Clarina, as she saw Mr. Eastman _putting down_ his
+third biscuit.
+
+"Why, as to that, I think we ought to eat as much as the appetite calls
+for," answered Mr. Eastman.
+
+"Yes; if the appetite is not depraved by indulgence."
+
+"Yes; it is an awful thing to pinch in eating," said Deborah.
+
+"I never knew one to sin in doing it," said Miss Norwood. "But many
+individuals and whole families make themselves excessively
+uncomfortable, and often incur disease, by eating too much. There is,
+besides, a waste of food, and of labor in preparing it. In such
+families, there is a continual round of eating, cooking, and sleeping,
+with the female portion; and no time for rest, recreation, or literary
+pursuits."
+
+"I have told our folks a great many times, that I did not believe that
+you lived by eating, over to your house," said Mr. Eastman. "I have been
+over that way before our folks got breakfast half ready; and your men
+would be out to work, and you women folks sewing, reading, or watering
+plants, or weeding your flower garden. I don't see how you manage."
+
+"We do not find it necessary to manage at all, our breakfasts are so
+simple. We have only to make cocoa, and arrange the breakfast."
+
+"Don't you cook meat for breakfast?" asked Mrs. Eastman.
+
+"Never; our breakfast invariably consists of cocoa, or water, cold white
+bread and butter."
+
+"Why, our men folks will have meat three times a day--warm, morning and
+noon, and cold at night. We have warm bread for breakfast and supper,
+always. When they work very hard, they want luncheon at ten, and again
+at three. I often tell our folks that it is step, step, from morning
+till night."
+
+"Of course, you find no time to read," said Miss Norwood.
+
+"No; but I shouldn't mind this, if I didn't get so dreadful tired. I
+often tell our folks that it is wearing me all out," said Mrs. Eastman,
+in a really aggrieved tone.
+
+"Well, it is quite the fashion to starve, now-a-days, I know; but it is
+an awful sin," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+Miss Norwood saw that she might as well spend her time in rolling a
+stone up hill, as in attempting to convince him of fallacy in reasoning.
+
+"Clarina," said she, "did you ask Frederic to call for the other volume
+of the 'Alexandrian?'"
+
+"Why, I should think that you had books enough at home, without
+borrowing," said Mr. Eastman, stopping by the way to rinse down his
+fifth dough-nut. "For my part, I find no time for reading anything but
+the Bible." And the deluded man started up with a gulp and a grunt. He
+had eaten enough for three full meals, had spent time enough for eating
+one meal, and reading several pages; yet he left the room with a smile,
+so self-satisfied in its expression, that it was quite evident that he
+thought himself the wisest man in New Hampshire, except Daniel Webster.
+
+This is rather a sad picture of life among farmers. But many of my
+readers will bear me witness that it is a correct one, as far as it
+goes. Many of them have left their homes, because, in the quaint but
+appropriate language of Mrs. Eastman, it was "step, step, from morning
+till night." But there are other and brighter pictures, of more
+extensive application, _perhaps_, than that already drawn.
+
+Captain Norwood had as large a farm as Mr. Eastman. His family was as
+large, yet the existence of the female portion was paradisiacal,
+compared with that of Mrs. Eastman and her daughters. Their meals were
+prepared with the most perfect elegance and simplicity. Their table
+covers and their China were of the same dazzling whiteness. Their
+cutlery, from the unfrequency of its contact with acids, with a little
+care, wore a constant polish. Much prettier these, than the dark
+oiled-cloth cover and corresponding _et cetera_ of table appendages, at
+Mr. Eastman's. Mrs. Norwood and her daughters carried _system_ into
+every department of labour. While one was preparing breakfast, another
+put things in nice order all about the house, and another was occupied
+in the dairy.
+
+Very different was it at Mr. Eastman's. Deborah must get potatoes, and
+set Mary to washing them, while she made bread. Mrs. Eastman must cut
+brown bread, and send Deborah for butter, little Sally for sauce, and
+Susan for pickles. One must cut the meat and set it to cook; then it was
+"Mary, have you seen to that meat? I expect it wants turning. Sally, run
+and salt this side, before she turns it." And then, in a few moments,
+"Debby, do look to that meat. I believe that it is all burning up. How
+do them cakes bake? look, Sally. My goodness! all burnt to a cinder,
+nearly. Debby, why didn't you see to them?"
+
+"La, mother! I thought Mary was about the lot, somewhere. Where is she,
+I wonder?"
+
+"In the other room, reading, I think likely. Oh! I forgot: I sent her
+after some coffee to burn."
+
+"What! going to burn coffee now? We sha'nt have breakfast to-day."
+
+"You fuss, Debby. We can burn enough for breakfast in five minutes. I
+meant to have had a lot burned yesterday; but we had so much to do.
+There, Debby, you see to the potatoes. I wonder what we are going to
+have for dinner."
+
+"Don't begin to talk about dinner yet, for pity's sake," said Deborah.
+"Sally, you ha'nt got the milk for the coffee. Susan, go and sound for
+the men folks: breakfast will be ready by the time they get here. Mary,
+put the pepper, vinegar, and salt on the table, if you can make room for
+them."
+
+"Yes; and Debby, you go and get one of them large pumpkin pies," said
+Mrs. Eastman. "And Sally, put the chairs round the table; the men folks
+are coming upon the run."
+
+"Oh, mother! I am so glad you are going to have pie! I do love it _so_
+well," said Susan, seating herself at the table, without waiting for her
+parents.
+
+Such a _rush!_ such a clatter of knives, forks, plates, cups, and
+saucers! It "realized the phrase of ----," and was absolutely appalling
+to common nerves.
+
+After breakfast came the making of beds and sweeping, baking and boiling
+for dinner, making and turning cheese, and so on, until noon. Occasional
+bits of leisure were _seized_ in the afternoon, for sewing and knitting
+that must be done, and for visiting.
+
+The situation of such families is most unpleasant, but it is not
+irremediable. Order may be established and preserved in the entire
+household economy. They may restrict themselves to a simpler system of
+dietetics. With the money and time thus saved, they may purchase books,
+subscribe for good periodicals, and find ample leisure to read them.
+Thus their intellects will be expanded and invigorated. They will have
+opportunities for social intercourse, for the cultivation of
+friendships; and thus their affections will be exercised and warmed.
+Then, happy the destiny of the farmer, the farmer's wife, and the
+farmer's daughters.
+
+                                                         A. F. D.
+
+
+
+
+A WEAVER'S REVERIE.
+
+
+It was a sunny day, and I left for a few moments the circumscribed spot
+which is my appointed place of labor, that I might look from an
+adjoining window upon the bright loveliness of nature. Yes, it was a
+sunny day; but for many days before, the sky had been veiled in gloomy
+clouds; and joyous indeed was it to look up into that blue vault, and
+see it unobscured by its sombre screen; and my heart fluttered, like a
+prisoned bird, with its painful longings for an unchecked flight amidst
+the beautiful creation around me.
+
+Why is it, said a friend to me one day, that the factory girls write so
+much about the beauties of nature?
+
+Oh! why is it, (thought I, when the query afterwards recurred to me,)
+why is it that visions of thrilling loveliness so often bless the
+sightless orbs of those whose eyes have once been blessed with the power
+of vision?
+
+Why is it that the delirious dreams of the famine-stricken, are of
+tables loaded with the richest viands, or groves, whose pendent boughs
+droop with their delicious burdens of luscious fruit?
+
+Why is it that haunting tones of sweetest melody come to us in the deep
+stillness of midnight, when the thousand tongues of man and nature are
+for a season mute?
+
+Why is it that the desert-traveller looks forward upon the burning
+boundless waste, and sees pictured before his aching eyes, some verdant
+oasis, with its murmuring streams, its gushing founts, and shadowy
+groves--but as he presses on with faltering step, the bright _mirage_
+recedes, until he lies down to die of weariness upon the scorching
+sands, with that isle of loveliness before him?
+
+Oh tell me why is this, and I will tell why the factory girl sits in the
+hour of meditation, and thinks--not of the crowded clattering mill, nor
+of the noisy tenement which is her home, nor of the thronged and busy
+street which she may sometimes tread,--but of the still and lovely
+scenes which, in bygone hours, have sent their pure and elevating
+influence with a thrilling sweep across the strings of the spirit-harp,
+and then awaken its sweetest, loftiest notes; and ever as she sits in
+silence and seclusion, endeavoring to draw from that many-toned
+instrument a strain which may be meet for another's ear, that music
+comes to the eager listener like the sound with which the sea-shell
+echoes the roar of what was once its watery home. All her best and
+holiest thoughts are linked with those bright pictures which call them
+forth, and when she would embody them for the instruction of others, she
+does it by a delineation of those scenes which have quickened and
+purified her own mind.
+
+It was this love of nature's beauties, and a yearning for the pure
+hallowed feelings which those beauties had been wont to call up from
+their hidden springs in the depths of the soul, to bear away upon their
+swelling tide the corruption which had gathered, and I feared might
+settle there,--it was this love, and longing, and fear, which made my
+heart throb quickly, as I sent forth a momentary glance from the factory
+window.
+
+I think I said there was a cloudless sky; but it was not so. It was
+clear, and soft, and its beauteous hue was of "the hyacinth's deep
+blue"--but there was one bright solitary cloud, far up in the cerulean
+vault; and I wished that it might for once be in my power to lie down
+upon that white, fleecy couch, and there, away and alone, to dream of
+all things holy, calm, and beautiful. Methought that better feelings,
+and clearer thoughts than are often wont to visit me, would there take
+undisturbed possession of my soul.
+
+And might I not be there, and send my unobstructed glance into the
+depths of ether above me, and forget for a little while that I had ever
+been a foolish, wayward, guilty child of earth? Could I not then cast
+aside the burden of error and sin which must ever depress me here, and
+with the maturity of womanhood, feel also the innocence of infancy? And
+with that sense of purity and perfection, there would necessarily be
+mingled a feeling of sweet uncloying bliss--such as imagination may
+conceive, but which seldom pervades and sanctifies the earthly heart.
+Might I not look down from my aerial position, and view this little
+world, and its hills, valleys, plains, and streamlets, and its thousands
+of busy inhabitants, and see how puerile and unsatisfactory it would
+look to one so totally disconnected from it? Yes, there, upon that soft
+snowy cloud could I sit, and gaze upon my native earth, and feel how
+empty and "vain are all things here below."
+
+But not motionless would I stay upon that aerial couch. I would call
+upon the breezes to waft me away over the broad blue ocean, and with
+nought but the clear bright ether above me, have nought but a boundless,
+sparkling, watery expanse below me. Then I would look down upon the
+vessels pursuing their different courses across the bright waters; and
+as I watched their toilsome progress, I should feel how blessed a thing
+it is to be where no impediment of wind or wave might obstruct my onward
+way.
+
+But when the beams of a midday sun had ceased to flash from the foaming
+sea, I should wish my cloud to bear away to the western sky, and
+divesting itself of its snowy whiteness, stand there, arrayed in the
+brilliant hues of the setting sun. Yes, well should I love to be
+stationed there, and see it catch those parting rays, and, transforming
+them to dyes of purple and crimson, shine forth in its evening vestment,
+with a border of brightest gold. Then could I watch the king of day as
+he sinks into his watery bed, leaving behind a line of crimson light to
+mark the path which led him to his place of rest.
+
+Yet once, O only once, should I love to have that cloud pass on--on--on
+among the myriads of stars; and leaving them all behind, go far away
+into the empty void of space beyond. I should love, for once, to be
+_alone_. Alone! where _could_ I be alone? But I would fain be where
+there is no other, save the INVISIBLE, and there, where not even one
+distant star should send its feeble rays to tell of a universe beyond,
+there would I rest upon that soft light cloud, and with a fathomless
+depth below me, and a measureless waste above and around me, there would
+I----
+
+"Your looms are going without filling," said a loud voice at my elbow;
+so I ran as fast as possible and changed my shuttles.
+
+                                                            ELLA.
+
+
+
+
+OUR DUTY TO STRANGERS.
+
+  "Deal gently with the stranger's heart."--MRS. HEMANS.
+
+
+The factory girl has trials, as every one of the class can testify. It
+was hard for thee to leave
+
+  "Thy hearth, thy home, thy vintage land.
+  The voices of thy hindred band,"--
+
+was it not, my sister? Yes, there was a burden at your heart as you
+turned away from father, mother, sister, and brother, to meet the cold
+glance of strange stage-companions. There was the mournfulness of the
+funeral dirge and knell, in the crack of the driver's whip, and in the
+rattling of the coach-wheels. And when the last familiar object receded
+from your fixed gaze, there was a sense of utter desolation at your
+heart. There was a half-formed wish that you could lie down on your own
+bed, and die, rather than encounter the new trials before you.
+
+Home may be a capacious farm-house, or a lowly cottage, it matters not.
+It is _home_. It is the spot around which the dearest affections and
+hopes of the heart cluster and rest. When we turn away, a thousand
+tendrils are broken, and they bleed.--Lovelier scenes _might_ open
+before us, but that only "the loved are lovely." Yet until new
+interests are awakened, and new loves adopted, there is a constant
+heaviness of heart, more oppressive than can be imagined by those who
+have never felt it.
+
+The "kindred band" may be made up of the intelligent and elegant, or of
+the illiterate and vulgar; it matters not. Our hearts yearn for their
+companionship. We would rejoice with them in health, or watch over them
+in sickness.
+
+In all seasons of trial, whether from sickness, fatigue, unkindness, or
+_ennui_, there is one bright _oasis_. It is
+
+  ----"the hope of return to the mother, whose smile
+  Could dissipate sadness and sorrow beguile;
+  To the father, whose glance we've exultingly met--
+  And no meed half so proud hath awaited us yet;
+  To the sister whose tenderness, breathing a charm,
+  No distance could lessen, no danger disarm;
+  To the friends, whose remembrances time cannot chill,
+  And whose home in the heart not the stranger can fill."
+
+This hope is invaluable; for it,
+
+      "like the ivy round the oak,
+  Clings closer in the storm."
+
+Alas! that there are those to whom this hope comes not! those whose
+affections go out, like Noah's dove, in search of a resting place; and
+return without the olive-leaf.
+
+"Death is in the world," and it has made hundreds of our factory girls
+orphans. Misfortunes are abroad, and they have left as many destitute of
+homes. This is a melancholy fact, and one that calls loudly for the
+sympathy and kind offices of the more fortunate of the class. It is not
+a light thing to be alone in the world. It is not a light thing to meet
+only neglect and selfishness, when one longs for disinterestedness and
+love. Oh, then, let us
+
+  "Deal gently with the stranger's heart,"
+
+especially if the stranger be a destitute orphan. Her garb may be
+homely, and her manners awkward; but we will take her to our heart, and
+call her sister. Some glaring faults may be hers; but we will remember
+"who it is that maketh us to differ," and if possible, by our kindness
+and forbearance, win her to virtue and peace.
+
+There are many reasons why we should do this. It is a part of "pure and
+undefiled religion" to "visit the fatherless in their afflictions." And
+"mercy is twice blest; blest in him that gives, and him that takes." In
+the beautiful language of the simple Scotch girl, "When the hour o'
+trouble comes, that comes to mind and body, and when the hour o' death
+comes, that comes to high and low, oh, my leddy, then it is na' what we
+ha' done for ourselves, but what we ha' done for others, that we think
+on maist pleasantly."
+
+                                                               E.
+
+
+
+
+ELDER ISAAC TOWNSEND.
+
+
+Elder Townsend was a truly meek and pious man. He was not what is called
+_learned_, being bred a farmer, and never having had an opportunity of
+attending school but very little--for school privileges were very
+limited when Elder Townsend was young. His chief knowledge was what he
+had acquired by studying the Bible (which had been his constant
+companion from early childhood,) and a study of human nature, as he had
+seen it exemplified in the lives of those with whom he held intercourse.
+
+Although a Gospel preacher for more than forty years, he never received
+a salary. He owned a farm of some forty acres, which he cultivated
+himself; and when, by reason of ill health, or from having to attend to
+pastoral duties, his farming-work was not so forward as that of his
+neighbors, he would ask his parishioners to assist him for a day, or a
+half-day, according to his necessities. As this was the only pay he ever
+asked for his continuous labors with them, he never received a denial,
+and a pittance so trifling could not be given grudgingly. The days which
+were spent on Elder Townsend's farm were not considered by his
+parishioners as days of toil, but as holydays, from whose recreations
+they were sure to return home richly laden with the blessings of their
+good pastor.
+
+The sermons of Elder T. were always _extempore_; and if they were not
+always delivered with the elocution of an orator, they were truly
+excellent, inasmuch as they consisted principally of passages of
+Scripture, judiciously selected, and well connected.
+
+The Elder's intimate knowledge of his flock, and their habits and
+propensities, their joys and their sorrows, together with his thorough
+acquaintance with the Scriptures, enabled him to be ever in readiness to
+give reproof or consolation (as need might be,) in the language of Holy
+Writ. His reproofs were received with meekness, and the recipients would
+resolve to profit thereby; and when he offered the cup of consolation,
+it was received with gratitude by those who stood in need of its healing
+influences. But when he dwelt on the loving-kindness of our God, all
+hearts would rejoice and be glad. Often, while listening to his
+preaching, have I sat with eyes intently gazing on the speaker, until I
+fancied myself transported back to the days of the "beloved disciple,"
+and on the Isle of Patmos was hearing him say, "My little children, love
+one another."
+
+When I last saw Elder Townsend, his head was white with the frosts of
+more than seventy winters. It is many years since. I presume, ere this,
+he sleeps beneath the turf on the hill-side, and is remembered among the
+worthies of the olden time.
+
+                                                            B. N.
+
+
+
+
+HARRIET GREENOUGH.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "The day is come I never thought to see,
+  Strange revolutions in my farm and me."
+
+                                   DRYDEN'S VIRGIL.
+
+Harriet Greenough had always been thought a spoiled child, when she left
+home for Newburyport. Her father was of the almost obsolete class of
+farmers, whose gods are their farms, and whose creed--"Farmers are the
+most independent folks in the world." This latter was none the less
+absolute in its power over Mr. Greenough, from its being entirely
+traditionary. He often repeated a vow made in early life, that he would
+never wear other than "homespun" cloth. When asked his reasons, he
+invariably answered, "Because I won't depend on others for what I can
+furnish myself. Farmers are the most independent class of men; and I
+mean to be the most independent of farmers."--If for a moment he felt
+humbled by the presence of a genteel well-educated man, it was only for
+a moment. He had only to recollect that farmers are the most independent
+class of people, and his head resumed its wonted elevation, his manner
+and tone their usual swaggering impudence.
+
+While at school he studied nothing but reading, spelling, arithmetic,
+and writing. Latterly, his reading had been restricted to a chapter in
+the Bible per day, and an occasional examination of the almanac. He did
+not read his Bible from devotional feeling--for he had none; but that he
+might puzzle the "book men" of the village with questions like the
+following:--"Now I should like to have you tell me one thing: How
+_could_ Moses write an account of his own death and burial? Can you just
+tell me where Cain and Abel found their wives? What verse is there in
+the Bible that has but two words in it? Who was the father of Zebedee's
+children? How many chapters has the New Testament?--How many verses, and
+how many words?" Inability or disinclination to answer any and all of
+these, made the subject of a day's laughter and triumph.
+
+Nothing was so appalling to him as innovations on old customs and
+opinions. "These notions, that the earth turns round, and the sun stands
+still; that shooting stars are nothing but little meteors, I think they
+call them, are turning the heads of our young folks," he was accustomed
+to say to Mr. Curtis, the principal of the village academy, every time
+they met. "And then these new-fangled books, filled with jaw-cracking
+words and falsehoods, chemistry, philosophy, and so on--why, I wonder if
+they ever made any man a better farmer, or helped a woman to make better
+butter and cheese? Now, Mr. Curtis, it is _my_ opinion that young folks
+had better read their Bibles more. Now I'll warrant that not one in ten
+can tell how many chapters there are in it. My father knew from the time
+he was eight till he was eighty. Can _you_ tell, Mr. Curtis?"
+
+Mr. Curtis smiled a negative; and Mr. Greenough went laughing about all
+day. Indeed, for a week, the first thing that came after his blunt
+salutation, was a loud laugh; and in answer to consequent inquiries
+came the recital of his victory over "the great Mr. Curtis." He would
+not listen a moment to arguments in favor of sending Harriet to the
+academy, or of employing any other teachers in his district than old
+Master Smith, and Miss Heath, a superanuated spinster.
+
+Mrs. Greenough was a mild creature, passionless and gentle in her nature
+as a lamb. She acquiesced in all of her husband's measures, whether from
+having no opinions of her own, or from a deep and quiet sense of duty
+and propriety, no one knew. Harriet was their pet. As rosy, laughing,
+and healthy as a Hebe, she flew from sport to sport all the day long.
+Her mother attempted, at first, to check her romping propensity; but it
+delighted her father, and he took every opportunity to strengthen and
+confirm it. He was never so happy as when watching her swift and eager
+pursuit of a butterfly; never so lavish of his praises and caresses as
+when she succeeded in capturing one, and all breathless with the chase,
+bore her prize to him.
+
+"Do stay in the house with poor ma, to-day, darling; she is very
+lonely," her mother would say to her, as she put back the curls from the
+beautiful face of her child, and kissed her cheek. One day a tear was in
+her eye and a sadness at her heart; for she had been thinking of the
+early childhood of her Harriet, when she turned from father, little
+brother, playthings and all, for her. Harriet seemed to understand her
+feelings; for instead of answering her with a spring and laugh as usual,
+she sat quietly down at her feet, and laid her head on her lap. Mr.
+Greenough came in at this moment.
+
+"How? What does this mean, wife and Hatty?" said he.--"Playing the baby,
+Hat? Wife, this won't do. Harriet has your beauty; and to this I have no
+objections, if she has my spirits and independence. Come, Hatty; we want
+you to help us make hay to-day; and there are lots of butterflies and
+grasshoppers for you to catch. Come," he added; for the child still kept
+her eyes on her mother's face, as if undecided whether to go or stay.
+"Come, get your bonnet--no; you may go without it. You look too much
+like a village girl. You must get more tan."
+
+"Shall I go, ma?" Harriet asked, still clinging to her mother's dress.
+
+"Certainly, if pa wishes it," answered Mrs. Greenough with a strong
+effort to speak cheerfully.
+
+She went, and from that hour Mrs. Greenough passively allowed her to
+follow her father and his laborers as she pleased; to rake hay, ride in
+the cart, husk corn, hunt hen's eggs, jump on the hay, play ball,
+prisoner, pitch quoits, throw dice, cut and saw wood, and, indeed, to
+run into every amusement which her active temperament demanded. She went
+to school when she pleased; but her father was constant in his hints
+that her spirits and independence were not to be destroyed by poring
+over books. She was generally left to do as she pleased, although she
+was often pleased to perpetrate deeds, for which her school-mates often
+asserted they would have been severely chastised. There was an
+expression of fun and good humor lurking about in the dimples of her fat
+cheeks and in her deep blue eye, that effectually shielded her from
+reproof. Master Smith had just been accused of partiality to her, and he
+walked into the school considerably taller than usual, all from his
+determination to punish Harriet before night. He was not long in
+detecting her in a rogueish act. He turned from her under the pretence
+of looking some urchins into silence, and said, with uncommon sternness
+and precision, "Harriet Greenough, walk out into the floor." Harriet
+jumped up, shook the hands of those who sat near her, nodded a farewell
+to others, and walked gaily up to the master. He dreaded meeting her
+eye; for he knew that his gravity would desert him in such a case. She
+took a position behind him, and in a moment the whole house was in an
+uproar of laughter. Master Smith turned swiftly about on his heel, and
+confronted the culprit. She only smiled and made him a most graceful
+courtesy. This was too much for his risibles. He laughed almost as
+heartily as his pupils.
+
+"Take your seat, you, he! he! you trollop, you, he! he! and I will
+settle with you by and bye," he said.
+
+She only thanked him, and then returned to her sport.
+
+So she passed on. When sixteen, she was a very child in everything but
+years and form. Her forehead was high and full, but a want of taste and
+care in the arrangement of her beautiful hair destroyed its effect. Her
+complexion was clear, but sunburnt. Her laugh was musical, but one
+missed that _tone_ which distinguishes the laugh of a happy feeling girl
+of sixteen from that of a child of mere frolic. As to her form, no one
+knew what it was; for she was always putting herself into some strange
+but not really uncouth attitude; and besides, she could never _stop_ to
+adjust her dress properly.
+
+Such was Harriet Greenough, when a cousin of hers paid them a visit on
+her return to the Newburyport mills. She was of Harriet's age; but one
+would have thought her ten years her senior, judging from her superior
+dignity and intelligence. Her father died when she was a mere child,
+after a protracted illness, which left them penniless. By means of
+untiring industry, and occasional gifts from her kind neighbors, Mrs.
+Wood succeeded in keeping her children at school, until her daughter was
+sixteen and her son fourteen. They then went together to Newburyport,
+under the care of a very amiable girl who had spent several years there.
+They worked a year, devoting a few hours every day to study; then
+returned home, and spent a year at school in their native village.
+
+They were now on their return to the mills. It was arranged that at the
+completion of the present year Charles should return to school, and
+remain there until fitted for the study of a profession, if Jane's
+health was spared that she might labor for his support.
+
+Jane was a gentle affectionate girl; and there was a new feeling at the
+heart of Harriet from the day in which she came under her influence.
+Before the week had half expired which Jane was to spend with them,
+Harriet, with characteristic decision, avowed her determination to
+accompany her. Her father and mother had opposed her will in but few
+instances. In these few she had laughed them into an easy compliance. In
+the present case she found her task a more difficult one. But they
+consented at last; and with her mother's tearful blessing, and an
+injunction from her father not to bear any insolence from her employers,
+but to remember always that she was the independent daughter of an
+independent farmer, she left her home.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A year passed by, and our Harriet was a totally changed being, in
+intellect and deportment. Her cousins boarded in a small family, that
+they might have a better opportunity of pursuing their studies during
+their leisure hours. She was their constant companion. At first she did
+not open a book; and numberless were the roguish artifices she employed
+to divert the attention of her cousins from theirs. They often laid them
+aside for a lively chat with her; and then urged her to study with
+them. She loved them ardently. To her affection she at last yielded, and
+not to any anticipations of pleasure or profit in the results, for she
+had been _educated_ to believe that there was none of either.
+
+Charles had been studying Latin and mathematics; Jane, botany, geology,
+and geography of the heavens. She instructed Charles in these latter
+sciences; he initiated her as well as he might, into the mysteries of
+_hic, hæc, hoc_, and algebra. At times of recitation, Harriet sat and
+laughed at their "queer words." When she accompanied them in their
+search for flowers, she amused herself by bringing mullen, yarrow, and,
+in one instance, a huge sunflower.--When they had traced constellations,
+she repeated to them a satire on star-gazers, which she learned of her
+father.
+
+The _histories_ of the constellations and flowers first arrested her
+attention, and kindled a romance which had hitherto lain dormant. A new
+light was in her eye from that hour, and a new charm in her whole
+deportment. She commenced study under very discouraging circumstances.
+Of this she was deeply sensible. She often shed a few tears as she
+thought of her utter ignorance, then dashed them off, and studied with
+renewed diligence and success. She studied two hours every morning
+before commencing labor and until half past eleven at night. She took
+her book and her dinner to the mill, that she might have the whole
+intermission for study. This short season, with the reflection she gave
+during the afternoon, was sufficient for the mastery of a hard lesson.
+She was close in her attendance at the sanctuary. She joined a Bible
+class; and the teachings there fell with a sanctifying influence on her
+spirit, subduing but not destroying its vivacity, and opening a new
+current to her thoughts and affections. Although tears of regret for
+misspent years often stole down her cheeks, she assured Jane that she
+was happier at the moment than in her hours of loudest mirth.
+
+Her letters to her friends had prepared them for a change, but not for
+_such_ a change--so great and so happy. She was now a very beautiful
+girl, easy and graceful in her manners, soft and gentle in her
+conversation, and evidently conscious of her superiority, only to feel
+more humble, more grateful to Heaven, her dear cousins, her minister,
+her Sabbath school teacher, and other beloved friends, who by their
+kindness had opened such new and delightful springs of feeling in her
+heart.
+
+She flung her arms around her mother's neck, and wept tears of gratitude
+and love. Mrs. Greenough felt that she was no longer alone in the world;
+and Mr. Greenough, as he watched them--the wife and the
+daughter--inwardly acknowledged that there was that in the world dearer
+to his heart than his farm and his independence.
+
+Amongst Harriet's baggage was a rough deal box. This was first opened.
+It contained her books, a few minerals and shells. There were fifty
+well-selected volumes, besides a package of gifts for her father,
+mother, and brother.--There was no book-case in the house; and the
+kitchen shelf was full of old almanacs, school books, sermons, and jest
+books. Mr. Greenough rode to the village, and returned with a rich
+secretary, capacious enough for books, minerals, and shells. He brought
+the intelligence, too, that a large party of students and others were to
+spend the evening with them. Harriet's heart beat quick, as she thought
+of young Curtis, and wondered if he was among the said students.--Before
+she left Bradford, struck with the beauty and simplicity of her
+appearance, he sought and obtained an introduction to her, but left her
+side, after sundry ineffectual attempts to draw her into conversation,
+disappointed and disgusted. He _was_ among Harriet's visitors.
+
+"Pray, Miss Curtis, what may be your opinion of our belle, Miss
+Greenough?" asked young Lane, on the following morning, as Mr. Curtis
+and his sister entered the hall of the academy.
+
+"Why, I think that her improvement has been astonishingly rapid during
+the past year; and that she is now a really charming girl."
+
+"Has she interfered with your heart, Lane?" asked his chum.
+
+"As to that, I do not feel entirely decided. I think I shall renew my
+call, however--nay, do not frown, Curtis; I was about to add, if it be
+only to taste her father's delicious melons, pears, plums, and apples."
+
+Curtis blushed slightly, bowed, and passed on to the school room. He
+soon proved that he cared much less for Mr. Greenough's fruit than for
+his daughter: for the fruit remained untasted if Harriet was at his
+side. He was never so happy as when Mr. Greenough announced his purpose
+of sending Harriet to the academy two or three years. Arrangements were
+made accordingly, and the week before Charles left home for college,
+she was duly installed in his father's family.
+
+She missed him much; but the loss of his society was partially
+counterbalanced by frequent and brotherly letters from him, and by
+weekly visits to her home, which by the way, is becoming quite a
+paradise under her supervision.--She has been studying painting and
+drawing. Several well-executed specimens of each adorn the walls and
+tables of their sitting-room and parlor. She has no "regular built"
+centre-table, but in lieu thereof she has removed from the garret an old
+round table that belonged to her grandmother. This she has placed in the
+centre of the sitting-room; and what with its very pretty covering
+(which falls so near the floor as to conceal its uncouth legs), and its
+books, it forms no mean item of elegance and convenience.
+
+Mr. Greenough and his help have improved a few leisure days in removing
+the trees that entirely concealed the Merrimac. By the profits resulting
+from their sale, he has built a neat and tasteful enclosure for his
+house and garden. This autumn shade-trees and shrubbery are to be
+removed to the yard, and fruit-trees and vines to the garden. Next
+winter a summer-house is to be put in readiness for erection in the
+spring.
+
+All this, and much more, Mr. Greenough is confident he can accomplish,
+without neglecting his _necessary_ labors, or the course of reading he
+has marked out, "by and with the advice" of his wife and Harriet. And
+more, and better still, he has decided that his son George shall attend
+school, at least two terms yearly. He will board at home, and will be
+accompanied by his cousin Charles, whom Mr. Greenough has offered to
+board gratis, until his education is completed. By this generosity on
+the part of her uncle, Jane will be enabled to defray other expenses
+incidental to Charles's education, and still have leisure for literary
+pursuits.
+
+Most truly might Mr. Greenough say,--
+
+  "The day is come I never thought to see,
+  Strange revolutions in my farm and me."
+
+                                                               A.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+FANCY.
+
+
+  O Swiftly flies the shuttle now,
+  Swift as an arrow from the bow:
+  But swifter than the thread is wrought,
+  Is soon the flight of busy thought;
+  For Fancy leaves the mill behind,
+  And seeks some novel scenes to find.
+  And now away she quickly hies--
+  O'er hill and dale the truant flies.
+  Stop, silly maid! where dost thou go?
+  Thy road may be a road of woe:
+  Some hand may crush thy fairy form,
+  And chill thy heart so lately warm.
+  "Oh no," she cries in merry tone,
+  "I go to lands before unknown;
+  I go in scenes of bliss to dwell,
+  Where ne'er is heard a factory bell."
+
+  Away she went; and soon I saw,
+  That Fancy's wish was Fancy's law;
+  For where the leafless trees were seen,
+  And Fancy wished them to be green,
+  Her wish she scarcely had made known,
+  Before green leaves were on them grown.
+  She spake--and there appear'd in view,
+  Bright manly youths, and maidens, too.
+  And Fancy called for music rare--
+  And music filled the ravished air.
+
+  And then the dances soon began,
+  And through the mazes lightly ran
+  The footsteps of the fair and gay--
+  For this was Fancy's festal day.
+  On, on they move, a lovely group!
+  Their faces beam with joy and hope;
+  Nor dream they of a danger nigh,
+  Beneath their bright and sunny sky.
+  One of the fair ones is their queen,
+  For whom they raise a throne of green;
+  And Fancy weaves a garland now,
+  To place upon the maiden's brow;
+  And fragrant are the blooming flowers,
+  In her enchanted fairy-bowers.
+
+  And Fancy now away may slip,
+  And o'er the green-sward lightly skip,
+  And to her airy castle hie--
+  For Fancy hath a castle nigh.
+  The festal board she quick prepares,
+  And every guest the bounty shares,--
+  And seated at the festal board,
+  Their merry voices now are heard,
+  As each youth places to his lips,
+  And from the golden goblet sips
+  A draught of the enchanting wine
+  That came from Fancy's fruitful vine.
+
+  But hark! what sound salutes mine ear?
+  A distant rumbling now I hear.
+  Ah, Fancy! 'tis no groundless fear,
+  The rushing whirlwind draweth near!
+  Thy castle walls are rocking fast,--
+  The glory of thy feast is past;
+  Thy guests are now beneath the wave,--
+  Oblivion is their early grave,
+  Thy fairy bower has vanished--fled:
+  Thy leafy tree are withered--dead!
+  Thy lawn is now a barren heath,
+  Thy bright-eyed maids are cold in death!
+  Those manly youth that were so gay,
+  Have vanished in the self-same way!
+
+  Oh Fancy! now remain at home,
+  And be content no more to roam;
+  For visions such as thine are vain,
+  And bring but discontent and pain.
+  Remember, in thy giddy whirl,
+  That _I_ am but a factory girl:
+  And be content at home to dwell,
+  Though governed by a "factory bell."
+
+                                                         FIDUCIA.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIDOW'S SON.
+
+
+Among the multitudes of females employed in our manufacturing
+establishments, persons are frequently to be met with, whose lives are
+interspersed with incidents of an interesting and even thrilling
+character. But seldom have I met with a person who has manifested so
+deep devotion, such uniform cheerfulness, and withal so determined a
+perseverance in the accomplishment of a cherished object, as Mrs. Jones.
+
+This inestimable lady was reared in the midst of affluence, and was
+early married to the object of her heart's affection. A son was given
+them, a sweet and lovely boy. With much joy they watched the development
+of his young mind, especially as he early manifested a deep devotional
+feeling, which was cultivated with the most assiduous attention.
+
+But happiness like this may not always continue. Reverses came. That
+faithful husband and affectionate father was laid on a bed of
+languishing. Still he trusted in God; and when he felt that the time of
+his departure approached, he raised his eyes, and exclaimed, "Holy
+Father! Thou hast promised to be the widow's God and judge, and a Father
+to the fatherless; into Thy care I commit my beloved wife and child.
+Keep Thou them from evil, as they travel life's uneven journey. May
+their service be acceptable in thy sight." He then quietly fell asleep.
+
+Bitter indeed were the tears shed over his grave by that lone widow and
+her orphan boy; yet they mourned not as those who mourn without hope.
+Instead of devoting her time to unavailing sorrow, Mrs. Jones turned her
+attention to the education of her son, who was then in his tenth year.
+Finding herself in reduced circumstances, she nobly resolved to support
+her family by her own exertions, and keep her son at school. With this
+object, she procured plain needle-work, by which, with much economy, she
+was enabled to live very comfortably, until Samuel had availed himself
+of all the advantages presented him by the common schools and high
+school. He was then ready to enter college--but how were the necessary
+funds to be raised to defray his expenses?
+
+This was not a new question to Mrs. Jones. She had pondered it long and
+deeply, and decided upon her course; yet she had not mentioned it to her
+son, lest it should divert his mind from his studies. But as the time
+now rapidly approached when she was to carry her plan into operation,
+she deemed it proper to acquaint Samuel with the whole scheme.
+
+As they were alone in their neat little parlor, she aroused him from a
+fit of abstraction, by saying, "Samuel, my dear son, before your father
+died we solemnly consecrated you to the service of the Lord; and that
+you might be the better prepared to labor in the gospel vineyard, your
+father designed to give you a liberal education. He was called home; yet
+through the goodness of our Heavenly Father, I have been enabled thus
+far to prosecute his plan. It is now time for you to enter college, and
+in order to raise the necessary funds, I have resolved to sell my little
+stock of property, and engage as an operative in a factory."
+
+At this moment, neighbor Hall, an old-fashioned, good-natured sort of a
+man, entered very unceremoniously, and having heard the last sentence,
+replied: "Ah! widow, you know that I do not like the plan of bringing up
+our boys in idleness. But then Samuel is such a good boy, and so fond of
+reading, that I think it a vast pity if he cannot read all the books in
+the state. Yes, send him to college, widow; there he will have reading
+to his heart's content. You know there is a gratuity provided for the
+education of indigent and pious young men."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Jones, "I know it; but I am resolved that if my son
+ever obtains a place among the servants of the Prince of Peace, he shall
+stand forth unchained by the bondage of men, and nobly exert the
+energies of his mind as the Lord's freeman."
+
+Samuel, who had early been taught the most perfect obedience, now
+yielded reluctant consent to this measure.--Little time was requisite
+for arrangements; and having converted her little effects into cash,
+they who had never before been separated, now took an affectionate and
+sorrowful leave of each other, and departed--the one to the halls of
+learning, and the other to the power-looms.
+
+We shall now leave Samuel Jones, and accompany his mother to Dover. On
+her arrival, she assumed her maiden name, which I shall call Lucy
+Cambridge; and such was her simplicity and quietness of deportment,
+that she was never suspected of being other than she seemed. She readily
+obtained a situation in a weave-room, and by industry and close
+application, she quickly learned the grand secret of a successful
+weaver--namely, "Keep the filling running, and the web clear."
+
+The wages were not then reduced to the present low standard, and Lucy
+transmitted to her son, monthly, all, saving enough to supply her
+absolute necessities.
+
+As change is the order of the day in all manufacturing places, so, in
+the course of change, Lucy became my room-mate; and she whom I had
+before admired, secured my love and ardent friendship. Upon general
+topics she conversed freely; but of her history and kindred, never. Her
+respectful deportment was sufficient to protect her from the inquiries
+of curiosity; and thus she maintained her reserve until one evening when
+I found her sadly perusing a letter. I thought she had been weeping. All
+the sympathies of my nature were aroused, and throwing my arms around
+her neck, I exclaimed, "Dear Lucy, does your letter bring you bad news,
+or are any of your relatives"----I hesitated and stopped; for, thought
+I, "perhaps she _has_ no relatives. I have never heard her speak of any:
+she may be a lone orphan in the world." It was then she yielded to
+sympathy, what curiosity had never ventured to ask. From that time she
+continued to speak to me of her history and hopes. As I have selected
+names to suit myself, she has kindly permitted me to make an extract
+from her answer to that letter, which was as follows:
+
+"My Dear Son,--in your letter of the 16th, you entreat me to leave the
+mill, saying, 'I would rather be a scavenger, a wood-sawyer, or
+anything, whereby I might honestly procure a subsistence for my mother
+and myself, than have you thus toil, early and late. Mother, the very
+thought is intolerable! O come away--for dearly as I love knowledge, I
+cannot consent to receive it at the price of my mother's happiness.'
+
+"My son, it is true that factory life is a life of toil--but I am
+preparing the way for my only son to go forth as a herald of the cross,
+to preach repentance and salvation to those who are out of the way. I am
+promoting an object which was very near the heart of my dear husband.
+Wherefore I desire that you will not again think of pursuing any other
+course than the one already marked out for you; for you perceive that my
+agency in promoting your success, forms an important part of _my_
+happiness."
+
+Often have I seen her eyes sparkle with delight as she mentioned her son
+and his success. And after the labor and toil of attending "double work"
+during the week, very often have I seen her start with all the
+elasticity of youth, and go to the Post Office after a letter from
+Samuel. And seldom did she return without one, for he was ever
+thoughtful of his mother, who was spending her strength for him. And he
+knew very well that it was essential to her happiness to be well
+informed of his progress and welfare.
+
+Nearly three years had elapsed since Lucy Cambridge first entered the
+mill, when the stage stopped in front of her boarding house, and a young
+gentleman sprang out, and inquired if Miss Lucy Cambridge was in.
+Immediately they were clasped in each other's arms. This token of mutual
+affection created no small stir among the boarders. One declared, "she
+thought it very singular that such a pretty young man should fancy so
+old a girl as Lucy Cambridge." Another said, "she should as soon think
+that he would marry his mother."
+
+Samuel Jones was tall, but of slender form. His hair, which was of the
+darkest brown, covered an unusually fine head. His eyes, of a clear dark
+grey, beaming with piety and intelligence, shed a lustre over his whole
+countenance, which was greatly heightened by being overshadowed by a
+deep, broad forehead.
+
+He visited his mother at this time, to endeavor to persuade her to leave
+the mill, and spend her time in some less laborious occupation. He
+assured her that he had saved enough from the stock she had already sent
+him, to complete his education. But she had resolved to continue in her
+present occupation, until her son should have a prospect of a permanent
+residence; and he departed alone.
+
+Intelligence was soon conveyed to Lucy that a young student had preached
+occasionally, and that his labors had been abundantly blessed. And ere
+the completion of another year, Samuel Jones went forth a licentiate, to
+preach the everlasting gospel.
+
+I will not attempt to describe the transports of that widowed heart,
+when she received the joyful tidings that her son had received a
+unanimous call to take the pastoral charge of a small but well-united
+society in the western part of Ohio, and only waited for her to
+accompany him thither.
+
+Speedily she prepared to leave a place which she really loved; "for,"
+said she, "have I not been blessed with health and strength to perform a
+great and noble work in this place?"
+
+Ay, undoubtedly thou hast performed a blessed work; and now, go forth,
+and in the heartfelt satisfaction that thou hast performed thy duty,
+reap the rich reward of all thy labors.
+
+Samuel Jones and his mother have departed for the scene of their future
+labors, with their hearts filled with gratitude to God, and an humble
+desire to be of service in winning many souls to the flock of our Savior
+and Lord.
+
+                                                         ORIANNA.
+
+
+
+
+WITCHCRAFT.
+
+
+It may not, perhaps, be generally known that a belief in witchcraft
+still prevails, to a great extent, in some parts of New England. Whether
+this is owing to the effect of early impressions on the mind, or to some
+defect in the physical organization of the human system, is not for me
+to say; my present purpose being only to relate, in as concise a manner
+as may be, some few things which have transpired within a quarter of a
+century; all of which happened in the immediate neighborhood of my early
+home, and among people with whom I was well acquainted.
+
+My only apology for so doing is, that I feel desirous to transmit to
+posterity, something which may give them an idea of the superstition of
+the present age--hoping that when they look back upon its dark page,
+they will feel a spirit of thankfulness that they live in more
+enlightened times, and continue the work of mental illumination, till
+the mists of error entirely vanish before the light of all-conquering
+truth.
+
+In a little glen between the mountains, in the township of B., stands a
+cottage, which, almost from time immemorial, has been noted as the
+residence of some one of those ill-fated beings, who are said to take
+delight in sending their spirits abroad to torment the children of men.
+These beings, it is said, purchase their art of his satanic majesty--the
+price, their immortal souls, and when Satan calls for his due, the
+mantle of the witch is transferred to another mortal, who, for the sake
+of exercising the art for a brief space of time, makes over the soul to
+perdition.
+
+The mother of the present occupant of this cottage lived to a very
+advanced age; and for a long series of years, all the mishaps within
+many miles were laid to her spiritual agency; and many were the
+expedients resorted to to rid the neighborhood of so great a pest. But
+the old woman, spite of all exertions to the contrary, lived on, till
+she died of sheer old age.
+
+It was some little time before it was ascertained who inherited her
+mantle; but at length it was believed to be a fact that her daughter
+Molly was duly authorized to exercise all the prerogatives of a witch;
+and so firmly was this belief established, that it even gained credence
+with her youngest brother; and after she was married, and had removed to
+a distant part of the country, a calf of his, that had some strange
+actions, was pronounced by the _knowing ones_, to be bewitched; and this
+inhuman monster chained his calf in the fire place of his cooper-shop,
+and burned it to death--hoping thereby to kill his sister, whose spirit
+was supposed to be in the body of the calf.
+
+For several years it went current that Molly fell into the fire, and was
+burned to death, at the same time in which the calf was burned. But she
+at length refuted this, by making her brother a visit, and spending some
+little time in the neighborhood.
+
+Some nineteen or twenty years since, two men, with whom I was well
+acquainted, had an action pending in the Superior Court, and it was
+supposed that the testimony of the widow Goodwin in favor of the
+plaintiff, would bear hard upon the defendant. A short time previous to
+the sitting of the court, a man by the name of James Doe, offered
+himself as an evidence for the defendant to destroy the testimony of the
+widow Goodwin, by defaming her character. Doe said that he was willing
+to testify that the widow Goodwin was a witch--he knew it to be a fact;
+for, once on a time she came to his bed-side, and flung a bridle over
+his head, and he was instantly metamorphosed into a horse. The widow
+then mounted and rode him nearly forty miles; she stopped at a tavern,
+which he named, dismounted, tied him to the sign-post and left him.
+After an absence of several hours, she returned, mounted, and rode him
+home; and at the bed-side took off the bridle, when he resumed his
+natural form.
+
+No one acquainted with Doe thought that he meant to deviate from the
+truth. Those naturally superstitious thought that the widow Goodwin was
+in reality a witch; but the more enlightened believed that their
+neighbor Doe was under the influence of spirituous liquor when he went
+to bed; and that whatever might be the scene presented to his
+imagination, it was owing to false vision, occasioned by derangement in
+his upper story; and they really felt a sympathy for him, knowing that
+he belonged to a family who were subject to mental aberration.
+
+A scene which I witnessed in part, in the autumn of 1822, shall close my
+chapter on witchcraft. It was between the hours of nine and ten in the
+morning, that a stout-built, ruddy-faced man confined one of his cows,
+by means of bows and iron chains, to an apple-tree and then beat her
+till she dropped dead--saying that the cow was bewitched, and that he
+was determined to kill the witch. His mother, and some of the neighbors
+witnessed this cruel act without opposing him, so infatuated were they
+with a belief in witchcraft.
+
+I might enlarge upon this scene, but the recollection of what then took
+place recalls so many disagreeable sensations, that I forbear. Let it
+suffice to state that the cow was suffering in consequence of having
+eaten a large quantity of potatoes from a heap that was exposed in the
+field where she was grazing.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CLEANING UP.
+
+
+There is something to me very interesting in observing the
+manifestations of animal instinct--that unerring prompter which guides
+its willing disciple into the ever straight path, and shows him, with
+unfailing sagacity, the easiest and most correct method of accomplishing
+each necessary design.
+
+But to enter here, upon a philosophical dissertation, respecting the
+nature and developments of instinct, is not my design, and I will now
+detain you with but one or two instances of it, which have fallen under
+my own observation.
+
+One warm day in the early spring, I observed a spider, very busily
+engaged upon a dirty old web, which had for a long time, curtained a
+pane of my factory window. Where Madame Arachne had kept herself during
+the winter, was not in my power to ascertain; but she was in a very good
+condition, plump, spry, and full of energy. The activity of her
+movements awakened my curiosity, and I watched with much interest the
+commotion in the old dwelling, or rather slaughter house, for I doubted
+not that many a green head and blue bottle had there met an untimely
+end.
+
+I soon found that madam was very laboriously engaged in that very
+necessary part of household exercises, called, CLEANING UP; and she had
+chosen precisely the season for her labors which all good housewives
+have by common consent appropriated to paint-cleaning, white-washing,
+&c. With much labor, and a prodigal expenditure of steps, she removed,
+one by one, the tiny bits of dirt, sand &c., &c., which had accumulated
+in this net during the winter; but it was not done, as I at first
+thought, by pushing and poking, and thrusting the intruders out, but by
+gradually destroying their _location_, as a western emigrant would
+say.--Whether this was done, as I at one time imagined, by devouring the
+fibre as she passed over it, or by winding it around some under part of
+her body, or whether she left it at the centre of the web, to which
+point she invariably returned after every peregrination to the
+outskirts, I could not satisfy myself. It was to me a cause of great
+marvel, and awakened my perceptive as well as reflective faculties from
+a long winter nap.
+
+To the first theory there was no objection, excepting that I had never
+heard of its being done; but then it might be so, and in this case I had
+discovered what had escaped the observation of all preceding
+naturalists. To the second there was this objection, that when I
+occasionally caught a front view of "my lady," she showed no distaff,
+upon which she might have re-wound her unravelled thread. The third
+suggestion was also objectionable, because, though the centre looked
+somewhat thicker, or I surmised that it did, yet it was not so much so
+as it must have been, had it been the depot of the whole concern.
+
+Of one thing I was at length assured--that there was to be an entire
+demolition of the whole fabric, with the exception of the main beams,
+(or sleepers, I think is the technical term,) which remained as usual,
+when all else had been removed. Then I went away for the night, and when
+I returned the next morning, expecting to behold a blank--a void, an
+evacuation of premises--a removal--a disappearance--a destruction most
+complete, without even a wreck left behind--lo! there was again the
+rebuilt mansion--the restored fabric, the reversed Penelopian labor: and
+madam was rejoicing like the patient man of Uz, when more than he had
+lost was restored to him.
+
+My feelings, (for I have a large bump of sympathy) were of that
+pleasurable kind which Jack must have experienced, when he saw the
+castle, which in a single night had established itself on the top of his
+bean-pole; or which enlivened the bosom of Aladdin, when he saw the
+beautiful palace, which in a night had travelled from the genii's
+dominions to the waste field, which it then beautified; and I felt truly
+rejoiced that my industrious neighbor's works of darkness were not
+always deeds of evil. But alack for the poor _spinster_, when it came
+_my_ turn to be _cleaning up_!
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+VISITS TO THE SHAKERS.
+
+
+A FIRST VISIT.
+
+Sometime in the summer of 18--, I paid a visit to one of the Shaker
+villages in the State of New York. Previously to this, many times and
+oft had I (when tired of the noise and contention of the world, its
+erroneous opinions, and its wrong practices) longed for some retreat,
+where, with a few chosen friends, I could enjoy the present, forget the
+past, and be free from all anxiety respecting any future portion of
+time. And often had I pictured, in imagination, a state of happy
+society, where one common interest prevailed--where kindness and
+brotherly love were manifested in all of the every-day affairs of
+life--where liberty and equality would live, not in name, but in very
+deed--where idleness, in no shape whatever, would be tolerated--and
+where vice of every description would be banished, and neatness, with
+order, would be manifested in all things.
+
+Actually to witness such a state of society was a happiness which I
+never expected. I thought it to be only a thing among the airy castles
+which it has ever been my delight to build. But with this unostentatious
+and truly kind-hearted people, the Shakers, I found it; and the reality,
+in beauty and harmony, exceeded even the picturings of imagination.
+
+No unprejudiced mind could, for a single moment, resist the conviction
+that this singular people, with regard to their worldly possessions,
+lived in strict conformity to the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. There
+were men in this society who had added to the common stock thousands and
+tens of thousands of dollars; they nevertheless labored, dressed, and
+esteemed themselves as no better, and fared in all respects like those
+who had never owned, neither added to the society, any worldly goods
+whatever. The cheerfulness with which they bore one another's burdens
+made even the temporal calamities, so unavoidable among the inhabitants
+of the earth, to be felt but lightly.
+
+This society numbered something like six hundred persons, who in many
+respects were differently educated, and who were of course in
+possession of a variety of prejudices, and were of contrary dispositions
+and habits. Conversing with one of their elders respecting them, he
+said, "You may say that these were rude materials of which to compose a
+church, and speak truly: but here (though strange it may seem) they are
+worked into a building, with no sound of axe or hammer. And however
+discordant they were in a state of nature, the square and the plumb-line
+have been applied to them, and they now admirably fit the places which
+they were designed to fill. Here the idle become industrious, the
+prodigal contracts habits of frugality, the parsimonious become generous
+and liberal, the intemperate quit the tavern and the grog-shop, the
+debauchee forsakes the haunts of dissipation and infamy, the swearer
+leaves off the habits of profanity, the liar is changed into a person of
+truth, the thief becomes an honest man, and the sloven becomes neat and
+clean."
+
+The whole deportment of this truly singular people, together with the
+order and neatness which I witnessed in their houses, shops, and
+gardens, to all of which I had free access for the five days which I
+remained with them, together with the conversations which I held with
+many of the people of both sexes, confirmed the words of the
+Elder.--Truly, thought I, there is not another spot in the wide earth
+where I could be so happy as I could be here, provided the religious
+faith and devotional exercises of the Shakers were agreeable to my own
+views. Although I could not see the utility of their manner of worship,
+I felt not at all disposed to question that it answered the end for
+which spiritual worship was designed, and as such is accepted by our
+heavenly Father. That the Shakers have a love for the Gospel exceeding
+that which is exhibited by professing Christians in general, cannot be
+doubted by any one who is acquainted with them. For on no other
+principle could large families, to the number of fifty or sixty, live
+together like brethren and sisters. And a number of these families could
+not, on any other principles save those of the Gospel, form a society,
+and live in peace and harmony, bound together by no other bond than that
+of brotherly love, and take of each other's property, from day to day
+and from year to year, using it indiscriminately, as every one hath
+need, each willing that his brother should use his property, as he uses
+it himself, and all this without an equivalent.
+
+Many think that a united interest in all things temporal is contrary to
+reason. But in what other light, save that of common and united
+interest, could the words of Christ's prophecy or promise be fulfilled?
+According to the testimony of Mark, Christ said, "There is no man who
+hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife,
+or children, or lands, for my sake and the Gospel's, but he shall
+receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and
+sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions, and in
+the world to come eternal life." Not only in fact, but in theory, is an
+hundredfold of private interest out of the question. For a believer who
+forsook all things could not possess an hundredfold of all things only
+on the principle in which he could possess _all that_ which his brethren
+possessed, while they also possessed the same in an united capacity.
+
+In whatever light it may appear to others, to me it appears beautiful
+indeed, to see a just and an impartial equality reign, so that the rich
+and the poor may share an equal privilege, and have all their wants
+supplied. That the Shakers are in reality what they profess to be, I
+doubt not. Neither do I doubt that many, very many lessons of wisdom
+might be learned of them, by those who profess to be wiser. And to all
+who wish to know if "any good thing can come out of Nazareth," I would
+say, you had better "go and see."
+
+
+A SECOND VISIT.
+
+I was so well pleased with the appearance of the Shakers, and the
+prospect of quietness and happiness among them, that I visited them a
+second time. I went with a determination to ascertain as much as I
+possibly could of their forms and customs of worship, the every-day
+duties devolving on the members, &c.; and having enjoyed excellent
+opportunities for acquiring the desired information, I wish to present a
+brief account of what "I verily do know" in relation to several
+particulars.
+
+First of all, justice will not permit me to retract a word in relation
+to the industry, neatness, order, and general good behavior, in the
+Shaker settlement which I visited. In these respects, that singular
+people are worthy of all commendation--yea, they set an example for the
+imitation of Christians everywhere. Justice requires me to say, also,
+that their hospitality is proverbial, and deservedly so. They received
+and entertained me kindly, and (hoping perhaps that I might be induced
+to join them) they extended extra-civilities to me. I have occasion to
+modify the expression of my gratitude in only one particular--and that
+is, one of the female elders made statements to me concerning the
+requisite confessions to be made, and the forms of admission to their
+society, which statements she afterwards denied, under circumstances
+that rendered her denial a most aggravated insult. Declining farther
+notice of this matter, because of the indelicacy of the confessions
+alluded to, I pass to notice,
+
+1st. The domestic arrangements of the Shakers. However strange the
+remark may seem, it is nevertheless true, that our factory population
+work fewer hours out of every twenty-four than are required by the
+Shakers, whose bell to call them from their slumbers, and also to warn
+them that it is time to commence the labors of the day, rings much
+earlier than our factory bells; and its calls were obeyed, in the family
+where I was entertained, with more punctuality than I ever knew the
+greatest "workey" among my numerous acquaintances (during the fourteen
+years in which I have been employed in different manufacturing
+establishments) to obey the calls of the factory-bell. And not until
+nine o'clock in the evening were the labors of the day closed, and the
+people assembled at their religious meetings.
+
+Whoever joins the Shakers with the expectation of relaxation from toil,
+will be greatly mistaken, since they deem it an indispensable duty to
+have every moment of time profitably employed. The little portions of
+leisure which the females have, are spent in knitting--each one having a
+basket of knitting-work for a constant companion.
+
+Their habits of order are, in many things, carried to the extreme. The
+first bell for their meals rings for all to repair to their chambers,
+from which, at the ringing of the second bell, they descend to the
+eating-room. Here, all take their appropriate places at the tables, and
+after locking their hands on their breasts, they drop on their knees,
+close their eyes, and remain in this position about two minutes. Then
+they rise, seat themselves, and with all expedition swallow their food;
+then rise on their feet, again lock their hands, drop on their knees,
+close their eyes, and in about two minutes rise and retire. Their meals
+are taken in silence, conversation being prohibited.
+
+Those whose chambers are in the fourth story of one building, and whose
+work-shops are in the third story of another building, have a daily task
+in climbing stairs which is more oppressive than any of the rules of a
+manufacturing establishment.
+
+2d. With all deference, I beg leave to introduce some of the religious
+views and ceremonies of the Shakers.
+
+From the conversation of the elders, I learned that they considered it
+doing God service to sever the sacred ties of husband and wife, parent
+and child--the relationship existing between them being contrary to
+their religious views--views which they believe were revealed from
+heaven to "Mother Ann Lee," the founder of their sect, and through whom
+they profess to have frequent revelations from the spiritual world.
+These communications, they say, are often written on gold leaves, and
+sent down from heaven to instruct the poor simple Shakers in some new
+duty. They are copied, and perused, and preserved with great care. I one
+day heard quite a number of them read from a book, in which they were
+recorded, and the names of several of the brethren and sisters to whom
+they were given by the angels, were told me. One written on a gold leaf,
+was (as I was told) presented to Proctor Sampson by an angel, so late as
+the summer of 1841. These "revelations" are written partly in English,
+and partly in some unintelligible jargon, or unknown tongue, having a
+spiritual meaning, which can be understood only by those who possess the
+spirit in an eminent degree. They consist principally of songs, which
+they sing at their devotional meetings, and which are accompanied with
+dancing, and many unbecoming gestures and noises.
+
+Often in the midst of a religious march, all stop, and with all their
+might set to stamping with both feet. And it is no uncommon thing for
+many of the worshipping assembly to crow like a parcel of young
+chanticleers, while others imitate the barking of dogs; and many of the
+young women set to whirling round and round--while the old men shake and
+clap their hands; the whole making a scene of noise and confusion which
+can be better imagined than described. The elders seriously told me
+that these things were the outward manifestations of the spirit of God.
+
+Apart from their religious meetings, the Shakers have what they call
+"union meetings." These are for social converse, and for the purpose of
+making the people acquainted with each other. During the day, the elders
+tell who may visit such and such chambers. A few minutes past nine, work
+is laid aside; the females change, or adjust, as best suits their fancy,
+their caps, handkerchiefs, and pinners, with a precision which indicates
+that they are not _altogether_ free from vanity. The chairs, perhaps to
+the number of a dozen, are set in two rows, in such a manner that those
+who occupy them may face each other. At the ringing of a bell each one
+goes to the chamber where either he or she has been directed by the
+elders, or remains at home to receive company, as the case may be. They
+enter the chambers _sans cérémonie_, and seat themselves--the men
+occupying one row of chairs, the women the other. Here, with their clean
+checked home-made pocket-handkerchiefs spread in their laps, and their
+spit-boxes standing in a row between them, they converse about raising
+sheep and kine, herbs and vegetables, building walls and raising corn,
+heating the oven and paring apples, killing rats and gathering nuts,
+spinning tow and weaving sieves, making preserves and mending the
+brethren's clothes,--in short, every thing they do will afford some
+little conversation. But beyond their own little world they do not
+appear to extend scarcely a thought. And why should they? Having so few
+sources of information, they know not what is passing beyond them. They
+however make the most of their own affairs, and seem to regret that they
+can converse no longer, when, after sitting together from half to
+three-quarters of an hour, the bell warns them that it is time to
+separate, which they do by rising up, locking their hands across their
+breasts, and bowing. Each one then goes silently to his own chamber.
+
+It will readily be perceived, that they have no access to libraries, no
+books, excepting school-books, and a few relating to their own
+particular views; no periodicals, and attend no lectures, debates,
+Lyceums, &c. They have none of the many privileges of manufacturing
+districts--consequently their information is so very limited, that their
+conversation is, as a thing in course, quite insipid. The manner of
+their life seems to be a check to the march of mind and a desire for
+improvement; and while the moral and perceptive faculties are tolerably
+developed, the intellectual, with a very few exceptions, seem to be
+below the average.
+
+I have considered it my duty to make the foregoing statement of facts,
+lest the glowing description of the Shakers, given in the story of my
+first visit, might have a wrong influence. I then judged by outward
+appearances only--having a very imperfect knowledge of the true state of
+the case. Nevertheless, the _facts_ as I saw them in my first visit, are
+still facts; my error is to be sought only in my inferences. Having
+since had greater opportunities for observation, I am enabled to judge
+more righteous judgment.
+
+                                                            C. B.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOCK OF GRAY HAIR.
+
+
+Touching and simple memento of departed worth and affection! how
+mournfully sweet are the recollections thou awakenest in the heart, as I
+gaze upon thee--shorn after death had stamped her loved features with
+the changeless hue of the grave. How vividly memory recalls the time
+when, in childish sportiveness and affection, I arranged this little
+tress upon the venerable forehead of my grandmother! Though Time had
+left his impress there, a majestic beauty yet rested upon thy brow; for
+age had no power to quench the light of benevolence that beamed from
+thine eye, nor wither the smile of goodness that animated thy features.
+Again do I seem to listen to the mild voice, whose accents had ever
+power to subdue the waywardness of my spirit, and hush to calmness the
+wild and turbulent passions of my nature.--Though ten summers have made
+the grass green upon thy grave, and the white rose burst in beauty above
+thine honored head, thy name is yet green in our memory, and thy virtues
+have left a deathless fragrance in the hearts of thy children.
+
+Though she of whom I tell claimed not kindred with the "high-born of
+earth"--though the proud descent of titled ancestry marked not her
+name--yet the purity of her spotless character, the practical usefulness
+of her life, her firm adherence to duty, her high and holy submission to
+the will of Heaven, in every conflict, shed a radiance more resplendent
+than the glittering coronet's hues, more enduring than the wreath that
+encircles the head of genius. It was no lordly dome of other climes, nor
+yet of our far-off sunny south, that called her mistress; but among the
+granite hills of New Hampshire (my own father-land) was her humble home.
+
+Well do I remember the morning when she related to me (a sportive girl
+of thirteen) the events of her early days.--At her request, I was her
+companion during her accustomed morning walk about her own homestead.
+During our ramble, she suddenly stopped, and looked intently down upon
+the green earth, leaving me in silent wonder at what could so strongly
+rivet her attention. At length she raised her eyes, and pointing to an
+ancient hollow in the earth, nearly concealed by rank herbage, she said,
+"that spot is the dearest to me on earth." I looked around, then into
+her face for an explanation, seeing nothing unusually attractive about
+the place. But ah! how many cherished memories came up at that moment!
+The tear of fond recollection stood in her eye as she spoke:--"On this
+spot I passed the brightest hours of my existence." To my eager inquiry,
+Did you not always live in the large white house yonder? She replied,
+"No, my child. Fifty years ago, upon this spot stood a rude dwelling,
+composed of logs. Here I passed the early days of my marriage, and here
+my noble first-born drew his first breath." In answer to my earnest
+entreaty to tell me all about it, she seated herself upon the large
+broad stone which had been her ancient hearth, and commenced her story.
+
+"It was a bright midsummer eve when your grandfather, whom you never
+saw, brought me here, his chosen and happy bride. On that morning had we
+plighted our faith at the altar--that morning, with all the feelings
+natural to a girl of eighteen, I bade adieu to the home of my childhood,
+and with a fond mother's last kiss yet warm upon my cheek, commenced my
+journey with my husband towards his new home in the wilderness. Slowly
+on horseback we proceeded on our way, through the green forest path,
+whose deep winding course was directed by incisions upon the trees left
+by the axe of the sturdy woodsman. Yet no modern bride, in her splendid
+coach, decked in satin, orange-flowers, and lace--on the way to her
+stately city mansion, ever felt her heart beat higher than did my own on
+that day. For as I looked upon the manly form of him beside me, as with
+careful hand he guided my bridal rein--or met the fond glance of his
+full dark eye, I felt that his was a changeless love.
+
+"Thus we pursued our lonely way through the lengthening forest, where
+Nature reigned almost in her primitive wildness and beauty. Now and then
+a cultivated patch, with a newly-erected cottage, where sat the young
+mother, hushing with her low wild song the babe upon her bosom, with the
+crash of the distant falling trees, proclaimed it the home of the
+emigrant.
+
+"Twilight had thrown her soft shade over the earth: the bending foliage
+assumed a deeper hue; the wild wood bird singing her last note, as we
+emerged from the forest to a spot termed by the early settlers 'a
+clearing.' It was an enclosure of a few acres, where the preceding year
+had stood in its pride the stately forest-tree. In the centre,
+surrounded by tall stalks of Indian corn, waving their silken tassels in
+the night-breeze, stood the lowly cot which was to be my future home.
+Beneath yon aged oak, which has been spared to tell of the past, we
+dismounted from our horses, and entered our rude dwelling. All was
+silent within and without, save the low whisper of the wind as it swept
+through the forest. But blessed with youth, health, love, and hope, what
+had we to fear? Not that the privations and hardships incident to the
+early emigrant were unknown to us--but we heeded them not.
+
+"The early dawn and dewy eve saw us unremitting in our toil, and Heaven
+crowned our labors with blessings. 'The wilderness began to blossom as
+the rose,' and our barns were filled with plenty.
+
+"But there was coming a time big with the fate of these then infant
+colonies. The murmur of discontent, long since heard in our large
+commercial ports, grew longer and louder, beneath repeated acts of
+British oppression. We knew the portentous cloud every day grew darker.
+In those days our means of intelligence were limited to the casual
+visitation of some traveller from abroad to our wilderness.
+
+"But uncertain and doubtful as was its nature, it was enough to rouse
+the spirit of patriotism in many a manly heart; and while the note of
+preparation loudly rang in the bustling thoroughfares, its tones were
+not unheard among these granite rocks. The trusty firelock was
+remounted, and hung in polished readiness over each humble door. The
+shining pewter was transformed to the heavy bullet, awaiting the first
+signal to carry death to the oppressor.
+
+"It was on the memorable 17th of June, 1775, that your grandfather was
+at his usual labor in a distant part of his farm: suddenly there fell
+upon his ear a sound heavier than the crash of the falling tree: echo
+answered echo along these hills; he knew the hour had come--that the
+flame had burst forth which blood alone could extinguish. His was not a
+spirit to slumber within sound of that battle-peal. He dropped his
+implements, and returned to his house. Never shall I forget the
+expression of his face as he entered.--There was a wild fire in his
+eye--his cheek was flushed--the veins upon his broad forehead swelled
+nigh to bursting. He looked at me--then at his infant-boy--and for a
+moment his face was convulsed. But soon the calm expression of high
+resolve shone upon his features.
+
+"Then I felt that what I had long secretly dreaded was about to be
+realized. For awhile the woman struggled fearfully within me--but the
+strife was brief; and though I could not with my lips say 'go,' in my
+heart I responded, 'God's will be done'--for as such I could but regard
+the sacred cause in which all for which we lived was staked. I dwell not
+on the anguished parting, nor on the lonely desolation of heart which
+followed. A few hasty arrangements, and he, in that stern band known as
+the Green Mountain Boys, led by the noble Stark, hurried to the post of
+danger. On the plains of Bennington he nobly distinguished himself in
+that fierce conflict with the haughty Briton and mercenary foe.
+
+"Long and dreary was the period of my husband's absence; but the God of
+my fathers forsook me not. To Him I committed my absent one, in the
+confidence that He would do all things well. Now and then, a hurried
+scrawl, written perhaps on the eve of an expected battle, came to me in
+my lonely solitude like the 'dove of peace' and consolation--for it
+spoke of undying affection and unshaken faith in the ultimate success of
+that cause for which he had left all.
+
+"But he did return. Once more he was with me. I saw him press his
+first-born to his bosom, and receive the little dark-eyed one, whom he
+had never yet seen, with new fondness to his paternal arms. He lived to
+witness the glorious termination of that struggle, the events of which
+all so well know; to see the 'stars and stripes' waving triumphantly in
+the breeze, and to enjoy for a brief season the rich blessings of peace
+and independence. But ere the sere and yellow leaf of age was upon his
+brow, the withering hand of disease laid his noble head in the dust. As
+the going down of the sun, which foretells a glorious rising, so was his
+death. Many years have gone by, since he was laid in his quiet
+resting-place, where, in a few brief days, I shall slumber sweetly by
+his side."
+
+Such was her unvarnished story; and such is substantially the story of
+many an ancient mother of New England. Yet while the pen of history
+tells of the noble deeds of the patriot fathers, it records little of
+the days of privation and toil of the patriot mothers--of their nights
+of harassing anxiety and uncomplaining sorrow. But their virtues remain
+written upon the hearts of their daughters, in characters that perish
+not. Let not the rude hand of degeneracy desecrate the hallowed shrine
+of their memory.
+
+                                                         THERESA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+LAMENT OF THE LITTLE HUNCHBACK.
+
+
+  Oh, ladies, will you listen to a little orphan's tale?
+  And pity her whose youthful voice must breathe so sad a wail;
+  And shrink not from the wretched form obtruding on your view.
+  As though the heart which in it dwells must be as loathsome too.
+
+  Full well I know that mine would be a strange repulsive mind,
+  Were the outward form an index true of the soul within it shrined;
+  But though I am so all devoid of the loveliness of youth,
+  Yet deem me not as destitute of its innocence and truth.
+
+  And ever in this hideous frame I strive to keep the light
+  Of faith in God, and love to man, still shining pure and bright;
+  Though hard the task, I often find, to keep the channel free
+  Whence all the kind affections flow to those who love not me.
+
+  I sometimes take a little child quite softly on my knee,
+  I hush it with my gentlest tones, and kiss it tenderly;
+  But my kindest words will not avail, my form cannot be screened,
+  And the babe recoils from my embrace, as though I were a fiend.
+
+  I sometimes, in my walks of toil, meet children at their play;
+  For a moment will my pulses fly, and I join the band so gay;
+  But they depart with nasty steps, while their lips and nostrils curl,
+  Nor e'en their childhood's sports will share with the little crooked
+        girl
+
+  But once it was not thus with me: I was a dear-loved child;
+  A mother's kiss oft pressed my brow, a father on me smiled;
+  No word was ever o'er me breathed, but in affection's tone,
+  For I to them was very near--their cherish'd, only one.
+
+  But sad the change which me befel, when they were laid to sleep,
+  Where the earth-worms o'er their mouldering forms their noisome
+    revels keep;
+  For of the orphan's hapless fate there were few or none to care,
+  And burdens on my back were laid a child should never bear.
+
+  And now, in this offensive form, their cruelty is viewed--
+  For first upon me came disease--and deformity ensued:
+  Woe! woe to her, for whom not even this life's earliest stage
+  Could be redeemed from the bended form and decrepitude of age.
+
+  And yet of purest happiness I have some transient gleams;
+  'Tis when, upon my pallet rude, I lose myself in dreams:
+  The gloomy present fades away; the sad past seems forgot;
+  And in those visions of the night mine is a blissful lot.
+
+  The dead then come and visit me: I hear my father's voice;
+  I hear that gentle mother's tones, which makes my heart rejoice;
+  Her hand once more is softly placed upon my aching brow,
+  And she soothes my every pain away, as if an infant now.
+
+  But sad is it to wake again, to loneliness and fears;
+  To find myself the creature yet of misery and tears;
+  And then, once more, I try to sleep, and know the thrilling bliss
+  To see again my father's smile, and feel my mother's kiss.
+
+  And sometimes, then, a blessed boon has unto me been given--
+  An entrance to the spirit-world, a foretaste here of heaven;
+  I have heard the joyous anthems swell, from voice and golden lyre,
+  And seen the dearly loved of earth join in that gladsome choir.
+
+  And I have dropped this earthly frame, this frail disgusting clay,
+  And, in a beauteous spirit-form, have soared on wings away;
+  I have bathed my angel-pinions in the floods of glory bright,
+  Which circle, with their brilliant waves, the throne of living light.
+
+  I have joined the swelling chorus of the holy glittering bands
+  Who ever stand around that throne, with cymbals in their hands:
+  But the dream would soon be broken by the voices of the morn,
+  And the sunbeams send me forth again, the theme of jest and song.
+
+  I care not for their mockery now--the thought disturbs me not,
+  That, in this little span of life, contempt should be my lot;
+  But I would gladly welcome here some slight reprieve from pain,
+  And I'd murmur of my back no more, if it might not ache again.
+
+  Full well I know this ne'er can be, till I with peace am blest,
+  Where the heavy-laden sweetly sleep, and the weary are at rest;
+  For the body shall commingle with its kindred native dust,
+  And the soul return for evermore to the "Holy One and Just."
+
+                                                           LETTY.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR HOME.
+
+
+How difficult it is for the wealthy and proud to realize that they must
+die, and mingle with the common earth! Though a towering monument may
+mark the spot where their lifeless remains repose, their heads will lie
+as low as that of the poorest peasant. All their untold gold cannot
+reprieve them for one short day.
+
+When Death places his relentless hand upon them, and as their spirit is
+fast passing away, perhaps for the first time the truth flashes upon
+their mind, that this world is not their home; and a thrill of agony
+racks their frame at the thought of entering that land where all is
+uncertainty to them. It may be that they have never humbled themselves
+before the great Lawgiver and Judge, and their hearts, alas! have not
+been purified and renewed by that grace for which they never
+supplicated. And as the vacant eye wanders around the splendidly
+furnished apartment, with its gorgeous hangings and couch of down, how
+worthless it all seems, compared with that peace of mind which attends
+"the pure in heart!"
+
+The aspirant after fame would fain believe this world was his home, as
+day by day he twines the laurel-wreath for his brow, and fondly trusts
+it will be unfading in its verdure; and as the applause of a world, that
+to him appears all bright and beautiful, meets his ear, he thinks not of
+Him who resigned his life on the cross for suffering humanity--he thinks
+of naught but the bubble he is seeking; and when he has obtained it, it
+has lost all its brilliancy--for the world has learned to look with
+indifference upon the bright flowers he has scattered so profusely on
+all sides, and his friends, one by one, become alienated and cold, or
+bestow their praise upon some new candidate who may have entered the
+arena of fame. How his heart shrinks within him, to think of the long
+hours of toil by the midnight lamp--of health destroyed--of youth
+departed--of near and dear ties broken by a light careless word, that
+had no meaning! How bitterly does he regret that he has thrown away all
+the warm and better feelings of his heart upon the fading things of
+earth! How deeply does he feel that he has slighted God's holy law--for,
+in striving after worldly honors, he had forgotten that this world was
+not his home; and while the rainbow tints of prosperity gleamed in his
+pathway, he had neglected to cultivate the fadeless wreath that cheers
+the dying hour! And now the low hollow cough warns him of the near
+approach of that hour beyond which all to him is darkness and gloom; and
+as he tosses on the bed of pain and languishing, lamenting that all the
+bright visions of youth had so soon vanished away, the cold world
+perchance passes in review before him.
+
+He beholds the flushed cheek of beauty fade, and the star of fame fall
+from the brow of youth. He marks the young warrior on the field of
+battle, fighting bravely, while the banner of stars and stripes waves
+proudly over his head; and while thinking of the glory he shall win, a
+ball enters his heart.--He gazes upon an aged sire, as he bends over the
+lifeless form of his idolized child, young and fair as the morning, just
+touched by the hand of death; she was the light of his home, the last of
+many dear ones; and he wondered why he was spared, and the young taken.
+Though the cup was bitter, he drank it.
+
+Again he turned his eyes from the world, whereon everything is written,
+"fading away." Yes, wealth, beauty, fame, glory, honor, friendship, and
+oh! must it be said that even love, too, fades? Almost in despair, he
+exclaimed, "Is there aught that fades not?" And a voice seemed to
+whisper in his ear, "There is God's love which never fades; this world
+is not your home; waste not the short fragment of your life in vain
+regrets, but rather prepare for that dissolution which is the common lot
+of all; be ready, therefore, to pass to that bourne from which there is
+no return, before you enter the presence of Him whose name is Love."
+
+  "Then ask not life, but joy to know
+    That sinless they in heaven shall stand;
+  That Death is not a cruel foe,
+    To execute a wise command.
+  'Tis ours to ask, 'tis God's to give.--
+  We live to die--and die to live."
+
+                                                        BEATRICE.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+DIGNITY OF LABOR.
+
+
+From whence originated the idea, that it was derogatory to a lady's
+dignity, or a blot upon the female character, to labor? and who was the
+first to say sneeringly, "Oh, she _works_ for a living?" Surely, such
+ideas and expressions ought not to grow on republican soil. The time has
+been when ladies of the first rank were accustomed to busy themselves in
+domestic employment.
+
+Homer tells us of princesses who used to draw water from the springs,
+and wash with their own hands the finest of the linen of their
+respective families. The famous Lucretia used to spin in the midst of
+her attendants; and the wife of Ulysses, after the siege of Troy,
+employed herself in weaving, until her husband returned to Ithaca. And
+in later times, the wife of George the Third, of England, has been
+represented as spending a whole evening in hemming pocket-handkerchiefs,
+while her daughter Mary sat in the corner, darning stockings.
+
+Few American fortunes will support a woman who is above the calls of her
+family; and a man of sense, in choosing a companion to jog with him
+through all the up-hills and down-hills of life, would sooner choose one
+who _had_ to work for a living, than one who thought it beneath her to
+soil her pretty hands with manual labor, although she possessed her
+thousands. To be able to earn one's own living by laboring with the
+hands, should be reckoned among female accomplishments; and I hope the
+time is not far distant when none of my countrywomen will be ashamed to
+have it known that they are better versed in useful than they are in
+ornamental accomplishments.
+
+                                                            C. B.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE VILLAGE CHRONICLE.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"Come, Lina, dear," said Mr. Wheeler to his little daughter, "lay by
+your knitting, if you please, and read me the paper."
+
+"What, pa, this old paper, 'The Village Chronicle?'"
+
+"Old, Lina!--why, it is damp from the press. Not so old, by more than a
+dozen years, as you are."
+
+"But, pa, the _news_ is _olds_. Our village mysteries are all worn
+threadbare by the gossiping old maids before the printer can get them in
+type; and the foreign information is more quickly obtained from other
+sources. And, pa, I wish you wouldn't call me Lina--it sounds so
+childish, and I begin to think myself quite a young lady--almost in my
+teens, you know; and Angeline is not so very long."
+
+"Well, Angeline, as you please; but see if there is not something in the
+paper."
+
+"Oh, yes, pa; to please you I will read the stupid old (_new_, I mean)
+concern.--Well, in the first place, we have some poetry--some of our
+village poets' (genius, you know, admits not of distinction of sex)
+effusions, or rather confusions. Miss Helena (it used to be Ellen once)
+Carrol's sublime sentiments upon 'The Belvidere Apollo,'--which she
+never saw, nor anything like it, and knows nothing about. She had better
+write about our penny-post, and then we might feel an interest in her
+lucubrations, even if not very intrinsically valuable. But if she does
+not want to be an old maid, she might as well leave off writing
+sentimental poetry for the newspapers; for who will marry a _bleu_?"
+
+"There is much that I might say in reply, but I will wait until you are
+older. And now do not let me hear you say anything more about old maids,
+at least deridingly; for I have strong hopes that my little girl will be
+one herself."
+
+"No, pa, never!--I will not marry, at least while you, or Alfred, or
+Jimmy, are alive; but I cannot be an old maid--not one of those
+tattling, envious, starched-up, prudish creatures, whom I have always
+designated as old maids, whether they are married or single--on the
+sunny or shady side of thirty."
+
+"Well, child, I hope you never will be metamorphosed into an old maid,
+then. But now for the Chronicle--I will excuse you from the poetry, if
+you will read what comes next."
+
+"Thank you, my dear father, a thousand times. It would have made me as
+sick as a cup-full of warm water would do. You know I had rather take so
+much hot drops.--But the next article is Miss Simpkins's very original
+tale, entitled 'The Injured One,'--probably all about love and despair,
+and ladies so fair, and men who don't care, if the mask they can wear,
+and the girls must beware. Now ain't I literary? But to be a heroine
+also, I will muster my resolution, and commence the story:
+
+"'Madeline and Emerilla were the only daughters of Mr. Beaufort, of H.,
+New Hampshire.'
+
+"Now, pa, I can't go any farther--I would as lieve travel through the
+deserts of Sahara, or run the gauntlet among the Seminoles, as to wade
+through this sloshy story. Miss Simpkins always has such names to her
+heroines; and they would do very well if they were placed anywhere but
+in the unromantic towns of our granite State. H., I suppose, stands for
+Hawke, or Hopkinton. Miss Simpkins is so soft that I do not believe Mr.
+Baxter would publish her stories, if he were not engaged to her sister.
+She makes me think of old 'deaf uncle Jeff,' in the story, who wanted
+somebody to love."
+
+"And she does love--she loves everybody; and I am sorry to hear you talk
+so of this amiable and intellectual girl. But I do not wish to hear you
+read her story now--as for her names, she would not find one
+unappropriated by our towns-folks. What comes next?"
+
+"The editorial, pa, and the caption is, 'Our Representatives.' I had ten
+times rather read about the antediluvians, and I wish sometimes they
+might go and keep them company. And now for the items: Our new bell got
+cracked, in its winding way to this 'ere town; and the meeting-house at
+the West Parish, has been fired by an incendiary; and the old elm, near
+the Central House, has been blown down; and Widow Frye has had a yoke of
+oxen struck by lightning; and old Col. Morton fell down dead, in a fit
+of apoplexy; and the bridge over the Branch needs repairing; and 'a
+friend of good order' wishes that our young men would not stand gaping
+around the meeting-house doors, before or after service; and 'a friend
+of equal rights' wishes that people might sell and drink as much rum as
+they please, without interference, &c., &c.; and all these things we
+knew before, as well as we did our A B C's. Next are the cards: The
+ladies have voted their thanks to Mr. K., for his lecture upon
+phrenology--the matrimonial part, I presume, included; and the
+Anti-Slavery Society is to have a fair, at which will be sold all sorts
+of abolition things, such as anti-slavery paper, wafers, and all such
+important articles. I declare I will make a nigger doll for it. And Mr.
+P., of Boston, is to deliver a lecture upon temperance; and the trustees
+of the Academy have chosen Mr. Dalton for the Preceptor, and here is his
+long advertisement; and the Overseers of the Poor are ready to receive
+proposals for a new alms-house; and all these things, pa, which have
+been the town talk this long time. But here is something new. Our
+minister, dear Mr. Olden, has been very seriously injured by an accident
+upon the Boston and Salem Railroad. The news must be very recent, for we
+had not heard of it; and it is crowded into very fine type. Oh, how
+sorry I am for him!"
+
+"Well, Lina, or Miss Angeline, there is something of sufficient
+importance to repay you for the trouble of reading it, and I am very
+glad that you have done so--for I will start upon my intended journey to
+Boston to-day, and can assist him to return home. Anything else?"
+
+"Oh, yes, pa! a long list of those who have taken advantage of the
+Bankrupt Act, and the Deaths and Marriages; but all mentioned here, with
+whose names we were familiar, have been subjects for table-talk these
+several days."
+
+"Well, is there no foreign news?"
+
+"Yes, pa; Queen Victoria has given another ball at Buckingham Palace;
+and Prince Albert has accepted a very fine blood-hound, from Major
+Sharp, of Houston; and Sir Howard Douglas has been made a Civil Grand
+Cross of the Bath, &c., &c. Are not these fine things to fill up our
+republican papers with?"
+
+"Well, my daughter, look at the doings in Congress--that will suit you."
+
+"You know better, pa. They do nothing there but scold, and strike, and
+grumble--then pocket their money, and go home. See, here it begins, 'The
+proceedings of the House can hardly be said to have been _important_. An
+instructive and delightful _scene_ took place between Mr. Wise of
+Virginia, and Mr. Stanly, of South Carolina.' Yes, pa, that's the way
+they spend their time. In this _act_ of the farce, or tragedy, one
+called t' other a _bull-dog_, t' other called one a _coward_. Do you
+wish to hear any more?"
+
+"You are somewhat out of humor, my child; but are there no new notices?"
+
+"Yes, here is an 'Assessors' Notice,' and an 'Assignee's Notice,' and a
+'Contractors' Notice;' but you do not care anything about them. And here
+is an 'Auction Notice.'"
+
+"What auction? Read it, my love."
+
+"Why, the late old Mr. Gardner's farm-house, and all his furniture, are
+to be sold at auction. And here is a notice of a meeting of the
+Directors of the Pentucket Bank, to be held this very afternoon."
+
+"I am very glad to have learned of it, for I must be there. Is that
+all?"
+
+"All?--no, indeed! Here are some long articles, full of _Whereases_, and
+_Resolved's_, and _Be it enacted's_; but I know you will excuse me from
+reading them. And now for the advertisements: Here is a fine new lot of
+_Chenie-de-Laines_, 'just received' at Grosvenor's--oh, pa! do let me
+have a new dress, won't you?"
+
+"No, I can't--at least, I do not see how I can. But if you will promise
+to read my paper through patiently for the future, and will prepare my
+valise for my journey to Boston, I will see what I may do. Meantime I
+must be off to the directors' meeting. And now let me remind you that
+two items, at least, in this paper, have been of much importance to me;
+and one, it seems, somewhat interesting to you. So no more fretting
+about the Chronicle, if you want a _new gown_."
+
+Mr. Wheeler left the room, and Angeline seated herself at the
+work-table, to repair his vest. She was sorry she had fretted so much
+about the Chronicle; but she did wish her father would take the "Ladies'
+Companion," or something else, in its stead.
+
+While seated there, her little brother came running into the room, all
+out of breath, and but just able to gasp out, "Oh, Lina! there is a man
+at the Central House, who has just stopped in the stage, and he is going
+right on to Kentucky, and straight through the town where Alfred lives,
+for I heard him say so; and I asked him if he would carry anything for
+us, and he said, 'Yes, willingly.' So I ran home as fast as I could
+come, to tell you to write a note, or do up a paper, or something,
+because he will be so sure to get it--and right from us, too, as fast as
+it can go. Now do be quick, or the stage will start off."
+
+"Oh, dear me," exclaimed Angeline, "how I do wish we had a New York
+Mirror, or a Philadelphia Courier, or a Boston Gazette, or anything but
+this stupid Chronicle! Do look, Jimmy! is there nothing in this pile of
+papers?"
+
+"No, nothing that will do--so fold up the Chronicle, quick, for the
+stage is starting."
+
+Angeline, who had spent some moments in looking for another paper, now
+had barely time to scrawl the short word "Lina" on the paper, wrap it in
+an envelop, and direct it. Jimmy snatched it as soon as it was ready,
+and ran out "_full tilt_," in knightly phrase, or, as he afterwards
+said, "_lickity split_."
+
+The stage was coming on at full speed, and he wished to stop it. Many a
+time had he stood by the road-side, with his school companions, and,
+waving his cap, and stretching out his neck, had hallooed, "Hurrah for
+Jackson!" and he feared that, like the boy in the fable, who called
+"Wolves! wolves!" if he now shouted to them from the road-side, they
+would not heed him. So he ran into the middle of the road, threw up his
+arms, and stood still. The driver barely reined in his horses within a
+few feet of the daring boy.
+
+"Where is the man who is going straight ahead to Kentucky?"
+
+"Here, my lad," replied a voice, as a head popped out of the window, to
+see what was the matter.
+
+"Well, here is a paper which I wish you to carry to my brother; and if
+you stop long enough where he is, you must go and see him, and tell him
+you saw me too."
+
+"Well done, my lad! you are a keen one. I'll do your bidding--but don't
+you never run under stage-horses again."
+
+He took the packet, while the driver cracked his whip; and the horses
+started as the little boy leaped upon the bank, shouting, "Hurra for
+Yankee Land and old Kentucky!"
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+In a rude log hut of Western Kentucky was seated an animated and
+intelligent-looking young man. A bright moon was silvering the
+forest-tops, which were almost the only prospect from his window; but
+in that beauteous light the rough clearing around seemed changed to
+fairy land; and even his rude domicile partook of the transient
+renovation. His lone walls, his creviced roof, and ragged floor, were
+transformed beneath that silvery veil; and truly did it look as though
+it might well be the abode of peaceful happiness.
+
+"I feel as though I could write poetry now," said Alfred to himself.
+"Let me see--'The Spirit's Call to the Absent,' or something like that;
+but if I should strike my light, and really get pens, ink, and paper, it
+would all evaporate, vanish, abscond, make tracks, become scarce, be o.
+p. h. Ah, yes! the poetry would go, but the feeling, the deep affection,
+which would find some other language than simple prose, can never
+depart.
+
+"How I wish I could see them all! There is not a codger in my native
+town--not a crusty fusty old bachelor--not an envious tattling old
+maid--not a flirt, sot, pauper, idiot, or sainted hypocrite, but I could
+welcome with an embrace. But if I could only see my father, or Jimmy, or
+Lina, dear girl! how much better I should feel! It would make me ten
+years younger, to have a chat with Lina; and, to tell the truth, I
+should like to see any woman, just to see how it would seem. I'd go a
+quarter of a mile, now, to look at a row of aprons hung out to dry. But
+there! it's no use to talk.
+
+"An evening like this is such an one as might entice me to my mother's
+grave, were I at home. Oh! if she were but alive--if I could only know
+that she was still somewhere on the wide earth, to think and pray for
+me--I might be better, as well as happier. Methinks it must be a blessed
+thing to be a mother, if all sons cherish that parent's memory as I have
+mine--and they do. It cheers and sustains the exile in a stranger's
+land; it invigorates him in trial, and lights him through adversity; it
+warns the felon, and haunts and harrows the convict; it strengthens the
+captive, and exhilarates the homeward-bound. Truly must it be a blessed
+thing to be a mother!"
+
+He stopped--for in the moonlight was distinctly seen the figure of a
+horseman, emerging from the public road, and galloping across the
+clearing. He turned towards the office of the young surveyor, and in a
+few moments the carrier had related the incident by which he obtained
+the paper, and placed "The Village Chronicle" in Alfred's hand.
+
+He struck a light, tore off the wrapper, and the only written word which
+met his eye was "Lina." "Dear name!" said he, "I could almost kiss it,
+especially as there is none to see me. She must have been in a
+prodigious hurry! and how funny that little rascal, Jimmy, must have
+looked! Well, 'when he next doth run a race, may I be there to see.'"
+
+He took the paper to read. It was a very late one--he had never before
+received one so near the date; and even that line of dates was now so
+pleasing. First was Miss Helena Carroll's poetry. "Dear girl!" said he,
+"what a beautiful writer she is! Really, this is poetry! This is
+something which carries us away from ourselves, and more closely
+connects us with the enduring, high, and beautiful. Methinks I see her
+now--more thin, pale, and ethereal in her appearance than when we were
+gay school-mates; but I wonder that, with all her treasures of heart and
+intellect, she is still Helena Carroll.
+
+"And now here is Miss Simpkin's story of 'The injured One'--beautiful,
+interesting, and instructive, I am confident; and I will read it, every
+word; but she italicises too much; she throws too lavishly the bright
+robes of her prolific fancy upon the forms she conjures up from
+New-England hills and vales. I wonder if she remembers now the time when
+she made me shake the old-apple tree, near the pound, for her, and in
+jumping down, I nearly broke my leg. Well, if I read her story, I will
+try that it does not break my heart.
+
+"And here is an excellent editorial about 'Our Representatives'--I will
+read it again, and now for the ITEMS."
+
+These were all highly interesting to the _absentee_, and on each did he
+expatiate to himself. How different were his feelings from his sister's,
+as he read of the cracked bell, the burned meeting-house, the dead oxen,
+the apoplectic old Colonel, the decayed bridge, the hints of the friends
+of "good order" and "equal rights." Then there was a little scene
+suggested by every card; he wondered who had their heads examined at the
+Phrenological lecture; and if the West Parish old farmers were now as
+stiffly opposed to the science. And how he would like to see Lina's
+chart, and to know if Jimmy had brains--he was sure he had legs, and a
+big heart for a little boy; and he wondered what girls ran up to have
+their heads felt of in public; and what the man said about
+matrimony--an affair which in old times was thought to have more to do
+with the heart than the head.
+
+Then his imagination went forward to the fair of the Anti-Slavery
+Society, and he wondered where it would be, and who would go, and what
+Lina would make, and whether so much fuss about slavery was right or
+wrong, and if "father" approved of it. Then the temperance lecture was
+the theme for another self-disquisition. He wondered who had joined the
+society, and how the Washingtonians held out, and if Mr. Hawkins was
+ever coming to the West.
+
+Then he was glad the trustees were determined to resuscitate the old
+academy. What grand times he had enjoyed there, especially at the
+exhibitions! and he wondered where all the pretty girls were who used to
+go to school with his bachelorship. Then they were to have a new
+alms-house; and forty more things were mentioned, of equal interest--not
+forgetting Mr. Olden's accident, for which "father would be so sorry."
+Then there were the Marriages and Deaths--each a subject of deep
+interest, as was also the list of Bankrupts. The foreign news was news
+to him; and Congress matters were not passed unheeded by.
+
+Then he read with deep interest every "Assessor's Notice," also those of
+"Assignees," "Contractors," and "Auctioneers." There was not a single
+"Whereas" or "Resolved," but was most carefully perused; and every "Be
+it enacted" stared him in the face like an old familiar friend.
+
+Then there were the advertisements; and Grosvenor's first attracted his
+attention from its _big_ letters. "CHENIE-DE-LAINES!" said he, "What in
+the name of common sense are they? Something for gal's gowns, _I guess_;
+and what will they next invent for a name?"
+
+But each advertisement told its little history. Some of the old
+"_pillars_" of the town were still in their accustomed places. The same
+signatures, places, and almost the same goods--nothing much changed but
+the dates. Another advertisement informed him of the dissolution of an
+old copartnership, and another showed the formation of a new one. Some
+old acquaintances had changed their location or business, and others
+were about to retire from it. Those whom he remembered as almost boys,
+were now just entering into active life, and those who should now be
+preparing for another world were still laying up treasures on earth.
+One, who had been a farmer, was now advertising himself as a _doctor_.
+A lawyer had changed into a miller, and old Capt Prouty was post-master.
+The former cobler now kept the bookstore, and the young major had turned
+printer. The old printer was endeavoring to collect his debts--for he
+said his devil had gone to Oregon, and he wished to go to the devil.
+
+Not a single puff did Alfred omit; he noticed every new book, and
+swallowed every new nostrum. "Old rags," "Buffalo Oil," "Bear's Grease,"
+"Corn Plaster," "Lip Salve," "Accordions," "Feather Renovators," "Silk
+Dye-Houses," "Worm Lozenges," "Ready-made Clothing," "Ladies' Slips,"
+"Misses' Ties," "Christmas Presents," "Sugar-house Molasses," "Choice
+Butter," "Shell Combs," "New Music," "Healing Lotions," "Last Chance,"
+"Hats and Caps," "Prime Cost," "Family Pills," "Ladies' Cuff Pins,"
+"Summer Boots," "Vegetable Conserve," "Muffs and Boas," "Pease's
+Horehound Candy," "White Ash Coal," "Bullard's Oil-Soap," "Universal
+Panacea," "Tailoress Wanted," "Unrivalled Elixir," "Excellent Vanilla,"
+"Taylor's Spool Cotton," "Rooms to Let," "Chairs and Tables," "Pleasant
+House," "Particular notice," "Family Groceries," "A Removal,"
+"Anti-Dyspeptic Bitters," &c., &c., down to "One Cent Reward--Ran away
+from the Subscriber," &c.--Yes; he had read them all, and all with much
+interest, but one with a deeper feeling than was awakened by the others.
+It was the notice of the sale of the late Mr. Gardner's House, farm, &c.
+
+"And so," said Alfred, "Cynthia Gardner is now free. She used to love me
+dearly--at least she said so in every thing but words; but the old man
+said she should never marry a harum-scarum scape-grace like me. Well!
+it's no great matter if I did sow all my wild oats then, for there is
+too little cleared land to do much at it here. The old gentleman is
+dead, and I'll forgive him; but I will write this very night to Cynthia,
+and ask her to--
+
+  ----'come, and with me share
+  Whate'er my hut bestows;
+  My cornstalk bed, my frugal fare,
+  My labor and repose.'"
+
+                                                         LUCINDA.
+
+
+
+
+AMBITION AND CONTENTMENT.
+
+
+It has been said that all virtues, carried to their extremes, become
+vices, as firmness may be carried to obstinacy, gentleness to weakness,
+faith to superstition, &c., &c.; and that while cultivating them, a
+perpetual care is necessary that they may not be resolved into those
+kindred vices. But there are other qualities of so opposite a character,
+that, though we may acknowledge them both to be virtues, we can hardly
+cherish them at the same time.
+
+Contentment is a virtue often urged upon us, and too often neglected. It
+is essential to our happiness; for how can we experience pleasure while
+dissatisfied with the station which has been allotted us, or the
+circumstances which befall us? but when contentment degenerates into
+that slothful feeling which will not exert itself for a greater
+good--which would sit, and smile at ease upon the gifts which Providence
+has forced upon its possessor, and turns away from the objects, which
+call for the active spring and tenacious grasp--when, I repeat,
+contentment is but another excuse for indolence, it then has ceased to
+be a virtue.
+
+And Ambition, which is so often denounced as a vice--which _is_ a vice
+when carried to an extent that would lead its votary to grasp all upon
+which it can lay its merciless clutch, and which heeds not the rights or
+possessions of a fellow-being when conflicting with its own domineering
+will, which then becomes so foul a vice--this same ambition, when kept
+within its proper bounds, is then a virtue; and not only a virtue, but
+the parent of virtues. The spirit of laudable enterprise, the noble
+desire for superior excellence, the just emulation which would raise
+itself to an equality with the highest--all this is the fruit of
+ambition.
+
+Here then are two virtues, ambition and contentment, both to be
+commended, both to be cherished, yet at first glance at variance with
+each other; at all events, with difficulty kept within those proper
+bounds which will prevent a conflict between them.
+
+We are not metaphysicians, and did we possess the power to draw those
+finely-pencilled mental and moral distinctions in which the acute
+reasoner delights so often to display his power, this would be no place
+for us to indulge our love for nicely attenuated theories. We are aware,
+that to cherish ambition for the good it may lead us to acquire, for the
+noble impulses of which it may be the fountain-spring, and yet to
+restrain those waters when they would gush forth with a tide which would
+bear away all better feelings of the heart--this, we know, is not only
+difficult, but almost impossible.
+
+To strive for a position upon some loftier eminence, and yet to remain
+unruffled if those strivings are in vain; to remain calm and cheerful
+within the little circle where Providence has stationed us, yet actively
+endeavoring to enlarge that circle, if not to obtain admittance to a
+higher one; to plume the pinions of the soul for an upward flight, yet
+calmly sink again to the earth if these efforts are but useless
+flutterings; all this seems contradictory, though essential to
+perfection of character.
+
+Thankfulness for what we have, yet longings for a greater boon;
+resignation to a humble lot, and a determination that it shall not
+always be humble; ambition and contentment--how wide the difference, and
+how difficult for one breast to harbor them both at the same time!
+
+Nothing so forcibly convinces us of the frailty of humanity as the
+tendency of all that is good and beautiful to corruption. As in the
+natural world, earth's loveliest things are those which yield most
+easily to blighting and decay, so in the spiritual, the noblest feelings
+and powers are closely linked to some dark passion.
+
+How easily does ambition become rapacity; and if the heart's yearnings
+for the unattainable are forcibly stilled, and the mind is governed by
+the determination that no wish shall be indulged but for that already in
+its power, how soon and easily may it sink into the torpor of inaction!
+To keep all the faculties in healthful exercise, yet always to restrain
+the feverish glow, must require a constant and vigilant self-command.
+
+How soon, in that long-past sacred time when the Savior dwelt on earth,
+did the zeal of one woman in her Master's cause become tainted with the
+earth-born wish that her sons might be placed, the one upon his right
+and the other upon his left hand, when he should sit upon his throne of
+glory; and how soon was _their_ ardent love mingled with the fiery zeal
+which would call down fire from heaven upon the heads of their
+fellow-men!
+
+Here was ambition, but not a justifiable desire for elevation; an
+ambition, also, which had its source in some of the noblest feelings of
+the soul, and which, when directed by the pure principles which
+afterwards guided their conduct, was the heart-spring of deeds which
+shall claim the admiration, and spur to emulous exertions, the men of
+all coming time.
+
+"Be content with what ye have," but never with what ye are; for the wish
+to be perfect, "even as our Father in heaven is perfect," must ever be
+mingled with regrets for the follies and frailties which our weak nature
+seems to have entailed upon us.
+
+And while we endeavor to be submissive, cheerful, and contented with the
+lot marked out for us, may gratitude arouse us to the noble desire to
+render ourselves worthy of a nobler station than earth can ever present
+us, even to a place upon our Savior's right hand in his heavenly
+kingdom.
+
+                                                            H. F.
+
+
+
+
+A CONVERSATION ON PHYSIOLOGY.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+Physiology, Astronomy, Geology, Botany, and kindred sciences, are not
+now, as formerly, confined to our higher seminaries of learning. They
+are being introduced into the common schools, not only of our large
+towns and cities, but of our little villages throughout New-England.
+Hence a knowledge of these sciences is becoming general. It needs not
+Sibylline wisdom to predict that the time is not far distant when it
+will be more disadvantageous and more humiliating to be ignorant of
+their principles and technicalities, than to be unable to tell the
+length and breadth of Sahara, the rise, course and fall of little rivers
+in other countries, which we shall never see, never hear mentioned--and
+the latitude and longitude of remote or obscure cities and towns. If a
+friend would describe a flower, she would not tell us that it has so
+many flower-leaves, so many of those shortest things that rise from the
+centre of the flower, and so many of the longest ones; but she will
+express herself with more elegance and rapidity by using the technical
+names of these parts--petals, stamens, and pistils. She will not tell us
+that the green leaves are formed some like a rose-leaf, only that they
+are rounder, or more pointed, as the case may be; or if she can find no
+similitudes, she will not use fifty words in conveying an idea that
+might be given in one little word. We would be able to understand her
+philosophical description. And scientific lectures, the sermons of our
+best preachers, and the conversation of the intelligent, presuppose some
+degree of knowledge of the most important sciences; and to those who
+have not this knowledge, half their zest is lost.
+
+If we are so situated that we cannot attend school, we have, by far the
+greater part of us, hours for reading, and means to purchase books. We
+should be systematic in our expenditures. They should be regulated by
+the nature of the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed,--by
+our wages, state of health, and the situation of our families. After a
+careful consideration of these, and other incidentals that may be, we
+can make a periodical appropriation of any sum we please, for the
+purchase of books. Our readings, likewise, should be systematic. If we
+take physiology, physiology should be read exclusively of all others,
+except our Bibles and a few well-chosen periodicals, until we acquire a
+knowledge of its most essential parts. Then let this be superseded by
+others, interrupted in their course only by occasional reviews of those
+already studied.
+
+But there are those whose every farthing is needed to supply themselves
+with necessary clothing, their unfortunate parents, or orphan brothers
+and sisters with a subsistence. And forever sacred be these duties.
+Blessings be on the head of those who faithfully discharge them, by a
+cheerful sacrifice of selfish gratification. Cheerful, did I say? Ah!
+many will bear witness to the pangs which such a sacrifice costs them.
+It is a hard lot to be doomed to live on in ignorance, when one longs
+for knowledge, "as the hart panteth after the water brook." My poor
+friend L.'s complaint will meet an answering thrill of sympathy in many
+a heart. "Oh, why is it so?" said she, while tears ran down her cheeks.
+"Why have I such a thirst for knowledge, and not one source of
+gratification?" We may not know _why_, my sister, but faith bids us
+trust in God, and "rest in his decree,"--to be content "when he refuses
+more." Yet a spirit of _true_ contentment induces no indolent yieldings
+to adverse circumstances; no slumbering and folding the hands in sleep,
+when there is so much within the reach of every one, worthy of our
+strongest and most persevering efforts. Mrs. Hale says,--
+
+  "There is a charm in knowledge, _best_ when bought
+  _By vigorous toil of frame and earnest search of thought_."
+
+And we will toil. Morning, noon, and evening shall witness our exertions
+to prepare for happiness and usefulness here, and for the exalted
+destiny that awaits us hereafter. But proper attention should be paid to
+physical comfort as well as to mental improvement. It is only by
+retaining the former that we can command the latter. The mind cannot be
+vigorous while the body is weak. Hence we should not allow our toils to
+enter upon those hours which belong to repose. We should not allow
+ourselves, however strong the temptation, to visit the lecture-room,
+&c., if the state of the weather, or of our health, renders the
+experiment hazardous. Above all, we should not forget our dependence on
+a higher Power. "Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but God alone giveth
+the increase."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Ann._ Isabel, before we commence our "big talk," let me ask you to
+proceed upon the inference that we are totally ignorant of the subject
+under discussion.
+
+_Ellinora._ Yes, Isabel, proceed upon the _fact_ that I am ignorant even
+of the meaning of the term _physiology_.
+
+_Isabel._ It comes from the Greek words _phusis_, nature, and _logia_, a
+collection, or _logos_, discourse; and means a collection of facts or
+discourse relating to nature. Physiology is divided, first, into
+Vegetable and Animal; and the latter is subdivided into Comparative and
+Human. We shall confine our attention to Human Physiology, which treats
+of the organs of the human body, their mutual dependence and relation,
+their functions, and the laws by which our physical constitution is
+governed.
+
+_A._ And are you so heretical, dear Isabel, as to class this science, on
+the score of utility, with Arithmetic and Geography--the alpha and omega
+of common school education?
+
+_I._ Yes. It is important, inasmuch as it is necessary that we know how
+to preserve the fearfully delicate fabric which our Creator has
+entrusted to our keeping. We gather many wholesome rules and cautions
+from maternal lips; we learn many more from experiencing the painful
+results that follow their violation. But this kind of knowledge comes
+tardily; it may be when an infringement of some organic law, of which we
+were left in ignorance, has fastened upon us painful, perhaps fatal,
+disease.
+
+_A._ We may not always avoid sickness and premature death by a knowledge
+and observance of these laws; for there are hereditary diseases, in
+whose origin we are not implicated, and whose effects we cannot
+eradicate from our system by "all knowledge, all device."
+
+_I._ But a knowledge of Physiology is none the less important in this
+case. If the chords of our existence are shattered, they must be touched
+only by the skilful hand, or they break.
+
+_E._ Were it not for this, were there no considerations of utility in
+the plea, there are others sufficiently important to become impulsive.
+It would be pleasant to be able to trace the phenomena which we are
+constantly observing within ourselves to their right causes.
+
+_I._ Yes; we love to understand the springs of disease, even though "a
+discovery of the cause" neither "suspends the effect, nor heals it." We
+rejoice in health, and we love to know why it sits so strongly within
+us. The warm blood courses its way through our veins; the breath comes
+and goes freely in and out; the nerves, those subtle organs, perform
+their important offices; the hand, foot, brain--nay, the whole body
+moves as we will: we taste, see, hear, smell, feel; and the inquiring
+mind delights in knowing by what means these wonderful processes are
+carried on,--how far they are mechanical, how far chemical, and how far
+resolvable into the laws of vitality. This we may learn by a study of
+Physiology, at least as far as is known. We may not satisfy ourselves
+upon all points. There may be, when we have finished our investigations,
+a longing for a more perfect knowledge of ourselves; for "some points
+must be greatly dark," so long as mind is fettered in its rangings, and
+retarded in its investigations by its connection with the body. And this
+is well. We love to think of the immortal state as one in which longings
+for moral and intellectual improvement will _all_ be satisfied.
+
+_A._ Yes; it would lose half its attractions if we might attain
+perfection here.
+
+_E._ And now permit me to bring you at once to our subject. What is this
+life that I feel within me? Does Physiology tell us? It ought.
+
+_I._ It does not, however; indeed, it cannot. It merely develops its
+principles.
+
+_E._ The principles of life--what are they?
+
+_I._ The most important are _contractibility_ and _sensibility_.
+
+_E._ Let me advertise you that I am particularly hostile to technical
+words--all because I do not understand them, I allow, but please humor
+this ignorance by avoiding them.
+
+_I._ And thus perpetuate your ignorance, my dear Ellinora? No; this will
+not do; for my chief object in these conversations is that you may be
+prepared to profit by lectures, essays and conversation hereafter. You
+will often be thrown into the company of those who express themselves in
+the easiest and most proper manner, that is, by the use of technical
+words and phrases. These will embarrass you, and prevent that
+improvement which would be derived, if these terms were understood.
+Interrupt me as often as you please with questions; and if we spend the
+remainder of the evening in compiling a physiological glossary, we may
+all reap advantage from the exercise. To return to the vital
+principles--vital is from _vita_, life--_contractibility_ and
+_sensibility_. The former is the property of the muscles. The muscles,
+you know, are what we call flesh. They are composed of fibres, which
+terminate in tendons.
+
+_Alice._ Please give form to my ideas of the tendons.
+
+_I._ With the muscles, they constitute the agents of all motion in us.
+Place your hand on the inside of your arm, and then bend your elbow. You
+perceive that cord, do you not? That is a tendon. You have observed them
+in animals, doubtless.
+
+_Ann._ I have. They are round, white, and lustrous; and these are the
+muscular terminations.
+
+_I._ Yes; this tendon which you perceive, is the termination of the
+muscles of the fore-arm, and it is inserted into the lower arm to assist
+in its elevation.
+
+_E._ Now we are coming to it. Please tell me how I move a finger--how I
+raise my hand in this manner.
+
+_I._ It is to the contractile power of the muscles that you are indebted
+for this power. I will read what Dr. Paley says of muscular contraction;
+it will make it clearer than any explanation of mine. He says, "A muscle
+acts only by contraction. Its force is exerted in no other way. When
+the exertion ceases, it relaxes itself, that is, it returns by
+relaxation to its former state, but without energy."
+
+_E._ Just as this India-rubber springs back after extension, for
+illustration.
+
+_I._ Very well, Ellinora. He adds, "This is the nature of the muscular
+fibre; and being so, it is evident that the reciprocal _energetic_
+motion of the limbs, by which we mean _with force_ in opposite
+directions, can only be produced by the instrumentality of opposite or
+antagonist muscles--of flexors and extensors answering to each other.
+For instance, the biceps and brachiæus _internus_ muscles, placed in the
+front part of the upper arm, by their contraction, bend the elbow, and
+with such a degree of force as the case requires, or the strength
+admits. The relaxation of these muscles, after the effort, would merely
+let the fore-arm drop down. For the _back stroke_ therefore, and that
+the arm may not only bend at the elbow, but also extend and straighten
+itself with force, other muscles, the longus, and brevis brachiæus
+_externus_, and the aconæus, placed on the hinder part of the arms, by
+their contractile twitch, fetch back the fore-arm into a straight line
+with the cubit, with no less force than that with which it was bent out.
+The same thing obtains in all the limbs, and in every moveable part of
+the body. A finger is not bent and straightened without the
+_contraction_ of two muscles taking place. It is evident, therefore,
+that the animal functions require that particular disposition of the
+muscles which we describe by the name of antagonist muscles."
+
+_A._ Thank you, Isabel. This does indeed make the subject very plain.
+These muscles contract at will.
+
+_E._ But how can the will operate in this manner? I have always wished
+to understand.
+
+_I._ And I regret that I cannot satisfy you on this point. If we trace
+the cause of muscular action by the nerves to the brain, we are no
+nearer a solution of the mystery; for we cannot know what power sets the
+organs of the brain at work--whether it be foreign to or of itself.
+
+We will come now, if you please to _sensibility_, which belongs to the
+nerves.
+
+_A._ I have a very indefinite idea of the nerves.
+
+_E._ My _ideal_ is sufficiently definite in its shape, but so droll! I
+do not think of them as "being flesh of my flesh," but as a _species_ of
+the _genus_ fairy. They are to us, what the Nereides are to the green
+wave, the Dryades to the oak, and the Hamadryades to the little flower.
+They are quite omnipotent in their operations. They make us cry or they
+make us laugh; thrill us with rapture or woe as they please. And, my
+dear Isabel, I shall not allow you to cheat me out of this pleasing
+fancy. You may tell us just what they are, but I shall be as incredulous
+as possible.
+
+_I._ They are very slender white cords, extending from the brain and
+spinal marrow--twelve pairs from the former, and thirty from the latter.
+These send out branches so numerous that we cannot touch the point of a
+pin to a spot that has not its nerve. The mucous membrane is--
+
+_F._ Oh, these technicals! What is the mucous membrane?
+
+_I._ It is a texture, or web of fibres, which lines all cavities exposed
+to the atmosphere--for instance, the mouth, windpipe and stomach. It is
+the seat of the senses of taste and smell.
+
+_E._ And the nerves are the little witches that inform the brain how one
+thing is sweet, another bitter; one fragrant, another nauseous.
+Alimentiveness ever after frowns or smiles accordingly. So it seems that
+the actions of the brain, and of the external senses, are reciprocated
+by the nerves, or something of this sort. How is it, Isabel? Oh, I see!
+You say sensibility belongs to the nerves. So sights by means of--of
+what?
+
+_I._ Of the optical nerves.
+
+_E._ Yes; and sounds by means of the--
+
+_I._ Auditory nerves.
+
+_E._ Yes; convey impressions of externals to the brain. And "Upon this
+hint" the brain acts in its consequent reflections, and in the nervous
+impulses which induce muscular contractibility. And this muscular
+contractibility is a contraction of the fibres of the muscles. This
+contraction, of course, shortens them, and this latter _must_ result in
+the bending of the arm. I think I understand it. What are the brain and
+spine, Isabel? How are they connected?
+
+_I._ You will get correct ideas of the texture of the brain by observing
+that of animals. It occupies the whole cavity of the skull, is rounded
+and irregular in its form, full of prominences, _alias_ bumps. These
+appear to fit themselves to the skull; but doubtless the bone is moulded
+by the brain. The brain is divided into two parts; the upper and
+frontal part is called the _cerebrum_, the other the _cerebellum_. The
+former is the larger division, and is the seat of the moral sentiments
+and intellectual faculties. The latter is the seat of the propensities,
+domestic and selfish.
+
+_A._ I thank you, Isabel. Now, what is this spine, of which there is so
+much "complaint" now-a-days?
