^J %. ■S^. .% ^>. .0., \^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ^KS I.I 1.25 2.5 ■^ B^ ||ll| 2.2 M 1.8 us lAO U IIIIII.6 V] v^ /. -^a c^^ > > o 7 ^ ^^ V qv \\ ^^ ^-% ^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductlons Instttut Canadian de mlcroreproductions historiques 1980 Techninai Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. L'institut a microf TRIAL. So travelers bofog'd can make A root seem like a hissing snake, Or in the cloud Can see the weasel, camel, whale, And if it is a little pale, Perhaps a shroud. Now for home sailed Captain John, Where Adirondack looks upon The silvery mere, But rumor running on the shore Had reach'd his dwelling long before He anchor'd there. His widow'd mother heard the tale — The very worst that can assail A mother's ear. Without a tear, withon jtrh. Believing 'twas a monsti 'is lie, Fa^ banish'd fear. John let his vessel lay at anchor, And gave a chance for public rancor To rage or quell ; And staying at his little cot Bewailed his recent sorry lot So dark and fell. The month that followed seemed an age, Whilst public virtue's seething rage Still grew stronger; The wicked swore they John detested, . While the pious manifested Holy anger. - 5 6 John's trial; Therefore with blind indignjint fury John was bro't before Dogbury, — Awful justice A country justice every lime For guessing hard and sniffing crime Ever first is. His honor clearly saw John's guilt — 'Twas sad to see such wisdom spilt, All gone to nil, Tiie " crime " was done in Canada, . John's lawyer lit upon the flaw, As lawyers will. His honor in his sore affliction When told he had no jurisdiction Touch'd his forehead, '• Here's that," said he, "when it can act, The wicked by their cunning tact Have a sore dread ! " Now when the prosecution fail'd The wicked swore, the pious rail'd, And urg'd the charge " He might be hung by extradition — No right had one in his condition To run at large." JOHN'S TRIAL. II. Again was honost John arraign'd Boforo Ayhvin, a judge unstained, Of Montreal ; With one keen view of sterling sense He saw thro' all the false pretence, Corpse, blood, and all. Men judge in general by no rules ; There is no chance that forty fools Know more than one. John's honest neighbors, to a man. Were free to censure, curse, and ban, , Save only one. Our judge believ'd not in the " thud,"' And much less in the guess of blood At lengthy range. From prejudice he stood aloof — The tales which counsel urg'd as proof ^ " Were merely strange." The vulgar mind can seldom doubt. For that cannot be done without A train of thought ; It takes an easier, shorter cut To solve a dubious problem, but With error fraught. But by our judge each word was weigh'd. And each the true impression made — No sophistry The faintest, slightest weight could bear. No quarter could be given there To jealousy. i '1 1 8 John's trial. How bright that righteous verdict shines : Would that these i'eeblo, erring lines To latest ages Could bear it down the stream of time, To glow with other deeds sublime On living pages. III. Some hold that those with worth endued, With moral gifts extremely good, Should hate the bad. As goodness is not always wise, We often see without surjirise The rule work sad. That was the course the neighbors took, I'o not by action, word or look Aid a " critter " Who had a guilt}' murderer borne — John's mother's case might be forlorn — "What was fitter?" 'Tis well to have it understood, John'y house was in a neighborhood Both thin and poor ; Along the rugged " mountain road," Were many another poor abode That hous'd a boor. The Adirondack looming high, jRose uj) against the western sky, Bleak and hoary. The lake below with woody shores. Like molten silver often pours A flood of glory. 1.T» JOHN'S TRIAL. A poot might hiH lyro uttuno, To see tho views in loafy Jano VVitiiin hJH kon. But viowH of mountains, groves and Hood Are counted rather airy food By common men. Such was tho site of John's abode, Aloft upon the mountain road. Now un cheery. And there all vvintor thro' the snow. For wood his mother had to go, Lone and weary. The winter's toil, the winter's care Soon made the failing dame aware That death was near. Alone John watch'd the invalid, And did a thousand things unbid. With filial care. She talk'd to him of former time, How far away in warmer clime She spent her j'outh. Enjoying all that state affords When all is bright, and tho'ts are words. And words are truth. The present she had con'd enough, So found relief in talking of The past and future. The present was a hideous blot On her life's page, yet in it nought That did jDollute her. . u 10 „> JOHN S TRIAL. While ^lay with flovv'rs the fields had dress'd, The dame had pass'd where none molest, Or make afraid. Exposure oft from sun to sun To wintery blasts its work had done, With gossip's aid. And when at 'ast the frigid damp Betoken'd that the flickering lamp Of life was out ; 'Twas night and not a neighbor near. Of course not, why should they be there, Except to flout ? While John the final parting mourn'd, The candle to the socket burned With flash and flare. Alternate light and shadow fell, And weirdly wove a witching spell On objects there. 'Twas this that caused a freezing thrill. The bou', , allid, cold, and still A time had lain. But now a motion seem'd to have, As if it was about to Uve And die again. Go gently shade, forever roam In thy eternal future hora e. Where peace is iOund. No one may know except a ghost That unknown sea, where mind is lost, And thought is drown'd. JOHN S TRIAL. The memory of her grave was green, For John up there was often seen For many years. Around its border flowers grow, Both wild and tame, refresh'd by dew, And often tears. And sometimes in the silent night, When nought was heard except a slight Low insect hum. There would he muse among the trees, Whose leaves sang in the slightest breeze A requium. IV. As scandal pierceth everywhere, Bides on the wind, is in the air, Or low or loud, And scents afar one call'd a knave, Rips up the silent, peaceful grave. And tears the shrou d, Therefore when John return 'd from ward His dog look'd at him rather hard As stories run ; But still his conduct wan't so bad He hold his tongue, meji loisKd they had When all was done. No record to our time is brought Of canine fealty which would not Survive disgrace ; This cur had shunn'd the moral bogs ; If not with men, but decent dogs. He'd kept his place. 11 12 JOHN S TRIAL. V. With Peter Sarles I grace my song ; May's tribe increase, and days bo long, While deacons pray'd, He visited the house of John, Whilst he to durance vile had gone, And render'd aid. His name stands out in bold relief — The only man to lay the grief Of John for years. The only man in towns near by Who sought his house or tried to dry The widow's tears. One's heart goes out to such a man : He's organized upon a plan That's sound and hale. He means to start his heaven here. While bigots wait for't over there Beyond the veil. The acts of Sarles, turned any way, Will bear the searching light of day And come out strong; Had all been right then he was right; His conduct also shines more bright That they were wrong. We should, perhaps, in justice doubt. He weigh'd the case and reason'd out The pro and con — When natural goodness takes a side, 'Tia charity with hearty pride It acts upon. JOHN S TRIAL. He was a rude uncultured man, Who sought no gain by plot oi* plan, And knew no creeds. His was religion unrefined ; Unlike the common ritual kind, He pray\l by deeds. VI. When perish'd the mother of John, The cottage and stable he clos'd, Then drove his sheep over to S.'irles', And the cow to a drover dispos'd. Though his circle of friends were no more, Complete was his circle of foes, "Who delighted in talking of halters And the jjlace where the murderer goes. Straightway he went down to the lake. And raann'd the old vessel once more, Transporting whatever was offer'd. Pursued the old line as before. Temperate, active, and just. For his work was each faculty'- strain'd ; He wrung from the people respect, But confidence never attain'd. When the living had wearied his soul His steps to the sepulchre led, And there meditative alone In fiincy cummun'd with the derad. 'T was 'the grave at the foot of the ledge, Aback on his own little farm, "With a marble descriptive of " mother, " And a paling to keep it from harm, 13 '(TT- J 14 JOHN S TRIAL. ,i!l! That attracted him laden with grief To hide him awhile from the stare Which prompted him often to wish Looking down at the grave he was there. E'en his lawyer advis'd him to run And leave his adnomen behind ; The advice was unheeded and wrong, It was cruel because it was kind. The most pestilent fellow alive, And the one to be hated or pitied, Is the creature who tries to console you For crimes that you never committed. You're bother'd to know how to take him ; You feel that he meaneth no ill, Yet Bildad himself is more pleasant Who chargeth you straight with a will. The Devil might envy one trait That a creature ill-natur'd pursues, Which is to belittle and hate The man that has borne his abuse. But woe to the delicate nerves, 'Tis little that they can resist ; Those " words " give a damaging shock, Like striking a harp with the fist. A detestable trick that some play (The provocative baffles expression) Is to wink a man's credit away And then feigningly snivel compassion. *>• JOHN S TRIAL. 