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1 2 3

32X

PoGANuc People.

MRS. STOWE'S RECENT BOOKS.

Among the writers of fiction there is no single name that
stands higher than that of Mrs. Stowe, as one whose style
is always fresh, attractive, and charming, whose wit and
humour are genuine, whose depiction of human nature is apt
and true, and the atmosphere of whose writings is invariably
wholesome, clean, stimulating to the moral sense. The fol-
lowing books from her pen may be had of all booksellers ; or,
if not, will be mailed, post paid, to any address on receipt of

the pricey by

Ross-Bblford Pub. Co., ToRONTa

MY WIFE AND I : or, Harry Henderson's History. A
Novel. Illustrated, i2mo. Crown 8vo. Cloth, $i.

WE AND OUR NEIGHBOURS : The Records of an
Unfashionable Street. A NoveL Illmtrated. I2m0k
Crown 8vo. Cloth, $i.

BETTY'S BRIGHT IDEA : and other Tales. Compris-
ing " Betty's Bright Idea," "Deacon Pitkin's Farm," and
"The First Christmas Ivi New England." lUustrated,
Crown 8vo. Paper, 25 cents.

FOOTSTEPS OF THE MASTER: Studies in the Life of
Christ With Illustrations and Illuminated Titles. l2mo.
Cloth. $1.

POGANUC PEOPLE : Their Loves and Lives. A NoveL
nimtrtUed, Crown 8vo. Cloth. $1. {^usioui,)

JiD

\"^

1 ■

I.
I

THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER.

"Oh, Nabby, Nabby t do tell me what tkey are doing up at your
church, I've seen 'em all day carrying artrfulls and arm^
fulls— ever so much — of spruce and pine up that way'' — p. 8.

POGANUC PEOPLE:

THEIR LOVES AND LIVES.

By Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Author of ''Uncle Tom's Cabin," ''My Wife and /," "We and Our

Nri/(hbors,''^ etc.

Wlki\ Illustrations.

your
p. 8.

TORONTO :
ROSE-BEIiPORD PUBLISHING COMPANY.

187&

CONTENTS.

CHAPm

I. Dissolving Views, ....

II. Dolly

III. The Illumination, . . . ,

IV. Dolly's Adventurl.

V. Dolly's First Christmas Day,

VI. 'Village Politicians,

VII. The Doctor's Sermon,

VIII. Mr. Coan Answers the Doctor, .

IX. Election Day in Poganuc,

X. Dolly's Perplexities, .

XI. Dolly and Nabby are Invited Out,

XII. Dolly goes into Company, .

XIII. Colonel Davenport's Experiences,.

XIV. The Puzzle of Poganuc,

XV. The Poganuc Puzzle Solved, .

XVI. Poganuc Parsonage,

XVII. Spring and Summer come at Last,.

XVIII. Dolly's Fourth of July,

XIX. Summer Days in Poganuc,

XX. Going •' a-Chestnutting,"

XXI, Dolly's Second Christmas, , ,

XXII. The Apple Bee, . . • •

PAOl

7
i6

61
68
81

90
107

"5
127

138
150
160
166
181
190
203
220
228
239

CO.VTENTS.

CHAPTBR than

XXIII. Srekinc: a Divine Impulse 250

XXIV. •' In Such an Hour as ye Think Not," . 260
XXV. Dolly Becomes Illustrious, . . . .267

XXVI. The Victory, 274

XXVII. The Funeral 280

XXVIII. Dolly at the Wicket Gate, ... 290

XXIX. The Conflict, 294

XXX. The Crisis, 300

XXXI. The Joy of Harvest 309

XXXII. Six Years Later, 317

XXXIII. The Doctor Makes a Discovery, . . .325

XXXIV. HiEL AND NaBBY, 33O

XXXV. Miss Debby Arrives, 337

XXXVI. Preparations for Seeing Life, ... 344

XXXVII. Last Words 350

XXXVIII. Dolly's First Letter to Boston, . . 354

XXXIX. Dolly's Second Letter, . . .360

XL. Alfred Dunbar to Eugene Sinclair, . 365

XLI. Finale 370

JllttSljt^tions.

The Parson's Daughter, .

Caste

Kiel in his Glory,
Che^tnutting , .

frontispiece,
page 67

" lOf)

** 226

PACE
250

260

267

280
290

294

300

325
330

337
344
350

354
360

365
370

hECE.

67
ICK)
226

POGANUC PEOPLE.

CHAPTER I.

DISSOLVING VIEWS.

|HE scene is a large, roomy, clean New
England kitchen of some sixty years
ago. There was the great wide fire-
place, with its crane and array of pot-
hooks : there was the tall black clock in the corner,
ticking in response to the chirp of the crickets
around the broad, flat stone hearth. The scoured
tin and pewter on the dresser caught flickering
gleams of brightness from the western sunbeams
that shone through the network of elm-boughs,
rattling and tapping as the wind blew them
agamst the window. It was not quite ha^f-past
four o'clock, yet the December sun hung low and
red in the western horizon, telling that the time of
the shortest winter days was come. Everything
in the ample room shone with whiteness and neat-
ness; everything was ranged, put up, and in
order, as if work were some past and bygone

1;;'

lit-

S DISSOLVING VIEWS,

affair, hardly to be remembered. The only Uving
figure in this picture of still life was that of a
strapping, buxom Yankee maiden, with plump
arms stripped to the elbow and hands plunged
deep in the white, elastic cushion of puffy dough,
which rose under them as she kneaded.

Apparently pleasant thoughts were her com-
pany in her solitude, for her round, brown eyes
twinkled with a pleased sparkle, and every now
and then she broke into fragments of psalmody,
which she practiced over and over, and then
nodded her head contentedly, as if satisfied that
she had caught the tune.

Suddenly the outside door flew open and little
Dolly Gushing burst into the kitchen, panting
and breathless, her cheeks glowing with exercise
in face of the keen winter wind.

In she came, noisy and busy, dropping her
knitting- work and spelling-book in her eagerness,
shutting the door behind her with a cheerful
bang, and opening conversation without stopping
to get her breath :

" Oh, Nabby, Nabby ! do tell me what they
are doing up at your church. I've seen 'em all
day carrying armfuUs and armfulls — ever so
much — spruce and pine up that way, and Jim
Brace and Tom Peters told me they were going
to have a 'lumination there, and when I asked
what a 'lumination was they only laughed at me

Lvmg
of a
lump
nged
)ugh,

com-

eyes
r now
nody,

then
i that

i little
anting
;ercise

|g her
mess,
leerful
)pping

; they
em all
er so
id Jim
going
asked
at me

DISSOLVING VIEWS. ^

and called me a Presbvtpnan. Don't you think
it's a shame, Nabby, that the big boys will laugh
at me so and call me names and won't tell me
anything?"

" Oh, land o' Goshen, Dolly, what do you mind
them boys for?" said Nabby; "boys is mostly
hateful when girls is little ; but we take our turn
by and by," she said with a complacent twinkle
of her brown eyes. " I make them stand around,
I bet ye, and you will when you get older."

" But, Nabby, what is a 'lumination ?"

" Well now, Dolly, you jest pick up your book,
and put up your knittin' work, and sweep out
that snow you've tracked in, and hang up your
bonnet and cloak, and I'll tell you all about it,"
said Nabby, taking up her whole cushion of
dough and letting it down the other side with
a great bound and beginning kneading again.

The little maiden speedily complied with all
her requisitions and came and stood, eager and
breathless, by the bread bowl.

And a very pretty picture she made there,
with her rosy mouth just parted to show her
little white teeth, and the afternoon sunshine
glinting through the window brightness to go
to the brown curls that hung over her round,
white forehead, her dark blue eyes kindling with
eagerness and curiosity.

^'Well, you see," said Nabbjr, " to-morrow 's

if ,1

DISSOLVING VIEWS,

Christmas ; and they've been dressin* the church
with ground pine and spruce boughs, and made
it just as beautiful as can be, and they're goin'
to have a great gold star over the chancel.
General Lewis sent clear to Boston to get the
things to make it of, and Miss Ida Lewis she
made it ; and to-night they're going to 'luminate.
They put a candle in every single pane of glass
in that air church, and it '11 be all just as light
as day. When they get 'em all lighted up you
can see that air church clear down to North
Poganuc."

Now this sentence was a perfect labyrinth of
mystery to Dolly; tor she did not know what
Christmas was, she did not know what the
chancel was, she never saw anything dressed
with pine, and she was wholly in the dark what
it was all about ; and yet her bosom heaved, her
breath grew short, her color came and went,
and she trembled with excitement. Something
bright, beautiful, glorious, must be coming into
her life, and oh, if she could only see it !

" Oh, Nabby , are you going ?" she said, with
quivering eagerness.

** Yes, I'm gom' with Jim Sawin. I belong to
the singers, and I'm agoin' early to practice on
the anthem."

" Oh, Nabby, won't you take me ? Do, Nab-
by !" said Dolly, piteously.

DISSOLVING VIEWS.

lurch
made
goin"
incel.
;t the
is she
inate.
glass
light
p you
North

ith of
what

|t the
essed
what

d, her
went,
thing
into

with

ig to
:e on

iNab-

" Oh, land o* Goshen ! no, child ; you mustn't
think on 't. I couldn't do that noways. Your
pa never would hear of it, nor Mis' Gushing
neither. You see, your pa don't b'lieve in
Ghristmas."

" What is Ghristmas, Nabby ?"

" Why, it's the day Ghrist was bom — that's
Ghristmas."

" Why, my papa believes Ghrist was born,"
said Dolly, with an injured air; "you needn't
tell me that he don't. I've heard him read all
about it in the Testament."

" I didn't say he didn't, did I ?" said Nabby ;
"but your papa ain't a 'Piscopal, and he don't
believe in keeping none of them air prayer-
book days — Ghristmas, nor Easter, nor nothin',"
said Nabby, with a generous profusion of nega-
tives. " Up to the 'Piscopal church they keep
Ghristmas, and they don't keep it down to your
meetin' house ; that's the long and short on 't,"
and Nabby turned her batch of dough over with
a final flounce, as if to emphasize the statement,
and, giving one last poke in the middle of the
fair, white' cushion, she proceeded to rub the
paste from her hands and to cover her completed
batch with a clean white towel and then with a
neat comforter of quilted cotton. Then, estab-
lishing it m the warmest corner of the fireplace,
she proceeded to wash lier hands and look at

DISSOLVING VIEWS,

the clock and make other movements to show
that the conversation had come to an end.

Poor little Dolly stood still, looking wistful
and bewildered. The tangle of brown and golden
curls on the outside of her little head was not
more snarled than the conflicting ideas in the
inside. This great and wonderful idea of Christ-
mas, and all this confusion of images, of gold
stars and green wreaths and illuminated windows
and singing and music — all done because Christ
was born, and yet something that her papa did
not approve of — it was a hopeless puzzle. After
standing thinking for a minute or two she re-
sumed :

"But, Nabby, why don't my papa like it? and
why don't we have a lumination in our meeting-
house ?"

" Bless your heart, child, they never does them
things to Presbyterian meetin's. Folks* ways is
different, and them air is 'Piscopal ways. For
my part I'm glad father signed off to the 'Pisco-
palians, for it's a great deal jollier."

"Oh, dear! my papa won't ever sign off,"
said Dolly, mournfully.

"To be sure he won't. Why, what nonsense
that is!" said Nabby, with that briskness with
which grown people shake off the griefs of chil-
dren. "Of course he won't when he's a min-
ister, so what's the use of worryin'? You jest

DISSOLVING VIEWS.

show

tvistful
jolden
as not
in the
Dhrist-
f gold
ndows
Christ
pa did
After
she re-

^t? and
eeting-

s them
vays is
For
Tisco-

off,"

Dnsense
is with
of chil-
a min-
ou jest

shet up now, for I've got to hurry and get tea ;
'cause your pa and ma are goin' over to the
lecture to-night in North Poganuc school-house
and they'll want their supper early."

Dolly still hung about wishfully.

"Nabby, if I should ask papa, and he should
say I might go, would you take me ?" said Dolly.

Now, Nabby was a good-natured soul enough
and in a general way fond of children; she en-
couraged Miss Dolly's prattling visits to the
kitchen, let her stand about surveying her
in various domestic processes, and encouraged
that free . expression of opinion in conversation
which in those days was entirely repressed on
the part of juveniles in the presence of their
elders. She was, in fact, fond of Dolly in a cer-
tain way, but not fond enough ot her to inter-
fere with the serious avocations of lite; and
Nabby was projecting very serious and delicate
movements of diplomacy that night. She was
going to the church with Jim Sawin, who was
on the very verge of a declared admiration, not
in the least because her heart inclined toward
Jim, but as a means of bringing Ike Peters to
capitulation in a quarrel of some weeks' standing.
Jim Sa win's " folks," as she would have phrased
it, were ** meetin'ers," while Ike Peters was a
leading member ot the Episcopal choir, and it
was designed expressly to aggravate him that

I \l

«4

DISSOLVING VIEWS.

she was to come in exhibiting her captive in
triumph. To have "a child 'round under her
feet," while engaged in conducting affairs of such
delicacy, was manifestly impossible —so impossi-
ble that she thought stern repression of any such
idea the very best policy.

"Now, Dolly Gushing, you jest shet up — for
'tain't no use talkin'. Your pa nor your ma
wouldn't hear on't; and besides, little girls like
you must go to bed early. They can't be up
* night-hawkin'/ and goin' round in the cold.
You might catch cold and die like little Julia
Cavers. Little girls must be in bed and asleep
by eight o'clock."

Dolly stood still with a lowering brow. Just
then the world looked very dark. Her little
rose-leaf of an under lip rolled out and quivered,
and large bright drops began falling one by one
over her cheeks.

Nabby had a soft spot in her heart, and felt
these signs of affliction; but she stood firm.

"Now, Dolly, I'm sorry; but you can't go.
So you jest be a good girl and not say no more
about it, and don't cry, and I'll tell you what
I'll do : I'll buy you a sugar dog down to the
store, and I'll tell you all about it to morrow.'*

Dolly had seen these sugar dogs in the window
of the store, resplendent with their blue backs
and yellow ears and pink tails — designed prob-

f i

DISSOLVING VIEWS.

»5

e in
her
such
)0ssi-
such

—for
r ma
5 like
>e up

cold.

Julia

•

asleep

Just

little

ered,

>y one

id felt

K go.

more
what

to the

[ow.

tndow
backs
prob-

ably to represent dogs as they exist at the end
of the rainbow. Her heart had burned within her
with hopeless dei,ire to call one of these beauties
her own; and Nabby's promise brought out a
gleaming smile through the showery atmosphere
of her little face. A sugar dog might reconcile
iier to life.

" Now, you must promise me * certain true as
black is blue,* " said Nabby, adjuring by an ap-
parently irrational form of conjuration in vogue
among the children in those times. "You must
promise you won't say a word about this 'ere
thing to your pa or ma ; for 'they wouldn't hear
of your goin', and if they would I shouldn't
take you. I really couldn't. It would be very
inconvenient."

Dolly heaved a great sigh, but thought of the
sug;ar dog, and calmed down the tempest that
seemed struggling to rise in her little breast. A
rainbow of hope rose over the cloud of disap-
pointment, and a sugar dog with yellow ears
and pink tail gleamed consolingly through it.

CHAPTER II.'

DOLLY.

lUR little Dolly was a late autumn
chicken, the youngest of ten children,
the nursing, rearing and caring for
whom had straitened the limited salary
of Parson Gushing, of Poganuc Center, and sorely
worn on the nerves and strength of the good wife
who plied the laboring oar in these performances.
It was Dolly's lot to enter the family at a period
when babies were no longer a novelty, when the
house was full of the wants and clamors of older
children, and the mother at her very wits' end
with a confusion of jackets and trowsers, soap,
candles and groceries, and the endless h<trass-
ments of making both ends meet which pertain
to the lot of a poor country minister's wife. Con-
sequently Dolly was disposed of as she grew up
in all those short-hand methods by which chil-
dren were taught to be the least possible trouble
to their elders. She was taught to come when
called, and do as she was bid without a question
or argument, to be quenched in bed at the earliest

possible hour at night, and to speak only when
i6

DOLL r.

6poken to in the pr<;sence of her elders. All this
was a dismal repression to Dolly, for she was
by nature a lively, excitable little thing, bursting
with ques'ions that she longed to ask, and with
comments and remarks that she burned to make,
and so she esoaped gladly to the kitchen where
Nabby, the one hired girl, who was much in
the same situation ot repressed communicative-
ness, encouraged her conversational powers.

On the whole, although it never distinctly
occurred to Dolly to murmur at her lot in life
yet at times she sighed over the dreadful insig-
nificance of being only a little girl in a great
family of grown up people. For even Dolly's
brothers nearest her own age were studying in
the academy and spouting scraps of superior
Latin at her to make her stare and wonder at
their learning. They were tearing, noisy, tem-
pestuous boys, good natured enough and willing
to pet her at intervals, but prompt to suggest
that it was "time for Dolly to go to bed** when
her questions or her gambols interfered with
their evening pleasures.

Dolly was a robust, healthy little creature,
never ailing in any way, and consequently re-
ceived none of the petting which a more delicate
child might have claimed, and the general course
of her experience impressed her with the mournful
conviction that she was always liable to be in the

immmtmmmmm

DOLL Y.

way — as she commonly was, with her childish cu-
riosity, her burning desire to see and hear and
know aU that interested the grc ^eople above
her. Dolly sometimes felt her littleness and in-
sigiiihcance as quite a burden, and longed to be
one of the grown-up people. T/tey got civil an-
swers when they asked questions, instead of being
told not to talk, and they were not sent to bed
the minute it was dark, no matter what pleasant
things were going on about them. Once Dolly
remembered to have had sore throat with fever.
The doctor was sent for. Her mother put away
all her work and held her in her arms. Her
father came down out of his study and sat up
rocking her nearly all night, and her noisy, rois-
tering brothers came softly to her door and
inquired how she was, and Dolly was only sorry
that the cold passed off so soon, and she found
herself healthy and insignificant as ever. Being
gifted with an active fancy, she sometimes imag-
ined a scene when she should be sick and die,
and her father and mother and everybody would
cry over her, and there would be a funeral for
her as there was for a little Julia Cavers, one of
her playmates. She could see no drawback to
the interest of the scene oxcept that she could
not be there to enjoy her own funeral and see
how much she was appreciated ; so on the whole
she turned her visions in another direction and

DOLL K.

sh Ctl-
ir and
above
nd in-
to be
vil an-
I being
to bed
leasant
Dolly
1 fever.
it away
u Her
sat up
jy, rois-
br and
jr sorry
3 found
Being
imag-
nd die,
would
ral for
one of
ack to
e could
ind see
3 whole
Kon and

fancied the time when she should be a grown
woman and at liberty to do just as she pleased.

It must not be imagined, however, that
Dolly had an unhappy childhood. Indeed it
may be questioned whether, if she had lived in
our day when the parents often seem to be sit-
ting at the feet of their children and humbly
inquiring after their sovereign will and pleasure,
she would have been much happier than she
was. She could not have all she wanted, and
the most petted child on earth cannot. She had
learned to do without what she could not get,
and to bear what she did not like ; two sources
of happiness and peace which we should judge
to be unknown to many modem darlings. For
the most part Dolly had learned to sail her
own little boat wisely among the bigge. and
bustling crafts of the older generation.

There were no amusements then specfe-Uy pro-
vided for children. There were no children's
books; there were no Sunday-schools to teach
bright little songs and to give children picnics
and presents. It was a gr^wn people's world,
and not a child's world, that existed in those
days. Even children's toys of the period were
so poor and so few that, in comparison with our
modern profusion, they could scarcely be said to
exist.

Dolly, however, had her playthings, as every

DOLL y.

child of lively fancy will. Childhood is poetic
and creative, and can make to itself toys out of
nothing. Dolly had the range of the great wood-
pile in the back yard, where, at the yearly *' wood-
spell," the farmers deposited the fuel needed for
the long, terrible winters, and that woodpile was
a world of treasure to her. She skipped, and
sung, and climbed among its intricacies and found
there treasures of wonder. Green velvet mosses,
little white trees of lichen that seemed to her to
have tiny apples upon them, long grey-bearded
mosses and fine scarlet cups and fairy caps she
coUect'^d and treasured. She arranged landscapes
of these, where green mosses made the fields,
and little sprigs c f spruce and ground-pine the
trees, and bits of broken glass imitated rivers
and lakes, reflecting the overshadowing banks.
She had, too, hoards of chestnuts and walnuts
which a squirrel might have envied, picked up
with her ovirn hands from under the yellow
autumn leaves; and she had — chief treasure of
all— a wooden doll, with staring glass eyes, that
had been sent her by her grandmother in Boston,
which doll was the central point in all her ar-
rangements. To her she showed the chestnuts
and walnuts; she gave to her the jay's feathers
and the bluebird's wing which the boys had
given to her ; she made her a bed of divers colors
and she made her a set of tea-cups out of the

DOLL y.

backbone of a codfish. She brushed and curled
her hair till she took all the curl out of it, and
washed all the paint off her cheeks in the zeal
of motherly ablutions.

In fact nobody suspected that Dolly was not
the happiest of children, as she certainly was one
of the busiest and healthiest, and when that even-
ing her two brothers came in from the Academy,
noisy and breezy, and tossed her up in their long
arms, her laugh rung gay and loud, as if there
were no such thing as disappointment in the
world.

She pursed her mouth very tight for fear that
she should let out something on the forbidden
subject at the supper-table. But it was evident
that nothing could be farther from the mind of
her papa, who, at intervals, was expounding to
his wife the difference between natural and moral
inability as drawn out in a pamphlet he was
preparing to read at the next ministers* meeting
— remarks somewhat interrupted by reproof to
the boys for giggling at table and surreptitiously
feeding Spring, the dog, in contravention of fam-
ily rules.

It is not to be supposed that Will and Tom
Gushing, though they were minister's boys, were
not au courant in all that was going on note-
worthy in the parish. In fact, they were fully
verseJ in all the details of the projected cere-

DOLLY,

'l»

monies at the church and resolved to be in at
the show, but maintained a judicious reticence
as to their intentions lest, haply, they might be
cut short by a positive interdict.

The Episcopal church at Poganuc Center was
of recent origin. It was a small, insignificant
building compared with the great square three-
decker of a meeting-house which occupied con-
spicuously the green in Poganuc Center. The
minister was not a man particularly gifted in any
of those points of pulpit excellence which Dr.
Cushing would be likely to appreciate, and the
Doctor had considered it hitherto too small and
unimportant an aflair to be worth even a combat-
ive notice; hence his ignorance and mdifierence
to what was going on there. He had heard inci-
dentally that they were dressing the church with
pines and going to have a Christmas service, but
he only murmured something about *^ to/eradi/es
inepticB " to the officious deacon who had called
his attention to the fact. The remark, being in
Latin, impressed the Deacon with a sense of
profound and hidden wisdom. The people of
Poganuc Center paid a man a salary for knowing
more than they did, and they liked to have a
scrap of Latin now and then to remind them
of this fact. So the Deacon solemnly informed
all comers into the store who discussed recent
movements that the Doctor had his eyes open;

DOLL Y.

B in at
ticence
ght be

ter was
nificant

three-
id con-
. The
in any
ich Dr.
md the
lall and
:ombat-
fference
rd inci-
ch with
ice, but
lerabiles

called
eing in
ense of
ople of
nowing
have a
them
formed

recent

open ;

he kn3w all about tlnse Joings and they should
heir from him yet; the Doctor had expressed
his mind to him.

The Doctor, in fnct, was far more occupied
with a certain Dr. Pyncheon, whose views of
moral inability he expected entirely to confound
by the aforesaid treatise which he had been pre-
paring.

So after supper the boys officiously harnessed
and brought up the horse and sleigh destined
to lake their parents to North Poganuc school
house, and saw them set off — listening to the
last jingle of the sleigh bells with undisguised
satisfaction.

" Good ! Now, Tom, let's go up to the church
and get the best places t3 see," exclaimed Bill.

"Oh, boys, are you going?" cried Dolly, in a
piteous voice. "Oh, do take me! Nabby's
going, and everybody, and I want to go."

"Oh, you mustn't go; you're a little girl and
it's your bed-time," said Tom and Bill, as with
Spring barking at their heels they burst in a
windy swoop of noise out of the house, boys
and dog about equally intelligent as to what it
was all about.

CHAPTER III.

THE ILLUMINATION.

[EFORE going farther in our story we
pause to give a brief answer to the
queries that have risen in the minds of
some who remember the old times in
New England : How came there to be any Epis-
copalians or Episcopal church in a small Puritan
town like Poganuc?

The Episcopal Church in New England in the
early days was emphatically a root out of dry
ground, with as little foothold in popular sym-
pathy as one of those storm-driven junipers, that
the east wind blows all aslant, has in the rocky
ledges of Cape Cod. The soil, the climate, the
atmosphere, the genius, and the history of the
people were all against it. Its forms and cere-
monies were all associated with the persecution
which drove the Puritans out of England and
left them no refuge but the rock-bound shores
of America. It is true that in the time of Gov-
ernor Winthrop the colony of Massachusetts
appealed with affectionate professions to their

Mother, the Church of England, and sought her
24

THE ILLUMINATION'.

sympathy and her prayers ; but it is also unfor-
tunately true that the forms of the Church of
England were cultivated and maintained in New
England by the very party whose intolerance
and tyranny brought on the Revolutionary war.

All the oppressive governors of the colonies
were Episcopalians, and in the Revolutionary
struggle the Episcopal Church was very gen-
erally on the Tory side ; hence, the New
Englanders came to have an aversion to its
graceful and beautiful ritual and forms for the
same reason that the free party in Spain and
Italy now loathe the beauties of the Romish
Church, as signs and symbols of tyranny and
oppression.

Congregationalism—or, as it was then called
by the common people, Presbyterianism — was
the religion established by law in New England.
It was the State Church. Even in Boston in its
colonial days, the King's Chapel and Old North
were only dissenting churches, unrecognized by
the State, but upheld by the patronage of the
colonial governors who were sent over to them
from England. For a long time after the Revo-
lutionary war the old regime of the State Church
held undisputed sway in New England. There
was the one meeting-house, the one minister, in
every village. Every householder was taxed for
the support of public worship, and stringent law

THE ILLUMINATION,

and custom demanded of every one a personal
attendance on Sundaj^ at botli service;.]. Ii ..ny
defaulter failed to put in an appecraucj it vv^j t.ie
minister's duty to call promptly on Monday and
know the reason why. There was no place for
differences of religious opinion. All that indi-
vidualism which now raises a crop of various little
churches in every country village was sternly
suppressed. For many years only members of
churches could be eligible to public offices;
Sabbath-keeping was enforced with more than
Mosaic strictness, and New England justified the
sarcasm which said that they had left the Lords-
Bishops to be under the Lords-Brethren. In those
days if a sectarian meeting of Methodists or Bap-
tists, or an unseemly gathering of any kind,
seemed impending, the minister had only to put
on his cocked hat, take his gold-headed cane and
march down the village street, leaving his prohi-
bition at every house, and the thing was so done
even as he commanded.

In the very nature of things such a state of
society could not endure. The shock that sepa-
rated the nation from a king and monarchy, the
sense of freedom and independence, the hardi-
hood of thought which led to the founding of a
new civil republic, were fatal to all religious con-
straint. Even before the Revolutionary war there
were independent spirits that chafed under the

THE ILLUMmATION-,

t.lv

ite of

sepa-

\ the

lardi-

of a

con-

Ithere

the

constraint of clerical supervision, and Ethan Allen
advertised his farm and stock for sale, expressing
his determination at any cost to get out of " this
old holy State of Connecticut."

It was but a Uttle while after the close of the
war that established American independence
that the revolution came which broke up the
State Church and gave to every man the liberty
of "signing off," as it was called, to any denom-
ination that pleased him. Hence arose through
New England churches of all names. The nu-
cleus of the Episcopal Church in any place was
generally some two or three old families of ances-
tral traditions in its favor, who gladly welcomed
to their fold any who, for various causes, were
discontented with the standing order of things.
Then, too, there came to them gentle spirits,
cut and bleeding by the sharp crystals of doc-
trinal statement, and courting the balm of devo-
tional liturgy and the cool shadowy indefiniteness
of more aesthetic forms of worship. Also, any^
one that for any cause had a controversy with
the dominant church took comfort in the power
of "signing off" to another. In those days, to
belong to no church was not respectable, but to
sign off to the Episcopal Church was often a
compromise that both gratified self-will and saved
one's dignity; and, having signed off, the new
convert was obliged, for consistency's sake, to

T//£ ILLUMINATION.

justify the step he had taken by doing his best
to uphold the doctrine and worship of his chosen
church.

The little edifice at Poganuc had been trimmed
and arranged with taste and skill. For that mat-
tei, it would seem as if the wild woods of New
England were filled with garlands and decora-
tions already made and only waiting to be used
in this graceful service. Under the tall spruces
the ground was all ruffled with the pretty wreaths
of ground-pine ; the arbor vitae, the spruce,
the cedar and juniper, with their balsamic breath,
filled the aisles with a spicy fragrance. It was
a cheaply built little church, in got hie forms,
with pointed windows and an arch over the
chancel; and every arch was wreathed with
green, and above the chancel glittered a great
gold star, manufactured by Miss Ida Lewis out
of pasteboard and gilt paper ordered in Boston.
It was not gold, but it glittered, and the people
that looked on it were not blas^^ as everybody
in our days is, with sight seeing. The inno-
cent rustic life of Poganuc had no pageants, no
sights, no shows, except the eternal blazonry of
nature; and therefore the people were prepared
to be dazzled and delighted with a star cut out
of gilt paper. There was bustling activity of
boys and men in lighting the windows, and a

THE ILLUMINATION.

general rush of the populace to get the best
seats.

"Wal, now, this beats all!" said Hiel Jones
the stage driver, who had secured one of the
best perches in the little gallery.

Hiel Jones, in virtue of his place on the high
seat of the daily stage that drove through Poga-
nuc Center on the Boston turnpike, felt himself
invested with a sort of grandeur as occupying a
predominant position in society from whence he
could look down on all its movements and in-
terests. Everybody bowed to Hiel. Every
housekeeper charged him with her bundle or
commissioned him with her errand. Bright ?yed
damsels smiled at him from windov/s as he drove
up to house-doors, and of all that was going on
in Poganuc Center, or any of the villages for
twenty miles around, Hiel considered himself
as a competent judge and critic. Therefore he
came at an early hour and assumed a seat where
he could not only survey the gathering congre-
gation but throw out from time to time a few
suggestions on the lighting up and arrangements.

" Putty wal got up, this 'ere, for Poganuc
Center," he said to Job Peters, a rather heavy
lad who had secured the place beside him.

** Putty wai, considerin' ! Take care there,
Siah Beers, ye'll set them air spruce boughs afire
ef you ain't careful lightin' your candles ; spruce

THE ILLUMINATION,

boughs go like all natur ef ye once start *em.
These 'ere things takes jedgment, Siah. Tell Ike
Bissel there to h'ist his pole a leetle higher; he
don't reach them air top candles ; what's the
feller thinkin' of? Look out, Jimmy! Ef ye let
down that top winder it flares the candles, and
they'll gutter like thunder ; better put it up."

When the church was satisfactorily lighted
Hiel began his comments on the assembling
audience :

" There goes Squire Lewis and Mis* Lewis
and old lady Lewis and Idy Lewis and the
Lewis boys. On time, they be. Heads dov/n
— sayin* prayers, I s'pose! Folks don't do so
t' our meetin' ; but folks* ways is different. Bless
my soul, ef there ain't old Zeph Higgins, lookin'
like a last year*s mullen-stalk ! I swow, ef the
old critter hain't act'ally hitched up and come
down with his hull team — wife and boys and
yaller dog and all.'*

" Why, Zeph Higgins ain*t *Piscopal, is he ?'*
said Job, who was less versed than Hiel in
the gossip of the day.

*' Lordy massy, yis ! Hain't ye heard that
Zeph's signed off two months ago, and goin' in
strong for the 'Piscopals?"

*'Wal, that air beats all," said his auditor.
"Zeph is about the last timber I'd expect to
make a 'Piscopal of."

•t 'em.
ell Ike
er; he

fs the
ye let
is, and

ighted

nbling

Lewis
id the

dov/n
do so

Bless
ookin*

f the

come
and

he?"
el in

that
n' in

litor.
t to

THE ILLUMINATION,

"Oh, lands! he ain't no more 'Piscopal than
I be, Zeph Higgins ain't : he's nothin' but a mad
Presbyterian, like a good many o* the rest on
'em," said Hiel.

" Why, what's he mad about ?"

" Laws, it's nothin' but that air old business
about them potatoes that Zeph traded to Deacon
Dickenson a year ago. Come to settle up, there
was about five and sixpence that they couldn't
'gree 'bout. Zeph, he said the deacon cheated
him, and the deacon stood to it he was right;
and they had it back and forth, and the deacon
wouldn't give in, and Zeph wouldn't. And
there they stood with their horns locked like
two bulls in a pastur' lot. Wal, they had
'em up 'fore the church, and they was labored
with — both sides. The deacon said, finally, he'd
pay the money for peace' sake, if Zeph would
take back what he said 'bout his bein' a cheat
and a liar; and Zeph he said he wouldn't take
nothin' back; and then the church they sus-
pended Zeph; and Zeph he '^ned off to the
'Piscopals."

"I want to know, now," said Job, with a sat-
isfied air of dawning comprehension.

**Yis, sir, that air's the hull on't. But I tell
you, Zeph's led the old deacon a dance. Zeph,
ye see, is one o' them ropy, stringy fellers, jest
like touch-wood— once get 'em a burnin' and

33 THE ILLUMINATION.

they keep on a burnin' night and day. Zeph
really sot up nights a hatin' the deacon, and
contrivin' what he could do agin him. Finally,
it come into his head that the deacon got his
water from a spring on one of Zeph's high pas-
tur' lots. The deacon had laid pipes himself and
brought it 'cross lots down to his house. Wal,
wat does Zeph do, without sayin* a word to the
deacon, but he takes up all the deacon's logs
that carried the water 'cross his lot, and throw'd
'em over the fence; and, fust the deacon's wife
knowed, she hadn't a drop o' water to wash or
cook with, or drink, nor nothin'. Deacon had
to get all his water carted in barrels. Wal, they
went to law 'bout it and 'tain't settled yit; but
Zeph he took Squire Lewis for his lawye»*.
Squire l>wis, ye see, he's the gret man to the
Tiscopal Church. Folks say he putty much
built this 'ere church."

" Wal, now," said Job, after an interval of med-
itation, " I shouldn't think the 'Piscopals wouldn't
get no gret advantage from them sort o' fel-
lers."

"That air's jest what I was a tellin* on 'em
over to the store," said Hiel, briskly. ** Deacon
Peasley, he was a mournin' about it. Lordy
massy, deacon, says I, don't you worry. If them
'Piscopalians has got Zeph Higgins in their
camp — why, they've bit off more 'n they ca'>.

THE ILLUMINATTOAT.

chaw, that's all. They'll find it out one o' these
days — see if they don't."

"Wal, but Zeph's folks is putty nice folks,
now," said Job.

^ " O — wal, yis — they be ; don't say nothin' agin
his folks. Mis' Higgins is a meek, marciful old
body, kind o' heart-broken at leavin' Parson
Gushing and her meetin'. Then there's Nabby,
and the boys. Wal, they sort o' like it — young
folks goes in for new things. There's Nabby
over there now, come in with Jim Sawin. I
beheve she's makin' a fool o* that 'ere fellow.
Harnsom gal, Nabby is — knows it too — and
sarves out the fellers. Maybe she'll go through
the wood and pick up a crooked stick 'fore she
knows it. I've sot up with Nabby myself; but
laws, she ain't the only gal in the world — plenty
on *em all 'round the lot."

" Why," exclaimed his neighbor, " if there ain't
the minister's boys down there in that front
slip!"

"Sartin; you may bet on Bill and Tom for
bein* into the best seat whatever 's goin* on.
Likely boys; wide awake they be! Bill there
could drive stage as well as I can, only if I didn't
hold on to him he 'd have us all to the darnation
in five minutes. There 's the makin* of suthin' in
that Bill. He '11 go strong to the Lord or to
the devil one o* these days."

THE ILLUMINATION.

" Wal, what 's his father think of his bein*
here?"

"Parson Gushing! Lordy massy, he don't
know nothin' where they be. Met him and Mis'
Gushing jinglin' over to the Friday evenin'
prayer-meetin' to North Poganuc."

"Wal, now," said his neighbor, "ef there ain't
Lucius Jenks down there and Mis' Jenks, and
all his folks."

"Yis — yis, jes* so. They say Lucius is think-
in* of signin* off to the 'Piscopais to get the trade.
He 's jest sot up store, and Deacon Dickenson 's
got all the ground ; but there 's the Lewises and
the Gopleys and the Danforths goes to the 'Pis-
copals, and they 's folks that lives well and uses
lots of groceries. I should n't wonder ef Lucius
should make a good thing on 't. Jenks ain't one
that cares much which church he goes to, and,
like enough, it don't make much difference to
some folks."

" You know this 'ere minister they've got
here?" asked Job.

" Know him ? Guess so !" said Hiel, with a
superior smile. " I've known Sim Goan ever
since he wore short jackets. Sim comes from
over by East Poganuc. His gran'ther was old
Gineral Goan, a gret Tory he was, in the war
times. Sim's ben to college, and he's putty
smart and chipper. Gome to heft him, tho', he

THE ILLUMINATION.

his bein*

le do n't

and Mis*

evenin'

lere ain't
nks, and

is think-

he trade.

kenson 's

'ises and

the 'Pis-

nd uses

Lucius

in't one

to, and,

Icnce to

got

I with a
ever
from

las old

ie war
putty
lo', he

don't weigh much 'longside o' Parson Cushmg.
He's got a good voice, and reads well ; but come
to a sermon — wal, ain't no gret heft in't."

" Want to know," said his auditor.

*' Yis," said Hiel, *' but Sim 's almighty plucky.
You'd think now, comin' into this 'ere little bit of
a church, right opposite Parson Cushing's great
mectin'-house, and with the biggest part of folks
goin' to meetin', that he'd sing small at fust ; but
he don't. Lordy massy, no ! He comes right out
with it that Parson Gushing ain't no minister,
and hain't got no right to preach, nor administer
sacraments, nor nothin' — nor nobody else but him
and his 'Piscopal folks, that's been ordained by
bishops. He gives it to 'em, hip and thigh, 1 tell
you."

" That air don't look reasonable," said Job, after
a few minutes of profound reflection.

" Wal, Siin says this 'ere thing has come
right stret down from the 'Postles — one ordainin*
another in a steady string all the way down till it
come to him. And Parson Gushing, he's out in
the cold, 'cause there hain't no bishop ordained
him."

'-' Wal, I declare !" said the other. ** I think that
air *s cheek."

"Ain't it now?" said Hiel. "Now, for my
part, I go for the man that does his work best.
Here's all our ministers round a savin' sinners and

I i

' 1

j6 THE ILLUMINATIOl^.

convartin* souls, whether the 'Postles ordained
'em or not — that's what ministers is fur. I'll set
Parson Gushing 'longside any minister — preachin'
and teachin* and holdin' meetin's in Poganuc
Center, and North and South Poganuc, and
gathenn* church members, and seein* to the

schools, and keepin' every thing agoin'. That
air kind o' minister 's good enough for me^

" Then you've no thoughts of signing off?"

"Not a bit on't. My old mother, she thinks
every thing o' Parson Gushing. She's a gret deal
better jedge than I be o' this 'ere sort o' thing. I
shall go to meetin' with Mother."

*' It's sort o' takin' and pretty, though, this 'ere
dressing up the church and all," said his neighbor.

" Wal, yis, V is putty," said Hiel, looking
around with an air of candid allowance, " but
who's going to pay for it all? These 'ere sort
of things chalk up, ye know. All these 'ere taller
candles ain't burnt out for nothing—somebody's
got to foot the bills."

" Wal, I like the orgin,'* said Job. " I wish we
had an o*-gin to our meetm'."

** Dunno," said Hiel, loth to admit any superi-
ority. "Wal, they wouldn't a hed none ef it
hadn't been for Uncle Sol Peters. You know he's
kind o' crazy to sing, and he hain't got no ear, and
no more voice *n a saw-mill, and they wouldn t
hev 'im in our singer seats, and so he went off to

THE ILLUMINATION.

the 'Piscopals. And he bought an orgin right
out and out, and paid for it, and put it in this
church so that they'd let him be in the singin*.
You know they can make noise enough with an
orgin to drown his voice."

** Wal, it was considerable for Uncle Sol to do
— wa'n'tit?" said Job.

" Laws, he's an old bachelor, hain't got no wife
and children to support, so I s'pose he may as
well spend his money that way as any. Uncle
Sol never could get any gal to hev him. There
he is now, tryin' to get 'longside o* Nabby Hig-
gins; but you'll see he won't do it. She knows
what she's about. Now, for my part, I like our
singin' up to the meetin' -house full as wal as
this 'ere. I like good old-fashioned psalm tunes,
with Ben Davis to lead — that's the sort / like.'*

It will have been remarked that Hiel was
one of that common class of Yankees who felt
provided with a ready-made opinion of every-
thing and every subject that could possibly be
started, from stage-driving to apostolic succes-
sion, with a most comfortable opinion of the
importance of his approbation and patronage.

When the house was filled and the evening
service begun Hiel looked down critically as
the audience rose or sat down or bowed in the
Creed. The tones of the small organ, leading the
choral chant and somewhat covering the uncult-

TIf£ ILLUMINATION.

ured roughness of the voices in the choir, rose
and filled the green arches with a solemn and
plaintive sound, affecting many a heart that scarce
could give a reason why. It was in truth a very
sweet and beautiful service, and one calculated to
make a thoughtful person regret that the Church
of England had ever expelled the Puritan leaders
from an inheritance of such lovely possibilities.
When the minister's sermon appeared, however,
it proved to be a spirited discourse on the obliga-
tion of keeping Christmas, to which Hiel list-
ened with pricked-up ears, evidently bristling
with combativeness.

" Parson Cushing could knock that air all to
flinders ; you see if he can't," said Hiel, the mo-
ment the concluding services allowed him space
to speak his mind. "Wal, did ye see old Zeph
a-gettin' up and a-settin' down in the wrong place,
and tryin* to manage his prayer-book?" he said.
" It's worse than the militia drill — he never hits
right. I hed to laugh to see him. HuUoa! if
there ain't little Dolly down there in the corner,
under them cedars. How come she out this time
o' night? Guess Parson Cushing 'II hev to look
out for this 'ere I"

nr, rose
mn and
t scarce
1 a very
ilated to
Church
i leaders
ibiUties.
owever,
J obliga-
liel list-
bristling

ir all to
the mo-
rn space
d Zeph
place,
e said,
er hits
loa! it
corner,
is time
o look

CHAPTER IV.

DOLLY S ADVENTURE.

|ND, after all, Dolly was there! Yes,
she was. Human nature, which runs
wild with the oldest of us at times, was
too strong for poor little Dolly.
Can any of us look back to the earlier days
of our mortal pilgrimage and remember the help-
less sense of desolation and loneliness caused by
being forced to go off to the stillness and dark-
ness of a solitary bed far from all the beloved
voices and employments and sights of life? Can
we remember lying, hearing distant voices, and
laughs of more fortunate, older people, and the
opening and shutting of distant doors, that told
of scenes of animation and interest from which
we were excluded? How doleful sounded the
tick of the clock, and how dismal was the dark-
ness as sunshine faded from the window, leaving
only a square of dusky dimness in place of day-
light !

All who remember these will sympathize with
Dolly, who was hustled off to bed by Nabby

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE.

■ i

the minute supper was over, that she might
have the decks clear for action.

"Now be a good girl; shut your eyes, and
say your prayers, and go right to sleep," had
been Nabby's parting injunction as she went
out, closing the door after her.

The little head sunk into the pillow and Dolly
recited her usual liturgy of "Our Father who
art in Heaven," and "I pray God to bless my
dear father and mother and all my dear friends
and relations, and make me a good girl;" and
ending with

" * Now I lay me down to sleep.* "

But sleep she could not. The wide, bright,
wistful blue eyes lay shining like two stars
towards the fadmg light in the window, and the
little ears were strained to catch every sound. She
heard the shouts of Tom and Bill and the loud
barking of Spring as they swept out of the door ;
and the sound went to her heart. Spring — her
faithful attendant, the most loving and sympathetic
of dogs, her friend and confidential counsellor
in many a solitary ramble — Spring had gone with
the boys to see the sight, and left her alone.
She began to pity herself and cry softly on her
pillow. For awhile she could hear Nabby's en-
ergetic movements below, washing up dishes,
setting back chairs, and giving energetic thumps

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE.

might

^es, and
p," had
le went

d Dolly
ler who
less my
friends
1;" and

bright,

^o stars
and the
nd. She
he loud
e door ;
ig — her
pathetic
insellor
e with
alone,
on her
y's en-
dishes,
humps

and bangs here and there, as her way was of
producing order. But by and by that was all
over, and she heard the loud shutting of the
kitchen door and Nabby's voice chatting with
her attendant as she went off to the scene of
gaiety.

In those simple, innocent days in New England
villages nobody thought of locking house doors
at night. There was in those times no idea either
of tramps or burglars, and many a night in sum-
mer had Dolly lain awake and heard the voices of
tree-toads and whippoorwills mingling with the
whisper of leaves and the swaying of elm boughs,
while the great outside door of the house lay
broad open in the moonlight. But then this was
when everybody was in the house and asleep,
when the door of her parents' room stood open
on the front hall, and she knew she could run to
the paternal bed in a minute for protection.
Now, however, she knew the house was empty.
Everybody had gone out of it ; and there is some-
thing fearful to a little lonely body in the possi-
bilities of a great, empty house. She got up and
opened her door, and the **tick-tock" of the old
kitchen clock for a moment seemed like company ;
but pretty soon its ticking began to strike louder
and louder with a nervous insistancy on her ear,
till the nerves quivered and vibrated, and she
couldn't go to sleep. She lay and listened to all

.'.?r ■e-'nJ^H.r'WKiaj'..

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE,

the noises outside. It was a still, clear, freezing
night, when the least sound clinked with a me-
tallic resonance. She heard the runners of
sleighs squeaking and crunching over the frozen
road, and the lively jingle of bells. They would
come nearer, nearer, pass by the house, and go
off in the distance. Those were the happy folks
going to see the gold star and the Christmas
greens in the church. The gold star, the Christ-
mas greens, had all the more attraction from their
vagueness. Dolly was a fanciful little creature,
and the clear air and romantic scenery of a moun-
tain town had fed her imr :ination. Stories she
had never read, except those in the Bible and the
Pilgrim's Progress, but her very soul had vibrated
with the descriptions of the c ^lestial city — some-
thing vague, bright, glorious, lying beyond some
dark river; and Nabby's rude account of what
was going on in the church suggested those
images.

Finally a bright thought popped into her little
head. She could see the church from the front
windows of the house ; she would go there and
look. In haste she sprang out of bed and dressed
herself. It was sharp and freezing in the fire-
less chamber, but Dolly's blood had a racing,
healthy tingle to it ; she didn't mind cold. She
wrapped her cloak around her and tied on her
hoed and ran to the front windows. There it

iT-

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE.

eezing
a me-
ers of
frozen
would
md go
y folks
ristmas
Christ-
m their
•eature,
L moun-
•ies she
and the
ibrated
— some-
i some
f what
those

;r little
front
:e and
Iressed
le fire-
racing,
She
m her
lere it

was, to be sure — the little church with its sharp-
pointed windows every pane of which was sending
streams of light across the glittering snow. There
was a crowd around the door, and men and boys
looking in at the windows. Dolly's soul was fired.
But the elm-boughs a little obstructed her vision ;
she thought she would go down and look at it
from the yard. So down stairs she ran, but as
she opened the door the sound of the chant rolled
out into the darkness with a sweet and solemn
sound :

" Glory be to God on high ; (tnd on earth poacey
good will towards men''

Dolly's soul was all aglow — her nerves tingled
and vibi ated ; she thought of the bells ringing
in the celestial city ; she could no longer contain
herself, but faster and faster the little hooded
form scudded across the snowy plain and pushed
in among the dark cluster of spectators at the
door. All made way for the child, and in a
moment, whether in the body or out she could
not tell, Dolly was sitting in a little no^k under
a bower of spruce, gazing at the star and lis-
tening to the voices:

'■'■ We praise Thee^ we bless Thee, we worship Thee^
we glorify Thee, we give thanks to thee for thy
great glory, O Lord God, Heavenly King, God, the
Father Almighty ^

Her heart throbbed and beat; she trembled

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE.

with a strange happiness and sat as one entranced
till the music was over. Then came reading,
the rustle and murmur of people kneeling, and
then they all rose and there was the solemn
buzz of voices repeating the Creed with a curious
lulling sound to her ear. There was old Mr.
Danfbrth with his spectacles on, reading with a
pompous tone, as it to witness a good confession
for the church ; and there was Squire Lewis
and old Ma'am Lewis; and there was one place
where they all bowed their heads and all the
ladies made courtecies — all of which entertained
her mightily.

"When the sermon began Dolly got tast asleep
and slept as quietly as a pet lamb in a meadow,
lying in a little warm roll back under the
shadows ot the spruces. She was so tired and
so sound asleep that she did not. wake when the
service ended, lying serenely curled up, and hav-
ing perhaps pleasant dreams. She might have
had the fortunes of little Goody Two-Shoes,
whose history was detailed in one of the few
children's books then printed, had not two friends
united to find her out.

Spring, who had got into the slip with the
boys, and been an equally attentive and edified
listener, after service began a tour of investiga-
tion, dog-fashion, with his nose; for how could
a minister's dog form a suitable judgment of any

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE.

loes,
few

the
ified
[iga-

mld
lany

new procedure if he was repressed from the use
of his own leading faculty? So, Spring went
round the church conscientiously, smelling at
pew-doors, smelling of the greens, smeUing at the
heels of gentlemen and ladies, till he came near
the door of the church, when he suddenly smelt
something which called for immediate attention,
and he made a side dart into the thicket where
Dolly was sleeping, and began licking her face
and hands and pulling her dress, giving short
barks occasionally, as if to say, "Come, Dolly,
wake up !" At the same instant Hiel, who
had seen her from the gallery, Ciime down just
as the little one was sitting up with a dazed,
bewildered air.

*' Why, Dolly, how came you out o* bed this
time o' night! Don't ye know the nine o'clock
bell's jest rung?"

Dolly knew Hiel well enough — what child in
the village did not! She reached up her little
hands saying in an apologetic fashion,

"They were all gone away, and 1 was so
lonesome !"

Hiel took her up in his long arms and car-
ried her home, and was just entering the house-
door with her as the sleigh drove up with Par-
son Gushing and his wife.

" Wal, Parson, your folks has all ben to the
'lumination — Nabby and Bill and Tom and Dolly

4«

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE,

here; found her all rolled up in a heap like a
rabbit under the cedars."

"Why, Dolly Cu=^hing!** exclaimed her mother.
*' What upon earth got you out of bed this time
of night? You'll catch your death o* cold."

**I was all alone," said Dolly, with a piteous
bleat.

*'0h, there, there, wife; don't say a word,"
put in the Parson. "Get her off to bed. Never
Mind, Dolly, don't you cry;" for Parson Gush-
ing was a soft-hearted gentleman and couldn't
bear the sight of Dolly's quivering under lip.
So Dolly told her little story, how she had been
promised a sugar dog by Nabby if she'd be a
good girl and go to sleep, and how she couldn't
go to sleep, and how she just went down to
look from the yard, and how the music drew
her right over.

" There, there," said Parson Gushing, " go to
bed, Dolly ; and if Nabby don't give you a sugar
dog, I will.

"This Ghristmas dressing is all nonsense," he
added, "but the child 's not to blame — it was
natural."

" After all," he said to his wife the last thing after
they were settled for the night, " our little Dolly
is an unusual child. There were not many little
girls that would have dared to do that. I shall
preach a sermon right away that will set all this

»♦

he
was

ifter
•oily
ittle
jhall
Ithis

DOLLY'S ADVENTURE.

Christmas matter straight," said the doctor.
" There is not a shadow of evidence that the first
Christians kept Christmas. It wasn't kept for the
first three centuries, nor was Christ born any-
where near the 25th of December."

CHAPTER V.

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

|HE next morning found little Dollys
blue eyes wide open with all the won-
dering eagerness of a new idea. In
those early times the life of childhood
was much more in the imagination than now.
Children were let alone, to think their own
thoughts. There were no kindergartens to train
the baby to play philosophically, and infuse a
stealthy aroma of geometry and conic sections
into the very toys of the nursery. Parents were
not anxiously watching every dawning idea of
the little mind to set it straight even before it
was uttered ; and there were then no newspapers
or magazines with a special corner for the bright
sayings of children.

Not that children were any less beloved, or
motherhood a less holy thing. There were many
women of de'^p hearts, who, like the " most
blessed among women," kept all the sayings of
their darlings and pondered them in their hearts;

but it was not deemed edifying or useful to pay
48

DOLLY'S FIKST CHRISTMAS DAY.

much apparent attention to these utterances and
actions of the youthful pilgrim.

Children's inquiries were freely put off with
the general answer that Mamma was busy and
they must not talk — that when they were grown
up they would know all about these things, etc.;
and so they lived apart from older people in
their own little child-world of uninvaded ideas.

Dolly, therefore, had her wise thoughts about
Christmas. She had been terribly frightened at
first, when she was brought home from the
church ; but when her papa kissed her and
promised her a sugar dog she was quite sure
that, whatever the unexplained mystery might
be, he did not think Jie lovely scene of the night
before a wicked one. And when Mrs. Cushing
came and covered the little girl up warmly m
bed, she only said to her, ** Dolly, you must never
get out of bed again at night after you are put
there; you might have caught a dreadful cold
and been sick and died, and 'hen we should have
lost our little Dolly." So Dolly promised quite
readily to be good and lie still ever alter, no
matter what attractions might be on foot in the
community.