+
+_I._ I will answer you from Paley: "The spine, or backbone, is a chain
+of joints of very wonderful construction. It was to be firm, yet
+flexible; _firm_, to support the erect position of the body; _flexible_,
+to allow of the bending of the the trunk in all degrees of curvature. It
+was further, also, to become a pipe or conduit for the safe conveyance
+from the brain of the most important fluid of the animal frame, that,
+namely, upon which _all voluntary motion depends, the spinal marrow_; a
+substance not only of the first necessity to action, if not to life, but
+of a nature so delicate and tender, so susceptible and impatient of
+injury, that any unusual pressure upon it, or any considerable
+obstruction of its course, is followed by paralysis or death. Now, the
+spine was not only to furnish the main trunk for the passage of the
+medullary substance from the brain, but to give out, in the course of
+its progress, small pipes therefrom, which, being afterwards
+indefinitely subdivided, might, under the name of nerves, distribute
+this exquisite supply to every part of the body."
+
+_Alice._ I understand now why disease of the spine causes such
+involuntary contortions and gestures, in some instances. Its connection
+with the brain and nerves is so immediate, that it cannot suffer disease
+without affecting the whole nervous system.
+
+_I._ It cannot. The spinal cord or marrow is a continuation of the
+brain. But we must not devote any more time to this subject.
+
+_Bertha._ I want to ask you something about the different parts of the
+eye, Isabel. When ---- ---- lectured on optics, I lost nearly all the
+benefit of his lecture, except a newly awakened desire for knowledge on
+this subject. He talked of the retina, cornea, iris, &c.; please tell me
+precisely what they are.
+
+_I._ The retina is a nervous membrane; in other words a thin net-work,
+formed of very minute sensitive filaments. It is supposed by some to be
+an expansion of the optic nerve; and on this the images of objects we
+see are formed. It is situated at the back part of the eye. Rays pass
+through the round opening in the iris, which we call the pupil.
+
+_B._ What did the lecturer say is the cause of the color of the pupil?
+
+_I._ He said that its _want of color_ is to be imputed to the fact that
+rays of light which enter there are not returned; they fall on the
+retina, forming there images of objects. And you recollect he said that
+"absence of rays is blackness." The iris is a kind of curtain, covering
+the aqueous humor--aqueous is from the Latin _aqua_, water. It is
+confined only at its outer edge, or circumference; and is supplied with
+muscular fibres which confer the power of adjustment to every degree of
+light. It contracts or dilates involuntarily, as the light is more or
+less intense, as you must have observed. The rays of light falling on
+that part of the iris which immediately surrounds the pupil, cause it to
+be either black, blue, or hazel. We will not linger on this ground, for
+it belongs more properly to Natural Philosophy. We will discuss the
+other four senses as briefly as possible. "The sense of taste," says
+Hayward, "resides in the mucus membrane of the tongue, the lips, the
+cheeks, and the fauces." Branches of nerves extend to every part of the
+mouth where the sense of taste resides. The fluid with which the mouth
+is constantly moistened is called mucus, and chiefly subserves to the
+sense of taste.
+
+_Ann._ I have observed that when the mucus is dried by fever, food is
+nearly tasteless. I now understand the reason.
+
+_E._ _Apropos_ to the senses, let me ask if feeling and touch are the
+same. Alfred says they are; I contend they are not, precisely.
+
+_I._ Hayward thinks a distinction between them unnecessary. He says they
+are both seated in the same organs, and have the same nerves. But the
+sense of feeling is more general, extending over the whole surface of
+the skin and mucus membrane, while that of touch is limited to
+particular parts, being in man most perfect in the hand; and the sense
+of feeling is passive, while that of touch is active. This sense is in
+the skin, and is most perfect where the epidermis, or external coat, is
+the thinnest. We will look through this little magnifying glass at the
+skin on my hand. You will see very minute prominences all over the
+surface. These points are called papillæ. They are supposed to be the
+termination of the nerves, and the _locale_ of sensation.
+
+_E._ Will you _shape_ my ideas of sensation?
+
+_I._ According to Lord Brougham, one of the English editors of this
+edition of Paley, it is "the effect produced upon the mind by the
+operation of the senses; and involves nothing like an exertion of the
+mind itself."
+
+Of the sense of hearing, I can tell you but little. Physiologists have
+doubts relative to many parts of the ear; and I do not understand the
+subject well enough to give you much information. I will merely name
+some of the parts and their relative situations. We have first the
+external ear, which projecting as it does from the head, is perfectly
+adapted to the office of gathering sounds, and transmitting them to the
+membrane of the tympanum, commonly called the drum of the ear, from its
+resembling somewhat, in its use and structure, the head of a drum. The
+tympanum is a cavity, of a cylindrical or tunnel form, and its office is
+supposed to be the transmission to the internal ear of the vibrations
+made upon the membrane. These vibrations are first communicated to the
+malleus or hammer. This is the first of four bones, united in a kind of
+chain, extending and conveying vibrations from the tympanum to the
+labyrinth of the ear beyond. The other bones are the incus, or anvil,
+the round bone, and the stapes, or stirrup--the latter so called from
+its resemblance to a stirrup-iron. It is placed over an oval aperture,
+which leads to the labyrinth, and which is closed by means of a
+membranous curtain. These bones are provided with very small muscles,
+and move with the vibrations of the tympanum. The equilibrium of the air
+in the tympanum and atmosphere is maintained by the means of the
+Eustachian tube, which extends from the back part of the fauces, or
+throat, to the cavity of the tympanum. The parts last mentioned
+constitute the middle ear. Of the internal ear little is known. It has
+its semicircular canals, vestibules, and cochlea; but their agencies are
+not ascertained.
+
+The organ of smell is more simple. This sense lies, or is supposed to
+lie, in the mucous membrane which lines the nostrils and the openings in
+connection. Particles are constantly escaping from odorous bodies; and,
+by being inhaled in respiration, they are thrown in contact with the
+mucous membrane.
+
+_A._ Before leaving the head, will you tell us something of the organs
+of voice?
+
+_I._ By placing your finger on the top of your windpipe, you will
+perceive a slight prominence. In males this is very large. This is the
+thorax. It is formed of four cartilages, two of which are connected with
+a third, by means of four chords, called vocal chords, from their
+performing an important part in producing the voice. Experiments have
+been made, which prove that a greater part of the larynx, except these
+chords, may be removed without destroying the voice. Magendie thus
+accounts for the production of the voice. He says, "The air, in passing
+from the lungs in expiration, is forced out of small cavities, as the
+air-cells and the minute branches of the windpipe, into a large canal;
+it is thence sent through a narrow passage, on each side of which is a
+vibratory chord, and it is by the action of the air on these chords,
+that the sonorous undulations are produced which are called voice."
+
+_E._ Do not the lips and tongue contribute essentially to speech?
+
+_I._ They do not. Hayward says he can bear witness to the fact that the
+articulation remains unimpaired after the tongue has been removed. The
+labials, _f_ and _v_, cannot be perfectly articulated without the action
+of the lips.--What subject shall we take next?
+
+_A._ A natural transition would be from the head to the heart, and, in
+connection, the circulation of the blood.
+
+_I._ Yes. I will give you an abstract of the ideas I gained in the study
+of Hayward's Physiology, and the reading of Dr. Paley's Theology. The
+heart, arteries, and veins are the agents of circulation. The heart is
+irregular and conical in its shape; and it is hollow and double.
+
+_A._ There is no channel of communication between these parts, is there?
+
+_I._ None; but each side has its separate office to perform. By the
+right, circulation is carried on in the lungs; and by the left through
+the rest of the body. I will mark a few passages in Paley, for you to
+read to us, Ann. They will do better than any descriptions of mine.
+
+_A._ I thank you, Isabel, for giving me an opportunity to lend you
+temporary relief.--"The disposition of the blood-vessels, as far as
+regards the supply of the body, is like that of the water-pipes in a
+city, viz. large and main trunks branching off by smaller pipes (and
+these again by still narrower tubes) in every direction and towards
+every part in which the fluid which they convey can be wanted. So far,
+the water-pipes which serve a town may represent the vessels which
+carry the blood from the heart. But there is another thing necessary to
+the blood, which is not wanted for the water; and that is, the carrying
+of it back again to its source. For this office, a reversed system of
+vessels is prepared, which, uniting at their extremities with the
+extremities of the first system, collects the divided and subdivided
+streamlets, first by capillary ramifications into larger branches,
+secondly by these branches into trunks; and thus returns the blood
+(almost exactly inverting the order in which it went out) to the
+fountain whence its motion proceeded. The body, therefore, contains two
+systems of blood-vessels, arteries and veins.
+
+"The next thing to be considered is the engine which works this
+machinery, viz., the _heart_. There is provided in the central part of
+the body a hollow muscle invested with spiral fibres, running in both
+directions, the layers intersecting one another. By the contraction of
+these fibres, the sides of the muscular cavity are necessarily squeezed
+together, so as to force out from them any fluid which they may at that
+time contain: by the relaxation of the same fibres, the cavities are in
+their turn dilated, and, of course, prepared to admit every fluid which
+may be poured into them. Into these cavities are inserted the great
+trunks both of the arteries which carry out the blood, and of the veins
+which bring it back. As soon as the blood is received by the heart from
+the veins of the body, and _before_ that is sent out again into its
+arteries, it is carried, by the force of the contraction of the heart,
+and by means of a separate and supplementary artery, to the lungs, and
+made to enter the vessels of the lungs, from which, after it has
+undergone the action, whatever it may be, of that viscus, it is brought
+back, by a large vein, once more to the heart, in order, when thus
+concocted and prepared, to be thence distributed anew into the system.
+This assigns to the heart a double office. The pulmonary circulation is
+a system within a system; and one action of the heart is the origin of
+both. For this complicated function four cavities become necessary, and
+four are accordingly provided; two called ventricles, which _send out_
+the blood, viz., one into the lungs in the first instance, the other
+into the mass, after it has returned from the lungs; two others also,
+called auricles, which receive the blood from the veins, viz. one as it
+comes from the body; the other, as the same blood comes a second time
+after its circulation through the lungs."
+
+_I._ That must answer our purpose, dear Ann. Of the change which takes
+place in the blood, and of the renewal of our physical system, which is
+effected by circulation, I shall say nothing. We will pass to
+respiration.
+
+_E._ Whose popular name is breathing?
+
+_I._ Yes. The act of inhaling air, is called inspiration; that of
+sending it out, expiration. Its organs are the lungs and windpipe. The
+apparatus employed in the mechanism of breathing is very complex. The
+windpipe extends from the mouth to the lungs.
+
+_A._ How is it that air enters it so freely, while food and drink are
+excluded?
+
+_I._ By a most ingenious contrivance. The opening to the pipe is called
+glottis. This is closed, when necessary, by a little valve, or lid,
+called the epiglottis (_epi_ means _upon_.)
+
+_E._ And this faithful sentinel is none other than that perpendicular
+little body which we can see in our throats, and which we have _dubbed_
+palate.
+
+_I._ You are right, Ellinora. Over this, food and drink pass on their
+way to the road to the stomach, the gullet. The pressure of solids or
+liquids tends to depress this lid on the glottis; and its muscular
+action in deglutition, or swallowing, tends to the same effect. As soon
+as the pressure is removed, the lid springs to its erect position, and
+the air passes freely. Larynx and trachea are other names for the
+windpipe, and pharynx is another for the gullet. The larynx divides into
+two branches at the lungs, and goes to each side. Hence, by
+subdivisions, it passes off in numerous smaller branches, to different
+parts of the lungs, and terminates in air-cells. The lungs, known in
+animals by the name of lights, consist of three parts, or lobes, one on
+the right side, and two on the left.
+
+_Alice._ The lights of inferior animals are very light and porous--do
+our lungs resemble them in this?
+
+_I._ Yes; they are full of air-tubes and air-cells. These, with the
+blood vessels and the membrane which connects (and this is cellular,
+that is, composed of cells,) form the lungs. The process of respiration
+involves chemical, mechanical, and vital or physiological principles. Of
+the mechanism I shall say but little more. You already know that the
+lungs occupy the chest. Of this, the breast bone forms the front, the
+spine, the back wall. Attached to this bone are twelve ribs on each
+side. These are joined by muscles which are supposed to assist in
+elevating them in breathing, thus enlarging the cavity of the chest. The
+lower partition is formed by a muscle of great power, called the
+diaphragm, and by the action of this organ alone common inspiration can
+be performed. Hayward says, "The contraction of this muscle necessarily
+depresses its centre, which was before elevated towards the lungs. The
+instant this takes place, the air rushes into the lungs through the
+windpipe, and thus prevents a vacuum, which would otherwise be produced
+between the chest and lungs." Expiration is the reverse of this. The
+chemistry of respiration regards the change produced in the blood by
+respiration. To this change I have before alluded.
+
+_Ann._ When we consider the offices of the heart and lungs, their
+importance in vital economy, how dangerous appears the custom of
+pressing them so closely between the ribs by tight lacing?
+
+_I._ Yes; fearful and fatal beyond calculation! And one great advantage
+in a general knowledge of our physical system, is the tendency this
+knowledge must have to correct this habit.
+
+_A._ To me there is not the weakest motive for tight lacing. Everything
+but pride _must_ revolt at the habit; and there is something positively
+disgusting and shocking in the wasp-like form, labored breathing, purple
+lips and hands of the tight lacer.
+
+_E._ They indicate such a pitiful servitude to fashion, such an utter
+disregard of comfort, when it comes in collision with false notions of
+elegance! Well for our sex, as we could not be induced to act from a
+worthier motive, popular opinion is setting in strongly against this
+practice. Many of our authors and public lecturers are bringing strong
+arms and benevolent hearts to the work.
+
+_A._ Yes; but to be perfectly consistent, should not the fashions of the
+"Lady's Book," the "Ladies' Companion," and of "Graham's Magazine," be
+more in keeping with the general sentiment? Their contributors furnish
+essays, deprecating the evils of tight lacing, and tales illustrative of
+its evil effects, yet the figures of the plates of fashions are
+uniformly most unnaturally slender. And these are offered for national
+standards!
+
+_E._ "And, more's the pity," followed as such.
+
+_I._ I think the improvements you mention would only cause a temporary
+suspension of the evil. They might indeed make it the _fashion_ to wear
+natural waists; but like all other fashions, it must unavoidably give
+way to new modes. They might lop off a few of the branches; but science,
+a knowledge of physiology alone, is capable of laying the axe at the
+root of the tree.--What is digestion, Ellinora?
+
+_E._ It is the dissolving, pulverizing, or some other _ing_, of our
+food, isn't it?
+
+_I._ Hayward says that "it is an important part of that process by which
+aliment taken into the body is made to nourish it." He divides the
+digestive apparatus into "the mouth and its appendages, the stomach and
+the intestines." The teeth, tongue, jaws, and saliva, perform their
+respective offices in mastication. Then the food passes over the
+epiglottis, you recollect, down the gullet to the stomach. The saliva is
+an important agent in digestion. It is secreted in glands, which pour it
+into the mouth by a tube about the size of a wheat straw.
+
+_Alice._ I heard our physician say that food should be so thoroughly
+masticated before deglutition (you see I have caught your technicals,
+Isabel,) that every particle would be moistened with the saliva. Then
+digestion would be easy and perfect. He says that dyspepsia is often
+incurred and perpetuated by eating too rapidly.
+
+_I._ Doubtless this is the case. As soon as the food reaches the
+stomach, the work of digestion commences; and the food is converted to a
+mass, neither fluid or solid, called chyme. With regard to this process,
+there have been many speculative theories. It has been imputed to animal
+heat, to putrefaction, to a mechanical operation (something like that
+carried on in the gizzard of a fowl,) to fermentation, and maceration.
+It is now a generally adopted theory, that the food is _dissolved_ by
+the gastric juices.
+
+_Ann._ If these juices are such powerful solvents, why do they not act
+on the stomach, when they are no longer supplied with _subjects_ in the
+shape of food?
+
+_I._ According to many authorities, they do. Comstock says that "hunger
+is produced by the action of the gastric juices on the stomach." This
+theory does not prevail, however; for it has been proved by experiment,
+that these juices do not act on anything that has life.
+
+_Alice._ How long does it take the food to digest?
+
+_I._ Food of a proper kind will digest in a healthy stomach, in four or
+five hours. It then passes to the intestines.
+
+_Ann._ But why does it never leave the stomach until thoroughly
+digested?
+
+_I._ At the orifice of the stomach, there is a sort of a valve, called
+pylorus, or door-keeper. Some have supposed that this valve has the
+power of ascertaining when the food is sufficiently digested, and so
+allows chyme to pass, while it contracts at the touch of undigested
+substances.
+
+_A._ How wonderful!
+
+_I._ And "how passing wonder He who made us such!"
+
+_Alice._ No wonder that a poet said--
+
+  "Strange that a harp of thousand strings
+    Should keep in tune so long!"
+
+_Ann._ And no wonder that the Christian bends in lowly adoration and
+love before _such_ a Creator, and _such_ a Preserver?
+
+_E._ Now, dear Isabel, will you tell us something more?
+
+_I._ Indeed, Ellinora, I have already gone much farther than I intended
+when I commenced. But I knew not where to stop. Even now, you have but
+just _commenced_ the study of _yourselves_. Let me urge you to read in
+your leisure hours, and reflect in your working ones, until you
+understand physiology, as well as you now do geography.
+
+                                                               D.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor typographical errors and inconsistencies have
+been silently normalized. Archaic and variable spellings retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mind Amongst the Spindles, by Various
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mind Amongst the Spindles, by Various
+
+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: Mind Amongst the Spindles
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles Knight
+
+Release Date: September 18, 2011 [EBook #37471]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julia Miller, Julia Neufeld and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h1><br /><br /><br />MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES.</h1>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<h4>A Miscellany,</h4>
+
+<div class="center">WHOLLY COMPOSED BY THE FACTORY GIRLS.<br />
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+SELECTED FROM THE</div>
+
+<h3>LOWELL OFFERING.</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<div class="center">WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE ENGLISH EDITOR,<br /><br />
+
+AND A LETTER FROM</div>
+
+<h3>HARRIET MARTINEAU.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="center">BOSTON:<br />
+JORDAN, SWIFT &amp; WILEY.<br />
+1845.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;">
+<img src="images/illus-ii.jpg" width="314" height="152" alt="Dow and Jackson&#39;s Press" title="" />
+
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Introduction.</span> By the English Editor</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Abby's Year in Lowell</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The First Wedding in Salmagundi</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"Bless, and curse not"</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ancient Poetry</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Spirit of Discontent</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Whortleberry Excursion</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Western Antiquities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Fig Tree</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Village Pastors</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Sugar-Making Excursion</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Prejudice against Labor</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Joan of Arc</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Susan Miller</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Scenes on the Merrimac</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The First Bells</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Evening before Pay-Day</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Indian Pledge</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The First Dish of Tea</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Leisure Hours of the Mill Girls</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Tomb of Washington</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Life among Farmers</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">A Weaver's Reverie</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Our Duty to Strangers</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span>Elder Isaac Townsend</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Harriet Greenough</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Fancy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Widow's Son</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Witchcraft</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Cleaning Up</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Visits to the Shakers</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Lock of Gray Hair</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Lament of the little Hunchback</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">This World is not our Home</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Dignity of Labor</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Village Chronicle</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ambition and Contentment</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">A Conversation on Physiology</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 160px;">
+<img src="images/illus-iv.jpg" width="160" height="250" alt="Decoration" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[v]</a></span></p>
+<h2>INTRODUCTION, BY THE ENGLISH EDITOR.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the American state of Massachusetts, one of the New
+England states, which was colonized by the stern Puritans
+who were driven from our country by civil and religious
+persecution, has sprung up within the last thirty years the
+largest manufacturing town of the vast republic. Lowell is
+situated not a great distance from Boston, at the confluence
+of the rivers Merrimac and Concord. The falls of these
+rivers here afford a natural moving power for machinery;
+and at the latter end of the year 1813 a small cotton manufacture
+was here set up, where the sound of labor had not
+been heard before. The original adventure was not a
+prosperous one. But in 1826 the works were bought by a
+company or corporation; and from that time Lowell has
+gone on so rapidly increasing that it is now held to be "the
+greatest manufacturing city in America." According to
+Mr. Buckingham, there are now ten companies occupying
+or working thirty mills, and giving employment to more
+than 10,000 operatives, of whom 7,000 are females. The
+situation of the female population is, for the most part, a
+peculiar one. Unlike the greater number of the young
+women in our English factories, they are not brought up to
+the labor of the mills, amongst parents who are also workers
+in factories. They come from a distance; many of them
+remain only a limited time; and they live in boarding houses
+expressly provided for their accommodation. Miss Martineau,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span>
+in her "Society in America," explains the cause
+not only of the large proportion of females in the Lowell
+mills, but also of their coming from distant parts in search
+of employment: "Manufactures can to a considerable degree
+be carried on by the labor of women; and there is a
+great number of unemployed women in New England, from
+the circumstance that the young men of that region wander
+away in search of a settlement on the land, and after being
+settled find wives in the south and west." Again, she says,
+"Many of the girls are in the factories because they have
+too much pride for domestic service."</p>
+
+<p>In October, 1840, appeared the first number of a periodical
+work entitled "The Lowell Offering." The publication
+arose out of the meetings of an association of young women
+called "The Mutual Improvement Society." It has continued
+at intervals of a month or six weeks, and the first
+volume was completed in December, 1841. A second
+volume was concluded in 1842. The work was under the
+direction of an editor, who gives his name at the end of the
+second volume,&mdash;Abel C. Thomas. The duties which this
+gentleman performed are thus stated by him in the preface
+to the first volume:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The two most important questions which may be
+suggested shall receive due attention.</p>
+
+<p>"1st. Are all the articles, in good faith and exclusively
+the productions of females employed in the mills? We
+reply, unhesitatingly and without reserve, that <span class="smcap">they are</span>,
+the verses set to music excepted. We speak from personal
+acquaintance with all the writers, excepting four; and in
+relation to the latter (whose articles do not occupy eight
+pages in the aggregate) we had satisfactory proof that they
+were employed in the mills.</p>
+
+<p>"2d. Have not the articles been materially amended by
+the exercise of the editorial prerogative? We answer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">they have not</span>. We have taken <i>less liberty</i> with the
+articles than editors usually take with the productions of
+other than the most experienced writers. Our corrections
+and additions have been so slight as to be unworthy of
+special note."</p>
+
+<p>Of the merits of the compositions contained in these
+volumes their editor speaks with a modest confidence, in
+which he is fully borne out by the opinions of others:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"In estimating the talent of the writers for the 'Offering,'
+the fact should be remembered, that they are actively employed
+in the mills for more than twelve hours out of every
+twenty-four. The evening, after eight o'clock, affords their
+only opportunity for composition; and whoever will consider
+the sympathy between mind and body, must be sensible that
+a day of constant manual employment, even though the
+labor be not excessive, must in some measure unfit the
+individual for the full development of mental power. Yet
+the articles in this volume ask no unusual indulgence from
+the critics&mdash;for, in the language of 'The North American
+Quarterly Review,'&mdash;'many of the articles are such as
+satisfy the reader at once, that if he has only taken up the
+"Offering" as a phenomenon, and not as what may bear
+criticism and reward perusal, he has but to own his error,
+and dismiss his condescension, as soon as may be.'"</p>
+
+<p>The two volumes thus completed in 1842 were lent to us
+by a lady whose well-earned literary reputation gave us the
+assurance that she would not bestow her praise upon a work
+whose merit merely consisted in the remarkable circumstance
+that it was written by young women, not highly educated,
+during the short leisure afforded by their daily laborious employments.
+She told us that we should find in those volumes
+some things which might be read with pleasure and improvement.
+And yet we must honestly confess that we looked at
+the perusal of these closely-printed eight hundred pages as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>
+something of a task. We felt that all literary productions, and
+indeed all works of art, should, in a great degree, be judged
+without reference to the condition of the producer. When
+we take up the poems of Burns, we never think that he was
+a ploughman and an exciseman; but we have a painful
+remembrance of having read a large quarto volume of verses
+by Ann Yearsly, who was patronized in her day by Horace
+Walpole and Hannah More, and to have felt only the conviction
+that the milkwoman of Bristol, for such was their
+authoress, had better have limited her learning to the score
+and the tally. But it was a duty to read the "Lowell
+Offering." The day that saw us begin the first paper was
+witness to our continued reading till night found us busy at
+the last page, not for a duty, but a real pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>The qualities which most struck us in these volumes were
+chiefly these: <i>First</i>&mdash;there is an entire absence of all
+pretension in the writers to be what they are not. They are
+factory girls. They always call themselves "girls." They
+have no desire to be fine ladies, nor do they call themselves
+"ladies," as the common fashion is of most American
+females. They have no affectations of gentility; and by a
+natural consequence they are essentially free from all vulgarity.
+They describe the scenes amongst which they live,
+their labors and their pleasures, the little follies of some of
+their number, the pure tastes and unexpensive enjoyments
+of others. They feel, and constantly proclaim without any
+effort, that they think it an honor to labor with their hands.
+They recognize the real dignity of all useful employments.
+They know that there is no occupation really unworthy of
+men or women, but the selfish pursuits of what is called
+pleasure, without the desire to promote the good of others
+by physical, intellectual, or moral exertions. <i>Secondly</i>&mdash;many
+of these papers clearly show under what influences
+these young women have been brought up. An earnest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span>
+feeling of piety pervades their recollections of the past, and
+their hopes for the future. The thoughts of home, too, lie
+deep in their hearts. They are constantly describing the
+secluded farm-house where they were reared, the mother's
+love, the father's labors. Sometimes a reverse of fortune
+falling upon a family has dispersed its once happy members.
+Sometimes we see visions of past household joy through
+the orphan's tears. Not unfrequently the ardent girl, happy
+in the confirmed affection of some equal in rank, looks exultingly
+towards the day when she may carry back from the
+savings' bank at Lowell a little dower to furnish out their
+little farm on the hill side, where the barberries grew, so
+deliciously red and sour, in her remembrance of childhood.
+<i>Thirdly</i>&mdash;there is a genuine patriotism in the tone of many
+of these productions, which is worthy the descendants of the
+stern freemen who, in the New England solitudes, looked
+tearfully back upon their father-land. The institutions under
+which these young women live are different from our own;
+but there is scarcely a particle of what we have been too apt
+to call republican arrogance. The War of Independence is
+spoken of as it ought to be by every American, with feelings
+of honest exultation. But that higher sentiments than those
+of military triumph mingle with the memory of that war, and
+render patriotism something far nobler than mere national
+pride, may be seen in the little poem which we gladly reprint,
+"The Tomb of Washington." The paper called
+"The Lock of Gray Hair" is marked by an honest nationality,
+which we would be ashamed not to reverence.&mdash;<i>Fourthly</i>&mdash;like
+all writers of good natural taste, who have
+not been perverted into mere imitators of other writers, they
+perceive that there is a great source of interest in describing,
+simply and correctly, what they have witnessed with their
+own eyes. Thus, some of the home pictures of these
+volumes are exceedingly agreeable, presenting to us manners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span>
+and habits wholly different from our own, and scenes
+which have all the freshness of truth in their delineations.&mdash;The
+old stories, too, which they sometimes tell of past life
+in America, are equally interesting; and they show us how
+deeply in all minds is implanted the love of old things,
+which are tenderly looked back upon, even though they may
+have been swept away by what is real improvement.&mdash;<i>Lastly</i>&mdash;although
+there are necessarily in these volumes,
+as in every miscellany, some things which are tedious, and
+some puerile, mock sentimentalities and labored efforts at
+fine writing, we think it would be difficult upon the whole
+for a large body of contributors, writing under great indulgence,
+to produce so much matter with so little bad taste.
+Of pedantry there is literally none. The writers are
+familiar with good models of composition; they know
+something of ancient and modern history; the literature of
+England has reached them, and given a character and direction
+to their thoughts. But there is never any attempt to
+parade what they know; and we see they have been readers,
+only as we discover the same thing in the best educated
+persons, not in a display of their reading, but in a general
+tone which shows that cultivation has made them wiser and
+better.</p>
+
+<p>Such were the opinions we had formed of "The Lowell
+Offering," before we were acquainted with the judgment
+pronounced upon the same book by a writer whose original
+and brilliant genius is always under the direction of kindly
+feelings towards his fellow-creatures, and especially towards
+the poor and lowly of his human brethren. Mr. Dickens,
+in his "American Notes," thus mentions "The Lowell
+Offering," of which he says, "I brought away from Lowell
+four hundred good solid pages, which I have read from beginning
+to end:"&mdash;"Of the merits of 'The Lowell
+Offering,' as a literary production, I will only observe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span>
+putting entirely out of sight the fact of the articles having
+been written by these girls after the arduous labors of the
+day, that it will compare advantageously with a great many
+English annuals. It is pleasant to find that many of its
+tales are of the mills and of those who work in them; that
+they inculcate habits of self-denial and contentment, and
+teach good doctrines of enlarged benevolence. A strong
+feeling for the beauties of nature, as displayed in the solitudes
+the writers have left at home, breathes through its
+pages like wholesome village air; and though a circulating
+library is a favorable school for the study of such topics, it
+has very scant allusion to fine clothes, fine marriages, fine
+houses, or fine life. Some persons might object to the papers
+being signed occasionally with rather fine names, but this is
+an American fashion. One of the provinces of the state
+legislature of Massachusetts is to alter ugly names into
+pretty ones, as the children improve upon the tastes of their
+parents."</p>
+
+<p>If the separate articles in "The Lowell Offering" bear
+signatures which represent distinct writers, we have, in our
+selection of thirty-seven articles, given the productions of
+twenty-nine individual contributors. It is this circumstance
+which leads us to believe that many of the papers are faithful
+representations of individual feelings. Tabitha, from
+whose pen we have given four papers, is a simple, unpretending
+narrator of old American scenes and customs. Ella,
+from whom we select three papers, is one of the imaginative
+spirits who dwell on high thoughts of the past, and reveries
+of the future&mdash;one who has been an earnest thinker as well
+as a reader. Jemima prettily describes two little home-scenes.
+Susanna, who to our minds exhibits natural powers
+and feelings, that by cultivation might enable her to become
+as interesting an historian of the old times of America
+in the days before the Revolution as an Irving or a Cooper,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span>
+furnishes us with two papers. The rest are Lisettas, and
+Almiras, and Ethelindas, and Annettes, and Theresas; with
+others who are contented with simple initials. They have
+all afforded us much pleasure. We have read what they
+have written with a deep interest. May the love of letters
+which they enjoy, and the power of composition which they
+have attained, shed their charms over their domestic life,
+when their days of mill service are ended. May their epistles
+to their friends be as full of truthfulness and good feeling
+as their contributions to "The Lowell Offering." May
+the success of this their remarkable attempt at literary composition
+not lead them to dream too much of the proud distinctions
+of authorship&mdash;uncertain prizes, won, if won at all,
+by many a weary struggle and many a bitter disappointment.
+The efforts which they have made to acquire the
+practice of writing have had their own reward. They have
+united themselves as familiar friends with high and gentle
+minds, who have spoken to them in books with love and encouragement.
+In dwelling upon the thoughts of others, in
+fixing their own thoughts upon some definite object, they
+have lifted themselves up into a higher region than is attained
+by those, whatever be their rank, whose minds are not
+filled with images of what is natural and beautiful and true.
+They have raised themselves out of the sphere of the partial
+and the temporary into the broad expanse of the universal
+and the eternal. During their twelve hours of daily labor,
+when there were easy but automatic services to perform,
+waiting upon a machine&mdash;with that slight degree of skill
+which no machine can ever attain&mdash;for the repair of the accidents
+of its unvarying progress, they may, without a neglect
+of their duty, have been elevating their minds in the scale of
+being by cheerful lookings-out upon nature, by pleasant recollections
+of books, by imaginary converse with the just and
+wise who have lived before them, by consoling reflections<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span>
+upon the infinite goodness and wisdom which regulates this
+world, so unintelligible without such a dependence. These
+habits have given them cheerfulness and freedom amidst
+their uninterrupted toils. We see no repinings against their
+twelve hours' labor, for it has had its solace. Even during
+the low wages of 1842, which they mention with sorrow but
+without complaint, the same cultivation goes on; "The
+Lowell Offering" is still produced. To us of England these
+things ought to be encouraging. To the immense body of
+our factory operatives the example of what the girls of Lowell
+have done should be especially valuable. It should teach
+them that their strength, as well as their happiness, lies in
+the cultivation of their minds. To the employers of operatives,
+and to all of wealth and influence amongst us, this example
+ought to manifest that a strict and diligent performance
+of daily duties, in work prolonged as much as in our
+own factories, is no impediment to the exercise of those
+faculties, and the gratification of those tastes, which,
+whatever the world may have thought, can no longer be
+held to be limited by station. There is a contest going on
+amongst us, as it is going on all over the world, between the
+hard imperious laws which regulate the production of wealth
+and the aspirations of benevolence for the increase of human
+happiness. We do not deplore the contest; for out of it
+must come a gradual subjection of the iron necessity to the
+holy influences of love and charity. Such a period cannot,
+indeed, be rashly anticipated by legislation against principles
+which are secondary laws of nature; but one thing, nevertheless,
+is certain&mdash;that such an improvement of the operative
+classes, as all good men,&mdash;and we sincerely believe amongst
+them the great body of manufacturing capitalists,&mdash;ardently
+pray for and desire to labor in their several spheres to attain,
+will be brought about in a parallel progression with the elevation
+of the operatives themselves in mental cultivation, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>
+consequently in moral excellence. We believe that this
+great good may be somewhat advanced by a knowledge diffused
+in every building throughout the land where there is a
+mule or a loom, of what the factory girls of Lowell have
+done to exhibit the cheering influences of "<span class="smcap">Mind amongst
+the Spindles</span>."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>We had written thus far when we received the following
+most interesting and valuable letter from Miss Martineau.
+We have the greatest pleasure in printing this admirable account
+of the factory girls at Lowell, from the pen of one
+who has labored more diligently and successfully than any
+writer of our day, to elevate the condition of the operative
+classes. To Miss Martineau we are deeply indebted for the
+ardent zeal with which she has recommended the compilation,
+and for the sound judgment with which she has assisted
+us in arranging the details of a plan which mainly owes
+its origin to her unwearied solicitude for the good of her fellow-creatures.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<div class="center"><i>Letter from Miss Martineau to the Editor.</i></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="signature"><i>Tynemouth, May 20, 1844.</i></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,&mdash;Your interest in this Lowell book can
+scarcely equal mine; for I have seen the factory girls in
+their Lyceum, and have gone over the cotton-mills at Waltham,
+and made myself familiar on the spot with factory life
+in New England; so that in reading the "Offering," I saw
+again in my memory the street of houses built by the earnings
+of the girls, the church which is their property, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span>
+girls themselves trooping to the mill, with their healthy
+countenances, and their neat dress and quiet manners, resembling
+those of the tradesman class of our country.</p>
+
+<p>My visit to Lowell was merely for one day, in company
+with Mr. Emerson's party,&mdash;he (the pride and boast of
+New England as an author and philosopher) being engaged
+by the Lowell factory people to lecture to them, in a winter
+course of historical biography. Of course the lectures were
+delivered in the evening, after the mills were closed. The
+girls were then working seventy hours a week, yet, as I
+looked at the large audience (and I attended more to them
+than to the lecture) I saw no sign of weariness among any
+of them. There they sat, row behind row, in their own Lyceum&mdash;a
+large hall, wainscoted with mahogany, the platform
+carpeted, well lighted, provided with a handsome table,
+desk, and seat, and adorned with portraits of a few worthies,
+and as they thus sat listening to their lecturer, all wakeful
+and interested, all well-dressed and lady-like, I could not
+but feel my heart swell at the thought, of what such a sight
+would be with us.</p>
+
+<p>The difference is not in rank, for these young people were
+all daughters of parents who earn their bread with their own
+hands. It is not in the amount of wages, however usual
+that supposition is, for they were then earning from one to
+three dollars a-week, besides their food; the children one
+dollar (4<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i>), the second rate workers two dollars, and
+the best three: the cost of their dress and necessary comforts
+being much above what the same class expend in this
+country. It is not in the amount of toil; for, as I have said,
+they worked seventy clear hours per week. The difference
+was in their superior culture. Their minds are kept fresh,
+and strong, and free by knowledge and power of thought;
+and this is the reason why they are not worn and depressed
+under their labors. They begin with a poorer chance for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span>
+health than our people; for the health of the New England
+women generally is not good, owing to circumstances of climate
+and other influences; but among the 3800 women and
+girls in the Lowell mills when I was there, the average of
+health was not lower than elsewhere; and the disease which
+was most mischievous was the same that proves most fatal
+over the whole country&mdash;consumption; while there were no
+complaints peculiar to mill life.</p>
+
+<p>At Waltham, where I saw the mills, and conversed with
+the people, I had an opportunity of observing the invigorating
+effects of <span class="smcap">mind</span> in a life of labor. Twice the wages and
+half the toil would not have made the girls I saw happy and
+healthy, without that cultivation of mind which afforded
+them perpetual support, entertainment, and motive for activity.
+They were not highly educated, but they had pleasure
+in books and lectures, in correspondence with home; and
+had their minds so open to fresh ideas, as to be drawn off from
+thoughts of themselves and their own concerns. When at
+work they were amused with thinking over the last book
+they had read, or with planning the account they should
+write home of the last Sunday's sermon, or with singing
+over to themselves the song they meant to practise in the
+evening; and when evening came, nothing was heard of
+tired limbs and eagerness for bed, but, if it was summer,
+they sallied out, the moment tea was over, for a walk, and if
+it was winter, to the lecture-room or to the ball-room for a
+dance, or they got an hour's practice at the piano, or wrote
+home, or shut themselves up with a new book. It was during
+the hours of work in the mill that the papers in the "Offering"
+were meditated, and it was after work in the evenings
+that they were penned.</p>
+
+<p>There is, however, in the case of these girls, a stronger
+support, a more elastic spring of vigor and cheerfulness than
+even an active and cultivated understanding. The institution<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span>
+of factory labor has brought ease of heart to many; and
+to many occasion for noble and generous deeds. The ease
+of heart is given to those who were before suffering in silent
+poverty, from the deficiency of profitable employment for
+women, which is even greater in America than with us. It
+used to be understood there that all women were maintained
+by the men of their families; but the young men of New
+England are apt to troop off into the West, to settle in new
+lands, leaving sisters at home. Some few return to fetch a
+wife, but the greater number do not, and thus a vast over
+proportion of young women remains; and to a multitude of
+these the opening of factories was a most welcome event, affording
+means of honorable maintenance, in exchange for
+pining poverty at home.</p>
+
+<p>As for the noble deeds, it makes one's heart glow to stand
+in these mills, and hear of the domestic history of some who
+are working before one's eyes, unconscious of being observed
+or of being the object of any admiration. If one of the
+sons of a New England farmer shows a love for books and
+thought, the ambition of an affectionate sister is roused, and
+she thinks of the glory and honor to the whole family, and
+the blessing to him, if he could have a college education.
+She ponders this till she tells her parents, some day, of her
+wish to go to Lowell, and earn the means of sending her
+brother to college. The desire is yet more urgent if the
+brother has a pious mind, and a wish to enter the ministry.
+Many a clergyman in America has been prepared for his
+function by the devoted industry of sisters; and many a
+scholar and professional man dates his elevation in social
+rank and usefulness from his sister's, or even some affectionate
+aunt's entrance upon mill life, for his sake. Many girls,
+perceiving anxiety in their fathers' faces, on account of the
+farm being incumbered, and age coming on without release
+from the debt, have gone to Lowell, and worked till the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span>
+mortgage was paid off, and the little family property free.
+Such motives may well lighten and sweeten labor; and to
+such girls labor is light and sweet.</p>
+
+<p>Some, who have no such calls, unite the surplus of their
+earnings to build dwellings for their own residence, six,
+eight, or twelve living together with the widowed mother or
+elderly aunt of one of them to keep house for, and give
+countenance to the party. I saw a whole street of houses
+so built and owned, at Waltham; pretty frame houses, with
+the broad piazza, and the green Venitian blinds, that give
+such an air of coolness and pleasantness to American village
+and country abodes. There is the large airy eating-room,
+with a few prints hung up, the piano at one end, and the
+united libraries of the girls, forming a good-looking array of
+books, the rocking chairs universal in America, the stove
+adorned in summer with flowers, and the long dining-table
+in the middle. The chambers do not answer to our English
+ideas of comfort. There is a strange absence of the wish
+for privacy; and more girls are accommodated in one room
+than we should see any reason for in such comfortable and
+pretty houses.</p>
+
+<p>In the mills the girls have quite the appearance of ladies.
+They sally forth in the morning with their umbrellas in
+threatening weather, their calashes to keep their hair neat,
+gowns of print or gingham, with a perfect fit, worked collars
+or pelerines, and waistbands of ribbon. For Sundays and
+social evenings they have their silk gowns, and neat gloves
+and shoes. Yet through proper economy,&mdash;the economy of
+educated and thoughtful people,&mdash;they are able to lay by
+for such purposes as I have mentioned above. The deposits
+in the Lowell Savings' Bank were, in 1834, upwards of
+114,000 dollars, the number of operatives being 5000, of
+whom 3800 were women and girls.</p>
+
+<p>I thank you for calling my attention back to this subject.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span>
+It is one I have pleasure in recurring to. There is nothing
+in America which necessitates the prosperity of manufactures
+as of agriculture, and there is nothing of good in their factory
+system that may not be emulated elsewhere&mdash;equalled
+elsewhere, when the people employed are so educated as to
+have the command of themselves and of their lot in life,
+which is always and everywhere controlled by mind, far
+more than by outward circumstances.</p>
+
+<div class="signature2">I am very truly yours,</div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">H. Martineau.</span></div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;">
+<img src="images/illus-xix.jpg" width="235" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ABBY'S YEAR IN LOWELL.</h2>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Mr. Atkins, I say! Husband, why can't you speak?
+Do you hear what Abby says?"</p>
+
+<p>"Any thing worth hearing?" was the responsive question
+of Mr. Atkins; and he laid down the New Hampshire
+Patriot, and peered over his spectacles, with a look which
+seemed to say, that an event so uncommon deserved particular
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, she says that she means to go to Lowell, and
+work in the factory."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, wife, let her go;" and Mr. Atkins took up the
+Patriot again.</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not see how I can spare her; the spring
+cleaning is not done, nor the soap made, nor the boys' summer
+clothes; and you say that you intend to board your own
+'men-folks' and keep two more cows than you did last
+year; and Charley can scarcely go alone. I do not see how
+I can get along without her."</p>
+
+<p>"But you say she does not assist you any about the
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, husband, she <i>might</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she might do a great many things which she does
+not think of doing; and as I do not see that she means to
+be useful here; we will let her go to the factory."</p>
+
+<p>"Father, are you in earnest? may I go to Lowell?"
+said Abby; and she raised her bright black eyes to her
+father's, with a look of exquisite delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Abby, if you will promise me one thing, and that
+is, that you will stay a whole year without visiting us,
+excepting in case of sickness, and that you will stay but one
+year."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I will promise anything, father, if you will only let me
+go; for I thought you would say that I had better stay at
+home, and pick rocks, and weed the garden, and drop corn,
+and rake hay; and I do not want to do such work any
+longer. May I go with the Slater girls next Tuesday? for
+that is the day they have set for their return."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Abby, if you will remember that you are to stay a
+year, and only a year."</p>
+
+<p>Abby retired to rest that night with a heart fluttering
+with pleasure; for ever since the visit of the Slater girls,
+with new silk dresses, and Navarino bonnets trimmed with
+flowers and lace veils, and gauze handkerchiefs, her head
+had been filled with visions of fine clothes; and she thought
+if she could only go where she could dress like them, she
+would be completely happy. She was naturally very fond
+of dress, and often, while a little girl, had she sat on the
+grass bank by the road-side, watching the stage which went
+daily by her father's retired dwelling; and when she saw
+the gay ribbons and smart shawls, which passed like a
+bright phantom before her wondering eyes, she had thought
+that when older she too would have such things; and she
+looked forward to womanhood as to a state in which the
+chief pleasure must consist in wearing fine clothes. But as
+years passed over her, she became aware that this was a
+source from which she could never derive any enjoyment,
+while she remained at home, for her father was neither able
+nor willing to gratify her in this respect, and she had begun
+to fear that she must always wear the same brown cambric
+bonnet, and that the same calico gown would always be her
+"go-to-meeting dress." And now what a bright picture had
+been formed by her ardent and uncultivated imagination.&mdash;Yes,
+she would go to Lowell, and earn all that she possibly
+could, and spend those earnings in beautiful attire; she
+would have silk dresses,&mdash;one of grass green, and another
+of cherry red, and another upon the color of which she
+would decide when she purchased it; and she would have a
+new Navarino bonnet; far more beautiful than Judith Slater's;
+and when at last she fell asleep, it was to dream of
+satin and lace, and her glowing fancy revelled all night in a
+vast and beautiful collection of milliners' finery.</p>
+
+<p>But very different were the dreams of Abby's mother;
+and when she awoke the next morning, her first words to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+her husband were, "Mr. Atkins, were you serious last
+night when you told Abby that she might go to Lowell? I
+thought at first that you were vexed because I interrupted
+you, and said it to stop the conversation."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, wife, I was serious, and you did not interrupt me,
+for I had been listening to all that you and Abby were saying.
+She is a wild, thoughtless girl, and I hardly know
+what it is best to do with her; but perhaps it will be as well
+to try an experiment, and let her think and act a little while
+for herself. I expect that she will spend all her earnings in
+fine clothes, but after she has done so she may see the folly
+of it; at all events, she will be more likely to understand
+the value of money when she has been obliged to work for
+it. After she has had her own way for one year, she may
+possibly be willing to return home, and become a little more
+steady, and be willing to devote her active energies (for she
+is a very capable girl) to household duties, for hitherto her
+services have been principally out of doors, where she is
+now too old to work. I am also willing that she should see
+a little of the world, and what is going on in it; and I hope
+that, if she receives no benefit, she will at least return to us
+uninjured."</p>
+
+<p>"O, husband, I have many fears for her," was the reply of
+Mrs. Atkins, "she is so very giddy and thoughtless, and the
+Slater girls are as hair-brained as herself, and will lead her
+on in all sorts of folly. I wish you would tell her that she
+must stay at home."</p>
+
+<p>"I made a promise," said Mr. Atkins, "and I will keep
+it; and Abby, I trust, will keep <i>hers</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Abby flew round in high spirits to make the necessary
+preparations for her departure, and her mother assisted her
+with a heavy heart.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The evening before she left home her father called her
+to him, and fixing upon her a calm, earnest, and almost
+mournful look, he said, "Abby, do you ever think?"&mdash;Abby
+was subdued, and almost awed, by her father's look
+and manner. There was something unusual in it&mdash;something
+in his expression which was unexpected in him,
+which reminded her of her teacher's look at the Sabbath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+school, when he was endeavoring to impress upon her mind
+some serious truth. "Yes, father," she at length replied,
+"I have thought a great deal lately about going to Lowell."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not believe, my child, that you have had one
+serious reflection upon the subject, and I fear that I have
+done wrong in consenting to let you go from home. If I
+was too poor to maintain you here, and had no employment
+about which you could make yourself useful, I should feel
+no self-reproach, and would let you go, trusting that all
+might yet be well; but now I have done what I may at
+some future time severely repent of; and, Abby, if you
+do not wish to make me wretched, you will return to us a
+better, milder, and more thoughtful girl."</p>
+
+<p>That night Abby reflected more seriously than she had
+ever done in her life before. Her father's words, rendered
+more impressive by the look and tone with which they were
+delivered, had sunk into her heart as words of his had never
+done before. She had been surprised at his ready acquiescence
+in her wishes, but it had now a new meaning. She
+felt that she was about to be abandoned to herself, because
+her parents despaired of being able to do anything for her;
+they thought her too wild, reckless, and untameable, to be
+softened by aught but the stern lessons of experience. I
+will surprise them, said she to herself; I will show them
+that I have some reflection; and after I come home, my
+father shall never ask me if I <i>think</i>. Yes, I know what
+their fears are, and I will let them see that I can take care
+of myself, and as good care as they have ever taken of me.
+I know that I have not done as well as I might have done;
+but I will begin <i>now</i>, and when I return, they shall see that
+<i>I am</i> a better, milder, and more thoughtful girl. And the
+money which I intended to spend in fine dress shall be put
+into the bank; I will save it all, and my father shall see
+that I can earn money, and take care of it too. O, how
+different I will be from what they think I am; and how very
+glad it will make my father and mother to see that I am not
+so very bad, after all.</p>
+
+<p>New feelings and new ideas had begotten new resolutions,
+and Abby's dreams that night were of smiles from her mother,
+and words from her father, such as she had never
+received nor deserved.</p>
+
+<p>When she bade them farewell the next morning, she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+nothing of the change which had taken place in her views
+and feelings, for she felt a slight degree of self-distrust in
+her own firmness of purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Abby's self-distrust was commendable and auspicious;
+but she had a very prominent development in that part of the
+head where phrenologists locate the organ of firmness; and
+when she had once determined upon a thing, she usually
+went through with it. She had now resolved to pursue a
+course entirely different from that which was expected of
+her, and as different from the one she had first marked out
+for herself. This was more difficult, on account of her
+strong propensity for dress, a love of which was freely
+gratified by her companions. But when Judith Slater
+pressed her to purchase this beautiful piece of silk, or that
+splendid piece of muslin, her constant reply was, "No, I
+have determined not to buy any such things, and I will keep
+my resolution."</p>
+
+<p>Before she came to Lowell, she wondered, in her simplicity,
+how people could live where there were so many stores,
+and not spend all their money; and it now required all her
+firmness to resist being overcome by the tempting display of
+beauties which met her eye whenever she promenaded the
+illuminated streets. It was hard to walk by the milliners'
+shops with an unwavering step; and when she came to the
+confectionaries, she could not help stopping. But she did
+not yield to the temptation; she did not spend her money in
+them. When she saw fine strawberries, she said to herself,
+"I can gather them in our own pasture next year;" when
+she looked upon the nice peaches, cherries, and plums
+which stood in tempting array behind their crystal barriers,
+she said again, "I will do without them <i>this</i> summer;" and
+when apples, pears, and nuts were offered to her for sale,
+she thought that she would eat none of them till she went
+home. But she felt that the only safe place for her earnings
+was the savings' bank, and there they were regularly deposited,
+that it might be out of her power to indulge in
+momentary whims. She gratified no feeling but a newly-awakened
+desire for mental improvement, and spent her
+leisure hours in reading useful books.</p>
+
+<p>Abby's year was one of perpetual self-contest and self-denial;
+but it was by no means one of unmitigated misery.
+The ruling desire of years was not to be conquered by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+resolution of a moment; but when the contest was over,
+there was for her the triumph of victory. If the battle was
+sometimes desperate, there was so much more merit in being
+conqueror. One Sabbath was spent in tears, because Judith
+Slater did not wish her to attend their meeting with such a
+dowdy bonnet; and another fellow-boarder thought her
+gown must have been made in "the year one." The color
+mounted to her cheeks, and the lightning flashed from her
+eyes, when asked if she had "<i>just come down</i>;" and she
+felt as though she should be glad to be away from them all,
+when she heard their sly innuendoes about "bush-wackers."
+Still she remained unshaken. It is but a year, said she to
+herself, and the time and money that my father thought I
+should spend in folly, shall be devoted to a better purpose.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>At the close of a pleasant April day, Mr. Atkins sat at
+his kitchen fire-side, with Charley upon his knees. "Wife,"
+said he to Mrs. Atkins, who was busily preparing the evening
+meal, "is it not a year since Abby left home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, husband, let me think: I always clean up the
+house thoroughly just before <i>fast-day</i>, and I had not done it
+when Abby went away. I remember speaking to her about
+it, and telling her that it was wrong to leave me at such a
+busy time, and she said, 'Mother, I will be at home to do it
+all next year.' Yes, it is a year, and I should not be surprised
+if she should come this week."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she will not come at all," said Mr. Atkins,
+with a gloomy look; "she has written us but few letters,
+and they have been very short and unsatisfactory. I suppose
+she has sense enough to know that no news is better
+than bad news, and having nothing pleasant to tell about
+herself, she thinks she will tell us nothing at all. But if I
+ever get her home again, I will keep her here. I assure
+you, her first year in Lowell shall also be her last."</p>
+
+<p>"Husband, I told you my fears, and if you had set up
+your authority, Abby would have been obliged to stay at
+home; but perhaps she is doing pretty well. You know
+she is not accustomed to writing, and that may account for
+the few and short letters we have received; but they have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+all, even the shortest, contained the assurance that she would
+be at home at the close of the year."</p>
+
+<p>"Pa, the stage has stopped here," said little Charley,
+and he bounded from his father's knee. The next moment
+the room rang with the shout of "Abby has come! Abby
+has come!" In a few moments more, she was in the
+midst of the joyful throng. Her father pressed her hand in
+silence, and tears gushed from her mother's eyes. Her
+brothers and sisters were clamorous with delight, all but little
+Charley, to whom Abby was a stranger, and who repelled
+with terror all her overtures for a better acquaintance.
+Her parents gazed upon her with speechless pleasure, for
+they felt that a change for the better had taken place in their
+once wayward girl. Yes, there she stood before them, a
+little taller and a little thinner, and, when the flush of emotion
+had faded away, perhaps a little paler; but the eyes
+were bright in their joyous radiance, and the smile of health
+and innocence was playing around the rosy lips. She carefully
+laid aside her new straw bonnet, with its plain trimming
+of light blue ribbon, and her dark merino dress showed
+to the best advantage her neat symmetrical form. There
+was more delicacy of personal appearance than when she
+left them, and also more softness of manner; for constant
+collision with so many young females had worn off the little
+asperities which had marked her conduct while at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Abby, how many silk gowns have you got?"
+said her father, as he opened a large new trunk. "<i>Not one</i>,
+father," said she; and she fixed her dark eyes upon him
+with an expression which told all. "But here are some little
+books for the children, and a new calico dress for mother;
+and here is a nice black silk handkerchief for you to
+wear around your neck on Sundays; accept it, dear father,
+for it is your daughter's first gift."</p>
+
+<p>"You had better have bought me a pair of spectacles, for
+I am sure I cannot see anything." There were tears in the
+rough farmer's eyes, but he tried to laugh and joke, that
+they might not be perceived. "But what did you do with
+all your money?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I had better leave it there," said Abby, and
+she placed her bank-book in her father's hand. Mr. Atkins
+looked a moment, and the forced smile faded away. The
+surprise had been too great, and tears fell thick and fast from
+the father's eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is but a little," said Abby. "But it was all you
+could save," replied her father, "and I am proud of you,
+Abby; yes, proud that I am the father of such a girl. It is
+not this paltry sum which pleases me so much, but the prudence,
+self-command, and real affection for us which you
+have displayed. But was it not sometimes hard to resist
+temptation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father, <i>you</i> can never know how hard; but it was
+the thought of <i>this</i> night which sustained me through it all.
+I knew how you would smile, and what my mother would
+say and feel; and though there have been moments, yes,
+hours, that have seen me wretched enough, yet this one
+evening will repay for all. There is but one thing now to
+mar my happiness, and that is the thought that this little
+fellow has quite forgotten me;" and she drew Charley to
+her side. But the new picture-book had already effected
+wonders, and in a few moments he was in her lap, with his
+arms around her neck, and his mother could not persuade
+him to retire that night until he had given "sister Abby" a
+hundred kisses.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," said Abby, as she arose to retire, when the
+tall clock struck eleven, "may I not sometime go back to
+Lowell? I should like to add a little to the sum in the
+bank, and I should be glad of <i>one</i> silk gown!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Abby, you may do anything you wish. I shall
+never again be afraid to let you spend a year in Lowell."</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Lucinda.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE FIRST WEDDING IN SALMAGUNDI.</h2>
+
+
+<p>I have often heard this remark, "If their friends can give
+them nothing else, they will surely give them a wedding."
+As I have nothing else to present at this time, I hope my
+friends will not complain if I give them an account of the
+first wedding in our town. The ceremony of marriage being
+performed by his Excellency the Governor, it would not
+be amiss to introduce him first of all.</p>
+
+<p>Let me then introduce John Wentworth (the last governor
+of New Hampshire while the colonies were subject to
+the crown of Great Britain), whose country seat was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+Salmagundi. The wedding which I am about to describe
+was celebrated on a romantic spot, by the side of Lake Winnipiseogee.
+All the neighbors within ten miles were invited,
+and it was understood that all who came were expected
+to bring with them some implements of husbandry, such as
+ploughs, harrows, yokes, bows, wheelbarrows, hods, scythe-snaths,
+rakes, goads, hay-hooks, bar-pins, &amp;c. These articles
+were for a fair, the product of which was to defray the
+expenses of the wedding, and also to fit out the bride with
+some household furniture. All these implements, and a
+thousand and one besides, being wanted on the farm of
+Wentworth, he was to employ persons to buy them for his
+own especial use.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny O'Lara, an old man, who used to chop wood at
+my father's door, related the particulars of the wedding one
+evening, while I sat on a block in the chimney-corner (the
+usual place for the greatest rogue in the family), plying my
+knitting-needles, and every now and then, when the eyes of
+my step-mother were turned another way, playing slyly
+with the cat. And once, when we yonkers went upon a
+whortleberry excursion, with O'Lara for our pilot, he showed
+us the spot where the wedding took place, and described
+it as it was at the time. On the right was a grove of birches;
+on the left a grove of bushy pines, with recesses for the
+cows and sheep to retire from the noon-day sun. The background
+was a forest of tall pines and hemlocks, and in front
+were the limpid waters of the "Smile of the Great Spirit."
+These encircled about three acres of level grass-land, with
+here and there a scattering oak. "Under yonder oak,"
+said O'Lara, "the ceremony was performed; and here, on
+this flat rock, was the rude oven constructed, where the
+good wives baked the lamb; and there is the place where
+crotched stakes were driven to support a pole, upon which
+hung two huge iron kettles, in which they boiled their peas.
+And on this very ground," said O'Lara, "in days of yore,
+the elfs and fairies used to meet, and, far from mortal ken,
+have their midnight gambols."</p>
+
+<p>The wedding was on a fine evening in the latter part of
+the month of July, at a time when the moon was above the
+horizon for the whole night. The company were all assembled,
+with the exception of the Governor and his retinue.
+To while away the time, just as the sun was sinking behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+the opposite mountains, they commenced singing an ode to
+sunset. They had sung,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"The sunset is calm on the face of the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bright is the last look of Sol in the west;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And broad do the beams of his parting glance sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like the path that conducts to the land of the blest,"<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>when the blowing of a horn announced the approach of the
+Governor, whose barge was soon seen turning a point of
+land. The company gave a salute of nineteen guns, which
+was returned from the barge, gun for gun. The Governor
+and retinue soon landed, and the fair was quickly over.
+The company being seated on rude benches prepared for the
+occasion, the blowing of a horn announced that it was time
+for the ceremony to commence; and, being answered by a
+whistle, all eyes were turned toward the right, and issuing
+from the birchen grove were seen three musicians, with a
+bagpipe, fife, and a Scotch fiddle, upon which they were
+playing with more good nature than skill. They were followed
+by the bridegroom and grooms-man, and in the rear
+were a number of young men in their holiday clothes.
+These having taken their places, soft music was heard from
+the left; and from a recess in the pines, three maidens in
+white, with baskets of wild flowers on the left arm, came
+forth, strewing the flowers on the ground, and singing a
+song, of which I remember only the chorus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Lead the bride to Hymen's bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strew her path with choicest flowers."<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The bride and bridesmaid followed, and after them came
+several lasses in gala dresses. These having taken their
+places, the father of the bride arose, and taking his daughter's
+hand and placing it in that of Clifford, gave them his
+blessing. The Governor soon united them in the bonds of
+holy matrimony, and as he ended the ceremony with saying,
+"What God hath joined let no man put asunder," he heartily
+saluted the bride. Clifford followed his example, and after
+him she was saluted by every gentleman in the company.
+As a compensation for this "rifling of sweets," Clifford had
+the privilege of kissing every lady present, and beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+with Madame Wentworth, he saluted them all, from the
+gray-headed matron, to the infant in its mother's arms.</p>
+
+<p>The cake and wine were then passed round. Being a
+present from Madame Wentworth, they were no doubt excellent.
+After this refreshment, and while the good matrons
+were cooking their peas, and making other preparations,
+the young folks spent the time in playing "blind-man's-buff,"
+and "hide and go seek," and in singing "Jemmy
+and Nancy," "Barbara Allen," "The Friar with Orders
+Grey," "The Lass of Richmond Hill," "Gilderoy,"
+and other songs which they thought were appropriate to the
+occasion.</p>
+
+<p>At length the ringing of a bell announced that dinner was
+ready. "What, dinner at that time of night?" perhaps some
+will say. But let me tell you, good friends (in Johnny
+O'Lara's words), that "the best time for a wedding dinner,
+is when it is well cooked, and the guests are ready to eat
+it." The company were soon arranged around the rude tables,
+which were rough boards, laid across poles that were
+supported by crotched stakes driven into the ground. But
+it matters not what the tables were, as they were covered
+with cloth white as the driven snow, and well loaded with
+plum puddings, baked lamb, and green peas, with all necessary
+accompaniments for a well ordered dinner, which the
+guests complimented in the best possible manner, that is, by
+making a hearty meal.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner being ended, while the matrons were putting all
+things to rights, the young people made preparation for dancing;
+and a joyous time they had. The music and amusement
+continued until the "blushing morn" reminded the
+good people that it was time to separate. The rising sun
+had gilded the sides of the opposite mountains, which were
+sending up their exhalations, before the company were all
+on their way to their respective homes. Long did they remember
+the first wedding in our town. Even after the frost
+of seventy winters had whitened the heads of those who
+were then boys, they delighted to dwell on the merry scenes
+of that joyful night; and from that time to the present, weddings
+have been fashionable in Salmagundi, although they
+are not always celebrated in quite so romantic a manner.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">
+<span class="smcap">Tabitha.</span></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+<h2>"BLESS, AND CURSE NOT."</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Athenians were proud of their glory. Their
+boasted city claimed pre-eminence in the arts and sciences;
+even the savage bowed before the eloquence of their soul-stirring
+orators; and the bards of every nation sang of the
+glory of Athens.</p>
+
+<p>But pre-eminent as they were, they had not learned to be
+merciful. The pure precepts of kindness and love were not
+taught by their sages; and their noble orators forgot to inculcate
+the humble precepts of forgiveness, and the "charity
+which hopeth all things." They told of patriotism, of freedom,
+and of that courage which chastises wrong or injury
+with physical suffering; but they told not of that nobler
+spirit which "renders good for evil," and "blesses, but
+curses not."</p>
+
+<p>Alcibiades, one of their own countrymen, offended against
+their laws, and was condemned to expiate the offence with
+his life. The civil authorities ordered his goods to be confiscated,
+that their value might swell the riches of the public
+treasury; and everything that pertained to him, in the way
+of citizenship, was obliterated from the public records. To
+render his doom more dreary and miserable,&mdash;to add weight
+to the fearful fulness of his sentence,&mdash;the priests and
+priestesses were commanded to pronounce upon him their
+curse. One of them, however, a being gentle and good as
+the principles of mercy which dwelt within her heart&mdash;timid
+as the sweet songsters of her own myrrh and orange
+groves, and as fair as the acacia-blossom of her own bower&mdash;rendered
+courageous by the all-stimulating and powerful
+influence of kindness, dared alone to assert the divinity of
+her office, by refusing to curse her unfortunate fellow-being&mdash;asserting
+that she was "<span class="smcap">Priestess to bless, and not
+to curse</span>."</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Lisetta.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/illus-032.jpg" width="150" height="155" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ANCIENT POETRY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>I love old poetry, with its obscure expressions, its obsolete
+words, its quaint measure, and rough rhyme. I love it
+with all these, perhaps <i>for</i> these. It is because it is different
+from modern poetry, and not that I think it better, that
+it at times affords me pleasure. But when one has been
+indulging in the perusal of the smooth and elegant productions
+of later poets, there is at least the charm of variety in
+turning to those of ancient bards. This is pleasant to those
+who love to exercise the imagination&mdash;for if we would understand
+our author, we must go back into olden times; we
+must look upon the countenances and enter into the feelings
+of a long-buried generation; we must remember that much
+of what we know was then unknown, and that thoughts and
+sentiments which may have become common to us, glowed
+upon these pages in all their primal beauty. Much of which
+our writer may speak has now been wholly lost; and difficult,
+if not impossible, to be understood are many of his expressions
+and allusions.</p>
+
+<p>But these difficulties present a "delightful task" to those
+who would rather push on through a tangled labyrinth, than
+to walk with ease in a smooth-rolled path. Their self-esteem
+is gratified by being able to discover beauty where
+other eyes behold but deformity: and a brilliant thought or
+glowing image is rendered to them still more beautiful,
+because it shines through a veil impenetrable to other eyes.
+They are proud of their ability to perceive this beauty, or
+understand that oddity, and they care not for the mental
+labor which they have been obliged to perform.</p>
+
+<p>When I turn from modern poetry to that of other days, it
+is like leaving bright flowery fields to enter a dark tangled
+forest. The air is cooler, but damp and heavy. A sombre
+gloom reigns throughout, occasionally broken by flitting
+sunbeams, which force their way through the thick branches
+which meet above me, and dance and glitter upon the dark
+underwood below. They are strongly contrasted with the
+deep shade around, and my eye rests upon them with more
+pleasure than it did upon the broad flood of sunshine which
+bathes the fields without. My searching eye at times<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+discovers some lonely flower, half hidden by decayed leaves
+and withered moss, yet blooming there in undecaying beauty.
+There are briers and thistles and creeping vines around, but
+I heedlessly press on, for I must enjoy the fragrance and
+examine the structure of these unobtrusive plants. I enjoy
+all this for a while, but at length I grow chilled and
+weary, and am glad to leave the forest for a less fatiguing
+resort.</p>
+
+<p>But there is one kind of old poetry to which these remarks
+may not apply&mdash;I mean the <span class="smcap">Poetry of the Bible</span>.&mdash;And
+how much is there of this! There are songs of joy
+and praise, and those of woe and lamentation; there are
+odes and elegies; there are prophecies and histories; there
+are descriptions of nature and narratives of persons, and all
+written with a fervency of feeling which embodies itself in
+lofty and glowing imagery. And what is this but poetry?
+yet not that which can be compared to some dark, mazy
+forest, but rather like a sacred grove, such as "were God's
+first temples." There is no gloom around, neither is there
+bright sunshine; but a calm and holy light pervades the
+place. The tall trees meet not above me, but through their
+lofty boughs I can look up and see the blue heavens bending
+their perfect dome above the hallowed spot, while now and
+then some fleecy cloud sails slowly on, as though it loved to
+shadow the still loneliness beneath. There are soft winds
+murmuring through the high tree-tops, and their gentle
+sound is like a voice from the spirit-land. There are delicate
+white flowers waving upon their slight stems, and
+their sweet fragrance is like the breath of heaven. I feel
+that I am in God's temple. The Spirit above waits for the
+sacrifice. I can now erect an altar, and every selfish
+worldly thought should be laid thereon, a free-will offering.
+But when the rite is over, and I leave this consecrated spot
+for the busy path of life, I should strive to bear into the
+world a heart baptized in the love of beauty, holiness, and
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>I have spoken figuratively&mdash;perhaps too much so to please
+the pure and simple tastes of some&mdash;but He who made my
+soul and placed it in the body which it animates, implanted
+within it a love of the beautiful in literature, and this love
+was first awakened and then cherished by the words of
+Holy Writ.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I have, when a child, read my Bible, from its earliest
+book to its latest. I have gone in imagination to the plains
+of Uz, and have there beheld the pastoral prince in all his
+pride and glory. I have marked him; too, when in the
+depth of his sorrow he sat speechless upon the ground for
+seven days and seven nights; but when he opened his
+mouth and spake, I listened with eagerness to the heart-stirring
+words and startling imagery which poured forth
+from his burning lips! But my heart has thrilled with a
+delightful awe when "the Lord answered Job out of the
+whirlwind," and I listened to words of more simplicity than
+uninspired man may ever conceive.</p>
+
+<p>I have gone, too, with the beloved disciple into that lonely
+isle where he beheld those things of which he was
+commanded to write. My imagination dared not conceive of
+the glorious throne, and of Him who sat upon it; but I have
+looked with a throbbing delight upon the New Jerusalem
+coming down from heaven in her clear crystal light, "as a
+bride adorned for her husband." I have gazed upon the
+golden city, flashing like "transparent glass," and have
+marked its pearly gates and walls of every precious stone.
+In imagination have I looked upon all this, till my young
+spirit longed to leave its earthly tenement and soar upward
+to that brighter world, where there is no need of sun or
+moon, for "the Lamb is the light thereof."</p>
+
+<p>I have since read my Bible for better purposes than the
+indulgence of taste. There must I go to learn my duty to
+God and my neighbor. There should I look for precepts to
+direct the life that now is, and for the promise of that which
+is to come; yet seldom do I close that sacred volume without
+a feeling of thankfulness, that the truths of our holy
+religion have been so often presented in forms which not
+only reason and conscience will approve, but also which the
+fancy can admire and the heart must love.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Ella.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;">
+<img src="images/illus-035.jpg" width="225" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SPIRIT OF DISCONTENT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"I will not stay in Lowell any longer; I am determined
+to give my notice this very day," said Ellen Collins,
+as the earliest bell was tolling to remind us of the hour for
+labor.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what is the matter, Ellen? It seems to me you
+have dreamed out a new idea! Where do you think of
+going? and what for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am going home, where I shall not be obliged to rise
+so early in the morning, nor be dragged about by the
+ringing of a bell, nor confined in a close noisy room from
+morning till night. I will not stay here; I am determined
+to go home in a fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>Such was our brief morning's conversation.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, as I sat alone, reading, my companions
+having gone out to public lectures or social meetings, Ellen
+entered. I saw that she still wore the same gloomy expression
+of countenance, which had been manifested in the
+morning; and I was disposed to remove from her mind the
+evil influence, by a plain common-sense conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"And so, Ellen," said I, "you think it unpleasant to
+rise so early in the morning, and be confined in the noisy
+mill so many hours during the day. And I think so, too.
+All this, and much more, is very annoying, no doubt. But
+we must not forget that there are advantages, as well as
+disadvantages, in this employment, as in every other. If
+we expect to find all sunshine and flowers in any station in
+life, we shall most surely be disappointed. We are very
+busily engaged during the day; but then we have the evening
+to ourselves, with no one to dictate to or control us. I have
+frequently heard you say, that you would not be confined to
+household duties, and that you dislike the millinery business
+altogether, because you could not have your evenings for
+leisure. You know that in Lowell we have schools, lectures,
+and meetings of every description, for moral and intellectual
+improvement."</p>
+
+<p>"All that is very true," replied Ellen, "but if we were
+to attend every public institution, and every evening school
+which offers itself for our improvement, we might spend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+every farthing of our earnings, and even more. Then if
+sickness should overtake us, what are the probable consequences?
+Here we are, far from kindred and home; and
+if we have an empty purse, we shall be destitute of <i>friends</i>
+also."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think so, Ellen. I believe there is no place
+where there are so many advantages within the reach of the
+laboring class of people, as exist here; where there is so
+much equality, so few aristocratic distinctions, and such
+good fellowship, as may be found in this community. A
+person has only to be honest, industrious, and moral, to
+secure the respect of the virtuous and good, though he may
+not be worth a dollar; while on the other hand, an immoral
+person, though he should possess wealth, is not respected."</p>
+
+<p>"As to the morality of the place," returned Ellen, "I
+have no fault to find. I object to the constant hurry of
+everything. We cannot have time to eat, drink, or sleep;
+we have only thirty minutes, or at most three-quarters of an
+hour, allowed us, to go from our work, partake of our food,
+and return to the noisy chatter of machinery. Up before
+day, at the clang of the bell&mdash;and out of the mill by the
+clang of the bell&mdash;into the mill, and at work, in obedience to
+that ding-dong of a bell&mdash;just as though we were so many
+living machines. I will give my notice to-morrow: go, I
+will&mdash;I won't stay here and be a white slave."</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen," said I, "do you remember what is said of the
+bee, that it gathers honey even in a poisonous flower? May
+we not, in like manner, if our hearts are rightly attuned,
+find many pleasures connected with our employment? Why
+is it, then, that you so obstinately look altogether on the
+dark side of a factory life? I think you thought differently
+while you were at home, on a visit, last summer&mdash;for you
+were glad to come back to the mill in less than four weeks.
+Tell me, now&mdash;why were you so glad to return to the ringing
+of the bell, the clatter of the machinery, the early rising, the
+half-hour dinner, and so on?"</p>
+
+<p>I saw that my discontented friend was not in a humor
+to give me an answer&mdash;and I therefore went on with my
+talk.</p>
+
+<p>"You are fully aware, Ellen, that a country life does not
+exclude people from labor&mdash;to say nothing of the inferior
+privileges of attending public worship&mdash;that people have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+often to go a distance to meeting of any kind&mdash;that books
+cannot be so easily obtained as they can here&mdash;that you
+cannot always have just such society as you wish&mdash;that
+you"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted me, by saying, "We have no bell, with
+its everlasting ding-dong."</p>
+
+<p>"What difference does it make?" said I, "whether you
+shall be awakened by a bell, or the noisy bustle of a farm-house?
+For, you know, farmers are generally up as early
+in the morning as we are obliged to rise."</p>
+
+<p>"But then," said Ellen, "country people have none
+of the clattering of machinery constantly dinning in their
+ears."</p>
+
+<p>"True," I replied, "but they have what is worse&mdash;and
+that is, a dull, lifeless silence all around them. The
+hens may cackle sometimes, and the geese gabble, and the
+pigs squeal"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Ellen's hearty laugh interrupted my description&mdash;and
+presently we proceeded, very pleasantly, to compare a country
+life with a factory life in Lowell. Her scowl of discontent
+had departed, and she was prepared to consider the
+subject candidly. We agreed, that since we must work for
+a living, the mill, all things considered, is the most pleasant,
+and best calculated to promote our welfare; that we will
+work diligently during the hours of labor; improve our
+leisure to the best advantage, in the cultivation of the mind,&mdash;hoping
+thereby not only to increase our own pleasure,
+but also to add to the happiness of those around us.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Almira.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE WHORTLEBERRY EXCURSION.</h2>
+
+
+<p>About a dozen of us, lads and lasses, had promised
+friend H. that on the first lowery day we would meet him
+and his family on the top of Moose Mountain, for the purpose
+of picking whortleberries, and of taking a view of the
+country around. We had provided the customary complement
+of baskets, pails, dippers, &amp;c.; and one morning,
+which promised a suitable day for our excursion, we piled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+ourselves into a couple of waggons, and rode to the foot of
+the mountain and commenced climbing it on foot. A beaten
+path and spotted trees were our guides. A toilsome way
+we found it&mdash;some places being so steep that we were
+obliged to hold by the twigs, to prevent us from falling.</p>
+
+<p>Three-quarters of an hour after we left our horses, we
+found ourselves on the whortleberry ground&mdash;some of us
+singing, some chatting, and all trying to see who could pick
+the most berries. Friend H. went from place to place
+among the young people, and with his social conversation
+gave new life to the party&mdash;while his chubby boys and rosy
+girls by their nimbleness plainly told that they did not intend
+that any one should beat them in picking berries.</p>
+
+<p>Towards noon, friend H. conducted us to a spring, where
+we made some lemonade, having taken care to bring plenty
+of lemons and sugar with us, and also bread and cheese for
+a lunch. Seated beneath a wide-spreading oak, we partook
+of our homely repast; and never in princely hall were the
+choicest viands eaten with a keener relish. After resting a
+while, we recommenced picking berries, and in a brief space
+our pails and baskets were all full.</p>
+
+<p>About this time, the clouds cleared away, the sun shone
+out in all the splendor imaginable, and bright and beautiful
+was the prospect. Far as the eye could reach, in a north
+and north-easterly direction, were to be seen fields of corn
+and grain, with new mown grass-land, and potato flats, farm-houses,
+barns, and orchards&mdash;together with a suitable proportion
+of wood-land, all beautifully interspersed; and a
+number of ponds of water, in different places, and of different
+forms and sizes&mdash;some of them containing small islands,
+which added to the beauty of the scenery. The little village
+at Wakefield corner, which was about three miles distant,
+seemed to be almost under our feet; and with friend H.'s
+spy-glass, we could see the people at work in their gardens,
+weeding vegetables, picking cherries, gathering flowers, &amp;c.
+But not one of our number had the faculty that the old lady
+possessed, who, in the time of the Revolution, in looking
+through a spy-glass at the French fleet, brought the Frenchmen
+so near, that she could hear them chatter; so we had
+to be content with ignorance of their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>South-westerly might be seen Cropple-crown Mountain;
+and beyond it, Merry-meeting Pond, where, I have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+told, Elder Randall, the father of the Free-will Baptist
+denomination, first administered the ordinance of Baptism.
+West, might be seen Tumble-down-dick Mountain; and
+north, the Ossipee Mountains; and far north, might be seen
+the White Mountains of New Hampshire, whose snow-crowned
+summits seemed to reach the very skies.</p>
+
+<p>The prospect in the other directions was not so grand,
+although it was beautiful&mdash;so I will leave it, and take the
+shortest route, with my companions, with the baskets and
+pails of berries, to the house of friend H. On our way, we
+stopped to view the lot of rock maples, which, with some
+little labor, afforded a sufficient supply of sugar for the
+family of friend H., and we promised that in the season of
+sugar-making the next spring, we would make it convenient
+to visit the place, and witness the process of making maple-sugar.</p>
+
+<p>Our descent from the mountain was by a different path&mdash;our
+friends having assured us, that although our route would
+be farther, we should find it more pleasant; and truly we
+did&mdash;for the pathway was not so rough as the one in which
+we travelled in the morning. And besides, we had the
+pleasure of walking over the farm of the good Quaker, and
+of hearing from his own lips many interesting circumstances
+of his life.</p>
+
+<p>The country, he told us, was quite a wilderness when he
+first took up his abode on the mountain; and bears, he
+said, were as plenty as woodchucks, and destroyed much of
+his corn. He was a bachelor, and lived alone for a number
+of years after he first engaged in clearing his land. His
+habitation was between two huge rocks, at about seventy
+rods from the place where he afterwards built his house.&mdash;He
+showed us this ancient abode of his; it was in the midst
+of an old orchard. It appeared as if the rocks had been
+originally one; but by some convulsion of nature it had been
+sundered, midway, from top to bottom. The back part of
+this dwelling was a rock wall, in which there was a fire-place
+and an oven. The front was built of logs, with an
+aperture for a door-way; and the roof was made of saplings
+and bark. In this rude dwelling, friend H. dressed his food,
+and ate it; and here, on a bed of straw, he spent his lonely
+nights. A small window in the rock wall admitted the
+light by day; and by night, his solitary dwelling was illuminated
+with a pitch-pine torch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On being interrogated respecting the cause of his living
+alone so long as he did, he made answer, by giving us to
+understand, that if he was called "the bear," he was not
+so much of a brute as to marry until he could give his wife
+a comfortable maintenance; "and moreover, I was resolved,"
+said he, "that Hannah should never have the least
+cause to repent of the ready decision which she made in my
+favor." "Then," said one of our company, "your wife
+was not afraid to trust herself with the bear?" "She did
+not hesitate in the least," said friend H.; "for when I
+'popped the question,' by saying, 'Hannah, will thee have
+me?' she readily answered, 'Yes, To&mdash;&mdash;;' she would
+have said, 'Tobias, I will;' but the words died on her lips,
+and her face, which blushed like the rose, became deadly
+pale; and she would have fallen on the floor, had I not
+caught her in my arms. After Hannah got over her faintness,
+I told her that we had better not marry, until I was in
+a better way of living; to which she also agreed. And,"
+said he, "before I brought home my bird, I had built yonder
+cage"&mdash;pointing to his house; "and now, neighbors, let
+us hasten to it; for Hannah will have her tea ready by the
+time we get there." When we arrived at the house we
+found that tea was ready; and the amiable Mrs. H., the
+wife of the good Quaker, was waiting for us, with all imaginable
+patience.</p>
+
+<p>The room in which we took tea was remarkably neat.
+The white floor was nicely sanded, and the fire-place filled
+with pine-tops and rose-bushes; and vases of roses were
+standing on the mantel-piece. The table was covered with
+a cloth of snowy whiteness, and loaded with delicacies; and
+here and there stood a little China vase, filled with white
+and damask roses.</p>
+
+<p>"So-ho!" said the saucy Henry L., upon entering the
+room; "I thought that you Quakers were averse to every
+species of decoration; but see! here is a whole flower-garden!"
+Friend H. smiled and said, "the rose is a
+favorite with Hannah; and then it is like her, with one exception."
+"And what is that exception?" said Henry.&mdash;"Oh,"
+said our friend, "Hannah has no thorns to wound."
+Mrs. H.'s heightened color and smile plainly told us, that
+praise from her husband was "music to her ear." After
+tea, we had the pleasure of promenading through the house;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+and Mrs. H. showed us many articles of domestic manufacture,
+being the work of her own and her daughters' hands.
+The articles consisted of sheets, pillow-cases, bed-quilts,
+coverlets of various colors, and woven in different patterns,&mdash;such
+as chariot wheels, rose-of-sharon, ladies' delight,
+federal constitution&mdash;and other patterns, the names of which
+I have forgotten. The white bed-spreads and the table-covers,
+which were inspected by us, were equal, if not superior,
+to those of English manufacture; in short, all that we
+saw proclaimed that order and industry had an abiding place
+in the house of friend H.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. H. and myself seated ourselves by a window which
+overlooked a young and thrifty orchard. A flock of sheep
+were grazing among the trees, and their lambs were gambolling
+from place to place. "This orchard is more beautiful
+than your other," said I; "but I do not suppose it contains
+anything so dear to the memory of friend H. as his old
+habitation." She pointed to a knoll, where was a small
+enclosure, and which I had not before observed. "There,"
+said she, "is a spot more dear to Tobias; for there sleep
+our children." "Your cup has then been mingled with sorrow?"
+said I. "But," replied she, "we do not sorrow
+without hope; for their departure was calm as the setting of
+yonder sun, which is just sinking from sight; and we trust
+that we shall meet them in a fairer world, never to part."
+A tear trickled down the cheek of Mrs. H., but she instantly
+wiped it away, and changed the conversation. Friend H.
+came and took a seat beside us, and joined in the conversation,
+which, with his assistance, became animated and
+amusing.</p>
+
+<p>Here, thought I, dwell a couple, happily united. Friend
+H., though rough in his exterior, nevertheless possesses a
+kindly affectionate heart; and he has a wife whose price
+is above rubies.</p>
+
+<p>The saucy Henry soon came to the door, and bawled out,
+"The stage is ready." We obeyed the summons, and
+found that Henry and friend H.'s son had been for our
+vehicles. We were again piled into the waggons&mdash;pails,
+baskets, whortleberries, and all; and with many hearty
+shakes of the hand, and many kind farewells, we bade adieu
+to the family of friend H., but not without renewing the
+promise, that, in the next sugar-making season, we would
+revisit Moose Mountain.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Jemima.</span></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WESTERN ANTIQUITIES.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the valley of the Mississippi, and the more southern
+parts of North America, are found antique curiosities and
+works of art, bearing the impress of cultivated intelligence.
+But of the race, or people, who executed them, time has
+left no vestige of their existence, save these monuments of
+their skill and knowledge. Not even a tradition whispers
+its <i>guess-work</i>, who they might be. We only know <i>they
+were</i>.</p>
+
+<p>What proof and evidence do we gather from their remains,
+which have withstood the test of time, of their origin
+and probable era of their existence? That they existed centuries
+ago, is evident from the size which forest trees have
+attained, which grow upon the mounds and fortifications discovered.
+That they were civilized and understood the arts,
+is apparent from the manner of laying out and erecting their
+fortifications, and from various utensils of gold, copper, and
+iron which have occasionally been found in digging below
+the earth's surface. If I mistake not, I believe even glass
+has been found, which, if so, shows them acquainted with
+chemical discoveries, which are supposed to have been unknown
+until a period much later than the probable time of
+their existence. That they were not the ancestors of the
+race which inhabited this country at the time of its discovery
+by Columbus, appears conclusive from the total ignorance of
+the Indian tribes of all knowledge of arts and civilization,
+and the non-existence of any tradition of their once proud
+sway. That they were a mighty people is evident from the
+extent of territory where these antiquities are scattered.
+The banks of the Ohio and Mississippi tell they once lived;
+and even to the shore where the vast Pacific heaves its
+waves, there are traces of their existence. Who were
+they? In what period of time did they exist?</p>
+
+<p>In a cave in one of the Western States, there is carved
+upon the walls a group of people, apparently in the act of
+devotion; and a rising sun is sculptured above them. From
+this we should infer that they were Pagans, worshipping
+the sun and the fabulous gods. But what most strikingly
+arrests the antiquarian's observation, and causes him to repeat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+the inquiry, "who were they?" is the habiliments of
+the group. One part of their habit is of the Grecian costume,
+and the remainder is of the Ph&oelig;nicians. Were they
+a colony from Greece? Did they come from that land in
+the days of its proud glory, bringing with them a knowledge
+of arts, science, and philosophy? Did they, too, seek a
+home across the western waters, because they loved liberty
+in a strange land better than they loved slavery at home?
+Or what may be as probable, were they the descendants of
+some band who managed to escape the destruction of
+ill-fated Troy?&mdash;the descendants of a people who had called
+Greece a mother-country, but were sacrificed to her vindictive
+ire, because they were prouder to be Trojans than the
+descendants of Grecians? Ay, who were they? Might
+not America have had its Hector, its Paris, and Helen? its
+maidens who prayed, and its sons who fought? All this
+might have been. But their historians and their poets alike
+have perished. They <i>have been</i>; but the history of their
+existence, their origin, and their destruction, all, all are hidden
+by the dark chaos of oblivion. Imagination alone, from
+inanimate landmarks, voiceless walls, and soulless bodies,
+must weave the record which shall tell of their lives, their
+aims, origin, and final extinction.</p>
+
+<p>Recently, report says, in Mexico there have been discovered
+several mummies, embalmed after the manner of the
+ancient Egyptians. If true, it carries the origin of this fated
+people still farther back; and we might claim them to
+be contemporaries with Moses and Joshua. Still, if I form
+my conclusions correctly from what descriptions I have perused
+of these Western relics of the past, I should decide
+that they corresponded better with the ancient Grecians,
+Ph&oelig;nicians, or Trojans, than with the Egyptians. I repeat,
+I may be incorrect in my premises and deductions, but as
+imagination is their historian, it pleases me better to fill a
+world with heroes and beauties of Homer's delineations,
+than with those of "Pharaoh and his host."</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Lisette.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+<img src="images/illus-044.jpg" width="255" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE FIG-TREE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a cold winter's evening. The snow had fallen
+lightly, and each tree and shrub was bending beneath its
+glittering burden. Here and there was one, with the moonbeams
+gleaming brightly upon it, until it seemed, with its
+many branches, touched by the ice-spirit, or some fairy-like
+creation, in its loveliness and beauty. Every thing was
+hushed in Dridonville.</p>
+
+<p>Situated at a little distance, was a large white house,
+surrounded with elm-trees, in the rear of which, upon an eminence,
+stood a summer-house; and in the warm season
+might have been seen many a gay lady reclining beneath its
+vine-covered roof. No pains had been spared to make the
+situation desirable. It was the summer residence of Captain
+Wilson. But it was now mid-winter, and yet he lingered
+in the country. Many were the questions addressed
+by the villagers to the old gardener, who had grown grey in
+the captain's service, as to the cause of the long delay; but
+he could not, or would not, answer their inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>The shutters were closed, the fire burning cheerfully, and
+the astral lamp throwing its soft mellow light upon the crimson
+drapery and rich furniture of one of the parlors. In a
+large easy chair was seated a gentleman, who was between
+fifty and sixty years of age. He was in deep and anxious
+thought; and ever and anon his lip curled, as if some bitter
+feeling was in his heart. Standing near him was a young
+man. His brow was open and serene; his forehead high
+and expansive; and his eyes beamed with an expression of
+benevolence and mildness. His lips were firmly compressed,
+denoting energy and decision of character.</p>
+
+<p>"You may be seated," said Capt. Wilson, for it was he
+who occupied the large chair, the young man being his only
+son. "You may be seated, Augustus," and he cast upon
+him a look of mingled pride and scorn. The young man
+bowed profoundly, and took a seat opposite his father.
+There was a long pause, and the father was first to break
+silence. "So you intend to marry a beggar, and suffer the
+consequences. But do you think your love will stand the
+test of poverty, and the sneer of the world? for I repeat, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+not one farthing of my money shall you receive, unless you
+comply with the promise which I long since made to my old
+friend, that our families should be united. She will inherit
+his vast possessions, as there is no other heir. True, she is
+a few years your senior; but that is of no importance.
+Your mother is older than I am. But I have told you all
+this before. Consider well ere you choose between wealth
+and poverty."</p>
+
+<p>"Would that I could conscientiously comply with your
+request," replied Augustus, "but I have promised to be
+protector and friend to Emily Summerville. She is not rich
+in this world's goods; but she has what is far preferable&mdash;a
+contented mind; and you will allow that, in point of education,
+she will compare even with Miss Clarkson." In a
+firm voice he continued, "I have made my choice, I shall
+marry Emily;" and he was about to proceed, but his father
+stamped his foot, and commanded him to quit his presence.
+He left the house, and as he walked rapidly towards Mr.
+Grant's, the uncle of Miss Summerville, he thought how unstable
+were all earthly possessions, "and why," he exclaimed,
+"why should I make myself miserable for a little paltry
+gold? It may wound my pride at first to meet my gay associates;
+but that will soon pass away, and my father will
+see that I can provide for my own wants."</p>
+
+<p>Emily Summerville was the daughter of a British officer,
+who for many years resided in the pleasant village of Dridonville.
+He was much beloved by the good people for his
+activity and benevolence. He built the cottage occupied by
+Mr. Grant. On account of its singular construction, it bore
+the name of the "English cottage." After his death it
+was sold, and Mr. Grant became the purchaser. There Emily
+had spent her childhood. On the evening before alluded
+to, she was in their little parlor, one corner of which was occupied
+by a large fig-tree. On a stand were geraniums,
+rose-bushes, the African lily, and many other plants. At a
+small table sat Emily, busily engaged with her needle, when
+the old servant announced Mr. Wilson. "Oh, Augustus,
+how glad I am you are come!" she exclaimed, as she
+sprung from her seat to meet him; "but you look sad and
+weary," she added, as she seated herself by his side, and
+gazed inquiringly into his face, the mirror of his heart.
+"What has happened? you look perplexed."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nothing more than I have expected for a long time,"
+was the reply; and it was with heartfelt satisfaction that
+he gazed on the fair creature by his side, and thought she
+would be a star to guide him in the way of virtue. He told
+her all. And then he explained to her the path he had
+marked out for himself. "I must leave you for a time, and
+engage in the noise and excitement of my profession. It
+will not be long, if I am successful. I must claim one promise
+from you, that is, that you will write often, for that will be
+the only pleasure I shall have to cheer me in my absence."</p>
+
+<p>She did promise; and when they separated at a late
+hour, they dreamed not that it was their last meeting on
+earth.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>"Oh, uncle," said Emily, as they entered the parlor together
+one morning, "do look at my fig-tree; how beautiful
+it is. If it continues to grow as fast as it has done, I can
+soon sit under its branches." "It is really pretty," replied
+her uncle; and he continued, laughing and patting her
+cheek, "you must cherish it with great care, as it was a
+present from &mdash;&mdash; now don't blush; I do not intend to speak
+his name, but was merely about to observe, that it might be
+now as in olden times, that as <i>he</i> prospers, the tree will
+flourish; if he is sick, or in trouble, it will decay."</p>
+
+<p>"If such are your sentiments," said Emily, "you will
+acknowledge that thus far his path has been strewed with
+flowers."</p>
+
+<p>Many months passed away, and there was indeed a
+change. The tree that had before looked so green, had
+gradually decayed, until nothing was left but the dry branches.
+But she was not superstitious: "It might be," she
+said, "that she had killed it with kindness." Her uncle
+never alluded to the remark he had formerly made; but
+Emily often thought there might be some truth in it. She
+had received but one letter from Augustus, though she had
+written many.</p>
+
+<p>Summer had passed, and autumn was losing itself in winter.
+Augustus Wilson was alone in the solitude of his
+chamber.&mdash;There was a hectic flush upon his cheek, and the
+low hollow cough told that consumption was busy. Was
+that the talented Augustus Wilson? he whose thrilling eloquence
+had sounded far and wide? His eyes were riveted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+upon a withered rose. It was given him by Emily, on the
+eve of his departure, with these words, "Such as I am, receive
+me. Would I were of more worth, for your sake."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he musingly said; "it is not possible she has forgotten
+me. I will not, cannot believe it." He arose, and
+walked the room with hurried steps, and a smile passed
+over his face, as he held communion with the bright images
+of the past. He threw himself upon his couch, but sleep
+was a stranger to his weary frame.</p>
+
+<p>Three weeks quickly passed, and Augustus Wilson lay
+upon his death-bed. Calm and sweet was his slumber, as
+the spirit took its flight to the better land. And O, it was a
+sad thing to see that father, with the frost of many winters
+upon his head, bending low over his son, entreating him to
+speak once more; but all was silent. He was not there;
+nought remained but the beautiful casket; the jewel which
+had adorned it was gone. And deep was the grief of the
+mother; but, unlike her husband, she felt she had done all
+she could to brighten her son's pathway in life. She knew
+not to what extent Capt. W. had been guilty.</p>
+
+<p>Augustus was buried in all the pomp and splendor that
+wealth could command. The wretched father thought in
+this way to blind the eyes of the world. But he could not
+deceive himself. It was but a short time before he was laid
+beside his son at Mount Auburn. Several letters were
+found among his papers, but they had not been opened.
+Probably he thought that by detaining them, he should induce
+his son to marry the rich Miss Clarkson, instead of the
+poor Emily Summerville.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>Emily Summerville firmly stood amidst the desolation that
+had withered all her bright hopes in life. She had followed
+her almost idolized uncle to the grave; she had seen the
+cottage, and all the familiar objects connected with her earliest
+recollections, pass into the hands of strangers; but
+there was not a sigh, nor a quiver of the lip, to tell of the
+anguish within. She knew not that Augustus Wilson had
+entered the spirit-land, until she saw the record of his death
+in a Boston paper. "O, if he had only sent me one word,"
+she said; "even if it had been to tell me that I was remembered
+no more, it would have been preferable to this."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+The light which had shone so brightly on her pathway was
+withdrawn, and the darkness of night closed around her.</p>
+
+<p>Long and fearful was the struggle between life and death;
+but when she arose from that sick bed, it was with a chastened
+spirit. "I am young," she thought, "and I may yet
+do much good." And when she again mingled in society,
+it was with a peace that the world could neither give nor
+take away.</p>
+
+<p>She bade adieu to her native village, and has taken up her
+abode in Lowell. She is one of the class called "factory
+girls." She recently received the letters intercepted by
+Capt. Wilson, and the melancholy pleasure of perusing
+them is hallowed by the remembrance of him who is "gone,
+but not lost."</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Ione.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>VILLAGE PASTORS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The old village pastor of New England was "a man having
+authority." His deacons were <i>under</i> him, and not, as is
+now often the case, his tyrannical rulers; and whenever his
+parishioners met him, they doffed their hats, and said "Your
+Reverence." Whatever passed his lips was both law and
+gospel; and when too old and infirm to minister to his
+charge, he was not turned away, like an old worn-out
+beast, to die of hunger, or gather up, with failing strength,
+the coarse bit which might eke out a little longer his remaining
+days; but he was still treated with all the deference, and
+supported with all the munificence which was believed due
+to him whom they regarded as "God's vicegerent upon
+earth." He deemed himself, and was considered by his
+parishioners, if not infallible, yet something approaching it.
+Those were indeed the days of glory for New England clergymen.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps I am wrong. The present pastor of New England,
+with his more humble mien and conciliatory tone, his
+closer application and untiring activity, may be, in a wider
+sphere, as truly glorious an object of contemplation. Many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+are the toils, plans and enterprises entrusted to him, which
+in former days were not permitted to interfere with the
+duties exclusively appertaining to the holy vocation; yet
+with added labors, the modern pastor receives neither added
+honors, nor added remuneration. Perhaps it is well&mdash;nay,
+perhaps it is <i>better</i>; but I am confident that if the old pastor
+could return, and take a bird's-eye view of the situations of
+his successors, he would exclaim, "How has the glory departed
+from Israel, and how have they cast down the sons of
+Levi!"</p>
+
+<p>I have been led to these reflections by a contemplation of
+the characters of the first three occupants of the pulpit in my
+native village.</p>
+
+<p>Our old pastor was settled, as all then were, for life. I
+can remember him but in his declining years, yet even then
+was he a hale and vigorous old man. Honored and beloved
+by all his flock, his days passed undisturbed by the storms and
+tempests which have since then so often darkened and disturbed
+the theological world. The opinions and creeds, handed
+down by his Pilgrim Fathers, he carefully cherished, neither
+adding thereto, nor taking therefrom; and he indoctrinated
+the young in all the mysteries of the true faith, with an undoubting
+belief in its infallibility. There was much of the
+patriarch in his look and manner; and this was heightened
+by the nature of his avocations, in which pastoral labors
+were mingled with clerical duties. No farm was in better
+order than that of the parsonage; no fields looked more
+thriving, and no flocks were more profitable than were those
+of the good clergyman. Indeed he sometimes almost forgot
+his spiritual field, in the culture of that which was more
+earthly.</p>
+
+<p>One Saturday afternoon the minister was very busily
+engaged in hay-making. His good wife had observed that
+during the week he had been unusually engrossed in temporal
+affairs, and feared for the well-being of his flock, as
+she saw that he could not break the earthly spell, even upon
+this last day of the week. She looked, and looked in vain
+for his return; until, finding him wholly lost to a sense of
+his higher duties, she deemed it her duty to remind him of
+them. So away she went to the haying field, and when she
+was in sight of the reverend haymaker, she screamed out,
+"Mr. W., Mr. W."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What, my dear?" shouted Mr. W. in return.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you intend to feed your people with hay to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>This was a poser&mdash;and Mr. W. dropped his rake; and,
+repairing to his study, spent the rest of the day in the preparation
+of food more meat for those who looked so trustfully
+to him for the bread of life.</p>
+
+<p>His faithful companion was taken from him, and those
+who knew of his strong and refined attachment to her, said
+truly, when they prophesied, that he would never marry
+again.</p>
+
+<p>She left one son&mdash;their only child&mdash;a boy of noble feelings
+and superior intellect; and his father carefully educated
+him with a fond wish that he would one day succeed him in
+the sacred office of a minister of God. He hoped indeed
+that he might even fill the very pulpit which he must at
+some time vacate; and he prayed that his own life might be
+spared until this hope had been realized.</p>
+
+<p>Endicott W. was also looked upon as their future pastor
+by many of the good parishioners; and never did a more
+pure and gentle spirit take upon himself the task of preparing
+to minister to a people in holy things. He was the beloved
+of his father, the only child who had ever blessed him&mdash;for
+he had not married till late in life, and the warm
+affections which had been so tardily bestowed upon one of
+the gentler sex, were now with an unusual fervor lavished
+upon this image of her who was gone.</p>
+
+<p>When Endicott W. returned home, having completed his
+studies at the University, he was requested by our parish to
+settle as associate pastor with his father, whose failing
+strength was unequal to the regular discharge of his parochial
+duties. It was indeed a beautiful sight to see that old
+man, with bending form and silvery locks, joining in the
+public ministrations with his young and gifted son&mdash;the one
+with a calm expression of trusting faith; the countenance
+of the other beaming with that of enthusiasm and hope.</p>
+
+<p>Endicott was ambitious. He longed to see his own name
+placed in the bright constellation of famed theologians; and
+though he knew that years must be spent in toil for the attainment
+of that object, he was willing that they should be
+thus devoted. The midnight lamp constantly witnessed the
+devotions of Endicott W. at the shrine of science; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+wasting form and fading cheek told what would be the fate
+of the infatuated worshipper.</p>
+
+<p>It was long before our young pastor, his aged father, and
+the idolizing people, who were so proud of his talents, and
+such admirers of his virtues,&mdash;it was long ere these could be
+made to believe he was dying; but Endicott W. departed
+from life, as a bright cloud fades away in a noon-day sky&mdash;for
+his calm exit was surrounded by all which makes a
+death-bed glorious. His aged father said, "The Lord gave,
+and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the
+Lord." And then he went again before his flock, and endeavored
+to reconcile them to their loss, and dispense again
+the comforts and blessings of the gospel, trusting that his
+strength would still be spared, until one, who was even then
+preparing, should be ready to take his place.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>Shall I tell you now of my own home? It was a rude
+farm-house, almost embowered by ancient trees, which covered
+the sloping hill-side on which it was situated; and it
+looked like an old pilgrim, who had crawled into the thicket
+to rest his limbs, and hide his poverty. My parents were
+poor, toiling, care-worn beings, and in a hard struggle for
+the comforts of this life had almost forgotten to prepare for
+that which is to come. It is true, the outward ordinances
+of religion were never neglected; but the spirit, the feeling,
+the interest, in short all that is truly deserving the name of
+piety, was wanting. My father toiled through the burning
+heat of summer, and the biting frost of winter, for his loved
+ones; and my mother also labored, from the first dawn of
+day till a late hour at night in behalf of her family. She
+was true to her duties as wife and mother, but it was from
+no higher motive than the instincts which prompt the fowls
+of the air to cherish their brood; and though she perhaps
+did not believe that "labor was the end of life," still her
+conduct would have given birth to that supposition.</p>
+
+<p>I had been for some time the youngest of the family, when
+a little brother was born. He was warmly welcomed by us,
+though we had long believed the family circle complete.&mdash;We
+were not then aware at how dear a price the little
+stranger was to be purchased. From the moment of his
+birth, my mother never knew an hour of perfect health.
+She had previously injured her constitution by unmitigated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+toil, and now were the effects to be more sensibly felt. She
+lived very many years; but it was the life of an invalid.</p>
+
+<p>Reader, did you ever hear of the "thirty years' consumption?"
+a disease at present unknown in New England&mdash;for
+that scourge of our climate will now complete in a few
+months the destruction which it took years of desperate
+struggle to perform upon the constitutions of our more hardy
+ancestors.</p>
+
+<p>My mother was in such a consumption&mdash;that disorder
+which comes upon its victim like the Aurorean flashes in an
+Arctic sky, now vivid in its pure loveliness, and then
+shrouded in a sombre gloom. Now we hoped, nay, almost
+believed, she was to be again quite well, and anon we
+watched around a bed from which we feared she would
+never arise.</p>
+
+<p>It was strange to us, who had always seen her so unremitting
+in her toilsome labors, and so careless in her exposure
+to the elements, to watch around her now&mdash;to shield
+her from the lightest breeze, or the slightest dampness of
+the air&mdash;to guard her from all intrusion, and relieve her from
+all care&mdash;to be always reserving for her the warmest place
+by the fire-side, and preparing the choicest bit of food&mdash;to
+be ever ready to pillow her head and bathe her brow&mdash;in
+short, to be never unconscious of the presence of disease.&mdash;Our
+steps grew softer, and our voices lower, and the stillness
+of our manners had its influence upon our minds. The
+hush was upon our spirits; and there can surely be nothing
+so effectual in carrying the soul before its Maker, as disease;
+and it may truly be said to every one who enters the
+chamber of sickness, "The place whereon thou standest is
+holy ground."</p>
+
+<p>My little brother was to us an angel sent from heaven.&mdash;He
+possessed a far more delicate frame and lofty intellect
+than any other member of the family; and his high, pale
+brow, and brilliant eyes, were deemed sure tokens of uncommon
+genius. My mother herself watched with pleasure
+these indications of talent, although the time had been when
+a predilection for literary pursuits would have been thought
+inconsistent with the common duties which we were all born
+to fulfil.</p>
+
+<p>We had always respected the learned and talented, but it
+was with a feeling akin to the veneration we felt for the
+inhabitants of the spiritual world. They were far above us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+and we were content to bow in reverence. Our thoughts
+had been restricted to the narrow circle of every-day duties,
+and our highest aspirations were to be admitted at length, as
+spectators, to the glory of a material heaven, where streets
+of gold and thrones of ivory form the magnificence of the
+place. It was different now.&mdash;With a nearer view of that
+better world, to which my mother had received her summons,
+came also more elevated spiritual and blissful views of
+its glory and perfection. It was another heaven, for she
+was another being; and she would have been willing at any
+moment to have resigned the existence which she held by so
+frail a tenure, had it not been for the sweet child which
+seemed to have been sent from that brighter world to hasten
+and prepare her for departure.</p>
+
+<p>Our pastor was now a constant visitant. Hitherto he had
+found but little to invite him to our humble habitation. He
+had been received with awe and constraint, and the topics upon
+which he loved to dwell touched no chord in the hearts of
+those whom he addressed. But now my mother was anxious
+to pour into his ears all the new-felt sentiments and
+emotions with which her heart was filled. She wished to
+share his sympathy, and receive his instructions; for she
+felt painfully conscious of her extreme ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>It was our pastor who first noticed in my little brother the
+indications of mental superiority; and we felt then as though
+the magical powers of some favored order of beings had
+been transferred to one in our own home-circle; and we
+loved the little Winthrop (for father had named him after
+the old governor) with a stronger and holier love than we
+had previously felt for each other. And in these new feelings
+how much was there of happiness! Though there was
+now less health, and of course less wealth, in our home,
+yet there was also more pure joy.</p>
+
+<p>I have sometimes been out upon the barren hill-side, and
+thought that there was no pleasure in standing on a spot so
+desolate. I have been again in the same bare place, and
+there was a balmy odor in the delicious air, which made it
+bliss but to inhale the fragrance. Some spicy herb had carpeted
+the ground, and though too lowly and simple to attract
+the eye, yet the charm it threw around the scene was not
+less entrancing because so viewless and unobtrusive.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the spell shed around our lowly home by the
+presence of religion. It was with us the exhalation from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+lowly plants, and the pure fragrance went up the more freely
+because they had been bruised. In our sickness and poverty
+we had joy in the present, and bright hopes for the future.</p>
+
+<p>It was early decided that Winthrop should be a scholar.&mdash;Our
+pastor said it must be so, and Endicott, who was but a
+few years older, assisted him in his studies. They were
+very much together, and excepting in their own families, had
+no other companion. But when my brother returned from the
+pastor's study with a face radiant with the glow of newly-acquired
+knowledge, and a heart overflowing in its desire to
+impart to others, he usually went to his pale, emaciated
+mother to give vent to his sensations of joy, and came to me
+to bestow the boon of knowledge. I was the nearest in age.
+I had assisted to rear his infancy, and been his constant companion
+in childhood; and now our intercourse was to be
+continued and strengthened, amidst higher purposes and
+loftier feelings. I was the depository of all his hopes and
+fears, the sharer of all his plans for the future; and his aim
+was then to follow in the footsteps of Endicott W. If he
+could only be as good, as kind and learned, he should think
+himself one of the best of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>When Endicott became our pastor, my brother was ready
+to enter college, with the determination to consecrate himself
+to the same high calling. It seemed hardly like reality
+to us, that one of our own poor household was to be an
+educated man. We felt lifted up&mdash;not with pride&mdash;for the
+feeling which elevated us was too pure for that; but we esteemed
+ourselves better than we had ever been before, and
+strove to be more worthy of the high gift which had been
+bestowed upon us. When my brother left home, it was
+with the knowledge that self-denial was to be practised, for
+his sake, by those who remained; but he also knew that it
+was to be willingly, nay, joyously performed. Still he did
+not know <i>all</i>. Even things which heretofore, in our poverty,
+we had deemed essential to comfort, were now resigned.&mdash;We
+did not even permit my mother to know how differently
+the table was spread for her than for our own frugal repast.
+Neither was she aware how late and painfully I toiled to
+prevent the hire of additional service upon our little farm.
+The joy in the secret depths of my heart was its own reward;
+and never yet have I regretted an effort or a sacrifice made
+then. It was a discipline like the refiner's fire, and but for
+my brother, I should never have been even as, with all my
+imperfections, I trust I am now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>My brother returned from college as the bright sun of
+Endicott W.'s brief career was low in a western sky. He
+had intended to study with him for the same vocation&mdash;and
+with him he <i>did</i> prepare. O, there could have been no more
+fitting place to imbue the mind with that wisdom which
+cometh from above, than the sick room at our pastor's.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"The chamber where the good man meets his fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is privileged beyond the common walks of life,"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>and Endicott's was like the shelter of some bright spirit
+from the other world, who, for the sake of those about him,
+was delaying for a while his return to the home above.&mdash;My
+brother was with him in his latest hours, and received as
+a dying bequest the charge of his people. The parish also
+were anxious that he should be Endicott's successor; and in
+the space requested for farther preparation, our old pastor
+returned to his pulpit.</p>
+
+<p>But he had overrated his own powers; and besides, he
+was growing blind. There were indeed those who said
+that, notwithstanding his calmness in the presence of others,
+he had in secret wept his sight away; and that while a
+glimmer of it remained, the curtain of his window, which
+overlooked the grave-yard, had never been drawn. He
+ceased his labors, but a temporary substitute was easily
+found&mdash;for, as old Deacon S. remarked, "There are many
+ministers <i>now</i>, who are glad to go out to day's labor."</p>
+
+<p>My mother had prayed that strength might be imparted
+to her feeble frame, to retain its rejoicing inhabitant until
+she could see her son a more active laborer in the Lord's
+vineyard; "and then," said she, "I can depart in peace."
+For years she had hoped the time would come, but dared not
+hope to see it. But life was graciously spared; and the day
+which was to see him set apart as peculiarly a servant of his
+God, dawned upon her in better health than she had known
+for years. Perhaps it was the glad spirit which imparted
+its renewing glow to the worn body, but she went with us
+that day to the service of ordination. The old church was
+thronged; and as the expression of thankfulness went up
+from the preacher's lips, that one so worthy was then to be
+dedicated to his service, my own heart was subdued by the
+solemn joy that he was one of us. My own soul was poured
+out in all the exercises; but when the charge was given,
+there was also an awe upon all the rest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Our aged pastor had been led into his pulpit, that he
+might perform this ceremony; and when he arose with his
+silvery locks, thinned even since he stood there last, and
+raised his sightless eyes to heaven, I freely wept. He was
+in that pulpit where he had stood so many years, to warn,
+to guide, and to console; and probably each familiar face
+was then presented to his imagination. He was where his
+dear departed son had exercised the ministerial functions,
+and the same part of the service which he had performed at
+his ordination, he was to enact again for his successor. The
+blind old man raised his trembling hand, and laid it upon the
+head of the young candidate; and as the memories of the
+past came rushing over him, he burst forth in a strain of
+heart-stirring eloquence. There was not a tearless eye in
+the vast congregation; and the remembrance of that hour
+had doubtless a hallowing influence upon the young pastor's
+life.</p>
+
+<p>My brother was settled for five years, and as we departed
+from the church, I heard Deacon S. exclaim, in his bitterness
+against modern degeneracy in spiritual things, that
+"the old pastor was settled <i>for life</i>." "So is the new
+one," said a low voice in reply; and for the first time the
+idea was presented to my mind that Winthrop was to be,
+like Endicott W., one of the early called.</p>
+
+<p>But the impression departed in my constant intercourse
+with him in his home&mdash;for our lowly dwelling was still the
+abode of the new pastor. He would never remove from it
+while his mother lived, and an apartment was prepared for
+him adjoining hers. They were pleasant rooms, for during
+the few past years he had done much to beautify the place,
+and the shrubs which he had planted were already at their
+growth. The thick vines also which had struggled over the
+building, were now gracefully twined around the windows,
+and some of the old trees cut down, that we might be allowed
+a prospect. Still all that could conduce to beauty was
+retained; and I have often thought how easily and cheaply
+the votary of true taste can enjoy its pleasures.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop was now so constantly active and cheerful, that
+I could not think of death as connected with him. But I
+knew that he was feeble, and watched and cherished him,
+as I had done when he was but a little child. Though in
+these respects his guardian, in others I was his pupil. I
+sat before him, as Mary did at the Messiah's feet, and gladly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+received his instructions. My heart went out with him in
+all the various functions of his calling. I often went with
+him to the bed-side of the sick, and to the habitations of the
+wretched. None knew better than he did, how to still the
+throbbings of the wrung heart, and administer consolation.</p>
+
+<p>I was present also, when, for the first time, he sprinkled
+an infant's brow with the waters of consecration; and when
+he had blessed the babe, he also prayed that we might all
+become even as that little child. I was with him, too, when
+for the first time he joined in holy bands, those whom none
+but God should ever put asunder; and if the remembrance
+of the fervent petition which went up for them, has dwelt as
+vividly in their hearts as it has in mine, that prayer must
+have had a holy influence upon their lives.</p>
+
+<p>I have said that I remember his first baptism and wedding;
+but none who were present will forget his first funeral.
+It was our mother's. She had lived so much beyond
+our expectations, and been so graciously permitted to witness
+the fulfilment of her dearest hope, that when at length
+the spirit winged its flight, we all joined in the thanksgiving
+which went up from the lips of her latest-born, that she had
+been spared so long.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beautiful Sabbath&mdash;that day appointed for her
+funeral&mdash;but in the morning a messenger came to tell us
+that the clergyman whom we expected was taken suddenly
+ill. What could be done? Our old pastor was then confined
+to his bed, and on this day all else were engaged. "I
+will perform the services myself," said Winthrop. "I shall
+even be happy to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," said I, "you are feeble, and already spent with
+study and watching. It must not be so."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not attempt to dissuade me, sister," he replied.
+"There will be many to witness the interment of her who
+has hovered upon the brink of the grave so long; and has
+not almost every incident of her life, from my very birth,
+been a text from which important lessons may be drawn?"
+And then, fixing his large mild eyes full upon me, as though
+he would utter a truth which duty forbade him longer to
+suppress, he added, "I dare not misimprove this opportunity.
+This first death in <i>my</i> parish may also be the last.
+Nay, weep not, my sister, because I may go next. The
+time at best is short, and I must work while the day lasts."</p>
+
+<p>I did not answer. My heart was full, and I turned away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+That day my brother ascended his pulpit to conduct the funeral
+services, and in them he <i>did</i> make of her life a lesson
+to all present. But when he addressed himself particularly
+to the young, the middle-aged and the old, his eyes kindled,
+and his cheeks glowed, as he varied the subject to present
+the "king of terrors" in a different light to each. Then he
+turned to the mourners. And who were <i>they?</i> His own
+aged father, the companion for many years of her who was
+before them in her shroud. His own brothers and sisters,
+and the little ones of the third generation, whose childish
+memories had not even yet forgotten her dying blessing.
+He essayed to speak, but in vain. The flush faded from his
+cheek till he was deadly pale. Again he attempted to address
+us, and again in vain. He raised his hand, and buried
+his face in the folds of his white handkerchief. I also covered
+my eyes, and there was a deep stillness throughout the
+assembly. At that moment I thought more of the living
+than of the dead; and then there was a rush among the
+great congregation, like the sudden bursting forth of a mighty
+torrent.</p>
+
+<p>I raised my eyes, but could see no one in the pulpit. The
+next instant it was filled. I also pressed forward, and unimpeded
+ascended the steps, for all stood back that I might
+pass. I reached him as he lay upon the seat where he had
+fallen, and the handkerchief, which was still pressed to his
+lips, was wet with blood. They bore him down, and
+through the aisle; and when he passed the coffin, he raised
+his head, and gazed a moment upon that calm, pale face.
+Then casting upon all around a farewell glance, he sunk
+gently back, and closed his eyes.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>A few evenings after, I was sitting by his bed-side. The
+bright glow of a setting sun penetrated the white curtains of
+his windows, and fell with softened lustre upon his face.