15 VII. Nine times has the season returned Since the gallows on John threw a shade. Some fancied they often discerned What justified all they had said. The pious and orthodox sent him To the caloric regions beneath. The wicked made faces anent him With occasional gnashing of teeth. We shall see it was not honest John Whoso sins the good people near craz'd, But the Thing they were railing upon Was a jj/iantotn suspicion had rais'd. , VIII. Perhaps we have bsen rather hard On gossips and people so, so ; They challenge our kindest regard For its all that the wiseacres^ know. The gossips are good in their places, As they reach what is left by the laws ; No court has a third of the cases They arrange to each others applause. He's more kind than a limb of the law, For the gossip he scorneth a fee, He is bless'd with a limitless jaw, And his jurors are fain to agree. You have nothing to do but to listen, As he gaily goes on with the case, But to mark how his oculars glisten ' As the flunkey crops out in his face. I ! H.1 ■'5 V) m I'v ' . 44 WHAT THE CLOTHES ON THE LINE SAID. WHAT THE CLOTHES ON THE LINE SAID. I. Whilst ladies of fashion in slumber recline, The ' wash' is completed and iiung on the line. 'Tis a maiden of thrift who the burden has borne, As fresh as a rose and as brii^ht as the morn. She labors on cheerily as children at play — Has no breaks in her slumber or languor by day. As the sun is ascending, the whispering trees Betoken the rise of a light summer breeze. The morning is balnij', the birds are in tune, And the groves are disphiying the leaflets of June. One is puzzled to say which he prizes most high, Tiie stars of the earth or the stars of the sky ; While Flora, when taking her annual round. With beauties immortal besprinkles the ground. XL Now the clothes on the line are all livel}', of course, And for those who can hear it begin to discourse. The language, 'tis true, indistinctly appears To a mortal who misses the song of the spheres. " Keep quiet out there," said an old rugged blanket, ''No connection of mine would so foolishly prankit." The night-cap replied with a voice rather low, " You remind me of certain old people I know Who from stiffness and age are for frolic unfit So they rail at all errors they cannot commit.'' This retort on the line was consider'd quite apt. For the various members approvingly flapp'd. WHAT THE CLOTHES ON THE LINE SAID. 45 The breeches seem'd little inclined for a talk, Contenting himself with a mimicking walk. He only indulged in a single remark, Address'd to a neighboring feminine sark; And last what he said should suspicion arouse, The garment he question'd belong'd to his spouse : " Will you tell me what's that at the end of the line, For a kerchief too coarse, for a towel too tine?" " 'Tis a diaper, sir, for the hoy heaven gave ; 'Tis the flag of our union, and long may it wave." III. If the modest and chaste would indulge us for once For alluding to feelings they cannot renounce, We could tell how a garment, sublime at a flirt. Kept scolding and flapping her scorn at a shirt: '' iMy Sussy I my I if it wan't that I'm pinn'a I'd escape to a place between you and the wind ; No washing nor rinsing to clear you are able From the grit of the field, or the stench of the stable. And, horror of horrors ! just only to think Of the creature that wore you, I shudder and shrink. 'Tis a comfort that you can no nearer approach. My sakes! to be near you's a lasting reproach. In you every thing that is loathsome combine; You're terror to me and disgrace to the line." The garment thus suddenly coming to harm Was amaz'd, and imploringly threw up an arm. And plead he was blameless in that ho was pinn'd 'Twixt ! er ladyship's sensitive nose and the wind. Her loveliness needn't be nursing her hate, His offence was unconscious, determined by fate. 11 i 46 THE SNAKE THAT CAUGHT A TARTAR. Had his will been consulted, his mind had boon hurt When stationed so near an ineffable flirt. *' Had her sweetness located some yards further east, My happiness had with the distance increas'd." IV. The quarrel went on, and each garb took a part, With bitter rejoinder a.vd snappish retort. Till the wind fell away with the sun in the west When all the disputants found quiet and rest. V. I feel that I've made but a meagre report, And should render a reason for coming so short ; How faithful soever you may be inclin'd, Your work must be poor that depends on the wind. THE SNAKE THAT CAUGHT A TARTAR. It was a man unknown to fame, Tho' given much to slander ; To give his fault a decent name. Contended it was "candor." His dodge, of course, resulted bad. The which he should have known ; The more he saw his neighbor's faults, The less he saw his own. Remorselessly he used the lash, And claimed it duty meet, Anticipating it would make His moral ulcers sweet. THE SNAKE THAT CAUGHT A TARTAR. 47 'T was time, ho said, to make a stand Against all villains near at hand, If not the rest in all the land ; He knew of many who had foil Of whom his mission was to toll With leer malign, And some ho fancied had done well From bad design. Therefore 't was safer that the whole Should with his saving censure meet. So rabid dogs when on the stroll Attack whatever's in the street. One summer day, the sun was low, As thro' a field he chanced to go, Heeding neither shrub nor flower : The golden sunset had no power To lift his canker'd soul to praise ; His good and others' evil ways Were all on which his mind could dwell. Till suddenly, O Tophet ! —well, A sad catastrophe befel, For lo ! a horrid sight he set his eyes on, A snake that long had been secreting poison Bit the man ! The snake outv^enom'd writhed in pain, Gaped once and never gaped again. Collapsed and died, for thj-o' each vein The virus ran. The man uninjured went his way, Tho' sorely troubled in his mind For so much venom thrown away Which he had stored for human kind ; 48 GREAT AMERICAN REBELLION. And pill I'd about the longest face That over face of clay bore, To think he'd wasted on a snake What might have sav'd a neighbor I MORAL. If thon hast envy in excess, And moral worth a trifle less. Hast none to bless thee, none to bless, The just thy foes will be; But waste no time in dull despair, Nor try to rise to what they are, 'Tis easier, more congenial far To pull them down to thee. ORIGIN OF THE GREAT AMERICAN EEBELLION. . In the sulphurous depths of the regions below A convulsion on earth was with subtlety plann'd. And the question arose, which infernal should go And betray to red ruin a beautiful land. " For myself," quoth the devil, " the job is too small^ I must manage by prox}^ my farm of the earth ; I completed the business so well at the Fall, That I scarcely have call'd since the manikins' birth. " My imps and their progeny working as one Dispens'd with '^e need of my presence up there j The cycles of late have so stupidly run. Let ua have something pleasant our spirits to cheer. GREAT AMERICAN RERELLIOX. 49 '' Something worthy of Tophot that never before Was enacted in hell or the regioiiH alxn'e; On each hearth muHt a comfortless mother deplore The dear boy upon whom bhe had lavinh'd her love. " Let disunion prevail and hideous howl Of recrimination embitter and jar, While lawless guerillas relentlessly prowl And proclaim their excesses legitimate war. " As for those who would flee from the blaze of their homes, And counting on mercy for quarter shall call, Be their respite the space till the powder consumes. From the click of the lock to the rush of the ball. ''Lot carnage cncrimson the land, and disease Make havoc with those who are ca|)tur'd in war, While the smoke of their hamlets impell'd by the breeze Shall proclaim to the people their ruin afar. " Let the Avounded and widows be multiplied so That the sight will be sport as they hobble and weep, And the brats raise a famishing cry, ho, ho I All hell shall rejoice and a holiday keep. " Let the sword drip with blood till the fools are ex- hausted, And call, if they choose, desolation a " peace; " But let constant disunion and confidence blasted Envenom their souls till their breathing shall cease." i * %\ 50 FUlNElJ8IIliV "Willj tlio nimblo.st troiul atjtl Iiih j)iiii()ii« outsproud. An ob.so(iui{)UH imp in tho prosonco appear'd, And with fiondiMh ^riniiujos and jork of tho lioad, 'vsh winh to bo hoard. Manilostod a (' *' 1 will go if your Kminonco wishes it done ; Hut you know tho eiishivoris uh'oady uro thoro, Their codoH aro rovisionn of tho.so of your own, What thoy fail to accomplish no dovil would dare. " With Hubmission I otfor your IlighneHs a word, — Lot them manage the war ; to their zeal wo shall owe Such a wail of despair uh the eailh never heard, And a hint for improving our prisons below." Now Satan seo*^ ' pleas'd that his work would be done, But soon on reflection his countenance foil ; For he fear'd when tho 7aco of his agents was run. That the villains woui^ raise a disturbance in lloll. FRIENDSHIP. Let 3'ouths and maids of friendship talk, Dear souls, they know no better; But wary greybeards seldom wear That costly, brittle fetter. A youth declares his love will last, Ho feels attachment tightening ; Thou fool, thou might as well expect A constant flash of lightning. II FKIENDSIIIP. 51 'Twill do to talk of frienass in cabins, air and light denied ; Whose breasts heave not, but with the heaving deep> Who whirl in ghastly dance at every tide. VI. Send by some neroid to Amphitrite To keep her mermaids off thy slender wire, Where elevated at a tempting height From hill to hill above the shells or mire. VII. The politician's and the lawyer's thoughts May flying come astride electric sparks, — To kindle strife, or raise litigious doubts, — Send those to devil-fishes, these to sharks. When greedy traders write for foreign flimsies, To be retailed to useless female deckers. Despatch it where the boreal Hole of Simm's is So save the fair from beinii: nation wreckers. THE ATLANTIC CABLE. VIIT. 'May never wnnd'ring ioobcrg grind to liust; No nameless monster gnaw tliy slender thread ; No scoiindrel's anchor for a price accurst Disturb or rend thee in thy silent bed. So may thy hitent spark of life increase ; And not a sliock thy vital fibres jar, But to encliance the lovely arts of peace — Destroy the flash that would enkindle war. 77 .»