Much was gained, however, and it was all clear
gain; and forthwith the little fanciful head pro-
ceeded to make the most of it, thinking over
every feature of the wonder. The child had a

DOLLY* S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

vibrating, musical organization, and the sway and
rush of the chanting still sounded in her ears
and reminded her of that wonderful story in the
" Pilgrim's Progress," where the gate of the
celestial city swung open, and there were voices
that sung, " Blessing and honor and glory and
power be unto Him who sitteth on the throne."
And then thk^t wonderful star, that shone just
as if it were a real star — how could it be ! For
Miss Ida Lewis, being a young lady of native
artistic genius, had cut a little hole in the center
of her gilt paper star, behind which was placed
a candle, so that it gave real light, in a way most
astonishing to untaught eyes. In Dolly's simple
view it verged on the supernatural — perhaps it
was the very real star read about in the gospel
story. Why net ? Dolly was at the happy age
when anything brip^ht and heavenly seemed cred-
ible, and had the child-faith to which all things
were possible. She had even seriously pondered
at times the feasibility of walking some day to
the end of the rainbow to look for the pot of
gold which Nabby had credibly assured her was
to be found there; and if at any time in her
ramblings through the wood a wolf had met her
and opened a conversation, as in the case of
little Red Riding Hood, she would have been
no way surprised, but kept up her part of the
interview with becoming spirit.

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY,

"I wish, my dear," said Mrs. Gushing, after
they were retired to their room for the night,
"that to-morrow morning you would read the
account of the birth of Christ in St. Matthew,
and give the children some good advice upon
the proper way of keeping Christmas."

" Well, but you know we don't keep Christmas;
nobody knows anything about Christmas," said
the Doctor.

"You know what I mean, my dear," replied
his wife. "You know that my mother and her
family do keep Christmas. I always heard of it
when I was a child ; and even now, though I
have been out of the way of it so long, I cannot
help a sort of kindly feeling towards these ways.
I am not surprised at all that the children got
drawn over last night to the service. I think
it's the most natural thing in the world, and I
know by experience just how attractive such
things are. I shouldn't wonder if this Episcopal
church should draw very seriously on your con-
gregation ; but I don't want it to begin by taking
away our own children. Dolly is an inquisitive
child ; a child that thinks a good deal, and she'll
be asking all sorts of questions about the why
and wherefore of what she saw last night."

"Oh, yes, Dolly is a bright one. Dolly's an
uncommon child," said the Doctor, who had a
pardonable pride in his children — they being, in

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY,

fact, the only worldly treasure that he was at all
rich in.

"And as to that little dress-up affair over
there," he continued, " I don't think any real
harm has been done as yet. I have my eyes
open. I know all about it, and I shall straighten
out this whole matter next Sunday," he said, with
the comfortable certainty of a man in the habit
of carrying his points.

" I don't feel so very sure of that," said his
wife ; " at the same time I shouldn't want any-
thing like an open attack on the Episcopalians.
There are sincere good people of that way of
thinking — my mother, for instance, is a saint on
earth, and so is good old Madam Lewis. So pray
be careful what you say."

"My dear, I haven't the least objection to
their dressing their church and having a good
Christian service any day in the year if they
want to, but our people may just as well under-
stand our own ground. I know that the Demo-
crats are behind this new move, and they are
just using this church to carry their own party
purposes — to break up the standing order and
put down all the laws that are left to protect
religion and morals. They want to upset every-
thing that our fathers came to New England to
establish. But I'm going to head this thing off

ii.

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

in Poganuc. I shall write a sermon to-morrow,
and settle matters."

Now, there is no religious organization in the
world in its genius and history less likely to
assimilate with a democratic movement than the
Episcopal Church. It is essentially aristocratic
in form, and, in New England, as we have already
noticed, had always been on the side of mo-
narchical institutions.

But, just at this point in the history of New
England affairs, all the minor denominations were
ready to join any party that promised to break
the supremacy of the State Church and give
them a foothold.

It was the " Democratic party" of that day
that broke up the exclusive laws in favor of the
Congregational Church and consequently gained
large accessions to their own standard. To use
a brief phrase, all the outs were Democrats, and
all the ins Federalists. But the Democratic
party had, as always, its radical train. Not satis-
fied with wresting the scepter from the hands of
the Congregational clergyman, and giving equal
rights and a fair field to other denominations,
the cry was now to abolish all laws in any way
protective of religious institutions, or restrictive
of the fullest personal individualism; in short,
the cry was for the liberty of every man to go
to church or not, to keep the Sabbath or not, to

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

support a minister or not, as seemed good and
proper in his own eyes.

This was in fact the final outcome of things
in New England, and experience has demon-
strated that this wide and perfect freedom is the
best way of preserving religion and morals. But
it was not given to a ^jlergyman in tht day of
Dr. Gushing, who had hitherto felt that a state
ought to be like a well-governed school, under
the minister for schoolmaster, to look on the
movements of the Democratic party otherwise
than as tending to destruction and anarchy. This
new TTOvcraent in the Episcopal Church he re-
garded as but a device by appeals to the senses —
by scenic effects, illuminations and music — to draw
people oflf to an unspiritual and superficial form
of religion, which, having once been the tool of
monarchy and aristocracy, had now fallen into
the hands of the far more dangerous democracy ;
and he determined to set the trumpet to his
mouth on the following Sabbath, and warn the
watchmen on the walls of Zion.

He rose up early, however, and proceeded to
buy a sugar dog at the store of Lucius Jenks,
and when Dolly came down to breakfast he
called her to him and presented it. saying as he
kissed her,

" Papa gives you this, not because it is Christ^
roaS| but because he loves his little Dolly."

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY,

" But hnt it Christmas T asked Dolly, with
a puzzled air.

" No, child ; nobody knows when Christ was
born, and there is nothing in the Bible to tell us
when to keep Christmas."

And then in family worship the doctor read
the account of the birth of Christ and of the
shepherds abiding in the fields who came at the
call of the angels, and they sung the old hymn :

"While shepherds watched their flocks by night."

"Now, children," he said when all was over,
"you must be good children and go to school.
If we are going to keep any day on account
of the birth of Christ, the best way to keep it
is by doing all our duties on that day better than
any other. Your duty is to be good children,
go to school and mind your lessens."

Tom and Bill, who had been at the show the
evening before and exhausted the capabilities
of the scenic effects, were quite ready to fall in
with their father's view of the matter. The can-
dles were burnt out, the play over, for them, and
forthwith they assumed to look down on the
whole with the contempt of superior intelligence.
As for Dolly, she put her little tongue advis-
edly to the back of her sugar dog and found
that he was very sweet indeed — a most tempt-

^^ DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

ing little animal. She even went so far as
to nibble off a bit of the green ground he
stood on — ^yet resolved heroically not to eat
him at once, but to make him last as long as
possible. She wrapped him tenderly in cotton
and took him to the school with her, and when
her confidential friend, Bessie Lewis, displayed
her Christmas gifts, Dolly had something on her
side to show, though she shook her curly head
wisely and informed Bessie in strict confidence
that there wasn't any such thing as Christmas,
her papa had told her so — a heresy which Bessie
forthwith reported when she went home at noon.

" Poor little Presbyterian — and did she say so?"
asked gentle old Grandmamma Lewis. "Well,
dear, you mustn't blame her — she don't know
any better. You bring the little thing in here
to-night and I'll give her a Christmas cookey.
I'm sorry for such children."

And so, after school, Dolly went in to see
dear old Madam Lewis, who sat in her rocking-
cbair in the front parlor, where the fire was
snapping behind great tall brass andirons and
all the pictures were overshadowed with boughs
of spruce and pine. Dolly gazed about her with
awe and wonder. Over one of the pictures was
suspended a cross of green with flowers of
white everlasting.

"What is that forf*" asked Dolly, pointing soU

DOLLY'S FIRST" CHRISTMAS DAY, t^^

emnly with her little forefinger, and speaking
under her breath.

" Dear chUd, that is the picture of my poor
boy who died — ever so many years ago. That
is my cross — we have all one — to carry."

Dolly did not half understand these words,
but she saw tears in the gentle old lady's eyes
and was afraid to ask more.

She accepted thankfully and with her nicest
and best executed courtesy a Christmas cookey
representing a good-sized fish, with fins all spread
and pink sugar-plums for eyes, and went home
marveling yet more about this mystery of Christ-
mas.

As she was crossing the green to go home
the Poganuc stage drove in, with Hiel seated
on high, whipping up his horses to make them
execute that grand entree which was the glory
of his daily existence.

Now that the stage was on runners, and
slipped noiselessly over the smooth frozen plain,
Hiel cracked his whip more energetically and
shouted louder, first to one horse and then to
another, to make up for the loss of the rattling
wheels; and he generally had the satisfaction
of seeing all the women rushing distractedly to
doors and windows, and imagined them saying,
"There's Hiel; the stage is in!"

" HuUoa, Dolly !" he called out, drawing up

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

with a suddenness which threw the fore-horses
back upon their haunches. "I've got a bundle
for your folks. Want to ride? You may jest
jump up here by me and 1*11 take you 'round to
your father's door;" and so Dolly reached up
her little red-mittened hand^ and Hiel drew her
up beside him.

" 'Xpect ye want a bit of a ride, and I've got
a bundle for Widder Badger, down on South
Street, so I guess I'll go 'round that way to
make it longer. I 'xpect this 'ere bundle is from
some of your ma's folks in Boston — 'Piscopals
they be, and keeps Christmas. Good sized bun-
dle 'tis; reckon it '11 come handy in a good
many ways."

So, after finishing his detour, Hiel landed his
little charge at the parsonage door.

" Reckon I'll be over when I've put up my
bosses," he said to Nabby when he handed down
the bundle to her. " I hain't been to see ye
much lately, Nabby, and I know you've been a
pinin* after me, but fact is — "

" Well, now, Hiel Beers, you jest shet up with
your imperer 'ce," said Nabby, with flashing eyes ;
"you jest look out or you'll get suthin."

" I 'xpect to get a kiss when I come round
to-night," said Hiel, composedly. " Take care
o' that air bundle, now ; mebbe there 's glass
or crockery in 't."

DOLLY'S FLRS7 CHRLSTMAS DAY.

"Hiel Beers," said Nabby, ** don't give me
none o' your saace, for I won't take it. Jim
Sawin said last night you was the brassiest man
he ever see. He said there was brass enough
in your face to make a kettle of."

** You tell him there's sap enough in his head
to fill it, any way," said Hiel. " Good bye,
Nabby, I '11 come 'round this evenin'," and he
drove away at a rattling pace, while Nabby, with
flushed cheeks and snapping eyes, soliloquized,

" Well, I hope he will come ! I 'd jest like a
chance to show him how little I care for him."

Meanwhile the bundle was soon opened, and
contained a store of treasures: a smart little
red dress and a pair of red shoes for Dolly, a
half dozen pocket-handkerchiefs for Dr. Gushing,
and " Robinson Crusoe " and " Sanford and Mer-
ton," handsomely bound, for the boys, and a bon-
net trimming for Mrs. Gushing. These were ac-
companied by a characteristic letter from Aunt
Debby Kittery, opening as follows:

"Dear Sister :

" Mother worries because she thinks you Presby-
terians won't get any Christmas presents. I tell her
it serves you right for being out of the true church.
However, this comes to give every one of you some oi
the crumbs which fall from the church's table, and
Mother says she wishes you all a pious Christmas, which
she thinks is better than a merry one. If I did n't lay
violent hands on her she would use all our substance

DOLLY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS DAY.

in riotous giving of Christmas presents to all the beggars
and chimney sweeps in Boston. She is in good health
and talks daily of wanting to see you and the children;
and I hope before long you will bring some of them, and
come and make us a visit.

" Your affectionate sister,

" Debbv Kittery."

•

There was a scene of exultation and clamor
in the parsonage as these presents were pulled
out and discussed ; and when all possible joy was
procured from them in the sitting-room, the chil-
dren rushed in a body into the kitchen and
showed them to Nabby, calling on her to join
their acclamations.

And then in the evening Hiel came in, and
Nabby prosecuted her attacks upon him with
great vigor and severity, actually carrying mat-
ters to such a length that she was obliged, as a
matter of pure Christian charity, to "kiss and
make up " with him at the end of the evening.
Of course Hiel took away an accurate inven-
tory of every article in the bundle, for the enlight-
enment of any of his particular female friends
who had a curiosity to know " what Mis* Cushin's
folks sent her in that air bundie from Boston."

On the whole, when Dolly had said her prayers
that night and thought the matter over, she
concluded that her Christmas Day had been
quite a success.

CHAPTER VI.

VILLAGE POLITICIANS.

IE have traced our little Dolly's for-
tunes, haps and havings through
Christmas day, but we should not do
justice to the situation did we not
throw some light on the views and opinions of
the Poganuc people upon this occasion.

The Episcopal church had been newly finished.
There was held on this day, for the first time in
open daylight, the full Christmas Service. The
illumination and services of the evening before
had been skillfully designed to make an impres
sion on the popular mind, and to draw in children
and young people with all that floating populace
who might be desirous of seeing or hearing some
new things.

It had been a success. Such an audience had
been drawn and such a sensation produced that
on Christmas day everybody in the village was
talking of the church ; and those who did not
go ran to the windows to see who did go. A
week-day church service other than a fast, and

3^1
f

VILLAGE POLITICIANS.

thanksgiving, and " preparatory lecture " was a
striking novelty ; and when the little bell rang
out its peal and the congregation began to
assemble it was watched with curious eyes from
many a house.

The day was a glorious one. The bright, cold
sun made the icicles that adorned the fronts of
all the houses glitter like the gems of Aladdin's
palace, and a well-dressed company were seen
coming up from various points of the village and
thronging the portals of the church.

The little choir and their new organ rang out
the Te Deum with hearty good-will, and many
ears for the first time heard that glorious old
heroic poem of the early church. The waves of
sound rolled across the green and smote on the
unresponsive double row of windows of the old
meeting-house, which seemed to stare back with
a gaze of blank astonishment. The sound even
floated into the store of Deacon Dickenson, and
caused some of the hard-handed old farmers who
were doing their trading there, with their sleds
and loads of wood, to stop their discourse on
turnips, eggs and apple-sauce, and listen. To
them it bore the sound as of a challenge, the
battle-cry of an opposing host that was rising
up to dispute the ground with them ; and so
they listened with combative ears.

"Seem to be a hevin* it all their own way

VILLAGE POLITICIANS.

over there, them 'Piscopals. Carry in' all before
'em," said one.

" How they are a gettin' on !" said another.

" Yes," said Deacon Dickenson ; " all the Demo-
crats are j'inin' them, and gohi' to make a gen'l
push next 'lection. They're goin' clean agin
everything — Sunday laws and tiding-man and all."

"Wal," said Deacon Peasley, a meek, mourn-
ful little man, with a bald top to his head, " the
Democrats are goin* to carry the state. I feel
sure on 't."

"Good reason," said Tim Hawkins, a stout
two-fisted farmer from one of the outlying farms.
" The Democrats beat 'cause they're allers up and
dressed, and we Fed'hsts ain't. Why, look at 'efei
to town meetin' ! Democrats allers on time,
every soul on 'em — rag, tag and bobtail — rain or
shine don't make no difference with them ; but
it takes a yoke of oxen to get a Fed'list out,
and when you've got him you've got to set down
on him to keep him. That's just the difFrence,"

**Wal," said Deacon Peasley in a thin, queru-
lous voice, " all this *ere comes of extending the
suffrage. Why, Father says that when he was a
young man there couldn't nobody vote but good
church members in regular standin*, and couldn't
nobody but them be elected to office. Now it's
just as you say, * rag, tag and bobtail* can vote,
and you'll see they'll break up all our institutions.

VILLAGE POLITICIANS,

They've got it so now that folks can sign off and
go to meetin' anywhere, and next they'll get it
so they needn't go nowhere — that's what'U come
next. There's a lot of our young folks ben a
goin' to this 'ere 'lumination."

"Wal, I told Parson Gushing about that air
'lumination last night," said Deacon Dickenson,
"and he didn't seem to mind it. But I tell
you he'll hev to mind. Both his boys ther«,
and little Dolly, too, runnin' over there after she
was put to bed; he'll hev to do somethin' to
head this 'ere off."

*' He'll do it, too," said Tim Hawkins. " Par-
son Gushing knows what he's about, and he'll
come out with a sarmon next Sunday, you see
if he don't. There's more in Parson Gushing 's
little finger than there is in that Sim Goan's hull
body, if he did come right straight down from
the 'Postles.

" I've heard," said Deacon Peasley, " that Mis*
Cushing's folks in Boston was 'Piscopal, and
some thought mebbe she influenced the children."

"Oh, wal. Mis' Gushing, she did come from
a 'Piscopal family," said Deacon Dickenson. " She
was a Kittery, and her gran'ther, Israel Kittery,
was a tory in the war. Her folks used to go
to the old North in Boston, and they didn't like
her marryin* Parson Gushing a grain ; but when
she married him, why, she did marry him. She

VILLAGE POLITICIANS,

married his work, and married all his pinions.
And nobody can say she hain't been a good yoke-
fellow; she's kept up her end, Mis' Gushing has.
No, there's nobody ought to say nothin* agin
Mis' Gushing."

*' Wal, I s'pose we shall hear from the doctor
next Sunday," said Hawkins. "He'll speak out;
his trumpet won't give an unsartin sound."

" I reely want ter know," said Deacon Peasley,
"ef Zeph Higgins has reely come down with
his folks to-day y givin' up a hull day's work! I
shouldn't 'a* thought Zeph'd 'a* done that for
any meetin*."

"Oh, laws^ yis; Zeph '11 do anything he sets
his will on, particular if it's suthin* Mis' Higgins
don't want to do — then Zeph'U do it, sartin. I
kind o' pity that air woman," said Hawkins.

"Oh, yis," said the deacon; "poor Mis* Hig-
gins, she come to my wife reely moumin' when
Zeph cut up so about them water-pipes, and
says she, ' Mis' Dickenson, I'd rather 'a* worked
my fingers to the bone than this 'ere should 'a*
happened ; but I can't do nothin*,* says she ;
'he's that sort that the more you say the more
sot he gets,* says she. Wal, I don't wish the
'Piscopals no worse luck than to get Zeph Hig-
gins, that's all I've got to say."

"Wal," said Tim Hawkins, "let *em alone.
Guess they'll find out what he is when they

VILLAGE POLITICIANS.

\ 1 '

come to pass the hat 'round. I expect keepin*
up that air meetin* '11 be drefful hard sleddin' yit—
and they won't get nothin' out o* Zeph. Zeph's
as tight as the bark of a tree."

"Wonder if that air buildin's paid fer? Hiei
Jones says there's a consid'able debt on't yit,"
said Deacon Peasley, " and Hiel gen'ally knows."

" Don't doubt on't," said Deacon Dickenson.
** Squire Lewis he's in for the biggest part on't,
and he's got money through his wife. She was
one of them rich Winthrops up to Boston, The
squire has gone off now to Lucius Jenks's store,
and so has Colonel Danforth and a lot more of
the biggest on 'em. I told Hiel I didn't mind,
so long as I kep* Colonel Davenport and Judge
Belcher and Judge Peters and Sheriff Dennie.
I have a good many more aristocracy than he
hez."

"For my part I don't care so very much for
these 'ere town-hill aristocracy," said Tim Haw-
kins. " They live here in their gret houses and
are so proud they think it's a favor to speak to
a farmer in his blue linsey shirt a drivin* his
team. I don't want none on 'em lookin' down
on me. I am as good as they be ; and I guess you
make as much in your trade by the farmers
out on the hills as you do by the rich folks here
in town."

"Oh, yis, sartin," said Deacon Dickenson,

VILLAGE POLITtCtANS,

ttiaking haste to propitiate. "I don't want no
better trade than I get out your way, Mr.
Hawkins. I 'd rather see your sled a standin*
front o* my door than the finest carriage any of
'em drives. I haint forgot Parson Cushing's
sarmon to the farmers, *The king himself is
sarved by the field.'"

" I tell you that was a sarmon !" said Hawkins
"We folks in our neighborhood all subscribed
to get it printed, and I read it over once a
month, Sundays. Parson Gushing 's a good
farmer himself. He can turn in and plow or
hoe or mow, and do as good a day's work as I
can, if he does know Latin and Greek; and he
and Mis' Gushing they come over and visit
'round 'mong us quite as sociable as with them
town-hill folks. I 'm jest a waitin' to hear him
give it to them air 'Piscopals next Sunday. He '11
sarve out the Democrats— the doctor will."

" Wal," said Deacon Dickenson, " I don't think
the doctor hed reely got waked up when I spoke
to him 'bout that 'lumination, but I guess his
eyes are open now, and the doctor 's one o* that
sort that's wide awake when he is awake. He 'II
do suthin' o' Sunday,'*

•\'

CHAPTER VII.

THE doctor's sermon.

[OGANUC was a pretty mountain town
in Connecticut. It was a county seat,
and therefore of some considerable im-
portance in the vicinity. It boasted
its share of public buildings — the great meeting-
house that occupied the central position of the
village green, the tavern where the weekly stage
put up, a court-house, a jail, and other defenses
of public morals, besides the recently added
Episcopal church.

It was also the residence of some stately and
dignified families of comfortable means and tra-
ditions of ancestral importance. Of these, as
before stated, a few had availed themselves of
the loosening of old bonds and founded an Epis-
copal church ; but it must not be supposed that
there was any lack of dignified and wealthy old
families in the primitive historic church of Poga-
nuc, which had so long borne undisputed sway
in the vicinity. There were the fine old resi-
dences of Judge Gridley and Judge Belcher
adorning the principal streets. Conspicuous in

"^i.

THE DOCTORS SERMON,

one of the front pews of the meeting-house might
be seen every Sunday the stately form of Col.
Davenport, who had been a confidential friend
of General Washington and an active commander
during the revolutionary war, and who inspired
awe among the townspeople by his military ante-
cedents. There might be seen, too, the Governor
of the State and the High Sheriff of Poganuc
County, v/ith one Mr. Israel Deyter, a retired
New York merchant, gifted, ^n popular belief, with
great riches. In short, the meeting-house, for a
country town, had no small amount of wealth, im-
portance and gentility. Besides these residents,
who encamped about the green and on the main
street, was an outlying farming population ex-
tending for miles around, whose wagons con-
veying their well-dressed wives, stalwart sons
and blooming daughters poured in from all
quarters, punctual as a clock to the ringing ot
the seconr bell every Sunday morning.

Not the least attentive listeners or shrewd
critics were to be found in these hardy yeomanry
who scanned severely all that they paid for,
whether temporal or spiritual. As may have been
noticed from the conversation at Deacon Dicken-
son's store. Dr. Cushing had rather a delicate r61e
to maintain in holding in unity the aristocracy and
the democracy of his parish ; for in those days peo-
ple of well-born, well-bred families hac a certain

THE DOCTOR'S SERMOIT,

traditional stateliness and punctiliousness which
were apt to be considered as pride by the laboring
democracy, and the doctor, as might be expected,
found it often more difficult to combat pride in
homespun than pride in velvet — perhaps having
no very brilliant success in either case.

The next Sunday was one of high expectation.
Everybody was on tiptoe to hear what "our
minister" would have to say.

The meeting-house of Poganuc was one of
those square, bald, unsentimental structures of
which but few specimens have come down to
us from old times. The pattern of those ancient
edifices was said to be derived from Holland,
where the Puritans were sheltered before they
came to these shores. At all events, they were
a marked departure in every respect from all
particulars which might remind one of the grace-
ful ecclesiastical architecture and customs of the
Church of England. They were wide, roomy,
and of a desolate plainness; hot and sunny in
summer, with their staring rows of windows, and
in winter cold enough in some cases even to
freeze the eucharistic wine at the communion.

It was witii great conflict of opinion and much
difficulty that the people of Poganuc had advanced
so far in the ways of modern improvement as to
be willing to have a large box stove set up m
the middle of the broad aisle, with a length pf

THE DOCTOR'S SERMON".

black pipe extending through the house, whereby
the severity of winter sanctuary performances
should be somewhat abated. It is on record
that, when the proposal was made in town meet-
ing to introduce this luxurious indulgence, the
zeal of old Zeph Higgins was aroused, and he
rose and gave vent to his feelings in a protest :

"Fire? Fire? A fire in the house o* God?
I never heard on't. I never heard o* hevin' fire
in a meetin'-house."

Sheriff Dennie here rose, and inquired whether
Mrs. Higgins did not bring a foot-stove with fire
in it into the house of God every Sunday.

It was an undeniable fact not only that Mrs.
Higgins but every respectable matron and mother
of a family brought her foot-stove to church well
filled with good, solid, hickory coals, and that
the passing of this little ark 01 mercy from one
frozen pair of feet to another was among the
silent motherly ministries which varied the hours
of service.

So the precedent of the foot-stove carried the
box-stove into the broad aisle of the meeting-
house, whereby the air was so moderated that
the minister's breath did not freeze into visible
clouds of vapor while speaking, and the beards
and whiskers of the brethren were no longer
coated with frost during service time.

Yet Poganuc was a place where winter stood

THE DOCTOR* S SERMON'.

for something. 1 he hill, like all hills in our deat
New England, though beautiful for situation in
summer was a howling desolation for about six
months of the year, sealed down under snow and
drifted over by winds that pierced like knives
and seemed to search every fiber of one's gar-
ments, so that the thickest clothing was no pro-
tection.

The Sunday in .nir^tion was one of those many
when the therms. .letCi '^tood any number of de-
degrees below zero ; the air clear, keen and cut-
ting ; and the bright, blooming faces of the girls
in the singers' seat bore token of the frosty wind
they had encountered. All was animation through
the church, and Mr. Benjamin Davis, the leader
of the singing, had selected old " Denmark " as a
proper tune for opening the parallels between
them and the opposing forces of ritualism. Ben
had a high conceit of his own vocal powers, and
had been heard to express himself contemptu-
ously of the new Episcopal organ. He had been
to Doctor Gushing with suggestions as to the
tunes that the singers wanted, to keep up the
reputation of their " meetin'-house." So after
** Denmark" came old "Majesty," and Ben so
bestirred hiraself beating time and roaring, first
to treble and then to counter and then to bass,
and all the singers poured forth their voices with
such ringing good-will, that everybody felt sure

THE DOCTOR' r, SERMON:

they were better than any Episcopal organ in the
world.

And as there is a place for all things in this
great world of ours, so there was in its time
and day a place and a style for Puritan music.
If there were pathos and power and solemn
splendor in the rhythmic movement of the church-
ly chants, there was a grand wild freedom, an
energy ot motion, in the old "fuguing" tunes
of that day that well expressed the hea"* of a
people courageous in combat and unshake in
endurance. The church chant is like tho meas-
ured motion of the mighty sea in calm weather,
but those old fuguing tunes were like ■ hat same
ocean aroused by stormy winds, wuen deep
calleth unto deep in tempestuous confusion, out
of which at last is evolved union and harmony.
It was a music suggestive of the strife, the com-
motion, the battle cries of a transition period of
society, struggling onward to^vard dimly-seen
ideals of peace and order. Whatever the trained
musician might say of such a tune as old
" Majesty," no person of imagination and sensi-
bility could ever hear it well rendered by a
large choir without deep emotion. And when
back and forth from every side of the church
came the different parts shouting,

"On cherubim and seraphim

Full royally he rode, 4^

: i

TITE DOCTOR'S SERMOfT,

And on the wings of mighty winds
Came flying all abroad'' —

there went a stir and a thrill through many a
stern and hard nature, until the tempest cleared
off in the words,

"He sat serene upon the floods,
Their fury to restrain,
And he, as sovereign Lord and King,
Forever more shall reign.''

And when the doctor rose to his sermon the
music had done its work on his audience, in
exalting their mood to listen with sympathetic
ears to whatever he might have to say.

When he spread out his sermon before him
there was a rustle all over the house, as of
people composing themselves to give the strictest
attention.

He announced his text from Galatians iv.,
9, 10, II.

" But now, after that ye have known God, or rather are known
of God, how turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements,
whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage? Ye observe days,
and months, and times, and years. I am afraid of you, lest I
have bestowed on you labor in vain."

The very announcement of the text seemed
to bring out upon the listening faces of the
audience a sympathetic gleam. Hard, weather-
beaten countenances showed it, as when a sun-
beam passes over points of rocks.

What was to come of such a text was plain
to be seen. The yoke of bondage from which

THE DOCTOR* S SERAfOAT,

Puritan New England had escaped across the
waters of a stormy sea, the liberty ^n Christ
which they had won in this new untrodden land,
made theirs by prayers and toils and tears and
sacrifice, for which they had just fought through
a tedious and bloody war — there was enough in |
all these remembrances to evoke a strain of
heartfelt eloquence which would awaken a re-
sponse in every heart.

Then the doctor began his investigations of
Christmas; and here his sermon bristled with
quotations in good Greek and Latin, which he
could not deny himself the pleasure of quoting
in the original as well as in the translation. But
the triumphant point in his argument was founded
on a passage in Clemens Alexandrinus, who,
writing at the close of the second century, speaks
of the date of Christ's birth as an unimportant
and unsettled point. " There are some," says the
Father, " who over-curiously assign not only the
year but the day of our Saviour's birth, which
they say was the 25th of Pachon, or the 20th of
May."

The doctor had exulted in the finding of this ^
passage as one that findeth much spoil, aqd he
proceeded to make the most of it in showing
that the modem keeping of Christmas was so
far unknown in the earliest ages of the church
that even the day was a matter of uncertainty.

THE DOCTOR* S SERMOl^,

Now it is true that his audience, more than
half of them, did not know who Clement was.
Even the judges, men of culture and learning,
and the teacher at the Academy, professionally
familiar with Greek, had only the vaguest re-
collection of a Christian Father who had lived
some time in the primitive ages ; the rest of the
congregation, men and women, only knew that
their minister was a learned man and were
triumphant at this new proof of it.

The doctor used his point so as to make it
skillfully exciting to the strong, practical, matter-
of-fact element which underlies New England
life. ** If it had been important for us to keep
Christmas," he said, "certainly the date would
not have been left in uncertainty. We find no
traces in the New Testament of any such ob-
servance; we never read of Christmas as kept
by the apostles and their followers; and it ap-
pears that it was some centuries after Christ
before such an observance was heard of at all.'*
In fact the doctor said that the keeping of the
25th of December as Christmas did not obtain
till after the fourth century, and then it was
appointed to take the place of an old heathen
festival, the '^ natalis solis invicti-y' and here
the doctor rained down names and authori-
ties and quotations establishing conflicting sup-
positions till the wilderness of learning grew so

THE DOCTOR'S SERMON".

wild that only the Academy teacher seemed able
to follow it through. He indeed sat up and
nodded intelligently from point to point, feeling
that the eyes of scholars might be upon him,
and that it was well never to be caught napping
in matters like these.

The last point of the Doctor's sermon consisted
in historical statements and quotations concern-
ing the various abuses to which the celebration
of the Christmas festival had given rise, from the
days of Augustine and Chrysostom down to
those of the Charleses and Jameses of England,
in all of which he had free course and was glori-
fied ; since under that head there are many things
more true than edifying that might be recounted.

He alluded to the persecutions which had
forced upon our fathers the alternative of con-
forming to burdensome and unspiritual rites and
ceremonies or of flying from their native land
and all they held dear ; he quoted from St. Paul
the passage about false brethren who came in
privily to spy out our liberty that we have in
Christ Jesus, that they might bring us again into
bondage — "to whom " (and here the doctor grew
emphatic £ nd thumped the pulpit cushion) " we
gave place by subjection not for an hour''

The sermon ended with a stirring appeal to
walk in the good old ways, to resist all those,
however fair their pretenses, who sought to re-

THE DOCTOH^S SERMON.

move the old landmarks and repeal the just laws
and rules that had come down from the fathers.
It was evident from the enkindled faces in every
p'^w that the doctor carried his audience fully
with him, and when in the closing petition he
prayed to the Lord that " our judges might be
as at the firjst, and our counsellors as at the be-
ginning," everybody felt sure that he was think-
ing of the next election, and Tim Hawkins with
difficulty restrained himself from giving a poke
of the elbow to a neighbor in the next pew sus-
pected ot Democratic proclivities.

As to Dolly, who as a babe of grace was duly
brought to church every Sunday, her meditations
were of a very confused order. Since the gift
of her red dress and led shoes, and the well re-
membsred delightful scene at the church on
Christmas Eve, Christmas had been an interesting
and beautiful mystery to her mind ; a sort of
illuminated mist, now appearing and now dis-
appearing.

Sometimes when her father in his sermon pro-
nounced the word "Christmas" in emphatic
tones, she fixed her great blue eyes seriously
upon him and wondered what he could be say-
ing ; but when Greek and Latin quotations begaa
to rain thick and fast she turned to Spring, who
as a good, well-trained minister's dog was allowed
to go to meeting with his betters, and whose

THE DOCTOR' i> SERMON".

serious and edified air was a pattern to Dolly
and the boys.

When she was cold — a very common experi-
ence in those windy pews — she nestled close to
Spring and put her arms around his neck, and
sometimes dropped asleep on his back. Those
sanctuary naps were a generally accorded privi-
lege to the babes of the church, who could not
be expected to digest the strong meat of the
elders.

Dolly had one comfort of which nothing could
deprive her: she had been allowed to wear
her new red dress and red shoes. It is true
the dress was covered up under a dark, stout
little woolen coat, and the red shoes quenched
in the shade of a pair of socks designed to protect
her feet from freezing; but at intervals Dolly
pulled open her little coat and looked at the
red dress, and felt warmer for it, and thought
whether there was any such day as Christmas
or not it was a nice thing for little girls to havQ
aunties and grandmas who believed in it, and
sent them pretty things in consequence.

When the audience broke up and the doctor
came down from the pulpit he was congratulated
on his sermon as a master-piece. Indeed, he had
the success that a man has always when he
proves to an audience that they are in the right
iu their previous opinions.

THE DOCTOR'S SERMON:

The general opinion, from Colonel Davenport
and Sheriff Dennie down to Tim Hawkins and
the farmers of the vicinity, was that the doctor's
sermon ought to be printed by subscription, and
the suggestion was left to be talked over in
various circles for the ensuing week.

!< 1

CASTE.

** O yis. sartin," said Deacon Dickenson, making haste to firO'
pitiate . , . " V d rather see your sled a-standin' front o*
my door than the finest carriage any on ''em drivts,^^ — p. 67.

1 .

f i I'-

t : !

■■■-a/rvn iiiiitdn^in

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. COAN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

HE doctor's sermon had the usual effect
of controversial sermons — it convinced
everybody that was convinced before
and strengthened those who before
were strong. Everybody was talking of it. The
farmers as they drove their oxen stepped with a
vigorous air, like men that were not going to be
brought under any yoke of bondage. Old ladies
in their tea-drinkings talked about the danger of
making a righteousness of forms and rites and
ceremonies, and seemed of opinion that the pro-
ceedings at the Episcopal church, however attrac-
tive, were only an insidious putting forth of one
paw of the Scarlet Beast of Rome, and that if
not vigorously opposed the whole quaaruped,
tooth and claw, would yet be upon their backs.
But it must not be supposed that this side of
the question had all the talk to itself. The Rev.
Simeon Coan was a youth of bright parts> vigor-
ous combativeness and considerable fluency of
speech, and he immediately prepared a sermon

on his side of the question, by which, in the

MR. CO AN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

t ■'■

1 ;

til-

I
I

opinion of the Lewises, the Danforths, the Cop-
leys and all the rest of his audience, he proved
beyond a doubt that Christmas ought to be kept,
and that the 25th of December was the proper
time for keeping it. He brought also quotations
from Greek and Latin thick as stars in the skies ;
and as to the quotations of the doctor he ignored
them altogether, and talked about something else.

The doctor had been heard to observe with a
subdued triumph that he really would like to see
how " Coan" would " get round" that passage in
Clement, but he could not have that pleasure,
because "Coan" did not get anywhere near it,
but struck off as far as possible from it into a
region of quotations on his own side ; and as his
audience were not particularly fitted to adjudi-
cate nice points in chronology, and as quotations
from the Church Fathers on all sides of almost
any subject under the sun are plentiful as black-
berries in August, Mr. Coan succeeded in making
his side to the full as irrefragable in the eyes of
his hearers as the doctor's in those of his.

But besides this he reinforced himself by pro-
claiming with vigor the authority of the Church.
** The Ch'^rch has ordained," *' The Church in her
wisdom has ci reeled," " The Church commands,"
and " The Chuich hath appointed," were phrases
often on his tongue, and the sound rolled
^moothlj above the heads of good old families

MR. COAN' ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

who had long felt the want of some definite form
of authority to support their religious preferences
in face of the general Congregationalism of the
land.

The Churchy that mysterious and awful power
that had come down from distant ages, had sur-
vived the o'issolution of monarchies and was
to-day the same as of old! The thought was
poetical and exciting, and gave impulse to the
fervor inspired by a liturgy and forms of worship
allowed even by adversaries to be noble and
beautiful ; and their minister's confident assertion
that the Church commanded, approved and
backed up all that they were doing was inir
mensely supporting to the little band. The
newly-acquired members, born and brought up
in Congregational discipline, felt all the delight
of a new sense of liberty. It had not always been
possible to go to any other than the dominant
church, and there was a fresh emotion of pleasure
m being able to do as they pleased in the mat-
ter ; so they readily accepted Mr. Coan's High
Church claims and doctrines. Instead of standing
on the defensive and apologizing for the*- exist-
ence he boldly struck out for the rock of apos-
tolic succession, declared their church the true
Apostolic Church, the only real church in the
place, although he admitted with an affable
charity that doubtless good Christian people

•> \

I: i

MH. COAN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

among the various sects who departed from this
true foundation might at last be saved through
the uncovenanted mercies of God.

Imagine the scorn which this doctrine in-
spired in Puritan people, who had been born
in the faith that New England was the vine
which God's right hand had planted — who had
looked on her church as the Church of God, cast
out indeed into the wilderness, but bearing with
her " the adoption, and the glory, and the cove-
nants, the giving of the law, and the service of
God, and the promises." That faith was woven into
the very existence of the New England race.
They cast great roots about it as the oaks of the
forest grasped and grew out of the eternal
rocks of their hard and barren shores. So, when
Mr. Simeon Coan, in a white surplice, amid sus-
picious chantings and bowings and genuflections,
announced a doctrine which disfranchised them
of the heavenly Jerusalem, and made them aliens
from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers
to the covenant of promise, there was a grim
sense of humor mingled with the indignation
which swelled their bosoms.

"Uncovenanted marcies!" said stout Tim Haw-
kins. "Thet's what they call 'em, do they? Wal,
ef thet's what Parson Gushing and all the min-
isters of our association has got to live and die
by— why, it's good enough for me. I don't want

MR. COAN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

om this
ihrough

ine in-
n born
le vine
ho had
3d, cast
ig with
5 cove-
vice of
^en into
i race.
\ of the
eternal
> when
id sus-
ctionSy
them
aliens
ngers
grim
nation

Haw-
Wal,
min-
d die
want

no better; I don't care which kind they be. I
scorn to argue with such folks."

In fact they felt as if they had seen a chip
sparrow flying in the face of an eagle in his
rock-bound eyrie.

But the doctor's sermon had the effect to draw
the lines as to keeping Christmas up to the tight-
est brace. The academy teacher took occasion
on Monday to remark to his scholars how he
had never thought of such a thing as suspend-
ing school for Christmas holidays, and those of
the pupils who, belonging to Episcopal families,
had gone on Christmas Day to church were
informed ' that marks for absence and non-
performance of lessons would stand against them,
no matter what excuses they might bring from
parents. As to Christmas holidays — the giving
up to amusement a week, from Christmas to New
Year's — he spoke of it as a popish enormity
not to be mentioned or even thought ot m God-
feanng New England, which abhorred a holiday
as much as nature abhors a vacuum. Those
parents whose children had been drawn in to
attend these seductive festivities were anxiously
admonished by their elders in homilies from the
text, "Surely, in vain the net is spread in the
sight of any bird."

For example, witness one scene. It is Sun-
day evening;, and the bright snapping fire lights

1 '

MR, CO AN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR,

up the great kitchen chimney where the widow
Jones is sitting by the stand with her great Bible
before her. A thin, weary, kindly old face is
hers, with as many lines in it as Denner's cele-
brated picture of the old woman. Everything
about her, to her angular figure and her thin
bony hands, bore witness to the unsparing work
that had been laid upon every hour and moment
of her life. Even now the thin hands that rested
on the Bible twitched at times mechanically as
if even in the blessed rest ot Sunday evening
she felt the touch ot the omnipresent kni^tting
needles.

On the settle beside the fire, half stretched out,
lounges Hiel, her youngest born son and the
prop of her old age; for all others have gone
hither and thither seeking their future in the
world. Hiel has been comforting her heart by
the heartiest praises of the minister's sermon that
day.

" I tell you what. Mother, them 'Piscopals got
pitched into lively, now ; the Doctor pursued *em
*even unto Shur,* as the Scrip tur' says."

'*Yis; and, Hiel, I hope you won't be seen
goin* to the Tiscopal meetings no more. I felt
reely consarned, after I heard the sarmon, to
think of your bein' in to that air 'lunii nation."

"Oh laws. Mother, I jest hed to go to see to
things. Things hez to be seen to; there was

MR. COAN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR,

the Doctor's boys right up in the front slips,
and little Dolly there rolled up like a rabbit
down there under them spruces. I had to take
her home. I expect it's what waked- up the
Doctor so, what I said to him."

"Wal, Hiel, mebbe it was all fer the best;
but I hope you'll let it alone now. And I heard
you was a settin* up with Nabby Higgins the
other evening; was you?"

A curious expression passed over Hiel's droll
handsome face, and he drew his knife from his
pocket and began reflectively to shave a bit of
shingle.

"WaVyis, Mother; the fact is, I did stay with
Nabby Christmas evening, as they call it. Nabby
and me's allers ben good friends, you know.
You know, Mother, you think lots of Nabby's
mother. Mis' Higgins, and it ain't her fault nor
Nabby's el she hez to leave our meetin'. It's
old Zeph that makes 'em."

"O yis. I ha'n't no thin* agin Mis' Higgins.
Polly Higgins is a good woman as is goin'. I
don't want no better; but as to Nabby, why,
she's light and triflin', and she's goin' right into
all these 'ere vanities; and I don't want no son
of mine to get drawn away arter her. You
know how 'twas in old times, it was the Moab-
itish women that allers made mischief."

*♦ Oh land o' Goshen, Mother, jes as ef it would

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MR, COAN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

do any harm for me to set up with Nabby in
the minister's own kitchen. Ef she don't pisen
the minister's boys and Dolly she won't pisen me ;
besides, I wanted to see what was in that air bun-
dle Mis' Cushing's folks sent to her from Boston.
Of course I knew you'd be a wantin' to know."

** Wal, did you see ?" said the widow, snapping
at once at the bait so artfully thrown.

" I rather reckon I did. Dolly she got a red
frock and red shoes, and she was so tickled
nothing would do but she must bring her red
frock and red shoes right out to show to Nabby.
They think all the world of each other, Nabby
and Dolly do."

"Was the dress made up?" said the widow.

*' Oh, yis ; all made up, ready to put right on.**

"Red, did you say?"

" Yes, red as a robin, with little black sprigs
in't, and her shoes red morocco. I teJi you she
put 'em on and squeaked round in *em lively!
Then there was six silk pocket-handkerchers for
the Doctor, all hemmed, and his name marked
in the comer; and there was a nice book for
each o' them boys, and a bonnet-ribbin for Miss
Gushing."

" What color was it ?" said the widow.

*' Wal, I don't know — sort o' sky-blue scarlet,"
said Hiel, tired of particulars. " 1 r-ever know
what women call their ribbins."

MR. COAN ANSWERS THE DOCTOR.

>»

»»

*' Wal, reely now, it's a good thing for folks to
have rich relations," soliloquized the widow. " I
don't grudge Mis' Gushing her prosperity — not a
grain."

**Yis, and the doctor's folks was glad enough
to get them things, if they was Christmas pres-
ents. The Christmas didn't pisen *em, any way ;
Mis' Cushing's folks up to Boston 's 'Piscopals,
but she thinks they're pretty nice folks, if they be
Tiscopals.

** Now, Hiel," said the widow, " Nabby Hig-
gins is a nice girl — a girl that's got faculty,
and got ambition, and she's handsome. I expect
she's prudent and laid by something out of her
wages " — and here the widow paused and gazed
reflectively at the sparks on the chimney-back.

" Wal, Mother, the upshot on't is that if I and
Nabby should want to make a team together there
wouldn't be no call for wailin* and gnashin* of
teeth. There i^ight wuss things happen; but
jes now Nabby and I's good friends— that's all."

And with this settlement the widow Jones, like
many another mother, was forced to rest con-
tented, sure that her son, in his own good time,
would — do just as he pleased.

■i

CHAPTER IX.

ELECTION DAY IN POGANUC.

IHE month of March had dawned over
the slippery, snow-clad hills of Poga-
nuc. The custom that enumerates this
as among the spring months was in
that region the most bitter irony. Other winter
months were simple winter — cold, sharp and hard
enough — but March was winter with a practical
application, driven in by winds that pierced
through joints and marrow. Not an icicle of
all the stalactites which adorned the fronts of
houses had so much as thought of thawing ; the
snow banks still lay in white billows above the
tops of the fences ; the roads, through which the
ox-sleds of the farmers crunched and squeaked
their way, were cut deep down through heavy
drifts, and there was still the best prospect in the
world for future snow-storms; but yet it was
called " spring." And the voting day had come ;
and Zeph Higgins, full of the energy of a sover-
eign and voter, was up at four o'clock in the

morning, bestirring himself with a tempestuous
90

ELECTION DA V m POGANUC.

clatter to rouse his household and be by daylight
on the way to town to exercise his rights.

The feeble light of a tallow dip seemed to cut
but a small circle into the darkness of the great
kitchen. The frost sparkled white on the back of
the big fire-place, where the last night's coals lay
raked up under banks oi ashes. An earthquake
of tramping cowhide boots shook the rafters and
stairs, and the four boys appeared on the scene ot
action. Backlog and forestick were soon piled
and kindlings laid, and the fire roared and
snapped and crackled up the ample chimney.
Meek, shadowy Mrs. Higgins, With a step like a
snow-fiake, and resignation and submission in
every line of her face, was proceeding to cut off
frozen sausages from the strings of the same that
garnished the kitchen walls. The tea kettle was
hung over the blaze, and Zeph and the boys, with
hats crowded down to their eyes, and tippets tied
over their ears, plowed their way to the barn to
milk and feed the stock.

When they returned, while the tea-kettle was
puffing and the sausages frying and sizzling, there
was an interval in which Zeph called to family
prayers, and began reading the Bible with a voice
as loud and harsh as the winds that were blowing
out of doors.

Zeph always read the Bible straight along in
course, without a moment's thought or inquiry as

^ ISLECTIOI^ DA V W POGANVC,

to the sense of what he was reading, which this
morning was from Zechariah xi., as follows :
*' Open thy doors, O Lebanon, that the fire
may devour thy cedars. Howl, fir tree ; for
the cedar is fallen ; because the mighty are
spoiled. Howl, O ye oaks of Bashan, for
the forest of the vintage is come down. There
is a voice of the howling of the shepherds, for
their glory is spoiled : a voice of the roaring of
young lions, for the pride of Jordan is spoiled."
Zeph rendered the whole chapter with his harshest
tones, and then, all standing, he enunciated in
stentorian voice the morning prayer, whose
phrases were an heir-loom that had descended
from father to son for generations.

The custom of family worship was one of the
most rigid inculcations of the Puritan order of
society, and came down from parent to child with
the big family Bible, where the births, deaths and
marriages of the Lvousehold stood recorded.

In Zeph's case the custom seemed to be merely
an inherited tradition, which had dwindled into a
habit purely mechanical. Yet, who shall say ?

Of a rugged race, educated in hardness, wring-
ing his substance out of the very teeth and claws
of reluctant nature, on a rocky and barren soil
and under a harsh, forbidding sky, who but the
All-Seeing could judge him ? In that hard soul
there may have been thus uncouthly expressed a

ELECTION DA Y IN POCANUG.

loyalty for Something Higher, however dimly
perceived. It was acknowledging that even he
had his master. One thing is certain, the custom
of family prayers, such as it was, was a great
comfort to the meek saint by his side, to whom
any form of prayer, any pause from earthly care
and looking up to a Heavenly Power, was a
blessed rest. In that daily toil, often beyond her
strength, when she never received a word of
sympathy or praise, it was a comfort all day to
her to have had a chapter in the Bible and a
prayer in the morning. Even though the chapter
were one that she could not by possibility under-
stand a word of, yet it put her in mind of things
m that same dear book that she did understand ;
things that gave her strength to live and hope
to die by, and it was enough ! Her faith in the
Invisible Friend was so strong that st^e needed
but to touch the hem of his garment. Even a
table of genealogies out of his book was a sacred
charm, an amulet of peace.

Four sons — tall, stout and ruddy, in dif-
ferent stages of progression — surrounded the
table and caused sausages, rye and Indian
bread, and pork and beans, rapidly to dis-
appear. Of these sons two only were of the
age to vote. Zeph rigorously exacted of his boys
the full amount of labor which the law, alio wed
till their majority ; but at twenty-one he recog-

ELECTION' DA Y IN POCANUC,

nized their legal status, and began giving them the
wages of hired men. On this morning he longed
to have his way as to their vote ; but the boys
had enough of his own nature in them to have a
purpose and will of their own, and how they were
to vote was an impenetrable secret locked up in
the rocky fastnesses of their own bosoms.

As soon as there were faint red streaks in the
wintry sky, Zeph's sled was on the road, well load-
ed up with cord- wood to be delivered at Colonel
Davenport's door ; for Zeph never forgot business
nor the opportunity of earning an honest penny.
The oxen that drew his sled v/ere 3leek, well-fed
beasts, the pride of Zeph's heart, and aw the red
sunlight darted across the snowy hills their
breath steamed up, a very luminous cloud of
vapor, which in a few moments congealed in
sparkling frost lines on their patient eye- winkers
and every little projecting hair around their great
noses. The sled-runners creaked and grated
as Zeph, with loud " Whoa," " Haw," or " Gee,"
directed the plodding course of his beasts. The
cutting March wind was blowing right into
his face; his shaggy, grizzled eye-brows and
bushy beard were whitening apace ; but he was
in good spirits — he was going to vote against the
Federalists ; and as the largest part of the aris-
tocracy of Town Hill were Federalists, he re-
joiced all the more. Zeph was a creature born

ELECTION DA Y m POGANUC

»>

to oppose, as much as white bears are made to
walk, on ice.

And how, we ask, would New England's rocky
soil and icy hills have been made mines ot wealth
unless there had been human beings born to
oppose, dehghting to combat and wrestle, and
with an unconquerable power of willl'

Zeph had taken a thirteen-acre lot so rocky
that a sheep could scarce find a nibble there, had
dug out and blasted and carted the rocks,
wrought them into a circumambient stone fence,
plowed and planted, and raised crop after crop of
good rye thereon. He did it with heat, with
zeal, with dogged determination; he did it all
the more because neighbors said he was a fool for
trying, and that he could never raise anything on
that lot. There was a stern joy in this hand-to-
hand fight with nature. He got his bread as
Samscrn did his honeycomb, out of the carcass of
the slain lion. " Cut of the eater came forth meat,
and out of the strong came forth sweetness."
Even the sharp March wind did not annoy him.
It was a controversial wind, and that suited him ;
it was fig;hting him all the way, and he enjoyed
beating it. Such a human being has his place
in the Creator's scheme.

Poganuc was, for a still town, pretty well alive
on that day Farmers in their blue linsey frocks,
with their Toiig cart whips and their sleds hitched

96 ELFXTION DA Y m POGANUC

here and there at different doors, formed frequent
objects in the picture. It was the day when they
felt themselves as good as anybody. The court
house was surrounded by groups earnestly discus-
sing the political questions ; many of them loafers
who made a sort of holiday, and interspersed
their observations and remarks with visits to the
bar-room of Glazier's tavern, which was doing a
thriving business that morning.

Standing by the side of the distributor of the
Federal votes might be seen a tall, thin man, with
a white head and an air of great activity and
keenness. In his twinkling eye and in every line
and wrinkle of his face might be read the observer
and the humorist ; the man who finds something
to amuse him in all the quips and turns and
oddities of human nature. This was Israel
Dennie, High Sheriff of the County, one of the
liveliest and shrewdest of the Federal leaders,
who was, so to speak, crackling with activity, and
entering into the full spirit of the day in all its
phases.

" Here comes one of your party, Adams," he
said with a malicious side twinkle to the distribu-
tor of the Democratic votes, as Abe Bowles, a
noted ** mauvais sujet ** of the village, appeared
out of Glazier's bar-room, coming forward with
a rather uncertain step and flushed face.

" Walk up, friend ; here you are,"

ELECTION DA Y IN POGANUC.

" I'm a-goin* lor toleration/* said Abe, with
thick utterance. "We've ben tied up too tight
by these 'ere ministers, we have. I don't want no
priestcraft, I don't. I believe every man's got to
do as he darn pleases, I do.

" And go straight to the Devil if he wants to,"
said Squire Dennie smoothly. "Go ahead, my
boy, and put in your vote."

"There comes old Zeph Higgins," he added
with alertness; "let us have a bit of fun with
him."

" Hulloa, Higgins : step this way ; here's Mr.
Adams to give you your vote. You're going to
vote the Democratic ticket, you know."

" No, I ain't, nuther," said Zeph, from the sheer
mechanical instinct of contradiction.

" Not going to vote with the Democrats, Hig-
gins ? All right, then you're going to vote the
Federal ticket; here 'tis."

" No, I ain't, nuther. You let me alone. I ain't
a-goin' to be dictated to. I'm a-goin* to vote jest
as I'm a mind ter. I won't vote for nuther, ef I
ain't a mind ter, and I'll vote for jest which one I
want ter, and no other."