+The shadows of the contiguous foliage were dancing upon
+the curtains, the floor, and the snowy drapery of his bed;
+and as he looked faintly up, he murmured, "It is a beautiful
+world; but the other is glorious! and my mother is
+there, and Endicott. See! they are beckoning to me, and
+smiling joyfully!&mdash;Mother, dear mother, and Endicott, I am
+coming!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His voice and looks expressed such conviction of the reality
+of what he saw, that I also looked up to see these beautiful
+spirits. My glance of disappointment recalled him;
+and he smiled as he said, "I think it was a dream; but it
+will be reality soon.&mdash;Do not go," said he, as I arose to call
+for others. "Do not fear, sister. The bands are very
+loose, and the spirit will go gently, and perhaps even before
+you could return."</p>
+
+<p>I reseated myself, and pressing his wasted hand in mine,
+I watched,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center">"As through his breast, the wave of life<br />
+Heaved gently to and fro."</div>
+
+<p>A few moments more, and I was alone with the dead.</p>
+
+<p>We buried Winthrop by the side of Endicott W., and the
+old pastor was soon laid beside them. * * * *</p>
+
+<p>Years have passed since then, and I still love to visit those
+three graves. But other feelings mingle with those which
+once possessed my soul. I hear those whose high vocation
+was once deemed a sure guarantee for their purity, either
+basely calumniated, or terribly condemned. Their morality
+is questioned, their sincerity doubted, their usefulness denied,
+and their pretensions scoffed at. It may be that unholy
+hands are sometimes laid upon the ark, and that change of
+times forbids such extensive usefulness as was in the power
+of the clergymen of New England in former days. But
+when there comes a muttering cry of "Down with the
+priesthood!" and a denial of the good which they have effected,
+my soul repels the insinuation, as though it were
+blasphemy. I think of the first three pastors of our village,
+and I reverence the ministerial office and its labors,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"If I but remember only,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That such as these have lived, and died."</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Susanna.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 169px;">
+<img src="images/illus-060.jpg" width="169" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SUGAR-MAKING EXCURSION.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was on a beautiful morning in the month of March,
+(one of those mornings so exhilarating that they make even
+age and decrepitude long for a ramble), that friend H. called
+to invite me to visit his sugar-lot&mdash;as he called it&mdash;in
+company with the party which, in the preceding summer,
+visited Moose Mountain upon the whortleberry excursion.
+It was with the pleasure generally experienced in revisiting
+former scenes, in quest of novelty and to revive impressions
+and friendships, that our party set out for this second visit to
+Moose Mountain.</p>
+
+<p>A pleasant sleigh-ride of four or five miles, brought us
+safely to the domicile of friend H., who had reached home
+an hour previously, and was prepared to pilot us to his sugar-camp.
+"Before we go," said he, "you must one and
+all step within doors, and warm your stomachs with some
+gingered cider." We complied with his request, and after
+a little social chat with Mrs. H., who welcomed us with a
+cordiality not to be surpassed, and expressed many a kind
+wish that we might spend the day agreeably, we made for
+the sugar-camp, preceded by friend H., who walked by the
+side of his sleigh, which appeared to be well loaded, and
+which he steadied with the greatest care at every uneven
+place in the path.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the camp, we found two huge iron kettles suspended
+on a pole, which was supported by crotched stakes,
+driven in the ground, and each half full of boiling syrup.
+This was made by boiling down the sap, which was gathered
+from troughs that were placed under spouts which
+were driven into rock-maple trees, an incision being first
+made in the tree with an auger. Friend H. told us that it
+had taken more than two barrels of sap to make what syrup
+each kettle contained. A steady fire of oak bark was burning
+underneath the kettles, and the boys and girls, friend
+H.'s sons and daughters, were busily engaged in stirring
+the syrup, replenishing the fire, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>Abigail, the eldest daughter, went to her father's sleigh,
+and taking out a large rundlet, which might contain two or
+three gallons, poured the contents into a couple of pails.
+This we perceived was milk, and as she raised one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+pails to empty the contents into the kettles, her father called
+out, "Ho, Abigail! hast thee strained the milk?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father," said Abigail.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said friend H., with a chuckle, "Abigail understands
+what she is about, as well as her mother would;
+and I'll warrant Hannah to make better maple-sugar than
+any other woman in New England, or in the whole United
+States&mdash;and you will agree with me in that, after that sugar
+is turned off and cooled." Abigail turned to her work,
+emptied her milk into the kettles, and then stirred their contents
+well together, and put some bark on the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Jemima," said Henry L., "let us try to assist
+Abigail a little, and perhaps we shall learn to make sugar
+ourselves; and who knows but what she will give us a
+'gob' to carry home as a specimen to show our friends;
+and besides, it is possible that we may have to make sugar
+ourselves at some time or other; and even if we do not, it
+will never do us any harm to know how the thing is done."
+Abigail furnished us each with a large brass scummer, and
+instructed us to take off the scum as it arose, and put it into
+the pails; and Henry called two others of our party to come
+and hold the pails.</p>
+
+<p>"But tell me, Abigail," said Henry, with a roguish leer,
+"was that milk really intended for whitening the sugar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Abigail with all the simplicity of a Quakeress,
+"for thee must know that the milk will all rise in a
+scum, and with it every particle of dirt or dust which may
+have found its way into the kettles."</p>
+
+<p>Abigail made a second visit to her father's sleigh, accompanied
+by her little brother, and brought from thence a large
+tin baker, and placed it before the fire. Her brother brought
+a peck measure two-thirds full of potatoes, which Abigail
+put into the baker, and leaving them to their fate, returned
+to the sleigh, and with her brother's assistance carried several
+parcels, neatly done up in white napkins, into a little
+log hut of some fifteen feet square, with a shed roof made of
+slabs. We began to fancy that we were to have an Irish
+lunch. Henry took a sly peep into the hut when we first
+arrived, and he declared that there was nothing inside, save
+some squared logs, which were placed back against the
+walls, and which he supposed were intended for seats. But
+he was mistaken in thinking that seats were every convenience
+which the building contained,&mdash;as will presently be
+shown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Abigail and her brother had been absent something like
+half an hour, and friend H. had in the mean time busied himself
+in gathering sap, and putting it in some barrels hard by.
+The kettles were clear from scum, and their contents were
+bubbling like soap. The fire was burning cheerfully, the
+company all chatting merrily, and a peep into the baker told
+that the potatoes were cooked.</p>
+
+<p>Abigail and her brother came, and taking up the baker,
+carried it inside the building, but soon returned, and placed
+it again before the fire. Then she called to her father, who
+came and invited us to go and take dinner.</p>
+
+<p>We obeyed the summons; but how were we surprised,
+when we saw how neatly arranged was every thing. The
+walls of the building were ceiled around with boards, and
+side tables fastened to them, which could be raised or let
+down at pleasure, being but pieces of boards fastened with
+leather hinges and a prop underneath. The tables were covered
+with napkins, white as the driven snow, and loaded
+with cold ham, neat's tongue, pickles, bread, apple-sauce,
+preserves, dough-nuts, butter, cheese, and <i>potatoes</i>&mdash;without
+which a Yankee dinner is never complete. For beverage,
+there was chocolate, which was made over a fire in the
+building&mdash;there being a rock chimney in one corner.
+"Now, neighbors," said friend H., "if you will but seat
+yourselves on these squared logs, and put up with these
+rude accommodations, you will do me a favor. We might
+have had our dinner at the house, but I thought that it would
+be a novelty, and afford more amusement to have it in this
+little hut, which I built to shelter us from what stormy
+weather we might have in the season of making sugar."</p>
+
+<p>We arranged ourselves around the room, and right merry
+were we, for friend H.'s lively chat did not suffer us to be
+otherwise. He recapitulated to us the manner of his life
+while a bachelor; the many bear-fights which he had had;
+told us how many bears he had killed; how a she-bear denned
+in his rock dwelling the first winter after he commenced
+clearing his land&mdash;he having returned home to his father's
+to attend school; how, when he returned in the spring, he
+killed her two cubs, and afterwards the old bear, and made
+his Hannah a present of their skins to make a muff and tippet;
+also his courtship, marriage, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of dinner, Abigail came in with some hot
+mince-pies, which had been heating in the baker before the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+fire out of doors, and which said much in praise of Mrs. H.'s
+cookery.</p>
+
+<p>We had finished eating, and were chatting as merrily as
+might be, when one of the little boys called from without,
+"Father, the sugar has grained." We immediately went
+out, and found one of the boys stirring some sugar in a bowl
+to cool it. The fire was raked from beneath the kettles,
+and Abigail and her eldest brother were stirring their contents
+with all haste. Friend H. put a pole within the bail
+of one of the kettles, and raised it up, which enabled two of
+the company to take the other down, and having placed it
+in the snow, they assisted friend H. to take down the other;
+and while we lent a helping hand to stir and cool the sugar,
+friend H.'s children ate their dinners, cleared away the tables,
+put what fragments were left into their father's sleigh,
+together with the dinner-dishes, tin baker, rundlet, and the
+pails of scum, which were to be carried home for the swine.
+A firkin was also put into the sleigh; and after the sugar
+was sufficiently cool, it was put into the firkin, and covered
+up with great care.</p>
+
+<p>After this we spent a short time promenading around the
+rock-maple grove, if leafless trees can be called a grove. A
+large sap-trough, which was very neatly made, struck my
+fancy, and friend H. said he would make me a present of it
+for a cradle. This afforded a subject for mirth. Friend H.
+said that we must not ridicule the idea of having sap-troughs
+for cradles; for that was touching quality, as his eldest
+child had been rocked many an hour in a sap-trough, beneath
+the shade of a tree, while his wife sat beside it knitting,
+and he was hard by, hoeing corn.</p>
+
+<p>Soon we were on our way to friend H.'s house, which we
+all reached in safety; and where we spent an agreeable evening,
+eating maple sugar, apples, beech-nuts, &amp;c. We also
+had tea about eight o'clock, which was accompanied by every
+desirable luxury&mdash;after which we started for home.</p>
+
+<p>As we were about taking leave, Abigail made each of us
+a present of a cake of sugar, which was cooled in a tin heart.&mdash;"Heigh
+ho!" said Henry L., "how lucky! We have
+had an agreeable visit, a bountiful feast&mdash;have learned how
+to make sugar, and have all got sweethearts!"</p>
+
+<p>We went home, blessing our stars and the hospitality of
+our Quaker friends.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot close without telling the reader, that the sugar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+which was that day made, was nearly as white as loaf sugar,
+and tasted much better.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Jemima.</span></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>PREJUDICE AGAINST LABOR.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p>Mrs. K. and her daughter Emily were discussing the propriety
+of permitting Martha to be one of the party which was
+to be given at Mr. K.'s the succeeding Tuesday evening, to
+celebrate the birth-day of George, who had lately returned
+from college. Martha was the niece of Mr. K. She was
+an interesting girl of about nineteen years of age, who, having
+had the misfortune to lose her parents, rather preferred
+working in a factory for her support, than to be dependent
+on the charity of her friends. Martha was a favorite in the
+family of her uncle; and Mrs. K., notwithstanding her aristocratic
+prejudices, would gladly have her niece present at
+the party, were it not for fear of what people might say, if
+Mr. and Mrs. K. suffered their children to appear on a level
+with factory operatives.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said Emily, "I do wish there was not such a
+prejudice against those who labor for a living; and especially
+against those who work in a factory; for then Martha
+might with propriety appear at George's party; but I know
+it would be thought disgraceful to be seen at a party with a
+factory girl, even if she is one's own cousin, and without a
+single fault. And besides, the Miss Lindsays are invited,
+and if Martha should be present, they will be highly offended,
+and make her the subject of ridicule. I would not for
+my life have Martha's feelings wounded, as I know they
+would be, if either of the Miss Lindsays should ask her when
+she left Lowell, or how long she had worked in a factory."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Emily," said Mrs. K., "I do not know how we
+shall manage to keep up appearances, and also spare Martha's
+feelings, unless we can persuade your father to take
+her with him to Acton, on the morrow, and leave her at
+your uncle Theodore's. I do not see any impropriety in this
+step, as she proposes to visit Acton before she returns to
+Lowell."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You will persuade me to no such thing," said Mr. K.,
+stepping to the door of his study, which opened from the
+parlor, and which stood ajar, so that the conversation between
+his wife and daughter had been overheard by Mr. K., and
+also by the Hon. Mr. S., a gentleman of large benevolence,
+whose firmness of character placed him far above popular
+prejudice. These gentlemen had been in the study unknown
+to Mrs. K. and Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"You will persuade me to no such thing," Mr. K. repeated,
+as he entered the parlor accompanied by Mr. S.; "I am
+determined that my niece shall be at the party. However
+loudly the public opinion may cry out against such a measure,
+I shall henceforth exert my influence to eradicate the
+wrong opinions entertained by what is called good society,
+respecting the degradation of labor; and I will commence
+by placing my children and niece on a level. The occupations
+of people have made too much distinction in society.
+The laboring classes, who are in fact the wealth of a nation,
+are trampled upon; while those whom dame Fortune
+has placed above, or if you please, <i>below</i> labor, with some
+few honorable exceptions, arrogate to themselves all of the
+claims to good society. But in my humble opinion, the rich
+and the poor ought to be equally respected, if virtuous; and
+equally detested, if vicious."</p>
+
+<p>"But what will our acquaintances say?" said Mrs. K.</p>
+
+<p>"It is immaterial to me what 'they say' or think," said
+Mr. K., "so long as I know that I am actuated by right motives."</p>
+
+<p>"But you know, my dear husband," replied his wife,
+"that the world is censorious, and that much of the good or
+ill fortune of our children will depend on the company which
+they shall keep. For myself, I care but little for the opinion
+of the world, so long as I have the approbation of my
+husband, but I cannot bear to have my children treated with
+coldness; and besides, as George is intended for the law, his
+success will in a great measure depend on public opinion;
+and I do not think that even Esq. S. would think it altogether
+judicious, under existing circumstances, for us to place
+our children on a level with the laboring people."</p>
+
+<p>"If I may be permitted to express my opinion," said Mr.
+S. "I must say, in all sincerity, that I concur in sentiment
+with my friend K.; and, like him, I would that the line of
+separation between good and bad society was drawn between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+the virtuous and the vicious; and to bring about this much-to-be-desired
+state of things, the affluent, those who are allowed
+by all to have an undisputed right to rank with good
+society, must begin the reformation, by exerting their influence
+to raise up those who are bowed down. Your fears,
+Mrs. K., respecting your son's success, are, or should be,
+groundless; for, to associate with the laboring people, and
+strive to raise them to their proper place in the scale of being,
+should do more for his prosperity in the profession
+which he has chosen, than he ought to realize by a contrary
+course of conduct; and, I doubt not, your fears will prove
+groundless. So, my dear lady, rise above them; and also
+above the opinions of a gainsaying multitude&mdash;opinions which
+are erroneous, and which every philanthropist, and every
+Christian, should labor to correct."</p>
+
+<p>The remarks of Esq. S. had so good an effect on Mrs. K.,
+that she relinquished the idea of sending Martha to Acton.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p>The following evening Emily and Martha spent at Esq. S.'s,
+agreeably to an earnest invitation from Mrs. S. and her
+daughter Susan, who were anxious to cultivate an acquaintance
+with the orphan. These ladies were desirous to ascertain
+the real situation of a factory girl, and if it was as truly
+deplorable as public fame had represented, they intended to
+devise some plan to place Martha in a more desirable situation.
+Mrs. S. had a sister, who had long been in a declining
+state of health; and she had but recently written to Mrs. S.
+to allow Susan to spend a few months with her, while opportunity
+should offer to engage a young lady to live with
+her as a companion. This lady's husband was a clerk in
+one of the departments at Washington; and, not thinking it
+prudent to remove his family to the capital, they remained
+in P.; but the time passed so heavily in her husband's absence,
+as to have a visible effect on her health. Her physician
+advised her not to live so retired as she did, but to go
+into lively company to cheer up her spirits; but she thought
+it would be more judicious to have an agreeable female companion
+to live with her; and Mrs. S. concluded, from the
+character given her by her uncle, that Martha would be just
+such a companion as her sister wanted; and she intended in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+the course of the evening to invite Martha to accompany Susan
+on a visit to her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>The evening passed rapidly away, for the lively and interesting
+conversation, in the neat and splendid parlor of Esq.
+S., did not suffer any one present to note the flight of time.
+Martha's manners well accorded with the flattering description
+which her uncle had given of her. She had a good flow
+of language, and found no difficulty in expressing her sentiments
+on any subject which was introduced. Her description
+of "Life in Lowell" convinced those who listened to
+the clear, musical tones of her voice, that the many reports
+which they had heard, respecting the ignorance and vice of
+the factory operatives, were the breathings of ignorance,
+wafted on the wings of slander, and not worthy of credence.</p>
+
+<p>"But with all your privileges, Martha," said Mrs. S.,
+"was it not wearisome to labor so many hours in a day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Truly it was at times," said Martha, "and fewer hours
+of labor would be desirable, if they could command a proper
+amount of wages; for in that case there would be more time
+for improvement."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. S. then gave Martha an invitation to accompany her
+daughter to P., hoping that she would accept the invitation,
+and find the company of her sister so agreeable that she
+would consent to remain with her, at least for one year; assuring
+her that if she did, her privileges for improvement
+should be equal, if not superior to those she had enjoyed in
+Lowell; and also that she should not be a loser in pecuniary
+matters. Martha politely thanked Mrs. S. for the interest
+she took in her behalf, but wished a little time to consider
+the propriety of accepting the proposal. But when Mrs. S.
+explained how necessary it was that her sister should have
+a female companion with her, during her husband's absence,
+Martha consented to accompany Susan, provided that her
+uncle and aunt K. gave their consent.</p>
+
+<p>"What an interesting girl!" said Esq. S. to his lady, after
+the young people had retired. "Amiable and refined as
+Emily K. appears, Martha's manners show that her privileges
+have been greater, or that her abilities are superior to
+those of Emily. How cold and calculating, and also unjust,
+was her aunt K., to think that it would detract aught from
+the respectability of her children for Martha to appear in
+company with them! I really hope that Mr. K. will allow
+her to visit your sister. I will speak to him on the subject."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She <i>must</i> go with Susan," said Mrs. S.; "I am determined
+to take no denial. Her sprightly manners and delightful
+conversation will cheer my sister's spirits, and be of more
+avail in restoring her health than ten physicians."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. K. gave the desired consent, and it was agreed by all
+parties concerned that some time in the following week the
+ladies should visit P.; and all necessary preparations were
+immediately made for the journey.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<p>It was Tuesday evening, and a whole bevy of young people
+had assembled at Mr. K.'s. Beauty and wit were there,
+and seemed to vie with each other for superiority. The
+beaux and belles were in high glee. All was life and animation.
+The door opened, and Mr. K. entered the room.
+A young lady, rather above the middle height, and of a form
+of the most perfect symmetry, was leaning on his arm. She
+was dressed in a plain white muslin gown; a lace 'kerchief
+was thrown gracefully over her shoulders, and a profusion
+of auburn hair hung in ringlets down her neck, which had
+no decoration save a single string of pearl; her head was
+destitute of ornament, with the exception of one solitary rosebud
+on the left temple; her complexion was a mixture of
+the rose and the lily; a pair of large hazel eyes, half concealed
+by their long silken lashes, beamed with intelligence
+and expression, as they cast a furtive glance at the company.
+"Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. K., "this is my
+niece, Miss Croly;" and as with a modest dignity she courtesied,
+a beholder could scarce refrain from applying to her
+Milton's description of Eve when she first came from the
+hand of her Creator. Mr. K. crossed the room with his
+niece, seated her by the side of his daughter, and, wishing
+the young people a pleasant evening, retired. The eyes of
+all were turned towards the stranger, eager to ascertain
+whether indeed she was the little girl who once attended the
+same school with them, but who had, for a number of years
+past, been employed in a "Lowell factory." "Oh, it is the
+same," said the Miss Lindsays. "How presumptuous,"
+said Caroline Lindsay to a gentleman who sat near her,
+"thus to intrude a factory girl into our company! Unless
+I am very much mistaken, I shall make her sorry for her impudence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+and wish herself somewhere else before the party
+breaks up." "Indeed, Miss Caroline, you will not try to
+distress the poor girl; you cannot be so cruel," said the
+gentleman, who was no other than the eldest son of Esq. S.,
+who had on the preceding day returned home, after an absence
+of two years on a tour through Europe. "Cruel!"
+said Caroline, interrupting him, "surely, Mr. S., you cannot
+think it cruel to keep people where they belong; or if they
+get out of the way, to set them right; and you will soon see
+that I shall direct Miss Presumption to her proper place, which
+is in the kitchen,"&mdash;and giving her head a toss, she left Mr. S.,
+and seating herself by Emily and Martha, inquired when the
+latter left Lowell, and if the factory girls were as ignorant
+as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Martha replied by informing her when she left the "city
+of spindles;" and also by telling her that she believed the
+factory girls, considering the little time they had for the cultivation
+of their minds, were not, in the useful branches of
+education, behind any class of females in the Union. "What
+chance can they have for improvement?" said Caroline:
+"they are driven like slaves to and from their work, for
+fourteen hours in each day, and dare not disobey the calls of
+the factory bell. If they had the means for improvement,
+they have not the time; and it must be that they are quite
+as ignorant as the southern slaves, and as little fitted for society."
+Martha colored to the eyes at this unjust aspersion;
+and Emily, in pity to her cousin, undertook to refute the
+charge. Mr. S. drew near, and seating himself by the cousins,
+entered into conversation respecting the state of society
+in Lowell. Martha soon recovered her self-possession, and
+joined in the conversation with more than her usual animation,
+yet with a modest dignity which attracted the attention
+of all present. She mentioned the evening schools for teaching
+penmanship, grammar, geography, and other branches
+of education, and how highly they were prized, and how well
+they were attended by the factory girls. She also spoke
+of the Lyceum and Institute, and other lectures; and her remarks
+were so appropriate and sensible, that even those who
+were at first for assisting Caroline Lindsay in directing her
+to her "proper place," and who even laughed at what they
+thought to be Miss Lindsay's wit,&mdash;became attentive listeners,
+and found that even one who "had to work for a living"
+could by her conversation add much to the enjoyment of
+"good society."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All were now disposed to treat Martha with courtesy, with
+the exception of the Miss Lindsays, who sat biting their lips
+for vexation; mortified to think that in trying to make Martha
+an object of ridicule, they had exposed themselves to
+contempt. Mr. S. took upon himself the task (if task it
+could be called, for one whose feelings were warmly enlisted
+in the work) of explaining in a clear and concise manner the
+impropriety of treating people with contempt for none other
+cause than that they earned an honest living by laboring with
+their hands. He spoke of the duty of the rich, with regard
+to meliorating the condition of the poor, not only in affairs of
+a pecuniary nature, but also by encouraging them in the way
+of well-doing, by bestowing upon them that which would
+cost a good man or woman nothing,&mdash;namely, kind looks,
+kind words, and all the sweet courtesies of life. His words
+were not lost; for those who heard him have overcome their
+prejudices against labor and laboring people, and respect the
+virtuous whatever may be their occupation.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<p>Bright and unclouded was the morning which witnessed
+the departure of the family coach from the door of the Hon.
+Mr. S. Henry accompanied by his sister and the beautiful
+Martha, whose champion he had been at the birth-night party
+of George K. Arrived at P., they found that they were
+not only welcome, but expected visitors; for Esq. S. had
+previously written to his sister-in-law, apprising her of Henry's
+return, and his intention of visiting her in company with
+his sister Susan, and a young lady whom he could recommend
+as being just the companion of which she was in need.
+In a postscript to his letter he added, "I do not hesitate
+to commend this lovely orphan to your kindness, for I know
+you will appreciate her worth."</p>
+
+<p>When Henry S. took leave of his aunt and her family,
+and was about to start upon his homeward journey, he found
+that a two days' ride, and a week spent in the society of
+Martha, had been at work with his heart. He requested a
+private interview, and what was said, or what was concluded
+on, I shall leave the reader to imagine, as best suits his fancy.
+I shall also leave him to imagine what the many billets-doux
+contained which Henry sent to P., and what were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+answers he received, and read with so much pleasure.&mdash;As it
+is no part of my business to enter into any explanation of
+that subject, I will leave it and call the reader's attention to
+the sequel of my story, hoping to be pardoned if I make it
+as short as possible. * * * *</p>
+
+<p>It was a lovely moonlight evening. The Hon. Mr. S.
+and lady, Mr. and Mrs. K., and Caroline Lindsay, were
+seated in the parlor of Mr. K.&mdash;Caroline had called to inquire
+for Martha, supposing her to be in Lowell. Caroline's
+father had been deeply engaged in the eastern land speculation,
+the result of which was a total loss of property. This
+made it absolutely necessary that his family should labor for
+their bread; and Caroline had come to the noble resolution
+of going to Lowell to work in a factory, not only to support
+herself, but to assist her parents in supporting her little
+brother and sisters. It was a hard struggle for Caroline to
+bring her mind to this; but she had done it, and was now
+ready to leave home. Dreading to go where all were strangers,
+she requested Mr. K. to give her directions where to
+find Martha, and to honor her as the bearer of a letter to his
+niece. "I know," said she, "that Martha's goodness of
+heart will induce her to secure me a place of work, notwithstanding
+my former rudeness to her&mdash;a rudeness which has
+caused me to suffer severely, and of which I heartily repent."
+Mr. K. informed Caroline that he expected to see
+his niece that evening; and he doubted not she would recommend
+Miss Lindsay to the overseer with whom she had
+worked while in Lowell; and also introduce her to good
+society, which she would find could be enjoyed, even
+in the "city of spindles," popular prejudice to the contrary
+notwithstanding. Esquire and Mrs. S. approved of Caroline's
+resolution of going to Lowell, and spoke many words
+of encouragement, and also prevailed on her to accept of
+something to assist in defraying the expenses of her journey,
+and to provide for any exigency which might happen.
+They were yet engaged in conversation, when a coach stopped
+at the door, and presently George and Emily entered
+the parlor! They were followed by a gentleman and lady
+in bridal habiliments. George stepped back, and introduced
+Mr. Henry S. and lady. "Yes," said Henry laughingly,
+"I have brought safely back the Factory Pearl, which a
+twelvemonth since I found in this room, and which I have
+taken for my own." The lady threw back her veil, and Miss
+Lindsay beheld the countenance of Martha Croly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I shall omit the apologies and congratulations of Caroline
+and the assurance of forgiveness and proffers of friendship
+of Martha. The reader must also excuse me from delineating
+the joy with which Martha was received by her uncle
+and aunt K.; and the heartfelt satisfaction which Esquire
+and Mrs. S. expressed in their son's choice of a wife. It is
+enough to state that all parties concerned were satisfied and
+happy, and continue so to the present time. To sum up the
+whole they are happy themselves, and diffuse happiness all
+around them.</p>
+
+<p>Caroline Lindsay was the bearer of several letters from
+Martha, now Mrs. S., to her friends in Lowell. She spent
+two years in a factory, and enjoyed the friendship of all who
+knew her; and when she left Lowell her friends could not
+avoid grieving for the loss of her company, although they
+knew that a bright day was soon to dawn upon her. She
+is now the wife of George K., and is beloved and respected
+by all who know her. Well may she say, "Sweet are the
+uses of adversity," for adversity awoke to energy virtues
+which were dormant, until a reverse of fortune. Her father's
+affairs are in a measure retrieved; and he says that he
+is doubly compensated for his loss of property in the happiness
+he now enjoys.</p>
+
+<p>I will take leave of the reader, hoping that if he has
+hitherto had any undue prejudice against labor, or laboring
+people, he will overcome it, and excuse my freedom and
+plainness of speech.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Ethelinda.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>JOAN OF ARC.</h2>
+
+
+<p>When, in the perusal of history, I meet with the names
+of females whom circumstances, or their own inclinations,
+have brought thus openly before the public eye, I can seldom
+repress the desire to know more of them. Was it choice,
+or necessity, which led them to the battle-field, or council-hall?
+Had the woman's heart been crushed within their
+breasts? or did it struggle with the sterner feelings which
+had then found entrance there? Were they recreant to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+their own sex? or were the deed which claim the historian's
+notice but the necessary results of the situations in which
+they had been placed?</p>
+
+<p>These are questions which I often ask, and yet I love not
+in old and musty records to meet with names which long ere
+this should have perished with the hearts upon which love
+had written them; for happier, surely, is woman, when in
+<i>one</i> manly heart she has been "shrined a queen," than
+when upon some powerful throne she sits with an untrembling
+form, and an unquailing eye, to receive the homage,
+and command the services of loyal thousands. I love not
+to read of women transformed in all, save outward form,
+into one of the sterner sex; and when I see, in the memorials
+of the past, that this has apparently been done, I would
+fain overleap the barriers of bygone time, and know how it
+has been effected. Imagination goes back to the scenes
+which must have been witnessed then, and perhaps unaided
+portrays the minute features of the sketch, of which history
+has preserved merely the outlines.</p>
+
+<p>But I sometimes read of woman, when I would not know
+more of the places where she has rendered herself conspicuous;
+when there is something so noble and so bright in the
+character I have given her, that I fear a better knowledge of
+trivial incidents might break the spell which leads me to love
+and admire her; where, perhaps, the picture which my fancy
+has painted, glows in colors so brilliant, that a sketch by
+Truth would seem beside it but a sombre shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Joan of Arc is one of those heroines of history, who
+cannot fail to excite an interest in all who love to contemplate
+the female character. From the gloom of that
+dark age, when woman was but a plaything and a slave, she
+stands in bold relief, its most conspicuous personage. Not,
+indeed, as a queen, but as more than a queen, even the preserver
+of her nation's king; not as a conqueror, but as the
+savior of her country; not as a man, urged in his proud
+career by mad ambition's stirring energies, but as a woman,
+guided in her brilliant course by woman's noblest impulses&mdash;so
+does she appear in that lofty station which for herself
+she won.</p>
+
+<p>Though high and dazzling was the eminence to which she
+rose, yet "'twas not thus, oh 'twas not thus, her dwelling-place
+was found." Low in the vale of humble life was the
+maiden born and bred; and thick as is the veil which time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+and distance have thrown over every passage of her life
+yet that which rests upon her early days is most impenetrable.
+And much room is there here for the interested inquirer,
+and Imagination may rest almost unchecked amid the
+slight revelations of History.</p>
+
+<p>Joan is a heroine&mdash;a woman of mighty power&mdash;wearing
+herself the habiliments of man, and guiding armies to battle
+and to victory; yet never to my eye is "the warrior-maid"
+aught but <i>woman</i>. The ruling passion, the spirit which
+nerved her arm, illumed her eye, and buoyed her heart, was
+woman's faith. Ay, it was <i>power</i>&mdash;and call it what ye
+may&mdash;say it was enthusiasm, fanaticism, madness&mdash;or call
+it, if ye will, what those <i>did</i> name it who burned Joan at the
+stake,&mdash;still it was power, the power of woman's firm, undoubting
+faith.</p>
+
+<p>I should love to go back into Joan's humble home&mdash;that
+home which the historian has thought so little worthy of his
+notice; and in imagination I <i>must</i> go there, even to the very
+cradle of her infancy, and know of all those influences which
+wrought the mind of Joan to that fearful pitch of wild
+enthusiasm, when she declared herself the inspired agent of
+the Almighty.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and gradually was the spirit trained to an act like
+this; for though, like the volcano's fire, its instantaneous
+bursting forth was preceded by no prophet-herald of its
+coming&mdash;yet Joan of Arc was the same Joan ere she was
+maid of Orleans; the same high-souled, pure and imaginative
+being, the creature of holy impulses, and conscious of
+superior energies. It must have been so; <i>a superior mind
+may burst upon the world, but never upon itself</i>: there must
+be a feeling of sympathy with the noble and the gifted, a
+knowledge of innate though slumbering powers. The
+neglected eaglet may lie in its mountain nest, long after the
+pinion is fledged; but it will fix its unquailing eye upon the
+dazzling sun, and feel a consciousness of strength in the
+untried wing; but let the mother-bird once call it forth, and
+far away it will soar into the deep blue heavens, or bathe
+and revel amidst the tempest-clouds&mdash;and henceforth the
+eyrie is but a resting place.</p>
+
+<p>As the diamond is formed, brilliant and priceless, in the
+dark bowels of the earth, even so, in the gloom of poverty,
+obscurity, and toil, was formed the mind of Joan of Arc.&mdash;Circumstances
+were but the jeweller's cutting, which placed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+it where it might more readily receive the rays of light, and
+flash them forth with greater brilliancy.</p>
+
+<p>I have said, that I must in imagination go back to the
+infancy of Joan, and note the incidents which shed their
+silent, hallowed influence upon her soul, until she stands
+forth an inspired being, albeit inspired by naught but her
+own imagination.</p>
+
+<p>The basis of Joan's character is religious enthusiasm:
+this is the substratum, the foundation of all that wild and
+mighty power which made <i>her</i>, the peasant girl, the savior
+of her country. But the flame must have been early fed;
+it was not merely an elementary portion of her nature, but
+it was one which was cherished in infancy, in childhood
+and in youth, until it became the master-passion of her
+being.</p>
+
+<p>Joan, the child of the humble and the lowly, was also
+the daughter of the fervently religious. The light of faith
+and hope illumes their little cot; and reverence for all that
+is good and true, and a trust which admits no shade of fear
+or doubt, is early taught the gentle child. Though "faith
+in God's own promises" was mingled with superstitious awe
+of those to whom all were then indebted for a knowledge of
+the truth; though priestly craft had united the wild and
+false with the pure light of the gospel: and though Joan's
+religion was mingled with delusion and error,&mdash;still it comprised
+all that is fervent, and pure, and truthful, in the
+female heart. The first words her infant lips are taught to
+utter, are those of prayer&mdash;prayer, mayhap, to saints or virgin;
+but still to her <i>then</i> and in all after-time, the aspirations
+of a spirit which delights in communion with the Invisible.</p>
+
+<p>She grows older, and still, amid ignorance, and poverty,
+and toil, the spirit gains new light and fervor. With a mind
+alive to everything that is high and holy, she goes forth into
+a dark and sinful world, dependent upon her daily toil for
+daily bread; she lives among the thoughtless and the vile;
+but like that plant which opens to nought but light and air,
+and shrinks from all other contact&mdash;so her mind, amid the
+corruptions of the world, is shut to all that is base and
+sinful, though open and sensitive to that which is pure and
+noble.</p>
+
+<p>"Joan," says the historian, "was a tender of stables in
+a village inn." Such was her outward life; but there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+for her <i>another</i> life, a life within that life. While the hands
+perform low, menial service, the soul untrammelled is away,
+and revelling amidst its own creations of beauty and of bliss.
+She is silent and abstracted; always alone among her
+fellows&mdash;for among them all she sees no kindred spirit; she
+finds none who can touch the chords within her heart, or
+respond to their melody, when she would herself sweep its
+harp-strings.</p>
+
+<p>Joan has no friends; far less does she ever think of earthly
+lovers; and who would love <i>her</i>, the wild and strange
+Joan! though perhaps, the gloomy, dull, and silent one;
+but that soul, whose very essence is fervent zeal and glowing
+passion, sends forth in secrecy and silence its burning
+love upon the unconscious things of earth. She talks to
+the flowers, and the stars, and the changing clouds; and
+their voiceless answers come back to her soul at morn, and
+noon, and stilly night. Yes, Joan loves to go forth in the
+darkness of eve, and sit,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><span class="i0">"Beneath the radiant stars, still burning as they roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sending down their prophecies into her fervent soul;"</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>but, better even than this, does she love to go into some
+high cathedral, where the "dim religious light" comes
+faintly through the painted windows; and when the priests
+chant vesper hymns, and burning incense goes upward from
+the sacred altar&mdash;and when the solemn strains and the
+fragrant vapor dissolve and die away in the distant aisles
+and lofty dome, she kneels upon the marble floor, and in
+ecstatic worship sends forth the tribute of a glowing heart.</p>
+
+<p>And when at night she lies down upon her rude pallet,
+she dreams that she is with those bright and happy beings
+with whom her fancy has peopled heaven. She is there,
+among saints and angels, and even permitted high converse
+with the Mother of Jesus.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Joan is a dreamer; and she dreams not only in the
+night, but in the day; whether at work or at rest, alone or
+among her fellow-men, there are angel voices near, and
+spirit-wings are hovering around her, and visions of all that
+is pure, and bright, and beautiful, come to the mind of the
+lowly girl. She finds that she is a favored one; she feels
+that those about her are not gifted as she has been; she
+knows that their thoughts are not as her thoughts; and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+the spirit questions, Why is it thus that she should be permitted
+communings with unearthly ones? Why was this
+ardent, aspiring mind bestowed upon <i>her</i>, one of earth's
+meanest ones, shackled by bonds of penury, toil, and ignorance
+of all that the world calls high and gifted? Day after
+day goes by, night after night wears on, and still these
+queries will arise, and still they are unanswered.</p>
+
+<p>At length the affairs of busy life, those which to Joan
+have heretofore been of but little moment, begin to awaken
+even <i>her</i> interest. Hitherto, absorbed in her own bright
+fancies, she has mingled in the scenes around her, like one
+who walketh in his sleep. They have been too tame and
+insipid to arouse her energies, or excite her interest; but
+now there is a thrilling power in the tidings which daily
+meet her ears. All hearts are stirred, but none now throb
+like hers: her country is invaded, her king an exile from his
+throne; and at length the conquerors, unopposed, are quietly
+boasting of their triumphs on the very soil they have
+polluted. And shall it be thus? Shall the victor revel and
+triumph in her own loved France? Shall her country thus
+tamely submit to wear the foreign yoke? And Joan says,
+No! She feels the power to arouse, to quicken, and to
+guide.</p>
+
+<p>None now may tell whether it was first in fancies of the
+day or visions of the night, that the thought came, like
+some lightning flash, upon her mind, that it was for this
+that powers unknown to others had been vouchsafed to <i>her</i>;
+and that for this, even new energies should now be given.&mdash;But
+the idea once received is not abandoned; she cherishes
+it, and broods upon it, till it has mingled with every thought
+of day and night. If doubts at first arise, they are not
+harbored, and at length they vanish away.</p>
+
+<div class="center">"Her spirit shadowed forth a dream, till it became a creed."</div>
+
+<p>All that she sees and all that she hears&mdash;the words to which
+she eagerly listens by day, and the spirit-whispers which
+come to her at night,&mdash;they all assure her of this, that she
+is the appointed one. All other thoughts and feelings now
+crystallize in this grand scheme; and as the cloud grows
+darker upon her country's sky, her faith grows surer and
+more bright. Her countrymen have ceased to resist, have
+almost ceased to hope; but she alone, in her fervent joy, has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+"looked beyond the present clouds and seen the light beyond."
+The spoiler shall yet be vanquished, and <i>she</i> will do
+it; her country shall be saved, and <i>she</i> will save it; her
+unanointed king shall yet sit on the throne, and "Charles
+shall be crowned at Rheims." Such is her mission, and
+she goes forth in her own ardent faith to its accomplishment.</p>
+
+<p>And did those who first admitted the claims of Joan as an
+inspired leader, themselves believe that she was an agent of
+the Almighty? None can now tell how much the superstition
+of their faith, mingled with the commanding influence
+of a mind firm in its own conviction of supernatural guidance,
+influenced those haughty ones, as they listened to the
+counsels, and obeyed the mandates, of the peasant girl.&mdash;Perhaps
+they saw that she was their last hope, a frail reed
+upon which they might lean, yet one that might not break.
+Her zeal and faith might be an instrument to effect the end
+which she had declared herself destined to accomplish.
+Worldly policy and religious credulity might mingle in their
+admission of her claims; but however this might be, the
+peasant girl of Arc soon rides at her monarch's side, with
+helmet on her head, and armor on her frame, the time-hallowed
+sword girt to her side, and the consecrated banner
+in her hand; and with the lightning of inspiration in her
+eye, and words of dauntless courage on her lips, she guides
+them on to battle and to victory.</p>
+
+<p>Ay, there she is, the low-born maid of Arc! there, with
+the noble and the brave, amid the clangor of trumpets, the
+waving of banners, the tramp of the war horse, and the
+shouts of warriors; and there she is more at home than in
+those humble scenes in which she has been wont to bear a
+part. Now for once she is herself; now may she put forth
+all her hidden energy, and with a mind which rises at each
+new demand upon its powers, she is gaining for herself a
+name even greater than that of queen. And now does the
+light beam brightly from her eye, and the blood course
+quickly through her veins&mdash;for her task is ended, her mission
+accomplished, and "Charles is crowned at Rheims."</p>
+
+<p>This is the moment of Joan's glory,&mdash;and what is before
+her now? To stand in courts, a favored and flattered one?
+to revel in the soft luxuries and enervating pleasures of a
+princely life? Oh this was not for one like her. To return
+to obscurity and loneliness, and there to let the over-wrought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+mind sink back with nought to occupy and support it, till it
+feeds and drivels on the remembrance of the past&mdash;this is
+what she would do; but there is for her what is better far,
+even the glorious death of a martyr.</p>
+
+<p>Little does Joan deem, in her moment of triumph, that
+this is before her; but when she has seen her mission ended,
+and her king the anointed ruler of a liberated people, the
+sacred sword and standard are cast aside; and throwing
+herself at her monarch's feet, and watering them with tears
+of joy, she begs permission to return to her humble home.&mdash;She
+has now done all for which that power was bestowed;
+her work has been accomplished, and she claims no longer
+the special commission of an inspired leader. But Dunois
+says, No! The English are not yet entirely expelled the
+kingdom, and the French general would avail himself of
+that name, and that presence, which have infused new
+courage into his armies, and struck terror to their enemies.
+He knows that Joan will no longer be sustained by the
+belief that she is an agent of heaven; but she will be with
+them, and that alone must benefit their cause. He would
+have her again assume the standard, sword, and armor; he
+would have her still retain the title of "Messenger of
+God," though she believe that her mission goes no farther.</p>
+
+<p>It probably was not the first time, and it certainly was not
+the last, when woman's holiest feelings have been made the
+instruments of man's ambition, or agents for the completion
+of his designs. Joan is now but a woman, poor, weak, and
+yielding woman; and overpowered by their entreaties, she
+consents to try again her influence. But the power of that
+faith is gone, the light of inspiration is no more given, and
+she is attacked, conquered, and delivered to her enemies.
+They place her in low dungeons, then bring her before tribunals;
+they wring and torture that noble spirit, and endeavor
+to obtain from it a confession of imposture, or
+connivance with the "evil one;" but she still persists in
+the declaration that her claims to a heavenly guidance were
+true.</p>
+
+<p>Once only was she false to herself. Weary and dispirited;
+deserted by her friends, and tormented by her foes,&mdash;she
+yields to their assertions, and admits that she did deceive
+her countrymen. Perhaps in that hour of trial and darkness,
+when all hope of deliverance from without, or from
+above, had died away,&mdash;when she saw herself powerless in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+the merciless hands of her enemies, the conviction might
+steal upon her own mind, that she had been self-deceived;
+that phantasies of the brain had been received as visions
+from on high,&mdash;but though her confession was true in the
+abstract, yet Joan was surely untrue to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Still it avails her little; she is again remanded to the
+dungeon, and there awaits her doom.</p>
+
+<p>At length they bring her the panoply of war, the armored
+suit in which she went forth at the king's right hand to fight
+their battle hosts. Her heart thrills, and her eye flashes, as
+she looks upon it&mdash;for it tells of glorious days. Once more
+she dons those fatal garments, and they find her arrayed in
+the habiliments of war. It is enough for those who wished
+but an excuse to take her life, and the Maid of Orleans is
+condemned to die.</p>
+
+<p>They led Joan to the martyr-stake. Proudly and nobly
+went she forth, for it was a fitting death for one like <i>her</i>.
+Once more the spirit may rouse its noblest energies; and
+with brightened eye, and firm, undaunted step, she goes
+where banners wave and trumpets sound, and martial hosts
+appear in proud array. And the sons of England weep as
+they see her, the calm and tearless one, come forth to meet
+her fate. They bind her to the stake; they light the fire;
+and upward borne on wreaths of soaring flame, the soul of
+the martyred Joan ascends to heaven.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Ella.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SUSAN MILLER.</h2>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Mother, it is all over now," said Susan Miller, as she
+descended from the chamber where her father had just died
+of <i>delirium tremens</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Miller had for several hours walked the house, with
+that ceaseless step which tells of fearful mental agony: and
+when she had heard from her husband's room some louder
+shriek or groan, she had knelt by the chair or bed which
+was nearest, and prayed that the troubled spirit might pass
+away. But a faintness came over her, when a long interval<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+of stillness told that her prayer was answered; and she
+leaned upon the railing of the stairway for support, as she
+looked up to see the first one who should come to her from
+the bed of death.</p>
+
+<p>Susan was the first to think of her mother: and when she
+saw her sink, pale, breathless, and stupified upon a stair, she
+sat down in silence, and supported her head upon her own
+bosom. Then for the first time was she aroused to the consciousness
+that she was to be looked upon as a stay and
+support; and she resolved to bring from the hidden recesses
+of her heart, a strength, courage, and firmness, which
+should make her to her heart-broken mother, and younger
+brothers and sisters, what <i>he</i> had not been for many years,
+who was now a stiffening corpse.</p>
+
+<p>At length she ventured to whisper words of solace and
+sympathy, and succeeded in infusing into her mother's mind
+a feeling of resignation to the stroke they had received.&mdash;She
+persuaded her to retire to her bed, and seek the slumber
+which had been for several days denied them; and then she
+endeavored to calm the terror-stricken little ones, who were
+screaming because their father was no more. The neighbors
+came in and proffered every assistance; but when Susan
+retired that night to her own chamber, she felt that she
+must look to <span class="smcap">Him</span> for aid, who alone could sustain through
+the tasks that awaited her.</p>
+
+<p>Preparations were made for the funeral; and though
+every one knew that Mr. Miller had left his farm deeply
+mortgaged, yet the store-keeper cheerfully trusted them for
+articles of mourning, and the dress-maker worked day and
+night, while she expected never to receive a remuneration.
+The minister came to comfort the widow and her children.
+He spoke of the former virtues of him who had been
+wont to seek the house of God on each returning Sabbath,
+and who had brought his eldest children to the font of
+baptism, and been then regarded as an example of honesty
+and sterling worth; and when he adverted to the one failing
+which had brought him to his grave in the very prime of
+manhood, he also remarked, that he was now in the hands
+of a merciful God.</p>
+
+<p>The remains of the husband and father were at length
+removed from the home which he had once rendered happy,
+but upon which he had afterwards brought poverty and
+distress, and laid in that narrow house which he never more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+might leave, till the last trumpet should call him forth; and
+when the family were left to that deep silence and gloom
+which always succeed a death and burial, they began to
+think of the trials which were yet to come.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Miller had been for several years aware that ruin
+was coming upon them. She had at first warned, reasoned,
+and expostulated; but she was naturally of a gentle and
+almost timid disposition; and when she found that she
+awakened passions which were daily growing more violent
+and ungovernable, she resolved to await in silence a crisis
+which sooner or later would change their destiny. Whether
+she was to follow her degenerate husband to his grave, or
+accompany him to some low hovel, she knew not; she
+shrunk from the future, but faithfully discharged all present
+duties, and endeavored, by a strict economy, to retain at
+least an appearance of comfort in her household.</p>
+
+<p>To Susan, her eldest child, she had confided all her fears
+and sorrows; and they had watched, toiled, and sympathized
+together. But when the blow came at last, when he who
+had caused all their sorrow and anxiety was taken away by
+a dreadful and disgraceful death, the long-enduring wife and
+mother was almost paralyzed by the shock.</p>
+
+<p>But Susan was young; she had health, strength, and
+spirits to bear her up, and upon her devolved the care of
+the family, and the plan for its future support. Her resolution
+was soon formed; and without saying a word to any
+individual, she went to Deacon Rand, who was her father's
+principal creditor.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beautiful afternoon in the month of May, when
+Susan left the house in which her life had hitherto been
+spent, determined to know, before she returned to it, whether
+she might ever again look upon it as her home. It was
+nearly a mile to the deacon's house, and not a single house
+upon the way. The two lines of turf in the road, upon
+which the bright green grass was springing, showed that it
+was but seldom travelled; and the birds warbled in the
+trees, as though they feared no disturbance. The fragrance
+of the lowly flowers, the budding shrubs, and the blooming
+fruit-trees, filled the air; and she stood for a moment to
+listen to the streamlet which she crossed upon a rude bridge
+of stones. She remembered how she had loved to look at it
+in summer, as it murmured along among the low willows
+and alder bushes; and how she had watched it in the early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+spring, when its swollen waters forced their way through
+the drifts of snow which had frozen over it, and wrought for
+itself an arched roof, from which the little icicles depended
+in diamond points and rows of beaded pearls. She looked
+also at the meadow, where the grass was already so long
+and green; and she sighed to think that she must leave all
+that was so dear to her, and go where a ramble among
+fields, meadows, and orchards, would be henceforth a
+pleasure denied to her.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When she arrived at the spacious farm-house, which was
+the residence of the deacon, she was rejoiced to find him at
+home and alone. He laid aside his newspaper as she entered,
+and, kindly taking her hand, inquired after her own
+health and that of her friends. "And now, deacon," said
+she, when she had answered all his questions, "I wish to
+know whether you intend to turn us all out of doors, as you
+have a perfect right to do&mdash;or suffer us still to remain, with
+a slight hope that we may sometime pay you the debt for
+which our farm is mortgaged."</p>
+
+<p>"You have asked me a very plain question," was the
+deacon's reply, "and one which I can easily answer. You
+see that I have here a house, large enough and good enough
+for the president himself, and plenty of every thing in it and
+around it; and how in the name of common sense and charity,
+and religion, could I turn a widow and fatherless
+children out of their house and home! Folks have called
+me mean, and stingy, and close-fisted; and though in my
+dealings with a rich man I take good care that he shall not
+overreach me, yet I never stood for a cent with a poor man
+in my life. But you spake about some time paying me;
+pray, how do you hope to do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to Lowell," said Susan quietly, "to work in
+the factory, the girls have high wages there now, and in a
+year or two Lydia and Eliza can come too; and if we all have
+our health, and mother and James get along well with the
+farm and the little ones, I hope, I do think, that we can pay
+it all up in the course of seven or eight years."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a long time for you to go and work so hard, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+shut yourself up so close at your time of life," said the
+deacon, "and on many other accounts I do not approve of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I know how prejudiced the people here are against
+factory girls," said Susan, "but I should like to know what
+real good <i>reason</i> you have for disapproving of my resolution.
+You cannot think there is anything really wrong in my determination
+to labor, as steadily and as profitably as I can,
+for myself and the family."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the way that I look at things is this," replied the
+deacon: "whatever is not right, is certainly wrong; and
+I do not think it right for a young girl like you, to put herself
+in the way of all sorts of temptation. You have no idea
+of the wickedness and corruption which exist in that town of
+Lowell. Why, they say that more than half of the girls
+have been in the house of correction, or the county gaol, or
+some other vile place; and that the other half are not much
+better; and I should not think you would wish to go and
+work, and eat, and sleep, with such a low, mean, ignorant,
+wicked set of creatures."</p>
+
+<p>"I know such things are said of them, deacon, but I do
+not think they are true. I have never seen but one factory
+girl, and that was my cousin Esther, who visited us last
+summer. I do not believe there is a better girl in the world
+than she is; and I cannot think she would be so contented
+and cheerful among such a set of wretches as some folks
+think factory girls must be. There may be wicked girls
+there; but among so many, there must be some who are
+good; and when I go there, I shall try to keep out of the
+way of bad company, and I do not doubt that cousin Esther
+can introduce me to girls who are as good as any with whom
+I have associated. If she cannot I will have no companion
+but her, and spend the little leisure I shall have in solitude,
+for I am determined to go."</p>
+
+<p>"But supposing, Susan, that all the girls there were as
+good, and sensible, and pleasant as yourself&mdash;yet there are
+many other things to be considered. You have not thought
+how hard it will seem to be boxed up fourteen hours in a
+day, among a parcel of clattering looms, or whirling
+spindles, whose constant din is of itself enough to drive a
+girl out of her wits; and then you will have no fresh air to
+breathe, and as likely as not come home in a year or two
+with a consumption, and wishing you had staid where you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+would have had less money and better health. I have also
+heard that the boarding women do not give the girls food
+which is fit to eat, nor half enough of the mean stuff they do
+allow them, and it is contrary to all reason to suppose that
+folks can work, and have their health, without victuals to
+eat."</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought of all these things, deacon, but they do not
+move me. I know the noise of the mills must be unpleasant
+at first, but I shall get used to that; and as to my health, I
+know that I have as good a constitution to begin with as
+any girl could wish, and no predisposition to consumption,
+nor any of those diseases which a factory life might otherwise
+bring upon me. I do not expect all the comforts which
+are common to country farmers; but I am not afraid of
+starving, for cousin Esther said, that she had an excellent
+boarding place, and plenty to eat, and drink, and that which
+was good enough for anybody. But if they do not give us
+good meat, I will eat vegetables alone, and when we have
+bad butter, I will eat my bread without it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the deacon, "if your health is preserved,
+you may lose some of your limbs. I have heard a great
+many stories about girls who had their hands torn off by
+the machinery, or mangled so that they could never use
+them again; and a hand is not a thing to be despised, nor
+easily dispensed with. And then, how should you like to
+be ordered about, and scolded at, by a cross overseer?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know there is danger," replied Susan, "among so
+much machinery, but those who meet with accidents are
+but a small number, in proportion to the whole, and if I am
+careful I need not fear any injury. I do not believe the
+stories we hear about bad overseers, for such men would not
+be placed over so many girls; and if I have a cross one, I
+will give no reason to find fault; and if he finds fault without
+reason, I will leave him, and work for some one else.&mdash;You
+know that I must do something, and I have made up
+my mind what it shall be."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a good child, Susan," and the deacon looked
+very kind when he told her so, "and you are a courageous,
+noble-minded girl. I am not afraid that <i>you</i> will learn to
+steal, and lie, and swear, and neglect your Bible and the
+meeting-house; but lest anything unpleasant should happen,
+I will make you this offer: I will let your mother live
+upon the farm, and pay me what little she can, till your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+brother James is old enough to take it at the halves; and if
+you will come here, and help my wife about the house and
+dairy, I will give you 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a-week, and you shall be
+treated as a daughter&mdash;perhaps you may one day be one."</p>
+
+<p>The deacon looked rather sly at her, and Susan blushed;
+for Henry Rand, the deacon's youngest son, had been her
+playmate in childhood, her friend at school, and her constant
+attendant at all the parties and evening meetings. Her
+young friends all spoke of him as her lover, and even the
+old people had talked of it as a very fitting match, as Susan,
+besides good sense, good humor, and some beauty, had the
+health, strength and activity which are always reckoned
+among the qualifications for a farmer's wife.</p>
+
+<p>Susan knew of this; but of late, domestic trouble had
+kept her at home, and she knew not what his present feelings
+were. Still she felt that they must not influence her
+plans and resolutions. Delicacy forbade that she should
+come and be an inmate of his father's house, and her very
+affection for him had prompted the desire that she should be
+as independent as possible of all favors from him, or his
+father; and also the earnest desire that they might one day
+clear themselves of debt. So she thanked the deacon for
+his offer, but declined accepting it, and arose to take leave.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall think a great deal about you, when you are
+gone," said the deacon, "and will pray for you, too. I
+never used to think about the sailors, till my wife's brother
+visited us, who had led for many years a sea-faring life;
+and now I always pray for those who are exposed to the
+dangers of the great deep. And I will also pray for the
+poor factory girls who work so hard and suffer so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray for me, deacon," replied Susan in a faltering
+voice, "that I may have strength to keep a good resolution."</p>
+
+<p>She left the house with a sad heart; for the very success
+of her hopes and wishes had brought more vividly to mind
+the feeling that she was really to go and leave for many
+years her friends and home.</p>
+
+<p>She was almost glad that she had not seen Henry; and
+while she was wondering what he would say and think,
+when told that she was going to Lowell, she heard approaching
+footsteps, and looking up, saw him coming towards
+her. The thought&mdash;no, the idea, for it had not time
+to form into a definite thought&mdash;flashed across her mind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+that she must now arouse all her firmness, and not let Henry's
+persuasion shake her resolution to leave them all, and
+go to the factory.</p>
+
+<p>But the very indifference with which he heard of her intention
+was of itself sufficient to arouse her energy. He appeared
+surprised, but otherwise wholly unconcerned, though
+he expressed a hope that she would be happy and prosperous,
+and that her health would not suffer from the change
+of occupation.</p>
+
+<p>If he had told her that he loved her&mdash;if he had entreated
+her not to leave them, or to go with the promise of returning
+to be his future companion through life&mdash;she could have
+resisted it; for this she had resolved to do; and the happiness
+attending an act of self-sacrifice would have been her
+reward.</p>
+
+<p>She had before known sorrow, and she had borne it patiently
+and cheerfully; and she knew that the life which
+was before her would have been rendered happier by the
+thought, that there was one who was deeply interested for
+her happiness, and who sympathized in all her trials.</p>
+
+<p>When she parted from Henry it was with a sense of loneliness,
+of utter desolation, such as she had never before experienced.
+She had never before thought that he was dear
+to her, and that she had wished to carry in her far-off place
+of abode the reflection that she was dear to him. She felt
+disappointed and mortified, but she blamed not him, neither
+did she blame herself; she did not know that any one had
+been to blame. Her young affections had gone forth as naturally
+and as involuntarily as the vapors rise to meet the
+sun. But the sun which had called them forth, had now
+gone down, and they were returning in cold drops to the
+heart-springs from which they had arisen; and Susan resolved
+that they should henceforth form a secret fount,
+whence every other feeling should derive new strength and
+vigor. She was now more firmly resolved that her future
+life should be wholly devoted to her kindred, and thought
+not of herself but as connected with them.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was with pain that Mrs. Miller heard of Susan's plan;
+but she did not oppose her. She felt that it must be so,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+that she must part with her for her own good and the benefit
+of the family; and Susan hastily made preparations for
+her departure.</p>
+
+<p>She arranged everything in and about the house for her
+mother's convenience; and the evening before she left she
+spent in instructing Lydia how to take her place, as far as
+possible, and told her to be always cheerful with mother,
+and patient with the younger ones, and to write a long letter
+every two months (for she could not afford to hear oftener),
+and to be sure and not forget her for a single day.</p>
+
+<p>Then she went to her own room; and when she had re-examined
+her trunk, bandbox, and basket, to see that all
+was right, and laid her riding-dress over the great armchair,
+she sat down by the window to meditate upon her change of
+life.</p>
+
+<p>She thought, as she looked upon the spacious, convenient
+chamber in which she was sitting, how hard it would be to
+have no place to which she could retire and be alone, and
+how difficult it would be to keep her things in order in the
+fourth part of a small apartment, and how possible it was
+that she might have unpleasant room-mates, and how probable
+that every day would call into exercise all her kindness
+and forbearance. And then she wondered if it would be
+possible for her to work so long, and save so much, as to
+render it possible that she might one day return to that
+chamber and call it her own. Sometimes she wished she
+had not undertaken it, that she had not let the deacon know
+that she hoped to be able to pay him; she feared that she
+had taken a burden upon herself which she could not bear,
+and sighed to think that her lot should be so different from
+that of most young girls.</p>
+
+<p>She thought of the days when she was a little child;
+when she played with Henry at the brook, or picked berries
+with him on the hill; when her mother was always happy,
+and her father always kind; and she wished that the time
+could roll back, and she could again be a careless little
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>She felt, as we sometimes do, when we shut our eyes and
+try to sleep, and get back into some pleasant dream, from
+which we have been too suddenly awakened. But the dream
+of youth was over, and before her was the sad waking reality
+of a life of toil, separation, and sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>When she left home the next morning, it was the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+time she had ever parted from her friends. The day was
+delightful, and the scenery beautiful; a stage-ride was of itself
+a novelty to her, and her companions pleasant and sociable;
+but she felt very sad, and when she retired at night to
+sleep in a hotel, she burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Those who see the factory girls in Lowell, little think of
+the sighs and heart-aches which must attend a young girl's
+entrance upon a life of toil and privation, among strangers.</p>
+
+<p>To Susan, the first entrance into a factory boarding-house
+seemed something dreadful. The rooms looked strange and
+comfortless, and the women cold and heartless; and when
+she sat down to the supper-table, where, among more than
+twenty girls, all but one were strangers, she could not eat a
+mouthful. She went with Esther to their sleeping apartment,
+and, after arranging her clothes and baggage, she
+went to bed, but not to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning she went into the mill; and at first,
+the sight of so many bands, and wheels, and springs, in constant
+motion was very frightful. She felt afraid to touch
+the loom, and she was almost sure that she could never
+learn to weave; the harness puzzled and the reed perplexed
+her; the shuttle flew out, and made a new bump upon her
+head; and the first time she tried to spring the lathe, she
+broke out a quarter of the treads. It seemed as if the girls
+all stared at her, and the overseers watched every motion,
+and the day appeared as long as a month had been at home.
+But at last it was night; and O, how glad was Susan to be
+released! She felt weary and wretched, and retired to rest
+without taking a mouthful of refreshment. There was a
+dull pain in her head, and a sharp pain in her ankles; every
+bone was aching, and there was in her ears a strange noise,
+as of crickets, frogs, and jews-harps, all mingling together,
+and she felt gloomy and sick at heart. "But it won't seem
+so always," said she to herself; and with this truly philosophical
+reflection, she turned her head upon a hard pillow,
+and went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Susan was right, it did not seem so always. Every succeeding
+day seemed shorter and pleasanter than the last;
+and when she was accustomed to the work, and had become
+interested in it, the hours seemed shorter, and the days,
+weeks, and months flew more swiftly by than they had ever
+done before. She was healthy, active, and ambitious, and
+was soon able to earn even as much as her cousin, who had
+been a weaver several years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Wages were then much higher than they are now; and
+Susan had the pleasure of devoting the avails of her labor
+to a noble and cherished purpose. There was a definite aim
+before her, and she never lost sight of the object for which
+she left her home, and was happy in the prospect of fulfilling
+that design. And it needed all this hope of success, and
+all her strength of resolution, to enable her to bear up
+against the wearing influences of a life of unvarying toil.
+Though the days seemed shorter than at first, yet there was
+a tiresome monotony about them. Every morning the bells
+pealed forth the same clangor, and every night brought the
+same feeling of fatigue. But Susan felt, as all factory girls
+feel, that she could bear it for a while. There are few who
+look upon factory labor as a pursuit for life. It is but a
+temporary vocation; and most of the girls resolve to quit
+the mill when some favorite design is accomplished. Money
+is their object&mdash;not for itself, but for what it can perform;
+and pay-days are the landmarks which cheer all
+hearts, by assuring them of their progress to the wished-for
+goal.</p>
+
+<p>Susan was always very happy when she enclosed the
+quarterly sum to Deacon Rand, although it was hardly won,
+and earned by the deprivation of many little comforts, and
+pretty articles of dress, which her companions could procure.
+But the thought of home, and the future happy days
+which she might enjoy in it, was the talisman which ever
+cheered and strengthened her.</p>
+
+<p>She also formed strong friendships among her factory
+companions, and became attached to her pastor, and their
+place of worship. After the first two years she had also the
+pleasure of her sister's society, and in a year or two more,
+another came. She did not wish them to come while very
+young. She thought it better that their bodies should be
+strengthened, and their minds educated in their country
+home; and she also wished, that in their early girlhood
+they should enjoy the same pleasures which had once made
+her own life a very happy one.</p>
+
+<p>And she was happy now; happy in the success of her
+noble exertions, the affection and gratitude of her relatives,
+the esteem of her acquaintances, and the approbation of conscience.
+Only once was she really disquieted. It was when
+her sister wrote that Henry Rand was married to one of
+their old school-mates. For a moment the color fled from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+her cheek, and a quick pang went through her heart. It
+was but for a moment; and then she sat down and wrote
+to the newly-married couple a letter, which touched their
+hearts by its simple fervent wishes for their happiness, and
+assurances of sincere friendship.</p>
+
+<p>Susan had occasionally visited home, and she longed to
+go, never to leave it; but she conquered the desire, and remained
+in Lowell more than a year after the last dollar had
+been forwarded to Deacon Rand. And then, O, how happy
+was she when she entered her chamber the first evening after
+her arrival, and viewed its newly-painted wainscoting,
+and brightly-colored paper-hangings, and the new furniture
+with which she had decorated it; and she smiled as she
+thought of the sadness which had filled her heart the evening
+before she first went to Lowell.</p>
+
+<p>She now always thinks of Lowell with pleasure, for Lydia
+is married here, and she intends to visit her occasionally,
+and even sometimes thinks of returning for a little while to
+the mills. Her brother James has married, and resides in
+one half of the house, which he has recently repaired; and
+Eliza, though still in the factory, is engaged to a wealthy
+young farmer.</p>
+
+<p>Susan is with her mother, and younger brothers and sisters.
+People begin to think she will be an old maid, and
+she thinks herself that it will be so. The old deacon still
+calls her a good child, and prays every night and morning
+for the factory girls.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">F. G. A.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SCENES ON THE MERRIMAC.</h2>
+
+
+<p>I have been but a slight traveller, and the beautiful rivers
+of our country have, with but one or two exceptions, rolled
+their bright waves before "the orbs of fancy" alone, and
+not to my visual senses. But the few specimens which
+have been favored me of river scenery, have been very happy
+in the influence they have exerted upon my mind, in favor
+of this feature of natural loveliness.</p>
+
+<p>I do not wonder that the "stream of <i>his</i> fathers" should
+be ever so favorite a theme with the poet, and that wherever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+he has sung its praise, the spot should henceforth be as
+classic ground. Wherever some "gently rolling river"
+has whispered its soft murmurs to the recording muse, its
+name has been linked with his; and far as that name may
+extend, is the beauty of that inspiring streamlet appreciated.</p>
+
+<p>Helicon and Castalia are more frequently referred to than
+Parnassus,&mdash;and even the small streams of hilly Scotland,
+are renowned wherever the songs of her poet "are said or
+sung." "The banks and braes o' bonny Doon," are duly
+applauded in the drawing-rooms of America; and the Tweed,
+the "clear winding Devon," the "braes of Ayr," the
+"braes o' Ballochmyle," and the "sweet Afton," so often
+the theme of his lays, for his "Mary's asleep by its murmuring
+stream," are names even here quite as familiar, perhaps
+more so, than our own broad and beauteous rivers.
+Such is the hallowing power of Genius; and upon whatever
+spot she may cast her bright unfading mantle, there is forever
+stamped the impress of beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"The Bard of Avon" is an honorary title wherever our
+language is read; and though we may have few streams
+which have as yet been sacred to the muse, yet time will
+doubtless bring forth those whose genius shall make the Indian
+cognomens of our noble rivers' names associated with all
+that is lofty in intellect and beautiful in poetry.</p>
+
+<p>The Merrimac has already received the grateful tribute of
+praise from the muse of the New England poet; and well
+does it merit the encomiums which he has bestowed upon it.
+It is a beautiful river, from the time when its blue waters
+start on their joyous course, leaving "the smile of the Great
+Spirit," to wind through many a vale, and round many a
+hill, till they mingle</p>
+
+<div class="center">"With ocean's dark eternal tide."</div>
+
+<p>I have said that I have seen but few rivers. No! never
+have I stood</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Where Hudson rolls his lordly flood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seen sunrise rest, and sunset fade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along his frowning palisade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looked down the Appalachian peak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Juniata's silver streak;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or seen along his valley gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Mohawk's softly winding stream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The setting sun, his axle red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quench darkly in Potomac's bed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And autumn's rainbow-tinted banner<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hang lightly o'er the Susquehanna;"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>but I still imagine that all their beauties are concentrated in
+the blue waters of the Merrimac&mdash;not as it appears here,
+where, almost beneath my factory window, its broad tide
+moves peacefully along; but where by "Salisbury's beach
+of shining sand," it rolls amidst far lovelier scenes, and with
+more rapid flow. Perhaps it is because it is <i>my</i> river that I
+think it so beautiful&mdash;no matter if it is; there is a great
+source of gratification in the feeling of whatever is in any
+way connected with our <i>humble</i> selves is on that account invested
+with some distinctive charm, and in some mysterious
+way rendered peculiarly lovely.</p>
+
+<p>But even to the stranger's eye, if he have any taste for the
+beautiful in nature, the charms of the banks of the Merrimac
+would not be disregarded. Can there be a more beautiful
+bend in a river, than that which it makes at Salisbury Point?
+It is one of the most picturesque scenes, at all events, which
+I have ever witnessed. Stand for a moment upon the drawbridge
+which spans with its single arch the spot where "the
+winding Powow" joins his sparkling waters with the broad
+tide of the receiving river. We will suppose it is a summer
+morning. The thin white mist from the Atlantic, which
+the night-spirit has thrown, like a bridal veil, over the vale
+and river, is gently lifted by Aurora, and the unshrouded
+waters blush "celestial rosy red" at the exposure of their
+own loveliness. But the bright flush is soon gone, and as
+the sun rides higher in the heavens, the millions of little
+wavelets don their diamond crowns, and rise, and sink, and
+leap, and dance rejoicingly together; and while their sparkling
+brilliancy arrests the eye, their murmurs of delight are
+no less grateful to the ear. The grove upon the Newbury
+side is already vocal with the morning anthems of the feathered
+choir, and from the maple, oak, and pine is rising one
+glad peal of melody. The slight fragrance of the kalmia,
+or American laurel, which flourishes here in much profusion,
+is borne upon the morning breeze; and when their roseate
+umbels are opened to the sun, they "sing to the eye,"
+as their less stationary companions have done to the ear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The road which accompanies the river in its beauteous
+curve, is soon alive with the active laborers of "Salisbury
+shore;" and soon the loud "Heave-ho!" of the ship-builders
+is mingled with the more mellifluous tones which
+have preceded them. The other busy inhabitants are soon
+threading the winding street, and as they glance upon their
+bright and beauteous river, their breasts swell with emotions
+of pleasure, though in their constant and active bustle, they
+may seldom pause to analyze the cause. The single sail of
+the sloop which has lain so listless at the little wharf, and
+the double one of the schooner which is about to traverse its
+way to the ocean, are unfurled to the morning wind, and the
+loud orders of the bustling skipper, and the noisy echoes of
+his bustling men, are borne upon the dewy breeze, and echoed
+from the Newbury slopes. Soon they are riding upon
+the bright waters, and the little skiff or wherry is also seen
+darting about, amidst the rolling diamonds, while here and
+there a heavy laden "gundelow" moves slowly along,
+"with sure and steady aim," as though it disdained the
+pastime of its livelier neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>Such is many a morning scene on the banks of the Merrimac;
+and not less delightful are those of the evening. Perhaps
+the sunset has passed. The last golden tint has faded
+from the river, and its waveless surface reflects the deep
+blue of heaven, and sends back undimmed the first faint ray
+of the evening star. The rising tide creeps rippling up the
+narrow beach, sending along its foremost swell, which, in a
+sort of drowsy play, leaps forward, and then sinks gently
+back upon its successors. Now the tide is up&mdash;the trees
+upon the wooded banks of Newbury, and the sandy hills upon
+the Amesbury side, are pencilled with minutest accuracy
+in the clear waters. Farther down, the dwellings at the
+Ferry, and those of the Point, which stand upon the banks,
+are also mirrored in the deep stream. You might also fancy
+that beneath its lucid tide there was a duplicate village,
+so distinct is every shadow. As, one by one, the lights appear
+in the cottage windows, their reflected fires shoot up
+from the depths of the Merrimac.</p>
+
+<p>But the waters shine with brighter radiance as evening
+lengthens; for Luna grows more lavish of her silvery beams
+as the crimson tints of her brighter rival die in the western
+sky. The shore is still and motionless, save where a pair
+of happy lovers steal slowly along the shadowed walk which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+leads to Pleasant Valley. The old weather-worn ship at
+the Point, which has all day long resounded with the clatter
+of mischievous boys, is now wrapped in silence. The new
+one in the ship-yard, which has also been dinning with the
+maul and hammer, is equally quiet. But from the broad
+surface of the stream there comes the song, the shout, and
+the ringing laugh of the light-hearted. They come from
+the boats which dot the water, and are filled with the young
+and gay. Some have just shot from the little wharf, and
+others have been for hours upon the river. What they have
+been doing, and where they have been, I do not precisely
+know; but, from the boughs which have been broken from
+<i>somebody's</i> trees, and the large clusters of laurel which the
+ladies bear, I think I can "guess-o."</p>
+
+<p>But it grows late. The lights which have glowed in the
+reflected buildings have one by one been quenched, and still
+those light barks remain upon the river. And that large
+"gundelow," which came down the Powow, from the mills,
+with its freight of "factory girls," sends forth "the sound
+of music and dancing." We will leave them&mdash;for it is possible
+that they will linger till after midnight, and we have
+staid quite long enough to obtain an evening's glimpse at
+the Merrimac.</p>
+
+<p>Such are some of the scenes on the river, and many are
+also the pleasant spots upon its banks. Beautiful walks and
+snug little nooks are not unfrequent; and there are bright
+green sheltered coves, like Pleasant Valley, where "all
+save the spirit of man is divine."</p>
+
+<p>I remember the first steamboat which ever came hissing
+and puffing and groaning and sputtering up the calm surface
+of the Merrimac. I remember also the lovely moonlight
+evening when I watched her return from Haverhill, and when
+every wave and rock and tree were lying bathed in a flood of
+silver radiance. I shall not soon forget her noisy approach,
+so strongly contrasted with the stillness around, nor the long
+loud ringing cheers which hailed her arrival and accompanied
+her departure. I noted every movement, as she hissed
+and splashed among the bright waters, until she reached the
+curve in the river, and then was lost to view, excepting the
+thick sparks which rose above the glistening foilage of the
+wooded banks.</p>
+
+<p>I remember also the first time I ever saw the aborigines of
+our country. They were Penobscots, and then, I believe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+upon their way to this city. They encamped among the
+woods of the Newbury shore, and crossed the river (there
+about a mile in width) in their little canoes, whenever they
+wished to beg or trade.&mdash;They sadly refuted the romantic
+ideas which I had formed from the descriptions of Cooper
+and others; nevertheless, they were to me an interesting
+people. They appeared so strange, with their birch-bark
+canoes and wooden paddles, their women with men's hats
+and such <i>outré</i> dresses, their little boys with their unfailing
+bows and arrows, and the little feet which they all had.
+Their curious, bright-stained baskets, too, which they sold
+or gave away. I have one of them now, but it has lost its
+bright tints. It was given me in return for a slight favor.&mdash;I
+remember also one dreadful stormy night while they were
+amongst us. The rain poured in torrents. The thick darkness
+was unrelieved by a single lightning-flash, and the
+hoarse murmur of the seething river was the only noise
+which could be distinguished from the pitiless storm. I
+thought of my new acquaintance, and looked out in the direction
+of their camp. I could see at one time the lights
+flickering among the thick trees, and darting rapidly to and
+fro behind them, and then all would be unbroken gloom.
+Sometimes I fancied I could distinguish a whoop or yell, and
+then I heard nought but the pelting of the rain. As I gazed
+on the wild scene, I was strongly reminded of scenes which
+are described in old border tales, of wild banditti, and night
+revels of lawless hordes of barbarians.</p>
+
+<p>These are summer scenes; and in winter there is nothing
+particularly beautiful in the icy robe with which the Merrimac
+often enrobes its chilled waters. But the breaking up
+of the ice is an event of much interest.</p>
+
+<p>As spring approaches, and the weather becomes milder,
+the river, which has been a thoroughfare for loaded teams
+and lighter sleighs, is gradually shunned, even by the daring
+skater. Little pools of bluish water, which the sun has
+melted, stand in slight hollows, distinctly contrasted with
+the clear dark ice in the middle of the stream, or the flaky
+snow-crust near the shore. At length a loud crack is heard,
+like the report of a cannon&mdash;then another, and another&mdash;and
+finally the loosened mass begins to move towards the ocean.
+The motion at first is almost imperceptible, but it gradually
+increases in velocity, as the impetus of the descending ice
+above propels it along; and soon the dark blue waters are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+seen between the huge chasms of the parting ice. By and
+bye, the avalanches come drifting down, tumbling, crashing,
+and whirling along, with the foaming waves boiling up
+wherever they can find a crevice; and trunks of trees, fragments
+of buildings, and ruins of bridges, are driven along
+with the tumultuous mass.&mdash;A single night will sometimes
+clear the river of the main portion of the ice, and then the
+darkly-tinted waters will roll rapidly on, as though wildly
+rejoicing at their deliverance from bondage. But for some
+time the white cakes, or rather ice-islands, will be seen floating
+along, though hourly diminishing in size, and becoming
+more "like angel's visits."</p>
+
+<p>But there is another glad scene occasionally upon the
+Merrimac&mdash;and that is, when there is a launching. I have
+already alluded to the ship-builders, and they form quite a
+proportion of the inhabitants of the shore. And now, by
+the way, I cannot omit a passing compliment to the inhabitants
+of this same shore. It is seldom that so correct, intelligent,
+contented, and truly comfortable a class of people is
+to be found, as in this pretty hamlet. Pretty it most certainly
+is&mdash;for nearly all the houses are neatly painted, and
+some of them indicate much taste in the owners. And then
+the people are so kind, good, and industrious. A Newburyport
+editor once said of them, "They are nice folks there on
+Salisbury shore; they always pay for their newspapers"&mdash;a
+trait of excellence which printers can usually appreciate.</p>
+
+<p>But now to the ships, whose building I have often watched
+with interest, from the day when the long keel was laid
+till it was launched into the river. This is a scene which is
+likewise calculated to inspire salutary reflections, from the
+comparison which is often instituted between ourselves and
+a wave-tossed bark. How often is the commencement of
+active life compared to the launching of a ship; and even
+the unimaginative Puritans could sing,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Life's like a ship in constant motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sometimes high and sometimes low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where every man must plough the ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whatsoever winds may blow."<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The striking analogy has been more beautifully expressed
+by better poets, though hardly with more force. And if we
+are like wind-tossed vessels on a stormy sea, then the gradual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+formation of our minds may be compared to the building
+of a ship. And it was this thought which often attracted my
+notice to the labors of the shipwright.</p>
+
+<p>First, the long keel is laid&mdash;then the huge ribs go up the
+sides; then the rail-way runs around the top. Then commences
+the boarding or timbering of the sides; and for
+weeks, or months, the builder's maul is heard, as he pounds
+in the huge <i>trunnels</i> which fasten all together. Then
+there is the finishing inside, and the painting outside, and,
+after all, the launching.</p>
+
+<p>The first that I ever saw was a large and noble ship. It
+had been long in building, and I had watched its progress
+with much interest. The morning it was to be launched I
+played truant to witness the scene. It was a fine sunshiny
+day, Sept. 21, 1832; and I almost wished I was a boy, that
+I might join the throng upon the deck, who were determined
+upon a ride. The blocks which supported the ship were
+severally knocked out, until it rested upon but one. When
+that was gone, the ship would rest upon greased planks,
+which descended to the water. It must have been a thrilling
+moment to the man who lay upon his back, beneath the huge
+vessel, when he knocked away the last prop. But it was
+done, and swiftly it glided along the planks, then plunged
+into the river, with an impetus which sunk her almost to her
+deck, and carried her nearly to the middle of the river.
+Then she slowly rose, rocked back and forth, and finally
+righted herself, and stood motionless. But while the dashing
+foaming waters were still clamorously welcoming her to
+a new element, and the loud cheers from the deck were
+ringing up into the blue sky, the bottle was thrown, and she
+was named the <span class="smcap">Walter Scott</span>. It will be remembered
+that this was the very day on which the Great Magician
+died&mdash;a fact noticed in the Saturday Courier about that
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Several years after this, I was attending school in a
+neighboring town. I happened one evening to take up a
+newspaper. I think it was a Portsmouth paper; and I saw
+the statement that a fine new ship had been burnt at sea,
+called the <span class="smcap">Walter Scott</span>. The particulars were so minutely
+given, as to leave no room for doubt that it was the beautiful
+vessel which I had seen launched, upon the banks of the
+Merrimac.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Annette.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE FIRST BELLS.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There are times when I am melancholy, when the sun
+seems to shine with a shadowy light, and the woods are filled
+with notes of sadness; when the up-springing flowers
+seem blossoms strewed upon a bier, and every streamlet
+chants a requiem. Have we not all our trials? And though
+we may bury the sad thoughts to which they give birth in
+the dark recesses of our own hearts, yet Memory and Sensibility
+must both be dead, if we can always be light and
+mirthful.</p>
+
+<p>Once it was not so. There was a time when I gaily
+viewed the dull clouds of a rainy day, and could hear the
+voice of rejoicing in the roarings of the wintry storm, when
+sorrow was an unmeaning word, and in things which now
+appear sacred my thoughtless mind could see the ludicrous.</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts have been suggested by the recollection
+of a poor old couple, to whom in my careless girlhood I
+gave the name of "the first bells." And now, I doubt not,
+you are wondering what strange association of ideas could
+have led me to fasten this appellation upon a poor old man
+and woman. My answer must be the narration of a few
+facts.</p>
+
+<p>When I was young, we all worshipped in the great meeting-house,
+which now stands so vacant and forlorn upon the
+brow of Church Hill. It is never used but upon town-meeting
+days&mdash;for those who once went up to the house of God
+in company, now worship in three separate buildings. There
+is discord between them&mdash;that worst of all hatred, the animosity
+which arises from difference of religious opinions.
+I am sorry for it; not that I regret that they cannot all think
+alike, but that they cannot "agree to differ." Because the
+heads are not in unison, it needeth not that the hearts should
+be estranged; and a difference of faith may be expressed in
+kindly words. I have my friends among them all, and they
+are not the less dear to me, because upon some doctrinal
+points our opinions cannot be the same. A creed which I
+do not now believe is hallowed by recollections of the Sabbath
+worship, the evening meetings, the religious feelings&mdash;in
+short, of the faith, hope, and trust of my earlier days.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I remember now how still and beautiful our Sunday mornings
+used to seem, after the toil and play of the busy week.
+I would take my catechism in my hand, and go and sit upon
+a large flat stone, under the shade of the chestnut tree;
+and, looking abroad, would wonder if there was a thing
+which did not feel that it was the Sabbath. The sun was
+as bright and warm as upon other days, but its light seemed
+to fall more softly upon the fields, woods and hills; and
+though the birds sung as loudly and joyfully as ever, I
+thought their sweet voices united in a more sacred strain.
+I heard a Sabbath tone in the waving of the boughs above
+me, and the hum of the bees around me, and even the
+bleating of the lambs and the lowing of the kine seemed
+pitched upon some softer key. Thus it is that the heart
+fashions the mantle with which it is wont to enrobe all nature,
+and gives to its never silent voices a tone of joy, or sorrow,
+or holy peace.</p>
+
+<p>We had then no bell; and when the hour approached for
+the commencement of religious services, each nook and dale
+sent forth its worshippers in silence. But precisely half an
+hour before the rest of our neighbors started, the old man
+and woman, who lived upon Pine Hill, could be seen wending
+their way to the meeting-house. They walked side by
+side, with a slow even step, such as was befitting the errand
+which had brought them forth. Their appearance was always
+the signal for me to lay aside my book, and prepare to
+follow them to the house of God. And it was because they
+were so unvarying in their early attendance, because I was
+never disappointed in the forms which first emerged from the
+pine trees upon the hill, that I gave them the name of "the
+first bells."</p>
+
+<p>Why they went thus regularly early I know not, but
+think it probable they wished for time to rest after their long
+walk, and then to prepare their hearts to join in exercises
+which were evidently more valued by them than by most of
+those around them. Yet it must have been a deep interest
+which brought so large a congregation from the scattered
+houses, and many far-off dwellings of our thinly peopled
+country town.</p>
+
+<p>And every face was then familiar to me. I knew each
+white-headed patriarch who took his seat by the door of his
+pew, and every aged woman who seated herself in the low
+chair in the middle of it; and the countenances of the middle-aged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+and the young were rendered familiar by the exchange
+of Sabbath glances, as we met year after year in that
+humble temple.</p>
+
+<p>But upon none did I look with more interest than upon
+"the first bells." There they always were when I took
+my accustomed seat at the right hand of the pulpit. Their
+heads were always bowed in meditation till they arose to
+join in the morning prayer; and when the choir sent forth
+their strain of praise they drew nearer to each other, and
+looked upon the same book, as they silently sent forth the
+spirit's song to their Father in heaven. There was an expression
+of meekness, of calm and perfect faith, and of subdued
+sorrow upon the countenances of both, which won
+my reverence, and excited my curiosity to know more of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>They were poor. I knew it by the coarse and much-worn
+garments which they always wore; but I could not
+conjecture why they avoided the society and sympathy of all
+around them. They always waited for our pastor's greeting
+when he descended from the pulpit, and meekly bowed
+to all around, but farther than this, their intercourse with
+others extended not. It appeared to me that some heavy
+trial, which had knit their own hearts more closely together,
+and endeared to them their faith and its religious observances,
+had also rendered them unusually sensitive to the careless
+remarks and curious inquiries of a country neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>One Sabbath our pastor preached upon parental love. His
+text was that affecting ejaculation of David, "O Absalom,
+my son, my son!" He spoke of the depth and fervor of
+that affection which in a parental heart will remain unchanged
+and unabated, through years of sin, estrangement, and
+rebellion. He spoke of that reckless insubordination which
+often sends pang after pang through the parent's breast;
+and of wicked deeds which sometimes bring their grey hairs
+in sorrow to the grave. I heard stifled sobs; and looking
+up, saw that the old man and woman at the right hand of
+the pulpit had buried their faces in their hands. They were
+trembling with agitation, and I saw that a fount of deep
+and painful remembrances had now been opened. They
+soon regained their usual calmness, but I thought their
+steps more slow, and their countenances more sorrowful
+that day, when after our morning service had closed, they
+went to the grave in the corner of the churchyard. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+was no stone to mark it, but their feet had been wearing,
+for many a Sabbath noon, the little path which led to it.</p>
+
+<p>I went that night to my mother, and asked her if she
+could not tell me something about "the first bells." She
+chid me for the phrase by which I was wont to designate
+them, but said that her knowledge of their former life was
+very limited. Several years before, she added, a man was
+murdered in hot blood in a distant town, by a person named
+John L. The murderer was tried and hung; and not long
+after, this old man and woman came and hired the little cottage
+upon Pine Hill. Their names were the same that the
+murderer had borne, and their looks of sadness and retiring
+manners had led to the conclusion that they were his parents.
+No one knew, certainly, that it was so&mdash;for they shrunk
+from all inquiries, and never adverted to the past; but a
+gentle and sad looking girl, who had accompanied them to
+their new place of abode, had pined away, and died within
+the first year of their arrival. She was their daughter, and
+was supposed to have died of a broken heart for her brother
+who had been hung. She was buried in the corner of the
+churchyard, and every pleasant Sabbath noon her aged parents
+had mourned together over her lowly grave.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, my daughter," said my mother, in conclusion
+"respect their years, their sorrows, and, above all, the
+deep fervent piety which cheers and sustains them, and
+which has been nurtured by agonies, and watered by tears,
+such as I hope my child will never know."</p>
+
+<p>My mother drew me to her side, and kissed me tenderly;
+and I resolved that never again would I in a spirit of levity
+call Mr. and Mrs. L. "the first bells."</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Years passed on; and through summer's sunshine and
+its showers, and through winter's cold and frost, and storms,
+that old couple still went upon their never-failing Sabbath
+pilgrimage. I can see them even now, as they looked in
+days long gone by. The old man, with his loose, black,
+Quaker-like coat, and low-crowned, much-worn hat, his
+heavy cowhide boots, and coarse blue mittens; and his
+partner walking slowly by his side, wearing a scanty brown
+cloak with four little capes, and a close, black, rusty-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+bonnet. In summer the cloak was exchanged for a cotton
+shawl, and the woollen gown for one of mourning print.
+The Sabbath expression was as unchangeable as its dress.
+Their features were very different, but they had the same
+mild, mournful look, the same touching glance, whenever
+their eyes rested upon each other; and it was one which
+spoke of sympathy, hallowed by heartfelt piety.</p>
+
+<p>At length a coffin was borne upon a bier from the little
+house upon the hill; and after that the widow went alone
+each Sabbath noon to the two graves in the corner of the
+churchyard. I felt sad when I thought how lonely and
+sorrowful she must be now; and one pleasant day I ventured
+an unbidden guest into her lowly cot. As I approached
+her door, I heard her singing in a low, tremulous tone,</p>
+
+<div class="center">"How are thy servants blessed, O Lord."</div>
+
+<p>I was touched to the heart; for I could see that her blessings
+were those of a faith, hope, and joy, which the world
+could neither give nor take away.</p>
+
+<p>She was evidently destitute of what the world calls comforts,
+and I feared she might also want its necessaries. But
+her look was almost cheerful as she assured me that her
+knitting (at which I perceived she was quite expeditious)
+supplied her with all which she now wanted.</p>
+
+<p>I looked upon her sunburnt, wrinkled countenance, and
+thought it radiant with moral beauty. She wore no cap,
+and her thin grey hair was combed back from her furrowed
+brow. Her dress was a blue woollen skirt, and a short loose
+gown; and her hard shrivelled hands bore witness to much
+unfeminine labor. Yet she was contented, and even happy,
+and singing praise to God for his blessings.</p>
+
+<p>The next winter I thought I could perceive a faltering in
+her gait whenever she ascended Church Hill; and one Sabbath
+she was not in her accustomed seat. The next, she
+was also absent; and when I looked upon Pine Hill, I could
+perceive no smoke issuing from her chimney. I felt anxious,
+and requested liberty to make, what was then in our
+neighborhood an unusual occurrence, a Sabbath visit. My
+mother granted me permission to go, and remain as long as
+my services might be necessary; and at the close of the afternoon
+worship, I went to the little house upon the hill. I
+listened eagerly for some sound as I entered the cold apartment;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+but hearing none, I tremblingly approached the low
+hard bed. She was lying there with the same calm look of
+resignation, and whispered a few words of welcome as I
+took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You are sick and alone," said I to her; "tell me what
+I can do for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sick," was her reply, "but not <i>alone</i>. He who
+is every where, and at all times present, has been with me,
+in the day and in the night. I have prayed to him, and received
+answers of mercy, love, and peace. He has sent His
+angel to call me home, and there is nought for you to do but
+to watch the spirit's departure."</p>
+
+<p>I felt that it was so; yet I must do something. I kindled
+a fire, and prepared some refreshment; and after she drank
+a bowl of warm tea, I thought she looked better. She
+asked me for her Bible, and I brought her the worn volume
+which had been lying upon the little stand. She took from
+it a soiled and much worn letter, and after pressing it to her
+lips, endeavored to open it&mdash;but her hands were too weak,
+and it dropped upon the bed. "No matter," said she, as I
+offered to open it for her; "I know all that is in it, and in
+that book also. But I thought I should like to look once
+more upon them both. I have read them daily for many years
+till now; but I do not mind it&mdash;I shall go soon."</p>
+
+<p>She followed me with her eyes as I laid them aside, and
+then closing them, her lips moved as if in prayer. She soon
+after fell into a slumber, and I watched her every breath,
+fearing it might be the last.</p>
+
+<p>What lessons of wisdom, truth and fortitude were taught
+me by that humble bed-side! I had never before been with
+the dying, and I had always imagined a death-bed to be
+fraught with terror. I expected that there were always
+fearful shrieks and appalling groans, as the soul left its clay
+tenement; but my fears were now dispelled. A sweet
+calmness stole into my inmost soul, as I watched by the low
+couch of the sufferer; and I said, "If this be death, may
+my last end be like hers."</p>
+
+<p>But at length I saw that some dark dream had brought a
+frown upon the pallid brow, and an expression of woe
+around the parched lips. She was endeavoring to speak or
+to weep, and I was about to awaken her, when a sweet
+smile came like a flash of sunlight over her sunken face,
+and I saw that the dream of woe was exchanged for one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+pleasure. Then she slept calmly, and I wondered if the
+spirit would go home in that peaceful slumber. But at
+length she awoke, and after looking upon me and her little
+room with a bewildered air, she heaved a sigh, and said
+mournfully, "I thought that I was not to come back again,
+but it is only for a little while. I have had a pleasant dream,
+but not at first. I thought once that I stood in the midst of
+a vast multitude, and we were all looking up at one who
+was struggling on a gallows. O, I have seen that sight in
+many a dream before, but still I could not bear it, and I said,
+'Father, have mercy;' and then I thought that the sky rolled
+away from behind the gallows, and there was a flood of
+glory in the depth beyond; and I heard a voice saying to
+him who was hanging there, 'This day shalt thou be with
+me in Paradise!' And then the gallows dropped, and the
+multitude around me vanished, and the sky rolled together
+again; but before it had quite closed over that scene of
+beauty, I looked again, and <i>they were all there</i>. Yes," added
+she with a placid smile, "I know that <i>he</i> is there with
+them; the <i>three</i> are in heaven, and <i>I</i> shall be there soon."</p>
+
+<p>She ceased, and a drowsy feeling came over her. After
+a while she opened her eyes with a strange look of anxiety
+and terror. I went to her, but she could not speak, and she
+pressed my hand closely, as though she feared I would leave
+her. It was a momentary terror, for she knew that the last
+pangs were coming on. There was a painful struggle, and
+then came rest and peaceful confidence. "That letter,"
+whispered she convulsively; and I went to the Bible, and
+took from it the soiled paper which claimed her thoughts
+even in death. I laid it in her trembling hands, which
+clasped it nervously, and then pressing it to her heart, she
+fell into that slumber from which there is no awakening.</p>
+
+<p>When I saw that she was indeed gone, I took the letter,
+and laid it in its accustomed place; and then, after straightening
+the limbs, and throwing the bed-clothes over the stiffening
+form, I left the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was a dazzling scene of winter beauty that met my eye
+as I went forth from that lowly bed of death. The rising
+sun threw a rosy light upon the crusted snow, and the earth
+was dressed in a robe of sparkling jewels. The trees were
+hung with glittering drops, and the frozen streams were
+dressed in lobes of brilliant beauty.</p>
+
+<p>I thought of her upon whose eyes a brighter morn had beamed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+and of a scene of beauty upon which no sun should ever
+set, and whose never-fading glories shall yield a happiness
+which may never pass away.</p>
+
+<p>I went home, and told my mother what had passed; and
+she went, with some others, to prepare the body for burial.
+I went to look upon it once more, the morning of the funeral.
+The features had assumed a rigid aspect, but the placid
+smile was still there. The hands were crossed upon the
+breast; and as the form lay so still and calm in its snowy
+robes, I almost wished that the last change might come upon
+me, so that it would bring a peace like this, which should
+last for evermore.</p>
+
+<p>I went to the Bible, and took from it that letter. Curiosity
+was strong within me, and I opened it. It was signed
+"John L.," and dated from his prison the night before his
+execution. But I did not read it. O no! it was too sacred.
+It contained those words of penitence and affection over
+which her stricken heart had brooded for years. It had
+been the well-spring from which she had drunk joy and consolation,
+and derived her hopes of a reunion where there
+should be no more shame, nor sorrow, nor death.</p>
+
+<p>I could not destroy that letter: so I laid it beneath the
+clasped hands, over the heart to which it had been pressed
+when its beatings were forever stilled; and they buried her,
+too, in the corner of the churchyard; and that tattered paper
+soon mouldered to ashes upon her breast. * * * *</p>
+
+<p>We have now a bell upon our new meeting-house; and
+when I hear its Sabbath morning peal, my thoughts are subdued
+to a tone fitting for sacred worship; for my mind goes
+back to that old couple, whom I was wont to call "the first
+bells;" and I think of the power of religion to hallow and
+strengthen the affections, to elevate the mind, and sustain
+the drooping spirit, even in the saddest and humblest lot of
+life.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Susanna.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 204px;">
+<img src="images/illus-107.jpg" width="204" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+<h2>EVENING BEFORE PAY-DAY.</h2>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"To-morrow is pay-day; are you not glad, Rosina, and
+Lucy? <i>Dorcas</i> is, I know; for she always loves to see the
+money. Don't I speak truth <i>now</i>, Miss Dorcas Tilton?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would stop your clack, Miss Noisy Impudence;
+for I never heard you speak anything that was
+worth an answer. Let me alone, for I have not yet been
+able to obtain a moment's time to read my tract."</p>
+
+<p>"'My tract'&mdash;how came it 'my tract,' Miss Stingy
+Oldmaid?&mdash;for I can call names as fast as you," was the
+reply of Elizabeth Walters. "Not because you bought it,
+or paid for it, or gave a thank'ee to those who did; but because
+you lay your clutches upon every thing you can get
+without downright stealing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Dorcas, "I do not think I have clutched
+any thing now which was much coveted by anyone else."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Dorcas," said Rosina Alden, lifting her
+mild blue eye for the first time towards the speakers; "the
+tracts left here by the monthly distributors are thrown about,
+and trampled under foot, even by those who most approve
+the sentiments which they contain. I have not seen anyone
+take them up to read but yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"She likes them," interrupted the vivacious Elizabeth,
+"because she gets them for nothing. They come to her as
+cheap as the light of the sun, or the dews of heaven; and
+thus they are rendered quite as valuable in her eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"And that very cheapness, that freedom from exertion
+and expense by which they are obtained, is, I believe, the
+reason why they are generally so little valued," added Rosina.
+"People are apt to think things worthless which come
+to them so easily. They believe them cheap, if they are offered
+cheap. Now I think, without saying one word against
+those tracts, that they would be more valued, more perused,
+and exert far more influence, if they were only to be obtained
+by payment for them. If they do good now, it is to the
+publishers only; for I do not think the community in general
+is influenced by them in the slightest degree. If Dorcas
+feels more interested in them because she procures them gratuitously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+it is because she is an exception to the general
+rule."</p>
+
+<p>"I like sometimes," said Dorcas, "to see the voice of instruction,
+of warning, of encouragement, and reproof, coming
+to the thoughtless, ignorant, poor and sinful, as it did
+from him who said to those whom he sent to inculcate its
+truths, Freely ye have received, <i>freely give</i>. The gospel is
+an expensive luxury now, and those only who can afford to
+pay their four, or six, or more, dollars a year, can hear its
+truths from the successors of him who lifted his voice upon
+the lonely mountain, and opened his lips for council at the
+table of the despised publican, or under the humble roof of
+the Magdalen."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not speak harshly, Dorcas," was Rosina's reply;
+"times have indeed changed since the Savior went about
+with not a shelter for his head, dispensing the bread of life
+to all who would but reach forth their hands and take it; but
+circumstances have also changed since then. It is true, we
+must lay down our money for almost everything we have;
+but money is much more easily obtained than it was then.
+It is true, we cannot procure a year's seat in one of our most
+expensive churches for less than your present week's wages;
+and if you really wish for the benefits of regular gospel instruction,
+you must make for it as much of an exertion as
+was made by the woman who went on her toilsome errand
+to the deep well of Samaria, little aware that she was there
+to receive the waters of eternal life. Do not say that it was
+by no effort, no self-denial, that the gospel was received by
+those who followed the great Teacher to the lonely sea-side,
+or even to the desert, where, weary and famished, they remained
+day after day, beneath the heat of a burning sun, and
+were relieved from hunger but by a miracle. And who so
+poor now, or so utterly helpless, that they cannot easily obtain
+the record of those words which fell so freely upon the
+ears of the listening multitudes of Judea? If there are such,
+there are societies which will cheerfully relieve their wants,
+if application be made. And these tracts, which come to us
+with scarcely the trouble of stretching forth our hands for
+their reception, are doubtless meant for good."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Rosina," exclaimed Elizabeth, "if you hold out
+a little longer, I think Dorcas will have no reason to complain
+but that she gets <i>her</i> preaching cheap enough; but as
+I, for one, am entirely willing to pay for mine, you may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+excused for the present; and those who wish to hear a theological
+discussion, can go and listen to the very able expounders
+of the Baptist and Universalist faiths, who are just
+now holding forth in the other chamber. As Dorcas hears
+no preaching but that which comes <i>as cheap as the light of
+the sun</i>, she will probably like to go; and do not be offended
+with me, Rosina, if I tell you plainly, that you are not the
+one to rebuke her. What sacrifice have you made? How
+much have you spent? When have you ever given anything
+for the support of the gospel?"</p>
+
+<p>A tear started to Rosina's eye, and the color deepened upon
+her cheek. Her lip quivered, but she remained silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Lucy to Elizabeth, "all this difficulty is the
+effect of the very simple question you asked; and I will answer
+for one, that I am glad to-morrow is pay-day. Pray
+what shall you get that is new, Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall get one of those damask silk shawls which
+are now so fashionable. How splendid it will look! Let
+me see; this is a five weeks' payment, and I have earned
+about two dollars per week; and so have you, and Rosina;
+and Dorcas has earned a great deal more, for she has extra
+work. Pray what new thing shall <i>you</i> get, Dorcas?" added
+she, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"She will get a new bank book, I suppose," replied Lucy.
+"She has already deposited in her own name five hundred
+dollars, and now she has got a book in the name of her
+little niece, and I do not know but she will soon procure another.
+She almost worships them, and Sundays she stays
+here reckoning up her interest while we are at meeting."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is far better," retorted Dorcas, "to stay at
+home, than to go to meeting, as Elizabeth does, to show her
+fine clothes. I do not make a mockery of public worship to
+God."</p>
+
+<p>"There, Lizzy, you must take that, for you deserved it,"
+said Lucy to her friend. "You know you <i>do</i> spend almost
+all your money in dress."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Elizabeth, "I shall sow all my wild oats
+now, and when I am an old maid I will be as steady, but
+<i>not quite</i> so stingy as Dorcas. I will get a bank book, and
+trot down Merrimack street as often as she does, and everybody
+will say, 'what a remarkable change in Elizabeth Walters!
+She used to spend all her wages as fast as they were
+paid her, but now she puts them in the bank. She will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+quite a fortune for some one, and I have no doubt she will
+get married for what she <i>has</i>, if not for what she is.' But I
+cannot begin now, and I don't see how <i>you</i> can, Rosina."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not begun," replied Rosina, in a low sorrowful
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Why yes, you have; you are as miserly now as Dorcas
+herself; and I cannot bear to think of what you may become.
+Now tell me if you will not get a new gown and
+bonnet, and go to meeting?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot," replied Rosina, decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, do, if you have any mercy on us, buy a new gown
+to wear in the Mill, for your old one is so shabby. When
+calico is nine-pence a yard, I do think it is mean to wear
+such an old thing as that; besides, I should not wonder if
+it should soon drop off your back."</p>
+
+<p>"Will it not last me one month more?" and Rosina began
+to mend the tattered dress with a very wistful countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I somewhat doubt it; but at all events, you must
+have another pair of shoes."</p>
+
+<p>"These are but just beginning to let in the water," said
+Rosina; "I think they must last me till another pay-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you have a fever or consumption, Dorcas may
+take care of you, for <i>I</i> will not; but what," continued the
+chattering Elizabeth, "shall you buy that is new, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a pretty new, though cheap, bonnet; and I shall also
+pay my quarter's pew-rent, and a year's subscription to the
+'Lowell Offering;' and that is all that I shall spend. You
+have laughed much about old maids; but it was an old maid
+who took care of me when I first came to Lowell, and she
+taught me to lay aside half of every month's wages. It is a
+rule from which I have never deviated, and thus I have quite
+a pretty sum at interest, and have never been in want of anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Elizabeth, "will you go out to-night with
+me, and we will look at the bonnets, and also the damask
+silk shawls? I wish to know the prices. How I wish to-day
+had been pay-day, and then I need not have gone out with
+an empty purse."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lizzy, <i>you</i> know that 'to-morrow is pay-day,' do
+you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, and the beautiful pay-master will come in, rattling
+his coppers so nicely."</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful!" exclaimed Lucy; "do you call our pay-master
+<i>beautiful</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, I do not know that he would look beautiful, if he
+was coming to cut my head off; but really, that money-box
+makes him look delightfully."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lizzy, it <i>does</i> make a great difference in his
+appearance, I know; but if we are going out to-night, we
+must be in a hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"If you go by the post-office, do ask if there is a letter
+for me," said Rosina.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I hate to go near the post-office in the evening; the
+girls act as wild as so many Caribbee Indians. Sometimes
+I have to stand there an hour on the ends of my toes, stretching
+my neck, and sticking out my eyes; and when I think I
+have been pommeled and jostled long enough, I begin to
+'set up on my own hook,' and I push away the heads that
+have been at the list as if they were committing it all to
+memory, and I send my elbows right and left in the most approved
+style, till I find myself 'master of the field.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lizzy! you know better; how can you do so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Lucy, pray tell me what <i>you</i> do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I go away, if there is a crowd; or if I feel very anxious
+to know whether there is a letter for me, the worst that I do
+is to try 'sliding and gliding.' I dodge between folks, or slip
+through them, till I get waited upon. But I know that we
+all act worse there than anywhere else; and if the post-master
+speaks a good word for the factory girls, I think it
+must come against his conscience, unless he has seen them
+somewhere else than in the office."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, we must hasten along," said Elizabeth;
+"and stingy as Rosina is, I suppose she will be willing to
+pay for a letter; so I will buy her one, if I can get it. Good
+evening, ladies," continued she, tying her bonnet; and she
+hurried after Lucy, who was already down the stairs, leaving
+Dorcas to read her tract at leisure, and Rosina to patch her
+old calico gown, with none to torment her.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Two letters!" exclaimed Elizabeth, as she burst into
+the chamber, holding them up, as little Goody in the storybook
+held up her "two shoes;" "two letters! one for <i>you</i>,
+Rosina, and the other is for <i>me</i>. Only look at it! It is from
+a cousin of mine, who has never lived out of sight of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+Green Mountains. I do believe, notwithstanding all that is
+said about the ignorance of the factory girls, that the letters
+which <i>go out</i> of Lowell look as well as those which <i>come
+into</i> it. See here: up in the left hand corner, the direction
+commences, 'Miss;' one step lower is 'Elizabeth;' then
+down another step, 'Walters.' Another step brings us down
+to 'Lowell;' one more is the 'City;' and down in the
+right hand corner is 'Massachusetts,' at full length. Quite
+a regular stair-case, if the steps had been all of an equal
+width. Miss Elizabeth Walters, Lowell City, Massachusetts,
+anticipates much edification from the perusal thereof,"
+said she, as she broke the seal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I must tell you an anecdote," said Lucy. "While
+we were waiting there, I saw one girl push her face into the
+little aperture, and ask if there was a paper for her; and
+the clerk asked if it was a transient paper. 'A what?' said
+she. 'A transient paper,' he repeated. 'Why, I don't
+know what paper it is,' was the reply; 'sometimes our folks
+send me one, and sometimes another.'"</p>
+
+<p>Dorcas and Elizabeth laughed, and the latter exclaimed,
+"Girls, I am not so selfish as to be unwilling that you should
+share my felicity. Should you not like to see my letter?"
+and she held it up before them. "It is quite a contrast to
+our Rosina's delicate Italian penmanship, although she is a
+factory girl."</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Cousin.</span>&mdash;I write this to let you know that I am
+well, and hope you are enjoying the same great blessing.
+Father and Mother are well too. Uncle Joshua is sick of
+the information of the brain. We think he will die, but he
+says that he shall live his days out. We have not had a letter
+from you since you went to Lowell. I send this by Mary
+Twining, an old friend of mine. She works upon the Appletown
+Corporation. She will put this in the post-office,
+because we do not know where you work. I hope you will
+go and see her. We have had a nice time making maple
+sugar this spring. I wish you had been with us. When
+you are married, you must come with your husband. Write
+to me soon, and if you don't have a chance to send it by
+private conveyance, drop it into the post-office. I shall get
+it, for the mail-stage passes through the village twice a week.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">'I want to see you morn, I think,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than I can write with pen and ink;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when I shall, I cannot tell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At present I must wish you well.'<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="signature2">"Your loving cousin,</div>
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">"Judith Walters</span>."</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>"Well," said Elizabeth, drawing a long breath, "I do
+not think my <i>loving cousin</i> will ever die of the 'information
+of the brain;' but if it should get there, I do not know
+what might happen.&mdash;But, Rosina, from whom is <i>your</i> letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother," said Rosina; and she seated herself at
+the little light-stand, with a sheet of paper, pen, and inkstand.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you do not intend to answer it to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must commence it to-night," replied Rosina, "and
+finish it to-morrow night, and carry it to the post-office. I
+cannot write a whole letter in one evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what is the matter?" said Dorcas.</p>
+
+<p>"My twin-sister is very sick," replied Rosina; and the
+tears she could no longer restrain gushing freely forth.
+The girls, who had before been in high spirits, over cousin
+Judy's letter, were subdued in an instant. Oh, how quick
+is the influence of sympathy for grief! Not another word
+was spoken. The letter was put away in silence, and the
+girls glided noiselessly around the room, as they prepared to
+retire to rest.</p>
+
+<p>Shall we take a peep at Rosina's letter? It may remove
+some false impressions respecting her character, and many
+are probably suffering injustice from erroneous opinions,
+when, if all could be known, the very conduct which has
+exposed them to censure would excite approbation. Her
+widowed mother's letter was the following:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Child.</span>&mdash;Many thanks for your last letter,
+and many more for the present it contained. It was very
+acceptable, for it reached me when I had not a cent in the
+world. I fear you deprive yourself of necessaries to send me
+so much. But all you can easily spare will be gladly received.
+I have as much employment at tailoring as I can find time to
+do, and sometimes I sit up all night, when I cannot accomplish
+my self-allotted task during the day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have delayed my reply to your letter, because I wished
+to know what the doctors really thought of your sister
+Marcia. They consulted to-day, and tell me <i>there is no hope</i>.
+The suspense is now over, but I thought I was better prepared
+for the worst than I am. She wished me to tell her
+what the doctors said. At length I yielded to her importunities.
+'Oh, mother,' said she, with a sweet smile, 'I am
+so glad they have told you, for I have known it for a long
+time. You must write to Rosina to come and see me before
+I die.' Do as you think best, my dear, about coming.
+You know how glad we would be to see you. But
+if you cannot come, do not grieve too much about it.&mdash;Marcia
+must soon die, and you, I hope, will live many
+years; but the existence which you commenced together
+here, I feel assured will be continued in a happier world.
+The interruption which will now take place will be short,
+in comparison with the life itself which shall have no end.
+And yet it is hard to think that one so young, so good, and
+lovely, is so soon to lie in the silent grave. While the blue
+skies of heaven are daily growing more softly beautiful, and
+the green things of earth are hourly putting forth a brighter
+verdure, she, too, like the lovely creatures of nature, is
+constantly acquiring some new charm, to fit her for that
+world which she will so soon inhabit. Death is coming,
+with his severest tortures, but she arrays her person in
+bright loveliness at his approach, and her spirit is robed in
+graces which well may fit her for that angel-band, which
+she is so soon to join.</p>
+
+<p>"I am now writing by her bed-side. She is sleeping
+soundly now, but there is a heavy dew upon the cheek,
+brow, and neck of the tranquil sleeper. A rose&mdash;it is one
+of <i>your</i> roses, Rosina&mdash;is clasped in her transparent hand:
+and one rosy pedal has somehow dropped upon her temple.
+It breaks the line which the blue vein has so distinctly
+traced on the clear white brow. I will take it away, and
+enclose it in the letter. When you see it, perhaps it will
+bring more vividly to memory the days when you and
+Marcia frolicked together among the wild rose bushes.&mdash;Those
+which you transplanted to the front of the house
+have grown astonishingly. Marcia took care of them as
+long as she could go out of doors; for she wished to do
+something to show her gratitude to you. Now that she can
+go among them no longer, she watches them through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+window, and the little boys bring her every morning the
+most beautiful blossoms. She enjoys their beauty and
+fragrance, as she does everything which is reserved for her
+enjoyment. There is but one thought which casts a shade
+upon that tranquil spirit, and it is that she is such a helpless
+burden upon us. The last time that she received a compensation
+for some slight article which she had exerted herself
+to complete, she took the money and sent Willy for some
+salt. 'Now, mother,' said she, with the arch smile which
+so often illuminated her countenance in the days of health,
+'Now, mother you cannot say that I do not earn my salt.'</p>
+
+<p>"But I must soon close, for in a short time she will
+awaken, and suffer for hours from her agonizing cough.&mdash;No
+one need tell me now that a consumption makes an easy
+path to the grave. I watched too long by your father's bed-side,
+and have witnessed too minutely all of Marcia's sufferings
+to be persuaded of this.</p>
+
+<p>"But she breathes less softly now, and I must hasten. I
+have said little of the other members of the family, for I
+knew you would like to hear particularly about her. The
+little boys are well&mdash;they are obedient to me, and kind to
+their sister. Answer as soon as you receive this, for Marcia's
+sake, unless you come and visit us.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, hoping that this will find you in good health,
+as, by the blessing of God, it leaves me, (a good though
+an old-fashioned manner of closing a letter,) I remain as
+ever,</p>
+
+<div class="signature">"Your affectionate mother."</div></blockquote>
+
+<p>Rosina's reply was as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mother.</span>&mdash;I have just received your long-expected
+letter, and have seated myself to commence an answer,
+for I cannot go home.</p>
+
+<p>"I do wish very much to see you all, especially dear
+Marcia, once more; but it is not best. I know you think
+so, or you would have urged my return. I think I shall feel
+more contented here, earning comforts for my sick sister
+and necessaries for you, than I should be there, and
+unable to relieve a want. 'To-morrow is pay-day,' and my
+earnings, amounting to ten dollars, I shall enclose in this letter.
+Do not think I am suffering for anything, for I get a long
+very well. But I am obliged to be extremely prudent, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+the girls here call me miserly. Oh, mother! it is hard to be
+so misunderstood; but I cannot tell <i>them</i> all.</p>
+
+<p>"But your kind letters are indeed a solace to me, for they
+assure me that the mother whom I have always loved and
+reverenced approves of my conduct. I shall feel happier to-morrow
+night, when I enclose that bill to you, than my
+room-mates can be in the far different disposal of theirs.</p>
+
+<p>"What a blessing it is that we can send money to our
+friends; and indeed what a blessing that we can send them
+a letter. Last evening you was penning the lines which I
+have just perused, in my far-distant home; and not twenty-four
+hours have elapsed since the rose-leaf before me was
+resting on the brow of my sister; but it is now ten o'clock,
+and I must bid you good night, reserving for to-morrow
+evening the remainder of my epistle, which I shall address
+to Marcia."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>It was long before Rosina slept that night; and when she
+did, she was troubled at first by fearful dreams. But at
+length it seemed to her that she was approaching the quiet
+home of her childhood. She did not remember where she
+had been, but had a vague impression that it was in some
+scene of anxiety, sorrow, and fatigue; and she was longing
+to reach that little cot, where it appeared so still and happy.
+She thought the sky was very clear above it, and the yellow
+sunshine lay softly on the hills and fields around it. She saw
+her rose-bushes blooming around it, like a little wilderness
+of blossoms; and while she was admiring their increased
+size and beauty, the door was opened, and a body arrayed in
+the snowy robes of the grave, was carried beneath the rose-bushes.
+They bent to a slight breeze which swept above
+them, and a shower of snowy petals fell upon the marble
+face and shrouded form. It was as if nature had paid this
+last tribute of gratitude to one who had been one of her truest
+and loveliest votaries.</p>
+
+<p>Rosina started forward that she might remove the fragrant
+covering, and imprint one last kiss upon the fair cold brow;
+but a hand was laid upon her, and a well-known voice
+repeated her name. And then she started, for she heard
+the bell ring loudly; and she opened her eyes as Dorcas
+again cried out, "Rosina, the second bell is ringing."&mdash;Elizabeth
+and Lucy were already dressed, and they exclaimed
+at the same moment, "Remember, Rosina, that <i>to-day is
+pay-day</i>."</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Lucinda.</span></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE INDIAN PLEDGE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>On the door-steps of a cottage in the land of "steady
+habits," some ninety or an hundred years since, might, on a
+soft evening in June, have been seen a sturdy young farmer,
+preparing his scythes for the coming hay-making season.
+So intent was he upon his work that he heeded not the approach
+of a tall Indian, accoutred for a hunting expedition,
+until, "Will you give an unfortunate hunter some supper
+and lodging for the night?" in a tone of supplication,
+caught his ear.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer raised his eyes from his work, and darting
+fury from beneath a pair of shaggy eyebrows, he exclaimed,
+"Heathen, Indian dog, begone! you shall have nothing
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am very hungry," said the Indian; "give only
+a crust of bread and a bone to strengthen me on my
+journey."</p>
+
+<p>"Get you gone, you heathen dog," said the farmer; "I
+have nothing for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Give me but a cup of cold water," said the Indian,
+"for I am very faint."</p>
+
+<p>This appeal was not more successful than the others.&mdash;Reiterated
+abuse, and to be told to drink when he came to a
+river, was all he could obtain from one who bore the name
+of Christian! But the supplicating appeal fell not unheeded
+on the ear of one of finer mould and more sensibility.