^^^£>f€N». ■ A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF TUK FIRST SETTLE- MENT OF STANBIIIDGE IN GENERAL, WITH A CIKCUMSTANTIAL IflSTOKY OF INTERESTING LOCAL IT I E8. Tlior(^ is not Ji rood of utouiuI on this oai-'li but utibrtls atnplosc'ojjc for tlio (•<)nt(Mn|)lHtioii of tlio intel- ligent .studont of nutiiro ; when man is added to the Hcenc, the inloiVHt is intensitiud : whether or not the Huni of human happiness isulways tiierehy augmented or diminished wo shall leave for the metajihysi. ciai) or philantlii'opist to detei'mine. For some time past and the present, the history of our Townshij), the most wealtliy and important in the eoiinty, of coui'se, is fresh in the memory of tiiis generation ; yet its fill more interesting early traditions and legends remain mostly unknown, and never, in a collected form, said or sung. These I purpose to rescue from that ol)li\iori to which tlicy are fast fading, and fix them In the mindts of men for th'3 full term of the conventional nine days, the usual limit to the remembrance of matters of similar importance. Embellishment or partiality being inadmissible, diligence and accuracy are all that u historian can ascribe to himself. It Avill, however, greatly lighten my labour, having no record.s to collect and compai'e, for the ])eopIe I am to give a short sketch of seldom or never indulged in the etteminate habits of reading and writing, yet although nothing but tradition is left us concerning them, I may often have to supply deficiencies and reconcile oral contradictions. It is to be lamentoj that true histories of a happy people are dull. FIRST SETTIJIMKNT OF STANBUIDGE. 71) criAPTj':R I. In the infancy of socicly, men nntnnilly seek and nccopt tho positions whid, thoii- dispositions iiiul al»iIitioH fit them to (HTiipy. He whoso ami.ition is bounded by tho Honsiblo horizon, wlio is eqiially noted for industry and modiocril^-, is content to labour tho oarth tor his l)road. Jlo who is loo hi/y to work, too honest, too steal, too wicked for a i)rio,st*', and ashamed to be.i!:, otters to stand oMiard, hence tho soldier. As id I men arc rolii;-iou8 the ]»riest is not long wanted. Ho sees something beyond the understanding, hardens dogmas into a creed, pulls a long face, ])ossibly mingles a little craft with his piety, and enters uj)on his mission. Soon after comes the quack doctor, combining the practice of kitchen physic with agri- culture in a small way, and other industries when practice is uncalled for. lla is a believer in filters and amulets, and can detect a witch by a vial of her urine. As time goes on, new characters appear upon the Htagc. Some ludicrous love affair, or battle bet- ween neighbours, seems to demand a song. The poet ' is alwjiys roatly when he is wanted, sometimes when he isn't. That he cannot write affords the public no chance to escape his iambics ; J,.) always composes in that measure. I could give many specimens of the early efforts of Statibridge rhymers, yet having a decent respect for tho oars and understanding of that portion of mankind w]»o may read this, l"" forbear. Tliere is always one in a small community who finds comfort in tho singular ambition of being considered the sickest man in all tho neighborhood. Last of all comes tho lawyer. He thrives best in tho maturity 80 STANBRIDGE EAST. and decline of neighborhoods and nations. Old Rome in her best days was 500 years withoii*^^ a lawyer : they were thick as bees in her decline, and full as busy. Something like this happened to Stan- bridge, as it alwaj's has and ever will in all no'V settlements, barring witchcraft in the future. Stanbrtdge East. — The land east of this place is hilly, here it lies in gentle swells as if trying to straighten out a little before it flats out altogether further west. There have been other ^^ swells'' in this section which generally flatted out on the spot. The flrst settler of any importance was Wilson, a worthy man. He l)uilt the flrst saw-mill in the Town- ship. The credit of using saw-mills belongs almost ex- clusively to the mrderns. Although history mentions them in the fourth century, they were exceedingly scarce in the fourteenth. It is singular that no man of note was ever engaged in the business, except General Starks. I saw Wilson's old null in iih last hour : ttiere cjime a great wind from the wilderness i Jien was heard a crashing of timber and boards; a minute more and all was si Ion t and prostrate. AVilson ^ died of hydrophobia, and the villagers stili honour his memory in a manner peculiar to themselves, having generously erected a mansoleum — no, a hog-pcn, over his grave i The hardships encountered by the first settlors of a countrj' like Canaua are seldom or neve" told ; the novelist avoids them, and the iiistorian fears it would compromise his dignity to record them. All honour to our brave old pioneers who, often with very limited means, courageously faced the rigours of a Canadian STANBRIDGE EAST. 81 winter and disputed with the liear and wolf tlie fii^ht of possession. And often too Avhilo the wolf lumn-or was at his door, the f:olf lupus was devouring his little flock; and while bear bruin was destroj'ing his little crops, bare nuked half exposed his limbs. It was by the sweat of his brow that these fields were claared from the income of which we riot and gor- mandize. He had no time to be wicked — wickedness comes of plenty and idleness. This was the time that tri(^ men's souls and bodies too. You, young gentlemen ! who are kicking up your heels twice a month and shulfling out five dollars a night, what would you say to backing a bushel of corn to Sax's Mill V. T., all the way by marked trees through fiie woods, while your wives and children were feastiiiir on prospective johnny-cakes? Many a time have your grandfathers done this. In those days our streams afforded a plenty of fish. Pike River and its tribu- taries especially in the snring time were full nf the scaly trt ^sures wlierel)y the neighbouring inhabitants were much suckered. There was a sleight, it was said, in eating the fish v.\ which but a fevv attained perfec- tion. I well recollect the man who surpassed all aspirants for that singular honour. I ha^'e heard of a machine that piaycl the bones out of a cooked fish ; a man had only to put his mouth to an aperture and receive the clear article ; but once the machine got out of order and filled the man with bones ! Not so our hero. He was a little brown man with a wide mouth that looked like a gash in a piece of sole-leather. His eystem was to enter the fish at one corner of said mouth, and b}^ some unaccountable action of its interior member and muscles cause a stream of bones F m !■■ I' 82 STAXBinDGE EAST. ! il to fly out at the other, while the nutricions portion was safely (lepositc>I Miss, don't turn up your pretty lip at this, for lo\e {'.Iways was, and is now, all the world over, just the same unreasoning, painfully pleasing, silly affair. Time, place, and circumstances may modify the piLssions, but never radically chaugo them. The nudo savage with a cop[)er ring in her nose is as proud as Flora McFlimsy with her forty thousand dollar wai'drobe, and '' nothing to wear " after all that! 80 CLATPERTOWN. i CHAPTER II. Eedford. In Ji cci'tain Scandinavian bishops liis- tory of Iceland occurs til is chapter : "There are no snakes in Iceland," and what I know of the early settlement of what is now called Bedford may he summed up with almost equal brevity. There was no direct communication between Stanbrid/4*e East and that place for many years except a foot-path throui,4i the wilderness. In our annual Journey down Pike iliver after fish, we always followed the right bank, and so left the rudimental Bedford without observa- tion. Indeed there could have been but little to ob- serve. The place was once owned by one Lampmon who had to give it up to a litigious gentleman for some such cause as a certain lamb lost his life riling the water up stream, when ho was drinking, you know. But all the earlier hopes, successes, disaj)pointments, and hardships of the few people then existing there, is shrouded in 'mpenetrable mystery. One might as well ask what Eonio was before Romulus, or what our world was beforft chaos. CHAPTER III. Clappertown, in the north west corner of Stan- bridge, will amply reward us for our antiquarian re- searches. Its tirst inhabitants were entirely Low Dutch, whose habits wore so dissimilar from ours that attention was from the tirst directed to that interest- ing locality. A belief in thaumaturgy and witchcraft, which was more or loss prevalent all over the Town- ship, was here the main exercise of what, by a liberal courtesy, wo may call the people's intellects. When >ll ' |H "I CLAPPEUTOWX. 