"So you shall, Higgins; so you shall," said
Squire Dennie sympathetically, laying his hand
on Zeph's shoulder.

" I shan't, nuther ; you let me alone," said
Zeph, shaking off the Sheriff^s hand ; and clutch-

9«

ELECTION DA Y IN POCANUC.

ing at the Democratic ticket, he pushed up
towards the polls.

" There's a fellow, now," said Sheriff Dennie,
looking after him with a laugh. " That fellow's
so contrary that he hates to do the very thing he
wants to, if anybody else wants him to do it. If
there was any way of voting that would spite
both parties and please nobody, he'd take that.
The only way to get thj t fellow to heaven
would be to set out to drve him to hell; then
he'd turn and run up the narrow way, full
chisel."

It was some comfort to Zeph, however, to
work his way up to the polls with Judge Belcher
right in front and with Colonel Davenport's aris-
tocratic, powdered head and stately form pushing
him along behind, their broadcloth crowded
against his homespun carter's frock, and he,
Zephaniah, that day just as good as either. He
would not have been so well pleased if he knew
that his second son, Abner — following not long
after him — dropped in the box the Federalist
ticket. It was his right as a freeman ; but he
had no better reason /or his preference than the
wish to please his mother. He knew that Dr.
Gushing was a Federalist, and that his mother
was heart and soul for every thing that Dr.
Gushing was for, and therefore he dropped this
vote for his mother ; and thus, as rr^any times

ELECTION DA Y IN POCANUC

before and since, a woman voted throiifrh her
son.

In fact, the political canvass just at this epoch
had many features that might shock the pious
sensibilities of a good house-mother. The union
ot all the minor religious denominations to upset
the dominant rule of the Congregationalists had
been reinforced and supplemented by all that
Jacobin and irreligious element which the French
Revolution had introduced into America.

The Poganuc Banner, a little weekly paper
published in the village, expended its energies
in coarse, and scurrilous attacks upon ministers
in general, and Dr. Gushing in particular. It
ridiculed church-members, churches, Sunday-
keeping, preaching and prayers ; in short, every
custom, preference and prejudice which it had
been the work of years to establish in New
England was assailed with vulgar wit and
ribaldry.

Of course, the respectable part of the Demo-
cratic party did not exactly patronize these
views ; yet they felt for them that tolerance
which even respectable people often feel in a
rude push of society in a direction where they
wish to go. They wanted the control of the
State, and if rabid, drinking, irreligious men
would give it to them, why not use them after
their kind? When the brutes had won the

McMASTER UNIVERSIIY LIBRARX

lOO

ELECTION DA V IN POGANUC.

battle for them, they would take care of the
brutes, and get them back into their stalls.

The bar-room of Glazier's Tavern was the
scene of the feats and boasts of this class of
voters. Long before this time the clergy of Con-
necticut, alarmed at the progress of intemper-
ance, had begun to use influence in getting
stringent laws and restraints upon drinking, and
the cry of course was, " Down with the laws.**

" Tell ye what," said Mark Merrill ; " we've
ben tied up so tight we couldn't wink mor'n six
times a week, and the parsons want to git it so
we can't wink at all; and we won't have it so
no longer; we're goin* to hLve liberty."

" Down with the tithing-man, say I," said Tim
Sykes. " Whose business is it what I do Sun-
days? I ain't goin' to have no tithing-man spying
on my liberty. I'll do jest what I'm a mind ter,
Sundays. Ef I wan ter go a-fishin' Sundays, I'll
go a-fishin*.**

"Tell ye what,** said Liph Kingsley, as he
stirred his third glass of grog. " This 'ere priest-
craft's got to go down. Reason's got on her
throne, and chains is fallin'. I'm a free man
—I be.'*

" You look like it," said Hiel, who stood with
his hands in his pockets contemptuously survey-
ing Liph, while with leering eye and unsteady
hand he stirred his drink.

ELECTION DA Y W POGANUC.

lOI

»•

he
•iest-

her
I man

rith

rey-

kady

" That air's what you call Reason, is't ? " added
Hiel. "Wal, she's got on a pretty topplish
throne, seems to me. I bet you Reason can't
walk a crack now," he said, as Liph, having
taken off his glass, fell with a helpless dump
upon the settle.

" Sot down like a spoonful of apple-saas,"
said Hiel, looking him over sarcastically. The
laugh now turned against the poor brute, and
Hiel added : " Wal, boys, s'pose you like this
'ere sort of thing. Folks is different; for my
part I like to kinder keep up a sort o' differ-
ence 'tween me and a hog. That air's my
taste ; but you're welcome to youm," and Hiel
went out to carry his observations elsewhere.

Hiel felt his own importance to the com-
munity of Poganuc Center too much to have been
out of town on this day, when its affairs needed
so much seeing to, therefore he had deputed
Ned Bissel, a youth yet wanting some two years
of the voting age, to drive his team for him while
he gave his undivided attention to public interes:s ;
and indeed, as nearly as mortal man can be omni-
present, Hiel had been everywhere and heard
everything, and, as the French say, "assisted" gen-
erally at the political struggle. Hiel considered
himself as the provisional owner and care-taker
of the town of Poganuc. It was our town, and
Dr. Gushing was our minister, and the great

I02

ELECTION DA Y IN POGANUC.

meeting-house on the green was our meeting-
house, and the singers' seat therein was our
singers' seat, and he was ready to bet on any
sermon, or action, or opinion of our minister.
Hiel had not yet, as he phrased it, experienced
religion, nor joined the church ; but he "■ calcu-
lated he should some of these days." It wasn't
Doctor Cushing's fault If he wasn't converted, he
was free to affirm. Hiel had been excessively
scandalized with the scurrilous attacks of the
Poganuc Banner, and felt specially called to show
his colors on that day. He had assured his
mother on going out that morning that she
needn't be a mite afeared, for he was a-goin' to
stand up for the minister through thick and thin,
and if any of them Democrats ** saassed " him
he'd give 'em as good as they sent.

In virtue of his ardent political zeal, he felt
himself to-day on equal and speaking terms with
all the Federal magnates ; he clapped Colonel
Davenport on the shoulder assuringly, and talked
about " our side," and was familiar with Judge
Belcher and Sheriff Dennie — darting hither and
thither, observing and reporting with untiring
zeal.

But, after all, that day the Democrats beat, and
got the State of Connecticut. Sheriff Dennie was
the first to carry the news of defeat into the
parsonage at eventide.

ELECTION DA Y IN POGANUC.

X03

Ind
'g

las

"Well, Doctor, we're smashed. Democrats
beat us all to flinders."

A general groan arose.

" Yes, yes," said the Sheriff. " Everything has
voted that could stand on its hind legs, and the
hogs are too many for us. It's a bad beat — bad
beat."

That night when little Dolly came in to family
prayers, she looked around wondering. Her
father and mothe*" looked stricken and overcome.
There was the sort of heaviness in the air that
even a child can feel when deep emotions are
aroused. The boys, who knew only in a general
way that their father's side had been beaten,
looked a little scared at his dejected face.

"Father, what makes you feel so bad?" said
Will, with that surprised wonder with which
children approach emotions they cannot under-
stand.

" I feel for the Church of God, my child," he
said, and then he sung for the evening psalm :

" I love thy kingdom, Lord,
The house of thine abode ;
The Church our dear Redeemer saved
With his own precious blood.

For her my tears shall fall,
For her my prayers ascend ;
To her my cares and toils be given
Till toils and cares shall end."

In the prayer that followed he pleaded for
New England with all the Hebraistic imagery by

I04

ELECTION DA Y m POGANUC.

which she was identified with God's ancient
people :

"Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel; thou that
leadest Joseph like a flock ; thou that dwellest
between the cherubims, shine forth. * * Thou
hast brought a vine out of Egypt; thou didst
cast forth the heathen, and plant it ; thou pre-
paredst room for it and didst cause it to take
deep root, and it filled the land. The hills were
covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs
thereof were like the goodly cedars. Why hast
thou then broken down her hedges so that all
that pass by the way do pluck her? The boar
out of the wood doth waste it ; the wild beast of
the field doth devour it. Return, we beseech
thee, O Lord, and visit this vine and vineyard
that thou has planted and the branch that thou
madest strong for thyself."

It was with a voice tremulous and choking with
emotion that Dr. Gushing thus poured forth the
fears and the sorrows of his heart for the New
England of the Puritans ; the ideal church and
state which they came hither to found.

Little Dolly cried from a strange childish fear,
because of the trouble in her father's voice. The
pleading tones affected her, she knew not why.
The boys felt a martial determination to stand by
their father and a longing to fight for him. All
felt as if something deep and dreadful must have

ELECTION DA Y IN POGANUC.

105

y
11

happened, and after prayers Dolly climbed into
her father's lap, and put both arms around his
neck, and said : '* Papa, there sha'n't anything
hurt you. I'll defend you." She was somewhat
abashed by the cheerful laugh which followed,
but the Doctor kissed her and said: "So you
shall, dear; be sure and not let anything catch
me," and then he tossed her up in his arms glee-
fully, and she felt as if the trouble, whatever it
was, could not be quite hopeless.

But Dolly marveled in her own soul as she
went to bed. She heard the boys without stint
reviling the Democrats as the authors of all
mischief; and yet Bessie Lewis's father was a
Democrat, and he seemed a nice, cheery, good-
natured man, who now and then gave her sticks
of candy, and there was his mother, dear old
Madame Lewis, who gave her the Christmas
cookey. How could it be that such good people
were Democrats? Poor Dolly hopelessly sighed
over the mystery, but dared not ask questions.

But the Rev. Mr. Coan rejoiced in the result
of the election. Not that he was by any means
friendly to the ideas of the Jacobinical party by
whose help it had been carried ; but because, as
he said, it opened a future for the church — for
he too had his idea of "The Church." Mean-
while the true church, invisible to human eyes
— one in spirit, though separated by creeds —

io6

ELECTION DA Y IN POGANUC.

was praying and looking upward, in the heart
of Puritan and Ritualist, in the heart of old
Madame Lewis, of the new Church, and of old
Mrs. Higgins, whose soul was with the old
meeting-house ; of all everywhere who with
humble purpose and divine aspiration were pray-
ing : " Thy kingdom come ; Thy will be done.**

That kingdom was coming even then — for its
coming is in safer hands than those on either side
— and there came a time, years after, when Par-
son Gushing, looking back on that election and
its consequences, could say with another distin-
guished Connecticut clergyman :

** I suffered more than tongue can tell for the
best thing that ever happened to old Con-
necticut."

CHAPTER X.

dolly's perplexities.

|OLLY went to bed that night, her little
soul surging and boiling with conject-
ure. All day scraps of talk about the
election had reached her ears; her
nerves, had been set vibrating by the tones of
her father's prayer, some words of which yet
rung in her ear — tones of passionate pleading
whose purport she could scarcely comprehend.
What was this dreadful thing that had happened
or was going to happen? She heard her brother
Will emphatically laying off the state of the case
to Nabby in the kitchen, and declaring that " the
Democrats were going to upset the whole State,
for father said so."

Exactly what this meant, Dolly could not con-
ceive; but, coupled with her mother's sorrowful
face and her father's prayer, it must mean some-
thing dreadful. Something of danger to them
all might be at hand, and she said her " pray God
to bless n.y dear father and mother" with unusual
fervor.

Revolving the matter on her pillow, she had

107

io8

DOLLY'S PERPLEXITIES.

a great mind, the next time she met General
Lewis with his srailing face, to walk boldly up
to him and remonstrate, and tell him to let her
papa alone and not upset the State!

Dolly had a great store of latent heroism and
felt herself quitf? capable of making a courageous
defense of her father — and her heart swelled with
a purpose to stand by him to the last gasp, no
matter what came.

But sleep soon came down with her downy
wings, and the great blue eyes were closed, and
Dolly knew not a word more till waked by the
jingling of sleigh-bells and the creaking of sleds
at early sunrise.

She sprang up, dressed quickly, and ran to the
window. Evidently the State had not been upset
during the night, for the morning was clear,
bright and glorious as heart could desire.

The rosy light of morning filled the air, the
dreary snow-wreaths lay sparkling in gi iceful
lines with tender hues of blue and lilac and pink
in their shadows, and merry sleigh-bells were
ringing and the boys were out snow-balling each
other in mere wantonness of boy life, while Spring
was barking frantically, evidently resolved to bp
as frisky a boy as any of them.

The fears and apprehensions of last night were
all gone like a cloud, and she hurried down into
the kitchen to find Nabby stirring up her buck-

DOLL Y'S PERPLEXITIES,

109

whea^ batter, and running to the window to see
Hiel go by on the stage, kissing his hand to her
as he passed.

" I declare! the imperence of that cretur," said
Nabby.

"What, Hiel?" asked Dolly.

" Yes, Hiel Jcnes ! he's the conceitedest fellow
that ever I did see. You can't look out ol a win-
dow but he thinks your running to look at himy

"And wasn't you running to look at him?"
asked Dolly.

" Land o' Goshen, no ! What should I want
to look at him for? I jest wanted to see — well,
them horses he's got."

"Oh," said Dolly.

Upon reflection she added,

"I thought you liked Hiel, Nabby."

"You thought I liked Hiel?" said Nabby
laughing. " What a young 'un ! Why, I can't
bear the sight of him," and Nabby greased her
griddle with combative energy. " He's the saas-
siest fellow I ever see. / can't bear htm!'*

Dolly reflected on this statement gravely,
while Nabby dropped on the first griddleful of
cakes; finally she said,

" If you don't like Hiel, Nabby, what made you
sit up so late with him Christmas night?"

" Who said I did ?" said Nabby, beginning to
turn griddle-cakes with velocity.

DOLL Y'S PERPLEXTTIES.

" Why, Will and Tom ; they both say so. They
heard when Hiel went out the kitchen door, and
the) counted the clock strikii ^ A^elve just as he
went. Will says he kissed you, too, Nabby. Did
he?"

'• Well, if ever I see such young 'uns !** said
Nabby, flaming carnation color over the fire as
she took off the cakes. " That Bill is saassy
enough to physic a hornbug. I never see the
beat of him!"

"But did Hiel stay so late, Nabby?"

" Well, yes, to be sure he did. I thought I
never should have got him out of the house. If
I hadn't let him kiss me I believe in my soul I'd
'a' had to set up with him till morning ; he said he
wouldn't go without. I've been mad at him ever
since. I told him never to show his face here
again; but I know he'll come. He does it on
purpose to plague me."

** That is dreadful !" said Dolly, meditatively
" I wouldn't let him. I'll tell you what," she
added, with animation, " /*// talk to him and tell
him he mustn't come here any more. Sha'n't I,
Nabby ?"

But Nabby laughed and said, " No, no ; little
girls mustn't talk so. Don't you never say
nothin' to Hiel about it ; if you do I won't tell
you no more. Here, carry in this plate o' cakes,
for they're eatin' breakfast. I heard your pa

DOLL Y'S PERPLEXITIES.

IIT

tie
ay
ell

askin' blessin* just after you came down. You
carry these in while I get on the next griddle-
fui."

Dolly assumed her seat at table, but there
again the trouble met her. Her father and
mother were talking together with sad, anxious
faces.

" It is a most mysterious dispensation why this
is allowed," said her mother.

" Yes, my dear, * clouds and darkness are round
about Him,* but we must have faith."

Here Spring varied the discourse by putting
his somber black visage over Dolly's arm and
resting his nose familiarly on the table, whereat
she couldn't help giving him the half of a griddle-
cake.

" How many times must T tell you, Dolly, that
Spring is never to be fed at the table ?" said her
mother. " I love dogs," she added, " but it spoils
them to be fed at table."

" Why, papa does it sometimes," pleaded Tom.

Mrs. Gushing was obliged to confess to the
truth of this, for the doc:or when pursuing the
deeper mazes of theology was sometimes so
abstracted that his soul took no note of what his
body was doing, and he had been more than once
detected in giving Spring large rations under the
table while expounding some profound mysteries
of foreknowledge and free will.

119

DOLL Y'S PERPLEXITIES.

Tom's remark was a home-thrust, but his
mother said, reprovingly :

" Your father never means to do it ; but he has
so much to do and think of that he is sometimes
absent-minded."

A conscious twinkle might have been observed
playing about the blue eyes of thn doctor, and
a shrewd observer might have surmised that the
offense was not always strictly involuntary, for
the doctor, though a most docile and tractable
husband, still retained here and there traces of
certain wild male instincts and fell at times into
singular irregularities. He had been known to
upset all Mrs. Cushing's nicely arranged yarn-
baskets and stocking-baskets and patch-baskets,
pouring the contents in a heap on the floor, and
carrying them off bodily to pick up chestnuts in,
when starting off with the children on a nutting
expedition. He would still persist at intervals in
going to hunt eggs in the barn with Dolly, and
putting the fruits of the search in his coat-tail
pocket, though he had once been known to sit
down on a pocketful at a preparatory lecture, the
bell for which rung while he was yet on the
hay-mow.

On this occasion, therefore, Spring made an
opportune diversion in the mournful turn the
conversation was taking. The general tone of
remark became slightly admonitory on the part

Lit his

he has
etimes

served
)r, and
hat the
ry, for
actable
aces of
es into
own to
I yarn-
baskets,
or, and
iuts in,
utting
vals in
lly, and
loat-tail
to sit
re, the
n the

tde an
Irn the

lone of
le part

HIEL IN Hlh GLORY.

"And wasn't you running to look at hintf" asked Doily.
' Lana <?' Goshen, nc /" saia Nabby. " / jest wanted to see-
well, them horsei he's got," , . ' Oh,' saia Dolly, — p. X09.

DOLLY'S PERPLEXITIES.

of Mrs. Gushing and playfully defensive on the
part of the doctor. In their "heart of heart"
the boys believed their father sometimes fed
Spring when he did know what he was about,
and this belief caused constant occasional lapses
from strict statute law on their part.

That morning, in prayers, their father read :
"God is our refuge and strength, a very pres-
ent help in time of trouble. Therefoic^ will we
not fear, though the earth be removed ; though
the mountains be carried into the midst of the
sea;" and at those verses he stopped and said:
"There, my dear, there must be our comfort."
And then they sung:

" Oh God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.'*

Then in prayer he plead for the Church — the
Church of God, the vine of his planting — and
said :

"When the enemy cometh in like a flood,
may Thy spirit lift up a standard against them ;"
and again Dolly trembled and wondered. But
after prayers Bill suddenly burst back into the
house.

"Oh! mamma, there u a bluebird! Spring is
come !"

"A bluebird! Impossible so early in March.
You must be mistaken."

114

DOLLY'S PERPLEXITIES.

" No. Come to the door ; you can hear him
just as plain !"

And, sure enough, on the highest top of the
great button- ball tree opposite the house sat
the little blue angel singing with all his might
— a living sapphire dropped down from the walls
of the beautiful city above. A most sanguine
and imprudent bluebird certainly he must have
been, though the day was so lovely and the
great icicles on the eaves of the house were
actually commencing to drip. But there un-
do abtedly he was — herald and harbinger of good
days to come.

" It is an omen," said the doctor, as he put
his arms fondly round his wife. "The Lord
liveth, and blessed be our rock !"

And the boys and Dolly ran out, shouting
wildly,

"There's been a bluebird. Spring is coming
— spring is coming !"

CHAPTER XI.

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT.

ES. Spring was coming ; the little blue
herald was right, though he must have
chilled his beak and Irozen his toes as
he sat there. But he came from the
great Somewhere, where things are always bright ;
where life and summer and warmth and flowers
are forever going on while we are bound down
under ice and snow.

There was a thrill in the hearts of all the
children that day, with visions of coming violets,
hepaticas and anemones, of green grass and long
bright sunny rambles by the side of the Poganuc
river.

The boys were so premature in hope as to
get out their store of fish-hooks, and talk of
trouting. The Doctor looked over his box of
garden seeds, and read the labels. " Early Let-
tuce,'* " Early Cucumbers," '' Summer Squashes"
— all this was inspiring reading, and seemed
to help him to have faith that a garden was

coming round again, though the snow banks yet

X15

DOLLY AND J/ABBY INVITED OUT.

\\»

lay over the garden-spot deep and high. All day
long it thawed and melted ; a warm south wind
blew and the icicles dripped, so that there was
a continual patter.

Two circumstances of importance in Dolly's
horoscope combined on this happy day : Hiel
invited Nabby to an evening sleigh-ride after
supper, and Mrs. Davenport invited her father
and mother to a tea-drinking at the same time.

Notwithstanding her stout words about Hiel,
Nabby in the most brazen and decided manner
declared her intention to accept his invitation,
because (as she remarked) " Hiel had just
bought a bran new sleigh, and Almiry Smith
had said publicly that she was going to have
the first ride in that air sleigh, and she would
like to show Almiry that she didn't know every
thing." Nabby had inherited from her father a
fair share of combativeness, which was always
bubbling and boiling within her comely person
at the very idea of imaginary wrongs ; and, as
she excitedly wiped her tea-cups, she went on:

" That air Almiry Smith is a stuck-up thing ;
always turning up her nose at me, and talking
about my being a hired gal. What's the dif-
ference ? I live out and work, and she stays to
home and works. I work for the minister's
folks and get my dollar a week, and she works
for her father and don't git nothin' but just her

■^v.

All day
uth wind
here was

1 Dolly's
ly : Hiel
ide after
er father
me time,
out Hiel,
[ manner
nvitation,
had just
ry Smith

to have
e would
ow every

father a
,8 always
y person

and, as
ivent on :

p thing ;
I talking

the dif-

stays to
ninister's
le works

just her

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT,

117

i
li

board and her keep. So, I don't see why she
need take airs over me — and she sha'n't do it !"

But there was a tranquilizing influence breath-
ing over Nabby's soul, and she soon blew off the
little stock of spleen and invited Dolly into her
bed-room to look at her new Leghorn bonnet,
just home from Miss Hinsdale's milliner-shop,
which she declared was too sweet for anything.

Now, Leghorn bonnets were a newly-imported
test of station, grandeur and gentility in Poganuc.
Up to this period the belles of New England had
worn braided straw, abundantly pretty, and often
braided by the fair fingers of the wearers them-
selves, while they studied their lessons or read
the last novel or poem.

But this year Miss Hetty Davenport, and Miss
Ellen Dennie, and the blooming daughters of the
governor, and the fair Maria Gridley had all
illuminated their respective pews in the meeting-
house with Leghorn flats — large and fine of braid,
and tremulous with the delicacy of their fiber.
Similar wonders appeared on the heads of the
juvenile aristocracy of the Episcopal church ; and
the effect was immediate.

Straw bonnets were ** no where." To have a
Leghorn was the thing ; and Miss Hinsdale im-
ported those of many qualities and prices, to suit
customers. Nabby's was not of so fine a braid as
that of the governor's daughters ; still it was a

Ii8

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT.

real Leghorn hat, and her soul was satisfied. She
wanted a female bosom to sympathize with her
in this joy, and Dolly was the chosen one.

Proud of this confidence, Dolly looked, ex-
claimed, admired, and assisted at the toilette-
trial — yet somewhat wondering at the facility
with which Nabby forgot all her stringent decla-
rations of the morninp^ before.

" You don't suppose he would dare to kiss you
again, Nabby ?" Dolly suggested timidly, while
Nabby stood at the glass with her bonnet on,
patting her curls, shaking her head, pulling into
place here a bow and there a flower.

"Why, Dolly Gushing," said Nabby, laughing;
** what a young 'un you are to remember things !
I never saw vSuch a child ! "

" But you said " cried Dolly, —

*' Oh, never mind \4rhat I said. Do you suppose
I can't keep that fellow in order ? I'd just like to
have him try it again^ — and see what he'd get !
There now, what do you think of that ? " And
Nabby turned round and showed a general
twinkle of nodding flowers, fluttering ribbons,
bright black eyes, and cheeks with laughing
dimples which came and went as she spoke or
laughed.

" Nabby, I do declare, you are splendid," said
Dolly. " Hiel said once you was the hand-
somest girl in Poganuc."

% ■

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT.

119

"He di-i, did her Well, I'll let him know a
thing or two before I've done with him ; and
Almiry Smith, too, with her milk-and-water face
and stringy curls."

"Pid that bonnet cost a great deal?" asked
Dolly.

" What do you mean, child ?" asked Nabby,
turning quickly and looking at her.

" Nothing, only Mrs. Davenport said that hired
girls were getting to dress just like ladies."

Nabby flared up and grew taller, and seemed
about to rise from the floQr in spontaneous com-
bustion.

" I declare !" she said. " That's just like these
'ere stuck-up Town Hill folks. Do the ,• think
nobody's to have silk gowns and Leg'orn bon-
nets but them? Who's a better right, I should
like to know? Don't we ivork for our money,
and ain't it oiirn? and ain't we just as good as
they be? I'll buy just such clothes as I see fit,
and if anybody don't like it why they may lump
it, that's all. I've a better right to my bonnet
than Hetty Davenport has to hers, for I /earned
the money to pay for it, and she just lives to
do nothing, and be a bill of expense to her
folks."

Dolly cowered under this little hurricane ; but,
Poganuc being a windy town, Dolly had full
experience that the best way to meet a sudden

1 20

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT,

gust IS to wait for it to blow itself out, as she
did on the present occasion. In a minute Nabby
laughed and was herself again ; it was impossible
to be long uncomfortable with a flower garden
on one's head.

"I shall be lonesome to-night without you,
Nabby," said Dolly; "the boys talk Latin to
me and plague me when I want to play with
them."

" Oh, I heard Mis' Gushing say she was going
to take you to the tea-party, and that '11 be just
as good for you."

Dolly jumped up and down for joy and ran
to her mother only to have the joyful tidings
confirmed. " I shall never leave Dolly alone in
the house again, with nobody but the boys," she
said, " and I shall take her with us. It will be
a lesson in good manners for her.'*

It may have been perceived by the intimations
of these sketches hitherto that there were in the
town of Poganac two distinct circles of people,
who mingled in public affairs as citizens and in
church affairs as communicants, but who rarely
or never met on the same social plane.

There was the haute noblesse — very affably dis-
posed, and perfectly willing to condescend; and
there was the proud democracy, prouder than
the noblesse, who wouldn't be condescended to,
and insisted on having their way and their say,

DOLLY AND NABBY LNVLTED OUT.

121

on the literal, actual standpoint of the original
equality of human beings.

The sons and daughters of farmers and me-
chanics would willingly exchange labor with each
other ; the daughters would go to a neighboring
household where daughters were few, and help
in i:he family work, and the sons likewise would
hire themselves out where there was a deficiency
of man-power ; but they entered the family as full
equals, sharing the same table, the same amuse-
ments, the same social freedoms, with the family
they served.

It was because the Town Hill families wished
to hire servants^ according to the Old-World
acceptation of the term, that it became a matter
of exceeding difficulty to get any of the fre?
democratic citizens or citizenesses to come to
them :n that capacity.

Only the absolute need of money reconciled
any of them to taking such a place, and. then
they took it with a secret heart-burning and a
jealous care to preserve^ their own personal
dignity.

Nabby had compromised her pride in working
for " the minister," for the minister in early New
England times was the first gentleman of the
parish, and a place in his family was a different
thing from one in any other.

Nevertheless, Nabby required to be guided

taa

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT,

with a delicate hand and governed with tact and
skill. There were things that no free-born Amer-
ican girl would do, and Mrs. Gushing had the
grace not to expect those things. For instance,
no Yankee girl would come at the ringing of a
bell. To expect this would, as they held it, be to
place them on a level with the negroes still
retained as servants in some old families. It was
useless to argue the point. Nabby's cheeks would
flush, and her eyes flash, and the string of her
tongue would be loosed, and she would pour
forth torrents of declamation if one attempted to
show that calling by a bell was no worse than
calling by the voice or sending out one of the
children. Mrs. Gushing did not try to do it.

Another point was the right to enter the house
by the front door. Now, as Nabby's work lay
in the kitchen and as her sleeping-room was just
above, it was manifestly an inconvenience to enter
by any other than the kitchen door. Neverthe-
less, she had heard the subject discussed among
other girls, and had admired the spirit shown by
her intimate friend, Maria Pratt, when Mrs. Israel
Deyter pointed out to her the propriety of enter-
ing by the back door, — " Mrs. Deyter, do you
think there will be a back and a front door to
heaven ?"

But Mrs. Gushing avoided the solution of this
theological problem by looking on with a smile

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT.

of calm amusement when Nabby very conspicu-
ously and perseveringly persisted in entering by
the front door the first week of her engagement
with the family. As nothing was said and
nothing done about it, Nabby gradually declined
into doing what was most convenient — went the
shortest way to her work and room. Nabby was
in her way and place a person worth making
concessions to, for she was a workwoman not to
be despised. Her mother, Mrs. Higgins, was
one of those almost fabulous wonders of house-
hold genius who by early rising, order, system,
neatness and dispatch reduced the seemingly
endless labors of a large family to the very
minimum of possibility. Consequently there was
little occasion for the mistress of a family to
overlook or to teach Nabby. When she entered
the household she surveyed the situation with
trained eyes, took an account of all work to be
done, formed her system and walked through it
daily with energetic ease, always securing to
herself two or three hours of leisure every day in
which to do her own cutting, fitting and sewing.
According to the maxims in which she had been
brought up, a girl that did not " do up her work
in the morning," so as to have this interval of
leisure, was not mistress of her business. On
washing days Nabby's work began somewhere in
the latter part of the night, and daylight saw 'her

134

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT,

flags of victory waving on the lines in the shape
of renovated linen, and Nabby with great com-
posure getting breakfast as on any other day.

She took all her appointed work as a matter
of course. Strong, young, and healthy, she
scarcely knew what fatigue was. She was cheer-
ful, obliging, and good tempered, as thoroughly
healthy people generally are. There was, to
be sure, a little deposit of gunpowder in Nabby's
nature, and anybody who chose to touch a match
to her self-esteem, her sense of personal dignity
or independence, was likely to see a pretty lively
display of fireworks ; but it was always soon
over, and the person making the experiment
did not generally care to repeat it.

But Hiel Jones found this chemical experiment
irresistibly fascinating, and apparently did not
care how often he burned his fingers with it.
Hiel was somewhat blas^ with easy conquests.

The female sex have had in all a^cs their spoiled
favorites, who are ungrateful just in proportion
to the favors bestov^ed upon them; and Hiel
was in his circle as much courted and pursued
with flattering attentions as any spoiled tenor of
the modern opera. For him did Lucinda and
Jane bake surreptitious mountains of sponge cake.
Small tributes of cream, butter, pies of various
name and model, awaited him at different
stopping-places, and were handed him by fair

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT.

hands with flattering smiles. The Ahnira of
whom Nabby discoursed with such energetic
vehemence had knit Hiel a tippet, worked his
name on a pocket-handkerchief with her hair, and
even gone so far as to present him with one of
the long yellow curls which Nabby was pleased
to call ** stringy." Nabby's curls certainly could
not have merited any such epithet, as every
separate one of them had a will and a way of
its own, and all were to the full as mutinous
as their mistress. Yet Hiel would have given
more for one of those rebellious curls than for
all Almira's smooth-brushed locks, and although
a kiss from Nabby was like a kiss from one on
an electric stool, snapping and prickling at every
touch, yet somehow the perverse Hiel liked the
excitement of the shock.

Hiel's tactics for the subjugation of a female
heart were in the spirit of a poet he never
heard of;

" Pique her, and soothe in turns ;
Soon passion crowns thy hopes."

He instituted a series of regular quarrels with
Nabby, varied by flattering attentions, and de-
lighted to provoke her to anger, sure that she
would say a vast deal more than she meant, and
then, in the reaction which is always sure to
follow in the case of hot-tempered, generous
people, he should find his advantage.

126

DOLLY AND NABBY INVITED OUT.

So, when the stars looked out blinking and
winking through a steel-blue sky, Nabby, in the
fascinating new bonnet, was handed into the
smart new sleigh, tucked in with Hiel under
a profusion of buffalo robes, and went jingling
away. A supper and a dance awaited them at
a village tavern ten miles off, and other sleighs
and other swains with their ladies were on the
same way, where we take our leave of them to
follow our little Dolly into the parlors of the
haute noblesse.

CHAPTER XII.

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY.

[HEN Dolly found herself arrayed in her
red dress and red shoes, her hair
nicely curled, she was so happy that, to
speak scripturally, she leaped for joy —
flew round and round with her curls flying, like a
little mad-cap — till her mother was obliged to
apply a sedative exhortation.

"Take care, Dolly; take care. I can't take
you, now, unless you are good. If you get
so wild as that I shall have to leave you at
home. Come here, and let me talk to you."

And Dolly came and stood, grave and serious,
at her mother's knee, who, while she made over
and arranged some of the tumbled curls, pro-
ceeded to fortify her mind for the coming emer-
gency with suitable precepts.

"It's a great thing for a little girl like you,

Dolly, to be allowed to sit up with grown people

till nine o'clock, and to go out with your mamma,

and I want you to be very careful and behave as

a good little girl should. I take you, so that you

may learn good manners. Now, remember, Dolly,

127

128

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY.

you mustn't speak to any of them unless you are
spoken to."

Dolly reflected on this precept gravely, and
then said :

" Don't they speak to any one except when
they are spoken to ? "

" Yes, my dear, because they are grown-up
"people, and know when to speak and what is
proper to be said. Little girls do not ; so they
must be silent. Little girls should be seen and
not heard."

Dolly knew this maxim by heart already, and
she no more questioned the propriety of it than
of any of the great laws of nature.

After an interval of serious reflection, she asked:

" But, if any of them should talk to me, then I
may talk to them ; may I ? "

" Yes, my dear ; if any body talks to you, you
must answer, but be careful not to talk too long."

"Do you think. Mamma, that Judge Gridley
will be there?"

" Yes, my dear, I presume so."

" Because I am acquainted with him," remarked
Dolly gravely ; ** he always talks to me. He
meets me sometimes coming home from school
and talks to me. I am glad he will be there."

Mrs. Gushing smiled aside to her husband as
she was tying on Dolly's little hood, and then her
father took her up in his arms and they started.

s you are

/ely, and

3pt when

yrown-up
I what is
; so they
seen and

eady, and
Df it than

he asked:
le, then I

you, you
;oo long."
! Gridley

remarked
me. He

m school

lere."

sband as
then her

jtarted.

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY.

129

Tea parties in the highest circles of Poganuc
began at six and ended at nine, and so when
Dolly and her father and mother arrived they
found a room full of people. Col. Davenport was
a tall, elegant man, with an upright, soldierly
carriage, his hair powdered white, and tied in a
queue down his back ; his eyes of a clear, piercing
blue, looking out each side of a well-defined
aquiline nose ; his voice deep and musical, with
a sort of resonance which spoke of one used to
command. The Colonel was one of the most
active members- of the church ; — the one who in
the absence of the pastor officiated as lay-reader,
and rendered the sermon and made- the prayers,
in the same sonorous, miiitary voice that sug-
gested the field and the commander. Mrs.
Davenport, a lady of delicate and refined appear-
ance, with a certain high-bred manner toned
down to a kind of motherly sweetness, received
the Doctor and Mrs. Cushing with eflfusion,
kissed and patted Dolly on the cheek, and re-
marked what a nice little girl she was getting
to be; and the Colonel stooped down and took
her hand, like an affable eagle making court to a
little humming-bird, and hoped she was quite
well, to which Dolly, quite overcome with awe,
answered huskily : " Very well, I thank you, sir."

Then kind Mrs. Davenport busied herself in
ordering to the front a certain little chair that

(

13©

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY,

had a family history. This was duly brought and
placed for Dolly by old Cato, an ancient negro
servitor of the Colonel's, who had once served as
his waiter in the army, and had never recovered
from the sense of exaltation and dignity conferred
by this experience. Dolly sat down, and began
employing her eyes about the high and dainty
graces of the apartment. The walls were hung
with paper imported from France and ornamented
with family portraits by Copley. In the fire
place, the high brass andirons sustained a magnifi-
cent fire, snapping and sparkling and blazing in a
manner gorgeous to behold. Soon Cato came
in with the tea on a waiter, followed by Venus,
his wife, who, with a high white turban on her
head and a clear-starched white apron in front,
bore after him a tray laden with delicate rolls,
sandwiches, and multiplied and tempting varieties
of cake. Dolly spread her handkerchief in
h:jr little lap, and comported herself as nearly
as possible as she saw the grand ladies
doing, who, in satin and velvet and point
lace, were making themselves agreeable, and
taking their tea with elegant ease.

The tea parties of Poganuc were not wanting
in subjects for conversation. It was in rule to
discuss the current literature of the day, which
at that time came from across the water — the last
articles in the Edinburgh Review^ the latest Waver*

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY.

131

-ought and
lent negro
3 served as
recovered
1 conferred
and began
and dainty
were hung
►rnamented
n the fire
I a magnifi-
lazing in a
Cato came
[ by Venus,
ban on her
m in front,
icate rolls,
ig varieties
:erchief in
• as nearly
ind ladies
and point
cable, and

ot wanting
in rule to
iay, which
;r — the last
est Waver-

ley novel, the poetry of Moore, Byron, Southey,
and Wordsworth — all came under review and had
place of consideration.

In those days, when newspapers were few and
scanty, when places were isolated and travel was
tedious and uncertain, the intellectual life of culti-
vated people was intense. A book was an event
in Poganuc. It was heard of first across the
ocean, and watched for, as one watches for the
rising of a new planet. While the English packet
was slowly laboring over, bearing it to our shores,
expectation was rising, and when the book was to
be found in the city book stores an early copy
generally found its way to the 61ite circle of
Poganuc.

Never in this day — generation of jaded and
sated literary appetite — will any one know the
fresh and eager joy, the vivid sensation of delight
with which a poem like " The Lady of the Lake,"
a novel like " Ivanhoe," was received in lonely
mountain towns by a people eager for a new
mental excitement. The young folks called the
rocks and glens and rivers of their romantic
region by names borrowed from Scott; they
clambered among the crags of Benvenue and
sailed on the bosom of Loch Katrine.

The students in the law offices and the young
ladies of the first families had their reading circles
and their literary partialities — some being parti-

i I

13^

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY,

sans of Byron, some of Scott, etc. — aind there was
much innocent spouting of poetry. There were
promising youths who tied their open shirt
collars with a black ribbon, and professed disgust
at the hollow state of human happiness in general,
and there were compassionate young ladies who
considered the said young men all the more inter-
esting for this state of mysterious desolation, and
often succeeded in the work of consoling them.
It must be remarked, however, that the present
gathering was a married people's party, and the
n-umber of young ir'^n and maidens was limited
to the immediate faiiiily connections. The young
people had their parties, with the same general
decorum, where the conversation was led by
them. In the elderly circles all these literary
and social topics came under discussion. Occas-
ionally Judge Belcher, who was an authority
in literary criticism, would hold the ear of the
drawing-room while he ran a parallel between
the dramatic handling of Scott's characters as
compared with those of Shakespeare, or gave
an analysis of the principles of the Lake
School of Poetry. The Judge was an ad-
mirable talker, and people in general liked
to hear him quite as well as he liked to hear
himself, and so his monologues proceeded
nem» con,
< On this particular evening, however, liter-

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY.

ature was forgotten in the eagerness of politics.
The news from the state elections was not in
those days spread by telegraph, it lumbered up
in stages, and was recorded at most in weekly
papers; but enough had come to light to make
the Poganuc citizens aware that the State of
Connecticut had at last been revolutionized, and
gone from the Federalists to the Democrats.

Judge Belcher declaimed upon the subject in
language which made the very hair rise upon
Dolly's head.

"Yes, sir," he said, addressing Dr. Gushing; **I
conisider this as the ruin of the State of Con-
necticut! It's the triumph of the lower orders;
the reign of * sans culotte-ism ' begun. In my
opinion, sir, we are over a volcano ; I should
not be suprised, sir, at an explosion that will
blow up all our institutions ! '*

Dolly's eyes grew larger and larger, although
she was a little comforted to observe the Judge
carefully selecting a particular variety of cake that
he was fond of, and helping himself to a third cup
of tfea in the very midst of these shocking prog-
nostication s.

Dolly had not then learned the ease and suavity
of mind with which both then and ever since
people at tea drinkings and other social recrea-
tions declare their conviction that the country is
going to ruin. It never appears to have any im-

134

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY,

mediate effect upon the appetite. Dolly looked
at her father, and thought he assented with some-
what of a saddened air ; and Mrs. Davenport
looked concerned ; and Mrs. Judge Gridley said
it was a very dark providence why such things
were permitted, but a little while after was com-
mending the delicacy of the cake, and saying she
must inquire of Venus about her peculiar mode
of confection.

Judge Gridley — a white-haired, lively old
gentleman with bright eyes, who wore the old-
fashioned small-clothes, knee-buckles, silk stock-
ings and low shoes — had fixed his eyes upon
Dolly for some time, and now crossing the room
drew her with him into a corner, saying: "Come,
now, Miss Dolly, you and I are old friends, you
know. What do you think of all these things?"

" Oh, I'm so glad you came," said Dolly, with
a long sigh of relief. " I hoped you would,
because mamma said I mustn't talk unless some-
body spoke to me, and I do so want to know all
about those dreadful things. What is a volcano?
Please tell me!'*

" Why, my little Puss," he said, lifting her in
his lap and twining her curls round his finger,
"what do you want to know that for?"

" Because I heard Judge Belcher say that we
were all over a volcano and it would blow us all
up some day. Is it like powder?"

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY.

135

ly looked
ith some-
)avenport
idley said
ich things
was com-
aying she
iliar mode

ively old
? the old-
iilk stock-
lyes upon
the room
;; "Come,
ends, you
things?"
)olly, with
DU would,
less some-
3 know all
a volcano?

ing her in
his finger,

ly that we
blow us all

" You dear little soul ! don't you trouble your
head about what Judge Belcher says. He uses
strong language. He only means that the Demo-
crats will govern the state."

"And are they so dreadfully wicked?" asked
Dolly. "I want to tell you something" — and
Dolly whispered, " Bessie Lewis's father is a
Democrat, and yet they don't seem like wicked
people."

" No, my dear ; when you grow up you will
learn that there are good people in every party."

" Then you don't think Bessie's father is a bad
man?" said Dolly. " I'm so glad!"

" No ; he's a good man in a bad party ; that is
what I think."

" I wish you'd talk to him and tell him not to
do all these dreadful things, and upset the state,"
said Dolly. " I thought the other night / would ;
but I'm only a little girl, you know ; he wouldn't
mind me. If I was a grown-up woman I would,"
she said, with her cheeks flushing and her eyes
kindling.

Judge Gridley laughed softly to himself and
stroked her head.

" When you are a grown-up woman I don't
doubt you can make men do almost anything you
please, but I don't think it would do any good
for me to talk to General Lewis ; and now, little
Curly-wurly, don't bother your pretty head

136

DOLLY GOES INTO COMPANY,

about politics. Neither party will turn the world
upside down. There's a good God above us all,
my little girl, that takes care of our country, and
he will bring good out of evil. So now don't
you worry."

" I'm afraid. Judge Gridley, that Dolly is troub-
ling you," said Mrs. Gushing, coming up.

"Oh, dear me! madame, no; Miss Dolly and
I are old acquaintances. We have the best pos-
sible understanding."

Buc just then, resounding clear and loud
through the windy March air, came the pealing
notes of the nine o'clock bell, and an immediate
rustle of dresses, and rising, and shakmg of
hands, and cutting short of stories, and uttering
last words followed.

For though not exactly backed by the ar-
bitrary power which enforced the celebrated
curfe^v, yet the nine o'clock bell was one of the
authoritative institutions of New England; and
at its sound all obediently set their faces home-
ward, to rake up house-fires, put out candles,
and say their prayers before going to rest.

Old Captain Skeggs, a worn-out revolutionary
soldier, no longer good for hard service, had
this commanding post in Poganuc, and no mat-
ter how high blew the wind, how fiercely raged
the storm, the captain in his white woolen great
coat, with three little capes to it, stamped his

DOLLY GOES INTO COMrANY.

»37

way through the snow, pulled valiantly on the
rope, and let all the hills and valleys of Poganuc
know that the hour of rest had come. Then,
if it were a young people's party, each young
man chose out his maiden and asked the pleasure
of seeing her home ; and in the clear frosty night
and under the silent stars many a word was said
that could not be said by candle-light indoors : —
whereof in time came life-long results.

• (

CHAPTER XIII.

COLONEL DAVENPORT RELATES HIS EXPERIENCES.

FEW days after the tea-party, Colonel
and Mrs. Davenport came to take tea
at the parsonage. It was an engage-
ment of long standing, and eagerly
looked forward to by the children, who with one
accord begged that they might be allowed to
sit up and hear the Colonel's stories.

For, stories of the war it was known the
Colonel could tell ; the fame of them hovered in
vague traditions on the hills and valleys of Pog-
anuc, and whenever he was to be in the circle it
was always in the programme of hope that he
might be stimulated and drawn out to tell of
some of the stirring scenes of his camp-life.

In a general way, too, the children were always
glad to have company. The preparations had a
festive and joyous air to their minds. Mrs. Cush-
ing then took possession of the kitchen in person,
and various appetizing and suggestive dainties

and condiments stood about in startling profusion,
138

. llT-J

COLONEL DAVENPORT'S EXPERIENCES.

139

?ERIENCES.

Dolly and the boys stoned raisins, pounded cinna-
mon, grated nutmegs and beat eggs with cnthusi-.
asm, while Nabby heated the oven and performed
the part of assistant priestess in high and solemn
mysteries. Among her many virtues and graces,
Mrs. Gushing had one recommendation for a
country minister's wife which commanded uni-
versal respect : she could make cake. Yea, more,
she could make such cake as nobody else could
make — not even Colonel Davenport's Venus.

So the children had stoned raisins, without eat-
ing more than the natural tribute to be expected
in such cases ; they had been allowed in per-
quisites a stick of cinnamon apiece ; and the
pound-cake, the sponge-cake, the fruit-cake and the
tea-rusks were each in their kind a perfect success.

During tea-time every word uttered by the
Colonel was eagerly watched by attentive and
much-desiring ears ; but as yet no story came.
The vivacity imparted by two or three cups of
the best tea was all spent in denunciations of the
Democrats, their schemes, designs and dangers to
the country, when the Colonel and Dr. Cushing
seemed to vie with each other in the vigor and
intensity of their prognostigations of evil.

But after tea there came the genial hour of the
social sit-down in front of the andirons, when the
candles we -'e duly snuffed, and the big fore-stick had
burned down to glowing coals, and the shadow?

140

COLONEL DAVENPORT'S EXPERIENCES,

played in uncertain flashes up and down the walls
of the fire-lighted room ; and then the Colonel's
mind began traveling a road hopeful to his listen-
ing auditors.

From Dc nocracy to Jefferson, from Jefferson
to France and the Frcxich Revolution, the conver-
sation led by easy gradations, and thence to 4:he
superior success of our own Revolution — from
La Fayette to Washington.

Now, the feeling of the Doctor and of his
whole family for General Washington was to the
full as intense as that of the ancient Israelites for
Moses. They were never tired of hearing the
smallest particular about him — how he looked ;
how he walked ; what he wore ; the exact shade
of his eyes , the least word that ever dropped
from his iips.

" You have no doubt whatever that the General
was a religious min?" said the Doctor, pro-
pounding what was ever his most anxious inquiry
with regard to one who had entered on the In-
visible Verities.

" Not a doubt, sir," was the Colonel's reply, in
those linging and decisive tones which were
characteristic of him.

" I have always heard," pursued the Doctor,
" that he was eminently a man of prayer."

" Eminently so," said the Colonel. " The Gen-
eral, sir, was a communicant in the Episcopal

COLONEL DAVENPORT'S EXPERIENCES. 141

Church, a firm believer in Christianity, and I
think he was sustained in all the trying emer-
gencies of the war by his faith in his God. That,
sir, I have not a doubt of."

"That has always been my belief," said the
Doctor; "but I am glad to hear you say so."

"Yes, sir," added the Colonel with energy;
" his influence in the army was openly and de-
cidedly that of a Christian. You recollect his
general order at one time, excusing soldiers and
sailors from fatigue-duty on Sunday, that they
might have time to attend religious service, and
his remarks upon the custom of profane swear-
ing in the army ; how he reminded both officers
and men that * We could have but little hope of
the blessing of Heaven upon our arms, if we insult
it by impiety.' "

" Yes, I remember all that," said the Doctor.
" Nothing could have been better worded. It
must have had an immense influence. But does
it not seem astonishing that a military man,
going through the terrible scenes that he did,
should never have been tempted to profanity ? I
declare," said the Doctor, musingly, "I would
not answer for myself. There were times in that
history when without preventing grace I am
quite sure / could not have held myself in."

" Well, sir, since you speak on that subject,"
said the Colonel, " I am free to say that, on one

142

COLONEL DA VENPORT'S EXPERIENCES,

occasion I saw our General carried beyond him-
self. I have often thought I would like to tell you
the circumstances, Doctor."

There was a little edging towards the Colonel,
both of the Doctor and Mrs. Gushing, as the
Colonel, looking dreamily far into the hickory
coals, said :

" Yes, sir ; that was one of those critical times
in our war, when it turned on the events ot a few
hours whether we had been the nation we are
now, or trodden down under the British heel ;
whether Washington had been made President
of the United States, or hanged for treason. It
was at the time of the Long Island retreat."

"And you were there?" asked Dr. Cushing.
The Doctor knew very well that the Colonel was
there, and was eager to draw him out.

"There? Sir, indeed I was," answered the
Colonel. " I shall never forget it to my dying day.
We had been fighting all day at terrible odds, our
men falling all around us like leaves, and the
British pressing close upon us ; so close, that when
it grew dark we could hear every movement in
their camp, every sound of pick, or shovel, or gun.
Our men had got behind their intrenchments, and
there the enemy stopped pursuing. What a night
that was! We were deadly tired — dispirited as
only fellows can be that have seen their friends
shot down about theiti ; no tents, no shelter, and

COLONEL DAVENPORT'S EXPERIENCES.

143

the sentries of the victorious enemy only a
quarter of a mile from our lines. Nearly two
thousand, out of the five thousand men we
had in the fight, were killed, wounded, or
missing. Well, it was a terribly anxious night
for Washington ; for what had we to expect,
next day? He went round at four o'clock in
the morning to see to us and speak a word
of cheer here and there. It was a cold, driz-
zling, gloomy, rainy morning, but we could
see through the fog a large encampment; and
they, were intrenching themselves, though the
rain drove them into their tents. The day ad-
vanced, continuing rainy and stormy, and they
made no move to attack us. Our scouts, that
were out watching the motions of the enemy
down at Red Hook, got a peep at the shipping at
Staten Island and saw at once that there was
a movement and bustle there, as if there were
something on foot ; and they got the idea that the
enemy were planning at turn of tide to come up
behind us in the East River, and cut us off from
the army in New York. Sir, that was just what
they were meaning to do ; and, if they had, we
should have been caught there like rats in a trap,
the war would have been ended, and Washington
hanged. The party hurried back to tell the
General. A council of war was held, and it was
decided that we all must cross to New York that

144

COLONEL DAVENPORT* S EXPERIENCES,

very night. There it was ; nine thousand men, with
all our baggage and artillery, to steal away in the
night from that great army, and they so near that
we could hear every dog that barked or man that
whistled among them."

"How wide was the place to be crossed?"
asked the Doctor.

" Full three-quarters of a mile, sir, and with a
rapid tide sweeping through. As the Lord's
providence would have it. Colonel Glove^ had
just come in that day with his Marblehead regi-
ment — thirteen hundred fishermen and sailors,
such as the world cannot equal."

" Glorious !" exclaimed the Doctor. " God bless
the Marblehead boys!"

" Yes, they saved us, under God and the Gen-
eral ; we never could have crossed without them.

" Well, the General sent to the Quartermaster
to impress all the boats and transports of every
kind that could be got, and have them ready
by evening. By eight o'clock they were all at
Brooklyn, and under the management of the
Marblehead regiment. Word was given out in
the army to be prepared for a night attack, and
the poor fellows, tired as they were, were all up
and ready to move on order.

"Then Washington ordered Gen. Mifflin's bri-
gade, including what remained of our regiment,
to stay and keep the intrenchments with guards

^^n

'm.-mmmmmm^

COLONEL DAVENPORT'S EXPERIENCES,

)e crossed?"

and patrols and sentinels posted, to make the
enemy believe we were there, while the rest all
moved down to the water and embarked.

" Now I tell you, sir, it was a good deal harder
to stand there than to be moving just then. We
were wide awake and we counted the minutes.
It is always longer t'^ those who wait than to
those who work. The men were true as steel,
but, poor fellows, there is a limit to human en-
durance, and they got pretty restive and nervous.
So, between you and me, did we officers too.
Standing still in such a danger is a thousand
times worse than fighting.

" Finally the men began to growl and mutter ;
it was all we could do to hold them ; they were
sure the army had crossed — word wMst have been
sent to them! So, finally, when Washington's
aid misunderstood his order and came running
to say that we were to move down, we started on
the double-quick and got to the shore. There
we found that the tide had turned, a strong north-
east wind was blowing, the boats had been brought
without oars enough to convey the troops, the
sail -boats were unable to make head against
wind and tide, and full half the army were still
on Long Island shore!

"Washington stood there amid the confusion
and perplexity — when, in the midst of his troul>
les, down we all came.

146 COLONEL DAVENPORl^'S EXPERIENCES.

- I;

ill

" Sir, I never saw a mortal being look as Gen.
Washington looked at us. He ordered us back
with a voice like thunder, and I never heard such
a terrific volley of curses as he poured out upon
us when the men hesitated. Sir, that man was
so dreadful that we all turned and ran. We had
rather fax the judgment-day than face him. Up-
on my soul, I thought when I turned back that
I was going straight into eternity, but I had
rather lace death than him."

"And he swore?"

" Indeed he did — but it was not profane swear-
ing; it was not taking God's name in vain, for
it sent us back as if we had been chased by
lightning. It was an awful hour, and he saw it ;
it was life or death; country or no country,"

" Sir," said Dr. Gushing, starting up and pac-
ing the room, " it was the oath of the Lord ! It
would be profane to call it swearing."