+The farmer's youthful bride heard the whole, as she sat
+hushing her infant to rest; and from the open casement she
+watched the poor Indian until she saw his dusky form sink,
+apparently exhausted, on the ground at no great distance
+from her dwelling. Ascertaining that her husband was too
+busied with his work to notice her, she was soon at the
+Indian's side, with a pitcher of milk and a napkin filled with
+bread and cheese. "Will my red brother slake his thirst
+with some milk?" said this angel of mercy; and as he essayed
+to comply with her invitation, she untied the napkin,
+and bade him eat and be refreshed.</p>
+
+<p>"Cantantowwit protect the white dove from the pounces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+of the eagle," said the Indian; "for <i>her</i> sake the unfledged
+young shall be safe in their nest, and her red brother will
+not seek to be revenged."</p>
+
+<p>He then drew a bunch of feathers from his bosom, and
+plucking one of the longest, gave it to her, and said,
+"When the white dove's mate flies over the Indians' hunting
+grounds, bid him wear this on his head." * * * *</p>
+
+<p>The summer had passed away. Harvest-time had come
+and gone, and preparations had been made for a hunting excursion
+by the neighbors. Our young farmer was to be one
+of the party; but on the eve of their departure he had
+strange misgivings relative to his safety. No doubt his
+imagination was haunted by the form of the Indian, whom,
+in the preceding summer he had treated so harshly.</p>
+
+<p>The morning that witnessed the departure of the hunters
+was one of surpassing beauty. Not a cloud was to be seen,
+save one that gathered on the brow of Ichabod (our young
+farmer), as he attempted to tear a feather from his hunting-cap,
+which was sewed fast to it. His wife arrested his hand,
+while she whispered in his ear, and a slight quiver agitated
+his lips as he said, "Well, Mary, if you think this feather
+will protect me from the arrows of the red-skins, I'll e'en
+let it remain." Ichabod donned his cap, shouldered his
+rifle, and the hunters were soon on their way in quest of
+game.</p>
+
+<p>The day wore away as was usual with people on a like
+excursion; and at nightfall they took shelter in the den of
+a bear, whose flesh served for supper, and whose skin spread
+on bruin's bed of leaves, pillowed their heads through a long
+November night.</p>
+
+<p>With the first dawn of morning, the hunters left their
+rude shelter and resumed their chase. Ichabod, by some
+mishap, soon separated from his companions, and in trying
+to join them got bewildered. He wandered all day in the
+forest, and just as the sun was receding from sight, and he
+was about sinking down in despair, he espied an Indian hut.
+With mingled emotions of hope and fear, he bent his steps
+towards it; and meeting an Indian at the door, he asked him
+to direct him to the nearest white settlement.</p>
+
+<p>"If the weary hunter will rest till morning, the eagle will
+show him the way to the nest of his white dove," said the
+Indian, as he took Ichabod by the hand and led him within
+his hut. The Indian gave him a supper of parched corn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+and venison, and spread the skins of animals, which he had
+taken in hunting, for his bed.</p>
+
+<p>The light had hardly began to streak the east, when the
+Indian awoke Ichabod, and after a slight repast, the twain
+started for the settlement of the whites. Late in the afternoon,
+as they emerged from a thick wood, Ichabod with joy
+espied his home. A heartfelt ejaculation had scarce escaped
+his lips, when the Indian stepped before him, and turning
+around, stared him full in the face, and inquired if he had
+any recollection of a previous acquaintance with his red
+brother. Upon being answered in the negative, the Indian
+said, "Five moons ago, when I was faint and weary, you
+called me an Indian dog, and drove me from your door. I
+might now be revenged; but Cantantowwit bids me tell you
+to go home; and hereafter, when you see a red man in need
+of kindness, do to him as you have been done by. Farewell."</p>
+
+<p>The Indian having said this, turned upon his heel, and
+was soon out of sight. Ichabod was abashed. He went
+home purified in heart, having learned a lesson of Christianity
+from an untutored savage.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Tabitha.</span></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE FIRST DISH OF TEA.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Tea holds a conspicuous place in the history of our country;
+but it is no part of my business to offer comments, or
+to make any remarks upon the spirit of olden time, which
+prompted those patriotic defenders of their country's rights
+to destroy so much tea, to express their indignation at the
+oppression of their fellow citizens. I only intend to inform
+the readers of the "Lowell Offering" that the first dish of
+tea which was ever made in Portsmouth, N. H., was made
+by Abigail Van Dame, my great-great-grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>Abigail was early in life left an orphan, and the care of
+her tender years devolved upon her aunt Townsend, to
+whose store fate had never added any of the smiling blessings
+of Providence; and as a thing in course, Abigail became not
+only the adopted, but also the well-beloved, child of her uncle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+and aunt Townsend. They gave her every advantage
+for an education which the town of Portsmouth afforded; and
+at the age of seventeen she was acknowledged to be the
+most accomplished young lady in Portsmouth.</p>
+
+<p>Many were the worshippers who bowed at the shrine of
+beauty and learning at the domicile of Alphonzo Townsend;
+but his lovely niece was unmoved by their petitions, much to
+the perplexity of her aunt, who often charged Abigail with
+carrying an obdurate heart in her bosom. In vain did Mrs.
+Townsend urge her niece to accept the offers of a young
+student of law; and equally vain were her efforts to gain a
+clue to the cause of the refusal, until, by the return of an
+East India Merchantman, Mr. Townsend received a small
+package for his niece, and a letter from Captain Lowd, asking
+his consent to their union, which he wished might take
+place the following year, when he should return to Portsmouth.</p>
+
+<p>Abigail's package contained a Chinese silk hat, the crown
+of which was full of Bohea tea. A letter informed her that
+the contents of the hat was the ingredient, which, boiled
+in water, made what was called the "Chinese soup."</p>
+
+<p>Abigail, anxious to ascertain the flavor of a beverage, of
+which she had heard much, put the brass skillet over the
+coals, poured in two quarts of water, and added thereto a
+pint bason full of tea, and a gill of molasses, and let it simmer
+an hour. She then strained it through a linen cloth,
+and in some pewter basins set it around the supper table, in
+lieu of bean-porridge, which was the favorite supper of the
+epicures of the olden time.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle, aunt, and Abigail, seated themselves around the
+little table, and after crumbling some brown bread into their
+basins, commenced eating the Chinese soup. The first
+spoonful set their faces awry, but the second was past endurance;
+and Mrs. Townsend screamed with fright, for she
+imagined that she had tasted poison. The doctor was sent
+for, who administered a powerful emetic; and the careful
+aunt persuaded her niece to consign her hat and its contents
+to the vault of an outbuilding.</p>
+
+<p>When Capt. Lowd returned to Portsmouth, he brought with
+him a chest of tea, a China tea-set, and a copper teakettle,
+and instructed Abigail in the art of tea-making and
+tea drinking, to the great annoyance of her aunt Townsend,
+who could never believe that Chinese soup was half so good
+as bean-porridge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The <i>first dish of tea</i> afforded a fund of amusement for
+Capt. Lowd and lady, and I hope the narrative will be acceptable
+to modern tea-drinkers.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Tabitha.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LEISURE HOURS OF THE MILL GIRLS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The leisure hours of the mill girls&mdash;how shall they be
+spent? As Ann, Bertha, Charlotte, Emily, and others, spent
+theirs? as we spend ours? Let us decide.</p>
+
+<p>No. 4 was to stop a day for repairs. Ann sat at her window
+until she tired of watching passers-by. She then started
+up in search of one idle as herself, for a companion in a
+saunter. She called at the chamber opposite her own. The
+room was sadly disordered. The bed was not made, although
+it was past nine o'clock. In making choice of dresses, collars,
+aprons, <i>pro tempore</i>, some half dozen of each had been
+taken from their places, and there they were, lying about on
+chairs, trunks, and bed, together with mill clothes just taken
+off. Bertha had not combed her hair; but Charlotte
+gave hers a hasty dressing before "going out shopping;"
+and there lay brush, combs, and hair on the table. There
+were a few pictures hanging about the walls, such as "You
+are the prettiest Rose," "The Kiss," "Man Friday," and
+a miserable, soiled drawing of a "Cottage Girl." Bertha
+blushed when Ann entered. She was evidently ashamed of
+the state of her room, and vexed at Ann's intrusion. Ann
+understood the reason when Bertha told her, with a sigh,
+that she had been "hurrying all the morning to get through
+the 'Children of the Abbey,' before Charlotte returned."</p>
+
+<p>"Ann, I wish you would talk to her," said she. "Her
+folks are very poor. I have it on the best authority. Elinda
+told me that it was confidently reported by girls who came
+from the same town, that her folks had been known to jump
+for joy at the sight of a crust of bread. She spends every
+cent of her wages for dress and confectionary. She has
+gone out now; and she will come back with lemons, sugar,
+rich cake, and so on. She had better do as I do&mdash;spend her
+money for books, and her leisure time in reading them. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+buy three volumes of novels every month; and when that
+is not enough, I take some from the circulating library. I
+think it our duty to improve our minds as much as possible,
+now the mill girls are beginning to be thought so much of."</p>
+
+<p>Ann was a bit of a wag. Idle as a breeze, like a breeze
+she sported with every <i>trifling</i> thing that came in her way.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" said she. "And so we must begin to read
+silly novels, be very sentimental, talk about tears and flowers,
+dews and bowers. There is some poetry for you, Bertha.
+Don't you think I'd better 'astonish the natives,' by
+writing a poetical rhapsody, nicknamed 'Twilight Reverie,'
+or some other silly, inappropriate thing, and sending it to
+the 'Offering?' Oh, how fine this would be! Then I
+could purchase a few novels, borrow a few more, take a few
+more from a circulating library; and then shed tears and
+grow soft over them&mdash;all because we are taking a higher
+stand in the world, you know, Bertha."</p>
+
+<p>Bertha again blushed. Ann remained some moments
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever read Pelham?" asked Bertha, by way of
+breaking the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I read no novels, good, bad, or indifferent. I
+have been thinking, Bertha, that there may be danger of our
+running away from the reputation we enjoy, as a class. For
+my part, I sha'n't ape the follies of other classes of females.
+As Isabel Greenwood says&mdash;and you know she is always
+right about such things&mdash;I think we shall lose our independence,
+originality, and individuality of character, if we all
+take one standard of excellence, and this the customs and
+opinions of others. This is a jaw-cracking sentence for me.
+If any body had uttered it but Isabel, I should, perhaps, have
+laughed at it. As it was, I treasured it up for use, as I do
+the wise sayings of Franklin, Dudley, Leavitt, and Robert
+Thomas. I, for one, shall not attempt to become so accomplished.
+I shall do as near right as I can conveniently, not
+because I have a heavy burden of gentility to support, but
+because it is quite as easy to do right,</p>
+
+<div class="center">'And then I sleep so sweet at night.'</div>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Bertha."</p>
+
+<p>At the door she met Charlotte, on her return, with lemons,
+nuts, and cake.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in search of a companion for a long ramble," said
+Ann. "Can you recommend a <i>subject</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I should think Bertha would like to shake herself," said
+Charlotte. "She has been buried in a novel ever since she
+was out of bed this morning. It was her turn to do the
+chamber work this morning; and this is the way she always
+does, if she can get a novel. She would not mind sitting all
+day, with dirt to her head. It is a shame for her to do so.
+She had better be wide awake, enjoying life, as I am."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ann, in her usual <i>brusque</i> manner.
+"There is not a cent's choice between you this morning;
+both are doing wrong, and each is condemning the
+other without mercy. So far you are both just like me, you
+see. Good morning."</p>
+
+<p>She walked on to the next chamber. She had enough of
+the philosopher about her to reason from appearances, and
+from the occupation of its inmates, that she could succeed
+no better there. Every thing was in the most perfect order.
+The bed was shaped, and the sheet hemmed down <i>just
+so</i>. Their lines that hung by the walls were filled "jist."
+First came starched aprons, then starched capes, then pocket
+handkerchiefs, folded with the marked corner out. Then
+hose. This room likewise, had its paintings, and like those
+of the other, they were in perfect keeping with the general
+arrangements of the room and the dress of its occupants.
+There was an apology for a lady. Her attitude and form
+were of precisely that uncouth kind which is produced by
+youthful artificers, who form head, body and feet from one
+piece of shingle; and wedge in two sticks at right angles
+with the body, for arms. Her sleeves increased in dimensions
+from the shoulders, and the skirt from the belt, but without
+the semblance of a fold. This, with some others of the
+same school, and two "profiles," were carefully preserved in
+frames, and the frames in screens of green barage. Miss Clark
+was busily engaged in making netting, and Miss Emily in
+making a dress. Ann made known her wants to them, more
+from curiosity to hear their reply, than from a hope of success.
+In measured periods they thanked her&mdash;would have
+been happy to accompany her. "But, really, I must be excused,"
+said Miss Clark. "I have given myself a stint, and
+I always feel bad if I fall an inch short of my plans."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; don't you think, Ann," said Emily, "she has
+stinted herself to make five yards of netting to-day. And
+mother says there is ten times as much in the house as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+shall ever need. Father says there is twenty times as much;
+for he knows we shall both be old maids, ha! ha!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I always tell him that if I am an old maid I
+shall need the more. Our folks make twenty or thirty yards
+of table linen every year. I mean to make fringe for every
+yard; and have enough laid by for the next ten years, before
+I leave the mill."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Emily," said Ann, "you have no fringe to make,
+can't you accompany me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should be glad to, Ann; but I am over head and ears
+in work. I have got my work all done up, every thing that
+I could find to do. Now I am making a dress for Bertha."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Emily, you are making a slave of yourself, body
+and mind," said Ann. "Can't you earn enough in the mill
+to afford yourself a little time for rest and amusement?"</p>
+
+<p>"La! I don't make but twelve dollars a month, besides
+my board. I have made a great many dresses evenings, and
+have stinted myself to finish this to-day. So I believe I
+can't go, any way. I should be terrible glad to."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are very excusable," answered Ann. "But
+let me ask if you take any time to read."</p>
+
+<p>"No; not much. We can't afford to. Father owns the
+best farm in Burt; but we have always had to work hard,
+and always expect to. We generally read a chapter every
+day. We take turns about it. One of us reads while the
+other works."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but lately we have only taken time to read a
+short psalm," said Emily, again laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the Bible says, 'Let him that is without sin cast
+the first stone,' or I might be tempted to remind you that
+there is such a thing as laboring too much 'for the meat that
+perisheth.' Good morning, ladies."</p>
+
+<p>Ann heard a loud, merry laugh from the next room, as
+she reached the door. It was Ellinora Frothingham's; no
+one could mistake, who had heard it once. It seemed the
+out-pouring of glee that could no longer be suppressed.
+Ellinor sat on the floor, just as she had thrown herself on
+her return from a walk. Her pretty little bonnet was lying
+on the floor on one side, and on the other a travelling bag,
+whose contents she had just poured into her lap. There
+were apples, pears, melons, a mock-orange, a pumpkin,
+squash, and a crooked cucumber. Ellinora sprang to her feet
+when Ann entered, and threw the contents of her lap on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+floor with such violence, as to set them to rolling all about.
+Then she laughed and clapped her hands to see the squash
+chase the mock-orange under the bed, a great russet running
+so furiously after a little fellow of the Baldwin family, and
+finally pinning him in a corner. A pear started in the chase;
+but after taking a few turns, he sat himself down to shake
+his fat sides and enjoy the scene. Ellinora stepped back a
+few paces to elude the pursuit of the pumpkin, and then,
+with well-feigned terror, jumped into a chair. But the
+drollest personage of the group was the ugly cucumber.
+There he sat, Forminius-like, watching the mad freaks of
+his companions.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! see that cucumber?" exclaimed Ellinora, laughing
+heartily. "If he had hands, how he would raise them so!
+If he had eyes and mouth, how he would open them so!"
+suiting action to her words. "Look, Ann! look, Fanny!
+See if it does not look like the Clark girls, when one leaves
+any thing in the shape of dirt on their table or stand!"</p>
+
+<p>Peace was at length restored among the <i>inanimates</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to invite you to walk; but I find I am too late,"
+said Ann.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Oh, how I wish you had been with us! You
+would have been so happy!" said Ellinora. "We started out
+very early&mdash;before sunrise&mdash;intending to take a brisk walk
+of a mile or two, and return in season for breakfast. We
+went over to Dracut, and met such adventures there and
+by the way, as will supply me with food for laughter years
+after I get married, and trouble comes. We came along
+where some oxen were standing, yoked, eating their breakfast
+while their owner was eating his. They were attached
+to a cart filled with pumpkins. I took some of the smallest,
+greenest ones, and stuck them fast on the tips of the oxen's
+horns. I was so interested in observing how the ceremony
+affected the Messrs. Oxen, that I did not laugh a bit until I
+had crowned all four of them. I looked up to Fanny, as I
+finished the work, and there she sat on a great rock, where
+she had thrown herself when she could no longer stand.
+Poor girl! tears were streaming down her cheeks. With
+one hand she was holding her lame side, and with the other
+filling her mouth with her pocket handkerchief, that the
+laugh need not run out, I suppose. Well, as soon as I
+looked at her, and at the oxen, I burst into a laugh that
+might have been heard miles, I fancy. Oh! I shall never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+forget how reprovingly those oxen looked at me. The poor
+creatures could not eat with such an unusual weight on their
+horns, so they pitched their heads higher than usual, and
+now and then gave them a graceful cant, then stood entirely
+motionless, as if attempting to conjecture what it all
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that loud and long laugh of mine, brought a
+whole volley of folks to the door&mdash;farmer, and farmer's wife,
+farmer's sons, and farmer's daughters. 'Whoa hish!' exclaimed
+the farmer, before he reached the door; and 'Whoa
+hish!' echoed all the farmer's sons. They all stopped as
+soon as they saw me. I would remind you that I still stood
+before the oxen, laughing at them. I never saw such comical
+expressions as those people wore. Did you, Fanny?
+Even those pictures of mine are not so funny. I thought we
+should raise the city police; for they had tremendous voices,
+and I never saw any body laugh so.</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as I could speak, and they could listen to me,
+I walked up to the farmer. 'I beg your pardon sir,' said I,
+'but I did want to laugh so! Came all the way from Lowell
+for something new to laugh at.' He was a good, sensible
+man, and this proves it. He said it was a good thing to
+have a hearty laugh occasionally&mdash;good for the health and
+spirits. Work would go off easier all day for it, especially
+with the boys. As he said 'boys,' I could not avoid smiling
+as I looked at a fine young sprig of a farmer, his oldest son,
+as he afterwards told us, full twenty-one."</p>
+
+<p>"And now, Miss Ellinora," said Fanny, "I shall avenge
+myself on you, for certain saucy freaks, perpetrated against
+my most august commands, by telling Ann, that as you
+looked at this 'young sprig of a farmer,' he looked at you,
+and you both blushed. What made you, Nora? I never
+saw you blush before."</p>
+
+<p>"What made you, Nora?" echoed Ellinora, laughing and
+blushing slightly. "Well, the farmer's wife invited us to
+rest and breakfast with them. We began to make excuses;
+but the farmer added his good natured commands, so we
+went in; and after a few arrangements, such as placing
+more plates, &amp;c., a huge pumpkin pie, and some hot potatoes,
+pealed in the cooking, we sat down to a full round table.
+There were the mealy potatoes, cold boiled dish,
+warm biscuit and dough-nuts, pie, coffee, pickles, sauce,
+cheese, and just such butter and brown bread as mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+makes&mdash;bread hot, just taken from the oven. They all appeared
+so pleasant and kind, that I felt as if in my own home,
+with my own family around me. Wild as I was, as soon as
+I began to tell them how it seemed to me, I burst into tears
+in spite of myself, and was obliged to leave the table. But
+they all pitied me so much, that I brushed off my tears, went
+back to my breakfast, and have laughed ever since."</p>
+
+<p>"You have forgotten two very important items," said
+Fanny, looking archly into Ellinora's face. "This 'fine
+young sprig of a farmer' happened to recollect that he had
+business in town to-day; so he took their carriage and
+brought us home, after Nora and a roguish sister of his had
+filled her bag as you see. And more and better still, they
+invited us to spend a day with them soon; and promised to
+send this 'fine young sprig,' &amp;c., for us on the occasion."</p>
+
+<p>Ellinora was too busily engaged in collecting her fruit to
+reply. She ran from the room; and in a few moments returned
+with several young girls, to whom she gave generous
+supplies of apples, pears, and melons. She was about seating
+herself with a full plate, when a new idea seemed to
+flash upon her. She laughed, and started for the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellinora, where now?" asked Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"To the Clark girls' room, to leave an apple peeling and
+core on their table, a pear pealing on their stand, and melon,
+apple, and pear seeds all about the floor," answered Ellinora,
+gaily snapping her fingers, and nodding her head.</p>
+
+<p>"What for? Here, Nora; come back. For what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, to see them suffer," said the incorrigible girl.
+"You know I told you this morning, that sport is to be the
+order of the day. So no scoldings, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room, and Fanny turned to one of the ladies
+who had just entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Alice," said she. "Did not Ellinora extend
+an invitation to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but she is half dead with the <i>blues</i>, to-day. The
+Brown girls came back last night. They called on Alice this
+morning, and left letters and presents from home for her.
+She had a letter from her little brother, ten years old. He
+must be a fine fellow, judging from that letter, it was so sensible,
+and so witty too! One moment I laughed at some of
+his lively expressions, and the next cried at his expressions of
+love for Alice, and regret for her loss. He told her how he
+cried himself to sleep the night after she left home; and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+flowers seemed to have faded, and the stars to have lost their
+brightness, when he no longer had her by his side to talk to
+him about them. I find by his letter that Alice is working to
+keep him at school. That part of it which contained his
+thanks for her goodness was blistered with the little fellow's
+tears. Alice cried like a child when she read it, and I did
+not wonder at it. But she ought to be happy now. Her
+mother sent her a fine pair of worsted hose of her own spinning
+and knitting, and a nice cake of her own making. She
+wrote, that, trifling as these presents were, she knew they
+would be acceptable to her daughter, because made by her.
+When Alice read this, she cried again. Her sister sent her
+a pretty little fancy basket, and her brother a bunch of flowers
+from her mother's garden. They were enclosed in a
+tight tin box, and were as fresh as when first gathered.
+Alice sent out for a new vase. She has filled it with her
+flowers, and will keep them watered with her tears, judging
+from present appearances. Alice is a good-hearted girl, and
+I love her, but she is always talking or thinking of something
+to make her unhappy. A letter from a friend, containing
+nothing but good news, and assurances of friendship, that
+ought to make her happy, generally throws her into a crying
+fit, which ends in a moping fit of melancholy. This destroys
+her own happiness, and that of all around her.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to talk to her, she is spoiling herself," said
+Mary Mason, whose mouth was literally crammed with the
+last apple of a second plateful.</p>
+
+<p>"I have often urged her to be more cheerful. But she
+answers me with a helpless, hopeless, 'I can't Jane! you
+know I can't. I shall never be happy while I live; and I
+often think that the sooner I go where "the weary are at
+rest," the better.' I don't know how many times she has given
+me an answer like this. Then she will sob as if her
+heart were bursting. She sometimes wears me quite out;
+and I feel as I did when Ellinora called me, as if released
+from a prison."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it improve her spirits to walk with me?" asked
+Ann.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it would, if you can persuade her to go. Do
+try, dear Ann," answered Jane. "I called at Isabel Greenwood's
+room as I came along, and asked her to go in and see
+if she could rouse her up."</p>
+
+<p>Ann heard Isabel's voice in gentle but earnest expostulation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+as she reached Alice's room. Isabel paused when Ann
+entered, kissed her cheek, and resigned her rocking-chair to
+her. Alice was sobbing too violently to speak. She took
+her face from her handkerchief, bowed to Ann, and again
+buried it. Ann invited them to walk with her. Isabel
+cheerfully acceded to her proposal, and urged Alice to accompany
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't urge me, Isabel," said Alice; "I am only fit for
+the solitude of my chamber. I could not add at all to your
+pleasure. My thoughts would be at my home, and I could
+not enjoy a walk in the least degree. But Isabel, I do not
+want you to leave me so. I know that you think me very
+foolish to indulge in these useless regrets, as you call them.
+You will understand me better if you just consider the situation
+of my mother's family. My mother a widow, my oldest
+brother at the West, my oldest sister settled in New
+York, my youngest brother and sister only with mother,
+and I a Lowell factory girl! And such I must be&mdash;for if I
+leave the mill, my brother cannot attend school all of the
+time; and his heart would almost break to take him from
+school. And how can I be happy in such a situation; I do
+not ask for riches; but I would be able to gather my friends
+all around me. Then I could be happy. Perhaps I am as
+happy now as you would be in my situation, Isabel."</p>
+
+<p>Isabel's eyes filled, but she answered in her own sweet,
+calm manner:</p>
+
+<p>"We will compare lots, my dear Alice. I have neither
+father, mother, sister, nor home in the world. Three years
+ago I had all of these, and every other blessing that one
+could ask. The death of my friends, the distressing circumstances
+attending them, the subsequent loss of our large
+property, and the critical state of my brother's health at
+present, are not slight afflictions, nor are they lightly felt."</p>
+
+<p>Isabel's emotions, as she paused to subdue them by a
+powerful mental effort, proved her assertion. Alice began
+to dry her tears, and to look as if ashamed of her weakness.</p>
+
+<p>"I, too, am a Lowell factory girl," pursued Isabel. "I,
+too, am laboring for the completion of a brother's education.
+If that brother were well, how gladly would I toil! But
+that disease is upon his vitals which laid father, mother, and
+sister in their graves, in one short year. I can see it in the
+unnatural and increasing brightness of his eye, and hear it
+in his hollow cough. He has entered upon his third collegiate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+year; and is too anxious to graduate next commencement,
+to heed my entreaties, or the warning of his physician."</p>
+
+<p>She again paused. Her whole frame shook with emotion;
+but not a tear mingled with Ann's, as they fell upon
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Alice," she at length added, "what reasons I
+have for regret when I think of the past, and what for fear
+when I turn to the future. Still I am happy, almost continually.
+My lost friends are so many magnets, drawing
+heavenward those affections that would otherwise rivet themselves
+too strongly to earthly loves. And those dear ones
+who are yet spared to me, scatter so many flowers in my
+pathway, that I seldom feel the thorns. I am cheered in
+my darkest hours by their kindness and affection, animated
+at all times by a wish to do all in my power to make them
+happy. If my brother is spared to me, I ask for nothing
+more. And if he is first called, I trust I shall feel that it is
+the will of One who is too wise to err, and too good to be
+unkind."</p>
+
+<p>"You are the most like my mother, Isabel, of any one I
+ever saw," said Ann. "She is never free from pain, yet
+she never complains. And if Pa, or any of us, just have a
+cold or head ache, she does not rest till 'she makes us well.'
+You have more trouble than any other girl in the house;
+but instead of claiming the sympathies of every one on that
+account, you are always cheering others in their little, half-imaginary
+trials. Alice, I think you and I ought to be
+ashamed to shed a tear, until we have some greater cause
+than mere home-sickness, or low spirits."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Ann, I can no more avoid low spirits, than I can
+make a world!" exclaimed Alice, in a really aggrieved
+tone. "And I don't want you all to think that I have no
+trouble. I want sympathy, and I can't live without it. Oh
+that I was at home this moment!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Alice, there is hardly a girl in this house who has
+not as much trouble, in some shape, as you have. You
+never think of pitying them; and pray what gives you such
+strong claims on their sympathies? Do you walk with us,
+or do you not?"</p>
+
+<p>Alice shook her head in reply. Isabel whispered a few
+words in her ear&mdash;they might be of reproof, they might be
+of consolation&mdash;then retired with Ann to equip for their walk.</p>
+
+<p>"What a beautiful morning this is!" exclaimed Ann,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+as they emerged from the house. "<i>Malgre</i> some inconveniences,
+factory girls are as happy as any class of females.
+I sometimes think it hard to rise so early, and work so many
+hours shut up in the house. But when I get out at night,
+on the Sabbath, or at any other time, I am just as happy as
+a bird, and long to fly and sing with them. And Alice will
+keep herself shut up all day. Is it not strange that all will
+not be as happy as they can be? It is so pleasant."</p>
+
+<p>Isabel returned Ann's smile. "Yes, Ann, it is strange
+that every one does not prefer happiness. Indeed, it is
+quite probable that every one does prefer it. But some
+mistake the modes of acquiring it through want of judgment.
+Others are too indolent to employ the means necessary
+to its attainment, and appear to expect it to flow in to
+them, without taking any pains to prepare a channel. Others,
+like our friend Alice, have constitutional infirmities,
+which entail upon them a deal of suffering, that to us, of
+different mental organization, appears wholly unnecessary."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, don't you think Alice might be as happy as we
+are, if she chose? Could she not be as grateful for letters
+and love-tokens from home? Could she not leave her room,
+and come out into this pure air, listen to the birds, and catch
+their spirit? Could she not do all this, Isabel, as well as
+we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do not know, Ann. Perhaps not. You know
+that the minds of different persons are like instruments of
+different tones. The same touch thrills gaily on one, mournfully
+on another."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and I know, Isabel, that different minds may be
+compared to the same instrument <i>in</i> and <i>out</i> of tune. Now
+I have heard Alice say that she loved to indulge this melancholy;
+that she loved to read Byron, Mrs. Hemans, and
+Miss Landon, until her heart was as gloomy as the grave.
+Isn't this strange&mdash;even silly?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is most unfortunate, Ann."</p>
+
+<p>"Isabel, you are the strangest girl! I have heard a great
+many say, that one cannot make you say anything against
+anybody; and I believe they are correct. And when you
+reprove one, you do it in such a mild, pretty way, that one
+only loves you the better for it. Now, I smash on, pell-mell,
+as if unconscious of a fault in myself. Hence, I oftener
+offend than amend. Let me think.&mdash;This morning I have
+administered reproof in my own blunt way to Bertha for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+reading novels, to Charlotte for eating confectionary, to the
+Clark girls for their 'all work and no play,' and to Alice
+for moping. I have been wondering all along how they
+can spend their time so foolishly. I see that my own employment
+would scarcely bear the test of close criticism, for
+I have been watching motes in others' eyes, while a beam
+was in my own. Now, Isabel, I must ask a favor. I do
+not want to be very fine and nice; but I would be gentle and
+kind hearted&mdash;would do some good in the world. I often
+make attempts to this end; but always fail, somehow. I
+know my manner needs correcting; and I want you to reprove
+me as you would a sister, and assist me with your
+advice. Will you not, dear Isabel?"</p>
+
+<p>She pressed Isabel's arm closer to her side, and a tear
+was in her eye as she looked up for an answer to her
+appeal.</p>
+
+<p>"You know not what you ask, my beloved girl," answered
+Isabel, in a low and tremulous tone. "You know
+not the weakness of the staff on which you would lean, or
+the frailties of the heart to which you would look up, for aid.
+Of myself, dear Ann, I can do nothing. I can only look to
+God for protection from temptation, and for guidance in the
+right way. When He keeps me, I am safe; when He withdraws
+His spirit, I am weak indeed. And can I lead you,
+Ann? No! you must go to a higher than earthly friend.
+Pray to Him in every hour of need, and He will be 'more to
+you than you can ask, or even think.'"</p>
+
+<p>"How often I have wished that I could go to Him as
+mother does&mdash;just as I would go to a father!" said Ann.
+"But I dare not. It would be mockery in one who has
+never experienced religion."</p>
+
+<p>"Make prayer a <i>means</i> of this experience, my dear girl.
+Draw near to God by humble, constant prayer, and He will
+draw near to you by the influences of His spirit, which will
+make you just what you wish to be, a good, kind-hearted
+girl. You will learn to love God as a father, as the author
+of your happiness and every good thing. And you will be
+prepared to meet those trials which must be yours in life as
+the 'chastisements of a Father's hand, directed by a Father's
+love.' And when the hour of death comes, dear Ann, how
+sweet, how soothing will be the deep-felt conviction that you
+are going <i>home</i>! You will have no fears, for your trust will
+be in One whom you have long loved and served; and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+will feel as if about to meet your best, and most familiar
+friend."</p>
+
+<p>Ann answered only by her tears; and for some minutes
+they walked on in silence. They were now some distance
+from town. Before them lay farms, farm-houses, groves
+and scattering trees, from whose branches came the mingled
+song of a thousand birds. Isabel directed Ann's attention
+to the beauty of the scene. Ann loved nature; but she had
+such a dread of sentimentalism that she seldom expressed
+herself freely. Now she had no reserves, and Isabel found
+that she had not mistaken her capacities, in supposing her
+possessed of faculties, which had only to develop themselves
+more fully, which had only to become constant incentives to
+action, to make her all she could wish.</p>
+
+<p>"You did not promise, Isabel," said Ann, with a happy
+smile, as they entered their street, "you did not promise to
+be my sister; but you will, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear Ann; we will be sisters to each other. I
+think you told me that you have no sister."</p>
+
+<p>"I had none until now; and I have felt as if part of my
+affections could not find a resting place, but were weighing
+down my heart with a burden that did not belong to it. I
+shall no longer be like a branch of our woodbine when it
+cannot find a clinging place, swinging about at the mercy
+of every breeze; but like that when some kind hand twines
+it about its frame, firm and trusting. See, Isabel!" exclaimed
+she, interrupting herself, "there sits poor Alice,
+just as we left her. I wish she had walked with us&mdash;she
+would have felt so much better. Do you think, Isabel, that
+religion would make her happy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly. 'Come unto me, all ye that labor and
+are heavy laden. Take my yoke upon you; for I am meek
+and lowly in heart; and ye <i>shall</i> find rest for your souls,'&mdash;is
+as 'faithful a saying' and as 'worthy of all acceptation'
+now, as when it was uttered, and when thousands came
+and 'were healed of <i>all</i> manner of diseases.' Yes, Alice
+may yet be happy," she added musingly, "if she can be
+induced to read Byron less, and her Bible more; to think
+less of her own gratification, and more of that of others.
+And we will be very gentle to her, Ann; but not the less
+faithful and constant in our efforts to win her to usefulness
+and happiness."</p>
+
+<p>Ellinora met them at the door, and began to describe a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+frolic that had occupied her during their absence. She
+threw her arms around Isabel's waist, and entered the
+sitting-room with her. "Now, Isabel, I know you don't
+think it right to be so giddy," said she. "I will tell you
+what I have resolved to do. You shake your head, Isabel,
+and I do not wonder at all. But this resolution was formed
+this morning, on my way back from Dracut; and I feel in
+my 'heart of hearts' 'a sober certainty of waking' energy
+to keep it unbroken. It is that I will be another sort of
+a girl, altogether, henceforth; steady, but not gloomy; less
+talkative, but not reserved; more studious, but not a bookworm;
+kind and gentle to others, but not a whit the less
+independent, 'for a' that,' in my opinions and conduct.&mdash;And,
+after this day, which I have dedicated to Momus, I
+want you to be my Mentor. Now I am for another spree of
+some sort. Nay, Isabel, do not remonstrate. You will
+make me weep with five tender words."</p>
+
+<p>It needed not so much&mdash;for Isabel smiled sadly, kissed her
+cheek, and Ellinora's tears fell fast and thick as she ran
+from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Ann went immediately to Alice's room on her return.&mdash;She
+apologized to her for reproving her so roughly, described
+her walk, gave a synopsis of Isabel's advice, and her
+consequent determinations. By these means she diverted
+Alice's thoughts from herself, gave her nerves a healthy
+spring, and when the bell summoned them to dinner, she
+had recovered much of her happier humor. Ellinora sat
+beside her at table. She laughingly proposed an exchange,
+offering a portion of her levity for as much of her gravity.
+She thought the <i>equilibrium</i> would be more perfect. So
+Alice thought, and she heartily wished that the exchange
+might be made.</p>
+
+<p>And this exchange seems actually taking place at this
+time. They are as intimate as sisters. Together they are
+resolutely struggling against the tide of habit. They meet
+many discouraging failures; but Isabel is ever ready to
+cheer them by her sympathy, and to assist them by her advice.</p>
+
+<p>Ann's faults were not so deeply rooted; perhaps she
+brought more natural energy to their extermination. Be
+that as it may, she is now an excellent lady, a fit companion
+for the peerless Isabel.</p>
+
+<p>The Clark girls do not, as yet, coalesce in their system of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+improvement. They still prefer making netting and dresses,
+to the lecture-room, the improvement circle, and even to the
+reading of the "Book of books." So difficult is it to turn
+from the worship of Plutus!</p>
+
+<p>The delusion of Bertha and Charlotte is partially broken.
+Bertha is beginning to understand that much reading does
+not naturally result in intellectual or moral improvement,
+unless it be well regulated. Charlotte is learning that
+"to enjoy is to obey;" and that to pamper her own animal
+appetites, while her father and mother are suffering for
+want of the necessaries of life, is not in obedience to Divine
+command.</p>
+
+<p>And, dear sisters, how is it with each one of <i>us</i>? How
+do we spend our leisure hours? Now, "in the stilly hour
+of night," let us pause, and give our consciences time to
+render faithful answers.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">D.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="center">"He sleeps there in the midst of the very simplicities of Nature."</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There let him sleep, in Nature's arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her well-beloved, her chosen child&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There 'mid the living, quiet charms<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of that sequestered wild.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He would have chosen such a spot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas fit that they should lay him there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Away from all the haunts of care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The world disturbs him not.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sleeps full sweet in his retreat&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The place is consecrated ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not meet unhallowed feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Should tread that sacred mound.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He lies in pomp&mdash;not of display&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No useless trappings grace his bier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor idle words&mdash;they may not say<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">What treasures cluster here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pomp of nature, wild and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adorns our hero's lowly bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gently bends above his head<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The weeping laurel tree.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In glory's day he shunned display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ye may not bedeck him now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Nature may, in her own way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hang garlands round his brow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He lies in pomp&mdash;not sculptured stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor chiseled marble&mdash;vain pretence&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glory of his deeds alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is his magnificence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His country's love the meed he won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He bore it with him down to death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unsullied e'en by slander's breath&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His country's sire and son.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her hopes and fears, her smiles and tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were each his own.&mdash;He gave his land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His earliest cares, his choicest years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And led her conquering band.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He lies in pomp&mdash;not pomp of war&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He fought, but fought not for renown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He triumphed, yet the victor's star<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Adorned no regal crown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His honor was his country's weal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From off her neck the yoke he tore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was enough, he asked no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His generous heart could feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No low desire for king's attire;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With brother, friend, and country blest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He could aspire to honors higher<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than kingly crown or crest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He lies in pomp&mdash;his burial place<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than sculptured stone is richer far;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For in the heart's deep love we trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His name, a golden star.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherever patriotism breathes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His memory is devoutly shrined<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In every pure and gifted mind:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">And history, with wreaths<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of deathless fame, entwines that name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which evermore, beneath all skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like vestal flame, shall live the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For virtue never dies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There let him rest&mdash;'t is a sweet spot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Simplicity becomes the great&mdash;But<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vernon's son is not forgot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though sleeping not in state.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There, wrapt in his own dignity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His presence makes it hallowed ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Nature throws her charms around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And o'er him smiles the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There let him rest&mdash;the noblest, best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The labors of his life all done&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There let him rest, the spot is blessed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The grave of <span class="smcap">Washington</span>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Adelaide.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LIFE AMONG FARMERS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>There is much complaint among farmers' wives and
+daughters, of want of time for rest, recreation, and literary
+pursuits. "It is cook, eat, and scrub&mdash;cook, eat, and scrub,
+from morning till night, and from year to year," says many
+a farmer's wife. And so it is in many families. But how
+far this results from the very nature of the situation, and
+how far from injudicious domestic management, is a query
+worthy of our attention. A very large proportion of my
+readers, who are now factory girls, will in a few months or
+years be the busy wives of busy farmers; and if by a few
+speculations on the subject before us, and an illustration to
+the point, we can reach <i>one</i> hint that may hereafter be useful
+to us, our labor and "search of thought" will not have
+been in vain.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Moses Eastman was what is technically called a
+wealthy farmer. Every one in the country knows what this
+means. He had a farm of some hundred or more acres, a
+large two-story dwelling house, a capacious yard, in which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+were two large barns, sheds, a sheep-cote, granary, and
+hen-coop. He kept a hundred sheep, ten cows, horses and
+oxen in due proportion. Mr. Eastman often declared that
+no music was half so sweet to him as that of the inmates of
+this yard. I think we shall not quarrel with his taste in
+this manifestation; for it is certainly delightful, on a warm
+day, in early spring, to listen to them, the lambs, hens&mdash;Guinea
+and American&mdash;turkeys, geese, and ducks and peacocks.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Eastman was unbending in his adherence to the
+creed, prejudices, and customs of his fathers. It was his
+boast that his farm had passed on from father to son, to the
+fourth generation; and everybody could see that it was none
+the worse for wear. He kept more oxen, sheep, and cows
+than his father kept. He had "pulled down his barns and
+built larger." He had surrounded his fields and pastures
+with stone wall, in lieu of Virginian, stump, brush, and
+board fence. And he had taught his sons and daughters, of
+whom he had an abundance, to walk in his footsteps&mdash;all
+but Mary. He should always rue the day that he consented
+to let Mary go to her aunt's; but he acted upon the belief
+that it would lessen his expenses to be rid of her during her
+childhood. He had all along intended to recall her as soon
+as she was old enough to be serviceable to him. But he
+said he believed that would never be, if she lived as long as
+Methuselah. She could neither spin nor weave as she
+ought; for she put so much material in her yarn, and wove
+her cloth so thick, that no profit resulted from its manufacture
+and sale. Now Deborah, his oldest daughter, had just
+her mother's <i>knack</i> of making a good deal out of a little.&mdash;And
+Mary had imbibed some very dangerous ideas of religion,&mdash;she
+did not even believe in ghosts!&mdash;dress, and reading.
+For his part, he would not, on any account, attend any other
+meeting than old Mr. Bates's. His father and grandfather
+always attended there, and they prospered well. But Mary
+wanted to go to the other meeting occasionally, all because
+Mr. Morey happened to be a bit of an orator. True, Mr.
+Bates was none of the smartest; but there was an advantage
+in this. He could sleep as soundly, and rest as rapidly,
+when at his meeting, as in his bed; and by this means he
+could regain the sleep lost during the week by rising early
+and working late. And Mary had grown so proud that she
+would not wear a woolen home-manufactured dress visiting,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+as Deborah did. She must flaunt off to meeting every Sabbath,
+in white or silk, while <i>chintz</i> was good enough for
+Deborah. Deborah seldom read anything but the Bible,
+Watts's Hymn Book, "Pilgrim's Progress," and a few tracts
+they had in the house. Mary had hardly laid off her
+finery, on her return from her aunt's, before she inquired
+about books and newspapers. Her aunt had heaps of books
+and papers. These had spoilt Mary. True, papers were
+sometimes useful; he would have lost five hundred dollars
+by the failure of the &mdash;&mdash; Bank, but for a newspaper he borrowed
+of Captain Norwood. But the Captain had enough
+of them&mdash;was always ready to lend to him&mdash;and he saved
+no small sum in twenty years by borrowing papers of him.</p>
+
+<p>How Captain Norwood managed to add to his property he
+could not conceive. So much company, fine clothing, and
+schooling! he wondered that it did not ruin him. And
+'twas all folly&mdash;'twas a sin; for they were setting extravagant
+examples, and every body thought they must do as the
+Norwoods did. Mr. Norwood ought to remember that his
+father wore home-made; and what was good enough for
+his good old father was good enough for <i>him</i>. But alas!
+times were dreadfully altered.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mary, she must turn over a new leaf, or go back
+to her aunt. He would not help one who did not help herself.
+Mary was willing, nay, anxious to return. To spend
+one moment, except on the Sabbath, in reading, was considered
+a crime; to gather a flower or mineral, absurd; and
+Mary begged that she might be permitted to return to Mrs.
+Barlow. As there was no prospect of reforming her, Mr.
+Eastman and his wife readily consented. Mr. Eastman told
+her, at the same time, that she must be preparing for a wet
+day; and repeatedly charged her to remember that those
+who folded their hands in the summer, must "beg in harvest,
+and have nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Mary had often visited the Norwoods and other young
+friends, during the year spent at home; but she had not
+been permitted to give a party in return. Why, Deborah
+had never thought of doing such a thing! Mary begged
+the indulgence of her mother, with the assurance that it was
+the last favor she would ever ask at her hand. The <i>mother</i>
+in her at last yielded; and she promised to use her influence
+with her husband. After a deal of cavilling, he consented,
+on the condition that the strictest economy should attend the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+expenditures on the occasion, and that they should exercise
+more prudence in the family, until their loss was made gain.
+So the party was given.</p>
+
+<p>"You find yourself thrown on barren ground, Miss
+Norwood," said Mary, as she saw Miss Norwood looking
+around the room; "neither papers, books, plants, plates,
+nor minerals."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are those rocks you brought in, Molly!" said
+Deborah, with a loud, grating laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Mary attempted to smile, but her eyes were full of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"What rocks, Deborah!" asked Clarina Norwood.</p>
+
+<p>"Them you see stuffed into the garden wall, there.&mdash;Mary
+fixed them all in a row on the table. I think as father
+does, that nothing is worth saving that can't be used; so I
+put them in the wall to keep the hens out of the garden.
+The silly girl cried when she see them; should you have
+thought it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What were they, Mary?" asked Clarina.</p>
+
+<p>"Very pretty specimens of white, rose, and smoky
+quartz, black and white mica, gneiss, hornblende, and a
+few others, that I collected on that very high hill, west of
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"How unfortunate to lose them!" said Miss Norwood,
+in a soothing tone. "Could not we recover them, dear
+Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no room for them," said Deborah. "We
+want to spread currants and blueberries on the tables to be
+dried. Besides, I think as father does, that there is
+enough to do, without spending the time in such flummery.
+As father says, 'time is our estate,' and I think we ought
+to improve every moment of it, except Sundays, in work."</p>
+
+<p>"I must differ from you, Miss Eastman," said Miss Norwood.
+"I cannot think it the duty of any one to labor entirely
+for the 'meat that perisheth.' Too much, vastly too
+much time is spent thus by almost all."</p>
+
+<p>"The mercy! you would have folks prepare for a wet
+day, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would have every one make provision for a comfortable
+subsistence; and this is enough. The mind should be
+cared for, Deborah. It should not be left to starve, or feed
+on husks."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about this mind, of which you and our
+Mary make such a fuss. My concern is for my body. Of
+this I know enough."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes; you know that it is dust, and that to dust it must
+return in a little time, while the mind is to live on for ever,
+with God and His holy angels. Think of this a moment,
+Deborah; and say, should not the mind be fed and clothed
+upon, when its destiny is so glorious? Or should we spend
+our whole lives in adding another acre to our farms,
+another dress to our wardrobe, and another dollar to our
+glittering heap?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, la! all this sounds nicely; but I <i>do</i> think that
+every man who has children should provide for them."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly&mdash;intellectual food and clothing. It is for this
+I am contending. He should provide a comfortable bodily
+subsistence, and educate them as far as he is able and their
+destinies require."</p>
+
+<p>"And he should leave them a few hundreds, or thousands,
+to give them a kind of a start in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"He does this in giving them a liberal education, and he
+leaves them in banks that will always discount. But farther
+than education of intellect and propensity is concerned, I am
+for the self-made man. I think it better for sons to carve
+their own way to eminence with little pecuniary aid by way
+of a settlement; and for daughters to be 'won and wedded'
+for their own intrinsic excellence, not for the dowry in store
+for them from a rich father."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no arguing with you, everybody says; so I'll
+go and see how my cakes bake."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Eastmam came in to tea, contrary to his usual custom.</p>
+
+<p>"Clarina, has your father sold that great calf of his?"
+he inquired, as he seated himself snugly beside his "better
+half."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I do not know, sir," answered Clarina, biting
+her lip to avoid laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard Mr. Montgomery ask him the same question,
+this morning; and Pa said 'yes,' I believe," said Miss
+Norwood, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"How much did he get for it?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Norwood did not know.</p>
+
+<p>"Like Mary, I see," said Mr. Eastman. "Now I'll
+warrant you that Debby can tell the price of every creature
+I've sold this year."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father; I remember as plain as day, how much
+you got from that simple Joe Slater, for the white-faced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+calf&mdash;how much you got for the black-faced sheep, Rowley
+and Jumble, and for Star and Bright. Oh, how I want to
+see Bright! And then there is the black colt&mdash;you got
+forty dollars for him, didn't you, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Debby; you are a keen one," said Mr. Eastman
+triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you so, Julia?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not burden my memory with superfluities," answered
+Miss Norwood. "I can scarcely find room for necessaries."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you rank the best way of making pies, cakes,
+and puddings, with necessaries or superfluities?"</p>
+
+<p>"Among necessaries in household economy, certainly,"
+answered Miss Norwood. "But Mrs. Child's 'Frugal
+Housewife' renders them superfluities as a part of memory's
+storage."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the book costs something, you know; and if this
+can be saved by a little exercise of the memory, it is well,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>"The most capacious and retentive memory would fail to
+treasure up and retain all that one wishes to know of cooking
+and other matters," said Clarina.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, one may copy from her book," said Mr.
+Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, Mr. Eastman, to spend one's time in copying
+her recipes, when the work can be purchased for twenty-five
+cents, would be 'straining out a gnat, and swallowing a
+camel,'" remarked the precise and somewhat pedantic Miss
+Ellinor Gould Smith. "And then the peculiar disadvantages
+of referring to manuscript! I had my surfeit of this before
+the publication of her valuable work."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! it is every thing but valuable," answered Mr.
+Eastman. "Just think of her pounds of sugar, her two
+pounds of butter, her dozen eggs, and ounces of nutmegs.
+Depend upon it, they are not very valuable in the holes they
+would make in our cash-bags." He said this with precisely
+the air of one who imagines he has uttered a poser.</p>
+
+<p>"But you forget her economical and wholesome prescriptions
+for disease, her directions for repairing and preserving
+clothing and provisions, that would be lost without them,"
+answered Miss Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"But one should always be prying into these things, and
+learn them for themselves," said Mr. Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>"On the same principle, extended in its scale, every man
+might make his own house, furniture, and clothing," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+Miss Norwood. "With the expenditure of much labor and
+research, she has supplied us with directions; and I think it
+would be vastly foolish for every wife and daughter to expend
+just as much, when they can be supplied with the fruits of
+hers, for the product of half a day's labor."</p>
+
+<p>"Does your mother use it much?" asked Mrs. Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; she acknowledges herself much indebted to it."</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't think she'd need it; she is so notable. Has
+she made many cheeses this summer?"</p>
+
+<p>"About the usual number, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've made more than I ever did a year afore&mdash;thirty
+in my largest hoop, all new milk, and twenty in my
+next largest, part skimmed milk. Our cheese press is terribly
+out of order, now. It must be fixed, Mr. Eastman. And
+I have made more butter, or else our folks haven't ate as
+much as common. I've made it salter, and there's a great
+saving in this."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a good many ways to save in the world, if one
+will take pains to find them out," said Mr. Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless; but I think the best method of saving in provisions
+is to eat little," said Clarina, as she saw Mr. Eastman
+<i>putting down</i> his third biscuit.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, as to that, I think we ought to eat as much as the
+appetite calls for," answered Mr. Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; if the appetite is not depraved by indulgence."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it is an awful thing to pinch in eating," said Deborah.</p>
+
+<p>"I never knew one to sin in doing it," said Miss Norwood.
+"But many individuals and whole families make
+themselves excessively uncomfortable, and often incur disease,
+by eating too much. There is, besides, a waste of food,
+and of labor in preparing it. In such families, there is a
+continual round of eating, cooking, and sleeping, with the
+female portion; and no time for rest, recreation, or literary
+pursuits."</p>
+
+<p>"I have told our folks a great many times, that I did not
+believe that you lived by eating, over to your house," said
+Mr. Eastman. "I have been over that way before our folks
+got breakfast half ready; and your men would be out to
+work, and you women folks sewing, reading, or watering
+plants, or weeding your flower garden. I don't see how you
+manage."</p>
+
+<p>"We do not find it necessary to manage at all, our breakfasts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+are so simple. We have only to make cocoa, and arrange
+the breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you cook meat for breakfast?" asked Mrs. Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>"Never; our breakfast invariably consists of cocoa, or
+water, cold white bread and butter."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, our men folks will have meat three times a day&mdash;warm,
+morning and noon, and cold at night. We have warm
+bread for breakfast and supper, always. When they work
+very hard, they want luncheon at ten, and again at three.
+I often tell our folks that it is step, step, from morning till
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you find no time to read," said Miss Norwood.</p>
+
+<p>"No; but I shouldn't mind this, if I didn't get so dreadful
+tired. I often tell our folks that it is wearing me all out,"
+said Mrs. Eastman, in a really aggrieved tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is quite the fashion to starve, now-a-days, I
+know; but it is an awful sin," said Mr. Eastman.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Norwood saw that she might as well spend her time
+in rolling a stone up hill, as in attempting to convince him of
+fallacy in reasoning.</p>
+
+<p>"Clarina," said she, "did you ask Frederic to call for the
+other volume of the 'Alexandrian?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I should think that you had books enough at home,
+without borrowing," said Mr. Eastman, stopping by the way
+to rinse down his fifth dough-nut. "For my part, I find no
+time for reading anything but the Bible." And the deluded
+man started up with a gulp and a grunt. He had eaten
+enough for three full meals, had spent time enough for eating
+one meal, and reading several pages; yet he left the
+room with a smile, so self-satisfied in its expression, that it
+was quite evident that he thought himself the wisest man in
+New Hampshire, except Daniel Webster.</p>
+
+<p>This is rather a sad picture of life among farmers. But
+many of my readers will bear me witness that it is a correct
+one, as far as it goes. Many of them have left their homes,
+because, in the quaint but appropriate language of Mrs. Eastman,
+it was "step, step, from morning till night." But
+there are other and brighter pictures, of more extensive application,
+<i>perhaps</i>, than that already drawn.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Norwood had as large a farm as Mr. Eastman.
+His family was as large, yet the existence of the female<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+portion was paradisiacal, compared with that of Mrs. Eastman
+and her daughters. Their meals were prepared with
+the most perfect elegance and simplicity. Their table covers
+and their China were of the same dazzling whiteness. Their
+cutlery, from the unfrequency of its contact with acids, with
+a little care, wore a constant polish. Much prettier these,
+than the dark oiled-cloth cover and corresponding <i>et cetera</i> of
+table appendages, at Mr. Eastman's. Mrs. Norwood and
+her daughters carried <i>system</i> into every department of labour.
+While one was preparing breakfast, another put things in
+nice order all about the house, and another was occupied in
+the dairy.</p>
+
+<p>Very different was it at Mr. Eastman's. Deborah must
+get potatoes, and set Mary to washing them, while she made
+bread. Mrs. Eastman must cut brown bread, and send Deborah
+for butter, little Sally for sauce, and Susan for pickles.
+One must cut the meat and set it to cook; then it was "Mary,
+have you seen to that meat? I expect it wants turning. Sally,
+run and salt this side, before she turns it." And then, in a
+few moments, "Debby, do look to that meat. I believe that it
+is all burning up. How do them cakes bake? look, Sally.
+My goodness! all burnt to a cinder, nearly. Debby, why
+didn't you see to them?"</p>
+
+<p>"La, mother! I thought Mary was about the lot, somewhere.
+Where is she, I wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the other room, reading, I think likely. Oh! I forgot:
+I sent her after some coffee to burn."</p>
+
+<p>"What! going to burn coffee now? We sha'nt have
+breakfast to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"You fuss, Debby. We can burn enough for breakfast
+in five minutes. I meant to have had a lot burned yesterday;
+but we had so much to do. There, Debby, you see to the
+potatoes. I wonder what we are going to have for dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't begin to talk about dinner yet, for pity's sake,"
+said Deborah. "Sally, you ha'nt got the milk for the coffee.
+Susan, go and sound for the men folks: breakfast will be
+ready by the time they get here. Mary, put the pepper, vinegar,
+and salt on the table, if you can make room for them."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and Debby, you go and get one of them large
+pumpkin pies," said Mrs. Eastman. "And Sally, put the
+chairs round the table; the men folks are coming upon the
+run."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother! I am so glad you are going to have pie!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+I do love it <i>so</i> well," said Susan, seating herself at the table,
+without waiting for her parents.</p>
+
+<p>Such a <i>rush!</i> such a clatter of knives, forks, plates,
+cups, and saucers! It "realized the phrase of &mdash;&mdash;," and
+was absolutely appalling to common nerves.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast came the making of beds and sweeping,
+baking and boiling for dinner, making and turning cheese,
+and so on, until noon. Occasional bits of leisure were <i>seized</i>
+in the afternoon, for sewing and knitting that must be done,
+and for visiting.</p>
+
+<p>The situation of such families is most unpleasant, but it is
+not irremediable. Order may be established and preserved in
+the entire household economy. They may restrict themselves
+to a simpler system of dietetics. With the money and time
+thus saved, they may purchase books, subscribe for good
+periodicals, and find ample leisure to read them. Thus their
+intellects will be expanded and invigorated. They will have
+opportunities for social intercourse, for the cultivation of
+friendships; and thus their affections will be exercised and
+warmed. Then, happy the destiny of the farmer, the farmer's
+wife, and the farmer's daughters.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">A. F. D.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A WEAVER'S REVERIE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a sunny day, and I left for a few moments the circumscribed
+spot which is my appointed place of labor, that
+I might look from an adjoining window upon the bright loveliness
+of nature. Yes, it was a sunny day; but for many
+days before, the sky had been veiled in gloomy clouds; and
+joyous indeed was it to look up into that blue vault, and see
+it unobscured by its sombre screen; and my heart fluttered,
+like a prisoned bird, with its painful longings for an unchecked
+flight amidst the beautiful creation around me.</p>
+
+<p>Why is it, said a friend to me one day, that the factory
+girls write so much about the beauties of nature?</p>
+
+<p>Oh! why is it, (thought I, when the query afterwards
+recurred to me,) why is it that visions of thrilling loveliness
+so often bless the sightless orbs of those whose eyes have
+once been blessed with the power of vision?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Why is it that the delirious dreams of the famine-stricken,
+are of tables loaded with the richest viands, or groves, whose
+pendent boughs droop with their delicious burdens of luscious
+fruit?</p>
+
+<p>Why is it that haunting tones of sweetest melody come
+to us in the deep stillness of midnight, when the thousand
+tongues of man and nature are for a season mute?</p>
+
+<p>Why is it that the desert-traveller looks forward upon the
+burning boundless waste, and sees pictured before his aching
+eyes, some verdant oasis, with its murmuring streams, its
+gushing founts, and shadowy groves&mdash;but as he presses on
+with faltering step, the bright <i>mirage</i> recedes, until he lies
+down to die of weariness upon the scorching sands, with that
+isle of loveliness before him?</p>
+
+<p>Oh tell me why is this, and I will tell why the factory girl
+sits in the hour of meditation, and thinks&mdash;not of the crowded
+clattering mill, nor of the noisy tenement which is her home,
+nor of the thronged and busy street which she may sometimes
+tread,&mdash;but of the still and lovely scenes which, in bygone
+hours, have sent their pure and elevating influence with
+a thrilling sweep across the strings of the spirit-harp, and then
+awaken its sweetest, loftiest notes; and ever as she sits in
+silence and seclusion, endeavoring to draw from that many-toned
+instrument a strain which may be meet for another's
+ear, that music comes to the eager listener like the sound
+with which the sea-shell echoes the roar of what was once
+its watery home. All her best and holiest thoughts are linked
+with those bright pictures which call them forth, and when
+she would embody them for the instruction of others, she does
+it by a delineation of those scenes which have quickened and
+purified her own mind.</p>
+
+<p>It was this love of nature's beauties, and a yearning for
+the pure hallowed feelings which those beauties had been
+wont to call up from their hidden springs in the depths of the
+soul, to bear away upon their swelling tide the corruption
+which had gathered, and I feared might settle there,&mdash;it was
+this love, and longing, and fear, which made my heart throb
+quickly, as I sent forth a momentary glance from the factory
+window.</p>
+
+<p>I think I said there was a cloudless sky; but it was not so.
+It was clear, and soft, and its beauteous hue was of "the
+hyacinth's deep blue"&mdash;but there was one bright solitary
+cloud, far up in the cerulean vault; and I wished that it might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+for once be in my power to lie down upon that white, fleecy
+couch, and there, away and alone, to dream of all things
+holy, calm, and beautiful. Methought that better feelings,
+and clearer thoughts than are often wont to visit me, would
+there take undisturbed possession of my soul.</p>
+
+<p>And might I not be there, and send my unobstructed glance
+into the depths of ether above me, and forget for a little
+while that I had ever been a foolish, wayward, guilty child
+of earth? Could I not then cast aside the burden of error
+and sin which must ever depress me here, and with the maturity
+of womanhood, feel also the innocence of infancy?
+And with that sense of purity and perfection, there would
+necessarily be mingled a feeling of sweet uncloying bliss&mdash;such
+as imagination may conceive, but which seldom pervades
+and sanctifies the earthly heart. Might I not look down from
+my aerial position, and view this little world, and its hills,
+valleys, plains, and streamlets, and its thousands of busy inhabitants,
+and see how puerile and unsatisfactory it would
+look to one so totally disconnected from it? Yes, there, upon
+that soft snowy cloud could I sit, and gaze upon my native
+earth, and feel how empty and "vain are all things here
+below."</p>
+
+<p>But not motionless would I stay upon that aerial couch.
+I would call upon the breezes to waft me away over the broad
+blue ocean, and with nought but the clear bright ether above
+me, have nought but a boundless, sparkling, watery expanse
+below me. Then I would look down upon the vessels pursuing
+their different courses across the bright waters; and as
+I watched their toilsome progress, I should feel how blessed
+a thing it is to be where no impediment of wind or wave
+might obstruct my onward way.</p>
+
+<p>But when the beams of a midday sun had ceased to flash
+from the foaming sea, I should wish my cloud to bear away
+to the western sky, and divesting itself of its snowy whiteness,
+stand there, arrayed in the brilliant hues of the setting
+sun. Yes, well should I love to be stationed there, and see it
+catch those parting rays, and, transforming them to dyes of
+purple and crimson, shine forth in its evening vestment,
+with a border of brightest gold. Then could I watch the
+king of day as he sinks into his watery bed, leaving behind
+a line of crimson light to mark the path which led him to his
+place of rest.</p>
+
+<p>Yet once, O only once, should I love to have that cloud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+pass on&mdash;on&mdash;on among the myriads of stars; and leaving
+them all behind, go far away into the empty void of space
+beyond. I should love, for once, to be <i>alone</i>. Alone! where
+<i>could</i> I be alone? But I would fain be where there is no
+other, save the <span class="smcap">Invisible</span>, and there, where not even one
+distant star should send its feeble rays to tell of a universe
+beyond, there would I rest upon that soft light cloud, and
+with a fathomless depth below me, and a measureless waste
+above and around me, there would I&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Your looms are going without filling," said a loud voice
+at my elbow; so I ran as fast as possible and changed my
+shuttles.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Ella.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>OUR DUTY TO STRANGERS.</h2>
+
+<div class="center">"Deal gently with the stranger's heart."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Mrs. Hemans.</span></div>
+
+
+<p>The factory girl has trials, as every one of the class can
+testify. It was hard for thee to leave</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Thy hearth, thy home, thy vintage land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voices of thy hindred band,"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>was it not, my sister? Yes, there was a burden at your
+heart as you turned away from father, mother, sister, and
+brother, to meet the cold glance of strange stage-companions.
+There was the mournfulness of the funeral dirge and knell,
+in the crack of the driver's whip, and in the rattling of the
+coach-wheels. And when the last familiar object receded
+from your fixed gaze, there was a sense of utter desolation
+at your heart. There was a half-formed wish that you could
+lie down on your own bed, and die, rather than encounter the
+new trials before you.</p>
+
+<p>Home may be a capacious farm-house, or a lowly cottage,
+it matters not. It is <i>home</i>. It is the spot around which the
+dearest affections and hopes of the heart cluster and rest.
+When we turn away, a thousand tendrils are broken, and
+they bleed.&mdash;Lovelier scenes <i>might</i> open before us, but that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+only "the loved are lovely." Yet until new interests are
+awakened, and new loves adopted, there is a constant
+heaviness of heart, more oppressive than can be imagined by
+those who have never felt it.</p>
+
+<p>The "kindred band" may be made up of the intelligent
+and elegant, or of the illiterate and vulgar; it matters not.
+Our hearts yearn for their companionship. We would rejoice
+with them in health, or watch over them in sickness.</p>
+
+<p>In all seasons of trial, whether from sickness, fatigue,
+unkindness, or <i>ennui</i>, there is one bright <i>oasis</i>. It is</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;&mdash;"the hope of return to the mother, whose smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could dissipate sadness and sorrow beguile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the father, whose glance we've exultingly met&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And no meed half so proud hath awaited us yet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the sister whose tenderness, breathing a charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No distance could lessen, no danger disarm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the friends, whose remembrances time cannot chill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whose home in the heart not the stranger can fill."<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>This hope is invaluable; for it,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i4">"like the ivy round the oak,</span><br />
+Clings closer in the storm."
+</div>
+
+<p>Alas! that there are those to whom this hope comes not!
+those whose affections go out, like Noah's dove, in search of
+a resting place; and return without the olive-leaf.</p>
+
+<p>"Death is in the world," and it has made hundreds of our
+factory girls orphans. Misfortunes are abroad, and they have
+left as many destitute of homes. This is a melancholy fact,
+and one that calls loudly for the sympathy and kind offices
+of the more fortunate of the class. It is not a light thing to
+be alone in the world. It is not a light thing to meet only
+neglect and selfishness, when one longs for disinterestedness
+and love. Oh, then, let us</p>
+
+<div class="center">"Deal gently with the stranger's heart,"</div>
+
+<p>especially if the stranger be a destitute orphan. Her garb
+may be homely, and her manners awkward; but we will take
+her to our heart, and call her sister. Some glaring faults
+may be hers; but we will remember "who it is that maketh
+us to differ," and if possible, by our kindness and forbearance,
+win her to virtue and peace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There are many reasons why we should do this. It is a
+part of "pure and undefiled religion" to "visit the fatherless
+in their afflictions." And "mercy is twice blest; blest
+in him that gives, and him that takes." In the beautiful
+language of the simple Scotch girl, "When the hour o'
+trouble comes, that comes to mind and body, and when the
+hour o' death comes, that comes to high and low, oh, my
+leddy, then it is na' what we ha' done for ourselves, but
+what we ha' done for others, that we think on maist pleasantly."</p>
+
+<div class="signature">E.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ELDER ISAAC TOWNSEND.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Elder Townsend was a truly meek and pious man. He
+was not what is called <i>learned</i>, being bred a farmer, and never
+having had an opportunity of attending school but very little&mdash;for
+school privileges were very limited when Elder Townsend
+was young. His chief knowledge was what he had
+acquired by studying the Bible (which had been his constant
+companion from early childhood,) and a study of human
+nature, as he had seen it exemplified in the lives of those with
+whom he held intercourse.</p>
+
+<p>Although a Gospel preacher for more than forty years, he
+never received a salary. He owned a farm of some forty
+acres, which he cultivated himself; and when, by reason of
+ill health, or from having to attend to pastoral duties, his
+farming-work was not so forward as that of his neighbors,
+he would ask his parishioners to assist him for a day,
+or a half-day, according to his necessities. As this was
+the only pay he ever asked for his continuous labors with
+them, he never received a denial, and a pittance so trifling
+could not be given grudgingly. The days which were spent
+on Elder Townsend's farm were not considered by his parishioners
+as days of toil, but as holydays, from whose recreations
+they were sure to return home richly laden with the
+blessings of their good pastor.</p>
+
+<p>The sermons of Elder T. were always <i>extempore</i>; and if
+they were not always delivered with the elocution of an orator,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+they were truly excellent, inasmuch as they consisted principally
+of passages of Scripture, judiciously selected, and well
+connected.</p>
+
+<p>The Elder's intimate knowledge of his flock, and their
+habits and propensities, their joys and their sorrows, together
+with his thorough acquaintance with the Scriptures, enabled
+him to be ever in readiness to give reproof or consolation (as
+need might be,) in the language of Holy Writ. His reproofs
+were received with meekness, and the recipients would resolve
+to profit thereby; and when he offered the cup of consolation,
+it was received with gratitude by those who stood
+in need of its healing influences. But when he dwelt on the
+loving-kindness of our God, all hearts would rejoice and be
+glad. Often, while listening to his preaching, have I sat
+with eyes intently gazing on the speaker, until I fancied myself
+transported back to the days of the "beloved disciple,"
+and on the Isle of Patmos was hearing him say, "My little
+children, love one another."</p>
+
+<p>When I last saw Elder Townsend, his head was white
+with the frosts of more than seventy winters. It is many
+years since. I presume, ere this, he sleeps beneath the turf
+on the hill-side, and is remembered among the worthies of
+the olden time.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">B. N.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>HARRIET GREENOUGH.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<div class="center">
+"The day is come I never thought to see,<br />
+Strange revolutions in my farm and me."
+</div>
+
+<div class="signature2"><span class="smcap">Dryden's Virgil.</span></div>
+
+<p>Harriet Greenough had always been thought a spoiled
+child, when she left home for Newburyport. Her father was
+of the almost obsolete class of farmers, whose gods are their
+farms, and whose creed&mdash;"Farmers are the most independent
+folks in the world." This latter was none the less absolute
+in its power over Mr. Greenough, from its being entirely
+traditionary. He often repeated a vow made in early life,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+that he would never wear other than "homespun" cloth.
+When asked his reasons, he invariably answered, "Because
+I won't depend on others for what I can furnish myself.
+Farmers are the most independent class of men; and I mean
+to be the most independent of farmers."&mdash;If for a moment
+he felt humbled by the presence of a genteel well-educated
+man, it was only for a moment. He had only to recollect
+that farmers are the most independent class of people, and
+his head resumed its wonted elevation, his manner and tone
+their usual swaggering impudence.</p>
+
+<p>While at school he studied nothing but reading, spelling,
+arithmetic, and writing. Latterly, his reading had been
+restricted to a chapter in the Bible per day, and an occasional
+examination of the almanac. He did not read his Bible from
+devotional feeling&mdash;for he had none; but that he might puzzle
+the "book men" of the village with questions like the
+following:&mdash;"Now I should like to have you tell me one
+thing: How <i>could</i> Moses write an account of his own death
+and burial? Can you just tell me where Cain and Abel
+found their wives? What verse is there in the Bible that
+has but two words in it? Who was the father of Zebedee's
+children? How many chapters has the New Testament?&mdash;How
+many verses, and how many words?" Inability or
+disinclination to answer any and all of these, made the subject
+of a day's laughter and triumph.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing was so appalling to him as innovations on old
+customs and opinions. "These notions, that the earth turns
+round, and the sun stands still; that shooting stars are nothing
+but little meteors, I think they call them, are turning the
+heads of our young folks," he was accustomed to say to
+Mr. Curtis, the principal of the village academy, every time
+they met. "And then these new-fangled books, filled with
+jaw-cracking words and falsehoods, chemistry, philosophy,
+and so on&mdash;why, I wonder if they ever made any man a better
+farmer, or helped a woman to make better butter and cheese?
+Now, Mr. Curtis, it is <i>my</i> opinion that young folks had better
+read their Bibles more. Now I'll warrant that not one in
+ten can tell how many chapters there are in it. My father
+knew from the time he was eight till he was eighty. Can
+<i>you</i> tell, Mr. Curtis?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis smiled a negative; and Mr. Greenough went
+laughing about all day. Indeed, for a week, the first thing
+that came after his blunt salutation, was a loud laugh; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+in answer to consequent inquiries came the recital of his victory
+over "the great Mr. Curtis." He would not listen a
+moment to arguments in favor of sending Harriet to the academy,
+or of employing any other teachers in his district than
+old Master Smith, and Miss Heath, a superanuated spinster.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Greenough was a mild creature, passionless and gentle
+in her nature as a lamb. She acquiesced in all of her
+husband's measures, whether from having no opinions of her
+own, or from a deep and quiet sense of duty and propriety,
+no one knew. Harriet was their pet. As rosy, laughing,
+and healthy as a Hebe, she flew from sport to sport all the
+day long. Her mother attempted, at first, to check her
+romping propensity; but it delighted her father, and he took
+every opportunity to strengthen and confirm it. He was never
+so happy as when watching her swift and eager pursuit of a
+butterfly; never so lavish of his praises and caresses as when
+she succeeded in capturing one, and all breathless with the
+chase, bore her prize to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Do stay in the house with poor ma, to-day, darling; she
+is very lonely," her mother would say to her, as she put
+back the curls from the beautiful face of her child, and kissed
+her cheek. One day a tear was in her eye and a sadness at
+her heart; for she had been thinking of the early childhood
+of her Harriet, when she turned from father, little brother,
+playthings and all, for her. Harriet seemed to understand
+her feelings; for instead of answering her with a spring and
+laugh as usual, she sat quietly down at her feet, and laid her
+head on her lap. Mr. Greenough came in at this moment.</p>
+
+<p>"How? What does this mean, wife and Hatty?" said
+he.&mdash;"Playing the baby, Hat? Wife, this won't do. Harriet
+has your beauty; and to this I have no objections, if she
+has my spirits and independence. Come, Hatty; we want
+you to help us make hay to-day; and there are lots of butterflies
+and grasshoppers for you to catch. Come," he added;
+for the child still kept her eyes on her mother's face, as if
+undecided whether to go or stay. "Come, get your bonnet&mdash;no;
+you may go without it. You look too much like a
+village girl. You must get more tan."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I go, ma?" Harriet asked, still clinging to her
+mother's dress.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, if pa wishes it," answered Mrs. Greenough
+with a strong effort to speak cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>She went, and from that hour Mrs. Greenough passively<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+allowed her to follow her father and his laborers as she pleased;
+to rake hay, ride in the cart, husk corn, hunt hen's eggs,
+jump on the hay, play ball, prisoner, pitch quoits, throw dice,
+cut and saw wood, and, indeed, to run into every amusement
+which her active temperament demanded. She went to
+school when she pleased; but her father was constant in his
+hints that her spirits and independence were not to be destroyed
+by poring over books. She was generally left to do
+as she pleased, although she was often pleased to perpetrate
+deeds, for which her school-mates often asserted they would
+have been severely chastised. There was an expression of
+fun and good humor lurking about in the dimples of her fat
+cheeks and in her deep blue eye, that effectually shielded her
+from reproof. Master Smith had just been accused of partiality
+to her, and he walked into the school considerably
+taller than usual, all from his determination to punish Harriet
+before night. He was not long in detecting her in a rogueish
+act. He turned from her under the pretence of looking
+some urchins into silence, and said, with uncommon sternness
+and precision, "Harriet Greenough, walk out into the floor."
+Harriet jumped up, shook the hands of those who sat near
+her, nodded a farewell to others, and walked gaily up to the
+master. He dreaded meeting her eye; for he knew that his
+gravity would desert him in such a case. She took a position
+behind him, and in a moment the whole house was in an
+uproar of laughter. Master Smith turned swiftly about on
+his heel, and confronted the culprit. She only smiled and
+made him a most graceful courtesy. This was too much for
+his risibles. He laughed almost as heartily as his pupils.</p>
+
+<p>"Take your seat, you, he! he! you trollop, you, he!
+he! and I will settle with you by and bye," he said.</p>
+
+<p>She only thanked him, and then returned to her sport.</p>
+
+<p>So she passed on. When sixteen, she was a very child
+in everything but years and form. Her forehead was high
+and full, but a want of taste and care in the arrangement of
+her beautiful hair destroyed its effect. Her complexion was
+clear, but sunburnt. Her laugh was musical, but one missed
+that <i>tone</i> which distinguishes the laugh of a happy feeling
+girl of sixteen from that of a child of mere frolic. As to
+her form, no one knew what it was; for she was always putting
+herself into some strange but not really uncouth attitude;
+and besides, she could never <i>stop</i> to adjust her dress properly.</p>
+
+<p>Such was Harriet Greenough, when a cousin of hers paid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+them a visit on her return to the Newburyport mills. She
+was of Harriet's age; but one would have thought her ten
+years her senior, judging from her superior dignity and intelligence.
+Her father died when she was a mere child,
+after a protracted illness, which left them penniless. By
+means of untiring industry, and occasional gifts from her
+kind neighbors, Mrs. Wood succeeded in keeping her children
+at school, until her daughter was sixteen and her son
+fourteen. They then went together to Newburyport, under
+the care of a very amiable girl who had spent several years
+there. They worked a year, devoting a few hours every
+day to study; then returned home, and spent a year at
+school in their native village.</p>
+
+<p>They were now on their return to the mills. It was arranged
+that at the completion of the present year Charles
+should return to school, and remain there until fitted for the
+study of a profession, if Jane's health was spared that she
+might labor for his support.</p>
+
+<p>Jane was a gentle affectionate girl; and there was a new
+feeling at the heart of Harriet from the day in which she
+came under her influence. Before the week had half expired
+which Jane was to spend with them, Harriet, with
+characteristic decision, avowed her determination to accompany
+her. Her father and mother had opposed her will in
+but few instances. In these few she had laughed them into
+an easy compliance. In the present case she found her task
+a more difficult one. But they consented at last; and with
+her mother's tearful blessing, and an injunction from her
+father not to bear any insolence from her employers, but to
+remember always that she was the independent daughter of
+an independent farmer, she left her home.</p>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A year passed by, and our Harriet was a totally changed
+being, in intellect and deportment. Her cousins boarded in
+a small family, that they might have a better opportunity of
+pursuing their studies during their leisure hours. She was
+their constant companion. At first she did not open a book;
+and numberless were the roguish artifices she employed to
+divert the attention of her cousins from theirs. They often
+laid them aside for a lively chat with her; and then urged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+her to study with them. She loved them ardently. To her
+affection she at last yielded, and not to any anticipations of
+pleasure or profit in the results, for she had been <i>educated</i> to
+believe that there was none of either.</p>
+
+<p>Charles had been studying Latin and mathematics; Jane,
+botany, geology, and geography of the heavens. She
+instructed Charles in these latter sciences; he initiated her
+as well as he might, into the mysteries of <i>hic, hæc, hoc</i>, and
+algebra. At times of recitation, Harriet sat and laughed at
+their "queer words." When she accompanied them in
+their search for flowers, she amused herself by bringing
+mullen, yarrow, and, in one instance, a huge sunflower.&mdash;When
+they had traced constellations, she repeated to them a
+satire on star-gazers, which she learned of her father.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>histories</i> of the constellations and flowers first arrested
+her attention, and kindled a romance which had hitherto
+lain dormant. A new light was in her eye from that hour,
+and a new charm in her whole deportment. She commenced
+study under very discouraging circumstances. Of this she
+was deeply sensible. She often shed a few tears as she
+thought of her utter ignorance, then dashed them off, and
+studied with renewed diligence and success. She studied
+two hours every morning before commencing labor and until
+half past eleven at night. She took her book and her dinner
+to the mill, that she might have the whole intermission for
+study. This short season, with the reflection she gave during
+the afternoon, was sufficient for the mastery of a hard lesson.
+She was close in her attendance at the sanctuary. She
+joined a Bible class; and the teachings there fell with a
+sanctifying influence on her spirit, subduing but not destroying
+its vivacity, and opening a new current to her thoughts
+and affections. Although tears of regret for misspent
+years often stole down her cheeks, she assured Jane that
+she was happier at the moment than in her hours of loudest
+mirth.</p>
+
+<p>Her letters to her friends had prepared them for a change,
+but not for <i>such</i> a change&mdash;so great and so happy. She
+was now a very beautiful girl, easy and graceful in her
+manners, soft and gentle in her conversation, and evidently
+conscious of her superiority, only to feel more humble, more
+grateful to Heaven, her dear cousins, her minister, her Sabbath
+school teacher, and other beloved friends, who by their
+kindness had opened such new and delightful springs of
+feeling in her heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She flung her arms around her mother's neck, and wept
+tears of gratitude and love. Mrs. Greenough felt that she
+was no longer alone in the world; and Mr. Greenough, as
+he watched them&mdash;the wife and the daughter&mdash;inwardly
+acknowledged that there was that in the world dearer to his
+heart than his farm and his independence.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst Harriet's baggage was a rough deal box. This
+was first opened. It contained her books, a few minerals
+and shells. There were fifty well-selected volumes, besides
+a package of gifts for her father, mother, and brother.&mdash;There
+was no book-case in the house; and the kitchen shelf
+was full of old almanacs, school books, sermons, and jest
+books. Mr. Greenough rode to the village, and returned
+with a rich secretary, capacious enough for books, minerals,
+and shells. He brought the intelligence, too, that a large
+party of students and others were to spend the evening with
+them. Harriet's heart beat quick, as she thought of young
+Curtis, and wondered if he was among the said students.&mdash;Before
+she left Bradford, struck with the beauty and simplicity
+of her appearance, he sought and obtained an introduction
+to her, but left her side, after sundry ineffectual
+attempts to draw her into conversation, disappointed and
+disgusted. He <i>was</i> among Harriet's visitors.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, Miss Curtis, what may be your opinion of our
+belle, Miss Greenough?" asked young Lane, on the following
+morning, as Mr. Curtis and his sister entered the hall of
+the academy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I think that her improvement has been astonishingly
+rapid during the past year; and that she is now a
+really charming girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Has she interfered with your heart, Lane?" asked his
+chum.</p>
+
+<p>"As to that, I do not feel entirely decided. I think I
+shall renew my call, however&mdash;nay, do not frown, Curtis; I
+was about to add, if it be only to taste her father's delicious
+melons, pears, plums, and apples."</p>
+
+<p>Curtis blushed slightly, bowed, and passed on to the
+school room. He soon proved that he cared much less for
+Mr. Greenough's fruit than for his daughter: for the fruit
+remained untasted if Harriet was at his side. He was never
+so happy as when Mr. Greenough announced his purpose of
+sending Harriet to the academy two or three years. Arrangements
+were made accordingly, and the week before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+Charles left home for college, she was duly installed in his
+father's family.</p>
+
+<p>She missed him much; but the loss of his society was
+partially counterbalanced by frequent and brotherly letters
+from him, and by weekly visits to her home, which by the
+way, is becoming quite a paradise under her supervision.&mdash;She
+has been studying painting and drawing. Several well-executed
+specimens of each adorn the walls and tables of
+their sitting-room and parlor. She has no "regular built"
+centre-table, but in lieu thereof she has removed from the
+garret an old round table that belonged to her grandmother.
+This she has placed in the centre of the sitting-room; and
+what with its very pretty covering (which falls so near the
+floor as to conceal its uncouth legs), and its books, it forms
+no mean item of elegance and convenience.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Greenough and his help have improved a few leisure
+days in removing the trees that entirely concealed the Merrimac.
+By the profits resulting from their sale, he has
+built a neat and tasteful enclosure for his house and garden.
+This autumn shade-trees and shrubbery are to be removed
+to the yard, and fruit-trees and vines to the garden. Next
+winter a summer-house is to be put in readiness for erection
+in the spring.</p>
+
+<p>All this, and much more, Mr. Greenough is confident he
+can accomplish, without neglecting his <i>necessary</i> labors, or
+the course of reading he has marked out, "by and with the
+advice" of his wife and Harriet. And more, and better
+still, he has decided that his son George shall attend school,
+at least two terms yearly. He will board at home, and will
+be accompanied by his cousin Charles, whom Mr. Greenough
+has offered to board gratis, until his education is completed.
+By this generosity on the part of her uncle, Jane
+will be enabled to defray other expenses incidental to
+Charles's education, and still have leisure for literary pursuits.</p>
+
+<p>Most truly might Mr. Greenough say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"The day is come I never thought to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strange revolutions in my farm and me."</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="signature">A.</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 115px;">
+<img src="images/illus-160.jpg" width="115" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+<h2>FANCY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Swiftly flies the shuttle now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swift as an arrow from the bow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But swifter than the thread is wrought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is soon the flight of busy thought;<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">For Fancy leaves the mill behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seeks some novel scenes to find.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now away she quickly hies&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er hill and dale the truant flies.<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">Stop, silly maid! where dost thou go?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy road may be a road of woe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some hand may crush thy fairy form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chill thy heart so lately warm.<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">"Oh no," she cries in merry tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I go to lands before unknown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I go in scenes of bliss to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where ne'er is heard a factory bell."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Away she went; and soon I saw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Fancy's wish was Fancy's law;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For where the leafless trees were seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fancy wished them to be green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her wish she scarcely had made known,<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">Before green leaves were on them grown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She spake&mdash;and there appear'd in view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright manly youths, and maidens, too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fancy called for music rare&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And music filled the ravished air.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And then the dances soon began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the mazes lightly ran<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The footsteps of the fair and gay&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this was Fancy's festal day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On, on they move, a lovely group!<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">Their faces beam with joy and hope;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dream they of a danger nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath their bright and sunny sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One of the fair ones is their queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span><span class="i0">For whom they raise a throne of green;<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">And Fancy weaves a garland now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To place upon the maiden's brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fragrant are the blooming flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her enchanted fairy-bowers.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Fancy now away may slip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the green-sward lightly skip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to her airy castle hie&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Fancy hath a castle nigh.<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">The festal board she quick prepares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every guest the bounty shares,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seated at the festal board,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their merry voices now are heard,<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">As each youth places to his lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the golden goblet sips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A draught of the enchanting wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That came from Fancy's fruitful vine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But hark! what sound salutes mine ear?<br /><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A distant rumbling now I hear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, Fancy! 'tis no groundless fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rushing whirlwind draweth near!<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">Thy castle walls are rocking fast,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glory of thy feast is past;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy guests are now beneath the wave,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oblivion is their early grave,<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">Thy fairy bower has vanished&mdash;fled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy leafy tree are withered&mdash;dead!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy lawn is now a barren heath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy bright-eyed maids are cold in death!<br /></span>
+
+<span class="i0">Those manly youth that were so gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have vanished in the self-same way!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh Fancy! now remain at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be content no more to roam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For visions such as thine are vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring but discontent and pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remember, in thy giddy whirl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That <i>I</i> am but a factory girl:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be content at home to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though governed by a "factory bell."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fiducia.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WIDOW'S SON.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Among the multitudes of females employed in our manufacturing
+establishments, persons are frequently to be met
+with, whose lives are interspersed with incidents of an interesting
+and even thrilling character. But seldom have I met
+with a person who has manifested so deep devotion, such
+uniform cheerfulness, and withal so determined a perseverance
+in the accomplishment of a cherished object, as Mrs.
+Jones.</p>
+
+<p>This inestimable lady was reared in the midst of affluence,
+and was early married to the object of her heart's affection.
+A son was given them, a sweet and lovely boy. With
+much joy they watched the development of his young mind,
+especially as he early manifested a deep devotional feeling,
+which was cultivated with the most assiduous attention.</p>
+
+<p>But happiness like this may not always continue. Reverses
+came. That faithful husband and affectionate father
+was laid on a bed of languishing. Still he trusted in God;
+and when he felt that the time of his departure approached,
+he raised his eyes, and exclaimed, "Holy Father! Thou
+hast promised to be the widow's God and judge, and a
+Father to the fatherless; into Thy care I commit my beloved
+wife and child. Keep Thou them from evil, as they
+travel life's uneven journey. May their service be acceptable
+in thy sight." He then quietly fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Bitter indeed were the tears shed over his grave by that
+lone widow and her orphan boy; yet they mourned not as
+those who mourn without hope. Instead of devoting her
+time to unavailing sorrow, Mrs. Jones turned her attention
+to the education of her son, who was then in his tenth year.
+Finding herself in reduced circumstances, she nobly resolved
+to support her family by her own exertions, and keep
+her son at school. With this object, she procured plain
+needle-work, by which, with much economy, she was enabled
+to live very comfortably, until Samuel had availed
+himself of all the advantages presented him by the common
+schools and high school. He was then ready to enter college&mdash;but
+how were the necessary funds to be raised to defray
+his expenses?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was not a new question to Mrs. Jones. She had
+pondered it long and deeply, and decided upon her course;
+yet she had not mentioned it to her son, lest it should divert
+his mind from his studies. But as the time now rapidly
+approached when she was to carry her plan into operation,
+she deemed it proper to acquaint Samuel with the whole
+scheme.</p>
+
+<p>As they were alone in their neat little parlor, she aroused
+him from a fit of abstraction, by saying, "Samuel, my dear
+son, before your father died we solemnly consecrated you to
+the service of the Lord; and that you might be the better
+prepared to labor in the gospel vineyard, your father designed
+to give you a liberal education. He was called home; yet
+through the goodness of our Heavenly Father, I have been
+enabled thus far to prosecute his plan. It is now time for
+you to enter college, and in order to raise the necessary
+funds, I have resolved to sell my little stock of property, and
+engage as an operative in a factory."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, neighbor Hall, an old-fashioned, good-natured
+sort of a man, entered very unceremoniously, and
+having heard the last sentence, replied: "Ah! widow, you
+know that I do not like the plan of bringing up our boys in
+idleness. But then Samuel is such a good boy, and so fond
+of reading, that I think it a vast pity if he cannot read all
+the books in the state. Yes, send him to college, widow;
+there he will have reading to his heart's content. You
+know there is a gratuity provided for the education of indigent
+and pious young men."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Jones, "I know it; but I am resolved
+that if my son ever obtains a place among the servants of
+the Prince of Peace, he shall stand forth unchained by the
+bondage of men, and nobly exert the energies of his mind
+as the Lord's freeman."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel, who had early been taught the most perfect
+obedience, now yielded reluctant consent to this measure.&mdash;Little
+time was requisite for arrangements; and having converted
+her little effects into cash, they who had never before
+been separated, now took an affectionate and sorrowful
+leave of each other, and departed&mdash;the one to the halls of
+learning, and the other to the power-looms.</p>
+
+<p>We shall now leave Samuel Jones, and accompany his
+mother to Dover. On her arrival, she assumed her maiden
+name, which I shall call Lucy Cambridge; and such was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+her simplicity and quietness of deportment, that she was
+never suspected of being other than she seemed. She readily
+obtained a situation in a weave-room, and by industry
+and close application, she quickly learned the grand secret
+of a successful weaver&mdash;namely, "Keep the filling running,
+and the web clear."</p>
+
+<p>The wages were not then reduced to the present low
+standard, and Lucy transmitted to her son, monthly, all,
+saving enough to supply her absolute necessities.</p>
+
+<p>As change is the order of the day in all manufacturing
+places, so, in the course of change, Lucy became my room-mate;
+and she whom I had before admired, secured my
+love and ardent friendship. Upon general topics she conversed
+freely; but of her history and kindred, never. Her
+respectful deportment was sufficient to protect her from
+the inquiries of curiosity; and thus she maintained her
+reserve until one evening when I found her sadly perusing a
+letter. I thought she had been weeping. All the sympathies
+of my nature were aroused, and throwing my arms
+around her neck, I exclaimed, "Dear Lucy, does your letter
+bring you bad news, or are any of your relatives"&mdash;&mdash;I
+hesitated and stopped; for, thought I, "perhaps she <i>has</i> no
+relatives. I have never heard her speak of any: she may
+be a lone orphan in the world." It was then she yielded
+to sympathy, what curiosity had never ventured to ask.
+From that time she continued to speak to me of her history
+and hopes. As I have selected names to suit myself, she
+has kindly permitted me to make an extract from her answer
+to that letter, which was as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"My Dear Son,&mdash;in your letter of the 16th, you entreat
+me to leave the mill, saying, 'I would rather be a scavenger,
+a wood-sawyer, or anything, whereby I might honestly
+procure a subsistence for my mother and myself, than have
+you thus toil, early and late. Mother, the very thought is
+intolerable! O come away&mdash;for dearly as I love knowledge,
+I cannot consent to receive it at the price of my mother's
+happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>"My son, it is true that factory life is a life of toil&mdash;but
+I am preparing the way for my only son to go forth as a
+herald of the cross, to preach repentance and salvation to
+those who are out of the way. I am promoting an object
+which was very near the heart of my dear husband. Wherefore
+I desire that you will not again think of pursuing any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+other course than the one already marked out for you; for
+you perceive that my agency in promoting your success,
+forms an important part of <i>my</i> happiness."</p>
+
+<p>Often have I seen her eyes sparkle with delight as she
+mentioned her son and his success. And after the labor and
+toil of attending "double work" during the week, very often
+have I seen her start with all the elasticity of youth, and go
+to the Post Office after a letter from Samuel. And seldom
+did she return without one, for he was ever thoughtful
+of his mother, who was spending her strength for him. And
+he knew very well that it was essential to her happiness to
+be well informed of his progress and welfare.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly three years had elapsed since Lucy Cambridge first
+entered the mill, when the stage stopped in front of her
+boarding house, and a young gentleman sprang out, and inquired
+if Miss Lucy Cambridge was in. Immediately they
+were clasped in each other's arms. This token of mutual
+affection created no small stir among the boarders. One declared,
+"she thought it very singular that such a pretty
+young man should fancy so old a girl as Lucy Cambridge."
+Another said, "she should as soon think that he would marry
+his mother."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Jones was tall, but of slender form. His hair,
+which was of the darkest brown, covered an unusually fine
+head. His eyes, of a clear dark grey, beaming with piety
+and intelligence, shed a lustre over his whole countenance,
+which was greatly heightened by being overshadowed by a
+deep, broad forehead.</p>
+
+<p>He visited his mother at this time, to endeavor to persuade
+her to leave the mill, and spend her time in some less laborious
+occupation. He assured her that he had saved enough
+from the stock she had already sent him, to complete his education.
+But she had resolved to continue in her present
+occupation, until her son should have a prospect of a permanent
+residence; and he departed alone.</p>
+
+<p>Intelligence was soon conveyed to Lucy that a young
+student had preached occasionally, and that his labors had
+been abundantly blessed. And ere the completion of another
+year, Samuel Jones went forth a licentiate, to preach the
+everlasting gospel.</p>
+
+<p>I will not attempt to describe the transports of that widowed
+heart, when she received the joyful tidings that her
+son had received a unanimous call to take the pastoral charge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+of a small but well-united society in the western part of
+Ohio, and only waited for her to accompany him thither.</p>
+
+<p>Speedily she prepared to leave a place which she really
+loved; "for," said she, "have I not been blessed with
+health and strength to perform a great and noble work in
+this place?"</p>
+
+<p>Ay, undoubtedly thou hast performed a blessed work;
+and now, go forth, and in the heartfelt satisfaction that thou
+hast performed thy duty, reap the rich reward of all thy
+labors.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Jones and his mother have departed for the scene
+of their future labors, with their hearts filled with gratitude
+to God, and an humble desire to be of service in winning
+many souls to the flock of our Savior and Lord.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Orianna.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>WITCHCRAFT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It may not, perhaps, be generally known that a belief in
+witchcraft still prevails, to a great extent, in some parts of
+New England. Whether this is owing to the effect of early
+impressions on the mind, or to some defect in the physical
+organization of the human system, is not for me to say; my
+present purpose being only to relate, in as concise a manner
+as may be, some few things which have transpired within a
+quarter of a century; all of which happened in the immediate
+neighborhood of my early home, and among people with
+whom I was well acquainted.</p>
+
+<p>My only apology for so doing is, that I feel desirous to
+transmit to posterity, something which may give them an
+idea of the superstition of the present age&mdash;hoping that when
+they look back upon its dark page, they will feel a spirit of
+thankfulness that they live in more enlightened times, and
+continue the work of mental illumination, till the mists of
+error entirely vanish before the light of all-conquering truth.</p>
+
+<p>In a little glen between the mountains, in the township of
+B., stands a cottage, which, almost from time immemorial,
+has been noted as the residence of some one of those ill-fated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+beings, who are said to take delight in sending their spirits
+abroad to torment the children of men. These beings, it is
+said, purchase their art of his satanic majesty&mdash;the price,
+their immortal souls, and when Satan calls for his due, the
+mantle of the witch is transferred to another mortal, who,
+for the sake of exercising the art for a brief space of time,
+makes over the soul to perdition.</p>
+
+<p>The mother of the present occupant of this cottage lived
+to a very advanced age; and for a long series of years, all
+the mishaps within many miles were laid to her spiritual
+agency; and many were the expedients resorted to to rid
+the neighborhood of so great a pest. But the old woman,
+spite of all exertions to the contrary, lived on, till she died of
+sheer old age.</p>
+
+<p>It was some little time before it was ascertained who inherited
+her mantle; but at length it was believed to be a
+fact that her daughter Molly was duly authorized to exercise
+all the prerogatives of a witch; and so firmly was this belief
+established, that it even gained credence with her youngest
+brother; and after she was married, and had removed to a
+distant part of the country, a calf of his, that had some
+strange actions, was pronounced by the <i>knowing ones</i>, to be
+bewitched; and this inhuman monster chained his calf in the
+fire place of his cooper-shop, and burned it to death&mdash;hoping
+thereby to kill his sister, whose spirit was supposed to be in
+the body of the calf.</p>
+
+<p>For several years it went current that Molly fell into the
+fire, and was burned to death, at the same time in which the
+calf was burned. But she at length refuted this, by making
+her brother a visit, and spending some little time in the
+neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>Some nineteen or twenty years since, two men, with
+whom I was well acquainted, had an action pending in the
+Superior Court, and it was supposed that the testimony of
+the widow Goodwin in favor of the plaintiff, would bear hard
+upon the defendant. A short time previous to the sitting of
+the court, a man by the name of James Doe, offered himself
+as an evidence for the defendant to destroy the testimony of
+the widow Goodwin, by defaming her character. Doe said
+that he was willing to testify that the widow Goodwin was
+a witch&mdash;he knew it to be a fact; for, once on a time she
+came to his bed-side, and flung a bridle over his head, and
+he was instantly metamorphosed into a horse. The widow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+then mounted and rode him nearly forty miles; she stopped
+at a tavern, which he named, dismounted, tied him to the
+sign-post and left him. After an absence of several hours,
+she returned, mounted, and rode him home; and at the bed-side
+took off the bridle, when he resumed his natural form.</p>
+
+<p>No one acquainted with Doe thought that he meant to deviate
+from the truth. Those naturally superstitious thought
+that the widow Goodwin was in reality a witch; but the
+more enlightened believed that their neighbor Doe was under
+the influence of spirituous liquor when he went to bed;
+and that whatever might be the scene presented to his imagination,
+it was owing to false vision, occasioned by derangement
+in his upper story; and they really felt a sympathy
+for him, knowing that he belonged to a family who
+were subject to mental aberration.</p>
+
+<p>A scene which I witnessed in part, in the autumn of 1822,
+shall close my chapter on witchcraft. It was between the
+hours of nine and ten in the morning, that a stout-built, ruddy-faced
+man confined one of his cows, by means of bows
+and iron chains, to an apple-tree and then beat her till she
+dropped dead&mdash;saying that the cow was bewitched, and that
+he was determined to kill the witch. His mother, and some
+of the neighbors witnessed this cruel act without opposing
+him, so infatuated were they with a belief in witchcraft.</p>
+
+<p>I might enlarge upon this scene, but the recollection of
+what then took place recalls so many disagreeable sensations,
+that I forbear. Let it suffice to state that the cow
+was suffering in consequence of having eaten a large quantity
+of potatoes from a heap that was exposed in the field
+where she was grazing.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Tabitha.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 280px;">
+<img src="images/illus-169.jpg" width="280" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CLEANING UP.</h2>
+
+
+<p>There is something to me very interesting in observing
+the manifestations of animal instinct&mdash;that unerring prompter
+which guides its willing disciple into the ever straight
+path, and shows him, with unfailing sagacity, the easiest and
+most correct method of accomplishing each necessary design.</p>
+
+<p>But to enter here, upon a philosophical dissertation, respecting
+the nature and developments of instinct, is not my
+design, and I will now detain you with but one or two instances
+of it, which have fallen under my own observation.</p>
+
+<p>One warm day in the early spring, I observed a spider,
+very busily engaged upon a dirty old web, which had for
+a long time, curtained a pane of my factory window. Where
+Madame Arachne had kept herself during the winter, was
+not in my power to ascertain; but she was in a very good
+condition, plump, spry, and full of energy. The activity of
+her movements awakened my curiosity, and I watched with
+much interest the commotion in the old dwelling, or rather
+slaughter house, for I doubted not that many a green head
+and blue bottle had there met an untimely end.</p>
+
+<p>I soon found that madam was very laboriously engaged in
+that very necessary part of household exercises, called,
+<span class="smcap">cleaning up</span>; and she had chosen precisely the season for
+her labors which all good housewives have by common
+consent appropriated to paint-cleaning, white-washing, &amp;c.
+With much labor, and a prodigal expenditure of steps, she
+removed, one by one, the tiny bits of dirt, sand &amp;c., &amp;c.,
+which had accumulated in this net during the winter; but it
+was not done, as I at first thought, by pushing and poking,
+and thrusting the intruders out, but by gradually destroying
+their <i>location</i>, as a western emigrant would say.&mdash;Whether
+this was done, as I at one time imagined, by devouring the
+fibre as she passed over it, or by winding it around some
+under part of her body, or whether she left it at the centre
+of the web, to which point she invariably returned after
+every peregrination to the outskirts, I could not satisfy myself.
+It was to me a cause of great marvel, and awakened
+my perceptive as well as reflective faculties from a long winter
+nap.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>To the first theory there was no objection, excepting that
+I had never heard of its being done; but then it might be so,
+and in this case I had discovered what had escaped the observation
+of all preceding naturalists. To the second there
+was this objection, that when I occasionally caught a front
+view of "my lady," she showed no distaff, upon which she
+might have re-wound her unravelled thread. The third
+suggestion was also objectionable, because, though the centre
+looked somewhat thicker, or I surmised that it did, yet it
+was not so much so as it must have been, had it been the
+depot of the whole concern.</p>
+
+<p>Of one thing I was at length assured&mdash;that there was to
+be an entire demolition of the whole fabric, with the exception
+of the main beams, (or sleepers, I think is the technical
+term,) which remained as usual, when all else had been removed.
+Then I went away for the night, and when I returned
+the next morning, expecting to behold a blank&mdash;a
+void, an evacuation of premises&mdash;a removal&mdash;a disappearance&mdash;a
+destruction most complete, without even a wreck
+left behind&mdash;lo! there was again the rebuilt mansion&mdash;the
+restored fabric, the reversed Penelopian labor: and madam
+was rejoicing like the patient man of Uz, when more than
+he had lost was restored to him.</p>
+
+<p>My feelings, (for I have a large bump of sympathy) were
+of that pleasurable kind which Jack must have experienced,
+when he saw the castle, which in a single night had established
+itself on the top of his bean-pole; or which enlivened
+the bosom of Aladdin, when he saw the beautiful palace,
+which in a night had travelled from the genii's dominions
+to the waste field, which it then beautified; and I felt
+truly rejoiced that my industrious neighbor's works of darkness
+were not always deeds of evil. But alack for the poor
+<i>spinster</i>, when it came <i>my</i> turn to be <i>cleaning up</i>!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<img src="images/illus-171.jpg" width="248" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+<h2>VISITS TO THE SHAKERS.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>A FIRST VISIT.</h3>
+
+<p>Sometime in the summer of 18&mdash;, I paid a visit to one of
+the Shaker villages in the State of New York. Previously
+to this, many times and oft had I (when tired of the noise
+and contention of the world, its erroneous opinions, and its
+wrong practices) longed for some retreat, where, with a few
+chosen friends, I could enjoy the present, forget the past,
+and be free from all anxiety respecting any future portion of
+time. And often had I pictured, in imagination, a state of
+happy society, where one common interest prevailed&mdash;where
+kindness and brotherly love were manifested in all of the
+every-day affairs of life&mdash;where liberty and equality would
+live, not in name, but in very deed&mdash;where idleness, in no
+shape whatever, would be tolerated&mdash;and where vice of every
+description would be banished, and neatness, with order,
+would be manifested in all things.</p>
+
+<p>Actually to witness such a state of society was a happiness
+which I never expected. I thought it to be only a
+thing among the airy castles which it has ever been my delight
+to build. But with this unostentatious and truly kind-hearted
+people, the Shakers, I found it; and the reality,
+in beauty and harmony, exceeded even the picturings of
+imagination.</p>
+
+<p>No unprejudiced mind could, for a single moment, resist
+the conviction that this singular people, with regard to their
+worldly possessions, lived in strict conformity to the teachings
+of Jesus of Nazareth. There were men in this society
+who had added to the common stock thousands and tens of
+thousands of dollars; they nevertheless labored, dressed, and
+esteemed themselves as no better, and fared in all respects
+like those who had never owned, neither added to the society,
+any worldly goods whatever. The cheerfulness with
+which they bore one another's burdens made even the
+temporal calamities, so unavoidable among the inhabitants of
+the earth, to be felt but lightly.</p>
+
+<p>This society numbered something like six hundred persons,
+who in many respects were differently educated, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+who were of course in possession of a variety of prejudices,
+and were of contrary dispositions and habits. Conversing
+with one of their elders respecting them, he said, "You
+may say that these were rude materials of which to compose
+a church, and speak truly: but here (though strange it may
+seem) they are worked into a building, with no sound of axe
+or hammer. And however discordant they were in a state
+of nature, the square and the plumb-line have been applied
+to them, and they now admirably fit the places which they
+were designed to fill. Here the idle become industrious,
+the prodigal contracts habits of frugality, the parsimonious
+become generous and liberal, the intemperate quit the tavern
+and the grog-shop, the debauchee forsakes the haunts of
+dissipation and infamy, the swearer leaves off the habits of
+profanity, the liar is changed into a person of truth, the
+thief becomes an honest man, and the sloven becomes neat
+and clean."</p>
+
+<p>The whole deportment of this truly singular people,
+together with the order and neatness which I witnessed in
+their houses, shops, and gardens, to all of which I had free
+access for the five days which I remained with them, together
+with the conversations which I held with many of the
+people of both sexes, confirmed the words of the Elder.&mdash;Truly,
+thought I, there is not another spot in the wide earth
+where I could be so happy as I could be here, provided the
+religious faith and devotional exercises of the Shakers were
+agreeable to my own views. Although I could not see the
+utility of their manner of worship, I felt not at all disposed
+to question that it answered the end for which spiritual worship
+was designed, and as such is accepted by our heavenly
+Father. That the Shakers have a love for the Gospel exceeding
+that which is exhibited by professing Christians in
+general, cannot be doubted by any one who is acquainted
+with them. For on no other principle could large families,
+to the number of fifty or sixty, live together like brethren
+and sisters. And a number of these families could not, on
+any other principles save those of the Gospel, form a society,
+and live in peace and harmony, bound together by no other
+bond than that of brotherly love, and take of each other's
+property, from day to day and from year to year, using it
+indiscriminately, as every one hath need, each willing that
+his brother should use his property, as he uses it himself,
+and all this without an equivalent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Many think that a united interest in all things temporal is
+contrary to reason. But in what other light, save that of
+common and united interest, could the words of Christ's
+prophecy or promise be fulfilled? According to the testimony
+of Mark, Christ said, "There is no man who hath
+left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or
+wife, or children, or lands, for my sake and the Gospel's,
+but he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses,
+and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and
+lands, with persecutions, and in the world to come eternal
+life." Not only in fact, but in theory, is an hundredfold of
+private interest out of the question. For a believer who
+forsook all things could not possess an hundredfold of all
+things only on the principle in which he could possess <i>all
+that</i> which his brethren possessed, while they also possessed
+the same in an united capacity.</p>
+
+<p>In whatever light it may appear to others, to me it appears
+beautiful indeed, to see a just and an impartial equality
+reign, so that the rich and the poor may share an equal
+privilege, and have all their wants supplied. That the
+Shakers are in reality what they profess to be, I doubt not.
+Neither do I doubt that many, very many lessons of wisdom
+might be learned of them, by those who profess to be wiser.
+And to all who wish to know if "any good thing can come
+out of Nazareth," I would say, you had better "go and
+see."</p>
+
+
+<h3>A SECOND VISIT.</h3>
+
+<p>I was so well pleased with the appearance of the
+Shakers, and the prospect of quietness and happiness among
+them, that I visited them a second time. I went with a determination
+to ascertain as much as I possibly could of their
+forms and customs of worship, the every-day duties devolving
+on the members, &amp;c.; and having enjoyed excellent
+opportunities for acquiring the desired information, I wish to
+present a brief account of what "I verily do know" in relation
+to several particulars.</p>
+
+<p>First of all, justice will not permit me to retract a word
+in relation to the industry, neatness, order, and general good
+behavior, in the Shaker settlement which I visited. In
+these respects, that singular people are worthy of all commendation&mdash;yea,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+they set an example for the imitation of
+Christians everywhere. Justice requires me to say, also,
+that their hospitality is proverbial, and deservedly so. They
+received and entertained me kindly, and (hoping perhaps
+that I might be induced to join them) they extended extra-civilities
+to me. I have occasion to modify the expression of
+my gratitude in only one particular&mdash;and that is, one of the
+female elders made statements to me concerning the requisite
+confessions to be made, and the forms of admission to
+their society, which statements she afterwards denied, under
+circumstances that rendered her denial a most aggravated
+insult. Declining farther notice of this matter, because
+of the indelicacy of the confessions alluded to, I pass to
+notice,</p>
+
+<p>1st. The domestic arrangements of the Shakers. However
+strange the remark may seem, it is nevertheless true,
+that our factory population work fewer hours out of every
+twenty-four than are required by the Shakers, whose bell to
+call them from their slumbers, and also to warn them that it
+is time to commence the labors of the day, rings much
+earlier than our factory bells; and its calls were obeyed, in
+the family where I was entertained, with more punctuality
+than I ever knew the greatest "workey" among my numerous
+acquaintances (during the fourteen years in which I
+have been employed in different manufacturing establishments)
+to obey the calls of the factory-bell. And not
+until nine o'clock in the evening were the labors of the
+day closed, and the people assembled at their religious
+meetings.</p>
+
+<p>Whoever joins the Shakers with the expectation of relaxation
+from toil, will be greatly mistaken, since they deem it
+an indispensable duty to have every moment of time profitably
+employed. The little portions of leisure which the
+females have, are spent in knitting&mdash;each one having a
+basket of knitting-work for a constant companion.</p>
+
+<p>Their habits of order are, in many things, carried to the
+extreme. The first bell for their meals rings for all to repair
+to their chambers, from which, at the ringing of the
+second bell, they descend to the eating-room. Here, all
+take their appropriate places at the tables, and after locking
+their hands on their breasts, they drop on their knees, close
+their eyes, and remain in this position about two minutes.
+Then they rise, seat themselves, and with all expedition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+swallow their food; then rise on their feet, again lock their
+hands, drop on their knees, close their eyes, and in about
+two minutes rise and retire. Their meals are taken in silence,
+conversation being prohibited.</p>
+
+<p>Those whose chambers are in the fourth story of one
+building, and whose work-shops are in the third story of
+another building, have a daily task in climbing stairs which
+is more oppressive than any of the rules of a manufacturing
+establishment.</p>
+
+<p>2d. With all deference, I beg leave to introduce some of
+the religious views and ceremonies of the Shakers.</p>
+
+<p>From the conversation of the elders, I learned that they
+considered it doing God service to sever the sacred ties of
+husband and wife, parent and child&mdash;the relationship existing
+between them being contrary to their religious views&mdash;views
+which they believe were revealed from heaven to
+"Mother Ann Lee," the founder of their sect, and through
+whom they profess to have frequent revelations from the
+spiritual world. These communications, they say, are often
+written on gold leaves, and sent down from heaven to instruct
+the poor simple Shakers in some new duty. They
+are copied, and perused, and preserved with great care. I
+one day heard quite a number of them read from a book, in
+which they were recorded, and the names of several of the
+brethren and sisters to whom they were given by the angels,
+were told me. One written on a gold leaf, was (as I was
+told) presented to Proctor Sampson by an angel, so late as
+the summer of 1841. These "revelations" are written
+partly in English, and partly in some unintelligible jargon,
+or unknown tongue, having a spiritual meaning, which can
+be understood only by those who possess the spirit in an
+eminent degree. They consist principally of songs, which
+they sing at their devotional meetings, and which are
+accompanied with dancing, and many unbecoming gestures
+and noises.</p>
+
+<p>Often in the midst of a religious march, all stop, and with
+all their might set to stamping with both feet. And it is
+no uncommon thing for many of the worshipping assembly
+to crow like a parcel of young chanticleers, while others
+imitate the barking of dogs; and many of the young women
+set to whirling round and round&mdash;while the old men shake
+and clap their hands; the whole making a scene of noise
+and confusion which can be better imagined than described.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+The elders seriously told me that these things were the
+outward manifestations of the spirit of God.</p>
+
+<p>Apart from their religious meetings, the Shakers have
+what they call "union meetings." These are for social
+converse, and for the purpose of making the people acquainted
+with each other. During the day, the elders tell
+who may visit such and such chambers. A few minutes
+past nine, work is laid aside; the females change, or adjust,
+as best suits their fancy, their caps, handkerchiefs, and pinners,
+with a precision which indicates that they are not
+<i>altogether</i> free from vanity. The chairs, perhaps to the
+number of a dozen, are set in two rows, in such a manner
+that those who occupy them may face each other. At the
+ringing of a bell each one goes to the chamber where either
+he or she has been directed by the elders, or remains at
+home to receive company, as the case may be. They enter
+the chambers <i>sans cérémonie</i>, and seat themselves&mdash;the men
+occupying one row of chairs, the women the other. Here,
+with their clean checked home-made pocket-handkerchiefs
+spread in their laps, and their spit-boxes standing in a row
+between them, they converse about raising sheep and kine,
+herbs and vegetables, building walls and raising corn, heating
+the oven and paring apples, killing rats and gathering
+nuts, spinning tow and weaving sieves, making preserves
+and mending the brethren's clothes,&mdash;in short, every thing
+they do will afford some little conversation. But beyond
+their own little world they do not appear to extend scarcely
+a thought. And why should they? Having so few sources
+of information, they know not what is passing beyond them.