87 the bond of a family died the boos in tlio hivos wero solemnly nolitiod of tlie event, an.i as o-nivel}' en- treated to labonr for ]ii« heirs and successors. Their houses were all of one style of architecture. It bore some resemblance to the Doric, beini;; supported by columns, but the columns wore horizontal. Eouml logs, with moss stuffed in between them formed the walls; some, who attected grandeur, ])lastered the cracks with chi}'. The roofs of the more pretentious houses wero made of long cedar shingles pegt/ed on to ribs made of small poles, while those under which the common peo])le made a pretence of living were of ash bark laid on similar poles. The (/round floor was frequently' no fiii;ure of speech, when it was otherwise, it was sj)lit basswood. The one room Ixdow did the duty of a whole set. What light didn't come through four panes of greased paper, pasted on to j'lcic- knife sasn, came down chimnev. The chimnev, if an}-, was always made of sticks and clay above the chamber floor, and took tire roi-'ularlv once a month, in cold weather. The lower portion of it was simply a " back jnm " of stone. The tirst floor down chimney, the ti.digular chamber, was reached by lifting up a trap-door at the top of a short ladder. The one door below swung on wooden hinges. The wooden latch was raised by a string hanging outside. When the string was pulled in, if one was well-bred he would'nt Icnock ; it was the back-woods " not at home." These structures had one decided advantage ovei* houses of the present day, their ventilation was jier- fect. A Yankee sea captain, apparently somewhat inclined to inexactitude, once said he pumped the Atlantic Ocean three times through his leaky ship, 88 CLAPPEIITOWX, II orossinj^ from London to New Yoi-lc. In one of those log-liousos, in cold woatlier, a siinilnr process sconwed to bo i'-oing on with the air of Canada, while the inmates might have been seen turnint;- like snsj)ended scarecrows : if stationary one side would fvavAe, the other burn. In fact the costume of tlio ])eo|)Ie was in suclj an admirable state for agricultural protection that no complaint has come down to us of their ever liaving had any corn pulled. How much of this im- munity from the de)»reJations of birds was owing to the people's unifoi-mly speaking Low Dutch, is not easily determined. Alter Lamj)mon built a saw-mill, the houses referred to were much im})roved. He was a Dutch- man and I believe contrived to die on the sj)ot, but, as afoi'esaid, his heirs were disinherited on the gi-ound that the weaker party, black or white, has no right to a place where an Anglo Saxon wishes to set up business. Tanney's Dread Scot decision was not original. All the fui'nitui-e in those establishments Jiad a Dutch name, which means there were none but such as were absolutely necessar}'. In a rude uncultivated society, men and sometimes women too, are much inclined to value themselves for superior bodily strength — in fact, a very neces- sary qualification in their condition. Such was the ambition of the people in question. They had a very exact way of knowing each other's prowess, which was by the number of suckers each could bring back from Pike River. What made the gauge more exact was this, it frequently happenetl that any one could take as many as he pleased, therefore cupidity put tlieir j)0wers to the utmost test. There was the '' forty- CLAPPEUTOWN. 89 siu-k-or-man " who wan accounted a f'coblo follow, but he that could inarch with ninety was looked up to as a man of con.sequence, ho was a chanij)ion who had things pretty much his own vvay ; when po()|)le didn't do as he liked ho appealed from their unwill- ingness to their fears. Power is apt to take such advantages. The diligent student may have soon or read of something like it on a larger scale. The manner of taking the fish may be news to some. In some dark night in April, while yet ice could be found in places, a company of ten, more or loss, armed with a pigeon-net, attacked the fish in their own element. Two men held the net and all the rest except "Judas" ''drove." Those who have road the Scriptures as they ought in a Christian . country neetl not bo told that Judas carried the bag. One cannot be too particular in a lish sLoiy. Of course it is understood that the. "drivers" were all above the net. So hard was it at times to withstand the curient that the "forty-sucker-man" and some- times even the " tifty " would lose their footing and be caught in the net they set for the fish. This seonis to be ])oetical justice, but the fish mii-ht have contended, lind tliey spoken on the subject, that it would have been more exact if the whole draught had been doomed to the frying pan. Shaking Quakers and some other sects, it is said, wear sheet- iron breeches as an aid to continence ; such to all intents and purposes were our fishermen's lower gar- ments in one minute after they came out of the %vater on a frosty morning. In their case, however, if true to their antecedents, wo have a right to con- clude that whatever cold scruples they might have I 90 CLAPPERTOWN. had while in tlio river, tliut breechos and scruples thaw'd togotlior. Tlio Dutch of Clap[)orto\vn wore not faultless, such men are never found oxccj)t in bad novels and Yankees goiiiiJ!; into office. The looseness of their moral code left many thini^s unforbidden which would not for a moment be tolerated in cultivated society, tiiey wore much attached to the soil, and the soil reciprocated the attachment. The virtue of conti- nence was not ainong their many good qualities. Wives fron necessity or subdued wrath learned to take little or no notice of roving husbar.ds. Scandal, of course, was busy, but it never thrives except in good society I With the low-bred there is no fecUnij for it to feed on. A scratch that would not bo noticed on a rough, would greatly disfigure a polish'd surface. If the reader has not seen this comparison forty times, he has a bad memory. Thieving was almost unknown ; the utmost indust'/y in that line would have been a beggarly busjness. Sometimes in settling half forgotten accounts, the '' wager of battle " was apj^ealed to, not that they knew anything about tliat medieval custom, but took to it naturally. Dismiss- ing all the formalities of the old law, the prepara- tions for trial were instantaneous. It was only coat and hat off; but often in warm weather necessity kept them in constant preparation. In these contests, of courfc^e, the forty-sucker-man fared much as the forty -dollar-man does now in our " equitable" courts. It was then trial by battle, it is nov. battle by trial. Obligationis for projierty were given and taken with- out " stamps." The stamp of honour was all they required, quite as good as paper binding, for i*' a CLAITERTOWN. 91 man means to pay his debts lie will remonibor thorn, if ho OW08 so many ho cainiot rcmomher them, don't waste paper on iiim. It is ti-ainini^ day — wo Avero all loyal once — everybody tui-nod out on those occa- sions, some had to ^o six or ei^ht miles. It is astonishinii; how the face of society has faded, or been washed shwo then, it was as brown as bacon. 8ce that juvenile of fifteen summers. Ho is staring with open mouth at the wonderful things said and done. It is the first time he was ever so far from the pater- nal acres. It seems a question whether his brooches have contracted, or his logs grown down : at any rale, nine inches of gritty skin is ap])aront from the soles of his bare feet u|>wai'd. Being hailcss, the sun has added a darker tinge to his arquired brown. Ho is in great distress to know what to do with his hands, he puts them behind, before him in all ways, and some- limes into his mouth one at a time, as if he had a mind to devour them as troublesome appendages. Of female beauty tradition is nearly silent ; either the sex was deficient in bewildering charms or the poets unappreciative, for not a single madrigal is extant. Bai'oly one bald prosaic description of a belle of that day is available now concerning those angelic forms and faces, doubtless bright as an incarnation of the morning star. I had it repeated to mo a long time ago by a very old man. The subject of his remarks had lain down, not like Imogen on the flowery bank of a I'ivulet, but between two old rotten logs by the way-side for a snooze. With a descriptive power that may in j^nrt excuse its roughness, he gave mo his impression of the appearance of the recumbent beauty thus : " Iler face was brown and as broad as IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) V // O A f/j y. 1.0 I.I 1.25 |50 "«^^ III 2.5 IM 1.8 i-4 IIIIII.6 ^ /J V] ^..rJ^ V /: >> y /A V « :1>' ;\ \ \ ^- ^^uj^ •^^^ C<*- &?^ b. o^ 92 CLAPPERTOWN. my ciUter-back. her lips like two roIling-piiiR, lior broad, bare, dirty feet stuck up like two bull-.sliears." I thought at the time that the old gentleman, in the heat of description, was indulging a little in hj'ber- bole, but happening soon after to see some persons who had seen the subject, I found the exaggeration trifling. To understand the revolting force of his last comparison some need be told that a bull-shear was the iron part of a plow about eighteen inches long and one foot wide. Actual measurement is de- structive of the sublime, so I fear I have marred the description. CHAPTEE IV. It may be feared that we seldom appreciate the advantages of living in an age that has outgrown the follies and barbarism of antiquity. Gibbon intbrms us that in a remote period the horrid rite of human sacrifice was universal throughout the world. It should seem thatdegradaiion could no further go than for a father to lead out his son to be immolated on the altar of a hideous idol. No less distant was the general belief in supernatural beings, among the great number of which witches seem to have been the most mischievous and common. But this age is like to be the death of the whole of them, a bare catalogue of whoso names would till a dime novel. Even the reign of the great representative of evil himself seems to be in danger. Or, being a crafty old fellow, he may repent, as some divines hold he will, and become a shining instead of a burning light. The generations that shall live after all these fanciful beings, Satan except, have passed from the memory "^m^ CLAPPKRTOWN. 