"\es, sir," said the Colonel, "you remember
that one time Moses threw down both tables of
the law and broke them, and the Lord did not
reprove him."

" Exactly," answered the Doctor ; " he saw his
nation going to ruin and forgot all else to save
them. The Lord knows how to distinguish."

" But, sir," said the Colonel, " I never tell this
except to the initiated. No man who saw Wash-
ington then dared ever to allude to it afterward.

i'i a.

COLONEL DAVENPOJi'rs EXPERIENCES.

147

He was habitually so calm, so collected, so self-
contained, that this outburst was the more ter-
rific. Whatever he felt about it was settled
between him and his Maker. No man ever took
account with him."

Then followed a few moments of silence, when
Dolly emerged from a dark corner — her cheeks
very much flushed, her eyes very wide and
bright — and, pressing up to the Colonel's knee,
said eagerly : " But, oh please, sir, what became
of you and the men ?"

The Colonel looked down and smiled as he
lifted Dolly on his knee. *' Why, my little girl,
here I am, you see; I wasn't killed after all."

" But did you really go clear back ?" asked
Dolly.

"Yes, my dear, we all went back and staid
two or three hours ; and when it came morning
we made believe to be the whole army. We
made our fires and we got our breakfasts and we
whistled and talked and made all the stir we
could, but as the good Lord would have it there
was such a thick fog that you could not see your
hand before your face. You see that while the
fog hung over the island and covered us, it was
all clear down by the river."

" Why, that's just the way it was when they
crossed the Red Sea," said Dolly, eagerly;
"wasn't it, Papa?"

148 COLONEL DAVENPORT'S EXPERIENCES,

" Something so, my dear," said her father;
but her mother made her a sign not to talk.

'* Ho\^ long did it take to do the whole thing?"

" Well, thanks to those Marblehead boys, by
daybreak the greater part of the army were safe
on the New York side. A little after daylight
we marched off quietly and went down to the
ferry. Washington was still there, and we
begged him to go in the first boat; but no, he
was immovable. He saw us all off, and went
himself in the very last boat, after every man
v/as in."

" What a glorious fellow !" said the Doctor.

"Please, sir," said Will, who, with distended
eyes, had been listening, " what did the British
say when they found out?"

The Colonel laid his head back and gave a
hearty laugh.

"They had a message sent them, by a Tory
woman down by the ferry, what was going on.
She sent her black servant, and he got through
our American lines but was stopped by the Hes-
sians, who could not understand his gibberish,
and so kept him till long after all was over.
Then a British officer overhauled him and was
pretty well amazed at his story. He gave the
alarm, and General Howe*s aid-de-camp, with a
body of men, climbed over the intrenchments
and found all deserted. They hurried down to

COLOiVEL DAVENPORT* S EXPERIENCES. 14Q

the landing just in time to see the rear boats
half way across the river."

** Well, that is almost like the crossing of the
Red Sea," said the Doctor.

** Oh, weren't the British furious !" cried Bill.

" Yes, they did fire away at the boats, and one
straggling boat they hit and forced the men to
return; but it turned out only three vagabonds
that had come to plunder."

It was after the nine o'clock bell had dismissed
the Colonel and his lady that the Doctor n#ticea
the wide and radiant eyes of little Dolly and
his boys.

"My children," he said, "to use the name of
the great God solemnly and earnestly for a great
and noble purpose is not to * swear.' Swearing
is taking God's holy name in vain, in a trifling
way, for a trivial purpose — a thing which our
great and good general never did. But ' this
story I would rather you would never repeat.
It might not be understood."

"Certainly," said Bill, with proud gravity;
" common boys wouldn't understand — and, Dolly,
don t you tell."

" Of course I shouldn't," said Dolly. " I never
shall tell even Nabby, nor Bessie, nor anybody."

And afterwards, m the family circle, when
General Washington was spoken of, the children
looked on one another with grave importance,
as the trusted depositaries of a state secret.

CHAPTER XTV.

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC.

lOTWITHSTANDING the apparition
of the blue-bird and the sanguine hopes
of the boys, the winter yet refused to
quit the field. Where these early blue-
birds go to, that come to cheer desponding hearts
in arctic regions like Poganuc, is more than one
can say. Birds' wings are wonderful little affairs,
and may carry them many hundred southward
miles in a day. Dolly, however, had her own
theory about it, and that was that the bird went
right up into heaven, and there waited till all the
snow-storms were over.

Certain it was that the Poganuc people, after
two promising days of thaw, did not fall short of
that "six weeks' sledding in March" which has
come to be proverbial.

The thaw, which had dripped from icicles and
melted from snow-banks, froze stifTer than ever,
and then there came a two days' snow-storm—-
good, big, honest snow-feathers, that fell and fell
all day and all night, till all the houses wore great

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC.

iSt

white night-caps, the paths in front of all the
house-doors had to be shoveled out again, and
the farmers with their sleds turned out to break
roads.

The Doctor was planning .i tour in his sleigh to
fulfill his monthly round ot visiting the schools.

Schools there always were in every district,
from the time the first log school-house had
been erected in the forests, down to the days
when, as now, the school-house is a comfortable,
well-furnished building.

In the Doctor's day the common schoolhouses
were little, mean shanties, built in the cheapest
possible manner, consisting of one small room and
a vestibule for hanging bonnets, hats, and dinner
baskets. In winter, a box-stove, the pipe of
which passed through one of the windows, gave
warmth. Blackboards were unknown. The
teacher's care was simply to hear reading in the
Bible and the "Columbian Orator;" to set copies
in ruled copy-books ; to set " sums" from " Daboll's
Arithmetic ;" to teach parsing from " Murray's
Grammar;" to mend pens, and to ferule and
thrash disorderly scholars. In the summer
months, when the big boys worked in the fields,
a woman generally held sway, and taught knit-
ting and sewing to the girls. On Saturday all
recited the "Assembly's Catechism," and once a
month the minister, and sometimes his wife, came

I 1

t5a

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC.

in to hear and commend the progress of the
scholars.

One of the troubles of a minister in those times
was so to hold the balance as to keep down neigh-
borhood quarrels; — not an easy matter among a
race strong, opinionated, and who, having little
variety in life, rather liked the stimulus of dis-
agreements. A good quarrel was a sort of moral
whetstone, always on hand for the sharpening of
their wits.

Such a quarrel had stood for some two or three
years past in regard to the position of the North
Poganuc schoolhouse. It had unfortunately been
first located on a high, slippery, windy hill, very
uncomfortable of access in the winter months,
and equally hot and cheerless in summer. Sub-
sequently, the buiiding of several new farm-
houses had carried most of the children a con-
siderable distance away, and occasioned increased
sense of inconvenience.

The thing had been talked of and discussed in
several successive town-meetings, but n- vote
could be got to change the position of the school-
house. Zeph Higgins was one of the most de-
cided in stating what ought to be done and where
the school-house ought to stand ; but, unfor-
tunately, Zeph's mode of arguing a question
was such as to rouse all the existing combative-
ness in those whom he sought to convince. No

THE PUZZLE OF POGANVC.

153

o or three

more likely mode to ruin a motion in town-
meeting than to get Zeph interested to push it.
In Poganuc, as elsewhere, there were those in
town-meeting that voted on the principle stated
by the immortal Bird o* Freedom Sawin:

" I take the side that isn't took
By them consarned teetotalers."

In the same manner, Zeph's neighbors were for
the most part inclined in town meeting, irre-
spective of any other consideration, to take the
side he didn't take.

Hiel Jones had often been heard to express
the opinion that, " Ef Zeph Higgins would jest
shet up his gash in town-meetin', that air
school-house could be moved fast enough; but
the minit that Dr. Gushing had been round, and
got folks kind o* slicked down and peaceable,
Zeph would git up and stroke 'em all back'ards
and git their dander up agin. Folks warn't
a-goin' to be druv ; and Zeph was allers fer
drivin'."

The subject of an approaching town-meeting
was beginning to loom dimly in the discussions
of the village. One characteristivi of the Yankee
mind, as developed in those days, was the slow-
ness and deliberation with which it arrived at
any purpose or conclusion. This was not merely
in general movements, but in particular ones
also. Did the Widow Brown contemplate turn-

154

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC.

ing her back buttery into a sink-room, she
torthwith went over to the nearest matrons of
her vicinity, and announced that she was " talkin'
about movin' her sink," and the movement in
all its branches and bearings was discussed in
private session. That was step No. i. Then all
the women at the next quilting, or tea-drinking,
heard that Widow Brown was " talking about
changing her sink," and they talked about it.
Then Seth Chickering, the neighborhood carpen-
ter, was called into consultation, and came and
investigated the premises, and reported — first to
the widow and second to his wife, who told all
the other women what " Seth, he said," etc.
The talking process continued indefinitely, unless
some active Providential dispensation brought it
to an end.

The same process was repeated when Mrs.
Slocum thought of investing in a new winter
cloak; the idea in those days prevailing that a
winter cloak was a thing never but once in a life-
time to be bought, and after that to endure lor all
generations, the important article must not be
bought lightly or unadvisedly. When Deacon
Dickenson proposed to build a new back parlor
on his house and to re-shingle the roof, the talking
and discussion lasted six months, and threw the
whole neighborhood into commotion ; carpenters
came before daybreak and roosted on the fences,

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC,

^^^

and at odd times as they found leisure, at all hours
ol the day, gathered together, and Seth Chicker-
ing took the opinions ot Sam Parmelee and Jake
Peters ; and all Mrs. Dickenson's female friends
talked about it, till every shingle, every shingle-
nail and every drop of paint had received a
separate consideration, and the bargain was, so to
speak, whittled down to the finest possible point.

Imagine the delicacies of discussion, then, that
attended the moving of a schoolhouse at the
public expense — a schoolhouse in which every-
body in the neighborhood had a private and
personal claim — and how like the proceedings of a
bull in a china shop was the advocacy of a champ-
ion like Zeph Higgins, and one may see how in-
finitely extended in this case might be the area of
" talkin' about movin' that air schoolhouse," and
how hopelessly distant any decision. The thing
had already risen on the horizon of Deacon Dick-
enson's store, like one of those puzzling stars or
fractiously disposed heavenly bodies that seem
created to furnish astronomers with something to
talk about.

The fateful period was again coming round;
the spring town-meeting was at hand, and more
than one had been heard to say that " Ef that air
schoolhouse hed to be moved, it oughter be done
while the sleddin' was good."

In Deacon Dickenson's store a knot of the

15^

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC,

talkers were gathered around the stove, having
a final talk and warm-up previous to starting
their sleds homeward to their supper of pork-
and-beans and doughnuts.

Our mournful friend, Deacon Peasley, sat in his
usual drooping attitude on a mackerel-keg placed
conveniently by the stove ; and then, like Beattie's
hermit,

*' . . „ his plaining begun.
Tho' mournful his spirit, his soul was resigned."

" I'm sure I hope I don't wanter dictate to the
Lord, nor nothin, but ef he should send a turn o*
rheumatism on Zeph Higgins, jest afore town-
meetin' day — why, seems to me 'twould be a
marcy to us all."

" I don't see, fer my part," said Tim Hawkins,
" why folks need to mind what he says ; but they
do. He'll do more agin a motion talkin' fer it,
than I can do talkin' agin it fer a year. I never
see the beat of him — never."

"Aint there nobody," said Deacon Peasley,
caressing his knee, and looking fondly at the stove
door, " that could kind o' go to him, and sort o'
set it in order afore him how he benders the very
thing he's sot on doin' ?"

"Guess you don't know him as I do," said
Deacon Dickenson, ''or you wouldn't 'a' thought
o' that."

"And now he's gone in with the Democrats,

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC,

157

and agin Parson Gushing and the church, it *11 be
worse *ii ever," remarked Tim Hawkins.

" Now, there's Mis' Higgins," said the Deacon;
" she can't do nothin' with him ; he won't take
a word from her ; she hez to step round softly
arter him, a-settin' things right. Why, Widder
Brown, that lives up by the huckleberry pastur'-
lot, was a-tellin' my wife, last Sunday, how Zeph's
turkeys would come a-trampin' in her mowin',
and all she could say and do he wouldn't keep
'em to hum. And then when they stole a nest
there, Zeph he took the eggs and carried *em off,
'cause he said the turkeys was hisn. Mis' Higgins,
she jest put on her bonnet, and went right over,
that arternoon, and took the turkey eggs back to
the widder. Mis' Brown said Mis' Higgins didn't
say 3. word, but she looked consid'able — her eyes
was a-shinin' and her mouth sort o' set, as ef she'd
about come to the eend of her patience."

" Wal," said Deacon Peasley, " I rather wonder
she durst to do it.'*

" Wal," said Tim, *' my wife sez that there is
places where Mis* Higgins jest takes her stand,
and Zeph has to give in. Ef she gets her back
agin a text in the Bible, why, she won't stir from
it ef he killed her ; and when it comes to that
Zeph hez to cave in. Come to standm' — why
she km stand Ir^ger 'n he kin. I rather 'xpect he
didn't try to git back their key eggs. Et he

158

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC,

did, Mis' Higgins would 'a' stood right in the
road, and he'd 'a' hed to 'a' walked over her. I
'xpect by this time Zeph knows what he kin
make her do and what he can't.**

** Wal," said Hiel Jones, who had just dropped
in, " I tell ye Zeph's screwed himself into a
tight place now. That air 'Piscopal parson, he's
gret on orderin' and commandin', and thinks he
didn't come right down Irom the 'Postles for
nothin'. He puts hi: aew folks through the drills
lively, I tell ye ; he's ben at old Zeph 'cause he
don't bow to suit him in the creed — Zeph's back
is stiff as a ramrod, and he jest hates it. Now,
there's Mis' Higgins; she'll allers do any thing
to 'blige anybody, and if the minister wants her
to make a curtsey, why she does it the bv^st
she's able, and Nabby and the boys, they take
to it ; but it gravels Zeph. Then all this 'ere
gittin' up and sittin' down aggravates hirr and
he comes out o* church as cross as a bull in
fly-time."

Of course, the laugh was ready at this picture
of their neighbor's troubles, and Hiram added :

"He'll put it through, though; he won't go
back on his tracks, but it's pikery and worm-
wood to him, I tell ye. I saw him t'other day,
after Parson had been speaking to him, come
out o' church, and give his boss such a twitch,
and say 'Darn ye!* in a way I knew wa*n*t

THE PUZZLE OF POGANUC,

159

meant for the critter. Zeph don't swear," added
Hiel, **but I will say he can make darn sound
the most like dafnn of any man in Poganuc. He's
got lots o' swear in him, that ole feller hez."

" My mother says she remembers when Polly
Higgins (that is) was the prettiest gal in all the
deestrict," said Deacon Peasley. " She was Polly
Adams, from Danbury. She came to keep the
deestrict school, and Zeph he sot his eyes on her,
and hev her he would ; he wouldn't take ' No * for
an answer ; he didn't give her no peace till he got
her."

"Any. feller can get a gal that way," said Hiel,
with a judicial air. " A gal allers says ' No ' at
fust — to get time to think on't."

" Is that the way with Nabby ? " asked the
Deacon, with a wink of superior intelligence.
Whereat there came a general laugh, and Hiel
pulled up his coat collar, and, looking as if he
might say something if delicacy did not forbid,
suddenl)'^ remembered that " Mother had sent him
for a quarter of a pound o* young Hyson."

Definite business at once broke up the session,
and every man, looking out his parcels, mounted
his sled and wended his way home.

•#>. I •

CHAPTER XV.

THE POGANUC PUZZLE SOLVED.

EPH Higgins had the spirit of a gen-
eral. He, too, had his vision of an
approaching town-meeting, and that
evening, sitting in his family circle,
gave out his dictum on the subject:

"Wal — they'll hev a town-meetin' afore long,
and hev up that air old school'us' bizness," he
said, as he sat facing the blaze of the grand
kitchen fire.

Mrs. Higgins sat by in her little splmt-
bottomed rocking-chair, peacefully clicking her
knitting-needles. Abner sat at her right hand,
poring over a volume of " Rollin's Ancient His-
tory.'* Abel and Jeduthun were playing fox-and-
goose with grains of corn in the corner, and Tim
was whittling a goose-poke.

All looked up at the announcement of this
much-bruited subject.

"They never seem to come to anything on that
subject," said Mrs. Higgins. " I wish the school-
house was better situated ; a great many are kept
from the prayer meetings there that would come

if it wasn't for that windy, slippery hill. The
x6o

THE POGANUC PUZZLE SOLVED,

i6x

last time I went, it was all I could do to get up,"
she said ; " and I thought I caught a cold."

** There's' not the least doubt on't," said Zeph,
"and the children are allers catchin' colds.
Everybody knows where that air school'us*
ought to be. Confounded fools they be, the hull
lot on *em ; and, for my part, I'm tired o* this 'ere
quarrelm and jawin', and I ain't a-goin' to stan*
it no longer. It's a shame and it's a sin to keep
up these 'ere quarrels among neighbors, and I'm
a-goin' to put a stop to it."

It may be imagined that this exordium caused
a sensation in the family circle.

Mrs. Higgins opened her meek blue eyes upon
her husband with a surprised expression; the
two boys sat with their game suspended and their
mouths open, and the goose-poke and "Rollin's
History" were alike abandoned in the pause of
astonishment.

" To-morrow's Saturday," said Zeph ; ** and Sat-
urday afternoon there won't be no school, and I'll
jest take the boys, both yoke of oxen and the
sleds, and go up and move that air school'us'
down to the place where't orter be. I'll wedge it
up and settle it good and firm, and that'll be the
end on't. Tain't no sort o' use to talk. I'm jest
a-goin' to do it."

Zeph looked as if he meant it, and his family
had ceased to think anything impossible that he

i6a

THE POGANUC PUZZLE SOLVED.

took in hand to do. If he had announced his in-
tention of blowing up the neighboring crag of
Bluff Head, and building a castle out of the frag-
ments, they would have expected to see it done.

So Zeph took the family Bible, and, in a high-
pitched and determined voice, read the account of
Samson r^r^-ying off the gates of Gaza, repeated
his evenii ' p * yer, ordered all hands to bed,
raked up tkie fii - had all snug and quiet, and
stepped into bed just as the last stroke of the nine
o'clock bell was resounding.

At four o'clock the next afternoon, as Hiel Jones
was coming in on his high seat on the Poganuc
stage, whistling cheerily, a sudden new sensation
struck him. Passing over North Poganuc hill,
he bethought him of the schoolhouse question,
and lifted up his eyes, and lo! no schooi*"Ouse
was there. For a moment Hiel felt giddy. What
was the matter with his head? He rubbed his
eyes, and looked on all the other familiar objects ;
there was the old pine tree, there the great rock,
but the schoolhouse was gone. The place where
it had stood was disturbed by tramping of
many feet, and a broad, smooth trail led down the
hill. '

**Wal, somebody hez gone and ben and done
it," said Hiel, as he whipped up his horses to
carry the news.

Farther on, in a convenient spot at the junction

THE POGANUC PUZZLE SOLVED.

163

biis in-
ag of
! frag-
ione.
high-
lunt of
peated
) bed,
t, and
le nine

I Jones
)ganuc
isation
ic hill,
estion,
l^ouse
What
ed his
bjects;
t rock,
where
ng of
n the

done
:ses to

notion

of three roads, under the shelter of a hill, stood
the schoolhouse — serene as if it had grown there ;
while Zeph Higgins and his son Abner were just
coming forward on the road toward Hiel, Zeph
triumphantly whipping his oxen and shouting the
word of command in an elevated voice.

Hiel drew to one side, and gave a long whistle.
" Je-r«-salem," he exclaimed, ** ef you hain't ben
and done it!"

Zeph lifted his head with an ai of as much
satisfaction as his hard features ^culd assume, and,
nodding his head in the direction of the scLooi-
house, said:

"Yis— there 'tis!"

Hiel laid his head back, and burst into a loud,
prolonged laugh, in which he was joined by
Abner and the boys.

** Don't see nothin* to laugh at," said Z^ph,
with grim satisfaction. " Fact is, I can t hev
these 'ere quarrels — and I won't hev 'em. That
air's the place for that school'us', and it's got to
stand there, and that's the eend on't. Come, boys,
hurry home ; mother's beans will be a-gettin cold.
Gee — g'lang ! " and the black whip cracked over
the back of the ox-team.

Hiel was a made man. He had in possession
an astounding piece of intelligence, that nobody
knew but himself, and he meant to make the
most of it.

i64

TitE POdAMUC PUZZLE SOLVED,

He hurried first to Deacon Peasley's store,
where quite a number were sitting round the
stove with their Saturday night purchases. In
burst Hiel ;

**Wal, that air North Poganuc school'us* is
moved, and settled down under the hills by the
cross-road.**

The circle looked for a moment perfectly
astounded and stupefied.

"You don't say sol"

"Dew tell!"

"Don't believe ye."

" Wal, ye kin all go and see. 1 came by, jest
half an hour ago, and see it with my own eyes,
and Zeph Higgins and his boys a-drivin* off with
their sleds and oxen. I tell ye that air thing
is jest done, I'm a-goin' to tell Dr. '^ushing's
folks."

Poganuc People had something to talk about
now, in good earnest.

Hiel stopped his stage at the parson's door, and
Dr. Gushing, expecting some bundle from Boston,
came out to the gate.

" Doctor, thought I'd jest stop and tell ye that
the North Poganuc school'us' hez ben moved
to the cross-roads, down under the hill — thought
ye'd like to hear it."

The Doctor's exclamation and uplifted hands
brought to the door Mrs. Gushing and Dolly and

store,

the

' is

►y

the

■fectly

jr, jest
i eyes,
f with
thing
ihing's

about

}r, and
(oston,

^e that
moved
lought

hands
lly and

THE POCANUC PUZZLE SOLVED,

i6S

the two boys, with Nabby. Hiel was in his
glory, and recounted all the circumstances with
great prolixity, the Doctor and Mrs. Gushing
and all his audience laughing at his vigorous
narrative.

" Yis," said Hiel, " he said he wa'n't a-goin' to
hev no more quarrelin* about it; everybody
knew the school'us' ought to be there, and there
'twas. It was all wedged up tight and stiddy,
ind the stove in it, and the pipe stickin' out o*
the winder, all nateral as could be, and he jest
goin' off home, as ef nothin* hed happened."

** Well, if that ain't jest like father !" exclaimed
Nabby, with an air of pride. "If he wants a
thing done he will do it."

" Certainly this time he has done a good thing,"
said the Doctor ; " and for my part Vm obliged to
him. I suppose the spirit of the Lord came on
him, as it did on Samson."

And for weeks and months thereafter, there
was abundance of talking and every variety of
opinion expressed as to the propriety of Zeph's
coup d'^taty but nobody, man, woman, or child,
ever proposed to move the schoolhouse back
again.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

|HE parsonage was a wide, roomy, windy
edifice that seemed to have been built
by a succession ot after-thoughts. It
was at first a model New England
house, built around a great brick chimney, which
ran up like a light-house in the center of the
square roof. Then came, in course of time, a
side- wing which had another chimney and an-
other suite of rooms. A kitchen grew Ou'. on
another side, and out of the kitchen a sink-
room, and out of the sink-room a wood-house,
and out of the wood-house a carriage-house, and
so on with a gradually lessening succession of
out-buildings.

New England houses have been said by a
shrewd observer to be constructed on the model
of a telescope ; compartment after compartment,
lessening in size, and all under one cover.

But in the climate where the business of one
half of the year is to provide fuel for the other
half, such a style of domestic architecture be-
comes convenient. During the long winter
i66

THE POCANVC PARSONAGE,

167

months everything was under cover, giving grand
scope for the children to play.

When the boys were graciously disposed to
Dolly, she had a deal of good fun with them in
the long range of the divers sheds. They made
themselves houses, castles and fortreeses in the
wood-pile, and played at giving parties and
entertainments, at which Spring and the cat also
assisted in silent and subsidiary parts.

Sometimes they held town-meetings or voting-
days, in which the Democrats got their dues
in speeches that might have struck terror to
their souls had they heard them. At other times
they held religious meetings, and sung hymns
and preached, on which occasions Dolly had been
known to fall to exhorting with a degree of
fervor and a fluency in reciting texts of Script-
ure which for the time produced quite an effect
on her auditors, and led Nabby, who listened
behind the door, to say to Mrs. Gushing that
* that air child was smarter than was good for
her; that she'd either die young or else come
to suthin* one of these days' — a proposition as
to which there could not rationally be any dif-
ference of opinion.

The parsonage had also the advantage of three
garrets — splendid ground for little people. There
was first the garret over the kitchen, the fl'^ors
Qf which in the fall were covered with stoi . o(

niiiMBnwni-n'ii ,iii

z68

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

.♦ :3

yellow pumpkins, fragrant heaps of quinces, and
less fragrant spread of onions. There were bins
of shelled corn and of oats, and, as in every other
garret in the house, there were also barrels of old
sermons and old family papers. But most stimu-
lating ^o the imagination of all the features of
this plcioe was the smoke-house, which was a
vide, deep chasm mads in the kitchen chimney,
where the Parson's hams and dried beef were
cured. Its door, which opened into this garret,
glistened with condensed creosote, a rumbhng
sound was heard there, and loud crackling rever-
berated Tvithin. Sometimes Dolly would open
the door and peer in fearfully as long as her
eyes could bear tiie smoke, and think with a
shudder of a certain passage in John Bunyan,
which reads:

" Then I saw in my dream that the shepherds
had them to another place, in a bottom, where
was a door in the side of a hill ; and they opened
the door and bid them look in. They looked in,
therefore, and saw that within it was dark and
smoky ; they also thought that they heard a rum-
bling noise as of fire and a cry of some torment-
ed, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone.
Then said Christian, What means this? The
shepherds told them, This is a by-way to Hell,
a way that hypocrites go in at, namely, such as
sell their birthright with Esau; such as sell their

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE,

169

Master with Judas; such as lie and dissemble
with Ananias and Sapphira his wife."

Dolly shivered when she thought of this, and
was glad when Nabby would come up behind
and, with her strong hands, seize and whirl her
away, remarking,

" Dolly Gushing, what won't you be into next,
I want ter know?" And then she would pro-
ceed to demonstrate the mundane and earthly
character of the receptacle by drawing from it
a very terrestrial and substantial ham.

Garret number two was over the central por-
tion of the original house. There were vast
heaps of golden corn on the cob, spread upon
sheets. There were piles of bed-quilts and com-
forters, and chests of blankets. There were rows
and ranges of old bonnets and old hats, that
seemed to nod mysteriously from their nails.
There were old spinning-wheels, an old clock,
old arm-chairs, and old pictures, snuffy and
grim, and more barrels of sermons. There also
were the boys* cabinets of mineralogical speci-
mens ; for the Academy teacher was strong on
geology, and took his boys on long tramps with
stone-hammers on their shoulders, and they used
to discuss with great unction to Dolly of tourma-
line, and hornblende, and mica, and quartz, and
feldspar, delighted to exhibit before her their
scientific superiority.

170

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

This garret was a favorite resort of the chil-
dren, and the laws of the Parsonage requiring
everything to be always in order were conve-
niently mitigated and abridged in favor of this
one spot, where it was so convenient to let the
whole noisy brood range when their presence
disturbed the order below.

There the boys whittled and made windmills
and boats, and rabbit-traps, and whistles with
which they whistled grievously at unexpected
and startling moments, and this always led
to their mother teUing them that she was "as-
tonished " at them, or to her asking. How many
times she must say whistling was not allowed in
the house?

Perhaps among other subjects of speculative
inquiry it may have occurred to Mrs. Gushing
to wonder why nature, having gifted boys in
their own proper lungs with such noise-producing
power, should also come to their assistance with
so many noise-producing instruments. There
were all the squash- vines in the garden otfering
trumpets ready made; there was the elder-bush,
growing whistle-wood by the yard ; and then the
gigantic whistles that could be manufactur-^d
from willow, and poplar, and black alder were
mysteries distressing to contemplate.

One corner of the garret was reserved safe
from the rummaging of the children;, and th^re

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

171

as-

safe
ihqre

hung in order the dried herbs, which formed the
phai macopoeia of those early days. There were
catnip, and boneset, and elder-blow, and hard-
hack, and rosemary, and tansy, and pennyroyal,
all gathered at the right time of the moon,
dried and sorted and tied in bundles, hanging j
from their different nails — those canonized floral
saints, which when living filled the air with odors
of health and sweetness, and whose very mor-
tal remains and dry bones were supposed to
have healing virtues. Some of Dolly's happiest
hours were those long sunny, joyous, Saturday
afternoons in which many of these stores were
gathered, when she rushed through the lush,
long grass, along the borders of mossy old stone
fences, and pulled down starry constellations of
elder blossoms, and gathered pink spires of hard-
hack, till her little arms could scarcely clasp
around the bundle. Then she would rush home
panting and energetic, with torn dress, her sun-
bonnet off on her shoulder, and curls all tangled
from the wrestles with blackberry bushes which
had disputed the way vnth her. This corner
of the garret always tilled Dolly's head with v
visions and longings for the late, slow-coming
spring, which seemed far off as the dream of
Heaven.

Then those barrels of sermons and old pam-
phlets! Dolly had turned and turned them,

172

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

upsectiJi^ them on the floor, and pawir/y ^lelp-
lessly with her little pink hands and reading their
titles with amazed eyes. It seemed to her that
there were some thousands of the most unin-
telligible things "An Appeal on the Unlawful-
ness ol a Man's Marrying his Wife's Sister"
turned up in every barrel she investigated, by
twos or threes or dozens, till her soul despaired
of finding an end. Then there were Thanksgiving
sermons ; Fast-day sermons ; sermons that dis-
coursed v)n the battle of Culloden ; on the char-
acter of Frederick the Great; a sermon on the
death of George the Second, beginning, *' George!
George! George is no more." This somewhat
dramatic opening caused Dolly to put that one
discourse into her private library. But oh, joy
and triumph ! one rainy day she found at the
bottom of an old barrel a volume of the " Arabian
Nights," and henceforth her fortune was made.
Dolly had no idea of n ucliag like that of our
modern days — to read and to dismiss a book.
No ; to read was with her a passion, and a book
once read was read daily; always becoming
dearer and dearer, as an old friend. The " Ara-
bian Nights" transported her to foreign lands,
gave her a new life of her own ; and when things
went astray with her, when the boys went to
play V'gher than she dared to climb in the barn,
or started on fishing excursions, where they con-

tffE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

sidered her an incumbrance, then she found a
snug corner, where, curled up in a little, quiet
lair, she could at once sail forth on her bit of
enchanted carpet into fairy land.

One of these resorts was furnished by the third
garret of the house, which had been finished off
into an arched room and occupied by her father
as a study. High above all the noise ot the
house with a window commanding a view of
Poganuc Lake and its girdle of steel-blue pines,
this room had to her the air of a refuge and sanc-
tuary. Its walls were set round from floor to
ceiling with the friendly, quiet.faces of books, and
there stood her father's great writing-chair, on
one arm of which lay open always his " Cruden's
Concordance" and his Bible. Here Dolly loved
to retreat and niche herself down in a qviet
corner, with her favorite books around her. 8' i
had a kind of sheltered, satisfied feeling at she
thus sat and watched her father writing, turni'i,^
his books, and speaking from timr to time to him-
self in a loud, earnest whisper. She vaguety felt
that he was about some holy and mysterious
work above her little comprehension, and she was
careful never to disturb him by question or
remark.

The books ranged around filled her, too, with a
solemn awe. There on the lower shelves were
great enormous folios, on whose backs she {spelled

THE I'OGANUC PARSOtfAG£,

in black letters, "Lightfooti Opera,** a title
whereat she marveled, considering the bulk of
the volumes. And overhead, grouped along in
friendly and sociable rows, were books of all sorts
and sizes and bindings, the titles to which she
had read so often that she knew them by heart.
" Bell's Sermons," " Bonnett's Inquiries," " Bogue's
Essays," " Toplady on Predestination," ** Boston's
Fourfold State," " Law's Serious Call," and other
works of that kind she had looked over wistfully,
day after day, without getting even a hope of
something interesting out of them. The thought
that her father could read and could understand
things like these filled her with a vague awe, and
she wondered if ever she should be old enough
to krow what it was all ^bout. But there was
one of her father's books which proved a mine
of wealth to her. It was a happy hour when he
brought home and set up m his book-case Cotton
Mather's '' Magnalia,'* in a new edition of two
volumes. What wonderful stories these ! and
stories, too, about her own country, stories that
made hor feel that the very ground she trod on
was ronsec rated by some special dealing of God's
provMence.

When tiie good Doctor related how a plague
that had wasted the Indian tribes had prepared
the room fir the Pilgrim Fathers to settle undis-
tvrbed, she felt nowise doubtful of his application

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

175

mine
en he
'otton
two
and
that
)d on
od's

of the text, "He drave out the heathen and
planted them."

But who shall describe the large-eyed, breath-
less wonder with which she read stories of
witchcraft, with its weird marvels of mysterious
voices heard in lonely places, of awful visitations
that had overtaken sinners, and immediate de-
liverances that had come in answer to the pray-
ers of God's saints? Then, too, the stories of
Indian wars and captivities, when the war-whoop
had sounded at midnight, and little children like
her had awakened to find the house beset with
legions of devils, who set fire to the dwellings and
carried the people off through dreary snow and
ice to Canada. No Jewish maiden ever grew up
with a more earnest faith that she belonged to a
consecrated race, a people especially called and
chosen of God for some great work on earth.
Her faith in every word of the marvels related in
this book was full as great as the dear old cred-
ulous Dr. Cotton Mather could have desired.

But the mysterious areas of the parsonage were
not exhausted with its three garrets. Under the
whole house in all its divisions i^pread a great
cavernous cellar, where were murky rooms and
dark passages explored only by the light of
candles. There were rows of bins, in which
were stored the apples of every name and race
harvested in autumn from the family orchard:

17^

THE POGANVC PARSONAGE. '

Pearmains, Greenings, Seek-no-furthers, Bris-
ters, Pippins, Golden Sweets, and other forgotten
kinds, had each its separate bin, to which the
children at all times had free access. There,
too, was a long row of cider barrels, from whence,
in the hour of their early sweetness, Dolly had
delighted to suck the cider through straws for
that purpose carefully selected and provided.

Not without a certain awe was her descent into
this shadowy Avernus, generally under the pro-
tecting wing of Nabby or one of the older boys.
Sometimes, with the perverse spirit which moves
the male nature to tyrannize over the weaker
members, they would agonize her by running
beyond her into the darker chambers of the
cellar, and sending thence Indian war-whoops
and yells which struck terror to her soul, and
even mingled their horrors with her dreams.

But there was one class of tenants whose influ-
ence and presence in the house must not be
omitted — and that was the rats.

They had taken formal possession of the par-
sonage, grown, bred, and multiplied, and become
ancient there, in spite of traps or cats or anything
that could be devised against them.

The family cat in Dolly's day, having taken a
dispassionate survey of the situation, had given up
the matter in despair, and set herself quietly to
attending to her own family concerns, as a sensible

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE,

til

cat should. She selected the Doctor's pamphlet
closet as her special domestic retreat. Here she
made her lair in a heap of old sermons, whence,
from time to time, she led forth coveys of
well-educated, theological kittens, who, like their
mother, gazed on the rats with respectful curi-
osity, and ran no imprudent risks. Consequently,
the rats had a glorious time in the old parsonage.
Dolly, going up the kitchen stairs into the back
garret, as she did on her way bedward, would see
them sitting easy and d^gag^s on the corners of
boxes and bins, with their tails hanging gracefully
down, engaged in making meals on the corn or
oat's. They ramped all night on the floor of the
highest garret over her sleeping room, appar-
ently busy in hopping with ears of corn across
the garret and then rolling them down between
the beams to their nests below. Sometimes
Dolly heard them gnawing and sawing behind
the very wainscot of her bed as if they had set
up a carpenter's shop there, and she shrunk ap-
prehensively for fear they were coming through
into her bed. Then there were battles and skir-
mishes and squealings and fightings, and at times
it would appear as if whole detachments of rats
rolled in an avalanche down the walls with the
corn they had been stealing. And v/hen the
mighty winter winds of Poganuc Mountain were
out, and rumbled and thundered, roaring and

178

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

tumbling down this chimney, rattling all the
windows and creaking all the doors, while the
beams of the house wrenched and groaned like
a ship at sea, and the house seemed to shake
on its very foundations, — then the uproar among
the rats grew higher and jollier, and, with all
put together, it is not surprising that some-
times Dolly put the bed-clothes over her head in
fear, or ran and jumped into Nabby's warm arms
for protection.

We have dwelt thus long on the old parsonage
because it was a silent influence, every day fash-
ioning the sensitive, imaginative little soul that
was growing up in its own sphere of loneliness
there.

For Mrs. Gushing had, besides Dolly, other
children who engaged her thoughts and care.
The eldest a son, studying for the ministry ; the
second a daughter, married and settled in a distant
part of the state ; another son working as teacher
to pay his past college expenses ; another son in
college, whose bills, clothing, books, and necessary
expenses formed constant items of thought, study,
and correspondence ; so that, with the two boys
in the academy and our little Dolly, she had heart
and hands full, and small time to watch all the
fancies and dreams that drifted through that little
head as clouds through summer skies. Satisfied
that the child was healthy, and that there was no

THE POCANUC PARSONAGE,

179

all the
lile the
ed like
> shake
among
vith all
some-
lead in
m arms

rsonage
ay fash-
►ul that
tieliness

other

care.

•y; the

distant

eacher

son in

:essary

study,

boys

heart

lall the

It little

itisfied

ras no

e«

positive danger or harm to be fallen into, she
dismissed her from her thoughts, except in the
way of general supervision.

Yet every day, as the little maiden grew,
some quaint, original touch was put to the form-
ing character by these surroundings.

As to Dolly's father, he was a worthy repre-
sentative of that wise and strong Connecticut
clergy that had the wisdom immediately to face
a change in the growth of society, to lay down
gracefully a species of power they could no longer
wield, and to take up and exercise, and strengthen
themselves in, a kind of power that could
never be taken from them. Privileged orders of
society are often obstructionists, because they do
not know, in the day of it, the things that belong
to their peace.

The Connecticut and New England clergy did
not thus err. When the theocracy had passed
away, they spent no time lamenting it. They let
the cocked hat, gold-headed cane, gown and
bands go down stream ; they let all laws pro-
tecting their order go by; and addressed them-
selves simply to the work of leading their
people, as men with men, only by seeking to
be stronger, wiser, and better men. To know
more, to have more faith in the Invisible and
Eternal, to be able to argue more logically to
convince and to persuade — these were now their

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WIBSTIR.N.Y. t4StO

(716) S72-4503

i8o

THE POGANUC PARSONAGE.

ambition. Dr. Gushing was foremost in this new
crusade of earnestness. He determined to preach
more and preach better than ever he had done
before, and consequently in his wide parish, which
covered a square of about ten miles, he was every
day preaching, visiting, attending prayer-meet-
ings. Often his wife was with him, and this gave
Dolly many hours when she was free to follow
her own little pursuits, and to pick up at the
chimney-comer some of the traditionary lore of
the period.

[lis new
preach
d done
I, which
s every
sr-meet-
lis gave
i follow
at the
lore of

CHAPTER XVII.

SPRING AND SUMMER COME AT LAST.

|UT at last — at last — spring did come
at Poganuc ! This marvel and mystery
of the new creation did finally take
place there every year, in spite of every
appearance to the contrary. Long after the
blue-bird that had sung the first promise had
gone back into his own celestial ether, the
promise that he sang was fulfilled.

Like those sweet, foreseeing spirits, that on
high, bare tree-tops of human thought pour
forth songs of hope in advance of their age and
time, our blue-bird was gifted with the sure
spirit of prophecy ; and, though the winds were
angry and loud, though snows lay piled and deep
for long weeks after, though ice and frost and hail
armed themselves in embattled forces, yet the
sun behind them all kept shining and shining,
every day longer and longer, every day drawing
nearer and nearer, till the snows passed away like
a bad dream, and the brooks woke up and began

i8i

iSa SPRING AND SUMMER COME AT LAST,

to lau&fh and gurgle, and the ice went out of the
ponds. Then the pussy-willows threw out their
soft catkins, and the ferns came up with their
woolly hoods on, like prudent old house-mothers,
looking to see if it was yet time to unroll their
tender greens, and the white blossoms of the
shad-blow and the tremulous tags of the birches
and alders shook themselves gaily out in the
woods. Then under brown rustling leaf-banks
came the white waxy shells of the trailing arbutus
with its pink buds, fair as a winter's dawn on
snow ; then the blue and white hepaticas opened
their eyes, and cold, sweet white violets starred
the moist edges of water courses, and great
blue violets opened large eyes in the shadows,
and the white and crimson trilliums unfurled
under the flickering lace-work shadows of the
yet leafless woods ; the red columbine waved its
bells from the rocks, and great tufts of golden
cowslips fringed the borders of the brooks.
Then came in flocks the delicate wmd-flower
family: anemones, starry white, and the crow
foot, with its pink outer shell, and the spotted
adder's tongue, with its waving yellow bells of
blossom. Then, too, the honest, great green
leaves of the old skunk cabbage, most refresh-
ing to the eye in its hardy, succulent greenness,
though an abomination to the nose of the ill-
informed who should be tempted to gather them.

of the
t their

I their
others,

II their
of the
birches
in the
f-banks
irbutus
wn on
opened
starred

great

adows,

[ifurled

of the

ved its

golden

rooks.

lower

crow

potted

ells of

green

5fresh-

inness,

he ill.

them.

t 1

SPUING AND SUMMER COME A T LAST, igj

In a few weeks the woods, late so frozen — hope-
lessly buried in snow drifts — were full of a thou-
sand beauties and delicacies of life and motion,
and flowers bloomed on every hand. " Thou
sendest forth thy spirit, they are created: and
thou renewest the face of the earth."

And, not least, the opening season had set free
the imprisoned children ; and Dolly and the
boys, with Spring at their heels, had followed
the courses of the brooks and the rippling brown
shallows of Poganuc River for many a blissful
hour, and the parsonage had every where been
decorated with tumblers and tea-cups holding
floral offerings of things beautiful at the time they
were gathered, but becoming rather a matter of
trial to the eye of exact housekeeping. Yet both
Mrs. Gushing and Nabby had a soft heart tor
Dolly's flowers, sharing themselves the general
sense of joy for the yearly deliverance of which
they were the signs and seals. And so the
work of renewing the face of the earth went on
from step to step. The forest hills around
Poganuc first giew misty with a gentle haze of
pink and lilac, which in time changed to green
and then to greener shades, till at last the full-
clothed hills stood forth in the joy of re-creation,
and, as of old, *' all the trees of the field clapped
their hands."

Poganuc in its summer dress was a beautiful

1^4 SPUING AND SUMMER COME A T LAST,

place. Its main street had a row of dignified
white houses, with deep door-yards and large
side-gardens, where the great scarlet peony
flamed forth, where were generous tufts of white
lilies, with tall spires of saintly blossoms, and
yellow lilies with their faint sweet perfume, and
all the good old orthodox flowers of stately family
and '^alid pretensions, in all the door-yards and
along the grassy streets on either side were over-
shadowing, long-branching trees, forming a roof
ot verdure, a green upper world from whose re-
cesses birds dropped down their songs in lan-
guages unknown to us mortals. Who shall
interpret what is meant by the sweet jargon of
robin and oriole and bobolink, with their endless
reiterations ? Something wiser, perhaps, than we
dream ot in our lower life here.

Not a bit, however, did Hiel Jones trouble
his head on this ^jubject as he came in on his
high stage seat in lordly style on the evening
of the third of July, Far other cares were in
Kiel's head, for to-morrow was the glorious
Fourth — ^the only really secular f6te known to
the Yankee mind — and a great celebration there-
of had been resolved on by the magnates of
Poganuc, and Hiel was captain of the " Poganuc
Rangers" — a flourishing militia company which
was to be the ornament of the forthcoming cel-
ebration. .

SPRmC AND SUMMER COME A T LAST,

iSS

gnified
I large

peony
f white
IS, and
ne, and

family
'ds and
e over-

a roof
ose re-
in Ian-
) shall
•gon of
endless
han we

rouble
on his
v^ening
ere in
orious
Ivn to
there-
tes of
ganuc
which
g eel-

It had been agreed for that time to drop all
political distinctions. Federalists and Democrats,
Town Hill folk and outside folk, were all of one
mind and spirit to make this a celebration worthy
of Poganuc Center and the great cause of Amer-
ican Independence. A veritable cannon had been
hauled up upon the village green and fired once
or twice to relieve the bursting impatience of
the boys and men who had helped put it there.
The flag with its stars and stripes was already
waving* from the top of the Court-house, and a
platform was being put up m the Meeting-house,
and people were running this way and that,
and standing in house-doors, and talking with
each other over fences, in a way that showed
that something was impending.

Hiel sprang from his box, and, after attending
to his horses, speedily appeared on the green to
see to things — for how could the celebration
to-morrow be properly presented without Hiel's
counsels ?

** Look here, now, boys," he said to the group
assembled around the cannon, " don't be a
bumin' out yer powder. Keep it for to-morrow.
Let her be now; ye don't want to keep bangin*
and bangin' afore the time. To-morrow momin*
we'll let 'er rio bright and early, and wake all
the folks. Clear out, now, and go home to yer
suppers, and don't be a blowin' yerselves up

j86 sphwg and summer come at last,

with powder so that ye can't see the show to-
morrow."

Hiel then proceeded into the Meeting-house
and criticised proceedings there.

" Look here, Jake, you jest stretch that air
carpet a leetle forrard ; ye see, ye want the most
out in front where 't shows; back there, why,
the chairs and. table'll kiver it; it ain't so much
matter. Wonder now ef them air boards is firm?
Wouldn*t do, lettin* on *em all down into the
pews in the midst on't. Look here, Seth Chick-
ering, ye need another prop under there; ye
hain't calkerlated for the heft o' them fellers —
governors and colonels and ministers weighs
putty heav^y, and there ain't no glory in a gen-
eral smash-up, and we're a goin* in for glory
to-morrow ; we're goin* to sarve it out clear, and
no mistake."

Hiel was a general favorite ; his word of crit-
icism was duly accepted, and things were pretty
comfortably adjusted to his mind when he went
home to eat his supper and try on his regi-
mentals.

The dry, hard, colorless life of a Yankee boy
in those days found some relief in the periods
called " training-days," when the militia assem-
bled in uniform and marched and drilled to the
sound of fife and drum. Hiel had expended
quite a round sum upon his uaiform ar:d was

lOW to-
T-house

:hat air
he most
B, why,
o much
is firm?
into the
ti Chick-
lere; ye
fellers —

weighs
n a gln-
3r gloi*y

ear, and

of crit-
pretty
he went
lis regi-

kee boy

periods

assem-

to the

cpended

r:d was

SPJiING AND SUMMER COME A T LAST. 187

not insensible to the transformation which it
wrought in his personal appearance.

The widow Jones kept his gold-laced cocked-
hat, his bright gold epaulets, his whole soldier
suit in fact, enveloped in mary papers and nap-
kins, and locked away in one of her i^cst sacred
recesses; but it was with pride that she gave
him up the key, and when he came out before
her, all in full array, her soul was inly uplifted.
Her son was a hero in her eyes.

" It's all right, Mother, I believe," said Hiel,
surveying himself first over one shoulder and
then the other, and consulting the looking-glass
fringed with gilt knobs that hung in the widow's
" keeping-room."

" Yes, indeed, Hiel, it's all right. Fve kep'
camphor gum with it to keep out the moths, and
wrapped it up to save the gold, and I don't see
that it's a grain altered since it came home new.
It's just as new as ever 'twas,"

Hiel may be pardoned for smiling somewhat
complacently on the image in the glass — which
certainly was; that of a very comely youth— and
when he reflected that Nabby would to-morrow
see him at the head of his company his heart
swelled with a secret exultation. It is not alone
the privilege of the fair sex to know when things
are becoming to them, and Hiel knew when he
looked well, as surely as if any one had told him.

|88 SPRING AND SUMMER COME A T LAST.

He gave himself a patronizing wink and whistled
a strain of " Yankee Doodle" as he turned away
from the glass, perhaps justly confiding in the
immemorial power which military trappings have
always exercised over the female heart.

It was with reluctance that he laid aside the
fascinating costume, and set himself to brightening
up here and there a spot upon his sword-hilt or
blade that called for an extra touch.

" We must have breakfast early to-morrow.
Mother; the boys will be here by sunrise."

" Never you fear," said the widow. " I've got
everything ready, and we'll be all through by
that time ; but it 's as well to get to bed now."

And so in a few minutes more the candles were
out and only the sound of the frogs and the
whippoor wills broke the stillness of the cottage.
Long before the nine o'clock bell rung Hiel and
his mother were happy in the land of dreams.

In the parsonage, too, there har' been an effort
of discipline to produce the needed stillness and
early hours called for by to-morrow's exactions.

The boys, who had assisted at the dragging in
of the cannon and heard its first reverberation,
were in a most inflammatory state of patriotism,
longing wildly for gunpowder. In those days no
fire-crackers or other vents of the kind had been
provided for the relief of boys under pressure ci
tjxcitement, and so they were forced to become

krhistled

;d away

in the

igs have

side the
rhtcning
d-hilt or

morrow,
ise."
I've got
ough by

lOW."

lies were
and the
cottage.
JHiel and
Idreams.
an effort
ness and
xactions.

[beration,

triotism,

days no

Ihad been

issure ci

become

SPRmC AND SUMMER COME AT LAST,

189

explosive material themselves, and the walls of
the parsonage rang with the sound. Dolly also
was flying wildly around, asking Nabby questions
about to-morrow and running away before she
got her answer, to listen to some new outburst

from the boys.

Nabby, however, had her own very decisive
ways of putting things, and settled matters at last
by putting her to bed, saying as she did so,
" Now, Dolly Gushing, you just shut up. You
are crazier than a bobolink, and if you don't be
still and go to sleep I won't touch to take you
with me to see the trainers to-morrow. Your
ma said you might go with me if you'd be good ;
so you just shut up and go to sleep ;" and Dolly
shut her eyes hard and tried to obey.

We shall not say that there were not some
corresponding movements before the glass on the
part of Nabby before retiring. It certainly came
into her head to try on her bonnet, which had
been thriftily re-trimmed and re-arranged for
summer use since the time of that sleigh-ride
with Hiel. Moreover, she chose out her gown
and sorted a knot of ribbons to ^o with it. "I
suppose," she said to herself, " all the girls will be
making fools of themselves about Hiel Jones to-
morrow, but I ain't a going to." Nevertheless,
she thought there was no harm in looking as well
as she could.

1 1

ill

CHAPTER XVIII.

dolly's *' fourth."

[ANG! went thr: cannon on the green,
just as the first red streak appeared
over Poganuc hills, and open flew
Dolly's great blue eyes. Every boy
in town was out of bed as if he had been fired
out of a pop-guU; and into his clothes and out
on the green with a celerity scarcely short of
the miraculous. Dolly's little toilet took more
time ; but she, too, was soon out upon the scene
with her cuils in a wild, unbrushed tangle, her
little breast swelling and beating with a great
enthusiasm for General Washington and liberty
and her country, all of which were somehow
to be illustrated a d honored that day in Po-
ganuc.

As the first rays of the rising sun struck the
stars and stripes floating over the Court-house,
and the sound of distant drum and fife announced
the coming in of the Poganuc Rangers, Dolly

was so excited that she burst into tears.
190

DOLLY'S ''FOURTirr

TQI

green,
►peared
n flew
ry boy
;n fired
and out
Ihort of
more
le scene
le, her
great
liberty
ehow
in Po-

Ick the

[house,

)unced

Dolly

«* What in the world are you crying for, Dolly ?"
said Bill rather impatiently. *' I don't see any
thing to cry about."

" I can't help it, Will," said Dolly, wiping her
eyes, "it's so glorious!"

" If that isn't just like a girl !" said Bill. Con-
tempt could go no farther, and Dolly retreated
abashed. She was a girl — there was no help for
that ; but for this one day she envied the boys —
the happy boys who might some day grow up
and fight for their country, and do something
glorious like General Washington. Meanwhile,
from mouth to mouth, every one was giving in
advance an idea of what the splendors of the day
were to be.

** I tell ye," said Abe Bowles, " this 'ere's goin*
to be a reel slam-bang, this *ere is. Colonel
Davenport is a goin' to review the troops, and
wear the very same uniform he wore at Long
Island.

"Yes," said Liph Kingsley, "and old Caesar's
goin* to wear his uniform and wait on the
colonel. Tell ye what, the old snowball is on
his high heels this morning — got a suit of the
colonel's old uniform. Won't he strut and show
his ivories!"

"HuUoa, boys, there's going to be a sham
fight; Hiel told me so," said Bob Gushing.
" Some are going to be British and some Ameri-

19a

DOLLY* S ''FOURTHS

cans, and the Americans are going to whip the
British and make 'em run."

"Tell ye what," said Jake Freeman, "there'll
be a bangin* and poppin' ! won't there, boys!"

"Oh," said Dolly, who irrepressibly was fol-
lowing her brothers into the throng, " they won't
really shoot anybody, will they?"

" Oh no, they'll only fire powder, of course,"
said Bill majestically; "don't you know that?"

Dolly was rebuked and relieved at once.

** I say, boys," said Nabby, appearing suddenly
among the throng, "your ma says you must
come right home to breakfa 3t this minit ; and
you, Dolly Gushing, what are you out here for,
round among the fellers like a tom-boy? Come
right home."

"Why, Nabby, 1 wanted to see!" pleaded
Dolly.

"Oh yes, you're allers up to everything and
into everything, and your hair not brushed nor
nothin*. You'll see it all in good time— come
right away. Don't be a-lookin' at them tram-
ers, now," she added, giving herself, however,
a good observing glance to where across the
green a knot of the Poganuc Rangers were col-
lecting, and where Hiel, in full glory of his
uniform, with his gold epaulets and cocked hat,
was as busy and impressive as became the
situation.