+They however make the most of their own affairs, and
+seem to regret that they can converse no longer, when, after
+sitting together from half to three-quarters of an hour,
+the bell warns them that it is time to separate, which they
+do by rising up, locking their hands across their breasts,
+and bowing. Each one then goes silently to his own chamber.</p>
+
+<p>It will readily be perceived, that they have no access to
+libraries, no books, excepting school-books, and a few relating
+to their own particular views; no periodicals, and
+attend no lectures, debates, Lyceums, &amp;c. They have
+none of the many privileges of manufacturing districts&mdash;consequently
+their information is so very limited, that their
+conversation is, as a thing in course, quite insipid. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+manner of their life seems to be a check to the march of
+mind and a desire for improvement; and while the moral
+and perceptive faculties are tolerably developed, the intellectual,
+with a very few exceptions, seem to be below the
+average.</p>
+
+<p>I have considered it my duty to make the foregoing statement
+of facts, lest the glowing description of the Shakers,
+given in the story of my first visit, might have a wrong
+influence. I then judged by outward appearances only&mdash;having
+a very imperfect knowledge of the true state of the
+case. Nevertheless, the <i>facts</i> as I saw them in my first
+visit, are still facts; my error is to be sought only in my
+inferences. Having since had greater opportunities for
+observation, I am enabled to judge more righteous judgment.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">C. B.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE LOCK OF GRAY HAIR.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Touching and simple memento of departed worth and
+affection! how mournfully sweet are the recollections thou
+awakenest in the heart, as I gaze upon thee&mdash;shorn after
+death had stamped her loved features with the changeless hue
+of the grave. How vividly memory recalls the time when, in
+childish sportiveness and affection, I arranged this little tress
+upon the venerable forehead of my grandmother! Though
+Time had left his impress there, a majestic beauty yet rested
+upon thy brow; for age had no power to quench the light
+of benevolence that beamed from thine eye, nor wither the
+smile of goodness that animated thy features. Again do I
+seem to listen to the mild voice, whose accents had ever
+power to subdue the waywardness of my spirit, and hush to
+calmness the wild and turbulent passions of my nature.&mdash;Though
+ten summers have made the grass green upon thy
+grave, and the white rose burst in beauty above thine honored
+head, thy name is yet green in our memory, and thy
+virtues have left a deathless fragrance in the hearts of thy
+children.</p>
+
+<p>Though she of whom I tell claimed not kindred with the
+"high-born of earth"&mdash;though the proud descent of titled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+ancestry marked not her name&mdash;yet the purity of her spotless
+character, the practical usefulness of her life, her firm
+adherence to duty, her high and holy submission to the will
+of Heaven, in every conflict, shed a radiance more resplendent
+than the glittering coronet's hues, more enduring than
+the wreath that encircles the head of genius. It was no
+lordly dome of other climes, nor yet of our far-off sunny
+south, that called her mistress; but among the granite hills
+of New Hampshire (my own father-land) was her humble
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Well do I remember the morning when she related to me
+(a sportive girl of thirteen) the events of her early days.&mdash;At
+her request, I was her companion during her accustomed
+morning walk about her own homestead. During our ramble,
+she suddenly stopped, and looked intently down upon
+the green earth, leaving me in silent wonder at what could
+so strongly rivet her attention. At length she raised her
+eyes, and pointing to an ancient hollow in the earth, nearly
+concealed by rank herbage, she said, "that spot is the dearest
+to me on earth." I looked around, then into her face for
+an explanation, seeing nothing unusually attractive about
+the place. But ah! how many cherished memories came
+up at that moment! The tear of fond recollection stood in
+her eye as she spoke:&mdash;"On this spot I passed the brightest
+hours of my existence." To my eager inquiry, Did you
+not always live in the large white house yonder? She replied,
+"No, my child. Fifty years ago, upon this spot
+stood a rude dwelling, composed of logs. Here I passed
+the early days of my marriage, and here my noble first-born
+drew his first breath." In answer to my earnest entreaty
+to tell me all about it, she seated herself upon the large
+broad stone which had been her ancient hearth, and commenced
+her story.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a bright midsummer eve when your grandfather,
+whom you never saw, brought me here, his chosen and
+happy bride. On that morning had we plighted our faith at
+the altar&mdash;that morning, with all the feelings natural to a
+girl of eighteen, I bade adieu to the home of my childhood,
+and with a fond mother's last kiss yet warm upon my cheek,
+commenced my journey with my husband towards his new
+home in the wilderness. Slowly on horseback we proceeded
+on our way, through the green forest path, whose deep
+winding course was directed by incisions upon the trees left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+by the axe of the sturdy woodsman. Yet no modern bride,
+in her splendid coach, decked in satin, orange-flowers, and
+lace&mdash;on the way to her stately city mansion, ever felt her
+heart beat higher than did my own on that day. For as I
+looked upon the manly form of him beside me, as with
+careful hand he guided my bridal rein&mdash;or met the fond
+glance of his full dark eye, I felt that his was a changeless
+love.</p>
+
+<p>"Thus we pursued our lonely way through the lengthening
+forest, where Nature reigned almost in her primitive wildness
+and beauty. Now and then a cultivated patch, with a
+newly-erected cottage, where sat the young mother, hushing
+with her low wild song the babe upon her bosom, with the
+crash of the distant falling trees, proclaimed it the home of
+the emigrant.</p>
+
+<p>"Twilight had thrown her soft shade over the earth: the
+bending foliage assumed a deeper hue; the wild wood bird
+singing her last note, as we emerged from the forest to a
+spot termed by the early settlers 'a clearing.' It was an
+enclosure of a few acres, where the preceding year had
+stood in its pride the stately forest-tree. In the centre, surrounded
+by tall stalks of Indian corn, waving their silken
+tassels in the night-breeze, stood the lowly cot which was to
+be my future home. Beneath yon aged oak, which has been
+spared to tell of the past, we dismounted from our horses,
+and entered our rude dwelling. All was silent within and
+without, save the low whisper of the wind as it swept
+through the forest. But blessed with youth, health, love,
+and hope, what had we to fear? Not that the privations
+and hardships incident to the early emigrant were unknown
+to us&mdash;but we heeded them not.</p>
+
+<p>"The early dawn and dewy eve saw us unremitting in
+our toil, and Heaven crowned our labors with blessings.
+'The wilderness began to blossom as the rose,' and our
+barns were filled with plenty.</p>
+
+<p>"But there was coming a time big with the fate of these
+then infant colonies. The murmur of discontent, long since
+heard in our large commercial ports, grew longer and louder,
+beneath repeated acts of British oppression. We knew
+the portentous cloud every day grew darker. In those
+days our means of intelligence were limited to the casual
+visitation of some traveller from abroad to our wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>"But uncertain and doubtful as was its nature, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+enough to rouse the spirit of patriotism in many a manly
+heart; and while the note of preparation loudly rang in
+the bustling thoroughfares, its tones were not unheard
+among these granite rocks. The trusty firelock was remounted,
+and hung in polished readiness over each humble
+door. The shining pewter was transformed to the heavy
+bullet, awaiting the first signal to carry death to the oppressor.</p>
+
+<p>"It was on the memorable 17th of June, 1775, that your
+grandfather was at his usual labor in a distant part of his
+farm: suddenly there fell upon his ear a sound heavier than
+the crash of the falling tree: echo answered echo along
+these hills; he knew the hour had come&mdash;that the flame had
+burst forth which blood alone could extinguish. His was
+not a spirit to slumber within sound of that battle-peal. He
+dropped his implements, and returned to his house. Never
+shall I forget the expression of his face as he entered.&mdash;There
+was a wild fire in his eye&mdash;his cheek was flushed&mdash;the
+veins upon his broad forehead swelled nigh to bursting. He
+looked at me&mdash;then at his infant-boy&mdash;and for a moment his
+face was convulsed. But soon the calm expression of high
+resolve shone upon his features.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I felt that what I had long secretly dreaded was
+about to be realized. For awhile the woman struggled fearfully
+within me&mdash;but the strife was brief; and though I
+could not with my lips say 'go,' in my heart I responded,
+'God's will be done'&mdash;for as such I could but regard the
+sacred cause in which all for which we lived was staked. I
+dwell not on the anguished parting, nor on the lonely desolation
+of heart which followed. A few hasty arrangements,
+and he, in that stern band known as the Green Mountain
+Boys, led by the noble Stark, hurried to the post of danger.
+On the plains of Bennington he nobly distinguished himself
+in that fierce conflict with the haughty Briton and mercenary
+foe.</p>
+
+<p>"Long and dreary was the period of my husband's absence;
+but the God of my fathers forsook me not. To Him
+I committed my absent one, in the confidence that He would
+do all things well. Now and then, a hurried scrawl,
+written perhaps on the eve of an expected battle, came to
+me in my lonely solitude like the 'dove of peace' and consolation&mdash;for
+it spoke of undying affection and unshaken
+faith in the ultimate success of that cause for which he had
+left all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But he did return. Once more he was with me. I saw
+him press his first-born to his bosom, and receive the little
+dark-eyed one, whom he had never yet seen, with new
+fondness to his paternal arms. He lived to witness the glorious
+termination of that struggle, the events of which all so
+well know; to see the 'stars and stripes' waving triumphantly
+in the breeze, and to enjoy for a brief season the rich
+blessings of peace and independence. But ere the sere and
+yellow leaf of age was upon his brow, the withering hand
+of disease laid his noble head in the dust. As the going
+down of the sun, which foretells a glorious rising, so was his
+death. Many years have gone by, since he was laid in his
+quiet resting-place, where, in a few brief days, I shall slumber
+sweetly by his side."</p>
+
+<p>Such was her unvarnished story; and such is substantially
+the story of many an ancient mother of New England.
+Yet while the pen of history tells of the noble deeds of the
+patriot fathers, it records little of the days of privation and
+toil of the patriot mothers&mdash;of their nights of harassing
+anxiety and uncomplaining sorrow. But their virtues remain
+written upon the hearts of their daughters, in characters
+that perish not. Let not the rude hand of degeneracy
+desecrate the hallowed shrine of their memory.</p>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Theresa.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/illus-190.jpg" width="200" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LAMENT OF THE LITTLE HUNCHBACK.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, ladies, will you listen to a little orphan's tale?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pity her whose youthful voice must breathe so sad a wail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrink not from the wretched form obtruding on your view.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As though the heart which in it dwells must be as loathsome too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Full well I know that mine would be a strange repulsive mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were the outward form an index true of the soul within it shrined;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But though I am so all devoid of the loveliness of youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet deem me not as destitute of its innocence and truth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And ever in this hideous frame I strive to keep the light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of faith in God, and love to man, still shining pure and bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though hard the task, I often find, to keep the channel free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence all the kind affections flow to those who love not me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I sometimes take a little child quite softly on my knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hush it with my gentlest tones, and kiss it tenderly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my kindest words will not avail, my form cannot be screened,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the babe recoils from my embrace, as though I were a fiend.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I sometimes, in my walks of toil, meet children at their play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a moment will my pulses fly, and I join the band so gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they depart with nasty steps, while their lips and nostrils curl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor e'en their childhood's sports will share with the little crooked girl.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But once it was not thus with me: I was a dear-loved child;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mother's kiss oft pressed my brow, a father on me smiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No word was ever o'er me breathed, but in affection's tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I to them was very near&mdash;their cherish'd, only one.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But sad the change which me befel, when they were laid to sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the earth-worms o'er their mouldering forms their noisome revels keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of the orphan's hapless fate there were few or none to care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And burdens on my back were laid a child should never bear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now, in this offensive form, their cruelty is viewed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For first upon me came disease&mdash;and deformity ensued:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woe! woe to her, for whom not even this life's earliest stage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could be redeemed from the bended form and decrepitude of age.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And yet of purest happiness I have some transient gleams;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis when, upon my pallet rude, I lose myself in dreams:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gloomy present fades away; the sad past seems forgot;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span><span class="i0">And in those visions of the night mine is a blissful lot.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dead then come and visit me: I hear my father's voice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear that gentle mother's tones, which makes my heart rejoice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her hand once more is softly placed upon my aching brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she soothes my every pain away, as if an infant now.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But sad is it to wake again, to loneliness and fears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To find myself the creature yet of misery and tears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then, once more, I try to sleep, and know the thrilling bliss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see again my father's smile, and feel my mother's kiss.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And sometimes, then, a blessed boon has unto me been given&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An entrance to the spirit-world, a foretaste here of heaven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have heard the joyous anthems swell, from voice and golden lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seen the dearly loved of earth join in that gladsome choir.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I have dropped this earthly frame, this frail disgusting clay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, in a beauteous spirit-form, have soared on wings away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have bathed my angel-pinions in the floods of glory bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which circle, with their brilliant waves, the throne of living light.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have joined the swelling chorus of the holy glittering bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who ever stand around that throne, with cymbals in their hands:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the dream would soon be broken by the voices of the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sunbeams send me forth again, the theme of jest and song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I care not for their mockery now&mdash;the thought disturbs me not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, in this little span of life, contempt should be my lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I would gladly welcome here some slight reprieve from pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'd murmur of my back no more, if it might not ache again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Full well I know this ne'er can be, till I with peace am blest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the heavy-laden sweetly sleep, and the weary are at rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the body shall commingle with its kindred native dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the soul return for evermore to the "Holy One and Just."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Letty.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 174px;">
+<img src="images/illus-184.jpg" width="174" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR HOME.</h2>
+
+
+<p>How difficult it is for the wealthy and proud to realize that
+they must die, and mingle with the common earth! Though
+a towering monument may mark the spot where their lifeless
+remains repose, their heads will lie as low as that of the
+poorest peasant. All their untold gold cannot reprieve them
+for one short day.</p>
+
+<p>When Death places his relentless hand upon them, and as
+their spirit is fast passing away, perhaps for the first time the
+truth flashes upon their mind, that this world is not their
+home; and a thrill of agony racks their frame at the thought
+of entering that land where all is uncertainty to them. It
+may be that they have never humbled themselves before the
+great Lawgiver and Judge, and their hearts, alas! have not
+been purified and renewed by that grace for which they never
+supplicated. And as the vacant eye wanders around the
+splendidly furnished apartment, with its gorgeous hangings
+and couch of down, how worthless it all seems, compared
+with that peace of mind which attends "the pure in heart!"</p>
+
+<p>The aspirant after fame would fain believe this world was
+his home, as day by day he twines the laurel-wreath for his
+brow, and fondly trusts it will be unfading in its verdure;
+and as the applause of a world, that to him appears all bright
+and beautiful, meets his ear, he thinks not of Him who resigned
+his life on the cross for suffering humanity&mdash;he thinks
+of naught but the bubble he is seeking; and when he has
+obtained it, it has lost all its brilliancy&mdash;for the world has
+learned to look with indifference upon the bright flowers he
+has scattered so profusely on all sides, and his friends, one
+by one, become alienated and cold, or bestow their praise
+upon some new candidate who may have entered the arena
+of fame. How his heart shrinks within him, to think of the
+long hours of toil by the midnight lamp&mdash;of health destroyed&mdash;of
+youth departed&mdash;of near and dear ties broken by a light
+careless word, that had no meaning! How bitterly does he
+regret that he has thrown away all the warm and better feelings
+of his heart upon the fading things of earth! How
+deeply does he feel that he has slighted God's holy law&mdash;for,
+in striving after worldly honors, he had forgotten that this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+world was not his home; and while the rainbow tints of prosperity
+gleamed in his pathway, he had neglected to cultivate
+the fadeless wreath that cheers the dying hour! And now
+the low hollow cough warns him of the near approach of
+that hour beyond which all to him is darkness and gloom;
+and as he tosses on the bed of pain and languishing, lamenting
+that all the bright visions of youth had so soon vanished
+away, the cold world perchance passes in review before him.</p>
+
+<p>He beholds the flushed cheek of beauty fade, and the star
+of fame fall from the brow of youth. He marks the young
+warrior on the field of battle, fighting bravely, while the
+banner of stars and stripes waves proudly over his head; and
+while thinking of the glory he shall win, a ball enters his
+heart.&mdash;He gazes upon an aged sire, as he bends over the
+lifeless form of his idolized child, young and fair as the
+morning, just touched by the hand of death; she was the
+light of his home, the last of many dear ones; and he wondered
+why he was spared, and the young taken. Though
+the cup was bitter, he drank it.</p>
+
+<p>Again he turned his eyes from the world, whereon everything
+is written, "fading away." Yes, wealth, beauty, fame,
+glory, honor, friendship, and oh! must it be said that even
+love, too, fades? Almost in despair, he exclaimed, "Is there
+aught that fades not?" And a voice seemed to whisper in
+his ear, "There is God's love which never fades; this world
+is not your home; waste not the short fragment of your life
+in vain regrets, but rather prepare for that dissolution which
+is the common lot of all; be ready, therefore, to pass to
+that bourne from which there is no return, before you enter
+the presence of Him whose name is Love."</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Then ask not life, but joy to know<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That sinless they in heaven shall stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Death is not a cruel foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To execute a wise command.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis ours to ask, 'tis God's to give.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We live to die&mdash;and die to live."<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Beatrice.</span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 204px;">
+<img src="images/illus-186.jpg" width="204" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+<h2>DIGNITY OF LABOR.</h2>
+
+
+<p>From whence originated the idea, that it was derogatory
+to a lady's dignity, or a blot upon the female character, to
+labor? and who was the first to say sneeringly, "Oh, she <i>works</i>
+for a living?" Surely, such ideas and expressions ought not
+to grow on republican soil. The time has been when ladies
+of the first rank were accustomed to busy themselves in domestic
+employment.</p>
+
+<p>Homer tells us of princesses who used to draw water from
+the springs, and wash with their own hands the finest of the
+linen of their respective families. The famous Lucretia used
+to spin in the midst of her attendants; and the wife of Ulysses,
+after the siege of Troy, employed herself in weaving, until
+her husband returned to Ithaca. And in later times, the wife
+of George the Third, of England, has been represented as
+spending a whole evening in hemming pocket-handkerchiefs,
+while her daughter Mary sat in the corner, darning stockings.</p>
+
+<p>Few American fortunes will support a woman who is above
+the calls of her family; and a man of sense, in choosing a
+companion to jog with him through all the up-hills and
+down-hills of life, would sooner choose one who <i>had</i> to work
+for a living, than one who thought it beneath her to soil her
+pretty hands with manual labor, although she possessed her
+thousands. To be able to earn one's own living by laboring
+with the hands, should be reckoned among female accomplishments;
+and I hope the time is not far distant when none
+of my countrywomen will be ashamed to have it known that
+they are better versed in useful than they are in ornamental
+accomplishments.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">C. B.</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 210px;">
+<img src="images/illus-187.jpg" width="210" height="100" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE VILLAGE CHRONICLE.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p>"Come, Lina, dear," said Mr. Wheeler to his little daughter,
+"lay by your knitting, if you please, and read me the
+paper."</p>
+
+<p>"What, pa, this old paper, 'The Village Chronicle?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Old, Lina!&mdash;why, it is damp from the press. Not so old,
+by more than a dozen years, as you are."</p>
+
+<p>"But, pa, the <i>news</i> is <i>olds</i>. Our village mysteries are all
+worn threadbare by the gossiping old maids before the
+printer can get them in type; and the foreign information is
+more quickly obtained from other sources. And, pa, I wish
+you wouldn't call me Lina&mdash;it sounds so childish, and I begin
+to think myself quite a young lady&mdash;almost in my teens,
+you know; and Angeline is not so very long."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Angeline, as you please; but see if there is not
+something in the paper."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, pa; to please you I will read the stupid old
+(<i>new</i>, I mean) concern.&mdash;Well, in the first place, we have
+some poetry&mdash;some of our village poets' (genius, you know,
+admits not of distinction of sex) effusions, or rather confusions.
+Miss Helena (it used to be Ellen once) Carrol's sublime
+sentiments upon 'The Belvidere Apollo,'&mdash;which she
+never saw, nor anything like it, and knows nothing about.
+She had better write about our penny-post, and then we might
+feel an interest in her lucubrations, even if not very intrinsically
+valuable. But if she does not want to be an old
+maid, she might as well leave off writing sentimental poetry
+for the newspapers; for who will marry a <i>bleu</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is much that I might say in reply, but I will wait
+until you are older. And now do not let me hear you say
+anything more about old maids, at least deridingly; for I
+have strong hopes that my little girl will be one herself."</p>
+
+<p>"No, pa, never!&mdash;I will not marry, at least while you, or
+Alfred, or Jimmy, are alive; but I cannot be an old maid&mdash;not
+one of those tattling, envious, starched-up, prudish
+creatures, whom I have always designated as old maids,
+whether they are married or single&mdash;on the sunny or shady
+side of thirty."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, child, I hope you never will be metamorphosed
+into an old maid, then. But now for the Chronicle&mdash;I will
+excuse you from the poetry, if you will read what comes
+next."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my dear father, a thousand times. It would
+have made me as sick as a cup-full of warm water would do.
+You know I had rather take so much hot drops.&mdash;But the
+next article is Miss Simpkins's very original tale, entitled
+'The Injured One,'&mdash;probably all about love and despair, and
+ladies so fair, and men who don't care, if the mask they can
+wear, and the girls must beware. Now ain't I literary? But
+to be a heroine also, I will muster my resolution, and commence
+the story:</p>
+
+<p>"'Madeline and Emerilla were the only daughters of Mr.
+Beaufort, of H., New Hampshire.'</p>
+
+<p>"Now, pa, I can't go any farther&mdash;I would as lieve travel
+through the deserts of Sahara, or run the gauntlet among the
+Seminoles, as to wade through this sloshy story. Miss Simpkins
+always has such names to her heroines; and they would
+do very well if they were placed anywhere but in the unromantic
+towns of our granite State. H., I suppose, stands
+for Hawke, or Hopkinton. Miss Simpkins is so soft that I
+do not believe Mr. Baxter would publish her stories, if he were
+not engaged to her sister. She makes me think of old 'deaf
+uncle Jeff,' in the story, who wanted somebody to love."</p>
+
+<p>"And she does love&mdash;she loves everybody; and I am sorry
+to hear you talk so of this amiable and intellectual girl. But
+I do not wish to hear you read her story now&mdash;as for her
+names, she would not find one unappropriated by our towns-folks.
+What comes next?"</p>
+
+<p>"The editorial, pa, and the caption is, 'Our Representatives.'
+I had ten times rather read about the antediluvians,
+and I wish sometimes they might go and keep them company.
+And now for the items: Our new bell got cracked, in its
+winding way to this 'ere town; and the meeting-house at the
+West Parish, has been fired by an incendiary; and the old
+elm, near the Central House, has been blown down; and
+Widow Frye has had a yoke of oxen struck by lightning;
+and old Col. Morton fell down dead, in a fit of apoplexy;
+and the bridge over the Branch needs repairing; and 'a friend
+of good order' wishes that our young men would not stand
+gaping around the meeting-house doors, before or after service;
+and 'a friend of equal rights' wishes that people might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+sell and drink as much rum as they please, without interference,
+&amp;c., &amp;c.; and all these things we knew before, as well as
+we did our A B C's. Next are the cards: The ladies have
+voted their thanks to Mr. K., for his lecture upon phrenology&mdash;the
+matrimonial part, I presume, included; and the Anti-Slavery
+Society is to have a fair, at which will be sold all
+sorts of abolition things, such as anti-slavery paper, wafers,
+and all such important articles. I declare I will make a
+nigger doll for it. And Mr. P., of Boston, is to deliver a
+lecture upon temperance; and the trustees of the Academy
+have chosen Mr. Dalton for the Preceptor, and here is his
+long advertisement; and the Overseers of the Poor are ready
+to receive proposals for a new alms-house; and all these
+things, pa, which have been the town talk this long time.
+But here is something new. Our minister, dear Mr. Olden,
+has been very seriously injured by an accident upon the Boston
+and Salem Railroad. The news must be very recent, for
+we had not heard of it; and it is crowded into very fine type.
+Oh, how sorry I am for him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lina, or Miss Angeline, there is something of
+sufficient importance to repay you for the trouble of reading
+it, and I am very glad that you have done so&mdash;for I will start
+upon my intended journey to Boston to-day, and can assist
+him to return home. Anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, pa! a long list of those who have taken advantage
+of the Bankrupt Act, and the Deaths and Marriages;
+but all mentioned here, with whose names we were familiar,
+have been subjects for table-talk these several days."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, is there no foreign news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, pa; Queen Victoria has given another ball at Buckingham
+Palace; and Prince Albert has accepted a very fine
+blood-hound, from Major Sharp, of Houston; and Sir Howard
+Douglas has been made a Civil Grand Cross of the Bath,
+&amp;c., &amp;c. Are not these fine things to fill up our republican
+papers with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my daughter, look at the doings in Congress&mdash;that
+will suit you."</p>
+
+<p>"You know better, pa. They do nothing there but scold,
+and strike, and grumble&mdash;then pocket their money, and go
+home. See, here it begins, 'The proceedings of the House
+can hardly be said to have been <i>important</i>. An instructive
+and delightful <i>scene</i> took place between Mr. Wise of Virginia,
+and Mr. Stanly, of South Carolina.' Yes, pa, that's the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+they spend their time. In this <i>act</i> of the farce, or tragedy,
+one called t' other a <i>bull-dog</i>, t' other called one a <i>coward</i>.
+Do you wish to hear any more?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are somewhat out of humor, my child; but are
+there no new notices?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, here is an 'Assessors' Notice,' and an 'Assignee's
+Notice,' and a 'Contractors' Notice;' but you do not care
+anything about them. And here is an 'Auction Notice.'"</p>
+
+<p>"What auction? Read it, my love."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the late old Mr. Gardner's farm-house, and all
+his furniture, are to be sold at auction. And here is a notice
+of a meeting of the Directors of the Pentucket Bank, to be
+held this very afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to have learned of it, for I must be there.
+Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"All?&mdash;no, indeed! Here are some long articles, full of
+<i>Whereases</i>, and <i>Resolved's</i>, and <i>Be it enacted's</i>; but I know
+you will excuse me from reading them. And now for the
+advertisements: Here is a fine new lot of <i>Chenie-de-Laines</i>,
+'just received' at Grosvenor's&mdash;oh, pa! do let me have a
+new dress, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't&mdash;at least, I do not see how I can. But if
+you will promise to read my paper through patiently for the
+future, and will prepare my valise for my journey to Boston,
+I will see what I may do. Meantime I must be off to the
+directors' meeting. And now let me remind you that two
+items, at least, in this paper, have been of much importance
+to me; and one, it seems, somewhat interesting to you. So
+no more fretting about the Chronicle, if you want a <i>new
+gown</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wheeler left the room, and Angeline seated herself
+at the work-table, to repair his vest. She was sorry she had
+fretted so much about the Chronicle; but she did wish her
+father would take the "Ladies' Companion," or something
+else, in its stead.</p>
+
+<p>While seated there, her little brother came running into
+the room, all out of breath, and but just able to gasp out,
+"Oh, Lina! there is a man at the Central House, who has
+just stopped in the stage, and he is going right on to Kentucky,
+and straight through the town where Alfred lives,
+for I heard him say so; and I asked him if he would carry
+anything for us, and he said, 'Yes, willingly.' So I ran
+home as fast as I could come, to tell you to write a note, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+do up a paper, or something, because he will be so sure to
+get it&mdash;and right from us, too, as fast as it can go. Now do
+be quick, or the stage will start off."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear me," exclaimed Angeline, "how I do wish we
+had a New York Mirror, or a Philadelphia Courier, or a
+Boston Gazette, or anything but this stupid Chronicle! Do
+look, Jimmy! is there nothing in this pile of papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, nothing that will do&mdash;so fold up the Chronicle, quick,
+for the stage is starting."</p>
+
+<p>Angeline, who had spent some moments in looking for
+another paper, now had barely time to scrawl the short word
+"Lina" on the paper, wrap it in an envelop, and direct it.
+Jimmy snatched it as soon as it was ready, and ran out "<i>full
+tilt</i>," in knightly phrase, or, as he afterwards said, "<i>lickity
+split</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The stage was coming on at full speed, and he wished to
+stop it. Many a time had he stood by the road-side, with
+his school companions, and, waving his cap, and stretching
+out his neck, had hallooed, "Hurrah for Jackson!" and he
+feared that, like the boy in the fable, who called "Wolves!
+wolves!" if he now shouted to them from the road-side,
+they would not heed him. So he ran into the middle of the
+road, threw up his arms, and stood still. The driver barely
+reined in his horses within a few feet of the daring boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the man who is going straight ahead to Kentucky?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, my lad," replied a voice, as a head popped out of
+the window, to see what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here is a paper which I wish you to carry to my
+brother; and if you stop long enough where he is, you must
+go and see him, and tell him you saw me too."</p>
+
+<p>"Well done, my lad! you are a keen one. I'll do your
+bidding&mdash;but don't you never run under stage-horses again."</p>
+
+<p>He took the packet, while the driver cracked his whip;
+and the horses started as the little boy leaped upon the bank,
+shouting, "Hurra for Yankee Land and old Kentucky!"</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p>In a rude log hut of Western Kentucky was seated an animated
+and intelligent-looking young man. A bright moon
+was silvering the forest-tops, which were almost the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+prospect from his window; but in that beauteous light the
+rough clearing around seemed changed to fairy land; and
+even his rude domicile partook of the transient renovation.
+His lone walls, his creviced roof, and ragged floor, were
+transformed beneath that silvery veil; and truly did it look
+as though it might well be the abode of peaceful happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel as though I could write poetry now," said Alfred
+to himself. "Let me see&mdash;'The Spirit's Call to the Absent,'
+or something like that; but if I should strike my light, and
+really get pens, ink, and paper, it would all evaporate, vanish,
+abscond, make tracks, become scarce, be o. p. h. Ah, yes!
+the poetry would go, but the feeling, the deep affection,
+which would find some other language than simple prose,
+can never depart.</p>
+
+<p>"How I wish I could see them all! There is not a codger
+in my native town&mdash;not a crusty fusty old bachelor&mdash;not
+an envious tattling old maid&mdash;not a flirt, sot, pauper, idiot, or
+sainted hypocrite, but I could welcome with an embrace.
+But if I could only see my father, or Jimmy, or Lina, dear
+girl! how much better I should feel! It would make me
+ten years younger, to have a chat with Lina; and, to tell the
+truth, I should like to see any woman, just to see how it
+would seem. I'd go a quarter of a mile, now, to look at a
+row of aprons hung out to dry. But there! it's no use
+to talk.</p>
+
+<p>"An evening like this is such an one as might entice me
+to my mother's grave, were I at home. Oh! if she were
+but alive&mdash;if I could only know that she was still somewhere
+on the wide earth, to think and pray for me&mdash;I might be better,
+as well as happier. Methinks it must be a blessed thing
+to be a mother, if all sons cherish that parent's memory as I
+have mine&mdash;and they do. It cheers and sustains the exile in
+a stranger's land; it invigorates him in trial, and lights him
+through adversity; it warns the felon, and haunts and harrows
+the convict; it strengthens the captive, and exhilarates
+the homeward-bound. Truly must it be a blessed thing to
+be a mother!"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped&mdash;for in the moonlight was distinctly seen the
+figure of a horseman, emerging from the public road, and
+galloping across the clearing. He turned towards the office
+of the young surveyor, and in a few moments the carrier
+had related the incident by which he obtained the paper, and
+placed "The Village Chronicle" in Alfred's hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He struck a light, tore off the wrapper, and the only
+written word which met his eye was "Lina." "Dear
+name!" said he, "I could almost kiss it, especially as there
+is none to see me. She must have been in a prodigious hurry!
+and how funny that little rascal, Jimmy, must have
+looked! Well, 'when he next doth run a race, may I be
+there to see.'"</p>
+
+<p>He took the paper to read. It was a very late one&mdash;he
+had never before received one so near the date; and even
+that line of dates was now so pleasing. First was Miss
+Helena Carroll's poetry. "Dear girl!" said he, "what a
+beautiful writer she is! Really, this is poetry! This is
+something which carries us away from ourselves, and more
+closely connects us with the enduring, high, and beautiful.
+Methinks I see her now&mdash;more thin, pale, and ethereal in
+her appearance than when we were gay school-mates; but
+I wonder that, with all her treasures of heart and intellect,
+she is still Helena Carroll.</p>
+
+<p>"And now here is Miss Simpkin's story of 'The injured
+One'&mdash;beautiful, interesting, and instructive, I am confident;
+and I will read it, every word; but she italicises too
+much; she throws too lavishly the bright robes of her prolific
+fancy upon the forms she conjures up from New-England
+hills and vales. I wonder if she remembers now the
+time when she made me shake the old-apple tree, near the
+pound, for her, and in jumping down, I nearly broke my
+leg. Well, if I read her story, I will try that it does not
+break my heart.</p>
+
+<p>"And here is an excellent editorial about 'Our Representatives'&mdash;I
+will read it again, and now for the <span class="smcap">items</span>."</p>
+
+<p>These were all highly interesting to the <i>absentee</i>, and on
+each did he expatiate to himself. How different were his
+feelings from his sister's, as he read of the cracked bell, the
+burned meeting-house, the dead oxen, the apoplectic old
+Colonel, the decayed bridge, the hints of the friends of
+"good order" and "equal rights." Then there was a little
+scene suggested by every card; he wondered who had their
+heads examined at the Phrenological lecture; and if the
+West Parish old farmers were now as stiffly opposed to the
+science. And how he would like to see Lina's chart, and to
+know if Jimmy had brains&mdash;he was sure he had legs, and
+a big heart for a little boy; and he wondered what girls ran
+up to have their heads felt of in public; and what the man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+said about matrimony&mdash;an affair which in old times was
+thought to have more to do with the heart than the head.</p>
+
+<p>Then his imagination went forward to the fair of the
+Anti-Slavery Society, and he wondered where it would be,
+and who would go, and what Lina would make, and whether
+so much fuss about slavery was right or wrong, and if
+"father" approved of it. Then the temperance lecture was
+the theme for another self-disquisition. He wondered who
+had joined the society, and how the Washingtonians held
+out, and if Mr. Hawkins was ever coming to the West.</p>
+
+<p>Then he was glad the trustees were determined to resuscitate
+the old academy. What grand times he had enjoyed
+there, especially at the exhibitions! and he wondered where
+all the pretty girls were who used to go to school with his
+bachelorship. Then they were to have a new alms-house;
+and forty more things were mentioned, of equal interest&mdash;not
+forgetting Mr. Olden's accident, for which "father
+would be so sorry." Then there were the Marriages and
+Deaths&mdash;each a subject of deep interest, as was also the list
+of Bankrupts. The foreign news was news to him; and
+Congress matters were not passed unheeded by.</p>
+
+<p>Then he read with deep interest every "Assessor's Notice,"
+also those of "Assignees," "Contractors," and
+"Auctioneers." There was not a single "Whereas" or
+"Resolved," but was most carefully perused; and every
+"Be it enacted" stared him in the face like an old familiar
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>Then there were the advertisements; and Grosvenor's
+first attracted his attention from its <i>big</i> letters. "CHENIE-DE-LAINES!"
+said he, "What in the name of common
+sense are they? Something for gal's gowns, <i>I guess</i>; and
+what will they next invent for a name?"</p>
+
+<p>But each advertisement told its little history. Some of
+the old "<i>pillars</i>" of the town were still in their accustomed
+places. The same signatures, places, and almost the same
+goods&mdash;nothing much changed but the dates. Another advertisement
+informed him of the dissolution of an old copartnership,
+and another showed the formation of a new one.
+Some old acquaintances had changed their location or business,
+and others were about to retire from it. Those whom
+he remembered as almost boys, were now just entering into
+active life, and those who should now be preparing for another
+world were still laying up treasures on earth. One, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+had been a farmer, was now advertising himself as a <i>doctor</i>.
+A lawyer had changed into a miller, and old Capt Prouty
+was post-master. The former cobler now kept the bookstore,
+and the young major had turned printer. The old
+printer was endeavoring to collect his debts&mdash;for he said his
+devil had gone to Oregon, and he wished to go to the devil.</p>
+
+<p>Not a single puff did Alfred omit; he noticed every new
+book, and swallowed every new nostrum. "Old rags,"
+"Buffalo Oil," "Bear's Grease," "Corn Plaster," "Lip
+Salve," "Accordions," "Feather Renovators," "Silk
+Dye-Houses," "Worm Lozenges," "Ready-made Clothing,"
+"Ladies' Slips," "Misses' Ties," "Christmas Presents,"
+"Sugar-house Molasses," "Choice Butter," "Shell Combs,"
+"New Music," "Healing Lotions," "Last Chance,"
+"Hats and Caps," "Prime Cost," "Family Pills," "Ladies'
+Cuff Pins," "Summer Boots," "Vegetable Conserve,"
+"Muffs and Boas," "Pease's Horehound Candy,"
+"White Ash Coal," "Bullard's Oil-Soap," "Universal
+Panacea," "Tailoress Wanted," "Unrivalled Elixir,"
+"Excellent Vanilla," "Taylor's Spool Cotton," "Rooms
+to Let," "Chairs and Tables," "Pleasant House," "Particular
+notice," "Family Groceries," "A Removal," "Anti-Dyspeptic
+Bitters," &amp;c., &amp;c., down to "One Cent Reward&mdash;Ran
+away from the Subscriber," &amp;c.&mdash;Yes; he had
+read them all, and all with much interest, but one with a
+deeper feeling than was awakened by the others. It was
+the notice of the sale of the late Mr. Gardner's House, farm,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>"And so," said Alfred, "Cynthia Gardner is now free.
+She used to love me dearly&mdash;at least she said so in every
+thing but words; but the old man said she should never
+marry a harum-scarum scape-grace like me. Well! it's no
+great matter if I did sow all my wild oats then, for there is
+too little cleared land to do much at it here. The old gentleman
+is dead, and I'll forgive him; but I will write this
+very night to Cynthia, and ask her to&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;&mdash;'come, and with me share<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whate'er my hut bestows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My cornstalk bed, my frugal fare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My labor and repose.'"<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Lucinda.</span></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+<h2>AMBITION AND CONTENTMENT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It has been said that all virtues, carried to their extremes,
+become vices, as firmness may be carried to obstinacy,
+gentleness to weakness, faith to superstition, &amp;c., &amp;c.; and
+that while cultivating them, a perpetual care is necessary
+that they may not be resolved into those kindred vices. But
+there are other qualities of so opposite a character, that,
+though we may acknowledge them both to be virtues, we can
+hardly cherish them at the same time.</p>
+
+<p>Contentment is a virtue often urged upon us, and too often
+neglected. It is essential to our happiness; for how can we
+experience pleasure while dissatisfied with the station which
+has been allotted us, or the circumstances which befall us?
+but when contentment degenerates into that slothful feeling
+which will not exert itself for a greater good&mdash;which would
+sit, and smile at ease upon the gifts which Providence has
+forced upon its possessor, and turns away from the objects,
+which call for the active spring and tenacious grasp&mdash;when,
+I repeat, contentment is but another excuse for indolence, it
+then has ceased to be a virtue.</p>
+
+<p>And Ambition, which is so often denounced as a vice&mdash;which
+<i>is</i> a vice when carried to an extent that would lead its
+votary to grasp all upon which it can lay its merciless clutch,
+and which heeds not the rights or possessions of a fellow-being
+when conflicting with its own domineering will, which
+then becomes so foul a vice&mdash;this same ambition, when kept
+within its proper bounds, is then a virtue; and not only a
+virtue, but the parent of virtues. The spirit of laudable enterprise,
+the noble desire for superior excellence, the just
+emulation which would raise itself to an equality with the
+highest&mdash;all this is the fruit of ambition.</p>
+
+<p>Here then are two virtues, ambition and contentment,
+both to be commended, both to be cherished, yet at first
+glance at variance with each other; at all events, with difficulty
+kept within those proper bounds which will prevent a
+conflict between them.</p>
+
+<p>We are not metaphysicians, and did we possess the power
+to draw those finely-pencilled mental and moral distinctions
+in which the acute reasoner delights so often to display<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
+his power, this would be no place for us to indulge our love
+for nicely attenuated theories. We are aware, that to cherish
+ambition for the good it may lead us to acquire, for the
+noble impulses of which it may be the fountain-spring, and
+yet to restrain those waters when they would gush forth
+with a tide which would bear away all better feelings of the
+heart&mdash;this, we know, is not only difficult, but almost impossible.</p>
+
+<p>To strive for a position upon some loftier eminence, and
+yet to remain unruffled if those strivings are in vain; to remain
+calm and cheerful within the little circle where Providence
+has stationed us, yet actively endeavoring to enlarge
+that circle, if not to obtain admittance to a higher one; to
+plume the pinions of the soul for an upward flight, yet calmly
+sink again to the earth if these efforts are but useless
+flutterings; all this seems contradictory, though essential
+to perfection of character.</p>
+
+<p>Thankfulness for what we have, yet longings for a greater
+boon; resignation to a humble lot, and a determination
+that it shall not always be humble; ambition and contentment&mdash;how
+wide the difference, and how difficult for one
+breast to harbor them both at the same time!</p>
+
+<p>Nothing so forcibly convinces us of the frailty of humanity
+as the tendency of all that is good and beautiful to corruption.
+As in the natural world, earth's loveliest things are
+those which yield most easily to blighting and decay, so in
+the spiritual, the noblest feelings and powers are closely
+linked to some dark passion.</p>
+
+<p>How easily does ambition become rapacity; and if the
+heart's yearnings for the unattainable are forcibly stilled,
+and the mind is governed by the determination that no wish
+shall be indulged but for that already in its power, how
+soon and easily may it sink into the torpor of inaction! To
+keep all the faculties in healthful exercise, yet always to
+restrain the feverish glow, must require a constant and vigilant
+self-command.</p>
+
+<p>How soon, in that long-past sacred time when the Savior
+dwelt on earth, did the zeal of one woman in her Master's
+cause become tainted with the earth-born wish that her sons
+might be placed, the one upon his right and the other upon
+his left hand, when he should sit upon his throne of glory;
+and how soon was <i>their</i> ardent love mingled with the fiery
+zeal which would call down fire from heaven upon the heads
+of their fellow-men!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Here was ambition, but not a justifiable desire for elevation;
+an ambition, also, which had its source in some of the
+noblest feelings of the soul, and which, when directed by the
+pure principles which afterwards guided their conduct, was
+the heart-spring of deeds which shall claim the admiration,
+and spur to emulous exertions, the men of all coming time.</p>
+
+<p>"Be content with what ye have," but never with what ye
+are; for the wish to be perfect, "even as our Father in
+heaven is perfect," must ever be mingled with regrets for
+the follies and frailties which our weak nature seems to have
+entailed upon us.</p>
+
+<p>And while we endeavor to be submissive, cheerful, and
+contented with the lot marked out for us, may gratitude
+arouse us to the noble desire to render ourselves worthy of a
+nobler station than earth can ever present us, even to a
+place upon our Savior's right hand in his heavenly kingdom.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">H. F.</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A CONVERSATION ON PHYSIOLOGY.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>INTRODUCTION.</h3>
+
+<p>Physiology, Astronomy, Geology, Botany, and kindred
+sciences, are not now, as formerly, confined to our higher
+seminaries of learning. They are being introduced into the
+common schools, not only of our large towns and cities, but
+of our little villages throughout New-England. Hence
+a knowledge of these sciences is becoming general. It needs
+not Sibylline wisdom to predict that the time is not far distant
+when it will be more disadvantageous and more humiliating
+to be ignorant of their principles and technicalities,
+than to be unable to tell the length and breadth of Sahara,
+the rise, course and fall of little rivers in other countries,
+which we shall never see, never hear mentioned&mdash;and the
+latitude and longitude of remote or obscure cities and towns.
+If a friend would describe a flower, she would not tell us
+that it has so many flower-leaves, so many of those shortest
+things that rise from the centre of the flower, and so many
+of the longest ones; but she will express herself with more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+elegance and rapidity by using the technical names of these
+parts&mdash;petals, stamens, and pistils. She will not tell us
+that the green leaves are formed some like a rose-leaf, only
+that they are rounder, or more pointed, as the case may be;
+or if she can find no similitudes, she will not use fifty words
+in conveying an idea that might be given in one little word.
+We would be able to understand her philosophical description.
+And scientific lectures, the sermons of our best preachers,
+and the conversation of the intelligent, presuppose
+some degree of knowledge of the most important sciences;
+and to those who have not this knowledge, half their zest is
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>If we are so situated that we cannot attend school, we
+have, by far the greater part of us, hours for reading, and
+means to purchase books. We should be systematic in our
+expenditures. They should be regulated by the nature of
+the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed,&mdash;by
+our wages, state of health, and the situation of our families.
+After a careful consideration of these, and other incidentals
+that may be, we can make a periodical appropriation of any
+sum we please, for the purchase of books. Our readings,
+likewise, should be systematic. If we take physiology,
+physiology should be read exclusively of all others, except
+our Bibles and a few well-chosen periodicals, until we acquire
+a knowledge of its most essential parts. Then let this
+be superseded by others, interrupted in their course only by
+occasional reviews of those already studied.</p>
+
+<p>But there are those whose every farthing is needed to
+supply themselves with necessary clothing, their unfortunate
+parents, or orphan brothers and sisters with a subsistence.
+And forever sacred be these duties. Blessings be on the
+head of those who faithfully discharge them, by a cheerful
+sacrifice of selfish gratification. Cheerful, did I say? Ah!
+many will bear witness to the pangs which such a sacrifice
+costs them. It is a hard lot to be doomed to live on in ignorance,
+when one longs for knowledge, "as the hart panteth
+after the water brook." My poor friend L.'s complaint
+will meet an answering thrill of sympathy in many a heart.
+"Oh, why is it so?" said she, while tears ran down her
+cheeks. "Why have I such a thirst for knowledge, and not
+one source of gratification?" We may not know <i>why</i>, my
+sister, but faith bids us trust in God, and "rest in his decree,"&mdash;to
+be content "when he refuses more." Yet a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+spirit of <i>true</i> contentment induces no indolent yieldings to adverse
+circumstances; no slumbering and folding the hands
+in sleep, when there is so much within the reach of every
+one, worthy of our strongest and most persevering efforts.
+Mrs. Hale says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"There is a charm in knowledge, <i>best</i> when bought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>By vigorous toil of frame and earnest search of thought</i>."<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>And we will toil. Morning, noon, and evening shall witness
+our exertions to prepare for happiness and usefulness
+here, and for the exalted destiny that awaits us hereafter.
+But proper attention should be paid to physical comfort as
+well as to mental improvement. It is only by retaining the
+former that we can command the latter. The mind cannot
+be vigorous while the body is weak. Hence we should not
+allow our toils to enter upon those hours which belong to
+repose. We should not allow ourselves, however strong
+the temptation, to visit the lecture-room, &amp;c., if the state of
+the weather, or of our health, renders the experiment hazardous.
+Above all, we should not forget our dependence
+on a higher Power. "Paul may plant, and Apollos water,
+but God alone giveth the increase."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> Isabel, before we commence our "big talk," let me
+ask you to proceed upon the inference that we are totally
+ignorant of the subject under discussion.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ellinora.</i> Yes, Isabel, proceed upon the <i>fact</i> that I am
+ignorant even of the meaning of the term <i>physiology</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Isabel.</i> It comes from the Greek words <i>phusis</i>, nature, and
+<i>logia</i>, a collection, or <i>logos</i>, discourse; and means a collection
+of facts or discourse relating to nature. Physiology is
+divided, first, into Vegetable and Animal; and the latter is
+subdivided into Comparative and Human. We shall confine
+our attention to Human Physiology, which treats of the organs
+of the human body, their mutual dependence and relation,
+their functions, and the laws by which our physical
+constitution is governed.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> And are you so heretical, dear Isabel, as to class this
+science, on the score of utility, with Arithmetic and Geography&mdash;the
+alpha and omega of common school education?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes. It is important, inasmuch as it is necessary that
+we know how to preserve the fearfully delicate fabric which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+our Creator has entrusted to our keeping. We gather many
+wholesome rules and cautions from maternal lips; we learn
+many more from experiencing the painful results that follow
+their violation. But this kind of knowledge comes tardily;
+it may be when an infringement of some organic law, of
+which we were left in ignorance, has fastened upon us painful,
+perhaps fatal, disease.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> We may not always avoid sickness and premature
+death by a knowledge and observance of these laws; for
+there are hereditary diseases, in whose origin we are not implicated,
+and whose effects we cannot eradicate from our
+system by "all knowledge, all device."</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> But a knowledge of Physiology is none the less important
+in this case. If the chords of our existence are
+shattered, they must be touched only by the skilful hand, or
+they break.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Were it not for this, were there no considerations of
+utility in the plea, there are others sufficiently important to
+become impulsive. It would be pleasant to be able to trace
+the phenomena which we are constantly observing within
+ourselves to their right causes.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes; we love to understand the springs of disease,
+even though "a discovery of the cause" neither "suspends
+the effect, nor heals it." We rejoice in health, and we
+love to know why it sits so strongly within us. The warm
+blood courses its way through our veins; the breath comes
+and goes freely in and out; the nerves, those subtle organs,
+perform their important offices; the hand, foot, brain&mdash;nay,
+the whole body moves as we will: we taste, see, hear, smell,
+feel; and the inquiring mind delights in knowing by what
+means these wonderful processes are carried on,&mdash;how far
+they are mechanical, how far chemical, and how far resolvable
+into the laws of vitality. This we may learn by a study
+of Physiology, at least as far as is known. We may not
+satisfy ourselves upon all points. There may be, when we
+have finished our investigations, a longing for a more perfect
+knowledge of ourselves; for "some points must be greatly
+dark," so long as mind is fettered in its rangings, and
+retarded in its investigations by its connection with the body.
+And this is well. We love to think of the immortal state as
+one in which longings for moral and intellectual improvement
+will <i>all</i> be satisfied.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> Yes; it would lose half its attractions if we might attain
+perfection here.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> And now permit me to bring you at once to our subject.
+What is this life that I feel within me? Does Physiology
+tell us? It ought.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> It does not, however; indeed, it cannot. It merely
+develops its principles.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> The principles of life&mdash;what are they?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> The most important are <i>contractibility</i> and <i>sensibility</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Let me advertise you that I am particularly hostile to
+technical words&mdash;all because I do not understand them, I
+allow, but please humor this ignorance by avoiding them.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> And thus perpetuate your ignorance, my dear Ellinora?
+No; this will not do; for my chief object in these conversations
+is that you may be prepared to profit by lectures,
+essays and conversation hereafter. You will often be thrown
+into the company of those who express themselves in the
+easiest and most proper manner, that is, by the use of technical
+words and phrases. These will embarrass you, and
+prevent that improvement which would be derived, if these
+terms were understood. Interrupt me as often as you please
+with questions; and if we spend the remainder of the evening
+in compiling a physiological glossary, we may all reap
+advantage from the exercise. To return to the vital principles&mdash;vital
+is from <i>vita</i>, life&mdash;<i>contractibility</i> and <i>sensibility</i>.
+The former is the property of the muscles. The muscles,
+you know, are what we call flesh. They are composed of
+fibres, which terminate in tendons.</p>
+
+<p><i>Alice.</i> Please give form to my ideas of the tendons.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> With the muscles, they constitute the agents of all motion
+in us. Place your hand on the inside of your arm, and
+then bend your elbow. You perceive that cord, do you not?
+That is a tendon. You have observed them in animals,
+doubtless.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> I have. They are round, white, and lustrous; and
+these are the muscular terminations.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes; this tendon which you perceive, is the termination
+of the muscles of the fore-arm, and it is inserted into
+the lower arm to assist in its elevation.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Now we are coming to it. Please tell me how I move
+a finger&mdash;how I raise my hand in this manner.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> It is to the contractile power of the muscles that you
+are indebted for this power. I will read what Dr. Paley
+says of muscular contraction; it will make it clearer than
+any explanation of mine. He says, "A muscle acts only by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+contraction. Its force is exerted in no other way. When
+the exertion ceases, it relaxes itself, that is, it returns by
+relaxation to its former state, but without energy."</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Just as this India-rubber springs back after extension,
+for illustration.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Very well, Ellinora. He adds, "This is the nature
+of the muscular fibre; and being so, it is evident that the
+reciprocal <i>energetic</i> motion of the limbs, by which we
+mean <i>with force</i> in opposite directions, can only be produced
+by the instrumentality of opposite or antagonist muscles&mdash;of
+flexors and extensors answering to each other. For instance,
+the biceps and brachiæus <i>internus</i> muscles, placed in the
+front part of the upper arm, by their contraction, bend the
+elbow, and with such a degree of force as the case requires,
+or the strength admits. The relaxation of these muscles,
+after the effort, would merely let the fore-arm drop down.
+For the <i>back stroke</i> therefore, and that the arm may not only
+bend at the elbow, but also extend and straighten itself with
+force, other muscles, the longus, and brevis brachiæus <i>externus</i>,
+and the aconæus, placed on the hinder part of the arms,
+by their contractile twitch, fetch back the fore-arm into a
+straight line with the cubit, with no less force than that with
+which it was bent out. The same thing obtains in all the
+limbs, and in every moveable part of the body. A finger is
+not bent and straightened without the <i>contraction</i> of two muscles
+taking place. It is evident, therefore, that the animal
+functions require that particular disposition of the muscles
+which we describe by the name of antagonist muscles."</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> Thank you, Isabel. This does indeed make the subject
+very plain. These muscles contract at will.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> But how can the will operate in this manner? I have
+always wished to understand.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> And I regret that I cannot satisfy you on this point.
+If we trace the cause of muscular action by the nerves to
+the brain, we are no nearer a solution of the mystery; for
+we cannot know what power sets the organs of the brain at
+work&mdash;whether it be foreign to or of itself.</p>
+
+<p>We will come now, if you please to <i>sensibility</i>, which belongs
+to the nerves.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> I have a very indefinite idea of the nerves.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> My <i>ideal</i> is sufficiently definite in its shape, but so
+droll! I do not think of them as "being flesh of my flesh,"
+but as a <i>species</i> of the <i>genus</i> fairy. They are to us, what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
+the Nereides are to the green wave, the Dryades to the oak,
+and the Hamadryades to the little flower. They are quite
+omnipotent in their operations. They make us cry or they
+make us laugh; thrill us with rapture or woe as they please.
+And, my dear Isabel, I shall not allow you to cheat me out
+of this pleasing fancy. You may tell us just what they are,
+but I shall be as incredulous as possible.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> They are very slender white cords, extending from the
+brain and spinal marrow&mdash;twelve pairs from the former, and
+thirty from the latter. These send out branches so numerous
+that we cannot touch the point of a pin to a spot that has
+not its nerve. The mucous membrane is&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>F.</i> Oh, these technicals! What is the mucous membrane?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> It is a texture, or web of fibres, which lines all cavities
+exposed to the atmosphere&mdash;for instance, the mouth, windpipe
+and stomach. It is the seat of the senses of taste and
+smell.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> And the nerves are the little witches that inform the
+brain how one thing is sweet, another bitter; one fragrant,
+another nauseous. Alimentiveness ever after frowns or
+smiles accordingly. So it seems that the actions of the
+brain, and of the external senses, are reciprocated by the
+nerves, or something of this sort. How is it, Isabel? Oh,
+I see! You say sensibility belongs to the nerves. So
+sights by means of&mdash;of what?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Of the optical nerves.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Yes; and sounds by means of the&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Auditory nerves.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Yes; convey impressions of externals to the brain.
+And "Upon this hint" the brain acts in its consequent reflections,
+and in the nervous impulses which induce muscular
+contractibility. And this muscular contractibility is a contraction
+of the fibres of the muscles. This contraction, of
+course, shortens them, and this latter <i>must</i> result in the
+bending of the arm. I think I understand it. What are the
+brain and spine, Isabel? How are they connected?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> You will get correct ideas of the texture of the brain
+by observing that of animals. It occupies the whole cavity
+of the skull, is rounded and irregular in its form, full of
+prominences, <i>alias</i> bumps. These appear to fit themselves
+to the skull; but doubtless the bone is moulded by the brain.
+The brain is divided into two parts; the upper and frontal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
+part is called the <i>cerebrum</i>, the other the <i>cerebellum</i>. The
+former is the larger division, and is the seat of the moral
+sentiments and intellectual faculties. The latter is the seat
+of the propensities, domestic and selfish.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> I thank you, Isabel. Now, what is this spine, of
+which there is so much "complaint" now-a-days?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> I will answer you from Paley: "The spine, or backbone,
+is a chain of joints of very wonderful construction. It
+was to be firm, yet flexible; <i>firm</i>, to support the erect position
+of the body; <i>flexible</i>, to allow of the bending of the
+the trunk in all degrees of curvature. It was further, also,
+to become a pipe or conduit for the safe conveyance from the
+brain of the most important fluid of the animal frame, that,
+namely, upon which <i>all voluntary motion depends, the spinal
+marrow</i>; a substance not only of the first necessity to action,
+if not to life, but of a nature so delicate and tender, so susceptible
+and impatient of injury, that any unusual pressure
+upon it, or any considerable obstruction of its course, is followed
+by paralysis or death. Now, the spine was not only
+to furnish the main trunk for the passage of the medullary
+substance from the brain, but to give out, in the course of
+its progress, small pipes therefrom, which, being afterwards
+indefinitely subdivided, might, under the name of nerves,
+distribute this exquisite supply to every part of the body."</p>
+
+<p><i>Alice.</i> I understand now why disease of the spine causes
+such involuntary contortions and gestures, in some instances.
+Its connection with the brain and nerves is so immediate, that
+it cannot suffer disease without affecting the whole nervous
+system.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> It cannot. The spinal cord or marrow is a continuation
+of the brain. But we must not devote any more time to this
+subject.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bertha.</i> I want to ask you something about the different
+parts of the eye, Isabel. When &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; lectured on
+optics, I lost nearly all the benefit of his lecture, except a
+newly awakened desire for knowledge on this subject. He
+talked of the retina, cornea, iris, &amp;c.; please tell me precisely
+what they are.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> The retina is a nervous membrane; in other words a
+thin net-work, formed of very minute sensitive filaments.
+It is supposed by some to be an expansion of the optic nerve;
+and on this the images of objects we see are formed. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+situated at the back part of the eye. Rays pass through the
+round opening in the iris, which we call the pupil.</p>
+
+<p><i>B.</i> What did the lecturer say is the cause of the color of
+the pupil?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> He said that its <i>want of color</i> is to be imputed to the
+fact that rays of light which enter there are not returned;
+they fall on the retina, forming there images of objects. And
+you recollect he said that "absence of rays is blackness."
+The iris is a kind of curtain, covering the aqueous humor&mdash;aqueous
+is from the Latin <i>aqua</i>, water. It is confined only
+at its outer edge, or circumference; and is supplied with
+muscular fibres which confer the power of adjustment to every
+degree of light. It contracts or dilates involuntarily, as the
+light is more or less intense, as you must have observed. The
+rays of light falling on that part of the iris which immediately
+surrounds the pupil, cause it to be either black, blue, or
+hazel. We will not linger on this ground, for it belongs more
+properly to Natural Philosophy. We will discuss the other
+four senses as briefly as possible. "The sense of taste,"
+says Hayward, "resides in the mucus membrane of the
+tongue, the lips, the cheeks, and the fauces." Branches of
+nerves extend to every part of the mouth where the sense of
+taste resides. The fluid with which the mouth is constantly
+moistened is called mucus, and chiefly subserves to the sense
+of taste.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> I have observed that when the mucus is dried by
+fever, food is nearly tasteless. I now understand the reason.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> <i>Apropos</i> to the senses, let me ask if feeling and touch
+are the same. Alfred says they are; I contend they are not,
+precisely.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Hayward thinks a distinction between them unnecessary.
+He says they are both seated in the same organs, and have the
+same nerves. But the sense of feeling is more general, extending
+over the whole surface of the skin and mucus membrane,
+while that of touch is limited to particular parts, being
+in man most perfect in the hand; and the sense of feeling is
+passive, while that of touch is active. This sense is in the
+skin, and is most perfect where the epidermis, or external
+coat, is the thinnest. We will look through this little magnifying
+glass at the skin on my hand. You will see very minute
+prominences all over the surface. These points are
+called papillæ. They are supposed to be the termination of
+the nerves, and the <i>locale</i> of sensation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Will you <i>shape</i> my ideas of sensation?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> According to Lord Brougham, one of the English editors
+of this edition of Paley, it is "the effect produced upon
+the mind by the operation of the senses; and involves nothing
+like an exertion of the mind itself."</p>
+
+<p>Of the sense of hearing, I can tell you but little. Physiologists
+have doubts relative to many parts of the ear; and
+I do not understand the subject well enough to give you much
+information. I will merely name some of the parts and
+their relative situations. We have first the external ear,
+which projecting as it does from the head, is perfectly adapted
+to the office of gathering sounds, and transmitting them
+to the membrane of the tympanum, commonly called the
+drum of the ear, from its resembling somewhat, in its use
+and structure, the head of a drum. The tympanum is a cavity,
+of a cylindrical or tunnel form, and its office is supposed
+to be the transmission to the internal ear of the vibrations
+made upon the membrane. These vibrations are first communicated
+to the malleus or hammer. This is the first of
+four bones, united in a kind of chain, extending and conveying
+vibrations from the tympanum to the labyrinth of the
+ear beyond. The other bones are the incus, or anvil, the
+round bone, and the stapes, or stirrup&mdash;the latter so called
+from its resemblance to a stirrup-iron. It is placed over an
+oval aperture, which leads to the labyrinth, and which is
+closed by means of a membranous curtain. These bones are
+provided with very small muscles, and move with the vibrations
+of the tympanum. The equilibrium of the air in the
+tympanum and atmosphere is maintained by the means of the
+Eustachian tube, which extends from the back part of the
+fauces, or throat, to the cavity of the tympanum. The parts
+last mentioned constitute the middle ear. Of the internal
+ear little is known. It has its semicircular canals, vestibules,
+and cochlea; but their agencies are not ascertained.</p>
+
+<p>The organ of smell is more simple. This sense lies, or is
+supposed to lie, in the mucous membrane which lines the
+nostrils and the openings in connection. Particles are constantly
+escaping from odorous bodies; and, by being inhaled
+in respiration, they are thrown in contact with the mucous
+membrane.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> Before leaving the head, will you tell us something of
+the organs of voice?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> By placing your finger on the top of your windpipe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+you will perceive a slight prominence. In males this is very
+large. This is the thorax. It is formed of four cartilages,
+two of which are connected with a third, by means of four
+chords, called vocal chords, from their performing an important
+part in producing the voice. Experiments have been
+made, which prove that a greater part of the larynx, except
+these chords, may be removed without destroying the voice.
+Magendie thus accounts for the production of the voice. He
+says, "The air, in passing from the lungs in expiration, is
+forced out of small cavities, as the air-cells and the minute
+branches of the windpipe, into a large canal; it is thence
+sent through a narrow passage, on each side of which is a
+vibratory chord, and it is by the action of the air on these
+chords, that the sonorous undulations are produced which are
+called voice."</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Do not the lips and tongue contribute essentially to
+speech?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> They do not. Hayward says he can bear witness to the
+fact that the articulation remains unimpaired after the tongue
+has been removed. The labials, <i>f</i> and <i>v</i>, cannot be perfectly
+articulated without the action of the lips.&mdash;What subject
+shall we take next?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> A natural transition would be from the head to the
+heart, and, in connection, the circulation of the blood.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes. I will give you an abstract of the ideas I gained
+in the study of Hayward's Physiology, and the reading of Dr.
+Paley's Theology. The heart, arteries, and veins are the
+agents of circulation. The heart is irregular and conical in
+its shape; and it is hollow and double.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> There is no channel of communication between these
+parts, is there?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> None; but each side has its separate office to perform.
+By the right, circulation is carried on in the lungs; and by
+the left through the rest of the body. I will mark a few
+passages in Paley, for you to read to us, Ann. They will
+do better than any descriptions of mine.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> I thank you, Isabel, for giving me an opportunity to lend
+you temporary relief.&mdash;"The disposition of the blood-vessels,
+as far as regards the supply of the body, is like that of the
+water-pipes in a city, viz. large and main trunks branching
+off by smaller pipes (and these again by still narrower tubes)
+in every direction and towards every part in which the fluid
+which they convey can be wanted. So far, the water-pipes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+which serve a town may represent the vessels which carry
+the blood from the heart. But there is another thing necessary
+to the blood, which is not wanted for the water; and
+that is, the carrying of it back again to its source. For this
+office, a reversed system of vessels is prepared, which, uniting
+at their extremities with the extremities of the first system,
+collects the divided and subdivided streamlets, first by
+capillary ramifications into larger branches, secondly by these
+branches into trunks; and thus returns the blood (almost exactly
+inverting the order in which it went out) to the fountain
+whence its motion proceeded. The body, therefore, contains
+two systems of blood-vessels, arteries and veins.</p>
+
+<p>"The next thing to be considered is the engine which
+works this machinery, viz., the <i>heart</i>. There is provided in
+the central part of the body a hollow muscle invested with
+spiral fibres, running in both directions, the layers intersecting
+one another. By the contraction of these fibres, the sides
+of the muscular cavity are necessarily squeezed together, so
+as to force out from them any fluid which they may at that
+time contain: by the relaxation of the same fibres, the cavities
+are in their turn dilated, and, of course, prepared to admit
+every fluid which may be poured into them. Into these
+cavities are inserted the great trunks both of the arteries
+which carry out the blood, and of the veins which bring it
+back. As soon as the blood is received by the heart from
+the veins of the body, and <i>before</i> that is sent out again into
+its arteries, it is carried, by the force of the contraction of
+the heart, and by means of a separate and supplementary
+artery, to the lungs, and made to enter the vessels of the
+lungs, from which, after it has undergone the action, whatever
+it may be, of that viscus, it is brought back, by a large
+vein, once more to the heart, in order, when thus concocted
+and prepared, to be thence distributed anew into the system.
+This assigns to the heart a double office. The pulmonary
+circulation is a system within a system; and one action of
+the heart is the origin of both. For this complicated function
+four cavities become necessary, and four are accordingly
+provided; two called ventricles, which <i>send out</i> the blood,
+viz., one into the lungs in the first instance, the other into
+the mass, after it has returned from the lungs; two
+others also, called auricles, which receive the blood from the
+veins, viz. one as it comes from the body; the other, as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+same blood comes a second time after its circulation through
+the lungs."</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> That must answer our purpose, dear Ann. Of the
+change which takes place in the blood, and of the renewal
+of our physical system, which is effected by circulation, I
+shall say nothing. We will pass to respiration.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Whose popular name is breathing?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes. The act of inhaling air, is called inspiration;
+that of sending it out, expiration. Its organs are the lungs
+and windpipe. The apparatus employed in the mechanism
+of breathing is very complex. The windpipe extends from
+the mouth to the lungs.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> How is it that air enters it so freely, while food and
+drink are excluded?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> By a most ingenious contrivance. The opening to the
+pipe is called glottis. This is closed, when necessary, by a
+little valve, or lid, called the epiglottis (<i>epi</i> means <i>upon</i>.)</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> And this faithful sentinel is none other than that perpendicular
+little body which we can see in our throats, and
+which we have <i>dubbed</i> palate.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> You are right, Ellinora. Over this, food and drink pass
+on their way to the road to the stomach, the gullet. The
+pressure of solids or liquids tends to depress this lid on the
+glottis; and its muscular action in deglutition, or swallowing,
+tends to the same effect. As soon as the pressure is removed,
+the lid springs to its erect position, and the air passes freely.
+Larynx and trachea are other names for the windpipe, and
+pharynx is another for the gullet. The larynx divides into
+two branches at the lungs, and goes to each side. Hence,
+by subdivisions, it passes off in numerous smaller branches,
+to different parts of the lungs, and terminates in air-cells.
+The lungs, known in animals by the name of lights, consist
+of three parts, or lobes, one on the right side, and two on
+the left.</p>
+
+<p><i>Alice.</i> The lights of inferior animals are very light and
+porous&mdash;do our lungs resemble them in this?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes; they are full of air-tubes and air-cells. These,
+with the blood vessels and the membrane which connects
+(and this is cellular, that is, composed of cells,) form the
+lungs. The process of respiration involves chemical, mechanical,
+and vital or physiological principles. Of the mechanism
+I shall say but little more. You already know that
+the lungs occupy the chest. Of this, the breast bone forms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+the front, the spine, the back wall. Attached to this bone
+are twelve ribs on each side. These are joined by muscles
+which are supposed to assist in elevating them in breathing,
+thus enlarging the cavity of the chest. The lower partition
+is formed by a muscle of great power, called the diaphragm,
+and by the action of this organ alone common inspiration can
+be performed. Hayward says, "The contraction of this
+muscle necessarily depresses its centre, which was before
+elevated towards the lungs. The instant this takes place, the
+air rushes into the lungs through the windpipe, and thus
+prevents a vacuum, which would otherwise be produced between
+the chest and lungs." Expiration is the reverse of this.
+The chemistry of respiration regards the change produced in
+the blood by respiration. To this change I have before alluded.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> When we consider the offices of the heart and lungs,
+their importance in vital economy, how dangerous appears
+the custom of pressing them so closely between the ribs by
+tight lacing?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Yes; fearful and fatal beyond calculation! And one
+great advantage in a general knowledge of our physical system,
+is the tendency this knowledge must have to correct this
+habit.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> To me there is not the weakest motive for tight lacing.
+Everything but pride <i>must</i> revolt at the habit; and there is
+something positively disgusting and shocking in the wasp-like
+form, labored breathing, purple lips and hands of the
+tight lacer.</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> They indicate such a pitiful servitude to fashion, such
+an utter disregard of comfort, when it comes in collision with
+false notions of elegance! Well for our sex, as we could
+not be induced to act from a worthier motive, popular opinion
+is setting in strongly against this practice. Many of our
+authors and public lecturers are bringing strong arms and benevolent
+hearts to the work.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> Yes; but to be perfectly consistent, should not the
+fashions of the "Lady's Book," the "Ladies' Companion,"
+and of "Graham's Magazine," be more in keeping with the
+general sentiment? Their contributors furnish essays, deprecating
+the evils of tight lacing, and tales illustrative of its
+evil effects, yet the figures of the plates of fashions are uniformly
+most unnaturally slender. And these are offered for
+national standards!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> "And, more's the pity," followed as such.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> I think the improvements you mention would only cause
+a temporary suspension of the evil. They might indeed
+make it the <i>fashion</i> to wear natural waists; but like all other
+fashions, it must unavoidably give way to new modes. They
+might lop off a few of the branches; but science, a knowledge
+of physiology alone, is capable of laying the axe at
+the root of the tree.&mdash;What is digestion, Ellinora?</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> It is the dissolving, pulverizing, or some other <i>ing</i>, of
+our food, isn't it?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Hayward says that "it is an important part of that process
+by which aliment taken into the body is made to nourish
+it." He divides the digestive apparatus into "the mouth
+and its appendages, the stomach and the intestines." The
+teeth, tongue, jaws, and saliva, perform their respective offices
+in mastication. Then the food passes over the epiglottis,
+you recollect, down the gullet to the stomach. The saliva is
+an important agent in digestion. It is secreted in glands, which
+pour it into the mouth by a tube about the size of a wheat
+straw.</p>
+
+<p><i>Alice.</i> I heard our physician say that food should be so
+thoroughly masticated before deglutition (you see I have
+caught your technicals, Isabel,) that every particle would be
+moistened with the saliva. Then digestion would be easy
+and perfect. He says that dyspepsia is often incurred and
+perpetuated by eating too rapidly.</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Doubtless this is the case. As soon as the food reaches
+the stomach, the work of digestion commences; and the
+food is converted to a mass, neither fluid or solid, called
+chyme. With regard to this process, there have been many
+speculative theories. It has been imputed to animal heat, to
+putrefaction, to a mechanical operation (something like that
+carried on in the gizzard of a fowl,) to fermentation, and
+maceration. It is now a generally adopted theory, that the
+food is <i>dissolved</i> by the gastric juices.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> If these juices are such powerful solvents, why do
+they not act on the stomach, when they are no longer supplied
+with <i>subjects</i> in the shape of food?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> According to many authorities, they do. Comstock says
+that "hunger is produced by the action of the gastric juices
+on the stomach." This theory does not prevail, however;
+for it has been proved by experiment, that these juices do not
+act on anything that has life.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Alice.</i> How long does it take the food to digest?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Food of a proper kind will digest in a healthy stomach,
+in four or five hours. It then passes to the intestines.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> But why does it never leave the stomach until thoroughly
+digested?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> At the orifice of the stomach, there is a sort of a valve,
+called pylorus, or door-keeper. Some have supposed that
+this valve has the power of ascertaining when the food is sufficiently
+digested, and so allows chyme to pass, while it contracts
+at the touch of undigested substances.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> How wonderful!</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> And "how passing wonder He who made us such!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Alice.</i> No wonder that a poet said&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><span class="i0">"Strange that a harp of thousand strings</span>
+<span class="i1">Should keep in tune so long!"</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Ann.</i> And no wonder that the Christian bends in lowly
+adoration and love before <i>such</i> a Creator, and <i>such</i> a Preserver?</p>
+
+<p><i>E.</i> Now, dear Isabel, will you tell us something more?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.</i> Indeed, Ellinora, I have already gone much farther
+than I intended when I commenced. But I knew not where
+to stop. Even now, you have but just <i>commenced</i> the study
+of <i>yourselves</i>. Let me urge you to read in your leisure hours,
+and reflect in your working ones, until you understand physiology,
+as well as you now do geography.</p>
+
+<div class="signature">D.</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 260px;">
+<img src="images/illus-214.jpg" width="260" height="100" alt="End" title="End" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class='tnote'><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> Minor typographical errors and inconsistencies have been silently normalized. Archaic and variable spellings retained.</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mind Amongst the Spindles, by Various
+
+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: Mind Amongst the Spindles
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles Knight
+
+Release Date: September 18, 2011 [EBook #37471]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julia Miller, Julia Neufeld and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES.
+
+  A Miscellany,
+
+  WHOLLY COMPOSED BY THE FACTORY GIRLS.
+
+
+  SELECTED FROM THE
+
+  LOWELL OFFERING.
+
+
+  WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE ENGLISH EDITOR,
+
+  AND A LETTER FROM
+
+  HARRIET MARTINEAU.
+
+
+  BOSTON:
+  JORDAN, SWIFT & WILEY.
+  1845.
+
+
+  [Illustration: DOW AND JACKSON'S PRESS]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  INTRODUCTION.   By the English Editor                               5
+
+  Abby's Year in Lowell                                              21
+
+  The First Wedding in Salmagundi                                    28
+
+  "Bless, and curse not"                                             32
+
+  Ancient Poetry                                                     33
+
+  The Spirit of Discontent                                           36
+
+  The Whortleberry Excursion                                         38
+
+  The Western Antiquities                                            43
+
+  The Fig Tree                                                       45
+
+  Village Pastors                                                    49
+
+  The Sugar-Making Excursion                                         61
+
+  Prejudice against Labor                                            65
+
+  Joan of Arc                                                        73
+
+  Susan Miller                                                       81
+
+  Scenes on the Merrimac                                             92
+
+  The First Bells                                                   100
+
+  Evening before Pay-Day                                            108
+
+  The Indian Pledge                                                 118
+
+  The First Dish of Tea                                             120
+
+  Leisure Hours of the Mill Girls                                   122
+
+  The Tomb of Washington                                            136
+
+  Life among Farmers                                                138
+
+  A Weaver's Reverie                                                147
+
+  Our Duty to Strangers                                             150
+
+  Elder Isaac Townsend                                              152
+
+  Harriet Greenough                                                 153
+
+  Fancy                                                             161
+
+  The Widow's Son                                                   163
+
+  Witchcraft                                                        167
+
+  Cleaning Up                                                       170
+
+  Visits to the Shakers                                             172
+
+  The Lock of Gray Hair                                             178
+
+  Lament of the little Hunchback                                    183
+
+  This World is not our Home                                        185
+
+  Dignity of Labor                                                  187
+
+  The Village Chronicle                                             188
+
+  Ambition and Contentment                                          197
+
+  A Conversation on Physiology                                      199
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION, BY THE ENGLISH EDITOR.
+
+
+In the American state of Massachusetts, one of the New England states,
+which was colonized by the stern Puritans who were driven from our
+country by civil and religious persecution, has sprung up within the
+last thirty years the largest manufacturing town of the vast republic.
+Lowell is situated not a great distance from Boston, at the confluence
+of the rivers Merrimac and Concord. The falls of these rivers here
+afford a natural moving power for machinery; and at the latter end of
+the year 1813 a small cotton manufacture was here set up, where the
+sound of labor had not been heard before. The original adventure was not
+a prosperous one. But in 1826 the works were bought by a company or
+corporation; and from that time Lowell has gone on so rapidly increasing
+that it is now held to be "the greatest manufacturing city in America."
+According to Mr. Buckingham, there are now ten companies occupying or
+working thirty mills, and giving employment to more than 10,000
+operatives, of whom 7,000 are females. The situation of the female
+population is, for the most part, a peculiar one. Unlike the greater
+number of the young women in our English factories, they are not brought
+up to the labor of the mills, amongst parents who are also workers in
+factories. They come from a distance; many of them remain only a limited
+time; and they live in boarding houses expressly provided for their
+accommodation. Miss Martineau, in her "Society in America," explains
+the cause not only of the large proportion of females in the Lowell
+mills, but also of their coming from distant parts in search of
+employment: "Manufactures can to a considerable degree be carried on by
+the labor of women; and there is a great number of unemployed women in
+New England, from the circumstance that the young men of that region
+wander away in search of a settlement on the land, and after being
+settled find wives in the south and west." Again, she says, "Many of the
+girls are in the factories because they have too much pride for domestic
+service."
+
+In October, 1840, appeared the first number of a periodical work
+entitled "The Lowell Offering." The publication arose out of the
+meetings of an association of young women called "The Mutual Improvement
+Society." It has continued at intervals of a month or six weeks, and the
+first volume was completed in December, 1841. A second volume was
+concluded in 1842. The work was under the direction of an editor, who
+gives his name at the end of the second volume,--Abel C. Thomas. The
+duties which this gentleman performed are thus stated by him in the
+preface to the first volume:--
+
+"The two most important questions which may be suggested shall receive
+due attention.
+
+"1st. Are all the articles, in good faith and exclusively the
+productions of females employed in the mills? We reply, unhesitatingly
+and without reserve, that THEY ARE, the verses set to music excepted. We
+speak from personal acquaintance with all the writers, excepting four;
+and in relation to the latter (whose articles do not occupy eight pages
+in the aggregate) we had satisfactory proof that they were employed in
+the mills.
+
+"2d. Have not the articles been materially amended by the exercise of
+the editorial prerogative? We answer, THEY HAVE NOT. We have taken
+_less liberty_ with the articles than editors usually take with the
+productions of other than the most experienced writers. Our corrections
+and additions have been so slight as to be unworthy of special note."
+
+Of the merits of the compositions contained in these volumes their
+editor speaks with a modest confidence, in which he is fully borne out
+by the opinions of others:--
+
+"In estimating the talent of the writers for the 'Offering,' the fact
+should be remembered, that they are actively employed in the mills for
+more than twelve hours out of every twenty-four. The evening, after
+eight o'clock, affords their only opportunity for composition; and
+whoever will consider the sympathy between mind and body, must be
+sensible that a day of constant manual employment, even though the labor
+be not excessive, must in some measure unfit the individual for the full
+development of mental power. Yet the articles in this volume ask no
+unusual indulgence from the critics--for, in the language of 'The North
+American Quarterly Review,'--'many of the articles are such as satisfy
+the reader at once, that if he has only taken up the "Offering" as a
+phenomenon, and not as what may bear criticism and reward perusal, he
+has but to own his error, and dismiss his condescension, as soon as may
+be.'"
+
+The two volumes thus completed in 1842 were lent to us by a lady whose
+well-earned literary reputation gave us the assurance that she would not
+bestow her praise upon a work whose merit merely consisted in the
+remarkable circumstance that it was written by young women, not highly
+educated, during the short leisure afforded by their daily laborious
+employments. She told us that we should find in those volumes some
+things which might be read with pleasure and improvement. And yet we
+must honestly confess that we looked at the perusal of these
+closely-printed eight hundred pages as something of a task. We felt
+that all literary productions, and indeed all works of art, should, in a
+great degree, be judged without reference to the condition of the
+producer. When we take up the poems of Burns, we never think that he was
+a ploughman and an exciseman; but we have a painful remembrance of
+having read a large quarto volume of verses by Ann Yearsly, who was
+patronized in her day by Horace Walpole and Hannah More, and to have
+felt only the conviction that the milkwoman of Bristol, for such was
+their authoress, had better have limited her learning to the score and
+the tally. But it was a duty to read the "Lowell Offering." The day that
+saw us begin the first paper was witness to our continued reading till
+night found us busy at the last page, not for a duty, but a real
+pleasure.
+
+The qualities which most struck us in these volumes were chiefly these:
+_First_--there is an entire absence of all pretension in the writers to
+be what they are not. They are factory girls. They always call
+themselves "girls." They have no desire to be fine ladies, nor do they
+call themselves "ladies," as the common fashion is of most American
+females. They have no affectations of gentility; and by a natural
+consequence they are essentially free from all vulgarity. They describe
+the scenes amongst which they live, their labors and their pleasures,
+the little follies of some of their number, the pure tastes and
+unexpensive enjoyments of others. They feel, and constantly proclaim
+without any effort, that they think it an honor to labor with their
+hands. They recognize the real dignity of all useful employments. They
+know that there is no occupation really unworthy of men or women, but
+the selfish pursuits of what is called pleasure, without the desire to
+promote the good of others by physical, intellectual, or moral
+exertions. _Secondly_--many of these papers clearly show under what
+influences these young women have been brought up. An earnest feeling
+of piety pervades their recollections of the past, and their hopes for
+the future. The thoughts of home, too, lie deep in their hearts. They
+are constantly describing the secluded farm-house where they were
+reared, the mother's love, the father's labors. Sometimes a reverse of
+fortune falling upon a family has dispersed its once happy members.
+Sometimes we see visions of past household joy through the orphan's
+tears. Not unfrequently the ardent girl, happy in the confirmed
+affection of some equal in rank, looks exultingly towards the day when
+she may carry back from the savings' bank at Lowell a little dower to
+furnish out their little farm on the hill side, where the barberries
+grew, so deliciously red and sour, in her remembrance of childhood.
+_Thirdly_--there is a genuine patriotism in the tone of many of these
+productions, which is worthy the descendants of the stern freemen who,
+in the New England solitudes, looked tearfully back upon their
+father-land. The institutions under which these young women live are
+different from our own; but there is scarcely a particle of what we have
+been too apt to call republican arrogance. The War of Independence is
+spoken of as it ought to be by every American, with feelings of honest
+exultation. But that higher sentiments than those of military triumph
+mingle with the memory of that war, and render patriotism something far
+nobler than mere national pride, may be seen in the little poem which we
+gladly reprint, "The Tomb of Washington." The paper called "The Lock of
+Gray Hair" is marked by an honest nationality, which we would be ashamed
+not to reverence.--_Fourthly_--like all writers of good natural taste,
+who have not been perverted into mere imitators of other writers, they
+perceive that there is a great source of interest in describing, simply
+and correctly, what they have witnessed with their own eyes. Thus, some
+of the home pictures of these volumes are exceedingly agreeable,
+presenting to us manners and habits wholly different from our own, and
+scenes which have all the freshness of truth in their delineations.--The
+old stories, too, which they sometimes tell of past life in America, are
+equally interesting; and they show us how deeply in all minds is
+implanted the love of old things, which are tenderly looked back upon,
+even though they may have been swept away by what is real
+improvement.--_Lastly_--although there are necessarily in these volumes,
+as in every miscellany, some things which are tedious, and some puerile,
+mock sentimentalities and labored efforts at fine writing, we think it
+would be difficult upon the whole for a large body of contributors,
+writing under great indulgence, to produce so much matter with so little
+bad taste. Of pedantry there is literally none. The writers are familiar
+with good models of composition; they know something of ancient and
+modern history; the literature of England has reached them, and given a
+character and direction to their thoughts. But there is never any
+attempt to parade what they know; and we see they have been readers,
+only as we discover the same thing in the best educated persons, not in
+a display of their reading, but in a general tone which shows that
+cultivation has made them wiser and better.
+
+Such were the opinions we had formed of "The Lowell Offering," before we
+were acquainted with the judgment pronounced upon the same book by a
+writer whose original and brilliant genius is always under the direction
+of kindly feelings towards his fellow-creatures, and especially towards
+the poor and lowly of his human brethren. Mr. Dickens, in his "American
+Notes," thus mentions "The Lowell Offering," of which he says, "I
+brought away from Lowell four hundred good solid pages, which I have
+read from beginning to end:"--"Of the merits of 'The Lowell Offering,'
+as a literary production, I will only observe, putting entirely out of
+sight the fact of the articles having been written by these girls after
+the arduous labors of the day, that it will compare advantageously with
+a great many English annuals. It is pleasant to find that many of its
+tales are of the mills and of those who work in them; that they
+inculcate habits of self-denial and contentment, and teach good
+doctrines of enlarged benevolence. A strong feeling for the beauties of
+nature, as displayed in the solitudes the writers have left at home,
+breathes through its pages like wholesome village air; and though a
+circulating library is a favorable school for the study of such topics,
+it has very scant allusion to fine clothes, fine marriages, fine houses,
+or fine life. Some persons might object to the papers being signed
+occasionally with rather fine names, but this is an American fashion.
+One of the provinces of the state legislature of Massachusetts is to
+alter ugly names into pretty ones, as the children improve upon the
+tastes of their parents."
+
+If the separate articles in "The Lowell Offering" bear signatures which
+represent distinct writers, we have, in our selection of thirty-seven
+articles, given the productions of twenty-nine individual contributors.
+It is this circumstance which leads us to believe that many of the
+papers are faithful representations of individual feelings. Tabitha,
+from whose pen we have given four papers, is a simple, unpretending
+narrator of old American scenes and customs. Ella, from whom we select
+three papers, is one of the imaginative spirits who dwell on high
+thoughts of the past, and reveries of the future--one who has been an
+earnest thinker as well as a reader. Jemima prettily describes two
+little home-scenes. Susanna, who to our minds exhibits natural powers
+and feelings, that by cultivation might enable her to become as
+interesting an historian of the old times of America in the days before
+the Revolution as an Irving or a Cooper, furnishes us with two papers.
+The rest are Lisettas, and Almiras, and Ethelindas, and Annettes, and
+Theresas; with others who are contented with simple initials. They have
+all afforded us much pleasure. We have read what they have written with
+a deep interest. May the love of letters which they enjoy, and the power
+of composition which they have attained, shed their charms over their
+domestic life, when their days of mill service are ended. May their
+epistles to their friends be as full of truthfulness and good feeling as
+their contributions to "The Lowell Offering." May the success of this
+their remarkable attempt at literary composition not lead them to dream
+too much of the proud distinctions of authorship--uncertain prizes, won,
+if won at all, by many a weary struggle and many a bitter
+disappointment. The efforts which they have made to acquire the practice
+of writing have had their own reward. They have united themselves as
+familiar friends with high and gentle minds, who have spoken to them in
+books with love and encouragement. In dwelling upon the thoughts of
+others, in fixing their own thoughts upon some definite object, they
+have lifted themselves up into a higher region than is attained by
+those, whatever be their rank, whose minds are not filled with images of
+what is natural and beautiful and true. They have raised themselves out
+of the sphere of the partial and the temporary into the broad expanse of
+the universal and the eternal. During their twelve hours of daily labor,
+when there were easy but automatic services to perform, waiting upon a
+machine--with that slight degree of skill which no machine can ever
+attain--for the repair of the accidents of its unvarying progress, they
+may, without a neglect of their duty, have been elevating their minds in
+the scale of being by cheerful lookings-out upon nature, by pleasant
+recollections of books, by imaginary converse with the just and wise who
+have lived before them, by consoling reflections upon the infinite
+goodness and wisdom which regulates this world, so unintelligible
+without such a dependence. These habits have given them cheerfulness and
+freedom amidst their uninterrupted toils. We see no repinings against
+their twelve hours' labor, for it has had its solace. Even during the
+low wages of 1842, which they mention with sorrow but without complaint,
+the same cultivation goes on; "The Lowell Offering" is still produced.
+To us of England these things ought to be encouraging. To the immense
+body of our factory operatives the example of what the girls of Lowell
+have done should be especially valuable. It should teach them that their
+strength, as well as their happiness, lies in the cultivation of their
+minds. To the employers of operatives, and to all of wealth and
+influence amongst us, this example ought to manifest that a strict and
+diligent performance of daily duties, in work prolonged as much as in
+our own factories, is no impediment to the exercise of those faculties,
+and the gratification of those tastes, which, whatever the world may
+have thought, can no longer be held to be limited by station. There is a
+contest going on amongst us, as it is going on all over the world,
+between the hard imperious laws which regulate the production of wealth
+and the aspirations of benevolence for the increase of human happiness.
+We do not deplore the contest; for out of it must come a gradual
+subjection of the iron necessity to the holy influences of love and
+charity. Such a period cannot, indeed, be rashly anticipated by
+legislation against principles which are secondary laws of nature; but
+one thing, nevertheless, is certain--that such an improvement of the
+operative classes, as all good men,--and we sincerely believe amongst
+them the great body of manufacturing capitalists,--ardently pray for and
+desire to labor in their several spheres to attain, will be brought
+about in a parallel progression with the elevation of the operatives
+themselves in mental cultivation, and consequently in moral excellence.
+We believe that this great good may be somewhat advanced by a knowledge
+diffused in every building throughout the land where there is a mule or
+a loom, of what the factory girls of Lowell have done to exhibit the
+cheering influences of "MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We had written thus far when we received the following most interesting
+and valuable letter from Miss Martineau. We have the greatest pleasure
+in printing this admirable account of the factory girls at Lowell, from
+the pen of one who has labored more diligently and successfully than any
+writer of our day, to elevate the condition of the operative classes. To
+Miss Martineau we are deeply indebted for the ardent zeal with which she
+has recommended the compilation, and for the sound judgment with which
+she has assisted us in arranging the details of a plan which mainly owes
+its origin to her unwearied solicitude for the good of her
+fellow-creatures.
+
+              _Letter from Miss Martineau to the Editor._
+
+                                            _Tynemouth, May 20, 1844._
+
+    MY DEAR FRIEND,--Your interest in this Lowell book can scarcely
+    equal mine; for I have seen the factory girls in their Lyceum, and
+    have gone over the cotton-mills at Waltham, and made myself familiar
+    on the spot with factory life in New England; so that in reading the
+    "Offering," I saw again in my memory the street of houses built by
+    the earnings of the girls, the church which is their property, and
+    the girls themselves trooping to the mill, with their healthy
+    countenances, and their neat dress and quiet manners, resembling
+    those of the tradesman class of our country.
+
+    My visit to Lowell was merely for one day, in company with Mr.
+    Emerson's party,--he (the pride and boast of New England as an
+    author and philosopher) being engaged by the Lowell factory people
+    to lecture to them, in a winter course of historical biography. Of
+    course the lectures were delivered in the evening, after the mills
+    were closed. The girls were then working seventy hours a week, yet,
+    as I looked at the large audience (and I attended more to them than
+    to the lecture) I saw no sign of weariness among any of them. There
+    they sat, row behind row, in their own Lyceum--a large hall,
+    wainscoted with mahogany, the platform carpeted, well lighted,
+    provided with a handsome table, desk, and seat, and adorned with
+    portraits of a few worthies, and as they thus sat listening to their
+    lecturer, all wakeful and interested, all well-dressed and
+    lady-like, I could not but feel my heart swell at the thought, of
+    what such a sight would be with us.
+
+    The difference is not in rank, for these young people were all
+    daughters of parents who earn their bread with their own hands. It
+    is not in the amount of wages, however usual that supposition is,
+    for they were then earning from one to three dollars a-week, besides
+    their food; the children one dollar (4_s._ 3_d._), the second rate
+    workers two dollars, and the best three: the cost of their dress and
+    necessary comforts being much above what the same class expend in
+    this country. It is not in the amount of toil; for, as I have said,
+    they worked seventy clear hours per week. The difference was in
+    their superior culture. Their minds are kept fresh, and strong, and
+    free by knowledge and power of thought; and this is the reason why
+    they are not worn and depressed under their labors. They begin with
+    a poorer chance for health than our people; for the health of the
+    New England women generally is not good, owing to circumstances of
+    climate and other influences; but among the 3800 women and girls in
+    the Lowell mills when I was there, the average of health was not
+    lower than elsewhere; and the disease which was most mischievous was
+    the same that proves most fatal over the whole country--consumption;
+    while there were no complaints peculiar to mill life.
+
+    At Waltham, where I saw the mills, and conversed with the people, I
+    had an opportunity of observing the invigorating effects of MIND in
+    a life of labor. Twice the wages and half the toil would not have
+    made the girls I saw happy and healthy, without that cultivation of
+    mind which afforded them perpetual support, entertainment, and
+    motive for activity. They were not highly educated, but they had
+    pleasure in books and lectures, in correspondence with home; and had
+    their minds so open to fresh ideas, as to be drawn off from thoughts
+    of themselves and their own concerns. When at work they were amused
+    with thinking over the last book they had read, or with planning the
+    account they should write home of the last Sunday's sermon, or with
+    singing over to themselves the song they meant to practise in the
+    evening; and when evening came, nothing was heard of tired limbs and
+    eagerness for bed, but, if it was summer, they sallied out, the
+    moment tea was over, for a walk, and if it was winter, to the
+    lecture-room or to the ball-room for a dance, or they got an hour's
+    practice at the piano, or wrote home, or shut themselves up with a
+    new book. It was during the hours of work in the mill that the
+    papers in the "Offering" were meditated, and it was after work in
+    the evenings that they were penned.
+
+    There is, however, in the case of these girls, a stronger support, a
+    more elastic spring of vigor and cheerfulness than even an active
+    and cultivated understanding. The institution of factory labor has
+    brought ease of heart to many; and to many occasion for noble and
+    generous deeds. The ease of heart is given to those who were before
+    suffering in silent poverty, from the deficiency of profitable
+    employment for women, which is even greater in America than with us.
+    It used to be understood there that all women were maintained by the
+    men of their families; but the young men of New England are apt to
+    troop off into the West, to settle in new lands, leaving sisters at
+    home. Some few return to fetch a wife, but the greater number do
+    not, and thus a vast over proportion of young women remains; and to
+    a multitude of these the opening of factories was a most welcome
+    event, affording means of honorable maintenance, in exchange for
+    pining poverty at home.
+
+    As for the noble deeds, it makes one's heart glow to stand in these
+    mills, and hear of the domestic history of some who are working
+    before one's eyes, unconscious of being observed or of being the
+    object of any admiration. If one of the sons of a New England farmer
+    shows a love for books and thought, the ambition of an affectionate
+    sister is roused, and she thinks of the glory and honor to the whole
+    family, and the blessing to him, if he could have a college
+    education. She ponders this till she tells her parents, some day, of
+    her wish to go to Lowell, and earn the means of sending her brother
+    to college. The desire is yet more urgent if the brother has a pious
+    mind, and a wish to enter the ministry. Many a clergyman in America
+    has been prepared for his function by the devoted industry of
+    sisters; and many a scholar and professional man dates his elevation
+    in social rank and usefulness from his sister's, or even some
+    affectionate aunt's entrance upon mill life, for his sake. Many
+    girls, perceiving anxiety in their fathers' faces, on account of the
+    farm being incumbered, and age coming on without release from the
+    debt, have gone to Lowell, and worked till the mortgage was paid
+    off, and the little family property free. Such motives may well
+    lighten and sweeten labor; and to such girls labor is light and
+    sweet.
+
+    Some, who have no such calls, unite the surplus of their earnings to
+    build dwellings for their own residence, six, eight, or twelve
+    living together with the widowed mother or elderly aunt of one of
+    them to keep house for, and give countenance to the party. I saw a
+    whole street of houses so built and owned, at Waltham; pretty frame
+    houses, with the broad piazza, and the green Venitian blinds, that
+    give such an air of coolness and pleasantness to American village
+    and country abodes. There is the large airy eating-room, with a few
+    prints hung up, the piano at one end, and the united libraries of
+    the girls, forming a good-looking array of books, the rocking chairs
+    universal in America, the stove adorned in summer with flowers, and
+    the long dining-table in the middle. The chambers do not answer to
+    our English ideas of comfort. There is a strange absence of the wish
+    for privacy; and more girls are accommodated in one room than we
+    should see any reason for in such comfortable and pretty houses.
+
+    In the mills the girls have quite the appearance of ladies. They
+    sally forth in the morning with their umbrellas in threatening
+    weather, their calashes to keep their hair neat, gowns of print or
+    gingham, with a perfect fit, worked collars or pelerines, and
+    waistbands of ribbon. For Sundays and social evenings they have
+    their silk gowns, and neat gloves and shoes. Yet through proper
+    economy,--the economy of educated and thoughtful people,--they are
+    able to lay by for such purposes as I have mentioned above. The
+    deposits in the Lowell Savings' Bank were, in 1834, upwards of
+    114,000 dollars, the number of operatives being 5000, of whom 3800
+    were women and girls.
+
+    I thank you for calling my attention back to this subject. It is
+    one I have pleasure in recurring to. There is nothing in America
+    which necessitates the prosperity of manufactures as of agriculture,
+    and there is nothing of good in their factory system that may not be
+    emulated elsewhere--equalled elsewhere, when the people employed are
+    so educated as to have the command of themselves and of their lot in
+    life, which is always and everywhere controlled by mind, far more
+    than by outward circumstances.
+
+                                            I am very truly yours,
+
+                                                    H. MARTINEAU.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+MIND AMONGST THE SPINDLES.
+
+
+
+
+ABBY'S YEAR IN LOWELL.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"Mr. Atkins, I say! Husband, why can't you speak? Do you hear what Abby
+says?"
+
+"Any thing worth hearing?" was the responsive question of Mr. Atkins;
+and he laid down the New Hampshire Patriot, and peered over his
+spectacles, with a look which seemed to say, that an event so uncommon
+deserved particular attention.
+
+"Why, she says that she means to go to Lowell, and work in the factory."
+
+"Well, wife, let her go;" and Mr. Atkins took up the Patriot again.
+
+"But I do not see how I can spare her; the spring cleaning is not done,
+nor the soap made, nor the boys' summer clothes; and you say that you
+intend to board your own 'men-folks' and keep two more cows than you did
+last year; and Charley can scarcely go alone. I do not see how I can get
+along without her."
+
+"But you say she does not assist you any about the house."
+
+"Well, husband, she _might_."
+
+"Yes, she might do a great many things which she does not think of
+doing; and as I do not see that she means to be useful here; we will let
+her go to the factory."
+
+"Father, are you in earnest? may I go to Lowell?" said Abby; and she
+raised her bright black eyes to her father's, with a look of exquisite
+delight.
+
+"Yes, Abby, if you will promise me one thing, and that is, that you will
+stay a whole year without visiting us, excepting in case of sickness,
+and that you will stay but one year."
+
+"I will promise anything, father, if you will only let me go; for I
+thought you would say that I had better stay at home, and pick rocks,
+and weed the garden, and drop corn, and rake hay; and I do not want to
+do such work any longer. May I go with the Slater girls next Tuesday?
+for that is the day they have set for their return."
+
+"Yes, Abby, if you will remember that you are to stay a year, and only a
+year."
+
+Abby retired to rest that night with a heart fluttering with pleasure;
+for ever since the visit of the Slater girls, with new silk dresses, and
+Navarino bonnets trimmed with flowers and lace veils, and gauze
+handkerchiefs, her head had been filled with visions of fine clothes;
+and she thought if she could only go where she could dress like them,
+she would be completely happy. She was naturally very fond of dress, and
+often, while a little girl, had she sat on the grass bank by the
+road-side, watching the stage which went daily by her father's retired
+dwelling; and when she saw the gay ribbons and smart shawls, which
+passed like a bright phantom before her wondering eyes, she had thought
+that when older she too would have such things; and she looked forward
+to womanhood as to a state in which the chief pleasure must consist in
+wearing fine clothes. But as years passed over her, she became aware
+that this was a source from which she could never derive any enjoyment,
+while she remained at home, for her father was neither able nor willing
+to gratify her in this respect, and she had begun to fear that she must
+always wear the same brown cambric bonnet, and that the same calico gown
+would always be her "go-to-meeting dress." And now what a bright picture
+had been formed by her ardent and uncultivated imagination.--Yes, she
+would go to Lowell, and earn all that she possibly could, and spend
+those earnings in beautiful attire; she would have silk dresses,--one of
+grass green, and another of cherry red, and another upon the color of
+which she would decide when she purchased it; and she would have a new
+Navarino bonnet; far more beautiful than Judith Slater's; and when at
+last she fell asleep, it was to dream of satin and lace, and her glowing
+fancy revelled all night in a vast and beautiful collection of
+milliners' finery.
+
+But very different were the dreams of Abby's mother; and when she awoke
+the next morning, her first words to her husband were, "Mr. Atkins,
+were you serious last night when you told Abby that she might go to
+Lowell? I thought at first that you were vexed because I interrupted
+you, and said it to stop the conversation."
+
+"Yes, wife, I was serious, and you did not interrupt me, for I had been
+listening to all that you and Abby were saying. She is a wild,
+thoughtless girl, and I hardly know what it is best to do with her; but
+perhaps it will be as well to try an experiment, and let her think and
+act a little while for herself. I expect that she will spend all her
+earnings in fine clothes, but after she has done so she may see the
+folly of it; at all events, she will be more likely to understand the
+value of money when she has been obliged to work for it. After she has
+had her own way for one year, she may possibly be willing to return
+home, and become a little more steady, and be willing to devote her
+active energies (for she is a very capable girl) to household duties,
+for hitherto her services have been principally out of doors, where she
+is now too old to work. I am also willing that she should see a little
+of the world, and what is going on in it; and I hope that, if she
+receives no benefit, she will at least return to us uninjured."
+
+"O, husband, I have many fears for her," was the reply of Mrs. Atkins,
+"she is so very giddy and thoughtless, and the Slater girls are as
+hair-brained as herself, and will lead her on in all sorts of folly. I
+wish you would tell her that she must stay at home."
+
+"I made a promise," said Mr. Atkins, "and I will keep it; and Abby, I
+trust, will keep _hers_."
+
+Abby flew round in high spirits to make the necessary preparations for
+her departure, and her mother assisted her with a heavy heart.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+The evening before she left home her father called her to him, and
+fixing upon her a calm, earnest, and almost mournful look, he said,
+"Abby, do you ever think?"--Abby was subdued, and almost awed, by her
+father's look and manner. There was something unusual in it--something
+in his expression which was unexpected in him, which reminded her of her
+teacher's look at the Sabbath school, when he was endeavoring to
+impress upon her mind some serious truth. "Yes, father," she at length
+replied, "I have thought a great deal lately about going to Lowell."
+
+"But I do not believe, my child, that you have had one serious
+reflection upon the subject, and I fear that I have done wrong in
+consenting to let you go from home. If I was too poor to maintain you
+here, and had no employment about which you could make yourself useful,
+I should feel no self-reproach, and would let you go, trusting that all
+might yet be well; but now I have done what I may at some future time
+severely repent of; and, Abby, if you do not wish to make me wretched,
+you will return to us a better, milder, and more thoughtful girl."
+
+That night Abby reflected more seriously than she had ever done in her
+life before. Her father's words, rendered more impressive by the look
+and tone with which they were delivered, had sunk into her heart as
+words of his had never done before. She had been surprised at his ready
+acquiescence in her wishes, but it had now a new meaning. She felt that
+she was about to be abandoned to herself, because her parents despaired
+of being able to do anything for her; they thought her too wild,
+reckless, and untameable, to be softened by aught but the stern lessons
+of experience. I will surprise them, said she to herself; I will show
+them that I have some reflection; and after I come home, my father shall
+never ask me if I _think_. Yes, I know what their fears are, and I will
+let them see that I can take care of myself, and as good care as they
+have ever taken of me. I know that I have not done as well as I might
+have done; but I will begin _now_, and when I return, they shall see
+that _I am_ a better, milder, and more thoughtful girl. And the money
+which I intended to spend in fine dress shall be put into the bank; I
+will save it all, and my father shall see that I can earn money, and
+take care of it too. O, how different I will be from what they think I
+am; and how very glad it will make my father and mother to see that I am
+not so very bad, after all.
+
+New feelings and new ideas had begotten new resolutions, and Abby's
+dreams that night were of smiles from her mother, and words from her
+father, such as she had never received nor deserved.
+
+When she bade them farewell the next morning, she said nothing of the
+change which had taken place in her views and feelings, for she felt a
+slight degree of self-distrust in her own firmness of purpose.
+
+Abby's self-distrust was commendable and auspicious; but she had a very
+prominent development in that part of the head where phrenologists
+locate the organ of firmness; and when she had once determined upon a
+thing, she usually went through with it. She had now resolved to pursue
+a course entirely different from that which was expected of her, and as
+different from the one she had first marked out for herself. This was
+more difficult, on account of her strong propensity for dress, a love of
+which was freely gratified by her companions. But when Judith Slater
+pressed her to purchase this beautiful piece of silk, or that splendid
+piece of muslin, her constant reply was, "No, I have determined not to
+buy any such things, and I will keep my resolution."
+
+Before she came to Lowell, she wondered, in her simplicity, how people
+could live where there were so many stores, and not spend all their
+money; and it now required all her firmness to resist being overcome by
+the tempting display of beauties which met her eye whenever she
+promenaded the illuminated streets. It was hard to walk by the
+milliners' shops with an unwavering step; and when she came to the
+confectionaries, she could not help stopping. But she did not yield to
+the temptation; she did not spend her money in them. When she saw fine
+strawberries, she said to herself, "I can gather them in our own pasture
+next year;" when she looked upon the nice peaches, cherries, and plums
+which stood in tempting array behind their crystal barriers, she said
+again, "I will do without them _this_ summer;" and when apples, pears,
+and nuts were offered to her for sale, she thought that she would eat
+none of them till she went home. But she felt that the only safe place
+for her earnings was the savings' bank, and there they were regularly
+deposited, that it might be out of her power to indulge in momentary
+whims. She gratified no feeling but a newly-awakened desire for mental
+improvement, and spent her leisure hours in reading useful books.
+
+Abby's year was one of perpetual self-contest and self-denial; but it
+was by no means one of unmitigated misery. The ruling desire of years
+was not to be conquered by the resolution of a moment; but when the
+contest was over, there was for her the triumph of victory. If the
+battle was sometimes desperate, there was so much more merit in being
+conqueror. One Sabbath was spent in tears, because Judith Slater did not
+wish her to attend their meeting with such a dowdy bonnet; and another
+fellow-boarder thought her gown must have been made in "the year one."
+The color mounted to her cheeks, and the lightning flashed from her
+eyes, when asked if she had "_just come down_;" and she felt as though
+she should be glad to be away from them all, when she heard their sly
+innuendoes about "bush-wackers." Still she remained unshaken. It is but
+a year, said she to herself, and the time and money that my father
+thought I should spend in folly, shall be devoted to a better purpose.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+At the close of a pleasant April day, Mr. Atkins sat at his kitchen
+fire-side, with Charley upon his knees. "Wife," said he to Mrs. Atkins,
+who was busily preparing the evening meal, "is it not a year since Abby
+left home?"
+
+"Why, husband, let me think: I always clean up the house thoroughly just
+before _fast-day_, and I had not done it when Abby went away. I remember
+speaking to her about it, and telling her that it was wrong to leave me
+at such a busy time, and she said, 'Mother, I will be at home to do it
+all next year.' Yes, it is a year, and I should not be surprised if she
+should come this week."
+
+"Perhaps she will not come at all," said Mr. Atkins, with a gloomy look;
+"she has written us but few letters, and they have been very short and
+unsatisfactory. I suppose she has sense enough to know that no news is
+better than bad news, and having nothing pleasant to tell about herself,
+she thinks she will tell us nothing at all. But if I ever get her home
+again, I will keep her here. I assure you, her first year in Lowell
+shall also be her last."
+
+"Husband, I told you my fears, and if you had set up your authority,
+Abby would have been obliged to stay at home; but perhaps she is doing
+pretty well. You know she is not accustomed to writing, and that may
+account for the few and short letters we have received; but they have
+all, even the shortest, contained the assurance that she would be at
+home at the close of the year."
+
+"Pa, the stage has stopped here," said little Charley, and he bounded
+from his father's knee. The next moment the room rang with the shout of
+"Abby has come! Abby has come!" In a few moments more, she was in the
+midst of the joyful throng. Her father pressed her hand in silence, and
+tears gushed from her mother's eyes. Her brothers and sisters were
+clamorous with delight, all but little Charley, to whom Abby was a
+stranger, and who repelled with terror all her overtures for a better
+acquaintance. Her parents gazed upon her with speechless pleasure, for
+they felt that a change for the better had taken place in their once
+wayward girl. Yes, there she stood before them, a little taller and a
+little thinner, and, when the flush of emotion had faded away, perhaps a
+little paler; but the eyes were bright in their joyous radiance, and the
+smile of health and innocence was playing around the rosy lips. She
+carefully laid aside her new straw bonnet, with its plain trimming of
+light blue ribbon, and her dark merino dress showed to the best
+advantage her neat symmetrical form. There was more delicacy of personal
+appearance than when she left them, and also more softness of manner;
+for constant collision with so many young females had worn off the
+little asperities which had marked her conduct while at home.
+
+"Well, Abby, how many silk gowns have you got?" said her father, as he
+opened a large new trunk. "_Not one_, father," said she; and she fixed
+her dark eyes upon him with an expression which told all. "But here are
+some little books for the children, and a new calico dress for mother;
+and here is a nice black silk handkerchief for you to wear around your
+neck on Sundays; accept it, dear father, for it is your daughter's first
+gift."
+
+"You had better have bought me a pair of spectacles, for I am sure I
+cannot see anything." There were tears in the rough farmer's eyes, but
+he tried to laugh and joke, that they might not be perceived. "But what
+did you do with all your money?"
+
+"I thought I had better leave it there," said Abby, and she placed her
+bank-book in her father's hand. Mr. Atkins looked a moment, and the
+forced smile faded away. The surprise had been too great, and tears fell
+thick and fast from the father's eyes.
+
+"It is but a little," said Abby. "But it was all you could save,"
+replied her father, "and I am proud of you, Abby; yes, proud that I am
+the father of such a girl. It is not this paltry sum which pleases me so
+much, but the prudence, self-command, and real affection for us which
+you have displayed. But was it not sometimes hard to resist temptation?"
+
+"Yes, father, _you_ can never know how hard; but it was the thought of
+_this_ night which sustained me through it all. I knew how you would
+smile, and what my mother would say and feel; and though there have been
+moments, yes, hours, that have seen me wretched enough, yet this one
+evening will repay for all. There is but one thing now to mar my
+happiness, and that is the thought that this little fellow has quite
+forgotten me;" and she drew Charley to her side. But the new
+picture-book had already effected wonders, and in a few moments he was
+in her lap, with his arms around her neck, and his mother could not
+persuade him to retire that night until he had given "sister Abby" a
+hundred kisses.
+
+"Father," said Abby, as she arose to retire, when the tall clock struck
+eleven, "may I not sometime go back to Lowell? I should like to add a
+little to the sum in the bank, and I should be glad of _one_ silk gown!"
+
+"Yes, Abby, you may do anything you wish. I shall never again be afraid
+to let you spend a year in Lowell."
+
+                                                         LUCINDA.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST WEDDING IN SALMAGUNDI.
+
+
+I have often heard this remark, "If their friends can give them nothing
+else, they will surely give them a wedding." As I have nothing else to
+present at this time, I hope my friends will not complain if I give them
+an account of the first wedding in our town. The ceremony of marriage
+being performed by his Excellency the Governor, it would not be amiss to
+introduce him first of all.
+
+Let me then introduce John Wentworth (the last governor of New Hampshire
+while the colonies were subject to the crown of Great Britain), whose
+country seat was in Salmagundi. The wedding which I am about to
+describe was celebrated on a romantic spot, by the side of Lake
+Winnipiseogee. All the neighbors within ten miles were invited, and it
+was understood that all who came were expected to bring with them some
+implements of husbandry, such as ploughs, harrows, yokes, bows,
+wheelbarrows, hods, scythe-snaths, rakes, goads, hay-hooks, bar-pins,
+&c. These articles were for a fair, the product of which was to defray
+the expenses of the wedding, and also to fit out the bride with some
+household furniture. All these implements, and a thousand and one
+besides, being wanted on the farm of Wentworth, he was to employ persons
+to buy them for his own especial use.
+
+Johnny O'Lara, an old man, who used to chop wood at my father's door,
+related the particulars of the wedding one evening, while I sat on a
+block in the chimney-corner (the usual place for the greatest rogue in
+the family), plying my knitting-needles, and every now and then, when
+the eyes of my step-mother were turned another way, playing slyly with
+the cat. And once, when we yonkers went upon a whortleberry excursion,
+with O'Lara for our pilot, he showed us the spot where the wedding took
+place, and described it as it was at the time. On the right was a grove
+of birches; on the left a grove of bushy pines, with recesses for the
+cows and sheep to retire from the noon-day sun. The background was a
+forest of tall pines and hemlocks, and in front were the limpid waters
+of the "Smile of the Great Spirit." These encircled about three acres of
+level grass-land, with here and there a scattering oak. "Under yonder
+oak," said O'Lara, "the ceremony was performed; and here, on this flat
+rock, was the rude oven constructed, where the good wives baked the
+lamb; and there is the place where crotched stakes were driven to
+support a pole, upon which hung two huge iron kettles, in which they
+boiled their peas. And on this very ground," said O'Lara, "in days of
+yore, the elfs and fairies used to meet, and, far from mortal ken, have
+their midnight gambols."
+
+The wedding was on a fine evening in the latter part of the month of
+July, at a time when the moon was above the horizon for the whole night.
+The company were all assembled, with the exception of the Governor and
+his retinue. To while away the time, just as the sun was sinking behind
+the opposite mountains, they commenced singing an ode to sunset. They
+had sung,
+
+  "The sunset is calm on the face of the deep,
+    And bright is the last look of Sol in the west;
+  And broad do the beams of his parting glance sweep,
+    Like the path that conducts to the land of the blest,"
+
+when the blowing of a horn announced the approach of the Governor, whose
+barge was soon seen turning a point of land. The company gave a salute
+of nineteen guns, which was returned from the barge, gun for gun. The
+Governor and retinue soon landed, and the fair was quickly over. The
+company being seated on rude benches prepared for the occasion, the
+blowing of a horn announced that it was time for the ceremony to
+commence; and, being answered by a whistle, all eyes were turned toward
+the right, and issuing from the birchen grove were seen three musicians,
+with a bagpipe, fife, and a Scotch fiddle, upon which they were playing
+with more good nature than skill. They were followed by the bridegroom
+and grooms-man, and in the rear were a number of young men in their
+holiday clothes. These having taken their places, soft music was heard
+from the left; and from a recess in the pines, three maidens in white,
+with baskets of wild flowers on the left arm, came forth, strewing the
+flowers on the ground, and singing a song, of which I remember only the
+chorus:
+
+  "Lead the bride to Hymen's bowers,
+  Strew her path with choicest flowers."
+
+The bride and bridesmaid followed, and after them came several lasses in
+gala dresses. These having taken their places, the father of the bride
+arose, and taking his daughter's hand and placing it in that of
+Clifford, gave them his blessing. The Governor soon united them in the
+bonds of holy matrimony, and as he ended the ceremony with saying, "What
+God hath joined let no man put asunder," he heartily saluted the bride.
+Clifford followed his example, and after him she was saluted by every
+gentleman in the company. As a compensation for this "rifling of
+sweets," Clifford had the privilege of kissing every lady present, and
+beginning with Madame Wentworth, he saluted them all, from the
+gray-headed matron, to the infant in its mother's arms.
+
+The cake and wine were then passed round. Being a present from Madame
+Wentworth, they were no doubt excellent. After this refreshment, and
+while the good matrons were cooking their peas, and making other
+preparations, the young folks spent the time in playing
+"blind-man's-buff," and "hide and go seek," and in singing "Jemmy and
+Nancy," "Barbara Allen," "The Friar with Orders Grey," "The Lass of
+Richmond Hill," "Gilderoy," and other songs which they thought were
+appropriate to the occasion.
+
+At length the ringing of a bell announced that dinner was ready. "What,
+dinner at that time of night?" perhaps some will say. But let me tell
+you, good friends (in Johnny O'Lara's words), that "the best time for a
+wedding dinner, is when it is well cooked, and the guests are ready to
+eat it." The company were soon arranged around the rude tables, which
+were rough boards, laid across poles that were supported by crotched
+stakes driven into the ground. But it matters not what the tables were,
+as they were covered with cloth white as the driven snow, and well
+loaded with plum puddings, baked lamb, and green peas, with all
+necessary accompaniments for a well ordered dinner, which the guests
+complimented in the best possible manner, that is, by making a hearty
+meal.
+
+Dinner being ended, while the matrons were putting all things to rights,
+the young people made preparation for dancing; and a joyous time they
+had. The music and amusement continued until the "blushing morn"
+reminded the good people that it was time to separate. The rising sun
+had gilded the sides of the opposite mountains, which were sending up
+their exhalations, before the company were all on their way to their
+respective homes. Long did they remember the first wedding in our town.
+Even after the frost of seventy winters had whitened the heads of those
+who were then boys, they delighted to dwell on the merry scenes of that
+joyful night; and from that time to the present, weddings have been
+fashionable in Salmagundi, although they are not always celebrated in
+quite so romantic a manner.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+
+
+
+"BLESS, AND CURSE NOT."
+
+
+The Athenians were proud of their glory. Their boasted city claimed
+pre-eminence in the arts and sciences; even the savage bowed before the
+eloquence of their soul-stirring orators; and the bards of every nation
+sang of the glory of Athens.
+
+But pre-eminent as they were, they had not learned to be merciful. The
+pure precepts of kindness and love were not taught by their sages; and
+their noble orators forgot to inculcate the humble precepts of
+forgiveness, and the "charity which hopeth all things." They told of
+patriotism, of freedom, and of that courage which chastises wrong or
+injury with physical suffering; but they told not of that nobler spirit
+which "renders good for evil," and "blesses, but curses not."