93 of men, will be shockingly utilitarian. There will be nothing left to point u moral or adorn a tale. Young ladies will become enthusiastic over acts of parlia- ment, philosophic puzzles and statistical tables. Literary gentlemen will seek relaxation in the higher mathematics. But it is useless to contend against predestinate bathos. So we may as well make the plunge at once and come down to tell j'ou of the su- perstitions and witchcraft firmly believed in by the good people of Clappcnown. If a cow died suddenly she was said to be " olf shotten." A post mortem examination always resulted in not finding the "hair ball " that did the mischief, but when was supersti- tion baffled by 0])posing truth ? There is a little elevation in the road just north of the Mystic post-office over which, formerly, '' no ani- mal could go faster than a walk." But certainly now the enchantment is broken. It was probably done by some of the northern neighbors riding home from Bedford after election enchantment gave way to momentum. A little further along on the same road there is a small hillock on the eastern side, where once upon a time was " buried a pot of money." Many dug for and some to it, as they asserted, but the moment the spade touched the pot, hej'^ presto ! it sank fathoms nine, more or less, and, horrible to tell, an awful black goblin instantly appeared as guardian of the treasure! His eyes were like unto glowing coals, and a long bluish flame flashed and flickered from his mouth, as he whizzed about like a congreve rocket, varying his exercises b}" a lively imitation of a jumping-jack. Whatever other inter- esting features this unremitting banker possessed t: 1^ I I 94 CLAPPERTOWN. . will never be known, as the money-diggers honestly confessed tluit theii' rapid departure precliideil the possibility of taking more extended notes. It is very certain that the pot was never lifted by any of the neighbors, us none of them were ever known to have an uncommon amount of change about them. A firm belief in witchcraft served the simple, un- cultured people with exciting mental food, just as about a half dozen " isms " and ologies do us. It would have been i'ar different, perhaps, had they lived where '' law and order reigned ; " bul no ecclesiastical court meddled with them, as was the mode of the Catholics, no civil magistrate, as was practised among Protestants, and so of course no gi'eat evil resulted from giving to airy nothing a local habitation and a luunc. Letting the numerous witch-stories remain, as they deserve to be, nearly or quite forgotten by the oldest inhabitants, I shall content myself and the reader too by only relating one or two of the common ])i'anksof the " weird women." A favorite recreation was to take a man out of bed in the small hours of the night, ride him as far as they pleased, hitch him to a stump or post till they had finished their nefa- rious revelries, then canter him back home before cock-crow in the morning. Tiie seventh son, or, bet- ter still, the seventh son of the seventh son, was always selected for the roadsters in these nocturnal pleasure trips. Not the least astonishing part of this outrage on the lords of creation was the " fact " that the un- fortunate man was drawn out of his house through the cracks between the logs, or under the door, or some- times through the hole, in the door where the string played. — But of what avail are proofs against unrea- * = -:V CLAPPEUTOWN. 95 soiling belief? It appears that women were never utilized by tiie hags for these midnight excursions, for what reason is not well understood ; perhaps they Avere rejected as balky and given to shying. It is some consolation that the sex in all conditions gene- viiUy prefer ns. I have known j'oung gentlemen, however, under the influence of females, the reverse of hags, who would have gladly exchanged their toi-- ments for a twelve mile ranter and carried the cause ' of all their woe besides. Not long ago, comparatively speaking, it was one of the duties of holy men to cast out devils. Only one attempt at exoi-cism comes with- in range of this history. Many years have passed since a man in our vicinity possessed with evil spirits came limvling by tl^ house of a would-be exorcist. The good man -ftwved with compassion for the suf;. ^ -m^ ferer, and with no kind feelings for Satauijr his imps, caught up his Bible and advanced to Rayreize or ex- pel the disturbing devils. Eut the poor man, Avhom the infernals seemed to bo rending horriblj-, ran off at a rate of speed that no saint ever attained. So the kind intention, and probably the last recorded at- tempt to cast out devils failed ; whether from ineffi- ciency of legs or want of sufficient sanctity can now never be known. The ftinciful crime of witchcraft has enslaved the ignorant and befooled those whom we had a right to expect had better sense from the " beginning" even to a late day; and to this hour among all savages and in the outskirts of civilization the degrading craze is raging with the old-time folly, but haply for the poor people, not j)unished by legal enactments. In a bull of Pope Innocent VIII. a commission was II' i! '> .>« Hi n 96 CLAPPERTOWN. appointed to examine and punish witches throui^hont the German Empire. This solemn confirmation of the vulgar Huperstition, as might have been expected, was made the pretext for punishing the imaginary crime in all Catholic countries. Tliey detected a witch, as Mrs. Partington did bad indigo, if it would sink or swim. Protestants as well as Catholics thought that witchcraft had. some mysterious connec. tion with heresy; they both'punishcd the imaginary offenders excessively, agreeing for once, as it was quite in character for them to do, in the most bigot- ed, ignorant, and cruel persecution that over dis- gniced the human family. In England, in Elizabeth's reign, Keginald Scot rose up against the mistaken zealots, but he was cried dovvnttcsteh : " ¥+»««♦— «4t«4t Wi i U ^ i i^\^^* ' ^\ \ witfth to " l 7t 3 in the ' Inti d )" 'iiifl, ^ I'lt - ly^ t io yenp l o r i nrr fJnl . Sometime in the 17th century Belthazar Becker, a German, Avrote a book against witchcraft. All honour to the brave Dutchman who wasn't afraid to take the Pope's hull by the horns. His was a mart3^rdom to some purpose. He was worth forty of those who " sealed the truth with their blood," losing their lives for rejecting some trivial non-essential ritual observance ! But somehow the world doesn't care f.o laud the men who have battled with superstition, probably for fear they would be emboldened to attack unproveu truths also. The " witch-finder " was a murderous sneak to whom, thanks to the progress of liberality, this age atibrds no parallel. The disposition to worry and destroy each other of course exists, yet necessarily in a modi- fied form. Those now living who \vould, had they lived in a past century, been inquisitors and witch- CLAPPERTOWN. 97 finders aro limited to the congenial delights of vexations law-suits, political trickery, and slander. Rabelais laughed at witchcraft, and Montaigne de- nounced it two centuries before the just, the pious, and the bigoted Sir Matthew Hale burnt a witch ! It is only the man who thinks as men will a hundred years after he is dead, whoso opinions on the future aro worthy of attention. The unreasoned guesses of tlie masscf, are like evanescent bubbles floating their little hour along the stream of time. Where shall we look for such an exhibition of human infirmity as in " sanctified " Poj^es, grave senators, learned Judges, wise and pious men in " holy orders," who knew all about futurity, yet just as blind as other people in mundane affairs, condemning tens of thousands, nay, perhaps, hundreds of thousands to the gibbet and stake for an offence which existed nowhere save in their own bigoted, misguided skulls. ''The law against witchcraft is still in the statutes of Great Britain." It is really an unsettled question which has wrought the most evil to mankind, "good men" or "bad." But we feel we have aright to hope that the record- ing angel will not enter as debt bad deeds done with good intentions; still, enormous mistakes, it should seem, ought to work the decay of fanatic zeal and blind confidenoe. When mighty wrongs are backed by legal enactments, man's most distinguished trait, an inconsiderate and ferocious pretension to a love of justice, takes entire possession of him. Supposed duty and natural inclination coincide; then, as we have seen above, you may look out for deeds that would raise a blush in the face of a relentless Thug. He would kill without the mocking formalitv of law. Q 98 WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. Beware, O man, when thou hast elevated the legal club, holdl an irreparable punishment demands an infallible judge, which thou art not, as ten hundred thousand complaining ghosts abundantly testify. « ' WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME? If a man appears to us ugly or handsome wo can always determine to our own satisfaction to which class he belongs, but very different are our endeavours when we attempt to gauge his moral qualities and intellect. Of the thousand and one theories concern- ing the human mind, that of Burns seems to be the most concise and rational. Rei^lying to Pope's crotchet, the '' ruling passion," he says: "In spite of all his theoretic positions. Mankind is a problem that defies definitions." From Burns' opinion of men there is no appeal. Mankind have endorsed his sentiments with the utmost sincerity, that is by buying his works, two copies of which are sold in America to one of Byron's? and ten to one of Scott's, while the importations are more in favour of Burns. Before dismissing Burns, it is proper to say those who contend that genius or good sense are inseparable from good looks are well suj)- ported by the tine features of the plowman poet. That those who admire the good, the beautiful and the true always have a countenance expressive of those qualities, is a position uniformly defended by good-looking people, but admitted by the ill-favoured with extreme caution, or more likely never admitted at * 'I WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. 