DOLLY'S ''FOURTHr

193

hip the

there'll
Doys !"
was fol-
ly won't

:ourse,"
that?"
ce.

uddenly
)U must
it; and
lere for,
Come

pleaded

ng and
led nor
-come
tram-
)wever,
)ss the
re col-
of his
ed hat,
■le the

v»

"Oh, Nabby, do look; there's Hiel," cried
Dolly.

"Yes, yes; I see plain enough there's Hiel,"
said Nabby; "he thinks he's mighty grand, I
suppose. He'll be conceiteder'n ever, I expect."

Just as that moment Hiel, recognizing Nabby,
took off his gold-laced hat and bowed with a
graceful flourish.

Nabby returned a patronizing little nod, and
either the morning dawn, or the recent heat of
the kitchen fire, or something, flushed her cheeks.
It was to be remarked in evidence- ot the pres-
ence of mind that distinguishes the female sex
that, though she had been sent out on a hurried
errand to call the children, yet she had on her
best bonnet, and every curl of her hair had evi-
dently been carefully and properly attended to
that morning

"Of course, I wasn't going to look like a
fright," she soliloquized, "Not that I care for
any of 'em ; but looks is looks any time o' day."

At the minister's breakfast-table the approach-
ing solemnities were discussed. The procession
was to form at the Court-house at nine o'clock.
Democrats and Federalists had united to dis-
tribute impartially as possible the honors of the
day. As Col. Davenport, the only real live
revolutionary officer the county boasted, was an
essential element of the show, and as he was a

194

DOLLY'S ''FOURTH!'

staunch Federalist, it was necessary to be con-
ciliatory. Then there was the Federal ex-
Governor to sit on the platform with the newl^
elected Democratic Governor. The services
were in the Meeting-house, as the largest build-
ing in town; and Dr. Gushing was appointed to
make the opening prayer. As a compliment to
the Episcopal Church the Federal members of
the committee allotted a closing prayer to the
Reverend Simeon Coan.

That young man, however, faithful to the
logic of his creed, politely declined joining in
public services where his assisting might be
held to recognize the ordination of an un-
authorized sectarian preacher, and so the Rev.
Dr. Goodman, of Skantic, was appointed in his
place.

Squire Lewis was observed slightly to elevate
his eye -brows and shrug his shoulders as he
communicated to the committee the grounds of
his rector's refusal. He was in fact annoyed,
and a little embarrassed, by the dry, amused ex-
pression of Sheriff Dennie's countenance.

" Oh, speak it all out ; never fear, Lewis," he
said. " I like to see a man face the music.
Your minister is a logical fellow, and keeps
straight up to what he teaches. You old Epis-
copalians were getting loose ^i your ideas ; you
needed cording up."

DOLLY'S ''FOURTHr

195

the

"There's such a thing as cording too tight
and breaking a string sometimes," muttered the
Squire, who was not well pleased at the scruple
that kept his church unrepresented in the ex-
ercises.

The domestic arrangements for the parson's
family were announced at the breakfast table.
The boys were endowed with the magnificent
sum of six cents each and turned loose for the
day, with the parting admonition to keep clear
of powder — a most hopeless and unnecessary
charge, since powder was the very heart and
essence of all the glory of the day.

At an early hour the bell of the Meeting-house
rang out over all the neighboring hills and val-
leys; the summons was replied to by streams
of wagons on the roads leading to Poganuc for
a square of ten miles round. Not merely Pog-
anuc — North, South, East, West, and Center —
was in motion, but several adjacent towns and
villages sent forth their trainers — bands of mili-
tia, who rose about midnight and marched till
morning to be on time.

By nine o'clock nominally (but far nearer to
ten really) the procession started from the Court-
house with drum and fife and banners. Dolly
had been committed for the day to the charge
of Nabby, who should see that she took no harm,
and engineer for her the best chances of seeing

196

DOLLY'S -' fourth:'

all that went on; while Mrs. Gushing, relieved
of this care, took her seat quietly among the
matronage of Poganuc and waited for the en-
trance of the procession. But Dolly saw them
start from the Court-house, with beat of drum
and peal of fife ; and Dolly saw the banners, and
saw Colonel Davenport with his white hair and
splendid physique, now more splendid in the
blue and gold of his military dress; and they
all marched with majestic tread towards the
meeting-house. Then Nabby hurried with her
charge and got for her a seat by herself in the
front singers' seat in the gallery, where she could
see them all file m and take their seats on the
platform. Nabby had been one of the flowers
of this singers* seat before her father's change
of base had transferred her to the Episcopal
Church, and her presence to-day was welcomed
by many old friends— for Nabby had a good,
strong clear voice of her own, and was no small
addition to the choral force.

The services opened by the national Puritan
psalm :

" Let children hear the mighty deeds
Which God perfonned of old,
Which in our younger years we saw
And which our fathers told.

" Our lips shall teach them to our sons,
And they again to theirs,
That generations yet unborn
May teach them to their heirs.

relieved
)ng the
the en-
w them
»f drum
ers, and
lair and
in the
nd they
rds the
dth her
f in the
tie could
i on the
flowers
change
piscopal
elcomed
a good,
lo small

Puritan

DOLLY'S "fourth:*

197

*• That they may learn, in God alone
Their hope securely stands ;
That they may ne'er his laws forget,
But practice his commands."

The wild warble of "St. Martin's," the ap-
pointed tune whose wings bore these words,
swelled and billowed and reverberated through
the house, carrying with it that indefinable
thrill which always fills a house when deep
emotions are touched — deepest among people
habitually reserved and reticent of outward dem-
onstration. It was this solemn undertone, this
mysterious, throbbing sub-bass of repressed emo-
tion, which gave the power and effect to the
Puritan music. After the singing came Dr. Cush-
ing's prayer — which was a recounting of God's
mercies to New England from the beginning, and
of his deliverances from her enemies, and of
petitions for the glorious future of the United
States of America — that they might be chosen
vessels, commissioned to bear the light of liberty
and religion through all the earth and to bring in
the great millennial day, when wars should cease
and the whole world, released from the thraldom
of evil, should rejoice in the light of the Lord.

The millennium was ever the star of hope in
the eyes of the New England clergy : their faces
were set eastward, towards the dawn of that
day, and the cheerfulness of those anticipations
illuminated the hard tenets of their theology with

198

DOLLY^S ''FOURTHS

a rosy glow. They were children of the morning.
The Doctor, however, did not fail to make use of'
his privilege to give some very decided political
hits, and some petitions arose which caused sensa-
tion between the different parties. The New
England clergyman on these occasions had his
political antagonists at decided advantage. If he
could not speak at them he could pray at them,
and of course there was no reply to an impeach-
ment in the court of heaven. So when the
Doctor's prayer was over, glances were inter-
changed, showing the satisfaction or dissatisfac-
tion, as might be, of the listeners.

And now rose Colonel Davenport to read the
Declaration of Independence. Standing square
and erect, his head thrown back, he read in
a resonant and emphatic voice that great enuncia-
tion upon which American national existence was
founded.

Dolly had never heard it before, and even now
had but a vague idea of what was meant by some
parts of it; but she gathered enough from the
recital of the abuses and injuries which had
driven her nation to this course to feel herself
swelling with indignation, and ready with all her
little mind and strength to applaud that con-
cluding Declaration of Independence which the
Colonel rendered with resounding majesty. She
was as ready as any of them to pledge her " life,

DOLLY* S "FOURTH:*

199

norning.
:e use of
political
id sensa-
he New
had his
I. If he
at them,
mpeach-
hen the
re inter-
ssatistac-

read the

square

read in

enuncia-

mce was

ven now
by some
"rom the
ich had
1 herself
all her
lat con-
lich the
;y. She
er " life,

fortune and sacred honor" for such a cause.
The heroic 'element was strong in Dolly ; it had
come down by "ordinary generation" from a
line of Puritan ancestry, and just now it swelled
her little frame and brightened her cheeks and
made her long t© do something, she scarce knew
what ; to fight for her country or to make some
declaration on her own account.

But now came the oration of the day, pro-
nounced by a lively young Virginia law student
in the office of Judge Gridley. It was as ornate
and flowery, as full of patriotism and promise, as
has been the always approved style of such pro-
ductions. The bird of our nation received the
usual appropriate flourishes, flew upward and
sun-ward, waved his pinions, gazed with un-
daunted eye on the brightness, and did all other
things appointed for the American Eagle to do
on the Fourth of July. It was a nicely-written
classical composition, and eminently satisfactory
to the audience; and Dolly, without any very
direct conception of its exact meaning, was de-
lighted with it, and so were all the Poganuc
People.

Then came the singing of an elaborate anthem,
on which the choir had been practicing for a
month beforehand and in which the various parts
ran, and skipped, and hopped^ and chased each
other round and round, and performed all sorts

200

DOLLY'S ''FOURTH:

of unheard-of trills and quavers and musical evo-
lutions, with a he:\rtiness of self-satisfaction that
was charming to witness.

Then, when all was over, the procession
marched out — the magnates on the stage to a
dinner, and the Poganuc military to refresh them-
selves at Glazier's, preparatory to the grand'
review in the afternoon.

Dolly spent her six cents for ginger-bread, and
walked unwearyingly the rounds of sight-seeing
with Nabby, her soul inly uplifted with the
grandeur of the occasion.

In the afternoon came the military display;
and Colon **! Davenport on his white horse re-
viewed the troops; and just behind him, also
mounted, was old Cato, with his gold-laced hat
and plume, his buff breeches and long-tailed blue
coat. On the whole, this solemn black attendant
formed a striking and picturesque addition tc the
scene. And so there were marching and counter-
marching and military evolutions of all kinds, and
Hiei, with his Poganuc Rangers, figured conspic-
uously in the eyes of all.

It was a dangerous sight for Nabby. She
really could not help feeling a secret awe for
Hiel, as if he had been wafted away from her
into some higher sphere ; he looked so very de-
termined and martial that she began to admit
that he might carry any fortress that he set

DOLLY'S '' fourth:*

201

himself seriously to attack. After the regular
review came the sham fight, which was in fact
but en organized military frolic. Some of the
West Poganuc youth had dressed themselves as
Indians, and other companies, drawn by lot,
were to personate the British, and there was
skirmishing and t.^hting and running, to the wild
and crazy delight of the boys. A fort, which had
been previously constructed of bushes and trees,
was furiously attacked by British and Indians,
and set on fire ; and then the Americans bursting
out scattered both the fire and the forces, and
performed prodigies of valor.

In short, it was a Day of days to Dolly and
the children, and when sober twilight drew on
they came home intoxicated with patriotism and
sight-seeing.

On her way home Dolly was spied out by her
old friend Judge Gridley, who always delighted
to have a gossip with her.

"Ha, my little Dolly, are you out to-day?"

" To be sure, sir," said Dolly ; " indeed I'm out.
Oh, hasn't it been glorious ! I've never been so
happy in my life. I never heard the Declaration
of Independence beibre."

''Well, and what do you think of it?" ask^d
the Judge.

" I never heard anything like it," said Dolly.
" I didn't know before how they did abuse us,

202

DOLLY'S ''FOURTH:*

and wasn't it grand that we wouldn't bear it!
I never heard anything so splc '' as that last
part."

" You would have made a good soldier."

" if I were a man I would. Only think of it,
Colonel Davenport fought in the war! I'm so
glad we can see one man that did. If we had
lived then, I know my papa and all my brothers
would have fought ; we would have had * liberty
or death.'"

Dolly pronounced these words, which she had
heard in the oration, with a quivering eagerness.
The old Judge gave her check a friendly pinch.

" You'll do," he said ; " but now you must let
Nabby here get you home and quiet you down,
or you won't sleep all night. Good by. Pussy."

And so went off Dolly's Fourth of July.

But Hiel made an evening call at the parsonage
in his full regimentals ; and stayed to a late hour
unreproved. There were occasions when even
the nine o'clock bell did not send a young fellow
home. This appeared to be one of them.

CHAPTER XIX.

SUMMER DAYS IN POGANUC.

O passed Dolly's Fourth of July; a con-
fused dream of glory and patriotism, of
wonderful sights and surprises — but,
like a dream, it all melted away.
New England life was too practical and labor-
ious to give more than one day to holiday per-
formances, and with the night of the Fourth the
whole pageant vanished. Hiel's uniform, with its
gold lace and feathers, returned to tb obscurity
of Mother Jones's pillow-cases and camphor-
gum, and was locked away in secret places ; and
Hiel was only a simple stage-driver, going forth
on his route as aforetime. So with the trappings
of the Poganuc Rangers — who the day before had
glittered like so many knights-errant in the front
of battle — all were laid by in silent waiting, and
the Poganuc Rangers rose at four o'clock and
put on their working clothes and cow-hide shoes,
and were abroad with their oxen. The shoe-
maker and the carpenter, who yesterday were
transfigured in blue and gold, to-day were ham-
mering shoe-soles and planing boards as if no

203

i)04

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

such thing had happened. In the shadows of the
night the cannon had vanished from the village
green and gone where it came from ; the flag on
the Court-house was furled, and the world of
Poganuc Center was again the same busy, literal,
work-a-day world as ever. Only Liph Kings-
bury, who had burned his hand with gunpowder
in consequence of carrying too much New Eng-
land rum in his head, and one or two boys, who
had met with a sprain or bruise in the excite-
ment of the day, retained any lasting memorials
of the celebration.

It is difficult in this our era of railroads and
steam to give any idea of the depths of absolute
stillness and repose chat brooded in the summer
skies over the wooded hills of Poganuc. No
daily paper told the news of distant cities. Sum-
mer traveling was done in stages, and was long
and wearisome, and therefore there was little of
that. Everybody staid at home, and expected to
stay there the year through. A journey from
Poganuc to Boston or New York was more of
an undertaking in those days than a journey to
Europe is in ours. Now and then some of the
great square houses on the street of Poganuc
Center received a summer visitor, and then
everybody in town knew it and knew all about
it. The visitor's family, rank, position in life,
probable amount of property, and genealogy to

SUMAf£/i DA YS IN POGAJ^UC,

305

remote ancestors, were freely discussed and set-
tled, till all Poganuc was fully informed. The
elect circle of Foganuc called on them, and made
stately tea-parties in their honor, and these enter-
tainments pleasantly rippled the placid surface of
society. But life went on there with a sort of
dreamy stillness. The different summer flowers
came out in their successive ranks in the neatly-
kept garden ; roses followed peonies, and white
lilies came and went, and crimson and white
phloxes stood ranged in midsummer ranks, and the
yellow tribes of marigolds brought up the autum-
nal season. And over on the woody hills around
the town the spring tints deepened and grew
dark in summer richness, and then began breaking
here and there into streaks and flecks of gold and
crimson, foretelling autumn. And there were
wonderful golden sunsets, and moonlight nights
when the street of Poganuc seemed overshot
with a silver network of tracery like the arches
of some cathedral. The doors and windows of
the houses stood innocently open all night for the
moon to shine in, and youths and maidens walked
and wandered and sentimentalized up and down
the long, dewy street, and nobody seemed to
know how fast the short, beautiful summer of
those regions was passing away.

As to Dolly, summer was her time of life and
joy ; but it was not by any means a joy unmixed.

206

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC,

Dolly's education was conducted on the good
old-fashioned principle that everyone must do
his Httle part in the battle of life, and that no-
body was pretty enough or good enough to be
kept merely for ornamental purposes.

She was no curled darling, to be kept on
exhibition in white dresses and broad sashes,
and she had been sedulously instructed ii^ the
orthodoxy of Dr. Watts, that

" Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do."

It was the duty of the good house-mother of
those days to be so much in advance of this un-
pleasant personage that there should be no room
for his temptations. Accordingly, any part of the
numerous household tasks of the Parsonage that
could be trusted to a little pair of hands were
turned over to Dolly. In those days were none
of the thousand conveniences which now abridge
the labors of the housekeeper. Everything came
in the rough, and had to be reduced to a usable
form in the household.

The delicate, smooth white salt which filled
the cellars at the table was prepared by Dolly's
manipulation from coarse rock-salt crystals, which
she was taught to wash and dry, and pound and
sift, till it became of snowy fineness; and quite
a long process it was. Then there were spices
to be ground, and there was coffee to be browned

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

207

lied

to the exact and beautiful shade dear to house-
hold ideality ; and Dolly could do that.

Being a bright, enterprising little body, she
did not so much object to these processes, which
rather interested her, but her very soul was
wearied within her at the drill of the long and
varied sewing lessons that were deemed indis-
pensable to her complete education. Pounding
salt, or grinding spice, or beating eggs, or roast-
ing coffee, were endurable; but darning stock-
ings and stitching wristbands, and "scratching"
gathers, were a weariness unto her spirit. And
yet it was only at the price of penances like these,
well and truly performed, that Dolly's golden
own hours of leisure were given.

Most of her household tasks could be per-
formed in the early morning hours before school,
and after school Dolly measured the height of
the afternoon sun with an avaricious eye. Would
there be time enough to explore the woody
hills beyond Poganuc River before sundown ?
and would they let her go?

For oh, those woods ! What a world of fairy-
land, what a world of pure, untold joy was there
to Dolly! When she found her face fairly set
towards them, with leave to stay till sundown,
and with Spring at her heels, Dolly was as blk^s-
fiil, as perfectly happy, as a child can ever be
made by any one thing.

2o8

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

The sense of perfect freedom, the wonder, the
curiosity, the vague expectation of wliat she
might find or see, made her heart beat with pleas-
ure. First came the race down through the
tall, swaying meadow-grass and white-hatted
daisies to the Poganuc River — a brown, clear,
gurgling stream, wide, shallow, and garrulous,
that might be easily crossed on mossy stepping-
stones. Here was a world of delight to Dolly.
Skipping from stone to stone, or reclining athwart
some great rock around which the brown waters
rippled, jhe watched the little fishes come and
go, darting hither and thither like flecks of sil-
ver. Down under the shade of dark hemlocks
the river had worn a deep pool where the trans-
lucent water lay dark and still; and Dolly,
climbing carefully and quietly to the rocky side,
could lean over and watch the slim, straight
pickerel, holding themselves so still in the water
that the play of their gossamer fins made no
ripple, — so still, so apparently unwatchful and
drowsy, that Dolly again and again fancied she
might slily reach down her little hand and take
one out of the water; but the moment the rosy
finger-tips touched the wave, with a flash, like
a ray of light, the coveted prize was gone.
There was no catching a pickerel ?yleep, how-
ever quiet he might appear. Yet, time after
time, Dolly tried the experiment, burning with

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

209

the desire to win glory among the boys by
bringing home an actual and veritable pickerel
of her own catching.

But there were other beauties, dryad treas-
ures, more accessible. The woods along the
moist margm of the river were full of the ^ank
and white azalea, and she gathered besides the
fragrant blossoms stores of what were called
"honeysuckle apples" that grew upon them — fleshy
exudations not particularly rice in flavor, but
crisp, cool, and much valued among children.
There, too, were crimson wintergreen berries,
spicy in their sweetness, and the young, tender
leaves of the wintergreen, ranking high as an
eatable dainty among little folk. Dolly's basket
was sure to fill rapidly when she set herself to
gathering these treasures, and the sun would be
almost down before she could leave the en-
chanted shades of the wood and come back to
real life again.

But Saturday afternoon was a sort of child's
Paradise. No school was kept, and even house-
hold disciplinarians recognized a reasonably well-
behaved child's right to a Saturday afternoon
play-spell.

"Now, Dolly," had Nabby said to her the
week before, "you be sure and be a good girl,
and do up all your stitching and get the stock-
ing;s mended afore Saturday comes, and then we'll

2IO

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

take Saturday afternoon to go a-huckleberrying
up to Pequannock Rock ; and we'll stop and see
Mis' Persis."

This, let it be known, was a programme to
awaken Dolly's ambition. Pequannock Rock was
a distance vhich she never would be permitted to
explore alone, and Mis' Persis was to her imagin-
ation a most interesting and stimulating person-
age. She was a widow, and the story ran that
her deceased husband had been an Indian — a
story which caused Dolly to regard her with a
sort of awe, connecting her with Cotton Mather's
stories of war-whoops and scalping-knives, and
midnight horrors when houses were burned and
children carried off to Canada.

Nevertheless, Mis* Persis was an inoffensive
and quite useful member of society. She had her
little house and garden, which she cultivated with
energy and skill. She kept her cow, her pig, her
chickens, and contrived always to have something
to sell when she needed an extra bit of coin. She
was versed in all the Indian lore of roots and
herbs, and her preparations of these for medicinal
purposes were much in request. Among the
farming population around. Mis' Persis was held
in respect as a medical authority, and her opin-
ions were quoted with confidence. She was also
of considerable repute among the best families of
Poganuc as a filler of gaps such as may often

rrymg
nd see

ime CO

ck was
tted to
magin-
Derson-
in that
iian — a
with a
father's
es, and
ed and

Tensive
tad her
)d with
ig, her
ething
. She
ts and
Idicinal
g the
s held
opin-
s also
lies of
often

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

211

occur in household economy. There was noth-
ing wanted to be done that Mis' Persis could not
do. She could wash, or iron, or bake, or brew, or
nurse the sick, as the case might require. She
was, in fact, one of the reserved forces of Poga-
nuc society. She was a member of Dr. Cushing's
church, in good and regular standing, and, in her
way, quite devoted to her minister and church,
and always specially affable and gracious to Dolly.
This particular Saturday afternoon all the con-
stellations were favorable. Dolly was pronounced
a good girl, her week's tasks well performed ; and
never were dinner-dishes more rapidly whirled
into place than were Nabby's on that same after-
noon ; so that before three o'clock the pair were
well on their way to the huckleberry-field. There,
under the burning August sun, the ground shot
up those ardent flower-flames well called fire-
lilies, and the wild roses show ered their deep pink
petals as they pushed through the thickets, and
the huckleberry-bushes bent low under the weight
of the great sweet berries ; and Dolly's cheeks
were all a-flame, like the fire-lilies themselves,
with heat and enthusiasm as she gathered the
purple harvest into her basket. When the bas-
kets were filled and Dolly had gathered fire-lihes
and wild roses more than she knew how to carry,
it was proposed to stop a little and rest, on the
homeward route, at Mis' Persia's cottage.

212

SUMMER DA YS IN" POGANUC.

They found her sitting on her door-step, knit-
ting. A little wiry, swart, thin woman was she,
alert in her movements, and quick and decided of
speech. Her black eyes had in them a latent
^ery gleam that suggested all the while that
though pleased and pleasant at the present mo-
ment Mis* Persis might be dangerous if roused,
and Dolly was always especially conciliatory and
polite in her addresses to her.

On the present occasion Mis' Persis was de-
lightfully hospitable. She installed Dolly in a
small splint-bottomed rocking-chair at the door,
and treated her to a cup of milk and a crisp
cooky.

" Why, what a little girl you are to be so far
from home !" she said.

" Oh, I don't mind," said Dolly ; ** I am never
tired. I could pick berries all day."

"But, sakes alive! ain't you afraid of snakes?"
said Mis' Persis. "Why, my sister got dread-
fully bit by a rattlesnake when she wa'n't much
older *n you," and Mis* Persis shook her head
weirdly.

"Oh, dear me! Did it kill her?" said Dolly,
in horror.

" No ; she lived many a year after," said Mis*
Persis, with a reticent air, as one who could say
more if properly approached.

" Do, do tell us all about it ; do, Mis* Persis. I

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC,

313

;p, knit-
vas she,
cided of
a latent
lile that
;ent mo-
roused,
tory and

was de-

\\\y in a

he door,

a crisp

36 so far

m never

makes?"
dread-
I't much
|er head

Dolly,

lid Mis'
)uld say

;rsis. I

never saw a rattlesnake. I never heard one. I
shouldn't know what it was if I saw one."

" You wouldn't ever forget it if you did," said
Mis* Persis, oracularly.

"Oh, please. Mis' Persis, do tell about it," said
Dolly, eagerly. " Where were you, and how did
it happen?"

" Well," said Mis' Persis, " it was when I was a
girl and lived over in Danbury. There's where I
come from. My sister Polly and me, we went out
to High Ledge one afternoon after huckleberries,
and as we was makin' our way through some
low bushes we heard the sharpest noise, jest like
a locust screechin', right under foot, aid jest
then Polly she screams out, * Oh, Sally,' says she,
* somethin's bit me !' and I looked down and saw
a great rattlesnake crawlin' off through the
bushes — a great big fellow, as big as my wrist.

" * Well,' says I, * Polly, I must get you home
quick as I can ;' and we set down our pails and
started for home. It was a broilin' hot day, and
we hed a'most a mile to walk, and afore we
got home I hed to carry her. Her tongue was
swelled so that it hung out of her mouth; her
neck and throat was all swelled, and spotted like
the snake. Oh, it was dreadful! We got her
into the house, and on the bed, and sent for the
Indian doctor — there ain't nobody knows about
them snake-bites but Indians. Well, he come and

314

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

brought a bag of rattlesnake-weed with him,
and he made poultices of it and laid all over her
stomach and breast and hands and feet, and he
made a tea of it and got some down her throat,
and kep' a feedin' on it to her till she got so
she could swallow. That's the way she got
well."

" Oh, Mis' Persis," said Dolly, after a pause of
awe and horror, " what is rattlesnake-weed ?"

" Why, it's a worse poison than the snake-bite,
and it kills the snake-poison 'cause it's stronger.
Wherever the snakes grow, there the rattlesnake-
weed grows. The snakes know it themselves,
and when they fight and bite each other they go
and eat the weed and it cures 'em. Here's some
of it," she said, going to the wall of the room
which was all hung round with dried bunches
of various herbs — ** here's some I got over on
Poganuc Mountain, if you ever should want any."

"Oh, I hope I never shall," said Dolly. "Nab-
by, only think ! What if there had been a snake
in those bushes!'*

" Well, you can always know," said Mis' Persis,
"if you hear somethin' in the bushes jest like
a locust, sharp and sudden — why, you'd better
look afore you set your foot down. But we don't
hev no rattlesnakes round this way. I've beat
all these lots through and never seen tail of one.
This 'ere ain't one o' their places; over to Poga

J '11

th him,

)ver her

and he

throat,

got so

;he got

pause of
;ed ?"
ike-bite,
tronger.
lesnake-
mselves,
they go
;'s some
le room
bunches
over on

it any."
*' Nab-

a snake

Persis,
est like
1 better
ve don't
ve beat

of one.
Poga

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

215

nuc Mountain, now, a body has to take care how
they step."

"Do you suppose. Mis* Persis," said Dolly,
after a tew moments of grave thought, " do you
suppose God made that weed grow on purpose
to cure rattlesnake bites?"

" Ol course he did," said Mis' Persis, as decid-
edly as W she had been a trained theologian,
"that*s what rattlesnake-weed was made fer;
any fool can see that."

"It seems to me," said Dolly, "that it would
have been better not to have the snakes, and
then people wouldn't be bit at all — wouldn't it ?"

"Oh, we don't know everything," said Mis*
Persis ; " come to that, there's a good many things
that nobody knows what they's made fer. But
the Indians used to say there was some cure
grew fox' every sickness if only our eyes was
opened to see it, and I expect it's so.'*

"Come, Dolly," said Nabby, "the sun is gettin'
pretty low; I must hurry home to get supper.'*

Just then the bell of the . ^+ant meeting-bouse
gave three tolling strokes, whereat all the three
stopped talking and listened intently.

Of all the old Puritan customs none was more
thrillingly impressive than this solemn announce-
ment of a death, and this deliberate tolling out
of the years of a finished life.

It was a sound tp which every one, whether

2l6

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC.

alone or in company, at work or in play, stopped
to listen, and listened with a nervous thrill of
sympathy.

" 1 wonder who that is ?** said Nabby.

" Perhaps it's Lyddy Bascom," said Mis* Persis,
'"she's been down with typhus fever."

The bell now was rapidly tolling one, two,
three, four, and all the company counted eagerly
up to sixteen, seventeen, when Mis* Persis in-
terposed.

"No, 'taint Lyddy; it's goin* on," and they
counted and counted, and still the bell kept toll-
ing till it had numbered eighty. " It's old Granny
Moss," said Mis' Persis decisively ; " she's ben
lyin' low some tin^e. Well, she*s in heaven now ;
the better for her."

" Ah, I'm glad she's in heaven," said Dolly,
with a shivering sigh ; " she's all safe now."

" Oh, yes, she's better off," said Nabby, getting
up and shaking her dress as if to shake off the
very thought of death. A warm, strong, glowing
creature she was, as full of earth-life as the fire-
lilies they had been gathering. She seemed a
creature made for this world and its present uses,
and felt an animal repulsion to the very thought
of death.

" Come, Dolly," she said, briskly, as she counted
the last toll, "we can't wait another minute."

"Well, Dolly," said Mis' Persis, "tell your

stopped
thrill of

* Persis,

le, two,
eagerly
;rsis in-

id they
ept toll-
Granny
le's ben
pn now ;

Dolly,

t)W."

getting
off the
flowing
he fire-
emed a
nt uses,
hought

counted
ute."
11 your

SUMMER DA YS IN POGANUC,

217

mother I'm a comin' this year to make up her
candles for her, and the work sha'n't cost her a
cent. I've been tryin' out a lot o' bayberry wax
to put in 'em and make 'em good and firm."

" I'm sure you are very good," said Dolly, with
instinctive politeness.

" I want to do my part towards supportin' my
minister," said Mis' Persis, " and that's what I
hev to give."

** I'll tell my mother, and I know she'll thank
you," answered Dolly, as they turned homeward.

The siin was falling lower and lower toward
the west. The long shadows of the two danced
before them on the dusty road.

After walking half a mile they came to a stone
culvert, where a little brawling stream crossed
the road. The edges of the brook were fringed
with sweet-fllag blades waving in the afternoon
light, and the water gurgled and tinkled pleasantly
among the stones.

" There, Dolly," said Nabby, seating herself on
a flat stone by the brook, " I'm goin' to rest a
minute, and you can find some of them sweet-flag
* graters* if you want." This was the blossom-
bud of the sweet flag, which when young and
tender was reckoned a delicacy among omnivo-
rous children.

" Why, Nabby, I thought you were in such a
hurry to get home," said Dolly, gathering the

ai8

SUMMER DA YS IN POCANUC.

blades of sweet-flag and looking for the "grat-
ers."

" No need of hurry," said Nabby, " the sun's
an hour and a half high," and she leaned over
the curb of the bridge and looked at herself in
the brook. She took off her sun-bonnet and
fanned herself with it. Then she put a bright
spotted fire-lily in her hair and watched the effect
in the water. It certainly was a brilliant picture,
framed by the brown stones and green rushes of
the brook.

" Oh, Nabby," cried Dolly, " look ! There's the
stage and Hiel coming down the hill!"

" Sure e-nough !" said Nabby, in a tone of
proper surprise, as if she had expected anything
else to happen on that road at that time of the
afternoon. "As true as I live and breathe it is
Hiel and the stage," she added, " and not a crea-
ture in it. Now, we'll get a ride here."

Nabby's sun-bonnet hung on her aim ; her hair
fell in a tangle of curls around her flushed cheeks
as she stood waiting for Hiel to come up. Alto-
gether she was a picture.

That young man took in the points of the view
at once and vowed in his heart that Nabby was
the handsomest girl upon his beat.

"Waitin* for me to come along?" he said as
he drew up.

"Well, you're sort o' handy now and then,"

•* grat-

c sun's
d over
rself in
et and
bright
5 effect
licture,
;hes of

the

)ne of
ything
of the
e it is
crea-

T hair
heeks
Alto-
view
y was

I SUMMER DAYS IN POGANUC, 315

said Nabby. ** We've been huckleberrying all
the afternoon, and arc tired."

Hiel got down and opened the stage door
and helped the two to get in with their berries
and flowers.

**You owe me one for this," said Hiel when
he handed in Nabby's things.

" Well, there's one," said Nabby, laughing and
striking him across the eyes with her bunch of
lilies.

" Never mind, miss. I shall keep the account,"
said Hiel ; and he gathered up the reins, resumed
his high seat, made his grand entrance into Poga-
nuc, and drew up at the parson's door.

For a week thereafter it was anxiously dis-
cussed in various circles how Nabby and Dolly
came to be in that stage. Where had they been ?
How did it happen? The obscurity of the event
kept Hiel on the brain of several damsels who
had nothing better to talk about.

And the day closed with a royal supper of
huckleberries and milk. So went a specimen
number of Dolly's Saturday afternoons.

id as
hen,"

i J

CHAPTER XX.

GOING " A-CHESTNUTTING.

»»

HE bright days of summer were a
short-lived joy at Poganuc. One hard-
ly had time to say " How beautiful !"
before it was past. By September
came the frosty nights that turned the hills into
rainbow colors and ushered in autumn with her
gorgeous robes of golden-rod and purple asters.
There was still the best of sport for the children,
however; for the frost ripened the shag-bark
walnuts and opened the chestnut burrs, and the
glossy brown chestnuts dropped down among
the rustling yellow leaves and the beds of frmged
blue gentians.

One peculiarity of the Puritan New England
regime is worthy of special notice, and that is
the generosity and liberality of its dealing in
respect to the spontaneous growths of the soil.
The chestnuts, the hickory-nuts, the butternuts —
no matter upon whose land they grew — were
x'ree to whoever would gather them. The girls
and boys roamed at pleasure through the woods
and picked^ unmolested^ wherever they could ^x^'^

229

were a
ne hard-
lutiful !"
ptember
dlls into
vith her
5 asters,
phildren,

ag-bark
and the

among

fringed

!)ngland
that is
ling in

le soil.

•nuts—

-were

le girls

woods

ad find

GOING ''A-CHESTNUTTING:'

321

the most abundant harvest. In like manner the
wild fruits — grapes, strawberries, huckleberries,
and cranberries — were for many years free to
the earliest comer. This is the more to be re-
marked in a community where life was pecu-
Harly characterized by minute economy, where
everything had its carefully ascertained money-
value. Every board, nail, brad, every drop of
paint, every shingle, in house or bam, was
counted and estimated. In making bargains and
conducting domestic economies, there was the
minutest consideration of the money-value ot
time, labor and provision. And yet their rigidly
parsimonious habit of life presented this one re-
markable exception, of certain quite valuable
spontaneous growths left unguarded and un-
appropriated.

Our Fathers came to New England from a
country where the poor man was everywhere
shut out from the bounties of nature by game-
laws and severe restrictions. Though his children
might be dying of hunger he could not catch
a fish, or shoot a bird, or snare the wild game
of the forest, without liability to arrest as a
criminal; he could not gather the wild fruits of
the earth without danger of being held a tres-
passer, and risking fine and imprisonment. When
the Fathers took possession of the New England
forest it was in the merciful spirit of the Mosaic

222

GOING **A.CHESTNUTTJNGy

law, which commanded that something should
always be left to be gathered by the poor.
From the beginning of the New England life
till now there have been poor people, widows
and fatherless children, who have eked out their
scanty living by the sale of the fruits and nuts
which the custom of the country allowed them
freely to gather on other people's land.

Within the past fifty years, while this country
has been filling up with foreigners of a different
day and training, these old customs have been
passing away. Various fruits and nuts, once held
free, are now appropriated by the holders of
the soil and made subject to restriction and cul-
tivation.

In the day we speak of, however, all the
forest hills around Poganuc were a free nut-
orchard, and one of the chief festive occasions
of the year, in the family at the Parsonage,
was the autumn gathering of nuts, when Dr.
Gushing took the matter in hand and gave his
mind to it.

On the present occasion, having just finished
four sermons which completely cleared up and
reconciled all the difficulties between the doc-
trines of free agency and the divine decrees, the
Doctor was naturally in good spirits. He de-
clared to his wife, " There ! my dear, that subject
is disposed of. I never before succeeded in

GOING ''A-CHESTNUTTING:'

223

f should
e poor,
[and life
widows
mt their
ind nuts
ed them

country
different
ve been
nee held
Iders of
and cul-

all the
ee nut-
xasions
sonage,
en Dr.
ave his

really clearing it up ; but now the matter is done
for all time." Having thus wound up the sun
and moon, and arranged the courses of the stars
in celestial regions, the Doctor was as alert and
light-hearted as any boy, in his preparations for
the day's enterprise.

" Boys," he said, " we'll drive over to Poganuc
Ledge; up there are those big chestnuts that
grow right out of the rock ; there's no likeUhood
of anybody's getting them — but I noticed the
other day they were hanging full."

" Oh, father, those trees are awfiil to cUmb.**

^* Of course they are. I won't let you boys
try to climb them — mmd that; but I'll go up
myself and shake them, and you pick up under-
neath."

No Highland follower ever gloried more in
the physical prowess of his chief than the boys
in that of their father. Was there a tree he could
not climb — a chestnut, or walnut, or butternut,
however exalted in fastnesses of the rock, that he
could not shake down ? They were certain there
was not. The boys rushed hither and thither,
with Spring barking at their heels, leaving open
doors and shouting orders to each other con-
cerning the various pails and baskets necessary
to contain their future harvest. Mrs. Gushing
became alarmed for the stability of her household
arrangements.

324

GOING ''A'CHESTNUTTING:^

" Now, father, please don't take all my baskets
this time," pleaded she, "just let me arrange "

" Well, my dear, have it all your own way ;
only be sure to provide things enough."

" Well, surely, they can all pick in pails oi*
cups, and then they can be emptied into a bag,"
said Mrs. Gushing. " You won't get more than
a bushel, certainly."

" Oh yes, we shall — three or four bushels," said
Will, triumphantly.

"There's no end of what we shall get when
father goes," said Bob. "Why, you've no idea
how he rattles *em down."
^ Meanwhile Mrs. Gushing and Nabby were
packing a hamper with bread-and-butter, and
tea-rusks, and unlimited ginger-bread, and dough-
nuts crisp and brown, and savory ham, and a
lx>ttle of cream, and coffee all ready for boiling
m the pot, and tea-cups and spoons — everything,
in short, ready for a gipsy encampment, while the
parson's horse stood meekly absorbing an extra
ration of oats in that contemplative attitude which
becomes habitual to good family horses, espe-
cially of the ministerial profession. Mrs. Gushing
and the Doctor, with Nabby and Dolly, and the
hamper and baskets, formed the load of the light
wagon, while Will and Bob were both mounted
upon "the colt" — a scrawny, ewe-necked beast,
who had long outgrown this youthful designation.

GOING ''A'CHESTNUTTING:*

325

r baskets

nge "

vn way;

pails ot

a bag,"

ore than

3ls/* said

:et when
no idea

by were
ler, and
i dough-
and a
boiling
rything,
rhile the
m extra
e which
s, espe-
ushing
nd the
e light
ounted
beast,
nation.

The boys, however, had means best known to
themselves of rousing his energies and keeping
him ahead of the wagon in a convulsive canter,
greatly to the amusement of Nabby and Dolly.

Our readers would be happy could they fol-
low the party along the hard, stony roads, up
the winding mountain-paths, where the trees,
flushing in purple, crimson and gold, seemed to
shed light on their paths; where bedj of fringed
gentian seemed, as the sunlight struck them, to
glow like so many sapphires, and every leaf of
every plant seemed to be passing from the green
of summer into some quaint new tint of autum-
nal splendor. Here and there groups of pines
or tall hemlocks, with their heavy background
of solemn green, threw out the flamboyant tra-
cery of the forest in startling distinctness. Here
and there, as they passed a bit of low land, the
swamp maples seemed really to bum like crim-
son flames, and the clumps of black alder, with
their vivid scarlet berries, exalted the effect of
color to the very highest and most daring result.
No artist ever has ventured to put on canvas
the exact copy of the picture that nature paints
for us every year in the autumn months. There
are things the Almighty Artist can do that no
earthly imitator can more than hopelessly ad-
mire.

As to Dolly, she was like a bird held in a

' i

; I!

226

GOf/V^G ''A-CHESTNUTTING:'

leash, full of exclamations and longings, now to
pick ** those leaves," and then to gather "• those
gentians," or to get "those lovely red berries;"
but was forced to resign herself to be car-
ried by.

" They would all fade before the day is
through," said her mother ; " wait till we come
home at night, and then, if you're not too tired,
you may gather them." Dolly sighed and re-
signed herself to wait.

We shall not teU the joys of the day: how
the Doctor climbed the +rees victoriously, how
the brown, glossy chestnuts flew down in showers
as he shook the limbs, and how fast they were
gathered by busy fingers below. Not merely
chestnuts, but walnuts, and a splendid butternut
tree, that grew in the high cleft of a rocky
ledge, all were made to yield up their treasures
till the bags were swelled to a most auspicious
size.

Then came the nooning, when the boys delight-
ed in making a roaring hot fire, and the coffee
was put on to boil, and Nabby spread the table-
cloth and unpacked the hamper on a broad, flat
rock around which a white foam of moss
formed a soft, elastic seat.

The Doctor was most entertaining, and related
'Stories of the fishing and hunting excursions of
his youth, of the trout he had caught and the

GOING ''A.CHESTNUTNtNCr

427

now to
"- those

Derries ;"

be car-
day is

ive come

00 tired,
and re-
lay: how
isly, how

1 showers
hey were
t merely
butternut

a rocky
treasures
uspicious

delight-
ihe coffee
the table-
>road, flat

of moss

Id related
Irsions of
and the

ducks he had shot. The boys listened with ears
of emulation, and Dolly sighed to think she never
was to be a man and do all these fine things that
her brothers were going to do.

But in the midst of all came Abel Moss, a
hard-visaged farmer from one of the upland
farms, who, seeing the minister's wagon go by,
had come to express his mind to him concerning a
portion of his last Sunday's sermon; and the
Doctor, who but a moment before had thought
only of trout and wild ducks, sat down by the
side of Abel on a fragment of rock and began
explaining to him the difference between the laws
of matter and the laws of mind in moral govern-
ment, and the difference between divine sover-
eignty as applied to matter and to mind.

The children wandered of! during the discus-
sion, which lasted some time ; but when the
western sunbeams, sloping through the tree-
trunks, warned them that it was time to return,
the Doctor's wagon might have been seen
coming down the rough slope of the iiiountain.

" There, my dear, I've set Moss right," he said.
" There was a block in his wheels that I've taken
out. I think he'll go all straight now. Moss has
a good head ; when he once sees a thing, he does
see it, — and I think I've clinched the nail with
him to-day."

CHAPTER XXI.

dolly's second CHRISTMAS.

INCE more had Christmas come round in
Poganuc; once more the Episcopal
church was being dressed with ground-
pine and spruce; but this year economy
had begun to make its claims felt. An illumina-
tion might do very well to open a church, but
there were many who said " to what purpose is
this waste?" when the proposition was made to
renew it yearly. Consequently it was resolved
to hold the Christmas Eve service with only that
necessary amount of light which would enable
the worshipers to read the prayers.

The lines in Poganuc were now drawn. The
crowd who flock after a new thing had seen the
new thing, and the edge of curiosity was some-
what dulled. Both ministers had delivered their
Christmas sermons, to the satisfaction of them-
selves and their respective flocks, and both con-
gregations had taken the direction of their
practical course accordingly.

On this Christmas Eve, therefore, Dolly was
228

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS.

22g

mnd in
iscopal
round-
onomy
Lumina-
ch, but
pose is
lade to
esolved
ily that
enable

. The
een the
s some-
d their
them-
th con-
f their

Uy was

not racked and torn with any violent temptation
to go over to the church, but went to bed at
her usual hour with a resigned and quiet spirit.
She felt herself a year older, and more than a
year wiser, than when Christmas had first dawned
upon her consciousness.

We have seen that the little maiden was a most
intense and sympathetic partisan, and during the
political discussions of the past year she had
imbibed the idea that the Episcopal party were
opposed to her father. Nay, she had heard with
burning indignation that Mr. Simeon Coan had
said that her father was not a regularly ordained
minister, and therelore had no right to preach or
administer ordinances. Dolly had no idea of
patronizing by her presence people who ex-
pressed such opinions. Whoever nnd whatever
in the world might be in error, Dolly was sure
her father ne\er could be in the wrong, and went
to sleep placidly in that belief.

It was not altogether pleasant to Mrs. Gushing
to receive a message from Mis' Persis that she
would come and make up her candles for her on
the 25th of December. In a figurative and
symbolical point of view, the devoting that day
to the creation of the year's stock of light might
have seemed eminently appropriate. But the*
making of so many candles involved an amount
of disagreeable particulais hard to conceive in

ajo

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS.

our days, when gas and kerosene make the
lighting of houses one of the least of cares.

In the times we speak of, candle-making for a
large household was a serious undertaking, and
the day devoted to it was one that any child
would remember as an unlucky one for childish
purposes of enjoyment, seven-fold worse in its
way even than washing-day. Mrs. Gushing still
retained enough of the habits of her early educa-
tion to have preferred a quiet day for her
Christmas. She would willingly have spent it in
letter-writing, reading and meditation, but when
Mis' Persis i;ave her tjme and labor it seemed
only fair to allow her to choose her own day.

So, upon this Christmas morning. Mis* Persis
appeared on the ground by day-dawn. A great
kettle was slung over the kitchen fire, in which
cakes of tallow were speedily liquefying ; a frame
was placed quite across the kitchen to sustain
candle-rods, with a train of boards underneath to
catch the drippings, and Mis* Persis, with a brow
like one of the Fates, announced ; " Now we
can*t hev any young *uns in this kitchen to-day ;**
and Dolly saw that there was no getting any
attention in that quarter.

Mis* Persis, in a gracious Saturday afternoon

• mood, sitting in her own tent-door dispensing

hospitalities and cookies, was one thing; bvat

Mis* Persis in her armor, with her loins girded

DOLLVS SECOND CHRISTMAS,

2Zl

e the

for a
g, and

child
iiildish

in its
ng still
educa-
)r her
nt it in
: when
seemed

ay.

Persis
^ great

which
a frame
sustain
eath to
a brow
ow we
D-day ;"
ig any

ternoon
pensing
ig; but
girded

and a hard day's work to be conquered, was
quite another: she was terrible as Minerva with
her helmet on.

Dinner-baskets for all the children were hastily
packed, and they were sent off to school with
the injunction on no account to show their faces
about the premises till night. The Doctor,
warned ol what was going on, retreated to his
Btudy at the top of the house, where, serenely
above the lower cares of earth, he sailed off
into President Edwards's treatise on the nature
of true virtue, concerning which he was pre-
paring a paper to read at the next Association
meeting.

That candles were a necessity of Jife he was
well convinced, and by faith he dimly accepted
the fact that one day in the year the whole house
was to be devoted and given up to this manu-
facture; and his part of the business, as he un-
derstood it, was, clearly, to keep himself out of
the way till it was over.

"There won't be much of a dinner at home,
anyway," said Nabby to Dolly, as she packed
her basket with an e^ctra doughnut or two.
"I've got to go to church to-day, 'cause I'm
one of the singers, and your ma'll be busy waitin*
on her; so we shall just have a pick-up dinner,
and you be sure not to come home till night;
by that time it'll be all over.'*

9$fl

DOLIV'S SECOND CHRISTMAS,

! ■'

Dolly trotted off to school well content with
the prospect before her: a nooning, with leave
to play with the girls at school, was not an un-
pleasant idea.

But the first thing that saluted her on her
arrival was that Bessie Lewis — her own dear,
particular Bessie — was going to have a Christ-
mas party at her house that afternoon, and was
around distributing invitations right and left
among the scholars with a generous freedom

** We are going to have nuts, and raisins, and
cake, and mottoes,'' said Bessie, with artless
triumph. The news of this bill of fare spread
like wildfire through the school.

Never had a party been heard ot which con-
templated such a liberal entertainment, for the
rising generation of Poganuc were by no means
blasi with indulgence, and raisins and almonds
stood lor grandeur with them. But these mottoes^
which consisted ol bits of confectionery wrapped
up in printed couplets of sentimental poetry,
were an unheard-of refinement. Bessie assured
them that her papa had sent clear to Boston
for them, and whoever got one would have his
or her fortune told by it.

The school was a small, select one, comprising
the children of all ages from the best families
of Poganuc. Both boys and girls, and all with
great impartiality, had been invited. Miss Tit-

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS,

'33

t with

leave

an un-

m her
dear,
Dhrist-
id was
id left
lorn
IS, and
artless
spread

jh con-
or the
means
monds
nottoeSy
•apped
)oetry,
ssured
Boston
ve his

)rising
imilies
I with

;s Tit-

come, the teacher, quite readily promised to dis-
miss at three o'clock that afternoon any scholar
who should bring a permission from parents,
and the children nothing doubted that such a
permission was obtainable.

Dolly alone saw a cloud in the horizon. She
had been sent away with strict injunctions not
to return till evening, and children in those days
never presumed to make any exceptions in obey-
ing an absolute command of their parents.

" But, of course, you will go home at noon
and ask your mother, and of course she'll let
you: won't she, girls?" said Bessie.

" Oh, certainly , of course she will," said all the
older girls, " because you know a party is a thing
that don't happen every day, and your mother
would think it strange if you didn*t come and ask
her." So too thought Miss Titcome, a most
exemplary, precise and proper young lady, who
always moved and spoke .nd thought as became
a schoolmistress, so that, although she was in
reality only twenty years old, Dolly considered
her as a very advanced and ancient person — if
anything, a little older than her father and
mother.

Even she was of opinion that Dolly might
properly go home to lay a case of such impor-
tance before her mother; and so Dolly rushed
home after the morning school was over, running

234

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS,

with all her might and increasing in mental ex-
citement as she ran. Her bonnet blew off upon
her shoulders, her curls flew behind her in the
wind, and she most inconsiderately used up the
little stock of breath that she would want to set
her cause in order before her mother.

Just here we must beg any mother and house-
keeper to imagine herself in the very midst of the
most delicate, perplexing and laborious of house-
hold tasks, when interruption is most irksome
and perilous, sudd?-niy called to discuss with a
child some new and startling proposition to which
at the moment she cannot even give a thought.

Mrs. Gushing was sitting in the kitchen with
Mis* Persis, by the side of a melted caldron of
tallow, kept in a fluid state by the heat of a port-
able furnace on which it stood. A long train of
half-dipped candles Iinng Lke so many stalactites
from the frames on \/hich thr^ rods rested, and
the two were patiently dipping set after set and
replacing them again on the frame.

"As sure as I'm alive! if there isn't Dolly
Gushing comin* back — runnin' and tearin' like
a wild cretur*," said Mis* Persis. ** She'll be in
here in a minute and knock everything down!"

Mrs. Gushing looked, and with a quick move-
ment stepped to the door.

"Dolly! what are you here for? Didn't I tell
you not to come home this noon?"

^:'^».

;ntal ex-
oflf upon
T in the
1 up the
mt to set

i house-
Ist of the
)f house-
irksome
s with a
to which
thought,
len with
ildron of
f a port-
train of
alactites
:ed, and
set and

Dolly

m* like

11 be in

lown !"

move-

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS,

»35

I tell

** Oh, Mamma, there's going to be a party at
General Lewis's — Bessie's party — and the girls
are all going, and mayn't I go?"

"No, you can't; it's impossible," said her
mother. "Your best dress isn't ready to wear,
and there's nobody can spend time to get you
ready. Go right back to school.**

" But, Mamma "

" Go !** said her mother, in the decisive tone
that mothers used in the old days, when arguing
with children was not a possibility.

"What*s all this about?'* asked the Doctor,
looking out of the door.

" Why," said Mrs. Gushing, " there's going to
be a party at General Lewis's, and Dolly is wild
to go. It's just impossible for me to attend to
her now.'*

" Oh, I don't want her intimate at Lewis's ; he's
a Democrat and an Episcopalian," said the Doc-
tor, and immediately he came out behind his wife.

" There ; run away to school, Dolly," he said.
** Don't trouble your mother ; you don*t want to
go to parties; why, it's foolish to think of it.
Run away now, and don't think any more about
it — there's a good girl!"

Dolly turned and went back to school, the
tears freezing on her cheek as she went. As for
not thinking any more about it — that was
impossible.

9$6

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS,

When three o'clock came, scholar after scholar
rose and departed, until at last Dolly was the
only one remaining ir. the school-room.

Miss Titcome made no comments upon the
event, but so long as one scholar was left she
conscientiously persisted in her duties towards
her. She heard Dolly read and spell, and then
occupied herself with writing a letter, while
Dolly sewed upon her allotted task. Dolly's
work was a linen sheet, which was to be turned.
It was to be sewed up on one side and ripped out
on the other — two processes which seemed espe-
cially dreary to Dolly, and more particularly so
now, when she was sitting in the deserted school-
room. Tears fell and fell on the long, uninterest-
ing seam which seemed to stretch on and on
hopelessly before her ; and she thought of all the
other children playing at " oats, pease, beans and
barley grows," of feasting on almonds and raisins,
and having their fortunes told by wonderful
mottoes bought in Boston. The world looked
cold and dark and dreary to Dolly on this her
second Christmas. She never felt herself in-
jured; she never even in thought questioned
that her parents were doing exactly right by
her — she only felt that just here and now the
right thing was very disagreeable and very nard
to bear.

When Dolly came home that night the coast

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS.

337

scholar
ivas the

pon the
left she
towards
nd then
r, while
Dolly's
turned.
)ped out
sd espe-
darly so
[ school-
interest-
and on
f all the
ans and
raisins,
jnderful
looked
his her
elf in-
stioned
Ight by
low the
y nard

coast

was clear, and the candles were finished and
put away to harden in a freezing cold room;
the kitchen was once more restored, and Nabby
bustled about getting supper as if nothing had
happened.

" I really feel sorry about poor little Dolly/*
said Mrs. Gushing to her husband.

"Do you think she cared much?" asked the
Doctor, looking as if a new possibility had struck
his mind.

*^ Yes, indeed, poor child, she went away cry-
ing; but what could I do about it? I couldn't
stop to dress her."

" Wife, we. must take her somewhere to make
up for it," said the Doctor.

Just then the stage stopped at the door and
a bundle from Boston was handed in. Dolly's
tears were soon wiped and dried, and her mourn-
ing was turned into joy when a large jointed
London doll emerged from the bundle, the
Christmas gift of her grandmother in Boston.

Dolly's former darling was old and shabby,
bnt this was of twice the size, and with cheeks
exhibiting a state of the most florid health.