+
+Alcibiades, one of their own countrymen, offended against their laws,
+and was condemned to expiate the offence with his life. The civil
+authorities ordered his goods to be confiscated, that their value might
+swell the riches of the public treasury; and everything that pertained
+to him, in the way of citizenship, was obliterated from the public
+records. To render his doom more dreary and miserable,--to add weight to
+the fearful fulness of his sentence,--the priests and priestesses were
+commanded to pronounce upon him their curse. One of them, however, a
+being gentle and good as the principles of mercy which dwelt within her
+heart--timid as the sweet songsters of her own myrrh and orange groves,
+and as fair as the acacia-blossom of her own bower--rendered courageous
+by the all-stimulating and powerful influence of kindness, dared alone
+to assert the divinity of her office, by refusing to curse her
+unfortunate fellow-being--asserting that she was "PRIESTESS TO BLESS,
+AND NOT TO CURSE."
+
+                                                         LISETTA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+ANCIENT POETRY.
+
+
+I love old poetry, with its obscure expressions, its obsolete words, its
+quaint measure, and rough rhyme. I love it with all these, perhaps _for_
+these. It is because it is different from modern poetry, and not that I
+think it better, that it at times affords me pleasure. But when one has
+been indulging in the perusal of the smooth and elegant productions of
+later poets, there is at least the charm of variety in turning to those
+of ancient bards. This is pleasant to those who love to exercise the
+imagination--for if we would understand our author, we must go back into
+olden times; we must look upon the countenances and enter into the
+feelings of a long-buried generation; we must remember that much of what
+we know was then unknown, and that thoughts and sentiments which may
+have become common to us, glowed upon these pages in all their primal
+beauty. Much of which our writer may speak has now been wholly lost; and
+difficult, if not impossible, to be understood are many of his
+expressions and allusions.
+
+But these difficulties present a "delightful task" to those who would
+rather push on through a tangled labyrinth, than to walk with ease in a
+smooth-rolled path. Their self-esteem is gratified by being able to
+discover beauty where other eyes behold but deformity: and a brilliant
+thought or glowing image is rendered to them still more beautiful,
+because it shines through a veil impenetrable to other eyes. They are
+proud of their ability to perceive this beauty, or understand that
+oddity, and they care not for the mental labor which they have been
+obliged to perform.
+
+When I turn from modern poetry to that of other days, it is like leaving
+bright flowery fields to enter a dark tangled forest. The air is cooler,
+but damp and heavy. A sombre gloom reigns throughout, occasionally
+broken by flitting sunbeams, which force their way through the thick
+branches which meet above me, and dance and glitter upon the dark
+underwood below. They are strongly contrasted with the deep shade
+around, and my eye rests upon them with more pleasure than it did upon
+the broad flood of sunshine which bathes the fields without. My
+searching eye at times discovers some lonely flower, half hidden by
+decayed leaves and withered moss, yet blooming there in undecaying
+beauty. There are briers and thistles and creeping vines around, but I
+heedlessly press on, for I must enjoy the fragrance and examine the
+structure of these unobtrusive plants. I enjoy all this for a while, but
+at length I grow chilled and weary, and am glad to leave the forest for
+a less fatiguing resort.
+
+But there is one kind of old poetry to which these remarks may not
+apply--I mean the POETRY OF THE BIBLE.--And how much is there of this!
+There are songs of joy and praise, and those of woe and lamentation;
+there are odes and elegies; there are prophecies and histories; there
+are descriptions of nature and narratives of persons, and all written
+with a fervency of feeling which embodies itself in lofty and glowing
+imagery. And what is this but poetry? yet not that which can be compared
+to some dark, mazy forest, but rather like a sacred grove, such as "were
+God's first temples." There is no gloom around, neither is there bright
+sunshine; but a calm and holy light pervades the place. The tall trees
+meet not above me, but through their lofty boughs I can look up and see
+the blue heavens bending their perfect dome above the hallowed spot,
+while now and then some fleecy cloud sails slowly on, as though it loved
+to shadow the still loneliness beneath. There are soft winds murmuring
+through the high tree-tops, and their gentle sound is like a voice from
+the spirit-land. There are delicate white flowers waving upon their
+slight stems, and their sweet fragrance is like the breath of heaven. I
+feel that I am in God's temple. The Spirit above waits for the
+sacrifice. I can now erect an altar, and every selfish worldly thought
+should be laid thereon, a free-will offering. But when the rite is over,
+and I leave this consecrated spot for the busy path of life, I should
+strive to bear into the world a heart baptized in the love of beauty,
+holiness, and truth.
+
+I have spoken figuratively--perhaps too much so to please the pure and
+simple tastes of some--but He who made my soul and placed it in the body
+which it animates, implanted within it a love of the beautiful in
+literature, and this love was first awakened and then cherished by the
+words of Holy Writ.
+
+I have, when a child, read my Bible, from its earliest book to its
+latest. I have gone in imagination to the plains of Uz, and have there
+beheld the pastoral prince in all his pride and glory. I have marked
+him; too, when in the depth of his sorrow he sat speechless upon the
+ground for seven days and seven nights; but when he opened his mouth and
+spake, I listened with eagerness to the heart-stirring words and
+startling imagery which poured forth from his burning lips! But my heart
+has thrilled with a delightful awe when "the Lord answered Job out of
+the whirlwind," and I listened to words of more simplicity than
+uninspired man may ever conceive.
+
+I have gone, too, with the beloved disciple into that lonely isle where
+he beheld those things of which he was commanded to write. My
+imagination dared not conceive of the glorious throne, and of Him who
+sat upon it; but I have looked with a throbbing delight upon the New
+Jerusalem coming down from heaven in her clear crystal light, "as a
+bride adorned for her husband." I have gazed upon the golden city,
+flashing like "transparent glass," and have marked its pearly gates and
+walls of every precious stone. In imagination have I looked upon all
+this, till my young spirit longed to leave its earthly tenement and soar
+upward to that brighter world, where there is no need of sun or moon,
+for "the Lamb is the light thereof."
+
+I have since read my Bible for better purposes than the indulgence of
+taste. There must I go to learn my duty to God and my neighbor. There
+should I look for precepts to direct the life that now is, and for the
+promise of that which is to come; yet seldom do I close that sacred
+volume without a feeling of thankfulness, that the truths of our holy
+religion have been so often presented in forms which not only reason and
+conscience will approve, but also which the fancy can admire and the
+heart must love.
+
+                                                            ELLA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT OF DISCONTENT.
+
+
+"I will not stay in Lowell any longer; I am determined to give my notice
+this very day," said Ellen Collins, as the earliest bell was tolling to
+remind us of the hour for labor.
+
+"Why, what is the matter, Ellen? It seems to me you have dreamed out a
+new idea! Where do you think of going? and what for?"
+
+"I am going home, where I shall not be obliged to rise so early in the
+morning, nor be dragged about by the ringing of a bell, nor confined in
+a close noisy room from morning till night. I will not stay here; I am
+determined to go home in a fortnight."
+
+Such was our brief morning's conversation.
+
+In the evening, as I sat alone, reading, my companions having gone out
+to public lectures or social meetings, Ellen entered. I saw that she
+still wore the same gloomy expression of countenance, which had been
+manifested in the morning; and I was disposed to remove from her mind
+the evil influence, by a plain common-sense conversation.
+
+"And so, Ellen," said I, "you think it unpleasant to rise so early in
+the morning, and be confined in the noisy mill so many hours during the
+day. And I think so, too. All this, and much more, is very annoying, no
+doubt. But we must not forget that there are advantages, as well as
+disadvantages, in this employment, as in every other. If we expect to
+find all sunshine and flowers in any station in life, we shall most
+surely be disappointed. We are very busily engaged during the day; but
+then we have the evening to ourselves, with no one to dictate to or
+control us. I have frequently heard you say, that you would not be
+confined to household duties, and that you dislike the millinery
+business altogether, because you could not have your evenings for
+leisure. You know that in Lowell we have schools, lectures, and meetings
+of every description, for moral and intellectual improvement."
+
+"All that is very true," replied Ellen, "but if we were to attend every
+public institution, and every evening school which offers itself for our
+improvement, we might spend every farthing of our earnings, and even
+more. Then if sickness should overtake us, what are the probable
+consequences? Here we are, far from kindred and home; and if we have an
+empty purse, we shall be destitute of _friends_ also."
+
+"I do not think so, Ellen. I believe there is no place where there are
+so many advantages within the reach of the laboring class of people, as
+exist here; where there is so much equality, so few aristocratic
+distinctions, and such good fellowship, as may be found in this
+community. A person has only to be honest, industrious, and moral, to
+secure the respect of the virtuous and good, though he may not be worth
+a dollar; while on the other hand, an immoral person, though he should
+possess wealth, is not respected."
+
+"As to the morality of the place," returned Ellen, "I have no fault to
+find. I object to the constant hurry of everything. We cannot have time
+to eat, drink, or sleep; we have only thirty minutes, or at most
+three-quarters of an hour, allowed us, to go from our work, partake of
+our food, and return to the noisy chatter of machinery. Up before day,
+at the clang of the bell--and out of the mill by the clang of the
+bell--into the mill, and at work, in obedience to that ding-dong of a
+bell--just as though we were so many living machines. I will give my
+notice to-morrow: go, I will--I won't stay here and be a white slave."
+
+"Ellen," said I, "do you remember what is said of the bee, that it
+gathers honey even in a poisonous flower? May we not, in like manner, if
+our hearts are rightly attuned, find many pleasures connected with our
+employment? Why is it, then, that you so obstinately look altogether on
+the dark side of a factory life? I think you thought differently while
+you were at home, on a visit, last summer--for you were glad to come
+back to the mill in less than four weeks. Tell me, now--why were you so
+glad to return to the ringing of the bell, the clatter of the machinery,
+the early rising, the half-hour dinner, and so on?"
+
+I saw that my discontented friend was not in a humor to give me an
+answer--and I therefore went on with my talk.
+
+"You are fully aware, Ellen, that a country life does not exclude people
+from labor--to say nothing of the inferior privileges of attending
+public worship--that people have often to go a distance to meeting of
+any kind--that books cannot be so easily obtained as they can here--that
+you cannot always have just such society as you wish--that you"--
+
+She interrupted me, by saying, "We have no bell, with its everlasting
+ding-dong."
+
+"What difference does it make?" said I, "whether you shall be awakened
+by a bell, or the noisy bustle of a farm-house? For, you know, farmers
+are generally up as early in the morning as we are obliged to rise."
+
+"But then," said Ellen, "country people have none of the clattering of
+machinery constantly dinning in their ears."
+
+"True," I replied, "but they have what is worse--and that is, a dull,
+lifeless silence all around them. The hens may cackle sometimes, and the
+geese gabble, and the pigs squeal"----
+
+Ellen's hearty laugh interrupted my description--and presently we
+proceeded, very pleasantly, to compare a country life with a factory
+life in Lowell. Her scowl of discontent had departed, and she was
+prepared to consider the subject candidly. We agreed, that since we must
+work for a living, the mill, all things considered, is the most
+pleasant, and best calculated to promote our welfare; that we will work
+diligently during the hours of labor; improve our leisure to the best
+advantage, in the cultivation of the mind,--hoping thereby not only to
+increase our own pleasure, but also to add to the happiness of those
+around us.
+
+                                                          ALMIRA.
+
+
+
+
+THE WHORTLEBERRY EXCURSION.
+
+
+About a dozen of us, lads and lasses, had promised friend H. that on the
+first lowery day we would meet him and his family on the top of Moose
+Mountain, for the purpose of picking whortleberries, and of taking a
+view of the country around. We had provided the customary complement of
+baskets, pails, dippers, &c.; and one morning, which promised a suitable
+day for our excursion, we piled ourselves into a couple of waggons, and
+rode to the foot of the mountain and commenced climbing it on foot. A
+beaten path and spotted trees were our guides. A toilsome way we found
+it--some places being so steep that we were obliged to hold by the
+twigs, to prevent us from falling.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour after we left our horses, we found ourselves
+on the whortleberry ground--some of us singing, some chatting, and all
+trying to see who could pick the most berries. Friend H. went from place
+to place among the young people, and with his social conversation gave
+new life to the party--while his chubby boys and rosy girls by their
+nimbleness plainly told that they did not intend that any one should
+beat them in picking berries.
+
+Towards noon, friend H. conducted us to a spring, where we made some
+lemonade, having taken care to bring plenty of lemons and sugar with us,
+and also bread and cheese for a lunch. Seated beneath a wide-spreading
+oak, we partook of our homely repast; and never in princely hall were
+the choicest viands eaten with a keener relish. After resting a while,
+we recommenced picking berries, and in a brief space our pails and
+baskets were all full.
+
+About this time, the clouds cleared away, the sun shone out in all the
+splendor imaginable, and bright and beautiful was the prospect. Far as
+the eye could reach, in a north and north-easterly direction, were to be
+seen fields of corn and grain, with new mown grass-land, and potato
+flats, farm-houses, barns, and orchards--together with a suitable
+proportion of wood-land, all beautifully interspersed; and a number of
+ponds of water, in different places, and of different forms and
+sizes--some of them containing small islands, which added to the beauty
+of the scenery. The little village at Wakefield corner, which was about
+three miles distant, seemed to be almost under our feet; and with friend
+H.'s spy-glass, we could see the people at work in their gardens,
+weeding vegetables, picking cherries, gathering flowers, &c. But not one
+of our number had the faculty that the old lady possessed, who, in the
+time of the Revolution, in looking through a spy-glass at the French
+fleet, brought the Frenchmen so near, that she could hear them chatter;
+so we had to be content with ignorance of their conversation.
+
+South-westerly might be seen Cropple-crown Mountain; and beyond it,
+Merry-meeting Pond, where, I have been told, Elder Randall, the father
+of the Free-will Baptist denomination, first administered the ordinance
+of Baptism. West, might be seen Tumble-down-dick Mountain; and north,
+the Ossipee Mountains; and far north, might be seen the White Mountains
+of New Hampshire, whose snow-crowned summits seemed to reach the very
+skies.
+
+The prospect in the other directions was not so grand, although it was
+beautiful--so I will leave it, and take the shortest route, with my
+companions, with the baskets and pails of berries, to the house of
+friend H. On our way, we stopped to view the lot of rock maples, which,
+with some little labor, afforded a sufficient supply of sugar for the
+family of friend H., and we promised that in the season of sugar-making
+the next spring, we would make it convenient to visit the place, and
+witness the process of making maple-sugar.
+
+Our descent from the mountain was by a different path--our friends
+having assured us, that although our route would be farther, we should
+find it more pleasant; and truly we did--for the pathway was not so
+rough as the one in which we travelled in the morning. And besides, we
+had the pleasure of walking over the farm of the good Quaker, and of
+hearing from his own lips many interesting circumstances of his life.
+
+The country, he told us, was quite a wilderness when he first took up
+his abode on the mountain; and bears, he said, were as plenty as
+woodchucks, and destroyed much of his corn. He was a bachelor, and lived
+alone for a number of years after he first engaged in clearing his land.
+His habitation was between two huge rocks, at about seventy rods from
+the place where he afterwards built his house.--He showed us this
+ancient abode of his; it was in the midst of an old orchard. It appeared
+as if the rocks had been originally one; but by some convulsion of
+nature it had been sundered, midway, from top to bottom. The back part
+of this dwelling was a rock wall, in which there was a fire-place and an
+oven. The front was built of logs, with an aperture for a door-way; and
+the roof was made of saplings and bark. In this rude dwelling, friend H.
+dressed his food, and ate it; and here, on a bed of straw, he spent his
+lonely nights. A small window in the rock wall admitted the light by
+day; and by night, his solitary dwelling was illuminated with a
+pitch-pine torch.
+
+On being interrogated respecting the cause of his living alone so long
+as he did, he made answer, by giving us to understand, that if he was
+called "the bear," he was not so much of a brute as to marry until he
+could give his wife a comfortable maintenance; "and moreover, I was
+resolved," said he, "that Hannah should never have the least cause to
+repent of the ready decision which she made in my favor." "Then," said
+one of our company, "your wife was not afraid to trust herself with the
+bear?" "She did not hesitate in the least," said friend H.; "for when I
+'popped the question,' by saying, 'Hannah, will thee have me?' she
+readily answered, 'Yes, To----;' she would have said, 'Tobias, I will;'
+but the words died on her lips, and her face, which blushed like the
+rose, became deadly pale; and she would have fallen on the floor, had I
+not caught her in my arms. After Hannah got over her faintness, I told
+her that we had better not marry, until I was in a better way of living;
+to which she also agreed. And," said he, "before I brought home my bird,
+I had built yonder cage"--pointing to his house; "and now, neighbors,
+let us hasten to it; for Hannah will have her tea ready by the time we
+get there." When we arrived at the house we found that tea was ready;
+and the amiable Mrs. H., the wife of the good Quaker, was waiting for
+us, with all imaginable patience.
+
+The room in which we took tea was remarkably neat. The white floor was
+nicely sanded, and the fire-place filled with pine-tops and rose-bushes;
+and vases of roses were standing on the mantel-piece. The table was
+covered with a cloth of snowy whiteness, and loaded with delicacies; and
+here and there stood a little China vase, filled with white and damask
+roses.
+
+"So-ho!" said the saucy Henry L., upon entering the room; "I thought
+that you Quakers were averse to every species of decoration; but see!
+here is a whole flower-garden!" Friend H. smiled and said, "the rose is
+a favorite with Hannah; and then it is like her, with one exception."
+"And what is that exception?" said Henry.--"Oh," said our friend,
+"Hannah has no thorns to wound." Mrs. H.'s heightened color and smile
+plainly told us, that praise from her husband was "music to her ear."
+After tea, we had the pleasure of promenading through the house; and
+Mrs. H. showed us many articles of domestic manufacture, being the work
+of her own and her daughters' hands. The articles consisted of sheets,
+pillow-cases, bed-quilts, coverlets of various colors, and woven in
+different patterns,--such as chariot wheels, rose-of-sharon, ladies'
+delight, federal constitution--and other patterns, the names of which I
+have forgotten. The white bed-spreads and the table-covers, which were
+inspected by us, were equal, if not superior, to those of English
+manufacture; in short, all that we saw proclaimed that order and
+industry had an abiding place in the house of friend H.
+
+Mrs. H. and myself seated ourselves by a window which overlooked a young
+and thrifty orchard. A flock of sheep were grazing among the trees, and
+their lambs were gambolling from place to place. "This orchard is more
+beautiful than your other," said I; "but I do not suppose it contains
+anything so dear to the memory of friend H. as his old habitation." She
+pointed to a knoll, where was a small enclosure, and which I had not
+before observed. "There," said she, "is a spot more dear to Tobias; for
+there sleep our children." "Your cup has then been mingled with sorrow?"
+said I. "But," replied she, "we do not sorrow without hope; for their
+departure was calm as the setting of yonder sun, which is just sinking
+from sight; and we trust that we shall meet them in a fairer world,
+never to part." A tear trickled down the cheek of Mrs. H., but she
+instantly wiped it away, and changed the conversation. Friend H. came
+and took a seat beside us, and joined in the conversation, which, with
+his assistance, became animated and amusing.
+
+Here, thought I, dwell a couple, happily united. Friend H., though rough
+in his exterior, nevertheless possesses a kindly affectionate heart; and
+he has a wife whose price is above rubies.
+
+The saucy Henry soon came to the door, and bawled out, "The stage is
+ready." We obeyed the summons, and found that Henry and friend H.'s son
+had been for our vehicles. We were again piled into the waggons--pails,
+baskets, whortleberries, and all; and with many hearty shakes of the
+hand, and many kind farewells, we bade adieu to the family of friend H.,
+but not without renewing the promise, that, in the next sugar-making
+season, we would revisit Moose Mountain.
+
+                                                          JEMIMA.
+
+
+
+
+THE WESTERN ANTIQUITIES.
+
+
+In the valley of the Mississippi, and the more southern parts of North
+America, are found antique curiosities and works of art, bearing the
+impress of cultivated intelligence. But of the race, or people, who
+executed them, time has left no vestige of their existence, save these
+monuments of their skill and knowledge. Not even a tradition whispers
+its _guess-work_, who they might be. We only know _they were_.
+
+What proof and evidence do we gather from their remains, which have
+withstood the test of time, of their origin and probable era of their
+existence? That they existed centuries ago, is evident from the size
+which forest trees have attained, which grow upon the mounds and
+fortifications discovered. That they were civilized and understood the
+arts, is apparent from the manner of laying out and erecting their
+fortifications, and from various utensils of gold, copper, and iron
+which have occasionally been found in digging below the earth's surface.
+If I mistake not, I believe even glass has been found, which, if so,
+shows them acquainted with chemical discoveries, which are supposed to
+have been unknown until a period much later than the probable time of
+their existence. That they were not the ancestors of the race which
+inhabited this country at the time of its discovery by Columbus, appears
+conclusive from the total ignorance of the Indian tribes of all
+knowledge of arts and civilization, and the non-existence of any
+tradition of their once proud sway. That they were a mighty people is
+evident from the extent of territory where these antiquities are
+scattered. The banks of the Ohio and Mississippi tell they once lived;
+and even to the shore where the vast Pacific heaves its waves, there are
+traces of their existence. Who were they? In what period of time did
+they exist?
+
+In a cave in one of the Western States, there is carved upon the walls a
+group of people, apparently in the act of devotion; and a rising sun is
+sculptured above them. From this we should infer that they were Pagans,
+worshipping the sun and the fabulous gods. But what most strikingly
+arrests the antiquarian's observation, and causes him to repeat the
+inquiry, "who were they?" is the habiliments of the group. One part of
+their habit is of the Grecian costume, and the remainder is of the
+Phoenicians. Were they a colony from Greece? Did they come from that
+land in the days of its proud glory, bringing with them a knowledge of
+arts, science, and philosophy? Did they, too, seek a home across the
+western waters, because they loved liberty in a strange land better than
+they loved slavery at home? Or what may be as probable, were they the
+descendants of some band who managed to escape the destruction of
+ill-fated Troy?--the descendants of a people who had called Greece a
+mother-country, but were sacrificed to her vindictive ire, because they
+were prouder to be Trojans than the descendants of Grecians? Ay, who
+were they? Might not America have had its Hector, its Paris, and Helen?
+its maidens who prayed, and its sons who fought? All this might have
+been. But their historians and their poets alike have perished. They
+_have been_; but the history of their existence, their origin, and their
+destruction, all, all are hidden by the dark chaos of oblivion.
+Imagination alone, from inanimate landmarks, voiceless walls, and
+soulless bodies, must weave the record which shall tell of their lives,
+their aims, origin, and final extinction.
+
+Recently, report says, in Mexico there have been discovered several
+mummies, embalmed after the manner of the ancient Egyptians. If true, it
+carries the origin of this fated people still farther back; and we might
+claim them to be contemporaries with Moses and Joshua. Still, if I form
+my conclusions correctly from what descriptions I have perused of these
+Western relics of the past, I should decide that they corresponded
+better with the ancient Grecians, Phoenicians, or Trojans, than with the
+Egyptians. I repeat, I may be incorrect in my premises and deductions,
+but as imagination is their historian, it pleases me better to fill a
+world with heroes and beauties of Homer's delineations, than with those
+of "Pharaoh and his host."
+
+                                                         LISETTE.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE FIG-TREE.
+
+
+It was a cold winter's evening. The snow had fallen lightly, and each
+tree and shrub was bending beneath its glittering burden. Here and there
+was one, with the moonbeams gleaming brightly upon it, until it seemed,
+with its many branches, touched by the ice-spirit, or some fairy-like
+creation, in its loveliness and beauty. Every thing was hushed in
+Dridonville.
+
+Situated at a little distance, was a large white house, surrounded with
+elm-trees, in the rear of which, upon an eminence, stood a summer-house;
+and in the warm season might have been seen many a gay lady reclining
+beneath its vine-covered roof. No pains had been spared to make the
+situation desirable. It was the summer residence of Captain Wilson. But
+it was now mid-winter, and yet he lingered in the country. Many were the
+questions addressed by the villagers to the old gardener, who had grown
+grey in the captain's service, as to the cause of the long delay; but he
+could not, or would not, answer their inquiries.
+
+The shutters were closed, the fire burning cheerfully, and the astral
+lamp throwing its soft mellow light upon the crimson drapery and rich
+furniture of one of the parlors. In a large easy chair was seated a
+gentleman, who was between fifty and sixty years of age. He was in deep
+and anxious thought; and ever and anon his lip curled, as if some bitter
+feeling was in his heart. Standing near him was a young man. His brow
+was open and serene; his forehead high and expansive; and his eyes
+beamed with an expression of benevolence and mildness. His lips were
+firmly compressed, denoting energy and decision of character.
+
+"You may be seated," said Capt. Wilson, for it was he who occupied the
+large chair, the young man being his only son. "You may be seated,
+Augustus," and he cast upon him a look of mingled pride and scorn. The
+young man bowed profoundly, and took a seat opposite his father. There
+was a long pause, and the father was first to break silence. "So you
+intend to marry a beggar, and suffer the consequences. But do you think
+your love will stand the test of poverty, and the sneer of the world?
+for I repeat, that not one farthing of my money shall you receive,
+unless you comply with the promise which I long since made to my old
+friend, that our families should be united. She will inherit his vast
+possessions, as there is no other heir. True, she is a few years your
+senior; but that is of no importance. Your mother is older than I am.
+But I have told you all this before. Consider well ere you choose
+between wealth and poverty."
+
+"Would that I could conscientiously comply with your request," replied
+Augustus, "but I have promised to be protector and friend to Emily
+Summerville. She is not rich in this world's goods; but she has what is
+far preferable--a contented mind; and you will allow that, in point of
+education, she will compare even with Miss Clarkson." In a firm voice he
+continued, "I have made my choice, I shall marry Emily;" and he was
+about to proceed, but his father stamped his foot, and commanded him to
+quit his presence. He left the house, and as he walked rapidly towards
+Mr. Grant's, the uncle of Miss Summerville, he thought how unstable were
+all earthly possessions, "and why," he exclaimed, "why should I make
+myself miserable for a little paltry gold? It may wound my pride at
+first to meet my gay associates; but that will soon pass away, and my
+father will see that I can provide for my own wants."
+
+Emily Summerville was the daughter of a British officer, who for many
+years resided in the pleasant village of Dridonville. He was much
+beloved by the good people for his activity and benevolence. He built
+the cottage occupied by Mr. Grant. On account of its singular
+construction, it bore the name of the "English cottage." After his death
+it was sold, and Mr. Grant became the purchaser. There Emily had spent
+her childhood. On the evening before alluded to, she was in their little
+parlor, one corner of which was occupied by a large fig-tree. On a stand
+were geraniums, rose-bushes, the African lily, and many other plants. At
+a small table sat Emily, busily engaged with her needle, when the old
+servant announced Mr. Wilson. "Oh, Augustus, how glad I am you are
+come!" she exclaimed, as she sprung from her seat to meet him; "but you
+look sad and weary," she added, as she seated herself by his side, and
+gazed inquiringly into his face, the mirror of his heart. "What has
+happened? you look perplexed."
+
+"Nothing more than I have expected for a long time," was the reply; and
+it was with heartfelt satisfaction that he gazed on the fair creature by
+his side, and thought she would be a star to guide him in the way of
+virtue. He told her all. And then he explained to her the path he had
+marked out for himself. "I must leave you for a time, and engage in the
+noise and excitement of my profession. It will not be long, if I am
+successful. I must claim one promise from you, that is, that you will
+write often, for that will be the only pleasure I shall have to cheer me
+in my absence."
+
+She did promise; and when they separated at a late hour, they dreamed
+not that it was their last meeting on earth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, uncle," said Emily, as they entered the parlor together one
+morning, "do look at my fig-tree; how beautiful it is. If it continues
+to grow as fast as it has done, I can soon sit under its branches." "It
+is really pretty," replied her uncle; and he continued, laughing and
+patting her cheek, "you must cherish it with great care, as it was a
+present from ---- now don't blush; I do not intend to speak his name,
+but was merely about to observe, that it might be now as in olden times,
+that as _he_ prospers, the tree will flourish; if he is sick, or in
+trouble, it will decay."
+
+"If such are your sentiments," said Emily, "you will acknowledge that
+thus far his path has been strewed with flowers."
+
+Many months passed away, and there was indeed a change. The tree that
+had before looked so green, had gradually decayed, until nothing was
+left but the dry branches. But she was not superstitious: "It might be,"
+she said, "that she had killed it with kindness." Her uncle never
+alluded to the remark he had formerly made; but Emily often thought
+there might be some truth in it. She had received but one letter from
+Augustus, though she had written many.
+
+Summer had passed, and autumn was losing itself in winter. Augustus
+Wilson was alone in the solitude of his chamber.--There was a hectic
+flush upon his cheek, and the low hollow cough told that consumption was
+busy. Was that the talented Augustus Wilson? he whose thrilling
+eloquence had sounded far and wide? His eyes were riveted upon a
+withered rose. It was given him by Emily, on the eve of his departure,
+with these words, "Such as I am, receive me. Would I were of more worth,
+for your sake."
+
+"No," he musingly said; "it is not possible she has forgotten me. I will
+not, cannot believe it." He arose, and walked the room with hurried
+steps, and a smile passed over his face, as he held communion with the
+bright images of the past. He threw himself upon his couch, but sleep
+was a stranger to his weary frame.
+
+Three weeks quickly passed, and Augustus Wilson lay upon his death-bed.
+Calm and sweet was his slumber, as the spirit took its flight to the
+better land. And O, it was a sad thing to see that father, with the
+frost of many winters upon his head, bending low over his son,
+entreating him to speak once more; but all was silent. He was not there;
+nought remained but the beautiful casket; the jewel which had adorned it
+was gone. And deep was the grief of the mother; but, unlike her husband,
+she felt she had done all she could to brighten her son's pathway in
+life. She knew not to what extent Capt. W. had been guilty.
+
+Augustus was buried in all the pomp and splendor that wealth could
+command. The wretched father thought in this way to blind the eyes of
+the world. But he could not deceive himself. It was but a short time
+before he was laid beside his son at Mount Auburn. Several letters were
+found among his papers, but they had not been opened. Probably he
+thought that by detaining them, he should induce his son to marry the
+rich Miss Clarkson, instead of the poor Emily Summerville.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Emily Summerville firmly stood amidst the desolation that had withered
+all her bright hopes in life. She had followed her almost idolized uncle
+to the grave; she had seen the cottage, and all the familiar objects
+connected with her earliest recollections, pass into the hands of
+strangers; but there was not a sigh, nor a quiver of the lip, to tell of
+the anguish within. She knew not that Augustus Wilson had entered the
+spirit-land, until she saw the record of his death in a Boston paper.
+"O, if he had only sent me one word," she said; "even if it had been to
+tell me that I was remembered no more, it would have been preferable to
+this." The light which had shone so brightly on her pathway was
+withdrawn, and the darkness of night closed around her.
+
+Long and fearful was the struggle between life and death; but when she
+arose from that sick bed, it was with a chastened spirit. "I am young,"
+she thought, "and I may yet do much good." And when she again mingled in
+society, it was with a peace that the world could neither give nor take
+away.
+
+She bade adieu to her native village, and has taken up her abode in
+Lowell. She is one of the class called "factory girls." She recently
+received the letters intercepted by Capt. Wilson, and the melancholy
+pleasure of perusing them is hallowed by the remembrance of him who is
+"gone, but not lost."
+
+                                                            IONE.
+
+
+
+
+VILLAGE PASTORS.
+
+
+The old village pastor of New England was "a man having authority." His
+deacons were _under_ him, and not, as is now often the case, his
+tyrannical rulers; and whenever his parishioners met him, they doffed
+their hats, and said "Your Reverence." Whatever passed his lips was both
+law and gospel; and when too old and infirm to minister to his charge,
+he was not turned away, like an old worn-out beast, to die of hunger, or
+gather up, with failing strength, the coarse bit which might eke out a
+little longer his remaining days; but he was still treated with all the
+deference, and supported with all the munificence which was believed due
+to him whom they regarded as "God's vicegerent upon earth." He deemed
+himself, and was considered by his parishioners, if not infallible, yet
+something approaching it. Those were indeed the days of glory for New
+England clergymen.
+
+Perhaps I am wrong. The present pastor of New England, with his more
+humble mien and conciliatory tone, his closer application and untiring
+activity, may be, in a wider sphere, as truly glorious an object of
+contemplation. Many are the toils, plans and enterprises entrusted to
+him, which in former days were not permitted to interfere with the
+duties exclusively appertaining to the holy vocation; yet with added
+labors, the modern pastor receives neither added honors, nor added
+remuneration. Perhaps it is well--nay, perhaps it is _better_; but I am
+confident that if the old pastor could return, and take a bird's-eye
+view of the situations of his successors, he would exclaim, "How has the
+glory departed from Israel, and how have they cast down the sons of
+Levi!"
+
+I have been led to these reflections by a contemplation of the
+characters of the first three occupants of the pulpit in my native
+village.
+
+Our old pastor was settled, as all then were, for life. I can remember
+him but in his declining years, yet even then was he a hale and vigorous
+old man. Honored and beloved by all his flock, his days passed
+undisturbed by the storms and tempests which have since then so often
+darkened and disturbed the theological world. The opinions and creeds,
+handed down by his Pilgrim Fathers, he carefully cherished, neither
+adding thereto, nor taking therefrom; and he indoctrinated the young in
+all the mysteries of the true faith, with an undoubting belief in its
+infallibility. There was much of the patriarch in his look and manner;
+and this was heightened by the nature of his avocations, in which
+pastoral labors were mingled with clerical duties. No farm was in better
+order than that of the parsonage; no fields looked more thriving, and no
+flocks were more profitable than were those of the good clergyman.
+Indeed he sometimes almost forgot his spiritual field, in the culture of
+that which was more earthly.
+
+One Saturday afternoon the minister was very busily engaged in
+hay-making. His good wife had observed that during the week he had been
+unusually engrossed in temporal affairs, and feared for the well-being
+of his flock, as she saw that he could not break the earthly spell, even
+upon this last day of the week. She looked, and looked in vain for his
+return; until, finding him wholly lost to a sense of his higher duties,
+she deemed it her duty to remind him of them. So away she went to the
+haying field, and when she was in sight of the reverend haymaker, she
+screamed out, "Mr. W., Mr. W."
+
+"What, my dear?" shouted Mr. W. in return.
+
+"Do you intend to feed your people with hay to-morrow?"
+
+This was a poser--and Mr. W. dropped his rake; and, repairing to his
+study, spent the rest of the day in the preparation of food more meat
+for those who looked so trustfully to him for the bread of life.
+
+His faithful companion was taken from him, and those who knew of his
+strong and refined attachment to her, said truly, when they prophesied,
+that he would never marry again.
+
+She left one son--their only child--a boy of noble feelings and superior
+intellect; and his father carefully educated him with a fond wish that
+he would one day succeed him in the sacred office of a minister of God.
+He hoped indeed that he might even fill the very pulpit which he must at
+some time vacate; and he prayed that his own life might be spared until
+this hope had been realized.
+
+Endicott W. was also looked upon as their future pastor by many of the
+good parishioners; and never did a more pure and gentle spirit take upon
+himself the task of preparing to minister to a people in holy things. He
+was the beloved of his father, the only child who had ever blessed
+him--for he had not married till late in life, and the warm affections
+which had been so tardily bestowed upon one of the gentler sex, were now
+with an unusual fervor lavished upon this image of her who was gone.
+
+When Endicott W. returned home, having completed his studies at the
+University, he was requested by our parish to settle as associate pastor
+with his father, whose failing strength was unequal to the regular
+discharge of his parochial duties. It was indeed a beautiful sight to
+see that old man, with bending form and silvery locks, joining in the
+public ministrations with his young and gifted son--the one with a calm
+expression of trusting faith; the countenance of the other beaming with
+that of enthusiasm and hope.
+
+Endicott was ambitious. He longed to see his own name placed in the
+bright constellation of famed theologians; and though he knew that years
+must be spent in toil for the attainment of that object, he was willing
+that they should be thus devoted. The midnight lamp constantly witnessed
+the devotions of Endicott W. at the shrine of science; and the wasting
+form and fading cheek told what would be the fate of the infatuated
+worshipper.
+
+It was long before our young pastor, his aged father, and the idolizing
+people, who were so proud of his talents, and such admirers of his
+virtues,--it was long ere these could be made to believe he was dying;
+but Endicott W. departed from life, as a bright cloud fades away in a
+noon-day sky--for his calm exit was surrounded by all which makes a
+death-bed glorious. His aged father said, "The Lord gave, and the Lord
+hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." And then he went
+again before his flock, and endeavored to reconcile them to their loss,
+and dispense again the comforts and blessings of the gospel, trusting
+that his strength would still be spared, until one, who was even then
+preparing, should be ready to take his place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Shall I tell you now of my own home? It was a rude farm-house, almost
+embowered by ancient trees, which covered the sloping hill-side on which
+it was situated; and it looked like an old pilgrim, who had crawled into
+the thicket to rest his limbs, and hide his poverty. My parents were
+poor, toiling, care-worn beings, and in a hard struggle for the comforts
+of this life had almost forgotten to prepare for that which is to come.
+It is true, the outward ordinances of religion were never neglected; but
+the spirit, the feeling, the interest, in short all that is truly
+deserving the name of piety, was wanting. My father toiled through the
+burning heat of summer, and the biting frost of winter, for his loved
+ones; and my mother also labored, from the first dawn of day till a late
+hour at night in behalf of her family. She was true to her duties as
+wife and mother, but it was from no higher motive than the instincts
+which prompt the fowls of the air to cherish their brood; and though she
+perhaps did not believe that "labor was the end of life," still her
+conduct would have given birth to that supposition.
+
+I had been for some time the youngest of the family, when a little
+brother was born. He was warmly welcomed by us, though we had long
+believed the family circle complete.--We were not then aware at how dear
+a price the little stranger was to be purchased. From the moment of his
+birth, my mother never knew an hour of perfect health. She had
+previously injured her constitution by unmitigated toil, and now were
+the effects to be more sensibly felt. She lived very many years; but it
+was the life of an invalid.
+
+Reader, did you ever hear of the "thirty years' consumption?" a disease
+at present unknown in New England--for that scourge of our climate will
+now complete in a few months the destruction which it took years of
+desperate struggle to perform upon the constitutions of our more hardy
+ancestors.
+
+My mother was in such a consumption--that disorder which comes upon its
+victim like the Aurorean flashes in an Arctic sky, now vivid in its pure
+loveliness, and then shrouded in a sombre gloom. Now we hoped, nay,
+almost believed, she was to be again quite well, and anon we watched
+around a bed from which we feared she would never arise.
+
+It was strange to us, who had always seen her so unremitting in her
+toilsome labors, and so careless in her exposure to the elements, to
+watch around her now--to shield her from the lightest breeze, or the
+slightest dampness of the air--to guard her from all intrusion, and
+relieve her from all care--to be always reserving for her the warmest
+place by the fire-side, and preparing the choicest bit of food--to be
+ever ready to pillow her head and bathe her brow--in short, to be never
+unconscious of the presence of disease.--Our steps grew softer, and our
+voices lower, and the stillness of our manners had its influence upon
+our minds. The hush was upon our spirits; and there can surely be
+nothing so effectual in carrying the soul before its Maker, as disease;
+and it may truly be said to every one who enters the chamber of
+sickness, "The place whereon thou standest is holy ground."
+
+My little brother was to us an angel sent from heaven.--He possessed a
+far more delicate frame and lofty intellect than any other member of the
+family; and his high, pale brow, and brilliant eyes, were deemed sure
+tokens of uncommon genius. My mother herself watched with pleasure these
+indications of talent, although the time had been when a predilection
+for literary pursuits would have been thought inconsistent with the
+common duties which we were all born to fulfil.
+
+We had always respected the learned and talented, but it was with a
+feeling akin to the veneration we felt for the inhabitants of the
+spiritual world. They were far above us, and we were content to bow in
+reverence. Our thoughts had been restricted to the narrow circle of
+every-day duties, and our highest aspirations were to be admitted at
+length, as spectators, to the glory of a material heaven, where streets
+of gold and thrones of ivory form the magnificence of the place. It was
+different now.--With a nearer view of that better world, to which my
+mother had received her summons, came also more elevated spiritual and
+blissful views of its glory and perfection. It was another heaven, for
+she was another being; and she would have been willing at any moment to
+have resigned the existence which she held by so frail a tenure, had it
+not been for the sweet child which seemed to have been sent from that
+brighter world to hasten and prepare her for departure.
+
+Our pastor was now a constant visitant. Hitherto he had found but little
+to invite him to our humble habitation. He had been received with awe
+and constraint, and the topics upon which he loved to dwell touched no
+chord in the hearts of those whom he addressed. But now my mother was
+anxious to pour into his ears all the new-felt sentiments and emotions
+with which her heart was filled. She wished to share his sympathy, and
+receive his instructions; for she felt painfully conscious of her
+extreme ignorance.
+
+It was our pastor who first noticed in my little brother the indications
+of mental superiority; and we felt then as though the magical powers of
+some favored order of beings had been transferred to one in our own
+home-circle; and we loved the little Winthrop (for father had named him
+after the old governor) with a stronger and holier love than we had
+previously felt for each other. And in these new feelings how much was
+there of happiness! Though there was now less health, and of course less
+wealth, in our home, yet there was also more pure joy.
+
+I have sometimes been out upon the barren hill-side, and thought that
+there was no pleasure in standing on a spot so desolate. I have been
+again in the same bare place, and there was a balmy odor in the
+delicious air, which made it bliss but to inhale the fragrance. Some
+spicy herb had carpeted the ground, and though too lowly and simple to
+attract the eye, yet the charm it threw around the scene was not less
+entrancing because so viewless and unobtrusive.
+
+Such was the spell shed around our lowly home by the presence of
+religion. It was with us the exhalation from lowly plants, and the pure
+fragrance went up the more freely because they had been bruised. In our
+sickness and poverty we had joy in the present, and bright hopes for the
+future.
+
+It was early decided that Winthrop should be a scholar.--Our pastor said
+it must be so, and Endicott, who was but a few years older, assisted him
+in his studies. They were very much together, and excepting in their own
+families, had no other companion. But when my brother returned from the
+pastor's study with a face radiant with the glow of newly-acquired
+knowledge, and a heart overflowing in its desire to impart to others, he
+usually went to his pale, emaciated mother to give vent to his
+sensations of joy, and came to me to bestow the boon of knowledge. I was
+the nearest in age. I had assisted to rear his infancy, and been his
+constant companion in childhood; and now our intercourse was to be
+continued and strengthened, amidst higher purposes and loftier feelings.
+I was the depository of all his hopes and fears, the sharer of all his
+plans for the future; and his aim was then to follow in the footsteps of
+Endicott W. If he could only be as good, as kind and learned, he should
+think himself one of the best of mankind.
+
+When Endicott became our pastor, my brother was ready to enter college,
+with the determination to consecrate himself to the same high calling.
+It seemed hardly like reality to us, that one of our own poor household
+was to be an educated man. We felt lifted up--not with pride--for the
+feeling which elevated us was too pure for that; but we esteemed
+ourselves better than we had ever been before, and strove to be more
+worthy of the high gift which had been bestowed upon us. When my brother
+left home, it was with the knowledge that self-denial was to be
+practised, for his sake, by those who remained; but he also knew that it
+was to be willingly, nay, joyously performed. Still he did not know
+_all_. Even things which heretofore, in our poverty, we had deemed
+essential to comfort, were now resigned.--We did not even permit my
+mother to know how differently the table was spread for her than for our
+own frugal repast. Neither was she aware how late and painfully I toiled
+to prevent the hire of additional service upon our little farm. The joy
+in the secret depths of my heart was its own reward; and never yet have
+I regretted an effort or a sacrifice made then. It was a discipline like
+the refiner's fire, and but for my brother, I should never have been
+even as, with all my imperfections, I trust I am now.
+
+My brother returned from college as the bright sun of Endicott W.'s
+brief career was low in a western sky. He had intended to study with him
+for the same vocation--and with him he _did_ prepare. O, there could
+have been no more fitting place to imbue the mind with that wisdom which
+cometh from above, than the sick room at our pastor's.
+
+  "The chamber where the good man meets his fate,
+  Is privileged beyond the common walks of life,"--
+
+and Endicott's was like the shelter of some bright spirit from the other
+world, who, for the sake of those about him, was delaying for a while
+his return to the home above.--My brother was with him in his latest
+hours, and received as a dying bequest the charge of his people. The
+parish also were anxious that he should be Endicott's successor; and in
+the space requested for farther preparation, our old pastor returned to
+his pulpit.
+
+But he had overrated his own powers; and besides, he was growing blind.
+There were indeed those who said that, notwithstanding his calmness in
+the presence of others, he had in secret wept his sight away; and that
+while a glimmer of it remained, the curtain of his window, which
+overlooked the grave-yard, had never been drawn. He ceased his labors,
+but a temporary substitute was easily found--for, as old Deacon S.
+remarked, "There are many ministers _now_, who are glad to go out to
+day's labor."
+
+My mother had prayed that strength might be imparted to her feeble
+frame, to retain its rejoicing inhabitant until she could see her son a
+more active laborer in the Lord's vineyard; "and then," said she, "I can
+depart in peace." For years she had hoped the time would come, but dared
+not hope to see it. But life was graciously spared; and the day which
+was to see him set apart as peculiarly a servant of his God, dawned upon
+her in better health than she had known for years. Perhaps it was the
+glad spirit which imparted its renewing glow to the worn body, but she
+went with us that day to the service of ordination. The old church was
+thronged; and as the expression of thankfulness went up from the
+preacher's lips, that one so worthy was then to be dedicated to his
+service, my own heart was subdued by the solemn joy that he was one of
+us. My own soul was poured out in all the exercises; but when the charge
+was given, there was also an awe upon all the rest.
+
+Our aged pastor had been led into his pulpit, that he might perform this
+ceremony; and when he arose with his silvery locks, thinned even since
+he stood there last, and raised his sightless eyes to heaven, I freely
+wept. He was in that pulpit where he had stood so many years, to warn,
+to guide, and to console; and probably each familiar face was then
+presented to his imagination. He was where his dear departed son had
+exercised the ministerial functions, and the same part of the service
+which he had performed at his ordination, he was to enact again for his
+successor. The blind old man raised his trembling hand, and laid it upon
+the head of the young candidate; and as the memories of the past came
+rushing over him, he burst forth in a strain of heart-stirring
+eloquence. There was not a tearless eye in the vast congregation; and
+the remembrance of that hour had doubtless a hallowing influence upon
+the young pastor's life.
+
+My brother was settled for five years, and as we departed from the
+church, I heard Deacon S. exclaim, in his bitterness against modern
+degeneracy in spiritual things, that "the old pastor was settled _for
+life_." "So is the new one," said a low voice in reply; and for the
+first time the idea was presented to my mind that Winthrop was to be,
+like Endicott W., one of the early called.
+
+But the impression departed in my constant intercourse with him in his
+home--for our lowly dwelling was still the abode of the new pastor. He
+would never remove from it while his mother lived, and an apartment was
+prepared for him adjoining hers. They were pleasant rooms, for during
+the few past years he had done much to beautify the place, and the
+shrubs which he had planted were already at their growth. The thick
+vines also which had struggled over the building, were now gracefully
+twined around the windows, and some of the old trees cut down, that we
+might be allowed a prospect. Still all that could conduce to beauty was
+retained; and I have often thought how easily and cheaply the votary of
+true taste can enjoy its pleasures.
+
+Winthrop was now so constantly active and cheerful, that I could not
+think of death as connected with him. But I knew that he was feeble, and
+watched and cherished him, as I had done when he was but a little child.
+Though in these respects his guardian, in others I was his pupil. I sat
+before him, as Mary did at the Messiah's feet, and gladly received his
+instructions. My heart went out with him in all the various functions of
+his calling. I often went with him to the bed-side of the sick, and to
+the habitations of the wretched. None knew better than he did, how to
+still the throbbings of the wrung heart, and administer consolation.
+
+I was present also, when, for the first time, he sprinkled an infant's
+brow with the waters of consecration; and when he had blessed the babe,
+he also prayed that we might all become even as that little child. I was
+with him, too, when for the first time he joined in holy bands, those
+whom none but God should ever put asunder; and if the remembrance of the
+fervent petition which went up for them, has dwelt as vividly in their
+hearts as it has in mine, that prayer must have had a holy influence
+upon their lives.
+
+I have said that I remember his first baptism and wedding; but none who
+were present will forget his first funeral. It was our mother's. She had
+lived so much beyond our expectations, and been so graciously permitted
+to witness the fulfilment of her dearest hope, that when at length the
+spirit winged its flight, we all joined in the thanksgiving which went
+up from the lips of her latest-born, that she had been spared so long.
+
+It was a beautiful Sabbath--that day appointed for her funeral--but in
+the morning a messenger came to tell us that the clergyman whom we
+expected was taken suddenly ill. What could be done? Our old pastor was
+then confined to his bed, and on this day all else were engaged. "I will
+perform the services myself," said Winthrop. "I shall even be happy to
+do it."
+
+"Nay," said I, "you are feeble, and already spent with study and
+watching. It must not be so."
+
+"Do not attempt to dissuade me, sister," he replied. "There will be many
+to witness the interment of her who has hovered upon the brink of the
+grave so long; and has not almost every incident of her life, from my
+very birth, been a text from which important lessons may be drawn?" And
+then, fixing his large mild eyes full upon me, as though he would utter
+a truth which duty forbade him longer to suppress, he added, "I dare not
+misimprove this opportunity. This first death in _my_ parish may also be
+the last. Nay, weep not, my sister, because I may go next. The time at
+best is short, and I must work while the day lasts."
+
+I did not answer. My heart was full, and I turned away. That day my
+brother ascended his pulpit to conduct the funeral services, and in them
+he _did_ make of her life a lesson to all present. But when he addressed
+himself particularly to the young, the middle-aged and the old, his eyes
+kindled, and his cheeks glowed, as he varied the subject to present the
+"king of terrors" in a different light to each. Then he turned to the
+mourners. And who were _they?_ His own aged father, the companion for
+many years of her who was before them in her shroud. His own brothers
+and sisters, and the little ones of the third generation, whose childish
+memories had not even yet forgotten her dying blessing. He essayed to
+speak, but in vain. The flush faded from his cheek till he was deadly
+pale. Again he attempted to address us, and again in vain. He raised his
+hand, and buried his face in the folds of his white handkerchief. I also
+covered my eyes, and there was a deep stillness throughout the assembly.
+At that moment I thought more of the living than of the dead; and then
+there was a rush among the great congregation, like the sudden bursting
+forth of a mighty torrent.
+
+I raised my eyes, but could see no one in the pulpit. The next instant
+it was filled. I also pressed forward, and unimpeded ascended the steps,
+for all stood back that I might pass. I reached him as he lay upon the
+seat where he had fallen, and the handkerchief, which was still pressed
+to his lips, was wet with blood. They bore him down, and through the
+aisle; and when he passed the coffin, he raised his head, and gazed a
+moment upon that calm, pale face. Then casting upon all around a
+farewell glance, he sunk gently back, and closed his eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few evenings after, I was sitting by his bed-side. The bright glow of
+a setting sun penetrated the white curtains of his windows, and fell
+with softened lustre upon his face. The shadows of the contiguous
+foliage were dancing upon the curtains, the floor, and the snowy drapery
+of his bed; and as he looked faintly up, he murmured, "It is a beautiful
+world; but the other is glorious! and my mother is there, and Endicott.
+See! they are beckoning to me, and smiling joyfully!--Mother, dear
+mother, and Endicott, I am coming!"
+
+His voice and looks expressed such conviction of the reality of what he
+saw, that I also looked up to see these beautiful spirits. My glance of
+disappointment recalled him; and he smiled as he said, "I think it was a
+dream; but it will be reality soon.--Do not go," said he, as I arose to
+call for others. "Do not fear, sister. The bands are very loose, and the
+spirit will go gently, and perhaps even before you could return."
+
+I reseated myself, and pressing his wasted hand in mine, I watched,--
+
+  "As through his breast, the wave of life
+        Heaved gently to and fro."
+
+A few moments more, and I was alone with the dead.
+
+We buried Winthrop by the side of Endicott W., and the old pastor was
+soon laid beside them. * * * *
+
+Years have passed since then, and I still love to visit those three
+graves. But other feelings mingle with those which once possessed my
+soul. I hear those whose high vocation was once deemed a sure guarantee
+for their purity, either basely calumniated, or terribly condemned.
+Their morality is questioned, their sincerity doubted, their usefulness
+denied, and their pretensions scoffed at. It may be that unholy hands
+are sometimes laid upon the ark, and that change of times forbids such
+extensive usefulness as was in the power of the clergymen of New England
+in former days. But when there comes a muttering cry of "Down with the
+priesthood!" and a denial of the good which they have effected, my soul
+repels the insinuation, as though it were blasphemy. I think of the
+first three pastors of our village, and I reverence the ministerial
+office and its labors,
+
+  "If I but remember only,
+  That such as these have lived, and died."
+
+                                                         SUSANNA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE SUGAR-MAKING EXCURSION.
+
+
+It was on a beautiful morning in the month of March, (one of those
+mornings so exhilarating that they make even age and decrepitude long
+for a ramble), that friend H. called to invite me to visit his
+sugar-lot--as he called it--in company with the party which, in the
+preceding summer, visited Moose Mountain upon the whortleberry
+excursion. It was with the pleasure generally experienced in revisiting
+former scenes, in quest of novelty and to revive impressions and
+friendships, that our party set out for this second visit to Moose
+Mountain.
+
+A pleasant sleigh-ride of four or five miles, brought us safely to the
+domicile of friend H., who had reached home an hour previously, and was
+prepared to pilot us to his sugar-camp. "Before we go," said he, "you
+must one and all step within doors, and warm your stomachs with some
+gingered cider." We complied with his request, and after a little social
+chat with Mrs. H., who welcomed us with a cordiality not to be
+surpassed, and expressed many a kind wish that we might spend the day
+agreeably, we made for the sugar-camp, preceded by friend H., who walked
+by the side of his sleigh, which appeared to be well loaded, and which
+he steadied with the greatest care at every uneven place in the path.
+
+Arrived at the camp, we found two huge iron kettles suspended on a pole,
+which was supported by crotched stakes, driven in the ground, and each
+half full of boiling syrup. This was made by boiling down the sap, which
+was gathered from troughs that were placed under spouts which were
+driven into rock-maple trees, an incision being first made in the tree
+with an auger. Friend H. told us that it had taken more than two barrels
+of sap to make what syrup each kettle contained. A steady fire of oak
+bark was burning underneath the kettles, and the boys and girls, friend
+H.'s sons and daughters, were busily engaged in stirring the syrup,
+replenishing the fire, &c.
+
+Abigail, the eldest daughter, went to her father's sleigh, and taking
+out a large rundlet, which might contain two or three gallons, poured
+the contents into a couple of pails. This we perceived was milk, and as
+she raised one of the pails to empty the contents into the kettles, her
+father called out, "Ho, Abigail! hast thee strained the milk?"
+
+"Yes, father," said Abigail.
+
+"Well," said friend H., with a chuckle, "Abigail understands what she is
+about, as well as her mother would; and I'll warrant Hannah to make
+better maple-sugar than any other woman in New England, or in the whole
+United States--and you will agree with me in that, after that sugar is
+turned off and cooled." Abigail turned to her work, emptied her milk
+into the kettles, and then stirred their contents well together, and put
+some bark on the fire.
+
+"Come, Jemima," said Henry L., "let us try to assist Abigail a little,
+and perhaps we shall learn to make sugar ourselves; and who knows but
+what she will give us a 'gob' to carry home as a specimen to show our
+friends; and besides, it is possible that we may have to make sugar
+ourselves at some time or other; and even if we do not, it will never do
+us any harm to know how the thing is done." Abigail furnished us each
+with a large brass scummer, and instructed us to take off the scum as it
+arose, and put it into the pails; and Henry called two others of our
+party to come and hold the pails.
+
+"But tell me, Abigail," said Henry, with a roguish leer, "was that milk
+really intended for whitening the sugar?"
+
+"Yes," said Abigail with all the simplicity of a Quakeress, "for thee
+must know that the milk will all rise in a scum, and with it every
+particle of dirt or dust which may have found its way into the kettles."
+
+Abigail made a second visit to her father's sleigh, accompanied by her
+little brother, and brought from thence a large tin baker, and placed it
+before the fire. Her brother brought a peck measure two-thirds full of
+potatoes, which Abigail put into the baker, and leaving them to their
+fate, returned to the sleigh, and with her brother's assistance carried
+several parcels, neatly done up in white napkins, into a little log hut
+of some fifteen feet square, with a shed roof made of slabs. We began to
+fancy that we were to have an Irish lunch. Henry took a sly peep into
+the hut when we first arrived, and he declared that there was nothing
+inside, save some squared logs, which were placed back against the
+walls, and which he supposed were intended for seats. But he was
+mistaken in thinking that seats were every convenience which the
+building contained,--as will presently be shown.
+
+Abigail and her brother had been absent something like half an hour, and
+friend H. had in the mean time busied himself in gathering sap, and
+putting it in some barrels hard by. The kettles were clear from scum,
+and their contents were bubbling like soap. The fire was burning
+cheerfully, the company all chatting merrily, and a peep into the baker
+told that the potatoes were cooked.
+
+Abigail and her brother came, and taking up the baker, carried it inside
+the building, but soon returned, and placed it again before the fire.
+Then she called to her father, who came and invited us to go and take
+dinner.
+
+We obeyed the summons; but how were we surprised, when we saw how neatly
+arranged was every thing. The walls of the building were ceiled around
+with boards, and side tables fastened to them, which could be raised or
+let down at pleasure, being but pieces of boards fastened with leather
+hinges and a prop underneath. The tables were covered with napkins,
+white as the driven snow, and loaded with cold ham, neat's tongue,
+pickles, bread, apple-sauce, preserves, dough-nuts, butter, cheese, and
+_potatoes_--without which a Yankee dinner is never complete. For
+beverage, there was chocolate, which was made over a fire in the
+building--there being a rock chimney in one corner. "Now, neighbors,"
+said friend H., "if you will but seat yourselves on these squared logs,
+and put up with these rude accommodations, you will do me a favor. We
+might have had our dinner at the house, but I thought that it would be a
+novelty, and afford more amusement to have it in this little hut, which
+I built to shelter us from what stormy weather we might have in the
+season of making sugar."
+
+We arranged ourselves around the room, and right merry were we, for
+friend H.'s lively chat did not suffer us to be otherwise. He
+recapitulated to us the manner of his life while a bachelor; the many
+bear-fights which he had had; told us how many bears he had killed; how
+a she-bear denned in his rock dwelling the first winter after he
+commenced clearing his land--he having returned home to his father's to
+attend school; how, when he returned in the spring, he killed her two
+cubs, and afterwards the old bear, and made his Hannah a present of
+their skins to make a muff and tippet; also his courtship, marriage, &c.
+
+In the midst of dinner, Abigail came in with some hot mince-pies, which
+had been heating in the baker before the fire out of doors, and which
+said much in praise of Mrs. H.'s cookery.
+
+We had finished eating, and were chatting as merrily as might be, when
+one of the little boys called from without, "Father, the sugar has
+grained." We immediately went out, and found one of the boys stirring
+some sugar in a bowl to cool it. The fire was raked from beneath the
+kettles, and Abigail and her eldest brother were stirring their contents
+with all haste. Friend H. put a pole within the bail of one of the
+kettles, and raised it up, which enabled two of the company to take the
+other down, and having placed it in the snow, they assisted friend H. to
+take down the other; and while we lent a helping hand to stir and cool
+the sugar, friend H.'s children ate their dinners, cleared away the
+tables, put what fragments were left into their father's sleigh,
+together with the dinner-dishes, tin baker, rundlet, and the pails of
+scum, which were to be carried home for the swine. A firkin was also put
+into the sleigh; and after the sugar was sufficiently cool, it was put
+into the firkin, and covered up with great care.
+
+After this we spent a short time promenading around the rock-maple
+grove, if leafless trees can be called a grove. A large sap-trough,
+which was very neatly made, struck my fancy, and friend H. said he would
+make me a present of it for a cradle. This afforded a subject for mirth.
+Friend H. said that we must not ridicule the idea of having sap-troughs
+for cradles; for that was touching quality, as his eldest child had been
+rocked many an hour in a sap-trough, beneath the shade of a tree, while
+his wife sat beside it knitting, and he was hard by, hoeing corn.
+
+Soon we were on our way to friend H.'s house, which we all reached in
+safety; and where we spent an agreeable evening, eating maple sugar,
+apples, beech-nuts, &c. We also had tea about eight o'clock, which was
+accompanied by every desirable luxury--after which we started for home.
+
+As we were about taking leave, Abigail made each of us a present of a
+cake of sugar, which was cooled in a tin heart.--"Heigh ho!" said Henry
+L., "how lucky! We have had an agreeable visit, a bountiful feast--have
+learned how to make sugar, and have all got sweethearts!"
+
+We went home, blessing our stars and the hospitality of our Quaker
+friends.
+
+I cannot close without telling the reader, that the sugar which was
+that day made, was nearly as white as loaf sugar, and tasted much
+better.
+
+                                                          JEMIMA.
+
+
+
+
+PREJUDICE AGAINST LABOR.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Mrs. K. and her daughter Emily were discussing the propriety of
+permitting Martha to be one of the party which was to be given at Mr.
+K.'s the succeeding Tuesday evening, to celebrate the birth-day of
+George, who had lately returned from college. Martha was the niece of
+Mr. K. She was an interesting girl of about nineteen years of age, who,
+having had the misfortune to lose her parents, rather preferred working
+in a factory for her support, than to be dependent on the charity of her
+friends. Martha was a favorite in the family of her uncle; and Mrs. K.,
+notwithstanding her aristocratic prejudices, would gladly have her niece
+present at the party, were it not for fear of what people might say, if
+Mr. and Mrs. K. suffered their children to appear on a level with
+factory operatives.
+
+"Mother," said Emily, "I do wish there was not such a prejudice against
+those who labor for a living; and especially against those who work in a
+factory; for then Martha might with propriety appear at George's party;
+but I know it would be thought disgraceful to be seen at a party with a
+factory girl, even if she is one's own cousin, and without a single
+fault. And besides, the Miss Lindsays are invited, and if Martha should
+be present, they will be highly offended, and make her the subject of
+ridicule. I would not for my life have Martha's feelings wounded, as I
+know they would be, if either of the Miss Lindsays should ask her when
+she left Lowell, or how long she had worked in a factory."
+
+"Well, Emily," said Mrs. K., "I do not know how we shall manage to keep
+up appearances, and also spare Martha's feelings, unless we can persuade
+your father to take her with him to Acton, on the morrow, and leave her
+at your uncle Theodore's. I do not see any impropriety in this step, as
+she proposes to visit Acton before she returns to Lowell."
+
+"You will persuade me to no such thing," said Mr. K., stepping to the
+door of his study, which opened from the parlor, and which stood ajar,
+so that the conversation between his wife and daughter had been
+overheard by Mr. K., and also by the Hon. Mr. S., a gentleman of large
+benevolence, whose firmness of character placed him far above popular
+prejudice. These gentlemen had been in the study unknown to Mrs. K. and
+Emily.
+
+"You will persuade me to no such thing," Mr. K. repeated, as he entered
+the parlor accompanied by Mr. S.; "I am determined that my niece shall
+be at the party. However loudly the public opinion may cry out against
+such a measure, I shall henceforth exert my influence to eradicate the
+wrong opinions entertained by what is called good society, respecting
+the degradation of labor; and I will commence by placing my children and
+niece on a level. The occupations of people have made too much
+distinction in society. The laboring classes, who are in fact the wealth
+of a nation, are trampled upon; while those whom dame Fortune has placed
+above, or if you please, _below_ labor, with some few honorable
+exceptions, arrogate to themselves all of the claims to good society.
+But in my humble opinion, the rich and the poor ought to be equally
+respected, if virtuous; and equally detested, if vicious."
+
+"But what will our acquaintances say?" said Mrs. K.
+
+"It is immaterial to me what 'they say' or think," said Mr. K., "so long
+as I know that I am actuated by right motives."
+
+"But you know, my dear husband," replied his wife, "that the world is
+censorious, and that much of the good or ill fortune of our children
+will depend on the company which they shall keep. For myself, I care but
+little for the opinion of the world, so long as I have the approbation
+of my husband, but I cannot bear to have my children treated with
+coldness; and besides, as George is intended for the law, his success
+will in a great measure depend on public opinion; and I do not think
+that even Esq. S. would think it altogether judicious, under existing
+circumstances, for us to place our children on a level with the laboring
+people."
+
+"If I may be permitted to express my opinion," said Mr. S. "I must say,
+in all sincerity, that I concur in sentiment with my friend K.; and,
+like him, I would that the line of separation between good and bad
+society was drawn between the virtuous and the vicious; and to bring
+about this much-to-be-desired state of things, the affluent, those who
+are allowed by all to have an undisputed right to rank with good
+society, must begin the reformation, by exerting their influence to
+raise up those who are bowed down. Your fears, Mrs. K., respecting your
+son's success, are, or should be, groundless; for, to associate with the
+laboring people, and strive to raise them to their proper place in the
+scale of being, should do more for his prosperity in the profession
+which he has chosen, than he ought to realize by a contrary course of
+conduct; and, I doubt not, your fears will prove groundless. So, my dear
+lady, rise above them; and also above the opinions of a gainsaying
+multitude--opinions which are erroneous, and which every philanthropist,
+and every Christian, should labor to correct."
+
+The remarks of Esq. S. had so good an effect on Mrs. K., that she
+relinquished the idea of sending Martha to Acton.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+The following evening Emily and Martha spent at Esq. S.'s, agreeably to
+an earnest invitation from Mrs. S. and her daughter Susan, who were
+anxious to cultivate an acquaintance with the orphan. These ladies were
+desirous to ascertain the real situation of a factory girl, and if it
+was as truly deplorable as public fame had represented, they intended to
+devise some plan to place Martha in a more desirable situation. Mrs. S.
+had a sister, who had long been in a declining state of health; and she
+had but recently written to Mrs. S. to allow Susan to spend a few months
+with her, while opportunity should offer to engage a young lady to live
+with her as a companion. This lady's husband was a clerk in one of the
+departments at Washington; and, not thinking it prudent to remove his
+family to the capital, they remained in P.; but the time passed so
+heavily in her husband's absence, as to have a visible effect on her
+health. Her physician advised her not to live so retired as she did, but
+to go into lively company to cheer up her spirits; but she thought it
+would be more judicious to have an agreeable female companion to live
+with her; and Mrs. S. concluded, from the character given her by her
+uncle, that Martha would be just such a companion as her sister wanted;
+and she intended in the course of the evening to invite Martha to
+accompany Susan on a visit to her aunt.
+
+The evening passed rapidly away, for the lively and interesting
+conversation, in the neat and splendid parlor of Esq. S., did not suffer
+any one present to note the flight of time. Martha's manners well
+accorded with the flattering description which her uncle had given of
+her. She had a good flow of language, and found no difficulty in
+expressing her sentiments on any subject which was introduced. Her
+description of "Life in Lowell" convinced those who listened to the
+clear, musical tones of her voice, that the many reports which they had
+heard, respecting the ignorance and vice of the factory operatives, were
+the breathings of ignorance, wafted on the wings of slander, and not
+worthy of credence.
+
+"But with all your privileges, Martha," said Mrs. S., "was it not
+wearisome to labor so many hours in a day?"
+
+"Truly it was at times," said Martha, "and fewer hours of labor would be
+desirable, if they could command a proper amount of wages; for in that
+case there would be more time for improvement."
+
+Mrs. S. then gave Martha an invitation to accompany her daughter to P.,
+hoping that she would accept the invitation, and find the company of her
+sister so agreeable that she would consent to remain with her, at least
+for one year; assuring her that if she did, her privileges for
+improvement should be equal, if not superior to those she had enjoyed in
+Lowell; and also that she should not be a loser in pecuniary matters.
+Martha politely thanked Mrs. S. for the interest she took in her behalf,
+but wished a little time to consider the propriety of accepting the
+proposal. But when Mrs. S. explained how necessary it was that her
+sister should have a female companion with her, during her husband's
+absence, Martha consented to accompany Susan, provided that her uncle
+and aunt K. gave their consent.
+
+"What an interesting girl!" said Esq. S. to his lady, after the young
+people had retired. "Amiable and refined as Emily K. appears, Martha's
+manners show that her privileges have been greater, or that her
+abilities are superior to those of Emily. How cold and calculating, and
+also unjust, was her aunt K., to think that it would detract aught from
+the respectability of her children for Martha to appear in company with
+them! I really hope that Mr. K. will allow her to visit your sister. I
+will speak to him on the subject."
+
+"She _must_ go with Susan," said Mrs. S.; "I am determined to take no
+denial. Her sprightly manners and delightful conversation will cheer my
+sister's spirits, and be of more avail in restoring her health than ten
+physicians."
+
+Mr. K. gave the desired consent, and it was agreed by all parties
+concerned that some time in the following week the ladies should visit
+P.; and all necessary preparations were immediately made for the
+journey.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+It was Tuesday evening, and a whole bevy of young people had assembled
+at Mr. K.'s. Beauty and wit were there, and seemed to vie with each
+other for superiority. The beaux and belles were in high glee. All was
+life and animation. The door opened, and Mr. K. entered the room. A
+young lady, rather above the middle height, and of a form of the most
+perfect symmetry, was leaning on his arm. She was dressed in a plain
+white muslin gown; a lace 'kerchief was thrown gracefully over her
+shoulders, and a profusion of auburn hair hung in ringlets down her
+neck, which had no decoration save a single string of pearl; her head
+was destitute of ornament, with the exception of one solitary rosebud on
+the left temple; her complexion was a mixture of the rose and the lily;
+a pair of large hazel eyes, half concealed by their long silken lashes,
+beamed with intelligence and expression, as they cast a furtive glance
+at the company. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. K., "this is my niece,
+Miss Croly;" and as with a modest dignity she courtesied, a beholder
+could scarce refrain from applying to her Milton's description of Eve
+when she first came from the hand of her Creator. Mr. K. crossed the
+room with his niece, seated her by the side of his daughter, and,
+wishing the young people a pleasant evening, retired. The eyes of all
+were turned towards the stranger, eager to ascertain whether indeed she
+was the little girl who once attended the same school with them, but who
+had, for a number of years past, been employed in a "Lowell factory."
+"Oh, it is the same," said the Miss Lindsays. "How presumptuous," said
+Caroline Lindsay to a gentleman who sat near her, "thus to intrude a
+factory girl into our company! Unless I am very much mistaken, I shall
+make her sorry for her impudence, and wish herself somewhere else
+before the party breaks up." "Indeed, Miss Caroline, you will not try to
+distress the poor girl; you cannot be so cruel," said the gentleman, who
+was no other than the eldest son of Esq. S., who had on the preceding
+day returned home, after an absence of two years on a tour through
+Europe. "Cruel!" said Caroline, interrupting him, "surely, Mr. S., you
+cannot think it cruel to keep people where they belong; or if they get
+out of the way, to set them right; and you will soon see that I shall
+direct Miss Presumption to her proper place, which is in the
+kitchen,"--and giving her head a toss, she left Mr. S., and seating
+herself by Emily and Martha, inquired when the latter left Lowell, and
+if the factory girls were as ignorant as ever.
+
+Martha replied by informing her when she left the "city of spindles;"
+and also by telling her that she believed the factory girls, considering
+the little time they had for the cultivation of their minds, were not,
+in the useful branches of education, behind any class of females in the
+Union. "What chance can they have for improvement?" said Caroline: "they
+are driven like slaves to and from their work, for fourteen hours in
+each day, and dare not disobey the calls of the factory bell. If they
+had the means for improvement, they have not the time; and it must be
+that they are quite as ignorant as the southern slaves, and as little
+fitted for society." Martha colored to the eyes at this unjust
+aspersion; and Emily, in pity to her cousin, undertook to refute the
+charge. Mr. S. drew near, and seating himself by the cousins, entered
+into conversation respecting the state of society in Lowell. Martha soon
+recovered her self-possession, and joined in the conversation with more
+than her usual animation, yet with a modest dignity which attracted the
+attention of all present. She mentioned the evening schools for teaching
+penmanship, grammar, geography, and other branches of education, and how
+highly they were prized, and how well they were attended by the factory
+girls. She also spoke of the Lyceum and Institute, and other lectures;
+and her remarks were so appropriate and sensible, that even those who
+were at first for assisting Caroline Lindsay in directing her to her
+"proper place," and who even laughed at what they thought to be Miss
+Lindsay's wit,--became attentive listeners, and found that even one who
+"had to work for a living" could by her conversation add much to the
+enjoyment of "good society."
+
+All were now disposed to treat Martha with courtesy, with the exception
+of the Miss Lindsays, who sat biting their lips for vexation; mortified
+to think that in trying to make Martha an object of ridicule, they had
+exposed themselves to contempt. Mr. S. took upon himself the task (if
+task it could be called, for one whose feelings were warmly enlisted in
+the work) of explaining in a clear and concise manner the impropriety of
+treating people with contempt for none other cause than that they earned
+an honest living by laboring with their hands. He spoke of the duty of
+the rich, with regard to meliorating the condition of the poor, not only
+in affairs of a pecuniary nature, but also by encouraging them in the
+way of well-doing, by bestowing upon them that which would cost a good
+man or woman nothing,--namely, kind looks, kind words, and all the sweet
+courtesies of life. His words were not lost; for those who heard him
+have overcome their prejudices against labor and laboring people, and
+respect the virtuous whatever may be their occupation.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Bright and unclouded was the morning which witnessed the departure of
+the family coach from the door of the Hon. Mr. S. Henry accompanied by
+his sister and the beautiful Martha, whose champion he had been at the
+birth-night party of George K. Arrived at P., they found that they were
+not only welcome, but expected visitors; for Esq. S. had previously
+written to his sister-in-law, apprising her of Henry's return, and his
+intention of visiting her in company with his sister Susan, and a young
+lady whom he could recommend as being just the companion of which she
+was in need. In a postscript to his letter he added, "I do not hesitate
+to commend this lovely orphan to your kindness, for I know you will
+appreciate her worth."
+
+When Henry S. took leave of his aunt and her family, and was about to
+start upon his homeward journey, he found that a two days' ride, and a
+week spent in the society of Martha, had been at work with his heart. He
+requested a private interview, and what was said, or what was concluded
+on, I shall leave the reader to imagine, as best suits his fancy. I
+shall also leave him to imagine what the many billets-doux contained
+which Henry sent to P., and what were the answers he received, and read
+with so much pleasure.--As it is no part of my business to enter into
+any explanation of that subject, I will leave it and call the reader's
+attention to the sequel of my story, hoping to be pardoned if I make it
+as short as possible. * * * *
+
+It was a lovely moonlight evening. The Hon. Mr. S. and lady, Mr. and
+Mrs. K., and Caroline Lindsay, were seated in the parlor of Mr.
+K.--Caroline had called to inquire for Martha, supposing her to be in
+Lowell. Caroline's father had been deeply engaged in the eastern land
+speculation, the result of which was a total loss of property. This made
+it absolutely necessary that his family should labor for their bread;
+and Caroline had come to the noble resolution of going to Lowell to work
+in a factory, not only to support herself, but to assist her parents in
+supporting her little brother and sisters. It was a hard struggle for
+Caroline to bring her mind to this; but she had done it, and was now
+ready to leave home. Dreading to go where all were strangers, she
+requested Mr. K. to give her directions where to find Martha, and to
+honor her as the bearer of a letter to his niece. "I know," said she,
+"that Martha's goodness of heart will induce her to secure me a place of
+work, notwithstanding my former rudeness to her--a rudeness which has
+caused me to suffer severely, and of which I heartily repent." Mr. K.
+informed Caroline that he expected to see his niece that evening; and he
+doubted not she would recommend Miss Lindsay to the overseer with whom
+she had worked while in Lowell; and also introduce her to good society,
+which she would find could be enjoyed, even in the "city of spindles,"
+popular prejudice to the contrary notwithstanding. Esquire and Mrs. S.
+approved of Caroline's resolution of going to Lowell, and spoke many
+words of encouragement, and also prevailed on her to accept of something
+to assist in defraying the expenses of her journey, and to provide for
+any exigency which might happen. They were yet engaged in conversation,
+when a coach stopped at the door, and presently George and Emily entered
+the parlor! They were followed by a gentleman and lady in bridal
+habiliments. George stepped back, and introduced Mr. Henry S. and lady.
+"Yes," said Henry laughingly, "I have brought safely back the Factory
+Pearl, which a twelvemonth since I found in this room, and which I have
+taken for my own." The lady threw back her veil, and Miss Lindsay beheld
+the countenance of Martha Croly.
+
+I shall omit the apologies and congratulations of Caroline and the
+assurance of forgiveness and proffers of friendship of Martha. The
+reader must also excuse me from delineating the joy with which Martha
+was received by her uncle and aunt K.; and the heartfelt satisfaction
+which Esquire and Mrs. S. expressed in their son's choice of a wife. It
+is enough to state that all parties concerned were satisfied and happy,
+and continue so to the present time. To sum up the whole they are happy
+themselves, and diffuse happiness all around them.
+
+Caroline Lindsay was the bearer of several letters from Martha, now Mrs.
+S., to her friends in Lowell. She spent two years in a factory, and
+enjoyed the friendship of all who knew her; and when she left Lowell her
+friends could not avoid grieving for the loss of her company, although
+they knew that a bright day was soon to dawn upon her. She is now the
+wife of George K., and is beloved and respected by all who know her.
+Well may she say, "Sweet are the uses of adversity," for adversity awoke
+to energy virtues which were dormant, until a reverse of fortune. Her
+father's affairs are in a measure retrieved; and he says that he is
+doubly compensated for his loss of property in the happiness he now
+enjoys.
+
+I will take leave of the reader, hoping that if he has hitherto had any
+undue prejudice against labor, or laboring people, he will overcome it,
+and excuse my freedom and plainness of speech.
+
+                                                       ETHELINDA.
+
+
+
+
+JOAN OF ARC.
+
+
+When, in the perusal of history, I meet with the names of females whom
+circumstances, or their own inclinations, have brought thus openly
+before the public eye, I can seldom repress the desire to know more of
+them. Was it choice, or necessity, which led them to the battle-field,
+or council-hall? Had the woman's heart been crushed within their
+breasts? or did it struggle with the sterner feelings which had then
+found entrance there? Were they recreant to their own sex? or were the
+deed which claim the historian's notice but the necessary results of the
+situations in which they had been placed?
+
+These are questions which I often ask, and yet I love not in old and
+musty records to meet with names which long ere this should have
+perished with the hearts upon which love had written them; for happier,
+surely, is woman, when in _one_ manly heart she has been "shrined a
+queen," than when upon some powerful throne she sits with an untrembling
+form, and an unquailing eye, to receive the homage, and command the
+services of loyal thousands. I love not to read of women transformed in
+all, save outward form, into one of the sterner sex; and when I see, in
+the memorials of the past, that this has apparently been done, I would
+fain overleap the barriers of bygone time, and know how it has been
+effected. Imagination goes back to the scenes which must have been
+witnessed then, and perhaps unaided portrays the minute features of the
+sketch, of which history has preserved merely the outlines.
+
+But I sometimes read of woman, when I would not know more of the places
+where she has rendered herself conspicuous; when there is something so
+noble and so bright in the character I have given her, that I fear a
+better knowledge of trivial incidents might break the spell which leads
+me to love and admire her; where, perhaps, the picture which my fancy
+has painted, glows in colors so brilliant, that a sketch by Truth would
+seem beside it but a sombre shadow.
+
+Joan of Arc is one of those heroines of history, who cannot fail to
+excite an interest in all who love to contemplate the female character.
+From the gloom of that dark age, when woman was but a plaything and a
+slave, she stands in bold relief, its most conspicuous personage. Not,
+indeed, as a queen, but as more than a queen, even the preserver of her
+nation's king; not as a conqueror, but as the savior of her country; not
+as a man, urged in his proud career by mad ambition's stirring energies,
+but as a woman, guided in her brilliant course by woman's noblest
+impulses--so does she appear in that lofty station which for herself she
+won.
+
+Though high and dazzling was the eminence to which she rose, yet "'twas
+not thus, oh 'twas not thus, her dwelling-place was found." Low in the
+vale of humble life was the maiden born and bred; and thick as is the
+veil which time and distance have thrown over every passage of her life
+yet that which rests upon her early days is most impenetrable. And much
+room is there here for the interested inquirer, and Imagination may rest
+almost unchecked amid the slight revelations of History.
+
+Joan is a heroine--a woman of mighty power--wearing herself the
+habiliments of man, and guiding armies to battle and to victory; yet
+never to my eye is "the warrior-maid" aught but _woman_. The ruling
+passion, the spirit which nerved her arm, illumed her eye, and buoyed
+her heart, was woman's faith. Ay, it was _power_--and call it what ye
+may--say it was enthusiasm, fanaticism, madness--or call it, if ye will,
+what those _did_ name it who burned Joan at the stake,--still it was
+power, the power of woman's firm, undoubting faith.
+
+I should love to go back into Joan's humble home--that home which the
+historian has thought so little worthy of his notice; and in imagination
+I _must_ go there, even to the very cradle of her infancy, and know of
+all those influences which wrought the mind of Joan to that fearful
+pitch of wild enthusiasm, when she declared herself the inspired agent
+of the Almighty.
+
+Slowly and gradually was the spirit trained to an act like this; for
+though, like the volcano's fire, its instantaneous bursting forth was
+preceded by no prophet-herald of its coming--yet Joan of Arc was the
+same Joan ere she was maid of Orleans; the same high-souled, pure and
+imaginative being, the creature of holy impulses, and conscious of
+superior energies. It must have been so; _a superior mind may burst upon
+the world, but never upon itself_: there must be a feeling of sympathy
+with the noble and the gifted, a knowledge of innate though slumbering
+powers. The neglected eaglet may lie in its mountain nest, long after
+the pinion is fledged; but it will fix its unquailing eye upon the
+dazzling sun, and feel a consciousness of strength in the untried wing;
+but let the mother-bird once call it forth, and far away it will soar
+into the deep blue heavens, or bathe and revel amidst the
+tempest-clouds--and henceforth the eyrie is but a resting place.
+
+As the diamond is formed, brilliant and priceless, in the dark bowels of
+the earth, even so, in the gloom of poverty, obscurity, and toil, was
+formed the mind of Joan of Arc.--Circumstances were but the jeweller's
+cutting, which placed it where it might more readily receive the rays
+of light, and flash them forth with greater brilliancy.
+
+I have said, that I must in imagination go back to the infancy of Joan,
+and note the incidents which shed their silent, hallowed influence upon
+her soul, until she stands forth an inspired being, albeit inspired by
+naught but her own imagination.
+
+The basis of Joan's character is religious enthusiasm: this is the
+substratum, the foundation of all that wild and mighty power which made
+_her_, the peasant girl, the savior of her country. But the flame must
+have been early fed; it was not merely an elementary portion of her
+nature, but it was one which was cherished in infancy, in childhood and
+in youth, until it became the master-passion of her being.
+
+Joan, the child of the humble and the lowly, was also the daughter of
+the fervently religious. The light of faith and hope illumes their
+little cot; and reverence for all that is good and true, and a trust
+which admits no shade of fear or doubt, is early taught the gentle
+child. Though "faith in God's own promises" was mingled with
+superstitious awe of those to whom all were then indebted for a
+knowledge of the truth; though priestly craft had united the wild and
+false with the pure light of the gospel: and though Joan's religion was
+mingled with delusion and error,--still it comprised all that is
+fervent, and pure, and truthful, in the female heart. The first words
+her infant lips are taught to utter, are those of prayer--prayer,
+mayhap, to saints or virgin; but still to her _then_ and in all
+after-time, the aspirations of a spirit which delights in communion with
+the Invisible.
+
+She grows older, and still, amid ignorance, and poverty, and toil, the
+spirit gains new light and fervor. With a mind alive to everything that
+is high and holy, she goes forth into a dark and sinful world, dependent
+upon her daily toil for daily bread; she lives among the thoughtless and
+the vile; but like that plant which opens to nought but light and air,
+and shrinks from all other contact--so her mind, amid the corruptions of
+the world, is shut to all that is base and sinful, though open and
+sensitive to that which is pure and noble.
+
+"Joan," says the historian, "was a tender of stables in a village inn."
+Such was her outward life; but there was for her _another_ life, a life
+within that life. While the hands perform low, menial service, the soul
+untrammelled is away, and revelling amidst its own creations of beauty
+and of bliss. She is silent and abstracted; always alone among her
+fellows--for among them all she sees no kindred spirit; she finds none
+who can touch the chords within her heart, or respond to their melody,
+when she would herself sweep its harp-strings.
+
+Joan has no friends; far less does she ever think of earthly lovers; and
+who would love _her_, the wild and strange Joan! though perhaps, the
+gloomy, dull, and silent one; but that soul, whose very essence is
+fervent zeal and glowing passion, sends forth in secrecy and silence its
+burning love upon the unconscious things of earth. She talks to the
+flowers, and the stars, and the changing clouds; and their voiceless
+answers come back to her soul at morn, and noon, and stilly night. Yes,
+Joan loves to go forth in the darkness of eve, and sit,
+
+  "Beneath the radiant stars, still burning as they roll,
+  And sending down their prophecies into her fervent soul;"
+
+but, better even than this, does she love to go into some high
+cathedral, where the "dim religious light" comes faintly through the
+painted windows; and when the priests chant vesper hymns, and burning
+incense goes upward from the sacred altar--and when the solemn strains
+and the fragrant vapor dissolve and die away in the distant aisles and
+lofty dome, she kneels upon the marble floor, and in ecstatic worship
+sends forth the tribute of a glowing heart.
+
+And when at night she lies down upon her rude pallet, she dreams that
+she is with those bright and happy beings with whom her fancy has
+peopled heaven. She is there, among saints and angels, and even
+permitted high converse with the Mother of Jesus.
+
+Yes, Joan is a dreamer; and she dreams not only in the night, but in the
+day; whether at work or at rest, alone or among her fellow-men, there
+are angel voices near, and spirit-wings are hovering around her, and
+visions of all that is pure, and bright, and beautiful, come to the mind
+of the lowly girl. She finds that she is a favored one; she feels that
+those about her are not gifted as she has been; she knows that their
+thoughts are not as her thoughts; and then the spirit questions, Why is
+it thus that she should be permitted communings with unearthly ones? Why
+was this ardent, aspiring mind bestowed upon _her_, one of earth's
+meanest ones, shackled by bonds of penury, toil, and ignorance of all
+that the world calls high and gifted? Day after day goes by, night after
+night wears on, and still these queries will arise, and still they are
+unanswered.
+
+At length the affairs of busy life, those which to Joan have heretofore
+been of but little moment, begin to awaken even _her_ interest.
+Hitherto, absorbed in her own bright fancies, she has mingled in the
+scenes around her, like one who walketh in his sleep. They have been too
+tame and insipid to arouse her energies, or excite her interest; but now
+there is a thrilling power in the tidings which daily meet her ears. All
+hearts are stirred, but none now throb like hers: her country is
+invaded, her king an exile from his throne; and at length the
+conquerors, unopposed, are quietly boasting of their triumphs on the
+very soil they have polluted. And shall it be thus? Shall the victor
+revel and triumph in her own loved France? Shall her country thus tamely
+submit to wear the foreign yoke? And Joan says, No! She feels the power
+to arouse, to quicken, and to guide.
+
+None now may tell whether it was first in fancies of the day or visions
+of the night, that the thought came, like some lightning flash, upon her
+mind, that it was for this that powers unknown to others had been
+vouchsafed to _her_; and that for this, even new energies should now be
+given.--But the idea once received is not abandoned; she cherishes it,
+and broods upon it, till it has mingled with every thought of day and
+night. If doubts at first arise, they are not harbored, and at length
+they vanish away.
+
+  "Her spirit shadowed forth a dream, till it became a creed."
+
+All that she sees and all that she hears--the words to which she eagerly
+listens by day, and the spirit-whispers which come to her at
+night,--they all assure her of this, that she is the appointed one. All
+other thoughts and feelings now crystallize in this grand scheme; and as
+the cloud grows darker upon her country's sky, her faith grows surer and
+more bright. Her countrymen have ceased to resist, have almost ceased to
+hope; but she alone, in her fervent joy, has "looked beyond the present
+clouds and seen the light beyond." The spoiler shall yet be vanquished,
+and _she_ will do it; her country shall be saved, and _she_ will save
+it; her unanointed king shall yet sit on the throne, and "Charles shall
+be crowned at Rheims." Such is her mission, and she goes forth in her
+own ardent faith to its accomplishment.
+
+And did those who first admitted the claims of Joan as an inspired
+leader, themselves believe that she was an agent of the Almighty? None
+can now tell how much the superstition of their faith, mingled with the
+commanding influence of a mind firm in its own conviction of
+supernatural guidance, influenced those haughty ones, as they listened
+to the counsels, and obeyed the mandates, of the peasant girl.--Perhaps
+they saw that she was their last hope, a frail reed upon which they
+might lean, yet one that might not break. Her zeal and faith might be an
+instrument to effect the end which she had declared herself destined to
+accomplish. Worldly policy and religious credulity might mingle in their
+admission of her claims; but however this might be, the peasant girl of
+Arc soon rides at her monarch's side, with helmet on her head, and armor
+on her frame, the time-hallowed sword girt to her side, and the
+consecrated banner in her hand; and with the lightning of inspiration in
+her eye, and words of dauntless courage on her lips, she guides them on
+to battle and to victory.
+
+Ay, there she is, the low-born maid of Arc! there, with the noble and
+the brave, amid the clangor of trumpets, the waving of banners, the
+tramp of the war horse, and the shouts of warriors; and there she is
+more at home than in those humble scenes in which she has been wont to
+bear a part. Now for once she is herself; now may she put forth all her
+hidden energy, and with a mind which rises at each new demand upon its
+powers, she is gaining for herself a name even greater than that of
+queen. And now does the light beam brightly from her eye, and the blood
+course quickly through her veins--for her task is ended, her mission
+accomplished, and "Charles is crowned at Rheims."
+
+This is the moment of Joan's glory,--and what is before her now? To
+stand in courts, a favored and flattered one? to revel in the soft
+luxuries and enervating pleasures of a princely life? Oh this was not
+for one like her. To return to obscurity and loneliness, and there to
+let the over-wrought mind sink back with nought to occupy and support
+it, till it feeds and drivels on the remembrance of the past--this is
+what she would do; but there is for her what is better far, even the
+glorious death of a martyr.
+
+Little does Joan deem, in her moment of triumph, that this is before
+her; but when she has seen her mission ended, and her king the anointed
+ruler of a liberated people, the sacred sword and standard are cast
+aside; and throwing herself at her monarch's feet, and watering them
+with tears of joy, she begs permission to return to her humble
+home.--She has now done all for which that power was bestowed; her work
+has been accomplished, and she claims no longer the special commission
+of an inspired leader. But Dunois says, No! The English are not yet
+entirely expelled the kingdom, and the French general would avail
+himself of that name, and that presence, which have infused new courage
+into his armies, and struck terror to their enemies. He knows that Joan
+will no longer be sustained by the belief that she is an agent of
+heaven; but she will be with them, and that alone must benefit their
+cause. He would have her again assume the standard, sword, and armor; he
+would have her still retain the title of "Messenger of God," though she
+believe that her mission goes no farther.
+
+It probably was not the first time, and it certainly was not the last,
+when woman's holiest feelings have been made the instruments of man's
+ambition, or agents for the completion of his designs. Joan is now but a
+woman, poor, weak, and yielding woman; and overpowered by their
+entreaties, she consents to try again her influence. But the power of
+that faith is gone, the light of inspiration is no more given, and she
+is attacked, conquered, and delivered to her enemies. They place her in
+low dungeons, then bring her before tribunals; they wring and torture
+that noble spirit, and endeavor to obtain from it a confession of
+imposture, or connivance with the "evil one;" but she still persists in
+the declaration that her claims to a heavenly guidance were true.
+
+Once only was she false to herself. Weary and dispirited; deserted by
+her friends, and tormented by her foes,--she yields to their assertions,
+and admits that she did deceive her countrymen. Perhaps in that hour of
+trial and darkness, when all hope of deliverance from without, or from
+above, had died away,--when she saw herself powerless in the merciless
+hands of her enemies, the conviction might steal upon her own mind, that
+she had been self-deceived; that phantasies of the brain had been
+received as visions from on high,--but though her confession was true in
+the abstract, yet Joan was surely untrue to herself.
+
+Still it avails her little; she is again remanded to the dungeon, and
+there awaits her doom.
+
+At length they bring her the panoply of war, the armored suit in which
+she went forth at the king's right hand to fight their battle hosts. Her
+heart thrills, and her eye flashes, as she looks upon it--for it tells
+of glorious days. Once more she dons those fatal garments, and they find
+her arrayed in the habiliments of war. It is enough for those who wished
+but an excuse to take her life, and the Maid of Orleans is condemned to
+die.
+
+They led Joan to the martyr-stake. Proudly and nobly went she forth, for
+it was a fitting death for one like _her_. Once more the spirit may
+rouse its noblest energies; and with brightened eye, and firm, undaunted
+step, she goes where banners wave and trumpets sound, and martial hosts
+appear in proud array. And the sons of England weep as they see her, the
+calm and tearless one, come forth to meet her fate. They bind her to the
+stake; they light the fire; and upward borne on wreaths of soaring
+flame, the soul of the martyred Joan ascends to heaven.
+
+                                                            ELLA.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN MILLER.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"Mother, it is all over now," said Susan Miller, as she descended from
+the chamber where her father had just died of _delirium tremens_.
+
+Mrs. Miller had for several hours walked the house, with that ceaseless
+step which tells of fearful mental agony: and when she had heard from
+her husband's room some louder shriek or groan, she had knelt by the
+chair or bed which was nearest, and prayed that the troubled spirit
+might pass away. But a faintness came over her, when a long interval of
+stillness told that her prayer was answered; and she leaned upon the
+railing of the stairway for support, as she looked up to see the first
+one who should come to her from the bed of death.
+
+Susan was the first to think of her mother: and when she saw her sink,
+pale, breathless, and stupified upon a stair, she sat down in silence,
+and supported her head upon her own bosom. Then for the first time was
+she aroused to the consciousness that she was to be looked upon as a
+stay and support; and she resolved to bring from the hidden recesses of
+her heart, a strength, courage, and firmness, which should make her to
+her heart-broken mother, and younger brothers and sisters, what _he_ had
+not been for many years, who was now a stiffening corpse.
+
+At length she ventured to whisper words of solace and sympathy, and
+succeeded in infusing into her mother's mind a feeling of resignation to
+the stroke they had received.--She persuaded her to retire to her bed,
+and seek the slumber which had been for several days denied them; and
+then she endeavored to calm the terror-stricken little ones, who were
+screaming because their father was no more. The neighbors came in and
+proffered every assistance; but when Susan retired that night to her own
+chamber, she felt that she must look to HIM for aid, who alone could
+sustain through the tasks that awaited her.
+
+Preparations were made for the funeral; and though every one knew that
+Mr. Miller had left his farm deeply mortgaged, yet the store-keeper
+cheerfully trusted them for articles of mourning, and the dress-maker
+worked day and night, while she expected never to receive a
+remuneration. The minister came to comfort the widow and her children.
+He spoke of the former virtues of him who had been wont to seek the
+house of God on each returning Sabbath, and who had brought his eldest
+children to the font of baptism, and been then regarded as an example of
+honesty and sterling worth; and when he adverted to the one failing
+which had brought him to his grave in the very prime of manhood, he also
+remarked, that he was now in the hands of a merciful God.
+
+The remains of the husband and father were at length removed from the
+home which he had once rendered happy, but upon which he had afterwards
+brought poverty and distress, and laid in that narrow house which he
+never more might leave, till the last trumpet should call him forth;
+and when the family were left to that deep silence and gloom which
+always succeed a death and burial, they began to think of the trials
+which were yet to come.
+
+Mrs. Miller had been for several years aware that ruin was coming upon
+them. She had at first warned, reasoned, and expostulated; but she was
+naturally of a gentle and almost timid disposition; and when she found
+that she awakened passions which were daily growing more violent and
+ungovernable, she resolved to await in silence a crisis which sooner or
+later would change their destiny. Whether she was to follow her
+degenerate husband to his grave, or accompany him to some low hovel, she
+knew not; she shrunk from the future, but faithfully discharged all
+present duties, and endeavored, by a strict economy, to retain at least
+an appearance of comfort in her household.
+
+To Susan, her eldest child, she had confided all her fears and sorrows;
+and they had watched, toiled, and sympathized together. But when the
+blow came at last, when he who had caused all their sorrow and anxiety
+was taken away by a dreadful and disgraceful death, the long-enduring
+wife and mother was almost paralyzed by the shock.
+
+But Susan was young; she had health, strength, and spirits to bear her
+up, and upon her devolved the care of the family, and the plan for its
+future support. Her resolution was soon formed; and without saying a
+word to any individual, she went to Deacon Rand, who was her father's
+principal creditor.
+
+It was a beautiful afternoon in the month of May, when Susan left the
+house in which her life had hitherto been spent, determined to know,
+before she returned to it, whether she might ever again look upon it as
+her home. It was nearly a mile to the deacon's house, and not a single
+house upon the way. The two lines of turf in the road, upon which the
+bright green grass was springing, showed that it was but seldom
+travelled; and the birds warbled in the trees, as though they feared no
+disturbance. The fragrance of the lowly flowers, the budding shrubs, and
+the blooming fruit-trees, filled the air; and she stood for a moment to
+listen to the streamlet which she crossed upon a rude bridge of stones.
+She remembered how she had loved to look at it in summer, as it murmured
+along among the low willows and alder bushes; and how she had watched it
+in the early spring, when its swollen waters forced their way through
+the drifts of snow which had frozen over it, and wrought for itself an
+arched roof, from which the little icicles depended in diamond points
+and rows of beaded pearls. She looked also at the meadow, where the
+grass was already so long and green; and she sighed to think that she
+must leave all that was so dear to her, and go where a ramble among
+fields, meadows, and orchards, would be henceforth a pleasure denied to
+her.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+When she arrived at the spacious farm-house, which was the residence of
+the deacon, she was rejoiced to find him at home and alone. He laid
+aside his newspaper as she entered, and, kindly taking her hand,
+inquired after her own health and that of her friends. "And now,
+deacon," said she, when she had answered all his questions, "I wish to
+know whether you intend to turn us all out of doors, as you have a
+perfect right to do--or suffer us still to remain, with a slight hope
+that we may sometime pay you the debt for which our farm is mortgaged."
+
+"You have asked me a very plain question," was the deacon's reply, "and
+one which I can easily answer. You see that I have here a house, large
+enough and good enough for the president himself, and plenty of every
+thing in it and around it; and how in the name of common sense and
+charity, and religion, could I turn a widow and fatherless children out
+of their house and home! Folks have called me mean, and stingy, and
+close-fisted; and though in my dealings with a rich man I take good care
+that he shall not overreach me, yet I never stood for a cent with a poor
+man in my life. But you spake about some time paying me; pray, how do
+you hope to do it?"
+
+"I am going to Lowell," said Susan quietly, "to work in the factory, the
+girls have high wages there now, and in a year or two Lydia and Eliza
+can come too; and if we all have our health, and mother and James get
+along well with the farm and the little ones, I hope, I do think, that
+we can pay it all up in the course of seven or eight years."
+
+"That is a long time for you to go and work so hard, and shut yourself
+up so close at your time of life," said the deacon, "and on many other
+accounts I do not approve of it."
+
+"I know how prejudiced the people here are against factory girls," said
+Susan, "but I should like to know what real good _reason_ you have for
+disapproving of my resolution. You cannot think there is anything really
+wrong in my determination to labor, as steadily and as profitably as I
+can, for myself and the family."
+
+"Why, the way that I look at things is this," replied the deacon:
+"whatever is not right, is certainly wrong; and I do not think it right
+for a young girl like you, to put herself in the way of all sorts of
+temptation. You have no idea of the wickedness and corruption which
+exist in that town of Lowell. Why, they say that more than half of the
+girls have been in the house of correction, or the county gaol, or some
+other vile place; and that the other half are not much better; and I
+should not think you would wish to go and work, and eat, and sleep, with
+such a low, mean, ignorant, wicked set of creatures."
+
+"I know such things are said of them, deacon, but I do not think they
+are true. I have never seen but one factory girl, and that was my cousin
+Esther, who visited us last summer. I do not believe there is a better
+girl in the world than she is; and I cannot think she would be so
+contented and cheerful among such a set of wretches as some folks think
+factory girls must be. There may be wicked girls there; but among so
+many, there must be some who are good; and when I go there, I shall try
+to keep out of the way of bad company, and I do not doubt that cousin
+Esther can introduce me to girls who are as good as any with whom I have
+associated. If she cannot I will have no companion but her, and spend
+the little leisure I shall have in solitude, for I am determined to go."
+
+"But supposing, Susan, that all the girls there were as good, and
+sensible, and pleasant as yourself--yet there are many other things to
+be considered. You have not thought how hard it will seem to be boxed up
+fourteen hours in a day, among a parcel of clattering looms, or whirling
+spindles, whose constant din is of itself enough to drive a girl out of
+her wits; and then you will have no fresh air to breathe, and as likely
+as not come home in a year or two with a consumption, and wishing you
+had staid where you would have had less money and better health. I have
+also heard that the boarding women do not give the girls food which is
+fit to eat, nor half enough of the mean stuff they do allow them, and it
+is contrary to all reason to suppose that folks can work, and have their
+health, without victuals to eat."
+
+"I have thought of all these things, deacon, but they do not move me. I
+know the noise of the mills must be unpleasant at first, but I shall get
+used to that; and as to my health, I know that I have as good a
+constitution to begin with as any girl could wish, and no predisposition
+to consumption, nor any of those diseases which a factory life might
+otherwise bring upon me. I do not expect all the comforts which are
+common to country farmers; but I am not afraid of starving, for cousin
+Esther said, that she had an excellent boarding place, and plenty to
+eat, and drink, and that which was good enough for anybody. But if they
+do not give us good meat, I will eat vegetables alone, and when we have
+bad butter, I will eat my bread without it."
+
+"Well," said the deacon, "if your health is preserved, you may lose some
+of your limbs. I have heard a great many stories about girls who had
+their hands torn off by the machinery, or mangled so that they could
+never use them again; and a hand is not a thing to be despised, nor
+easily dispensed with. And then, how should you like to be ordered
+about, and scolded at, by a cross overseer?"
+
+"I know there is danger," replied Susan, "among so much machinery, but
+those who meet with accidents are but a small number, in proportion to
+the whole, and if I am careful I need not fear any injury. I do not
+believe the stories we hear about bad overseers, for such men would not
+be placed over so many girls; and if I have a cross one, I will give no
+reason to find fault; and if he finds fault without reason, I will leave
+him, and work for some one else.--You know that I must do something, and
+I have made up my mind what it shall be."
+
+"You are a good child, Susan," and the deacon looked very kind when he
+told her so, "and you are a courageous, noble-minded girl. I am not
+afraid that _you_ will learn to steal, and lie, and swear, and neglect
+your Bible and the meeting-house; but lest anything unpleasant should
+happen, I will make you this offer: I will let your mother live upon the
+farm, and pay me what little she can, till your brother James is old
+enough to take it at the halves; and if you will come here, and help my
+wife about the house and dairy, I will give you 4_s._ 6_d._ a-week, and
+you shall be treated as a daughter--perhaps you may one day be one."
+
+The deacon looked rather sly at her, and Susan blushed; for Henry Rand,
+the deacon's youngest son, had been her playmate in childhood, her
+friend at school, and her constant attendant at all the parties and
+evening meetings. Her young friends all spoke of him as her lover, and
+even the old people had talked of it as a very fitting match, as Susan,
+besides good sense, good humor, and some beauty, had the health,
+strength and activity which are always reckoned among the qualifications
+for a farmer's wife.
+
+Susan knew of this; but of late, domestic trouble had kept her at home,
+and she knew not what his present feelings were. Still she felt that
+they must not influence her plans and resolutions. Delicacy forbade that
+she should come and be an inmate of his father's house, and her very
+affection for him had prompted the desire that she should be as
+independent as possible of all favors from him, or his father; and also
+the earnest desire that they might one day clear themselves of debt. So
+she thanked the deacon for his offer, but declined accepting it, and
+arose to take leave.
+
+"I shall think a great deal about you, when you are gone," said the
+deacon, "and will pray for you, too. I never used to think about the
+sailors, till my wife's brother visited us, who had led for many years a
+sea-faring life; and now I always pray for those who are exposed to the
+dangers of the great deep. And I will also pray for the poor factory
+girls who work so hard and suffer so much."
+
+"Pray for me, deacon," replied Susan in a faltering voice, "that I may
+have strength to keep a good resolution."
+
+She left the house with a sad heart; for the very success of her hopes
+and wishes had brought more vividly to mind the feeling that she was
+really to go and leave for many years her friends and home.
+
+She was almost glad that she had not seen Henry; and while she was
+wondering what he would say and think, when told that she was going to
+Lowell, she heard approaching footsteps, and looking up, saw him coming
+towards her. The thought--no, the idea, for it had not time to form into
+a definite thought--flashed across her mind, that she must now arouse
+all her firmness, and not let Henry's persuasion shake her resolution to
+leave them all, and go to the factory.
+
+But the very indifference with which he heard of her intention was of
+itself sufficient to arouse her energy. He appeared surprised, but
+otherwise wholly unconcerned, though he expressed a hope that she would
+be happy and prosperous, and that her health would not suffer from the
+change of occupation.
+
+If he had told her that he loved her--if he had entreated her not to
+leave them, or to go with the promise of returning to be his future
+companion through life--she could have resisted it; for this she had
+resolved to do; and the happiness attending an act of self-sacrifice
+would have been her reward.
+
+She had before known sorrow, and she had borne it patiently and
+cheerfully; and she knew that the life which was before her would have
+been rendered happier by the thought, that there was one who was deeply
+interested for her happiness, and who sympathized in all her trials.
+
+When she parted from Henry it was with a sense of loneliness, of utter
+desolation, such as she had never before experienced. She had never
+before thought that he was dear to her, and that she had wished to carry
+in her far-off place of abode the reflection that she was dear to him.
+She felt disappointed and mortified, but she blamed not him, neither did
+she blame herself; she did not know that any one had been to blame. Her
+young affections had gone forth as naturally and as involuntarily as the
+vapors rise to meet the sun. But the sun which had called them forth,
+had now gone down, and they were returning in cold drops to the
+heart-springs from which they had arisen; and Susan resolved that they
+should henceforth form a secret fount, whence every other feeling should
+derive new strength and vigor. She was now more firmly resolved that her
+future life should be wholly devoted to her kindred, and thought not of
+herself but as connected with them.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+It was with pain that Mrs. Miller heard of Susan's plan; but she did not
+oppose her. She felt that it must be so, that she must part with her
+for her own good and the benefit of the family; and Susan hastily made
+preparations for her departure.
+
+She arranged everything in and about the house for her mother's
+convenience; and the evening before she left she spent in instructing
+Lydia how to take her place, as far as possible, and told her to be
+always cheerful with mother, and patient with the younger ones, and to
+write a long letter every two months (for she could not afford to hear
+oftener), and to be sure and not forget her for a single day.
+
+Then she went to her own room; and when she had re-examined her trunk,
+bandbox, and basket, to see that all was right, and laid her
+riding-dress over the great armchair, she sat down by the window to
+meditate upon her change of life.
+
+She thought, as she looked upon the spacious, convenient chamber in
+which she was sitting, how hard it would be to have no place to which
+she could retire and be alone, and how difficult it would be to keep her
+things in order in the fourth part of a small apartment, and how
+possible it was that she might have unpleasant room-mates, and how
+probable that every day would call into exercise all her kindness and
+forbearance. And then she wondered if it would be possible for her to
+work so long, and save so much, as to render it possible that she might
+one day return to that chamber and call it her own. Sometimes she wished
+she had not undertaken it, that she had not let the deacon know that she
+hoped to be able to pay him; she feared that she had taken a burden upon
+herself which she could not bear, and sighed to think that her lot
+should be so different from that of most young girls.
+
+She thought of the days when she was a little child; when she played
+with Henry at the brook, or picked berries with him on the hill; when
+her mother was always happy, and her father always kind; and she wished
+that the time could roll back, and she could again be a careless little
+girl.
+
+She felt, as we sometimes do, when we shut our eyes and try to sleep,
+and get back into some pleasant dream, from which we have been too
+suddenly awakened. But the dream of youth was over, and before her was
+the sad waking reality of a life of toil, separation, and sorrow.
+
+When she left home the next morning, it was the first time she had ever
+parted from her friends. The day was delightful, and the scenery
+beautiful; a stage-ride was of itself a novelty to her, and her
+companions pleasant and sociable; but she felt very sad, and when she
+retired at night to sleep in a hotel, she burst into tears.
+
+Those who see the factory girls in Lowell, little think of the sighs and
+heart-aches which must attend a young girl's entrance upon a life of
+toil and privation, among strangers.
+
+To Susan, the first entrance into a factory boarding-house seemed
+something dreadful. The rooms looked strange and comfortless, and the
+women cold and heartless; and when she sat down to the supper-table,
+where, among more than twenty girls, all but one were strangers, she
+could not eat a mouthful. She went with Esther to their sleeping
+apartment, and, after arranging her clothes and baggage, she went to
+bed, but not to sleep.
+
+The next morning she went into the mill; and at first, the sight of so
+many bands, and wheels, and springs, in constant motion was very
+frightful. She felt afraid to touch the loom, and she was almost sure
+that she could never learn to weave; the harness puzzled and the reed
+perplexed her; the shuttle flew out, and made a new bump upon her head;
+and the first time she tried to spring the lathe, she broke out a
+quarter of the treads. It seemed as if the girls all stared at her, and
+the overseers watched every motion, and the day appeared as long as a
+month had been at home. But at last it was night; and O, how glad was
+Susan to be released! She felt weary and wretched, and retired to rest
+without taking a mouthful of refreshment. There was a dull pain in her
+head, and a sharp pain in her ankles; every bone was aching, and there
+was in her ears a strange noise, as of crickets, frogs, and jews-harps,
+all mingling together, and she felt gloomy and sick at heart. "But it
+won't seem so always," said she to herself; and with this truly
+philosophical reflection, she turned her head upon a hard pillow, and
+went to sleep.
+
+Susan was right, it did not seem so always. Every succeeding day seemed
+shorter and pleasanter than the last; and when she was accustomed to the
+work, and had become interested in it, the hours seemed shorter, and the
+days, weeks, and months flew more swiftly by than they had ever done
+before. She was healthy, active, and ambitious, and was soon able to
+earn even as much as her cousin, who had been a weaver several years.
+
+Wages were then much higher than they are now; and Susan had the
+pleasure of devoting the avails of her labor to a noble and cherished
+purpose. There was a definite aim before her, and she never lost sight
+of the object for which she left her home, and was happy in the prospect
+of fulfilling that design. And it needed all this hope of success, and
+all her strength of resolution, to enable her to bear up against the
+wearing influences of a life of unvarying toil. Though the days seemed
+shorter than at first, yet there was a tiresome monotony about them.
+Every morning the bells pealed forth the same clangor, and every night
+brought the same feeling of fatigue. But Susan felt, as all factory
+girls feel, that she could bear it for a while. There are few who look
+upon factory labor as a pursuit for life. It is but a temporary
+vocation; and most of the girls resolve to quit the mill when some
+favorite design is accomplished. Money is their object--not for itself,
+but for what it can perform; and pay-days are the landmarks which cheer
+all hearts, by assuring them of their progress to the wished-for goal.
+
+Susan was always very happy when she enclosed the quarterly sum to
+Deacon Rand, although it was hardly won, and earned by the deprivation
+of many little comforts, and pretty articles of dress, which her
+companions could procure. But the thought of home, and the future happy
+days which she might enjoy in it, was the talisman which ever cheered
+and strengthened her.
+
+She also formed strong friendships among her factory companions, and
+became attached to her pastor, and their place of worship. After the
+first two years she had also the pleasure of her sister's society, and
+in a year or two more, another came. She did not wish them to come while
+very young. She thought it better that their bodies should be
+strengthened, and their minds educated in their country home; and she
+also wished, that in their early girlhood they should enjoy the same
+pleasures which had once made her own life a very happy one.
+
+And she was happy now; happy in the success of her noble exertions, the
+affection and gratitude of her relatives, the esteem of her
+acquaintances, and the approbation of conscience. Only once was she
+really disquieted. It was when her sister wrote that Henry Rand was
+married to one of their old school-mates. For a moment the color fled
+from her cheek, and a quick pang went through her heart. It was but for
+a moment; and then she sat down and wrote to the newly-married couple a
+letter, which touched their hearts by its simple fervent wishes for
+their happiness, and assurances of sincere friendship.
+
+Susan had occasionally visited home, and she longed to go, never to
+leave it; but she conquered the desire, and remained in Lowell more than
+a year after the last dollar had been forwarded to Deacon Rand. And
+then, O, how happy was she when she entered her chamber the first
+evening after her arrival, and viewed its newly-painted wainscoting, and
+brightly-colored paper-hangings, and the new furniture with which she
+had decorated it; and she smiled as she thought of the sadness which had
+filled her heart the evening before she first went to Lowell.
+
+She now always thinks of Lowell with pleasure, for Lydia is married
+here, and she intends to visit her occasionally, and even sometimes
+thinks of returning for a little while to the mills. Her brother James
+has married, and resides in one half of the house, which he has recently
+repaired; and Eliza, though still in the factory, is engaged to a
+wealthy young farmer.
+
+Susan is with her mother, and younger brothers and sisters. People begin
+to think she will be an old maid, and she thinks herself that it will be
+so. The old deacon still calls her a good child, and prays every night
+and morning for the factory girls.
+
+                                                        F. G. A.
+
+
+
+
+SCENES ON THE MERRIMAC.
+
+
+I have been but a slight traveller, and the beautiful rivers of our
+country have, with but one or two exceptions, rolled their bright waves
+before "the orbs of fancy" alone, and not to my visual senses. But the
+few specimens which have been favored me of river scenery, have been
+very happy in the influence they have exerted upon my mind, in favor of
+this feature of natural loveliness.
+
+I do not wonder that the "stream of _his_ fathers" should be ever so
+favorite a theme with the poet, and that wherever he has sung its
+praise, the spot should henceforth be as classic ground. Wherever some
+"gently rolling river" has whispered its soft murmurs to the recording
+muse, its name has been linked with his; and far as that name may
+extend, is the beauty of that inspiring streamlet appreciated.
+
+Helicon and Castalia are more frequently referred to than
+Parnassus,--and even the small streams of hilly Scotland, are renowned
+wherever the songs of her poet "are said or sung." "The banks and braes
+o' bonny Doon," are duly applauded in the drawing-rooms of America; and
+the Tweed, the "clear winding Devon," the "braes of Ayr," the "braes o'
+Ballochmyle," and the "sweet Afton," so often the theme of his lays, for
+his "Mary's asleep by its murmuring stream," are names even here quite
+as familiar, perhaps more so, than our own broad and beauteous rivers.
+Such is the hallowing power of Genius; and upon whatever spot she may
+cast her bright unfading mantle, there is forever stamped the impress of
+beauty.
+
+"The Bard of Avon" is an honorary title wherever our language is read;
+and though we may have few streams which have as yet been sacred to the
+muse, yet time will doubtless bring forth those whose genius shall make
+the Indian cognomens of our noble rivers' names associated with all that
+is lofty in intellect and beautiful in poetry.
+
+The Merrimac has already received the grateful tribute of praise from
+the muse of the New England poet; and well does it merit the encomiums
+which he has bestowed upon it. It is a beautiful river, from the time
+when its blue waters start on their joyous course, leaving "the smile of
+the Great Spirit," to wind through many a vale, and round many a hill,
+till they mingle
+
+  "With ocean's dark eternal tide."