99 all, such sticklers are wo for anything that can bo construed into our favour. When tho author of Paradise Lost drew his perfect man, he drew John Milton. See ijim " His fair large front and eye sublime declared Absolute rule ; aod liyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad." This exactly agrees with the description of Milton by his biograph er. He was a handsome man, and in his youth so good looking as to be called by his fellows the "lady Milton." Thus far all is discour- aging to deformed or plain people, but we will try pre- sently to give them a little consolation. What of the ''wicked, witty" Lord Byron? Ah, my fine fellows, we have you now! Ask Mrs. Stowe if he cared anything about the good, the beautiful— except women — and the true, yet he was the handsomest man in Europe barring his " nub foot." A friend once surprised him with his hair in papers. Should I be so fortunate as to have a lady reader she will know what the i)apers mean; it is unimportant whether tho duller sex understand it or not. J3yron, ifyou can be- lieve him, was of all men the most intense lover of the better sex. A certain old tyrant wished his sub- jects had but one neck, so he could cut them all off at once. Not so our amorous lord, he wished " All women had but one rosy mouth, Then he could kiss them all at once from north to south." Mrs. Stowe selects passages in his works wherein she fancies he owns his guilt; aside from Childe Harold, she might almost anywhere have found any quantity , i I 100 WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. of mo(!k ponitenc'O done in his pociiliur stylo, which could only bo twisted into a concession by her visual obliquity. See one of the " proofs :" " 1 am as bad as the devil can Avish, And just as easy to be damned As 'tis to draw to land a late hook (1 fish." Indeed ho did try to make the world cry because he did. Curran says : " he used it for a pocket hand- kerchief." Now, it is almost certain that those animated lumps of stupidity, whose aggregation constitute what is called society, are never so happy as when they fancy or find that 8ome pcrsoi , infinitely above them in intellect, has broken some of their conven- tional rules, or crowded hard agaitist their moral fences. How grateful it must have been to their dull- nesses to say to themselves and to each other, " Byron was somewhat a genius, but ho was not so good as we are." At an age when most young men cannot write a decent notice for a lost gelding, Byron wrote Childe Harold. I care not if the man that aftbrded me the ]ileasure of reading that book kissed all the ladies of England. In a contest to see who can be- lieve the most of an evil report, the unreasoning man is always victor. The wiser man who has a real or fancied interest in having it true deserves " honour- able mention," but the man of sense lags behind all; he has many difficulties to encounter, and frequently finds it his duty to reverse the decisions of the *' courts below." And thus ended Mrs. Stowe's unprovoked raid ; the better judgment of mankind having decided that the "True Story" owes its revolting details to the vivid imagination of two jealous old women. The WILL THE COMING MAN BE HXNDSOME. 101 (1 ndvocatos for the inseparahio connoetion of wit and beauty may make wliat tlicy ploaso of tlio poot iti question. lie does indeed seem to be an unclassified specimen of the grmts homo. Tbe metaphysicians can bottle him up as an exception to their rules. It should seem that rare poetical geniuses have very generally been also favoured with tino features : as examples we may mention Crichton, Marlow and I'Mgar A. Poe. These fast fellows, togetlier with many others of the kind, were not conspicuous lor what the world has agreed to call virtue, especially the conventional vir- tues. Steady-going morality is an easy attainment for the dullards, if to an absence of all emotional feeling can i'o accorded that praise. The notion that handsome people arc always wise and witty conflicts with the general law of compensa- tion. For instance, great muscular anc intellectual strength are incompatible. Ail history furnishes no example of a person so favoured. I know there bo those who contend that " only strong healthy bodies have strong health}' minds." We beg leave to otier, in amendment, that heavy bod'es have heavy minds. However, the theorj'^, without the amendment, must be peculiarly gratifying to every ponderous booby. No, the almost certainty tliat " genius is a disease " is more credible. Julius Caesar, Mahomet, and Shelley had fits. Nothing could be easier tiian filling a page with cases in point, but the reader's patience must not be trifled with. Virgil, Pollock, Keats, Kirk White, — but, hold .'—all died young. Sometimes Pope didn't have the headache. But some good-looking fellow will say: wdiat of all this? Why, this it is, sickly people are never handsome; pain distorts the coun- 102 WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. tonanco, and if long continuod, distortion becomes tho normal condition. Here certainly tiie mind modilies tiie countenance, but does it necessarily follow that the vivid imagination of genius beautifies liis face? Surely not. He is quivering v/ilh emotion—feels in' tensely on every subject, including troujjle. Life is a tragedy to those who feel. The average age of tho really gifted " rhyming tribe " is, say, tliirty years. If an}' by reason of great strength attain to three score and ton, 'tis always, we may say, by the aid of a leaven of dullness. The blunt edge of the sword pre- served the scabbard. As specimens of this rare va- riety of poets, Wordsworth and Bryant, as a compen- sation ibr their lack of fire, were permitted to long enjoy a comfortable lukewarm ness. Bryant was a good-looking man in his prime, but Wordsworth must have looked exceedingly plain at any time in his life. Philosophers, from the regularity of their habits and even temper, live long. They generall}' become fa- mous by dogged perseverance, rather than by any great superiority over tho better class of men. They are entirely above all such considerations as ugliness or beauty, and I can scarcely remember a personal description of any of them. Those trifles may amuse the fancy of little men, but are of no importance to men in whom mind predominates. It is impossible to escape knowing that Socrates was lean and Esop a hunch-back, that Gibbon had a snub nose, and that Dr. Johnson was scarred bv scrofulous sores. Wo may note here that these four, to go no further, damage the beauty theory very much. As was said, philosophers are long livers. Voltaire, Franklin and Humbolt are noted exam^jles, their united ages amount It '. WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. 103 to al.ou( 2G0 years. The hoohy would outMvo all mankind if ho had a wiwo man to care for him. Some sinister lookin;L? fellows have even ^'ono so far as to my ho is (/encralli/ handsome. It must have heen a man of a frightful eoiinlenance who made that state- ment. That n)en of the same race, creed, or eolour should stand by each other, there seems to be good reason, but that the ill-favoured and ugly should set up a party, is unaccountable. It is said that out West there is a knife in possession of the ugliest man in that region ; for when he finds another looking worse than himself he at once hands over the blade. The last recorded transfer is when the knife was presented to General Taylor. This and the following may be taken for proof of what very plain looking men are good for. Two London jockeys were tr^'ing to trade '' 'osses." One said : '' j-our 'os 'as a bad 'ed." The other replied : " bad 'ed ! look at Mr. Gladstone, 'es got the worst 'ed ov heny man in Hinglaiid, and see wat aman'e his." Wilkes, an English statesman, had such a distorted countenance that the caricaturists gave him up, they were beaten by the original. Whether or not beautiful women know more than ugly ones is a question we do not propose to settle. The beauties ccrtairdy need to know most to save them from crying out with Goethe's Margaret: " My beauty was my undoing." Homer puts all he has to say of a handsome man into one lino ; by leave of his admirers I had much rather ho had sung of be.iuties than dragging the carcass of a noble enemy around the walls of Tro3\ But this is a little mould}-, and savours of affectation, too, seeing I know Greek only by sight. Authors 104 WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. generally con lent themselves and readers too by telling us what men have said and done, leaving us to make them look as we please. From oldest time, barba- rians have always selected the "big Indian " for a ruler, unconsciously ado])ting the strong body strong mind theor}^, but in highly civilized communities the very opposite view seems to have been entertained. The great Alexander was a little man on the scales ; Augustus Caesar, the greatest wire puller the world ever saw, was also a small follow, avoirdupois weight. He was the great antitj'pe of Yankee offi- cials. Antiognus, Philip of Macedon, Hannibal, Ser- torius, and Timoleon, all, except Sertori us possessed no bodily advantages over common men, yet all were doomed to the singular misfortune of having exactly one eye each. Now, allowing the ladies to be judges of good looks, not one of those old skull- crackers can " come in." In the first place, no woman likes a little man. 1 know I am on ticklish ground now, but I have heard them say it. If any small fellow takes offence at this, his war is with the women, not with me ; but 1 forewarn him that if he shows fight, when the battle is over he will only enjoy such consolation as may be drawn from the glory of being tho hero of a defeat. Moreover any kind of physical defect in man is woman's aversion. " What do I care for that lame boy," said Mary Chaworth, speaking of Byron. Poor Mary ! she refused B3ron who adored her, and married a man who loved her — mone^^ lie spent her immense fortune in a very short time, abusing her the while lie did it. She died in a mad-house within two years after making tho great mistake of her life. ^' Musters '* WILL THE COMIN^T MAN BE HANDSOME. 