Besides this there was, as usual in Grand-
mamma's Christmas bundle, something for every
member of the family ; and so the evening went
on festive wings.

Poor little Dolly ! only that afternoon she had

238

DOLLY'S SECOND CHRISTMAS,

watered with her tears the dismal long straight
seam, which stretched on before her as life some-
times does to us, bare, disagreeable and cheerless.
She had come home crying, little dreaming of
the joy just approaching ; but before bed-time no
cricket in the hearth was cheerier or more noisy.
She took the new dolly to bed with he. and
could hardly sleep, for the excitement of her
company.

Meanwhile, Hiel had brought the Doctor a
message to the following effect :

" I was drivin' by Tim Hawkins's, and Mis*
Hawkinr she comes out and says they're goin' to
hev an apple-cuttin' there to-morrow night, and
she would like to hev you and Mis* Cushin' and
all your folks come — Nabby and all."

The Doctor and his lady of course assented.

"Wal, then. Doctor— ef it's all one to you,"
continued Hiel, " I'd like to take ye over in my
new double sleigh. Tve jest got two new strings
o* bells up from Boston, and I think we'll sort o'
make the snow fly. S*pose there'd be no objec-
tions to takin* my mother 'long with ye?"

"Oh, Hiel, we shall be delighted to go in
company with your mother, and we're ever so
much obliged to you," said Mrs. Gushing.

" Wal, I'll be round by six o'clock," said Hiel.

"Then, wife," said the Doctor, "we'll take
Dolly, and make up for the loss of her party.**

-1

straight
fe some-
tieerless.
ming of
-time no
re noisy.
tie. and
of her

)octor a

ind Mis*
; goin' to
ight, and
shin' and

;nted.
;o you/*
fr in my
strings
111 sort o*
10 objec-

go in
lever so

Hiel
[11 take

CHAPTER XXII.

THE APPLE-BEE,

rty

|UNCTUALL\ at six o'clock Kiel's

two-horses, with all their bells jingling,

stood at the door of the parsonage,

whence Tom and Bill, who had been

waiting with caps and mittens on for the last half

hour, burst forth with irrepressible shouts of

welcome.

" Take care now, boys ; don't haul them buffalo

skins out on t* the snow," said Hiel. *' Don't get

things in a muss gen'ally ; wait for your ma and

the Doctor. Got to stow the grown folks in

fust ; boys kin hang on anywhere."

And so first came Mrs. Gushing and the Doctor,

and were installed on the back seat, with Dolly

in between. Then hot bricks were handed m to

keep feet warm, and the buffalo robe was tucked

down securely. Then Nabby took her seat by

Hiel in front, and the sleigh drove round for old

Mrs. Jones. The Doctor insisted on giving up

his place to her and tucking her warmly under

the buffalo robe, while he took the middle seat

and acted as moderator between the boys, who

339

240

THE APPLE-BEE,

r..

'Mik

were in a wild state of hilarity. Spring, with
explosive barks, raced first on this and then on
that side of the sleigh as it flew swiftly over the
smooth frozen road.

The stars blinked white and clear out of a deep
blue sky, and the path wound up-hill among
cedars and junipers and clumps of mountain
laurel, on whose broad green leaves the tufts of
snow lay like clusteis of white roses. The keen
clear air was full of stimulus and vigor ; and so
liiel's proposition to take the longest way met
with enthusiastic welcome from all the party.
Next to being a bird, and having wings, is the
sensation of being borne over the snow by a pair
of spirited horses who enjoy the race, apparently,
as much as those they carry. Though Hiel
contrived to make the ride about eight miles, it
yet seemed but a short time before the party
drove up to the great red farm-house, whose
lighted windows sent streams of radiant welcome
far out into the night.

The fire that illuminated the great kitchen of
the farm-house was a splendid sight to behold.
It is, alas, with us only a vision and memory of
the past ; for who m our days can afford to
keep up the great fire-place, where the back-logs
were cut from the giants of the forest and the
fore-stick was as much as a modern man could
lift? And then the glowing fire-palace built

ig, with
then on
)ver the

f a deep
. among
lountain
tufts of
he keen
; and so
,vay met
i party.
5, is the
ly a pair
Darently,
h Hiel
miles, it
e party
whose
elcome

tchen of
behold,
lory of
Ford to
Lck-logs
md the
could
built

■

CHESTNUTTING.

••//ow the Doctor climbed the trees victoriously, horv the brciun.
glossy cnestnuts fleiu down in showers. . . . And Nabb'y
unpacked the hamper on a broad, flat rcck:'—'^. 226.

Vii

.:.. J

THE APPLE^BEE.

841

thereon ! That architectural pile of split and
seasoned wood, over which the flames leaped and
danced and crackled like rejoicing genii — what
a glory it was ! The hearty, bright, warm hearth
in those days stood instead of fine furniture and
handsome pictures. The plainest room becomes
beautiful and attractive by fire-light, and when
men think of a country and home to be fought
for and defended they think of the fireside.

Mr. Timothy Hawkins was a thrifty farmer and
prided himself on always having the best, and the
fire that was crackling and roaring up the chim-
ney that night was, to use a hackneyed modem
expression, a " work of art." The great oak
back-log had required the strength of four men
to heave it into its place ; and above that lay
another log scarcely less in size ; while the fore-
stick was no mean bough of the same tree. A
bed of bright solid coals lay stretched beneath,
and the lighter blaze of the wood above was con-
stantly sending down contributions to this glow-
ing reservoir.

Of course, on an occasion like this, the "best
room " of the house was open, with a bright fire
lighting up the tall brass andirons, and revealing
the neatly-fitted striped carpet of domestic
manufacture, and the braided rugs, immortal
monuments of the never-tiring industry of the
housewife. Here first the minister and his wife

243

THE APPLE-BEE.

and Dolly were inducted with some ceremony,
but all declared their immediate preference of the
big kitchen, where the tubs of rosy apples and
golden quinces were standing round, and young
men, maids, and matrons were taking their places
to assist in the apple-bee.

If the Doctor was a welcome guest in the
stately circles of Poganuc Center, he was far
more at home in these hearty rural gatherings.
There was never the smallest room for jealousy,
on the part of his plainer people, that he cared
more for certain conventional classes of society
than for them, because all instinctively felt that in
heart he was one of themselves. Like many of
the educated men of New England, he had been a
farmer's boy in early days, and all his pleasantest
early recollections were connected with that
simple, v/holesome, healthful, rural life. Like
many of the New England clergy, too, he was
still to some extent a practical farmer, finding
respite from brain labor in wholesome out-door
work. His best sermons were often thought out
at the plow or in the corn-field, and his illustra-
tions and enforcements of truth were those of a
man acquainted with real life and able to inter-
pret the significance of common things. His
people felt a property in him as their ideal man —
the man who every Sunday expressed for them,
better than they could, the thoughts and inquiries

THE APPLE-BEE.

243

ceremony,
snce of the
3pples and .
and young
;heir places

lest in the
le was far
gatherings,
or jealousy,
at he cared
i of society
^ felt that in
ike many of
; had been a
5 pleasantest
with that
life. Like
;oo, he was
er, finding
e out-door
[thought out
his illustra-
e those of a
Ible to inter-
ings. His
deal man —
for them,
Ind inquiries

and aspirations which rose dimly in their own
minds.

" I could ha* said all that myself ef I'd only
hed the eddication ; he puts it so one can see it
can't be no other way," was the comment once
made on a sermon ot the Doctor's by a rough
but thoughtful listener ; and the Doctor felt more
pleased with such applause than even the more
cultured approval of Judge Belcher.

In the wide, busy kitchen there was room
enough for all sorts of goings on. The Doctor
was soon comfortably seated, knee to knee, in a
a corner with two or three controversial-looking
old farmers, who were attacking some of the con-
clusions of his last Sunday's sermon. Of the two
results, the Doctor always preferred a somewhat
combative resistance to a. sleepy assent to his
preaching, and nothing delighted him more than
a fair and square argumentative tilt, showing that
the points he made had been taken.

But while the Doctor in his corner discussed
theology, the young people around the tubs of
apples were having the very best of times.

The apple, from the days of Mother Eve and
the times of Paris and Helen, has been a fruit full
of suggestion and omen in the meetings of young
men and maidens ; and it was not less fruitful this
evening. Our friend Hiel came to the gathering
with a full consciousness of a difficult and delicate

244

THE APPLE-BEE.

part to be sustained. It is easy to carry on four
or five distinct flirtations when one is a handsome
young stage-driver and the fair objects of atten-
tion live at convenient distances along the route.
But v^hen Almiry Ann, and Lucindy Jane, and
Lucretia, and Nabby are all to be encountered
at one time, what is a discreet young man to
do?

Hiel had come to the scene with an armor of
proof in the shape of a new patent apple-peeler
and corer, warranted to take the skin from an
apple with a quickness and completeness hitherto
unimaginable. This immediately gave him a cen-
tral position and drew an admiring throng about
him. The process of naming an apple for each
girl, and giving her the long ribbon of peel to
be thrown over her head and form fateful initial
letters on the floor, was one that was soon in
vigorous operation, with much shrieking and
laughing and opposing of claims among the young
men, all of whom were forward to claim their
own initials when the peeling was thrown by the
girl of their choice. And Hiel was loud in his
professions of jealousy when by this mode of
divination A-lmira Smith was claimed to be
secretly favoring Seth Parmelee, and Nabby's
apple-peeling thrown over her head formed a
cabalistic character which was vigorously con-
tended for both by Jim Sawin and Ike Peters.

THE APPLE- BEE.

As the distinction between an I and a J is of a
very shadowy nature, the question apparently
was likely to remain an open one; and Hiel
declared that it was plain that nobody cared for
him^ and that he was evidently destined to be an
old bachelor.

It may be imagined that this sprightly circle
of young folks were not the ones most particu-
larly efficient in the supposed practical labors of
the evening. They did, probably, the usual
amount of work done by youths and maids to-
gether at sewing societies, church fairs and
other like occasions, where by a figure of speech
they are supposed to be assisting each other.
The real work of the occasion was done by
groVjps of matrons who sat with their bright tin
pans in lap, soberly chatting and peeljng and
cutting, as they compared notes about pies and
puddings and custards, and gave each other
recipes for certain Eleusinian mysteries of do-
mestic cookery.

Yet, let it not be supposed tiiat all these
women thought of nothing but cookv'jry, for in
the corner where the minister was talking were
silent attentive listeners, thoughtful souls, who
had pushed their chairs nearer, and who lost not
a word of the discussion on higher themes.
Never was there a freer rationalism than in the
inquiries which the New England theology tol-

246

THE APPLE-BEE,

erated and encouraged at every fireside. The
only trouble about them was that they raised
awful questions to which there is no answer, and
when the Doctor supposed he had left a triumph-
ant solution of a difficulty he had often left only
a rankling thorn of doubt.

A marked figure among the Doctor's circle
of listeners is Nabby's mother. A slight figure
in a dress of Ouakerlike neatness, a thin old
delicate lace, with its aureole of white hair and
its transparent cap-border — the expression of the
face a blending ot thoughtful calmness and in-
vincible determination. Her still, patient blue
eyes looked as if they habitually saw beyond
things present to some far off future. She was,
in fact, one of those quiet, resolute women
whose power lay more in doing than in talk-
ing. She had passed, through the gate of silence
and self-abnegation, into that summer-land where
it is always peace, where the soul is never more
alone, because God is there.

Now, as she sits quietly by, not a word escapes
her of what her minister is saying; for though
at her husband's command she has left her
church, her heart is still immovably fixed in its
old home.

Her husband had stubbornly refused to join
the social circle, though cordially invited. How-
ever, he offered no word of comment or dissent

THE APPLE-BEE,

247

when his wife departed with all her sons to the
gathering. With her boys, Mary Higgiiis was
all-powerful. They obeyed the glance of her
eye ; they listened to her softest word as they
never heeded the stormy imperiousness of their
father.

She looks over with satisfaction to where her
boys are joining with full heart in the mirth of
the young people, and is happy in their happi-
ness. The Doctor comes and sits beside her,
and inquires after each one; and the measure
of her content is full. She does not need to ex-
plain to him why she has left her church • she
sees that he understands her position and her
motives; but she tells him her heart and her
hopes, her ambition for her darling son, Abner,
who alone of all her boys has the passion for
learning and aspires toward a college education ;
and the Doctor bids her send her boy to him
and he will see what can be done to help him
on his way. More talk they have, and more
earnest, on things beyond the veil of earth — on
the joy that underlies all the sorrows of this life
and brightens the life beyond — and the Doctor
feels that in the interview he has gained more
than he has given.

Long before the evening was through, the
task of apple-cutting was accomplished, the tubs
and pans cleared away, and the company sat

248

THE APPLE.BEE.

about the fire discussing the nuts, apples and
cider which were passed around, reintorced by
doughnuts and loaf-cake. Tales of forest life, ot
exploits in hunting and fishing, were recounted,
and the Doctor figured successfully as a raconteur ^
for he waa an enthusiast in forest lore, and had
had his share of adventure.

In those days there was still a stirring back-
ground of wilderness life, of adventures with
bears, panthers, and wild Indians, and of witches
and wizards and ghostly visitors and haunted
houses, to make a stimulating fireside literature ;
and the nine o'clock bell ringing loudly was the
first break in the interest of the circle. All
rose at once, and while the last greetings were
exchanged, Hiel and the other young men
brought their horses to the door, and the whole
party were, in their several sleighs, soon flying
homeward.

Our little Dolly had had an evening of un-
mixed bliss. Everybody had petted her, and
talked to her, and been delighted with her
sayings and doings, and she was carrying home
a paper parcel of sweet things which good
Mrs. Hawkins had forced into her hand at
parting.

As to Hiel and Nabby, they were about on
an even footing. If he had been devoted to
Lucinda Jane Parsons she had distinguished Jim

THE APPLE-BEE.

249

les and
reed b^
t life, ot
counted,
%conteur^
md had

ig back-
es with
witches
haunted
erature ;
was the
le. All
gs were
ig men
e whole
n flying

of un-
ler, and
ith her
g home
h good
land at

Sawin by marks of evident attention, not for-
getting at proper intervals to pay some regard
to Ike Peters; so that, as she complacently said
to herself, * he didn't get ahead of her.'

Of course, on the way home, in the sleigh
with Doctor and Mrs. Gushing, there were no
advantages for a settling-up quarrel, but Nabby
let fly many of those brisk little missiles of sar-
casm and innuendo in which her sex have so
decided a superiority over the other, and when
arrived at the door of the house, announced
peremptorily that she was * going straight to
bed aiid wasn't goin' to burn out candles for
nobody that night!'

Hiel did not depart broken-hearted, however;
and as he reviewed the field mentally, after his
return home, congratulated himself that things
were going on ** 'bout as well as they could be."

A misunderstanding to be made up, a quarrel
to be settled, was, as he viewed it, a fair stock
in trade for a month to come.

bout on
oted to
hed Tim

CHAPTER XXIIt.

SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE.

N the scenes which we have painted we
have shown our Dr. Gushing^ mingling
as man with men, living a free, natural,
healthy human life. Yet underneath
all this he bore always on his spirit a deeper
and heavier responsibility.

The ideal of a New England minister's calling
was not the mere keeping up of Sunday services,
with two regular sermons, the pastoral offices
of visiting the sick, performing marriages, and
burying the dead. It was not merely the over-
sight of schools, and catechising of children, and
bringing his peorile into a certain habitual out-
ward routine of religion, though all these were
included in it. but, deeper than all these, there
was laid upon his soul the yearning desire to
bring every one in his flock to a living, conscious
union with God ; to a life whose source and pur-
poses were above this earth and tending heaven-
ward. In whatever scene of social iife he met
his people his eye was ever upon them, studying
250

PEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE.

251

ted we
ngling
atural,
irneath
deeper

calling
rvices,
offices
;s, and
I over-
;n, and
al out-
; were
, there
sire to
iscious
d pur-
eaven-
le met
idying

their characters, marking their mental or moral
progress, hoping and praying for this final result.
Besides the stated services of Sunday, our good
Doctor preached three or four evenings in a
week in the small district school-houses of the
outlying parishes, when the fervor of his zeal
drew always a full audience to listen. More
especially now, since the late political revolution
had swept away the ancient prescriptive defenses
of religion and morals, and thrown the whole
field open to individual liberty, had the Doctor
felt that the clergy must make up in moral in-
fluence what had passed away of legal restraints.

With all his soul he was seeking a revival of
religion ; a deep, pathetic earnestness made itself
felt in his preaching and prayers, and the more
spiritual of his auditors began to feel themselves
sympathetically affected. Of course, all the
church members in good standing professed to
believe truths which made life a sublime reality,
and religion the one absorbing aim. The New
Testament gives a glorified ideal of a possible
human life, but hard are his labors who tasks
himself to keep that ideal uppermost among
average human beings.

The coarse, the low, the mean, the vulgar, is
ever thrusting itself before the higher and more
delicate nature, and claiming, in virtue of its very
brute strength, to be che true reality.

252

SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE.

New England had been founded as a theocracy.
It had come down to Dr. Cushing's time under
laws and customs specially made and intended to
form a Christian State, and yet how far it was
below the teachings of the New Testament none
realized so deeply as the minister himself.

He was the confidant of all the conflicts be-
tween different neighborhoods, of the small
envies, jealousies and rivalries that agitated
families and set one part of his parish against
another. He was cognizant of all the little un-
worthy gossip, the low aims, the small ambitions
of these would-be Christians, and sometimes his
heart sank at the prospect.

Yet the preaching, the prayers, the intense
earnestness of the New England religious life
had sometimes their hour of being outwardly
felt; the sacred altar-flame that was burning
in secret in so many hearts threw its light into
the darkness, and an upspringing of religious
interest was the result.

The quarrel which had separated Zeph Higgins
from the church had spread more or less un-
wholesome influence through the neighborhood,
and it was only through some such divine impulse
as he sought that the minister could hope to
bring back a better state of things. In this labor
of love he felt that he had a constant, powerful
co-operative force in the silent, prayerful woman,

SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE,

«S3

;heocracy.
me under
itended to
far it was
[nent none
iself.

►nflicts be-
the small
.t agitated
ish against
,e little un-
l ambitions
netimes his

the intense
-ligious life
outwardly
as burning
s light into
of religious

eph Higgins
or less un-
iighborhood,
vine impulse
uld hope to
In this labor
mt, powerful
erful woman,

who walked by Zeph's side as a guardian angel.
Had it not been lor her pecuHar talent for
silence and peace the quarrel would have gone
much farther and produced wider alienation ; but
there is nothing that so absolutely quenches
the sparks of contention as silence. Especially is
this the case with the silence of a strong, deter-
mined nature, that utters itself only to God. For
months Zeph had been conscious of a sort of
invisible power about his wife — a power that
controlled him in spite of himself. It was that
mysterious atmosphere created by intense feeling
without the help of words.

People often, in looking on this couple, shook
their heads and said, " How could that woman
ever have married that man?'*

Such observers forget that the woman may
see a side of the man's nature that they never
see, and that often the chief reason why a man
wins a woman's heart is that she fancies herself
to have discerned in him that which no other
could discern, an undiscovered realm peculiarly
her own. The rough, combative, saturnine man
known as Zeph Higgins had had his turn of
being young, and his youth's blossoming-time
of love, when he had set his heart on this Mary,
then an orphan, alone in the world. Like many
anotl^er woman, she was easily persuaded that
the stormy, determined, impetuous passion thus

254

SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE,

seeking her could take no denial; was of the
same nature with the kind of love she felt able
to give in return — love faithful, devoted, unseek-
ing of self, and asking only to bless.

But, in time, marriage brought its revelations,
and life lay befoie hsr a bare, cold, austere
reality, with tr; lo'er changed into the toiling
fellow-laborer o the exacting master.

A late discernment of spirit showed her that
she was married to a man whose love for her
was all demand, who asked everything from her
and had little power of giving in return; that,
while he needed her, and clung to her at times
with a sort of helpless reliance, he had no
power of understanding or sympathizing with
her higher nature, and that her life, in all that
she felt most deeply and keenly, must be a sol-
itary one.

These hours of disillusion come to many,
and are often turning points in the soul's his-
tory. Rightly understood, they may prove the
seed-bed where plants of the higher life strike
deepest root. Mary Higgins was one of those
who found in her religion the strength of her
soul. The invisible Friend, whose knock is heard
in every heart-trial, entered in to dwell with
her, bringing the peace which the world cannot
give ; and henceforth she was strong in spirit, and
her walk was in green pastures and by still vraters.

SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE.

255

IS of the

felt able

i, unseek-

jvelations,
i, austere
the toiling

d her that
ve for her
g from her
turn; that,
er at times
[le had no
[lizing with
in all that
st be a sol-

to many,

souVs his-
y prove the
r life strike
)ne of those
ngth of her
lock is heard

dwell with
world cannot

in spirit, and
,y still V. aters.

They greatly mistake the New England relig-
ious development who suppose that it was a
mere culture of the head in dry metaphysical
doctrines. As in the rifts of the granite rocks
grow flowers of wonderful beauty and delicacy,
so in the secret recesses of Puritan life, by the
fireside of the farm-house, in the contemplative
silence of austere care and labor, grew up
religious experiences that brought a he?»venly
brightness down into the poverty ot cOi in )n-
place existence.

The philosophic pen of President Edwards
has set before us one such inner record, in the
history of the wife whose saintly pat.^nce and
unworldly elevation enabled him to bear the
reverses which drove him from a comfortable
parish to encounter the privations of missionary
life among the Indians. And such experiences
were not uncommon among lowly natures, who
lacked the eloquence to set them forth in words.
They lightened the heart, they brightened the
eye, they made the atmosphere of the home
peaceful.

Such was the inner life of her we speak of.
At rest in herself, she asked nothing, yet was
willing to give everything to the husband and
children who were at once her world of duty
and of love. Year in and out, she kept step
in life with a beautiful exactness, so perfect

i J

256 SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE,

and complete in every ministry of the household
that those she served forgot to thank her, as we
forget to thank the daily Giver of air and sun-
shine. Zeph never had known anything at home
but neatness, order, and symmetry, regular hours
and perfect service.

His wife had always been on time, and on duty,
and it seemed to him like one of the immutable
laws ol nature that she should do so. He was
proud of her Housekeeping, proud ol her virtues,
as something belonging to himself, and, tnough
she had no direct power over his harsher moods
of combativeness and self-will, she sometimes
came to him as a still small voice after the
earthquake and the tempest, and her words then
had weight with him, precisely because they
were few, and seldom spoken.

She had been silent all through the stormy
quarrel that had rent him away from his church.
Without an argument where argument would
only strengthen opposition, she let his will have
its way. She went with him on Sundays to the
Episcopal Church, and sat there among her sons,
a lowly and conscientious worshiper, carefully
following a service which coald not fail to bring
voices of comfort and help to a devout soul
like hers. Nevertheless, the service, to any one
coming to it late in life and with no previous
training, has its difficulties, which were to her

SEEKING A DIVINE IMPULSE,

257

lousehold
[ler, as we
and sun-
g at home
ular hours

id on duty,
immutable
). He was
her virtues,
md, tnough
sher moods
, sometimes
:e after the
words then
-cause they

the stormy
his church,
ment would
lis will have
[ndays to the
mg her sons,
)er, carefully
fail to bring
devout soul
to any one
no previous
were to her

embarrassing, and to him, in spite of his proud
self-will, annoying. Zeph had the Spartan con-
tempt for everything aesthetic, the scorn of
beauty which characterized certain rough stages
of New England life. He not only did not like
symbolic forms, but he despised them as efifemi-
nate impertinences; and every turn and move-
ment that he was compelled to make in his new
ritualistic surroundings was aggravating to his
temper. To bend the knee at the name of
Jesus, to rise up reverently when the words of
Jesus were about to be read in the Gospel of
the day, were acts congenial to his wiie as they
were irksome to him; and, above all, the idea
of ecclesiastical authority, whether exercised by
rector, bishop or church, woke all the refractory
nerves of opposition inherited from five gener-
ations of Puritans. So that Zeph was as little
comfortable in his new position as his worst
enemy could have desired. Nothing but the
strength of his obstinate determination not to
yield a point once taken kept him even out-
wardly steady. But to go back to his church,
to confess himself in the wrong and make up
his old quarrel with the Deacon, would be worse
than to stay where he was.

The tenacity and devotion with which some
hard natures will cleave to a quarrel which em-
bitters their very life-blood is one of the strange

iS8

SEBitTNG A DlViNE iAiPVLSE,

problems of our human nature. In the heredi-
tary form of family prayer that Zeph Higgins
used every day, there was the customary phrase
" We are miserable sinners ;" and yet Zeph, like
many another man who repeats that form in the
general, would rather die than confess a fault in
any particular ; and in this respect we must ad-
mit that he was not, after all, a very exceptional
character. How often in our experience do we
meet a man brave enough, when once fully com-
mitted, to turn a square corner and say ** I was
wrong"? If only such have a stone to cast at
Zeph Higgins, the cairn will not be a very high
one.

Zeph never breathed an opposing word when
his wife, every Friday evening, lighted the lan-
tern, and with all her sons about her set off to
the evening prayer-meeting in the little red
sdiOol-house, though after his quarrel with the
Deacon he never went himself. Those weekly
meetings, when she heard her minister and joined
in the prayers and praises of her church, were
the brightest hours of ker life, and her serene
radiant face, following his words with rapt at-
tention, was a help and inspiration to her pastor.

"There is a revival begun over there," he
said to his wife as they were riding home from
one of his services. " It is begun in the heart
of that good woman. She hat: long been pray-

heredi-
Higgins
y phrase
:eph, like
m in the
a fault in
must ad-
iceptional
ce do we
fully com-

((

1 was

to cast at
very high

|vord when
sd the lan-
r set off to
little red
;l with the
ose weekly
• and joined
lurch, were
her serene
ith rapt at-
) her pastor,
there," he
home from
in the heart
been pray-

BEEKWG A DtVlNB IMPiTLSE. ^^^

fng for a revival, and I am confident that her
prayers will be answered."

They were answered, but in a way little
dreamed of by any one

The prayers we offer for heavenly blessings
often come up in our earthly soil as plants of
bitter sorrow.

So it proved in this case*

CHAPTER XXIV.

"IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT."

|NE morning in the latter part of spring
Zeph Higgins received a shock which
threw his whole soul into confusion.
His wife, on rising to go forth to
her wonted morning cares, had fainted dead
away and been found lying, apparently lifeless,
on the bed, when her hrsband returned for his
breakfast.

Instantly everything was in commotion. The
nearest neighbor was sent for, and restoratives
applied with such skill as domestic experience
could suggest, and one of the boys dispatched
in all haste for the doctor, with orders to bring
Nabby at once to take her mother's place.

The fainting fit proved of short duration, hut
was followed by a violent chill and a rise of
fever, and when the doctor arrived he reported
a congestion of the lungs threatening the gravest
results.

Forthwith the household was to be organized
for sickness. A fire was kindled in the best bed-
room and the patient laid there ; Mis* Persis was

860

NOT."

: of spring
ock which
anfusion.
p forth to
inted dead
itly lifeless,
ned for his

otion. The
restoratives
experience
dispatched
;rs to bring
place,
uration, but
id a rise of
he reported
the gravest

)e organized
le best bed-
is* Persis was

"m SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT^ 261

sent for and installed as nurse; Nabby became
housekeeper, and to superficial view the usual
order reigned. Zeph went forth to the labors
of the field, struggling with a sort of new
terror; there was an evil threatening his house,
against the very thought and suggestion of which
he fought with all his being. His wife could not,
should not, ought not to be sick, — and as to dying,
that was not to be thought of! What could he
do without her? What could any of them do
without her? During the morning's work that
was the problem that he kept turning and turn-
ing in his mind — what life would be without her.
Yet, when Abner, who was working beside him,
paused over his hoe and stood apparently lost
in thought, he snapped a harsh question at him
with a crack like the sound of a lash.

"What ye doin* there?"

Abner started, looked confused and resumed
his work, only saying, " I was thinking about
Mother."

"Nonsense! Don't make a fool of yourself.
Mother *11 come all right."

"The doctor said "- said Abner.

"Don't tell me nothin' what the doctor said;
I do n't want to hear on 't," said Zeph, in a high
voice; and the two hoes worked on in silence
for a while, till finally Zeph broke out again.

"Wal! what did the doctor say? Out with

2^2 "-^-^ SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT:*

it; as good say it *s think it. What did the
doctor say? Why don't you speak?"

" He said she was a very sick woman/* an-
swered Abner.

"He's a fool. I don't think nothin* o* that
doctor's jedgment. I'll have Dr. Sampson over
Irom East Poganuc. Your mother's got the
best constitution of any woman in this neighbor-
hood."

"Yes; but she hasn't been well lately, and
I've seen it," said Abner.

"That's all croakin'. Don't believe a word
on *t. Mother's been right along, stiddy as a
clock; 'taint nothin' but one o' these 'ere pesky
spring colds she *s got. She '11 be up and 'round
by to-morrow or next day. I'll have another
doctor, and I'll get her wine and bark, and
strengthenin' things, and Nabby shall do the
work, and she'll come all right enough."

"I'm sure I hope so," said Abner.

" Hope ! what d'ye say hope for? I ain't a
goin' to hope nothin' 'bout it. I know so ; she's
got to git well — ain't no two ways 'bout that.'*

Yet Zeph hurried home an hour before his
usual time and met Nabby at the door.

"Wal, ain't your mother gettin' better?"

There were tears in Nabby's eyes as she
answered,

"Oh, dear! she's been a raisin* blood. Doctor

tot:*

, did the

*'IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOrr

man,

an-

in* o' that
Lpson over
3 got the
i neighbor-
lately, and

;ve a word
stiddy as a
P 'ere pesky
» and 'round
ave another
I bark, and
fhall do the

Ir.
j> I ain't a

low so; she's
, 'bout that."
^r before his
|door.
jetter?"
eyes as she

llood. Doctor

says it's from her lungs. Mis* Persis says it's »
bad sign. She's very weak — and she looks so
pale!"

•'They must give her strengthenin* things,'*
said Zeph. "Do they?"

"They're givin* what the Doctor left. Her
fever's beginnin* to rise now. Doctor says we
mustn't talk to her, nor let her talk."

"Wal, I'm a goin' up to see her, anyhow. I
guess I've got a right to speak to my own
wife." And Zeph slipped off his heavy cowhide
boots, and went softly up to the door of the
room, and opened it without stopping to knock.

The blinds were shut; it seemed fearfully dark
and quiet. His wife was lying with her eyes
closed, looking white and still ; but in the center
of each pale cheek was the round, bright, burning
spot of the rising hectic.

Mis* Persis was sitting by her with the author-
itative air of a nurse who has taken full possession;
come to stay and to reign. She was whisking
the flies away from her patient with a feather
fan, which she waved forbiddingly at Zeph as he
approached.

" Mother,** said he in an awe-struck tone, bend-
ing over his wife, " don't you know me ?'*

She opened her eyes; saw him; smiled and
reached out her hand. It was thin and white,
burning with the rising fever,

i.«

'^64 "-^^ ^^<^^^ ^^ HOUR AS YE THINK N02T

W I

!i i

"Don't you feel a little better?" he asked.
There was an imploring eagerness in his tone.

" Oh, yes ; I'm better."

** You'll get well soon, won't you ?"

" Oh, yes ; I shall be well soon," she said, 'Ook-
ing at him with that beautiful bright smile.

His heart sank as he looked. The smile was
so strangely sweet — and all this quiet, this still-
ness, this mystery! She was being separated
from him by impalpable shadowy forces that
could not be battled with or defied. In his heart
a warning voice seemed to say that just

quietly she might fade from his sight — pass away,
and be forever gone. The thought struck cold
to his heart, and he uttered an involuntary groan.

His wife opened her eyes, moved slightly, and
seemed as if she would speak, but Mis' Persis
put her hand authoritativ ; ■ , over her mouth.
" Don't you say a word," Jb: lui she.

Then turning with concentrated energy on
Zeph, she backed him out of the room and shut
the door upon him and herself in the entry before
she trusted herself to speak. When she did, it
was as one having authority.

" Zephaniah Higgins," she said, " air you crazy?
Do you want to kill your wife? Ef ye come
round her that way and git her a-talkin' she'll
ble^-d from her iungs agin, and that'll finish her.
YouVe jest ^ot to shet up and submit to the

^v'

he asked.
I his tone.

le said, 'ook-
Lt smile,
tie smile was
iet, this still-
ng separated
r forces that
In his heart
that just so
it— pass away,
tit struck cold
luntary groan,
d slightly, and
ut Mis' Persis
sr her mouth.

ed energy on
room and shut
he entry before
hen she did, it

'air you crazy?
£f ye come

a-talkin' she'll
hat'll finish her.

submit to the

••/y SUCH AN HOVR Ar YE THINK NOTr 265

Lord, Zephaniah Higgins, and that's what you
hain't never done yit; you've got to know that
the Lord is goin' to do his sovereign will and
pleasure with your wife, and you've got to be
still. That's all. You can't do nothin'. We
shall all do the best we can ; but you've jest got
to wait the Lord's time and pleasure."

So saying, she went back into the sick-room
and closed the door, leaving Zeph standing
desolate in the entry.

Zeph, like most church members of his day,
had been trained in theology, and had often ex-
pressed his firm belief in what was in those^days
spoken of as the " doctrine of divine sovereignty,"

A man's idea ot hi® God is often a reflection
of his own nature. The image of an absolute
monarch, who could and would always do ex-
actly as he pleased, giving no account to any one
of his doings, suited Zeph perfectly as an ab-
stract conception ; but when this resistless awful
iPower was coming right across his path, the
doctrine assumed quite another form.

The curt statement made by Mis' fersis had
struck him with a sudden terror, as if a flash
of lightning had revealed an abyss opening under
his feet. That he was utterly helpless in his
Sovereign's hands he saw plainly ; but his own
will rose in rebellion — a rcbeUion useless and
miserable.

* s66 "/^ 5f/C7/ AJ7 HOUR AS YE THINK HOTP

His voice trembled that night as he went
through the familiar words of the evening pray-
er; a rush of choking emotions almost stopped
his utterance, and the old words, worn smooth
with use, seemed to have no relation to the tur-
bulent tempest of feeling that was raging in his
heart.

After prayers he threw down the Bible with
an impatient bang, bolted for his room and shut
himself in alone.

"Poor Father! he takes it hard,** said Nabby,
wiping her eyes.

**He takes everything hard,** said Abner. "I
don't know how we'll get along with him, now
Mother isn't round."

" Well, let's hope Mother*s goin* to get well,**
said Nabby. "I can't— I ain't goin' to think
anything else/*

K NOTP

as he went
rening pray-
lost stopped
iTorn smooth
n to the tur-
•aging in his

e Bible with
om and shut

said Nabby,

dAbner. **I
nth him, now

to get well,'*
)in* to think

CHAPTER XXV.

DOLLY BECOMES ILLUSTRIOUS.

T the Parsonage the illness in Zeph's
household brought social revolution.

The whole burden of family ministra-
tion, which had rested on Nabby's
young and comely shoulders, fell with a sudden
weight upon those of Mrs. Gushing. This was
all the more unfortunate because the same
exigency absorbed the services of Mis* Persis,
who otherwise might have been relied on to fill
the gap.

But now was Dolly's hour for feeling her own
importance and assuming womanly cares. She
rushed to the front with enthusiasm and attacked
every branch of domestic service, with a zeal not
always according to knowledge but making he^
on the whole quite an efficient assistance. She ^
washed and wiped dishes, and cleared, and
cleaned, and dusted, and set away, as she had
seen Nabby do ; she propped herself on a stool
at the ironing-table and plied the irons vigor-
ously ; and, resenting the suggestion that she

867

DOLLY BECOMES ILLUSTRIOUS,

\ I

mnsr

should confine herself to towels and napkins,
struck out boldly upon the boys* shirts and other
complicated tasks, burning her fingers and heat-
ing her face in the determination to show her
prowess and ability.

" Dolly is really quite a little woman," she
overheard her mother saying to her father ; and
her bosom swelled with conscious pride and she
worked all the faster.

" Now, you boys must be very careful not to
make any more trouble than you can help," she
said v/ith an air of dignity as Will and Bob
burst into the kitchen and surprised her at the
ironing-table. " Nabby is gone, and there is
nobody to do the work but me."

" Upon my word, Mrs. Puss !" said Will, stop-
ping ^'hort and regarding the little figure with a
serio-comic air. *' How long since you've been so
grand ? How tall we're getting in our own eyes
— oh my!" and Will seized her off the ironing
stool and, perching her on his shoulder, danced
round the table with her in spite of her indignant
protests.

Dolly resented this invasion of her dignity
with all her little might, and the confusion called
her mother down out of the chamber where she
had been at work.

" Boys, I'm astonished at you," said she. Now
Mrs. Gushing had been " astonished " at these

10 us.

and napkins,
hirts and other
gers and heat-
1 to show her

} woman," she
her father ; and
3 pride and she

y careful not to
u can help," she
Will and Bob
,rised her at the
e, and there is

DOLLY BECOMES ILLUSTRIOUS.

369

»»

said Will, stop-
jtle figure with a
;e youVe been so

in our own eyes

off the ironing
[shoulder, danced

of her indignant

of her dignity
confusion called
lamber where she

" said she. Now
Inished" at these

same boys for about thirteen or fourteen years,
so that the sensation could not be quite over-
powering at this time.

" Well, Mother," said Will, with brisk assur-
ance, setting Dolly down on her stool, " 1 was
only giving Dolly a ride," and he looked up in
her face with the confident smile that generally
covered all his sins, and brought out an answer-
ing smile on the face of his mother.

*' Come now, boys," she said, " Nabby has gone
home; you must be good, considerate children,
make as little trouble as possible and be all the
help you can."

" But, Mother, Dolly was taking such grown-
up airs, as if she was our mother. I had just to
give her a lesson, to show her who she was."

" Dolly is a good, helpful little girl, and I don't
know what I should do without her," said Mrs.
Gushing ; " she does act like a grown-up woman,
and I am glad of it."

Dolly's face flushed with delight ; she felt that
at last she had reached the summit of her am-
bition: she was properly appreciated !

**And you boys," continued Mrs. Gushing,
" must act like grown-up men, and be considerate
and helpful."

"All right, Mother ; only give the orders. Bob
and I can make the fires, and bring in the wood,
and fill the tea-kettle, r-nd do lots of things." And,

i'jo

t>OLLV SECOAfP:^ IlLVSTRIOUS.

to do the boys justice, they did do their best to
lighten the domestic labors of this interregnum.

The exigency would have been far less serious
were it not that the minister's house in those days
was a sort of authorized hotel, not only for the
ministerial brotherhood but for all even remotely
connected with the same, and all that miscellane-
ous drift-wood of hospitality that the eddies of
life cast ashore. The minister's table was always
a nicely-kept one* the Parsonage was a place
where it was pleasant to abide ; and so the guest-
chamber of the Parsonage was seldom empty.
In fact, this very week a certain Brother Warmg,
an ex-minister from East Poganuc, who wanted
to consult the Poganuc Doctor, came, unan-
nounced, with his wife and trunk, and they settled
themselves comfortably down.

Such inflictions were in those days received in
the literal spirit of the primitive command to
" use hospitality without grudging;" but when a
week had passed and news came that Mrs. Hig-
gins was going down to the grave in quick con-
sumption, and that Nabby would be wanted at
home for an mdefinite penod, it became neces-
sary to find some one to fill her place at the Par-
sonage, and Hiel Jones's mother accepted the
position temporarily — considering her services in
the minister's family as a sort ot watch upon the
walls of Zion. Not that she was by any means

10 us.

:> their best to
Lnterregnum.
far less serious
ie in those days
3t only for the
I even remotely
that miscellane-
t the eddies of
ible was always
ye was a place
nd so the guest-
seldom empty.
Brother Warmg,
luc, who wanted
[or, came, unan-
and they settled

days received in
ive command to
ngV but when a
ie that Mrs. Hig-
•ave in quick con-
tld be wanted at
it became neces-
place at the Par-
er accepted the
,g her services in
tt watch upon the
as by any means

DOLLY BECOMES ILLUSTRIOUS,

271

insensible to the opportunity of receiving worldly
wages; but she wished it explicitly understood
that she was not going out to service. She was
*' helpin* Mis* Gushing." The help, however, was
greatly balanced in this case by certain attendant
hindrances such as seem inseparable from the
whole class of " lady helps."

Mrs. Jones had indeed a very satisfactory capa-
bility in all domestic processes ; her bread was of
the whitest and finest, her culinary skill above
mediocrity, and she was an accomplished laun-
dress. But so much were her spirits affected by
the construction that might possibly be put on
her position in the family that she required sooth-
ing attentions and expressions of satisfaction and
confidence every hour of the day to keep her at
all comfortable. She had stipulated expressly to
be received at the family table, and, further than
this, to be brought into the room and introduced
to all callers; and, this being done, demeaned
herself in a manner so generally abused and mel-
ancholy that poor Mrs. Gushing could not but
feel that the burden which had been taken off
from her muscles had been thrown with double
weight upon her nerves.

After a call of any of the "town-hill" aris-
tocracy, Mrs. Jones would be sure to be found
weeping in secret places, because *Mrs. Golonel
Davenport had looked down on her,' or the

>'^^^.,

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT.3)

1.0

1.1

11.25

2.0

140

Hiotographic

Sciences

Coiporalion

23 WIST MAIN STREET

WiKTER,N.Y. M5M

(716)872-4503

^^%

, ye

DOLLY BECOMES ILLUSTRIOUS.

Governor's lady * didn't speak to her,* and she
* should like to know what such proud folks
was goin* to do when they got to heaven!*
Then there was always an implication that if
ministers only did their duty all these distinc-
tions of rank would cease, and everybody be
just as good as everybody else. The poor body
had never even dreamed of a kingdom of heaven
where the Highest was "as him that serveth;"
and what with Mrs. Jones's moans, and her tears,
and her frequent sick headaches, accompanied
by abundant use of camphor, Mrs. Gushing, in
some desperate moments, felt as if she would
rather die doing her own work than wear her-
self out in the task of conciliating a substitute.
Then, though not a serious evil, it certainly was
somewhat disagreeable to observe Mrs. Jones's
statistical talents and habits of minute inspection,
and to feel that she was taking notes which
would put all the parish in possession of precise
information as to the condition of Mrs. Cushing's
tableclotiis, towels, napkins, and all the minutiae
of her housekeeping arrangements. There is, of
course, no sin or harm in such particularity;
but almost every lady prefers the shades of poetic
obscurity to soften the details of her domestic
interior. In those days, when the minister was
the central object of thought in the parish, it
was specially undesirable that all this kind of

r,' and she
iroud folks
;o heaven!*
ion that if
ese distinc-
erybody be

poor body
m of heaven
at serveth;'*
id her tears,
iccompanied

Gushing, in
f she would
in wear her-

a substitute,
certainly was

Mrs. Jones's
te inspection,

notes which

on of precise

rs. Cushing's
the minutiae
There is, of

particularity ;

lades of poetic
her domestic
minister was

the parish, it
this kind of

DOLLY BECOMES ILLUSTRIOUS,

»73

information should be distributed, since there
were many matrons who had opinions all ready
made as to the proper manner in which a
minister's wife should expend his salary and
order his household.

It was therefore with genuine joy that, after
a fortnight's care of this kind, a broad-faced,
jolly African woman was welcomed by Mrs.
Gushing to her kitchen in place of Mrs. Jones.
Dinah was picked up in a distant parish, and
entered upon her labors with an unctuous sat-
isfaction and exuberance that was a positive,
relief after the recent tearful episode. It is true
she was slow, and somewhat di:^orderly, but she
was unfailingly good-natured, and had no dig-
nity to be looked after; and so there was rest
for a whik in Uie Parsonage.

'■

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE VICTORY.

1; n

UMMER with its deep blue skies was
bending over the elms of Poganuc.
The daisies were white in the mead-
ows and the tall grass was nodding its
feathery sprays of blossom. The windows of
the farm houses stood open, with now and then
a pillow or a bolster lounging out of them, air-
ing in the sunshine. The hens stepped hither
and thither M'ith a drowsy continuous cackle of
contentment as they sunned themselves in the
warm embracing air.

In the great elm that overhung the roof of
Zeph Higgins's farm house was a mixed babble
and confusion of sweet bird voices. An oriole
from her swinging nest caroled cheerfully, and
bobolinks and robins replied, and the sounds
blended pleasantly with the whisper and flutter
of leaves, as soft summer breezes sii/red them.
But over one room in that house rested the
shadow of death , there, behind the closed blinds,
in darkened stillness days passed by ; and watch-
ers came at night to tend and minister; and

274

THE VICTORY.

275

skies was
poganuc.
the mead-
nodding its
ivindows of
w and then
)f them, air-
Ued hither
us cackle of
;lves in the

the roof of
lixed babble
An oriole
[eerfuily, and

the sounds
ir and flutter
jsilrred them.
se rested the

:losed blinds,
and watch-

linister; and

bottles accumulated on the table ; and those who
came entered softly and spoke with bated breath ;
and the doctor was a daily visitor; and it was
known that the path of the quiet patient who
lay there was steadily going down to the dark
river.

Every one in the neighborhood knew it: for,
in the first place, everybody in that vicinity, as
a matter of course, knew all about everybody
else; and then, besides that, Mrs. Higgms had
been not only an inoffensive, but a muck esteemed
and valued neighbor. Her quiet step, her gentle
voice, her skillful ministry had been always at
hand where there had been sickness or pain to
be relieved, and now that her time was come
there was a universal sympathy. Nabby's shelves
were crowded with delicacies made up and sent
in by one or another good wife to tempt the
failing appetite. In the laborious, simple life
that they were living in those days, there was
small physiological knowledge, and the leading
idea in most minds in relation to the care of
sickness was the importance of getting the pa-
tient to eat; for this end, dainties that might
endanger the health of a well person were often
sent in as a tribute to the sick. Then almost
every house-mother had her own favorite spe-
cific, of sovereign virtue, which she prepared
and sent in to increase the army of bottles which

1 1

i
I >

■ I

276

THE VICTORY,

always gathered in a sick-room. Mis* Persis,
however, while graciously accepting these trib-
utes, had her own mental reservations, and often
slyly made away with the medicine in a manner
that satisfied the giver and did not harm the
patient. Quite often, too, Hiel Jones, returning
on his afternoon course, stopped his horses r.l the
farm-house door and descended to hand in some
offering of sympathy and good will from friends
who lived miles away.

Hiel did not confine himself merely to trans-
mitting the messages of neighbors, but interested
himself personally in the work of consolation,
going after Nabby wherever she might be found —
at the spinning wheel, in the garret, or in the
dairy below — and Nabby, in her first real trouble,
was so accessible and so confiding that Hiel
found voice to say unreproved what the brisk
maiden might have flouted at in earlier days.

*' I'm sure I don't know what we can do with-
out Mother," Nabby said one day, her long eye-
lashes wet with tears. " Home won't ever seem
home without her."

" Well," answered Hiel, " I know what / shall
want you to do, Nabby : come to me ; and you
and I'll have a home all to ourselves."

And Nabby did not gainsay the word, but only
laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed, and
said he was a real true friend and she should

THE VICTORY.

277

lis* Persis,
these trib-
5, and often
n a manner
t harm the
3, returning
lorses r.i. the
and in some
from friends

ely to trans-
it interested

consolation,
ht be found—
ret, or in the
t real trouble,
ig that Hiel
hat the brisk
arlier days.
J can do with-

her long eye-
>n't ever seem

V what / shall
me ; and you

es."

word, but only
d sobbed, and
td she should

never forget his kindness; and Hiel kissed and
comforted her with all sorts of promises of
future devotion. Truth to say, he found Nabby
in tears and sorrow more attractive than when
she sparkled in her gayest spirits.

But other influences emanated from that
shadowy room — influences felt through all the
little neighborhood. Puritan life had its current
expressions significant of the intense earnestness
of its faith in the invisible, and among these was
the phrase " a triumphant death." There seemed
to be in the calm and peaceful descent of this
quiet spirit to the grave a peculiar and luminous
clearness that fulfilled the meaning of that idea.
The " peace that passeth understanding ** bright-
ened, in the sunset radiance, into "joy unspeak-
able and full of glory." Her decline, though
rapid and steady, was painless: and it seemed
to those who looked upon her and heard her
words of joy and trust that the glory so visible
to her must be real and near— as if in that sick-
chamber a door had in very deed been opened
into heaven.

When she became aware that the end was
approaching she expressed a wish that her own
minister should be sent for, and Dr. Gushing
came. The family gathered in her room. She
was propped up on pillows, her eyes shining
and checks glowing with the hectic flush, and an

278

THE VICTORY

indescribable brightness of expression in her face
that seemed almost divine.

The Doctor read from Isaiah the exultant
words: "Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and
the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For
behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross
darkness the people, but the Lord shall arise on
thee, and his glory shall be seen on thee. The
sun shall no more be thy light by day, neither
for brightness shall the moon give light to thee,
but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting
light, and thy God thy glory. Thy sun shall no
more go down nor thy moon withdraw itself,
for the Lord shall be thy everlasting light, and
the days of thy mourning shall be ended." In
the prayer that followed he oflfered thanks that
God had given unto our sister the victory, and
enabled her to rejoice in hope of the glory of
God, while yet remaining with them as a witness
of the faithfulness of the promise. He prayed
that those dear to her might have grace given
them to resign her wholly to the will of God
and to rejoice with her in her great joy.

When they rose from prayer, Zeph, who had
sat in gloomy silence through all, broke out :

" I can't — I carit give her up ! It's hard on me,
I can't do it, and I won't."

She turned her eyes on him, and a wonderful
expression of love and sorrow and compression

THE VICTORY.

279

in her face

; exultant
come, and
thee. For
, and gross
ill arise on
thee. The
ay, neither
rht to thee,

everlasting
un shall no
draw itself,
g light, and
ended." In

thanks that
victory, and
;he glory of

as a witness
He prayed

grace given
will of God

t joy*

ph, who had
oke out :
hard on me.

a wonderful
i comprission

came into her face. She took his hand, saying,
witli a gentle gravity and composure:

*• I want to see my husba.id alone."

When all had left the room, he sunk down on
his knees by the bed and hid his face. The bed
was shaken by his convulsive sobbing. " My dear
husband," she said, "you know I lo\e you."

"Yes — yes, and you are the only one that
does — the only one that can. I'm hard and
cross, and bad as the devil. Nobody could love
me but you ; and I can't — I wont — give you up !"

" You needn't give mfc up ; you must come
with me. I want you to come where I am; I
shall wait for you; you're an old man — it won't
be long. But oh, do listen to me now. You
can't come to heaven till you've put away all
hard feeling out of your heart. You must make
up that quarrel v/ith the church. When you
know you've been wrong, you must say so. I
want you to promise this. Please do!"

There was silence ; and Zeph's form shook
with the conflict of his feelings.

But the excitement and energy which had
sustained the sick woman thus far had been too
much for her; a blood vessel was suddenly rup-
tured, and her mouth filled with blood. She
threw up her hands with a slight cry. Zeph
rose and rushed to the door, calling the nurse.

Tt was evident that the end had come.

; il

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE FUNERAL.

|N that morning, before Dr. Gushing
had left the Parsonage to go to the
bedside of his dying parishioner, Dolly,
always sympathetic in all that ab-
sorbed her parents, had listened to the conver-
sation and learned how full of peace and joy
were those last days.

When her father was gone, Dolly took her
little basket and went out into the adjoining
meadow for wild strawberries. The afternoon
was calm and lovely; small patches of white
cloud were drifting through the intense blue
sky, and little flutters of breeze shook the
white hats of the daisies as she wandered hither
and thither among them looking for the straw-
berries. Over on the tallest twig of the apple-
tree in the comer of the lot a bobolink had
seated himself, swinging and fluttering up and
down, beating his black and white wings and
singing a confused lingo about '^ sweetmeats
and sweetmeats," and "cheer 'em and cheer

n."

This bobolink was one of Dolly's special aC'

2C0

tHE FUNERAL,

•It

)r. Gushing
> go to the
loner, Dolly,
II that ab-
the conver-
ace and joy

lly took her
he adjoining
he afternoon
les of white
intense blue
3 shook the
Ldered hither
,r the straw-
of the apple-
jobolink had
|ering up and
:e wings and
" sweetmeats
and cheer

r's special ac*

tjuaintances. She had often seen him perched
on this particular twig of the old apple-tree,
doubtless because of a nest and family estab-
lishment that he had somewhere in that neigh-
borhood, and she had learned to imitate his
jargon as she crept about in the tall grass; and
so they two sometimes kept up quite a lively
conversation.

But this afternoon she was in no mood for
chattering with the bobolink, for the strings of
a higher nature than his had been set vibrating;
she was in a sort of plaintive, dreamy revery —
so sorry for poor Nabby, who was going to lose
her mother, and so full of awe and wonder at
the bright mystery now opening on the soul
that was passing away.

Dolly had pondered that verse of her cate-
chism which says that "the souls of believers
at their death are made perfect in holiness, and
do immediately pass into glory," and of what
that unknown glory, that celestial splendor, could
be she had many thoughts and wonderings.

She had devoured with earnest eyes Banyan's
vivid description of the triumphal ascent to the
Celestial City through the River of Death, and
sometimes at evening, when the west was piled
with glorious clouds which the setting sun
changed into battlements and towers of silvered
goldi Dolly thought she could fancy it was

■r

iji

[ I

a8a

THE FUNERAL,

something like that beautiful land. Now it
made her heart thrill to think that one she had
known only a little while before — a meek, quiet,
patient, good woman — was just going to enter
upon such glory and splendor, to wear those
wonderful white robes and sing that wonderful
song.

She filled her basket and then sat down to
think about it. Sh^; lay back on the ground
and looked up through the white daisies into
the deep intense blue of the sky, wondering
with a vague yearning, and wishing that she
could go there too and see what it was all like.
Just then, vibrating through the sunset air, came
the plaintive stroke of the old Meeting-house
bell. Dolly knew what that sound meant — a soul
" made perfect in holiness** had passed into glory ;
and w'.th a solemn awe she listened as stroke
after stroke tolled out the years of that patient
earth-life, now forever past.