+
+I have said that I have seen but few rivers. No! never have I stood
+
+  "Where Hudson rolls his lordly flood;
+  Seen sunrise rest, and sunset fade
+  Along his frowning palisade;
+  Looked down the Appalachian peak
+  On Juniata's silver streak;
+  Or seen along his valley gleam
+  The Mohawk's softly winding stream;
+  The setting sun, his axle red
+  Quench darkly in Potomac's bed;
+  And autumn's rainbow-tinted banner
+  Hang lightly o'er the Susquehanna;"--
+
+but I still imagine that all their beauties are concentrated in the blue
+waters of the Merrimac--not as it appears here, where, almost beneath my
+factory window, its broad tide moves peacefully along; but where by
+"Salisbury's beach of shining sand," it rolls amidst far lovelier
+scenes, and with more rapid flow. Perhaps it is because it is _my_ river
+that I think it so beautiful--no matter if it is; there is a great
+source of gratification in the feeling of whatever is in any way
+connected with our _humble_ selves is on that account invested with some
+distinctive charm, and in some mysterious way rendered peculiarly
+lovely.
+
+But even to the stranger's eye, if he have any taste for the beautiful
+in nature, the charms of the banks of the Merrimac would not be
+disregarded. Can there be a more beautiful bend in a river, than that
+which it makes at Salisbury Point? It is one of the most picturesque
+scenes, at all events, which I have ever witnessed. Stand for a moment
+upon the drawbridge which spans with its single arch the spot where "the
+winding Powow" joins his sparkling waters with the broad tide of the
+receiving river. We will suppose it is a summer morning. The thin white
+mist from the Atlantic, which the night-spirit has thrown, like a bridal
+veil, over the vale and river, is gently lifted by Aurora, and the
+unshrouded waters blush "celestial rosy red" at the exposure of their
+own loveliness. But the bright flush is soon gone, and as the sun rides
+higher in the heavens, the millions of little wavelets don their diamond
+crowns, and rise, and sink, and leap, and dance rejoicingly together;
+and while their sparkling brilliancy arrests the eye, their murmurs of
+delight are no less grateful to the ear. The grove upon the Newbury side
+is already vocal with the morning anthems of the feathered choir, and
+from the maple, oak, and pine is rising one glad peal of melody. The
+slight fragrance of the kalmia, or American laurel, which flourishes
+here in much profusion, is borne upon the morning breeze; and when their
+roseate umbels are opened to the sun, they "sing to the eye," as their
+less stationary companions have done to the ear.
+
+The road which accompanies the river in its beauteous curve, is soon
+alive with the active laborers of "Salisbury shore;" and soon the loud
+"Heave-ho!" of the ship-builders is mingled with the more mellifluous
+tones which have preceded them. The other busy inhabitants are soon
+threading the winding street, and as they glance upon their bright and
+beauteous river, their breasts swell with emotions of pleasure, though
+in their constant and active bustle, they may seldom pause to analyze
+the cause. The single sail of the sloop which has lain so listless at
+the little wharf, and the double one of the schooner which is about to
+traverse its way to the ocean, are unfurled to the morning wind, and the
+loud orders of the bustling skipper, and the noisy echoes of his
+bustling men, are borne upon the dewy breeze, and echoed from the
+Newbury slopes. Soon they are riding upon the bright waters, and the
+little skiff or wherry is also seen darting about, amidst the rolling
+diamonds, while here and there a heavy laden "gundelow" moves slowly
+along, "with sure and steady aim," as though it disdained the pastime of
+its livelier neighbors.
+
+Such is many a morning scene on the banks of the Merrimac; and not less
+delightful are those of the evening. Perhaps the sunset has passed. The
+last golden tint has faded from the river, and its waveless surface
+reflects the deep blue of heaven, and sends back undimmed the first
+faint ray of the evening star. The rising tide creeps rippling up the
+narrow beach, sending along its foremost swell, which, in a sort of
+drowsy play, leaps forward, and then sinks gently back upon its
+successors. Now the tide is up--the trees upon the wooded banks of
+Newbury, and the sandy hills upon the Amesbury side, are pencilled with
+minutest accuracy in the clear waters. Farther down, the dwellings at
+the Ferry, and those of the Point, which stand upon the banks, are also
+mirrored in the deep stream. You might also fancy that beneath its lucid
+tide there was a duplicate village, so distinct is every shadow. As, one
+by one, the lights appear in the cottage windows, their reflected fires
+shoot up from the depths of the Merrimac.
+
+But the waters shine with brighter radiance as evening lengthens; for
+Luna grows more lavish of her silvery beams as the crimson tints of her
+brighter rival die in the western sky. The shore is still and
+motionless, save where a pair of happy lovers steal slowly along the
+shadowed walk which leads to Pleasant Valley. The old weather-worn ship
+at the Point, which has all day long resounded with the clatter of
+mischievous boys, is now wrapped in silence. The new one in the
+ship-yard, which has also been dinning with the maul and hammer, is
+equally quiet. But from the broad surface of the stream there comes the
+song, the shout, and the ringing laugh of the light-hearted. They come
+from the boats which dot the water, and are filled with the young and
+gay. Some have just shot from the little wharf, and others have been for
+hours upon the river. What they have been doing, and where they have
+been, I do not precisely know; but, from the boughs which have been
+broken from _somebody's_ trees, and the large clusters of laurel which
+the ladies bear, I think I can "guess-o."
+
+But it grows late. The lights which have glowed in the reflected
+buildings have one by one been quenched, and still those light barks
+remain upon the river. And that large "gundelow," which came down the
+Powow, from the mills, with its freight of "factory girls," sends forth
+"the sound of music and dancing." We will leave them--for it is possible
+that they will linger till after midnight, and we have staid quite long
+enough to obtain an evening's glimpse at the Merrimac.
+
+Such are some of the scenes on the river, and many are also the pleasant
+spots upon its banks. Beautiful walks and snug little nooks are not
+unfrequent; and there are bright green sheltered coves, like Pleasant
+Valley, where "all save the spirit of man is divine."
+
+I remember the first steamboat which ever came hissing and puffing and
+groaning and sputtering up the calm surface of the Merrimac. I remember
+also the lovely moonlight evening when I watched her return from
+Haverhill, and when every wave and rock and tree were lying bathed in a
+flood of silver radiance. I shall not soon forget her noisy approach, so
+strongly contrasted with the stillness around, nor the long loud ringing
+cheers which hailed her arrival and accompanied her departure. I noted
+every movement, as she hissed and splashed among the bright waters,
+until she reached the curve in the river, and then was lost to view,
+excepting the thick sparks which rose above the glistening foilage of
+the wooded banks.
+
+I remember also the first time I ever saw the aborigines of our country.
+They were Penobscots, and then, I believe, upon their way to this city.
+They encamped among the woods of the Newbury shore, and crossed the
+river (there about a mile in width) in their little canoes, whenever
+they wished to beg or trade.--They sadly refuted the romantic ideas
+which I had formed from the descriptions of Cooper and others;
+nevertheless, they were to me an interesting people. They appeared so
+strange, with their birch-bark canoes and wooden paddles, their women
+with men's hats and such _outre_ dresses, their little boys with their
+unfailing bows and arrows, and the little feet which they all had. Their
+curious, bright-stained baskets, too, which they sold or gave away. I
+have one of them now, but it has lost its bright tints. It was given me
+in return for a slight favor.--I remember also one dreadful stormy night
+while they were amongst us. The rain poured in torrents. The thick
+darkness was unrelieved by a single lightning-flash, and the hoarse
+murmur of the seething river was the only noise which could be
+distinguished from the pitiless storm. I thought of my new acquaintance,
+and looked out in the direction of their camp. I could see at one time
+the lights flickering among the thick trees, and darting rapidly to and
+fro behind them, and then all would be unbroken gloom. Sometimes I
+fancied I could distinguish a whoop or yell, and then I heard nought but
+the pelting of the rain. As I gazed on the wild scene, I was strongly
+reminded of scenes which are described in old border tales, of wild
+banditti, and night revels of lawless hordes of barbarians.
+
+These are summer scenes; and in winter there is nothing particularly
+beautiful in the icy robe with which the Merrimac often enrobes its
+chilled waters. But the breaking up of the ice is an event of much
+interest.
+
+As spring approaches, and the weather becomes milder, the river, which
+has been a thoroughfare for loaded teams and lighter sleighs, is
+gradually shunned, even by the daring skater. Little pools of bluish
+water, which the sun has melted, stand in slight hollows, distinctly
+contrasted with the clear dark ice in the middle of the stream, or the
+flaky snow-crust near the shore. At length a loud crack is heard, like
+the report of a cannon--then another, and another--and finally the
+loosened mass begins to move towards the ocean. The motion at first is
+almost imperceptible, but it gradually increases in velocity, as the
+impetus of the descending ice above propels it along; and soon the dark
+blue waters are seen between the huge chasms of the parting ice. By and
+bye, the avalanches come drifting down, tumbling, crashing, and whirling
+along, with the foaming waves boiling up wherever they can find a
+crevice; and trunks of trees, fragments of buildings, and ruins of
+bridges, are driven along with the tumultuous mass.--A single night will
+sometimes clear the river of the main portion of the ice, and then the
+darkly-tinted waters will roll rapidly on, as though wildly rejoicing at
+their deliverance from bondage. But for some time the white cakes, or
+rather ice-islands, will be seen floating along, though hourly
+diminishing in size, and becoming more "like angel's visits."
+
+But there is another glad scene occasionally upon the Merrimac--and that
+is, when there is a launching. I have already alluded to the
+ship-builders, and they form quite a proportion of the inhabitants of
+the shore. And now, by the way, I cannot omit a passing compliment to
+the inhabitants of this same shore. It is seldom that so correct,
+intelligent, contented, and truly comfortable a class of people is to be
+found, as in this pretty hamlet. Pretty it most certainly is--for nearly
+all the houses are neatly painted, and some of them indicate much taste
+in the owners. And then the people are so kind, good, and industrious. A
+Newburyport editor once said of them, "They are nice folks there on
+Salisbury shore; they always pay for their newspapers"--a trait of
+excellence which printers can usually appreciate.
+
+But now to the ships, whose building I have often watched with interest,
+from the day when the long keel was laid till it was launched into the
+river. This is a scene which is likewise calculated to inspire salutary
+reflections, from the comparison which is often instituted between
+ourselves and a wave-tossed bark. How often is the commencement of
+active life compared to the launching of a ship; and even the
+unimaginative Puritans could sing,
+
+  "Life's like a ship in constant motion,
+    Sometimes high and sometimes low,
+  Where every man must plough the ocean,
+    Whatsoever winds may blow."
+
+The striking analogy has been more beautifully expressed by better
+poets, though hardly with more force. And if we are like wind-tossed
+vessels on a stormy sea, then the gradual formation of our minds may be
+compared to the building of a ship. And it was this thought which often
+attracted my notice to the labors of the shipwright.
+
+First, the long keel is laid--then the huge ribs go up the sides; then
+the rail-way runs around the top. Then commences the boarding or
+timbering of the sides; and for weeks, or months, the builder's maul is
+heard, as he pounds in the huge _trunnels_ which fasten all together.
+Then there is the finishing inside, and the painting outside, and, after
+all, the launching.
+
+The first that I ever saw was a large and noble ship. It had been long
+in building, and I had watched its progress with much interest. The
+morning it was to be launched I played truant to witness the scene. It
+was a fine sunshiny day, Sept. 21, 1832; and I almost wished I was a
+boy, that I might join the throng upon the deck, who were determined
+upon a ride. The blocks which supported the ship were severally knocked
+out, until it rested upon but one. When that was gone, the ship would
+rest upon greased planks, which descended to the water. It must have
+been a thrilling moment to the man who lay upon his back, beneath the
+huge vessel, when he knocked away the last prop. But it was done, and
+swiftly it glided along the planks, then plunged into the river, with an
+impetus which sunk her almost to her deck, and carried her nearly to the
+middle of the river. Then she slowly rose, rocked back and forth, and
+finally righted herself, and stood motionless. But while the dashing
+foaming waters were still clamorously welcoming her to a new element,
+and the loud cheers from the deck were ringing up into the blue sky, the
+bottle was thrown, and she was named the WALTER SCOTT. It will be
+remembered that this was the very day on which the Great Magician
+died--a fact noticed in the Saturday Courier about that time.
+
+Several years after this, I was attending school in a neighboring town.
+I happened one evening to take up a newspaper. I think it was a
+Portsmouth paper; and I saw the statement that a fine new ship had been
+burnt at sea, called the WALTER SCOTT. The particulars were so minutely
+given, as to leave no room for doubt that it was the beautiful vessel
+which I had seen launched, upon the banks of the Merrimac.
+
+                                                         ANNETTE.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST BELLS.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+There are times when I am melancholy, when the sun seems to shine with a
+shadowy light, and the woods are filled with notes of sadness; when the
+up-springing flowers seem blossoms strewed upon a bier, and every
+streamlet chants a requiem. Have we not all our trials? And though we
+may bury the sad thoughts to which they give birth in the dark recesses
+of our own hearts, yet Memory and Sensibility must both be dead, if we
+can always be light and mirthful.
+
+Once it was not so. There was a time when I gaily viewed the dull clouds
+of a rainy day, and could hear the voice of rejoicing in the roarings of
+the wintry storm, when sorrow was an unmeaning word, and in things which
+now appear sacred my thoughtless mind could see the ludicrous.
+
+These thoughts have been suggested by the recollection of a poor old
+couple, to whom in my careless girlhood I gave the name of "the first
+bells." And now, I doubt not, you are wondering what strange association
+of ideas could have led me to fasten this appellation upon a poor old
+man and woman. My answer must be the narration of a few facts.
+
+When I was young, we all worshipped in the great meeting-house, which
+now stands so vacant and forlorn upon the brow of Church Hill. It is
+never used but upon town-meeting days--for those who once went up to the
+house of God in company, now worship in three separate buildings. There
+is discord between them--that worst of all hatred, the animosity which
+arises from difference of religious opinions. I am sorry for it; not
+that I regret that they cannot all think alike, but that they cannot
+"agree to differ." Because the heads are not in unison, it needeth not
+that the hearts should be estranged; and a difference of faith may be
+expressed in kindly words. I have my friends among them all, and they
+are not the less dear to me, because upon some doctrinal points our
+opinions cannot be the same. A creed which I do not now believe is
+hallowed by recollections of the Sabbath worship, the evening meetings,
+the religious feelings--in short, of the faith, hope, and trust of my
+earlier days.
+
+I remember now how still and beautiful our Sunday mornings used to seem,
+after the toil and play of the busy week. I would take my catechism in
+my hand, and go and sit upon a large flat stone, under the shade of the
+chestnut tree; and, looking abroad, would wonder if there was a thing
+which did not feel that it was the Sabbath. The sun was as bright and
+warm as upon other days, but its light seemed to fall more softly upon
+the fields, woods and hills; and though the birds sung as loudly and
+joyfully as ever, I thought their sweet voices united in a more sacred
+strain. I heard a Sabbath tone in the waving of the boughs above me, and
+the hum of the bees around me, and even the bleating of the lambs and
+the lowing of the kine seemed pitched upon some softer key. Thus it is
+that the heart fashions the mantle with which it is wont to enrobe all
+nature, and gives to its never silent voices a tone of joy, or sorrow,
+or holy peace.
+
+We had then no bell; and when the hour approached for the commencement
+of religious services, each nook and dale sent forth its worshippers in
+silence. But precisely half an hour before the rest of our neighbors
+started, the old man and woman, who lived upon Pine Hill, could be seen
+wending their way to the meeting-house. They walked side by side, with a
+slow even step, such as was befitting the errand which had brought them
+forth. Their appearance was always the signal for me to lay aside my
+book, and prepare to follow them to the house of God. And it was because
+they were so unvarying in their early attendance, because I was never
+disappointed in the forms which first emerged from the pine trees upon
+the hill, that I gave them the name of "the first bells."
+
+Why they went thus regularly early I know not, but think it probable
+they wished for time to rest after their long walk, and then to prepare
+their hearts to join in exercises which were evidently more valued by
+them than by most of those around them. Yet it must have been a deep
+interest which brought so large a congregation from the scattered
+houses, and many far-off dwellings of our thinly peopled country town.
+
+And every face was then familiar to me. I knew each white-headed
+patriarch who took his seat by the door of his pew, and every aged woman
+who seated herself in the low chair in the middle of it; and the
+countenances of the middle-aged and the young were rendered familiar by
+the exchange of Sabbath glances, as we met year after year in that
+humble temple.
+
+But upon none did I look with more interest than upon "the first bells."
+There they always were when I took my accustomed seat at the right hand
+of the pulpit. Their heads were always bowed in meditation till they
+arose to join in the morning prayer; and when the choir sent forth their
+strain of praise they drew nearer to each other, and looked upon the
+same book, as they silently sent forth the spirit's song to their Father
+in heaven. There was an expression of meekness, of calm and perfect
+faith, and of subdued sorrow upon the countenances of both, which won my
+reverence, and excited my curiosity to know more of them.
+
+They were poor. I knew it by the coarse and much-worn garments which
+they always wore; but I could not conjecture why they avoided the
+society and sympathy of all around them. They always waited for our
+pastor's greeting when he descended from the pulpit, and meekly bowed to
+all around, but farther than this, their intercourse with others
+extended not. It appeared to me that some heavy trial, which had knit
+their own hearts more closely together, and endeared to them their faith
+and its religious observances, had also rendered them unusually
+sensitive to the careless remarks and curious inquiries of a country
+neighborhood.
+
+One Sabbath our pastor preached upon parental love. His text was that
+affecting ejaculation of David, "O Absalom, my son, my son!" He spoke of
+the depth and fervor of that affection which in a parental heart will
+remain unchanged and unabated, through years of sin, estrangement, and
+rebellion. He spoke of that reckless insubordination which often sends
+pang after pang through the parent's breast; and of wicked deeds which
+sometimes bring their grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. I heard stifled
+sobs; and looking up, saw that the old man and woman at the right hand
+of the pulpit had buried their faces in their hands. They were trembling
+with agitation, and I saw that a fount of deep and painful remembrances
+had now been opened. They soon regained their usual calmness, but I
+thought their steps more slow, and their countenances more sorrowful
+that day, when after our morning service had closed, they went to the
+grave in the corner of the churchyard. There was no stone to mark it,
+but their feet had been wearing, for many a Sabbath noon, the little
+path which led to it.
+
+I went that night to my mother, and asked her if she could not tell me
+something about "the first bells." She chid me for the phrase by which I
+was wont to designate them, but said that her knowledge of their former
+life was very limited. Several years before, she added, a man was
+murdered in hot blood in a distant town, by a person named John L. The
+murderer was tried and hung; and not long after, this old man and woman
+came and hired the little cottage upon Pine Hill. Their names were the
+same that the murderer had borne, and their looks of sadness and
+retiring manners had led to the conclusion that they were his parents.
+No one knew, certainly, that it was so--for they shrunk from all
+inquiries, and never adverted to the past; but a gentle and sad looking
+girl, who had accompanied them to their new place of abode, had pined
+away, and died within the first year of their arrival. She was their
+daughter, and was supposed to have died of a broken heart for her
+brother who had been hung. She was buried in the corner of the
+churchyard, and every pleasant Sabbath noon her aged parents had mourned
+together over her lowly grave.
+
+"And now, my daughter," said my mother, in conclusion "respect their
+years, their sorrows, and, above all, the deep fervent piety which
+cheers and sustains them, and which has been nurtured by agonies, and
+watered by tears, such as I hope my child will never know."
+
+My mother drew me to her side, and kissed me tenderly; and I resolved
+that never again would I in a spirit of levity call Mr. and Mrs. L. "the
+first bells."
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Years passed on; and through summer's sunshine and its showers, and
+through winter's cold and frost, and storms, that old couple still went
+upon their never-failing Sabbath pilgrimage. I can see them even now, as
+they looked in days long gone by. The old man, with his loose, black,
+Quaker-like coat, and low-crowned, much-worn hat, his heavy cowhide
+boots, and coarse blue mittens; and his partner walking slowly by his
+side, wearing a scanty brown cloak with four little capes, and a close,
+black, rusty-looking bonnet. In summer the cloak was exchanged for a
+cotton shawl, and the woollen gown for one of mourning print. The
+Sabbath expression was as unchangeable as its dress. Their features were
+very different, but they had the same mild, mournful look, the same
+touching glance, whenever their eyes rested upon each other; and it was
+one which spoke of sympathy, hallowed by heartfelt piety.
+
+At length a coffin was borne upon a bier from the little house upon the
+hill; and after that the widow went alone each Sabbath noon to the two
+graves in the corner of the churchyard. I felt sad when I thought how
+lonely and sorrowful she must be now; and one pleasant day I ventured an
+unbidden guest into her lowly cot. As I approached her door, I heard her
+singing in a low, tremulous tone,
+
+  "How are thy servants blessed, O Lord."
+
+I was touched to the heart; for I could see that her blessings were
+those of a faith, hope, and joy, which the world could neither give nor
+take away.
+
+She was evidently destitute of what the world calls comforts, and I
+feared she might also want its necessaries. But her look was almost
+cheerful as she assured me that her knitting (at which I perceived she
+was quite expeditious) supplied her with all which she now wanted.
+
+I looked upon her sunburnt, wrinkled countenance, and thought it radiant
+with moral beauty. She wore no cap, and her thin grey hair was combed
+back from her furrowed brow. Her dress was a blue woollen skirt, and a
+short loose gown; and her hard shrivelled hands bore witness to much
+unfeminine labor. Yet she was contented, and even happy, and singing
+praise to God for his blessings.
+
+The next winter I thought I could perceive a faltering in her gait
+whenever she ascended Church Hill; and one Sabbath she was not in her
+accustomed seat. The next, she was also absent; and when I looked upon
+Pine Hill, I could perceive no smoke issuing from her chimney. I felt
+anxious, and requested liberty to make, what was then in our
+neighborhood an unusual occurrence, a Sabbath visit. My mother granted
+me permission to go, and remain as long as my services might be
+necessary; and at the close of the afternoon worship, I went to the
+little house upon the hill. I listened eagerly for some sound as I
+entered the cold apartment; but hearing none, I tremblingly approached
+the low hard bed. She was lying there with the same calm look of
+resignation, and whispered a few words of welcome as I took her hand.
+
+"You are sick and alone," said I to her; "tell me what I can do for
+you."
+
+"I am sick," was her reply, "but not _alone_. He who is every where, and
+at all times present, has been with me, in the day and in the night. I
+have prayed to him, and received answers of mercy, love, and peace. He
+has sent His angel to call me home, and there is nought for you to do
+but to watch the spirit's departure."
+
+I felt that it was so; yet I must do something. I kindled a fire, and
+prepared some refreshment; and after she drank a bowl of warm tea, I
+thought she looked better. She asked me for her Bible, and I brought her
+the worn volume which had been lying upon the little stand. She took
+from it a soiled and much worn letter, and after pressing it to her
+lips, endeavored to open it--but her hands were too weak, and it dropped
+upon the bed. "No matter," said she, as I offered to open it for her; "I
+know all that is in it, and in that book also. But I thought I should
+like to look once more upon them both. I have read them daily for many
+years till now; but I do not mind it--I shall go soon."
+
+She followed me with her eyes as I laid them aside, and then closing
+them, her lips moved as if in prayer. She soon after fell into a
+slumber, and I watched her every breath, fearing it might be the last.
+
+What lessons of wisdom, truth and fortitude were taught me by that
+humble bed-side! I had never before been with the dying, and I had
+always imagined a death-bed to be fraught with terror. I expected that
+there were always fearful shrieks and appalling groans, as the soul left
+its clay tenement; but my fears were now dispelled. A sweet calmness
+stole into my inmost soul, as I watched by the low couch of the
+sufferer; and I said, "If this be death, may my last end be like hers."
+
+But at length I saw that some dark dream had brought a frown upon the
+pallid brow, and an expression of woe around the parched lips. She was
+endeavoring to speak or to weep, and I was about to awaken her, when a
+sweet smile came like a flash of sunlight over her sunken face, and I
+saw that the dream of woe was exchanged for one of pleasure. Then she
+slept calmly, and I wondered if the spirit would go home in that
+peaceful slumber. But at length she awoke, and after looking upon me and
+her little room with a bewildered air, she heaved a sigh, and said
+mournfully, "I thought that I was not to come back again, but it is only
+for a little while. I have had a pleasant dream, but not at first. I
+thought once that I stood in the midst of a vast multitude, and we were
+all looking up at one who was struggling on a gallows. O, I have seen
+that sight in many a dream before, but still I could not bear it, and I
+said, 'Father, have mercy;' and then I thought that the sky rolled away
+from behind the gallows, and there was a flood of glory in the depth
+beyond; and I heard a voice saying to him who was hanging there, 'This
+day shalt thou be with me in Paradise!' And then the gallows dropped,
+and the multitude around me vanished, and the sky rolled together again;
+but before it had quite closed over that scene of beauty, I looked
+again, and _they were all there_. Yes," added she with a placid smile,
+"I know that _he_ is there with them; the _three_ are in heaven, and _I_
+shall be there soon."
+
+She ceased, and a drowsy feeling came over her. After a while she opened
+her eyes with a strange look of anxiety and terror. I went to her, but
+she could not speak, and she pressed my hand closely, as though she
+feared I would leave her. It was a momentary terror, for she knew that
+the last pangs were coming on. There was a painful struggle, and then
+came rest and peaceful confidence. "That letter," whispered she
+convulsively; and I went to the Bible, and took from it the soiled paper
+which claimed her thoughts even in death. I laid it in her trembling
+hands, which clasped it nervously, and then pressing it to her heart,
+she fell into that slumber from which there is no awakening.
+
+When I saw that she was indeed gone, I took the letter, and laid it in
+its accustomed place; and then, after straightening the limbs, and
+throwing the bed-clothes over the stiffening form, I left the house.
+
+It was a dazzling scene of winter beauty that met my eye as I went forth
+from that lowly bed of death. The rising sun threw a rosy light upon the
+crusted snow, and the earth was dressed in a robe of sparkling jewels.
+The trees were hung with glittering drops, and the frozen streams were
+dressed in lobes of brilliant beauty.
+
+I thought of her upon whose eyes a brighter morn had beamed, and of a
+scene of beauty upon which no sun should ever set, and whose
+never-fading glories shall yield a happiness which may never pass away.
+
+I went home, and told my mother what had passed; and she went, with some
+others, to prepare the body for burial. I went to look upon it once
+more, the morning of the funeral. The features had assumed a rigid
+aspect, but the placid smile was still there. The hands were crossed
+upon the breast; and as the form lay so still and calm in its snowy
+robes, I almost wished that the last change might come upon me, so that
+it would bring a peace like this, which should last for evermore.
+
+I went to the Bible, and took from it that letter. Curiosity was strong
+within me, and I opened it. It was signed "John L.," and dated from his
+prison the night before his execution. But I did not read it. O no! it
+was too sacred. It contained those words of penitence and affection over
+which her stricken heart had brooded for years. It had been the
+well-spring from which she had drunk joy and consolation, and derived
+her hopes of a reunion where there should be no more shame, nor sorrow,
+nor death.
+
+I could not destroy that letter: so I laid it beneath the clasped hands,
+over the heart to which it had been pressed when its beatings were
+forever stilled; and they buried her, too, in the corner of the
+churchyard; and that tattered paper soon mouldered to ashes upon her
+breast. * * * *
+
+We have now a bell upon our new meeting-house; and when I hear its
+Sabbath morning peal, my thoughts are subdued to a tone fitting for
+sacred worship; for my mind goes back to that old couple, whom I was
+wont to call "the first bells;" and I think of the power of religion to
+hallow and strengthen the affections, to elevate the mind, and sustain
+the drooping spirit, even in the saddest and humblest lot of life.
+
+                                                         SUSANNA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+EVENING BEFORE PAY-DAY.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"To-morrow is pay-day; are you not glad, Rosina, and Lucy? _Dorcas_ is,
+I know; for she always loves to see the money. Don't I speak truth
+_now_, Miss Dorcas Tilton?"
+
+"I wish you would stop your clack, Miss Noisy Impudence; for I never
+heard you speak anything that was worth an answer. Let me alone, for I
+have not yet been able to obtain a moment's time to read my tract."
+
+"'My tract'--how came it 'my tract,' Miss Stingy Oldmaid?--for I can
+call names as fast as you," was the reply of Elizabeth Walters. "Not
+because you bought it, or paid for it, or gave a thank'ee to those who
+did; but because you lay your clutches upon every thing you can get
+without downright stealing."
+
+"Well," replied Dorcas, "I do not think I have clutched any thing now
+which was much coveted by anyone else."
+
+"You are right, Dorcas," said Rosina Alden, lifting her mild blue eye
+for the first time towards the speakers; "the tracts left here by the
+monthly distributors are thrown about, and trampled under foot, even by
+those who most approve the sentiments which they contain. I have not
+seen anyone take them up to read but yourself."
+
+"She likes them," interrupted the vivacious Elizabeth, "because she gets
+them for nothing. They come to her as cheap as the light of the sun, or
+the dews of heaven; and thus they are rendered quite as valuable in her
+eyes."
+
+"And that very cheapness, that freedom from exertion and expense by
+which they are obtained, is, I believe, the reason why they are
+generally so little valued," added Rosina. "People are apt to think
+things worthless which come to them so easily. They believe them cheap,
+if they are offered cheap. Now I think, without saying one word against
+those tracts, that they would be more valued, more perused, and exert
+far more influence, if they were only to be obtained by payment for
+them. If they do good now, it is to the publishers only; for I do not
+think the community in general is influenced by them in the slightest
+degree. If Dorcas feels more interested in them because she procures
+them gratuitously, it is because she is an exception to the general
+rule."
+
+"I like sometimes," said Dorcas, "to see the voice of instruction, of
+warning, of encouragement, and reproof, coming to the thoughtless,
+ignorant, poor and sinful, as it did from him who said to those whom he
+sent to inculcate its truths, Freely ye have received, _freely give_.
+The gospel is an expensive luxury now, and those only who can afford to
+pay their four, or six, or more, dollars a year, can hear its truths
+from the successors of him who lifted his voice upon the lonely
+mountain, and opened his lips for council at the table of the despised
+publican, or under the humble roof of the Magdalen."
+
+"Do not speak harshly, Dorcas," was Rosina's reply; "times have indeed
+changed since the Savior went about with not a shelter for his head,
+dispensing the bread of life to all who would but reach forth their
+hands and take it; but circumstances have also changed since then. It is
+true, we must lay down our money for almost everything we have; but
+money is much more easily obtained than it was then. It is true, we
+cannot procure a year's seat in one of our most expensive churches for
+less than your present week's wages; and if you really wish for the
+benefits of regular gospel instruction, you must make for it as much of
+an exertion as was made by the woman who went on her toilsome errand to
+the deep well of Samaria, little aware that she was there to receive the
+waters of eternal life. Do not say that it was by no effort, no
+self-denial, that the gospel was received by those who followed the
+great Teacher to the lonely sea-side, or even to the desert, where,
+weary and famished, they remained day after day, beneath the heat of a
+burning sun, and were relieved from hunger but by a miracle. And who so
+poor now, or so utterly helpless, that they cannot easily obtain the
+record of those words which fell so freely upon the ears of the
+listening multitudes of Judea? If there are such, there are societies
+which will cheerfully relieve their wants, if application be made. And
+these tracts, which come to us with scarcely the trouble of stretching
+forth our hands for their reception, are doubtless meant for good."
+
+"Well, Rosina," exclaimed Elizabeth, "if you hold out a little longer, I
+think Dorcas will have no reason to complain but that she gets _her_
+preaching cheap enough; but as I, for one, am entirely willing to pay
+for mine, you may be excused for the present; and those who wish to
+hear a theological discussion, can go and listen to the very able
+expounders of the Baptist and Universalist faiths, who are just now
+holding forth in the other chamber. As Dorcas hears no preaching but
+that which comes _as cheap as the light of the sun_, she will probably
+like to go; and do not be offended with me, Rosina, if I tell you
+plainly, that you are not the one to rebuke her. What sacrifice have you
+made? How much have you spent? When have you ever given anything for the
+support of the gospel?"
+
+A tear started to Rosina's eye, and the color deepened upon her cheek.
+Her lip quivered, but she remained silent.
+
+"Well," said Lucy to Elizabeth, "all this difficulty is the effect of
+the very simple question you asked; and I will answer for one, that I am
+glad to-morrow is pay-day. Pray what shall you get that is new,
+Elizabeth?"
+
+"Oh, I shall get one of those damask silk shawls which are now so
+fashionable. How splendid it will look! Let me see; this is a five
+weeks' payment, and I have earned about two dollars per week; and so
+have you, and Rosina; and Dorcas has earned a great deal more, for she
+has extra work. Pray what new thing shall _you_ get, Dorcas?" added she,
+laughing.
+
+"She will get a new bank book, I suppose," replied Lucy. "She has
+already deposited in her own name five hundred dollars, and now she has
+got a book in the name of her little niece, and I do not know but she
+will soon procure another. She almost worships them, and Sundays she
+stays here reckoning up her interest while we are at meeting."
+
+"I think it is far better," retorted Dorcas, "to stay at home, than to
+go to meeting, as Elizabeth does, to show her fine clothes. I do not
+make a mockery of public worship to God."
+
+"There, Lizzy, you must take that, for you deserved it," said Lucy to
+her friend. "You know you _do_ spend almost all your money in dress."
+
+"Well," said Elizabeth, "I shall sow all my wild oats now, and when I am
+an old maid I will be as steady, but _not quite_ so stingy as Dorcas. I
+will get a bank book, and trot down Merrimack street as often as she
+does, and everybody will say, 'what a remarkable change in Elizabeth
+Walters! She used to spend all her wages as fast as they were paid her,
+but now she puts them in the bank. She will be quite a fortune for some
+one, and I have no doubt she will get married for what she _has_, if not
+for what she is.' But I cannot begin now, and I don't see how _you_ can,
+Rosina."
+
+"I have not begun," replied Rosina, in a low sorrowful tone.
+
+"Why yes, you have; you are as miserly now as Dorcas herself; and I
+cannot bear to think of what you may become. Now tell me if you will not
+get a new gown and bonnet, and go to meeting?"
+
+"I cannot," replied Rosina, decidedly.
+
+"Well, do, if you have any mercy on us, buy a new gown to wear in the
+Mill, for your old one is so shabby. When calico is nine-pence a yard, I
+do think it is mean to wear such an old thing as that; besides, I should
+not wonder if it should soon drop off your back."
+
+"Will it not last me one month more?" and Rosina began to mend the
+tattered dress with a very wistful countenance.
+
+"Why, I somewhat doubt it; but at all events, you must have another pair
+of shoes."
+
+"These are but just beginning to let in the water," said Rosina; "I
+think they must last me till another pay-day."
+
+"Well, if you have a fever or consumption, Dorcas may take care of you,
+for _I_ will not; but what," continued the chattering Elizabeth, "shall
+you buy that is new, Lucy?"
+
+"Oh, a pretty new, though cheap, bonnet; and I shall also pay my
+quarter's pew-rent, and a year's subscription to the 'Lowell Offering;'
+and that is all that I shall spend. You have laughed much about old
+maids; but it was an old maid who took care of me when I first came to
+Lowell, and she taught me to lay aside half of every month's wages. It
+is a rule from which I have never deviated, and thus I have quite a
+pretty sum at interest, and have never been in want of anything."
+
+"Well," said Elizabeth, "will you go out to-night with me, and we will
+look at the bonnets, and also the damask silk shawls? I wish to know the
+prices. How I wish to-day had been pay-day, and then I need not have
+gone out with an empty purse."
+
+"Well, Lizzy, _you_ know that 'to-morrow is pay-day,' do you not?"
+
+"Oh yes, and the beautiful pay-master will come in, rattling his coppers
+so nicely."
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed Lucy; "do you call our pay-master _beautiful_?"
+
+"Why, I do not know that he would look beautiful, if he was coming to
+cut my head off; but really, that money-box makes him look
+delightfully."
+
+"Well, Lizzy, it _does_ make a great difference in his appearance, I
+know; but if we are going out to-night, we must be in a hurry."
+
+"If you go by the post-office, do ask if there is a letter for me," said
+Rosina.
+
+"Oh, I hate to go near the post-office in the evening; the girls act as
+wild as so many Caribbee Indians. Sometimes I have to stand there an
+hour on the ends of my toes, stretching my neck, and sticking out my
+eyes; and when I think I have been pommeled and jostled long enough, I
+begin to 'set up on my own hook,' and I push away the heads that have
+been at the list as if they were committing it all to memory, and I send
+my elbows right and left in the most approved style, till I find myself
+'master of the field.'"
+
+"Oh, Lizzy! you know better; how can you do so?"
+
+"Why, Lucy, pray tell me what _you_ do?"
+
+"I go away, if there is a crowd; or if I feel very anxious to know
+whether there is a letter for me, the worst that I do is to try 'sliding
+and gliding.' I dodge between folks, or slip through them, till I get
+waited upon. But I know that we all act worse there than anywhere else;
+and if the post-master speaks a good word for the factory girls, I think
+it must come against his conscience, unless he has seen them somewhere
+else than in the office."
+
+"Well, well, we must hasten along," said Elizabeth; "and stingy as
+Rosina is, I suppose she will be willing to pay for a letter; so I will
+buy her one, if I can get it. Good evening, ladies," continued she,
+tying her bonnet; and she hurried after Lucy, who was already down the
+stairs, leaving Dorcas to read her tract at leisure, and Rosina to patch
+her old calico gown, with none to torment her.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+"Two letters!" exclaimed Elizabeth, as she burst into the chamber,
+holding them up, as little Goody in the storybook held up her "two
+shoes;" "two letters! one for _you_, Rosina, and the other is for _me_.
+Only look at it! It is from a cousin of mine, who has never lived out of
+sight of the Green Mountains. I do believe, notwithstanding all that is
+said about the ignorance of the factory girls, that the letters which
+_go out_ of Lowell look as well as those which _come into_ it. See here:
+up in the left hand corner, the direction commences, 'Miss;' one step
+lower is 'Elizabeth;' then down another step, 'Walters.' Another step
+brings us down to 'Lowell;' one more is the 'City;' and down in the
+right hand corner is 'Massachusetts,' at full length. Quite a regular
+stair-case, if the steps had been all of an equal width. Miss Elizabeth
+Walters, Lowell City, Massachusetts, anticipates much edification from
+the perusal thereof," said she, as she broke the seal.
+
+"Oh, I must tell you an anecdote," said Lucy. "While we were waiting
+there, I saw one girl push her face into the little aperture, and ask if
+there was a paper for her; and the clerk asked if it was a transient
+paper. 'A what?' said she. 'A transient paper,' he repeated. 'Why, I
+don't know what paper it is,' was the reply; 'sometimes our folks send
+me one, and sometimes another.'"
+
+Dorcas and Elizabeth laughed, and the latter exclaimed, "Girls, I am not
+so selfish as to be unwilling that you should share my felicity. Should
+you not like to see my letter?" and she held it up before them. "It is
+quite a contrast to our Rosina's delicate Italian penmanship, although
+she is a factory girl."
+
+    "DEAR COUSIN.--I write this to let you know that I am well, and hope
+    you are enjoying the same great blessing. Father and Mother are well
+    too. Uncle Joshua is sick of the information of the brain. We think
+    he will die, but he says that he shall live his days out. We have
+    not had a letter from you since you went to Lowell. I send this by
+    Mary Twining, an old friend of mine. She works upon the Appletown
+    Corporation. She will put this in the post-office, because we do not
+    know where you work. I hope you will go and see her. We have had a
+    nice time making maple sugar this spring. I wish you had been with
+    us. When you are married, you must come with your husband. Write to
+    me soon, and if you don't have a chance to send it by private
+    conveyance, drop it into the post-office. I shall get it, for the
+    mail-stage passes through the village twice a week.
+
+      'I want to see you morn, I think,
+      Than I can write with pen and ink;
+      But when I shall, I cannot tell--
+      At present I must wish you well.'
+
+                                      "Your loving cousin,
+                                                "JUDITH WALTERS."
+
+"Well," said Elizabeth, drawing a long breath, "I do not think my
+_loving cousin_ will ever die of the 'information of the brain;' but if
+it should get there, I do not know what might happen.--But, Rosina, from
+whom is _your_ letter?"
+
+"My mother," said Rosina; and she seated herself at the little
+light-stand, with a sheet of paper, pen, and inkstand.
+
+"Why, you do not intend to answer it to-night?"
+
+"I must commence it to-night," replied Rosina, "and finish it to-morrow
+night, and carry it to the post-office. I cannot write a whole letter in
+one evening."
+
+"Why, what is the matter?" said Dorcas.
+
+"My twin-sister is very sick," replied Rosina; and the tears she could
+no longer restrain gushing freely forth. The girls, who had before been
+in high spirits, over cousin Judy's letter, were subdued in an instant.
+Oh, how quick is the influence of sympathy for grief! Not another word
+was spoken. The letter was put away in silence, and the girls glided
+noiselessly around the room, as they prepared to retire to rest.
+
+Shall we take a peep at Rosina's letter? It may remove some false
+impressions respecting her character, and many are probably suffering
+injustice from erroneous opinions, when, if all could be known, the very
+conduct which has exposed them to censure would excite approbation. Her
+widowed mother's letter was the following:--
+
+    "MY DEAR CHILD.--Many thanks for your last letter, and many more for
+    the present it contained. It was very acceptable, for it reached me
+    when I had not a cent in the world. I fear you deprive yourself of
+    necessaries to send me so much. But all you can easily spare will be
+    gladly received. I have as much employment at tailoring as I can
+    find time to do, and sometimes I sit up all night, when I cannot
+    accomplish my self-allotted task during the day.
+
+    "I have delayed my reply to your letter, because I wished to know
+    what the doctors really thought of your sister Marcia. They
+    consulted to-day, and tell me _there is no hope_. The suspense is
+    now over, but I thought I was better prepared for the worst than I
+    am. She wished me to tell her what the doctors said. At length I
+    yielded to her importunities. 'Oh, mother,' said she, with a sweet
+    smile, 'I am so glad they have told you, for I have known it for a
+    long time. You must write to Rosina to come and see me before I
+    die.' Do as you think best, my dear, about coming. You know how glad
+    we would be to see you. But if you cannot come, do not grieve too
+    much about it.--Marcia must soon die, and you, I hope, will live
+    many years; but the existence which you commenced together here, I
+    feel assured will be continued in a happier world. The interruption
+    which will now take place will be short, in comparison with the life
+    itself which shall have no end. And yet it is hard to think that one
+    so young, so good, and lovely, is so soon to lie in the silent
+    grave. While the blue skies of heaven are daily growing more softly
+    beautiful, and the green things of earth are hourly putting forth a
+    brighter verdure, she, too, like the lovely creatures of nature, is
+    constantly acquiring some new charm, to fit her for that world which
+    she will so soon inhabit. Death is coming, with his severest
+    tortures, but she arrays her person in bright loveliness at his
+    approach, and her spirit is robed in graces which well may fit her
+    for that angel-band, which she is so soon to join.
+
+    "I am now writing by her bed-side. She is sleeping soundly now, but
+    there is a heavy dew upon the cheek, brow, and neck of the tranquil
+    sleeper. A rose--it is one of _your_ roses, Rosina--is clasped in
+    her transparent hand: and one rosy pedal has somehow dropped upon
+    her temple. It breaks the line which the blue vein has so distinctly
+    traced on the clear white brow. I will take it away, and enclose it
+    in the letter. When you see it, perhaps it will bring more vividly
+    to memory the days when you and Marcia frolicked together among the
+    wild rose bushes.--Those which you transplanted to the front of the
+    house have grown astonishingly. Marcia took care of them as long as
+    she could go out of doors; for she wished to do something to show
+    her gratitude to you. Now that she can go among them no longer, she
+    watches them through the window, and the little boys bring her
+    every morning the most beautiful blossoms. She enjoys their beauty
+    and fragrance, as she does everything which is reserved for her
+    enjoyment. There is but one thought which casts a shade upon that
+    tranquil spirit, and it is that she is such a helpless burden upon
+    us. The last time that she received a compensation for some slight
+    article which she had exerted herself to complete, she took the
+    money and sent Willy for some salt. 'Now, mother,' said she, with
+    the arch smile which so often illuminated her countenance in the
+    days of health, 'Now, mother you cannot say that I do not earn my
+    salt.'
+
+    "But I must soon close, for in a short time she will awaken, and
+    suffer for hours from her agonizing cough.--No one need tell me now
+    that a consumption makes an easy path to the grave. I watched too
+    long by your father's bed-side, and have witnessed too minutely all
+    of Marcia's sufferings to be persuaded of this.
+
+    "But she breathes less softly now, and I must hasten. I have said
+    little of the other members of the family, for I knew you would like
+    to hear particularly about her. The little boys are well--they are
+    obedient to me, and kind to their sister. Answer as soon as you
+    receive this, for Marcia's sake, unless you come and visit us.
+
+    "And now, hoping that this will find you in good health, as, by the
+    blessing of God, it leaves me, (a good though an old-fashioned
+    manner of closing a letter,) I remain as ever,
+
+                                      "Your affectionate mother."
+
+Rosina's reply was as follows:--
+
+    "DEAR MOTHER.--I have just received your long-expected letter, and
+    have seated myself to commence an answer, for I cannot go home.
+
+    "I do wish very much to see you all, especially dear Marcia, once
+    more; but it is not best. I know you think so, or you would have
+    urged my return. I think I shall feel more contented here, earning
+    comforts for my sick sister and necessaries for you, than I should
+    be there, and unable to relieve a want. 'To-morrow is pay-day,' and
+    my earnings, amounting to ten dollars, I shall enclose in this
+    letter. Do not think I am suffering for anything, for I get a long
+    very well. But I am obliged to be extremely prudent, and the girls
+    here call me miserly. Oh, mother! it is hard to be so misunderstood;
+    but I cannot tell _them_ all.
+
+    "But your kind letters are indeed a solace to me, for they assure me
+    that the mother whom I have always loved and reverenced approves of
+    my conduct. I shall feel happier to-morrow night, when I enclose
+    that bill to you, than my room-mates can be in the far different
+    disposal of theirs.
+
+    "What a blessing it is that we can send money to our friends; and
+    indeed what a blessing that we can send them a letter. Last evening
+    you was penning the lines which I have just perused, in my
+    far-distant home; and not twenty-four hours have elapsed since the
+    rose-leaf before me was resting on the brow of my sister; but it is
+    now ten o'clock, and I must bid you good night, reserving for
+    to-morrow evening the remainder of my epistle, which I shall address
+    to Marcia."
+
+It was long before Rosina slept that night; and when she did, she was
+troubled at first by fearful dreams. But at length it seemed to her that
+she was approaching the quiet home of her childhood. She did not
+remember where she had been, but had a vague impression that it was in
+some scene of anxiety, sorrow, and fatigue; and she was longing to reach
+that little cot, where it appeared so still and happy. She thought the
+sky was very clear above it, and the yellow sunshine lay softly on the
+hills and fields around it. She saw her rose-bushes blooming around it,
+like a little wilderness of blossoms; and while she was admiring their
+increased size and beauty, the door was opened, and a body arrayed in
+the snowy robes of the grave, was carried beneath the rose-bushes. They
+bent to a slight breeze which swept above them, and a shower of snowy
+petals fell upon the marble face and shrouded form. It was as if nature
+had paid this last tribute of gratitude to one who had been one of her
+truest and loveliest votaries.
+
+Rosina started forward that she might remove the fragrant covering, and
+imprint one last kiss upon the fair cold brow; but a hand was laid upon
+her, and a well-known voice repeated her name. And then she started, for
+she heard the bell ring loudly; and she opened her eyes as Dorcas again
+cried out, "Rosina, the second bell is ringing."--Elizabeth and Lucy
+were already dressed, and they exclaimed at the same moment, "Remember,
+Rosina, that _to-day is pay-day_."
+
+                                                         LUCINDA.
+
+
+
+
+THE INDIAN PLEDGE.
+
+
+On the door-steps of a cottage in the land of "steady habits," some
+ninety or an hundred years since, might, on a soft evening in June, have
+been seen a sturdy young farmer, preparing his scythes for the coming
+hay-making season. So intent was he upon his work that he heeded not the
+approach of a tall Indian, accoutred for a hunting expedition, until,
+"Will you give an unfortunate hunter some supper and lodging for the
+night?" in a tone of supplication, caught his ear.
+
+The farmer raised his eyes from his work, and darting fury from beneath
+a pair of shaggy eyebrows, he exclaimed, "Heathen, Indian dog, begone!
+you shall have nothing here."
+
+"But I am very hungry," said the Indian; "give only a crust of bread and
+a bone to strengthen me on my journey."
+
+"Get you gone, you heathen dog," said the farmer; "I have nothing for
+you."
+
+"Give me but a cup of cold water," said the Indian, "for I am very
+faint."
+
+This appeal was not more successful than the others.--Reiterated abuse,
+and to be told to drink when he came to a river, was all he could obtain
+from one who bore the name of Christian! But the supplicating appeal
+fell not unheeded on the ear of one of finer mould and more sensibility.
+The farmer's youthful bride heard the whole, as she sat hushing her
+infant to rest; and from the open casement she watched the poor Indian
+until she saw his dusky form sink, apparently exhausted, on the ground
+at no great distance from her dwelling. Ascertaining that her husband
+was too busied with his work to notice her, she was soon at the Indian's
+side, with a pitcher of milk and a napkin filled with bread and cheese.
+"Will my red brother slake his thirst with some milk?" said this angel
+of mercy; and as he essayed to comply with her invitation, she untied
+the napkin, and bade him eat and be refreshed.
+
+"Cantantowwit protect the white dove from the pounces of the eagle,"
+said the Indian; "for _her_ sake the unfledged young shall be safe in
+their nest, and her red brother will not seek to be revenged."
+
+He then drew a bunch of feathers from his bosom, and plucking one of
+the longest, gave it to her, and said, "When the white dove's mate
+flies over the Indians' hunting grounds, bid him wear this on his
+head." * * * *
+
+The summer had passed away. Harvest-time had come and gone, and
+preparations had been made for a hunting excursion by the neighbors. Our
+young farmer was to be one of the party; but on the eve of their
+departure he had strange misgivings relative to his safety. No doubt his
+imagination was haunted by the form of the Indian, whom, in the
+preceding summer he had treated so harshly.
+
+The morning that witnessed the departure of the hunters was one of
+surpassing beauty. Not a cloud was to be seen, save one that gathered on
+the brow of Ichabod (our young farmer), as he attempted to tear a
+feather from his hunting-cap, which was sewed fast to it. His wife
+arrested his hand, while she whispered in his ear, and a slight quiver
+agitated his lips as he said, "Well, Mary, if you think this feather
+will protect me from the arrows of the red-skins, I'll e'en let it
+remain." Ichabod donned his cap, shouldered his rifle, and the hunters
+were soon on their way in quest of game.
+
+The day wore away as was usual with people on a like excursion; and at
+nightfall they took shelter in the den of a bear, whose flesh served for
+supper, and whose skin spread on bruin's bed of leaves, pillowed their
+heads through a long November night.
+
+With the first dawn of morning, the hunters left their rude shelter and
+resumed their chase. Ichabod, by some mishap, soon separated from his
+companions, and in trying to join them got bewildered. He wandered all
+day in the forest, and just as the sun was receding from sight, and he
+was about sinking down in despair, he espied an Indian hut. With mingled
+emotions of hope and fear, he bent his steps towards it; and meeting an
+Indian at the door, he asked him to direct him to the nearest white
+settlement.
+
+"If the weary hunter will rest till morning, the eagle will show him the
+way to the nest of his white dove," said the Indian, as he took Ichabod
+by the hand and led him within his hut. The Indian gave him a supper of
+parched corn and venison, and spread the skins of animals, which he had
+taken in hunting, for his bed.
+
+The light had hardly began to streak the east, when the Indian awoke
+Ichabod, and after a slight repast, the twain started for the settlement
+of the whites. Late in the afternoon, as they emerged from a thick wood,
+Ichabod with joy espied his home. A heartfelt ejaculation had scarce
+escaped his lips, when the Indian stepped before him, and turning
+around, stared him full in the face, and inquired if he had any
+recollection of a previous acquaintance with his red brother. Upon being
+answered in the negative, the Indian said, "Five moons ago, when I was
+faint and weary, you called me an Indian dog, and drove me from your
+door. I might now be revenged; but Cantantowwit bids me tell you to go
+home; and hereafter, when you see a red man in need of kindness, do to
+him as you have been done by. Farewell."
+
+The Indian having said this, turned upon his heel, and was soon out of
+sight. Ichabod was abashed. He went home purified in heart, having
+learned a lesson of Christianity from an untutored savage.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST DISH OF TEA.
+
+
+Tea holds a conspicuous place in the history of our country; but it is
+no part of my business to offer comments, or to make any remarks upon
+the spirit of olden time, which prompted those patriotic defenders of
+their country's rights to destroy so much tea, to express their
+indignation at the oppression of their fellow citizens. I only intend to
+inform the readers of the "Lowell Offering" that the first dish of tea
+which was ever made in Portsmouth, N. H., was made by Abigail Van Dame,
+my great-great-grandmother.
+
+Abigail was early in life left an orphan, and the care of her tender
+years devolved upon her aunt Townsend, to whose store fate had never
+added any of the smiling blessings of Providence; and as a thing in
+course, Abigail became not only the adopted, but also the well-beloved,
+child of her uncle and aunt Townsend. They gave her every advantage for
+an education which the town of Portsmouth afforded; and at the age of
+seventeen she was acknowledged to be the most accomplished young lady in
+Portsmouth.
+
+Many were the worshippers who bowed at the shrine of beauty and learning
+at the domicile of Alphonzo Townsend; but his lovely niece was unmoved
+by their petitions, much to the perplexity of her aunt, who often
+charged Abigail with carrying an obdurate heart in her bosom. In vain
+did Mrs. Townsend urge her niece to accept the offers of a young student
+of law; and equally vain were her efforts to gain a clue to the cause of
+the refusal, until, by the return of an East India Merchantman, Mr.
+Townsend received a small package for his niece, and a letter from
+Captain Lowd, asking his consent to their union, which he wished might
+take place the following year, when he should return to Portsmouth.
+
+Abigail's package contained a Chinese silk hat, the crown of which was
+full of Bohea tea. A letter informed her that the contents of the hat
+was the ingredient, which, boiled in water, made what was called the
+"Chinese soup."
+
+Abigail, anxious to ascertain the flavor of a beverage, of which she had
+heard much, put the brass skillet over the coals, poured in two quarts
+of water, and added thereto a pint bason full of tea, and a gill of
+molasses, and let it simmer an hour. She then strained it through a
+linen cloth, and in some pewter basins set it around the supper table,
+in lieu of bean-porridge, which was the favorite supper of the epicures
+of the olden time.
+
+Uncle, aunt, and Abigail, seated themselves around the little table, and
+after crumbling some brown bread into their basins, commenced eating the
+Chinese soup. The first spoonful set their faces awry, but the second
+was past endurance; and Mrs. Townsend screamed with fright, for she
+imagined that she had tasted poison. The doctor was sent for, who
+administered a powerful emetic; and the careful aunt persuaded her niece
+to consign her hat and its contents to the vault of an outbuilding.
+
+When Capt. Lowd returned to Portsmouth, he brought with him a chest of
+tea, a China tea-set, and a copper teakettle, and instructed Abigail in
+the art of tea-making and tea drinking, to the great annoyance of her
+aunt Townsend, who could never believe that Chinese soup was half so
+good as bean-porridge.
+
+The _first dish of tea_ afforded a fund of amusement for Capt. Lowd and
+lady, and I hope the narrative will be acceptable to modern
+tea-drinkers.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+
+
+
+LEISURE HOURS OF THE MILL GIRLS.
+
+
+The leisure hours of the mill girls--how shall they be spent? As Ann,
+Bertha, Charlotte, Emily, and others, spent theirs? as we spend ours?
+Let us decide.
+
+No. 4 was to stop a day for repairs. Ann sat at her window until she
+tired of watching passers-by. She then started up in search of one idle
+as herself, for a companion in a saunter. She called at the chamber
+opposite her own. The room was sadly disordered. The bed was not made,
+although it was past nine o'clock. In making choice of dresses, collars,
+aprons, _pro tempore_, some half dozen of each had been taken from their
+places, and there they were, lying about on chairs, trunks, and bed,
+together with mill clothes just taken off. Bertha had not combed her
+hair; but Charlotte gave hers a hasty dressing before "going out
+shopping;" and there lay brush, combs, and hair on the table. There were
+a few pictures hanging about the walls, such as "You are the prettiest
+Rose," "The Kiss," "Man Friday," and a miserable, soiled drawing of a
+"Cottage Girl." Bertha blushed when Ann entered. She was evidently
+ashamed of the state of her room, and vexed at Ann's intrusion. Ann
+understood the reason when Bertha told her, with a sigh, that she had
+been "hurrying all the morning to get through the 'Children of the
+Abbey,' before Charlotte returned."
+
+"Ann, I wish you would talk to her," said she. "Her folks are very poor.
+I have it on the best authority. Elinda told me that it was confidently
+reported by girls who came from the same town, that her folks had been
+known to jump for joy at the sight of a crust of bread. She spends every
+cent of her wages for dress and confectionary. She has gone out now; and
+she will come back with lemons, sugar, rich cake, and so on. She had
+better do as I do--spend her money for books, and her leisure time in
+reading them. I buy three volumes of novels every month; and when that
+is not enough, I take some from the circulating library. I think it our
+duty to improve our minds as much as possible, now the mill girls are
+beginning to be thought so much of."
+
+Ann was a bit of a wag. Idle as a breeze, like a breeze she sported with
+every _trifling_ thing that came in her way.
+
+"Pshaw!" said she. "And so we must begin to read silly novels, be very
+sentimental, talk about tears and flowers, dews and bowers. There is
+some poetry for you, Bertha. Don't you think I'd better 'astonish the
+natives,' by writing a poetical rhapsody, nicknamed 'Twilight Reverie,'
+or some other silly, inappropriate thing, and sending it to the
+'Offering?' Oh, how fine this would be! Then I could purchase a few
+novels, borrow a few more, take a few more from a circulating library;
+and then shed tears and grow soft over them--all because we are taking a
+higher stand in the world, you know, Bertha."
+
+Bertha again blushed. Ann remained some moments silent.
+
+"Did you ever read Pelham?" asked Bertha, by way of breaking the
+silence.
+
+"No; I read no novels, good, bad, or indifferent. I have been thinking,
+Bertha, that there may be danger of our running away from the reputation
+we enjoy, as a class. For my part, I sha'n't ape the follies of other
+classes of females. As Isabel Greenwood says--and you know she is always
+right about such things--I think we shall lose our independence,
+originality, and individuality of character, if we all take one standard
+of excellence, and this the customs and opinions of others. This is a
+jaw-cracking sentence for me. If any body had uttered it but Isabel, I
+should, perhaps, have laughed at it. As it was, I treasured it up for
+use, as I do the wise sayings of Franklin, Dudley, Leavitt, and Robert
+Thomas. I, for one, shall not attempt to become so accomplished. I shall
+do as near right as I can conveniently, not because I have a heavy
+burden of gentility to support, but because it is quite as easy to do
+right,
+
+  'And then I sleep so sweet at night.'
+
+"Good morning, Bertha."
+
+At the door she met Charlotte, on her return, with lemons, nuts, and
+cake.
+
+"I am in search of a companion for a long ramble," said Ann. "Can you
+recommend a _subject_?"
+
+"I should think Bertha would like to shake herself," said Charlotte.
+"She has been buried in a novel ever since she was out of bed this
+morning. It was her turn to do the chamber work this morning; and this
+is the way she always does, if she can get a novel. She would not mind
+sitting all day, with dirt to her head. It is a shame for her to do so.
+She had better be wide awake, enjoying life, as I am."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ann, in her usual _brusque_ manner. "There is not
+a cent's choice between you this morning; both are doing wrong, and each
+is condemning the other without mercy. So far you are both just like me,
+you see. Good morning."
+
+She walked on to the next chamber. She had enough of the philosopher
+about her to reason from appearances, and from the occupation of its
+inmates, that she could succeed no better there. Every thing was in the
+most perfect order. The bed was shaped, and the sheet hemmed down _just
+so_. Their lines that hung by the walls were filled "jist." First came
+starched aprons, then starched capes, then pocket handkerchiefs, folded
+with the marked corner out. Then hose. This room likewise, had its
+paintings, and like those of the other, they were in perfect keeping
+with the general arrangements of the room and the dress of its
+occupants. There was an apology for a lady. Her attitude and form were
+of precisely that uncouth kind which is produced by youthful artificers,
+who form head, body and feet from one piece of shingle; and wedge in two
+sticks at right angles with the body, for arms. Her sleeves increased in
+dimensions from the shoulders, and the skirt from the belt, but without
+the semblance of a fold. This, with some others of the same school, and
+two "profiles," were carefully preserved in frames, and the frames in
+screens of green barage. Miss Clark was busily engaged in making
+netting, and Miss Emily in making a dress. Ann made known her wants to
+them, more from curiosity to hear their reply, than from a hope of
+success. In measured periods they thanked her--would have been happy to
+accompany her. "But, really, I must be excused," said Miss Clark. "I
+have given myself a stint, and I always feel bad if I fall an inch short
+of my plans."
+
+"Yes; don't you think, Ann," said Emily, "she has stinted herself to
+make five yards of netting to-day. And mother says there is ten times as
+much in the house as we shall ever need. Father says there is twenty
+times as much; for he knows we shall both be old maids, ha! ha!"
+
+"Yes, and I always tell him that if I am an old maid I shall need the
+more. Our folks make twenty or thirty yards of table linen every year. I
+mean to make fringe for every yard; and have enough laid by for the next
+ten years, before I leave the mill."
+
+"Well, Emily," said Ann, "you have no fringe to make, can't you
+accompany me?"
+
+"I should be glad to, Ann; but I am over head and ears in work. I have
+got my work all done up, every thing that I could find to do. Now I am
+making a dress for Bertha."
+
+"Why, Emily, you are making a slave of yourself, body and mind," said
+Ann. "Can't you earn enough in the mill to afford yourself a little time
+for rest and amusement?"
+
+"La! I don't make but twelve dollars a month, besides my board. I have
+made a great many dresses evenings, and have stinted myself to finish
+this to-day. So I believe I can't go, any way. I should be terrible glad
+to."
+
+"Oh, you are very excusable," answered Ann. "But let me ask if you take
+any time to read."
+
+"No; not much. We can't afford to. Father owns the best farm in Burt;
+but we have always had to work hard, and always expect to. We generally
+read a chapter every day. We take turns about it. One of us reads while
+the other works."
+
+"Yes; but lately we have only taken time to read a short psalm," said
+Emily, again laughing.
+
+"Well, the Bible says, 'Let him that is without sin cast the first
+stone,' or I might be tempted to remind you that there is such a thing
+as laboring too much 'for the meat that perisheth.' Good morning,
+ladies."
+
+Ann heard a loud, merry laugh from the next room, as she reached the
+door. It was Ellinora Frothingham's; no one could mistake, who had heard
+it once. It seemed the out-pouring of glee that could no longer be
+suppressed. Ellinor sat on the floor, just as she had thrown herself on
+her return from a walk. Her pretty little bonnet was lying on the floor
+on one side, and on the other a travelling bag, whose contents she had
+just poured into her lap. There were apples, pears, melons, a
+mock-orange, a pumpkin, squash, and a crooked cucumber. Ellinora sprang
+to her feet when Ann entered, and threw the contents of her lap on the
+floor with such violence, as to set them to rolling all about. Then she
+laughed and clapped her hands to see the squash chase the mock-orange
+under the bed, a great russet running so furiously after a little fellow
+of the Baldwin family, and finally pinning him in a corner. A pear
+started in the chase; but after taking a few turns, he sat himself down
+to shake his fat sides and enjoy the scene. Ellinora stepped back a few
+paces to elude the pursuit of the pumpkin, and then, with well-feigned
+terror, jumped into a chair. But the drollest personage of the group was
+the ugly cucumber. There he sat, Forminius-like, watching the mad freaks
+of his companions.
+
+"Ha! see that cucumber?" exclaimed Ellinora, laughing heartily. "If he
+had hands, how he would raise them so! If he had eyes and mouth, how he
+would open them so!" suiting action to her words. "Look, Ann! look,
+Fanny! See if it does not look like the Clark girls, when one leaves any
+thing in the shape of dirt on their table or stand!"
+
+Peace was at length restored among the _inanimates_.
+
+"I came to invite you to walk; but I find I am too late," said Ann.
+
+"Yes. Oh, how I wish you had been with us! You would have been so
+happy!" said Ellinora. "We started out very early--before
+sunrise--intending to take a brisk walk of a mile or two, and return in
+season for breakfast. We went over to Dracut, and met such adventures
+there and by the way, as will supply me with food for laughter years
+after I get married, and trouble comes. We came along where some oxen
+were standing, yoked, eating their breakfast while their owner was
+eating his. They were attached to a cart filled with pumpkins. I took
+some of the smallest, greenest ones, and stuck them fast on the tips of
+the oxen's horns. I was so interested in observing how the ceremony
+affected the Messrs. Oxen, that I did not laugh a bit until I had
+crowned all four of them. I looked up to Fanny, as I finished the work,
+and there she sat on a great rock, where she had thrown herself when she
+could no longer stand. Poor girl! tears were streaming down her cheeks.
+With one hand she was holding her lame side, and with the other filling
+her mouth with her pocket handkerchief, that the laugh need not run out,
+I suppose. Well, as soon as I looked at her, and at the oxen, I burst
+into a laugh that might have been heard miles, I fancy. Oh! I shall
+never forget how reprovingly those oxen looked at me. The poor
+creatures could not eat with such an unusual weight on their horns, so
+they pitched their heads higher than usual, and now and then gave them a
+graceful cant, then stood entirely motionless, as if attempting to
+conjecture what it all meant.
+
+"Well, that loud and long laugh of mine, brought a whole volley of folks
+to the door--farmer, and farmer's wife, farmer's sons, and farmer's
+daughters. 'Whoa hish!' exclaimed the farmer, before he reached the
+door; and 'Whoa hish!' echoed all the farmer's sons. They all stopped as
+soon as they saw me. I would remind you that I still stood before the
+oxen, laughing at them. I never saw such comical expressions as those
+people wore. Did you, Fanny? Even those pictures of mine are not so
+funny. I thought we should raise the city police; for they had
+tremendous voices, and I never saw any body laugh so.
+
+"As soon as I could speak, and they could listen to me, I walked up to
+the farmer. 'I beg your pardon sir,' said I, 'but I did want to laugh
+so! Came all the way from Lowell for something new to laugh at.' He was
+a good, sensible man, and this proves it. He said it was a good thing to
+have a hearty laugh occasionally--good for the health and spirits. Work
+would go off easier all day for it, especially with the boys. As he said
+'boys,' I could not avoid smiling as I looked at a fine young sprig of a
+farmer, his oldest son, as he afterwards told us, full twenty-one."
+
+"And now, Miss Ellinora," said Fanny, "I shall avenge myself on you, for
+certain saucy freaks, perpetrated against my most august commands, by
+telling Ann, that as you looked at this 'young sprig of a farmer,' he
+looked at you, and you both blushed. What made you, Nora? I never saw
+you blush before."
+
+"What made you, Nora?" echoed Ellinora, laughing and blushing slightly.
+"Well, the farmer's wife invited us to rest and breakfast with them. We
+began to make excuses; but the farmer added his good natured commands,
+so we went in; and after a few arrangements, such as placing more
+plates, &c., a huge pumpkin pie, and some hot potatoes, pealed in the
+cooking, we sat down to a full round table. There were the mealy
+potatoes, cold boiled dish, warm biscuit and dough-nuts, pie, coffee,
+pickles, sauce, cheese, and just such butter and brown bread as mother
+makes--bread hot, just taken from the oven. They all appeared so
+pleasant and kind, that I felt as if in my own home, with my own family
+around me. Wild as I was, as soon as I began to tell them how it seemed
+to me, I burst into tears in spite of myself, and was obliged to leave
+the table. But they all pitied me so much, that I brushed off my tears,
+went back to my breakfast, and have laughed ever since."
+
+"You have forgotten two very important items," said Fanny, looking
+archly into Ellinora's face. "This 'fine young sprig of a farmer'
+happened to recollect that he had business in town to-day; so he took
+their carriage and brought us home, after Nora and a roguish sister of
+his had filled her bag as you see. And more and better still, they
+invited us to spend a day with them soon; and promised to send this
+'fine young sprig,' &c., for us on the occasion."
+
+Ellinora was too busily engaged in collecting her fruit to reply. She
+ran from the room; and in a few moments returned with several young
+girls, to whom she gave generous supplies of apples, pears, and melons.
+She was about seating herself with a full plate, when a new idea seemed
+to flash upon her. She laughed, and started for the door.
+
+"Ellinora, where now?" asked Fanny.
+
+"To the Clark girls' room, to leave an apple peeling and core on their
+table, a pear pealing on their stand, and melon, apple, and pear seeds
+all about the floor," answered Ellinora, gaily snapping her fingers, and
+nodding her head.
+
+"What for? Here, Nora; come back. For what?"
+
+"Why, to see them suffer," said the incorrigible girl. "You know I told
+you this morning, that sport is to be the order of the day. So no
+scoldings, my dear."
+
+She left the room, and Fanny turned to one of the ladies who had just
+entered.
+
+"Where is Alice," said she. "Did not Ellinora extend an invitation to
+her?"
+
+"Yes; but she is half dead with the _blues_, to-day. The Brown girls
+came back last night. They called on Alice this morning, and left
+letters and presents from home for her. She had a letter from her little
+brother, ten years old. He must be a fine fellow, judging from that
+letter, it was so sensible, and so witty too! One moment I laughed at
+some of his lively expressions, and the next cried at his expressions of
+love for Alice, and regret for her loss. He told her how he cried
+himself to sleep the night after she left home; and his flowers seemed
+to have faded, and the stars to have lost their brightness, when he no
+longer had her by his side to talk to him about them. I find by his
+letter that Alice is working to keep him at school. That part of it
+which contained his thanks for her goodness was blistered with the
+little fellow's tears. Alice cried like a child when she read it, and I
+did not wonder at it. But she ought to be happy now. Her mother sent her
+a fine pair of worsted hose of her own spinning and knitting, and a nice
+cake of her own making. She wrote, that, trifling as these presents
+were, she knew they would be acceptable to her daughter, because made by
+her. When Alice read this, she cried again. Her sister sent her a pretty
+little fancy basket, and her brother a bunch of flowers from her
+mother's garden. They were enclosed in a tight tin box, and were as
+fresh as when first gathered. Alice sent out for a new vase. She has
+filled it with her flowers, and will keep them watered with her tears,
+judging from present appearances. Alice is a good-hearted girl, and I
+love her, but she is always talking or thinking of something to make her
+unhappy. A letter from a friend, containing nothing but good news, and
+assurances of friendship, that ought to make her happy, generally throws
+her into a crying fit, which ends in a moping fit of melancholy. This
+destroys her own happiness, and that of all around her.'"
+
+"You ought to talk to her, she is spoiling herself," said Mary Mason,
+whose mouth was literally crammed with the last apple of a second
+plateful.
+
+"I have often urged her to be more cheerful. But she answers me with a
+helpless, hopeless, 'I can't Jane! you know I can't. I shall never be
+happy while I live; and I often think that the sooner I go where "the
+weary are at rest," the better.' I don't know how many times she has
+given me an answer like this. Then she will sob as if her heart were
+bursting. She sometimes wears me quite out; and I feel as I did when
+Ellinora called me, as if released from a prison."
+
+"Would it improve her spirits to walk with me?" asked Ann.
+
+"Perhaps it would, if you can persuade her to go. Do try, dear Ann,"
+answered Jane. "I called at Isabel Greenwood's room as I came along, and
+asked her to go in and see if she could rouse her up."
+
+Ann heard Isabel's voice in gentle but earnest expostulation, as she
+reached Alice's room. Isabel paused when Ann entered, kissed her cheek,
+and resigned her rocking-chair to her. Alice was sobbing too violently
+to speak. She took her face from her handkerchief, bowed to Ann, and
+again buried it. Ann invited them to walk with her. Isabel cheerfully
+acceded to her proposal, and urged Alice to accompany them.
+
+"Don't urge me, Isabel," said Alice; "I am only fit for the solitude of
+my chamber. I could not add at all to your pleasure. My thoughts would
+be at my home, and I could not enjoy a walk in the least degree. But
+Isabel, I do not want you to leave me so. I know that you think me very
+foolish to indulge in these useless regrets, as you call them. You will
+understand me better if you just consider the situation of my mother's
+family. My mother a widow, my oldest brother at the West, my oldest
+sister settled in New York, my youngest brother and sister only with
+mother, and I a Lowell factory girl! And such I must be--for if I leave
+the mill, my brother cannot attend school all of the time; and his heart
+would almost break to take him from school. And how can I be happy in
+such a situation; I do not ask for riches; but I would be able to gather
+my friends all around me. Then I could be happy. Perhaps I am as happy
+now as you would be in my situation, Isabel."
+
+Isabel's eyes filled, but she answered in her own sweet, calm manner:
+
+"We will compare lots, my dear Alice. I have neither father, mother,
+sister, nor home in the world. Three years ago I had all of these, and
+every other blessing that one could ask. The death of my friends, the
+distressing circumstances attending them, the subsequent loss of our
+large property, and the critical state of my brother's health at
+present, are not slight afflictions, nor are they lightly felt."
+
+Isabel's emotions, as she paused to subdue them by a powerful mental
+effort, proved her assertion. Alice began to dry her tears, and to look
+as if ashamed of her weakness.
+
+"I, too, am a Lowell factory girl," pursued Isabel. "I, too, am laboring
+for the completion of a brother's education. If that brother were well,
+how gladly would I toil! But that disease is upon his vitals which laid
+father, mother, and sister in their graves, in one short year. I can see
+it in the unnatural and increasing brightness of his eye, and hear it in
+his hollow cough. He has entered upon his third collegiate year; and is
+too anxious to graduate next commencement, to heed my entreaties, or the
+warning of his physician."
+
+She again paused. Her whole frame shook with emotion; but not a tear
+mingled with Ann's, as they fell upon her hand.
+
+"You see, Alice," she at length added, "what reasons I have for regret
+when I think of the past, and what for fear when I turn to the future.
+Still I am happy, almost continually. My lost friends are so many
+magnets, drawing heavenward those affections that would otherwise rivet
+themselves too strongly to earthly loves. And those dear ones who are
+yet spared to me, scatter so many flowers in my pathway, that I seldom
+feel the thorns. I am cheered in my darkest hours by their kindness and
+affection, animated at all times by a wish to do all in my power to make
+them happy. If my brother is spared to me, I ask for nothing more. And
+if he is first called, I trust I shall feel that it is the will of One
+who is too wise to err, and too good to be unkind."
+
+"You are the most like my mother, Isabel, of any one I ever saw," said
+Ann. "She is never free from pain, yet she never complains. And if Pa,
+or any of us, just have a cold or head ache, she does not rest till 'she
+makes us well.' You have more trouble than any other girl in the house;
+but instead of claiming the sympathies of every one on that account, you
+are always cheering others in their little, half-imaginary trials.
+Alice, I think you and I ought to be ashamed to shed a tear, until we
+have some greater cause than mere home-sickness, or low spirits."
+
+"Why, Ann, I can no more avoid low spirits, than I can make a world!"
+exclaimed Alice, in a really aggrieved tone. "And I don't want you all
+to think that I have no trouble. I want sympathy, and I can't live
+without it. Oh that I was at home this moment!"
+
+"Why, Alice, there is hardly a girl in this house who has not as much
+trouble, in some shape, as you have. You never think of pitying them;
+and pray what gives you such strong claims on their sympathies? Do you
+walk with us, or do you not?"
+
+Alice shook her head in reply. Isabel whispered a few words in her
+ear--they might be of reproof, they might be of consolation--then
+retired with Ann to equip for their walk.
+
+"What a beautiful morning this is!" exclaimed Ann, as they emerged from
+the house. "_Malgre_ some inconveniences, factory girls are as happy as
+any class of females. I sometimes think it hard to rise so early, and
+work so many hours shut up in the house. But when I get out at night, on
+the Sabbath, or at any other time, I am just as happy as a bird, and
+long to fly and sing with them. And Alice will keep herself shut up all
+day. Is it not strange that all will not be as happy as they can be? It
+is so pleasant."
+
+Isabel returned Ann's smile. "Yes, Ann, it is strange that every one
+does not prefer happiness. Indeed, it is quite probable that every one
+does prefer it. But some mistake the modes of acquiring it through want
+of judgment. Others are too indolent to employ the means necessary to
+its attainment, and appear to expect it to flow in to them, without
+taking any pains to prepare a channel. Others, like our friend Alice,
+have constitutional infirmities, which entail upon them a deal of
+suffering, that to us, of different mental organization, appears wholly
+unnecessary."
+
+"Why, don't you think Alice might be as happy as we are, if she chose?
+Could she not be as grateful for letters and love-tokens from home?
+Could she not leave her room, and come out into this pure air, listen to
+the birds, and catch their spirit? Could she not do all this, Isabel, as
+well as we?"
+
+"Well, I do not know, Ann. Perhaps not. You know that the minds of
+different persons are like instruments of different tones. The same
+touch thrills gaily on one, mournfully on another."
+
+"Yes; and I know, Isabel, that different minds may be compared to the
+same instrument _in_ and _out_ of tune. Now I have heard Alice say that
+she loved to indulge this melancholy; that she loved to read Byron, Mrs.
+Hemans, and Miss Landon, until her heart was as gloomy as the grave.
+Isn't this strange--even silly?"
+
+"It is most unfortunate, Ann."
+
+"Isabel, you are the strangest girl! I have heard a great many say, that
+one cannot make you say anything against anybody; and I believe they are
+correct. And when you reprove one, you do it in such a mild, pretty way,
+that one only loves you the better for it. Now, I smash on, pell-mell,
+as if unconscious of a fault in myself. Hence, I oftener offend than
+amend. Let me think.--This morning I have administered reproof in my own
+blunt way to Bertha for reading novels, to Charlotte for eating
+confectionary, to the Clark girls for their 'all work and no play,' and
+to Alice for moping. I have been wondering all along how they can spend
+their time so foolishly. I see that my own employment would scarcely
+bear the test of close criticism, for I have been watching motes in
+others' eyes, while a beam was in my own. Now, Isabel, I must ask a
+favor. I do not want to be very fine and nice; but I would be gentle and
+kind hearted--would do some good in the world. I often make attempts to
+this end; but always fail, somehow. I know my manner needs correcting;
+and I want you to reprove me as you would a sister, and assist me with
+your advice. Will you not, dear Isabel?"
+
+She pressed Isabel's arm closer to her side, and a tear was in her eye
+as she looked up for an answer to her appeal.
+
+"You know not what you ask, my beloved girl," answered Isabel, in a low
+and tremulous tone. "You know not the weakness of the staff on which you
+would lean, or the frailties of the heart to which you would look up,
+for aid. Of myself, dear Ann, I can do nothing. I can only look to God
+for protection from temptation, and for guidance in the right way. When
+He keeps me, I am safe; when He withdraws His spirit, I am weak indeed.
+And can I lead you, Ann? No! you must go to a higher than earthly
+friend. Pray to Him in every hour of need, and He will be 'more to you
+than you can ask, or even think.'"
+
+"How often I have wished that I could go to Him as mother does--just as
+I would go to a father!" said Ann. "But I dare not. It would be mockery
+in one who has never experienced religion."
+
+"Make prayer a _means_ of this experience, my dear girl. Draw near to
+God by humble, constant prayer, and He will draw near to you by the
+influences of His spirit, which will make you just what you wish to be,
+a good, kind-hearted girl. You will learn to love God as a father, as
+the author of your happiness and every good thing. And you will be
+prepared to meet those trials which must be yours in life as the
+'chastisements of a Father's hand, directed by a Father's love.' And
+when the hour of death comes, dear Ann, how sweet, how soothing will be
+the deep-felt conviction that you are going _home_! You will have no
+fears, for your trust will be in One whom you have long loved and
+served; and you will feel as if about to meet your best, and most
+familiar friend."
+
+Ann answered only by her tears; and for some minutes they walked on in
+silence. They were now some distance from town. Before them lay farms,
+farm-houses, groves and scattering trees, from whose branches came the
+mingled song of a thousand birds. Isabel directed Ann's attention to the
+beauty of the scene. Ann loved nature; but she had such a dread of
+sentimentalism that she seldom expressed herself freely. Now she had no
+reserves, and Isabel found that she had not mistaken her capacities, in
+supposing her possessed of faculties, which had only to develop
+themselves more fully, which had only to become constant incentives to
+action, to make her all she could wish.
+
+"You did not promise, Isabel," said Ann, with a happy smile, as they
+entered their street, "you did not promise to be my sister; but you
+will, will you not?"
+
+"Yes, dear Ann; we will be sisters to each other. I think you told me
+that you have no sister."
+
+"I had none until now; and I have felt as if part of my affections could
+not find a resting place, but were weighing down my heart with a burden
+that did not belong to it. I shall no longer be like a branch of our
+woodbine when it cannot find a clinging place, swinging about at the
+mercy of every breeze; but like that when some kind hand twines it about
+its frame, firm and trusting. See, Isabel!" exclaimed she, interrupting
+herself, "there sits poor Alice, just as we left her. I wish she had
+walked with us--she would have felt so much better. Do you think,
+Isabel, that religion would make her happy?"
+
+"Most certainly. 'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden.
+Take my yoke upon you; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye _shall_
+find rest for your souls,'--is as 'faithful a saying' and as 'worthy of
+all acceptation' now, as when it was uttered, and when thousands came
+and 'were healed of _all_ manner of diseases.' Yes, Alice may yet be
+happy," she added musingly, "if she can be induced to read Byron less,
+and her Bible more; to think less of her own gratification, and more of
+that of others. And we will be very gentle to her, Ann; but not the less
+faithful and constant in our efforts to win her to usefulness and
+happiness."
+
+Ellinora met them at the door, and began to describe a frolic that had
+occupied her during their absence. She threw her arms around Isabel's
+waist, and entered the sitting-room with her. "Now, Isabel, I know you
+don't think it right to be so giddy," said she. "I will tell you what I
+have resolved to do. You shake your head, Isabel, and I do not wonder at
+all. But this resolution was formed this morning, on my way back from
+Dracut; and I feel in my 'heart of hearts' 'a sober certainty of waking'
+energy to keep it unbroken. It is that I will be another sort of a girl,
+altogether, henceforth; steady, but not gloomy; less talkative, but not
+reserved; more studious, but not a bookworm; kind and gentle to others,
+but not a whit the less independent, 'for a' that,' in my opinions and
+conduct.--And, after this day, which I have dedicated to Momus, I want
+you to be my Mentor. Now I am for another spree of some sort. Nay,
+Isabel, do not remonstrate. You will make me weep with five tender
+words."
+
+It needed not so much--for Isabel smiled sadly, kissed her cheek, and
+Ellinora's tears fell fast and thick as she ran from the room.
+
+Ann went immediately to Alice's room on her return.--She apologized to
+her for reproving her so roughly, described her walk, gave a synopsis of
+Isabel's advice, and her consequent determinations. By these means she
+diverted Alice's thoughts from herself, gave her nerves a healthy
+spring, and when the bell summoned them to dinner, she had recovered
+much of her happier humor. Ellinora sat beside her at table. She
+laughingly proposed an exchange, offering a portion of her levity for as
+much of her gravity. She thought the _equilibrium_ would be more
+perfect. So Alice thought, and she heartily wished that the exchange
+might be made.
+
+And this exchange seems actually taking place at this time. They are as
+intimate as sisters. Together they are resolutely struggling against the
+tide of habit. They meet many discouraging failures; but Isabel is ever
+ready to cheer them by her sympathy, and to assist them by her advice.
+
+Ann's faults were not so deeply rooted; perhaps she brought more natural
+energy to their extermination. Be that as it may, she is now an
+excellent lady, a fit companion for the peerless Isabel.
+
+The Clark girls do not, as yet, coalesce in their system of
+improvement. They still prefer making netting and dresses, to the
+lecture-room, the improvement circle, and even to the reading of the
+"Book of books." So difficult is it to turn from the worship of Plutus!
+
+The delusion of Bertha and Charlotte is partially broken. Bertha is
+beginning to understand that much reading does not naturally result in
+intellectual or moral improvement, unless it be well regulated.
+Charlotte is learning that "to enjoy is to obey;" and that to pamper her
+own animal appetites, while her father and mother are suffering for want
+of the necessaries of life, is not in obedience to Divine command.
+
+And, dear sisters, how is it with each one of _us_? How do we spend our
+leisure hours? Now, "in the stilly hour of night," let us pause, and
+give our consciences time to render faithful answers.
+
+                                                               D.
+
+
+
+
+THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON.
+
+
+    "He sleeps there in the midst of the very simplicities of Nature."
+
+  There let him sleep, in Nature's arms,
+    Her well-beloved, her chosen child--
+  There 'mid the living, quiet charms
+    Of that sequestered wild.
+    He would have chosen such a spot,
+  'Twas fit that they should lay him there,
+  Away from all the haunts of care;
+    The world disturbs him not.--
+  He sleeps full sweet in his retreat--
+    The place is consecrated ground,
+  It is not meet unhallowed feet
+    Should tread that sacred mound.
+
+  He lies in pomp--not of display--
+    No useless trappings grace his bier,
+  Nor idle words--they may not say
+    What treasures cluster here.
+    The pomp of nature, wild and free,
+  Adorns our hero's lowly bed,
+  And gently bends above his head
+    The weeping laurel tree.
+  In glory's day he shunned display,
+    And ye may not bedeck him now,
+  But Nature may, in her own way,
+    Hang garlands round his brow.
+
+  He lies in pomp--not sculptured stone,
+    Nor chiseled marble--vain pretence--
+  The glory of his deeds alone
+    Is his magnificence.
+    His country's love the meed he won,
+  He bore it with him down to death,
+  Unsullied e'en by slander's breath--
+    His country's sire and son.
+  Her hopes and fears, her smiles and tears,
+    Were each his own.--He gave his land
+  His earliest cares, his choicest years,
+    And led her conquering band.
+
+  He lies in pomp--not pomp of war--
+    He fought, but fought not for renown;
+  He triumphed, yet the victor's star
+    Adorned no regal crown.
+    His honor was his country's weal;
+  From off her neck the yoke he tore--
+  It was enough, he asked no more;
+    His generous heart could feel
+  No low desire for king's attire;--
+    With brother, friend, and country blest,
+  He could aspire to honors higher
+    Than kingly crown or crest.
+
+  He lies in pomp--his burial place
+    Than sculptured stone is richer far;
+  For in the heart's deep love we trace
+    His name, a golden star.
+    Wherever patriotism breathes,
+  His memory is devoutly shrined
+  In every pure and gifted mind:
+    And history, with wreaths
+  Of deathless fame, entwines that name,
+    Which evermore, beneath all skies,
+  Like vestal flame, shall live the same,
+    For virtue never dies.
+
+  There let him rest--'t is a sweet spot;
+    Simplicity becomes the great--But
+  Vernon's son is not forgot,
+    Though sleeping not in state.
+    There, wrapt in his own dignity,
+  His presence makes it hallowed ground,
+  And Nature throws her charms around,
+    And o'er him smiles the sky.
+  There let him rest--the noblest, best;
+    The labors of his life all done--
+  There let him rest, the spot is blessed--
+    The grave of WASHINGTON.
+
+                                                        ADELAIDE.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE AMONG FARMERS.
+
+
+There is much complaint among farmers' wives and daughters, of want of
+time for rest, recreation, and literary pursuits. "It is cook, eat, and
+scrub--cook, eat, and scrub, from morning till night, and from year to
+year," says many a farmer's wife. And so it is in many families. But how
+far this results from the very nature of the situation, and how far from
+injudicious domestic management, is a query worthy of our attention. A
+very large proportion of my readers, who are now factory girls, will in
+a few months or years be the busy wives of busy farmers; and if by a few
+speculations on the subject before us, and an illustration to the point,
+we can reach _one_ hint that may hereafter be useful to us, our labor
+and "search of thought" will not have been in vain.
+
+Mr. Moses Eastman was what is technically called a wealthy farmer. Every
+one in the country knows what this means. He had a farm of some hundred
+or more acres, a large two-story dwelling house, a capacious yard, in
+which were two large barns, sheds, a sheep-cote, granary, and hen-coop.
+He kept a hundred sheep, ten cows, horses and oxen in due proportion.
+Mr. Eastman often declared that no music was half so sweet to him as
+that of the inmates of this yard. I think we shall not quarrel with his
+taste in this manifestation; for it is certainly delightful, on a warm
+day, in early spring, to listen to them, the lambs, hens--Guinea and
+American--turkeys, geese, and ducks and peacocks.
+
+Mr. Eastman was unbending in his adherence to the creed, prejudices, and
+customs of his fathers. It was his boast that his farm had passed on
+from father to son, to the fourth generation; and everybody could see
+that it was none the worse for wear. He kept more oxen, sheep, and cows
+than his father kept. He had "pulled down his barns and built larger."
+He had surrounded his fields and pastures with stone wall, in lieu of
+Virginian, stump, brush, and board fence. And he had taught his sons and
+daughters, of whom he had an abundance, to walk in his footsteps--all
+but Mary. He should always rue the day that he consented to let Mary go
+to her aunt's; but he acted upon the belief that it would lessen his
+expenses to be rid of her during her childhood. He had all along
+intended to recall her as soon as she was old enough to be serviceable
+to him. But he said he believed that would never be, if she lived as
+long as Methuselah. She could neither spin nor weave as she ought; for
+she put so much material in her yarn, and wove her cloth so thick, that
+no profit resulted from its manufacture and sale. Now Deborah, his
+oldest daughter, had just her mother's _knack_ of making a good deal out
+of a little.--And Mary had imbibed some very dangerous ideas of
+religion,--she did not even believe in ghosts!--dress, and reading. For
+his part, he would not, on any account, attend any other meeting than
+old Mr. Bates's. His father and grandfather always attended there, and
+they prospered well. But Mary wanted to go to the other meeting
+occasionally, all because Mr. Morey happened to be a bit of an orator.
+True, Mr. Bates was none of the smartest; but there was an advantage in
+this. He could sleep as soundly, and rest as rapidly, when at his
+meeting, as in his bed; and by this means he could regain the sleep lost
+during the week by rising early and working late. And Mary had grown so
+proud that she would not wear a woolen home-manufactured dress
+visiting, as Deborah did. She must flaunt off to meeting every Sabbath,
+in white or silk, while _chintz_ was good enough for Deborah. Deborah
+seldom read anything but the Bible, Watts's Hymn Book, "Pilgrim's
+Progress," and a few tracts they had in the house. Mary had hardly laid
+off her finery, on her return from her aunt's, before she inquired about
+books and newspapers. Her aunt had heaps of books and papers. These had
+spoilt Mary. True, papers were sometimes useful; he would have lost five
+hundred dollars by the failure of the ---- Bank, but for a newspaper he
+borrowed of Captain Norwood. But the Captain had enough of them--was
+always ready to lend to him--and he saved no small sum in twenty years
+by borrowing papers of him.
+
+How Captain Norwood managed to add to his property he could not
+conceive. So much company, fine clothing, and schooling! he wondered
+that it did not ruin him. And 'twas all folly--'twas a sin; for they
+were setting extravagant examples, and every body thought they must do
+as the Norwoods did. Mr. Norwood ought to remember that his father wore
+home-made; and what was good enough for his good old father was good
+enough for _him_. But alas! times were dreadfully altered.
+
+As for Mary, she must turn over a new leaf, or go back to her aunt. He
+would not help one who did not help herself. Mary was willing, nay,
+anxious to return. To spend one moment, except on the Sabbath, in
+reading, was considered a crime; to gather a flower or mineral, absurd;
+and Mary begged that she might be permitted to return to Mrs. Barlow. As
+there was no prospect of reforming her, Mr. Eastman and his wife readily
+consented. Mr. Eastman told her, at the same time, that she must be
+preparing for a wet day; and repeatedly charged her to remember that
+those who folded their hands in the summer, must "beg in harvest, and
+have nothing."
+
+Mary had often visited the Norwoods and other young friends, during the
+year spent at home; but she had not been permitted to give a party in
+return. Why, Deborah had never thought of doing such a thing! Mary
+begged the indulgence of her mother, with the assurance that it was the
+last favor she would ever ask at her hand. The _mother_ in her at last
+yielded; and she promised to use her influence with her husband. After a
+deal of cavilling, he consented, on the condition that the strictest
+economy should attend the expenditures on the occasion, and that they
+should exercise more prudence in the family, until their loss was made
+gain. So the party was given.
+
+"You find yourself thrown on barren ground, Miss Norwood," said Mary, as
+she saw Miss Norwood looking around the room; "neither papers, books,
+plants, plates, nor minerals."
+
+"Where are those rocks you brought in, Molly!" said Deborah, with a
+loud, grating laugh.
+
+Mary attempted to smile, but her eyes were full of tears.
+
+"What rocks, Deborah!" asked Clarina Norwood.
+
+"Them you see stuffed into the garden wall, there.--Mary fixed them all
+in a row on the table. I think as father does, that nothing is worth
+saving that can't be used; so I put them in the wall to keep the hens
+out of the garden. The silly girl cried when she see them; should you
+have thought it?"
+
+"What were they, Mary?" asked Clarina.
+
+"Very pretty specimens of white, rose, and smoky quartz, black and white
+mica, gneiss, hornblende, and a few others, that I collected on that
+very high hill, west of here."
+
+"How unfortunate to lose them!" said Miss Norwood, in a soothing tone.
+"Could not we recover them, dear Mary?"
+
+"There is no room for them," said Deborah. "We want to spread currants
+and blueberries on the tables to be dried. Besides, I think as father
+does, that there is enough to do, without spending the time in such
+flummery. As father says, 'time is our estate,' and I think we ought to
+improve every moment of it, except Sundays, in work."
+
+"I must differ from you, Miss Eastman," said Miss Norwood. "I cannot
+think it the duty of any one to labor entirely for the 'meat that
+perisheth.' Too much, vastly too much time is spent thus by almost all."
+
+"The mercy! you would have folks prepare for a wet day, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I would have every one make provision for a comfortable subsistence;
+and this is enough. The mind should be cared for, Deborah. It should not
+be left to starve, or feed on husks."
+
+"I don't know about this mind, of which you and our Mary make such a
+fuss. My concern is for my body. Of this I know enough."
+
+"Yes; you know that it is dust, and that to dust it must return in a
+little time, while the mind is to live on for ever, with God and His
+holy angels. Think of this a moment, Deborah; and say, should not the
+mind be fed and clothed upon, when its destiny is so glorious? Or should
+we spend our whole lives in adding another acre to our farms, another
+dress to our wardrobe, and another dollar to our glittering heap?"
+
+"Oh, la! all this sounds nicely; but I _do_ think that every man who has
+children should provide for them."
+
+"Certainly--intellectual food and clothing. It is for this I am
+contending. He should provide a comfortable bodily subsistence, and
+educate them as far as he is able and their destinies require."
+
+"And he should leave them a few hundreds, or thousands, to give them a
+kind of a start in the world."
+
+"He does this in giving them a liberal education, and he leaves them in
+banks that will always discount. But farther than education of intellect
+and propensity is concerned, I am for the self-made man. I think it
+better for sons to carve their own way to eminence with little pecuniary
+aid by way of a settlement; and for daughters to be 'won and wedded' for
+their own intrinsic excellence, not for the dowry in store for them from
+a rich father."
+
+"There is no arguing with you, everybody says; so I'll go and see how my
+cakes bake."
+
+Mr. Eastmam came in to tea, contrary to his usual custom.
+
+"Clarina, has your father sold that great calf of his?" he inquired, as
+he seated himself snugly beside his "better half."
+
+"Indeed, I do not know, sir," answered Clarina, biting her lip to avoid
+laughing.
+
+"I heard Mr. Montgomery ask him the same question, this morning; and Pa
+said 'yes,' I believe," said Miss Norwood, smiling.
+
+"How much did he get for it?"
+
+Miss Norwood did not know.
+
+"Like Mary, I see," said Mr. Eastman. "Now I'll warrant you that Debby
+can tell the price of every creature I've sold this year."
+
+"Yes, father; I remember as plain as day, how much you got from that
+simple Joe Slater, for the white-faced calf--how much you got for the
+black-faced sheep, Rowley and Jumble, and for Star and Bright. Oh, how I
+want to see Bright! And then there is the black colt--you got forty
+dollars for him, didn't you, father?"
+
+"Yes, Debby; you are a keen one," said Mr. Eastman triumphantly. "Didn't
+I tell you so, Julia?"
+
+"I do not burden my memory with superfluities," answered Miss Norwood.
+"I can scarcely find room for necessaries."
+
+"And do you rank the best way of making pies, cakes, and puddings, with
+necessaries or superfluities?"
+
+"Among necessaries in household economy, certainly," answered Miss
+Norwood. "But Mrs. Child's 'Frugal Housewife' renders them superfluities
+as a part of memory's storage."
+
+"Oh, the book costs something, you know; and if this can be saved by a
+little exercise of the memory, it is well, you know."
+
+"The most capacious and retentive memory would fail to treasure up and
+retain all that one wishes to know of cooking and other matters," said
+Clarina.
+
+"Well, then, one may copy from her book," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+"Indeed, Mr. Eastman, to spend one's time in copying her recipes, when
+the work can be purchased for twenty-five cents, would be 'straining out
+a gnat, and swallowing a camel,'" remarked the precise and somewhat
+pedantic Miss Ellinor Gould Smith. "And then the peculiar disadvantages
+of referring to manuscript! I had my surfeit of this before the
+publication of her valuable work."
+
+"Ah! it is every thing but valuable," answered Mr. Eastman. "Just think
+of her pounds of sugar, her two pounds of butter, her dozen eggs, and
+ounces of nutmegs. Depend upon it, they are not very valuable in the
+holes they would make in our cash-bags." He said this with precisely the
+air of one who imagines he has uttered a poser.
+
+"But you forget her economical and wholesome prescriptions for disease,
+her directions for repairing and preserving clothing and provisions,
+that would be lost without them," answered Miss Smith.
+
+"But one should always be prying into these things, and learn them for
+themselves," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+"On the same principle, extended in its scale, every man might make his
+own house, furniture, and clothing," said Miss Norwood. "With the
+expenditure of much labor and research, she has supplied us with
+directions; and I think it would be vastly foolish for every wife and
+daughter to expend just as much, when they can be supplied with the
+fruits of hers, for the product of half a day's labor."
+
+"Does your mother use it much?" asked Mrs. Eastman.
+
+"Yes; she acknowledges herself much indebted to it."
+
+"I shouldn't think she'd need it; she is so notable. Has she made many
+cheeses this summer?"
+
+"About the usual number, I believe."
+
+"Well, I've made more than I ever did a year afore--thirty in my largest
+hoop, all new milk, and twenty in my next largest, part skimmed milk.
+Our cheese press is terribly out of order, now. It must be fixed, Mr.
+Eastman. And I have made more butter, or else our folks haven't ate as
+much as common. I've made it salter, and there's a great saving in
+this."
+
+"There's a good many ways to save in the world, if one will take pains
+to find them out," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+"Doubtless; but I think the best method of saving in provisions is to
+eat little," said Clarina, as she saw Mr. Eastman _putting down_ his
+third biscuit.
+
+"Why, as to that, I think we ought to eat as much as the appetite calls
+for," answered Mr. Eastman.
+
+"Yes; if the appetite is not depraved by indulgence."
+
+"Yes; it is an awful thing to pinch in eating," said Deborah.
+
+"I never knew one to sin in doing it," said Miss Norwood. "But many
+individuals and whole families make themselves excessively
+uncomfortable, and often incur disease, by eating too much. There is,
+besides, a waste of food, and of labor in preparing it. In such
+families, there is a continual round of eating, cooking, and sleeping,
+with the female portion; and no time for rest, recreation, or literary
+pursuits."
+
+"I have told our folks a great many times, that I did not believe that
+you lived by eating, over to your house," said Mr. Eastman. "I have been
+over that way before our folks got breakfast half ready; and your men
+would be out to work, and you women folks sewing, reading, or watering
+plants, or weeding your flower garden. I don't see how you manage."
+
+"We do not find it necessary to manage at all, our breakfasts are so
+simple. We have only to make cocoa, and arrange the breakfast."
+
+"Don't you cook meat for breakfast?" asked Mrs. Eastman.
+
+"Never; our breakfast invariably consists of cocoa, or water, cold white
+bread and butter."
+
+"Why, our men folks will have meat three times a day--warm, morning and
+noon, and cold at night. We have warm bread for breakfast and supper,
+always. When they work very hard, they want luncheon at ten, and again
+at three. I often tell our folks that it is step, step, from morning
+till night."
+
+"Of course, you find no time to read," said Miss Norwood.
+
+"No; but I shouldn't mind this, if I didn't get so dreadful tired. I
+often tell our folks that it is wearing me all out," said Mrs. Eastman,
+in a really aggrieved tone.
+
+"Well, it is quite the fashion to starve, now-a-days, I know; but it is
+an awful sin," said Mr. Eastman.
+
+Miss Norwood saw that she might as well spend her time in rolling a
+stone up hill, as in attempting to convince him of fallacy in reasoning.
+
+"Clarina," said she, "did you ask Frederic to call for the other volume
+of the 'Alexandrian?'"
+
+"Why, I should think that you had books enough at home, without
+borrowing," said Mr. Eastman, stopping by the way to rinse down his
+fifth dough-nut. "For my part, I find no time for reading anything but
+the Bible." And the deluded man started up with a gulp and a grunt. He
+had eaten enough for three full meals, had spent time enough for eating
+one meal, and reading several pages; yet he left the room with a smile,
+so self-satisfied in its expression, that it was quite evident that he
+thought himself the wisest man in New Hampshire, except Daniel Webster.
+
+This is rather a sad picture of life among farmers. But many of my
+readers will bear me witness that it is a correct one, as far as it
+goes. Many of them have left their homes, because, in the quaint but
+appropriate language of Mrs. Eastman, it was "step, step, from morning
+till night." But there are other and brighter pictures, of more
+extensive application, _perhaps_, than that already drawn.
+
+Captain Norwood had as large a farm as Mr. Eastman. His family was as
+large, yet the existence of the female portion was paradisiacal,
+compared with that of Mrs. Eastman and her daughters. Their meals were
+prepared with the most perfect elegance and simplicity. Their table
+covers and their China were of the same dazzling whiteness. Their
+cutlery, from the unfrequency of its contact with acids, with a little
+care, wore a constant polish. Much prettier these, than the dark
+oiled-cloth cover and corresponding _et cetera_ of table appendages, at
+Mr. Eastman's. Mrs. Norwood and her daughters carried _system_ into
+every department of labour. While one was preparing breakfast, another
+put things in nice order all about the house, and another was occupied
+in the dairy.
+
+Very different was it at Mr. Eastman's. Deborah must get potatoes, and
+set Mary to washing them, while she made bread. Mrs. Eastman must cut
+brown bread, and send Deborah for butter, little Sally for sauce, and
+Susan for pickles. One must cut the meat and set it to cook; then it was
+"Mary, have you seen to that meat? I expect it wants turning. Sally, run
+and salt this side, before she turns it." And then, in a few moments,
+"Debby, do look to that meat. I believe that it is all burning up. How
+do them cakes bake? look, Sally. My goodness! all burnt to a cinder,
+nearly. Debby, why didn't you see to them?"
+
+"La, mother! I thought Mary was about the lot, somewhere. Where is she,
+I wonder?"
+
+"In the other room, reading, I think likely. Oh! I forgot: I sent her
+after some coffee to burn."
+
+"What! going to burn coffee now? We sha'nt have breakfast to-day."
+
+"You fuss, Debby. We can burn enough for breakfast in five minutes. I
+meant to have had a lot burned yesterday; but we had so much to do.
+There, Debby, you see to the potatoes. I wonder what we are going to
+have for dinner."
+
+"Don't begin to talk about dinner yet, for pity's sake," said Deborah.
+"Sally, you ha'nt got the milk for the coffee. Susan, go and sound for
+the men folks: breakfast will be ready by the time they get here. Mary,
+put the pepper, vinegar, and salt on the table, if you can make room for
+them."
+
+"Yes; and Debby, you go and get one of them large pumpkin pies," said
+Mrs. Eastman. "And Sally, put the chairs round the table; the men folks
+are coming upon the run."
+
+"Oh, mother! I am so glad you are going to have pie! I do love it _so_
+well," said Susan, seating herself at the table, without waiting for her
+parents.
+
+Such a _rush!_ such a clatter of knives, forks, plates, cups, and
+saucers! It "realized the phrase of ----," and was absolutely appalling
+to common nerves.
+
+After breakfast came the making of beds and sweeping, baking and boiling
+for dinner, making and turning cheese, and so on, until noon. Occasional
+bits of leisure were _seized_ in the afternoon, for sewing and knitting
+that must be done, and for visiting.
+
+The situation of such families is most unpleasant, but it is not
+irremediable. Order may be established and preserved in the entire
+household economy. They may restrict themselves to a simpler system of
+dietetics. With the money and time thus saved, they may purchase books,
+subscribe for good periodicals, and find ample leisure to read them.
+Thus their intellects will be expanded and invigorated. They will have
+opportunities for social intercourse, for the cultivation of
+friendships; and thus their affections will be exercised and warmed.
+Then, happy the destiny of the farmer, the farmer's wife, and the
+farmer's daughters.
+
+                                                         A. F. D.
+
+
+
+
+A WEAVER'S REVERIE.
+
+
+It was a sunny day, and I left for a few moments the circumscribed spot
+which is my appointed place of labor, that I might look from an
+adjoining window upon the bright loveliness of nature. Yes, it was a
+sunny day; but for many days before, the sky had been veiled in gloomy
+clouds; and joyous indeed was it to look up into that blue vault, and
+see it unobscured by its sombre screen; and my heart fluttered, like a
+prisoned bird, with its painful longings for an unchecked flight amidst
+the beautiful creation around me.
+
+Why is it, said a friend to me one day, that the factory girls write so
+much about the beauties of nature?
+
+Oh! why is it, (thought I, when the query afterwards recurred to me,)
+why is it that visions of thrilling loveliness so often bless the
+sightless orbs of those whose eyes have once been blessed with the power
+of vision?
+
+Why is it that the delirious dreams of the famine-stricken, are of
+tables loaded with the richest viands, or groves, whose pendent boughs
+droop with their delicious burdens of luscious fruit?
+
+Why is it that haunting tones of sweetest melody come to us in the deep
+stillness of midnight, when the thousand tongues of man and nature are
+for a season mute?
+
+Why is it that the desert-traveller looks forward upon the burning
+boundless waste, and sees pictured before his aching eyes, some verdant
+oasis, with its murmuring streams, its gushing founts, and shadowy
+groves--but as he presses on with faltering step, the bright _mirage_
+recedes, until he lies down to die of weariness upon the scorching
+sands, with that isle of loveliness before him?
+
+Oh tell me why is this, and I will tell why the factory girl sits in the
+hour of meditation, and thinks--not of the crowded clattering mill, nor
+of the noisy tenement which is her home, nor of the thronged and busy
+street which she may sometimes tread,--but of the still and lovely
+scenes which, in bygone hours, have sent their pure and elevating
+influence with a thrilling sweep across the strings of the spirit-harp,
+and then awaken its sweetest, loftiest notes; and ever as she sits in
+silence and seclusion, endeavoring to draw from that many-toned
+instrument a strain which may be meet for another's ear, that music
+comes to the eager listener like the sound with which the sea-shell
+echoes the roar of what was once its watery home. All her best and
+holiest thoughts are linked with those bright pictures which call them
+forth, and when she would embody them for the instruction of others, she
+does it by a delineation of those scenes which have quickened and
+purified her own mind.
+
+It was this love of nature's beauties, and a yearning for the pure
+hallowed feelings which those beauties had been wont to call up from
+their hidden springs in the depths of the soul, to bear away upon their
+swelling tide the corruption which had gathered, and I feared might
+settle there,--it was this love, and longing, and fear, which made my
+heart throb quickly, as I sent forth a momentary glance from the factory
+window.
+
+I think I said there was a cloudless sky; but it was not so. It was
+clear, and soft, and its beauteous hue was of "the hyacinth's deep
+blue"--but there was one bright solitary cloud, far up in the cerulean
+vault; and I wished that it might for once be in my power to lie down
+upon that white, fleecy couch, and there, away and alone, to dream of
+all things holy, calm, and beautiful. Methought that better feelings,
+and clearer thoughts than are often wont to visit me, would there take
+undisturbed possession of my soul.
+
+And might I not be there, and send my unobstructed glance into the
+depths of ether above me, and forget for a little while that I had ever
+been a foolish, wayward, guilty child of earth? Could I not then cast
+aside the burden of error and sin which must ever depress me here, and
+with the maturity of womanhood, feel also the innocence of infancy? And
+with that sense of purity and perfection, there would necessarily be
+mingled a feeling of sweet uncloying bliss--such as imagination may
+conceive, but which seldom pervades and sanctifies the earthly heart.
+Might I not look down from my aerial position, and view this little
+world, and its hills, valleys, plains, and streamlets, and its thousands
+of busy inhabitants, and see how puerile and unsatisfactory it would
+look to one so totally disconnected from it? Yes, there, upon that soft
+snowy cloud could I sit, and gaze upon my native earth, and feel how
+empty and "vain are all things here below."
+
+But not motionless would I stay upon that aerial couch. I would call
+upon the breezes to waft me away over the broad blue ocean, and with
+nought but the clear bright ether above me, have nought but a boundless,
+sparkling, watery expanse below me. Then I would look down upon the
+vessels pursuing their different courses across the bright waters; and
+as I watched their toilsome progress, I should feel how blessed a thing
+it is to be where no impediment of wind or wave might obstruct my onward
+way.
+
+But when the beams of a midday sun had ceased to flash from the foaming
+sea, I should wish my cloud to bear away to the western sky, and
+divesting itself of its snowy whiteness, stand there, arrayed in the
+brilliant hues of the setting sun. Yes, well should I love to be
+stationed there, and see it catch those parting rays, and, transforming
+them to dyes of purple and crimson, shine forth in its evening vestment,
+with a border of brightest gold. Then could I watch the king of day as
+he sinks into his watery bed, leaving behind a line of crimson light to
+mark the path which led him to his place of rest.
+
+Yet once, O only once, should I love to have that cloud pass on--on--on
+among the myriads of stars; and leaving them all behind, go far away
+into the empty void of space beyond. I should love, for once, to be
+_alone_. Alone! where _could_ I be alone? But I would fain be where
+there is no other, save the INVISIBLE, and there, where not even one
+distant star should send its feeble rays to tell of a universe beyond,
+there would I rest upon that soft light cloud, and with a fathomless
+depth below me, and a measureless waste above and around me, there would
+I----
+
+"Your looms are going without filling," said a loud voice at my elbow;
+so I ran as fast as possible and changed my shuttles.
+
+                                                            ELLA.
+
+
+
+
+OUR DUTY TO STRANGERS.
+
+  "Deal gently with the stranger's heart."--MRS. HEMANS.
+
+
+The factory girl has trials, as every one of the class can testify. It
+was hard for thee to leave
+
+  "Thy hearth, thy home, thy vintage land.
+  The voices of thy hindred band,"--
+
+was it not, my sister? Yes, there was a burden at your heart as you
+turned away from father, mother, sister, and brother, to meet the cold
+glance of strange stage-companions. There was the mournfulness of the
+funeral dirge and knell, in the crack of the driver's whip, and in the
+rattling of the coach-wheels. And when the last familiar object receded
+from your fixed gaze, there was a sense of utter desolation at your
+heart. There was a half-formed wish that you could lie down on your own
+bed, and die, rather than encounter the new trials before you.
+
+Home may be a capacious farm-house, or a lowly cottage, it matters not.
+It is _home_. It is the spot around which the dearest affections and
+hopes of the heart cluster and rest. When we turn away, a thousand
+tendrils are broken, and they bleed.--Lovelier scenes _might_ open
+before us, but that only "the loved are lovely." Yet until new
+interests are awakened, and new loves adopted, there is a constant
+heaviness of heart, more oppressive than can be imagined by those who
+have never felt it.
+
+The "kindred band" may be made up of the intelligent and elegant, or of
+the illiterate and vulgar; it matters not. Our hearts yearn for their
+companionship. We would rejoice with them in health, or watch over them
+in sickness.
+
+In all seasons of trial, whether from sickness, fatigue, unkindness, or
+_ennui_, there is one bright _oasis_. It is
+
+  ----"the hope of return to the mother, whose smile
+  Could dissipate sadness and sorrow beguile;
+  To the father, whose glance we've exultingly met--
+  And no meed half so proud hath awaited us yet;
+  To the sister whose tenderness, breathing a charm,
+  No distance could lessen, no danger disarm;
+  To the friends, whose remembrances time cannot chill,
+  And whose home in the heart not the stranger can fill."
+
+This hope is invaluable; for it,
+
+      "like the ivy round the oak,
+  Clings closer in the storm."
+
+Alas! that there are those to whom this hope comes not! those whose
+affections go out, like Noah's dove, in search of a resting place; and
+return without the olive-leaf.
+
+"Death is in the world," and it has made hundreds of our factory girls
+orphans. Misfortunes are abroad, and they have left as many destitute of
+homes. This is a melancholy fact, and one that calls loudly for the
+sympathy and kind offices of the more fortunate of the class. It is not
+a light thing to be alone in the world. It is not a light thing to meet
+only neglect and selfishness, when one longs for disinterestedness and
+love. Oh, then, let us
+
+  "Deal gently with the stranger's heart,"
+
+especially if the stranger be a destitute orphan. Her garb may be
+homely, and her manners awkward; but we will take her to our heart, and
+call her sister. Some glaring faults may be hers; but we will remember
+"who it is that maketh us to differ," and if possible, by our kindness
+and forbearance, win her to virtue and peace.
+
+There are many reasons why we should do this. It is a part of "pure and
+undefiled religion" to "visit the fatherless in their afflictions." And
+"mercy is twice blest; blest in him that gives, and him that takes." In
+the beautiful language of the simple Scotch girl, "When the hour o'
+trouble comes, that comes to mind and body, and when the hour o' death
+comes, that comes to high and low, oh, my leddy, then it is na' what we
+ha' done for ourselves, but what we ha' done for others, that we think
+on maist pleasantly."
+
+                                                               E.
+
+
+
+
+ELDER ISAAC TOWNSEND.
+
+
+Elder Townsend was a truly meek and pious man. He was not what is called
+_learned_, being bred a farmer, and never having had an opportunity of
+attending school but very little--for school privileges were very
+limited when Elder Townsend was young. His chief knowledge was what he
+had acquired by studying the Bible (which had been his constant
+companion from early childhood,) and a study of human nature, as he had
+seen it exemplified in the lives of those with whom he held intercourse.
+
+Although a Gospel preacher for more than forty years, he never received
+a salary. He owned a farm of some forty acres, which he cultivated
+himself; and when, by reason of ill health, or from having to attend to
+pastoral duties, his farming-work was not so forward as that of his
+neighbors, he would ask his parishioners to assist him for a day, or a
+half-day, according to his necessities. As this was the only pay he ever
+asked for his continuous labors with them, he never received a denial,
+and a pittance so trifling could not be given grudgingly. The days which
+were spent on Elder Townsend's farm were not considered by his
+parishioners as days of toil, but as holydays, from whose recreations
+they were sure to return home richly laden with the blessings of their
+good pastor.
+
+The sermons of Elder T. were always _extempore_; and if they were not
+always delivered with the elocution of an orator, they were truly
+excellent, inasmuch as they consisted principally of passages of
+Scripture, judiciously selected, and well connected.
+
+The Elder's intimate knowledge of his flock, and their habits and
+propensities, their joys and their sorrows, together with his thorough
+acquaintance with the Scriptures, enabled him to be ever in readiness to
+give reproof or consolation (as need might be,) in the language of Holy
+Writ. His reproofs were received with meekness, and the recipients would
+resolve to profit thereby; and when he offered the cup of consolation,
+it was received with gratitude by those who stood in need of its healing
+influences. But when he dwelt on the loving-kindness of our God, all
+hearts would rejoice and be glad. Often, while listening to his
+preaching, have I sat with eyes intently gazing on the speaker, until I
+fancied myself transported back to the days of the "beloved disciple,"
+and on the Isle of Patmos was hearing him say, "My little children, love
+one another."