105 bribed her servants to favour him with her own money in reality, for he borrowed it on the strength of his prospects of success in his suit; but for this, and possibly the ambition or vainglory of Mary in discarding a lord, two of the brightest ornaments might have been saved to society, the one from insanity and the other from dissipation. Agesilaus was lame, deformed, and had a voice like a woman. Timour managed to limp from the wall of China to. the Pillars of Hercules, spreading desolation in his track. But, "what of all this?" says my fine, large, handsome man. Let old Barton answer : "Ge- nius nor virtue refuseth no stature," and commonly 3'our vast bodies and fine features are sottish and dull. What were those Anakins, Maximin, Ajax and Cali- gula but barbarous lubbers ? At the battle of Lt nden, the commanders on both sides were the ugliest, sickest men on the field. Luxemburg in a(|dition to his many infirmities was a hunchback; William of Orange was a scarecrow. It seems to us just now that no handsome man was ever noted for doing much at any time. Even in getting into the good graces of the ladies it is said he is often discarded for a plain rival. The whole qu.estion seems to come to this : men are received according to their appearance and dismissed accord- ing to merit. With those whose opinions are worth anj'thing dress and fine features go for nothing, 'Twas Barely, I think, who fought Perry on Lake Erie- Barely was limed to such a degree that he wrote to the young lady he had engaged to marry offering to break off the match if she chose. Sue answered: "I will marry you if you have body enough left to hold your I! m I 106 WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. soul tofjother." But this is an exceptional case — one which by no means will do to Judge the world by. When the theory of the inseparable connection of strong healthy bodies and strong healthy minds pre- sents itself to our mental vision, what a troop of in- valids and puny people come up, and silently solemnly confute the scandal. The genial bed-rid Hood, Scar- ron permanently bent like a Z, Cervantes writing the second part of Don Quixote duri.ig the agonies of a mortal disease, .Copernicus finishing his life and book together, — these and many who might be men- tioned were plain looking men even when they were well. Methinks I see the little, near-sighted, weazen, faced Charlotte Bronte; Elizabeth Barret "all e^es and curls"- -Hawthorne tells us she was almost ethe- rial, and Margaret Fuller whose headache did some- times intermit. Be it distinctly understood that we have not yet had the temerity to say that female beauty goes for nothing. Beauty is a word not applicjtble to men. If a man ever deserved it, he should have worn petticoats. Of such a fellow we say a virgin might have conceived him by flirting with her shadow. No, a beautiful woman is a power in the land, a power we are sorry to say not always used for the benefit of mankind. The most /?rt7nm^ example that comes to mind isPersapolis burnt to please a cour- tesan. They do not dally with fools because they cannot turn wiser heads. Old history, or more likely scandal, sayeth that the blandishments ofAspasia up- set the gravity, if not the virtue, of Socrates himself. We must leave unnoticed a thousand exhibitions of their power, and only mention as a modern instance WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. 107 that tho hero of the battle of the Nile " wished to be buried bj' the side of Miss Hamilton." When a woman is merely good, if not favoured by the acci- dent of birth, nothing is said of her, but let her be beautiful, talented and frail, the world never tires of reading her history. What a drab-coloured tame- ness would overspread societj^ had it been so ordered that human nature should atford us no opportunities of giving owr opinion concerning moral delinquencies. If sin is not a pleasure, talking about it is our greatest. Some women become famous, not on account of beauty, but in spite of it, like Madame De Stael " who was the ugliest woman in France." Curran deserved and obtained the same unenviable distinc- » tion in Ireland. The celebrated Sapho, who not only " spak o' loupin o'er a linn " but did it, was dark without being comely. As for those accidents called warriors we hold them as " no account men " — the occasion made them and time will unmake them. Tell us who were in the battle of Canae? Hannibal, certain, and one more, can j'ou go any further ? The twice two hundred thousand heroes of the Great American Rebellion, all covered with glory at the time, w^ill soon be forgotten, notwithstanding we know where they are buried. We don't know where the woman was buried who said, "I appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober," but twenty-two centu- ries have not in the least lessened our interest in the reply. 'Tis he whose sayings become household w^ords whom we delight to honour. They asked Socrates where he would be buried, said he; " Fom can't hu'ij Socrates^ We can bury a Vanderbilt, a Sherman, or a Webster. How vain is the attempt to ii 108 WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. perpetuate the name of a nobody l)y a few cut stones ! "Who built the Pj'^ramids? The few good things said from time to time through the ages are more endur- ing than mr.rbie or brass. Tlie Yankees have delivered many "wonderful orations," some of them " rivaled those of Demosthenes." Repeat three consecutive words from any of them now if*you can, not excepting the reply o Hoyne. Of all men, the poet occupies the highest scat in the temple of fame. Ho alone never gave the least countenance or quarter to tyranny or oppression. His lowest thought is above the politician's highest flight. The politician, we know, is a necessity to society; we know also ho is necessarily uncandid, and "gives up to a party what was meant for mankind." Not so the poet, he addresses himself to the entire race, irrespective of colour, creed, nationality, or partj'. He rebukcth sin in high places, and ever stands up manfully for the down- trodden and poor, Methinks I hear a dry proser say, ''Bosh." Sir knight, or whosoever you are, I defy you to put your finger on a line in any poet, from the least to the greatest, favouring oppression. Why, if one should dare such a prostitution of his talents, the muses would quench his fire, if he had any, in the same manner that Gulliver extinguished that of the roj^al palace of Liliput. Of course it is understood w'e have only spoken of profane poets, for hymn makers, whose Parnassus is Calvary and whose Hypocrene is Siloam, have in their pious zeal written some very strange lines. Talk of heathen idols ! what a Moloch some of them have drawn. As these visionaries write principally of WILL THE COMiXG MAN BE HANDSOME. 109 th in CTB beyond time, wo will consider them beyond criticii^m— or beneath it. Generalizations are danger- ous, for what can you api)ly to mankind by way of adage or proverb but you may bo mot witii excop. tions. I said, no poet from the least to the greatest ever wrote a line in fiivour of oppression. Tupper did. Now, ever since Tuppor wrote his Proverbial '•Platitudes" he has been waning in esteem as a poet. In the composition of that poem he versified all the scraps of morality to be found in almanacs, newspapers and old books, together with all that lives by oral tradition. For a while, many made the great mistake of calling him a real poet, he unde- ceived them out of his own head. Tupper is down South now, in Charleston or thereabouts, and being a toad-eater everywhere, of course, as a rhymer he must offer them some of his metrical consolation to the whilom patriarchal slave holders. The Now York Tribune saith confidently, that no other poet live or dead could have written the following stanza ; " Doubtless there had been some hardships and cruelties, Cases exceptionul, evil and rare, But to tell the truth— and truly the jewel' tis— Kindness ruled— as a rule— ev'rywhere ! Servants— if slaves— were your wealth and inheritance, Born with your children and grown on your ground And it was quite as much interest as merit hence Still to make friends of dependents all round." You see, even Tuppor himself does not accord unreserved praise. I have widely strayed from my subject, my excuse is I was after a very rare spoci- nien of singing birds. I have given a touch of his warbling lest some might say I had not read up to no WILL THE COMING MAN BE HANDSOME. II my pretension ; but now, ms the writers of fairy tales say, ' I deny and defy ' any man to show another line or stanza favouring the abuses aforesaid. As for the coming man, we care but little how he will look if so be he looks /ar enough, it is all wo want of him. Ho may be as frightful as Wilkes or as comely as Byron, yet 1 am inclined to think he will favour Wilkes. Genius, like love, ' goes where it*s sent." The pride of race would prompt the wish that the coming man should be a Caucasian, but we must not be too sure of that, for the greatest orator of the century is a Mongolian. Will the good things said hitherto by any Caucasian be repeated twenty five centuries hence, as thoso of Confucius are now all the world over? The man who stands the best chance to be long remembered and quoted on this continent and elsewhere is decidedly a 'plain fellow and a Longfellow. Let the homely take comfort, 'tis words and deeds — if worth anything — not the coun- tenance, that is going down to posterity. The facial irregularities of a great man, long dead, are seldom a subject of inquiry, and never, except by a few — his words are for all. > EDGAB ALLEN POE. Ill KDGAR ALLEN POE. Mankind, from local prejudice or lack of appreci- ation, have commonly made a sorry exhibition of fore- sight concerning who was to be favourably known after time had brought in its revenges. There were many brave men at the battle of Lepanto, but all we know or care about them is, that a common soldier— Cervantes— lost an arm there. The bones of the rich moulder under a costly monument; coming gener- ations will infer they were rich, that's all. In a few hundred years the historian will clear his pages of the human rubbish of the present generation, save one or two in many thousands, and half of these may be accidents of birth or war. Two hundred years ago a little boy in Massachu. sets wandered into the wood; a fortnight's unavail- ing search was made for him. It was evident he subsisted for a while on berries and roots, for traces of his doings were found in the shape of little play- horses such as he could make with his poor materials, but at last his little bones were found in a hollow tree-a ghastly skeleton. This tale being embalmed in the pages of Hawthorne, the child's story, to-day is better known than that of any of the olden colonial governors of his state. All the lesser lights of local greatness, where are they ? Twenty-six years ago the body of Edgar Allen Poe on a dreary autumnal morning, was borne to an un- marked grave-not even a headstone. The procession all told consisted of one carriage and four persons ; it started from the hospital to which Poe had been li ; i .