It was a thrilling mystery to think of where
she now was She knew all now! she had seenl
she had heard! she had entered in! Oh, what
joy and wonder!

Dolly asked herself should she too ever be so
happy — she, poor little Dolly ; if she went up to
the beautiful gate, would they let her in? Her
father and mother would certainly go there;
and they would surely want her too: couldn't

Now it
I she had
;ek, quiet,

to enter
ear those
wonderful

down to
ground
aisles into
wondering
r that she
as all like.
;t air, came
eting-house
lant — a soul

into glory ;
as stroke
;hat patient

of where
had seen!
Oh, what

ever be so
went up to
ler in? Her

go there;
)o: couldn't

THE FUNERAL, ,83

she go in with them ? So thought Dolly, vaguely
dreaming, with the daisy-heads nodding over
her, and the bobolink singing, and the bell toll-
ing, while the sun was sinking in the west. At
last she heard her father calling her at the
fence, and made haste to take up her basket
and run to him.

The day but one after this Dolly went with
her father and mother to the funeral. Funerals
in those old days had no soothing accessories.
People had not then learned to fill their houses
with flowers, and soften by every outward ap-
pliance the deadly severity of tHe hard central
fact of utter separation.

The only leaves ever used about the dead in
those days were the tansy and rosemary — bitter
herbs of aflliction. Every pleasant thing in the
house was shrouded in white; every picture
and looking-glass in its winding-sheet. The
coffin was placed open in the best front room,
and the mourners, enveloped in clouds of black
crape, sat around. The house on this occasion
was crowded; wagons came from far and near;
the lower rooms were all open and filled, and
Dr. Cushing's voice came faintly and plaintively
through the hush of silence.

He spoke tenderly of the departed : — " We have
seen our sister for many weeks waiting in the
land of Beulah by the River of Death. Angels

284

r^E FUNERAL,

have been coming across to visit her; we have
heard the flutter of their wings. We have seen
her rejoicing in full assurance of hope, having
laid down every earthly care ; we have seen her
going down the dark valley, leaning on the Be*
loved ; and now that we have met to pay the last
tribute to her memory, shall it be with tears
alone ? If we love our sister, shall we not rejoice
because she has gone to the Father? She has
gone where there is no more sickness, no more
pain, no more sorrow, no more death, and she
shall be ever with the Lord. Let us rejoice,
then, and give thanks unto God, who hath given
her the victory, and let us strive like her, by pa-
tient continuance in well-doing, to seek for glory
and honor and immortality,"

And then arose the solemn warble of the old
funeral hymn:

" Why should we mourn departing friends
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms.

•* Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear form of Jesus lay,
And scattered all the gloom.

** Thence He arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord we, too, shall fiy
At the great rising day.

we have
ave seen
;, having
seen her
L the Be*
y the last
rith tears
Lot rejoice

She has
, no more
1, and she
IS rejoice,
bath given
her, by pa-

for glory

of the old

ends

THE FUNERAL. 285

" Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our Vindred rise;
Awake ! ye nati us under ground ;
Ye saints I ascend the skies !"

The old tune of "China," with its weird ar-
rangement of parts, its mournful yet majestic
movement, was well fitted to express that mys-
terious defiance of earth's bitterest sorrow, that
solemn assurance of victory over life's deepest
anguish, which breathes in those words. It is
the major key invested with all the mournful
pathos of the minor, yet breathing a grand sus-
tained undertone of triumph — fit voice of that
only religion which bids the human heart rejoice
in sorrow and glory in tribulation.

Then came the prayer, in which the feelings
of the good man, enkindled by sympathy and
faith, seemed to bear up sorrowing souls, as on
mighty wings, into the regions of eternal peace.

In a general way nothing can be more impress-
ive, more pathetic and beautiful, than the Epis-
copal Church funeral service, but it had been ono
of the last requests of the departed that her old
pastor should minister at her funeral ; and there
are occasions when an affectionate and devout
man, penetrated with human sympathy, can utter
prayers such as no liturgy can equal. There are
prayers springing heavenward from devout hearts
that are as much superior to all written ones as

■OB

I I il

I ii

286

THE FUNERAL.

living, growing flowers out-bloom the dried treas-
ures of the herbarium. Not always, not by every
one, come these inspirations; too often what is
called extemporary prayer is but a form, differing
from the liturgy of the church only in being
poorer and colder.

But the prayer of Dr. Gushing melted and con-
soled ; it was an uplift from the darkness of earthly
sorrow into the grand certainties of the unseen ;
it had the undertone that can be given only by a
faith to which the invisible is even more real than
the things that are seen.

After the prayer one and another of the com-
pany passed through the room to take the last
look at the dead. Death had touched her gently.
As often happens in the case of aged people,
there had come back to her face something of
the look of youth, something which told of a
delicate, lily-like beauty which had long been
faded. There was too that mysterious smile,
that expression of rapturous repose, which is the
seal of heaven set on the earthly clay. It seemed
as if the softly-closed eyes must be gazing on
some ineffable vision of bliss, as if, indeed, the
beauty of the Lord her God was upon her.

Among the mourners at the head of the coffin
sat Zeph Higgins, like some rugged gray rock —
stony, calm and still. He shed no tear, while
his children wept and sobbed aloud ; only when

THE FUNERAL.

287

ed treas-

by every

what is

differing

in being

and con-
of earthly
e unseen;

only by a
; real than

• the com-
pe the last
er gently.
;d people,
nething of
told of a
Long been
ous smile,
hich is the
It seemed
gazing on
ndeed, the
m her.
the coffin
ray rock —
ear, while
only when

the coffin-lid was put on a convulsive movement
passed across his face. But it was momentary,
and he took his place in the procession to walk
to the grave in grim calmness.

The graveyard was in a lovely spot on the
Poganuc River. No care in those days had been
bestowed to ornament or brighten these last
resting-places, but Nature had taken this in hand
kindly. The blue glitter of the river sparkled
here and there through a belt of pines and hem-
locks on one side, and the silent, mounds were
sheeted with daisies, brightened now and then
with golden buttercups, which bowed their fair
heads meekly as the funeral train passed over
them.

Arrived at the grave, there followed the usual
sounds, so terrible to the ear of mourners — the
setting down of the coffin, the bustle of prepara-
tion, the harsh grating of ropes as the precious
burden was lowered to its last resting-place.
And then, standing around the open grave, they
sang:

** My flesh shall slumher in the ground
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound.
Then burst the chains, with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise."

Then rose the last words of prayer, in which
the whole finished service and all the survivors
were commended to God.

It was customary in those days for the head of

988

THE FUNERAL.

Ilipii:

a family to return thanks at the grave to the
friends and neighbors who had joined in the last
tribute of respect to the departed. There was a
moment's pause, and every eye turned on Zeph
Higgins. He made a movement and stretched
out his hands as if to speak ; but his voice failed
him, and he stopped. His stem features were con-
vulsed with the vain effort to master his feeling.

Dr. Gushing saw his emotion and said, *' In
behalf of our brother I return thanks to all the
friends who have given us their support and sym-
pathy on this occasion. Let us all pray that the
peace of God may rest upon this afflicted family."
The gathered friends now turned from the g^ave
and dispersed homeward.

With the instinct ot a true soul-physician, who
divines mental states at a glance, Dr. Gushing
forbore to address even a word to Zeph Hig-
gins; he left him to the inward ministration of
a higher Power.

But such tact and reticence belong only to
more instructed natures. There are never want-
ing well-meaning souls who, with the very best
intentions, take hold on the sensitive nerves of
sorrow with a coarse hand.

Deacon Peaslee was inwardly shocked to see
that no special attempt had been made to "im-
prove the dispensation" to Zeph's spiritual state,
and therefore felt called on to essay his skill.

THE FUNERAL,

289

5 to the
1 the last
;re was a
on Zeph
stretched
ice failed
were con-
feeling,
said, "In
to all the
: and sym-
ly that the
;d family."
L the grave

sician, who
r. Gushing
Zeph Hig-
stration of

ig only to
Lever want-
very best
nerves of

:ked to see
ideto "im-
[ritual state,
Ihis skill.

** Well, my friend," he said, coming up to him,
"I trust this affliction may be sanctified to

you."

Zeph glared on him with an impatient move-
ment and turned to walk away ; the Deacon,
however, followed assiduously by his side, going
on with his exhortation.

"You know it's no use contendin' with the
Lord."

"Well, who's ben a contendin* with the Lord?"
exclaimed Zeph, "I haint."

The tone ai d manner were not hopeful, but
the Deacon persevered.

"We must jest let the Lord do what he will
with us and ours."

" I hev let him — how was I goin* to help it?"

" We mustn't murmur," continued the Deacon
in a feebler voice, as he saw that his exhorta-
tion was not hopefully received.

"Who's ben a murmurin? /haint!*'

"Then you feel resigned, don't you?"

"I can't help myself. I've got' to make the
best on 't," said Zeph, trying to out-walk him.

"But you know "

"Let me alone, can't ye?" cried Zeph in a
voice of thunder; and the Deacon, scared and
subdued, dropped behind, murmuring, " Drefful
state o' mind! poor critter, so unreconciled! —
really awful!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

DOLLY AT THE WICKET GATE.

HE next Sunday rose calm and quiet
over the hills of Poganuc.

There was something almost preter-
natural in the sense of stillness and
utter repose which the Sabbath day used to
bring with it in those early times. The abso-
lute rest from every earthly employment, the
withholding even of conversation from temporal
things, marked it off from all other days. To
the truly devout the effect was something the
same as if the time had been spent in heaven.
On this particular dewy, fresh summer morn-
ing it seemed as if Nature herself were hushing
her breath to Lear tlxe music of a higher sphere.
Dolly stood at her open window looking out on
the wooded hills opposite, feathered with their
varied green, on the waving meadows with their
buttercups and daisies, on tiie old apple tree
in the corner of the lot where the bobolink was
tilting up and down, chattering and singing with
all his might. She was thinking of what she had

heard her father saying to her mother at break'
290

DOLLY AT TJIE WICKET GATE.

291

and quiet

3st preter-
illness and
,y used to
The abso-
lyment, the
temporal
days. To
ething the
in heaven,
mer morn-
ere hushing
her sphere,
[king out on
with their
s with theit
apple tree
lobolink was
singing with
hat she had
,er at break'

fast: how the sickness and death of one good
woman had been blessed to all that neighbor-
hood, and how a revival of religion was un-
doubtedly begun there.

All this made Dolly very serious. She thought
a great deal about heaven, and perfectly longed
to be quite sure she ever should get there. She
often had wished that there were such a thing
in reality as a Wicket Gate, and an old Inter-
preter's house, and a Palace Beautiful, for then
she would set right off on her pilgrimage at
once, and in time get to the Celestial City. But
how to get this spiritual, intangible prepara-
tion she knew not. To-day she knew was a
sacramental Sunday, and she should see all the
good people taking that sacrificial bread and
wine, but she should be left out.

And how to get in! There were r j Sunday-
schools in those days, no hymns or teachings
specially adapted to the child; and Dolly re-
membered to have heard serious elderly people
tell of how they were brought "under convic-
tion " and suffered for days and weeks before
the strange secret of mercy was revealed to
them, and vShe wondered how she ever should
get this conviction of sin. Poor Dolly had often
tried to feel very solemn and sad and gloomy,
and to think herself a dreadful sinner, but had
never succeeded. She was so young and so

292

DOLLY AT Till-: WICKET GATE.

healthy — the blood raced and tingled so in her
young veins , :*nd it she was p^insive and sad a
little while, yet, the first she knew, she would
find herself racing after Spring, or calling to
her brothers, or jumping up and down with her
skipping rope, and feeling full as airy and gay
as the bobolink across in the meadow. This
morning she was trying her best to feel her
sins and count them up; but the birds and the
daisies and the flowers were a sad interruption,
and she went to meeting quite dissatisfied.

When she saw the white simple table and the
shining cups and snowy bread of the Communion
she inly thought that the service could have
nothing for her — it would be all for those grown-
up, initiated Christians. Neverth'^less, when her
father began to speak she was drawn to listen to
him by a sort of pathetic earnestness in his voice.

The Doctor was feeling very earnestly and
deeply, and he had chosen a theme to awaken
responsive feeling in his church. His text was
the declaration of Jesus : " I call you not servants,,
but friends;'* and his subject was Jesus as the
soul-friend offered to every human being. For-
getting his doctrinal subtleties, he spoke with all
the simplicity and tenderness of a rich nature
concerning the faithful, generous, tender love of
Christ, how he cared for the soul's wants, ho'»:
he was patient with its errors, how he gently led

3 in her
[id sad a
le would
ailing to
witti her
and gay
w. This
, feel her
s and the
erruption,

sfied.

le and the
;ommunion
:ould have
ose grown-
, when her
:o Usten to
n his voice,
nestly and
to awaken
is text was
ot servants,
!sus as the
leing. Fo'"-
>ke with all
irich nature
tder love of
wants, ho'^^
le gently led

DOLLY AT THE WICKET GATE.

293

it alon^ the way of right, how he was always
with it, teaching its ignorance, guiding its wan-
derings, comforting its sorrows, with a love un-
wearied by faults, unchilled by ingratitude, till
he brought it through the darkness of earth to
the perfection of heaven.

Real, deep, earne ; feeling inclines to simplicity
of language, and the Doctor spoke in words that
even a child could understand. Dolly sat ab-
sorbed, her large blue eyes gathering tears as
she listened ; and when the Doctor said, " Come,
then, and trust your soul to this faithful Friend,"
Dolly's little heart throbbed *' I will." And she
did. For a moment she was discouraged by the
thought that she had not had any conviction of
sin ; but like a flash came the thought that Jesus
could give her that as well as anything else, and
that she could trust him for the whole. And so
her little earnest child-soul went out to the won-
derful Friend. She sat through the sacramental
service that followed, with swelling heart and
tearful eyes, and walked home filled with a new
joy. She went up to her father's study and fell
into his arms, saying, " Father, I have given
myself to Jesus, and ht has taken me."

The Doctor held her silently to his heart a
moment, and his tears dropped on her head.

" Is it 30?" he said. *' Then has a new flower
blossomed in the Kingdom this day.'*

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE CONFLICT.

HERE is one class of luckless mortals
in this world of ours whose sorrows,
though often more real than those of
other people, never bring them any
sympathy It is those in whom suffering ex-
cites an irritating conflict, which makes them
intolerable to themselves and others. The more
they suffer the more severe, biting and bitter
become their words and actions. The very sym-
pathy they long for, by a strange contrariness
of nature thev throw back on their friends as
an injury. Nobody knows where to have them,
or how to handle them, and when everybody
steers away from them they are inwardly deso-
late at their loneliness.

After the funeral train had borne away from
the old brown farm-house the silent form of
her who was its peace, its light, its comfort,
Zeph Higgins wantiered like an unquiet spirit
from room to room, feeling every silent memo-
rial of her who was no longer there as a stab
in the yet throbbing wound. Unlovely people

294

THE CONFLICT.

295

s mortals

sorrows,
I those of
them any
fering ex-
akes them
The more
and bitter

very sym-
ontrariness

friends as
Ihave them,

everybody

rdly deso-

[away <"rom
it form of

Its comfort,
luiet spirit

llent memo-

as a stab

rely people

are often cursed with an intense desire to be
loved, and the more unlovely they grow the
more intense becomes this desire. His love for
his wife had been unusually strong in the sense
of what is often called loving — that is, he needed
her, depended on her, and could not do without
her. He was always sure that she loved him;
he was always sure of her patient ear to what-
ever he wished to say, of her wish to do to her
utmost whatever he wanted her to do. Then
he was not without a certain sense of the beauty
and purity of her character, and had a sort of
almost superstitious confidence in her prayers
and goodness, like what the Italian peasant has
in his patron saint. He felt a sort of helpless-
ness and terror at the idea of facing life without
her. Besides this, he was tormented by \ secret
unacknowledged sense of his own unloveliness :
he was angry with himself— cursed himself, called
himself hard names ; and he who quarrels^ with
himself has this disadvantage, that his adversary
is inseparably his companion — lies down and
rises, eats, drinks and sleeps with him.

What intensified this conflict was the remem-
brance of his wife's dying words, enjoining on
him the relinquishment of the bitter quarrel
which had alienated him from his church and
his neighbors, and placed her in so false a posi-
tion.

ag6

THE CONFLICT.

He knew that he was in the wrong; he knew
that she was in the right, and that those words
spoken on her death-bed were God's voice to
him. But every nerve and fiber in him seemed
to rebel and resist; he would not humble him-
self; he would not confess; he would not take
a step toward reconciliation.

The storm that was raging within expressed
itself outwardly in an impatience and irritability
which tried his children to the utmost. Poor
Nabby did her best to assume in the family all
her mother's cares, but was met at every turn
by vexatious fault-finding.

" There now !** h'e said, coming out one morn-
ing, " Where's my stockings? Everything's being
neglected — not a pair to put on !"

*'0h yes. Father, I sat up and mended your
stockings last night before I went to bed. I
didn't go into your room, because I was afraid
of waking you ; but here they are on my basket."

" Give 'em here, then !" said Zeph harshly.
*' I want my things where I know where they
are. Your mother always had everything ready
so I didn't have to ask for it."

" Well, I never shall be as good as Mother if
I try till I'm gray," said Nabby, impatiently.

" Don't you be snapping back at me," said
Zeph. " But it's jest so everywhere. Nobody
won't care for me now. I don't expect it."

]
t

THE CONfLICT,

297

knew
words
)ice to
seemed
le him-
ot take

pressed
itability
;. Poor
imily all
;ry turn

le morn-
r's being

;d your
bed. I
IS afraid
[basket."
[harshly.
;re they
Ig ready

[other if
(ently.

' said
iNobody
it.

"Well, Father, I'm sure I try the best I can,
and you keep scolding me all the time. It's
discouraging."

*' Oh, yes, I'm a devil, I suppose. Everybody's
right but me. Well, I shall be out of the way
one of these days, and nobody'U care. There
ain't a critter in the world cares whether I'm
alive or dead — not even my own children."

The sparks flashed through the tears in
Nabby's eyes. She was cut to the soul by the
cruel injustice of these words, and a hot and
hasty answer rose to her lips, but was smothered
in her throat.

Nabby had become one of the converts of the
recently-commenced revival of religion, and had
begun to lay the discipline of the Christian
life on her temper and her tongue, and found it
hard work. As yet she had only attained so far
as repression and indignant silence, while the
battle raged tempestuously within.

" I'd like just to go off and leave things to take
care of themselves," she said to herself, "and
then he'd see whether I don't do anything. Try,
and try, and try, and not a word said — nothing
but scold, scold, scold. It's too bad ! Flesh and
blood can't stand everything! Mother did, but
I ain't Mother. I must try to be like her, though ;
but it's dreadful hard with Father. How did
Mother ever keep so quiet and always be so

298

THE CONFLICT,

pleasant? She used — to pray a great deal.
Well, I must pray."

Yet if Nabby could have looked in at that
moment and seen the misery in her father s soul
her indignation would have been lost in pity ;
for Zeph in his heart knew that Nabby was a
good, warm-hearted girl, honestly trying her
very best to make her mothei 's place good. He
knew it, and when he was alone and quiet he felt
it so that tears came to his eyes ; and yet this mis-
erable, irritable demon that possessed him had led
him to say these cruel words to her — words that
he cursed himself for saying, the hour after. But
on this day the internal conflict was raging
stronger than ever. The revival in the neighbor-
hood was making itself felt and talked about, and
the Friday evening prayer-meeting in the school-
house was at hand.

Zeph was debating with himself whether he
would take the first step towards reconciliation
with his church by going to it. His wife's dying
words haunted him, and he thought he might at
least go as far as this in the right direction ; but
the mere suggestion of the first step roused a
perfect whirlwind of opposition within him.

Certain moral conditions are alike in all minds,
and this stern, gnarled, grizzled old New England
farmer had times when he felt exactly as Milton
has described a lost archangel as feeling;

X deal.

at that
ir s soul
n pity;
Y was a
ing her
od. He '
;t he felt
this mis-
1 had led
Drds that
:er. But
5 raging
leighbor-
bout, and
e school-
ether he
Inciliation
fe's dying
might at
ion; but
roused a
lim.

ill minds,

England

IS Milton

THE CONFLICT jqq

*' Oh, then, at last relent ! Is there no place
Left for repentance ? none for pardon left ?
None left but by submission, and that word
Disdain forbids me and my dread of shame."

It is curious that men are not generally
ashamed of any form of anger, wrath or malice ;
but of the first step towards a nobler nature — the
confession of a wrong — they are ashamed.
. Never had Zeph been more intolerable and
unreasonable to his sons in the field-work than
on this day.

He was too thoroughly knit up in the habits
of a Puritan education to use any form of profane
language, but no man knew so well how to pro-
duce the startling effect of an oath without swear-
ing; and this day he drove about the field in
such a stormy manner that his sons, accustomed
as they were to his manners, were alarmed.

" Tell you what," said one of the boys to
Abner, "the old man's awful cranky to-day.
Reely seems as if he was a little bit sprung. 1
don't know but he's going crazy l"

ii::!

CHAPTER XXX.

THE CRISIS.

|T was a warm, soft June evemng".
The rosy tints of sunset were just*
merging into brown shadows over the
landscape, the frogs peeped and gur-
gled in the marshes, and the whippoorwills were
beginning to answer each other from the thick
recesses of the trees, when the old ministerial
chaise of Dr. Gushing might have been seen
wending its way up the stony road to the North
Poganuc school-house.

The Doctor and his wife were talking confi-
dentially, and Dolly, seated between them, en-
tered with eager sympathy into all they were
saying.

They were very happy, with a simple, honest,
earnest happiness, for they hoped that the great
object of his life and labors was now about to
be accomplished, that the power of a Divine In-
fluence was descending to elevate and purify
and lift the souls of his people to God.

"My dear, I no longer doubt," he said. "The

presence of the Lord is evidently w^ith us. If
300

THE CRISIS,

301

re just'
ver the
id gur-
Is were
le thick
nisterial
en seen
e North

confi-
lem, en-
ey were

honest,

le great

bout to

vine In-

purify

"The
us. If

only the church will fully awaken to their duty
we may hope for a harvest now."

"What a pity, ' answered Mrs. Gushing, "that
that old standing quarrel of Zeph Higgins and
the church cannot be made up: his children are
all deeply interested in religion, but he stands
right in their way."

" Why don't you talk to him, Papa ?" asked
Dolly.

" Nobody can speak to him but God, my
child; there's a man that nobody knows how
to approach."

Dolly reflected silently on this for some min-
utes, and then said,

" Papa, do you suppose Christ loves him ?
Did he die for him?"

"Yes, my child. Christ loved and died for
all."

" Do you think he believes that ?" asked Dolly,
earnestly.

** I'm afraid he doesn't think much about it,"
answered her father.

Here they came in sight of the little school-
house. It seemed already crowded. Wagons
were tied along the road, and people were stand-
ing around the doors and windows.

The Doctor and Mrs. Cushing made their way
through the crowd to the seat behind the Httle
pine table. He saw in the throng not merely

302

THE CRrSIS.

the ordinary attendance at prayer-meetings, but
many of the careless and idle class who seldom
were seen inside a church. There were the
unusual faces of Abe Bowles and Liph Kingsley
a'nd Mark Merrill, who had left the seduc-
tions of Glazier's bar-room to come over and see
whether there was really any revival at North
Poganuc, and not perhaps without a secret in-
ternal suggestion that to be converted would be
the very best thing for them temporally as well
as spiritually, Liph's wife, a poor, discouraged,
forsaken-looking woman, had persuaded him to
come over with her, and sat there praying, as
wives of drunken men often pray, for some help
from above to save him, and her, and her chil-
dren.

Nothing could be rougher and more rustic
than the old school-house, — its walls hung with
cobwebs ; its rude slab benches and desks hacked
by many a schoolboy's knife; the plain, ink-
stained pine table before the minister, with its
two tallow candles, whose dim rays scarcely
gave light enough to read the hymns. There
was nothing outward to express the real great-
ness of what was there in realitv.

There are surroundings that make us realize
objectively the grandeur of the human soul, and
the sublimity of the possibilities which Chris-
tianity opens to it. The dim cathedral, whose

gs, but
seldom
ere the
Lingsley

seduc-

and see

t North

jcret in-

rould be

as well
ouraged,
I him to
lying, as
^me help
her chil'

ire rustic*
ng with
[:s hacked
[ain, ink-
with its
scarcely
. There
^al great-
is realize
Isoul, and
ih Chris-
il, whose

THE CRISIS.

303

arches seem to ascend to the skies, from whose
distant recesses pictured forms of saints and
angels look down, whose far-reaching aisles thrill
with chants solemn and triumphant, while clouds
of incense arise at the holy altar, and white-
robed priests and kneeling throngs prostrate
themselves before the Invisible Majesty — all this
" pomp of dreadful sacrifice " enkindles the ideas
of the infinite and the eternal, and makes us feel
how great, how glorious, how mysterious and
awful is the destiny of man.

But the New England Puritan had put the
ocean between him and all such scenic presen-
tations of the religious life. He had renounced
every sensuous aid, and tasked himself to bring
their souls to face the solemn questions of exist-
ence and destiny in their simple nakedness, with-
out drapery or accessories; there were times in
the life of an earnest minister when these truths
were made so intensely vivid and eflective as
to overbear all outward disadvantages of sur-
rounding ; and to-night the old school-house,
though rude and coarse as the manger of Beth-
lehem, like that seemed hallowed by the presence
of a God.

From the moment the Doctor entered he was
conscious of a present Power. There was a hush,
a stillness, and the words of his prayer seemed to
go out into an atmosphere thrilling with emotion;

304

THE CRISIS,

and when he rose to speak he saw the counte-
nances of his parishioners with that change upon
them which comes from the waking up of the
soul to higher things. Hard, weather-beaten
faces were enkindled and eager; every eye was
fixed upon him ; every word he spoke seemed to
excite a responsive emotion.

The Doctor read from the Old Testament the
story of Achan. He told how the host of the
Lord had been turned back because there was
one in the camp who had secreted in his tent an
accursed thing. He asked, " Can it be now, and
here, among us who profess to be Christians, that
we are secreting in our hearts some accursed
thing that prevents the good Spirit of the Lord
from working among us? Is it our pride? Is it
our covetousness ? Is it our hard feeling against
a brother? Is there anything that we know to
be wrong that we refuse to make right — anything
that we know belongs to God that we are withhold-
ing ? If we Christians lived as high as we ought,
if we lived up to our professions, would there be
any sinners unconverted ? Let us beware how we
stand in the way. If the salt have lost its savor
wherewith shall it be salted ? Oh, my brethren,
let us not hinder'the work of God. I look around
on this circle and I miss the face of a sister that
was always here to help us with her prayers;
now she is with the general assembly and church

THE CRISIS.

30s

of the first-born, whose names are written in
heaven, with the spirits of the just made perfect.
But her soul will rejoice with the angels of God
if she looks down and sees us all coming up to
where we ought to be. God grant that her
prayers may be fulfilled in us. Let us examine
ourselves, brethren ; let us cast out the stumbling-
block, that the way of the Lord may be pre-
pared."

The words, simple in themselves, became power-
ful by the atmosphere of deep feeling into which
they were uttered ; there were those solemn
pauses, that breathless stillness, those repressed
breathings, that magnetic sympathy th..t unites
souls under the power of one overshadowing
conviction.

When the Doctor sat down, suddenly there
was a slight movement, and from a dark back
seat rose the gaunt form of Zeph Higgins. He
was deathly pale, and his form trembled with
emotion. Every eye was fixed upon him, and
people drew in their breath, with involuntary
surprise and suspense.

"Wal, I must speak," he said. "/*w a stum-
bling-block. I've allers ben one. I hain't never
ben a Christian — that's jest the truth on't. I
never hed oughter 'a* ben in the church. I've
ben all wrong — wrong — WRONG! I knew I was
wrong, but I wouldn't give up. It's ben jest my

3o6

THE CRISIS,

I !

awful WILL. I've set up my will agin God Al-
mighty. I've set it agin my neighbors — agin the
minister and agin the church. And now the
Lord's come out agir me ; he's struck me down.
I know he's got a right — he can do what he
pleases — but I ain't resigned — not a grain. I
submit 'cause I can't help myself; but my heart's
hard and wicked. I expect my day of grace is
over. I ain't a Christian, and I can't be, and I
shall go to hell at last, and sarve me right!"

And Zeph sat down, grim and stony, and the
neighbors looked one on another in a sort of con-
sternation. There was a terrible earnestness in
those words that seemed to appall every one and
prevent any from uttering the ordinary common-
places of religious exhortation. For a few mo-
ments the circle was silent as the grave, when Dr.
Gushing said, *' Brethren, let us pray ;" and in his
prayer he seemed to rise above earth and draw
his whole flock, with all their sins and needs and
wants, into the presence-chamber of heaven.

He prayed that the light of heaven might shine
into the darkened spirit of their brother ; that he
might give himself up utterly to the will of God ;
that we might all do it, that we might become as
little children in the kingdom of heaven. With
the wise tact which distinguished his ministry he
closed the meeting immediately after the prayer
with one or two serious words of exhortation.

filE CRISIS.

307

God Al-
agin the
now the
le down,
what he
;rain. I
y heart's
grace is
>e, and I
ight!"
, and the
t of con-
stness in
one and
common-
few mo-
hen Dr.
d in his
Ind draw^
eds and
ven.

:ht shine
that he
of God ;
Icome as
With
listry he
prayer
)rtation.

He feared lest what had been gained in impres-
sion might be talked away did he hold the
meeting open to the well-meant, sincere but un-
instructed efforts of the brethren to meet a case
like that which had been laid open before them.

After the service was over and the throng
slowly dispersed, Zeph remained in his place, rigid
and still. One or two approached to speak to
him ; there was in fact a tide of genuine sympathy
and brotherly feeling that longed to express itself.
He might have been caught up in this powerful
current and borne into a haven of peace, had he
been one to trust himself to the help of others :
but he looked neither to the right nor to the
left ; his eyes were fixed on the floor ; his brown,
bony hands held his old straw hat in a crushmg
grasp ; his whole attitude and aspect were repel-
ling and stern to such a degree that none dared
address him.

The crowd slowly passed on and out. Zeph
sat alone, as he thought, but the minister, his
wife, and little Dolly had remained at the upper
end of the room. Suddenly, as if sent by an
irresistible impulse, Dolly stepped rapidly down
the room and with eager gaze laid her pretty
little timid hand upon his shoulder, crying, in a
voice tremulous at once with fear and with inten-
sity, " O, why do you say that you can not be a
Christian ? Don't you know that Christ loves you ?"

! -

I,!

1^!

308

THE CRISIS.

Christ loves you ! The words thrilled through
his soul with a strange, new power ; he opened
his eyes and looked astonished into the little ear-
nest, pleading face.

"Christ loves you," she repeated; "oh, do be-
lieve it !"

" Loves me / " iie said, slowly. '* Why should
he?"

" But he does ; he loves us all. He died for us.
He died for you. Oh, believe it. He'll help you;
he'll make you feel right. Only trust him. Please
say you will !"

Zeph looked at the little face earnestly, in a
softened, wondering way. A tear slowly stole
down his hard cheek.

" rhank'e, dear child," he said.

"You will believe it?'*

" I'll try."

"You will trust Him?"

Zeph paused a moment, then rose up with a
new and different expression in his face, and said,
in a subdued and earnest voice, "/ wilV

"Amen!" said the Doctor, who stood listening;
and he silently grasped the old man's hand.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE JOY OF HARVEST.

|HEN Zeph turned from the little red
school-house to go home, after the
prayer-meeting, he fcit that peace
which comes after a great interior
crisis has passed. He had, for the first time in
his life, yielded his will, absolutely and thor-
oughly. He had humbled himself, in a public
confession of wrong-doing, before all his neigh-
bors, before those whom he had felt to be ene-
mies. He had taken the step convulsively,
unwillingly, constrained thereto by a mighty
overmastering power which wrought v/ithin
him. He had submitted, without love, to the
simple, stern voice of conscience and authority —
the submission of a subject to a monarch, not
that of a child to a father. Just then and there,
when he felt himself crushed, lonely, humbled
and despairing, the touch of that child's hand on
his, the pleading childish face, the gentle childish
voice, had spoken to him of the love of Christ.
There are hard, sinful, unlovely souls, who yet
long to be loved, who sigh in their dark prison

309

S'o

THE JOY OF HARVEST.

for that tenderness, that devotion, of which they
are consciously unworthy. Love might redeem
them ; but who can love them ? There is a fable
of a prince doomed by a cruel enchanter to wear
a loathsome, bestial form till some fair woman
should redeem him by the transforming kiss of
love. The fable is a parable of the experience
of many a lost human soul.

The religion of Christ owes its peculiar power
to its revealing a Divine Lover, the one Only
Fair, the altogether Beautiful, who can love the
unlovely back into perfectness. The love of
Christ has been the dissolving power that has
broken the spells and enchantments which held
human souls in bondage and has given them
power to rise to the beauty and freedom of the
sons of God.

As Zeph walked homeward through the lonely
stillness of the night, again and again the words
thrilled through his soul, " Chrisd loves you'' — and
such tears as he had never wept before stood
in his eyes, as he said wonderingly, " Me — me ?
Oh, is it possible? Can it be?" And Christ died
for him! He had known it all these years,
and never thanked him, never loved him. The
rush of new emotion overpowered him; he en-
tered his house, walked straight to the great
family Bible that lay on a stand in the best room
pf the house : it was the very room where thq

ch they
redeem

a fable
to wear
woman

kiss of
lerience

• power
e Only
ave the
love of
lat has
:h held
fi them
of the

lonely
words
—and
stood
! — me?
st died
years,
The
le en-
great
room
■e the

THE JOY OF HARVEST.

3IX

coffin of'his wife had stood, where he had sat,
stony and despairing, during the funeral ex-
ercises. Zeph opened the Bible at random and
began turning the leaves, and his eye fell on
the words, ♦* Unto Him that loved us and washed
us from our sins in his own blood and hath made
us to our God kings and priests, to him be
glory!" His heart responded with a strange
new joy — a thrill of hope that he, too, miglit
be washed from his sins.

Who can read the awful mysteries of a single
soul? We see human beings, hard, harsh, earth-
ly, and apparently without an aspiration for any
thing high and holy; but let us never say that
there is not far down in the depths of any soul
a smothered aspiration, a dumb repressed desire
to be something higher and purer, to attain the
perfcotness to which God calls it.

Zeph felt at this moment that Christ who so
loved him could purif)' him, could take away
his pride and willfulness ; and he fell on his knees,
praying without words, but in the spirit of him
of old who cried, " If thou wilt, thou canst make
me clean." As he prayed a great peace fell upon
him, a rest and stillness of soul such as he had
never felt before ; he lay down that night and
slept the sleep of a little child.

But when next day Zeph Higgins walked into
Deacon Dickenson's store and of his own accord

312

THE yOY OF HARVEST.

offered to put back the water-pipes that led to
his spring, and to pay whatever cost and damage
the Deacon might have incurred in throwing
them out, there was then no manner of doubt
that some higher power than that of man had
been at work in his soui.

The Deacon himself was confounded, almost
appalled, by the change that had come over his
neighbor. He had been saying all his life that
the grace of God could do anything and convert
anybody, but he never expected to see a conver-
sion like that. Instead of grasping eagerly at the
offered reparation he felt a strange emotion within
himself, a sort of choking in his throat ; and now
that he saw the brother with whom he had con-
tended yielding so unconditionally, he began to
question himself whether he had no wrong to
confess on his side.

" Wal now, I expect I've ben wrong too," he
said. " We ain't perfectly sanctified, none on us,
and I know I hain't done quite right, and I hain't
felt right. I got my back up, and I've said things
I hadn't orter. Wal, we'll shake hands on't. I
ain't perticklar 'bout them water-pipes now ; we'll
let bygones be bygones."

But Zeph had set his heart on reparation, and
here was a place where the pertinacity of his
nature had an honest mission ; so by help of ref-
erence to one or two neighbors as umpires the

THE JOY OF HARVEST.

313

whole loss was finally made good and the long-
standing controversy with all its ill-feeling settled
and buried forever out of sight.

The news of this wonderful change spread
through all the town.

" I declar' for 't," said Liph Kingsley to Bill
Larkins, " this ere's a reel thing, and it's time
for me to be a-thinkin'. I've got a soul to be
saved too, and I mean to quit drinkin' and seek
the Lord."

"Poh!" said Bill, "you may say so and think
so ; but you won't do it. You'll never hold out."

" Don't you believe that ; Christ will help you,"
said Zeph Higgins, who had overheard the con-
versation. " He has helped me ; he can help you.
He can save to the uttermost. There 'tis in the
Bible— try it. We'll all stand by ye."

A voice like this from old Zeph Higgins im-
pressed the neighbors as being almost as much
of a miracle as if one of the gray cliffs of old
Bluff Head had spoken ; but his heart was full,
and he was ready everywhere to testify to the
love that had redeemed him. No exhorter in the
weekly prayer-meeting spoke words of such
power as he.

The few weeks that followed were marked in
the history of the town. Everywhere the meet-
ings for preaching and prayer were crowded.
Glazier's bar-room was shut up for want of

314

THE JOY OF HARVEST.

custom, and Glazier himself renounced th^ sell-
ing of liquor and became one of the converts
of the revival. For a while every member of
the church in the village acted as if the w^on-
derful things which they all professed to believe
were really true — as if there were an immor-
tality of glory to be gained or lost by our lite
here.

The distinction between the aristocracy of
Town Hill and the outlying democracy of the
farming people was merged for the time m a
sense of a higher and holier union. Colonel
Davenport and Judge Gridley were seen with
Doctor Gushing in the school-houses of the out-
lying districts, exhorting and praying, and the
farmers from the distant hills crowded in to the
Town Hill meetings. For some weeks the multi-
tude was of one heart and one soul. A loftier
and mightier influence overshadowed them, un-
der whose power all meaner differences sunk
out of sight. Such seasons as these are like
warm showers that open leaf and flower, buds
that have been long forming. Everybody in
those days that attended Christian services had
more or less of good purposes, of indefinite
aspiration to be better, of intentions that related
to some future. The revival brought these out
in the form of an immediate practical purpose,
a definite, actual beginning in a new life.

THE yOY OF HARVEST.

315

Lh^* sell-
converts
nber of
le won-
believe
immor-
our life

racy of

of the

ne m a

Colonel

en with

the out-

and the

1 to the

e multi-

^ loftier

em, un-

BS sunk

ire like

, buds

)ody in

ces had

definite

lese out

mrpose,

"Well, Mother," said Hiel Jones, "Tve made
up my mind to be a Christian. I've counted
the cost, and it will cost something, too. I was
a-gom* up to Vermont to trade tor a team o*
hosses, and I can't make the trade I should 'a'
made. It I jine the church I mean to live up to 't,
and 1 can't make them sharp trades fellers do.
1 could beat 'em all out o' their boots," said
Hiel, with rather a regretful twinkle in his eye,
"but I won't; I'll do the right thing, ef I don't
make so much by*t. Nabby and me's both
agreed 'bout that. We shall jine the church
together, and be married as soon as I get back
from Vermont. 1 allers meant to git religion
sometime — but somehow, lately, I've felt that
now is the time."

On one bright autumnal Sabbath of that season
the broad aisle of the old meeting-house was
filled with candidates solemnly confessing their
faith and purpose to lead the Christian life.
There, standing side by side, were all ages, from
the child to the gray-haired man. There stood
Dolly with her two brothers, her heart thrilling
with the sense of the holy rite in which she was
joining; there Nabby and Hiel side by side;
there all the sons of Zeph Higgins; and there,
lastly, the gray, worn form of old Zeph himself.
Although enrolled as a church member he had
asked to stand up and take anew those vows oi

3i6

THE JOY OF HARVEST.

which he had never before understood the mean-
ing or felt the spirit, and thus reunite himself
with the church from which he had separated.

That day was a recompense to Dr. Gushing
for many anxieties and sorrows. He now saw
fully that though the old regime of New England
had forever passed, yet there was still in the
hands of her ministry that mighty power which
Paul was not ashamed to carry to Rome as ade-
quate to regenerate a world. He saw that in-
temperance and profanity and immorality could
be subdued by the power of religious motive
working in the hearts of individual men, taking
away the desire to do evil, and that the Gospel
of Christ is to-day, as it was of old and ever will
be, the power of God and the wisdom of God
to the salvation of every one that believeth.

i the mean-
lite himself
separated.
)r. Gushing
e now saw
ew England
still in the
lower which
ome as ade-
saw that in-
)rality could
;ious motive
men, taking
t the Gospel
nd ever will
om of God
jelieveth.

CHAPTER XXXII.

SIX YEARS LATEF.

IX years step softly, with invisible foot-
steps, over the plain of life, bearing us
on with an insensible progress. Six
years of winter snows and spring thaws,
of early blue-birds and pink May-flower buds
under leafy banks, of anemone, crowfoot and
violet in the fields, of apple-blossoms in the or-
chards, and new green leaves in the forest; six
years of dark-green summers in the rustling
woods, of fire-lilies in the meadow-lots and scar-
let lobelias by the water-brooks, of roses and
lilies and tall phloxes in the gardens; six years
of autumnal golden rod and aster, of dropping nuts
and rainbow-tinted forests, of ripened grain and
gathered corn, of harvest hOme and thanksgiv-
ing proclamation and gathering of families about
the home table to consider the loving-kindness
of the Lord : — by such easy stages, such comings
and goings, is our mortal pilgrimage marked off.
When the golden rod and aster have bloomed

for us sixty or seventy seasons, then we are near

317

3i8

SIX YEAJiS LA TEH.

the banks of the final river, we are coming to the
time of leaving the flowers of earth tor the flow-
ers of Paradise.

The six years in Poganuc had brought their
changes, not. in external nature, for that remained
quiet and beautiful as ever ; the same wooded hills,
with their sylvan shades and hidden treasures
of fruits and flowers, the same brown, sparkling
river, where pickerel and perch darted to and
fro, and trout lurked in cool, shadowy hollows:
but the old gra^ yard bore an added stone or
two; mounds wet with bitter tears had grown
green and flowery, and peaceable Iruits of right-
eousness had sprung up from harvests sown
there in weeping.

As to the Parsonage and its inmates, six years
had added a little sprinkle of silver to the Doc-
tor's head, and a little new learning of the loving-
kindness of the Lord to his heart. The fruits of
the revival gathered into his church were as sat-
isfactory as ordinary human weakness allows.
The Doctor was even more firmly seated in the
respect and affection of his parish than in old
days, when the ministry was encompassed by the
dignities and protections of law. Poganuc was
a town where an almshouse was almost a super-
fluous institution, and almsgiving made difficult
by the fact that there were no poor people ; for
since the shutting of Glazier's bar-room, and the

SIX YEARS LATER.

319

ning to the
)r the flow-

Dught their
it remained
ooded hills,
n treasures
a, sparkling
ted to and
vy hollows:
ed stone or
had grown
lits ot right-
rvests sown

;s, six years
Ito the Doc-
the loving-
'he fruits of
ere as sat-
^ess allows,
iated in the
[than in old
Lssed by the
►ganuc was
ist a super-
jde difficult
leople; for
im, and the

reformation of a few noted drunkards, there was
scarce anybody not in the way of earning a
decent and comfortable living. Such were our
New England villages in the days when its
people were of our own blood and race, and the
pauper population of Europe had not as yet been
landed upon our shores.

As to the characters of our little story, they,
also, had moved on a stage in the journey of life.

Hiel Jones had become a thriving man; had
bought a share in the stage-line that ran through
the town, and owned the finest team of horses in
the region. He and our friend Nabby were an
edifying matrimonial firm, comfortably established
at housekeeping in a trim, well-kept dwelling not
far from the Parsonage, with lilac bushes over
the front windows, and red peonies and yellow
lilies in the door-yard.

A sturdy youngster of three years, who toddled
about, upsetting matters generally, formed a large
part of the end and aim of Nabby's existence.
To »ay thv. truth, this young, bright-eyed, curly-
pated slip of humanity was enough to furnish
work for a dozen women, for he did mischief with
a rapidity, ingenuity and energy that was per-
fectly astonishing. What small efforts the parents
made in the direction of family government were
utterly frustrated by the fond and idolatrous de-
votion '^f old Zeph, who evidently considered it

320

SIX YEARS LATER.

the special privilege of a grandfather to spoil
the rising generation.

Scarce a day passed that Zeph was not at the
house, his pockets stuffed with apples, cakes or
nuts for the boy. The old man bowed his grey
head to the yoke of youth ; he meekly did the
infant's will ; he was the boy's horse and cantered
for him, he was a cock and crowed for him, he
was a hen and cackled for him; he sacrificed
dignity and consistency at those baby feet as the
wise men of old laid down their gold, frankin-
cense and myrrh.

Zeph had ripened like a winter apple. The
hard, snarly astringency of his character had
grown sweet and mild. His was a nature capa-
ble of a great and lasting change. When he
surrendered his will to his God he surrendered
once for all, and so the peace oi God fell upon
him and kept him. He was a consistent and
most useful member of the church; and began to
be known in the neighborhood by the semi-
affectionate title of "Uncle Zeph," a sort of
brevet rank which indicated a certain general
confidence in his disposition to neighborly good
offices.

The darling wish of his wife's heart had been
accomplished in his eldest son Abner. He had
sent him through college, sparing no labor and
no hardship in himsell to give the youth every

SIX YEARS LATER,

321

• to Spoil

lot at the
, cakes or
a his grey
ly did the
d cantered
or him, he
sacrificed
feet as the
Ld, frankin-

tpple. The
iracter had
ature capa-
When he
surrendered
d fell upon
sistent and
d began to
the semi-
a sort of
in general
borly good

-t had been

|r. He had

labor and

routh every

advantage. And Abner had proved, an able
scholar; his college career had been even brill-
iant, and he had now returned to his native
place to pursue his theological studies under Dr.
Gushing.

It will be well remembered that in the former
days of New England there were no specific
theological institutions, but the young candidate
for the ministry took his studies under the care
of some pastor, who directed his preparatory
course and initiated him into his labors, and this
course of thmgs once established was often con-
tinued from choice even after institutions of
learning were founded.

The Doctor had an almost paternal pride in
this offshoot that had grown up in his parish ; he
taught him with enthusiasm ; he took him in his
old chaise to the associations and ministerial
meetings about the State, and gave him every
opportunity to exercise his gifts in speaking.

It was a proud Sunday for old Zeph when his
boy preached his first sermon in the Doctor's
pulpit. The audience in the Poganuc meeting-
house, as we have indicated, was no mean one in
point of education, ability and culture, but every
one saw and commended the dignity and self-
possession with which the young candidate filled
the situation, and there was a universal approval
of his discourse from even the most critical of

u-TT.^-^^- "wTr!;

322

SIX YEARS LATER.

his audience. But the face and figure of old
Zeph as he leaned forward in his seat, following
with breathless eagerness every word; his blue
eyes kindling, the hard lines of his face relaxing
into an expression of absorbed and breathless in-
; terest, would have made a study for a painter.
Every point in the argument, the flash of every
illustration, the response to every emotion, could
have been read in his face as in an open book ;
and when after service the young candidate
received the cgmmendations of Colonel Daven-
port, Judge Belcher and Judge Gridley, Zeph's
cup of happiness was full. Abner was an excep-
tion to the saying that a prophet hath no honor
in his own country, for both classes in society
vied with each other to do him honor. The
farming population liked him for being one of
themselves, the expression of what they felt
themselves capable of being and becoming under
similar advantages; while the more cultivated
class really appreciated the talent and energy of
the young man, and were the better pleased with
it ^s having arisen in their own town.

So his course was all fair, until, as Fate would
have it, he asked one thing too much of her —
and thereof came a heart-ache.

Our little friend Dolly had shot up into a
blooming and beautiful maiden — warm-hearted,
enthusiastic, and whole-souled as we have seen

i\ \'

ire of old
, following
; his blue
:e relaxing
eathless in-
a painter,
ih of every
)tion, could
open book ;
; candidate
mel Daven-
iley, Zeph's
IS an excep-
th no honor
s in society
onor. The
►eing one of
X they felt
[ming under
cultivated
id energy of
ileased with

rn.

Fate would
:h of her—

up into a

^rm-hearted,

have seen

SIX YEARS LATER.

323

her in her childhood. She was in everything
the sympathetic response that parents love to
find in a child. She entered with her whole
soul into all her father's feelings and plans, and
had feit and expressed such an honest, frank,
and hearty friendliness to the young man, such
an interest in his success, that the poor youth
was beguiled into asking more than Dolly could
give.

Modern young ladies, who count and cata-
logue their victims, would doubtless be amused
to have seen Dolly's dismay at her unexpected
and undesired conquest. The recoil was so
positive and decided as to be beyond question,
but Dolly's conscience was sorely distressed.
She had meant nothing but the ordinary loving-
kindness of a good and generous heart. She
had wanted to make him happy, and had ended
in making him apparently quite miserable; and
Dolly was sincerely afflicted about it. What
had she done ? Had she done wrong ? She
never thought— never dreamed — of such a thmg.

The fact was that Doily had those large,
earnest, persuasive eyes that are very danger-
ous, and sometimes seem .o say more than they
mean; and she had quick sudden smiles, and
twinkling dimples, and artless, honest ways, and
so much general good-will and kindliness, that
one might pardonably be deceived by her.

I i

SIX YEARS LA TER.

It is said that there are lakes whose waters
are so perfectly transparent that they deceive
the eye as to their depth. Dolly was like these
crystal waters; with all her impulsive frankness
there was a deep world within — penetralia that
had been yet uninvaded — and there she kept
her ideals. The man she might love was one of
the immortals, not in the least like a blushing
young theological student in a black coat, with
a hymn-book under his arm. Precisely what
he was she had never been near enough to see ;
but she knew in a minute what he was not.
Therefore she had said "No" with a resolute en-
ergy that admitted of no hope, and yet with a
distress and self-reproach that was quite genuine.

This was Dolly's first real trouble.

' ' .••; :f>

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE DOCTOR MAKES A PISCOVERV.

"IHY, wife." said the Doctor r. u-
I up his spectacles on his fore/ i"^
booking up fr„„ h> LXd "'
mon, "our little Doll^ '^'■

grown-up young lady " ^ " ''^^^ a

wen, oj course, whaf ci,^ u ,
joined Mrs. Gushing, whh the d" "'' '^'" ^'^-
becomes the feminine Trtnl "^^ ^'' ^'''^h

ground; -she's ti^ '^^7" '''■"*'^ '^™™"«
handsome girl too " ^"'' ^"^ ^''^'s a

was pretty." -"-ning. 'Dolly always

"Well, what do you think H.v • .
saying to me about her?" ..^^'"' ^^ ^^^'^

325

THE DOCTOR MAKES A DISCOVERY.

ing, "something he might as well have left un-
said, for all the good it will do."

"Now, my dear, Higgins is going to make
one of the heading ministers of the State. He
has a bright, strong, clear mind; he is a thor-
ough scholar and a fine speaker, and I have had
a letter from the church m Northboro' about
settling hvm there."

" All very well. I'm sure I'm glad of it. with
all my heart/' said Mrs. Gushing; "but if he has
any thoughts of our Dolly the sooner he gets
them out of his head the better for him. Dolly
has felt verj/ kindly to him, as she does to every-
body; i'he has been interested in him simply
and only as a f lend ; but any suggestion of par-
ticular interest on his part would exceedingly
annoy her. You had better speak very decidedly
to him to this effect. You can say that I under-
stand my daughter's mind, and that it will be
very painful to her to have anything more said
on the subject."

"Well, really, I'm sorry for Higgins," said
the Doctor, " he's such a good-hearted worthy
fellow, and I believe he's very deep in love."

" Perhaps," said Mrs. Gushing decidedly ; " but
our Dolly can't marry every good-hearted worthy
fellow that comes in her way, if he is in love ;
and Im sure I'm in no hurry to give her away, —
she is the light and music of the house,"

e left un-
to make
5tate. He
is a thor-
[ have had
loro* about

[ of it. with
at if he has
ler he gets
him. Dolly
es to every-
him simply
stion of par-
exceedingly
ry decidedly
hat I under-
it it will be
,g more said

T/l£ DOCTOR MAKES A DISCOVERY.

327

iggins,

>»

said
irted worthy

in love."
[idedly; "but
;arted worthy
le is in love;
her away,—
■house,'*

" So she is," said the Doctor ; " I couldn't do
without her; but I pity poor Higgins."

"Oh, you may spare your pity; he won't
break his heart. Never fear. Men never die of
that. There'll be girls enough in his parish,
and he'll be married six months after he gets
a place — ministers always are."

The Doctor made some few corrections in the
end of his sermon without contradicting this un-
ceremonious statement of his wife's.

"But," continued Mrs. Cushlng, "the thing is
a trial tor Dolly; I think it would be quite as
well if she should n't see any more of him for
the present, and I have just got a letter from
Deborah urging me to let her go to Boston for
a visit. Mother says she is getting old, now,
and that she shall never see Dolly unless the
child comes to her. Here's the letter."

The Doctor took it, and we, looking over his
shoulder, see the large, sharp, decided style of
writing characteristic of Miss Debby Kittery:

"Dear Sister:

"Mother wants you to let us have Dolly to make a
good, long visit. Mother is getting old* now, and says
she hasn't seen Dolly since she has grown up, and
thinks we old folks will be the better for a little young
life about us. You remember Cousin Jane Davies,
that married John Dunbar and went over to England?
Well, brother Israel Kittery has taken a fancy to her
youngest son during his late visit to England, and is

- %t?---T=:)e' . ijB M«Itl !eJ 'i' trfH i ' ttF 'i

328

THE DOCTOR MAKES A DISCOVERY,

going to bring him to Boston and turn over his busi-
ness to him and make him his heir. We n'-e expect-
ing them now by every ship, and have invited them
to spend the Christmas Holidays with us. I under-
stand this young Alfred Dunbar is a bright, quick-
witted young slip, just graduated from Oxford, and
one that finds favor in all eyes. He will help make
it lively for Dolly, and if anything should come of it
why it will be all the better. So if you will have Dolly
ready to leave I will be up to visit you in December
and bring her home with me. Mother sends a great
deal of love, — her rheumatism has gone to her right
arm now, which is about all the variety she is treated
to; but she is always serene, as usual, and sends no
end of loving messages.