+
+When I last saw Elder Townsend, his head was white with the frosts of
+more than seventy winters. It is many years since. I presume, ere this,
+he sleeps beneath the turf on the hill-side, and is remembered among the
+worthies of the olden time.
+
+                                                            B. N.
+
+
+
+
+HARRIET GREENOUGH.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "The day is come I never thought to see,
+  Strange revolutions in my farm and me."
+
+                                   DRYDEN'S VIRGIL.
+
+Harriet Greenough had always been thought a spoiled child, when she left
+home for Newburyport. Her father was of the almost obsolete class of
+farmers, whose gods are their farms, and whose creed--"Farmers are the
+most independent folks in the world." This latter was none the less
+absolute in its power over Mr. Greenough, from its being entirely
+traditionary. He often repeated a vow made in early life, that he would
+never wear other than "homespun" cloth. When asked his reasons, he
+invariably answered, "Because I won't depend on others for what I can
+furnish myself. Farmers are the most independent class of men; and I
+mean to be the most independent of farmers."--If for a moment he felt
+humbled by the presence of a genteel well-educated man, it was only for
+a moment. He had only to recollect that farmers are the most independent
+class of people, and his head resumed its wonted elevation, his manner
+and tone their usual swaggering impudence.
+
+While at school he studied nothing but reading, spelling, arithmetic,
+and writing. Latterly, his reading had been restricted to a chapter in
+the Bible per day, and an occasional examination of the almanac. He did
+not read his Bible from devotional feeling--for he had none; but that he
+might puzzle the "book men" of the village with questions like the
+following:--"Now I should like to have you tell me one thing: How
+_could_ Moses write an account of his own death and burial? Can you just
+tell me where Cain and Abel found their wives? What verse is there in
+the Bible that has but two words in it? Who was the father of Zebedee's
+children? How many chapters has the New Testament?--How many verses, and
+how many words?" Inability or disinclination to answer any and all of
+these, made the subject of a day's laughter and triumph.
+
+Nothing was so appalling to him as innovations on old customs and
+opinions. "These notions, that the earth turns round, and the sun stands
+still; that shooting stars are nothing but little meteors, I think they
+call them, are turning the heads of our young folks," he was accustomed
+to say to Mr. Curtis, the principal of the village academy, every time
+they met. "And then these new-fangled books, filled with jaw-cracking
+words and falsehoods, chemistry, philosophy, and so on--why, I wonder if
+they ever made any man a better farmer, or helped a woman to make better
+butter and cheese? Now, Mr. Curtis, it is _my_ opinion that young folks
+had better read their Bibles more. Now I'll warrant that not one in ten
+can tell how many chapters there are in it. My father knew from the time
+he was eight till he was eighty. Can _you_ tell, Mr. Curtis?"
+
+Mr. Curtis smiled a negative; and Mr. Greenough went laughing about all
+day. Indeed, for a week, the first thing that came after his blunt
+salutation, was a loud laugh; and in answer to consequent inquiries
+came the recital of his victory over "the great Mr. Curtis." He would
+not listen a moment to arguments in favor of sending Harriet to the
+academy, or of employing any other teachers in his district than old
+Master Smith, and Miss Heath, a superanuated spinster.
+
+Mrs. Greenough was a mild creature, passionless and gentle in her nature
+as a lamb. She acquiesced in all of her husband's measures, whether from
+having no opinions of her own, or from a deep and quiet sense of duty
+and propriety, no one knew. Harriet was their pet. As rosy, laughing,
+and healthy as a Hebe, she flew from sport to sport all the day long.
+Her mother attempted, at first, to check her romping propensity; but it
+delighted her father, and he took every opportunity to strengthen and
+confirm it. He was never so happy as when watching her swift and eager
+pursuit of a butterfly; never so lavish of his praises and caresses as
+when she succeeded in capturing one, and all breathless with the chase,
+bore her prize to him.
+
+"Do stay in the house with poor ma, to-day, darling; she is very
+lonely," her mother would say to her, as she put back the curls from the
+beautiful face of her child, and kissed her cheek. One day a tear was in
+her eye and a sadness at her heart; for she had been thinking of the
+early childhood of her Harriet, when she turned from father, little
+brother, playthings and all, for her. Harriet seemed to understand her
+feelings; for instead of answering her with a spring and laugh as usual,
+she sat quietly down at her feet, and laid her head on her lap. Mr.
+Greenough came in at this moment.
+
+"How? What does this mean, wife and Hatty?" said he.--"Playing the baby,
+Hat? Wife, this won't do. Harriet has your beauty; and to this I have no
+objections, if she has my spirits and independence. Come, Hatty; we want
+you to help us make hay to-day; and there are lots of butterflies and
+grasshoppers for you to catch. Come," he added; for the child still kept
+her eyes on her mother's face, as if undecided whether to go or stay.
+"Come, get your bonnet--no; you may go without it. You look too much
+like a village girl. You must get more tan."
+
+"Shall I go, ma?" Harriet asked, still clinging to her mother's dress.
+
+"Certainly, if pa wishes it," answered Mrs. Greenough with a strong
+effort to speak cheerfully.
+
+She went, and from that hour Mrs. Greenough passively allowed her to
+follow her father and his laborers as she pleased; to rake hay, ride in
+the cart, husk corn, hunt hen's eggs, jump on the hay, play ball,
+prisoner, pitch quoits, throw dice, cut and saw wood, and, indeed, to
+run into every amusement which her active temperament demanded. She went
+to school when she pleased; but her father was constant in his hints
+that her spirits and independence were not to be destroyed by poring
+over books. She was generally left to do as she pleased, although she
+was often pleased to perpetrate deeds, for which her school-mates often
+asserted they would have been severely chastised. There was an
+expression of fun and good humor lurking about in the dimples of her fat
+cheeks and in her deep blue eye, that effectually shielded her from
+reproof. Master Smith had just been accused of partiality to her, and he
+walked into the school considerably taller than usual, all from his
+determination to punish Harriet before night. He was not long in
+detecting her in a rogueish act. He turned from her under the pretence
+of looking some urchins into silence, and said, with uncommon sternness
+and precision, "Harriet Greenough, walk out into the floor." Harriet
+jumped up, shook the hands of those who sat near her, nodded a farewell
+to others, and walked gaily up to the master. He dreaded meeting her
+eye; for he knew that his gravity would desert him in such a case. She
+took a position behind him, and in a moment the whole house was in an
+uproar of laughter. Master Smith turned swiftly about on his heel, and
+confronted the culprit. She only smiled and made him a most graceful
+courtesy. This was too much for his risibles. He laughed almost as
+heartily as his pupils.
+
+"Take your seat, you, he! he! you trollop, you, he! he! and I will
+settle with you by and bye," he said.
+
+She only thanked him, and then returned to her sport.
+
+So she passed on. When sixteen, she was a very child in everything but
+years and form. Her forehead was high and full, but a want of taste and
+care in the arrangement of her beautiful hair destroyed its effect. Her
+complexion was clear, but sunburnt. Her laugh was musical, but one
+missed that _tone_ which distinguishes the laugh of a happy feeling girl
+of sixteen from that of a child of mere frolic. As to her form, no one
+knew what it was; for she was always putting herself into some strange
+but not really uncouth attitude; and besides, she could never _stop_ to
+adjust her dress properly.
+
+Such was Harriet Greenough, when a cousin of hers paid them a visit on
+her return to the Newburyport mills. She was of Harriet's age; but one
+would have thought her ten years her senior, judging from her superior
+dignity and intelligence. Her father died when she was a mere child,
+after a protracted illness, which left them penniless. By means of
+untiring industry, and occasional gifts from her kind neighbors, Mrs.
+Wood succeeded in keeping her children at school, until her daughter was
+sixteen and her son fourteen. They then went together to Newburyport,
+under the care of a very amiable girl who had spent several years there.
+They worked a year, devoting a few hours every day to study; then
+returned home, and spent a year at school in their native village.
+
+They were now on their return to the mills. It was arranged that at the
+completion of the present year Charles should return to school, and
+remain there until fitted for the study of a profession, if Jane's
+health was spared that she might labor for his support.
+
+Jane was a gentle affectionate girl; and there was a new feeling at the
+heart of Harriet from the day in which she came under her influence.
+Before the week had half expired which Jane was to spend with them,
+Harriet, with characteristic decision, avowed her determination to
+accompany her. Her father and mother had opposed her will in but few
+instances. In these few she had laughed them into an easy compliance. In
+the present case she found her task a more difficult one. But they
+consented at last; and with her mother's tearful blessing, and an
+injunction from her father not to bear any insolence from her employers,
+but to remember always that she was the independent daughter of an
+independent farmer, she left her home.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A year passed by, and our Harriet was a totally changed being, in
+intellect and deportment. Her cousins boarded in a small family, that
+they might have a better opportunity of pursuing their studies during
+their leisure hours. She was their constant companion. At first she did
+not open a book; and numberless were the roguish artifices she employed
+to divert the attention of her cousins from theirs. They often laid them
+aside for a lively chat with her; and then urged her to study with
+them. She loved them ardently. To her affection she at last yielded, and
+not to any anticipations of pleasure or profit in the results, for she
+had been _educated_ to believe that there was none of either.
+
+Charles had been studying Latin and mathematics; Jane, botany, geology,
+and geography of the heavens. She instructed Charles in these latter
+sciences; he initiated her as well as he might, into the mysteries of
+_hic, haec, hoc_, and algebra. At times of recitation, Harriet sat and
+laughed at their "queer words." When she accompanied them in their
+search for flowers, she amused herself by bringing mullen, yarrow, and,
+in one instance, a huge sunflower.--When they had traced constellations,
+she repeated to them a satire on star-gazers, which she learned of her
+father.
+
+The _histories_ of the constellations and flowers first arrested her
+attention, and kindled a romance which had hitherto lain dormant. A new
+light was in her eye from that hour, and a new charm in her whole
+deportment. She commenced study under very discouraging circumstances.
+Of this she was deeply sensible. She often shed a few tears as she
+thought of her utter ignorance, then dashed them off, and studied with
+renewed diligence and success. She studied two hours every morning
+before commencing labor and until half past eleven at night. She took
+her book and her dinner to the mill, that she might have the whole
+intermission for study. This short season, with the reflection she gave
+during the afternoon, was sufficient for the mastery of a hard lesson.
+She was close in her attendance at the sanctuary. She joined a Bible
+class; and the teachings there fell with a sanctifying influence on her
+spirit, subduing but not destroying its vivacity, and opening a new
+current to her thoughts and affections. Although tears of regret for
+misspent years often stole down her cheeks, she assured Jane that she
+was happier at the moment than in her hours of loudest mirth.
+
+Her letters to her friends had prepared them for a change, but not for
+_such_ a change--so great and so happy. She was now a very beautiful
+girl, easy and graceful in her manners, soft and gentle in her
+conversation, and evidently conscious of her superiority, only to feel
+more humble, more grateful to Heaven, her dear cousins, her minister,
+her Sabbath school teacher, and other beloved friends, who by their
+kindness had opened such new and delightful springs of feeling in her
+heart.
+
+She flung her arms around her mother's neck, and wept tears of gratitude
+and love. Mrs. Greenough felt that she was no longer alone in the world;
+and Mr. Greenough, as he watched them--the wife and the
+daughter--inwardly acknowledged that there was that in the world dearer
+to his heart than his farm and his independence.
+
+Amongst Harriet's baggage was a rough deal box. This was first opened.
+It contained her books, a few minerals and shells. There were fifty
+well-selected volumes, besides a package of gifts for her father,
+mother, and brother.--There was no book-case in the house; and the
+kitchen shelf was full of old almanacs, school books, sermons, and jest
+books. Mr. Greenough rode to the village, and returned with a rich
+secretary, capacious enough for books, minerals, and shells. He brought
+the intelligence, too, that a large party of students and others were to
+spend the evening with them. Harriet's heart beat quick, as she thought
+of young Curtis, and wondered if he was among the said students.--Before
+she left Bradford, struck with the beauty and simplicity of her
+appearance, he sought and obtained an introduction to her, but left her
+side, after sundry ineffectual attempts to draw her into conversation,
+disappointed and disgusted. He _was_ among Harriet's visitors.
+
+"Pray, Miss Curtis, what may be your opinion of our belle, Miss
+Greenough?" asked young Lane, on the following morning, as Mr. Curtis
+and his sister entered the hall of the academy.
+
+"Why, I think that her improvement has been astonishingly rapid during
+the past year; and that she is now a really charming girl."
+
+"Has she interfered with your heart, Lane?" asked his chum.
+
+"As to that, I do not feel entirely decided. I think I shall renew my
+call, however--nay, do not frown, Curtis; I was about to add, if it be
+only to taste her father's delicious melons, pears, plums, and apples."
+
+Curtis blushed slightly, bowed, and passed on to the school room. He
+soon proved that he cared much less for Mr. Greenough's fruit than for
+his daughter: for the fruit remained untasted if Harriet was at his
+side. He was never so happy as when Mr. Greenough announced his purpose
+of sending Harriet to the academy two or three years. Arrangements were
+made accordingly, and the week before Charles left home for college,
+she was duly installed in his father's family.
+
+She missed him much; but the loss of his society was partially
+counterbalanced by frequent and brotherly letters from him, and by
+weekly visits to her home, which by the way, is becoming quite a
+paradise under her supervision.--She has been studying painting and
+drawing. Several well-executed specimens of each adorn the walls and
+tables of their sitting-room and parlor. She has no "regular built"
+centre-table, but in lieu thereof she has removed from the garret an old
+round table that belonged to her grandmother. This she has placed in the
+centre of the sitting-room; and what with its very pretty covering
+(which falls so near the floor as to conceal its uncouth legs), and its
+books, it forms no mean item of elegance and convenience.
+
+Mr. Greenough and his help have improved a few leisure days in removing
+the trees that entirely concealed the Merrimac. By the profits resulting
+from their sale, he has built a neat and tasteful enclosure for his
+house and garden. This autumn shade-trees and shrubbery are to be
+removed to the yard, and fruit-trees and vines to the garden. Next
+winter a summer-house is to be put in readiness for erection in the
+spring.
+
+All this, and much more, Mr. Greenough is confident he can accomplish,
+without neglecting his _necessary_ labors, or the course of reading he
+has marked out, "by and with the advice" of his wife and Harriet. And
+more, and better still, he has decided that his son George shall attend
+school, at least two terms yearly. He will board at home, and will be
+accompanied by his cousin Charles, whom Mr. Greenough has offered to
+board gratis, until his education is completed. By this generosity on
+the part of her uncle, Jane will be enabled to defray other expenses
+incidental to Charles's education, and still have leisure for literary
+pursuits.
+
+Most truly might Mr. Greenough say,--
+
+  "The day is come I never thought to see,
+  Strange revolutions in my farm and me."
+
+                                                               A.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+FANCY.
+
+
+  O Swiftly flies the shuttle now,
+  Swift as an arrow from the bow:
+  But swifter than the thread is wrought,
+  Is soon the flight of busy thought;
+  For Fancy leaves the mill behind,
+  And seeks some novel scenes to find.
+  And now away she quickly hies--
+  O'er hill and dale the truant flies.
+  Stop, silly maid! where dost thou go?
+  Thy road may be a road of woe:
+  Some hand may crush thy fairy form,
+  And chill thy heart so lately warm.
+  "Oh no," she cries in merry tone,
+  "I go to lands before unknown;
+  I go in scenes of bliss to dwell,
+  Where ne'er is heard a factory bell."
+
+  Away she went; and soon I saw,
+  That Fancy's wish was Fancy's law;
+  For where the leafless trees were seen,
+  And Fancy wished them to be green,
+  Her wish she scarcely had made known,
+  Before green leaves were on them grown.
+  She spake--and there appear'd in view,
+  Bright manly youths, and maidens, too.
+  And Fancy called for music rare--
+  And music filled the ravished air.
+
+  And then the dances soon began,
+  And through the mazes lightly ran
+  The footsteps of the fair and gay--
+  For this was Fancy's festal day.
+  On, on they move, a lovely group!
+  Their faces beam with joy and hope;
+  Nor dream they of a danger nigh,
+  Beneath their bright and sunny sky.
+  One of the fair ones is their queen,
+  For whom they raise a throne of green;
+  And Fancy weaves a garland now,
+  To place upon the maiden's brow;
+  And fragrant are the blooming flowers,
+  In her enchanted fairy-bowers.
+
+  And Fancy now away may slip,
+  And o'er the green-sward lightly skip,
+  And to her airy castle hie--
+  For Fancy hath a castle nigh.
+  The festal board she quick prepares,
+  And every guest the bounty shares,--
+  And seated at the festal board,
+  Their merry voices now are heard,
+  As each youth places to his lips,
+  And from the golden goblet sips
+  A draught of the enchanting wine
+  That came from Fancy's fruitful vine.
+
+  But hark! what sound salutes mine ear?
+  A distant rumbling now I hear.
+  Ah, Fancy! 'tis no groundless fear,
+  The rushing whirlwind draweth near!
+  Thy castle walls are rocking fast,--
+  The glory of thy feast is past;
+  Thy guests are now beneath the wave,--
+  Oblivion is their early grave,
+  Thy fairy bower has vanished--fled:
+  Thy leafy tree are withered--dead!
+  Thy lawn is now a barren heath,
+  Thy bright-eyed maids are cold in death!
+  Those manly youth that were so gay,
+  Have vanished in the self-same way!
+
+  Oh Fancy! now remain at home,
+  And be content no more to roam;
+  For visions such as thine are vain,
+  And bring but discontent and pain.
+  Remember, in thy giddy whirl,
+  That _I_ am but a factory girl:
+  And be content at home to dwell,
+  Though governed by a "factory bell."
+
+                                                         FIDUCIA.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIDOW'S SON.
+
+
+Among the multitudes of females employed in our manufacturing
+establishments, persons are frequently to be met with, whose lives are
+interspersed with incidents of an interesting and even thrilling
+character. But seldom have I met with a person who has manifested so
+deep devotion, such uniform cheerfulness, and withal so determined a
+perseverance in the accomplishment of a cherished object, as Mrs. Jones.
+
+This inestimable lady was reared in the midst of affluence, and was
+early married to the object of her heart's affection. A son was given
+them, a sweet and lovely boy. With much joy they watched the development
+of his young mind, especially as he early manifested a deep devotional
+feeling, which was cultivated with the most assiduous attention.
+
+But happiness like this may not always continue. Reverses came. That
+faithful husband and affectionate father was laid on a bed of
+languishing. Still he trusted in God; and when he felt that the time of
+his departure approached, he raised his eyes, and exclaimed, "Holy
+Father! Thou hast promised to be the widow's God and judge, and a Father
+to the fatherless; into Thy care I commit my beloved wife and child.
+Keep Thou them from evil, as they travel life's uneven journey. May
+their service be acceptable in thy sight." He then quietly fell asleep.
+
+Bitter indeed were the tears shed over his grave by that lone widow and
+her orphan boy; yet they mourned not as those who mourn without hope.
+Instead of devoting her time to unavailing sorrow, Mrs. Jones turned her
+attention to the education of her son, who was then in his tenth year.
+Finding herself in reduced circumstances, she nobly resolved to support
+her family by her own exertions, and keep her son at school. With this
+object, she procured plain needle-work, by which, with much economy, she
+was enabled to live very comfortably, until Samuel had availed himself
+of all the advantages presented him by the common schools and high
+school. He was then ready to enter college--but how were the necessary
+funds to be raised to defray his expenses?
+
+This was not a new question to Mrs. Jones. She had pondered it long and
+deeply, and decided upon her course; yet she had not mentioned it to her
+son, lest it should divert his mind from his studies. But as the time
+now rapidly approached when she was to carry her plan into operation,
+she deemed it proper to acquaint Samuel with the whole scheme.
+
+As they were alone in their neat little parlor, she aroused him from a
+fit of abstraction, by saying, "Samuel, my dear son, before your father
+died we solemnly consecrated you to the service of the Lord; and that
+you might be the better prepared to labor in the gospel vineyard, your
+father designed to give you a liberal education. He was called home; yet
+through the goodness of our Heavenly Father, I have been enabled thus
+far to prosecute his plan. It is now time for you to enter college, and
+in order to raise the necessary funds, I have resolved to sell my little
+stock of property, and engage as an operative in a factory."
+
+At this moment, neighbor Hall, an old-fashioned, good-natured sort of a
+man, entered very unceremoniously, and having heard the last sentence,
+replied: "Ah! widow, you know that I do not like the plan of bringing up
+our boys in idleness. But then Samuel is such a good boy, and so fond of
+reading, that I think it a vast pity if he cannot read all the books in
+the state. Yes, send him to college, widow; there he will have reading
+to his heart's content. You know there is a gratuity provided for the
+education of indigent and pious young men."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Jones, "I know it; but I am resolved that if my son
+ever obtains a place among the servants of the Prince of Peace, he shall
+stand forth unchained by the bondage of men, and nobly exert the
+energies of his mind as the Lord's freeman."
+
+Samuel, who had early been taught the most perfect obedience, now
+yielded reluctant consent to this measure.--Little time was requisite
+for arrangements; and having converted her little effects into cash,
+they who had never before been separated, now took an affectionate and
+sorrowful leave of each other, and departed--the one to the halls of
+learning, and the other to the power-looms.
+
+We shall now leave Samuel Jones, and accompany his mother to Dover. On
+her arrival, she assumed her maiden name, which I shall call Lucy
+Cambridge; and such was her simplicity and quietness of deportment,
+that she was never suspected of being other than she seemed. She readily
+obtained a situation in a weave-room, and by industry and close
+application, she quickly learned the grand secret of a successful
+weaver--namely, "Keep the filling running, and the web clear."
+
+The wages were not then reduced to the present low standard, and Lucy
+transmitted to her son, monthly, all, saving enough to supply her
+absolute necessities.
+
+As change is the order of the day in all manufacturing places, so, in
+the course of change, Lucy became my room-mate; and she whom I had
+before admired, secured my love and ardent friendship. Upon general
+topics she conversed freely; but of her history and kindred, never. Her
+respectful deportment was sufficient to protect her from the inquiries
+of curiosity; and thus she maintained her reserve until one evening when
+I found her sadly perusing a letter. I thought she had been weeping. All
+the sympathies of my nature were aroused, and throwing my arms around
+her neck, I exclaimed, "Dear Lucy, does your letter bring you bad news,
+or are any of your relatives"----I hesitated and stopped; for, thought
+I, "perhaps she _has_ no relatives. I have never heard her speak of any:
+she may be a lone orphan in the world." It was then she yielded to
+sympathy, what curiosity had never ventured to ask. From that time she
+continued to speak to me of her history and hopes. As I have selected
+names to suit myself, she has kindly permitted me to make an extract
+from her answer to that letter, which was as follows:
+
+"My Dear Son,--in your letter of the 16th, you entreat me to leave the
+mill, saying, 'I would rather be a scavenger, a wood-sawyer, or
+anything, whereby I might honestly procure a subsistence for my mother
+and myself, than have you thus toil, early and late. Mother, the very
+thought is intolerable! O come away--for dearly as I love knowledge, I
+cannot consent to receive it at the price of my mother's happiness.'
+
+"My son, it is true that factory life is a life of toil--but I am
+preparing the way for my only son to go forth as a herald of the cross,
+to preach repentance and salvation to those who are out of the way. I am
+promoting an object which was very near the heart of my dear husband.
+Wherefore I desire that you will not again think of pursuing any other
+course than the one already marked out for you; for you perceive that my
+agency in promoting your success, forms an important part of _my_
+happiness."
+
+Often have I seen her eyes sparkle with delight as she mentioned her son
+and his success. And after the labor and toil of attending "double work"
+during the week, very often have I seen her start with all the
+elasticity of youth, and go to the Post Office after a letter from
+Samuel. And seldom did she return without one, for he was ever
+thoughtful of his mother, who was spending her strength for him. And he
+knew very well that it was essential to her happiness to be well
+informed of his progress and welfare.
+
+Nearly three years had elapsed since Lucy Cambridge first entered the
+mill, when the stage stopped in front of her boarding house, and a young
+gentleman sprang out, and inquired if Miss Lucy Cambridge was in.
+Immediately they were clasped in each other's arms. This token of mutual
+affection created no small stir among the boarders. One declared, "she
+thought it very singular that such a pretty young man should fancy so
+old a girl as Lucy Cambridge." Another said, "she should as soon think
+that he would marry his mother."
+
+Samuel Jones was tall, but of slender form. His hair, which was of the
+darkest brown, covered an unusually fine head. His eyes, of a clear dark
+grey, beaming with piety and intelligence, shed a lustre over his whole
+countenance, which was greatly heightened by being overshadowed by a
+deep, broad forehead.
+
+He visited his mother at this time, to endeavor to persuade her to leave
+the mill, and spend her time in some less laborious occupation. He
+assured her that he had saved enough from the stock she had already sent
+him, to complete his education. But she had resolved to continue in her
+present occupation, until her son should have a prospect of a permanent
+residence; and he departed alone.
+
+Intelligence was soon conveyed to Lucy that a young student had preached
+occasionally, and that his labors had been abundantly blessed. And ere
+the completion of another year, Samuel Jones went forth a licentiate, to
+preach the everlasting gospel.
+
+I will not attempt to describe the transports of that widowed heart,
+when she received the joyful tidings that her son had received a
+unanimous call to take the pastoral charge of a small but well-united
+society in the western part of Ohio, and only waited for her to
+accompany him thither.
+
+Speedily she prepared to leave a place which she really loved; "for,"
+said she, "have I not been blessed with health and strength to perform a
+great and noble work in this place?"
+
+Ay, undoubtedly thou hast performed a blessed work; and now, go forth,
+and in the heartfelt satisfaction that thou hast performed thy duty,
+reap the rich reward of all thy labors.
+
+Samuel Jones and his mother have departed for the scene of their future
+labors, with their hearts filled with gratitude to God, and an humble
+desire to be of service in winning many souls to the flock of our Savior
+and Lord.
+
+                                                         ORIANNA.
+
+
+
+
+WITCHCRAFT.
+
+
+It may not, perhaps, be generally known that a belief in witchcraft
+still prevails, to a great extent, in some parts of New England. Whether
+this is owing to the effect of early impressions on the mind, or to some
+defect in the physical organization of the human system, is not for me
+to say; my present purpose being only to relate, in as concise a manner
+as may be, some few things which have transpired within a quarter of a
+century; all of which happened in the immediate neighborhood of my early
+home, and among people with whom I was well acquainted.
+
+My only apology for so doing is, that I feel desirous to transmit to
+posterity, something which may give them an idea of the superstition of
+the present age--hoping that when they look back upon its dark page,
+they will feel a spirit of thankfulness that they live in more
+enlightened times, and continue the work of mental illumination, till
+the mists of error entirely vanish before the light of all-conquering
+truth.
+
+In a little glen between the mountains, in the township of B., stands a
+cottage, which, almost from time immemorial, has been noted as the
+residence of some one of those ill-fated beings, who are said to take
+delight in sending their spirits abroad to torment the children of men.
+These beings, it is said, purchase their art of his satanic majesty--the
+price, their immortal souls, and when Satan calls for his due, the
+mantle of the witch is transferred to another mortal, who, for the sake
+of exercising the art for a brief space of time, makes over the soul to
+perdition.
+
+The mother of the present occupant of this cottage lived to a very
+advanced age; and for a long series of years, all the mishaps within
+many miles were laid to her spiritual agency; and many were the
+expedients resorted to to rid the neighborhood of so great a pest. But
+the old woman, spite of all exertions to the contrary, lived on, till
+she died of sheer old age.
+
+It was some little time before it was ascertained who inherited her
+mantle; but at length it was believed to be a fact that her daughter
+Molly was duly authorized to exercise all the prerogatives of a witch;
+and so firmly was this belief established, that it even gained credence
+with her youngest brother; and after she was married, and had removed to
+a distant part of the country, a calf of his, that had some strange
+actions, was pronounced by the _knowing ones_, to be bewitched; and this
+inhuman monster chained his calf in the fire place of his cooper-shop,
+and burned it to death--hoping thereby to kill his sister, whose spirit
+was supposed to be in the body of the calf.
+
+For several years it went current that Molly fell into the fire, and was
+burned to death, at the same time in which the calf was burned. But she
+at length refuted this, by making her brother a visit, and spending some
+little time in the neighborhood.
+
+Some nineteen or twenty years since, two men, with whom I was well
+acquainted, had an action pending in the Superior Court, and it was
+supposed that the testimony of the widow Goodwin in favor of the
+plaintiff, would bear hard upon the defendant. A short time previous to
+the sitting of the court, a man by the name of James Doe, offered
+himself as an evidence for the defendant to destroy the testimony of the
+widow Goodwin, by defaming her character. Doe said that he was willing
+to testify that the widow Goodwin was a witch--he knew it to be a fact;
+for, once on a time she came to his bed-side, and flung a bridle over
+his head, and he was instantly metamorphosed into a horse. The widow
+then mounted and rode him nearly forty miles; she stopped at a tavern,
+which he named, dismounted, tied him to the sign-post and left him.
+After an absence of several hours, she returned, mounted, and rode him
+home; and at the bed-side took off the bridle, when he resumed his
+natural form.
+
+No one acquainted with Doe thought that he meant to deviate from the
+truth. Those naturally superstitious thought that the widow Goodwin was
+in reality a witch; but the more enlightened believed that their
+neighbor Doe was under the influence of spirituous liquor when he went
+to bed; and that whatever might be the scene presented to his
+imagination, it was owing to false vision, occasioned by derangement in
+his upper story; and they really felt a sympathy for him, knowing that
+he belonged to a family who were subject to mental aberration.
+
+A scene which I witnessed in part, in the autumn of 1822, shall close my
+chapter on witchcraft. It was between the hours of nine and ten in the
+morning, that a stout-built, ruddy-faced man confined one of his cows,
+by means of bows and iron chains, to an apple-tree and then beat her
+till she dropped dead--saying that the cow was bewitched, and that he
+was determined to kill the witch. His mother, and some of the neighbors
+witnessed this cruel act without opposing him, so infatuated were they
+with a belief in witchcraft.
+
+I might enlarge upon this scene, but the recollection of what then took
+place recalls so many disagreeable sensations, that I forbear. Let it
+suffice to state that the cow was suffering in consequence of having
+eaten a large quantity of potatoes from a heap that was exposed in the
+field where she was grazing.
+
+                                                         TABITHA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CLEANING UP.
+
+
+There is something to me very interesting in observing the
+manifestations of animal instinct--that unerring prompter which guides
+its willing disciple into the ever straight path, and shows him, with
+unfailing sagacity, the easiest and most correct method of accomplishing
+each necessary design.
+
+But to enter here, upon a philosophical dissertation, respecting the
+nature and developments of instinct, is not my design, and I will now
+detain you with but one or two instances of it, which have fallen under
+my own observation.
+
+One warm day in the early spring, I observed a spider, very busily
+engaged upon a dirty old web, which had for a long time, curtained a
+pane of my factory window. Where Madame Arachne had kept herself during
+the winter, was not in my power to ascertain; but she was in a very good
+condition, plump, spry, and full of energy. The activity of her
+movements awakened my curiosity, and I watched with much interest the
+commotion in the old dwelling, or rather slaughter house, for I doubted
+not that many a green head and blue bottle had there met an untimely
+end.
+
+I soon found that madam was very laboriously engaged in that very
+necessary part of household exercises, called, CLEANING UP; and she had
+chosen precisely the season for her labors which all good housewives
+have by common consent appropriated to paint-cleaning, white-washing,
+&c. With much labor, and a prodigal expenditure of steps, she removed,
+one by one, the tiny bits of dirt, sand &c., &c., which had accumulated
+in this net during the winter; but it was not done, as I at first
+thought, by pushing and poking, and thrusting the intruders out, but by
+gradually destroying their _location_, as a western emigrant would
+say.--Whether this was done, as I at one time imagined, by devouring the
+fibre as she passed over it, or by winding it around some under part of
+her body, or whether she left it at the centre of the web, to which
+point she invariably returned after every peregrination to the
+outskirts, I could not satisfy myself. It was to me a cause of great
+marvel, and awakened my perceptive as well as reflective faculties from
+a long winter nap.
+
+To the first theory there was no objection, excepting that I had never
+heard of its being done; but then it might be so, and in this case I had
+discovered what had escaped the observation of all preceding
+naturalists. To the second there was this objection, that when I
+occasionally caught a front view of "my lady," she showed no distaff,
+upon which she might have re-wound her unravelled thread. The third
+suggestion was also objectionable, because, though the centre looked
+somewhat thicker, or I surmised that it did, yet it was not so much so
+as it must have been, had it been the depot of the whole concern.
+
+Of one thing I was at length assured--that there was to be an entire
+demolition of the whole fabric, with the exception of the main beams,
+(or sleepers, I think is the technical term,) which remained as usual,
+when all else had been removed. Then I went away for the night, and when
+I returned the next morning, expecting to behold a blank--a void, an
+evacuation of premises--a removal--a disappearance--a destruction most
+complete, without even a wreck left behind--lo! there was again the
+rebuilt mansion--the restored fabric, the reversed Penelopian labor: and
+madam was rejoicing like the patient man of Uz, when more than he had
+lost was restored to him.
+
+My feelings, (for I have a large bump of sympathy) were of that
+pleasurable kind which Jack must have experienced, when he saw the
+castle, which in a single night had established itself on the top of his
+bean-pole; or which enlivened the bosom of Aladdin, when he saw the
+beautiful palace, which in a night had travelled from the genii's
+dominions to the waste field, which it then beautified; and I felt truly
+rejoiced that my industrious neighbor's works of darkness were not
+always deeds of evil. But alack for the poor _spinster_, when it came
+_my_ turn to be _cleaning up_!
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+VISITS TO THE SHAKERS.
+
+
+A FIRST VISIT.
+
+Sometime in the summer of 18--, I paid a visit to one of the Shaker
+villages in the State of New York. Previously to this, many times and
+oft had I (when tired of the noise and contention of the world, its
+erroneous opinions, and its wrong practices) longed for some retreat,
+where, with a few chosen friends, I could enjoy the present, forget the
+past, and be free from all anxiety respecting any future portion of
+time. And often had I pictured, in imagination, a state of happy
+society, where one common interest prevailed--where kindness and
+brotherly love were manifested in all of the every-day affairs of
+life--where liberty and equality would live, not in name, but in very
+deed--where idleness, in no shape whatever, would be tolerated--and
+where vice of every description would be banished, and neatness, with
+order, would be manifested in all things.
+
+Actually to witness such a state of society was a happiness which I
+never expected. I thought it to be only a thing among the airy castles
+which it has ever been my delight to build. But with this unostentatious
+and truly kind-hearted people, the Shakers, I found it; and the reality,
+in beauty and harmony, exceeded even the picturings of imagination.
+
+No unprejudiced mind could, for a single moment, resist the conviction
+that this singular people, with regard to their worldly possessions,
+lived in strict conformity to the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. There
+were men in this society who had added to the common stock thousands and
+tens of thousands of dollars; they nevertheless labored, dressed, and
+esteemed themselves as no better, and fared in all respects like those
+who had never owned, neither added to the society, any worldly goods
+whatever. The cheerfulness with which they bore one another's burdens
+made even the temporal calamities, so unavoidable among the inhabitants
+of the earth, to be felt but lightly.
+
+This society numbered something like six hundred persons, who in many
+respects were differently educated, and who were of course in
+possession of a variety of prejudices, and were of contrary dispositions
+and habits. Conversing with one of their elders respecting them, he
+said, "You may say that these were rude materials of which to compose a
+church, and speak truly: but here (though strange it may seem) they are
+worked into a building, with no sound of axe or hammer. And however
+discordant they were in a state of nature, the square and the plumb-line
+have been applied to them, and they now admirably fit the places which
+they were designed to fill. Here the idle become industrious, the
+prodigal contracts habits of frugality, the parsimonious become generous
+and liberal, the intemperate quit the tavern and the grog-shop, the
+debauchee forsakes the haunts of dissipation and infamy, the swearer
+leaves off the habits of profanity, the liar is changed into a person of
+truth, the thief becomes an honest man, and the sloven becomes neat and
+clean."
+
+The whole deportment of this truly singular people, together with the
+order and neatness which I witnessed in their houses, shops, and
+gardens, to all of which I had free access for the five days which I
+remained with them, together with the conversations which I held with
+many of the people of both sexes, confirmed the words of the
+Elder.--Truly, thought I, there is not another spot in the wide earth
+where I could be so happy as I could be here, provided the religious
+faith and devotional exercises of the Shakers were agreeable to my own
+views. Although I could not see the utility of their manner of worship,
+I felt not at all disposed to question that it answered the end for
+which spiritual worship was designed, and as such is accepted by our
+heavenly Father. That the Shakers have a love for the Gospel exceeding
+that which is exhibited by professing Christians in general, cannot be
+doubted by any one who is acquainted with them. For on no other
+principle could large families, to the number of fifty or sixty, live
+together like brethren and sisters. And a number of these families could
+not, on any other principles save those of the Gospel, form a society,
+and live in peace and harmony, bound together by no other bond than that
+of brotherly love, and take of each other's property, from day to day
+and from year to year, using it indiscriminately, as every one hath
+need, each willing that his brother should use his property, as he uses
+it himself, and all this without an equivalent.
+
+Many think that a united interest in all things temporal is contrary to
+reason. But in what other light, save that of common and united
+interest, could the words of Christ's prophecy or promise be fulfilled?
+According to the testimony of Mark, Christ said, "There is no man who
+hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife,
+or children, or lands, for my sake and the Gospel's, but he shall
+receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and
+sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions, and in
+the world to come eternal life." Not only in fact, but in theory, is an
+hundredfold of private interest out of the question. For a believer who
+forsook all things could not possess an hundredfold of all things only
+on the principle in which he could possess _all that_ which his brethren
+possessed, while they also possessed the same in an united capacity.
+
+In whatever light it may appear to others, to me it appears beautiful
+indeed, to see a just and an impartial equality reign, so that the rich
+and the poor may share an equal privilege, and have all their wants
+supplied. That the Shakers are in reality what they profess to be, I
+doubt not. Neither do I doubt that many, very many lessons of wisdom
+might be learned of them, by those who profess to be wiser. And to all
+who wish to know if "any good thing can come out of Nazareth," I would
+say, you had better "go and see."
+
+
+A SECOND VISIT.
+
+I was so well pleased with the appearance of the Shakers, and the
+prospect of quietness and happiness among them, that I visited them a
+second time. I went with a determination to ascertain as much as I
+possibly could of their forms and customs of worship, the every-day
+duties devolving on the members, &c.; and having enjoyed excellent
+opportunities for acquiring the desired information, I wish to present a
+brief account of what "I verily do know" in relation to several
+particulars.
+
+First of all, justice will not permit me to retract a word in relation
+to the industry, neatness, order, and general good behavior, in the
+Shaker settlement which I visited. In these respects, that singular
+people are worthy of all commendation--yea, they set an example for the
+imitation of Christians everywhere. Justice requires me to say, also,
+that their hospitality is proverbial, and deservedly so. They received
+and entertained me kindly, and (hoping perhaps that I might be induced
+to join them) they extended extra-civilities to me. I have occasion to
+modify the expression of my gratitude in only one particular--and that
+is, one of the female elders made statements to me concerning the
+requisite confessions to be made, and the forms of admission to their
+society, which statements she afterwards denied, under circumstances
+that rendered her denial a most aggravated insult. Declining farther
+notice of this matter, because of the indelicacy of the confessions
+alluded to, I pass to notice,
+
+1st. The domestic arrangements of the Shakers. However strange the
+remark may seem, it is nevertheless true, that our factory population
+work fewer hours out of every twenty-four than are required by the
+Shakers, whose bell to call them from their slumbers, and also to warn
+them that it is time to commence the labors of the day, rings much
+earlier than our factory bells; and its calls were obeyed, in the family
+where I was entertained, with more punctuality than I ever knew the
+greatest "workey" among my numerous acquaintances (during the fourteen
+years in which I have been employed in different manufacturing
+establishments) to obey the calls of the factory-bell. And not until
+nine o'clock in the evening were the labors of the day closed, and the
+people assembled at their religious meetings.
+
+Whoever joins the Shakers with the expectation of relaxation from toil,
+will be greatly mistaken, since they deem it an indispensable duty to
+have every moment of time profitably employed. The little portions of
+leisure which the females have, are spent in knitting--each one having a
+basket of knitting-work for a constant companion.
+
+Their habits of order are, in many things, carried to the extreme. The
+first bell for their meals rings for all to repair to their chambers,
+from which, at the ringing of the second bell, they descend to the
+eating-room. Here, all take their appropriate places at the tables, and
+after locking their hands on their breasts, they drop on their knees,
+close their eyes, and remain in this position about two minutes. Then
+they rise, seat themselves, and with all expedition swallow their food;
+then rise on their feet, again lock their hands, drop on their knees,
+close their eyes, and in about two minutes rise and retire. Their meals
+are taken in silence, conversation being prohibited.
+
+Those whose chambers are in the fourth story of one building, and whose
+work-shops are in the third story of another building, have a daily task
+in climbing stairs which is more oppressive than any of the rules of a
+manufacturing establishment.
+
+2d. With all deference, I beg leave to introduce some of the religious
+views and ceremonies of the Shakers.
+
+From the conversation of the elders, I learned that they considered it
+doing God service to sever the sacred ties of husband and wife, parent
+and child--the relationship existing between them being contrary to
+their religious views--views which they believe were revealed from
+heaven to "Mother Ann Lee," the founder of their sect, and through whom
+they profess to have frequent revelations from the spiritual world.
+These communications, they say, are often written on gold leaves, and
+sent down from heaven to instruct the poor simple Shakers in some new
+duty. They are copied, and perused, and preserved with great care. I one
+day heard quite a number of them read from a book, in which they were
+recorded, and the names of several of the brethren and sisters to whom
+they were given by the angels, were told me. One written on a gold leaf,
+was (as I was told) presented to Proctor Sampson by an angel, so late as
+the summer of 1841. These "revelations" are written partly in English,
+and partly in some unintelligible jargon, or unknown tongue, having a
+spiritual meaning, which can be understood only by those who possess the
+spirit in an eminent degree. They consist principally of songs, which
+they sing at their devotional meetings, and which are accompanied with
+dancing, and many unbecoming gestures and noises.
+
+Often in the midst of a religious march, all stop, and with all their
+might set to stamping with both feet. And it is no uncommon thing for
+many of the worshipping assembly to crow like a parcel of young
+chanticleers, while others imitate the barking of dogs; and many of the
+young women set to whirling round and round--while the old men shake and
+clap their hands; the whole making a scene of noise and confusion which
+can be better imagined than described. The elders seriously told me
+that these things were the outward manifestations of the spirit of God.
+
+Apart from their religious meetings, the Shakers have what they call
+"union meetings." These are for social converse, and for the purpose of
+making the people acquainted with each other. During the day, the elders
+tell who may visit such and such chambers. A few minutes past nine, work
+is laid aside; the females change, or adjust, as best suits their fancy,
+their caps, handkerchiefs, and pinners, with a precision which indicates
+that they are not _altogether_ free from vanity. The chairs, perhaps to
+the number of a dozen, are set in two rows, in such a manner that those
+who occupy them may face each other. At the ringing of a bell each one
+goes to the chamber where either he or she has been directed by the
+elders, or remains at home to receive company, as the case may be. They
+enter the chambers _sans ceremonie_, and seat themselves--the men
+occupying one row of chairs, the women the other. Here, with their clean
+checked home-made pocket-handkerchiefs spread in their laps, and their
+spit-boxes standing in a row between them, they converse about raising
+sheep and kine, herbs and vegetables, building walls and raising corn,
+heating the oven and paring apples, killing rats and gathering nuts,
+spinning tow and weaving sieves, making preserves and mending the
+brethren's clothes,--in short, every thing they do will afford some
+little conversation. But beyond their own little world they do not
+appear to extend scarcely a thought. And why should they? Having so few
+sources of information, they know not what is passing beyond them. They
+however make the most of their own affairs, and seem to regret that they
+can converse no longer, when, after sitting together from half to
+three-quarters of an hour, the bell warns them that it is time to
+separate, which they do by rising up, locking their hands across their
+breasts, and bowing. Each one then goes silently to his own chamber.
+
+It will readily be perceived, that they have no access to libraries, no
+books, excepting school-books, and a few relating to their own
+particular views; no periodicals, and attend no lectures, debates,
+Lyceums, &c. They have none of the many privileges of manufacturing
+districts--consequently their information is so very limited, that their
+conversation is, as a thing in course, quite insipid. The manner of
+their life seems to be a check to the march of mind and a desire for
+improvement; and while the moral and perceptive faculties are tolerably
+developed, the intellectual, with a very few exceptions, seem to be
+below the average.
+
+I have considered it my duty to make the foregoing statement of facts,
+lest the glowing description of the Shakers, given in the story of my
+first visit, might have a wrong influence. I then judged by outward
+appearances only--having a very imperfect knowledge of the true state of
+the case. Nevertheless, the _facts_ as I saw them in my first visit, are
+still facts; my error is to be sought only in my inferences. Having
+since had greater opportunities for observation, I am enabled to judge
+more righteous judgment.
+
+                                                            C. B.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOCK OF GRAY HAIR.
+
+
+Touching and simple memento of departed worth and affection! how
+mournfully sweet are the recollections thou awakenest in the heart, as I
+gaze upon thee--shorn after death had stamped her loved features with
+the changeless hue of the grave. How vividly memory recalls the time
+when, in childish sportiveness and affection, I arranged this little
+tress upon the venerable forehead of my grandmother! Though Time had
+left his impress there, a majestic beauty yet rested upon thy brow; for
+age had no power to quench the light of benevolence that beamed from
+thine eye, nor wither the smile of goodness that animated thy features.
+Again do I seem to listen to the mild voice, whose accents had ever
+power to subdue the waywardness of my spirit, and hush to calmness the
+wild and turbulent passions of my nature.--Though ten summers have made
+the grass green upon thy grave, and the white rose burst in beauty above
+thine honored head, thy name is yet green in our memory, and thy virtues
+have left a deathless fragrance in the hearts of thy children.
+
+Though she of whom I tell claimed not kindred with the "high-born of
+earth"--though the proud descent of titled ancestry marked not her
+name--yet the purity of her spotless character, the practical usefulness
+of her life, her firm adherence to duty, her high and holy submission to
+the will of Heaven, in every conflict, shed a radiance more resplendent
+than the glittering coronet's hues, more enduring than the wreath that
+encircles the head of genius. It was no lordly dome of other climes, nor
+yet of our far-off sunny south, that called her mistress; but among the
+granite hills of New Hampshire (my own father-land) was her humble home.
+
+Well do I remember the morning when she related to me (a sportive girl
+of thirteen) the events of her early days.--At her request, I was her
+companion during her accustomed morning walk about her own homestead.
+During our ramble, she suddenly stopped, and looked intently down upon
+the green earth, leaving me in silent wonder at what could so strongly
+rivet her attention. At length she raised her eyes, and pointing to an
+ancient hollow in the earth, nearly concealed by rank herbage, she said,
+"that spot is the dearest to me on earth." I looked around, then into
+her face for an explanation, seeing nothing unusually attractive about
+the place. But ah! how many cherished memories came up at that moment!
+The tear of fond recollection stood in her eye as she spoke:--"On this
+spot I passed the brightest hours of my existence." To my eager inquiry,
+Did you not always live in the large white house yonder? She replied,
+"No, my child. Fifty years ago, upon this spot stood a rude dwelling,
+composed of logs. Here I passed the early days of my marriage, and here
+my noble first-born drew his first breath." In answer to my earnest
+entreaty to tell me all about it, she seated herself upon the large
+broad stone which had been her ancient hearth, and commenced her story.
+
+"It was a bright midsummer eve when your grandfather, whom you never
+saw, brought me here, his chosen and happy bride. On that morning had we
+plighted our faith at the altar--that morning, with all the feelings
+natural to a girl of eighteen, I bade adieu to the home of my childhood,
+and with a fond mother's last kiss yet warm upon my cheek, commenced my
+journey with my husband towards his new home in the wilderness. Slowly
+on horseback we proceeded on our way, through the green forest path,
+whose deep winding course was directed by incisions upon the trees left
+by the axe of the sturdy woodsman. Yet no modern bride, in her splendid
+coach, decked in satin, orange-flowers, and lace--on the way to her
+stately city mansion, ever felt her heart beat higher than did my own on
+that day. For as I looked upon the manly form of him beside me, as with
+careful hand he guided my bridal rein--or met the fond glance of his
+full dark eye, I felt that his was a changeless love.
+
+"Thus we pursued our lonely way through the lengthening forest, where
+Nature reigned almost in her primitive wildness and beauty. Now and then
+a cultivated patch, with a newly-erected cottage, where sat the young
+mother, hushing with her low wild song the babe upon her bosom, with the
+crash of the distant falling trees, proclaimed it the home of the
+emigrant.
+
+"Twilight had thrown her soft shade over the earth: the bending foliage
+assumed a deeper hue; the wild wood bird singing her last note, as we
+emerged from the forest to a spot termed by the early settlers 'a
+clearing.' It was an enclosure of a few acres, where the preceding year
+had stood in its pride the stately forest-tree. In the centre,
+surrounded by tall stalks of Indian corn, waving their silken tassels in
+the night-breeze, stood the lowly cot which was to be my future home.
+Beneath yon aged oak, which has been spared to tell of the past, we
+dismounted from our horses, and entered our rude dwelling. All was
+silent within and without, save the low whisper of the wind as it swept
+through the forest. But blessed with youth, health, love, and hope, what
+had we to fear? Not that the privations and hardships incident to the
+early emigrant were unknown to us--but we heeded them not.
+
+"The early dawn and dewy eve saw us unremitting in our toil, and Heaven
+crowned our labors with blessings. 'The wilderness began to blossom as
+the rose,' and our barns were filled with plenty.
+
+"But there was coming a time big with the fate of these then infant
+colonies. The murmur of discontent, long since heard in our large
+commercial ports, grew longer and louder, beneath repeated acts of
+British oppression. We knew the portentous cloud every day grew darker.
+In those days our means of intelligence were limited to the casual
+visitation of some traveller from abroad to our wilderness.
+
+"But uncertain and doubtful as was its nature, it was enough to rouse
+the spirit of patriotism in many a manly heart; and while the note of
+preparation loudly rang in the bustling thoroughfares, its tones were
+not unheard among these granite rocks. The trusty firelock was
+remounted, and hung in polished readiness over each humble door. The
+shining pewter was transformed to the heavy bullet, awaiting the first
+signal to carry death to the oppressor.
+
+"It was on the memorable 17th of June, 1775, that your grandfather was
+at his usual labor in a distant part of his farm: suddenly there fell
+upon his ear a sound heavier than the crash of the falling tree: echo
+answered echo along these hills; he knew the hour had come--that the
+flame had burst forth which blood alone could extinguish. His was not a
+spirit to slumber within sound of that battle-peal. He dropped his
+implements, and returned to his house. Never shall I forget the
+expression of his face as he entered.--There was a wild fire in his
+eye--his cheek was flushed--the veins upon his broad forehead swelled
+nigh to bursting. He looked at me--then at his infant-boy--and for a
+moment his face was convulsed. But soon the calm expression of high
+resolve shone upon his features.
+
+"Then I felt that what I had long secretly dreaded was about to be
+realized. For awhile the woman struggled fearfully within me--but the
+strife was brief; and though I could not with my lips say 'go,' in my
+heart I responded, 'God's will be done'--for as such I could but regard
+the sacred cause in which all for which we lived was staked. I dwell not
+on the anguished parting, nor on the lonely desolation of heart which
+followed. A few hasty arrangements, and he, in that stern band known as
+the Green Mountain Boys, led by the noble Stark, hurried to the post of
+danger. On the plains of Bennington he nobly distinguished himself in
+that fierce conflict with the haughty Briton and mercenary foe.
+
+"Long and dreary was the period of my husband's absence; but the God of
+my fathers forsook me not. To Him I committed my absent one, in the
+confidence that He would do all things well. Now and then, a hurried
+scrawl, written perhaps on the eve of an expected battle, came to me in
+my lonely solitude like the 'dove of peace' and consolation--for it
+spoke of undying affection and unshaken faith in the ultimate success of
+that cause for which he had left all.
+
+"But he did return. Once more he was with me. I saw him press his
+first-born to his bosom, and receive the little dark-eyed one, whom he
+had never yet seen, with new fondness to his paternal arms. He lived to
+witness the glorious termination of that struggle, the events of which
+all so well know; to see the 'stars and stripes' waving triumphantly in
+the breeze, and to enjoy for a brief season the rich blessings of peace
+and independence. But ere the sere and yellow leaf of age was upon his
+brow, the withering hand of disease laid his noble head in the dust. As
+the going down of the sun, which foretells a glorious rising, so was his
+death. Many years have gone by, since he was laid in his quiet
+resting-place, where, in a few brief days, I shall slumber sweetly by
+his side."
+
+Such was her unvarnished story; and such is substantially the story of
+many an ancient mother of New England. Yet while the pen of history
+tells of the noble deeds of the patriot fathers, it records little of
+the days of privation and toil of the patriot mothers--of their nights
+of harassing anxiety and uncomplaining sorrow. But their virtues remain
+written upon the hearts of their daughters, in characters that perish
+not. Let not the rude hand of degeneracy desecrate the hallowed shrine
+of their memory.
+
+                                                         THERESA.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+LAMENT OF THE LITTLE HUNCHBACK.
+
+
+  Oh, ladies, will you listen to a little orphan's tale?
+  And pity her whose youthful voice must breathe so sad a wail;
+  And shrink not from the wretched form obtruding on your view.
+  As though the heart which in it dwells must be as loathsome too.
+
+  Full well I know that mine would be a strange repulsive mind,
+  Were the outward form an index true of the soul within it shrined;
+  But though I am so all devoid of the loveliness of youth,
+  Yet deem me not as destitute of its innocence and truth.
+
+  And ever in this hideous frame I strive to keep the light
+  Of faith in God, and love to man, still shining pure and bright;
+  Though hard the task, I often find, to keep the channel free
+  Whence all the kind affections flow to those who love not me.
+
+  I sometimes take a little child quite softly on my knee,
+  I hush it with my gentlest tones, and kiss it tenderly;
+  But my kindest words will not avail, my form cannot be screened,
+  And the babe recoils from my embrace, as though I were a fiend.
+
+  I sometimes, in my walks of toil, meet children at their play;
+  For a moment will my pulses fly, and I join the band so gay;
+  But they depart with nasty steps, while their lips and nostrils curl,
+  Nor e'en their childhood's sports will share with the little crooked
+        girl
+
+  But once it was not thus with me: I was a dear-loved child;
+  A mother's kiss oft pressed my brow, a father on me smiled;
+  No word was ever o'er me breathed, but in affection's tone,
+  For I to them was very near--their cherish'd, only one.
+
+  But sad the change which me befel, when they were laid to sleep,
+  Where the earth-worms o'er their mouldering forms their noisome
+    revels keep;
+  For of the orphan's hapless fate there were few or none to care,
+  And burdens on my back were laid a child should never bear.
+
+  And now, in this offensive form, their cruelty is viewed--
+  For first upon me came disease--and deformity ensued:
+  Woe! woe to her, for whom not even this life's earliest stage
+  Could be redeemed from the bended form and decrepitude of age.
+
+  And yet of purest happiness I have some transient gleams;
+  'Tis when, upon my pallet rude, I lose myself in dreams:
+  The gloomy present fades away; the sad past seems forgot;
+  And in those visions of the night mine is a blissful lot.
+
+  The dead then come and visit me: I hear my father's voice;
+  I hear that gentle mother's tones, which makes my heart rejoice;
+  Her hand once more is softly placed upon my aching brow,
+  And she soothes my every pain away, as if an infant now.
+
+  But sad is it to wake again, to loneliness and fears;
+  To find myself the creature yet of misery and tears;
+  And then, once more, I try to sleep, and know the thrilling bliss
+  To see again my father's smile, and feel my mother's kiss.
+
+  And sometimes, then, a blessed boon has unto me been given--
+  An entrance to the spirit-world, a foretaste here of heaven;
+  I have heard the joyous anthems swell, from voice and golden lyre,
+  And seen the dearly loved of earth join in that gladsome choir.
+
+  And I have dropped this earthly frame, this frail disgusting clay,
+  And, in a beauteous spirit-form, have soared on wings away;
+  I have bathed my angel-pinions in the floods of glory bright,
+  Which circle, with their brilliant waves, the throne of living light.
+
+  I have joined the swelling chorus of the holy glittering bands
+  Who ever stand around that throne, with cymbals in their hands:
+  But the dream would soon be broken by the voices of the morn,
+  And the sunbeams send me forth again, the theme of jest and song.
+
+  I care not for their mockery now--the thought disturbs me not,
+  That, in this little span of life, contempt should be my lot;
+  But I would gladly welcome here some slight reprieve from pain,
+  And I'd murmur of my back no more, if it might not ache again.
+
+  Full well I know this ne'er can be, till I with peace am blest,
+  Where the heavy-laden sweetly sleep, and the weary are at rest;
+  For the body shall commingle with its kindred native dust,
+  And the soul return for evermore to the "Holy One and Just."
+
+                                                           LETTY.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR HOME.
+
+
+How difficult it is for the wealthy and proud to realize that they must
+die, and mingle with the common earth! Though a towering monument may
+mark the spot where their lifeless remains repose, their heads will lie
+as low as that of the poorest peasant. All their untold gold cannot
+reprieve them for one short day.
+
+When Death places his relentless hand upon them, and as their spirit is
+fast passing away, perhaps for the first time the truth flashes upon
+their mind, that this world is not their home; and a thrill of agony
+racks their frame at the thought of entering that land where all is
+uncertainty to them. It may be that they have never humbled themselves
+before the great Lawgiver and Judge, and their hearts, alas! have not
+been purified and renewed by that grace for which they never
+supplicated. And as the vacant eye wanders around the splendidly
+furnished apartment, with its gorgeous hangings and couch of down, how
+worthless it all seems, compared with that peace of mind which attends
+"the pure in heart!"
+
+The aspirant after fame would fain believe this world was his home, as
+day by day he twines the laurel-wreath for his brow, and fondly trusts
+it will be unfading in its verdure; and as the applause of a world, that
+to him appears all bright and beautiful, meets his ear, he thinks not of
+Him who resigned his life on the cross for suffering humanity--he thinks
+of naught but the bubble he is seeking; and when he has obtained it, it
+has lost all its brilliancy--for the world has learned to look with
+indifference upon the bright flowers he has scattered so profusely on
+all sides, and his friends, one by one, become alienated and cold, or
+bestow their praise upon some new candidate who may have entered the
+arena of fame. How his heart shrinks within him, to think of the long
+hours of toil by the midnight lamp--of health destroyed--of youth
+departed--of near and dear ties broken by a light careless word, that
+had no meaning! How bitterly does he regret that he has thrown away all
+the warm and better feelings of his heart upon the fading things of
+earth! How deeply does he feel that he has slighted God's holy law--for,
+in striving after worldly honors, he had forgotten that this world was
+not his home; and while the rainbow tints of prosperity gleamed in his
+pathway, he had neglected to cultivate the fadeless wreath that cheers
+the dying hour! And now the low hollow cough warns him of the near
+approach of that hour beyond which all to him is darkness and gloom; and
+as he tosses on the bed of pain and languishing, lamenting that all the
+bright visions of youth had so soon vanished away, the cold world
+perchance passes in review before him.
+
+He beholds the flushed cheek of beauty fade, and the star of fame fall
+from the brow of youth. He marks the young warrior on the field of
+battle, fighting bravely, while the banner of stars and stripes waves
+proudly over his head; and while thinking of the glory he shall win, a
+ball enters his heart.--He gazes upon an aged sire, as he bends over the
+lifeless form of his idolized child, young and fair as the morning, just
+touched by the hand of death; she was the light of his home, the last of
+many dear ones; and he wondered why he was spared, and the young taken.
+Though the cup was bitter, he drank it.
+
+Again he turned his eyes from the world, whereon everything is written,
+"fading away." Yes, wealth, beauty, fame, glory, honor, friendship, and
+oh! must it be said that even love, too, fades? Almost in despair, he
+exclaimed, "Is there aught that fades not?" And a voice seemed to
+whisper in his ear, "There is God's love which never fades; this world
+is not your home; waste not the short fragment of your life in vain
+regrets, but rather prepare for that dissolution which is the common lot
+of all; be ready, therefore, to pass to that bourne from which there is
+no return, before you enter the presence of Him whose name is Love."
+
+  "Then ask not life, but joy to know
+    That sinless they in heaven shall stand;
+  That Death is not a cruel foe,
+    To execute a wise command.
+  'Tis ours to ask, 'tis God's to give.--
+  We live to die--and die to live."
+
+                                                        BEATRICE.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+DIGNITY OF LABOR.
+
+
+From whence originated the idea, that it was derogatory to a lady's
+dignity, or a blot upon the female character, to labor? and who was the
+first to say sneeringly, "Oh, she _works_ for a living?" Surely, such
+ideas and expressions ought not to grow on republican soil. The time has
+been when ladies of the first rank were accustomed to busy themselves in
+domestic employment.
+
+Homer tells us of princesses who used to draw water from the springs,
+and wash with their own hands the finest of the linen of their
+respective families. The famous Lucretia used to spin in the midst of
+her attendants; and the wife of Ulysses, after the siege of Troy,
+employed herself in weaving, until her husband returned to Ithaca. And
+in later times, the wife of George the Third, of England, has been
+represented as spending a whole evening in hemming pocket-handkerchiefs,
+while her daughter Mary sat in the corner, darning stockings.
+
+Few American fortunes will support a woman who is above the calls of her
+family; and a man of sense, in choosing a companion to jog with him
+through all the up-hills and down-hills of life, would sooner choose one
+who _had_ to work for a living, than one who thought it beneath her to
+soil her pretty hands with manual labor, although she possessed her
+thousands. To be able to earn one's own living by laboring with the
+hands, should be reckoned among female accomplishments; and I hope the
+time is not far distant when none of my countrywomen will be ashamed to
+have it known that they are better versed in useful than they are in
+ornamental accomplishments.
+
+                                                            C. B.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE VILLAGE CHRONICLE.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"Come, Lina, dear," said Mr. Wheeler to his little daughter, "lay by
+your knitting, if you please, and read me the paper."
+
+"What, pa, this old paper, 'The Village Chronicle?'"
+
+"Old, Lina!--why, it is damp from the press. Not so old, by more than a
+dozen years, as you are."
+
+"But, pa, the _news_ is _olds_. Our village mysteries are all worn
+threadbare by the gossiping old maids before the printer can get them in
+type; and the foreign information is more quickly obtained from other
+sources. And, pa, I wish you wouldn't call me Lina--it sounds so
+childish, and I begin to think myself quite a young lady--almost in my
+teens, you know; and Angeline is not so very long."
+
+"Well, Angeline, as you please; but see if there is not something in the
+paper."
+
+"Oh, yes, pa; to please you I will read the stupid old (_new_, I mean)
+concern.--Well, in the first place, we have some poetry--some of our
+village poets' (genius, you know, admits not of distinction of sex)
+effusions, or rather confusions. Miss Helena (it used to be Ellen once)
+Carrol's sublime sentiments upon 'The Belvidere Apollo,'--which she
+never saw, nor anything like it, and knows nothing about. She had better
+write about our penny-post, and then we might feel an interest in her
+lucubrations, even if not very intrinsically valuable. But if she does
+not want to be an old maid, she might as well leave off writing
+sentimental poetry for the newspapers; for who will marry a _bleu_?"
+
+"There is much that I might say in reply, but I will wait until you are
+older. And now do not let me hear you say anything more about old maids,
+at least deridingly; for I have strong hopes that my little girl will be
+one herself."
+
+"No, pa, never!--I will not marry, at least while you, or Alfred, or
+Jimmy, are alive; but I cannot be an old maid--not one of those
+tattling, envious, starched-up, prudish creatures, whom I have always
+designated as old maids, whether they are married or single--on the
+sunny or shady side of thirty."
+
+"Well, child, I hope you never will be metamorphosed into an old maid,
+then. But now for the Chronicle--I will excuse you from the poetry, if
+you will read what comes next."
+
+"Thank you, my dear father, a thousand times. It would have made me as
+sick as a cup-full of warm water would do. You know I had rather take so
+much hot drops.--But the next article is Miss Simpkins's very original
+tale, entitled 'The Injured One,'--probably all about love and despair,
+and ladies so fair, and men who don't care, if the mask they can wear,
+and the girls must beware. Now ain't I literary? But to be a heroine
+also, I will muster my resolution, and commence the story:
+
+"'Madeline and Emerilla were the only daughters of Mr. Beaufort, of H.,
+New Hampshire.'
+
+"Now, pa, I can't go any farther--I would as lieve travel through the
+deserts of Sahara, or run the gauntlet among the Seminoles, as to wade
+through this sloshy story. Miss Simpkins always has such names to her
+heroines; and they would do very well if they were placed anywhere but
+in the unromantic towns of our granite State. H., I suppose, stands for
+Hawke, or Hopkinton. Miss Simpkins is so soft that I do not believe Mr.
+Baxter would publish her stories, if he were not engaged to her sister.
+She makes me think of old 'deaf uncle Jeff,' in the story, who wanted
+somebody to love."
+
+"And she does love--she loves everybody; and I am sorry to hear you talk
+so of this amiable and intellectual girl. But I do not wish to hear you
+read her story now--as for her names, she would not find one
+unappropriated by our towns-folks. What comes next?"
+
+"The editorial, pa, and the caption is, 'Our Representatives.' I had ten
+times rather read about the antediluvians, and I wish sometimes they
+might go and keep them company. And now for the items: Our new bell got
+cracked, in its winding way to this 'ere town; and the meeting-house at
+the West Parish, has been fired by an incendiary; and the old elm, near
+the Central House, has been blown down; and Widow Frye has had a yoke of
+oxen struck by lightning; and old Col. Morton fell down dead, in a fit
+of apoplexy; and the bridge over the Branch needs repairing; and 'a
+friend of good order' wishes that our young men would not stand gaping
+around the meeting-house doors, before or after service; and 'a friend
+of equal rights' wishes that people might sell and drink as much rum as
+they please, without interference, &c., &c.; and all these things we
+knew before, as well as we did our A B C's. Next are the cards: The
+ladies have voted their thanks to Mr. K., for his lecture upon
+phrenology--the matrimonial part, I presume, included; and the
+Anti-Slavery Society is to have a fair, at which will be sold all sorts
+of abolition things, such as anti-slavery paper, wafers, and all such
+important articles. I declare I will make a nigger doll for it. And Mr.
+P., of Boston, is to deliver a lecture upon temperance; and the trustees
+of the Academy have chosen Mr. Dalton for the Preceptor, and here is his
+long advertisement; and the Overseers of the Poor are ready to receive
+proposals for a new alms-house; and all these things, pa, which have
+been the town talk this long time. But here is something new. Our
+minister, dear Mr. Olden, has been very seriously injured by an accident
+upon the Boston and Salem Railroad. The news must be very recent, for we
+had not heard of it; and it is crowded into very fine type. Oh, how
+sorry I am for him!"
+
+"Well, Lina, or Miss Angeline, there is something of sufficient
+importance to repay you for the trouble of reading it, and I am very
+glad that you have done so--for I will start upon my intended journey to
+Boston to-day, and can assist him to return home. Anything else?"
+
+"Oh, yes, pa! a long list of those who have taken advantage of the
+Bankrupt Act, and the Deaths and Marriages; but all mentioned here, with
+whose names we were familiar, have been subjects for table-talk these
+several days."
+
+"Well, is there no foreign news?"
+
+"Yes, pa; Queen Victoria has given another ball at Buckingham Palace;
+and Prince Albert has accepted a very fine blood-hound, from Major
+Sharp, of Houston; and Sir Howard Douglas has been made a Civil Grand
+Cross of the Bath, &c., &c. Are not these fine things to fill up our
+republican papers with?"
+
+"Well, my daughter, look at the doings in Congress--that will suit you."
+
+"You know better, pa. They do nothing there but scold, and strike, and
+grumble--then pocket their money, and go home. See, here it begins, 'The
+proceedings of the House can hardly be said to have been _important_. An
+instructive and delightful _scene_ took place between Mr. Wise of
+Virginia, and Mr. Stanly, of South Carolina.' Yes, pa, that's the way
+they spend their time. In this _act_ of the farce, or tragedy, one
+called t' other a _bull-dog_, t' other called one a _coward_. Do you
+wish to hear any more?"
+
+"You are somewhat out of humor, my child; but are there no new notices?"
+
+"Yes, here is an 'Assessors' Notice,' and an 'Assignee's Notice,' and a
+'Contractors' Notice;' but you do not care anything about them. And here
+is an 'Auction Notice.'"
+
+"What auction? Read it, my love."
+
+"Why, the late old Mr. Gardner's farm-house, and all his furniture, are
+to be sold at auction. And here is a notice of a meeting of the
+Directors of the Pentucket Bank, to be held this very afternoon."
+
+"I am very glad to have learned of it, for I must be there. Is that
+all?"
+
+"All?--no, indeed! Here are some long articles, full of _Whereases_, and
+_Resolved's_, and _Be it enacted's_; but I know you will excuse me from
+reading them. And now for the advertisements: Here is a fine new lot of
+_Chenie-de-Laines_, 'just received' at Grosvenor's--oh, pa! do let me
+have a new dress, won't you?"
+
+"No, I can't--at least, I do not see how I can. But if you will promise
+to read my paper through patiently for the future, and will prepare my
+valise for my journey to Boston, I will see what I may do. Meantime I
+must be off to the directors' meeting. And now let me remind you that
+two items, at least, in this paper, have been of much importance to me;
+and one, it seems, somewhat interesting to you. So no more fretting
+about the Chronicle, if you want a _new gown_."
+
+Mr. Wheeler left the room, and Angeline seated herself at the
+work-table, to repair his vest. She was sorry she had fretted so much
+about the Chronicle; but she did wish her father would take the "Ladies'
+Companion," or something else, in its stead.
+
+While seated there, her little brother came running into the room, all
+out of breath, and but just able to gasp out, "Oh, Lina! there is a man
+at the Central House, who has just stopped in the stage, and he is going
+right on to Kentucky, and straight through the town where Alfred lives,
+for I heard him say so; and I asked him if he would carry anything for
+us, and he said, 'Yes, willingly.' So I ran home as fast as I could
+come, to tell you to write a note, or do up a paper, or something,
+because he will be so sure to get it--and right from us, too, as fast as
+it can go. Now do be quick, or the stage will start off."
+
+"Oh, dear me," exclaimed Angeline, "how I do wish we had a New York
+Mirror, or a Philadelphia Courier, or a Boston Gazette, or anything but
+this stupid Chronicle! Do look, Jimmy! is there nothing in this pile of
+papers?"
+
+"No, nothing that will do--so fold up the Chronicle, quick, for the
+stage is starting."
+
+Angeline, who had spent some moments in looking for another paper, now
+had barely time to scrawl the short word "Lina" on the paper, wrap it in
+an envelop, and direct it. Jimmy snatched it as soon as it was ready,
+and ran out "_full tilt_," in knightly phrase, or, as he afterwards
+said, "_lickity split_."
+
+The stage was coming on at full speed, and he wished to stop it. Many a
+time had he stood by the road-side, with his school companions, and,
+waving his cap, and stretching out his neck, had hallooed, "Hurrah for
+Jackson!" and he feared that, like the boy in the fable, who called
+"Wolves! wolves!" if he now shouted to them from the road-side, they
+would not heed him. So he ran into the middle of the road, threw up his
+arms, and stood still. The driver barely reined in his horses within a
+few feet of the daring boy.
+
+"Where is the man who is going straight ahead to Kentucky?"
+
+"Here, my lad," replied a voice, as a head popped out of the window, to
+see what was the matter.
+
+"Well, here is a paper which I wish you to carry to my brother; and if
+you stop long enough where he is, you must go and see him, and tell him
+you saw me too."
+
+"Well done, my lad! you are a keen one. I'll do your bidding--but don't
+you never run under stage-horses again."
+
+He took the packet, while the driver cracked his whip; and the horses
+started as the little boy leaped upon the bank, shouting, "Hurra for
+Yankee Land and old Kentucky!"
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+In a rude log hut of Western Kentucky was seated an animated and
+intelligent-looking young man. A bright moon was silvering the
+forest-tops, which were almost the only prospect from his window; but
+in that beauteous light the rough clearing around seemed changed to
+fairy land; and even his rude domicile partook of the transient
+renovation. His lone walls, his creviced roof, and ragged floor, were
+transformed beneath that silvery veil; and truly did it look as though
+it might well be the abode of peaceful happiness.
+
+"I feel as though I could write poetry now," said Alfred to himself.
+"Let me see--'The Spirit's Call to the Absent,' or something like that;
+but if I should strike my light, and really get pens, ink, and paper, it
+would all evaporate, vanish, abscond, make tracks, become scarce, be o.
+p. h. Ah, yes! the poetry would go, but the feeling, the deep affection,
+which would find some other language than simple prose, can never
+depart.
+
+"How I wish I could see them all! There is not a codger in my native
+town--not a crusty fusty old bachelor--not an envious tattling old
+maid--not a flirt, sot, pauper, idiot, or sainted hypocrite, but I could
+welcome with an embrace. But if I could only see my father, or Jimmy, or
+Lina, dear girl! how much better I should feel! It would make me ten
+years younger, to have a chat with Lina; and, to tell the truth, I
+should like to see any woman, just to see how it would seem. I'd go a
+quarter of a mile, now, to look at a row of aprons hung out to dry. But
+there! it's no use to talk.
+
+"An evening like this is such an one as might entice me to my mother's
+grave, were I at home. Oh! if she were but alive--if I could only know
+that she was still somewhere on the wide earth, to think and pray for
+me--I might be better, as well as happier. Methinks it must be a blessed
+thing to be a mother, if all sons cherish that parent's memory as I have
+mine--and they do. It cheers and sustains the exile in a stranger's
+land; it invigorates him in trial, and lights him through adversity; it
+warns the felon, and haunts and harrows the convict; it strengthens the
+captive, and exhilarates the homeward-bound. Truly must it be a blessed
+thing to be a mother!"
+
+He stopped--for in the moonlight was distinctly seen the figure of a
+horseman, emerging from the public road, and galloping across the
+clearing. He turned towards the office of the young surveyor, and in a
+few moments the carrier had related the incident by which he obtained
+the paper, and placed "The Village Chronicle" in Alfred's hand.
+
+He struck a light, tore off the wrapper, and the only written word which
+met his eye was "Lina." "Dear name!" said he, "I could almost kiss it,
+especially as there is none to see me. She must have been in a
+prodigious hurry! and how funny that little rascal, Jimmy, must have
+looked! Well, 'when he next doth run a race, may I be there to see.'"
+
+He took the paper to read. It was a very late one--he had never before
+received one so near the date; and even that line of dates was now so
+pleasing. First was Miss Helena Carroll's poetry. "Dear girl!" said he,
+"what a beautiful writer she is! Really, this is poetry! This is
+something which carries us away from ourselves, and more closely
+connects us with the enduring, high, and beautiful. Methinks I see her
+now--more thin, pale, and ethereal in her appearance than when we were
+gay school-mates; but I wonder that, with all her treasures of heart and
+intellect, she is still Helena Carroll.
+
+"And now here is Miss Simpkin's story of 'The injured One'--beautiful,
+interesting, and instructive, I am confident; and I will read it, every
+word; but she italicises too much; she throws too lavishly the bright
+robes of her prolific fancy upon the forms she conjures up from
+New-England hills and vales. I wonder if she remembers now the time when
+she made me shake the old-apple tree, near the pound, for her, and in
+jumping down, I nearly broke my leg. Well, if I read her story, I will
+try that it does not break my heart.
+
+"And here is an excellent editorial about 'Our Representatives'--I will
+read it again, and now for the ITEMS."
+
+These were all highly interesting to the _absentee_, and on each did he
+expatiate to himself. How different were his feelings from his sister's,
+as he read of the cracked bell, the burned meeting-house, the dead oxen,
+the apoplectic old Colonel, the decayed bridge, the hints of the friends
+of "good order" and "equal rights." Then there was a little scene
+suggested by every card; he wondered who had their heads examined at the
+Phrenological lecture; and if the West Parish old farmers were now as
+stiffly opposed to the science. And how he would like to see Lina's
+chart, and to know if Jimmy had brains--he was sure he had legs, and a
+big heart for a little boy; and he wondered what girls ran up to have
+their heads felt of in public; and what the man said about
+matrimony--an affair which in old times was thought to have more to do
+with the heart than the head.
+
+Then his imagination went forward to the fair of the Anti-Slavery
+Society, and he wondered where it would be, and who would go, and what
+Lina would make, and whether so much fuss about slavery was right or
+wrong, and if "father" approved of it. Then the temperance lecture was
+the theme for another self-disquisition. He wondered who had joined the
+society, and how the Washingtonians held out, and if Mr. Hawkins was
+ever coming to the West.
+
+Then he was glad the trustees were determined to resuscitate the old
+academy. What grand times he had enjoyed there, especially at the
+exhibitions! and he wondered where all the pretty girls were who used to
+go to school with his bachelorship. Then they were to have a new
+alms-house; and forty more things were mentioned, of equal interest--not
+forgetting Mr. Olden's accident, for which "father would be so sorry."
+Then there were the Marriages and Deaths--each a subject of deep
+interest, as was also the list of Bankrupts. The foreign news was news
+to him; and Congress matters were not passed unheeded by.
+
+Then he read with deep interest every "Assessor's Notice," also those of
+"Assignees," "Contractors," and "Auctioneers." There was not a single
+"Whereas" or "Resolved," but was most carefully perused; and every "Be
+it enacted" stared him in the face like an old familiar friend.
+
+Then there were the advertisements; and Grosvenor's first attracted his
+attention from its _big_ letters. "CHENIE-DE-LAINES!" said he, "What in
+the name of common sense are they? Something for gal's gowns, _I guess_;
+and what will they next invent for a name?"
+
+But each advertisement told its little history. Some of the old
+"_pillars_" of the town were still in their accustomed places. The same
+signatures, places, and almost the same goods--nothing much changed but
+the dates. Another advertisement informed him of the dissolution of an
+old copartnership, and another showed the formation of a new one. Some
+old acquaintances had changed their location or business, and others
+were about to retire from it. Those whom he remembered as almost boys,
+were now just entering into active life, and those who should now be
+preparing for another world were still laying up treasures on earth.
+One, who had been a farmer, was now advertising himself as a _doctor_.
+A lawyer had changed into a miller, and old Capt Prouty was post-master.
+The former cobler now kept the bookstore, and the young major had turned
+printer. The old printer was endeavoring to collect his debts--for he
+said his devil had gone to Oregon, and he wished to go to the devil.
+
+Not a single puff did Alfred omit; he noticed every new book, and
+swallowed every new nostrum. "Old rags," "Buffalo Oil," "Bear's Grease,"
+"Corn Plaster," "Lip Salve," "Accordions," "Feather Renovators," "Silk
+Dye-Houses," "Worm Lozenges," "Ready-made Clothing," "Ladies' Slips,"
+"Misses' Ties," "Christmas Presents," "Sugar-house Molasses," "Choice
+Butter," "Shell Combs," "New Music," "Healing Lotions," "Last Chance,"
+"Hats and Caps," "Prime Cost," "Family Pills," "Ladies' Cuff Pins,"
+"Summer Boots," "Vegetable Conserve," "Muffs and Boas," "Pease's
+Horehound Candy," "White Ash Coal," "Bullard's Oil-Soap," "Universal
+Panacea," "Tailoress Wanted," "Unrivalled Elixir," "Excellent Vanilla,"
+"Taylor's Spool Cotton," "Rooms to Let," "Chairs and Tables," "Pleasant
+House," "Particular notice," "Family Groceries," "A Removal,"
+"Anti-Dyspeptic Bitters," &c., &c., down to "One Cent Reward--Ran away
+from the Subscriber," &c.--Yes; he had read them all, and all with much
+interest, but one with a deeper feeling than was awakened by the others.
+It was the notice of the sale of the late Mr. Gardner's House, farm, &c.
+
+"And so," said Alfred, "Cynthia Gardner is now free. She used to love me
+dearly--at least she said so in every thing but words; but the old man
+said she should never marry a harum-scarum scape-grace like me. Well!
+it's no great matter if I did sow all my wild oats then, for there is
+too little cleared land to do much at it here. The old gentleman is
+dead, and I'll forgive him; but I will write this very night to Cynthia,
+and ask her to--
+
+  ----'come, and with me share
+  Whate'er my hut bestows;
+  My cornstalk bed, my frugal fare,
+  My labor and repose.'"
+
+                                                         LUCINDA.
+
+
+
+
+AMBITION AND CONTENTMENT.
+
+
+It has been said that all virtues, carried to their extremes, become
+vices, as firmness may be carried to obstinacy, gentleness to weakness,
+faith to superstition, &c., &c.; and that while cultivating them, a
+perpetual care is necessary that they may not be resolved into those
+kindred vices. But there are other qualities of so opposite a character,
+that, though we may acknowledge them both to be virtues, we can hardly
+cherish them at the same time.
+
+Contentment is a virtue often urged upon us, and too often neglected. It
+is essential to our happiness; for how can we experience pleasure while
+dissatisfied with the station which has been allotted us, or the
+circumstances which befall us? but when contentment degenerates into
+that slothful feeling which will not exert itself for a greater
+good--which would sit, and smile at ease upon the gifts which Providence
+has forced upon its possessor, and turns away from the objects, which
+call for the active spring and tenacious grasp--when, I repeat,
+contentment is but another excuse for indolence, it then has ceased to
+be a virtue.
+
+And Ambition, which is so often denounced as a vice--which _is_ a vice
+when carried to an extent that would lead its votary to grasp all upon
+which it can lay its merciless clutch, and which heeds not the rights or
+possessions of a fellow-being when conflicting with its own domineering
+will, which then becomes so foul a vice--this same ambition, when kept
+within its proper bounds, is then a virtue; and not only a virtue, but
+the parent of virtues. The spirit of laudable enterprise, the noble
+desire for superior excellence, the just emulation which would raise
+itself to an equality with the highest--all this is the fruit of
+ambition.
+
+Here then are two virtues, ambition and contentment, both to be
+commended, both to be cherished, yet at first glance at variance with
+each other; at all events, with difficulty kept within those proper
+bounds which will prevent a conflict between them.
+
+We are not metaphysicians, and did we possess the power to draw those
+finely-pencilled mental and moral distinctions in which the acute
+reasoner delights so often to display his power, this would be no place
+for us to indulge our love for nicely attenuated theories. We are aware,
+that to cherish ambition for the good it may lead us to acquire, for the
+noble impulses of which it may be the fountain-spring, and yet to
+restrain those waters when they would gush forth with a tide which would
+bear away all better feelings of the heart--this, we know, is not only
+difficult, but almost impossible.
+
+To strive for a position upon some loftier eminence, and yet to remain
+unruffled if those strivings are in vain; to remain calm and cheerful
+within the little circle where Providence has stationed us, yet actively
+endeavoring to enlarge that circle, if not to obtain admittance to a
+higher one; to plume the pinions of the soul for an upward flight, yet
+calmly sink again to the earth if these efforts are but useless
+flutterings; all this seems contradictory, though essential to
+perfection of character.
+
+Thankfulness for what we have, yet longings for a greater boon;
+resignation to a humble lot, and a determination that it shall not
+always be humble; ambition and contentment--how wide the difference, and
+how difficult for one breast to harbor them both at the same time!
+
+Nothing so forcibly convinces us of the frailty of humanity as the
+tendency of all that is good and beautiful to corruption. As in the
+natural world, earth's loveliest things are those which yield most
+easily to blighting and decay, so in the spiritual, the noblest feelings
+and powers are closely linked to some dark passion.
+
+How easily does ambition become rapacity; and if the heart's yearnings
+for the unattainable are forcibly stilled, and the mind is governed by
+the determination that no wish shall be indulged but for that already in
+its power, how soon and easily may it sink into the torpor of inaction!
+To keep all the faculties in healthful exercise, yet always to restrain
+the feverish glow, must require a constant and vigilant self-command.
+
+How soon, in that long-past sacred time when the Savior dwelt on earth,
+did the zeal of one woman in her Master's cause become tainted with the
+earth-born wish that her sons might be placed, the one upon his right
+and the other upon his left hand, when he should sit upon his throne of
+glory; and how soon was _their_ ardent love mingled with the fiery zeal
+which would call down fire from heaven upon the heads of their
+fellow-men!
+
+Here was ambition, but not a justifiable desire for elevation; an
+ambition, also, which had its source in some of the noblest feelings of
+the soul, and which, when directed by the pure principles which
+afterwards guided their conduct, was the heart-spring of deeds which
+shall claim the admiration, and spur to emulous exertions, the men of
+all coming time.
+
+"Be content with what ye have," but never with what ye are; for the wish
+to be perfect, "even as our Father in heaven is perfect," must ever be
+mingled with regrets for the follies and frailties which our weak nature
+seems to have entailed upon us.
+
+And while we endeavor to be submissive, cheerful, and contented with the
+lot marked out for us, may gratitude arouse us to the noble desire to
+render ourselves worthy of a nobler station than earth can ever present
+us, even to a place upon our Savior's right hand in his heavenly
+kingdom.
+
+                                                            H. F.
+
+
+
+
+A CONVERSATION ON PHYSIOLOGY.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+Physiology, Astronomy, Geology, Botany, and kindred sciences, are not
+now, as formerly, confined to our higher seminaries of learning. They
+are being introduced into the common schools, not only of our large
+towns and cities, but of our little villages throughout New-England.
+Hence a knowledge of these sciences is becoming general. It needs not
+Sibylline wisdom to predict that the time is not far distant when it
+will be more disadvantageous and more humiliating to be ignorant of
+their principles and technicalities, than to be unable to tell the
+length and breadth of Sahara, the rise, course and fall of little rivers
+in other countries, which we shall never see, never hear mentioned--and
+the latitude and longitude of remote or obscure cities and towns. If a
+friend would describe a flower, she would not tell us that it has so
+many flower-leaves, so many of those shortest things that rise from the
+centre of the flower, and so many of the longest ones; but she will
+express herself with more elegance and rapidity by using the technical
+names of these parts--petals, stamens, and pistils. She will not tell us
+that the green leaves are formed some like a rose-leaf, only that they
+are rounder, or more pointed, as the case may be; or if she can find no
+similitudes, she will not use fifty words in conveying an idea that
+might be given in one little word. We would be able to understand her
+philosophical description. And scientific lectures, the sermons of our
+best preachers, and the conversation of the intelligent, presuppose some
+degree of knowledge of the most important sciences; and to those who
+have not this knowledge, half their zest is lost.
+
+If we are so situated that we cannot attend school, we have, by far the
+greater part of us, hours for reading, and means to purchase books. We
+should be systematic in our expenditures. They should be regulated by
+the nature of the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed,--by
+our wages, state of health, and the situation of our families. After a
+careful consideration of these, and other incidentals that may be, we
+can make a periodical appropriation of any sum we please, for the
+purchase of books. Our readings, likewise, should be systematic. If we
+take physiology, physiology should be read exclusively of all others,
+except our Bibles and a few well-chosen periodicals, until we acquire a
+knowledge of its most essential parts. Then let this be superseded by
+others, interrupted in their course only by occasional reviews of those
+already studied.
+
+But there are those whose every farthing is needed to supply themselves
+with necessary clothing, their unfortunate parents, or orphan brothers
+and sisters with a subsistence. And forever sacred be these duties.
+Blessings be on the head of those who faithfully discharge them, by a
+cheerful sacrifice of selfish gratification. Cheerful, did I say? Ah!
+many will bear witness to the pangs which such a sacrifice costs them.
+It is a hard lot to be doomed to live on in ignorance, when one longs
+for knowledge, "as the hart panteth after the water brook." My poor
+friend L.'s complaint will meet an answering thrill of sympathy in many
+a heart. "Oh, why is it so?" said she, while tears ran down her cheeks.
+"Why have I such a thirst for knowledge, and not one source of
+gratification?" We may not know _why_, my sister, but faith bids us
+trust in God, and "rest in his decree,"--to be content "when he refuses
+more." Yet a spirit of _true_ contentment induces no indolent yieldings
+to adverse circumstances; no slumbering and folding the hands in sleep,
+when there is so much within the reach of every one, worthy of our
+strongest and most persevering efforts. Mrs. Hale says,--
+
+  "There is a charm in knowledge, _best_ when bought
+  _By vigorous toil of frame and earnest search of thought_."
+
+And we will toil. Morning, noon, and evening shall witness our exertions
+to prepare for happiness and usefulness here, and for the exalted
+destiny that awaits us hereafter. But proper attention should be paid to
+physical comfort as well as to mental improvement. It is only by
+retaining the former that we can command the latter. The mind cannot be
+vigorous while the body is weak. Hence we should not allow our toils to
+enter upon those hours which belong to repose. We should not allow
+ourselves, however strong the temptation, to visit the lecture-room,
+&c., if the state of the weather, or of our health, renders the
+experiment hazardous. Above all, we should not forget our dependence on
+a higher Power. "Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but God alone giveth
+the increase."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Ann._ Isabel, before we commence our "big talk," let me ask you to
+proceed upon the inference that we are totally ignorant of the subject
+under discussion.
+
+_Ellinora._ Yes, Isabel, proceed upon the _fact_ that I am ignorant even
+of the meaning of the term _physiology_.
+
+_Isabel._ It comes from the Greek words _phusis_, nature, and _logia_, a
+collection, or _logos_, discourse; and means a collection of facts or
+discourse relating to nature. Physiology is divided, first, into
+Vegetable and Animal; and the latter is subdivided into Comparative and
+Human. We shall confine our attention to Human Physiology, which treats
+of the organs of the human body, their mutual dependence and relation,
+their functions, and the laws by which our physical constitution is
+governed.
+
+_A._ And are you so heretical, dear Isabel, as to class this science, on
+the score of utility, with Arithmetic and Geography--the alpha and omega
+of common school education?
+
+_I._ Yes. It is important, inasmuch as it is necessary that we know how
+to preserve the fearfully delicate fabric which our Creator has
+entrusted to our keeping. We gather many wholesome rules and cautions
+from maternal lips; we learn many more from experiencing the painful
+results that follow their violation. But this kind of knowledge comes
+tardily; it may be when an infringement of some organic law, of which we
+were left in ignorance, has fastened upon us painful, perhaps fatal,
+disease.
+
+_A._ We may not always avoid sickness and premature death by a knowledge
+and observance of these laws; for there are hereditary diseases, in
+whose origin we are not implicated, and whose effects we cannot
+eradicate from our system by "all knowledge, all device."
+
+_I._ But a knowledge of Physiology is none the less important in this
+case. If the chords of our existence are shattered, they must be touched
+only by the skilful hand, or they break.
+
+_E._ Were it not for this, were there no considerations of utility in
+the plea, there are others sufficiently important to become impulsive.
+It would be pleasant to be able to trace the phenomena which we are
+constantly observing within ourselves to their right causes.
+
+_I._ Yes; we love to understand the springs of disease, even though "a
+discovery of the cause" neither "suspends the effect, nor heals it." We
+rejoice in health, and we love to know why it sits so strongly within
+us. The warm blood courses its way through our veins; the breath comes
+and goes freely in and out; the nerves, those subtle organs, perform
+their important offices; the hand, foot, brain--nay, the whole body
+moves as we will: we taste, see, hear, smell, feel; and the inquiring
+mind delights in knowing by what means these wonderful processes are
+carried on,--how far they are mechanical, how far chemical, and how far
+resolvable into the laws of vitality. This we may learn by a study of
+Physiology, at least as far as is known. We may not satisfy ourselves
+upon all points. There may be, when we have finished our investigations,
+a longing for a more perfect knowledge of ourselves; for "some points
+must be greatly dark," so long as mind is fettered in its rangings, and
+retarded in its investigations by its connection with the body. And this
+is well. We love to think of the immortal state as one in which longings
+for moral and intellectual improvement will _all_ be satisfied.
+
+_A._ Yes; it would lose half its attractions if we might attain
+perfection here.
+
+_E._ And now permit me to bring you at once to our subject. What is this
+life that I feel within me? Does Physiology tell us? It ought.
+
+_I._ It does not, however; indeed, it cannot. It merely develops its
+principles.
+
+_E._ The principles of life--what are they?
+
+_I._ The most important are _contractibility_ and _sensibility_.
+
+_E._ Let me advertise you that I am particularly hostile to technical
+words--all because I do not understand them, I allow, but please humor
+this ignorance by avoiding them.
+
+_I._ And thus perpetuate your ignorance, my dear Ellinora? No; this will
+not do; for my chief object in these conversations is that you may be
+prepared to profit by lectures, essays and conversation hereafter. You
+will often be thrown into the company of those who express themselves in
+the easiest and most proper manner, that is, by the use of technical
+words and phrases. These will embarrass you, and prevent that
+improvement which would be derived, if these terms were understood.
+Interrupt me as often as you please with questions; and if we spend the
+remainder of the evening in compiling a physiological glossary, we may
+all reap advantage from the exercise. To return to the vital
+principles--vital is from _vita_, life--_contractibility_ and
+_sensibility_. The former is the property of the muscles. The muscles,
+you know, are what we call flesh. They are composed of fibres, which
+terminate in tendons.
+
+_Alice._ Please give form to my ideas of the tendons.
+
+_I._ With the muscles, they constitute the agents of all motion in us.
+Place your hand on the inside of your arm, and then bend your elbow. You
+perceive that cord, do you not? That is a tendon. You have observed them
+in animals, doubtless.
+
+_Ann._ I have. They are round, white, and lustrous; and these are the
+muscular terminations.
+
+_I._ Yes; this tendon which you perceive, is the termination of the
+muscles of the fore-arm, and it is inserted into the lower arm to assist
+in its elevation.
+
+_E._ Now we are coming to it. Please tell me how I move a finger--how I
+raise my hand in this manner.
+
+_I._ It is to the contractile power of the muscles that you are indebted
+for this power. I will read what Dr. Paley says of muscular contraction;
+it will make it clearer than any explanation of mine. He says, "A muscle
+acts only by contraction. Its force is exerted in no other way. When
+the exertion ceases, it relaxes itself, that is, it returns by
+relaxation to its former state, but without energy."
+
+_E._ Just as this India-rubber springs back after extension, for
+illustration.
+
+_I._ Very well, Ellinora. He adds, "This is the nature of the muscular
+fibre; and being so, it is evident that the reciprocal _energetic_
+motion of the limbs, by which we mean _with force_ in opposite
+directions, can only be produced by the instrumentality of opposite or
+antagonist muscles--of flexors and extensors answering to each other.
+For instance, the biceps and brachiaeus _internus_ muscles, placed in the
+front part of the upper arm, by their contraction, bend the elbow, and
+with such a degree of force as the case requires, or the strength
+admits. The relaxation of these muscles, after the effort, would merely
+let the fore-arm drop down. For the _back stroke_ therefore, and that
+the arm may not only bend at the elbow, but also extend and straighten
+itself with force, other muscles, the longus, and brevis brachiaeus
+_externus_, and the aconaeus, placed on the hinder part of the arms, by
+their contractile twitch, fetch back the fore-arm into a straight line
+with the cubit, with no less force than that with which it was bent out.
+The same thing obtains in all the limbs, and in every moveable part of
+the body. A finger is not bent and straightened without the
+_contraction_ of two muscles taking place. It is evident, therefore,
+that the animal functions require that particular disposition of the
+muscles which we describe by the name of antagonist muscles."
+
+_A._ Thank you, Isabel. This does indeed make the subject very plain.
+These muscles contract at will.
+
+_E._ But how can the will operate in this manner? I have always wished
+to understand.
+
+_I._ And I regret that I cannot satisfy you on this point. If we trace
+the cause of muscular action by the nerves to the brain, we are no
+nearer a solution of the mystery; for we cannot know what power sets the
+organs of the brain at work--whether it be foreign to or of itself.
+
+We will come now, if you please to _sensibility_, which belongs to the
+nerves.
+
+_A._ I have a very indefinite idea of the nerves.
+
+_E._ My _ideal_ is sufficiently definite in its shape, but so droll! I
+do not think of them as "being flesh of my flesh," but as a _species_ of
+the _genus_ fairy. They are to us, what the Nereides are to the green
+wave, the Dryades to the oak, and the Hamadryades to the little flower.
+They are quite omnipotent in their operations. They make us cry or they
+make us laugh; thrill us with rapture or woe as they please. And, my
+dear Isabel, I shall not allow you to cheat me out of this pleasing
+fancy. You may tell us just what they are, but I shall be as incredulous
+as possible.
+
+_I._ They are very slender white cords, extending from the brain and
+spinal marrow--twelve pairs from the former, and thirty from the latter.
+These send out branches so numerous that we cannot touch the point of a
+pin to a spot that has not its nerve. The mucous membrane is--
+
+_F._ Oh, these technicals! What is the mucous membrane?
+
+_I._ It is a texture, or web of fibres, which lines all cavities exposed
+to the atmosphere--for instance, the mouth, windpipe and stomach. It is
+the seat of the senses of taste and smell.
+
+_E._ And the nerves are the little witches that inform the brain how one
+thing is sweet, another bitter; one fragrant, another nauseous.
+Alimentiveness ever after frowns or smiles accordingly. So it seems that
+the actions of the brain, and of the external senses, are reciprocated
+by the nerves, or something of this sort. How is it, Isabel? Oh, I see!
+You say sensibility belongs to the nerves. So sights by means of--of
+what?
+
+_I._ Of the optical nerves.
+
+_E._ Yes; and sounds by means of the--
+
+_I._ Auditory nerves.
+
+_E._ Yes; convey impressions of externals to the brain. And "Upon this
+hint" the brain acts in its consequent reflections, and in the nervous
+impulses which induce muscular contractibility. And this muscular
+contractibility is a contraction of the fibres of the muscles. This
+contraction, of course, shortens them, and this latter _must_ result in
+the bending of the arm. I think I understand it. What are the brain and
+spine, Isabel? How are they connected?
+
+_I._ You will get correct ideas of the texture of the brain by observing
+that of animals. It occupies the whole cavity of the skull, is rounded
+and irregular in its form, full of prominences, _alias_ bumps. These
+appear to fit themselves to the skull; but doubtless the bone is moulded
+by the brain. The brain is divided into two parts; the upper and
+frontal part is called the _cerebrum_, the other the _cerebellum_. The
+former is the larger division, and is the seat of the moral sentiments
+and intellectual faculties. The latter is the seat of the propensities,
+domestic and selfish.
+
+_A._ I thank you, Isabel. Now, what is this spine, of which there is so
+much "complaint" now-a-days?
+
+_I._ I will answer you from Paley: "The spine, or backbone, is a chain
+of joints of very wonderful construction. It was to be firm, yet
+flexible; _firm_, to support the erect position of the body; _flexible_,
+to allow of the bending of the the trunk in all degrees of curvature. It
+was further, also, to become a pipe or conduit for the safe conveyance
+from the brain of the most important fluid of the animal frame, that,
+namely, upon which _all voluntary motion depends, the spinal marrow_; a
+substance not only of the first necessity to action, if not to life, but
+of a nature so delicate and tender, so susceptible and impatient of
+injury, that any unusual pressure upon it, or any considerable
+obstruction of its course, is followed by paralysis or death. Now, the
+spine was not only to furnish the main trunk for the passage of the
+medullary substance from the brain, but to give out, in the course of
+its progress, small pipes therefrom, which, being afterwards
+indefinitely subdivided, might, under the name of nerves, distribute
+this exquisite supply to every part of the body."
+
+_Alice._ I understand now why disease of the spine causes such
+involuntary contortions and gestures, in some instances. Its connection
+with the brain and nerves is so immediate, that it cannot suffer disease
+without affecting the whole nervous system.
+
+_I._ It cannot. The spinal cord or marrow is a continuation of the
+brain. But we must not devote any more time to this subject.
+
+_Bertha._ I want to ask you something about the different parts of the
+eye, Isabel. When ---- ---- lectured on optics, I lost nearly all the
+benefit of his lecture, except a newly awakened desire for knowledge on
+this subject. He talked of the retina, cornea, iris, &c.; please tell me
+precisely what they are.
+
+_I._ The retina is a nervous membrane; in other words a thin net-work,
+formed of very minute sensitive filaments. It is supposed by some to be
+an expansion of the optic nerve; and on this the images of objects we
+see are formed. It is situated at the back part of the eye. Rays pass
+through the round opening in the iris, which we call the pupil.
+
+_B._ What did the lecturer say is the cause of the color of the pupil?
+
+_I._ He said that its _want of color_ is to be imputed to the fact that
+rays of light which enter there are not returned; they fall on the
+retina, forming there images of objects. And you recollect he said that
+"absence of rays is blackness." The iris is a kind of curtain, covering
+the aqueous humor--aqueous is from the Latin _aqua_, water. It is
+confined only at its outer edge, or circumference; and is supplied with
+muscular fibres which confer the power of adjustment to every degree of
+light. It contracts or dilates involuntarily, as the light is more or
+less intense, as you must have observed. The rays of light falling on
+that part of the iris which immediately surrounds the pupil, cause it to
+be either black, blue, or hazel. We will not linger on this ground, for
+it belongs more properly to Natural Philosophy. We will discuss the
+other four senses as briefly as possible. "The sense of taste," says
+Hayward, "resides in the mucus membrane of the tongue, the lips, the
+cheeks, and the fauces." Branches of nerves extend to every part of the
+mouth where the sense of taste resides. The fluid with which the mouth
+is constantly moistened is called mucus, and chiefly subserves to the
+sense of taste.
+
+_Ann._ I have observed that when the mucus is dried by fever, food is
+nearly tasteless. I now understand the reason.
+
+_E._ _Apropos_ to the senses, let me ask if feeling and touch are the
+same. Alfred says they are; I contend they are not, precisely.
+
+_I._ Hayward thinks a distinction between them unnecessary. He says they
+are both seated in the same organs, and have the same nerves. But the
+sense of feeling is more general, extending over the whole surface of
+the skin and mucus membrane, while that of touch is limited to
+particular parts, being in man most perfect in the hand; and the sense
+of feeling is passive, while that of touch is active. This sense is in
+the skin, and is most perfect where the epidermis, or external coat, is
+the thinnest. We will look through this little magnifying glass at the
+skin on my hand. You will see very minute prominences all over the
+surface. These points are called papillae. They are supposed to be the
+termination of the nerves, and the _locale_ of sensation.
+
+_E._ Will you _shape_ my ideas of sensation?
+
+_I._ According to Lord Brougham, one of the English editors of this
+edition of Paley, it is "the effect produced upon the mind by the
+operation of the senses; and involves nothing like an exertion of the
+mind itself."
+
+Of the sense of hearing, I can tell you but little. Physiologists have
+doubts relative to many parts of the ear; and I do not understand the
+subject well enough to give you much information. I will merely name
+some of the parts and their relative situations. We have first the
+external ear, which projecting as it does from the head, is perfectly
+adapted to the office of gathering sounds, and transmitting them to the
+membrane of the tympanum, commonly called the drum of the ear, from its
+resembling somewhat, in its use and structure, the head of a drum. The
+tympanum is a cavity, of a cylindrical or tunnel form, and its office is
+supposed to be the transmission to the internal ear of the vibrations
+made upon the membrane. These vibrations are first communicated to the
+malleus or hammer. This is the first of four bones, united in a kind of
+chain, extending and conveying vibrations from the tympanum to the
+labyrinth of the ear beyond. The other bones are the incus, or anvil,
+the round bone, and the stapes, or stirrup--the latter so called from
+its resemblance to a stirrup-iron. It is placed over an oval aperture,
+which leads to the labyrinth, and which is closed by means of a
+membranous curtain. These bones are provided with very small muscles,
+and move with the vibrations of the tympanum. The equilibrium of the air
+in the tympanum and atmosphere is maintained by the means of the
+Eustachian tube, which extends from the back part of the fauces, or
+throat, to the cavity of the tympanum. The parts last mentioned
+constitute the middle ear. Of the internal ear little is known. It has
+its semicircular canals, vestibules, and cochlea; but their agencies are
+not ascertained.
+
+The organ of smell is more simple. This sense lies, or is supposed to
+lie, in the mucous membrane which lines the nostrils and the openings in
+connection. Particles are constantly escaping from odorous bodies; and,
+by being inhaled in respiration, they are thrown in contact with the
+mucous membrane.
+
+_A._ Before leaving the head, will you tell us something of the organs
+of voice?
+
+_I._ By placing your finger on the top of your windpipe, you will
+perceive a slight prominence. In males this is very large. This is the
+thorax. It is formed of four cartilages, two of which are connected with
+a third, by means of four chords, called vocal chords, from their
+performing an important part in producing the voice. Experiments have
+been made, which prove that a greater part of the larynx, except these
+chords, may be removed without destroying the voice. Magendie thus
+accounts for the production of the voice. He says, "The air, in passing
+from the lungs in expiration, is forced out of small cavities, as the
+air-cells and the minute branches of the windpipe, into a large canal;
+it is thence sent through a narrow passage, on each side of which is a
+vibratory chord, and it is by the action of the air on these chords,
+that the sonorous undulations are produced which are called voice."
+
+_E._ Do not the lips and tongue contribute essentially to speech?
+
+_I._ They do not. Hayward says he can bear witness to the fact that the
+articulation remains unimpaired after the tongue has been removed. The
+labials, _f_ and _v_, cannot be perfectly articulated without the action
+of the lips.--What subject shall we take next?
+
+_A._ A natural transition would be from the head to the heart, and, in
+connection, the circulation of the blood.
+
+_I._ Yes. I will give you an abstract of the ideas I gained in the study
+of Hayward's Physiology, and the reading of Dr. Paley's Theology. The
+heart, arteries, and veins are the agents of circulation. The heart is
+irregular and conical in its shape; and it is hollow and double.
+
+_A._ There is no channel of communication between these parts, is there?
+
+_I._ None; but each side has its separate office to perform. By the
+right, circulation is carried on in the lungs; and by the left through
+the rest of the body. I will mark a few passages in Paley, for you to
+read to us, Ann. They will do better than any descriptions of mine.
+
+_A._ I thank you, Isabel, for giving me an opportunity to lend you
+temporary relief.--"The disposition of the blood-vessels, as far as
+regards the supply of the body, is like that of the water-pipes in a
+city, viz. large and main trunks branching off by smaller pipes (and
+these again by still narrower tubes) in every direction and towards
+every part in which the fluid which they convey can be wanted. So far,
+the water-pipes which serve a town may represent the vessels which
+carry the blood from the heart. But there is another thing necessary to
+the blood, which is not wanted for the water; and that is, the carrying
+of it back again to its source. For this office, a reversed system of
+vessels is prepared, which, uniting at their extremities with the
+extremities of the first system, collects the divided and subdivided
+streamlets, first by capillary ramifications into larger branches,
+secondly by these branches into trunks; and thus returns the blood
+(almost exactly inverting the order in which it went out) to the
+fountain whence its motion proceeded. The body, therefore, contains two
+systems of blood-vessels, arteries and veins.
+
+"The next thing to be considered is the engine which works this
+machinery, viz., the _heart_. There is provided in the central part of
+the body a hollow muscle invested with spiral fibres, running in both
+directions, the layers intersecting one another. By the contraction of
+these fibres, the sides of the muscular cavity are necessarily squeezed
+together, so as to force out from them any fluid which they may at that
+time contain: by the relaxation of the same fibres, the cavities are in
+their turn dilated, and, of course, prepared to admit every fluid which
+may be poured into them. Into these cavities are inserted the great
+trunks both of the arteries which carry out the blood, and of the veins
+which bring it back. As soon as the blood is received by the heart from
+the veins of the body, and _before_ that is sent out again into its
+arteries, it is carried, by the force of the contraction of the heart,
+and by means of a separate and supplementary artery, to the lungs, and
+made to enter the vessels of the lungs, from which, after it has
+undergone the action, whatever it may be, of that viscus, it is brought
+back, by a large vein, once more to the heart, in order, when thus
+concocted and prepared, to be thence distributed anew into the system.
+This assigns to the heart a double office. The pulmonary circulation is
+a system within a system; and one action of the heart is the origin of
+both. For this complicated function four cavities become necessary, and
+four are accordingly provided; two called ventricles, which _send out_
+the blood, viz., one into the lungs in the first instance, the other
+into the mass, after it has returned from the lungs; two others also,
+called auricles, which receive the blood from the veins, viz. one as it
+comes from the body; the other, as the same blood comes a second time
+after its circulation through the lungs."
+
+_I._ That must answer our purpose, dear Ann. Of the change which takes
+place in the blood, and of the renewal of our physical system, which is
+effected by circulation, I shall say nothing. We will pass to
+respiration.
+
+_E._ Whose popular name is breathing?
+
+_I._ Yes. The act of inhaling air, is called inspiration; that of
+sending it out, expiration. Its organs are the lungs and windpipe. The
+apparatus employed in the mechanism of breathing is very complex. The
+windpipe extends from the mouth to the lungs.
+
+_A._ How is it that air enters it so freely, while food and drink are
+excluded?
+
+_I._ By a most ingenious contrivance. The opening to the pipe is called
+glottis. This is closed, when necessary, by a little valve, or lid,
+called the epiglottis (_epi_ means _upon_.)
+
+_E._ And this faithful sentinel is none other than that perpendicular
+little body which we can see in our throats, and which we have _dubbed_
+palate.
+
+_I._ You are right, Ellinora. Over this, food and drink pass on their
+way to the road to the stomach, the gullet. The pressure of solids or
+liquids tends to depress this lid on the glottis; and its muscular
+action in deglutition, or swallowing, tends to the same effect. As soon
+as the pressure is removed, the lid springs to its erect position, and
+the air passes freely. Larynx and trachea are other names for the
+windpipe, and pharynx is another for the gullet. The larynx divides into
+two branches at the lungs, and goes to each side. Hence, by
+subdivisions, it passes off in numerous smaller branches, to different
+parts of the lungs, and terminates in air-cells. The lungs, known in
+animals by the name of lights, consist of three parts, or lobes, one on
+the right side, and two on the left.
+
+_Alice._ The lights of inferior animals are very light and porous--do
+our lungs resemble them in this?
+
+_I._ Yes; they are full of air-tubes and air-cells. These, with the
+blood vessels and the membrane which connects (and this is cellular,
+that is, composed of cells,) form the lungs. The process of respiration
+involves chemical, mechanical, and vital or physiological principles. Of
+the mechanism I shall say but little more. You already know that the
+lungs occupy the chest. Of this, the breast bone forms the front, the
+spine, the back wall. Attached to this bone are twelve ribs on each
+side. These are joined by muscles which are supposed to assist in
+elevating them in breathing, thus enlarging the cavity of the chest. The
+lower partition is formed by a muscle of great power, called the
+diaphragm, and by the action of this organ alone common inspiration can
+be performed. Hayward says, "The contraction of this muscle necessarily
+depresses its centre, which was before elevated towards the lungs. The
+instant this takes place, the air rushes into the lungs through the
+windpipe, and thus prevents a vacuum, which would otherwise be produced
+between the chest and lungs." Expiration is the reverse of this. The
+chemistry of respiration regards the change produced in the blood by
+respiration. To this change I have before alluded.
+
+_Ann._ When we consider the offices of the heart and lungs, their
+importance in vital economy, how dangerous appears the custom of
+pressing them so closely between the ribs by tight lacing?
+
+_I._ Yes; fearful and fatal beyond calculation! And one great advantage
+in a general knowledge of our physical system, is the tendency this
+knowledge must have to correct this habit.
+
+_A._ To me there is not the weakest motive for tight lacing. Everything
+but pride _must_ revolt at the habit; and there is something positively
+disgusting and shocking in the wasp-like form, labored breathing, purple
+lips and hands of the tight lacer.
+
+_E._ They indicate such a pitiful servitude to fashion, such an utter
+disregard of comfort, when it comes in collision with false notions of
+elegance! Well for our sex, as we could not be induced to act from a
+worthier motive, popular opinion is setting in strongly against this
+practice. Many of our authors and public lecturers are bringing strong
+arms and benevolent hearts to the work.
+
+_A._ Yes; but to be perfectly consistent, should not the fashions of the
+"Lady's Book," the "Ladies' Companion," and of "Graham's Magazine," be
+more in keeping with the general sentiment? Their contributors furnish
+essays, deprecating the evils of tight lacing, and tales illustrative of
+its evil effects, yet the figures of the plates of fashions are
+uniformly most unnaturally slender. And these are offered for national
+standards!
+
+_E._ "And, more's the pity," followed as such.
+
+_I._ I think the improvements you mention would only cause a temporary
+suspension of the evil. They might indeed make it the _fashion_ to wear
+natural waists; but like all other fashions, it must unavoidably give
+way to new modes. They might lop off a few of the branches; but science,
+a knowledge of physiology alone, is capable of laying the axe at the
+root of the tree.--What is digestion, Ellinora?
+
+_E._ It is the dissolving, pulverizing, or some other _ing_, of our
+food, isn't it?
+
+_I._ Hayward says that "it is an important part of that process by which
+aliment taken into the body is made to nourish it." He divides the
+digestive apparatus into "the mouth and its appendages, the stomach and
+the intestines." The teeth, tongue, jaws, and saliva, perform their
+respective offices in mastication. Then the food passes over the
+epiglottis, you recollect, down the gullet to the stomach. The saliva is
+an important agent in digestion. It is secreted in glands, which pour it
+into the mouth by a tube about the size of a wheat straw.
+
+_Alice._ I heard our physician say that food should be so thoroughly
+masticated before deglutition (you see I have caught your technicals,
+Isabel,) that every particle would be moistened with the saliva. Then
+digestion would be easy and perfect. He says that dyspepsia is often
+incurred and perpetuated by eating too rapidly.
+
+_I._ Doubtless this is the case. As soon as the food reaches the
+stomach, the work of digestion commences; and the food is converted to a
+mass, neither fluid or solid, called chyme. With regard to this process,
+there have been many speculative theories. It has been imputed to animal
+heat, to putrefaction, to a mechanical operation (something like that
+carried on in the gizzard of a fowl,) to fermentation, and maceration.
+It is now a generally adopted theory, that the food is _dissolved_ by
+the gastric juices.
+
+_Ann._ If these juices are such powerful solvents, why do they not act
+on the stomach, when they are no longer supplied with _subjects_ in the
+shape of food?
+
+_I._ According to many authorities, they do. Comstock says that "hunger
+is produced by the action of the gastric juices on the stomach." This
+theory does not prevail, however; for it has been proved by experiment,
+that these juices do not act on anything that has life.
+
+_Alice._ How long does it take the food to digest?
+
+_I._ Food of a proper kind will digest in a healthy stomach, in four or
+five hours. It then passes to the intestines.
+
+_Ann._ But why does it never leave the stomach until thoroughly
+digested?
+
+_I._ At the orifice of the stomach, there is a sort of a valve, called
+pylorus, or door-keeper. Some have supposed that this valve has the
+power of ascertaining when the food is sufficiently digested, and so
+allows chyme to pass, while it contracts at the touch of undigested
+substances.
+
+_A._ How wonderful!
+
+_I._ And "how passing wonder He who made us such!"
+
+_Alice._ No wonder that a poet said--
+
+  "Strange that a harp of thousand strings
+    Should keep in tune so long!"
+
+_Ann._ And no wonder that the Christian bends in lowly adoration and
+love before _such_ a Creator, and _such_ a Preserver?
+
+_E._ Now, dear Isabel, will you tell us something more?
+
+_I._ Indeed, Ellinora, I have already gone much farther than I intended
+when I commenced. But I knew not where to stop. Even now, you have but
+just _commenced_ the study of _yourselves_. Let me urge you to read in
+your leisure hours, and reflect in your working ones, until you
+understand physiology, as well as you now do geography.
+
+                                                               D.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor typographical errors and inconsistencies have
+been silently normalized. Archaic and variable spellings retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mind Amongst the Spindles, by Various
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