■ ( 112 EDGAR ALLEN POE. If (| 1'^ carried a short time before, after falling down in the street. While at the hcspital he was told he was among friends. 11 is answer was : " no, for my friends would blow m}'- brains out." Even imagination fails to conceive the agony of those few hours. Neverthe- less, to-day a beautiful and costly monument in his honour has been dedicated in the pi'csence of an im- mense assemblage, comprising the wealth and culture of Baltimore. Why this strange revolution of j)ublic feeling? Poo was as worthy of admiration the day after he died as to-day. Thus it is — local prejudices are dying away, and mankind, acting from their better senses, are convinced that the euphonius refrain of the Haven will bo silenced " nevermore." Long years ago Tennyson, from near the summit of Par- nassus, looked across the Atlantic and saw Poe alone at the top of our three-peaked mount. Numerous in- distinct forms were seen about the base and others floundering up the sides. This notice and recogni- tion was reciprocated by Poe. These two, of all their countrymen, could perfectly understand each other ; low pecuniary considerations or envy warped the judgments of all the others. poe's moral character. I- I His enemies, or those who damn with faint praise, tell us that in his mental constitution the moral sense was wholly wantin' backing the strong assertion by instances of finance, > irregularities, and in fact he did sometimes seem to hold with Pistol that '' base is the slave that pays." While in that mood he seemed to his foes to be spending all the money he could EDGAR ALLEN POE. 113 earn or borrow. It was a triflo at most. As \h usual in 8uch cases, the praises of his friends were denied by his enemies. An autograpli hunter inquired of Greeley if he could favour him with Poe's sii^nature. Horace was open for negotiation, and told the gentle- man he had one, was ready to part with it to any person who would lift the note. The gentleman estimating his curiosity at less than a hundred dollars, respectfully declined. Greeley's experience with Poe was not singular. Others lent him money, grumbled and made faces about it. mt so Horace. During the days of his prospority,to his perpetual honour be h spoken, his heart and purse wore ever open to give aid and comfort to struggling and aspiring genius. Tho- reau, Poe, Margaret Fuller, and the sisters Gary were among the recipients of his favours. The ten acres of politica! controversy which he wrote over will soon pass away, but his kindness and good-will to mankind will linger in the memory of millions. Great men who wrote nothing are longest remembered. The critics invalidate any writings: a succession of noble deeds defies their malevolence. Nothing can convince the average man that he is not, all things considered, equal to any of his neigh- bours. Mary Chaworth's man servant said : Byron didn't know grass from grass. Nothing is more persistent than the heavy malice of dullness for a man of genius. Poe's enemies have raked together all that was true against* him, and where the connec- tions were shadowy '' extemporised " a little. Men have a way of believing that where there's much said there is much proved. He was the son of a pair of not over-respectable actors, a grandson of ¥ n m if ■1 lU EDGAU ALLEN POE. Boiiodiet Arnold, lii.s motlior haviiii;- boon a natural daui^htor of tlio traitor. Ho was a habitual drunUard, Mo abusod a lady in a way liiat bin traducor.s mako look inoro awl'ul by Ntoppinijf .short in tho iniddio of tho Htory — a time-worn trick of Hiandorors. Ah tiio hdtui writini^ on tho wall at IJabylon ins|)irod additional horror from tho absonoo of tho bodj', ho tho vuguo calumniouH tale achiovon greater ortect by leaving it to tho imagination to till out tho blank's. But all those shall go away into everlasting oblivion, sliall die with those who gave them currency. ()|)l)osod to all this is tho fact that tho lady in ques- tion ever spoke kindly of him, and sincerely lamented his untimely end. And the late N. P. Willis, well acquainted with tho poet for years, having om[)loyed him as assistant editor, sums up his character as follows:— " He was a quiet, patient and most gentlo- mardy person, commanding the utmost respect and good fooling by his unvar^'ing deportment and ability." His nebulous perception of commercial integrity may be lamented, but not excuso('. Men of Poo's stamp are a law unto themselves, thoy cannot be brought to reverence the conventional agreement of society, they never go quite right nor far wrong. The common man consoles himself with the fallacy that his want of feeling is virtue. Was the light that led astray, light from heaven? Burns says it was BO in his case. In his time, perhaps, there was not a Sawney in Scotland 'but thought himself a better man than Bui-ns, and indeed the whole Scottish race will be remembered when Burns is forgot, " but not till then." A certain writer is only able, among all mankind, to tind but seven born gentlemen, Sir EDOAn ALLEN POE. llo Sydney Smith, tl.o Chovalior Bayard, and UohoH Burns, ot al. Thus nu.eh for local appreciation and l>i-opheU ,n thoir own life time and land. There bo those, and (heir name is legion, who, in thoir ^ estimation of mankind, never rise above pecuniary <-onsideratior,s. To sueli intensely practical men we do not wish to (,tre.- the subject of this sketcii for critical dissection. In searching for wit it is neces- nary to take a little along with you; their verdict we know, would he a foregone conclusion. Yet here he others who, in su.nming up the qualities tliey admire in a man. commence for their lowest pon.t of view at an altitude above the money mon.^M-'s liigi.est flight. To these few Poe may seem wha"t he loally was-the brightest ornament in the American Ke])ublic of Letters. Fortune gives g(dd to tho.se who can appreciate nothing finer and liigher. poe's genius. _ It is objected to Poo that throughout all his writ- ings there is not a suggestion of a sense of human uccountabdity-nota word concerning - moral ri.-ht and moral wrong." Horo I beg leave to ditfer ^yaU ►Smolfungus. The poet undoubtedly thought that the morals of his countrymen would be \suflit.iently discussed and attended to by a sin-abhorrin- host of newspaper editors-all men of ferocious virUe. An army ot;gentlemen in holy orders "called" to the work of spiritual warfare with Satan, and twenty- two millions nine hundred and thirty-seven gossips besides several counties not heard from, all volunteers on a crusade against vice. I think I am correct in regard to numbers. Therefore he left polemics and iir> ElXiAR AU.EN POK. i '41 inMial (lolinquoiicioM in tho IuukIm of tlioso to tho iiiamioi' born, to cuft'osicli olhor intodoeeiit bohuvioiir or out of it, wiiit'liover llioy ploii.sod, ami juirsiiod, ill litoratiiro, a patii of Ins own in whicii no American preceded him, l»ut in wliicii many have feebly followed. What everybody knows and talks about is to an original mind utterly disgnsting and loath- somo — that's fault tinding. Even tlie good man be- comes an intolerable bore when ho parade.* i,i;; "dis- gusting perfections before a world that knows itself not 80 good." Psalmody and morals done in rhyme scorn to bo the jieculiar ])rovinco of men who success- fully escaped being poets. The one repeats, for tho thousandth time, his pious postulates, and tho other vorsities his experience. These should don tho white cravat at once and thump the cessions. It must be acknowledged, however, that the poet who writes on a subject on which we all have dwelt, yet does it better than wo can conceive it even in half' reverie, deserves well of his fellow men. But InHnitely above this is tho genius of tho man whose creative power is i>'uch as to be ablo to compose a poem, tho subject and ideas of which are independent of all that went before. Longfellow and Saxe are lamentably lame here. There is a precedent in some shape for all the Cambi-idge poet has written. Poo says ho stole the best idea in his Psalm of Life — to wit: — "Our bcftrts though strong and brave, • Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave." In the same poem we are informed that: — " The lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime." ain to modesty. It would be an unwarrantable j)artiaiity for him not to regret his vagaries in his commonplace transactions with mankind. The average man thinks he has arrived at the summit of intelligence after honestly acquiring a fewthousand dollars; a thimltle- full of that wit which holds the world in awe, if pros- tituted to such a purpose, could amass millions. Re- ligion he neither acknowledged nor denied. Moral right and wrong, those undefined and never to be defined abstractions, were not in his vocabulary. They savour of the earth and its groveling complica- tions. He dwelt mostly in the heaven of invention and the regions of purest fancy, visiting this " earthly POLITICAL ECONOMY. 121 hole only from necessity. - A thing of beauty is a joy forever, " he created many. They will be read and admired by miUions after the marble over his ashes has crumbled. Time has brought in its reven