" Your affectionate sister,

" Debby.
"P. S. — Don't worry about Dolly's dress. My pink
brocade will cut over for her, and it is nearly as good
as new. I'll bring it when I come."

On reading this letter the Doctor fell into a
deep muse.

" Well, what do you think ?" asked his wife.

"What? Who? I?" said the Doctor, with
difficulty collecting himself from his reverie.

" Yes, youy' answered his wife incisively, with
just the kind of a tone to wake one out of a nap.

The fact was that the good Doctor had a little
habit of departing unceremoniously into some
celestial region of thought in the midst of con-
versation, and the notion of Dolly's going to
Boston bad aroused quite a train of ideas con-

er his busi-
a'-e expect-
nvited them
3. I under-
ri|ht, quick-
Oxford, and
11 help make
d come of it
ill have Dolly
in December
sends a great
J to her right
she is treated
and sends no

» sister,

" Debby.
;ss. My pink
learly as good

ir fell into a

[d his wife.
)octor, with
reverie.
:isively, with
)ut of a nap.
)r had a little
(y into some
lidst of con-
r's going to
)f ideas con-

THE DOCTOR MAKES A DISCOVERY,

329

nected with certain doctrinal discussions now
going on there in relation to the Socinian con-
troversy, so that his wife's voice came to him
from afar off, as one hears in a dream.

To Mrs. Gushing, whose specific work lay here,
and now, in the matters of this present world, this
little peculiarity of her husband was at times a
trifle annoying ; so she added, " I do wish you
would attend to what we were talking about.
Don't you think it would be just the best thing in
the world for Doily to make this visit to Boston?'/

" Oh, certainly I do — by all means," he said
eagerly, with the air of a man just waked up
who wants to show he hasn't been asleep. "Yes,
Dolly had better go."

The Doctor mused for another moment, and
then added, in a sort of soliloquy : " Boston is
ii city of sacred associations; it is consecrated
ground ; the graves of our fathers, of the saints
and the martyrs are there. I shall like little
Dolly to visit them.'*

This was not precisely the point of view in
which the visit was contemplated in the mind of
his wife; but the enthusiasm was a sincere one.
Boston, to all New England, was the Jerusalem —
the city of sacred and religious memories; they
took pleasure in her stones, and favored the dust
thereof.

]

g—

CHAPTER XXXIV.

HIEL AND NABBY.

NLY think, Hid, Dolly's going to
Boston," said Nabby, when they had
seated themselves cosily with the in-
fant Zeph between them at the
supper-table.

" Ye don't say so, now !" said Hiel, with the
proper expression of surprise.

" Yes, Miss Kittery, her Boston aunt, 's comin'
next week, and I'm goin' in to do up her muslins
for her. Yes, Dolly 's goin' to Boston."

" Good !" said Hiel. '* I hope she'll get a hus-
band there."

" That's jest all you men think of," answered
Nabby. " Dolly ain't one o' that kind ; she ain't
lookin* out for fellers — though there's plenty
would be glad to have her. She ain't one o*
that sort."

"Wal," said Hiel, "she's too good-lookin* to
be let alone; she'll hev to hev somebody."

" Oh, there's enough after her," said Nabby.

" There was that Virginny fellow in Judge

Belcher's office, waitin' on her home from meet-
330

HIEL AND NABBY.

331

in* and wanting to be her beau; she wouldn't
have nothin* to say to him. Then there was that
academy teacher used to walk home with her,
and carry her books and go with her to singin'
school ; but Dolly didn't want him. And there's
Abner — he jest worships the ground she treads
on ; and she's jest good friends with him. She's
good friends with 'em all round, but come to
case in hand she don't want any on 'em."

" Wal, there ain't nothin' but the doctrine o'
'lection for such gals," said Hiel. " When the
one they's decreed to marry comes along then
their time comes, jest as yours and mine did,
Nabby."

The conversation was here interrupted by the
infant Zeph, who had improved the absorbed
state of his parents* minds to carry out a plan he
had been some time meditating, of upsetting the
molasses pitcher. This was done with such
celerity that before they could make a move both
his lat hands were triumphantly spatted into the
brown river, and he gave a crow of victory.

" There ! clean table-cloth this very night ! Did
I ever see such a young un!" coed Nabby, as
she caught him away from the table. " Father
thinks he's perfection. I should like to have him
have the care of him once," she added, bustUng
and brightening and laughing as she scolded;
while Hiel, making perfectly sincere but iU-

ffr

i !

332

HIEL AND NABBY.

directed efforts to scrape up the molasses with
a spoon, succeeded only in distributing it pretty
equally over the table-cloth.

" Well, now, if there ain't a pair of you !" said
Nabby, when she returned to the table. " If that
ain't jesv like a man!"

" Wal, what would ye hev me — like a girl, or a
dog, or what?" asked Hiel, as he stood, with his
hands in his pockets, surveying the scene. " I
did my best ; but I ain't used to managing mo-
lasses and babies together; that's a fact."

** It's lucky Mother went out to tea," said
Nabby, as she whisked ofif the tablecloth, wiped
the table, re-clothed it with a clean one, and
laid the supper dishes back in a twinkling. " Now,
Hiel, we'll try again ; and be sure and put things
where he can't get 'em ; he does beat all for mis-
chief!"

And the infant phenomenon, who had had his
face washed and his apron changed in the inte-
rim, looked up confidingly in the face of each
parent and crowed out a confident laugh.

" Don't let's tell Mother," said Nabby ; " she's
always sayin' we don't govern him ; and I'm sure
she spoils him more than we do; but if she'd
been here she wouldn't get over it for a week."

In fact, the presence of Mother Jones in the
family was the only drawback on Nabby's domes-
tic felicity, that good lady's virtues, as we have

HIRL AND NABBY.

333

lasses with
ig it pretty

[ you!" said
e. "If that

3 a girl, or a
,od, with his
e scene. "I
anaging mo-
fact."

;o tea," said
ecloth, wiped
ean one, and
ling. "Now,
,nd put things
Lt all for mis-
had had his
in the inte-
face of each
laugh.

abby; "she's
and I'm sure
but if she'd
for a week."
Jones in the
ibby's domes-
;, as we have

seen, being much on the plaintive and elegiac
order. There is indeed a class of elderly relatives
who, their work in life being now over, have
nothing to do but sit and pass criticisms on the
manner in which younger pilgrims are bearing
the heat and burden of the day.

Although Nabby was confessedly one of the
most capable and energetic of housekeepers,
though everything in her domestic domains
fairly shone and glittered with neatness, though
her cake always rose even, though her bread
was the whitest, her biscuits the lightest, and
her doughnuts absolute perfection, yet Mother
Jones generally sat mildly swaying in her
rocking-chair and declaring herself consumed
by care — and averring that she had ^^ everything
on her mind." " I don't do much, but I feel
the care of everything," the old lady would re-
mark in a quavering voice. " Young folks is so
thoughtless; they don't feel care as I do."

At first Nabby was a little provoked at this
state of things ; but Hiel only laughed it off.

"Oh, let her talk. Mother likes to feel care;
she wants something to worry about; she'd be
as forlorn as a hen without a nest-egg if she
hadn't that. Don't you trouble your head,
Nabby, so long as I don't."

For all that, Nabby congratulated herself that
Mother Jones was not at the tea-table, for the

334

HIHL AND NABBY,

nurtuie and admonition of young Zeph was
one of her most Iruittul and weighty sources
of care. She was always declaring that " chil-
dren was sech an awful responsibility, that she
wondered that folks dared to git married !" She
laid down precepts, strict even to ferocity, as
to the early necessity of prompt, energetic
government, and of breaking children's wills;
and then gave master Zeph everything he cried
for, and indulged all his whims with the most
abject and prostrate submission.

" I know I hadn't orter," she would say, when
confronted with this patent inconsistency ; " but
then 1 ain't his mother. I ain't got the respon-
sibility ; and the fact is he will have things and
I hev to let him. His parents orter break his
will, but they don't; it's a great care to me;"
and Mother Jones would end by giving him the
sugar-bowl to play with, and except for the im-
mutr.ble laws of nature she would doubtless
have given him the moon or any part of the
solar system that he had cried for.

Nevertheless, let it not be surmised that Mother
Jones, notwithstanding the minor key in which
she habitually indulged, was in the least unhappy.
There are natures to whom the " unleavened bread
and bitter herbs" of life are an agreeable and
Strengthening diet, and Mother Jones took real
pleasure in everything that went to show that

HIEL AND NABBY.

335

r Zeph was
rhty sources
r that "chil-
lity, that she
irried '." She
ferocity, as
tpt, energetic
ildren's wills;
thing he cried
with the most

ould say, when

isistency ; " but

got the respon-

lave things and

orter break his

»»
: care to me,

giving him the
;ept for the im-
rould doubtless
iny part of the

[or.

ised that Mother
,r key in which
,e least unhappy,
inleavened bread
agreeable and
Jones took real
;nt to show that

this earth was a vale of tears. A funeral was
a most enlivening topic for her, and she never
allowed an opportunity to pass within riding dis-
tance without giving it her presence, and dwell-
ing on all the details of the state of the ** corpse"
and the minutiae of the laying-out for weeks
after, so that her presence at table between her
blooming son and daughter answered all th
moral purposes of the skeleton wl.ich the ancient
Egyptians kept at their feasts. Mother Jones
also, in a literal sense, ^^ enjoyed poor health" and
petted her coughs and her rheumatisms, and was
particularly discomposed with any attempt to
show her that she was getting better. Yet when
strictly questioned the good lady always ad-
mitted, though with a mournful shake of the
head, that she had everything to be thankful
for — that Hiel was a good son, and Nabby was
a good daughter, and * since Hiel had jined the
church and hed prayers in his family, she hoped
he'd hold on to the end — though it really worried
her to see how light and triflin* he was.*

In fact Hiel, though maintaining on the whole
a fairly consistent walk and profession, was un-
doubtedly a very gleesome church member, and
about as near Mother Jones's idea of a saint as
a bobolink on a clover-top. There was a worldl}''
twinkle in his eye, and the lines of his chaery
face grew rather broad than long, and his moth-

536

HIEL AND NABBY.

er's most lugubrious suggestions would often set
him off in a story that would upset even the old
lady's gravity and bring upon her pangs of re-
pentance. For the spiritual danger and besetting
sin that Mother Jones more especially guarded
against was an "undue levity;" but when she
remembered that Dr. Gushing himself and all
the neighboring clergymen, on an occasion of a
" ministers' meeting" when she had been helping
in the family, had vied with each other in telling
good stories, and shaken their sides with roars
of heartiest laughter, she was somewhat consoled
about Hiel. She confessed it was a mystery to
her, however, * how folks could hev the heart
to be a-laughin' and tellin' stories in sich a dying
world.*

i often set
en the old
ings of re-
i besetting
y guarded

when she
-If and all
casion of a
;en helping
;r in telling

with roars
lat consoled
mystery to
V the heart
iich a dying

CHAPTER XXXV.

MISS DEBBY ARRIVES.

|0 Dr. Cushing's, Ma'am ?"

This question met the ear of Miss
Debby Kittery just after she had de-
posited her umbrella, with a smart,
decisive thump, by her side, and settled herself
and her bandbox on the back seat of the creak-
ing, tetering old stage on the way to Poganuc.

Miss Debby opened her eyes, surveyed the
questioner with a well-bred stare, and answered,
with a definite air, " Yes, sir."

" Oh, yis ; thought so," said Hiel Jones. " Miss
Kittery, I s'pose ; the Doctor's folks is expecting
ye. Folks all well in Boston, I s'pose?"

Miss Debby in her heart thought Hiel Jones
very presuming and familiar, and endeavored to
convey by her behavior and manner that such
was her opinion ; but the effort was quite a vain
one, for the remotest conception of any such
possibility of his case was so far from Hiel's mind
that there was not there even the material to
make it of. The look of dignified astonishment
with which the good lady responded to his ques-

337

i I

338

Jtf/SS DEBBY ARRIVES.

tion as to the " folks in Boston " was wholly lost
on him.

The first sentence in the Declaration of Inde-
pendence, that all men are " created equal," had
so far become incarnate in Hiel that he never yet
had seen the human being whom he did not feel
competent to address on equal terms, and, when
exalted to his high seat on the stage-box, could
not look down upon with a species of patronage.
Even the haute noblesse of Poganuc allowed Hiel's
familiarities and laughed at his jokes ; he was one
of their institutions ; and what was tolerance and
acceptance on the part of the aristocracy became
adulation on the part of those nearer his own
rank of life. And so when Miss Debby Kittery
made him short answers and turned away her
head, Hiel merely commented to himself, ** Don't
seem sociable. Poor old lady ! Tired, I s'pose ;
roads is pretty rough," and, gathering up his
reins, dashed off cheerfuUjr.

At the first stage where he stopped to change
horses he deemed it his duty to cheer the loneli-
ness of the old lady by a little more conversation,
and so, after offering to bring her a tumbler of
water, he resumed :

** Ye hain't ben to Poganuc very often ; — hain't
seen Dolly since she's grow'd up?"

"Are you speaking of Miss Gushing, sir?"
asked Miss Debby, in tones of pointed rebuke.

MISS DEBBY ARRIVES,

339

5 wholly lost

tion of Inde-

1 equal," had
he never yet

2 did not feel
IS, and, when
ge-box, could
of patronage,
llowed Hiel's
J ; he was one
tolerance and
icracy became
arer his own
Debby Kittery
led away her
imself, " Don't

red, I s'pose ;

ering up his

)ed to change
teer the loneli-
conversation,
a tumbler of

often ;— hain't

k»

•_ V

Pushing, sir?
Inted rebuke.

" Yis — wal, we allers call her * Dolly' t' our
house," said Hiel. " We've know'd her sence
she was that high. My wife used to live to the
Doctor's — she thinks all the world of Dolly."

Miss Debby thought of the verse in the Church
Catechism in which the catechumen defines it as
his duty to * order himself lowly and reverently
to all his betters.* Evidently Hiel had never
heard of this precept. Perhaps if he had, the
inquiry as to who are betters, as presented to a
shrewd and thoughtful mind, might lead to em-
barrassing results.

So, as he seemed an utterly hopeless case, and
as after all he appeared so bright, and anxious to
oblige, Miss Debby surrendered at discretion,
/and during the last half of the way found herself
laughing heartily at some of Hiel's stories and
feeling some interest in the general summary of
Poganuc news which he threw in gratis.

" Yis, the Doctor's folks is all v/ell. Doctor's
had lots o' things sent in this j/ear, Thanks-
giving time — turkeys and chickens and eggs
and lard — every kind o' thing you can think of.
Everybody sent — Town Hill folks, and folks out
seven miles round. Everybody likes the Doctor ;
they'd orter, too! There ain't sech a minister
nowhere. The way he explains the doctrines
and sets 'em home — I tell ye, there ain't no mis-
take about him; he's a hull team, now, and our

'i ii

"I'lS

,, ,,!

340

MISS DEBBY ARRIVES,

folks knows it. Orter *a' ben here a week ago,
when the Doctor had his wood-spell. Tell ye, if
the sleds didn't come in ! Why, his back-yard's a
perfect mountain o' wood — best sort too, good
oak and hickory, makes good solid coals — enough
to keep him a year round. Wal, folks orter
do it. He's faithful to them, they'd orter do
wal by him."

** Isn't there an Episcopal church in your
town?" asked Miss Debby."

" Oh, yis, there is a little church. Squire
Lewis he started it 'bout six years ago, and
there was consid'able many signed off to it.
But our Poganuc folks somehow ain't made for
'Piscopals. A 'Piscopal church in our town is
jest like a hill o' potatoes planted under a big
apple-tree ; the tree got a-growin' afore they did,
and don't give *em no chance. There was my
wife's father, he signed off, 'cause of a quarrel
he hed with his own church ; but he's come back
agin, and so have all his boys, and Nabby, and
jined the Doctor's church. Fact is, our folks
sort o* hanker arter the old meetin'-house."

" Who is the rector of the Episcopal church ?"

*' Oh, that's Sim Coan ; nice, lively young feiler,
Sim is; but can't hold a candle to the Doctor.
Sim he ain't 'fraid of nobody — preaches up the
'Piscopal doctrine sharp, and stands up for his
side; and he's all the feasts and fasts and an-

Af/S6 DEBBY ARRIVES.

341

thems and things at his tongue's end; and his
folks likes him fust rate. But the church don't
grow much ; jest holds its own, that's all."

These varied items of intelligence, temporal
and spiritual, were poured into Miss Debby's
ear at sundry periods when horses were to be
changed, or in the interval of waiting for dinner
at the sleepy old country tavern; and by the
time she reached Poganuc she had conceived
quite a friendly feeling towards Hiel and un-
bent her frigid demeanor to that degree that
Hiel told Nabby "the old lady reely got quite
sociable and warmed up afore she got there."

Dolly was somewhat puzzled and almost
alarmed on her first introduction to her aunt,
who took possession of her in a summary man-
ner, turning her round and surveying her, and
giving her opinion of her with a distinct and
decisive air, as if the damsel had been an
article of purchase sent home to be looked over.

"So this is my niece Dolly, is it?" she said.
"Well, come kiss yuur old aunty: upon my
word, you are taller than your mother." Then
holding her at arm's length and surveying her,
with her head on one side, she added, "There's
a good deal of Pierrepont blood in her, sister;
that is the Pierrepont nose — I should know it
anywhere. Her way of carrying herself is
Pierrepont. Blushing!" she added, as Dolly

342

MISS DEBBY ARRIVES,

grew crimson under this survey ; " that's a family
trick. I remember when I went to dancing
school the first time, my face was crimson as
my sash. She'll get the better of that as she
gets older, as I have. Sit down by your aunty,
child. I think I shall like you. That's right,
sit up straight and hold your shoulders back —
the girls of* this generation are getting round-
shouldered."

Though Dolly was somewhat confused and
confounded by this abrupt mode of procedure,
yet there was after all something quaint and
original about her aunt's manner that amused
her, and an honest sincerity in her face that won
her regard. Miss Debby was one of those human
beings who carry with them the apology lor their
own existence It took but a glance to see that
she was one of those forces of nature which
move always in straight lines and which must
be turned out for if one wishes to avoid a col-
lision. All Miss Debby's opinions had been made
up, catalogued, and arranged, at a very early
period of life, and she had no thought of change.
She moved in a region of certainties, and always
took her own opinions for granted with a calm
supremacy altogether above reason. Yet there
was all the while about her a twinkle of hu-
morous consciousness, a vein of original drollery,
which gave piquancy to the brusqueness of

MISS DEBBY ARRIVES.

343

hat's a family
; to dancing
5 crimson as

that as she
jr your aunty,
That's right,
aiders back—
etting round-
confused and
of procedure,
g quaint and

that amused
face that won
)f those human
Dlogy tor their
ice to see that

nature which
d which must

) avoid a col-
lad been made

a very early

;ht of change.

s, and always
with a calm
., Yet there
inkle of hu-

inal drollery,

usqueness of

her manner and prevented people from taking
offence.

So this first evening Dolly stared, laughed,
blushed, wondered, had half a mind to be pro-
voked, but ended in a hearty liking of her new
relative and most agreeable anticipations of her
Boston visit

' I

J'llll

i i

CHAPTER XXXVI.

PREPARATIONS FOR SEEING LIFE.

|HE geti' ig ready for Dolly's journey
began to be the engrossing topic of the
little household.

Miss Simpkins, the Poganuc dress-
maker, had a permanent corner in the sitting-
room, and discoursed ex cathedra on " piping, cord"
and " ruffling cut on the bias/' and Dolly and Mrs.
Gushing and Miss Deborah obediently ran up
breadths, hemmed, stitched and gathered at her
word of command.

The general course of society in those days s
to dress and outward adornment did not rui*
with the unchecked and impetuous current that
it now does. The matter of dress has become in
our day a yoke and a burden, and many a good
house-mother is having th?^ springs of her exist-
ence sapped by responsibilities connected with
pinking and frilling and quilling, and an army ot
devouring cares as to hemming, stitching and
embroidery, for which even the *' consolations of
reUgion" provide no panacea.
In the simple Puritan days, while they had
344

PREPARATIONS FOR SEEING LIFE.

345

anuc dress-

before their eyes the query of Sacred Writ,
"Can a maid forget her ornaments?" — they felt
that there was no call to assist the maid in her
meditations on this subject. Little girls were
assiduously taught that to be neat and clean was
the main beauty. Good mothers who had pretty
daughters were very reticent of and remarks that
might lead in the direction of personal vanity;
any extra amount of time spent at the toilet, any
apparent anxiety about individual adornment,
met a persistent discouragement.

Never in all her lite before had Dolly heard
so much discourse on subjects connected with
personal appearance, and, to say the truth, she
did not at all enter into it with the abandon and
zeal of a girl of our modem days, and found the
fitting and trying on and altering rather a tribu-
lation to be conscientiously endured. She gath-
ered, hemmed, stitched and sewed, however, and
submitted herself to the trying-on process with
resignation.

^ ** The child don't seem to think much of dress,**
said Miss Debby, when alone with her sister.
" What is she thinking of, with those great eyes
of hers ?"

" Oh, of thhigs she is planning," said her
mother ; " of books she is reading, of things her
father reads to her, of ways she can help me —
in short, of anything but herself."

I lillll

346

PREPARATIONS FOR SEEING LIFE.

" She is very pretty," said Miss Debby, " and
is sure to be very attractive."

"Yes," answered her mother, "but Dolly
hasn't the smallest notion of anything like co-
quetry. Now, she has been a good deal admired
here, and there have been one or two that would
evidently have been glad to go farther; but
Dolly cuts everything of that kind short at once.
She is very pleasant, very kind, very friendly,
up to a certain point, but the moment she is made
love to — everything is changed."

"Well," said Miss Deborah, "I am glad I
came after her. There's everything, with a girl
like Dolly, in putting her into proper society.
When a girl comes to her years one should
put her in the way of a suitable connection at
once."

"As to that," said Mrs. Gushing, "I always
felt that things of that kind must be left to
Providence."

"I believe, however, your husband preaches
that we must *use the means,' doesn't he? One
must put children in proper society, to give
Providence a chance."

"Well, Debby, you have your schemes, but I
forwarn you Dolly is one who goes her own
path. She seems very sweet, very gentle, very
yielding, but she has a little quiet way of her
own of looking at things and deciding for her-

PREPARATIONS FOR SEETffC LIFE.

347

self; she always knows her own mind very
definitely, too."

•'Good!" said Miss Debby, taking a long and
considerate pinch of snuff. ** We shall see."

Miss Debby had unbounded confidence in her
own powers of management. She looked upon
Dolly as a very creditably educated young per-
son so far, but did not in the least doubt her
own ability to add a few finishing touches here
and there, which should turn her out a per-
fected specimen.

On Sunday morning Miss Debby arose with
the spirit of a confessor. For her brother-in-law
the good lady had the sincerest respect and
friendship, but on this particular day she felt
bound to give her patronage and support to
the little church where, in her view, the truly
appointed minister dispensed the teaching of the
true church.

The Doctor lifted his glasses and soberly smiled
as he saw her compact energetic figure walking
across the green to the little church. Dolly's
cheeks flamed up; she was indignant; to her it
looked like a slight upon her father, ^nd Dolly,
as we have seen, had a very active spirit of
partisanship.

"Well, I must say I wonder at her doing
so," she commented. " Does she not think we
are Christians?"

l\\ il

348

PREPARATIONS FOR SEEING LIFE.

"She has a right to her own faith, my child,"
said the Doctor.

" Yes, but what would she think of me, -when
I am in Boston, if I should go off to some other
churc '7a ; hers?**

" My '.3ar,, T hope you will give her no such
occasion," said Mrs. Gushing. " Your conscience
requires no such course of you ; hers does."

" Well, it seems to me that Aunty has a very
narrow and bigoted way of looking at things,**
said Dolly.

"Your aunt is an old lady — ^very decided in
all her opinions — not in the least likely to be
changed by anything you or I or anybody can
say to her. It is best to take her as she is.**

" Besides,** said the Doctor, " she has as much
right, to think I am in the wrong as I have to
think she is. Let every one be fully persuaded
in his own mind.**

■*I was very glad, my dear, you answered
Dolly as you did," said Mrs. Gushing to her
husband that night when they were alone. " She
has such an intense feeling about all that re-
lates to you, and the Episcopal party have been
so often opposed to you, that she will need
some care and caution now she is going where
everything is to be changed. She will have to

PREPARATIONS FOR SEEING LIFE,

349

see that there can be truth and goodness in
both forms of worship."

" Oh, certainly ; I will indoctrinate Dolly,"
said the Doctor. "Yes, I will set the whole
thing before her. She has a good clear mind.
I can make her understand."

■

1
W

Ml I
ll

CHAPTER XXXVII.

LAST WORDS.

last all the preparations were made,
and Dolly's modest wardrobe packed
to the very last article, so that her bu-
reau drawers looked mournfully empty.
It was a little hair trunk, with " D. C." em-
bossed in brass nails upon One end, that contained
all this young lady's armor — a very different
affair from the Saratoga trunks of our modern
belles. The pink brocade with its bunches of
rose-buds; some tuckers of choice old lace that
had figured in her mother's bridal toilet; a few
bits of ribbon; a white India muslin dress, em-
broidered by her own hands; — these were the
stock in trade of a young damsel of her times,
and, strange as it may appear, young ladies then
were stated by good authority to have been just
as pretty and bewitching as now, when their
trunks are several times as large.

Dolly's place and Aunt Debby's had been
properly set down on Hiel's stage-book for the
next morning at six o'clock; and now remained

only an evening of last words.
350

LAST WORDS.

351

So Dolly sits by her father in his study, where
from infancy she has retreated for pleasant quiet
hours, where even the books she never read
seem to her like familiar friends from the
number of times she has pondered the titles
upon their backs. And now, though she wants ^
to go, and feels the fluttering eagerness of the
young bird, who has wings to use and would
like to try the free air, yet the first flight from
the nest is a little fearful. Boston is a long
way off" — three long days — and Dolly has never
been farther from Poganuc than she has ridden
by her father's side in the old chaise ; so that
the very journey has as much importance in
her eyes as fifty years later a modem young
lady will attach to a voyage to England.

" My daughter," said the Doctor, " I know you
will have a pleasant time; I hope, a profitable
one. Your aunt is a good woman. I have great
confidence in her affection for you; your own
mother could not feel more sincere desire for
your happiness. And your grandmother is an
eminently godly woman. Of course, while with
them you will attend the services of the Episcopal
Church; for that you have my cordial consent
and willingness. The liturgy of the church is
full of devout feelings, and the Thirty-nine
Articles (with some few slight exceptions) are a
very excellent statement of truth. In adopting

35*

LAST WORDS.

the spirit and languag^e of the prayers in the
service you cannot go amiss ; very excellent
Christians have been nourished and brought up
upon them. So have no hesitation about uniting
in all Christian exercises with your relatives in
Boston."

" Oh, Papa, I am almost sorry I am going,"
said Dolly, impulsively. ** My home has been
always so happy, I feel almost afraid to leave it.
It seems as if I ought not to leave you and
Mother alone."

The Doctor smiled and stroked her hair gently
in an absent way. " We shall miss you, dear
child, of course ; you are the last bird in the nest,
but your mother and I are quite sure it is for
the best."

And then the conversation wandered back over
many a pleasant field of the past — over walks
and talks and happy hours long gone; over the
plans and hopes and wishes for her brothers that
Dolly had felt proud to be old enough to share ;
until the good man's voice sometimes would
grow husky as he spoke and Dolly's long eye-
lashes were wet and tearful. It was the kind of
pleasant little summer rain of tears that comes so
easily to young eyes that have never known what
real sorrow is.

And when Dolly after her conference came to
bid he r mother good-night, she fell upop her neck

LAST IVOXDS,

353

rers in the
^ excellent
Drought up
out uniting
relatives in

am going,"
e has been
to leave it.
re you and

■ hair gently
s you, dear
I in the nest,
are it is for

fd back over
-over walks
le; over the
[rothers that
;h to share ;
[mes would
s long eye-
Ithe kind of
|at comes so
:nown what

aiid wept for reasons she could scarce explain
herself.

"I should like to know what you've been
saying to Dolly," said Mrs. Gushing to the Doc-
tor, suddenly appearing at the study-door.

"Saying to Dolly?" exclaimed the Doctor,
looking up dreamily, " why, nothing particular."

"Well, you've made her cry. I declare! you
men have no kind of idea how to talk to a g^rl."

The Doctor at first looked amazed, and then
an amused expression passed slowly over his face.
He drew his wife down beside him and passing
his arm around her said significantly,

" There was a girl, once, who thought I kne^v
how to talk to her — but that is a good many
years ago."

Mrs. Gushing laughed, and blushed, and said,
"Oh, nonsense!"

But the Doctor looked triumphant

"As to Dolly," he said, "never fear. She's a
tender-hearted little thing, and made herself cry
thinking that we should be lonesome, and a dozen
other little pretty kindly things that set her tears
going. She's a precious child, and we shall miss
her. I have settled her mind as to the church
question."

Ice came to
)P her neck

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

dolly's first letter, from BOSTON.

|Y Dear Parents: Here I am in Bos-
ton at last, and take the very first quiet
Opportunity to write to you. Hiel
Jones said he would call and tell you
immediately abr ut how we got through the first
day. He was very kind and attentive to us all
day, taking care at every stopping-place to get
the bricks heated, so that our feet were kept quite
warm, and in everything he was so thoughtfiil
and obliging that Aunt Deborah in time quite
forgave him for presuming on Lis rights as a
human being to keep up a free conversation with
us at intervals, which he did with his usual
cheerful goodwill.

It amuses me all the time to talk with Aunty.
All her thoughts are of a century back, and she
is so unconscious and positive about them that
it is really entertaining. All this talk about the
** lower classes," and the dangers to be appre-
hended from them; of «* first families " and their
ways and laws and opinions ; and of the inpro-
priety of being too familiar with common people,
354

VVi^

DOLLY'S FIRST LETTER FROM BOSTON.

355

0£TON.

am in Bos-
ry first quiet

you. Hiel
and tell you
)ugh the first
:ive to us all
-place to get
;re kept quite
JO thoughtfiil
a time quite
rights as a
icrsation with

;h his usual

witl Aunty.

^ack, and she

it then that

about the

to be appre-

" and their

the iripro-

Imon people,

amuses me. She seems to me like a woman in
a book — one of the old-world people one reads
of in Scott's novels. She is very kind to me ; no
mother could be kinder — but all in a sort of
taking-possession way. She tells me where to sit,
and what to do, and what to wear, and seems to
leel a comfortable sense that she has me now all
to herself. It amuses me to think how little she
knows of what I really am inside.

We stopped the first night at a gloomy little
tavern, and our room was so cold that Aunty
and I puffed at each other like two goblins, a
cloud coming out of our mouths every time we
opened them. They made a fire in the chimney,
but the chimney had swallows' nests in it and
smoked ; so we had to open our windows to let
out the smoke, which did not improve matters.

The next night we slept at Worcester, and
thought we would try not having a fire in our
room; so it grew colder and colder all night,
and in the morning we had to break the ice in
our pitchers. My fingers felt like so many icicles,
and my hair snapped with the electricity. But
Aunty kept up good cheer and made me laugh
through it all with her odd sayings. She is very
droll and has most original ways Of taking things,
aid is so active and courageous nothing comes
amiss to her.

Our third and last day was in a driving snow-

356 DOLLY* S FIRST LETTER FROM BOSTON,

storm, and the stage was upon runners. I could
see nothing all day but white drifts and eddies of
snow-feathers filling the air: but at sunset all
cleared away and the sun came out just as we
were coming into Boston. My heart beat quite
fast when I saw the dome of the State House
and thought of all the noble, good men that had
lived and died for our country in that brave old
city. My eyes were full of tears, but I didn't
say a word to Aunty, for she doesn't feel about
any of these things as I do. I daresay she thinks
it a great pity that the old Church and King
times cannot come round again.

It was quite dark when we got home to
Grandmamma's, and a lovely, real home it seems
to me. Dear Grandmamma was so glad to see
me, and she held me in her arms and cried and
said I was just my mother over again ; and that
pleased me, for I like to hear that I look like
Mother. Mamma knows just how the old parlor
looks, with Grandmamma's rocking-chair by the
fire and her table of books by her side. The
house and everything about it is like a story-
book, the furniture is old and dark and quaint,
and the pictures on the wall are all of old-time
people — aunts and cousins and uncles and grand-
fathers — looking down sociably at us in the
flickering fire-light.

It was all nice and sweet and good. By and

, I could
I eddies of
sunset all
just as we
beat quite
ate House
n that had

brave old
ut I didn't

feel about
J she thinks
1 and King

t home to
me it seems
glad to see
[d cried and
^n; and that
I look like
lc old parlor
;hair by the
side. The
:e a story-
and quaint,
of old-time
and grand-
US in the

Id. By and

DOLLY'S FIRST LETTER FROM BOSTON".

357

by Uncle Israel came in and I was introduced
to him, and our new English cousin, Alfred
Dunbar. They both seemed glad to see me,
and we had a very cheerful, pleasant evening.
Uncle Israel is a charming old gentleman, full
of talk and stories of by-gone times, and Cousin
Alfred is not stiff and critical as Englishmen
often are when they come to our country. He
likes America, and says he comes here to make
it his country, and so far he is delighted with
all he has seen. He seems to be one of those
who have the gift of seeing the best side of
everything. I think it is as great a gift as any
we read of in fairy stories.

Well, altogether we had a very pleasant even-
ing, and at nine o'clock the servants came in,
and Grandmamma read prayers out of the great
prayer-book by her side. It was very sweet
to hear her trembhng voice commending us all
to God's care before we lay down to rest.
Grandmamma is really altogether lovely. I feel
as if it was a blessing to be in the house with
her. I am so sleepy that I must leave this let-
ter to be finished to-morrow.

December 24/A.

I have not written a word to-day, because
Aunty said that we had come home so late
that it would be all we could do to get the
house trimmed for Christmas; and the minute

358 DOLLY'S FIRST LETTEk FkOM BOSTON',

breakfast was done there was a whole cart-load
of greens discharged into the hall, and we set
to work to adorn everything. I male garlands
and wreaths and crosses, and all sorts of pretty
things, and Cousin Alfred put them up, and
Aunty said that really, "for a blue Presbyterian
girl, I showed wonderful skill and insight in
the matter.

Cousin Alfred seemed puzzled, and asked me
privately if our family were " Dissenters ' I
explained to him how in our country the tables
were turned and it is the Episcopalians that are
the dissenters; and he was quite interested and
wanted to know all about it. So I told him
that you could tell much better than i could,
and he said he was co^r" ^ some day to see his
relations in the countr^ and inquire all about
these things. He seems to be studying the facts
in our country philosophically, and when I told
him how I meant to visit the Copp's Hill Cem-
etery and the other graveyards where our fathers
are buried, he said he should like to go with
me. He is not at all trifling and worldly, like
a great many young men, but seems to think a
great deal and to want to know everything about
the country, ar J I know Papa would be interested
to talk with him.

Between us, you've no idea how like a bower
we have made the old house look. Aunty prides

DOLLY* $ PIRST LETTER PROM BOSTOI^. 3^9

herself on keeping the old English customs, and
had the Yule log brought in and laid with all
ceremony, and we had all the old Christmas
dishes for supper in the evening, and grew very
merry indeed. And indeed we have made it so
late that, if I am to sleep at all to-night, I must
close this letter which I want to have ready to
be posted to-morrow morning.

Dear parents, I know you will be glad that
I am happy and enjoying everything, but I never
forget you, and think of you every moment.
Your affectionate Dolly,

CHAPTER XXXIX.

dolly's second letter.

trees.

Dear Parents : We had such a glo-
rious Christmas morning— clear, clean
white snow lying on the earth and on
all, even the little branches of the
You know, Mamma, the great square
garden back of the house. Every little tree
there was glittering like fairy frost work. We
all hung our stockings up the night before, and
at breakfast examined our presents. I had love-
ly things — a beautiful prayer-book bound in
purple velvet from Grandmamma, and a charming
necklace of pearls from Uncle Israel, and a scar-
let cloak trimmed with lace from Aunt Deborah,
and a beautiful Chinese fan from cousin Alfred.
Aiiuty hah been putting up the usual Christmas
bundle frr you; so you will all share my pros-
perity.

I was waked in the morning by the old North
chimes, which played all sorts of psalm tunes
and seemed to fill the air with beautiful thoughts.
It was very sweet to me to think of what it

was all about. It is not necessary to believe
360

^OLLY^S SECONl> LETTER.

such a glo-
clear, clean
irth and on
ties of the
eat square
little tree
work. We
before, and
[ had love-
bound in
a charming
md a scar-
t Deborah,
sin Alfred.
Christmas
' ^y pros-
old North
salm tunes
i thoughts.
>f what it
to believe

day ve all know So 'L "^« '"'™ »" sol
together, and The l^T "'^ ^""'^'^ *« church
bower, and the orJnZtr'I''' «"^ ff^en
;t seeded as if alf "h/^l "1? '='°'' ^^^'
I never heard the T. n , ^ "^^^ ^t'^ed.
fono„, how wondeSnri-'t? ^ '^"^
to the very gates of heaven I I u °^ ™' "P
hearing the angels sin^ ^" ^ '^'^ ^s if I was
the prophets. t£ aSes'l"'" ' *''°"^''* "^
holy church of Christ t u '"^'"'y"' ^^ the
fe't that I was one tith r *'' ^°'-'<^' ^

to be one drop ilthZ "'^'»' ^"^ ^^s happy

though I was'oila ile °T °'W- ^^
«"^^ it, and a part of °"; \ ^''' '» '*' -»d
glory was mine'i\rlJiT^.f "'^ ^ and

^ When the co^.u'nS'^e'XtL'r "''^^-
Grandmamma and knelt ,f T , ^ "^^"t with

if Christ himself was tLrl-*^- ^^^^emedas
and the wine. Ineter fe^'""^ "' '''' ''^^^d
After church I went hi r'° """'" '« "'•»•
I could not speak N„ " , "^^ '° ^"" that
as I did-they we're ^S ? /^'' ''"^'^ to feel

allnewandwonder^lt ": '". "-''"* '' ^^^
things so real that I fell T' ^""^ ""^^^ heavenly

hack to every day S ?'' ''"''' *° ""'i-g

to n.y room Ld dwS' on it'Tn' *° ^° ^'°"«

-ompany invited to dinner U^^-;-^^^^^^

3^«

DOLLY'S SECOND LETTER.

\\\\\

like joining them, but I knew Aunty wanted me
to make myself agreeable, and so I tried my
best, and after a while took my part in the con-
versation, as gay as the rest of them. Only
once in a while some of those noble words I
had been hearing came back to me with a sudden
thrill, and would bring tears to my eyes even
while I was gayest.

Cousin Alfred noticed that I was feeling very
much about something, and in the evening when
we were alone for a few minutes he asked me
about it, and then I told him all how the service
affected me, and made me feel. He looked a
little surprised at first, and then he seemed
thoughtful; and when I said, "I should think
those who hear and say such glorious things at
church, ought to live the very noblest lives, to
be perfect Christians," he said, "Cousin, i am
sorry to say, it is not so with me. We hear
these things from childhood; we hear them
Sunday after Sunday, in all sorts of moods, and
I'm afraid many of us form a habit of not really
thinking how much they mean. I wish I could
hear our service as you have done, for the first
time, and that it would seem as real and earnest
to me as it does to you."

We talked a good deal after this; he has a
deep, thoughtful mind, and I wish you, my dear
Father, could talk with him. I know you will

DOLLY^S SECOPfD LETTES.

«kehim. Is n't it pleasant to find r^i .• ^^^
one can like and esteem '^^'ations that

Alfred is like a brot ^ Je" aS' ^°"^'"
morrow we are goin^ n, f* ^ ''^' ^"'^ t°-

"ities of Boston."^ Hfs;eL'''''T*'^ ^"''''-
in them as I do ' '"""^'^ interested

little church fn P;g:f:c and T '^ '""^'' ^''^
to the church, anf got' Sen ""/"'^' °^^'-
cedar-bush, listening tf the Ch? .""" " ^^^^*
affected me then just as it h^^T ' ""''"• "
not beautiful to think IV "^ "°^- ^« it

Christians have beet T ^'^ ""^'"^ ^"^'^^ t''^'
thousand years, r! ''"^"«^ ^°'- ™°^e than a

''eingina^grelarif.l" r *'' '^^""^ ^'
for a poor little JncT •<: ^ ^ S^*"^^' ^ost; and

a joyful feerSg ^'^^"" ^^'"^ "''e me it is

^^Srsy:or^;?:%r^-^^^-''

the service. She givefme HtH ^''"^"'-^""'^ ^nci
«ow and then, and Z 1 TP'^^'"^ "«"«
a patronizing ;ay anTL^.r *''" ^''^"'''^^ '»

in -y veins.'forTuTtaTbrf?." ^^'^ '^''^'^
terian; This is 1 f "^''* "P ^ P«sby-

to unchuig Vzri "? "'^" ^''^ ^°-

-eadfullytLptedtr^r-;-^^^^^^^

3^4

DOLLY* S SECOND LETTER-.

I know it would do no earthly good. I believe
I should do it, however, it Cousin Alfred did
not take up the argument on our side, and com-
bat her so much better than I could that I am
content to let her alone. She. tells him that he
is no Englishman and no churchman, but a very
radical ; and he tells her that he came to America
to leari> to use his common sense and get rid of
old rubbish!

For all this they are excellent friends, and
dear old Grandmamma always takes our part be-
cause she is so afraid Aunt Debby will hurt my
feelings, though Aunty says that in her heart
Grandmamma is* a regular old Tory.

I asked Grandma about this one day, when we
were alone, and she said she always loved and
honored the king and royal family, and was
grieved when they stopped praying for them in
the churches. If she was a Tory she was so
from love, and it is quite charming to hear her
talk about the old times.

It seems to me no great change ever comes
on this earth without grieving some good people.

But it is past midnight and I must not sit up
writing any longer. Dear parents, I wish you
a happy Christmas^

Your loving Dolly.

»• <• '(.<. .

\ CHAPTER XL.

ALFRED DUNBAR TO Etrrp*,,.

'O EUGENE SINCLAIR.

"Tear Old Fellow: Here I «„ •
I A">erica-i„ Boston-and evervT "?
spend here makes m» ^ ^^ ^

satisfied with rn! T °'^ ^^ "'ore
The very air here i fre? /"^' °^ ^'^"''tion.
«e^ hope and life. The',!, '"fP'""^' f"" «f
restraints and bounds if, "'°'''' '^'*'' ^" its
Je.ho„ored incont^^^^ P-iudices. its

«>'»8rgone by; it is blue^ h' dim. T''' '" *
I see before me a free Z ^.stance, and

that oire« evervthW ^''"^?"^' n°ble country

Massachusetts!? t Tf' '° ^"- ^ «ke
more I feel that I am . f 1 ' """^ ""^^ ^nd

•'e^. selected b^LruLtrtislir"^^^^

-txvrsi::u^;r---Va^f^

^c- not give ht t t::io"„T^^"^ ^"^ ''^ '

365

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366

ALFRED DUNBAR TO EUGENE SINCLAIR.

housekeeping in his own house. He wants me
to get married with all convenient dispatch, but
I am one that cannot enter into the holy state
simply to furnish a housekeeper to my uncle or
to place a well-dressed, well-mannered woman
at the head of my own table.

You at home called me fastidious and romantic.
Well, I am so to this degree, that I never shall
marry unless I see the woman I cannot live
without. The feast of matrimony may be well
appointed, the oxen and fatlings be killed, and
all things ready, but I never shall accept unless
some divine power ^^ compels'' me to come in; —
and up to this day I have felt no such call.

Mark me, I say, up to this day; for I am by
no means certain I shall say as much a month
hence. To be frank with you, there is spends
ing the Christmas holidays under the same root
with me a very charming girl whom I am in-
structed by my Aunt Deborah to call " Cousin
Dolly."

Now, in point of fact, this assumption of re-
lationship is the most transparent moonshine. I
am, I believe, second or third cousin to my
" Uncle Israel,** who is real uncle to this Miss
Dolly. Of course my cousinship to her must
be of a still more remote and impalpable na-
ture ; but if it is agreed that we call each other
*' cousin,** certainly it is not / that am going to

'.AIR.

wants me
patch, but
holy state
J uncle or
;d woman

i romantic.

never shall

:annot live

ay be weU
killed, and

;cept unless
come in; —

uch call.

or I am by

ch a month
e is spend-

je same root
,in I am in-
all " Cousin

Iption of re-
loonshine. I
lusin to my
Ito this Miss
lo her must
[palpable na-
il each other
lam going to

ALFRED DUNBAR TO EUGENE SINCLAIR.

367

object to the position and its immunities — oh,
no! A cousin stands on a vantage-ground; all
sorts of delightful freedoms and privileges are
permitted to him !

I "take the good the gods provide" me, and
so Cousin Dolly and I have become the best ot
friends, and we have been busy making wreaths
and crosses and Christmas decorations under the
superintendence of Aunt Deborah, in the most
edifying and amicable way. This Aunt Deborah
is the conventional upright, downright, good,
opinionated, honest, sincere old Englishwoman,
of whom there are dozens at every turn in the
old country, but who here in America have the
interest that appertains to the relics ot a past
age. But she is vigorously determined that in
her domains the old customs shall be in full
force, and every rule of Christmas-keeping ob-
served.

Of course I put up mistletoe in all the proper
places, and I found my new cousin, having grown
up as a New England Congregational minister's
daughter, knew nothing of its peculiar privileges
and peculiarities, so that when the kissing began
I saw a bright flush of amazement and almost
resentment pass over her face; though when it
was explained to be an old Christmas custom she
laughed and gave way with a good grace. But
I observed my young lady warily inspecting

368 ALFRED DUNBAR TO EUGENE SINCLAIR,

the trimmings of the room, and quietly avoiding
all the little green traps thereafter.

It is quite evident that, though she has all the
gentleness of a dove, she has some of the wisdom
of the serpent, and possesses very definite opinions
as to what she likes and does not like. She im-
presses me as having, behind an air of softness
and timidity, a very positive and decided char
acter. There is a sort of reserved force in her ;
and one must study her to become fully acquaint-
ed with her. Thus far I hope I have not lost
ground.

I find she is an enthusiast for her country, for
her religion, for everything high and noble ; and
not one of the mere dolls that have no capability
for anything but ribbons and laces. She has
promised to show me the antiquities of Boston
and put me in the way of knowing all that a
good American ought to know ; you see our time
for the holidays is very agreeably planned out
in advance.

And now, ^y dear old fellow, I see you shake
your head and say, What is to come of all this?

Wait and see. If it should so happen that I
should succeed in pleasing this little American
princess — if, having gained her ear as Cousin, I
should succeed in proving to her that I am no
cousin at all, but want to be more than cousin or
brother or the whole world together to her — ^if

avoiding

las all the
le wisdom
e opinions
She im-
3f softness
ided char
ce in her;
J acquaint-
re not lost

ountry, for
noble; and
3 capability
She has
of Boston
all that a
lee our time
[lanned out

you shake
I of all this?
tpen that I
American

Is Cousin, I
jat I am no
[n cousin or
to her— if

ALFRED DUl^BAR TO EUGENE SINCLAtR, 3^9

all this should come to pass, why — there have
stranger things happened in this world of i urs.
But I am running before my time. Miss Dolly
is yet an unknown quantity and there may be
a long algebraic problem to be done before I can
know what may be; and so, good-night for the
present Yours ever truly,

Alfred Dunbar.

I'll

CHAPTER XLI.

FINALE.

[FTER reading the preceding letters,
there is no one who has cared to follow
Dolly's fortunes thus far that is not
ready to declare the end of the story.
One sees how the Christmas holidays stretched
on and on ; how Aunt and Grandmamma im-
portuned Dolly to stay longer; how Dolly staid,
and how she and Cousin Alfred walked and
talked and studied New England history, and
visited all the shrines in Boston and Cambridge
and the region round about; how Aunt Debby
plumed herself on the interesting state of things
evidently growing up, but wisely said nothing
to either party; how at last when spring came,
and April brought back the mayflower buds, and
Dolly felt that she could stay no longer but
must go home to her parents, "Cousin Alfred"
declared that he could not think of her taking
a three days* journey alone, that he must go

with her and protect her, and improve the oppor-
370

pmAL)£,

ilt

tunity to make the acquaintance of his relations
in the country.

All this came to pass, and one fine evening,
just at sunset, Hiel drove into Poganuc in glory,
and deposited Dolly and her little hair trunk
and her handsome attendant at the Parsonage
door.

There was a bluebird singing on the top of
the tall buttonwood tree opposite, just as he
used to sing years before; and, as to Hiel, he
returned home even better content with himself
than ordinarily.

"There now, Nabby! didn't I tell ye what
would happen when Dolly went to Boston?
Wal, I've just set her down to the Doctor's
with as fine a young sprig as you'd wish to
see, who came all f he way from Boston with her.
I tell }^0Uf that air young man's eyes is sot ; he
knows what he's come to Poganuc fer, ef no
one else don't."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Nabby and Mother
Jones, both rushing to the window simultane-
ously with the vain hope of getting a glimpse.

" Oh, there's no use lookin' !" said Hiel ;
"they're gone in long ago. Doctor and Mis*
Gushing was standin' in the door-way when I
come up, and mighty glad they was to see her,
and him too, and shook hands with him. Oh,
thet air's a fixed-up thing, you may depend."

3!r«

fWALE.

" Dear me, what is he?" queried Mother Jones.
"Do yod know, Hiel?"

"Of course I know,** said Hiel; "he*sa mer-
chant in the Injy trade up there to Boston. I
expect he makes lots o* money."

" Dear mo I I hope they won't set their hearts
on worldly prosperity," said Mother Jones in a
lugubrious tone ; ** this 'ere*s a dyin* world.**

" For all that, Mother,** said Hiel as they sat
down to the tea-table, " you enjoy a cup o* hot
tea as well as ^ny woman livin*, and why
shouldn't thd parson*s folks be glad o* their good
things?"

" Wal, I don* know,*' answered Mother Jones,
*' but it allers kind o* scares me when everything
seems to be goin' jest right fer folks. Ye know
the hymn sa3's:

We should suspect some danger nigh
When we possess delight.'

I remember poor Bill Parmerlee fell down dead
the very week he was married !**

" Well, Nabby and I neither of us fell down
dead when we was married," said Hiel, "and
nobody else that ever I heerd on, j>o we won*t
weep and wail if Dolly Gushing hez got a rich,
handsome feller, and is goin' to live in Boston.**

But, after all, Dolly and Alfred Dunbar were
not yet engaged, l^o decisive word had been

FINALB.

373

spoken between them ; though it seemed now as
if but 1 word were wanting.

It was after a week of happy visiting, when
he had made himself most charming to all in
the hous 3, when Dolly and he had together ex-
plored every walk and glen and waterfall around
Pogimuc, that at last the young man found voice
to ask the Doctor for what he wanted; and,
armed with the parental approval, to put the
decisive question to Dolly. Her answer is not
set down. But it is on record that in the month
of June there was a wedding at Poganuc which
furnished the town with things to talk about
for weeks.

It was a radiant June morning, when the elms
of Poganuc were all alive with birds, when the
daisies were white in the meadows, and the bobo-
link on the apple-tree was outdoing himself, that
Hiel drove up to the door of the Parsonage to
take Dolly and her husband their first day's
journey towards their new home. There were
the usual smiles and tears and kissing and cry-
ing, and then Hiel shut the stage-door, mounted
his box, and drove away in triumph. It was
noticed that he had ornamented his horses with
a sprig of lilac blossoms over each ear, and
wore a great bouquet in his button-hole.

And so our Dolly goes to her new life,
and, save in memories of her childhood, is to

374 FINALE.

be no longer one of the good people of Poga-

nuc.

Years have passed since then. Dolly has held
her place among the matronage of Boston; her
sons have graduated at Harvard, and her daugh-
ters have recalled to memory the bright eyes
and youthful bloom of their mother.

As to Poganuc, all whom we knew there have
passed away r all the Town-Hill aristocracy and
the laboring farmers of the outskirts have gone,
one by one, to the peaceful sleep of the Poga-
nuc graveyard. There was laid the powdered
head, stately form, and keen blu>5 eye of Col-
onel Davenport; there came in time the once
active brain and ready tongue of Judge Belcher;
there, the bright eyes and genial smile of Judge
Gridley ; there, the stalwart form of Tim Haw-
kins, the gray, worn frame of Zeph Higgins.
Even Hiel's cheery face and vigorous arm had
its time of waxing old and passing away, and
was borne in to lie quiet under the daisies.
The pastor and his wife sleep there peacefully
with their folded flock around them.

" Kinsman and townsman are laid side by side,
Yet none have saluted, and none have replied/*

A village of white stones stands the only wit-
ness of the persons of our story. Even the old
meeting-house is dissolved and gone.

FINALE.

375

Generation passeth, generation cometh, saith
the wise man, but the earth abidcth forever.
The hills of Poganuc are still beautiful in their
summer woodland dress. The Poganuc river still
winds at their feet with gentle murmur. The
lake, in its steel-blue girdle of pines, still reflects
the heavens as a mirror; its silent forest shores
are full of life and wooded beauty. The elms
that overarch the streets of the central village
have spread their branches wider, and form a
beautiful walk where other feet than those we
wot of are treading. As other daisies have
sprung in the meadows, and other bobolinks and
bluebirds sing in the tree-tops, so other men
and women have replaced those here written of,
and the story of life still goes on from day to
day among the Poganuc People.

1 1

The End,

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